#him that the other person /wants/ to understand him better and /wants/ to help him for no reason other than their love for him does a lot

[hoseokslefteyebrow]

In which you officially become a couple.

Inumaki Toge has a crush on you.

Technically, it's not weird.

Technically he's 'allowed' to. 

You're engaged after all. Even though you're much too young to get married anytime soon, and even though you are arranged by your clans after all.

Still, he can't help but feel nervous around you. His cheeks tinting pink whenever you talk about something passionately, your smile brightening up his days. He's too young to understand actually loving someone yet, but he's well aware that he very much likes you.

However, he has no idea how to tell you, or let you know.

Thinking about telling you has his hands getting sweaty and cause a fierce blush to spread across his face.

Besides, he can't talk to you. Not like a normal person at least. No matter how much he wants to. Apart from saying your name, he still has to stick to onigiri ingredients.

Communication between the two of you has been getting better, but you're learning to understand without him translating on his phone.

He doesn't mind translating. He often types out entire texts of speech for you when you're having a conversation about something interesting. But it does make communicating his feelings harder.

He wants the words to come from him directly, not by him showing you his phone screen and blinking at you nervously. He has to figure something out.

Body language will have to do, he supposes. He can't tell you, but perhaps he can show you.

Or maybe, he just needs to ask a certain someone for advice. Someone who has probably asked out a lot of girls before.

-

Gojo Satoru blinks at his future student in surprise.

" What?" 

He's heard of Toge's engagement to you. How could he not? He's one of the big three clans after all. 

However, of all things, he doesn't understand the hassle. You're already engaged. Why not just immediately get married? Besides, of all things he's expected Toge to ask, this had been the very last one.

" Just ask her- "

Toge has to blink in annoyance for Satoru to understand.

" Oh. Right. Okay, new plan!"

-

A few days later, that plan is finally put into action.

You're not in the same schools, so you're meeting up after school. He's already waiting for you at the park, in the city near your school. In his hands, he holds a chinese lantern plant. Originally, Gojo's plan included flowers, but he didn't necessarily like flowers. They weren't permanent. These were. They'd blossom along with your love. Hopefully for a very long time- Unless you'd reject him.

He swallows, hoping the best.

" Toge!" 

Turning his head from where he had been staring at the plant, he turns to face you, a smile immediately taking over his features. He shifts the plant to one of his arms, using the other to take your palm in his in greeting, his thumb soothing over your skin.

You smile at him, the tips of your ears turning pink like they always do when he has his full attention on you.

" Hi. Oh, that's a pretty plant, what's it for?"

" Salmon cod roe."

' Wait.' 

You blink, watching as he fumbles through his pockets. Eventually, he pulls out an envelope. You're not stupid, nor oblivious. You've caught onto his interest in you since the start. Besides, admittedly, you've grown to like him too.

Nearly a year has passed since you first met him, and you're pleased to say that he's the sweetest person you've ever met. He's considerate, attentive, and kind. (Not to mention extra sweet when you're on your period.) Truthfully, you like spending time with him, and you want to be closer to him too.

He hands you the envelope, his eyes wide as he signals for you to open it.

You do so.

' Dear Y/N,

I know our engagement is arranged and that you were originally not looking forward to spending the rest of your time with someone you couldn't choose yourself. I also know that we originally agreed to see how things go, and to be honest, I like how things are going. I like spending time with you. I like how you're learning my own language, and that it's not holding you back from spending time with me, and I really like who you are as a person. I'd like to spend more time with you. You're always running through my mind, and I want to be with you all the time.You're sweet, but also playful and patient. I'm sorry I can't tell you because of Cursed Speech, but I really like you  and want to be with you, because we want to, and not because we're arranged.

Ps. Please don't feel forced to return my feelings because of our engagement

Pps. The plant is for you. I've been told that pretty girls like pretty flowers, and this one made me think of you : ) '

By the end of his heartfelt letter, Toge is much more nervous than before, and you're grinning widely.

" I'd love to be with you!" You beam, jumping at him and pulling him into a hug.

He lets out a breath of relief, pulling you in close and returning your affection gladly.

Finally, he gets to call you his girl.

Extra:

" Okay, easy, this is what you gotta do!" 

Toge is listening attentively to his future teacher.

" First! Get an airplane. I don't remember where you can get one, but there's one that like flies those banners- Which brings me to two! Which is actually one, but whatever. Get a banner. Or make one. One of those cheese ones that simply says 'go out with me' should do the trick. Three! Which actually could be zero, but- rose petals. Everywhere. Girls love that. You can choose any location, but a beach should be great, even though that's really far away. Might want to drive there. Last, maybe hire a mariachi band. Or like a violin player-"

Toge blinks at Gojo as he continues talking. Toge is only 14. How would he even be able to afford any of that?

" Bonito flakes."

Gojo glances at him, finally shutting up. He rolls his eyes, before shrugging his shoulders.

" Ah right, you're only fourteen. Then maybe go for the easy route. Flowers and ask her out. Maybe you can hold the banner up yourself?" 

Or, maybe a love letter? Girls like that, right?

Liked this? There's more of this au in my Masterlist : )

[merakiui]

We've talked about Prisoner Floyd, but now that Promising Young Man Riddle is behind bars, let's hear about Prisoner Riddle. Just when he thinks he can never find someone to replace his former teacher, here is...

Jailor Darling who is the highlight of Riddle's day. The few minutes you stop to chat with him behind his cell bars while you do your rounds stay in his mind long after you go.

Janitor Darling who secretly chats with the charming prisoner Riddle. Maybe she even indulges him in impossible daydreams like "someday when your out of here we'll start a new life." If Riddle is lucky, she'll sneak a strawberry tart in among her cleaning supplies.

Councilor Darling who is in charge of Prisoner Riddle's psych evaluation. Riddle always has had mommy issues, so women in positions of authority just make him want to submit.

AAAA YES YES!!!! All of these are so good,,, I think Riddle would fall for you if you're someone he can have an intellectual dialogue with! It was one of his favorite things to do with his professor. He just loves chatting about academic subjects with someone who will understand, and you're just that kind of person. Not only are you sweet and treat him like another human (and not as the man who killed his classmate in a fit of rage), you also take time to genuinely have a conversation with him. Riddle adores it! He falls head-first into another obsession, and you quickly become the highlight of his days.

In Riddle's mind, the prideful part of him is fully convinced he's different than the rest of the people in here. Sure, he's wearing a jumpsuit just like everyone else and he's serving his sentence dutifully, but he's different. He's delusional, and whenever you talk to him it feeds into the narrative he's crafted that he truly is better than the other prisoners. To Riddle, a murder of one is much better than the other heinous crimes and kill counts other prisoners have committed.

When you stop by to conduct his evaluation and have a chat, Riddle desperately wants to exchange thoughts on various subjects that interest him (psychology, criminal law, your favorite sweets, etc). You try to keep him on track because you have a job to do and you can't indulge him all the time. You need Riddle to talk about what happened; he needs to answer the questions you're asking. Riddle does that; he's obedient most of the time. It's in his blood to be a good student, after all. But sometimes he just can't help it. He wants to pick your brain in the same way you pick his, asking you what you think of his crime. Not from a psychological or professional viewpoint, but from your own personal perspective. He's genuinely curious.

I feel like Riddle's case would have a cult following almost...... he was so composed and articulate during his trial, looking just like a pristine businessman in his pressed suit and leather Oxfords. :) so put-together and respectful,, it does hurt when his mother refuses to look him in the eyes when she sits there in the audience. It does hurt when she refuses to visit or even write to him. It does hurt, but it feels better when he's sat in front of you and you're telling him he can be honest about everything.

And this time he doesn't have to worry about someone else trying to win your heart. This time, it's just you and Riddle. You may have other patients you see, but Riddle knows none are more fascinating or intelligent than him.

[trippinsorrows]

through your eyes + au 2

authors: well....this is happening. don't ask. we're just going with it. gotta read part one before consuming this.

don't know who's interested, so only tagging the people i know have read and would be okay with a tag!

taglist: @sayyestoheav3nn @fearlesschimera @annfg8 @zoeyybellex3 @cyberdejos2

Solana never expected to see Roman Reigns again. Not in person, at least. That up close, especially.

It was a one off. A fluke. An anomaly. Her happenstance literal run-in with quite literally the most dangerous man in their world was just one of those things she'd never forget but nothing beyond that.

She could never forget his intense gaze on her, the heat that shot through her body when he touched her, his arm holding her, protecting her almost from a man who clearly doesn't understand boundaries.

But, while she tried her best to put the weekend's unexpected happening behind her, life, or maybe fate, had another plan in motion. One she could have never expected or seen coming.

She's sorting through one of the few remaining boxes that still needs to be tagged and put out for sale when a throat clears behind her.

Putting down the iPad, Solana stands up, wiping her hands on her shorts and loads up her typical, usual smile. Turning around, she readies to greet the probable customer but falters a bit, taken back by his appearance.

Wild, red hair that's surely seen better days. Tall with an almost lanky build, he wears one of the friendliest grins she's ever seen on a person, let alone a man.

"I'm sorry," she apologizes. "How can I help you?"

Again, he clears his throat, pulling out a wrinkled little piece of paper that seems to have writing scribbled on it. "Yes, I'm looking for a Sol---Solana?"

She laughs at his pronunciation but proceeds to confirm her identity. "I'm Solana."

He makes a sound, slapping his hand against his forehead. "Of course, my apologies!" She giggles. His demeanor is so amenable. "Umm, yes, if you could, umm, come with me?"

At that, Solana's smile drops. "I'm sorry?"

He leans over a bit, and she naturally moves back a little. "I'm sorry." His cheeks are heating with redness. "I'm here on behalf of the Tribal Chief."

Solana goes still. "Roman?" He nods. "He's---he's here?"

When Solana mentioned Roman coming to see her, something she still can't figure out where it came from, she wasn't actually expecting him to follow through on that.

And yet....

The man continues to explain, "he would come in, but....you know."

Yes, she does know. Roman Reigns coming into her little, quaint bookstore would certainly attract an audience and attention, the last two things she wants, that she's ever wanted.

Solana nods.

She should reject it. Should try to find some excuse as to why she can't. Why she's busy. But, she's also not dumb enough to say no to this man.

You don't just say no to Roman Reigns. You can, but it's bound to not end up well. And Solana would rather not find herself on his bad side.

Pushing back her anxiety, she finds herself agreeing. "Of course." Hooking her fingers through the hoops of her denim shorts, she asks, "w-where is he?"

The man whose name she realizes she still doesn't know motions with his arm. "Ladies first."

He really does have a gentless about him that doesn't seem to make sense considering who he works for.

Solana silently and wordlessly follows him out the emergency exit in the back of the store, ignoring the fact that that's probably how he got inside in the first place, which makes little to no sense to her. How did he get by without the security system going off? But, for her own sanity, she doesn't push it too much.

This is Roman.

He gets what he wants.

And speaking of, Solana finds her stomach knotting a bit when she's outside in the alleyway behind the strip. There's three black SUV's with tinted windows lined up, but he's standing by the one in the middle. Leaning against the middle door, his arms are crossed over each other, dark sunglasses hiding his eyes she secretly wishes she could see.

Moving closer, Solana has to take in once again the magnanimity of him. Roman is such a big man, his presence alone something that's both overwhelming and strangely satisfying.

But, when she gets her wish, and he lifts his sunglasses to the top of his head, she finds that feeling in her stomach intensifying. He's raking those beautiful eyes over her entire body, from the top of her head to the sole of her feet.

And Solana is suddenly wishing she'd maybe put on a little makeup or done something more sophisticated with her hair. Not that that seems to stop this man from looking like he'd take her in the back of this alley if he could.

Before she can say anything, the man with the wild red hair is speaking again, his voice suddenly riddled with anxiety.

She gets it.

"Ms. Solana, as you requested, sir." He stuffs his hands in the pockets of his jeans, and just when Solana expects him to walk away, leaving her along with the one man she probably shouldn't be left alone with, he continues to talk, offering an unexpected save. "And might I say, my Tribal Chief, she is absolutely beautiful. I mean, if I wasn't already married—" At the same time Solana looks at this strange man confused, Roman's gaze is borderline murderous. "But I am m-married, happily so, might I add. And I would never betray my Tribal Chief—"

"Sami."

"Yes, My Tribal Chief?"

"Leave." It's spoken to the man, but Roman's intense gaze is back on her. "Now."

Sami.....it fits.

"Of course," Sami clears his throat and scrambles away, getting in the SUV that's farthest from them without bothering as so much as a goodbye.

Once alone, she finds herself admitting in that same small voice, "I-I didn't think you'd actually come."

He chuckles, and it's such a beautiful sound. "I'm a man of my word, Solana." He flicks his eyes to her mouth. "I said I would see you again, didn't I?"

He did. She just wasn't counting on it.

Swallowing, Solana toys with the string of her top, unintentionally dragging Roman's attention to her cleavage that's showing more than usual. Of course. "How did you find—"

"That was easy. If I want something, I get it." She should know this, know that this man could probably have her social security number at this point if he wanted. "What are you doing tonight?"

Oh.

This is escalating. Quickly. So quickly. She should pump the breaks, should find someway to dead this now. But, she instead finds herself answering him, "n-nothing. Why?"

"You are now." Roman kicks off the SUV and instead moves toward her. Instead of backing away like she did with Sami, Solana stands still, only silently and internally panicking when he snakes his arm behind her and jerks her toward him, into him, into his body. Solid as steel. He's so big. Naturally, her hand moves to his chest, something Roman notices and smirks at. This man. "I'm fighting tonight. I want you there."

It takes her a second to think about what he's referring to, and then it hits her. WarGames is tonight. It's one of the few main events he still participates in. She hasn't attended an event in years. It's never been her setting, but instead of finding a way to tell him this, she's still limited to one to two word response.

"O-oh."

His smirk deepens as he brings his hand to her chin, thumb glossing over her skin. "I'll send a car to pick you up."

Picking up on something, she asks, partially concerned, partially flattered almost. "You-you know where I live?"

Roman's eyes continue to study her face, and she's never felt so under pressure. Like this is a test of some sort that she has no idea if she's passing or not. "I know a lot about you, Solana Miller, but there's still more I want to know." Oh my god. "Wear red."

Just how much does he know? Had he looked her up? Done research on her? Why? What would be the reason? What's so interesting about her that not only has he gone out of his way to gather information on her, but beyond that, is now seeking more info.

It just....it doesn't make sense.

Eyes shutting a bit from the overwhelming nature of this all, she finds herself asking in a breathy voice, "w-why?"

And as if she wasn't already an apprehensive mess, Solana's knees nearly give out from under her when he dips his mouth near her ear. "I like seeing you in my color." She exhales shakily and nervously, as he ghosts his lips over the shell of her ear. "Though I'd rather see you in nothing, but we'll work up to that."

That's not exactly what she was asking about, but regardless, it takes the pure will of God for her to not pass out when he finally pulls away, the lack of his touch on her body something she notices almost immediately.

Roman lifts his hand and snaps, not even a full minute later, one of his men emerging from the passenger side of the SUV to open the car door for him. "I'll see you tonight, Solana."

He can clearly see the reaction he's evoking from her and obviously finds great enjoyment in absolutely toying with her sanity. It's something that leads to her asking, "How-how do you know I'll be there?"

She never accepted. Never agreed. Never mind the fact that she's already thinking about what she owns red that could work for the event....

Roman gives her a curious look followed by another chuckle that she finds so much more attractive than she should. He answers so easily and confidently before climbing in the truck, door being shut for him,

"Because you're just as intrigued by me as I am by you."

[stusbunker]

Spotless: Cambiare

Chapter Thirty Five

Featuring: Dean Winchester/Reader

Other characters: Both bands and crew, Madison, Alice and Max Miller, Cas' brother Jimmy mentioned, Alastair

Word Count: 3241

Warnings, etc: Mutual pining, still unbeta'd, drinking and mild drug use, smoking cigarettes , Kevin is still a shit and we love him for it, fundraiser fluff, first show in Vegas then somebody shows up to ruin Dean's winning streak. SAFE House is a real organization, but all information about them in this fic is fictional, including locations, organizers and fundraiser protocols.

Series Masterlist

The desert sun shined down, even in mid-March, you were grateful for sunglasses as you walked across the parking lot of the furniture store that was hosting the fundraiser. Part of the core principles of SAFE House and organizations like it was its discretion, so nothing that night was taking place near the actual houses where families escaping domestic violence resided. The main office was tucked into a back corner of a row of single story businesses and also a good distance away.

Behind you was the band in ball caps and sunglasses, Bobby and Annie, while Benny, Cesar, Jesse and Chief followed behind. Charlie and the rest of the crew were setting up at the venue for the following nights’ performances. Victor and SPS had other plans for the night before their Vegas debut, but that was understandable. Plus, they sent their support both in person and via social media.

Alice Miller, the Director of Outreach, met you at the registration booth and gave you a bundle of volunteer badges and tickets for the food stands as well as a map of the grounds. 

“We are so grateful for you being here and helping spread the word. We’ve barely been able to get away from the phones since you mentioned the event on the radio this morning. We’re expecting a record breaking year for the carnival.”

Careful to not seem too unsurprised, you downplayed what you expected to be a very busy night. “It’s the least we could do. Now— where did you want the band?”

“Max?” Alice called a younger man over. “Max is my stepson, and he’s in charge of volunteer assignments. While I’ll be around, Max will be able to answer any questions better than I would.”

The guy seemed a little awkward, but he also seemed to at least recognize who he was talking to. “Alright, guys, glad to have you. I have the band assigned two two hour long stints at the Dunk Tank, the Photo Booth, and the Face Painting stand. Your call on if you stick to one station or switch it up. I’ll leave the list with your publicist. Breaks are expected, but please let somebody know when you need one so we can make the swap as seamless as possible. Your team members are welcome to participate, or just stand guard, but please remember we are as low contact as possible with crowd control.”

You had clocked a good chunk of guys you suspected to be plain clothed police officers donning security vests at the next table. You kept your thoughts to yourself on that matter, as long as the families and participants were safe, you were happy.

“Thanks, Max. I gave them the spiel on the ride over. Can we get some group shots with you and the other employees before we get into our stations?”

“Of course, give me ten minutes and we can get everyone together. I’ll give you a walkie, too, just in case. Though we don’t have enough for everyone.”

“Understood.”

You gave him a firm nod and clipped the communicator to your back pocket. He ducked out of the small tent, while you stepped back towards the group you came with, so the line of other volunteers behind you could get signed in. You glanced down the clipboard with the empty blocks of scheduled time at each of the stations. 

Kevin and Dean were on you in an instant.

“Please put me anywhere but the face painting. I can’t draw for shit,” Kevin begged.

“Sam either, don’t do it, Trouble. It will be a mess,” Dean warned.

“Okay, well, Dunk Tank is going to have to be an all or last stint because nobody is going to be able to pose for pictures or do face-painting when they’re soaked to the bone,” you reasoned out loud.

You turned and spoke louder. “Alright, Pam and Annie, let’s have you do the face painting. If nothing else you can just do exaggerated makeup looks.”

“Sounds good to me,” Annie said. While Pam sort of cocked her head and considered if this was the best course of action.

“Lee and Sam are getting the Photobooth first, if you get bored or overwhelmed we’ll swap you guys for the Dunk Tank. But what we really need are hecklers, and I think these two assholes would be best for the job.” You gestured to Dean and Kevin, the two devils over your shoulders.

“You know there are easier ways to see me with my shirt off,” Dean murmured, but didn’t argue with his assignment.

You turned and looked up at him, your reflection shining back at you in his sunglasses, which only made you more defensive. “If I wanted to sell skin, I’d send Sam over there first. But just for that, you’re booked all night. Happy chafing, Dean-o.”

Kevin cackled. “She just pwned you so bad!”

“Shut up, Kevin,” you and Dean said at the same time.

You tried to see if Dean had just been teasing, but your annoyance and curiosity were short lived when Bobby walked up and took the envelope of lanyards out of your grip, and started handing them out.

Somewhere beyond the entrance and registration booths a megaphone sounded, gathering everyone together for the pictures you requested and a quick information session.

The carnival was scheduled from four to nine, hitting the afterschool and afterwork crowds, but still reasonable for a weekday. Even in Vegas, locals had normal schedules most of the time. You took turns with the SAFE House’s media director taking pictures and gesturing people into position. Carefully you had them frame the band, Annie, Alice and the rest of the board in varying shots of size and distance. You should have brought a real camera, but your phone would have to make due for this event. There were over fifty people volunteering in addition to the security team. And every one of them was smiling at you, it was infectious.

It was going to be a good night.

You patrolled the grounds, gathering pictures of the band at their different booths in various poses and levels of embarrassment. Dean was the first one in the water and once he sunk, the crowd went nuts. His line snaked around the Fun House and back towards the Port-o-Potties. 

Kevin had more success heckling Dean than those throwing at his target, but he, too, was drenched before long. It only added to the care-free atmosphere. Even though you knew Dean would have paid a pretty penny to be the one tossing balls in Kevin’s direction himself.

Sam and Lee started off pretty stiff with the Photo Booth, but once a group of preschoolers busted out the feather boas and other accessories, they caved like a house of cards. Neither man could deny kids, especially ones that might have been hurt at some point in their young lives, so they turned up the charm and silliness and had everyone in stitches before they took their dinner break.

Pamela and Annie had the quietest station. It was rather amusing, and a little surreal, that round after round of kids waited in line, picked out their designs, and sat still for the whole process before their parents, guardians, or grandparents recognized Annie Hawkins as the artist behind the butterflies or dragons now at their sides.

Pamela’s entire being screamed rockstar or badass. But as the drummer of the band, she was the least known by name, which never seemed to bother her. No, her confidence was unique in that it was a genuine, god-given, lack of shame. Something you had envied for a long time. So when only a handful of people asked for her picture along with her creations, she didn’t bat an eye. She just winked at the kids as they went about their nights and waved.

By nightfall, the crowd had reached capacity. The sounds of the various rides and games were constant and the bright lights kept the area surveyable. However, the temperature started to drop and the Dunk Tanks themselves weren’t well lit, which equated to Kevin and Dean’s station beginning to lose some of its luster. 

“Okay! Let’s see what you got! Come on folks— this is for a great cause!” Kevin spouted.

“Freezing my nuts off of here! Hey big guy, think you could dunk me?”

You stage whispered, “this is a family event— keep your flirting to your own time!”

“Har-har!” Dean mock laughed.

You took another picture, but your flash really wasn’t the best with the Fun House lights offsetting it. Dean was dunked again and you asked Max over the walkie if you could end the line. It was a little after eight at night and between the cooler night air and the remaining people waiting, they deserved to see the finish line. 

After a few seconds, you got permission to send Benny and Jesse to curtail new customers, “yeah, okay. We’ll start closing up those stations first, ease out of the night.”

You texted Bobby to start warming up the bus before making your way through the crowd to let the rest of the team know to wrap it up. Sam and Lee actually were already closed up, their tent had been packed up and they just sat sipping on flat beer from the one kiosk with a liquor license. Annie and Pamela had turned into more of a selfie and autograph booth then a face painting stand, but no one seemed to mind. 

“We’ve got the all clear, meet at the bus in ten,” you let them know. Casually, you headed back to the Dunk Tanks to ensure the soggy bottom boys weren’t mobbed once they were back on solid ground.

Cesar, brilliant man that he was, showed up with a pair of fleece blankets from the bus just as the final set of balls were handed to Benny and Jesse. You grinned at him in gratitude, but had to film the final dunks for prosperity’s sake. 

“Come on Benny! Let ‘im have it!” you bellowed as the head roadie wound up.

Jesse immediately sent Kevin into the depths, forfeiting the remaining two throws, and letting his husband help the smaller man off the platform and into a blanket.

Benny missed the first two balls, which Dean was not going to let him live it down. “Oh, he’s on the ropes! Look he’s not gonna make it, I should just climb down. That blanket is a-calling to me!”

“Just shut your trap, will ya?” Benny muttered.

“Make me, big boy!”

“Does he always flirt when he’s nervous?” you asked, knowing full well it was being recorded.

“Nah, darlin’. He’s showboating. He only flirts like this to make up for something.”

“Oh yeah? What am I making up for Benny? Cuz your aim is the only thing lacking here!”

With movie magic precision, Benny sank Dean on his last throw. The remaining crowd erupted and you scanned the area before sneaking closer to get Dean’s grumpy face as he crawled out of the tank and down the ladder.

“About time!” He called over his shoulder before Cesar could wrap him up too. Crouched over and shivering, Dean grinned for the camera before you hit the stop button on the video. Everyone laughed and joked while Dean and Kevin tried to dry off. After gathering their hats, phones, wallets, and socks and shoes, everyone left for the parking lot and the bus back to the Strip and the hotel.

You stopped at the entrance, dropped off the walkie talkie and your lanyards with Max’s crew. You made your way across the parking lot to the corner that Bobby had claimed for the bus, turning on your notifications for the first time all night. It was going to be a long night of scrolling and posting, but it was a good kind of busy to be.

The bass pulsed through the amps and across the floor, like an omniscient earthquake. You felt the heat from the stage effects across your skin. Pamela was taking the end of A Reaper’s Offering and taking over for her solo. The lights dimmed along the edge of the stage and everything focused on her. You felt the buzz of an incoming message on your hip from the walkie, but you couldn’t hear a single word.

“There she goes!” Dean rumbled somewhere amongst the shadows. The crowd responded then hushed itself just as quickly, awe-inspired.

Charlie has so much more at her disposal in this set up and she used everything she could to empathize the epicness of Pamela’s prowess, each drum was focused by its own color light. Pamela kept Charlie on her toes as she hopped from one to another, sometimes hitting three or four at a time. It was mesmerizing.

Your voice was hoarse already and still you screamed as she ramped it up to the big finale. Even in the wing off stage, you couldn’t hear yourself over the racing beat.

Lee whistled with two fingers in his mouth, shrill and celebratory. And still Pamela rocked on.

Sam slid down his E string, pulsing beneath her. You noticed how the others drifted back into position, four more measures and Kevin joined in. As the notes blended together Pamela pulled back, like a band of horses behind well-worn reins. 

“Lead the way, Pammy!” Dean broke the spell and Pamela thumped into a familiar opening.

They weren’t stopping and slowing down for Vegas. ‘Abandon All Hope’ was left out of the first night’s setlist and the suggestive ‘Twigs and Twine’ swapped in instead. If you had to bet, ‘Brother’s Keeper’ wasn’t going to be featured either. And you were right, instead they played ‘Give Me My Ax’ for Lee to completely annihilate.

Charlie dropped the lights on them as Dean finished ‘Not Mine’ and the crowd did not stop for a full five minutes. You felt like you were tethered to a comet, soaring and burning alongside those brighter than you could ever hope to be.

The encores flew by and SPS joined them on stage, bowing and waving and blowing kisses to the insatiable masses. You knew the venue had photographers in the pit and along the box seats, but you couldn’t wait to get your hands on some fan shots. This was a show banners and websites were made of, raw and glistening.

Everyone descended the stage and flooded the wing you were occupying. The moment Dean’s eyes caught yours, his entire face changed and you both went to each other. Unthinking, two magnets across the mess of stagehands and band members just as he bent down to grab you into a hug, you hesitated, feeling unseen eyes in the upper levels.

You grabbed his elbow and drew him in further into the belly of backstage.

“What’s up?” Dean’s face was worried now.

“Nothing, just didn’t want somebody to see us.”

Dean’s brow pinched and he sighed, but stayed at your side. “How was it? Have fun?!”

You rolled your eyes. “I think I’m as sweaty as you are!”

“Well, I’m gonna hit the dressing room. If you need a shirt, I’ve got extra. Because there’s no way we’re stopping soon. Those high rollers ain’t seen nothing like the Winchesters in a hot minute.”

“Fine! But I’m capping you at 50k for the night, young man. Somebody has got to rein you in, especially since Jimmy isn’t on retainer anymore.”

“Ugh! Well, we’ll see about that.” Dean winked and threw his arm over your shoulder and walked you both to the pandemonium that was the dressing room.

You were very careful while out with the band to stay on the vertical side of inebriation. It was equal parts fear of embarrassing yourself and fear of losing control of one or more of the band. After Dean and Cas’ explosion in Chicago last spring, you rarely mixed substances, especially while somewhere as heavily monitored as Vegas.

A little No Doz and a side of vodka and tonic would carry you most of the night. If nothing got too crazy. Eventually, you’d snag a cigarette, but casino-hopping would have to wait. Dean was on a roll, literally.

Dice in theory was an easy game. The tables with all the Pass and Don’t Pass bet bullshit made Craps hard for you to follow, especially when you were too busy keeping an eye on everyone. Madison and Sam were getting handsy at a Blackjack Table. Pam had found her machine for the night and was racking up a nice total with just penny slots. While taking shots of whiskey in stunning regularity.

Lee and Dean were both rolling dice, but the tables faced the opposite direction and you were almost certain one or both of them were trying to hustle somebody. The house always won, but sometimes people got cocky and they thought these cornfed boys from Nebraska were easy prey. It was fun to watch.

If nerve wracking.

Dean’s eyes danced over his dice, everyone gathered held their breath as the dealer called out the victory. Dean jumped up, punched the air, and crowed with abandon. He was untouchable in his brilliance. It made something inside you shiver. Sometimes you forgot he was real.

“Alright, time to head out!” Dean decided, gathering his chips and heading to the teller line to cash out. You nodded to the rest of the band, with an annoyed eye roll from Pamela, but everyone followed suit. Benny and the Chief had drawn straws for that night’s detail, which meant Jesse and Cesar would have your backs the following night. It still felt weird to be Tiny and Bela-less, but it was also one less thing for you to keep track of.

The crowds outside of Cesar’s Palace were full of tourists as you stepped back out onto the strip. A rush of waiting photographers gravitated to your group the second Sam’s head cleared the exit. Fucking Sasquatch was too easy to spot.

“Guys! Fantastic show tonight!”

“Dean! Dean! Where’s Bela? What happens in Vegas stays in Vegas, huh?”

“Pamela! Lee! Are you guys back together? Will we see another Vegas wedding from you two?”

“Sam! Who’s the lucky lady?”

Everyone ignored them the best you could, keeping your heads down and letting Benny hold them off.

“There he is! The coward has returned!” A nasally voice made its way through the chaos and Dean stopped in his tracks. You dropped back and tried to drag him forward, while ignoring the jeers from the other paps. 

“That’s a good girl, follow your mommy. Don’t want to get left behind,” the voice said senselessly.

“Dean?” you said, nerves dialed up to eleven.

Dean shook his head and scanned the crowd until he spotted a cameraless, beady-eyed face. “Benny! Keep that fucker away from us,” Dean yelled as he about-faced and took the group in a different direction. Benny fell back and stepped up to the taller creep, clearly making a point of starting a conversation as the other paps scrambled to keep up with you.

Dean dragged you and Pam by the wrists, keeping you at his sides until he decided you were in the clear outside the next stop. You had no idea who that guy was. After twenty minutes, Benny finally caught up with you guys and something in his eyes told you it wasn’t over.

Tagging:

@deans-spinster-witch

@mrswhozeewhatsis

@cosicas-cuquis

@fics-pics-andotherthings-i-like

@suckitands33

@ladysparkles78

@deans-baby-momma

@stoneyggirl2

@sassy-pelican

@leigh70

@globetrotter28

@winharry

@lastactiontricia

@rockhoochie

@brightlilith

@coldhearted93

@djs8891

@beautiful-places-blog

@n-o-p-e-never

@spxideyver

[nadvs]

push and pull (part two) (end)

pairing twin!rafe x female reader x twin!zach

summary life felt complicated enough when you started falling for zach. then you meet rafe. he’s the complete opposite of his twin brother, but he captures your attention just the same.

content warnings alcohol use, mental illness, mentions of parental abandonment

» intro post | part one

» masterlist

When Zach wakes up the next morning, he fully understands the term hangxiety.

His temples pound as he stares at his ceiling. At some point last night, he slipped from tipsy into drunk.

Thankfully, he didn’t get so wasted that he’s forgetting anything. But then again, that means every time he made an ass of himself is a memory etched into his brain.

He remembers welcoming his date. Having a decent time with her. Walking her downstairs. Her lips on his cheek when she kissed him goodbye. Feeling like something was missing, and then, that something wasn’t missing anymore when you came downstairs to let him in.

And he remembers looking over at you across the party. Wishing he was next to you. Feeling crappy for thinking about you while he was with another girl. Knowing he was idiot for thinking he could ignore his feelings for you and date someone else.

Talking to you in the elevator. Crap.

He buries his head into his pillow. Why did he blabber to you like that? His brother would kill him if he knew what he said. He probably already wants to kill him for loudly proclaiming how much he loves him in the hallway. Rafe’s not one for any sort of PDA.

Zach picks up his phone to text you: Trauma dumping to you was just a dream I had, right? Please tell me it didn’t actually happen.

You reply minutes later: you mean in the elevator? definitely a dream.

Despite his embarrassment, he smiles at his screen.

He replies: Sorry about that.

You send another text: it’s no problem. i’m guessing you have a pretty bad hangover.

He replies: Everything hurts.

You text back: make sure to hydrate and rest ok?

Zach smiles again. He can’t help but daydream about you coming over, taking care of him, cuddling him.

He’s worried about the consequences of things going wrong if he got into a relationship with you. But God, does he want you.

He replies: Ok :)

When he eventually leaves his bedroom, he sees Rafe lounging on the couch, still in his pajamas. Surprisingly, his brother actually tidied up.

It gives him hope that Rafe really is trying to improve himself. He’s had his fair share of meltdowns and Zach’s had a front row seat to all of them, watching his brother break down into tears, spiralling into his toxic, self-hating thoughts.

Once he calms down, every time, Rafe talks about how he knows he’s not a good person, that he wants to be better. But then, he sticks to his bad habits. He never gets the help he needs, even though Zach encourages him to.

Nonetheless, Zach never saw the bad in Rafe that he’s so adamant is there. At his worst, he can be violent, drunkenly throwing punches at parties, but Zach knows it’s a result of his emotional scars.

“Shit,” Rafe chuckles when he sees Zach. “You’re alive.”

“Barely.” Zach sinks onto the other side of the couch, closing his eyes as he tilts his head back. “You cleaned up for once.”

“Did you just say for once? I’m always cleaning up, asshole,” he mutters, making Zach laugh.

“I hope the neighbors don’t hate us,” Zach says. “The party got kinda loud last night.”

“This guy’s thinking about the neighbors,” Rafe says with a scoff. “The girl you were with looked like she was into you. Bet she would’ve stayed the night.”

“Maybe,” Zach says with a shrug, thinking back to his date.

Then, Rafe says he thinks you might be into him, too, considering he caught you staring. And Zach’s pulse picks up.

He loves and hates hearing that. Because if you really do like him back, it’s exciting, but that makes it even more crushing that he can’t pursue anything.

“Maybe,” Zach echoes.

“The fuck is wrong with you?” Rafe laughs, thinking about how good you looked last night. “I’d jump on that if I had the chance.”

“But you don’t have the chance,” Zach murmurs. “If you love me, you won’t jump on any of my friends.”

Zach sits up and looks at his brother.

“By the way, you never said you love me back last night. I’m still waiting.”

“Yeah,” Rafe snorts. “You can keep waiting.”

────୨ৎ────

On Monday morning, you finally get a response from a student you found online who’s selling a used textbook you need.

You’d rather not go by yourself, so you text the group chat: i need to go to a stranger’s house to buy a textbook tonight. is anyone down to tag along so i’m not alone?

To your relief, Zach texts the group a minute later: I got you :)

That evening, you’re knocking on his front door. Instead of Zach, though, Rafe answers.

“Hi,” you say. “Is Zach around? He’s supposed to come with me to pick a textbook up.”

“Haven’t heard him since he got home,” he says, turning to look up the stairs. “I’ll get him.”

A minute later, Rafe comes down, keys jingling in his hand.

“He’s sleeping,” he says. “I can take you. I was about to go for a drive anyway.”

“Cool,” you say. “Thanks.”

You watch him lean over to slip on his sneakers, his frame broad and tall. It’s surprising that Zach, who’s usually reliable, forgot about your plans. And that Rafe, who you’ve come to known as hot and cold, is willing to help you.

He locks the door behind him before you make your way down the hallway together.

“He must be tired after practice,” you say, well aware of the team’s training schedule.

“Yeah, when he’s asleep, he’s out.”

You smirk to yourself, imagining Zach adorably bundled up in his bed. You already know he’s going to apologize profusely once he realizes he accidentally bailed on you.

“It’s only ten minutes away,” you tell Rafe. “I just wanted someone with me since it’s some random guy I don’t know selling it.”

“Zach didn’t offer to just buy a new one for you?” he asks.

“No,” you laugh, entering the elevator. “Why would he?”

Rafe doesn’t get Zach sometimes. It’s insane that he’s not into you, that he sleeps through plans with you, that he doesn’t offer to buy you something that probably only costs a few hundred dollars.

“Want me to?” Rafe asks. You have to laugh.

“It’s okay,” you say. “I already set all this up. Do you always offer to buy girls school supplies?”

He bites his tongue. If Zach wasn’t so adamant about m not being allowed to try to hook up with you, he’d flirt and say yes, he buys all kinds of things for beautiful girls.

“Not always,” he settles for.

The elevator doors open. You enter the parking garage and follow Rafe to his car, settling into the cushioned passenger seat. He starts the engine, then offers the cable hooked up his radio to you.

“Already know you have good taste,” Rafe says. You smile, plugging your phone in.

You’re Zach’s friend, but he figures you can be his friend, too. Because he wants to get to know what he can about you, to flatter you and joke with you and talk to you, even though the night won’t be ending with you in his bed. He has fun with you. He’ll take what he can get.

He backs out of his parking spot, putting his hand against the back of your headrest as he looks through the rear window. You gaze up at his profile, taking in just how handsome he is, how nice his cologne smells.

Rafe doesn’t know the song you put on, but he likes it. He turns forward in his seat, driving out of the garage.

You chat about your days and even though it’s small-talk, it doesn’t feel like it. There’s an ease with Rafe that you can’t really compare to with anyone else.

Still, he’s kind of intimidating, but you naturally want to keep challenging this way he makes you feel, cracking the wall he has up.

When you reach the house at the end of a dark street, Rafe parks in the driveway, turns his key and takes it out of ignition.

“You can wait here,” you offer.

“Nah,” he mumbles. He unbuckles his seatbelt. “I’m not letting you go alone.”

With Rafe standing behind you as you knock on the front door, the feeling of him protecting you is intoxicating, making your heart pound harder.

The door swings open and you greet the man you’ve been messaging. He’s holding the textbook you need and when you offer him four twenties, he looks through the bills and shakes his head.

“We said $100,” he says.

“No,” you reply. “$80. You said $80 was good.”

“I don’t think so.”

“I have the texts to prove it,” you laugh in disbelief.

“Really, man?” Rafe mutters. “Just give her the book.”

“$100,” he repeats.

“Forget it,” Rafe says. He steps forward, roughly taking your money out of his hand and pulling you by the waist. “I’ll just get you a new one.”

“No, wait,” the guy calls. “$80’s fine.”

“Get fucked,” Rafe mutters. You follow him to the car, still mentally catching up to what just happened. “Trying to scam you over twenty dollars. What a joke.”

You settle in the car, feeling Rafe’s warm, big hand curl your fingers open so he can give you your money back.

He’s fuming, beyond pissed off that someone would try to trick you like that. He’s glad you didn’t come by yourself to have to deal with this idiot alone. And he’s not sure how Zach would’ve handled it.

“How much is a new book?” he asks.

“Like, $250,” you tell him.

“I got it covered, alright?” he says. “Give me your phone.”

You comply, still a little jarred but appreciating how quickly he swept in to help you. You watch him enter digits, call himself to get your number, then hang up.

He returns your phone and takes his out, taps on your number, and quickly opens up a bank app.

“You really don’t have to,” you say.

“It’s fine.”

Within a minute, he sends you $250. It’s bizarre how he’s acting like that much money is nothing. Like he’s giving you change he owes you.

Rafe exhales slowly, starting his car again, coming down from the daze. This happens a lot. It’s like he blacks out when he gives in to his impulses.

But what can he do? He has a weak spot for you and he hates the idea of someone doing you wrong, of him not helping you when he’s totally capable of it.

He scratches his forehead. Zach’s words resonate in his head, telling him he needs to cool down and think before he does things. Sometimes his temper flares with no warning.

He’s sure he came off way too intense. He doesn’t know how to apologize for it. Before he can speak, you do.

“Can you come with me every time I have to buy something?” you say lightheartedly. It eases some of the tension in his chest.

“Was that too much?” he says, tone low.

You smile to yourself. You wouldn’t call it too much. He seems like he’s an intense, passionate person. Beneath the surface, Rafe feels more than he lets on.

“You didn’t let a guy con me, then you bought me a $250 book,” you reply with a laugh. “Trust me, you’re good. Thank you.”

Your phone buzzes with a text from Zach as you back out of the driveway. Crap I’m so sorry. I don’t even remember falling asleep. Did you come over?

You reply: all good! i figured you were exhausted. rafe went with me.

“Guess who’s awake,” you say, the smile apparent in your tone. Rafe glances over at your profile as you text back.

He hates this about himself, the envy that pushes him to be sure that Zach is so much better than him. That every girl, if given the chance, would pick his brother over him.

“So, you were going to go for a drive?” you say, tucking your phone away. Because of his kind gestures tonight, you’re pretty sure that he likes hanging out with you. “Want company?”

Rafe taps his hand against the steering wheel. Even if this is just platonic, he doesn’t want you to leave his car.

“If I can pick the music,” he says.

“You said I had good taste.”

“Mine’s better.”

You laugh, and because he held your waist just a few minutes ago, you don’t feel apprehensive to touch him. You nudge his shoulder. He smirks.

An hour goes by like a minute. When Rafe and you part, your cheeks hurt from how much you’ve been smiling and laughing with him.

You talked together nonstop, touching on the most random subjects, finding similarities and differences. You have a deep crush on him. There’s no denying it.

When Rafe watches you step out of his car, he realizes that this isn’t just attraction like he’s used to. He feels like he knows you. And he likes you. It’s exciting and scary.

When Rafe makes it home, Zach is in the kitchen, the whole loft smelling like delicious food.

“You actually remembered how to get home?” Zach teases over the sound of ingredients sizzling in a pan.

“Lost track of time,” Rafe says. He settles on a barstool as Zach stands at the range, trying not to burn dinner.

Zach is glad his back is to his brother, because when Rafe tells him that he was with you that entire time, driving around and talking, his eyebrows furrow in anger and jealousy before he can subdue it.

“But before you lose your shit,” Rafe adds, “it was all friendly, okay?”

“Right,” Zach mumbles. He stares down at the pan, trying to breathe through his prickly frustration. He’s unbelievably mad at himself for falling asleep after practice.

You can do whatever you want, he knows that, but he feels that even though it’s just as a friend, you’re his, not Rafe’s. And his brother getting to spend time with you feels painfully unfair.

────୨ৎ────

The bright stadium lights pool over the deep green soccer field. It’s a cool evening, perfect for a match.

Cold seeps in through your jeans as you sit on the metal bench on the sideline. You have your phone at the ready to film the team as they rush the field for a home game.

You’ve grown to love your job. You found great friends, the TikTok account is earning more traction, and you’ve started to genuinely enjoy coming out to games and cheering on your school’s team.

It’s been almost a week since your night with Rafe. You haven’t seen him or Zach since. You welcome the distance. Liking them both is ridiculously confusing.

Minutes pass. The crowd is getting louder. The team still isn’t out on the field. Your dad runs a tight ship, so it’s weird that they’re late.

You head into the stadium tunnel towards the locker room, curiosity nagging you. A group of players are standing outside the door and you approach Chance.

“What’s going on?” you ask.

“Something’s up with Zach,” Chance tells you. Alarm rushes through you and you step into the locker room without a second thought.

Zach’s sitting on the bench by his locker, hunched over, surrounded by your dad, the team’s medic, and a few other players.

“Is everything okay?” you ask.

Zach looks up at you. His eyes are sunken, his lips parted. And then, he loses consciousness.

When his eyelids flutter open, the brightness of the room is so painful that he has to squint.

“He’s up,” he hears. It’s you. He hasn’t heard your voice in a while. He misses it.

He slowly comes to, realizing he’s in a hospital bed. You’re sitting to his left. The team medic is standing at the end of the bed with a doctor. He’s hooked up to an IV.

“What happened?” he rasps.

“You’re dehydrated,” the medic explains, leaning over to hand a plastic cup of water to Zach. “You’re at Trinity Hospital. You’re okay. Drink.”

Zach weakly picks it up, downing the cool water, his throat feeling raw. He rolls his head to look at you again. He knows it’s wrong, but he’s relieved that you look so concerned for him. That you’re here.

The doctor introduces herself, then explains that Zach was unconscious for so long that she’d prefer to keep him overnight to monitor him.

The news makes everything in him twist with worry and frustration. He just wants to go home. He doesn’t want Rafe to spiral.

“Okay,” he says. “I’m alright, though?”

“I’m not worried,” the doctor replies. “I just want to be sure you’re in good shape before I send you home.”

Within a few minutes, the doctor leaves the room. Then, the medic encourages Zach to drink more fluids, calls the coach to update him, and asks if you want to head back together now that you’re sure Zach’s okay.

You politely decline. You’re too worried to leave him alone so fast. And shortly after, it’s just you two in the room, listening to the beeps of Zach’s pulse.

“Dehydrated?” you say playfully, but still worried. “What the hell, Cameron?”

“I know,” he says with a smile. He regrets going hard at the gym today. He’s sure that’s what did it. “Rookie move.”

“I specifically told you to hydrate like, two days ago.”

Zach’s laugh is boyish. He reaches for your hand and squeezes. You remind yourself it’s likely nothing more than a friendly gesture.

“That was hangover advice,” he says. His thumb strokes over the back of your hand.

“It was life advice, actually.” You inhale slowly. “I’m glad you’re okay.”

He lets go of your hand, remembering you can hear his pulse right now and not wanting to risk you witnessing it beat faster.

“It was way more than two days ago, by the way,” he says. He threads his fingers through his hair, suddenly self-conscious of how bad he must look right now. “Where’ve you been?”

You look down at your lap. You’ve been declining all the invitations to hang out in the group chat because the past few days have been so confusing.

Seeing Zach with another girl was painful, and then, you realized just how unimportant you felt to him when he slept through your plans, even though it was by mistake. You need time and space to stop liking him before you can hang out again.

“School’s been kicking my ass,” you lie.

“Do you need help?” he asks. He’d do anything to have you around again.

“Leave it to you to be in a hospital bed asking if you can help,” you mumble. Zach laughs. You try and fail not to fawn over his perfect smile.

“Did I faint in front of everybody?” he says, fixing his hair again.

“Not everybody,” you half-laugh. “But, seriously, everyone was really worried. We all care about you a lot.”

His heart warms. He may be in the hospital, but right now, he’s grateful for having people who care about him. It’s all he ever wanted.

“Thanks for coming with me,” Zach says softly. “And for staying.”

You nod. You were so worried that you told your dad you were going with the paramedics when they arrived, not even considering that you had work to do, that Zach was already taken care of.

“Of course,” you reply. “You said you don’t like being alone, remember? In that dream you had?”

Zach huffs a laugh and looks away, embarrassed as he thinks about that night in the elevator, but still appreciative.

“Did anyone call my brother?” he asks.

“I texted him that I’m with you at the hospital. He hasn’t replied yet.”

Zach nods and thanks you. He tries not to fixate on the fact that you have Rafe’s number. He looks at the clock hanging on the wall to see it’s late in the evening. He figures Rafe’s out with friends or with a girl, not paying attention to his phone.

He wishes he could just talk to him. With every second that passes, he worries more and more about Rafe’s reaction to him being here.

“I should’ve grabbed your phone from the locker room so you could talk to him directly,” you say regretfully. “But I told Chance to get your things for you after the game. Is there anyone else I should contact?”

Admittedly, you’re bracing yourself for him to mention the girl from the other night. Or any girl, really. But he only shakes his head no.

A nurse comes in to remind you that visiting hours are up soon. Zach sits up, visibly on edge, asking her when he can have visitors tomorrow. She tells him 9 a.m.

Knowing he won’t be able to see his brother in person tonight makes him anxious.

After the nurse leaves, Zach frantically asks if he can send a voice-note to Rafe on your phone. You open the conversation and hand your phone to Zach, noticing the nervous way he’s chewing on his lip.

“Hey,” he says into the speaker. “It’s nothing. I passed out from dehydration and I’m at Trinity and they’re keeping me overnight just to be sure I’m good, but the doctor’s not worried.”

His eyes flit to you and he swallows hard.

“This is nothing like the last time, okay? I know your mind’s gonna go there and this is not even close,” he continues. “You can come see me at nine tomorrow. And you better bring me food.”

Zach ends the recording, sends it, and gives you back your phone.

“Thanks,” he breathes. You nod, your eyebrows knitting in confusion and worry.

“Sure,” you say. “Is there anything I can do?”

Zach scratches the back of his neck.

“When he answers, please tell him that you saw for yourself that I’m okay,” he says. “He might be a little freaked out.”

You agree, not wanting to pry, and start to collect your things. There’s no television in the room and you feel bad that Zach’ll be left alone with nothing to entertain him. You want to help.

You tell him you’ll be right back, then rush downstairs at a vending machine you saw when you came in. After, you drop by the gift shop. It’s closed, the flowers and balloons locked up, but you’re still able to pick up a book sitting on a rack.

You leave behind more than enough cash for the book on the counter and go back to Zach’s room.

“Snacks,” you say breathlessly when you enter, dropping the bags of chips and candy and the paperback on the bed, “and a book. Hopefully, this’ll keep you entertained. And don’t tell my dad about the junk food. You know how he is about an athlete’s diet.”

Zach smiles at you, his eyes soft. With everything you’ve done tonight, you could simply be showing what a good friend you are, but what if you feel something for him, too?

The mention of his coach is reminder enough of why he doesn’t pursue this. It could get messy. But maybe he should be more like his brother. Taking risks. Allowing himself to do what he wants to do.

“I should go,” you sigh, looking at the clock. “Feel better, okay? We don’t stand a chance of winning without you.”

He laughs, his eyes lingering on you.

“Thanks,” Zach says. You turn to leave. He stops you with a gentle, “Hey.”

You stop, turning back to look at him. Zach takes you in, how good he feels when you’re around, how there’s still a little bit of worry written into your cute features.

He won’t tell you that he wants to you to be his girlfriend. Not like this, when he’s hooked up to monitors, stuck in a bed. He’ll do it when he’s out of here. He’ll do it when he can hold your face in his hands and tell you how much you mean to him.

“Seriously, thank you,” he tells you. “You’re amazing.” You smile at him again. If only he knew how much his words mean to you.

“You’re welcome,” you say.

You’re pacing through the parking lot when your phone buzzes. It’s Rafe calling you. You answer quickly. He says your name, his voice strained.

“I’m here. Is it too late to see him?”

“Yeah, visiting hours are over. I’m just leaving now,” you say, looking around the dark lot in case you can spot him. “But, honestly, he’s okay.”

“Does he…” Rafe pauses. “I think I see you.”

You approach each other under the starry sky, meeting by a line of parked cars.

His eyes are glossy. He’s been crying. No wonder Zach was so worried. He must have known the effect this would have on his brother. There’s more to this than you realize.

“Hi,” you say softly, ending the call. “It’s okay. He’s acting totally like himself.”

“He doesn’t have his phone?”

“No,” you say. “But I made sure someone’ll pick his stuff up for him.”

“What happened?”

“Before the game tonight, he was in the locker room and he looked really tired,” you explain. “He passed out, but he was already sitting and someone caught him, so he didn’t hit his head or anything. They have him on an IV and drinking lots of fluids.”

“Okay,” he mutters. “Fuck. I was at a bar and I wasn’t checking my phone… I got into a cab as fast as I could.”

“It’s okay,” you console him. “He’s good. He was more worried about you than himself.”

Rafe sighs, hands on his hips as he looks down and paces back and forth, hair hanging over his head. You can hear him panting.

“He was worried about me?”

“Yeah.”

“What’d he say?” Rafe asks the question the same tense way he did the night of the party. He’s so closed off, clearly upset at the thought of you knowing anything he doesn’t want you to know.

“I heard the voice-note he sent you,” you admit, “and he said you might be freaked out, but he didn’t tell me anything else. I didn’t ask. It’s not my business.”

Rafe chews on his lip the same nervous way Zach does. For once, you see a similarity between them.

His breathing gets even shallower. He rests his hands on the rear window of the van parked next to him. His body curls forward. His skin is flushed.

You step a little closer, searching his face in the light of the lamps lining the parking lot. He’s distraught.

“Rafe,” you say quietly.

His stare is on the ground, his chest heaving now. Something bad has been triggered in him.

“Hey,” you say.

“You can go home now,” he mutters breathlessly.

“I’m not leaving you like this,” you say. You take a risk, placing a hand on his back, feeling it rise and fall quickly.

“I think you’re having a panic attack,” you say evenly. “I get that this is scary, but I promise you, everything’s okay. Zach is okay.”

Rafe’s chest is tight. His veins are made of ice. He feels like punching something. He hates this familiar loss of control, this shock of the world crumbling around him with no warning.

Yet while he thought that he’d hate someone touching him like this, that he’d hate being so vulnerable, he actually feels a little better.

You continue to rub his back, sweetly and tenderly. The touches he shares with girls are never like this. They’re always superficial, fuelled by lust. But this feels like real, sincere care.

“You took a cab here?” you ask.

“Yeah,” he rasps.

“Did you talk to the driver?”

“What?”

“Did you?” you say. “What kind of car was it?”

It’s all in an effort to distract him, and while Rafe stammers his way through his answers about the driver and the car and the bar he was at, you notice his breathing start to even out.

Minutes later, his heart isn’t racing as fast. His chest isn’t as tight. He can think clearer.

He’s embarrassed, but relieved you were here to talk him down before he ran into the hospital and demanded to see his brother. He now realizes how bad that could’ve gone.

“I don’t…” he stammers. He doesn’t know how to say that this doesn’t happen all that often, that this is a piece of him he typically buries deep from everyone.

“What?”

“You probably think I’m crazy.” Saying the word out loud hurts more than he expected. It’s what he’s felt all his life, that something isn’t wired right in his brain.

“No. I get it,” you say. You shake your head. “I mean, I don’t know what happened, but… I’m guessing he was in the hospital for something before, right?”

Rafe meets your eyes, straightening.

“I get why you’re freaked out,” you say. “I would be, too. Memories can mess with us.”

The way you just calmed him down, the sympathy in your tone, the alcohol swimming in his system are what push him to actually be honest with someone for once in a long time.

“We almost lost him,” he admits. “A long time ago.”

Your face falls in sorrow, eyes searching his face. He looks down at the ground, too uncomfortable to meet your gaze again.

“I almost lost him,” Rafe mumbles, his voice thin. Because, really, he knows he would’ve felt the loss the hardest. His brother is the most important person in his life. Always has been.

And to lose him, someone so irreplaceable, someone he was with from the moment he was a living thing, would kill him. Zach’s right, even though he’s joking, that Rafe doesn’t tell him he loves him enough.

“I’m so sorry,” you say. “How old were you?”

“Fourteen,” Rafe says.

It was mere months after their mother abandoned them, saying she couldn’t stay with their father anymore, that she did everything she could do as a mom, that she was done.

It left a hole in Rafe that he feels every day. If Zach feels it, he does an incredible job hiding it.

He still doesn’t know what the final straw was. Why fourteen years of her sons’ lives was enough for her. How could a parent decide that they had enough of their kids forever?

She wasn’t the best mom, unpredictable and erratic, but he loved her. There had to be something wrong with her mind for her to act like that. To leave. Something that Rafe is sure skipped Zach and was passed on to him.

“That’s so young,” you say sadly.

“He was really sick for a while.” Rafe’s heart twists thinking about it.

How a freak case of pneumonia had Zach bedridden, his lungs fighting to keep breathing. How mad Rafe was at his brother, as if he did it on purpose. How sure he was that in some twisted way, his mother’s sudden abandonment triggered it.

He still regrets how he acted when Zach was discharged. He couldn’t talk to him for days. He was too angry for scaring him into thinking he was going to lose his best friend, his anchor.

“How long?” you ask.

“Weeks,” Rafe tells you. “And you know Zach. He kept telling everyone he was fine. Even as a kid, he didn’t want people to worry about him.”

“He is like that, isn’t he?” you say with a soft chuckle. Since you met Zach, you quickly learned he dismisses any notion of needing any sort of help. “But I promise, this isn’t one of those cases. I saw for myself. He’s good. I wouldn’t lie about that.”

Rafe nods quickly, finally looking at you.

“You’ll see him tomorrow,” you say with a small smile, sad but touched that he opened up to you like this. “Until then, just try to relax.”

Rafe loves the feeling of your hand on him. He can’t remember the last time he loved someone’s touch. If he ever even did.

He’s keeping his promise to Zach. He won’t hook up with you. Because he wants more than that. He wants to know you and for you to know him. He wants you to stay the night, every night. He wants you to be his.

And he needs to be sure you don’t feel anything for his brother.

“Are you and him…” He swallows hard. “Is there anything there?”

Your forehead crinkles in confusion. Zach had told you that his brother was his best friend. You’re sure he would’ve told him if he felt something for you.

If he has to ask, Zach must not talk about you much at all. You’re nothing but a friend to him. Although you do have feelings for him, you were right to be apprehensive from the start. He doesn’t like you like that.

“No,” you finally say.

Rafe nods. At least there’s no unrequited feelings on either side. He must have been reading into things, imagining you looking at his brother a certain way.

“You wanna grab some food?” Rafe asks impulsively.

You agree. Right now, there’s nothing else you’d rather do.

Rafe’s been on a handful of dates before, but sitting across from you at a quiet late-night diner, sobering up, getting to know you more and more makes him feel like he’s living in a dream.

He’s never felt this way about a girl before. Scared in a good way. Slowly, he opens up little by little, peeling back layers of the wall he’s been hiding behind for years.

He shares what happened with his mom. How Zach was the strong one, while Rafe acted out and made his life hell. You take in every word, seeing just how much guilt and shame and pain he carries around.

You open up, too, sharing things you don’t tell many people. He’s a good listener, and the eyes you thought didn’t have much hope behind them at first aren’t cold at all by the end of the night.

It’s one in the morning when you part ways. Rafe shares a cab with you, making sure you get dropped off first, watching you step through the front door.

Everything in him wants to invite you to his place, but things are going to be different with you. He won’t rush into numbing himself with sex like he always does, because he refuses to be numb or absent or checked out with you in any way.

────୨ৎ────

“What kind of grown man forgets to drink water?”

Zach looks up from his orange juice to see Rafe walking into his hospital room.

He chuckles, asking Rafe not to give him shit for this because you already did. The mention of your name makes Rafe’s heart feel lighter in this tense moment.

Because of how good it felt to be so open with you last night, expressing just how important Zach is to him, remembering everything they’d gone through together, Rafe doesn’t shy away from leaning over to hug his brother, who stiffens in his bed.

“Uh, good morning to you, too?” Zach laughs. “Is this a hug? What the hell? Who are you?”

“I love you, too,” Rafe mumbles, pulling back and holding up a paper bag of breakfast for him. “And I got you your food, princess.”

“You try eating hospital food,” Zach replies, taking the bag, feeling ravenous.

Rafe settles on the chair, remembering his brother at fourteen, picking apart at the food they served him with a look of disgust, yet telling the nurses ‘it’s good, thank you’ when they asked if he was enjoying his meal.

Rafe urged his dad to bring his brother home-cooked food almost every day of his hospital stay. It was one of the little ways he showed up for Zach, taking care of him instead of the other way around for once.

“What’d the doctor say?” Rafe asks. “Do you feel better?”

“She hasn’t come to see me yet, but I feel totally fine.” Zach digs into his breakfast. “How are you?”

Rafe looks down at his lap, sighing before he speaks.

“I freaked out,” Rafe admits. Zach stills. “She told me you said I would and you were right. But, man… she knew exactly what to do.”

“It happened when you were with her?” Zach knows what Rafe’s breakdowns look like. He has full-blown panic attacks. He’s nearly inconsolable. He wonders how jarring that must have been for you.

“Out in the parking lot,” he says. “It was just too much. All that shit came rushing back.”

Rafe shrugs, defeated. Sometimes, he’s able to give into the fact that he can do nothing but surrender to the chaos in his mind. He felt safe doing it in front of you last night. He felt safe every second he was with you.

“Are you okay now?” Zach asks. He notices the hint of a smile in Rafe’s face. A brightness he hasn’t seen in him in a long time.

“Yeah,” Rafe says. “I gotta ask you something, though.”

“What?”

“Does ‘off limits’ mean I can’t date her?”

“Date her?” Zach repeats, in disbelief. “You want to date her? Like, commit to her? You don’t commit to anyone.”

Rafe breathes a chuckle, pursing his lips.

“Well, now, I want to.”

“Are you serious?”

“Yeah.”

Rafe looks like he got rid of a ten-ton weight that was sitting on his shoulders. He’s relaxed. He’s content. Zach can’t remember the last time he saw him like this.

Zach became hyperaware of other people’s emotions at a young age. When their parents would argue, he saw what it did to Rafe, who would shut down and lash out. Zach would distract his brother in every way he could.

Then their mom left and it became ten times harder to keep Rafe steady. But Zach did it and he never stopped trying. Because helping others, putting their feelings first, really does make Zach happy.

But right now, he feels really far from happy.

He looks down at his food. He had it all planned out. He’d get in his best clothes, find a nice place to take you, give you a whole speech about how he hasn’t stopped thinking about you for days and how happy you make him and how happy he could make you.

“She feels the same way? Did something happen between you?” Zach asks. His chest is a hole. A pit.

“Nothing happened,” Rafe says, scratching the back of his neck.

It was nearly impossible for Rafe not to give into the impulse to hold your hand in the booth you sat at together last night and tell you how pretty you are and how much fun he has with you.

But he really does want to be a better person. He wants to think before he acts. And that means checking in with Zach that he’s okay with this, considering how tense he is about Rafe getting involved with his friends.

“But I think she might like me, too,” Rafe says. “And I made sure she’s not into you. I guess I was just reading into stuff before.”

That’s the moment Zach’s heart breaks. He licks his lips, his stare low. So, you would’ve just rejected him.

“You really like her?” he asks after a moment.

“Yeah,” Rafe says.

“Why?”

“Don’t make me be corny,” he groans.

Zach’s head is pounding. He wants to be mad at Rafe. But he had so many opportunities to tell him that he likes you, and he was too chicken to admit it. And now, his brother is falling for you. And he looks so happy doing it.

“You’re gonna have to be corny,” Zach says. “I need to be sure you’re not just messing around.”

Rafe sighs. It’s always Zach doing this, gushing over a girl, freaking out over if she hasn’t texted him back, getting all nervous before a date. Rafe used to tease him about it. He gets it now, though.

“You suck,” Rafe scoffs, tensing up. It’s hard for him to talk like this, but he forces the words out. “I don’t know. I like who I am when I’m around her. And it’s… when she’s in the room, everything’s better, you know?”

“Yeah,” Zach says. He knows. He feels the exact same way.

“Is that corny enough for you?” Rafe says with a scoff. “Are you cool with this or no?”

Zach chews his food slowly only to buy time before he has to speak again. He’s trying to act unbothered and it’s working, considering how in the clouds Rafe seems.

He has no idea that Zach is falling for you. Because he’s too busy doing it, too.

He meets his brother’s eyes. He takes a deep breath. And, because Rafe’s happiness has always been more important to him than his own, he gives him his blessing.

“Go for it,” Zach says. “And don’t hurt her.”

He’s never felt so bitter. He hates that he hopes you’ll have a change of heart. He hates that he feels like he’d treat you better. He hates all of this. But he stays silent.

────୨ৎ────

You’re having a late breakfast when Zach replies to your text asking to keep you updated.

Doctor cleared me. I’m home and I got my stuff from Chance. Thanks for everything.

His message is cold compared to how he usually texts. But maybe he’s just tired from the hospital stay.

You gaze out your window, thinking about everything that happened last night. Rafe isn’t as different from Zach as you first thought. Behind his hard exterior, he’s sensitive and gentle and so badly wants to be loved.

He confessed to feeling like something was missing in him since he can remember. The look in his eyes when you told him that to you, he seems perfectly whole, is one you won’t forget.

Being with him for hours was a wonderful haze. You didn’t want to part. He made you feel heard. It’s a joy that you’ve been lacking for a long time.

Minutes later, Rafe texts you asking if he can take you out to dinner tonight. You smile at your screen. You love how you don’t have to wonder about if he wants you.

The restaurant he drives you to is lavish and elegant. Rafe is unbelievably handsome across the table over the candlelight, his dark button-up making his eyes look all the more blue. Your stomach is full of butterflies, yet a sense of calm fills you when you’re with him.

You pick up where you left off, conversation flowing without any effort. He looks at you like you put the stars in the sky. You’re sure you look at him the same way.

When Rafe pulls the car up to your place, in an effort to keep you from leaving right away, he presses his palm against the back of your hand.

“Did you have a good time?” he asks, tone low, adorably nervous.

“Of course. Did you?”

Rafe chuckles at the question. Good doesn’t begin to cover it.

“You’re…” he begins.

“I’m what?” you laugh.

He squeezes your hand gently, turning it so he can lace his fingers with yours. The contact is warm, his ring hard but smooth against your skin. Your heart pounds in your ears as he stares at you.

“Beautiful,” he says. “In every way.”

His tone is sincere and firm. He says it like it’s a fact.

“And I want to keep doing this,” he says. “Seeing you. If you want to keep seeing me, too.”

“I do,” you say. When he leans forward, his kiss is soft but hungry, making your mind spin.

Zach fakes a headache when Rafe gets home. All he needs to hear is that the date went well. He doesn’t want the details.

────୨ৎ────

You’re wrapped in Rafe’s arms, your back flush against his chest, as music and chatter float through the air around you.

You’re settled on his couch, talking with your friends as the party rages. Rafe’s still getting used to what it means to be a boyfriend, tense and quiet around your friends, but he’d get used to anything if it meant making you happy.

You’ve only been dating a few weeks, but he’s sure if this isn’t love, he’s damn close to it. Aside from his brother, you’re his best friend.

You smile when you feel Rafe’s lips press against the side of your neck. He’s ridiculously affectionate, touching you whenever he can, spoiling you, whispering sweet things to you all the time. He’s completely unguarded.

Zach’s in the kitchen, as far away from you as he physically can be. After the hospital, he hasn’t been himself at all. You can tell he’s trying to be, though, forcing smiles around you.

It makes no sense. He called you amazing that night. But, then, he pulled away. It’s like he’s mad at you for dating his brother, but he refuses to admit it.

You’ve asked him multiple times if things are good between you. He reassured you over and over that they are.

Maybe someone else would believe him, but after you pined for him for so long, you can read when he’s trying to hide that he’s upset. At parties, at casual get-togethers, even at work when you’re making content for the team, he’s absent-minded and disinterested.

And whatever’s wrong, he prefers to hold inside.

Nonetheless, while your feelings for Zach have faded, you genuinely hope he’s happy and that you can be friends with him again one day.

The next morning, you wake up in Rafe’s bed. His arm is around your waist, his breath warm against your back. He’s still snoozing when you slip out of bed to get water.

Zach’s sitting at the kitchen island, staring down at his coffee. It’s almost funny how just over three months ago, you were here for the first time, yearning for Zach to give you a hint that he liked you. Now, you’re falling for Rafe.

“Morning,” you say kindly.

Zach looks up from his coffee. His smile doesn’t meet his eyes.

“Hey.”

You open the fridge, the awful feeling he’s been giving you lately sitting heavy on your heart. He makes you feel unwelcome, which is something you never expected from him.

“Just getting some water,” you say, searching through the shelves. “He’s definitely gonna wake up with a headache.”

Zach tenses. You’re doing for Rafe what he daydreamed you doing for him. Sharing a bed with him, nursing his hangover, touching him and smiling at him and giving him what Zach would die for.

You look so pretty in the morning, your bedhead adorable, your pajamas complimenting your figure. Why won’t his heart just catch up with his mind? He keeps telling himself to get over you.

He notices that you have Rafe’s ring on your finger. He used to imagine you wearing his things. He’d love to see you in his team hoodie. But he never will.

In another world, you’re in this kitchen as his girlfriend, talking about last night’s party, sharing kisses and laughs. But not in this world.

“I never asked you,” you say, your back to him, “how was that book I got you?”

You hope it serves as a reminder for how much you did for him and how much you care about him. It hurts, the way he’s been keeping you at a distance.

Late at night, as your mind drifts away from you when you try to fall asleep, you’ve considered the possibility of Zach being upset because he’s jealous of Rafe and wants to be with you.

But Rafe told you he checked with Zach to make sure your relationship was okay with him and he even said he didn’t feel anything for you. Maybe Zach thinks you’re not good enough for his brother and he’s too nice to actually say it out loud.

“Good,” Zach says.

You grab two water bottles and close the fridge door. One word is all he’s willing to say to you.

You can’t do it again. You can’t ask him for the hundredth time if you did something wrong, just for him to say you didn’t and he’s sorry that he made you feel like you did.

You leave him alone in the kitchen, padding up the stairs. Zach looks down at his coffee again. His eyes are starting to burn with tears.

He wants to remind his brother that they agreed they wouldn’t let people overstay. And you being here for even one night feels like overstaying. He can’t have you and every time he’s reminded of that, it hurts.

He can’t stop thinking about that night in the elevator and wishing that instead of drunkenly rambling about his brother, he rambled about his feelings for you. At least then, everything would have been out in the open long before you really got to know Rafe.

The girl he met through the video messaged him last night, asking if he was up to hang out again. She’s cute and nice. But she’s not you. And it’d be wrong to pursue someone just to numb the pain of not having you.

That’s all he wants. You. And because he was such a coward, he’ll never have you. Maybe at some point, he had a chance. Maybe you would have grown feelings for him if he was honest with you.

But you seem happy. So does Rafe, who actually wants hold you and kiss you in public. He was never like that with any other girl.

Zach realizes that while he was always so sure he coped with everything that life hurled at them better than Rafe, he wasn’t paying attention to how destructive he is to himself. His martyrdom was never a virtue.

He’s too late. He self-sabotaged. He has nobody to blame for his aching loneliness but himself. That’s the most heartbreaking part of this whole thing.

Rafe’s hair is tousled, his smile lazy when you come back to bed.

“Thought you left me,” he murmurs tiredly into your hair, pulling you tight against his warm body. You smile, your cheek pressed against his chest, breathing in his comforting scent.

Rafe’s sure you can feel his pulse on your cheek. He feels like you own every beat of his heart.

“I wouldn’t leave you,” you tell him.

The tension from what happened downstairs leaves your system. You swallow down the tears that threatened to fall when you left the kitchen.

You plant a kiss on Rafe’s chest. You know where you’re wanted. And you’re happiest staying there.

(the end)

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[myymi]

Sonic is twelve years old the first time Tails falls asleep on him. Over the months that the two of them have been traveling together Tails has fallen asleep next to him many times. Some nights he had darker dreams and would end up quietly shuffling his sleeping bag close to the hedgehog's, claiming that it was in the exact same spot it had always been in when Sonic would raise a brow at the proximity after waking up. Some days the sun would be just warm enough that the kid couldn't help but curl up in the soft grass after they stop for a quick water break, his tails wrapping around his small body as he snuck in a quick power nap.

But in all those instances never once had Tails actually slept on him. He kept close, but never dared to rest on top of the hedgehog for reasons the hero didn't quite understand then. They had stopped at the hotel in town for the first time in a while, having enough money to check into a one bed room on the ground floor. Tails thought that it was luck that it happened to be the same night there was supposed to be a storm, but Sonic had planned for that. He wouldn't usually buy a room just to get out of a storm, but the kid was tired and Sonic would rather not make him wait out a storm in an open cave where the sound of the booming thunder was amplified rather than muffled by protective walls. As Tails hopped onto the bed after they'd entered the room, Sonic made a beeline for the thick, dark blue curtains and tugged them closed. He's found that the darker the curtains the better they are at keeping the flash of lightning from assaulting their eyes. It keeps the room darker in the mornings as well, which the little kit seems to appreciate, even if he never voices at that. Sonic was rummaging through the backpack when he heard a squeaky yawn, followed by a quiet grunt as Tails fell back against the bed. He kicked his shoes off, not caring about where they landed before wiggling his way underneath the covers. The hedgehog couldn't help but smile as he shook his head, pulling out two of their water bottles to set inside the fridge so they could have something cold to drink in the morning. Leaving the backpack on the desk, he walked up to the bed and poked at the lump underneath the covers. Tails hummed before he peeked his head out, sleepy blue eyes halfway covered by his eyelids as he stared up at the hedgehog, waiting for him to tell him why he was bothering him. Sonic smiled as he made a 'c' with his paw, placing it at the top of his stomach before dragging it down. 'Hungry?' Tails bit his lip as he considered it. He would normally wave it off, but some hotels had free food. It was usually just breakfast, but if Sonic was popular enough in the zone then they'd receive free dinner too. As he thought on it, he vaguely remembered the front desk person did offer them dinner. He sat up and rubbed his eyes, "Free?"

Sonic frowned at the question, but he did nod. He repeated the sign for hungry, reminding the cub he was waiting on an answer. Tails nodded as he climbed off the bed, not bothering to put on his shoes as he followed Sonic out of their room. He covered his mouth as he let out another yawn, his other paw reaching out to grab hold of the hedgehog's to make sure he wouldn't fall behind. The hero responded by gently squeezing the smaller paw as he led them to the eating area. As the voices from other hotel guests steadily grew louder, Tails pressed closer the Sonic's side. When they finally entered the dining room, his tails twirled around each other before clinging against his leg. Sonic gently patted his head when he noticed, quickly bringing him to the small buffet. Tails was too small to be able to see all the options, so the hedgehog handed him a menu instead. When the kit pointed at something on the menu he wanted, Sonic left to quickly pile on a generous portion of it. Usually he'd feel bad about it, but he'd rather the kid get enough to eat. Besides, these places always ha extra food when the night was over. Tails was too small to be able to see all the options without flying, so the hedgehog handed him a menu instead. When the kit pointed at something on the menu he wanted, Sonic left to quickly pile on a generous portion of it. Usually he'd feel bad about it, but he'd rather the kid had enough to eat. Besides, these places always had extra food when the night was over. He gave himself a smaller portion of everything the fox picked out, knowing the kid would end up pushing his leftovers to Sonic. Tails didn't always pick out his own food. He used to refuse doing so altogether, saying that he was fine with whatever Sonic wanted to eat. The first time he'd gotten the kid to pick out their lunch Tails had beamed when he realized the older seemed to enjoy his choice of food. Since then, he always got the same thing as Tails whenever he got the cub to pick out something to eat. It seemed to help him voice what he wanted instead of just accepting anything he was given.

Sonic was going to eat at one of the tables, but the little fox was yawning a little too much for him to be able to stay awake long enough to walk back to their room after dinner so he decided on walking back now. But, with the tween's paws being full of their food, Tails was forced to hold onto one of his tails as they made the journey back to their room. Tails climbed back onto the bed so he could hold the food while Sonic turned on the T.V, flicking it onto a random cartoon channel before pushing away the covers so he could sit next to the kit on the bed. Tails frowned as he handed the older his plate of food. "I thought you didn't like cartoons?" He asked once he realized what channel the older chose, looking at the hedgehog expectantly as he took a bite of the chili on his plate. It wasn't nearly as good as Sonic's, but it wasn't bad. Sonic shrugged as he stabbed his fork into the small salad, leaving it there for a moment so he could sign his response before picking it back up to eat his bite. 'You like them.' "I know that." Tails said through his mouthful before quickly swallowing, "But you don't like them. We can watch something else, I don't mind." The hedgehog shrugged again and took another bite of his food without making any move to respond, causing the cub to pout. Too tired to really fight on the subject, Tails leaned against the headboard of the bed as he quietly ate the rest of his food. Sonic didn't really care about cartoons. They weren't his first pick by any means, but he didn't mind turning it on for little kids to watch. Which Tails is a little kid, despite how smart he is or how much he'd argue that he's "really not that much younger than Sonic" when he's still only four years old. The two of them ate comfortably with the T.V on a low volume but still loud enough to hopefully cover the sounds outside that the walls couldn't muffle. Sonic shifted his position a few times to try and block the window so Tails wouldn't see what little light pressed past the curtains. Tails squeaked out another yawn once he finished eating, handing his half-eaten plate over to the hedgehog. Sonic quickly scraped the rest of the food onto his, setting the now empty plate on the beside table so it'd be easy to grab when he leaves to put the plates back up after he finishes his own food. Apparently too tired to feel embarrassed right now, Tails wiggled under the covers until he was fully laying down before leaning over to rest his head against Sonic's hip instead of the pillow directly behind him. The hedgehog froze at the contact as his eyes snapped down to the kit, only to find that he was already out cold. Soft snores escaped him as his breathing evened out faster than Sonic has ever seen, the fox easily finding comfort in the physical contact. Too stiff to be anywhere near comfortable, Sonic gently laid his paw across Tails's torso, giving him a couple soft, awkward pats as he just watched the younger breathe for a few seconds. It took him a minute to settle against the headboard again, but it's faster than it usually takes him to get comfortable with someone touching him unprompted so he sees it as a win. And he only relaxed further after Tails started to quietly purr. They stay like that until Sonic finished his plate, stacking it on top of the other dirty dish before he laid down to join Tails in the dream world. He lifted the kit's head just enough to move around, gently setting it down on his chest when he's in a comfortable spot. He brought his paw up to scratch the cub's ear a few times before letting it settle around his back again, easily falling asleep at the soft sounds of comfort coming from Tails. The dishes will just have to wait until morning. ----

[mjrtaurus]

I feel like Doflamingo is credited with being Crocodile's equal in intellect a lot, but Doffy seems to think he's a lot smarter than he actually is. On top of having a cunning intellect, Crocodile has contingency plans upon contingency plans and then a few extra contingency plans in case something comes up. He's very quick to adapt, even if his people skills aren't that great.

Doflamingo is clever and a bit more battle-hardened, but he's not wise. He's great at manipulating people and he can play the long game so long as he has benefits to tide him over, but none of his underworld connections seemed to help him out that much in Dressrosa. And most importantly, as soon as a few variables change it's harder for him to bounce back, like when Caesar was kidnapped or Sugar passed out. That's when his Celestial Dragon impatience and instinct to just destroy everything until he gets what he wants kicks in.

That's why he was eager for a team-up in Marineford. He wanted to use Crocodile's brains to his benefit.

I don’t think Doffy is less intelligent than Crocodile, in fact, I do firmly believe that he and Crocodile are on par with each other when it comes to intelligence. The thing is, Doflamingo and Crocodile are intelligent in different ways.

Doflamingo’s edge over Crocodile is that he knows how people tick. He knows that loyalty and trust are not things to be balked at. He understands how far charisma can take him and how to utilize others to pick up the slack for the technicalities. Simply put, Doflamingo understands people better, but can get lost in the finer, impersonal details that Crocodile excels in.

Crocodile’s edge over Doflamingo is that he knows how to plan. He knows how to lay a firm foundation for a strategy that’s meant to last, yet he fails to account for the human element in which he must work with. He knows where to place the metaphorical support beams to keep the core plan standing with all the backup and contingency plans built in, he just needs the extra sets of hands to do the labor. Simply put, Crocodile understands how to put a plan together better, but he lacks the ability to be personable with his underlings, whereas Doflamingo comes by that ability naturally.

Doflamingo is aware of his weaknesses and Crocodile’s strengths in planning. He wants his reign in Dressrosa to be long and profitable. He wants to keep Kaido off his ass long enough for him to achieve his real goal: destroying the world the Celestial Dragons have made for themselves, and ruling the new one he intends to build on their bones.

And for all of that he needs somebody who can plan better than him. Somebody who has a similar moral deficit. Somebody who the world government and the marines won’t think twice about him talking to.

Somebody exactly like Crocodile.

The only- and I mean the only- problem? Crocodile isn’t interested in being anyone’s underling, and especially not Doflamingo’s. He is too willful, too independent, too untrusting to be for anyone but himself.

To sum it all up, Doflamingo wanting Crocodile for his brain isn’t because he isn’t as smart as Crocodile, it’s because he understands that Crocodile’s expertise is ideal in achieving his goals.

As for how things went down in Dressrosa… Doffy did everything right. I dare say he did even more right by treating the Strawhats as an actual threat from the start, whereas Crocodile didn’t until it was far too late for him. He went into the threat assessment with the Strawhats with the bar set very high, he was just not prepared for the fact that the Strawhats A) don’t give a shit about his bar, B) don’t play by the same set of rules in which his bar is designed to account for, and C) will take his bar that he so graciously presented them with and beat him unconscious with it.

[the-violet-galaxy]

Moon in the Killswap AU, to go along with Sun! This Swap AU explores TSAMS if Sun had been the one with the killcode – and by extension, Moon is the one Eclipse manifests inside of.

The twins’ backstory is almost the same as canon. Moon was born with no control over the body, and was angry and lashed out at Sun for this (and was an asshole to pretty much everyone else when he did have control.)  Sun was afraid of him, but still tried to reach out. They came to an understanding, became brothers, and found a way to separate.

Where the backstory differed is with Sun. His killcode was like a switch that activated when he was pushed to a limit, reacting to abuse, mistreatment, the breaking of rules. Moon’s abuse was one of the things that could trigger Sun’s killcode, which emotionally destroyed Sun every time he came back to himself to find someone dead by his hands; during these early years, Moon was so bitter about his circumstances that he sometimes egged Sun on and mocked him for his efforts to not kill people.

But eventually, he knew Sun was not to blame, and wanted to change for the better. He wanted to help Sun suppress his Killcode. So, he separated them, so they could start a new chapter in their lives.

But Sun considered himself too weak to ever fully control his killcode – so while they were in the process of separating, he secretly snuck it through the datastream into Moon’s head, who he thought would never be affected by it.

And Eclipse manifested inside of Moon, who was “Sun” trapped alone within the mind of his abuser…

And a year later Eclipse shows up and begins his crusade to ruin the brothers’ lives and to find the Star to bring order to the world! While inside Moon, he starts amplifying Moon’s faults. He eggs on his abusive behavior towards Sun, his assholish behavior to others, and, one of Moon’s biggest struggles: his controlling nature.

Because these are all faults that Moon has, and Eclipse shines an especially strong light on them. This causes tension between the brothers as they try to figure out what to do, when Eclipse keeps hijacking Moon’s body in search of that Star.

(Especially when Sun’s killcode starts regenerating, and as with before, when Moon is abusive towards Sun, that is one of the big triggers to make the killcode’s influence stronger and stronger until Killcode as a sapient entity is strong enough to be born. For Sun’s arc, the killcode is like a metaphor for “taking revenge and hurting the people who hurt you back,” which Sun desperately wants to fight against.)

And so, one of the big parts of the AU is Moon having to learn to be a better person – to keep changing for the better -- to unlearn his abusive patterns. That will be the key.  

Because one thing’s for sure: Sun is the most important person in Moon’s world. Even during the times when he hurts him, he still loves him more than anything. He vows he WILL protect Sun (and the rest of his family that come later), he will keep Eclipse from the Star so he can’t use it to kill them, he will save Sun when Solar is implanted in his head (and later, protect Solar when he is their brother), he will find a way to remove Sun’s killcode when it regenerates and becomes sentient.

(But it won’t be that easy. And, well, when things keep NOT going his way, Moon might end up with a very unhappy arc that ends in disastrous consequences the way it did for Sun when Sun killed Bloodmoon…)   

And that’s an overview for Moon!

Some other notes:

Moon has very little knowledge of Magig. Sun is the master magic user.

Moon is the one who suffered July 16 because of the Blacksun Burn Twins, and boy is he mad at them.

Roxanne replaces Monty and is Sun’s close friend. Whether there is a crush or not, Moon still teases Sun about having a crush on Roxanne.

It’ll be fun to write how Moon interacts differently with Solar and Killcode when they control Sun’s body. (He first realizes Solar is in there when Solar isn’t good at acting happy and jittery like Sun.) (But he haaaaates Killcode’s guts sososo much you guys.)

(It will also shine a light on Killswap Moon’s difference between Old Moon and New Moon from TSAMS canon.)  

That’s him! I should probably draw Eclipse next!

[firstdivisiongirl]

Hey there

my toman sister might I request a TR fic of Bonten Mikey finding out his Ex S/O is looking for him, thank you in advance!!!

Hi. Thank you for the request. Shockingly, not too much to say about this. I hope you enjoy.

Trigger Warning: Angst

Mikey x Reader: Stay Away

Mikey pushed everyone away years ago.  It was better for everyone.  That included you.  But you knew that this wasn’t good for him.  You knew something was eating him alive on the inside.  You started looking for him since the day he left.  You wanted to help him.  You wanted to be with him again.  You wanted the boy you loved back.

At first, he knew nothing of this.  He knew if he thought about you, it would only hurt him more.  Bring up memories he didn’t want to relive.  But Sanzu informed him that someone was sneaking around, looking for information on them.  It was you.  

At first he was angry.  What part of stay away did you not understand, he questioned

Then he was scared.  Please stay away, you’ll be safer, he silently begged.

But most importantly, he felt loved.  I guess your heart refused to stay away like I wanted.  I’m happy you love me, he thought.

He wanted you to stay away.  But how can you stay away from the person you love?

Please do not copy, modify, translate or repost my writing on other platforms. Comments, reblogs and likes are highly appreciated!

[kisu-doodles]

Big tw: for child abuse and manipulation

Idk about u Babez but I really would like to see jack winters featured in Scott’s story in mainstream x men adaptations. Like idk I just feel like it’s a really integral part of his character (which is why all the beauteous fic writers include him) that just gets ignored in the shows and movies!

Like scoots has a ton of trauma already but there is something so upsetting about jack winters and the also how he parallels other people in Scott’s life (specifically Xavier and sinister).

I think it was demonstrated best in the children of the atom comic, especially that scene where scott comes home and jack just starts raging out of nowhere. But also in other comics you see how he can be ‘nice’ to Scott like getting him his glasses but this further tightens his control over him making Scott think that his only option is staying with him. Jack knows Scott is way more powerful than him so he abuses him to make him feel helpless then does basic things like let him go to school (which I thought was odd that he was registered as Scott’s foster father in CoA since he’s a wanted criminal but then I was like oh he’s using a fake identity and having Scott at school means he can get money from the government which somehow makes it even more gross)

Like just from Scott’s pov, he’s on the run after accidentally destroying the orphanage, effectively blind for fear of opening his eyes and living with a traumatic brain injury and the after effects of sinister’s experiments, thinking he’s some sort of monster because of his mutation. He was probably homeless for a long long time which would be even harder due to his blindness and then suddenly he is approached by a man who he inexplicably trusts (since Jack is a low level telepath) who gives him food and shelter and what’s more he’s a mutant just like Scott. Scott probably thinks this is the only person in the world who understands him but then little by little he gets coerced into doing things he doesn’t want to do just little crimes at first and when he refuses jack becomes a terrifying monster that beats him and yells before calming down and reminding Scott that if he wasn’t such a dumb ass he wouldn’t get angry but hey Scott can’t help it being an idiot because his head is fucked up.

Then after raging he gives Scott the greatest gift, his sight back and what’s more he lets him go to school because he finds scott irritating so it would be nice for him to be out of his hair for awhile, maybe learn how to look people in the eye and stop mumbling like an idiot. Also he better do well in class and also no he’s not going to be allowed to take gym class not because of the signs of abuse, but because what if his glasses get knocked off and well it’d suck if they find out what a freak scott really is right? They’d probably send him to die in prison but Scott shouldn’t worry because Jack always looks out for him even if he’s an irritating pissant.

So Scott does everything jack says but it doesn’t stop the raging and Scott becomes convinced that he’s just a rotten to his core and that’s why Jack gets so mad at him. But it’s hard to keep up appearances at school when he’s so terribly underweight, wears the same dirty clothes everyday and can’t help zoning out during class because he was up all night helping Jack commit crimes, so Scott avoids getting to know anyone and it’s pretty easy because people tend to avoid the greasy haired weirdo with stupid glasses.

Then the heist at the nuclear plant happens and suddenly Scott is being coerced by another telepath to kill Jack and he just can’t do that, jack is the only one who could tolerate him, he gave him back his sight, he took him in when the world wanted nothing to do with him.

Then this telepath says he’s taking Scott to his home and he’s going to be a weapon for him but unlike Jack it’s for the greater good but Jack also said that, well what other choice does he have? Scott’s always been a useful object even if he is an brain damaged idiot so he goes, maybe it won’t be easy for Xavier to beat him like Jack but he’s also an infinitely more powerful mutant compared to jack but maybe if Scott does everything he says he won’t hurt him or at least not more than he deserves.

[blueninjablade3]

Disney men are with their S/O on their period.

McLeach

This man has never felt a woman’s touch in his life, dropped out of school in the 3rd grade, and has lived alone for so long I’d be surprised if he knew what a period is. You definitely need to be ready to have to explain EXACTLY what you need. He’s semi-willing to learn! But definitely be prepared to explain your need for a heating pad/ warm water bottle and explain you can't really control your emotions at this time.

4/10- Not the best, but willing to try and be good to you.

Jafar

I feel like Jafar has some pretty sexist beliefs such as periods/ period blood is gross. You aren’t really allowed to even touch Jafar during menstruation. Jasmine and the Sultan had to basically explain to him to be softer to you during shark week. Iago is actually really good to you though, Iago does his best to comfort you, however. I think Jafar does offer you pads or tampons just because he doesn’t want your blood on his furniture.

3/10 he’s not the worst on this list. Wait for Frollo.

Hades

OMG?! KING SHIT! HE'S PROBABLY THE BEST ON THIS LIST! Hades went to the goddesses of femininity and had the concept explained to him, how to help you, and asked you what you need. Doesn’t mind cleaning the sheets if you bled through, has Pain and Panic make you tea, and uses his body as both a heating and cooling pad. Cravings?! You get anything! Hades is the best on this list.

10/10, brilliant, incredible, show shopping, never before seen, iconic. Truly a king.

Rourke

Rourke is hard! I think he knows about it but doesn’t really care. He will be extremely confused about why you sometimes can’t get out of bed due to cramps. Rourke also has a habit of comparing your abilities on your period to others. Such as Helga, or Audrey. Thank goodness for Audrey and Helga though because they shut that shit down FAST! Rourke, I also imagine knows of some stretches that help with cramps. He has trouble dealing with extreme mood swings though as he’s not the most empathetic person, so not the best person to cry to during sadness.

4/10 He’s trying! Just not very hard… hang out with Sweet and Milo they’re much better with this stuff.

Ratigan

Ratigan is another hard one! However, I definitely see him as the type to spoil you rotten during your period. He’s getting your favorite products, having his goons make you hot fresh water bottles, and actually doesn’t mind the mood swings too much. He sorta likes you feisty. Ratigan actually doesn’t view periods as Taboo. I say this because it was a pretty religious belief that periods were divine punishment from god and I don’t think Ratigan is very religious. Ratigan does get pretty annoyed if you bleed onto his sheets or any expensive clothes of yours that he bought.

8/10- He’s not bad at all in this category! It’s just the sheets and clothes thing that keeps him from being a ten.

Alameda Slim

IM FINALLY GIVING THIS MAN THE LOVE HE DESERVES! Alameda seems like the type to be surprisingly gentle with his S/O, he knows that he’s a big strong man who could really hurt his lover if he wasn’t gentle. I think this also transfers to how he cares for you mentally. He knows that periods are uncomfortable and does his best to help you! He’ll go into town as Yancy O'Del to get you the right products (He has no idea what he’s doing and asks a very polite woman to help him), gets you your period craving, and will even yodel to you if want! He does his best to explain to his nephews what’s going on with you and why you’re snippy with them, they don’t understand. But it’s the thought that counts!

10/10- He’s putting in maximum effort, being gentle, and doing his job as a partner. Making you comfortable.

Hook

Dear ole Captain Hook is so lost. He’s never had to deal with a woman on their period before. I, on some level, doubt he knows what a period is. So after you explain the concept and the pain you go through Hook is quite disturbed. Especially if you have a difficult one. He puts in a TON of effort to learn everything he can about periods and how to make them comfortable for you. He gets Mr. Smee to watch over you when he gets too busy. Hook makes you the BEST, most mouth-watering dishes, for you while on your period. He also loves making you tea and hot water bottles to help with cramps.

10/10! For a man from his time, he’s surprisingly a great period caregiver!

Frollo

Oh, I have been DREADING him. This man is the worst. He INDEFINITELY has the sexist beliefs of his time. He won’t let you touch the Bible (which may be a blessing low-key), and Frollo views you as unholy for the entire month and will throw snide remarks about Eve at you. He offers no help.

-637726262737/10- EW EW EW EW GET HIM AWAY FROM ME EWWWWW!

Clayton

ANOTHER BITCH! This man is gonna act all high and mighty during your period. He won’t comfort you, he’s gonna act like he could deal with cramps, and makes jokes about your time of the month. And if you get MAD at him?! He makes snide remarks about women.

2/10- Not worse than Frollo but still a BITCH

Bonus!

Basil Of Baker St.

ANOTHER KING 💅🏻! He doesn’t know too much about periods and such BUT THE EFFORT HE PUTS IN?! He learns everything he can. He learns your cycle if it’s regular, your favorite brand of menstrual products, what medicine you take, and the signs you're going to start. Basil makes sure that one pad or tampon you keep in your bag ISN'T musty, you have medicine, and will sit and listen to your rants.

10/10- He’s an icon, he’s a legend, and he is the moment. Now come on now.

[paingoes]

Rubies - Trial I

LETS FUCKIMG GOOOOOOOOO

im so excited to write this. i should also say i feel i owe a huge debt to @lumpywhump for this post? i didnt follow it to the letter but it realllllly inspired me and helped break me out of the writers block i had w this story.

(Content: living weapon whumpee, dehumanization, discussions of past abuse)

It was busy back at base. Nothing unfamiliar. Delta kept his head down, staying closely to Kitty’s side. He had a very practiced method of shadowing. He did not look up too often to check, but he seemed to escape the notice of most people passing by. They traveled deeper into the labyrinthine halls of Galatea. 

Deeper, though, may have given the wrong impression. Really, they were going further up. The rooms seemed to grow brighter as they did, more ivory than steel. It was cleaner, somehow. The people standing about were older than the rank-and-file that made up the lower levels. 

Delta was the youngest person there. He’d expected as much. He always had been.

Earlier, he had packed what little he owned into the weighted black duffel bag, with room left to spare. They’d spent the better part of the week trying to prepare him for what came next, but they always seemed to falter before they could bring themselves to really push. Delta listened patiently as their words tied up.

“They’re going to pry,” Apollo had admitted, “It’s what they do. They want to know what happened.”

“…In detail?” Delta asked.

He had a good sense for it, truthfully. Little snapshots burned themselves into his brain. The doll half buried in the mound where the camp had been pitched. The glass shards he’d teased out from Paris’s arm when he was too drunk to care for himself. The terrier that had rolled over onto its back, unaware he’d been sent to kill it. Sierra’s perfume on the bare spot of her neck and her horsehair brush against his temple. 

“I don’t know,” Apollo had sighed, “It’s supposed to be clinical.”

It didn’t feel that clinical in the building. Natural light still poured in, not any harsh fluorescent. It was more casual than he would’ve expected. He was used to more severity — in aesthetic and in manner. But the voices in the room were chatty, familiar. Without any particular edge. 

He took note of a few of them. Some he recognized — older members of Galatea, not half as famous as Levon but still well-known. They’d all known each other for a long, long time.

He did not recognize the woman who approached him. Her hair was cut in a neat line about her chin. Dark glasses obscured her eyes.

“This is it?” She was still facing him, but the question was directed to Kitty. She did not wait for an answer.

A finely manicured hand grabbed at his face unexpectedly. He flinched from the surprise of it, but otherwise held still. She tilted it his head to one side, then the other, examining him. He didn’t meet her eyes — or where they would’ve been if the glasses didn’t obscure them.

“Hello???? What the fuck?” Kitty’s tail puffed up in anger, stepping forward. 

“Hm?” The woman looked confused. She did not let go.

“Get off him?!?!?” Kitty’s voice rose several decibels. He realized with a start that her claws had come out.

The woman released him, but her puzzled expression did not change. Delta bowed his head a little, keeping his gaze fixed on the floor.

“Why?” She asked.

“He’s sentient,” Apollo seemed to immediately understand the confusion, “Was I not clear enough about that? Did I not explain this properly over the phone?”

“You are?” The woman looked at him again. Delta nodded slowly.

“Oh.” She cleared her throat. “Sorry. I didn’t expect you to be.”

Delta didn’t respond. Sentient. His own sentience felt like a finely guarded secret. He’d been coached to act like it did not exist. He knew any glimpse of awareness from him was not a comforting sight to the public. Nobody wanted a bomb that could think. He could, though. It seemed like he wouldn’t be able to hide it anymore.

The woman started to say more, then grew too embarrassed by the faux pas. She hurriedly excused herself. 

“Sorry. You’re okay?” Apollo leaned in. 

He nodded, again. He hadn’t really minded. It was all standard fare.

“She shouldn’t have done that,” Apollo said. He was being very precise with his words, “People shouldn’t touch you without your permission.”

Delta nodded like he understood.

~

“Okay. I think we can get started.” Levon swayed the pointer stick back and forth in his hands. “My name is Levon. You all know me, hopefully. I’ll be presiding over the deposition, as is the power vested in me. This is just going to be our day zero. We’ll get everyone up to speed on the situation, introduce ourselves, try to establish an outline for the rest of the trial. Sound good?”

They all sat around a long table. Sunlight streamed in through the blinds. He’d been to enough of these meetings before — chained to the base of the chair, normally, or left off in the corner. It felt deeply unnatural to be sitting in the chair they’d assigned him. It was uncomfortable. He was at their eye level — and somehow felt even more on display than he had been nothing more than a statement piece. There was no avoiding the curious looks they kept casting his way.

“Silas Vern,” a thin man in a long coat introduced himself at the prompting, “Prosecution.”

“Maryam Pike,” a woman dressed in all pink stood up, “I’ll be leading defense.”

Others announced themselves, all unaffiliated, none of particular import. The attention turned back to Delta. He froze up. There was no chance at all he’d be able to speak.

Apollo saved him. His eye twitched in agitation, but that was the only tell. “Apollo Castilian. Katherine Leifer. Delta.”

No surname. He let it hang in the air before sitting down.

“Perfect. So, we’ll go over the facts of the case with the assumption that you’re all hearing them for the first time.” Levon clicked something. The projector behind him turned on. It was a screenshot of the forum’s homepage.

“Around twelve months ago, Agora user-” Levon read every letter of the keysmash. Delta felt a small twinge of annoyances; he’d meant for it to be unpronounceable on purpose. “-began posting a series of threads containing confidential information on Empire’s operations. The nature of the data breach indicated a very high level of clearance within the imperial system, leading many users on the site to believe it was an internal whistleblower. The information was recorded and passed along — unattributed — to Galatea’s intelligence by a Miss Katherine Leifer.”

Kitty smirked a little.

“This was eventually adapted into an exclusivity deal in which the poster was offered immunity in exchange. He turned down the initial offer. About three months ago, he asked that it be re-extended. Under the command of Flight Officer Iza Mok — and unbeknownst to any of her superiors — that request was granted.”

The projector changed to play a video. It was very low resolution, taken from miles away, but it showed the carnage of the airship. It burned and burned in the sky, shaking and struggling until it all went out at once, falling into the ocean. 

“An attack was launched on the Centurion Ball. There were no survivors,” Levon said flatly, not sounding too upset by it, “The asset was retrieved, at which point it was revealed that the user possessed extreme psychic ability. Later disclosure confirmed the identity of Δ-107. Our intelligence up until that point had suspected the designation represented a weapon of mass destruction, but we had no explicit knowledge of its design or purpose until now.”

Levon closed his eyes. When he reopened them, he was looking straight at Delta.

“We had no knowledge or expectation that he was alive. Records suggest that he has been marked as imperial property from the age of thirteen onwards. Intelligence uncovered proof of purchase from the now defunct Beldam Institution.”

Oh, it had been ages since he’d heard that name. No one inside of it ever called it by name. It was simply The Institute. Nothing else existed outside of it. He felt strangely sick.

“The full extent of destruction is currently unknown. It seems unlikely that it can even be uncovered. What we do know is the destructive potential suggested by the power readings — and some confirmed incidents. The objective of this trial is to agree upon a just course of action that can ensure the safety of all parties. Any questions?”

He looked around expectantly, his lips pressed into a thin line. 

“None? Okay. Silas and Maryam have both been appointed by me, in light of their expertise. We’ll spend the next meetings going over both sides of their arguments. The rest of you are expected to remain impartial to anything but the evidence and the arguments presented. Likewise, if you have any questions or concerns you feel need to be urgently addressed, you need to bring them up now. My hope is that we can get this out of the way in one shot. I don’t want this to be an ongoing discussion. And — I hope this goes without saying — none of this leaves this room. Clear?”

Like that it was dismissed. The older members of the board started to file out, some casting last looks over their shoulder that Delta plainly ignored. Kitty’s hand found his own as she rose to stand.

“Hang back a sec,” Levon said.

She sat back down. As the room emptied, Levon sat too. He leaned one elbow against the back of the chair.

“How are you feeling?” He asked casually.

Nobody answered for him this time. He thought he’d have made it through today without having to speak. He wished he’d stop getting questions like that. He still didn’t know how he was supposed to answer them.

“I’m okay,” he mouthed it more than he said it.

Levon’s eyes switched to Kitty and Apollo, who he knew were far more likely to object. Apollo clicked the pen against the table.

“…I don’t understand what the prosecution is meant to be arguing. You said this wasn’t a punitive trial.”

“He’s arguing for more strict security measures. It isn’t a punishment.” He studied Delta as he said it. 

Delta didn’t care, really, how strict anything was. He’d come to surrender. He’d expected to be imprisoned for the rest of his life, if not killed outright. The trial struck him as a formality that they need not take. He wouldn’t have fought them on anything they decided. They needed no pretense of fairness for that. He already knew what he deserved.

“You mind if I talk to you alone?” Levon asked. 

Delta nodded, ignoring the quiet protests Apollo was making with his eyes. Kitty squeezed his hand again.

“I’ll cya,” she promised. He believed her.

Levon led him out of the conference room, out into the hall. Delta stayed close to him, careful as if there’s be a tug at his collar if he let himself fall too far back. There was a faint industrial hum throughout the whole building.

“Is there anything I can do that would make this easier for you?” Levon asked quietly. “I know it’s going to be difficult either way. I’m sorry to put you through it. But if it has to happen, is there anything that would help?”

The question caught him severely off-guard. He stepped quietly into the elevator that Levon held open for him. He shook his head.

“…I don’t need anything, sir.” 

It was so hard being talked to like a person, though he was familiar enough with being talked at. He didn’t know how to respond in kind. He’d never gotten so many questions before. He was too nervous to answer most of them, too confused to even understand what they were getting at. He kept getting his wires crossed.

They went up a few floors — the one where Delta’s new room was kept, the same floor Levon’s office was on. They stepped out.

“You’ll tell me if you do?” Levon tried instead. It was easier, the yes-or-no questions. Those he could handle.

“Yes, sir.” Delta agreed. He didn’t think it would happen, which made it much easier to confirm.

Levon held open Delta’s bedroom door for him. He was slightly taller than the door frame; he’d have to duck down if he wanted to come inside.

“The room’s okay? For now?” He asked, “You know how to use the buzzer?”

The new room was sterile and clean, white and ascetic. It was expensive, more than Galatea was typically willing to shell out. There wasn’t much inside of it, no decorations, but there were CDs and a projector and books enough to entertain him. No internet. Levon said to wait.

“Yes, sir.”

He did know how to use the buzzer, if he needed anything. But he didn’t. He was used to the solitude. 

“Okay. Phone’s always on. Anything at all, let me know.” It seemed like he was going to say something else for a minute, but it didn’t happen. “Bye.”

The door locked behind him.

~~~

tags:

@catnykit @snakebites-and-ink @vivulapom @scoundrelwithboba @whatwhump

@pumpkin-spice-whump @deluxewhump @fuckass1000 @fuckcapitalismasshole @defire

@micechomper @writereleaserepeat @aloafofbreadwithanxiety @flowery-whump @littlebookworm69

@lordcatwich @human-123-person @paperprinxe @whomeidontknowthem @chiswhumpcorner

[uboat53]

LONG RANT (TM) time? LONG RANT (TM) time.

INTRODUCTION

One of the most insidious tactics in politics is the tactic of making wild and false allegations. I'm not talking about traditional spin, where a politician presents generally accurate information in the most positive way for their position, we all do that at some level. No, I'm talking about wild allegations, usually made in only a sentence or two without any supporting evidence, that are so false that it's clear that even the person making the allegation couldn't have reasonably believed it.

This is a modified form of the Gish Gallop, a technique which weaponizes lies. Duane Gish, a creationist and inventor of the Gish Gallop, discovered that, while it only takes a second or two to tell a lie, it takes far longer than that to disprove it. He would, therefore, begin every debate by spewing a torrent of wild falsehoods, forcing his opponent to spend their entire time debunking them rather than making any argument of their own.

Similarly, people in politics today, particularly MAGA Republicans, will often make wild accusations knowing that people with short attention spans will hear the accusation but won't pay attention long enough to hear the rebuttal. Even worse, through a process known as the "spacing effect", a lie repeated often enough will embed itself in the mind of people who hear it even if it is actually rebutted.

HOW TO ADDRESS IT

Given that, how can we approach this tactic?

First of all, I want you to get out of the habit of just reading the claim itself; read the name of the person making the claim. People who use this tactic rely on other people just reading information and accepting it as true without checking the source. Get used to paying attention to who is saying what and start to test some of their statements. Granted, a lot of stuff that people say is hard to fact-check, but a lot of it isn't; check those things to see if they're true. This will allow you to put together patterns where you can recognize things like "hey, this guy tells a lot of lies" or "this news source doesn't report news that's good/bad for one side." Knowing this helps you better understand the information you're receiving.

Secondly, once you recognize a pattern of lies or even a single case of an egregious lie, get used to ignoring that source of information. You don't have to listen to something just because someone says it and you don't have to turn off your brain when you engage in politics. If someone lies a lot or even if you just caught them in one particularly bad lie, it's okay to take that into account like you would with other people in your life and stop trusting them.

AN EXAMPLE

I'm going to start with an example that I saw recently. We're going to look Jeffrey Clark. If you know him at all, you probably know him as the Justice Department lawyer who wanted to give Trump permission to send the military to seize ballot boxes after the 2020 election. Only the full-throated opposition of every other lawyer in the government stopped Trump from making him acting-Attorney General.

These days he's being investigated by several layers of law enforcement for his actions around the 2020 election, the Washington D.C. Bar is in the processing of disbarring him, he's been indicted in Georgia for his actions around the 2020 elections, and he's currently working for a think tank closely linked with the Trump campaign. Here's his Wikipedia article if you're interested in learning more.

On September 23rd, Elon Musk retweeted a post by Jeffrey Clark in which Clark complained that no one could find a transcript of any case that Kamala Harris had prosecuted, giving him a much larger audience than he had on his own. Let's look at that claim, shall we?

So Kamala Harris has been Vice-President since 2020, was a Senator from 2016-2020, was Attorney General of California from 2010-2016, and was District Attorney of San Francisco from 2002-2010. None of these are positions where a person would personally try or argue cases in court. However, she was a deputy district attorney in Alameda County from 1990-1998, a deputy district attorney in San Francisco from 1998-2000, and a San Francisco City Attorney from 2000-2002. All of these are positions where she may have tried cases herself.

This is convenient because these are specific places with specific dates. Court transcripts are public records, so all you'd need to do is go to the courthouse in question and request the transcripts. I haven't tried San Francisco, but the Alameda County Court website has a search function where you can search for cases by name. Once you have the case number, you can request the transcript for that case. All of that costs money and requires you to make a login, so I haven't done it, but it's something you could do for around $100 or less. I haven't checked the San Francisco Courts, but I imagine it's similar there as well.

And I'm sure Jeffrey Clark, Attorney-at-Law, knows all of this. I'm not a lawyer and have no formal legal training and I know all of this, so he certainly does. In other words, this is not just a clearly false claim, it's a clearly false claim that the person who made it KNEW was clearly false when he made it.

RESULTS

As we've seen, this isn't a pattern of lies (though Jeffrey Clark certainly has that as well), but it is a particularly egregious one. Mr. Clark made an accusation here that he clearly knew was false even as he made it. He lied about as thoroughly as it's possible to lie, but he did it in a way that he thought he could weasel out of.

You see, Mr. Clark phrased it as an innocent query, "I'm just asking questions", because he thought that, when called on the fact that he implied Harris' case transcripts were being hidden, he could just say that he hadn't said that. But we know that he would have known they're not being hidden, his purpose in asking the question was to imply the answer in people's minds without having to take responsibility for it. In this way it's actually much worse than just a standard lie.

You can also make some assumptions about Elon Musk in all of this given that he shared this post as well. Clearly he has retweeted at least one fairly major claim without fact-checking it. Looking back on a few other things he's reposted, it seems as if he has a pattern of doing this. If you're taking what he posts at face value, it's pretty likely that you're getting a lot of misinformation fed to you.

CONCLUSION

So here I've given you a test and an example of that test applied to a real-life case. I think I've made it clear that Jeffrey Clark is a person who lies very deliberately about things he definitely knows are false and does so in a way that he thinks lets him deny responsibility for the lie. Because of that, it's safe to say that you should not trust anything he says unless you can verify it with a reputable source and you may want to question trusting what Elon Musk posts as well.

But don't think that's the end of it, take this test and apply it everywhere! If you catch someone lying a lot, or if you catch them in a particularly egregious lie like this one, stop trusting them!

There are so many sources of information around these days saying so many different things that you'll never be able to sort through it all unless you start whittling your information diet down to the people and groups that are consistently saying accurate things. Much of the information we receive is hard to fact-check, so our best method is to fact-check the things that aren't hard to check and use them to determine the reliability of a source.

Curating a good diet of information starts with cutting out the worst and least accurate sources of information. Hope this helps!

[lokh]

oughh i wanted to do a cute laishuro take on the blu ray extras (what if laios had been eaten instead) but lets be honest. they absolutely would not have made it as far without laios

[squid-procrow]

As Gale's on the mind again, time to bring up BG1 lore about mystra!

For anybody who truly doesn't think Gale was groomed, that a good god would NEVER!

This isn't even the first time she's done something like this, sure it wasn't grooming for Dornar Silverhand but she did take over his love interests body so she could manipulate him into children...

Tldr She takes over a girl (who was enthusiastic to be a goddess's chosen, then unsure once she realized it was for this) to convince a guy (her very loyal follower who was already in love so he said no) for kids.

He watches his wife become a literal shell of herself so that she can have seven children with the energy of both their parents. And he ends up having to kill his wife because she's become a lich shell of a person.

To which after he cuts her head off mystra shows up and goes "yeah sorry, my doing." And he loses it, running from Neverwinter up to the north and disappearing until he dies for 30 years where she continues to protect him.

The worst part? Dornar goes back to her after it all, helping her find more chosen. What Gale could have been.

I feel like a big part of the story that the writers were trying to tell us was that even if you were formally mortal the second you go on to the pedestal of a previous God you inhabit who they were, and mystra is the weave before all.

It fits perfectly with the Durge (and Astarion) storylines, if you don't remove yourself completely from the cycle you will inevitably become what you dislike, even if you intended for the best.

Below is the full txt

History of the Chosen of Mystra:

The reason why Mystra, the Goddess of Magic, invested a portion of her divine might into mortals is not known. One of the popular theories, and one that is gaining more support in light of the other goddess' during that period, is that Mystra foresaw the Time of Troubles (and her own passing at the hands of Helm) and chose to give some of her powers to mortals in order to ensure that her successor (the female mage, Midnight, as it turned out) would have a number of nearly immortal allies in the struggle against the schemes of the gods (the now dead Bane, Myrkul and Bhaal) who precipitated the Time of Troubles by stealing the Tablets of Fate.

The theory goes on to suggest that Mystra informed Azuth at approximately the Year of the Rising Flame (0 DR), more than 1,300 years ago before the Times of Troubles, that some of her power must be put into the hands of mortals who would then become known as Mystra's Chosen. The power would sleep within the bodies of those mortals, allowing Mystra only to call on it only with their permission. It would give the Chosen to innate ability to heal quickly, and would give them life spans far greater than those of ordinary mortals. Mystra speculated that these mortals might be able to call on her power and thereby gain some special abilities, but that these powers would not rival those of a deity. (See "Powers" below.)

The Goddess of All Magic then began to select mortals she thought to be suitable. One of the first was the young mage Elminister, and she also singled out a promising wizard named Khelben Arunsen. Both of them proved to be worthy and capable receptacles of her power, but Mystra's other early attempts to invest her power in living humans were unsuccessful, and she came to realize that only a very few mortals were of stern enough substance to contain such power within themselves without being destroyed or corrupted. Even though some people aside from Elminister and Khelben may have possessed the requisite strength, it is possible that having lived for years prior to being visited by Mystra had set them on a path from which they were not able to deviate. Whatever the reason, the problem needed to be solved. To get around the difficulty, Mystra devised a plan to use herself as a vessel to breed individuals who could be nurtured and acclimated to her power from the very beginnings of their lives.

For the father of these individuals, she picked the best example of human stock she could find: Dornar Silverhand, a nobleman and a former Harper who lived near Neverwinter. Mystra then possessed the body of Elue Shandur, a helf-elven sorceress whom Dornal was already attracted to. Mystra revealed her presence and her plan to Eleu, who happily and eagerly agreed to have the goddess share her body. Eleu had been reluctant, but under the influence of Mystra the woman became a seductress, and Dornal found his advances being suddenly returned with great fervor.

Dornal and Mystra/Eleu were wed in the Year of the Drifting Stars (760 DR). The first of the seven daughters, Anastra Syluné, was born the following winter. Sylune's six sisters emerged at one-year interval thereafter: Endue Alustriel, Ambara Dove, Ethena Astorma (she prefers the name "Storm" these days), Anamanué Laeral, Alassa Shentrantra (known today as the Simbul) and Erésseae Qilué. These siblings have become known in Realmsian lore as the Seven Sisters.

Dornal, who had been kept in the dark about his wife's true nature through the years (presumably because Mystra didn't want to risk losing his services), was disappointed and distraught by the time his sixth child was born; he had always wanted sons as well as daughters. More importantly, he was seeing his wife deteriorate right before his eyes. The strain of coexisting with the goddess all these years had turned Eleu into a withered shell - in essence a lich, clinging to life only because Mystra's power was within her.

When Eleu was carrying the seventh child, Dornal consulted a priest who told him his wife had been possessed by a entity of great magical power. To spare both of them any further agony, he attempted to slay his wife's physical form by severing her head from her body.

As soon he had done this, Mystra was forced to reveal herself to him, and she went on to explain her scheme. Just as she had worried would happen, Dornal was aghast at how he and his wife had been used by the goddess. He turned his back on the corpse of his wife, abandoned his lands and his children, and vanished into the North. Mystra bore him no ill will, and in fact protected him for the final 30 years of his life. When Dornal finally did meet his end he called out to Mystra, and the goddess granted his continued existence as her servant. Now known as the Watcher, Dornal Silverhand travels the world unseen by mortals on a continuing mission to locate candidates to swell the ranks of the Chosen and to identify possible threats to Mystra and her minions

[satorugojoswiife]

Dunno I but I actually feel kinda sad when I see people talking about Gojo like he's some kind of bad person etc etc😩 maybe I take it personally but how can I not when I love him so much😢 do you have such feelings?

No, I get you 😭 it's kind of frustrating to see how often he gets mischaracterized.