#i said yeah man its possible look and just wrote the code

[aroaceofthesea]

I had a programming midterm today and istg some people are just stupid

[telehxhtrash]

I tend to see a lot of people say that Togashi will leave things uncertain and ambiguous in between Killua and Gon, and while it’s a possibility, I honestly don’t think it’s the most likely thing to happen, and if it did, ambiguous wouldn’t be the correct term to call it.

People often say that Togashi likes to play with ambiguity when it comes to queer matters. Yes, Togashi likes to play with gender. We get to see that through Kite, Pitou and Kalluto in HxH (although its arguable because Kite is definitely not cis). But when Togashi decides that a character is queer, or that there is a relationship going on between two characters, he doesn’t leave it ambiguous.

Togashi has created queer characters in 3 of his main works : Yu Yu Hakusho, Level E and Hunter x Hunter. And everytime he created those characters, he made damn sure that everyone knew that these characters were queer. No room for any sort of ambiguity.

The first examples I have are from Yu Yu Hakusho, with a character named Miyuki, and the other is from Level E, with a character named Kyoko Mikihisa.

For these two characters, Togashi made it so that they emphasized themselves that they were trans. It’s painted extremely clearly, that they were born in the wrong body. There’s literally no room for any sort of ambiguity here.

Togashi could’ve easily kept things ambiguous. There are plenty of ways he could’ve done it, keeping the character’s gender confusing. But he didn’t. He made it EXTRA clear that these characters were trans. This is mostly why I genuinely don’t believe you can describe Togashi’s queer rep as “ambiguous”. Because when the characters tell you themselves that they are, it’s canon. It’s not ambiguous.

Now, sometimes, Togashi likes to play it more subtle. He doesn’t make his characters say “I’m gay” or “I’m trans���, but he finds another way to say it.

In YYH, Togashi wrote a gay character : Itsuki. And he’s canonically gay, because when talking about another man, Sensui, he mentions that he sees him as a lover.

It’s subtle. It’s not ambiguous.

Same thing for Alluka, Alluka never comes on screen and says “I’m a trans girl !”. The reason we know that Alluka is canonically a trans girl is because the Zoldycks insist on misgendering her, while Killua emphasizes that she’s a girl.

And once again, it’s subtle. Not ambiguous. Even though I’ve seen a lot of redditors say that “Alluka’s gender is ambiguous”, Togashi is literally doing his utmost to highlight subtly that yes, Alluka is a trans girl.

But subtlety is not canon’s enemy. Not everything has to be painted clearly for it to be canon. Sometimes, you just have to piece every little clue together yourself. Just because the word “trans” is never canonically stated in HxH concerning Alluka, it doesn’t make her any less of a trans girl. Because as the audience, we UNDERSTOOD from the subtext and from the clash in gendering that she is trans.

So, yes, Togashi likes to be subtle. But subtlety doesn’t make things any less canon.

I’m drifting a bit to non-queer matters, but I also want to talk about two relationships in Togashi’s work that were canonically romantic, but subtle.

The first is Meruem and Komugi. It’s canon that the nature of their relationship was romantic. They never did couple-y things, or even kissed. But it doesn’t make the nature of their relationship ambiguous. Because it was once again, subtle, but drowning in subtext that Togashi deliberately put there.

Togashi paralleled Killua saying that him dying with Gon would be a shinjuu (lover’s suicide), only for it to not happen in the end - but Togashi wanted to throw that word in. So we could have it at the back of our heads. Because when Meruem and Komugi died, it was a shinjuu. It was two lovers dying by the same method with the belief that they’d be united in the afterlife. Meruem only cared about spending his last moments playing with Komugi. They both said that they were only born to experience this moment, of being in pure bliss as they die together. When Komugi replies to Meruem and says that she’ll join him in death, she uses an old phrasing used to accept marriages proposals. They died holding hands.

It was subtle, but canon. Because of all these clues and all the subtext Togashi planted, it is undeniable that their relationship was romantic. And they never kissed, never said “i love you”, but we still know : and that’s the beauty of subtlety.

Because yes, romance can be subtle AND canon.

Another example of a canon romantic relationship that was never officialized by a kiss : Keiko and Yusuke in Yu Yu Hakusho. Correct me if I’m wrong, but while they kissed in the anime, they never kiss in the manga.

But a relationship doesn’t need to be canonized by a kiss. I’ve never seen/read YYH, but while I was doing research, I read that their relationship grew naturally over the course of the manga. That they grew together, were affectionate with each other, but never told each other the nature of their feelings. Until one specific moment towards the end of the manga where this happens:

All of this came naturally. No big confession, just a confirmation of what they both felt. And no kiss either ! No hand holding, no true “romantic” actions, either before or after that chapter. Just feelings. I’m quoting one of the post I used as reference, but “On one hand it's beautiful to finally hear it, but on the other, it's not even surprising. You find yourself caught off guard by how easily you're willing to accept that these two have felt this way throughout the entire series.”

And while it’s subtle, because you’d expect at least a kiss or something, it’s canon and undeniable that their relationship is romantic. It’s clear that the two of them are in love, even if they never kissed. Because it was clear from the beginning that this was where their relationship was going : all the building up to that one moment where they both basically tell each other “oh yeah, btw, i love you”. A simple confirmation of what they both knew, and of what we as readers knew too.

I guess my point is that Togashi can insist on the nature of his characters and relationships. He insisted that Miyuki, Mikihisa and Alluka were trans. But sometimes he also likes to be subtle, and not put everything plainly. But the subtlety doesn’t discredit its the canon legitimacy.

Now, onto what it means for Killua and Gon. 

I emphasized that Togashi liked to highlight when his characters are queer. There are absolutely NO DOUBTS that Miyuki and Alluka are trans girls, Mikihisa a trans man and that Itsuki was gay. It’s in canon. But they were all brought up differently, and it was either confirmed by them saying it themselves or by the context and subtext surrounding their queer identity.

But Togashi never left it ambiguous. We always had canon confirmation that they were queer. What I’m saying is, there’s a very, very high probability that Killua is gay and in love with Gon. We’ve seen it in the incredible amount of subtext deliberately placed by Togashi. And like I said, Togashi never left the nature of his queer characters ambiguous. So it’s highly likely that Togashi will confirm in canon at some point that Killua is gay. 

Now, while it’s likely Togashi will canonize Killua being queer plainly by either him saying it or subtext (just like Alluka), it doesn’t mean that his relationship with Gon will be canonized plainly too.

I mentioned earlier that Komugi/Meruem and Keiko/Yusuke’s relationships were subtle, while undeniably romantic. So maybe this will be the case for Killua and Gon’s relationship too. It looks like Togashi’s style for writing romance is show, not tell, thus making it a possibility that it’ll be the same for Killua and Gon.

But I can assert with 100% certainty that Togashi will NOT leave their relationship ambiguous. Maybe it’ll be subtle, but NOT ambiguous. Just like Meruem/Komugi and Yusuke/Keiko.

Killua and Gon’s relationship is the backbone of HxH, and it’s very clear that Togashi’s intent from the beginning of the story was to canonize it as a love story. When Togashi wrote Killua, he incorporated elements of Tanabata, a legend about two lovers, in his story, and made Tanabata his birthday. Togashi queer coded Killua from the beginning, and I honestly doubt that he would never canonize it, when it was his intent to queer code him from the beginning. He made the both of them have an extremely deep relationship, being each other’s most important person. Combine this with all the subtext, and yeah, it’s pretty clear that HxH is a love story.

So yes, Togashi wouldn’t leave ambiguous something he planned from the beginning of the story. Especially since HxH is his first chance at writing a manga and being able to do everything he wants with it. Especially when Togashi’s gay manga got turned down 30 years ago.

I mentioned Togashi never leaving stuff ambiguous, but rather either putting it plainly or more subtly. And honestly, I’m thinking it’s going to be a mix of both for Killua and Gon. A mix of subtlety and undeniable proof of the romantic nature of their relationship. Exactly like Yusuke and Keiko’s relationship. 

I feel like Killua and Gon’s relationship perfectly mirrors Yusuke and Keiko’s, and I can totally picture it following the same patterns. By having their relationship grow even deeper as they reunite, with no explicit romantic gestures, just deep, deep feelings. Until ultimately, they both confirm it one way or another. 

I could literally picture Gon turning to Killua, telling him out of the blue something they’ll do when they get married, Killua being confused but Gon saying something like “Well, I wanna get married to you Killua. Don’t you want to?” and Killua almost choking but saying that yeah, he’d like that. Plain and simple. No romantic gesture. No kiss, no hand holding, no feelings confession under the stars. Just a mutual assessment of what they both already knew.

But honestly, I’m saying all this to try and be objective, but I’m not in Togashi’s head. Togashi could also very much go absolutely crazy and make Killua and Gon share a kiss, hold hands, affirm their love out loud, Because it’s his first chance at being free to do what he wants with his manga. And because he’s been wanting to draw a gay manga for a while, he might want to emphasize that HxH is queer.

Especially when it seems like Togashi likes to incorporate shoujo elements in his work.

And as @/sincerelysamedt mentioned in her wonderful post, queer relationships are often dismissed as platonic in media, and that it’s important to overplay it to canonize it efficiently. And Togashi is probably aware of this. Hence Killua’s stuttering, blushing, the constant gay poetic lines Gon tells Killua about how he’s so glad he met him, Killua’s inner monologues comparing Gon to light itself, multiple characters highlighting their mutual love, a date under the stars where they mutually affirm their want to stay together and travel the world while they both blush.........Togashi didn’t have to go THIS hard, but he did.

These panels highlight the difference between the subtle relationships I talked about above. Correct me if I’m wrong, but I don’t think Togashi represented Yusuke or Keiko having internal monologues about how they wanted to stay with the other forever or poetically comparing each other to light. It proves that while Togashi likes to play it subtle, he's also not afraid to put extremely cliché shoujo tropes and heartfelt moments in his narrative too. Maybe he’s aware that internalized homophobia might pose a problem to the narrative he’s trying to convey, and thus he might be enclined to overplay it. 

When you keep in mind that Togashi most likely wrote Killua and Gon with the intent of making their relationship a love story, you can see that he’s never really written with the intent of being ambiguous or even subtle, providing us with multiple intense scenes of mutual devotion. And that’s one thing that’s leading me to believe he wouldn’t shy away from delivering highly emotional scenes that would canonize their mutual love. Because their relationship has never truly been portrayed as subtle, or ambiguous, it’s just.... developing.

So yeah, it could go either way ! Either Togashi will decide to paint it subtly like every relationship he’s painted in the past, or he’ll either decide to go all out and maybe show us an extremely heartfelt confession under the stars, maybe even an on-screen kiss (the latter option being highly likely considering all the very emotional scenes between them we’ve already had) - (EDIT : i wrote a post on why i believe there’ll be an explicit confession if you want to read it !)

But one thing is certain : it will never stay ambiguous, because Togashi has never painted any of his queer characters or the relationships between his characters as ambiguous, Subtle, yes. Ambiguous, no. 

[wiypt-writes]

Rock ‘N’ Roll People In A Disco World

Part 2- Panic At The Disco

Intro: You head to the hospital as Paul’s life hangs in the balance and as you wait for news, you start to reflect on the early days of your relationship.

Pairing: Paul Diskant x Reader

Warnings: Bad language, Smut (NSFW, 18+)

Disclaimer: This is a pure work of fiction and classified as 18+. Please respect this and do not read if you are underage. I do not own any characters in this series bar the reader and any other OCs. By reading beyond this point you understand and accept the terms of this disclaimer.

A/N: So, you migh recognise a few familiar names/faces in this as well- I can assure you this isn’t an Avengers/Diskant AU, just a way for me to pay tribute to a few of our faves…because, why not!

Rock ‘n’ Roll People Masterlist // Main Masterlist

Part 1

"All units, we have a possible 2-4-5 in progress at 4223 E Palm, South of Figueroa and 1st. Unit responding is requesting back up, 11-9-9, Code 3."

"Unit 613 responding, Code 3."

The call went out over dispatch and you felt a slight relief at the fact support was on its way. You took a deep breath, held firm, your weapon poised as your partner stood next to you. 

"LAPD, drop the weapon and come out with your hands up. We will fire." Officer Barton, a long time veteran on beat called out. "Panny, hit the porch."

You nodded and walked the short steps, bracing yourself against the stucco near the jam. 

"Come on Garcia, your old lady called it in, I have back up coming, bro. You don't want this to go down worse than it is," Barton shouted. "Don't make my Rookie work hard today, man."

Lights and sirens filled your ears and soon a second unit had arrived on scene. The suspect, now surrounded, soon surrendered, his weapon dropped to the ground as he came out of his home with his hands up. 

The second unit to respond to the call was helping Barton with the arrest while you headed inside to check on the girlfriend who'd called it in. She was beat up and bloodied, a bullet graze across her upper left arm. Paramedics were treating her as you wrote down everything she could tell you for the report to be filed later. 

You gave the woman’s hand a little squeeze as you promised her you’d be right back and headed outside where you saw Barton stood talking to one of the duty sergeants from the second unit and another officer who you hadn’t seen before.

"She's requesting an escort, both medics are male," You said to Barton.

“Okay.” Barton nodded. “You good to take it or do you want me to call back and request someone take over?”

You shook your head, “Nah, I’m good, I could use the overtime. It’s no problem.”

"Rookies, always looking for the pay out," Barton laughed at you and you snorted before you looked back at the house.

“Well, to be honest I wanna make sure she’s okay, she’s beat up pretty bad.”

"Yeah, well this isn't their first 240 but now, it's bumping to a 273D, if she keeps the chargers." Barton nodded. “Okay, go with her and I’ll file the initial report when I get back. You can add your details to it later.”

“See, we’re not always money grabbing assholes.” The officer you’d never met before turned his eyes to the sergeant who met his look with one of his own. “Some of us rookies are simply driven by our social conscience.”

As the two men looked at one another it was clear that the statement meant something, and you could probably take a good guess that the officer in question had also had his fair share of rookie jokes at his expense. It was part and parcel of being a newbie.

“Oooh I’m sensing a little bit of tension there, Barnes!” Barton looked at the sergeant who scoffed and rolled his eyes.

“He’s a wise guy, thinks he’s funny.”

“I don’t think it, I know it.” The buzz cut man shrugged. “Why else does everyone laugh at me when I walk into a room?”

At that you couldn’t help a little chuckle of laughter as your eyes looked over the hood of Sargent Barnes' black and white and caught the name plate of the wise ass, before your eyes flicked up to his face. A pair of shades were pushed up on top of his shorn light brown hair, revealing a pair of blue eyes which were twinkling slightly with good humour. He was clean shaven with a strong jawline, and a pretty handsome profile with high cheekbones and a smattering of freckles over his nose. Two strong arms folded over a broad chest, as he stood tall, a good inch or so above Sergeant Barnes and a fair few over you. 

His eyes caught yours, a smirk curling in his lips as he clearly thought you’d been checking him out.

Which, to be fair, you had, and all in all, he was pretty damned hot.

"Don't I know you?" He asked, his hands unfolding from across his chest and coming to rest on his utility belt, either side of the buck.

“I don’t think so.” You shook your head.

“I’m sure I do. I never forget a pretty face.”

You laughed at the blatant pick up line and looked at Barton who was watching, his eyebrow raised. You shook your head and turned back to make some sly quip of your own before the medic interrupted the exchange, telling you they were ready for transport. You nodded before once more switching your attention back to the three men around you.

“It’s been a pleasure, gents.” You smiled, nodding to both Barton and Sergeant Barnes before you turned to look at the other man. "Diskant.”

He feigns a pain to his chest with a hard slap of his right hand over his heart. "Uh, you do know me! That hurts."

“Read your name tag.” You shrugged and with that you turned and left.

The red and blue lights of the black and white bouncing off the concrete exterior of UCLA Medical Centre as you arrived brought you out of your memory. Officer Weiss opened the door for you and escorted you inside where the waiting room had been cleared and you were met with the somber faces of not only Captain Biggs, but Paul's Captain, Sam Wilson. But what brought your world crashing down on you for the second time that night was seeing your own Captain, Steve Rogers, waiting for you. Wilson had to have called him in.

"Steve," your voice quivered as your Captain and friend wrapped an arm around you. Sam, too, pulling you close. "What...." you couldn't even get the words out, each syllable choked back by the closing of your throat, sobs threatening to escape. 

"We don't know, not yet. The call came in as an officer down, unit in pursuit. Medics arrived and called in code blue, 10-45C GSW to the neck. As soon as they arrived he was wheeled into emergency surgery," Captain Biggs explained. 

The air left your lungs at the news and you near hit the floor, both Rogers and Wilson catching an arm, and had you been more with it, you’d have clocked the worried look that your Captain shot Sam. He'd known you since your training at the academy, his eye on you for SWAT from the get go, and never had he seen your lose control in such a way. You hadn’t on the job, not once. It was something you prided yourself on.

Biggs grabbed a chair from the wall behind him, where a dozen lined the sterile white space, and allowed you to flop into it. Your hands were shaking, legs bouncing on the balls of your feet, the tore up converse you’d slipped on squeaking a little on the clinical floor. You’d dressed in such a haste, your skinny jeans being grabbed straight back off the top of the hamper for you to put on, one of Paul’s hoodies being pulled on over a tight camisole. Whilst you hadn’t given a single thought to what you were wearing, clearly your subconscious had wanted to be near him, and you were glad as you pulled the dark grey item round you tighter, breathing in his smell. And you were reminded of the first time you were able to really be close enough to smell his cologne or deodorant, a smell that was uniquely Paul Diskant. 

It was Friday and your shift had just finished. It was the first time your rest days had fallen over a Saturday and Sunday, and you were making the most of it. A few from your team were heading to Jack's Bar for a few beers and, you suspected, a lot of shots and probably karaoke later, apparently that’s how your team nights went down.

You’d been there a few hours and your rounds had all gotten out of sync, as was always the case when everyone had had a few, so you stood up to head to the bar to get yourself a refill, cringing at the cat-screeching masquerading as singing which was ringing around the room. You found a space, placing your empty glass on the smooth wood of the bar and stood waiting for the bar tender. You hadn’t been there long when someone sidled in next to you, their elbow lightly brushing your arm and you glanced up to see the handsome, buzz-cut officer that had attended the 273D you’d dealt with in the week.

“Did you bring your cuffs?” He asked and you frowned, looking at him.

“What? Why?”

He jerked his head over his shoulder in the direction of the woman singing, “because she’s murdering Shania Twain and whilst she may feel like a woman, personally I feel that as police officers, it’s our duty to prevent crimes of this nature.”

You groaned out a laugh, “Jesus, you’re terrible”

“My name isn’t Jesus, but give me a chance and I’ll make you say ‘Oh God’,” he shot you a wink, “how’s that for terrible?”

You laughed and shook your head, cocking it slightly to one side as you studied him for a second. And then, you decided on a little joke of your own. “It’s Disco, right?”

He groaned, dropping his head in a dramatic sigh. “Diskant. Come on, you read my name tag, remember?”

"Diskant."  You shrugged, "Close enough."

He chuckled, nodding to your drink that was down to the foam at the bottom of the glass, "what are you drinking?"

"Beer," you replied.

"Any beer? Or..."

"The Heff," you nod to the taps.

Diskant waved the bartender over, "Jack, can we get another round, one for me and one for Officer...."

"Y/L/N."

"Officer Y/L/N. Whatever she's drinking."

"It's Paul by the way," he smirked at you while dropping some cash on the bar top as Jack returned your beers.

"Thanks for the beer, Disco," You winked and walked off to join your partner and the rest of the shift team.

“Woah, it’s like that? I buy you a drink and you bail, without even telling me your name?” He scoffed and you turned to look at him over your shoulder, giving him a smirk.

“Yeah," you shrugged, and when you turned away you could feel his eyes burning into your back.

Later, you saw him laughing in a full body tilt, eyes crinkled and his smile exploding. His partner, whom you'd recognized again as Barnes, had said something ridiculous causing the table to erupt.

You headed to the bar and ordered a round of shots for your team and another beer to chase it. But sent one over Paul's way, with a note on the napkin.

When the waitress took the beer to him, she placed the napkin down first, making sure he saw the scribbled note.

'Now we're even. - Y/N'

You watched as he read the note, a huge smile breaking over his handsome face and he turned, bright eyes searching the bar. When they fell on you, he arched his brow and raised his beer in thanks. You gave a sharp jerk of your head to show you’d seen and turned back to your team.

From then on, he was a persistent little shit. He'd somehow figured out your shift patterns, catching you in and out of the doors to the station as you'd be coming off shift and he starting his. Barton liked to give you shit for it as he'd always walk with you out, calling Diskant "your lost, little puppy-dog" and the unit were quick to catch on. It was all in good fun, until one day, you'd worked a tough shift; chasing down a couple of suspects and catching yourself up on a fence, gashing your arm good. Medics treated you at the scene, but told you that it required stitches. You finished you shift anyway and like clockwork, there he was walking in as you were out.

"Hey Y/N, you okay?" He'd expressed concern as your face was blatantly displaying your discomfort and mood which wasn’t great.

You were tired, irritated and in pain, now that the day was over, you wanted to just go home, so you seemed to snap in reply, "What the hell is it gonna take for you to just go away?"

Your response took him back a bit as he raised his hands in defense."Whoa, relax," his voice was soft and careful.

You sighed and stepped out of the way of the different people coming in and out the doors. He followed. "I'm sorry, that was shitty. It's just been a really long day."

"It’s okay, I get it. Look, I'm off today, I was coming in to get some stuff I left in my locker. I'm sorry if I've crossed a line somehow."

You thought to yourself for a moment. He hadn't crossed any line, not one that made you uncomfortable. You had your own reservations about dating someone from work, but it wasn’t like no one else did it, hell, half the entire force seemed to be married to one another, and if you were honest, you were actually kind of attracted to him and you found his flirty way of things to be fun and you liked it.

“No, you didn’t, like I said, bad day.” You shook your head. “I gotta head to the clinic for some stitches, and if I’m honest, I’m not a huge fan of needles so...."

He frowned “you hurt yourself?”

"Got hung up on a chain link chasing a perp through an alley. Finished the shift with the bandages from the medics, now I gotta take care of it."

"Do you... errr...", he moved out of the way of someone leaving the building and scratched the back of his neck, "do you need a lift up there or something, I got nothing else on."

"I could use a ride, sure," you shrugged, a small smirk tugging at the corner of your lips.

“Okay, well gimme two minutes to grab something out of my locker and I’ll be with you in a second.”

You headed out of the way of the various traffic in and out of the station and perched on the low wall that surrounded the parking lot. True to his word, Diskant emerged a few minutes later, sliding his shades down from his head to his eyes, a bright pink gift bag in his hand and for some inexplicable reason, you felt your heart sink at the sight of the item in his hand, it was clearly for a woman.

“Who’s the lucky girl?” You asked, nodding to it as he stopped in front of you. A smirk crossed his face and a brow arched over the top of his wraparounds.

“Is that your way of asking me if I have a girlfriend?” He quipped and you hastily shook your head, lying through your teeth.

“No, I was just…making conversation. Besides, you might be gay for all I know.” You finished lamely and he snorted.

“Well, I’m not, and it’s for my Mom. It’s her birthday tomorrow and she’s a pain in the ass for finding her presents in my room or wherever I hide them. That and I actually only picked it up yesterday and forgot about it.”

"None of my business." You shrugged and at that he sighed, looking down before he glanced at you, chuckling.

"You asked, sweetheart."

The pet name had you feeling a little warm around your neck. Thankfully, Diskant then led you to his car, the conversation moving swiftly onwards as you explained in a little more detail how you’d gotten your injury. By the time you’d finished you were out of the parking lot and had joined the steady stream of traffic on the main road.

“You should count yourself lucky that it was only your arm.” Paul mused, his thumb tapping the steering wheel. “One of the first shifts I ever did ended with the guy I’d been partnered with straddling a piece of razor-wire.”

“Ouch.” You winced and Paul wrinkled his nose.

“Lot of blood and screaming.” He sniffed. “Mind you, every cloud and all that, he said it would save him and his wife a fortune on a vasectomy.”

You blinked before your mouth fell open in disbelief and you scoffed, shaking your head. “Bullshit.”

“I swear down…”

“Don’t believe you, Disco.”

“Well, I’m offended on two counts. First that you think I’m untrustworthy and second you know that’s not my name.” He shook his head, hanging a right.

You shrugged, “I like it, it suits you.”

“I used to get that all the time at school.” He shrugged, “fucking everyone used to sing that damned D-I-S-C-O song in the halls.”

“Okay, now that’s in my head.” You smirked, and you opened your mouth to sing but he cut you off.

“Just, no.”

You laughed and took a deep breath. “Well, if it makes you feel any better my team call me Panny, short for Panic. On account of the fact I never seem to.”

At that he snorted, “yeah, I’m not calling you that, that’s, fucking awful!”

You let out a low chuckle, “Y/N’s fine.”

“Mind you,” he stole a quick glance at you before his eyes went back to the road. “Panic at the Disco, not a bad band.”

You rolled your eyes and chuckled a little. The conversation flowed with little interruption or awkwardness and once you arrived, your time at the clinic seemed relatively fast. You'd figured he'd left as you'd said goodbye to one another when you'd entered the clinic but to your surprise, and catching you a bit off guard, he was still waiting. 

"You didn't have to wait." You smiled at him and he shrugged.

“How else you gonna get back for your car?" His eyes flicked down, noting the clean wound and stitches in your forearm.

“Uber?” You shrugged and he paused, before he took a deep breath.

“Okay, you could have but my mom taught me never to leave a lady in need of help.”

"I was in there for an hour," You chuckled.

“Yeah, and now I’m kinda hungry, are you hungry?"

“Diskant…”

"There's a little place I know where we get some great quick food."

"And if I say no?"

"I'm a gentleman and no is no, I’ll take you back to the lot and you get in your car.” He paused, "and then I'll go home and weep into my pillow as I deal with your rejection."

You laugh loudly, genuinely amused, "fine, take me to dinner."

"Woah, I didn't say anything about dinner. I said food."

"Fine, food, let's get some food."

With a grin he gestured for you to lead the way and you headed out of the medical centre back to his car.

It turns out the place he’d been meaning was the Santa Monica Pier. And the food he had in mind was hot dogs and fries, which suited you absolutely fine.

"Alright, I gotta hand it to you, this is a pretty good hot dog and the beer isn't half bad," You tilted back the drink and smiled. "But, it doesn't beat Coney Island."

"Never been," he shrugged, "so I'll have to take you at your word."

"What else do you take me for? Obviously, you're swindling your way into something."

"I resent that accusation, Y/N."

"If I didn't know any better, I'd say you just suckered me into a date." You teased and he paused, turning to face you. “And, seeing as you said that was what it would take to get you to leave me alone…” “No, this is not a date.” He cut you off, shaking his head.

 “Hmm, just the two of us, you bought me food, pretty sure it counts as a date.” You wrinkled your nose, your tone flirty and Paul shook his head once more.

“Nope. Absolutely not. There’s a vital element missing.”

“What?”

“I haven’t kissed you.” He signed dramatically. “So, I’m afraid that if you want me to count this as a date then you’re gonna have to lay one on me.”

“Oh my God-“ You burst out laughing, “You are-“

“Hey, I don’t make the rules, Y/N!”

“So, to be absolutely clear, if I kiss you this counts as a date?”

“Yes.” He nodded.

“Well,” You popped a shoulder, stepping a little closer to him, your eyes flicking from his to his lips, “what the hell.”

You brought your lips to his, a littler firmer than you'd thought but the feel of his mouth against yours was soft and in a way delicate and as you began to pull away, his arm looped around your rib cage and pulled you back in for a longer, deeper kiss that if you'd been honest with yourself, made your stomach tilt and your toes curl. The way his tongue dipped into your mouth was delightful, the salty hoppy taste of the beer and fries you were sharing still an essence in his mouth. 

Breathless, you pulled away, “You gonna leave me alone now?”

“Not a chance.” He chuckled and leaned in again for a third kiss. 

"Y/N..." the voice calling out to you was familiar but your head was pounding and nothing but a fog had filtered over you. Tearfully coming out of your memory, you looked up to see Dorothy, Paul's mom standing before you, her husband Jim in the background talking to Sam. 

"Hi," you croaked and stood from your chair. She immediately wrapped her arms around you in a tight embrace. "I'm sorry... I didn't..."

"Its okay, Jimmy called us after Sam had called us both." She tearfully explained. "We came as soon we'd heard." She nodded to James Barnes, Paul's former beat partner who was talking with Jim, Sam and now Steve. 

"Dotty, I... I'm scared." You cried and she took hold of you again. Together you cried until Jim came and hugged you both, his eyes tearful but his demeanour strong. As a force veteran himself, Big Jim Diskant knew all too well how these things could happen but never did he want to believe it'd be his own son wounded in the line of duty. 

Barnes was quick to hand you a tissue and you accepted with a sad, soft smile in thanks. "He's gonna pull through, doll. Just you watch. You can't get rid of him that easy."

Your quivering lip turned to a wobble until you saw the doctor emerge from the double doors that led into the body of the hospital. His scrubs were bloodied and you feared the worst as he called out, "family of Paul Diskant."

The world around you felt like it was moving at a snail's pace, your stomach in your throat as you, Dotty, Jim and those there to comfort you all made their way to the doctor. 

"We've moved him into the ICU. He's critical, however, I'm hard pressed to say stable. He's not out of the woods yet. The bullet hit his carotid artery which supplies the brain, face and neck and while we were able to remove it, he's lost a lot of blood and I feel it's best to keep him medically sedated until some real healing takes place. That's all up to him on how long that will take and how his body works. Unfortunately, until he wakes up, we won’t be able to determine if there will be any long lasting damage due to the loss of blood to the brain. You should know, we nearly lost him once during the procedure and I know he coded twice before arrival. He's a fighter, that's for sure. For now, he just needs time."

"Can we see him?" Dotty asked, the words not able to leave your lips. 

"You can. One at a time," the doctor replied. "ICU rules. I can take the first of you up with me now."

Dotty very quickly turned to you, "go on." You looked at her like a deer in headlights. Jim nodded in agreement with his wife. 

"Follow me," the doctor nodded to go with him and as he did, he handed you a small plastic bag. "We had to cut it off. I'm sorry."

He placed the bag containing Paul's St. Christopher medal in your hand. It was covered in blood, no doubt from what had happened and the weight of it felt heavier than it ever had before in your hand as you joined the good doctor on the lift up.

It had been a month into your relationship when your parents decided to head out for a week trip to New York, your dad making good on his promise to treat your mom for their anniversary. That meant that you and Paul were playing house for the week.

After seeing them off, you'd proudly tidied up and made sure you pampered yourself before your date night to kick the week off. Fridays post shift were usually spent at Jack's but, you were off and Paul and Barnes were already day shift, as if the stars had perfectly aligned for tonight. Your gut was telling you that after a month of heavy, very heavy petting, absolutely breath-taking make out sessions and a few down the pants moments, tonight just might be the night things would change for the two of you. And if not tonight, then hopefully while the two of you were shacked up for the next five days.

A few hours of primping, preening and a ridiculously relaxing bath, setting fire to that very diamonds and pearls side of you, you picked out your nicest lingerie, a little all black set of bra and panties that hid lines well in your selected sleek black dress. Paul had said the two of you were going for a nice dinner, and he promised it was truly a nice dinner, not like the last he'd said was nice and you two laughed your way through burgers at the Beach Hut. He was going to pick you up at five, and you needed to be ready.

Punctual as always, your doorbell rang and there he was, duffle in one hand, flowers for you in the other. He always brought you flowers on your dates and you loved the old fashioned in him that clearly was a product of his parents love story.

You smiled at him from behind red lips and smoky eyes, your hair down and straight. "Hey! Thank you!" You took the outstretched flowers and welcomed him in. 

"Wow," he whispered, getting the full view of you as he stepped inside the doorway. "Sweetheart, you..., wow."

“You said nice... so if you’re taking me to some dive, Disco, when I’m dressed like this there’s gonna be trouble.”

"I promise, it's nice." Dropping his overnight bag next to the stairs, he followed you into the kitchen as you put the flowers in a vase. You turned from the island and his lips were on yours. "You do look beautiful, but if you want to get into trouble, I've got my cuffs in the car." 

You didn't miss the fire in his eyes and the feeling between your legs. “I thought only bad girls get the cuffs?”

"Maybe we should see how bad you can get."

"You're gonna have to feed me first."

“Damn, you drive a hard bargain.”

You wrapped your arms around his neck and pulled him in for a deep kiss, fingers scratching at the nape of his neck, "You think that's hard, you should..."

His finger covered your lips, "don't, don't finish that sentence or we'll never make dinner. THAT I can promise."

You smirked and pulled away from him fully, grabbing your hand bag off the entry table, "I'm ready, let's go."

The meal was divine, expensive and rich in place and taste, you dined on steaks and lobsters, Paul pulling out all the stops for such a new relationship and start of a fun weekend. You didn't mind, but you also knew that you'd have been fine with something simple too. 

"You know you didn’t have to spend so much, I’d have laid on my back for a sub," you sighed contently as he drove you two back to yours. 

"Well, in that case, fuck it, next time it's Subway."

"Is that what this was? You buttering me up so I'd sleep with you, Disco?"

“No, that’s...” he stopped and shrugged, “did it work?”

All you did was smirk back at him. From then, until tires skidded into the driveway, Paul drove at lightspeed, making a snarky comment about needing a red light for the dash or wishing he was in his squad car because he couldn't get you home fast enough. You were barely in the door before he was all over you, hands tangled through your hair, you kicking your shoes off at the bottom of the stairs. His strong arms and big hands lifted you off your feet as you clawed at him, your legs wrapping around his slender waist while he carried you up the stairs. It was a mix of breathy sounds and lots of tongue until your back hit the lamp at the landing stair, causing it to tilt, and the bulb to break. 

Shit," Paul cursed against your lips. 

"I'll get that later," you replied, continuing to fight for dominance in your kiss. 

He managed to get you to your room, but your pace slowed down as you entered, the heat lowering to a simmer unlike the two horny teenagers you’d both been in the stairs and hall. Your toes curled into your plush carpet as he set you down. Breathless and chests heaving, you kissed each other softly and slowly as your fingers unbuttoned his shirt, trying to hide your nerves. Your nails raked down the chest of his crisp white tee he wore underneath. You could feel his heart under your palm. 

Your eyes looked into his and you saw deep and beautiful blue pools staring back at you, a soft twitch of a smirk at the corner of his mouth. He took a half breath and his lips covered yours, his tongue slowly rolling over your top lip to pull you in. It made your stomach drop in need, and you wrapped your arms around his neck to close the space between you. 

His big hand splayed over your right ass cheek and held you there against him while the other hand cupped your face. If anyone were to walk in, they'd think you were one person, the two of you were so close to one another. Then you felt his hand trail over the curve of your backside, closer and closer to the start of your zipper. You felt your dress grow looser as he pulled the little metal piece over the teeth of its track. 

His lips trailed over your skin, and you could feel his heart now racing through his pulse point in his neck. Your eyes met his as he pulled away a second, "me too," You whispered.

A breathy chuckle left his lips and you pulled your dress away from your body, allowing the fabric to hit the floor. You felt naked despite the bra and panty set, his gaze taking all of you in. By no means was this your first time with a man, but it was your first time with Paul, and so far, you'd never felt or experienced anything like this and he wasn't even inside you yet. It was like your skin was on fire from the inside out, all of your nerves firing at once, causing everything to tingle and your breath to catch as your heart threatened to leap from your chest. 

His foot stepped between yours and he placed his hands on your hips, gently backing you into the bed, his lips sealing with yours, your hands holding his forearms to steady yourself. His hands cradled you as the two of you fell into the mattress, his body covering yours, his lips traveling down your neck and nipping at that sensitive spot that made your panties pool and your thighs clench. Your hands shoved the material of his button down over his shoulders and, as his lips carried on toward the swell of your breasts, he flung the shirt wherever it landed.

You smirked as he figured out the bra you had on was front closure and with a snap your breasts were freed. 

"Fuck, sweetheart," he said with a tone you'd never heard from him before.

He had his mouth on you before you could reply, your skin flushing and that twist of stomach igniting with pleasure. His hot tongue lolled around your nipple before suckling it between his teeth and giving it a little pull. You moaned as he pulled away, your fingers scratching at his neck. He smirked against your other breast as you arched into him, his free hand running over your hip and behind you to palm your ass as your leg lifted and bent a knee at his hip.

"I....oh God," you purred as his tongue licked and his mouth sucked, alternating between your breasts. "Fuck, I... Paul, please."

He sat back and ripped his shirt over his head, adding it to the pile. You could see he was solid from your foreplay and you knew the size he was packing. Your stomach twisted in anticipation. 

"Please... What?" He said softly as he left hot, wet kisses up the inside of your thigh. "You know, for a trained police officer I would expect you to have a little more self-control, Baby.”

"Shut up..."

He nipped at your thigh, and you moaned obscenely, your muscles twitching. "You gonna tell me what you want?" He nipped again, higher this time. "Or.."

"I need you."

“I asked what you want...”

"Fuck me."

Quickly he was standing, undoing his belt and pants while pulling a condom from his back pocket. You laid there amazed and in awe of the thick muscles of his entire body, the bare chest and tight abs he had on display. You'd seen his thick and full length before, hell, you'd even put your mouth around it but now, all you can think of is how it would feel deep inside you. Your eyes watched him with a hunger you could feel coursing all through you, the way he rolled the latex circle down his shaft and kneeled toward you on the bed. 

He pulled at your panties, peeling them away from your body, your legs lifting to remove them fully. You were soaked as he tested your folds, slicking the head of his cock. It felt so good already, you were squirming by the time his head dipped inside you. He caged you in with his body as he pressed into you little by little until you were both moaning at the perfect fit as he became fully seated inside you. His St. Christopher medal dangled between the two of you as it ghosted across your chest. 

Your hand gripped the medallion as you gave a gentle pull, his lips barely touching yours, "I said fuck me, Diskant." You sealed your words with a hard kiss, nothing but tongue inside his mouth and his hips snapped, again the two of you making lewd sounds as your bodies joined together.

He broke away from your kiss and thrust his hips forward again, slowly pulling out and snapping back in. It was blissful torture, your body experiencing each movement as if it were new. Your walls continuously contracted around him, giving him a pressure around his cock. It was a tight fit, but not painful, not uncomfortable in any way. Your eyes and his never broke away from each other, only lashes kissing cheeks as you would close your eyes for a kiss. 

With a deep, intentional roll of his hips, his lips moved across your jaw and neck, settling near your ear. "I love you," he whispered. 

You gasped as you felt your body react, "Oh fuck!" You moaned, your orgasm coming out of nowhere, tightening around him hard. 

"Fucking hell," Paul moaned as his hips sped up, until he was spasming inside you, his seed filling the barrier. 

He stilled while inside you, pulling out and slipping away with a soft kiss, only to come back cleaned up and pulling the sheet over the two of you. He curled his body around yours, your bare skin against his chest, his hand entwined with yours as his lips kissed your tousled head. "You're amazing."

You turned to look at him with your tired but happy eyes, "did you mean it?" 

A soft smile splayed over his features as his eyes twinkled a bit, understanding exactly what you were referring to. "I was being ironic, as I was, literally loving you." He took a pause and leaned in for a sweet, all lip kiss. "But hypothetically... if I did mean it..." 

You grinned, “then, hypothetically I’d say I love you to."

He chuckled and quickly pecked you again before settling in behind you for sleep. "Good to know."

The bell to the lift beeped and the doors loudly opened, bringing you to the present. It felt like everything took forever since you'd received Captain Biggs' call. You followed the doctor down the hall and after a sharp left, he showed you the doorway to Paul's room. 

As you stepped inside, your heart shattered. The first thing you noticed was how small and pale he looked there in his bed. Paul wasn't a small guy, in fact he was six feet of thick muscle and hard strength. A built frame that loved to wrap itself around you any chance he could. Your firm and well taught body fitting like the perfect piece to him. You swallowed hard as you stepped forward, closer to the edge of his bed. There were so many wires, so many leads hooked up to the various machines that ensured he stayed in his medicinal sleep and keeping him alive. A tube for the ventilator was in his mouth and down his throat while monitoring equipment measured his vitals, IV lines and pumps full of medication surrounded him, a feeding tube was stuck in his nose, and not to mention the various drains and catheters. You found yourself cursing all the episodes of ‘Grey’s Anatomy’ the pair of you had watched as you weren't sure if you'd rather not fucking know what the hell they all were. 

Despite the sick symphony of beeps and blips on the screens, the only sound you heard was the sound of his heart rate on its own monitor. A steady, morbid mantra reminding you that he was there but not really there with you. 

Gone were those beautiful blue eyes you loved waking up to each morning or staring deeply into as his pupils, lust blown with deep passion, love and desire stared back you while you made love. Hiding behind an ugly plastic tube were those pearly whites you loved seeing when he smiled or laughed with his whole body, his cheeky grin missing. Silent was the voice that would make your heart skip its beats, your body ignite, that would meet your voice in reply, 'sugar'. 

You held back the sob that was choking you breathless and you sat in the chair beside his bed, facing him. Your warm and soft hand took hold of his, and you were broken at how cold he felt. 

As you looked up for some form of help to the heavens above, your eyes looked back at him and you gave a breathy, shaky sigh, "hey, Stud."

***** Part 3

[ephemerlskies]

constant craving | jjk

⇢ pairing: jungkook x reader

⇢ genre: drabble series, angst, unrequited love, idiot!jungkook, idiot!oc, basically everyone's an idiot

⇢ word count: 1.7k

⇢ warnings: unreciprocated pining, explicit language, themes of hopeless romanticism (!!), (slightly) unedited

⇢ summary: your best friend decided to confide in his best friend on how to win his girlfriend back after a fight. you tell him exactly what to say to her, however he is unaware that what you were saying was a sincere delivery of your once undeclared love.

♪ playlist: constant craving - k.d. lang, bad religion - frank ocean, misunderstood - lucky daye, neu roses - daniel caesar ♪

╰ series index: 01 | 02 | 03 | 04 (final)

a/n: hello my little loves!! this was definitely ;) not ;) an impulse write and release ;) ;) sorry for being so inactive lately. i've been focusing on myself (i know how cliche that sounds but it's true). anyway, enjoy this incredibly angsts fic i wrote at 2 am for absolutely no reason at all other than i'm an emotional sadist and a masochist. love u!!!! <3

part one: control

He was coming over for the third time this week. Third time. Three times is two more times than he'd gone over his girlfriend's house, but you did everything in your power to convince your inconvincible heart that it meant nothing. Friends see each other more than their girlfriends, right?

It was making a racket in your chest, that muscle that strained much harder for a man who had his pumping for the girl of his dreams.

But, he was coming over for the third time this week.

The first time he said this visit ranked, in his words, 'out of the question' on the degree of necessary that he come over and show you Star Wars. You played a good game of reluctance when asking if it was the entire series or just one movie, and in your head, you hoped to God it was the entire series. For him, you'd watch the series four times over if it meant you sat through this outrageously nerdy movie next to the even more outrageously nerdy love of your life.

The second time was particularly funny to you. He called while you were cooking dinner, almost as if he was in stride with you in a way that was an ounce too synchronized to be platonic, and asked if you were whipping up a delicious meal that he could mooch off of. Knowing he was a terrible cook, plus the fact that when he begged so politely you felt your posture unbind into to a puddle, you more than happily obliged.

This time, the circumstances made it harder to say yes, but not yet impossible. And it was a second or two before you heard that knock on the front door that had your once pounding heart come to a complete halt. It was still, waiting for you to make a decision.

Since it was Jungkook, of course, you'd say yes. And your heart would continue beating. Beating, as in sending sharp jabs that stained the inside of your chest with bruises. Beating, as in when the time came, the final blow of your constantly craving heart would devastate your entire being.

"Thank you so much, ___. God, I'm such an idiot." He walked in with all the confidence of someone who was a bit too familiar with your company. Jungkook's feet reintroducing themselves to your floors in the same manner as he would the night before, and the night before that, and the countless nights you kept secured in your collection of memories. As if he belonged there; as if he was coming home.

"An idiot with a great friend." That last word nearly withdrew the bile you had been ever so gracefully holding in.

"Yeah yeah." And he was comfortable with that same word, 'friend', that deepened your bruises into scars. He had absolutely no clue. Idiot. "I can't believe I broke up with her. I was so angry and acted on that instead of logic. Fuck, why would I do that to myself? I love her."

"Well, you never know. Maybe..." You hated yourself for not resisting the selfish temptation that was about to fall from your lips. The words you've been internally screaming to him to leave her and fall in love with you instead were diluted to something much more tame when your tongue formed them into sound.

"Maybe it was for the best. Maybe you guys are better off apart? To, um, grow or whatever."

"No." He said that with too much certainty and too little hesitance and just enough conviction to sink another wound in the organ exhausting itself in your chest. "She's the one. I know it"

"Jungkook."

He looked at you with all the earnestness of a man who carved his utmost and unchanging dedication to her. A look that any love-induced sap would kill for. A look he would never direct towards you.

Your eyes weren't under your control as of now. The glue that held them to his eyes, his lips, his hair, and every other part of him you dreamed of was more than a marathoned yearning. It was an adhesive twelve years in the making, not showing the slightest sign of wearing away.

"The way you love is something to die for..." And then he smiled at you, but still not for you.

You were utterly crushed.

"She'll take you back in a heartbeat. I mean, she has a brain, so of course, she will. Anyone would."

I would.

"I hope you're right." The couch was four feet wide at most, but there was an impressively vast space between you and the man who was sitting next to you. "Can you tell me what to say? You know I suck with words."

"Uh... Yeah. Of course. Anything."

If breaking hearts were a crime, then Jungkook would have much to atone for. You'd be convicted as a willing accomplice for holding on this long. Up until this point, you've let every small glance, every shy smile he sent your way, every eyebrow twitch conveying a meaning only you knew well enough to retrieve him from whatever awkward situation he needed rescuing from, every accidentally brush of his hand against yours, every purposeful embrace that lasted so long your tears stained his right shoulder string you into a knot of miserable, unrequited love.

And up until this point, you had hope he would choose you.

Each ring of his phone worked in tandem to reduce your undying devotion to Jungkook into a compressed seed of denial.

I don't love him. He's just my best friend.

Your pulse pronounced itself loudly in your ears, as a not-so-gentle reminder of how much you hated him for loving him. Somehow, your heart beat faster. Then again, anything was possible when it came to him. Anything except the miraculous event of him hanging up, declaring his love for you, and living in the land of happily ever after that only existed in your deluded imagination.

"Hey Irene! I'm so fucking glad you picked up."

He gave you that look. With the arched eyebrow, his widened doe eyes, and the slightly hung jaw, you read each feature better than words and nodded to signal you knew exactly what he needed.

"I'm sorry about what happened." You said, in a whisper, though the deflated volume of your words carried no implication of the unbridled sincerity sealed in them.

"I'm sorry about what happened." He repeated, laying down that same Irene-contrived smile on you that fostered a smile of your own, knowing fully it surfaced as a reflex from hearing her voice.

"It might be crazy to try this, because I don't know how you feel."

If the thing people say about your life flashing before your eyes during encounters with death, then you were sure your heart was about to consume its last pulse of blood. The scenes of you and Jungkook spending your Friday nights when you were a ripe city dweller in your shoebox apartment doing everything and nothing at all had convinced you that you were certainly about to go into cardiac arrest.

"It might be crazy to say this, because I don't know how you feel." Jungkook was so many things, however emotionally perceptive was not one of them.

"But I love you. I have loved you since the moment I met you." Those words tasted sweet despite fermenting in a chamber of your heart you kept preserved since, as you said, the very moment you met him.

"But I love you. I have loved you since the moment I met you."

"No matter what, I'd choose you. It doesn't matter how mad I am or how annoyed I am, I will choose you because if I know anything in this damn, cruel, punishing world, then I know that I'd rather be angry, annoyed, or anything else with you than without you."

He repeated your words, but dehydrated all of your sentiment from them. You were left with the remnants of the feelings, and none of the words from him you were so desperately starved of. He took them right from your throat, along with the very breath that seemed to keep returning because of Jungkook, molded them into his own, into a sequence of sounds that were meant for Irene. You were left hungry, breathless, and forever wanting.

"No matter what, I'd choose you. It doesn't matter how mad I am or how annoyed I am, I will choose you because if I know anything in this damn, cruel, punishing world, then I know that I'd rather be angry, annoyed, or anything else with you than without you."

Irene must have been smiling right about now. Who wouldn't smile hearing those things from someone like Jungkook?

"Because with you, I'm complete. My story can't end if I'm incomplete. Please, choose me back. Complete me. That's all I ask."

Then, you began to ask yourself another question.

If you make me complete, Jungkook, will my story ever end?

You knew the answer to that. You swore your heart beat in a morse code that told you everything you needed to know.

"Because with you, I'm complete. My story can't end if I'm incomplete. Please, choose me back. Complete me. That's all I ask."

Jungkook looked to you, before Irene could form the proper response, and smiled. It was the third time he smiled at you today because of course, you were keeping track. You knew it was his own physically linguistic version of a 'thank you' or a 'you're a life saver' but somehow, to you, it translated to something similar to a 'goodbye'.

Your legs miraculously rose and carried you to the back porch. The sun was just beginning to dip in the horizon, proliferating a warm orange that was about to subside to an indistinguishable and unpredictable dusk. Whatever color came after the sunset, you were ready to accept it, to memorize how it reflected against a world without the possibility of him. And even though the night will always embody undertones of orange, it was time to focus on the colors around it.

It was time to let go.

a/n: i might make this into a drabble series!!! if anyone would be interested in that please let me know :)) thank you for readinggggg <3

[spideymarvelws]

can i request Dad! tom being interviewed (on a press junket maybe)by kid(s) but what he didn't know was that he was being interviewed by his own child(ren) 😌 thanks in advance!

Decided to make this in theme with the holidays🥰

Also its cut a bit short cause i feel like any fluff i write is the cringiest shit lmaoo but i hope you enjoy!

Main Masterlist

Warnings : just fluff, a few curse words, tom being a confused father

Word Count : 922

Questions From The Little Guy

Dad!Tom Holland x Reader

“I’m sorry, what was the question?” Tom asked, uncrossing his legs and leaning forward in his seat.

You watched closely as the interviewer tried his best to hold in his chuckles, smiling brightly as he repeated the question again.

“I asked if you could tell us where you hid the presents this Christmas?” He turned away, letting out a small breath before facing the actor once again, “Did you web them to the roof like last time? Or give them to the avengers to hide them for you?”

You giggled as your watched your husband’s confused face through the monitor. Your two-year old son, Harold sat snuggling in your arms, his chubby, small arms wrapped around your neck while his head laid agaisnt your shoulder, sleeping soundly. You five-year old son, Jonathan, however was listening closly through the bulky headset on his head, barely containing the brown curls that fell in front of his face.

You watched as he stared intently at the screen with Tom’s manager besides him, giggling along with the rest of employees who stood in the room. You were suppose to meet Tom when he came back from work next week, but when you got the call for the idea of an interview, you couldnt pass it up.

“Why would my fans want to know that?” he shook his head back, he let out a breathy laugh.

“Maybe they just want some tips and tricks from they’re very own Spider-Man?”

“To hide presents?” He said in disbelief, “In all honestly I’m pretty sure Peter Parker would be the worst at hiding presents, I mean, we all know what happened with his identity,”

“Answer the question!” Your son pouted, rubbing his palms together, “Mommy!”

“I’m sure he’ll get to it sweetie,” you reassured him, tickling his tummy, “Patience,”

“Yeah, yeah, yeah,” he mumbled, looking back intently at the screen.

“So sassy,” Tom’s manager whispered to you, giving you a knowing look.

“He grows more like his father every day,” you whispered back, rocking your baby boy in your arms, “I already had to deal with one sassy man child, I don’t know how I’m going to deal with two, let alone three,”

You moved your gaze back to the screen in front of your, watching on as the interviewer, flipped pages in his notepad, looking for another question your son hastily wrote down, “Fair enough, next question?”

You son let out a loud groan, huffing as he feel back agaisnt the cushions. You shook your head, leaning down to swipe a loose strand of hair behind his ear, “Don’t worry sweetie, you’ll get him afterwords,”

“Why-,” he coughed, trying to contain the laughter trying to erupt from his throat, “Why is it bad to say shit and fuck in the house,”

“I’m sorry, WHAT?!”

The next thirty minutes went by in the same fashion. Your husband confused with every question, the interviewer trying his best not to burst into laughter, to the piont where you swear you saw a tear slip from his eyes that he wiped away quickly. And your son sitting down with his chin in his hands, you’ve never seen his still so still or listening so intensively at a screen before, mainly when gifts or presents where metioned (which was often cause the little shit worded the same question differently about ten times)

He was a spiolt little boy that’s for sure.

Harold however was left unbothered in your arms, sleeping soundly with his pacifier in his mouth, being the soundless angel he was.

“Last question Tom,” The interviewer smiled, biting his lip as your husbands eyes blinked rapily, his head leaning in the palm of his hand as if trying to crack a code.

“Please not another one about the fucking presents,” his eyes widened, “Shit, sorry,” he groaned, tossing his head back.

“No, no, no nothing like that,” the interviewer reassured, placing down his notepad, “It’s quite sweet to be honest,”

“That’s what you said about the one with-,” he blushed, “You know what? We’re past that,”

“I’m sure we are,” he said, grinning as he took a breath to ask the last question, “Now, how much do you love your family,”

Tom’s eyes widened with yours, from that piont you knew the gig was up. You watched as the gears in his brain turned, puzzling all the pieces together.

Your son was a curious boy, he tended to ask a lot of things when he first learnt how to speak but the amount only grew his first day of school. But the most frequent one he asked what how much both you and tom loved him. Sure, it was mainly for the attention (since he could never get enough of it) but it warmed both your hearts, hugging him tightly every time he asked it.

“I-,” He said, his mouth hung open, “These weren’t fans were they?”

“Was it obvious?”

Tom sighed, burying his face in his hands as everyone in the room started to laugh, trying to stifle them as much as possible, feeling bad for the father who just spent the last hour dying of embarrassment.

“Where are they?” He grumbled, getting up from the chair.

“In the back room,” his manager came out, crossing her arms over her chest, “Your son is pretty angry with you might I add, the older one that is,”

“I’m gonna kill you,” he mumbled jokingly running towards the door.

“Thank me later for bring your family to you, you twat!”

...

Permanent TagList : @jadegill @sarcastic-sunset-7

[hacked-by-jake]

Was that Jake there 2

Part 1

Pairing: JakexMc

Words: 4,2k

A/N: So, a few days ago I got an absolutely sweet comment from @captainwanderlust78❤️

Really, you made my last week. And then unfortunately the news came from Everbyte that EP 7 will come later. And actually, there wasn’t a second part planned for this story, but since you wanted one so much, here we are. This is my second attempt, because I wrote a part that I didn’t like. I tried to keep the story a little more quiet this time. Anyway, I hope you like it and apologize for possible mistakes. Oh and Merry Christmas. 🌲❤️

--

"Ready little ones?" Dan asks you and pokes you with his elbow.

"Yes, I’m ready," you answer and look at the big clock in the motel lobby.

Point 12 at midday.

"I’ll be gone," you say goodbye to the others.

"Take care of yourself and call me if you need anything," Richy informs you.

"Yeah, or if he attacks you," hiss Dan.

"Dan" hisses Jessy and steps on his foot.

"Ouch" growls Dan and looks at her accusingly.

Jessy is just ignoring this and calls after you, "See you later".

Slowly but with firm steps you make your way to the elevator.

Immediately the doors open and you get in and press the button for floor three.

The place the place where you meet is going to be a motel room that can’t be used because of renovation.

This is the perfect place to meet Jake.

He will come over the fire escape behind the motel to the third floor and there you meet in the room.

Deciding how and when the meeting will take place was quite awkward.

Yesterday after you guys finished partying at the club, you and Jessy called a cab as planned to take you home to Jessy. Fortunately, everything worked out, until the taxi driver drove to the roadside in the middle of the drive and simply switched off the engine.

Immediately all the alarms were on in your head, and you were ready to get out of the car if necessary.

He turned to you in the back and silently held a note to you.

The paper was folded very small, you opened it and saw many ones and zeros.

0100100001100101011011000110110001101111 010011010110001100001010

Grinning, you rolled your eyes.

"What’s that supposed to mean?" Jessy wonders.

"This is a binary code," you explain to her and pull your phone out of your pocket.

"Ah now I know what that is, of course," she grumbles ironically.

"This is computer language"

You search the Internet for a code translator.

You took a picture of the notes, the translator took the numbers and translated them directly.

"Hello Mc" you read, "Is this serious?".

The driver silently held out a note to you.

You also open this note and moan desperately.

"Can’t he just write normal letters?" you mumble and take a deep breath.

"He’s a computer nerd, they’re all weird," answers the man who was supposed to be just a taxi driver.

01010100 01101111 01101101 01101111 01110010 01110010 01101111 01110111

00001010 01000100 01101111 01101111 01110010 01100010 01100101 01101100 01101100 00001010 01010000 01101100 01100001 01101110

01100110 01101111 01110010

01100111 01110101 01111001

00001010

"Tomorrow morning, doorbell, plan for guy" is the translation.

"Huh?" makes Jessy next to you.

"I’ve got another one," the guy calls again.

"One more? Why not write everything on a piece of paper?"

"Clay said it was too confusing"

"Clay?"

"Oh, Jake, excuse me" he grins and holds out the third note.

01001101 01100101 01100101 01110100 00001010 00110001 00110010

"Meet

12 o'clock

"Midday"

"Okay, so, there’s a man ringing in the morning and he wants me to tell him the plan but the meeting has to be at 12:00," you put it all together.

"Right" the man agrees with you and starts the car again.

"Wait, You knew what that meant?"

"Yes, but we should talk as little as possible, that’s why the notes" he explains to you.

"But I said it out loud"

"Yes, right"

After that, he didn’t speak, but at least you didn’t have to pay.

Well, and then 20 minutes later, you and Jessy took the next taxi back to Roger’s garage, and there you all met again to work out the plan.

Lilly told Mrs Walter she didn’t have to work today. Lilly would take her shift and the owner should have a nice day with Alfie.

After a little persuasion it worked and Lilly is the only one who has to work.

There are only 13 rooms occupied in the entire motel, and only two of them are on the third floor, so the room with the renovation fits best.

This morning at 7 o'clock, a flower messenger rang at Jessy’s house, and you stared at the roses and then at the man.

"Gohstbusters" he said and you understood what to do.

You gave him a note stating the plan for the meeting.

However, written in hieroglyphs.

But there is also a translator on the Internet.

The elevator doors open and you look around.

No one is to be seen so you make yourself on the way to the room which is at the very end of the corridor.

With the key card you got from Lilly, you can open the door, hold the card against the sensor and the door cracks quietly. You press the door inwards and notice that there’s light on.

However, of course you did not expect that a man sitting in the room on the desk chair.

"Oh, God," you jump back a step.

The man looks up and immediately looks worried.

"Oh my God," you murmur as you realizes it’s just Jake.

Completely out of breath, you lean with your hands on your knees and breathe deeply.

"Oh shit, MC, I didn’t mean to." He murmurs and comes up to you.

You laugh in agony and grin forced.

"Ha uhm already okay, all right, I was not scared".

A small but quiet laugh comes from Jake’s mouth.

He’s going to the side so you can come in. He locks the door behind you.

"How did you get in here?" You ask and try to calm your heart that feels like it’s jumping out of your chest.

"The doors are not safe for hackers," he explains, sitting back on the chair.

"You hacked a motel door?" you ask amused.

"Yes, you weren’t there yet, but I couldn’t stay in front of the door. That would have been more than conspicuous," he argues.

You just shake your head and let yourself fall on the bed. For a moment it is quiet, only the ticking of the clock can be heard.

"Thank you for coming," you speak in silence.

"Hm yes" is the answer.

"You’re still against it, aren’t you?" you ask unsure.

"MC, please don’t think I wouldn’t want to see you too, but I won’t be reassured until you’re safe again," he explains.

"How are you?" you change the subject.

"I am fine, and you?"

You roll your eyes, "Don’t tell me everything at once," you say ironically.

A smile appears on his face.

"Honestly not so good" he admits.

"Do you want to talk about it?"

"No, it’s okay" he declines. You pull up an eyebrow and you look at him in a challenging way, "Okay, then in a different way. Tell me what’s going on," you challenge him and leave no room for a negative answer.

You point to the bed next to you and signal him to sit next to you.

He thinks briefly but then does what you want

"Well, it’s all pretty stressful right now," he starts.

"Okay good, and keep going" attentively you look at him.

He finally surrenders and begins to report.

"There were some problems that we didn’t expect, they almost caught us. We could only cross a border with a lot of luck and help, but that took us quite some time. And then I made a stupid mistake, the pursuers were able to intercept our signal. As a result, I had to burn my laptop and cell phone so that nothing could be found.

That took us some time too. The agents are much better than I thought, they are much too fast and much too good and that makes it really hard for me. And for the others, too. And what’s even harder is, that I can’t write to you anymore. I dont know how far along you are, or if you have new clues, new key results, how far along you are with Hannah, but even worse, I don’t know how you’re doing. How you feel or if you have problems, and that makes my head full all day with questions that revolve around you. Sometimes we manage to access the Internet for a short time through public computers in libraries or cafes. But contacting you would be too dangerous. I can delete a lot of data from the system but as I said, the agents are better than I thought and unfortunately we do not know exactly how well and how much they can get back. I would have to take every computer with me and burn it down, but that would be even worse if computers were suddenly missing everywhere. It’s shitty MC, I’m honest, I hate this situation, but it’s my own fault"

exhausted, he rubs his face.

Wow okay, that was very honest.

Worried you look at him.

You could say things like "everything’s gonna be okay" or "it’s not your fault." But let’s face it, it’s not helping anyone. So the only logical way is to just hug him tight, and that’s exactly what you’re doing.

You slide a little closer to him and wrap your arms around his upper body and lean your head against his shoulder. Unlike yesterday, he does not tense himself but also gently lays his arms around your body. Immediately, its smell rises in your nose and tingles through your body. You notice how relief spreads in your body. Relief that he’s doing reasonably well, that he’s still free, that he’s here with you, that he’s hugging you, too. But above all, relief because it feels like every pressure is dropping from you, all the pressure of the last few weeks. The pressure because of Hannah, the pressure because of the man without a face, and of course the pressure that something might have happened to Jake. At least for a brief moment, everything is fine, and that makes you happy. And if you think about he’s gonna have to leave soon, you’re gonna get sick. But you don’t want to think about the negative things now, you just want to enjoy the moment, just a brief moment of rest.

You have closed your eyes and hear Jake’s heart beat rhythmically, which also calms you down. You remove an arm from his body and place your hand on his left chest. You can feel his heart just coming out of rhythm and then beating a little faster than before. This also makes your heart beat a little faster.

"You Jake?" you whisper softly.

"Mhh?" he makes a questioning sound.

"Who are the others?"

"They’re familiar to me. The three were also involved in the government project and now they are also in danger," he says briefly.

"Okay?" your voice sounds questioning.

"We know each other from different chat portals for hackers"

Thus, all your questions were answered. For this moment.

Slowly you break away from each other, even if you don’t want to, but it’s no use.

"I still have to thank Lilly and you" he addresses your #IamJake action.

"You don’t have to thank either of us, Lilly owed it to both of us, and I do it because I want,"  you assure him.

"But still, it’s not understandable, I hope it will help us. The idea was really good. The others were quite fascinated when they saw this, "he praises you and his half-sister.

"You deserve it, too, Jake," you reaffirm your action even more.

Ironically he laughs, "with what?"

"In which you are, and also do everything to find Hannah, even if she doesn’t know you’re her half-brother. And Lilly also understood that we both just wanted to help."

"That might have been a little selfish of me. I just wanted you guys to make up because I don’t know where this is going with the two of us. And I wanted to take the opportunity early" he confesses.

"I can live with that" a little smile is on your face.

He doesn’t know where this is going with us, and he wanted you and his half-sister to make up.

"I’m sorry, MC but -" he starts.

You sigh, "but we still have something to discuss," you finish his sentence.

"I’m sorry, but we only charged three hours at the most, then I have to go "he looks at you apologetically.

"It’s okay, let’s not talk about it now".

You really don’t want to talk about it right now. The conversation will come soon enough. Jake gets his backpack on the desk and takes out his laptop.

Then he sits down next to you again and asks you to give him your phone.

Quickly, a connection is established and the screen of your phone is displayed on the laptop.

And so you begin to discuss everything that’s happened since he was gone.

-

By now you had arrived at Lilly’s and your chat.

"You really called her Duskwood’s worst legend?" Jake asks a little overwhelmed if he can laugh about it.

"Um, I was a little mad," you smile innocently at him.

"Remind me not to argue with you" he looks at you briefly from the side and grins crooked.

"I like to argue sometimes" challenging, you look at him.

"Yes, I noticed that, so we prefer not to"

Quietly, he continues to read the chat while you wait to see if he has any questions.

From the side you see his eyes suddenly get a little bigger and he swallows.

"Everything okay?" you ask him immediately.

"So we’re in love?" he asks teasingly.

It takes a short time to remember the message, immediately you get warm and your cheeks turn red.

Then you laugh a little hysterical.

"Um, haha that- that, uhm yes..." you stutter.

Jake raises an eyebrow.

"Um, yeah, I can explain that," nervously you start playing with your hands and scratching your neck in turns.

"Uhm, so - on that point I didn’t know, uhm, what relationship you and Lilly have. So this - I didn’t know you both were siblings, and then I kind of wanted to piss them off. Well, I- I thought it might upset Lilly or something".

You don’t even know if that’s true, you just said it without thinking. Maybe it’s true, but he doesn’t want anyone know it, or it‘s just going too fast for him.

You wish for nothing more than for the floor to swallow you.

"I’m sorry, I shouldn’t have written that. I hope I didn’t make you feel stupid or anything, that’s the last thing I want, can we just forget about it?" you murmur in shame.

You look at the tips of your shoes so you don’t have to look at Jake.

"Lilly was right," Jake murmurs into the unpleasant silence.

"I didn’t like that they voted against you in the vote. They treated you unfairly, I didn’t like that at all," he admits, "I felt the need to at least scare the others. Which was not quite okay, but I couldn’t watch them treat you like this".

You’re looking at him.

"It was for Hannah, because you will be the key, but I could have just written a message, but that was not enough for me".

You can’t hold back a slight grin.

"Thank you" is all you can say.

"Is it true?" he harks curiously.

"Huh? What?" you act like you didn’t understand his question

"Well, what you wrote to Lilly"

"You know I like you," you confirm.

In response, you get just another big smile from Jake as he just keeps looking at the screen.

However, he omits the end of the chat, at the point where you got the video.

He knows probably after that it’s about his family.

"I’m very proud of you MC" he starts to talk, "you two worked really well together and I’m amazed how well you were able to solve the puzzles".

A little shy about his praise, you just thanked him.

Exhausted, you fall back on the bed.

Jake closes his laptop, puts it back in his pocket and then slowly lies down next to you.

"I haven’t asked you how you are actually doing" he notes a little depressed.

"At least better than in the last few weeks. It’s all very exhausting, but I can do it" you mumble and turn your head to the left so you can look at him.

His page profile is really beautiful.

"We met at a very strange time," Jake mutters, and he also turns his head in your direction.

For a moment, you look at each other silently.

"You are so wonderful and especially MC, do you know that?" he breathes.

"I don’t know, is that me?" you ask quietly.

"So wonderful that I don’t understand why you’re lying here with me"

"Maybe because you’re special, too, Jake. And even more wonderful than all the people I’ve met so far" you reciprocate his sweet compliment and mean every word seriously.

"Are you sure about this?"

"To 100 percent"

"You deserve someone better than me," he sighs.

"Stop lying," you grinned.

Now you both look at each other silently again, only the second hand and the birds from outside can be heard.

Slowly Jake raises a  hand and wipes a strand of hair from your face.

You take his hand in yours and you cross your fingers with each other.

Jake looks thoughtfully at your hands.

"It’s dangerous what we’re doing here," he mutters.

"You can take that little break, Jake. That's okay," you calm him down.

"Maybe, but it’s dangerous to be here with you. You get such big problems if the persecutors find out you know me," he easily squeezes your hand.

"Jake, don’t worry about it. I know who I’m dealing with and I know it can end badly. But that’s why I don’t care, if we don’t risk it now, it may be too late. And then we’ll never know if it would’ve worked.

At the moment everything is going crazy, so why not at least do what you want for a short time?"

"You should become a motivational trainer" he suggests for fun.

"Do you think? Did my speech help?"

"I agree with your words, but I have so much more to lose. My freedom and looking for Hannah, but those are just the little things. The biggest problem is that I could never live with myself if you got problems just because I was selfish. Against these problems the man without face is nothing, MC. If you go to jail because of me, I could never forgive myself, you understand. And that’s my problem, I don’t know if I can risk it, I don’t want to ruin your whole life.

You made new friends here, when Hannah gets back, you’ll be completely happy, but then there’s me. The guy who runs from the government, that’s not what you deserve", he tries desperately to explain.

"That’s also why I don’t tell you what exactly I did, why I tell you as little as possible. You can’t say anything if you know nothing no matter what they do, you don’t know it. If the agents find you, they definitely do a lie-detector test with you, and hopefully, they won’t do any more than that. But if you don’t know anything, you’re not in danger either."

"I understand your point, I understand your worries and your fear, but, Jake, I’m aware of all of this. I know what happens if you and I can be connected, but I accept it for you and for Hannah."

"But that’s the thing, you shouldn’t put yourself in danger for this, not even for Hannah. And you being in Duskwood is dangerous enough, which is why I’m here with you, because it’s too dangerous."

You pull up an eyebrow and look skeptical.

"You don’t have to take care of me.What   should happen to me? I won’t be alone.One of the others will always be with me. The man without a face can’t do anything to me, "you calm him down.

"I know, I know, but I’m still worried about you"

"But there’s nothing you can do about it, Jake. And the rest of the time we have left, we shouldn’t discuss things we can’t influence. None of us can change the situation"

"I don’t like that you’re right again" he grumbles what makes you smile.

"Do you know I’m happy right now?" you tell him softly, "because of you."

"Why?"

"Because I know you’re doing reasonably well, and because you’re here with me.

And you’re risking your freedom right now because I wished for this meeting. Then how could I not trust you, Jake? You deserve me to be here with you. And that’s also one reason why I don’t care if they get me, you confided in me even though you’re in a difficult time. You trusted me and that’s why I trust you" to support your words, you put his hand on your lips and breathe a short kiss on the back of his hand.

Like he’s petrified, he’s watching you.

"I think I’m really in love," he whispers.

"And I think I’m in love with you too" you giggle softly.

Minimally you slide closer to him and lean slightly with your elbow on the bed to push you a bit upwards.

As if he were considering whether this is a good idea, he eventually slips closer to you, but a lot more than you.

He also leans on the bed to be back on your height, your hands remain united all the time.

His thumb gently caresses the back of your hand.

Not ten centimeters separates your faces from each other.

Jake takes the initiative and leans even further up so that your faces almost touches. You feel his breath on your skin and your body is flooded with excitement. It’s like they just touched by accident.

Slowly, your faces move towards each other until your lips gently touch. But it’s enough to light a fire in you and get Jake to press his lips on yours.

Immediately you close your eyes and return the kiss with as much feeling as he did. You can’t control yourself and grin into the kiss, which also makes Jake smile.

Jake pulls you up to you and pushes you slightly on the bed so you can use your hands more.

But just as quickly the kiss becomes passionate again. A thousand different feelings are buzzing in your head. Despair, fear, happiness, contentment. And that is reflected in your kiss.

Now your two hands separate from each other and Jake wraps both arms around your upper body. You feel a little dizzy and feel like everything is spinning even if you have your eyes closed. Your body tries to cope with all the feelings of happiness and seems to be overwhelmed. Actually, it’s no wonder. You’ve never longed so much for closeness but with Jake now, it’s very different. The kiss last night,

it was beautiful. But that was a very different situation than it is now.you were overwhelmed and a little drunk. First the warm air in the club, then Phil, then suddenly Jake, a kiss, a deal, and then a weird cab driver. All quite a lot at once, but now you can enjoy the kiss, and it’s a very different one from yesterday. This is a relief for both of you, and the beginning of something greater, but also the beginning of an even more stressful time than before. 'Cause how you’re supposed to let Jake go right now, you absolutely don’t know.

You feel like your eyes are filling with tears because of the emotional overload that is currently running through your body. And unfortunately, you two seem to be really starting to have trouble breathing, so you’re must breaking up with each other with a heavy heart. Absolutely out of breath, Jake leans his forehead against yours.

"If the persecutors find me, beat me, okay?" he breathes hard. "Okay, but why?" you giggle.

"Because then I screwed up to be able to kiss you all the time."

In response, you laugh and give him another kiss. You could lie there forever like right now, but Jake’s phone suddenly starts ringing. Annoyed, he rolls his eyes but then stands up from the bed.He gets his cell phone out of his pocket and accepts the call. Instantly you assume the worst. The others are calling to tell him they have to leave. You don’t know how to react and your hands start to shake. His answers leave no room to speculate about what it’s all about, and his facial expressions and posture remain neutral. Shortly after he finishes the phone call, he blows out air and turns to you. You’re already struggling with the tears in your eyes as Jake starts smiling." Well, I think we need to rent a room at the motel."

Confused you look at him, "W-what do you mean?"

"We’ll be safe for the next few days, someone pretending to be me tried to hack the CIA. They think they’ve arrested me"

------

extra material:

"That’s her," he says in a much too high tone. "It’s an honor to finally meet you, I feel like I know you better than Jake knows you. Can you actually scan my personality? Jake always tells me that you are really good at seeing through people and assess" he babbles.

"Oh, is he telling you this?" you ask and grin at Jake.

"Oh yes, if you knew, When he can’t sleep, he tells a lot about you. He doesn’t usually talk that much in a year," giggles Jake’s buddy.

"Max" hisses Jake and looks at him hard.

"And he’s always telling you how impressive you are, and that he’s amazed you don’t have a problem with him being a hacker. And how sweet you are."

"Okay, that’s enough" growls Jake and pushes him. The pushed one begins to laugh and raises his hands up defensively.

"Do you tell such things?" you look amused at him.  "Forget that, please," he grumbles.  "Oh, I’ll never be able to forget that, but to be fair, I’m thrilled with you, too. And you don’t look bad either." You grin cheekily at him.

--

Masterlist🌹🎭

[yellowocaballero]

Human Relations Snippet: Tim teaches Jon the internet and odious goats are sacrificed to the cult of Bezos

There’s no reason for this to exist. I was rereading a bit of HR and I saw a throwaway joke about Jon wanting to buy Martin a Portal Gun. I started wondering about how that would even work. The answer is, obviously, a 200 year old man squinting at a computer screen wondering why there’s so many horny singles in his area. I get possessed by demons easily, so I took three hours out of writing my daemon au and wrote this instead. Bon Appetit. 

(Edit, quick clarification: I think that Jon would refuse to use the name for the Beholding that Smirke made up, and although all of this exists in my head and you guys don’t know this, there was a lot of tension between Jon and Jonah’s ‘circle’. So Jon hated Smirke and thought he was a hack. He uses Smirke’s terms to others sometimes for ease of understanding or in deference to Jonah (:/) but I think that mentally he mainly calls the Beholding his own name, The Witness. It rings of that personal and intimate connection Jon and the Beholding has. Anyway, onto the story.)

After one hour in anguished uncertainty, fifty popups that advised Jon of very many ‘hot singles in his area’, six separate sites that Jon’s God had to inform him were covers for thieves that stole money from you, and a very confusing retreat to Jon’s favorite internet page ‘Wikipedia’ as to what an Amazon was, Jon had given up.

Normally this was where he asked one of his personal assistants for help. Normally, he wouldn’t even be trying, and he would have just told one of them to do it. This was how Jon had cunningly mostly avoided using computers for the past twenty years. Some endeavors were unavoidable, and Jon was proud to say that he mastered email in 2010. Or was it 2008? He liked to think it was 2006, but it was possible...never mind. If it was important, the Witness would tell him. 

After one hour in anguished uncertainty, fifty popups that advised Jon of very many ‘hot singles in his area’, six separate sites that Jon’s God had to inform him were covers for thieves that stole money from you, and a very confusing retreat to Jon’s favorite internet page ‘Wikipedia’ as to what an Amazon was, Jon had given up.

Normally this was where he asked one of his personal assistants for help. Normally, he wouldn’t even be trying, and he would have just told one of them to do it. This was how Jon had cunningly mostly avoided using computers for the past twenty years. Some endeavors were unavoidable, and Jon was proud to say that he mastered email in 2010. Or was it 2008? He liked to think it was 2006, but it was possible...never mind. If it was important, the Witness would tell him.

Peter Lukas was right on almost nothing, Jon thought disgruntledly as he slammed his laptop shut - including in his taste of men, company, philosophies, men, patron deities, professions, and men - but he was right in his proclamation that the internet was the degradation of society. Not that he hadn’t sacrificed his morality and sold out, feeding his patron through something called “incel forums” and “Reddit”. Between him, Jonah’s “Excel spreadsheets” and “TurboTax”, and Annabelle Cane’s ridiculous “MMO guilds”, the Society was filling with computer geeks. Jon could always read the wind: he had to keep up, and quickly. 

Besides, Martin had kindly educated him on how it was almost unheard of for a young man like Jon to not understand how to work that Goggle thing. Giggle? Martin was very streetwise and was one of the most insightful people Jon had ever known, he was definitely right. 

Which is why he had to buy him this “Portal Gun” that he wanted. He had even shown Jon the website! And if Jon was in desperate times trying to navigate these confusing webpages entirely with URLs he memorized, then he would take desperate measures!

“I’m going down to the Archives,” Jon said, slithering off the couch and clutching his laptop to chest. Jonah had bought it for him. He appeared surprised that Jon was using it. “I may not be back for a while. I need...a book.”

Jonah didn’t look away from his own infernal machine. It seemed he was on that ‘Excel’ program again. Was it one of those ‘video games’ he kept hearing about? “Do I want to know what you were doing on that laptop.”

“Reading Wikipedia,” Jon said immediately, and somewhat defensively. Jon had discovered Wikipedia in 2001 before promptly funding it and throwing his weight behind its development. He had spent a solid five years convinced a computer was a kind of electronic screen that let you read digital Encyclopedia pages, like in Star Trek. He’d seen Star Trek. Georgie made him. “Did you know that -”

“Yes, yes, have fun. Haven’t you read that entire site already?”

“Not even,” Jon said defensively. “I can’t just sit and read through entire Encyclopedias anymore, Jonah. We know more things now.”

“What a way to describe the last two hundred years,” Jonah said, not even looking away from his computer. “We know more things. Never change, Jon.”

“You’re the one who never changes,” Jon grumbled. But it was a weak comeback, and considering his brand new delightfully short stature somewhat untrue, so Jon breezed out of Jonah’s office with full knowledge that he’d think of a better comeback halfway down the steps to the Archives.

In fact, it wasn’t until he was at the door, and by then he felt stupid for losing a point against Jonah anyway. He easily opened the door, stepping inside and quickly bee-lining for Sasha’s office. Her burgeoning powers were wonderfully flowing in the shape of access to and understanding of technology. He had never seen such gratuitous breeches of privacy as she casually committed. Every day Jon was validated in his decision to save her from the Stranger. A balance, an equal yet opposite Archivist from Jon, would be invaluable. Not that Jonah and Jon weren’t their own yin and yang, but Jonah’s powers were paltry and out-of-date. Mind reading and spying through iconography was so 1960. They needed fresh blood. 

Sasha had been a wonderful choice, and Jon didn’t regret choosing her to act as saviour. Most of the time. Some of the time she -

“She’s not in.”

Jon’s fist halted in front of the door, about to sharply rap on her office door. He turned around to actually look through the bullpen, only to see that Timothy was sitting in his chair chewing a sandwich. Somehow angrily. Definitely suspiciously. 

“Are you sure?” Jon asked dubiously. “Because you’ve lied about this before.”

“Because you should stop coming down here and bothering her.” Timothy balled the saran wrap in his hand and dunked it in the trash can, somehow undoubtedly giving the impression that he wished it was Jon’s head. “Just bugger off.”

Someone was in a snit. Normally Timothy wasn’t this hostile. Jon had thought that learning his name might make him less mean, but it did little to help. But when Jon looked around he didn’t see Martin, and a quick check assured him that both Sasha and Martin were having lunch at their favorite deli and engaging in that plotting hobby they both enjoyed. Timothy had elected to stay behind, stewing in his own angry and paranoid juices. 

He would have to do this with Martin out of the Archives...and he really wanted to take care of this now so Martin would get it before the weekend...and it wasn’t as if Jon was scared of this boy he was one hundred and seventy years older than…

“Uh,” Jon said intelligently, “can you help me with...something…”

Timothy’s face twisted in a novel combination of surprise and disgust. “What,” he sneered, “your evil fear god or whatever can’t figure it out for you?”

“I don’t need others to think for me,” Jon said stiffly. It was something he’d had to say far too many times. “The Witness is less helpful with...troubleshooting...look, do you know how to work a computer?”

Timothy stared at him blankly. “Like, at all?”

“I’m trying to buy Martin this toy he desires,” Jon said desperately. Fuck it all, he walked over and sat down in the chair next to Tim’s desk. He pulled a little bit closer, placing his laptop on Tim’s desk, and ignored the way the other man leaned away. “But whenever I try I keep on seeing alerts about hot singles. I’m not interested in young women, I just need to buy a ‘Portal Gun’. Do you know what a Portal Gun is?”

Timothy continued staring at him, eyebrows raised. Clearly involuntarily, so quick that he may not even have noticed, one corner of his lips was ticking upwards into a smile. 

“How many credit card scams have you fallen for?”

“Absolutely none,” Jon said, very quickly. He pulled out his credit card, placing it on the table. He knew a credit card was involved, although he didn’t know how. “What do I do? Do I swipe it? Is there a port?” He picked up the laptop and squinted at its sides, looking for a port. “I wanted to ask Sasha for help, since she’s the expert in hacking, but surely you know the basics?”

“I mean...I can’t, like, code, but yeah, I can work Amazon.” Timothy carefully opened the laptop, watching the display light up. He effortlessly navigated to an icon on the screen, clicking it open. 

“That’s not right,” Jon said urgently. “You’re supposed to press the E.”

“I do not want to know how many toolbars you have,” Timothy said bluntly. “We’re using Chrome. That’s another way to look at the Internet.” He rubbed his hands together. “Yeah, I got a grandmother, we can do this.”

Jon perked up. “So you’ll help?”

Went unsaid: even though you hate me?

“Whatever,” Timothy grumbled. Jon decided not to press his luck. 

Jon decided that he liked the Chrome better than the Internet Explorer, because it was simpler and Google was on the first page. Tim rapidly typed on ‘Amazon.com’ into the search bar and easily scrolled through the very busy and picture filled page that immediately popped up. Why was everything so fast? Maybe this was why the young people had no attention span: these pages just came up immediately. No flipping for indices for finding anything in phone books. 

“Right. What was it, a Portal Gun? Like from the game?”

“A board game?”

“Video game.”

“Like on a VHS…?”

“Right.” Tim pinched the bridge of his nose. “You know, Sasha said that you’re one of the most famous sociologists and anthropologists in British history.”

“I am extremely intelligent, Timothy, and I won’t abide any insinuation otherwise,” Jon said curtly. “I cannot be expected to keep constant track every time there’s another - iPhone or whatever. You have teenagers in your family, correct? Do you always know what they’re talking about? That’s, what, a twenty year age gap? Multiply that by ten.”

That shut him up. Timothy sighed again, much more aggressively, but he clicked the white bar and typed in ‘portal gun’ anyway. “Right. Not fucking apologizing, but right. I still don’t fucking know what ‘Twitch’ is.”

“It’s a brief spasmodic contraction of the muscle fibers,” Jon said helpfully. “Fascinatingly, this phenomenon was first observed in frog’s legs before I was even born in 1780, by Luigi Galvani. Erudite man, by the way, but he couldn’t hold his liquor. It was the birth of the study of bioelectricity, although the exact mechanism of muscle contraction eluded scientists for years.”

“Never mind.” Timothy sighed again, the perfect mix of aggravated and long-suffering. It seemed to be the man’s two favorite emotions. “My grandmother has a PhD and she still can’t figure out her cell, either. We had to get her a Jitterbug.”

Amazon, as Timothy explained, was a kind of shopping mall, except you could pick out what you wanted by its picture and have the shopping mall pack it up and send it to you. Jon didn’t quite understand why people preferred this to just going to a shop yourself, seeing as you could get it immediately instead of with a three or four day turnaround, but Tim explained that Amazon was cheaper, had a wider selection, and didn’t make you get off the couch.

“Oh,” Jon said, finally getting it, “this follows the economic model of large scale businesses underpricing their products to undercut smaller businesses in the area, driving them out of business until they hold monopoly over the market and can raise their prices without worrying about staying competitive.”

Timothy stared at him. 

“I mean,” he said, “I guess?”

“This explains why my Alexa project was successful so quickly,” Jon mused. “With a lack of competition or alternatives, consumers are more likely to accept the dramatic invasions of privacy as normal. Normalizing intrusions into privacy took ages, but my early efforts paid off very well. The Ring doorbell was even better, along with the line of security and home protection systems. We’re now working on live streamed 24/7 surveillance to social media platforms.”

Timothy stared at him further. 

Finally, he said, “Alexa was...you?”

“Of course,” Jon said, baffled. Who else would it be? “I gave Jeff the idea and convinced him it would be profitable. I didn’t understand the whole mechanics of it, but once I gave Jeff a vision from the Witness he was eager to implement the divinely inspired spyware.”

Timothy continued to stare. 

“The evil fear god controls Jeff Bezos.”

“He thinks I’m a prophet, actually,” Jon said helpfully. “I let him become Cardinal of the imaginary cult in exchange for funding some of my more esoteric programs. Had him sacrifice a goat and everything, it was great.” At Timothy’s alarmed look, Jon was quick to elaborate, “It was the most evil goat you’ve met in your life. Morally odious.”

“...for my sanity I’m going to pretend that you said none of that.”

In retrospect, although Timothy had worked at the Institute for a few years, it did take quite a bit of time to acclimate to the fact that the Avatars permanently shaped the shape of human existence in order to better feed their gods. Jon knew better than anyone: when humanity made gods, and gods made man, and man made gods...the feedback loop could self-perpetuate for years. Eternity, if needed. 

But they had no luck on ‘Amazon’. With Jon’s eidetic memory he was able to easily pick out the one that looked most similar to the one that Martin had showed him, but all of the little toy guns were for someone named ‘Rick’. Then Timothy took twenty laborious minutes explaining the entire plot of ‘Rick & Morty’ to him, which Jon patiently sat through. 

“I think young people today deeply enjoy explaining media,” Jon said, once Timothy finished telling him the funny jokes. “I’m very interested in your interests, Timothy.”

“You are so fucking condescending. And please call me Tim, you’re sounding even more like my grandmother.” When Jon brightened, Tim - Tim! - quickly said, “This does not mean we are friends.”

Granted, Jon had never once in his life gave a shit about making friends, but he felt as if he should be making more of an effort with Tim. He was a sort of supernatural brother in law, wasn’t he? Although Sasha perhaps Sasha was more of a favored niece. At least, he would be, if today’s generation found some morality and stopped living in sin. 

Good lord. Now he was sounding like Jonah. Georgie used to joke that he was born in the wrong generation - he should have been born a 17th century Puritan instead. Jon found it a very funny joke. Jonah did not. 

“Are there any other shopping websites?” Jon asked finally, after Amazon failed them. He’d have to call up Jeff later and complain. “Or is this the only one?”

Tim sighed. “Let’s check Google.”

Quickly and efficiently, yet with many lightning fast detours, Tim found another site called ‘eBay’ - pronounced ‘e-Bay’, not ‘ehbay’ - that listed off exactly what they needed. They weren’t under the toy section, instead listed as something called ‘cosplay’, but Tim seemed highly resistant to explaining that one, so he dropped it. 

They picked a likely looking white toy gun that looked the most similar to the one that Martin had liked and Tim talked Jon through punching in the numbers on his card into the website and sorting through the billing and shipping information. Tim helpfully took down the numbers on his card to file later. 

“And...done!” Tim said, pressing a button and leaning back. “That wasn’t so bad, was it?”

“It was ten times as complicated as I thought it would be,” Jon assured him, “but also much more fun. What else can you buy online?”

“Oh, god. What can’t you buy.”

Jon brightened. “Can you buy books?”

“Old Gertrude used to buy Leitners on eBay,” Tim said dully, “so yeah, sure, why not.”

Jon stared at his computer. He carefully navigated the mouse to the big red x and clicked out of the internet browser. “That’s enough of eBay, then, I think.”

Guess he would have to stick to buying Leitners in person. It was no good buying fucked up books from sketchy sources. Always stick to people you trusted, or at least trusted to be themselves. Mikaele was Jon’s favorite supplier since the kid Leitner disappeared, and they had a pleasant working relationship. Mikaele shared his grandfather’s stories about the history and culture of the Maori, and Jon told him which of his haunted artifacts would be the most helpful in the imminent apocalypse. 

“Well,” Tim said finally, gently pushing Jon’s laptop away, “that was...something, great bonding session with my local supervillain, please run back to Elias and bother him instead.”

“You were very helpful, Mr. Stoker,” Jon said, as professionally yet paternally as possible. Tim was six years older than his body, so he’s not sure how it came off, but the touch of grey at his temples helped with the dignified air. “And as soon as you start acting like a man and propose to my Archivist, you’ll make an excellent brother in law -”

“Uh, excuse me?”

Jon spun around in his chair to see Sasha and Martin standing at the door, holding doggy bags and looking somewhat flummoxed. Probably confused at the sight of him and Tim having a civil conversation, which admittedly had never happened before. Possibly also confused at how completely mortified Tim looked. 

“Who said anything about proposing?” Sasha asked incredulously. “Tim, are you -”

“No! No, god no!” Tim stood up quickly, holding his hands out as if he was placating a raging bull. “Nobody’s been saying anything - I would never do that to you -”

“Oh,” Sasha said frostily, crossing her arms and letting the bags swing, “would you.”

That was a domestic Jon should stay out of, even though he definitely caused it. He and Martin sidled away in tandem, huddling near the back of the Archives as Tim frantically pled for his life. 

Sneakily, Jon glanced at Martin out of the corner of his eye. He looked happy. Happy, and just as stressed as he always looked - Jon had never known Martin when he wasn’t constantly stressed out, and he was more than aware that it was his fault. 

He looked good, too. Really nice, broad jawline that gave his face a friendly round shape. Just friendly and round in general, it was really handsome. His hair was as nicely short and ruffles as ever. The big glasses were super stylish, and really framed his face well. Really big, broad hands. Jon, who had always been so poky and tall and thin and gaunt, like some kind of haunted scarecrow that lurked through the corners of time, was envious. He wanted some of that softness and gentleness. Really, he wanted some of Martin’s -

“So what were you and Tim doing?” Martin asked. “I didn’t know you knew he existed.”

“You told me his name,” Jon said anxiously. “I don’t forget the things you tell me, you know.”

Martin smiled shyly and him, and Jon found himself smiling back. “It’s pretty good for my ego to hear that I have something to teach the immortal genius.”

“I don’t know,” Jon said, as Sasha yelled in the background, “I’ve been learning a lot lately.”

“Really?” Martin teased. “Anything interesting?”

“Oh,” Jon said, watching the yellow fluorescent light cast Martin’s dim smile in soft relief, “I can think of a few things.”

[lobakmerahs]

One: Painting and Its Secrets

Summary: This series is about Levi’s slow burn relationship with the reader who is not only a squad leader but a spy who works under Scouts Regiment.

Warning: mentions of death

A/n: I hope you, whoever you are that will read my series will enjoy it as much as I do when I wrote it. Thanks and have a pleasant reading! :)

~ 🎨

3 weeks before...

A blond platinum wig in a pixie cut, button down shirt in beige, a dark brown suspenders, a pair of pants in olive green with a jacket in the same colour. Last but not least a black fedora on top of the head. You stared at your reflection in the mirror, making sure that you looked completely different from the real you at the same time not wanting the disguise you were wearing would catch unnecessary attention. After you were fully satisfied with your look, you took your steps outside your little home.

It was supposedly your off day and you were strolling at the Stohess District and went to buy a newspaper before taking your seat at an empty bench while facing the river. After a few moments had passed, you glanced at your watch and stood up to head to your destination. 

Hans Art Gallery. You were on time when you stood in front of the art shop as the business was just begun and you were the first one to enter. 

“Good morning and welcome to Hans Art Gallery. Is there anything that I can help you, Mrs?,” the gentleman asked. 

“A bouquet of tulips for the man with the black shoes.” You answered to the gentleman who was not wearing a pair of black shoes but upon hearing your sentence and clearly understood your code, he went to the back of the gallery before returned to you and handed the canvas piece that was neatly wrapped with an oil paper. 

You calmly walked to your home and naturally looked around you to make sure no one was tailing before you entered your house and produced a soft click sound as you locked the wooden door behind you. You didn’t go straight to your room, instead you climbed to the attic and yet again locked the door. Slowly you unwrapped the frame and brought out your forceps as well as your scalpels, no need to ask how did you get those. The canvas held a drawing of an evening sky which was rich with every shades of orange colour capturing the beauty of the sunset, it seemed like it could bring calmness to whoever that laid their eyes on it, but what people didn’t know, didn’t have to know as well as didn’t have the right to know was what lied beneath the drawing. Yes, the drawing was undeniably beautiful, it was made by none other than one of your assets in the Wall Sina that disguised as an art dealer among the nobles. The said asset had planted a few layers of documents under his drawing which was the main reason you were about to form a surgery on the work of art. Meticulously, you ran your scalpel on the border of the drawing, next you brushed your thumb along the already cut borders to make the edges curled upwards then you used your forceps to peal the drawing away, revealing layers of papers which were believed to be the documents that were hidden beneath it. 

“Hmmh.. hmmm~ yare yare, found ya’.” You whispered to yourself and smiled in relief, taking out the pieces of papers and gave it a read. 

The documents contained the Military Police reports of Nicholas Lovof’s crimes that included bribery, kidnapping, murders and any other atrocities that were enough to put someone under justified punishments. Not only that, the documents also included a detailed descriptions as well as names of the people that were in charge to kill Erwin Smith, a good colleague of yours, thanks to Nicholos’s manipulations. The said people were; a young red-haired girl styled in pigtails, another young man with a light-brown hair and persumably the oldest one of the pack,a sharp dull blue eyes man with a black hair styled in an uppercut. 

Then, you made a copy of the documents and kept them in a scroll so you could send them to Erwin, where the original copy of them were properly sealed in an envelope for you to send them to none other than Dhalis Zachary.

~🎨

You took a deep breath, inhaling the morning’s crisp while staring at the blue sky. It was always your favorite thing to do, starring at the sky, focusing on the colours that it held. From the wide ranges of blues, to the variety tones of the white from the clouds and sometimes the contrast colours of orange or pink that appears during dusk or dawn. 

After you had enough of your morning pill from the sky, you stepped out of your chamber and was greeted by your best friend, Hange with a raised of both your eyebrows. Both of you did not need much words to greet each other most of the times. You were best friends since your Training Corps years. Morning wasn’t the time for you guys to start acting real with each other. So, both of you walked by each other to the mess hall to get your breakfast then attended the assembly Scout Regiment’s concourse. 

During the morning assembly, you lined up beside Erwin as you were also a Section Commander and had your comrades under your unit to stand in a line behind you. As you were standing, you could see there were 3 people standing beside Commander Keith Sadis, and were introduced to the whole Scout Regiment as the new Scouts. One of them was a girl with red-brown hair tied into two pigtails, named Isabel Magnolia, the other was a man with dark blond hair named Furlan Church and the last one named Levi, a shorter man with black hair styled in an uppercut. All three of them were assigned into Flagon's unit much to his dismay. You glanced at Erwin by your side and he gave you a knowing look. While others found those new Scouts’ names foreign, both of you were exceptional and for a good reason. 

They were surprisingly good during their training, for some people who never had a formal training using the ODM gear, they performed fantastically well but they still needed some polishing for their Titans killing skills, except for Levi. You were always up to offer help to them but they often misunderstood since you usually looked cold and always a bit brutal during your trainings which were a famous fact among the Scout Regiment. Farlan and Isabel often thought that you hated them since they received resentments from severel other Scout cadets and thinking that you were also in the same boat as the other Scouts. Levi was always with his bored expression, you could barely read his expressions let alone his thoughts, unlike the other two. There was a time where Isabel blurted about why you insisted to help training them when you seemed to dislike them.

“It doesn’t matter if I like you guys or not, people train to kill the Titans and to survive. You guys seemed to rush things and hiding something, as if you wanted you to get done with killing Titans then move on to do something else that isn’t Titans related and I’m here trying to help you not to get killed by Titans”, you answered. There was a short silence followed after your answer. You could tell their breaths hitched for a moment but you remained stolid nevertheless.

“Well, we have to move on to do something else as in to focus on the formation right?”, Furlan replied with a hint of nervous. 

“Yeah, let’s hope so.” You answered. 

~🎨

In life, there were a lot of moments where the air would be tense and the night before expedition was one of them. The night was calm and quiet but you couldn’t ignore the heavy feeling in your heart. Tonight was just another night inside the wall but to some in the Scout Regiment, it would be their last. Tomorrow’s expedition would surely cost some of your comrades’ lives and might even yours, for the sake of humanity. 

You took a deep breath. But it still didn’t help to calm your nerves. You had been pacing in your room since dinner. You couldn’t stay still, palms were sweaty and heart was beating unsually fast tonight. Something bad was going to happen tomorrow. You could feel it in your guts. You recognized these telltale because whenever you felt like this, you’ll end up receiving death news be it your favorite neighbour from your hometown, your beloved pets or even the Scouts that you had helped in training. Deciding that sitting in your room wouldn’t help lessen the nerves, you grabbed your pencils and sketch papers then headed outside to gaze at the starry night sky to do some sketches in hope of easing your mind. 

As you arrived at you usual spot at tower of the Scout Regiment barracks, you slumped down and took a glance at the sky. The moon hadn’t shown itself yet, and there were thick clouds hanging everywhere. Then, you stared at your paper and pencil. Blank. No idea. No inspiration. Stuck. You sighed, and continued to stare at the night sky hoping to relax your mind for awhile. Then, you heard the sound of clicking boots which meant that there were people not far from you. It was Furlan and Isabel whom just arrived, they walked to a figure that you assumed to be Levi. You remained quiet and peeped them from your location. You could heard Isabel and Furlan trying to convince Levi about them joining tomorrow’s expedition. As you were eavesdropping not that you planned to in the first place, suddenly your hand started to sketch the paper, starting with the clouds and adding the diamonds in the sky, slowly without you realizing it, you were sketching the trio starring at the starry night sky under the moonlight that shone magnificiently. 

When you were done with the sketching, you returned to your room as quietly as possible and continued to add colours to your drawing before you got sleepy and finally free from your anxious feeling earlier. Before you headed to your bed, you jotted down the date behind your work which now known as painting, no longer just a sketch.

_

During the expedition, you and your squad were put around the right flank of the long range formation. There were few Titans appeared throughout the journey, none that your squad could handle. You were beyond grateful that all of your squad were still well and alive at the moment. Then, you received a signal to tighten the formation since the sky started to show sign that it would rain soon and a heavy one at that. You commanded your squad to pull on the hood of their capes and stayed as close as possible with you and each other so that no one would go unnoticed and it would be easier to assist if anything happen.

Despite the heavy downpour, your squad kept moving forward and you efficiently assisted your squad in killing any Titan that came in the way, it was always your promise to make sure everyone under you would return to the wall safe and alive. Then, suddenly you heard a weird noise coming from in front of you, not the usual strange noise that a Titan would make.A load, short but multiple groan as if a Titan was in pain. So, you rushed to the direction of the sound assuming that there might a cadet or a squad that needed your assistance. 

You arrived at the same time as Erwin’s and some other squad leaders, surrounded by an Abnormal Titan’s and plenty of your other comrades’ corpses. Then, you noticed Levi standing next to the Titan’s dead body with blood all over him and Isabel’s head in front of him with half of Furlan’s body not far from him as well. Levi seemed to be the only one survived from his squad. His head hanging slightly low, with his hair covering his eyes but the tears streaming down his cheeks didn’t go unnoticed by you. So, this explained the sweaty palm and racing heart you had another night- to see two cadets that you helped with training days ago, only now left with just just head and half of a body. You felt your shoulder fell and knees slightly shaking. You felt like your breath had been taken away.

As the rain started to stop slowly as the sunshine gently peeking from the clouds, you watched how Levi was about to kill Erwin which was stopped by Mike then Erwin explained about the Nicholos Lovof's situation causing Levi to stop his actions and stood silently, digesting the fact that he was caught up in Erwin’s plans. 

You did feel bad for Levi, Erwin wasn’t the only who knew about him and his friends’ true intention of joining the Scout Regiment. You knew about it too. It was your assignment to obtain the information about Nicholos Lofov’s crimes and sent it to Erwin as well as finding out the person who was assigned to supposedly kill Erwin. It was just a simple guess as to why those three didn’t refuse so much on joining he Scout Regiment when Erwin offered them to.

You were assigned with that task since you were not only a Section Commander but also a spy under the Scout Regiment as well as the cadets under your wings and some were also assets scattered across the town in disguise as an art dealer in Wall Sina, a commoner who opened a bakery shop or could be anyone in the town that simply invisible to the world but not to you. You needed to sniff around to obtain crucial informations that could contribute to the Scout Regiment strategies, formation and as well as humanity. 

~🎨

The barracks became quieter after the expedition ended which was normal due to the lost of lives. You were at your room that night, just checking your report before you could submit them to Erwin the next morning and decided to write some notes in your book. You opened your drawer and saw the painting that you made before the expedition took place. Levi, Isabel and Furlan staring at the sky. Two of the were smiling in admiration to the sky while Levi just being Levi, stoic as ever except his eyes where they were packed with ......hope. 

You suddenly felt drenched and decided to go for a glass of water at the kitchen before you headed to sleep. You inserted the sketching into your notebook and brought them with you to the kitchen, it just came across your mind to let Levi had it since you remembered how shattered he looked when he was kneeling in front of Isabel's head. The kitchen was empty when you arrived so you went to grab a cup and filled it with water.

As you took a sip of water from your glass, you saw Levi entering the same room as yours. Both of you were startled for a second yet no words left your mouths before he proceeded to make himself a tea and you with your drink. The room was filled with silence but not an uncomfortable one, at least for you. That was when it slipped your mind that you wanted to give the drawing to Levi. Only if he would accept your drawing. You thought he might wanted it since that drawing was an evidence of a sweet memory that his two friends left him during their short time in the Scout Regiment. Probably something for him to look at when he felt lonely. He was stirring his teaspoon with his back facing you when you called his name. Probably the first time having you calling his name. Probably the first time you would ever interact with him ever since he joined the regiment.

“.....um..Levi,” you called. That’s when your heart skipped a beat. And you felt a bit....just a bit nervous to see him reacting to you. Then, he turned around and faced you, intense dull blue eyes focusing on your eyes, expecting you to continue. You gulped. Man, was his gaze always this tense? You never noticed that before for sure.

“I was at the tower the night before the exhibition, with my sketching utensils because I needed to calm my nerves. Then suddenly you guys came and I made something. I didn’t plan doing it, I just went with the ideas flowing in my head,” you stopped and brought out your painting to his attention. He stayed focus listening to you and eyes never left your face before he took the drawing and examined it. You couldn’t say he was amused but his gaze did soften a little. 

“I’m sorry I draw the three of you without your permission.I know I should have asked your consent. And um, you could keep that...... If you want though,” you continued. You felt quite nervous not because you were scared of him, shy probably but not scared. You were nervous because one, you wished your drawing didn’t remind him of his late friends in a bad way and caused him more sadness, two, you didn’t want him to get mad at you for drawing him without his permission and three, um...what if your drawing looked like a toddler’s work? That would suck.

“It’s nice,” Levi finally spoke. His deep monotone voice comforted your ears. You breathed out a relief. 

“I want to keep it,” Levi said, hand still holding your drawing, eyes travelling back to yours with a softer gaze and as if asking for your permission. 

You nodded, “sure, make it yours, I do hope it’ll help you feel better, if that's even possible”, you replied with a soft chuckle as you slowly stood and got ready to head back to your room.

You saw Levi took a glance at the drawing then looked at you again before he replied you with, “thanks, I’ll treasure it.”

You flashed a small smile before yawning and took off to your room to get your sleep. Feeling light and at ease, knowing your drawing could help lift up someone’s mood.

Little did you know that, back in his chamber, Levi stared at your painting. He indulged himself into the painting that you made, every drop of colour as well as every line and traces left on the paper by you, realized how he missed watching his lost friends’ smiles and thanks to you, he could see his friends’ smiles once again eventhough it was just on a piece of a paper. Not to mention, he finally got to interact with you. You striked a mysterious aura when you first appeared before his eyes which intrigued him to get to know you, yet he never had a chance or a reason to talk to you but you were always there somewhere in the back of his mind. He was utterly grateful with the drawing you made, at least he could carve the smiles of his friends into his mind, their smiles might no longer exist in this world but it would always be in his heart and mind. 

                                              Next chapter

[vortahoney]

There’s a Lot of Math in Engineering

A piece I wrote for my art trade with @bensiskos

Hope you enjoy!

The last thing that the engineer of the U.S.S. Barry had expected was for a Ferengi child to become attached to him. When the ship stopped at a trading outpost, the little guy— he said his name was Breba— had snuck himself onto it, completely bypassing security. He only managed to go undetected for a while. He was later discovered holed up behind some equipment in Engineering. 

And then was promptly put into Dave’s care.

It was no secret that Dave liked children, he got baby fever every now and then, and he did hope to be a father someday, but he wasn’t exactly enthused about the impromptu adoption. He didn’t even know this child! How is he meant to care for them?

Though, he couldn’t say he was insulted that he was his coworkers’ first choice for “immediate parent”. And he couldn’t say that keeping Breba safe didn’t warm something in him.

Breba was always ready to learn, even if he was obviously nervous. For instance, he seemed to be scared of people, but he listened so well in the U.S.S. Barry’s small, three-person school. He and Dave even got into a little routine, now that he was his roommate. 

Usually, Dave would replicate breakfast and then take Breba to the little schoolroom on the lower deck, except on weekends, when he’d cook breakfast and watch old holo-movies with him. In the afternoons, once Breba was done with school and they’d eaten dinner, Dave would read him a story and put him into bed. Every day he felt more and more like the Ferengi’s father.

“Dave?” Breba looked at him from his small bed, nest-like bed in the corner.

“Hm?”

“I think I want to do engineering.”

Dave looked up from his PADD and crooked an eyebrow. “Well, that’s good, that you’re taking an interest in something! What makes you want to engineer?”

“Mr. Dean says I’m good at math.” He paused. “And I like all the machines on the ship.”

“The ones you named?”

Breba nodded and paused a moment. “And you do it.”

“Yeah, I do.” Dave smiled, biting the inside of his cheek. “I could show you around engineering, if you want.”

Eyes brightening, Breba perked up and nodded.

“But in the morning. You need to go to bed first.”

“But—” 

“No buts! Sleep.”

Breba grumbled, but he did turn over and fall asleep. Dave couldn’t help but look for a while, smiling, before he turned his PADD off and went to bed himself.

***

Dave was woken up at 0500 by a smiling, wide-eyed Ferengi. 

“Mornin’, buddy…” His voice was rough and groggy. “What are you doing up?”

“We were gonna go to engineering today!”

Yawning, Dave propped himself up. “Work doesn’t start for four hours.”

“Can’t we go early?”

“Alright, alright.” He stretched and pushed his hair out of his face. “I’ll clock in early and show you around. If I had known you were so interested, I would have brought you to work with me earlier.”

“Yes!” Breba leaped off of Dave’s bed and scurried to get dressed.

Smirking and shaking his head, Dave punched a few codes into the replicator: a bowl of toasted tubeworms for Breba and a bowl of oatmeal for him. Breba was practically buzzing with excitement, wolfing down his food and unable to sit fully still in his chair.

“Hey, hey. Slow down, buddy, or you’ll choke. Engineering isn’t going anywhere.”

“Sorry!” Breba finally took a pause and wiped his mouth with his napkin. 

“So what do you want to see first?”

“The warp core!” He answered almost immediately.

“Alright, the warp core it is.”

As soon as everything was ready, Breba dragged Dave by his wrist down to engineering. Dave didn’t hesitate to show him where everything was (in case he got lost), but Breba was too excited by all the machines, stopping to point out every beep or blinking light, to pay full attention.

“And this is the warp core.” Dave stopped right in front of it, watching Breba’s excitement grow when his eyes caught the soft blue glow. “Do you know what it does?”

“It’s like the engine. It makes the ship go into warp speed.”

Dave nodded. “That’s true, but it also powers the whole ship. Life support, lights, everything.”

“How does it do that?”

“Well,” He paused, trying to find the simplest explanation. “It takes matter, and antimatter, and puts it through a fusion reaction. That reaction makes the power that the ship needs, but it could also destroy the ship. The dilithium crystals inside the core are what makes sure the fusion reaction doesn’t get too big.”

Breba nodded, eyes still fixated on the core and its blue light. 

Dave cleared his throat. “My job is to fix anything that goes wrong here, or really anywhere else. If you want, you could go to Starfleet Academy and be an engineer too.”

“When can I go to Starfleet Academy?” His wide eyes finally broke from the warp core and turned to Dave. 

“After you’re done with high school. Then you have to take a test, and if you pass, you can study in the engineering department for four to six years and get your degree.”

“That’s a lot of school…”

“Well, I think it was worth it. And you like school, don’t you?”

Breba nodded, perking up. “I do! I like math!”

“Good news,” Dave crouched down to his level. “There’s a lot of math in engineering.”

Breba laughed and nodded. “I know.”

“Now let’s go take a look at my tools, you’ll need to know what they do.”

*** 

Rumblings coming from the warp core weren’t exactly something that one could ignore, especially when they were growing more intense and frequent by the hour. Dave had been working for hours trying to find the source of the problem, but it was to no avail. Until, of course, it dawned on him that one of the dilithium crystals had broken.

Unfortunately, this realization came to him at the worst possible movement. One rumble, particularly intense, had caused the entrance to the warp core to collapse in on itself, leaving only one miniscule opening that no regular-sized person could crawl through.

Red lights were the only illumination in engineering, and the speakers blasted a countdown to complete loss of life support. Ten minutes. Dave’s stomach turned with anxiety as he pored over the ship’s blueprints. The inside of his cheek was chewed raw, and he was starting to taste blood. There wasn’t any solution that he could see, at least, none that wouldn’t involve setting off explosives in the middle of the ship and risking a warp core explosion. A nervous growl rose in his throat as it became more and more likely they were all going to die.

Just as he lost all hope, he felt a tug at his sleeve. 

Breba was looking up at him with wide, shaming eyes. “Dave?” 

“What are you doing here??” Dave squeaked.

“I… well, I… I got scared.”

Biting his lip and taking a deep, calming breath, Dave looked down. “It’s really, really dangerous here right now. How did you even get out here? I thought you were in school!”

“The door caved in but there was a hole.”

“And you… got through…” A lightbulb went off in Dave’s brain. “Breba, do you remember anything about the warp core?”

“I- I…” he thought for a second and nodded.

Dave crouched down and handed him a beeping instrument. “I think I might have a job for you. I need you to fix the dilithium crystals. You think you can do that, buddy?” 

“But I don’t know how!” Panic flooded Breba’s face.

“I’ll walk you through it.” Dave pinned a communicator to his shirt. “Don’t worry, you’ll do great.”

Walking Breba through the process of re-aligning the dilithium crystals wasn’t as difficult as either of them expected. He crawled through the opening easily and, with Dave’s instruction, the process was done in under five minutes. The real hard part was getting his poor hands to stop shaking. 

“Hey, hey…” Dave’s voice was soft. “You did great! You saved the ship!”

Breba nodded, the trembling refusing to subside, and spoke up in a voice that was barely a whisper. “I was worried that I’d mess up and that everyone would…”

“You didn’t, okay? You didn’t mess up. You did so great, but I’ll make sure that you never have to do that kind of thing again.”

Breba nodded and bit the inside of his cheek. Just as he did, he whimpered and started crying. Dave’s eyes widened, and he pulled Breba into a hug.

“Are you okay?” He said after a while. 

“Yeah…”

Dave smiled and stood just in time to greet the Captain as she entered engineering. “Captain!”

Captain T’Athy took a breath and looked him in the eye. “I trust you got the issue with the warp core resolved?”

He nodded, placing a hand on Breba’s shoulder. “The crystals were unaligned. This little guy was the only one who was able to get through the rubble and fix them.”

Blushing, Breba lifted his hand and gave a small wave.

“Good work, Ferengi.” The captain offered her hand.

Breba took it, blushing even deeper. The captain gave a swift nod and left to go man the bridge.

“Good work? Wow, I think she’s warming up to you.” Dave gave him a pat on the back.

“Dave?”

“Hm?”

“Do you think I’d be a good engineer?”

“Of course I do, buddy!” Dave smiled gently. “You fixed the warp core, didn’t you? Now, let’s go get you some ice cream, you’ve had quite the day.”

[densi-mber]

Crush

A/N: This takes places in the semi-near future. For today’s prompt: Kensi or Deeks as a teacher. This fic represents what happens when my mind runs wild with an idea.

***

“Hey, can I call you back in about an hour and a half?” Deeks asked as he jogged down a flight of stairs to the third floor. “I have office hours starting in a few minutes.”

“Sure. Good luck with the gremlins,” Kensi answered. He rolled his eyes, nodding to a passing professor.

“Kens, they’re in they’re 20’s. You have to stop calling my students things like gremlins and children.”

He walked into the small office where he spent his time when he wasn’t teaching Contract Law to thirty or so L1 students. He dropped his bag by the desk, and slipped his jacket off, rolling his sleeves up a few times so he wouldn’t end up getting ink or chalk on the fabric. His dry cleaning bills had definitely increased since he started wearing dress shirts and ties again.

A little less than a year before, when he’d be aimlessly looking for a job, one of his former classmates had suggested teaching until he found something more permanent. Deeks had balked at the idea initially, but eventually given when it became clear that he needed to work and his other options were unavailable.

He’d never anticipated how much he would enjoy it. Now he taught three classes throughout the week at Loyola Law school as an adjunct professor. It was strangely satisfying to have a hand in teaching the next batch of lawyers.

“All I’m saying is that they look a lot younger that I did at that age.” Deeks snorted at Kensi’s completely inaccurate observation as he wrote a few notes on the blackboard that took up most of the back wall.

“You were just a baby when I met you,” he teased.

“Yet you still married me,” Kensi pointed out.

“Ooh, touché.” He heard a noise behind him and glanced over his shoulder. “Oops, gotta go. See you at dinner.” Deeks hung up, turning around completely to face one of his students, Mallory Baten.

She was lingering in the doorway and if Deeks didn’t know better, he would have thought she was hesitating. But that didn’t align with the young woman he knew. Mallory was one of the most outspoken and confident students in the class. She also had a biting sense of humor that Deeks found hilarious.

“Hey Mallory, what can I do for you?” he asked, gesturing for her to take a seat. Again she hesitated a little before pulling up one of the metal chairs situated opposite his desk.

“I had a few questions about Monday’s lecture, Mr. Deeks,” she said, pulling out a thick, color coded binder. The sight of it always reminded him of his own college experience and made him slightly nauseous. He did not miss the stress of studying and exams.

Deeks dragged his chair over with his foot and sat down with his forearms braced against the back, waiting for her to continue.

Brushing her light blond hair back from her neck, Mallory flipped to a page from the last class notes. Deeks instantly recognized her small, neat handwriting covering the majority of the paper.

“So, I was rereading the section on unjust enrichment and I wondered if you could clarify the concept. The text book had some examples, but I thought it was a little lacking,” she said, pointing to her notes.

Deeks tilted his head, quickly scanned her notes and nodded. It was a fairly simple concept, but Mallory tended to be exceedingly thorough. She was one of five or six students who regularly attended his office hours.

“Ok, so unjust enrichment essentially says that if I provide you with a service or product, I deserve compensation. Even if you end a contract early or have an issue with how I provided the service, you still need to provide compensation for those services or produces you received,” he explained.

“Even if the services or products weren’t satisfactory?” she asked, writing something in the corner of the page.

“Well, that would fall under a different part of contract law and would be considered a breach of contract. Assuming there was a legitimate contract to begin with. Does that answer your question?”

“Yes, it does, Mr. Deeks.”

“Awesome, I’ll see you on Wednesday,” Deeks said, grabbing a stack of homework assignments that needed grading from the end of his desk while Mallory packed up her binder.

“Actually, I have one more question,” Mallory said. He glanced up, mildly surprised to find her standing over her desk. “Do you want to have dinner with me tonight?”

Deeks froze, sure he’d heard her wrong.

“Do I-what are you asking me?”

“I’m asking you to go out to dinner. On a date.” Her cheeks were a little flushed, but her gaze didn’t waver.

“You know, I’m married, right?” he asked a little desperately. He saw Mallory’s eyes flick to his ring and then back to his face, and she nodded.

“I know.”

“And I’m your teacher.”

“You’re also really hot,” she said bluntly and he felt his cheeks fill with heat. “Plus you’re funny, caring, and my god, your muscles are incredible. Sometimes I come to office hours just to watch the you move.”

Mallory seemed past the point of embarrassment, but he wished a hole would open up in the floor. Or he could throw himself out a window. Unfortunately, his office didn’t have one so he’d have to actually face this. It didn’t help that Mallory was now openly checking him out.

Suppressing a groan, he turned in a half circle, pinching the bridge of his nose as tried to figure out what to say. The continuing ed classes he’d taken hadn’t prepared him for this possibility at all.

“Mart-Mr. Deeks, are you ok?” He almost laughed at the question.

He turned back around to face Mallory again, balancing a on hand on his hip. She looked a little more uncertain again and was watching him avidly.

“Well, this is, uh, wow.” He cleared his throat noisily and tried again. “While this is incredibly, um, flattering, I think we both know that nothing is going to happen between us. For a multitude of reasons,” he said as gently as he could.

“We could still just go out for dinner,” she suggested hopefully. “As friends.”

“No, we can’t,” Deeks said firmly. “Now we should go talk to the dean about getting you transferred to another class section for the remainder of the semester.”

***

“Hey baby,” Kensi greeted him at home later that day, punctuating it with a kiss. “How was work?”

“An unmitigated disaster,” he sighed. He dropped his bag by the door, and flopped onto the couch. Kensi sat next to him and grabbed his hand with a look of concern.

“What happened? Everything seemed fine when I talked to you earlier today.” Deeks groaned, silently reliving the last few hours.

“One of my students hit on me today.” If he’d expected Kensi to react with outrage, he was about to be disappointed. She visibly relaxed beside him, smacking his arm with the back of her hand.

“Why didn’t you lead with that? You had me really worried,” she said, shaking her head at his apparent lack of consideration.

“The fact that a 23 year old asked me out to dinner doesn’t bother you at all?” Deeks asked. Kensi shrugged.

“I figured it was only a matter of time.” Deeks gave her a look and she rolled her eyes at him. “For someone who claims to be a reformed lady’s man, you are ridiculously oblivious when someone is flirting with you. Half the women in your class have a crush on you.”

“No they don’t.” Kensi actually laughed at his protest, patting his arm with false sympathy.

“Uh, yeah they do, babe. Every time I’ve visited you at work, there are no less than three students staring at you at any time. Sometimes even a couple teachers,” she said, clearly enjoying this more than she had any right to.

“Ugh, now I’m going to be thinking about these kids checking me out during class,” he groaned. “This sucks.”

“You’re not even a little bit flattered?” she asked with mild surprised. He shrugged. Maybe he would have been at one time, but now it just seemed weird and a little creepy.

“I might be if I wasn’t old enough to be their father.” Kensi squinted at him and he clarified, “If I had them really young.”

“I’m sure they don’t think of you in a fatherly way.” Deeks made a face at that and gave a full-body shudder.

“Well, thanks for that horrible thought,” he said dryly. “And here I just thought they all loved my teaching.”

“Well, I’m sure they appreciate that too.” Kensi smirked at him as he pouted, running her fingers through his hair. “It’s all your own fault, you know.”

“How is this my fault? I didn’t ask for any of this.”

“You can’t walk around all day in tight shirts and pants with your sleeves rolled up and not expect to get noticed,” she said, leaning in and gliding her nose across his jaw. She inhaled deeply. “You look good enough to eat.” As she spoke, her hand drifted up his bare forearm to cup his bicep. It was a fairly innocent touch, but he still felt a shiver work its way up his spine.

“Is that an offer?” he asked, thoughts of Mallory quickly leaving his mind. Kensi walked her fingers up his arm and across his chest, pausing at his collar. She fiddled with the button on his collar and then slowly tugged his tie free.

“It’s a promise,” she said, the husky note in her voice incredibly sexy. Deeks settled his hands on her hips as she rose up on her knees and straddled his thighs. Smiling down at him, she brushed her hair back, the glossy strands dancing around her shoulder, and slipped the top button free on his shirt. Then she looked up, her expression playful, and added, “For later.”

“That’s cruel,” he complained. “Especially when I’ve had such a terrible day. It was mortifying.”

“So how much did you freak out when she asked you out?” she asked slyly.

“I handled it with all the finesse and professionalism that you would expect from a former criminal defendant, detective, and federal liaison,” Deeks said with mock solemnity and Kensi raised an eyebrow at him.

“Really?” Her voice was filled with disbelief.

“Yeah, no, I kept hoping a freak tornado or earthquake would come along and put me out of my misery.”

“So, I don’t have to worry about you running off with any promising young law students?” Deeks rolled his eyes at Kensi’s question. He thought she was mostly joking, but just in case, he cupped her jaw between his palms, cradling the back of her head and firmly kissed her. She made a noise of surprise in the back of her throat that quickly turned to satisfaction.

“Never. They’ll just have to find another incredibly attractive, middle aged teacher to chase after.” He kissed her again. When they pulled back, Kensi was smirking at him as she fiddled with his collar.

“You’re an idiot, but I love you anyway,” she said, pulling him back down to her.

***

A/N: I know nothing about law, other than what I googled.

[downwiththeficness]

In the Bond-Chapter 23 (Final Chapter)

Summary: Lilah often wished she’d never said yes to working with the Gecko brothers—usually while dodging gunfire. At no time was she regretting that decision more than when she’s hanging upside down from the ceiling, staring down a group of hungry culebras and one (1) extremely powerful sun god.

Word Count: ~7,950

Warnings: Violence, blood, the use of explosives, a bad movie reference, death (kind of)

A/N: This is an AU of my Story In the Blood, which can be read here. Basically, this fic explores what would have happened if Lilah had met up with Geckos before she met Brasa.

Taglist: @symbiont13  

Start from the beginning   Previous Chapter 

Read on AO3   Masterlist

They were once again sitting around the conference table looking at a map. In this instance, the squabbling had, thankfully, been kept at a minimum. With a common enemy between them, all the anger and mistrust of each other had been redirected outwardly. There was no sense in fighting with one another when a greater peril threatened them all.

Lilah had marked several points all along an open space in the desert—possible hideouts Benny had used in the past. Javier was currently working with a small, trusted crew to root out where he might be through other means. While waiting for new information, they developed about five plans, all centered around obliterating the ever loving hell out of him.

She’d given up on steering the plan into less violent territory, settling for making things as quick and as efficient as possible. Lilah wanted no more incidents of near-death for the people in this room, herself included. If that meant others had to die, then so be it.

Seth leaned back in his chair, “We won’t be able to get any further on this until we know where he’s holed up. I say we get some food.”

They’d been at it for hours, and though Lilah wasn’t particularly hungry, she was glad for the prospect of a break.

“Pizza?” Seth asked, turning to the only other person in the room not on a liquid diet.

Lilah shrugged, “Long as its not from that place across from the grocery.”

“Oh, come on,” Seth groused, “Its not that bad.”

“The health inspection code is a ‘C’,” she countered, “They found rats.”

“Not in the pizza.”

She leveled a stern look at him, “They found them in the fryers.”

Seth rolled his eyes, but relented, “Alright. I’ll pick another place.”

Lilah leaned on her elbows with an indulgent expression as Seth took out a phone and pulled up the website to order. The phone wavering in her vision, the reminder of how she’d been captured, made her flinch. She covered it by running her hand over the map, but not before Brasa felt it.

Sitting to her right, he had been texting frequently with Javier, relaying the updates as he got them. Sensing her unease, his thumbs paused over the screen as he mentally reached out to her.

Lilah rolled her shoulders, taking the comfort he offered. She had a mission to accomplish. She could cry about being kidnapped later. Belatedly, Lilah realized that the ‘deal with later’ pile was pretty damn big and she would definitely have to take some time to actually deal with it.

Richie, who had been checking in on Kate, tossed his phone onto the table, “Much as I hate to ask, I haven’t eaten since yesterday.”

Brasa gave a curt nod, “I’ll have something brought to us.”

“Its appreciated,” Richie replied in a rare instance of sincere, professional gratitude.

She took in Richie’s appearance. He looked...tired. As a man of nearly unbounded energy, to see the glint in his eye diminished was unsettling.

“I’m sorry about Jackknife’s,” she said, catching his attention.

He lifted a shoulder in affected nonchalance, “Its good. We’ll rebuild.”

That boded well. Lilah half expected to hear that he was moving on to another high risk, high yield project. That he was sticking with the place hinted at Kate’s grounding presence.

“Did the bar top survive?”

Richie smiled, “Yeah. Its a bit singed.”

“That’ll just give it character.”

“Fair point,” he conceded, pushing his glasses further up his nose, “We got interviews with contractors in a few weeks.”

She made a soft sound of praise, “Look at you, doing interviews, being official.”

His eyes dropped, demure, “We figured we should actually follow the policies you wrote.”

“That’s probably a good idea.”

Richie’s attention was momentarily taken by a staff asking him about his blood type preferences, and Lilah found herself staring at the map. The ground cover was too wide, she didn’t have enough supplies. There were too many unknowns for her to be comfortable with moving forward. It frustrated her to no end that she couldn’t just make a decision and be done with it—execute.

The door to the conference room opened and Javier strolled in. Dressed in all white, a gleaming silver cane tapping along beside him, he was smiling wide. Cat and canary.

“I have brought some guests.”

Two staff were each dragging along a single, fighting person. Lilah didn’t recognize them, but she caught their fangs flashing as they grunted in pain. Clothing bloodstained and ripped, they looked like they’d been in a serious fight—which she guessed they had.

Brasa stood, gloved hand sliding along the wood of the table as he circled it, “Do they have the information we need.”

Javier’s smile held, “I believe they do.”

“Good. Bring them to my office.”

“As you wish.”

Brasa watched them go, then turned to the group, “I will need to question them. You may remain here for the time being. Rest. Eat. I will return when I have Benny’s location.”

Lilah cut in, “I’m going with you.”

He fixed her with a hard look, “This is not an easy thing to do. I will very likely need to hurt them.”

She blinked, “I’m sorry, who in this room just got kidnapped? I think I’m owed a little time to take out some aggression.”

From his perch on the tabletop, Richie drawled, “She’s got a point.”

Brasa glared at Richie, earning himself an amused laugh. Then, he gave a single, curt nod, and reached out for her. Lilah took his hand and followed him out of the conference room and to his public office. The two chairs that normally sat in front of his desk had been pulled out so that they faced the walkway dissecting the room. In each sat a battered culebra—one with his head hanging down, the other glaring defiantly at no one in particular.

Lilah let Brasa lead her to them. His step slowed several paces away and he squeezed her hand before letting go. Lilah stopped where he left her, folding her hands in front of her body as she took in the scene.

Javier was standing off to the side, the staff having left prior to their arrival. His expression was relaxed, but she sensed a hardness underneath it. They’d done this before. Possibly hundreds of times over their unimaginably long lives. She drew in a breath to steady herself.

Brasa pushed his hands into his pockets as he regarded them, “What are your names?”

“Up yours,” came from the glaring one.

Without hesitation, and seemingly without thought, Brasa kicked out. His foot landed on the knee of ‘up yours’, the bone crunching audibly. Lilah felt her hands clench at the sound, but she managed to keep the wince from her face. ‘Up yours’ screamed in pain, his chin tilted up to the ceiling. He let out another, softer sound, then visibly calmed himself. He’d been prepped for this.

Stepping forward, Lilah edged around Brasa, one hand brushing his arm. She leaned down and caught the eye of ‘up yours’, “This will go much easier for you if you answer our questions.”

His glare returned, more fierce than before, “We’re prepared to die for this.”

Lilah nodded, two fingers touching his temple, “We’ll grant you that. Death is much better than what he,” she jerked her head towards Brasa, “is going to do to you if you refuse to cooperate.”

“Luis,” came a small voice to her right.

Lilah glanced over at him, “Luis. Is that you?”

He nodded.

“And this one?”

A hesitation, then, “Rafe.”

“Rafe,” Lilah echoed, turning her attention forward once again. “Where is Benny?”

Rafe pulled away from her touch, “Nowhere. Everywhere.”

She very nearly rolled her eyes. They knew that Benny had created a kind of weird mystique around himself and his mission. They also knew that he had cast them as the villains in the story. The technique made a lot of sense—it was still annoying as fuck.

A scoff from Brasa, followed by, “Spare us your delusions.”

Lilah straightened to standing, “Benny failed you over and over. Why continue to protect him?”

Luis cast her a look that was edging on pathetic, “He saved us.”

“From what?”

“From you,” Rafe answered, something more than derision in his voice. Hatred, perhaps.

Brasa moved. Slow. Relaxed. “Why would you need to be saved from us?”

Another answer from Rafe, “You are Xibalban. We know what you do to our kind.”

There it was. They’d been told enough to keep them scared—little truths that were coated in a thin, thin lie. Easy to swallow. Easy to accept. Easy to break.

“It is true that my people once committed inconceivable atrocities against yours,” Brasa allowed with a congenial dip of his head, “But that is not what I intend, nor is it what I will allow. Not any longer.”

Rafe sneered, “Liar.”

“Sometimes,” Brasa admitted, “When the moment calls for it. But, this is not that moment. I am not lying.”

Luis spoke, his lips trembling, “We don’t know that. You’ve been hunting us down. Killing us.”

Again, Brasa acknowledged the truth for what it was, “Only those who put us all at risk.”

Lilah could see how this was going to play out, could already hear the back and forth that would take time that they just didn’t have. Benny could strike again at any time, possibly with more firepower. Every second they spent debating right and wrong, good and bad, was a second that could cost the life of someone she cared about. Lilah made a decision.

Reaching into the pocket of Brasa’s slacks, she pulled out his knife, flipping the blade open. With deliberate slowness, she showed each of them the weapon. Then, she started talking.

“I’m going to give you an opportunity. The offer is time limited, and it will be given to only one of you.  Tell us where Benny is, and you live. First come, first serve.”

The room was quiet, save for the near constant snarls coming from Rafe. Lilah waited. Knife in hand, she simply let the quiet hold, let the uncomfortable stillness of silence make them squirm. If they knew Benny’s whereabouts, they’d tell her, and soon.

Luis broke first, “He’s in the tunnels, about ten miles north of where he...found you.”

The last two words were halting, as if he knew he shouldn’t say it, but couldn’t quite help himself. Next to her, Brasa growled low and long. She could feel the heat of his anger build both physically and within the confines of the bond.

“We have a winner,” she rasped, affected by how viscerally Brasa was emoting. Knowing that the longer they sat there, the risk of blood spilling would rise exponentially, Lilah turned from Brasa, “Javier, if you would, take Luis to be questioned further.”

“As you wish, Lady Lilah.”

Brasa held up a hand, “I want details, Javier. I want to know what Benny is planning.”

With a flourish, Javier hauled Luis up, tossing him towards the door, “I will take care of this.”

Luis landed hard on his knees, grunting in pain. But, he got up and let Javier lead him, limping, out of the room. The door closed with a kind of hard finality that eased Lilah’s anxiety. She felt Brasa’s confidence in Javier’s ability to get more of what they needed from Luis.

That left Rafe.

Lilah’s fingers gripped the knife, her jaw set, “Were you there when Benny took me?”

She didn’t recognize him, but she’d been hit pretty hard and had been too preoccupied with playing possum to memorize the faces of the people hauling her away. Beside her, Brasa removed his gloves.

Rafe shook his head.

“You’re sure?”

Another shake.

“I believe you.”

He visibly relaxed.

“But,” she continued, “I did say the offer would only be given to one of you.”

Rafe, knowing that she wasn’t going to relent, let out a sound of rage, rising unsteadily from the chair, hands outstretched towards her. He was stopped by Brasa’s hand around his throat. There was an almost too soft to hear pop as his larynx was crushed, the sound of his anger cut off with a wheeze.

Lilah closed the knife and slipped it back into Brasa’s pocket. Then, deliberately, she took a step back and crossed her arms. She’d said that she wanted vengeance, but exacting it with her own hands felt somehow unnecessary. All the fire that had been there five minutes before dissipated, leaving her feeling deflated.

Brasa had no such issues. His fingers curled deeper into Rafe’s throat, pushing beneath his skin. Blood welled up, dripping down the back of his hand to the floor. Lilah didn’t have to look at his eyes to know that they were red with rage, the glow of his power burning ever brighter beneath his skin. Flame burst from Rafe’s eyes, smoke wafting from his pores. He seared from the inside out, his body cracking into dust from the top down.

Brasa’s arm dropped, and he wiped the dust from his hands, his attention on the pile at his feet, “I should get a broom.”

Lilah looked at the spread of particles, trying hard not to think about the fact that it had once been a person, “We might have more important things to do right now.”

His brows quirked, “You might be right.”

***

Lilah stood at her station, well away from where the action would go down. The night was deep and dark, the new moon casting no light to guide their way. She looked over her equipment, one hand brushing over the black metal box sitting innocently to her right. Her laptop was gently whirring, all comms connected. At her thigh, her pistol rested in its holster, her knife strapped to her arm. Lilah hoped she wouldn’t have to use them.

According to Javier, Luis had talked freely, answered question after question. All of this was relayed to Lilah in detail until she felt like she had a good grasp on Benny’s plan. Brasa had sent Javier to set up the final blow, refusing to allow Lilah to do it, herself, as was her preference. She was too tired to argue, never having fully rested since the bomb had gone off two days before.

It was hard to think about it, the breakneck pace she’d been going at over that time. Lilah couldn’t even nail down if she’d slept properly, couldn’t remember eating or showering. And so, when Brasa had firmly pulled her into their room, she hadn’t resisted.

Assured that her friends were being taken care of, she’d let Brasa strip her down and run her a bath, let him wash her with soothing motions, until the water cooled And then, they’d tumbled naked into bed, the full darkness of the room letting her fall into a deep sleep.

She wished that she could say that she felt fully rested. While Lilah had slept for a long time, she had awoken groggy. Her body ached with something that wasn’t quite injury. She sleep walked through getting ready for the day, reluctantly eating a meal next to Seth, who sat drinking coffee while he cleaned his gun.

It wasn’t until she began to set up for the job that Lilah’s brain kicked in. This was it. They could be done with this awful mess today. If they succeeded, Lilah vowed to herself that she was going to do something fun—maybe rob a museum.

As she was contemplating this, heat built at her back. She looked up to find Brasa and Javier standing not far away. Brasa was wearing the familiar uniform of leather, sunglasses perched on his nose. Next to him, Javier was very much out of uniform. Instead of a sharply tailored suit, her wore thick canvas pants and a long sleeved shirt. He’d forgone his usual cane, a literal sword strapped to his hip.

“Are we set up?” She asked Javier.

With a deferential nod, he answered, “We are.”

“And you made sure to ground the connection—its just that it could go early if you—.”

Brasa laid a gentle hand on her shoulder, “He was very thorough. This will work.”

Lilah’s jaw shut with an audible click. She pursed her lips, the effort to hold back further questions not inconsequential. She busied her hands and her mind with activating the comms.

“McNamara online,” she said evenly.

It took a few seconds to get a response, but eventually she heard the click of the mic turning on.

“Richie Gecko online.”

“Oh, shut up,” Seth groused, “We’re in place.”

“You’re the one who said we should take this seriously.”

“Yeah, but this isn’t the fucking movies.”

Lilah rolled her eyes, “Alright. Hang tight while we get a lock on him.”

Tapping her mouse pad, Lilah opened the tracking app, “You think he’ll go for it?”

Javier shifted on his feet, “I believe he will. He’s already proven that he’ll sacrifice anyone and anything to protect his own skin.”

She stared at the little dots on the screen, “And Luis?”

“Running back to daddy,” he intoned, derision tainting his voice.

“You’re sure.”

He sighed, “I’ve done this a thousand times over. I know fear. I made him very, very scared before I let him go.”

The intensity with which he spoke, the unsaid threat in his tone, was enough to make Lilah drop the subject. She turned her attention to the screen, taking note of her location and the pair of dots indicating Seth and Richie. At the bottom left corner was a renegade dot that was steadily moving towards them. She watched it shift across the screen, pixels lighting up along the path.

It stopped at a fair distance from where the other two were congregated. Lilah held her breath as she waited for it to either stay where it was or start moving again. It stayed.

“He’s back,” Lilah murmured.

A flash of headlights appeared, lighting her station. She turned around in her seat, squinting at the car coming towards them.

“Is that one of ours?”

Brasa touched her shoulder, “It is. I should have warned you. Richie insisted.”

The car pulled up, dust swirling around the tires as it came to a stop. The engine and lights cut off, the driver’s side door opened. A dark head popped up, hair pulled into a high pony tail. Kate was dressed for practicality—jeans, t shirt, jacket, boots, gun. She closed the door, and walked confidently towards them.

Lilah waved at her, “Welcome to the party.”

She smiled wryly, “Richie said I couldn’t go with him, so I thought I would go with you.”

To be honest, Lilah was grateful for the extra support. It was often the case that she was alone, running the logistics, while others were executing her plan. Today, when the stakes were high, she found that she didn’t like the thought of being by herself.

Brasa took her hand, saying lowly, “Keep the bond open.”

She nodded, “Absolutely.”

“Good,” he leaned down and kissed her temple.

With a nod to Kate, Brasa turned from them. Javier stood a moment longer, his eyes absorbing Kate in detail. Then, he stepped back and followed his lord into the darkness.

Kate sighed with an odd kind of relief, “Well, what’s the plan?”

Lilah lifted a brow, “Richie didn’t tell you?”

“He said that he would be, quote, ‘fucking shit up’, but that’s as far as I got.”

That made sense. As if he’d gotten a power up in a video game, Richie had gotten some of his energy back as they neared the start of the job. As he’d loaded up the car, he’d been fairly vibrating with energy, a wide smile wrapped around a cigarette. Seth, on the other hand, had been stone cold sober—both literally and figuratively. The seriousness of his expression, the cant of his shoulders, told her that he was determined to get this done.

“Okay,” Lilah said, sliding into her chair, “This is Seth and Richie. And this,” she pointed to the errant dot, “is Luis. We’re fairly certain that he is heading back to Benny to tell him that we know his plan.”

Kate peered at the screen, “What was his plan?”

“To nuke the entire cave system, causing a sinkhole that spans across our entire territory.”

Eyes narrowing, Kate said, “That doesn’t make sense.”

Lilah cut her a glance, “What about it doesn’t make sense?”

“Benny’s schtick is all about how Brasa is destroying their way of life, right? What does taking down the cave system do.”

Lilah hesitated, her mind running through it, “I...think its because Brasa said they built it.”

“They did what?”

Hand waving to the land in front of them, “They built it—the Xibalbans. Its this huge maze of tunnels that are carved deep into the rock. I’ve only seen some of it, but its huge and complex and had to have taken forever to accomplish.” She paused, eyes scanning the middle distance, “I think that he made the caves a physical representation of their rule.  I mean, right?”

Kate cocked her head to the side, “That could be right. Benny could also be batshit crazy.”

“Fair point.”

“Well, we can pretty much guarantee that he’s going to change his plan, knowing that we know.”

Lilah shook her head, “If you’re right and he is batshit, then we don’t know that. Crazy isn’t always predictable.”

“That is a fair point.”

“Which,” Lilah added, tapping out a few commands, “means that we need to get a little more inside information.”

She cued up the sound, activating the comm Javier had placed carefully into Luis’ pocket on the way out. For a few minutes, she had to screw around with the settings, trying to get the best sound quality.

We should keep to the plan—Benny. Make their land unlivable, give them no place to retreat. Then, we pick them off like the parasites they are.

What about the Xibalban? Came a voice she didn’t recognize.

They’ll protect their bondmate first. When they realize the danger, they’ll come running.

Lilah reflexively looked around, trying to discern if they were going to be attacked from the deep black of the landscape around them.

“Could they know where we are?”

“No,” Lilah answered, feeling her shoulders drop, “No, they couldn’t.”

“Then…?” Kate prompted, her head shaking from side to side in confusion. “Oh no… get your phone.’

“What? Why?”

“They’re gonna finish off the bars,” Kate’s voice cracked, “We have to get the staff out of there.”

With a long line of curses falling from her lips, Lilah sent off a barrage of texts to the floor manager, telling them to get themselves and everyone else out of the building. As she did that, the conversation coming from the ear piece continued.

We should cut and run—Naya.

We run now, and we’ll keep running. We have to hit them where it will hurt.

Didn’t we already do that? Benny, you burned down his lair, you bombed both their bars—every time you try to hit them, they just keep...coming for us.

That was not untrue, and Lilah hated that she agreed with Naya. Her mouth turned down as she listened, half her attention on the phone in her hands as she waited for confirmation that the staff had been taken to safety.

They aren’t invincible, Naya.

Neither are you. A sigh. Maybe we should leave. Maybe we should just leave them here and go find a place for ourselves.

And let them win? There was that voice she didn’t recognize.

If we don’t fight now, we’re gonna end up like Luis, over there.

A heavy silence landed in the middle of the conversation, and Lilah could only guess that Luis had been killed after he’d told Benny that he’d talked.

We just found each other, Benny. I don’t want to lose you so soon.

You won’t. We’ll handle this, and then we can start our lives together.

The sincerity of his tone, the way Lilah could hear every emotion steeping into his words...It helped her to understand how so many people could believe him when he told them that they could succeed.

Brasa’s voice sounded from over the bond, We’re in the caves. Where should we go?

Lilah relayed Benny’s location, telling him to be careful. She avoided details about the secondary plan, about how Benny had wanted to distract him. It wasn’t necessary. She’d taken care of it, and would fill him in later.

“They’re headed for Benny. If he wiggles out of it again, Seth and Richie will herd him to the back up plan.”

“What is the back up plan?”

“We got incoming!”

Lilah tapped the keyboard, “Seth, what’s going on?”

“Got a group of ‘em heading towards us. Richie and I will take care of it.”

“Yeah, nothing we can’t handle.”

Lilah nodded, even though they couldn’t see her, “Be safe. Don’t do anything stupid. If it gets too hairy, cut and run.”

There was a pause, then, from Seth, “Duly noted, boss.”

Unable to listen to the gunfire she knew was coming, Lilah cut the line. Next to her, Kate checked her phone, tapping on the screen a few times.

“What’s left of Jackknife’s is empty. The staff have gone to ground.”

“Good, good.”

Lilah’s phone had been silent, no response from the manager. She hoped that meant they were taking care of business and hadn’t been killed in the second wave. Her stomach rolled with regret that she hadn’t thought he’d attack there again, that she may have inadvertently put both her staff and the remaining injured culebras in danger.

We knew you’d be here—Benny.

Apparently, Brasa and Javier had arrived. She found herself leaning into the computer as she listened.

This needs to stop, Brasa’s voice was deceptively soft. She could feel how he was going to stop things, how much it took to say what came next, The two of you can go. We just want him.

Not a chance.

I can’t leave him.

This was said simultaneously, but Lilah could pick apart the variation in tone. The unknown man spitting the words out, Naya’s voice soft and weak and desperate. She resisted feeling sorry for either of them.

We will take him by force, Javier pronounced, and she could hear some rustling, then, We don’t want you, but we will go through you.

More rustling, I’m not afraid to die. And, if I get to take you out with me, that’s a bonus.

And then there was a bang that preceded the comm cutting off entirely. Lilah stared at the screen, one finger tapping on the keyboard to try to bring the sound back. No use. It was fried. Closing her eyes, Lilah reached across the bond to find that Brasa far away, further than he’d been since the beginning of all this.

She couldn’t tell if he was hurt, or if he was putting distance between them so that he could concentrate on doing what needed to be done, so that he could shield her from it.

“How fast is your car?”

Kate smiled, “Pretty damn.”

“Let’s go.”

It wasn’t until they were speeding away that Kate actually asked where they were going, “I’m literally hauling ass through the dark, here.”

Lilah pulled up her phone, opening the tracking app for the comms. She had the last location of Brasa, the little dot shining from somewhere below the ground. And then there were the two dots signifying the brothers. They were a little further South than they had been, but they were moving.

She opened the line, “Guys, you there?”

A click, “Yeah, we’re here. Kind of busy, though.”

Then, Seth cut in, “These fuckers just keep coming.”

Lilah swallowed down her rising nerves, “We’ve lost contact with Brasa and Javier. We’re gonna check it out.”

A few shots fired, the sound of it making Lilah wince. Seth’s voice followed, rough with exertion, “That’s a bad idea. He can handle himself.”

“I think,” Lilah croaked, “I think they had the same idea we did.”

There were more shots, intermittently cut through with unintelligible yelling. Lilah tried not to think about what was going on, knowing that her mind was far more creative than was typical of reality. Instead, she focused on directing Kate while she waited for a response that she might not get.

“Ah, fuck!”

“What happened?”

“Got clipped in the side,” Seth ground out, “Its not deep. I’m good.”

He wasn’t talking to her. She could tell. He was reassuring his brother.

“Quit getting hit,” Richie demanded, “We got people to kill.”

“Yes, Richie, that’s so helpful.”

Knowing that she wasn’t going to get them to focus, and the attempt might result in another injury, Lilah turned down the volume and pointed to the left of the car, “That’s about where they were.”

Kate pulled to a stop, shutting the car off, “What do you want to do?”

“I want to find him, and I want to ring his neck for leaving me in the dark.”

“Alright.”

Pull her gun from its holster, Lilah exited the car, using the headlights to peer around, “I don’t see anything.”

Kate had followed her example, a nine millimeter pointed towards the ground in front of her, “I don’t either.”

“They must still be in the caves, or—,” Lilah cut herself off as she spotted a plume of dust settling not too far away.

Kate followed her gaze, her mouth thin as she concentrated, “You think…?”

“Yeah,” Lilah breathed, “We need to be careful. The ground looks unstable.”

And indeed it did. Fissures cut through the rock below, the surface shattered in some places. Lilah eased forward, stepping back quickly when her foot sunk deep.

“Okay, what do we do?” Kate asked, taking a few steps back her eyes flicking back and forth.

“I don’t know.”

In the distance, something blew up. Another. And another. The sound came from all around them. Lilah could feel vibrations in her feet, in her chest, her hair standing on end.

“The fuck?”

Kate grabbed her arm, “The plan—they planned to blow the caves.”

Lilah stared at her, her mind slowly working to put the pieces together.

“He wasn’t going to hit the bars,” Kate said, her eyes shining with intensity, “He was going to bring us here. He knew you’d feel the hit to Brasa, knew you’d come here.”

Lilah looked down. Another bomb went off. There was no telling how many more there were, or when the ground beneath them would crumble. Angry and afraid, she reached out, slamming through the bond as it stretched thin.

I’m here. I’m fine. Javier is fine. We are near your post.

As relieved as she was to hear it, she cut through his reassurances, I already came to you. I followed the comm. Kate and I are standing on the caves.

She sensed his fear, sensed that he’d turned and was running back towards her, I’m coming.

No, no, that’s what he wants. You need to head towards Seth and Richie. They’re the next stop. Kate and I will get out of this.

Kate was already moving to the car, ushering Lilah along. Inside, she slammed the transmission into drive and they hauled ass away.

“We need to get to Seth and Richie,” Lilah said, pulling out her phone.

As she expected, their dots were moving towards the rendezvous points. Unexpectedly, the comm they’d planted on Luis was also moving. It had reconnected to the tracking system, and was flying in a twisting pattern towards the Geckos.

Lilah glared at it, flinching as a bomb went off a little too close for comfort. Kate was driving fast, the car eating up road as the engine roared. If it had been anyone else at the wheel, Lilah might have worried for her safety. As it was, Kate was a notoriously skilled getaway driver, having honed the talent over many jobs.  

She hesitated, her finger hovering over the connection button on the app. Her hunch could be wrong.

Mouth curling, Lilah connected to the comm, “You still alive?”

There was rustling along the line, a bit of feedback, then, “I am alive and well.”

“Wish I could say that I’m glad to hear it, Benny.”

He chuckled, the sound coming out forced, “Good thing I don’t give a fuck about your happiness.”

“I’ve noticed.”

“I’m guessing that you can see where I’m heading.”

“I can.”

“Good,” he bit out, “Then you’ll know when I’ve taken care of your friends.”

“You’re not going to make it that far, Benny.”

“We’ll see.”

The comm disconnected from his side. Lilah sighed and shut down the app. She pushed her phone into the pocket of her sweatshirt and fiddled with the edge of one of her sleeves.

“We almost there?”

Lilah nodded. Whatever she might have answered was cut off as a bomb went off too close to the car, the ground exploding outwards. Rocks shattered the windows on the driver’s side, the car swerving as Kate tried to keep control. A second bomb went off a moment later, the back side of the car lifting about ten feet. As it slammed back down, Lilah could hear the axle crack, knew instinctively that they had to get out, and fast.

“Out! Out!” Lilah cried as she threw off her seat belt.

Disoriented, Lilah stumbled as she got out of the car, looking over the body to see Kate slamming the door closed and rounding the hood.

“You alright?”

Lilah nodded, “I’m good. The car’s fucked, though.”

As if on cue, a bomb went off maybe a hundred yards away, and the ground shifted. Lilah felt it in a way that she couldn’t describe, an intangible feeling that scared her more than she’d ever been scared before. In between one second and the next, the ground sunk down, caving in on itself. The hole grew bigger, yawning ever wider as it worked to swallow them whole.

“Run!”

Lilah had never, never made her feet move so fast. The air whipped at her as each step slammed into the ground. The roaring in her ears was only tempered by the sound of her own breathing. A glance over her shoulder saw the car rear up before falling down into the depths, cutting off the light. Gritting her teeth, she dug into her pocket, her stride slowing as she keyed up the flashlight on her phone.

The path before them was illuminated, much good that it did them. On either side of them, the ground trembled. They weren’t going fast enough. They were going to fall.

Brasa…

He heard her, but his answer was overpowered by the way the ground fell out from under her. Lilah’s arm was caught by Kate, who dragged her to the side.

“Over there, the rock formation. That’s the safest bet.”

Not in a place to argue, Lilah followed Kate’s lead, pushing through the burn and strain of her muscles. As they neared, a tiny flicker of hope swelled, urging her to just keep moving. Lilah obeyed the feeling, arms pumping, breath punching in and out.

Another huge chunk of ground swelled up and dropped, the rumbling sound of crunching rock following. She veered, moving with Kate towards the only goal in sight.

Scrambling up, Lilah climbed as quickly as she could, digging her feet into the stone and scraping her palms. Behind her, in front of her, to her left and right, the earth roiled. She could hear more of the cave system crumble in on itself, taking whoever might be inside with it.

Near the top, with Kate huffing at her side, Lilah turned and watched the disaster unfold. It was a sight she would never forget. The whole world, as far as she could see it, rocked up and down, sinking and rising, turning over almost completely.

“He meant for us to be in that,” Kate said, the barest tremble in her voice.

“He did.”

“Fuck this guy.”

“Yeah,” Lilah said, when she could find her voice again. “Fuck this guy.”

Kate closed her eyes, and Lilah didn’t even have to guess at what she was doing. She drew in a breath to follow suit.

I’m okay. We got out.

Let me through.

Have you found Seth and Richie?

Let me through.

Tell me. Did you find them.

I...did.

And?

Seth’s hurt. We can’t stop the bleeding.

Horrified, Lilah opened her eyes, catching a similar expression on Kate’s face. She made a decision.

“Tell Richie to let you through.”

Not waiting for an answer, Lilah reached out to the bond, got a good grip, and pulled. The world tipped over, and Lilah landed hard on her knee, dry heaving.

“You could have just asked,” Brasa griped from not far away. Then, “Are you alright?”

She nodded, swallowing.  As she looked up, Lilah caught Kate landing next to Richie, who was already bending down to help her up. Next to Richie was an ashen Seth. He was leaning against their car, blood soaking clean through almost the entirely of the front of his button down. His suit jacket was crumbled a few feet away, along with his gun holsters. He looked like he was going to try to stand, took a single step, and crumpled down in a heap.

“You look like shit.”

Seth started to laugh, the sound cut off by a groan of pain, “Fuck you, too.”

Ambling over to him, Lilah sat on her heels, “We need to get you to a hospital.”

He shook his head, “I’m good here. Could use a drink, though.”

“Don’t need to thin your blood any more than it already is,” Lilah shot back, “You’re hurt. This isn’t just a flesh wound.”

“Benny got in a good shot, I’ll give him that.”

Lips sneering, Lilah said, “We’ll get him back for this. We still have an ace up our sleeve.”

Seth sucked his teeth, blood coating the enamel, “You need to be getting to that ace.”

“Not until I know you’re going to make it.”

He was already shaking his head, “This isn’t something you come back from.”

Seth lifted the hand that had been staunching the blood, a spurt shooting out with every beat of his heart until he covered it again.

Lilah to a moment to think, “You can. You can come back from this. Richie can help you.”

She knew the moment that he understood what she was saying. She also knew that he was going to refuse.

“I’m not having this asshole,” he pointed to his brother, “Hold it over me for eternity, thank you very much. I’ve had enough of that already.”

“Are you seriously arguing about this while you’re dying?”

Seth glared at her, though the effect was somewhat diminished by the fact that he was struggling to focus.

Lilah laid a hand over his, worried by the cool skin beneath her fingers, “Then, let me do it.” Surprised by her own words, she glanced up at Brasa, “I can do it, right?”

His mouth parted, closed, parted again, and then he nodded, “Yes. Your blood is my blood, and blood is the conduit.”

Turning her attention back to Seth, Lilah lifted her brows in question, “It’ll be better if its me, right?”

He was quiet for a long time, so long that Lilah began to feel the hope that had sparked while the earth trembled beneath her feet begin to fade. And then he nodded.

Hand digging into her sweatshirt, Lilah pulled out her knife. She rolled it into her other hand. And then, before she could question it, she dug the blade in. Carefully, Lilah dripped the steady stream into Seth’s mouth.

He took a deep gulp, then tried to pull away. Lilah cradled the back of his head, holding him to the wound, her eyes lifting once more to her bondmate.

“How much?”

Brasa’s eyes were fixed where Seth’s mouth met her skin, “A bit more.”

Lilah held her position for a minute or two more, focused enough on her task that she didn’t hear the conversation going on around her. Then, when she thought it might be enough, she pulled away. Seth, already weak, couldn’t keep his head up. His eyes were rolled back, forehead clammy.

“How long does it take?”

This time, Richie answered, “It depends, but not long. I’ll stay with him. You guys go after Benny.”

Kate moved to stand next to Richie, “I’ll stay with him, too. He’ll need someone here who won’t rib him for ‘coming to the dark side’.”

The last little bit of that sentence was said with heavy sarcasm and a pair of finger quotes.

Lilah sheathed her knife and stood, “You’ll let me know that he’s okay.”

With half a smile, Richie tapped the ear piece, “I’ll give you live updates.”

“Thanks.”

Brasa moved to her side, holding up the little metal box from her station, “I thought you might need this.”

Lilah took it gratefully, “I do. Thank you.” She rose up on her tip toes and kissed him lightly, “Let’s go kill this shithead.”

After settling Seth as comfortably as possible, Lilah took the keys to the car from Seth’s coat and hopped into the driver’s side. Brasa’s body dropped into the passenger’s side, Javier nimbly climbing into the back.

She rolled down the window, pointing at Richie, “Real time updates.”

He gave her a little salute and shooed her away, his focus turning to his brother.

It surprised Lilah how quickly they arrived at the rendezvous point, though it was nowhere near where they’d found Seth and Richie. Over the horizon, the sky was beginning to grow pink with the rising of the sun. She pulled to a stop a good distance away from where she knew Benny would be.

If all had gone to plan, they would have all been sitting here, watching this. Lilah comforted herself with the knowledge that they were at least unhurt, mostly. Seth would get better, would be healed before she got back.

Opening the door, Lilah got out, closing it behind her, the black box tucked beneath her arm. She didn’t bother looking for Brasa and Javier to follow, already moving around the huge boulder she’d parked behind. Pulling out her phone, she checked the dot representing Benny. He was right where she wanted him to be.

Below, the rock face sheered off, giving her the best view of the helipad just across a flowing river. Lilah breathed in the cool morning air, wind blowing gently.

Brasa leaned against the rock to her right, glasses reflecting the world below, “I can do it, if you want.”

Lilah looked at him.

“You don’t have to do it, if you don’t want to.”

She caught the glimmer of Javier as he stood at a respectable distance, felt the subtle change in light as the sun continued to rise. The night seemed far away already. The anxiety. The fear. The relief. It all felt as if it were a dream. And yet, here she stood, at the precipice of committing the final act in their plan. She felt no hesitation. She felt no fear. Lilah wasn’t quite sure she could feel much of anything.

“I got it,” she said finally.

And she did—have it.

Looking down, Lilah opened the box, her thumb flicking each of the toggles upwards until red turned green. In the distance, she heard the blades of the helicopter begin the turn. She looked down. Two figures ran for the craft.

“Is that him?” She asked Brasa, knowing that his eyes were infinitely better than hers.

He craned his neck, looking down his nose, “Yes.”

Without thinking, she tapped the comm, “You still alive?”

From across the distance, Benny laughed, “I am. Tell me, is Seth?”

She sneered, “He is.”

“Shame,” Benny replied, unrepentant. Then, with a light, conversational tone, “Hey, McNamara, looks like we’ll be seeing each other again sometimes.”

They wouldn’t.

“Hey, Benny,” she shot back, “looks like you’re on the wrong side of the river.”

Lilah waited a moment more, watching as the two figures climbed inside.

She pressed the button.

The explosion was small—or, perhaps it was only small because she’d seen so many up close not an hour before. From around the helipad, the explosives went off. In a succession of fifteen or so, they obliterated the ground beneath, until it began to crumble in on itself. And then, just for good measure, the helicopter, itself, detonated. Lilah watched until the whole thing fell into the hole the first blast had created, then closed the box and looked to Brasa.

“I want to go home.”

And that’s what they did. They found Seth, Richie, and Kate where they’d left them. Stuffing everyone into the car, they went back to the bar. Lilah was not ashamed to be relieved that the place was still standing. In their absence, the elevator had been fixed. It opened to workers still making repairs, a fine smattering of dust on every surface.

Tired, and half awake, the group filed into the conference room. Seth was laid out on the tabletop. As was his way, Javier was already arranging for food, liquor, and blood to be brought to them. As Lilah moved to sit, Brasa pulled her away from the chair she’d pulled out. With quiet care, he gathered her into his lap, holding her around the waist.

She wasn’t surprised to see Richie doing the same with Kate, though he was watching his brother very closely.

“When will he wake up?” she asked.

“Any minute,” Richie answered, his voice even and sure.

“How do you know?”

“Because Javier is bringing a bottle of shitty bourbon and you know he can’t resist.”

She laughed, some of the feeling coming back to her. Resting against Brasa, she watched as Seth laid on the table, unmoving.  He’d been asleep for so long that she was doubting her decision. Sensing her unease, Brasa ran a hand up her back. Up and down. Calming.

Her shoulders didn’t move from where she’d had them bunched up by her ears until Seth drew that first, ragged breath. The relief coursed through her, tears dotting her cheeks. Sniffing, she wiped them away, resting an elbow on the table as leaned forward.

Richie eased Kate to the side, rising. He took a few steps around the table, lifting a hip and sitting not far from Seth’s head.

“Welcome back, brother.”

“Fuck. You.”

Richie laughed, “Glad to see you’re going to still be cranky when you wake up.”

“I died, you asshole.”

“I know. I was there.”

Seth tried to sit up, dropping heavily back down, “Fuck.”

The door to the conference room swung open, Javier pulling a cart in behind him.

Richie smiled, “Breakfast is here.” Then, softer, “You need to feed, Seth.”

Lilah though he would fight, thought he would grumble and pout until the hunger took over. And yet, when Richie held the bag out to him, Seth took it. With ease that could only come from watching someone do it over and over, he tore into the plastic, and drank it down.

Standing hesitantly, Lilah crossed into his field of vision. He drew back from the bag, breathing hard, game face on.

“Hey.”

He swallowed hard, “Hey.”

“You feel ok?”

One shoulder lifted, “For having nearly died, I feel pretty good.”

“Cool.” Then, “You want to steal a Renoir with me later?”

[cami-chats]

Cats Get Dates

Fandom: Marvel, The Umbrella Academy (TV)

Pairing: Five Hargreeves/Tony Stark

Warnings: None

On AO3 or below

Tony didn't think about it too much before putting up the sign in his window. He felt kind of stupid as he did it-- and also like he was in that one Taylor Swift music video-- but also, that cat was super cute and he wanted to know its name. Calling it 'the stupidly cute, fluffy cat' when he was telling Jim about it was getting a little lengthy; not to mention Jim had thought he was talking about more than one cat for about six months.

Your cat's really cute. So white and fluffy, I love them was what the sign said, but it was enough. With the way windows and floors worked in these weirdass apartment buildings, he wasn't risking much by admitting the cutest cat in the world was, in fact, the cutest cat in the world to a bunch of strangers other than the one stranger he had in mind.

The next day, there was a sign in the window with an arrow pointing down to the cat's favorite lounging spot: Mr. Pennycrumb (yes, really).

Tony wasn't the best artist, but he did a pretty good rendition of Mr. Pennycrumb in a suit, with a monocle and a walking stick. I love him. He didn't hesitate to put that one up either, and he thought that would be the end of it.

He should've known that the universe would decide to throw him a nice little curveball. The next time he peeked across the street to see if Mr. Pennycrumb was taking a nap or licking his paw, he instead saw a handsome man with a criminal jawline sitting in the window, writing in a notebook.

Tony was just tired enough to sit at his own desk and stare an unreasonable amount.

Mr. Pennycrumb's owner looked up after a while and saw him. He raised an eyebrow.

Tony reached for the poster that had his drawing of Mr. Pennycrumb in a suit-- which he kept by the window simply because he wanted to keep the drawing but didn't have any other place to put it-- and held it up. Then he set it down and put his hands together in a pleading fashion.

The cat owner smirked in a very self-satisfied manner, then disappeared for a moment. When he came back, he had Mr. Pennycrumb in his arms. He plopped him in front of the window, where the cat was happy to stretch out and roll onto his back.

Tony blew him a kiss, and he was glad when the other man chuckled before turning back to his writing. Cause otherwise that would've been really awkward. Mr. Pennycrumb was unfairly adorable, and definitely worth a little embarrassment for, if the situation ever called for it. Plus, if the cat's owner had figured out that Tony was checking him out, he might've decided to close his shades, and that would've been a real tragedy.

*

Their first real, face-to-face contact came sometime after three in the morning when the two of them were the only people with both their lights on and their shades open.

Mr. Pennycrumb's owner was the one to initiate it with a note in his window that read, Do you have coffee?

Tony wrote back. Yes.

Can I have some? Everywhere's closed. And it was true. Everywhere was closed, but fuck only knew why. There was a college in this city; surely there was at least one cafe that could turn a profit from running twenty-four hours. There were grocery stores that were still open, but the closest one was two blocks away-- considerably further than across the street, and a lot more of a pain.

In response, Tony wrote down his apartment number. Someone with a cat that cute wouldn't murder him after asking for coffee. If there were two good qualities a person could have, it would be liking coffee and loving their cat. Or maybe it was loving coffee and liking their cat. Either way, it was good combination to have. Not to mention that Tony was infinitely more likely to be kidnapped, not murdered flat out. And the kidnapping type had the same look about them, which Mr. Pennycrumb's owner did not have.

When he saw the man's light go off, he got up to make a new pot of coffee. He still had some in there for himself, so he dumped the rest of it in a spare mug and started a new one. He had a huge ass thermos around here somewhere-- a gift from Jim, and he'd made sure it was big enough for a pot of coffee plus all the cream that Tony liked to add, because Jim was the best gift-giver in the entire world.

As Tony crawled in a cupboard to find it, he wondered why he didn't use it more often. Usually, it was to avoid questions. If people asked him one question, they took it as an invitation for more conversation, which was pretty much the opposite of what Tony wanted when he was carrying around a pot of coffee.

It was only after he unearthed it that he remembered Jim had sort of taken it away for a week when Tony had decided to brew his coffee with an energy drink instead of water. It had tasted like shit, but it had kept him awake enough to keep up with his coursework while also finishing off the designs for the upcoming expo and giving his notes to Howard about the latest prototype. Now that that horrible time had passed though, he should be able to start using it again.

Someone knocked on the door as he was halfway through pouring the coffee into the giant thermos, so he put it down to answer the door. As expected, it was the neighbor-- if neighbor could be used to describe someone that lived in a separate building on the opposite side of the road. He was even more handsome up close, which was a dangerous thing to be noticing in the middle of the night when his self-control was wearing thin. He didn't have much of a filter to begin with, and it only became thinner when he was tired.

"Hey," the possibly-a-neighbor but definitely-the-cute-cat-owner said. "Thanks for this."

"Yeah, no problem. I can't make it a day without coffee." Tony sort of forgot to invite him in, but he turned to go finish pouring the coffee and figured that his sort-of-neighbor would either follow him in or stay in the doorway. Tony would be very tempted to ask him to stay forever if he had remembered to ask him inside in the first place. As he started to pour the remainder of the pot, he heard the door close, and a second later, the guy walked into the kitchen. "I'm Tony, by the way."

"Five. Yes, like the number."

"Your parents weren't very imaginative."

"Actually, I only have one sibling."

"That's even worse."

"I've always thought so," Five said mildly.

"Is there a story there or are they just weird as shit?"

Five snorted. "If they had reasons, they never bothered to share them with me." Then he tilted his head curiously. "Does that thermos fit an entire pot of coffee?"

"Yep."

"That's amazing. Where did you get it?"

"It was a gift, so I don't know."

"Hm, shame."

Tony screwed the lid on and held it out to him.

"Thanks."

"No problem."

"I'll try to have it back in a couple days."

"Sure. And if you forget, I can always add it to a sign when I'm asking about Mr. Pennycrumb. How is he anyways?"

"A pain in the ass," Five said, rolling his eyes as they walked to the door. "He was playing with a plastic bag, got his head caught, flipped out, and ended up shredding it over half the apartment."

"And that's why I admire other people's cats from afar instead of getting my own."

"A wise decision," Five said flatly, but with a hint of a smile across his mouth. Tony had the strong urge to kiss him, but he was too far away for Tony to do it as an impulse decision. "See you around."

"Yep, see you."

Having a crush from a distance had been weird and a little creepy of him, but he didn't think the one minute of conversation with Five really justified it. If anything, it made it worse. Jim would probably tell him to be a normal neighbor and not make contact unless they were passing each other on the street-- but then, Jim was also convinced that Tony was going to be murdered horribly in the middle of the night because he hadn't been looking where he was going, so Tony took everything he said with a grain of salt.

*

Tony got back to his apartment one day to find a bag hanging on the door. He peeked inside and saw that it was the thermos he'd loaned Five, so he picked it up and brought it in with him.

He forgot to put it away for a while, so it was almost a week later when he grabbed the thermos to use it and a picture fell out. Curious, Tony reached for it, then he laughed. It was a polaroid of Mr. Pennycrumb. He was sitting up straight, fluffy tail curled around the front of his little feet and looking intensely at the camera-- or, rather, the person holding the camera, but it was the same effect. On the white bottom, Five had written 'Thanks' in sharpie, in all caps like he was an old man.

Tony hung it on the fridge, then went back to putting his bag together for the day.

*

The next contact came when Tony was settling in for the evening, ready to stay up all night writing code, only to realize that he didn't have enough sugar for his coffee to last all night. Fuck. Fuck, fuck, and fuck some more, he was not going to make it through the night unless he had caffeine and sugar. He glanced out the window automatically and saw that Five's light was on, and he was sitting at his desk.

There was no guarantee that he'd look up, but Tony had to try.

Do you have sugar?

Five looked up when he held the sign in front of his window. He reached to the side and wrote, and a moment later, Tony was reading what he'd written. Only if you'll come over here to get it.

Tony nodded vigorously. He could definitely walk over there. No way in hell was he going to ask Five for a favor and then expect for him to walk over to Tony's place.

Five flipped over his paper and wrote his apartment number.

Tony got up, shoved on some shoes, and hurried over. It was a good thing that it was a short walk, because it was kind of cold out, and he hadn't grabbed a jacket.

It was barely five seconds after he knocked that the door opened. "How much sugar do you need?"

"I don't know, maybe a cup?" Tony said. "It's for my coffee."

"You put sugar in your coffee?" Five asked, raising an eyebrow judgmentally.

"You don't?" Tony asked, mirroring his expression. "I guess that's fine, if you want to be miserable."

Five rolled his eyes and walked to the kitchen, pouring sugar from a large bucket to a smaller container. "Is that enough?"

"Yeah, thanks."

Five put the lid on and handed it over. Then, scarcely after Tony had his hands on it, Five put a scrap of paper on top. "That's my number. You can use it the next time you need sugar instead of hoping I look up at the right time."

Tony's heart decided to be a traitorous little bastard and started beating faster, but he hoped it didn't show in his voice when he said, "Cool; I'll do that. Thanks again," he said.

He made it back over to his apartment, saved Five's number in his phone, then sent him a text.

This is Tony, so you have my number too.

He tossed his phone onto the desk and went to pour some sugar in his coffee. On the desk, his phone buzzed with a new message.

Good to know, was all Five said. A minute later, he sent a photo of Mr. Pennycrumb. It was obvious that he'd just taken it, and the cat was glaring at him as it sat atop his laptop keyboard. The King of the universe says hello.

Tell him I love him.

And have it go to his head? But your message has been passed on.

*

Things continued in that vein for a while. Five would send him pictures of Mr. Pennycrumb in various poses-- Tony's favorite was the one where the cat had climbed into the filled bathtub and then squalled about it like it was Five's fault-- and in return, Tony would gush about how cute Mr. Pennycrumb was.

After a couple weeks of that, they started complaining about their class work, which rapidly turned into helping each other. It's not that either of them was stupid or refused to do their own work, but Five's grasp of physics was much better than Tony's (to say nothing of his understanding of chaos theory), and in return, Tony helped him with the finer points of chemistry.

And since they were helping each other with work, they might as well meet in person rather than halting texts back and forth whenever they remembered to check their phone. Tony didn't think anything of it until it was leading up to the end of the semester and he went to Five's favorite coffee shop to buy him a cup before he headed over-- instead of just letting him brew coffee like normal. Since when did Tony go out of his way to do something nice? The answer used to be: hardly ever. Now, it looked like the answer was: for about three weeks. Because he'd been doing things to try and be nice to Five for a while, even if it inconvenienced him.

With his usual tact, Tony knocked on the door and as soon as Five answered, he asked, "Are we dating?"

"We won't be if you don't hand over the coffee," Five said, his eyes going straight to the cup with laser focus.

Tony handed it over.

Five took a sip, savored it, then brushed a kiss over Tony's cheek. "Come on, I ordered your shitty pizza, and it's useless if it goes cold."

Tony walked in, closing the door behind him. Well, the kiss answered that question. Or maybe it was the way that Five had answered his question. Either way, Tony now had a boyfriend, and that was wonderful. "It makes a wonderful snack four hours into studying," Tony argued. He knew this for a fact after a dozen times of doing it. "You can shove it in your mouth without tasting it, and you don't have to wait for something to be delivered."

"Congratulations," Five said flatly. "I'm not trying it."

"Fine, suffer then." 

[orionsangel86]

“I Think It’s Time For Me To Move On”

...And Other Things That Have Destroyed Me This Weekend...

So there is this common trope within love stories which generally happens at the end of the second act in which everything goes wrong and we all think that the lovers are doomed to failure. Its pretty much standard in every Jane Austen novel, every romantic film every made, every single bloody love story. Go ahead, name one. I guarantee you the break up moment is there.

Within the epic love story of Dean and Cas, there have been many break up moments, and all have had their emotionally devastating impact on the relationship and the show...

But THIS was a different level. 

(For a nice summary of Destiel break up moments and understanding of this trope, @tinkdw​ wrote about it here.)

I didn’t think that there would be another moment within Dean and Cas’s relationship that could hit me this hard. The mixtape in 12x19, the wrapping of Cas’s body in 13x01, and the return of Cas in 13x05 are moments that I consider to be the very top of the scale in making this pairing undeniably romantic. Moments that pushed it beyond a platonic interpretation. These three moments have been the things I cling to when the show has otherwise made me doubt any conclusion to the DeanCas story, and since there hasn’t been another one of those moments since 13x05, until now I have been somewhat nervous that the story was dropped, or being forced back behind a platonic screen. 

15x03 has ripped that screen away. 

Emotional meta under cut...

This entire episode was an emotion fuelled dramatic roller-coaster that killed off three characters including our beloved witch queen in a scene that almost stole the show and practically canonised the SamWitch ship. Rowena’s death should have been by far the most torturous moment for viewers to endure, and it was extremely torturous and had me sobbing on a plane 3 hours into a 7 hour flight. That incredibly heartfelt moment between Sam and Rowena will probably go down as one of the top tear-jerking moments on this show. It was tragic in the best way - the way Supernatural is famous for.

But lets not gloss over the fact that in an episode where THAT should have been the climax, where THAT should have been the emotional highlight and end point, instead we get a further MORE dramatic stand off between Dean and Cas that pulled focus and ripped all of our hearts out just as violently as poor Ketch in the first act (a very clever and smug piece of meta foreshadowing there Mr Berens).

On a meta level, this is HUGE as a writing choice because they MUST know how this looks. This was the climax of the third episode of the finale season. The way Supernatural has always structured itself since Carver era is that the first three mytharc episodes of each season establish the direction of the story and set the foundations for the character level focal points and dramatic key notes to come. 

That the writers have chosen to end the foundation episodes with a DeanCas break up moment that was more dramatic than a Spanish Telenovela has just stunned me and left me reeling because I just can’t see how else this can go. This break up scene absolutely DEMANDS a huge reconciliation of the sort that will be part of the A plot of the season - the FINAL SEASON. Guys. Part of the reason I have been so quiet and so disillusioned with the show during late season 13 and season 14 was because they pushed any Destiel plot into non existent territory - it became kinda irrelevant and Dean and Cas just acted like friends (homoerotic friends yes, and sometimes like an old married couple, but it was mostly played as an afterthought imo), so for this to suddenly be brought to the forefront of the emotional story again is excellent news for us. 

The thing is, like with those huge moments I listed above, the break up scene is basically undeniably romantic when you break it down to its components:

1. It’s only Dean and Cas. 

Once again we have another scene of high stake emotions that excludes Sam. In a platonic reading of the show, it makes zero sense for there to be such a hugely disjointed relationship between Cas and Dean and Cas and Sam given he has known them both for so long now that if they were all “just friends” then surely Sam would also feel the impact of Cas’s choices as heavily as Dean. In a platonic reading, Dean comes across as an asshole, Sam comes across as being weirdly uncaring about his friend of 10 years, and Cas comes across as not even bothering to get Sam’s opinion before leaving. A romantic reading makes sense because quite literally THIS IS A ROMANTIC BREAK UP.

2. The words spoken. 

“Well I don’t think there is anything left to say.”

“I think it’s time for me to move on”

From Cas’s perspective at least, name one time in a piece of media where such language has been used for a platonic breakup sincerely? There have been heartfelt break up songs that use these exact words. (I should know I’ve spent the last 24 hours listening to them all).

That last line in particular is so heavy. It’s the last line of the episode and nothing about it is platonic. This is relationship terminology my dudes. “I need to move on, and get over you.” This is Cas’s bloody Adele song. My heart breaks for him, but if I was his sassy and fabulous best girlfriend right now I’d be sitting him down, sipping a cocktail, flipping my hair and telling him “Babe, you’re too good for him. Good Riddance. Let’s go out, have some cocktails, something pink and fruity. No dive bars for us darling. I’ll take you to Heaven... the fun one in London.”

In all seriousness though, from Cas’s perspective, this was him admitting defeat and giving up the fight for love. How anyone can possibly say Cas isn’t in love with Dean after this, well I just don’t know what show you are watching. This is the face of a heartbroken man who has just accepted that his love is unrequited. 

3. The many faces of Dean Winchester

On the other end of the scale, Dean was mostly silent after his poisonous words “And why does that something always seem to be you?”

Forgive the terrible gif quality I’ve no time for fancy gif work!

Look at his face here. He knows what he said was fucked up and he immediately regrets it. The way he swallows around that regret and then turns away.

and after Cas says that devastating final line and walks away? We get THIS reaction from him:

The jaw clench as he looks down. The sorrow on his face as he realises he has well and truly fucked this up. LOOK

Finally, he looks up, makes himself look up and watch Cas leave. If that isn’t the face of a broken man I dunno what to tell you. Anyone who thinks Dean is totally heartless and uncaring right now needs to reassess because this is NOT the face of someone uncaring. This is the face of someone who has just lost everything. Again. 

4. The FUCKING MUSIC

Seriously. The sweeping heavy drama of the low strings that come in right after Dean says that horrid line, that carry the weight of the look of horror and heartbreak on Cas’s face as they amplify the emotion there. As they blend seamlessly into the slow and subtle version of the Winchester family theme behind Cas’s heartbreaking speech and Dean’s stubborn stoic face hiding a multitude of emotion, until the violin dominates as Cas says “I think it’s time for me to move on” and the Winchester Theme swells to its climax, ripping all our hearts out just like poor Ketch as Dean watches Cas walk out of his life surrounded by darkness. 

I MEAN.

A friend on Twitter reminded us all of this point about the importance of this theme via @justanotheridijiton​ here which is essentially:

“The Winchester theme is not simply an aural marker to let the audience know when and how Sam and Dean love each other (any Supernatural fan knows that is the baseline of their relationship), but to provide narrative information, especially when the image and dialogue are incomplete or inconsistent with the true situation...  Seasoned fans will recognize the theme and its history of being paired with images indicating deep emotional bonding and a desire to do the right thing by the Winchester code. Here we trust our ears over our eyes to reveal the truth.”

So here is yet another key indicator that any surface read that this is actually an ending between Dean and Cas and that Dean really is just an angry asshole is utter bullshit. 

Honestly, this was PAINFUL, but it was painful in the best way. It was 13x01 levels of pain, but this time it was Cas choosing to walk away which makes all the difference. Dean’s greatest fear isn’t his loved ones dying on him after all, but of his loved ones choosing to leave him. This was exactly the kick up the ass Dean needs in order to win Cas back, classic love trope style. 

Hence my excitement at what is to come. Yes we won’t see Cas again until 15x06, but in the meantime I fully expect a good helping of angst and wallowing from a depressed Dean who has to deal with the fact that he has just lost the love of his life and it is all his fault. That he just pushed away the one person who promised they would always stay by his side. That has got to hurt. 

So yeah, this episode emotionally destroyed me, and I’ve only really covered the primary reason, let alone all my feels over SamWitch, Rowena’s death, Belphegor’s taunting of Cas over his deepest fears and then having to suffer through smiting a creature wearing the face of his son until his body was nothing but a burnt corpse... I wonder if Bobo had a bet going in the office over how much he could hurt us all? He was certainly enjoying scrolling through the Supernatural tag on Twitter and liking everyone’s reaction tweets including some brilliant Destiel related ones. I do love Bobo. Our Angst Goblin King. 

If anyone had asked me a few weeks ago what my thoughts were on the chances of getting explicit canon Destiel by series end, I would have said somewhere in the realms of 30-40%, considering it a battle of wills between DabbBerens and CW studio execs who I still feel are against it in general. I would have considered everything that happened after 13x06 as the writers getting a big NO on Destiel from the network and therefore having to pull back on any Destiel related plot points (purely my own speculation on BTS matters of course).

Now I am wondering if Dabb kept fighting the network? If he managed to wear them down into begrudging acceptance? I’m currently up to around an 80% chance of textual canon DeanCas if we continue on this path. If Dean is clearly shown to be mourning and hating himself over Cas next episode, and if this DeanCas dramatic plot line continues to be a focal point of the emotional story arcs... well...

I’m side eyeing 15x07 a lot right now. Only in my wildest dreams would I think that they might actually introduce an old boyfriend for Dean in a “coming out” episode, but the placement, timing, and potential is all there and I’m kind of once again donning the clown mask because I’m just in awe at everything that they are doing. I guess we’ll find out soon enough. In the meantime, I’m gonna paint my face in red and white and wear my rainbow wig and listen to break up songs on Spotify whilst trying to shove my heart back into my chest where Bobo Beren’s gleefully ripped it out with his hands like the demonic angst goblin he is. Wish me luck, I’m not sure I’m gonna get through this season with my emotions intact.

[hetacakes]

clink.

terushima yuuji x fem! reader

in which reader is the cute, shy nerd of johzenji high that terushima has for some reason set his eyes on. she lets him in on a little secret of hers, and the two make a bet, deciding the fate of their possible relationship

or alternatively, reader is cute but secretly is a little shit and terushima is head over heels for the duality

i wrote a proper one shot for once (even though it's super self-indulgent) and not a half-assed drabble, yay!

warning for cussing

word count: 4,971

   Terushima really, really liked his tongue piercing. Hell, he loved it, because it a: made people flirt with him more, and b: made people kiss him more. The number of times people have told him his piercing makes them want to jump him couldn't be counted on his fingers, or his teammates' fingers, or the fingers on his whole team combined, which Terushima was very proud of and appreciated, thank you very much. 

   That being said, he did have one question.

   "What does it feel like?"

    If there was a school with the most cliche stereotypes in its student body, it was Johzenji. The student athletes were the volleyball team, the popular kids were the basketball team, and every school has their self-proclaimed outcasts, with their limited freedom to be anti conformist due to the school dress code.

   And of course, there were the smart, always a pleasure to have in class students: top of their classes, and focused only on their studies.

   Lucky for you, you were one of the quiet, bookworm types, unsuspecting and safely away from any spotlight of attention, whereas others are accurately named "teacher's pet". More often than not, you were curled in the corner of the library or classroom, books open in front of you as you wrote neat, organized notes, color coded and highlighted. Yeah, people labeled you as a nerd most of the time, but if being a nerd meant actually having a normal high school life without the added stress of drama, which then made it easier for you to stay on top of your school work, which then would help you get into a good university, and then have a smooth ride from there on out, then whatever, guess you're a nerd now. Plus, it made your parents really proud of you and gave them bragging material to other parents, so if you really needed drama, your parents always knew what gossip floated around.

   Terushima doesn't know why he even bothers. She isn't even his type! Though he doesn't exactly have a type that's more specific than hot, pretty girl. Yet there he was, stepping into his classroom, making a beeline for the desk in the corner. Others find it surprising that he was in the "nerd class", but Terushima knew that he was smarter than most, and wasn't some mindless idiot who knew nothing more than girls and their right hand. But that was a secret he kept to himself, because he liked having that trick up his sleeve, so when other students watched curiously as he walked into one of the top classrooms, he shrugged it off, telling them he wasn't sure why he was there, too.

   You saw him approach from the corner of your eye, and inwardly sigh. Trying your best to focus on reading the notes in front of you and preparing for the history test you had in less than fifteen minutes, a shadow appeared over your notebook as an arm draped over the back of your chair.

   "No book today?" a husky voice whispers directly into your ear, which would've gotten a reaction out of you if you were in a better mood.

   "I don't need to take notes from a book if I already have notes, obviously," you said without looking up from your review, avoiding giving Terushima a satisfying amount of your attention. It was tiring, honestly. All you did was mind your business and study! You never stood out, and most people forget you even exist, at least until they need to copy notes they conveniently forgot to do themselves, to which you always said no. You did nothing to gain his, or anyone's attention, yet there he was, resting his cheek on your shoulder and turning to speak, his breath ghosting over your ear. His persistence was starting to get on your nerves, and you couldn't afford to get distracted from your education with him. You had to figure out a way to scare him off, fast.

   "Aw come on baby, can't you at least let me see your pretty face?" He twirled a lock of your hair around his finger, trying and failing to get any sort of sign that you were even listening to him. Every other girl he flirted with fell for it, so why was it so addicting to him that you never did? Why is he trying so hard for you, why is he so pulled to you? To him, this was as real as soulmates could get without an actual red string manifesting in front of his eyes.

   As usual, you ignored him. Just as he opened his mouth to sweet talk some more, the bell rang, telling him to get over to his seat or face the consequences.

   "I'll see you later, baby." He straightened, sending a wink in your direction.

   While most students filed out of the classroom, ready to either get home or attend club activities, Terushima strolled to the side of the door once everyone left. 

   That is, everyone except you.

   There you were, diligently jotting down something in your planner, slipping both your notebook and textbook into your backpack.

   As you approached the door, he blocked your way, staring down at your shorter form with a charming smile on his face.

  He took in your appearance, noting how your skirt wasn't short, but short enough to let his mind wander, showing him the exposed part of your legs between the hem of the skirt and the top of your socks, which came to your knees. The cream colored sweater you wore over your white blouse gave you a cute and innocent look, sweater paws included, and your olive jacket was tucked neatly over your arm, hanging by your side. He almost drooled at your oh-so-kissable lips, as pink as the ever present rosy liveliness on your cheeks. Your eyes stared up at him, like a kitten, in a way that made him want to coo, and had you not been glaring at him, he would've basked in the cuteness of your appearance, soft clothing and all.

   "Please, just one kiss? Don't you want to feel my piercing for yourself?" he asked suggestively, smirking down at you.

   "Not really. Do you?" You asked as you set your bag down on the nearest desktop.

   He was taken aback by your response. "Well I- I mean- uh-"

   You cut him off by tiptoeing, pressing your lips on his. Oh damn, they were soft as hell. Yeah, this is why he was so attracted to you. Yeah, he'd like to get your kisses way more often. He even almost forgot what you had just said.

   As he licked your bottom lip for permission, he then realized what you meant.

   Clink.

   You pulled away, snickering at the confused look on his face. You pulled a childish face at him, pulling at your eye and sticking your tongue out at him, confirming his suspicions.

   In the middle of your tongue sat a shiny silver bead, the twin to the one in his own mouth.

   "Nobody's gonna believe you," you taunted, slinging your bag over your shoulder and walking out of the classroom as he stepped to the side distractedly, dumbfounded, obviously still processing what just happened. 

   Then it struck him.

   Well, shit.

   "I'm telling you man, she has a tongue piercing too!"

   "Yeah, whatever dude. A girl like her? The most she's ever done is probably truth or dare in middle school, and she'd only pick truth!"

   Terushima had to admit that he used to think the same of you, based on the way you wore mainly comfy sweaters and kept quiet,  speaking softly and rarely. "Bobata, I'm serious. We kissed! I even saw it!" He insisted, yet as the words came out of his mouth, he himself didn't know if they were true or not. If it did happen, then you were right, nobody was believing him, not even himself. 

   "Dude, she probably doesn't even know how to kiss," Bobata laughed as he walked away, joining a two vs. two match.

   Terushima had walked into volleyball practice after he got over what had just happened, though it still felt like some fever dream, and the coach and Hana had gotten mad at him for being fifteen minutes late, and he had to warm up by himself before he could play a match. He would've skipped it, but then they would've killed him for being so careless, and he didn't want to face their combined wrath again.

  "Nah, that was a hella good kiss," Terushima whispered to himself, staring at the ball in his hands, "but was it real?".

   "Can I have another? Please?"

   You almost laughed at the way he was asking you, like a child asking his mom for another cookie or something. "I didn't give you anything," you said, tilting your head.

   Terushima stared. "Yes you did! You gave me the best damn kiss I ever had!"

   "I haven't even had my first kiss yet," you lied straight through your teeth, pretending to look surprised yet embarrassed.

   "Nobody calls a kiss like that their first kiss."

   "I really don't know what you're talking about. Now, stop bothering me." You flushed, proud of the fact that he basically called you one of the best kissers, but you played it off as being embarrassed that he was making a big deal out of your so called "first kiss", or rather, the lack thereof.

   He could see the genuine innocence in your eyes, which frustrated him to no end. Either it was real, or he was on drugs. He hoped it was the former.

   "Then explain your tongue piercing!"

   "Tongue piercing? I would never get something as wild as that. I barely got ear piercings!" You looked scandalized, like a strict mother's embarrassing teenage years being exposed to Helen and all her kids at the PTA meeting.

   "You have one! And how else would I know if you didn't kiss me!"

   "Terushima, I really don't know what you're talking about, and frankly, I'm worried for you." You looked at him, concern in your eyes. "You're in this class with me because you're smart, and as far as I know, you're not flunking out. So why are you saying all this nonsense?"

   Terushima didn't know how to feel. On one hand, he felt like preening, taking in your praise at his hidden intelligence, but on the other, he was frustrated that you kept calling the truth nonsense.

   "Fine! If you don't have a piercing, show me."

   "I'm not a child; I'm not going to stick my tongue out at you."

   "If you don't, you're admitting defeat."

   "Fine! If you insist," You relented, sticking your tongue out at him.

   To his dismay, there was nothing there, no bead, no flash of something shiny.

   He looked you in the eyes.

   Well, shit.

   "Am I tripping or did yesterday actually happen?"

   "Of course yesterday happened, it was yesterday," you sighed, looking at Terushima, not in the mood for more of his antics. Once again, it was you and him in the empty classroom, the campus deserted. Just yesterday, your camera broke, and you turned it over in your hands before slipping it into your bag. So long, photography club.

   "You know what I mean!"

   An idea popped into your head. "If you mean this," you purred, lightly pushing on his chest with one hand until his back hit the wall. You used your other hand to pull him down by his blazer, placing your lips on his.

   Clink.

   "Then yes. Just in case you needed to ring a bell."

   "You damn tease. Why are you doing this?" Terushima's eyes kept flitting to your lips. Who would've guessed that he was also into tongue piercings?

   "At first, I wanted to drive you away by telling you something no one's gonna believe, so you'd go crazy or something. Now, I think I'm having a little bit of fun with it," you said, swiping your tongue across your bottom lip. Terushima watched as the silver bead flashed, reflecting the light coming from the windows.

   "You put it back!"

   "Of course I did, what's the point of getting a piercing just for it to close up? Now, Teru, how about we make a bet?" You stood on your tiptoes, whispering into his ear. There was no way he could've suppressed the shiver that ran down his back. Well fuck him, you were pushing his buttons in all the right ways, a stark contrast from the cold shoulder you've been giving him the past two weeks. Hell, he was loving it, fully pulled in by you and your addictive flirting.

   "Depends on the bet," he whispered back into your ear, lightly kissing it. He held your waist in his hands, humming appreciatively at your sharp intake of air as he pulled you closer to him.

   You backed down. "If you convince at least one person that I've got a tongue piercing, I'll do a favor for you, no questions asked." You wrapped your arms around his waist, resting your chin on his chest.

   Oh god, Terushima was sure he ascended to a higher plane of existence. If his eyes were cameras, he would've taken a dozen pictures of you hugging him, staring up at him with those adorable kitten eyes, chin on his chest, his chest! He couldn't stop himself from cooing, "Awe, well when you're looking up at me like that, how can I say no?"

   You smiled, amping up your cute factor as soon as you realized it was working in your favor. "Then if you win, I…?"

   "You go out with me," Terushima said simply, to nobody's surprise.

   "And if I win, you stop bothering me. Deal?"

   "Deal." Both of you knew that if you won, Terushima wouldn't follow through with his penalty, but well, at least he'll make an effort.

   "Seal it with a kiss?" He knew he sounded desperate, but honestly he was: desperate to kiss you again, to feel your lips on his, to hear the soft sound of your piercings meeting, to finally call you his.

   You didn't answer, instead pulling him down again to give him a light peck on the lips.

   "Bye!" You slipped your backpack over your shoulders, waving a hand in the air as you looked over your shoulder.

   "Wait, not like that! I want a real one!" Terushima called, running out the door, watching as you walked away and out of sight. 

   Well, shit.

   He saw you sitting a few tables away, chatting away with your friends around you. When you caught his eye, you stuck your tongue out at him, taunting him with the bead that only you, your friends, and him knew the existence of. He did the same, watching as the two of you started making faces at each other, each one worse than the last, like elementary school rivals.

   "Bobata, when I tap your knee, you have to look where I'm looking, okay?" Terushima whispered, a plan to win the bet in his head.

   Bobata looked at him weirdly, "Sure dude, whatever you say."

   Grinning, Terushima stuck his tongue out more, making sure his piercing was as clear as day. When he saw you open your mouth to do the same, he quickly tapped Bobata's knee.

   "Dude, I don't even know where you're looking. There's nothing there."

   "What?" He exclaimed, watching helplessly as you turned around, piercing hidden yet again.

   "There's just the back of some girl's head."

   It was then that Terushima realized your friend sat across from you, effectively shielding you from prying eyes.

   Eyes that would've sealed the deal for him, in his favor.

   Terushima turned to Bobata, devastation clear on his face.

   "You've got to be kidding me."

   "Guys, why don't you just believe me?"

   "Believe what?" Futamata looked at Terushima, confused. 

   "He's been going on and on about how the girl that sits in the corner all quiet has a tongue piercing. A tongue piercing! He's gone crazy," Bobata said, leaning back in his chair.

   "It's true! I was gonna show you earlier but some girl was in the way!"

   "Why would she have a tongue piercing in the first place, and why would you know?" Futamata asked.

   "Because it's the only piercing nobody can see unless you show them, so she only told me about it because she knew nobody would believe me! Like you two right now!" Terushima exclaimed. "How often do you guys see my piercing everyday?"

   "All the damn time," Futamata and Bobata said in unison.

   "Okay, how often do you see it when I'm not going around showing it off?"

   "Now that I think about it, I never see it during class the way I can always see your ear piercings," Bobata mused.

   "That's because it's in his mouth," Futamata quipped, hiding his laugh behind his hand.

   "Exactly! Hers is in her mouth too!" Terushima insisted.

   "Why would she show you in particular, though?"

   "'Cause I've been trying to get with her and she always rejected me and she got tired of it but now she's always flirting but nobody believes it and it drives me insane but I finally have a chance if I can just prove it to somebody!" Terushima ranted, exasperation setting in.

   "Dude, you gotta realize how unbelievable your story sounds right now. You're basically saying Hermione Granger from Harry Potter had a tongue piercing," Futamata pointed out, Bobata nodding in agreement.

   "Okay, but Hermione Granger was badass."

   "Yeah, you're right," Futamata said. "But that's not the point! The thing is, all she does is study, take notes, pass classes, and get the highest grades! She's just so, ordinary. She seems so innocent and naive."

   "Yeah, but so was Hermione until we found out she was cool as hell," Terushima said.

   "Good point," Futamata added.

   "Fine, fine. If I see it, I'll believe it, one hundred percent. Deal?" Bobata relented, watching as Futamata repeated after him.

   "Deal."

   Terushima leaned over the desk next to yours, looking down at you. He watched as you looked up at him, memories of yesterday flashing in his head.

   "Can you watch me play volleyball?"

   "What do you mean?" You asked, unsure of what he was asking of you. There were no games, and the Interhigh Prelims were already over, so what could you watch?

   "After school. Sit and watch us during practice, you can even help Hana if you want," Terushima offered.

   You looked at him skeptically. Something about his request felt off, like he had an ulterior motive, but you didn't know for sure, which is why you answered the way you did.

   "Sure, I guess."

   You stood outside the gym doors, shuffling your feet from side to side. Just ten minutes earlier, you were wrapping up some notes and flashcards you were using for an upcoming literature test as Terushima walked out the door, waving goodbye. Back then, you thought nothing of it, deciding to visit their practice after they were done. Now, you regretted that, because you had to open the doors alone, by yourself, and interrupt whatever they were doing.

   Basically, you had to bring attention to yourself, which you hated in the first place, and knowing how chaotic the Johzenji volleyball team can be, you weren't sure you'd live to tell the tale.

   Sighing, you braced yourself, placing a hand on the door handle.

   Three.

   Two.

   One.

   You pulled open the door, timidly peeking inside. As soon as the sound of the door opening echoed throughout the gym, the sounds of sneakers and bumps quieted. It was as if everything has paused, freeze frame. A ball in the air fell to the floor, bouncing away.

   And the whole team was staring at you.

   "Hey! You made it!" Terushima called out as his face lit up.

   "Um, hello. Terushima told me to come and watch the practice," you explained softly, glancing around the gym.

   "Oh, great! Come over here," their manager, who you recognized to be Hana, said, waving a hand at you. You dropped your bag by the door before making your way over.

   "Hi, I'm Hana Misaki, the third year manager, and this is our coach, Anabata Takaaki," Hana introduced, motioning to the coach. He waved politely, saying, "Nice to meet you."

   Someone tapped you on the shoulder, and as you turned around, you were met with the face of a girl, obviously a first year, looking down at the floor.

   "I'm Ryuna Kuribayashi, and I'm the first year manager," she said, shyly looking up at you.

   "Nice to meet you Ryuna," you said warmly before introducing yourself as well, watching as she gave you a gentle smile in response.

   "So, what brings you here? Other than that idiot Terushima," Hana asked, throwing a glare towards Terushima's direction. As if he had super hearing, he turned around, pouting, just as one of his opponents, number eleven, sent a ball in the air, landing on his head.

   You stifled a laugh as you overheard him complain loudly. "Nothing else, he just told me to come by, and since I had nothing to do, I had no reason to decline," you answered sheepishly, rubbing the back of your head.

   "So you have no club activities?"

   "Yeah, I was part of the photography club but my camera broke and I haven't had the time to either fix it or replace it, so I've basically just been a placeholder."

   "Well, how about you become a manager for these bunch of crazy kids? Soon, you'd be the third year manager, and I'd really appreciate it if we continued having two managers, just in case they decide to tear Ryuna apart, since once their tournament is over, I'm leaving," Hana sighed, watching as Ryuna shrugged her shoulders. You looked at the team, playing two versus two matches, jumping and yelling like madmen, then back at Ryuna, who was watching fondly, albeit a bit worried.

   "Yeah, okay. I can see why you can't trust them with one manager." You gestured at them with your head, just as Terushima jumped in the air, yelling his lungs out.

   "Great! If you come here for a second I can give you a form to fill out, and- oh wait. Do you know anything about volleyball?" Hana asked. "It's just one of the things I'm supposed to ask you, since it's a volleyball club and all."

   "Yeah, I played in middle school," you assured.

   "Great! Here," Hana said, handing you a form. Fishing a pen out of her pocket, you took it gratefully before putting the paper against the wall, filling it out.

   "Then that settles it! I'll call a break and tell them the news." Hana turned to the coach, waiting for him to finish correcting one of the teammates. She tapped him on the shoulder and asked for a time out. The coach blew the whistle, and Terushima called, "Alright!"

   Once everyone had gotten water and a towel, Hana called for everyone's attention. "Everyone, this is (L/N) (Y/N)! She's a second year, but most of you know that because I hear a fly keeps buzzing around her." Hana sent a dirty look at Terushima, who put his hands up and stuck his tongue out, guilty as charged. "She's becoming our third manager to take my place once I leave," the team whined, obviously going to miss her, "so when next year comes around, we'll have a third year and second year manager. Since most of you will be graduating with (Y/N), when Ryuna is a third year, we may only need one manager, since she might be actually looking after a volleyball team, not a group of overgrown kids." The team protested, unknowingly proving even more so that they were a childish bunch. "Yeah, yeah, I'm just kidding. Everyone, welcome (Y/N)!"

   "Welcome to the team!" The team chorused, jumping in the air, reminding you of a certain redhead you used to go to middle school with.

   "Thank you," you said, bowing slightly.

   "Alright, back to work!"

   "So I heard you're becoming a manager? Why, you need to keep tabs on your man?" Terushima sidled up to you, towel around his neck, water bottle drained.

   "No, I just feel bad for Ryuna having to deal with you all the time," you replied, looking over your shoulder at Ryuna handing out water bottles to the crowd of teammates around her, looking overwhelmed before Hana came and smacked them in the head.

   "Well then, meet some of the team. Hey, Bobata! Futamata!" Terushima called to numbers 2 and 3.

   "Hey, I'm Bobata Kazuma," number 2 said as he jogged over, tipping his head slightly. 

   "I'm Futamata Takeharu," number 3 introduced as well, nodding towards you.

   "And I'm number one!" Terushima yelled proudly, with you looking unamused. 

   "So who's the captain? I bet it's Futamata, he seems better than you, Terushima," you said, trying to make fun of and get a reaction out of Terushima, and it worked.

   "No! I'm the captain, number one!" Terushima insisted, pulling at his practice jersey.

   "Fine, fine. Do you guys really only play two on two matches?" You asked, looking at the three of them. Damn, they towered over you. No wonder Ryuna was overwhelmed earlier, had you still been your little first year self, you too would've been intimidated.

   "Yeah!" Bobata answered proudly, "It's what makes us the 'party team'."

   "But volleyball is six on six…" you trailed off.

   "Well yeah, but doing two on two makes it more competitive," Futamata pointed out.

   "Yeah, but when game time comes around, you all will be running into each other, because two suddenly tripled." You rolled your eyes, already seeing them crash into each other like bumper cars.

   "But when that happens, you'lll come and save us, right?" Terushima asked, looking at you with puppy eyes.

   "I guess…" you grumbled, not wanting to indulge Terushima.

   "Aw, c'mon! You'll help us with anything, right?" Bobata pulled the same act, dodging as Terushima tried to elbow him.

   "Just say it! If you say it, we'll believe it!" Futamata added, catching on to something, something you were suspicious of.

   "You're being awfully insistent," you looked at them dubiously, raising an eyebrow.

   "Just say it! 'As your manager, I'll help you with anything'," Terushima said, speaking slowly. As he spoke, his piercing glinted in the gym's lighting, the sun already setting, unable to provide its sunlight.

   "No, that's weird."

   "Just do it!"

   "No!"

   "Please?" All three of them chorused.

   "Fine! As your manager, I'll help you with anything," you relented, not noticing the incredulous look on Bobata's and Futamata's faces.

   "Say it slower, just in case I heard wrong," Terushima suggested, looking at you evilly.

   Seeing as you were in no position to refuse, you did so, "As your manager, I'll- oh." Your face fell as you realized why they made you repeat those exact words.

   When you said 'I'll', your piercing was out in the open, exposed to two of Terushima's friends, who were looking at you with disbelief written across their faces. You mentally smacked yourself for overlooking the fact that when Terushima said it, his piercing was visible, too.

   "I believe the bet has come to an end? And the winner is?..." Terushima said slyly, looking like that cat that caught the canary.

   "You…" you mumbled, unwilling to admit it.

   "What? I couldn't hear you."

   "You!" You huffed, looking to the side.

   "Wait, bet? I thought you were just trying to not go insane," Bobata said as Futamata agreed with him.

   "You see, if I was able to prove she had such a piercing to at least one person, I'd be able to do this." He snaked an arm around your waist, pulling you into his side. "And you, Bobata, Futamata, make two people."

   "So what did you win?" Futamata asked, not following.

   "I won this one right here," Terushima replied happily, stepping to the side to hug you from behind.

   "Everyone!" Terushima suddenly yelled, waiting for everyone's attention. "Meet my girl, (L/N) (Y/N)!" Terushima declared proudly, leaning back and lifting you up into the air from the waist, peeking over your side and snickering as you protested loudly.

   "Hey! Put me-"

   You were cut off by the team's wolf whistles and yells, their cries loud enough to be heard miles away as they all jumped in the air excitedly. Do they ever stop jumping? Even Hana and Ryuna were clapping, fond smiles on their faces. 

   Accepting your fate, you crossed your ankles, holding on to Terushima's arms for dear life.

   "Thank god you're in good shape," you whispered, squeezing his bicep.

   Terushima grinned. "Like it?"

   "Love it," you rolled your eyes as he preened, hugging you even tighter, before putting you down.

   "Guess I got my girl after all," Terushima said as those who overheard cheered softly for him.

   "Yeah, yeah, it took you three weeks and a bet to get little old me."

   "Yeah, but little old you tricked everyone by having a tongue piercing, so I wonder, what else are you hiding behind that innocent façade?"

   "I don't know what you're talking about," you said, crossing your arms and petulantly looking to the side.

   "Well, can little miss innocent give me the hottest kiss of my life?" He said mischievously, eyes sparkling at you.

   "Whatever you say, mister handsome-as-hell," you smiled, leaning up as he bent down, your lips meeting in the middle.

   If it was even possible, the team got louder, and even the managers were whooping for you, relieved that you finally got together and happy because you two made a really cute couple.

   Terushima smiled into the kiss, wrapping his arms around you and pulling you even closer.

   Clink.

[aion-rsa]

Doctor Who Series 13: Jodie Whittaker Leaving Rumours, the Next Doctor, and the Future

https://ift.tt/2SweahO

Jodie Whittaker is fast approaching that three-season milestone at which most Doctors pull the inter-dimensional rip-cord and eject themselves from the TARDIS. Speculation has swirled around her, as it does for most Doctors, from the very start of her tenure, and now, more than ever, there’s the strong scent of Regeneration in the wind. So, will Whittaker leave at the close of series 13? And if so, will any of her companions remain to bridge the gap between eras? Might showrunner Chris Chibnall also hang up his sonic-shaped pen? The BBC is playing its cards characteristically close to its chest, so divining the answers to these questions is not unlike trying to unlock the mystery of the Doctor’s real name.

There was an ample reminder of the BBC’s zeal for secrecy when Who-newcomer and beloved Liverpudlian John Bishop – cast last year as companion Dan – was rebuked for revealing during an online Q&A that his character, too, would be Liverpudlian. If the BBC don’t want you to know that a Liverpudlian might be playing a Liverpudlian, then this is going to be a bumpy ride. But let’s strap in, brace for impact, and see what’s (or Who’s) out there…

Jodie Whittaker on leaving

Everyone has their favourite Doctors, and not-so favourite Doctors. Jodie Whittaker is not alone in having had love and scorn heaped upon her in equal measure, a phenomenon that has touched most actors to have taken on the role, with the possible exception of Tom Baker and David Tennant, who stand as almost deified in their respective eras.

It’s clear, though, that Jodie Whittaker has loved every moment of being the Doctor, and of being embraced by the show’s fandom, telling the Telegraph in November 2020: “If you bump into a Whovian, it genuinely makes both of your days. There’s something emotional, poetic and very humbling about being in the show, because you’re a little tiny jigsaw piece of something that is so precious to so many people.” It’s perhaps understandable, then, that her response to the speculation around her departure was to say: “To even question an end point would be too upsetting.”

Or, to parrot one of her predecessors: “I don’t want to go.”

Where’s the evidence?

Over the last eighteen months, rumours that Jodie Whittaker will be leaving after season 13 have been endlessly shared and repeated. These rumours were reported as fact by some media outlets earlier in the year, though the BBC has steadfastly refused either to confirm or deny them. It does, however, seem more likely than not that 13 will be 13’s last; a supposition based upon the ‘Who Rule of Three’ and the unignorable sound of drums gathering pitch and pace across the internet.

In the hunt for ‘evidence’, dead-ends and red-herrings abound. IMDb currently reveals no projects rumoured or in pre-production for Jodie Whittaker beyond her TARDIS tenure, but, then, actors keeping contractual secrets would be fools to release their schedules onto one of the most comprehensive entertainment databases ever to have existed. So no help there.

The Mirror newspaper recently reported that the front-cover of the 2022 Doctor Who annual would be Doctor-less for the first time in its 57-year-history. Could this be a clue? Not likely. The people at Penguin Random House – the annual’s publishers – made it clear that the thirteenth Doctor will feature heavily throughout the publication.  So whether the new cover is simply a radical redesign, a yielding to the purchasing power of this era of the show’s vocal detractors; or a shrewd marketing move designed to have the product promoted for free in the press, it doesn’t actually tell us very much about the likelihood of the 13th Doctor’s exit.

Peter Capaldi’s Trouser Clue

We might, however, be looking for clues in all the wrong places. Peter Capaldi deduced that he’d be handing over the TARDIS keys to a woman a few days before the BBC officially broke the news to him: thanks to his tailor.       

At a New York Comic Con panel in 2017, Capaldi told the audience: “I went into Paul Smiths, which is a very wonderful clothes shop in London where I buy my suits, and everybody knows me in there. And they said, ‘We just got a call,’ they said, ‘from the Doctor Who office saying, ‘Can we have a pair of [Peter’s] trousers, but with a waist size thirty?’ … And I thought, ‘Well, that can’t really be a man with a thirty-inch waist. That must be a lady then’.”

Staking out Jodie’s tailor probably won’t prove fruitful, though. Knowing the BBC, they’ve probably plugged that potential leak by sub-contracting Jodie’s wardrobe out to a mute grandma living alone in a fortress atop the Himalayas.    

Read more

TV

Doctor Who: the behind-the-scenes causes of regeneration

By Mark Harrison

TV

Doctor Who: Which New Doctors Are Now Canon?

By Chris Farnell

Will the Doctor Regenerate in 2022?

Series 13 will consist of eight episodes, set to begin airing later this year. The Mirror reports that there will be two specials in 2022, although it isn’t clear whether these will be in addition to this year’s 8,  or whether we’ll see a split of 6 episodes in 2021 with the 2 specials being held over for 2022. A special – Christmas Day, New Year’s Day or otherwise – has become the traditional arena for regeneration, so if Whittaker is leaving, it’s likely that her final scene will come at the end of that rumoured second special.

Many think that the greatest evidence for Whittaker remaining as the Doctor until at least 2023 is our proximity to Doctor Who‘s upcoming 60th anniversary. After all, it would seem a shame to bow out before a big milestone, and it could be daunting to saddle a new Doctor with spearheading such a significant celebration. Still, the timey-wimeyness of it all means that even should Whittaker leave in 2022 there’s no reason she couldn’t make an appearance in an anniversary episode, perhaps alongside a few other previous incarnations. And 2022 marks the 100th anniversary of the BBC itself, so it’s hard to imagine that the show won’t be doing something extra special to mark that, given that it owes its very existence and longevity to the broadcaster (Michael Grade notwithstanding). Whenever she leaves, 13 could easily have her cake and eat it.

Will Chris Chibnall leave after Series 13?

When Bradley Walsh and Tosin Cole left at the end of ‘Revolution of the Daleks‘, Mandip Gill’s Yaz stayed behind. Yaz has been one of the new era’s most underdeveloped characters, so it made sense that she would get her chance to shine and grow in a less crowded environment, sharing companion duties only with John Bishop’s newly teased Dan. But as her character and her story seems so intrinsically linked to the Doctor herself, with the promise of more in-depth exploration to come in series 13, when/if the Doctor leaves, will Yaz’s story also draw to a close? Will only Dan remain with a foot in two TARDISes? All speculation at this point, and it very much hinges on which direction the writers take Yaz in this next clutch of episodes.

Showrunner Chris Chibnall – a lifelong fan of the show and, prior to his appointment as big chief, a long-standing writer for both Doctor Who and Torchwood – has been at least as divisive a figure in Who fandom as 80s helmsman Jonathan Nathan-Turner. Rumours regarding his possible departure have circulated with just as much frequency as those surrounding Whittaker. When asked about series 13, Chris Chibnall told the Radio Times: “I do know I’m coming back for a third season. Yeah, absolutely.” Within those words, if you look hard enough, exists the implied absence of certainty around future seasons, but perhaps that’s getting rather too Da Vinci Code about the whole thing.

While the stewardships of previous showrunners Russell T. Davies and Steven Moffat spanned two Doctors each, this doesn’t mean that Chris Chibnall is guaranteed a crack at the 14th Doctor. Should Chibnall leave after season 13, among the writing team perhaps only Pete McTighe – who wrote ‘Kerblam!‘ And co-wrote ‘Praxeus‘ – has the experience to take over as showrunner, given his stint over-seeing the award-winning Australian prison-drama Wentworth. 

How might 13’s Regeneration Happen?

Each of the modern Doctors has met their end in the service of some great sacrifice, either to protect a companion or to save if not the universe then at least a world within it. It’s unlikely that 13’s exit will be any different. It’s simply a question of against whom or what she’ll be fighting when her time comes.

Though it may be too soon for the Master to be directly responsible for the undoing of yet another Doctor so soon after 12’s John-Simm-shaped downfall, it’s likely that the Master will at the very least influence the direction of 13’s regeneration. Sacha Dhawan has expressed enthusiasm at the idea of returning, though nothing, as you would expect, has yet been confirmed. Or denied.

The revelations in ‘The Timeless Children‘, controversial though they proved for some fans, are perhaps too epoch-shaking and era-defining not to play a part in 13’s swansong, and it may well be that the shadowy Division – the Time Lord’s very own version of Starfleet’s Section 31 – will be complicit in the Doctor’s fall.

Another question presents itself: now that the Doctor knows she has infinite regenerations, might it make her more reckless? Might she start to see her body more like an easily changeable suit than a thing of flesh and blood? Might she regenerate multiple times before becoming the 14th Doctor, a la The Curse of Fatal Death, and what on earth would we call the 14th Doctor – who wouldn’t really be the 14th Doctor at all – if that happened?          

Who’s in the running for the next Doctor?

Many of the same actors tipped as possible replacements near the end of Capaldi’s run have reappeared in the Regeneration rumour mill, including firm favourites Michaela Coel, Phoebe Waller-Bridge, Michael Sheen, David Harewood, Richard Ayoade and the indefatigable Kris Marshall. Joining them this time are Line of Duty alumni Kelly MacDonald and Vicky McClure, and It’s a Sin front-man Olly Alexander. It could be that one of them, or none of them get the call. The next Doctor could just as easily be Jo Martin’s fugitive Doctor, who’s been hiding in plain sight all along.

Really though, as with all things connected with the show at this stage of its cycle: Who knows?

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Doctor Who Series 13 will air on BBC One later this year.

The post Doctor Who Series 13: Jodie Whittaker Leaving Rumours, the Next Doctor, and the Future appeared first on Den of Geek.

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[skia-oura]

For the Want of a (non-magical, relatively inexpensive) Bedside Table

A/N: I wrote this over the course of, like, two or three months, so be kind please.

(ao3)

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The first thing Torako did when they officially moved in was spend a solid day integrating new security wards into the ceilings, around the outside of the house where the walls joined with the roof, and along the edges of every window and doorframe. The second thing she did was enlist Dipper’s help to bring all the furniture they didn’t want or need to the recycling center, where a very nice satyr wearing a baseball cap tried to charge them an exorbitant amount of money to take care of their belongings. Dipper managed to convince him to go down, seeing as the satyr was very nice, but he refused to budge past a certain point because of what he said were “handling fees.” Torako, very cognizant of the fact that they had just paid a gross amount of money for a house, reluctantly pulled out her wallet and paid the money. Bentley was thankfully not around. Otherwise, he actually might have accepted Dipper’s deal to just get rid of it for them. Even then, when he came home and Torako showed him the receipt, his first instinct was to say, “We could have used the bedside tables anyways, you know, they weren’t that old—” “Don’t even try selling it to me, they were bad,” Torako said. “One of them fell apart when we dropped it off. Besides, now we can get new ones!” Unfortunately, as they soon rediscovered, extra-dimensional storage spaces were all the rage, and new furniture without those specs was…nonexistent, to say the least. And while Bentley could use tools and such for short periods of time with his glasses… “I guess we don’t need them?” Bentley said, blinking furiously as he set his magic-cancelling eyeglasses back on the bridge of his nose. His vision swum a little, the glimmering of magics and extra-dimensional spaces burning into phosphenes in the back of his left eyelid. Even he wasn’t ready to consider the possibility of living with something like that in the room he slept in. “We can just, I don’t know, use the floor. For now. Until we find a better solution.” Torako put one hand on her hip. In the other, she held a store tablet, on which was their virtual shopping cart. In it was one new desk chair, an old-fashioned air-drying dishrack, and approximately thirty-seven picture frames of various shapes and sizes and non-magical for the most part. He certainly wasn’t telling her that the holding pins in several of them had minor enchantments to promote longevity. They didn’t bother him too much anyways. “Unbelievable,” Torako said. She scowled at the example bedside table display before them like the pieces had offended her, personally, for the sake of offending her alone. “Terrible. What a disgrace. You can’t have a home without bedside tables! KEIA, esteemed furniture store to serve the people, should know this. And yet! Here we are!” “Esteemed?” Bentley asked, raising an eyebrow at Torako. “The furniture is good, but it’s not exactly a posh place.” “It’s better than it used to be,” Dipper said from behind them, where he was appraising floor lamps even though they didn’t need any, really, one was still functioning and the other two had found very good homes elsewhere. Bentley didn’t understand why either of them couldn’t listen to reason. “It’s still affordable, but at least they aren’t accepting illegally forested lumber from protected lands in Hungary.” “From where?” asked Bentley, twisting around to look at Dipper. “Hungary, I don’t—is this another one of those really old countries that doesn’t exist under that name any more?” Dipper nodded and hummed absentmindedly. “The faux-metal is kind of weak on this one, though, it’s probably not the best choice…” Torako ignored both of them. “I thought KEIA was a furniture store for ‘Every person, no matter who,’ but no, clearly not, not with those customization options.” “You’re telling me,” Dipper groused. He flicked the wide, elegant hood of one lamp and made a disgruntled noise. “They wouldn’t let me custom-build furniture for Toby that included the Nightmare Sheep because the sheep were ‘clearly demonic’ and it ‘went against company guidelines for appropriate alterations.’ Sucks to be them, though, because I just did it myself, and you know what? Toby loved it. So did the sheep, actually; they wouldn’t stop hounding me about being included in future pieces.” Bentley, half-turned around, saw an older man frown in their direction. “Uh,” he said, “You mean, Tyrone, you did it with your excellent carving skills, and only because KEIA wouldn’t honor your creative differences, and the sheep were part of a dream and okay that’s enough let’s go home, clearly we aren’t finding anything here.” They didn’t get anything at KEIA. In fact, they didn’t even get anything moved into the new house at first, because Torako was seized by the mad idea that if they were going to make this house their own, they needed to redecorate all the walls first. Bentley stared at her, blank-faced in the middle of the night when she came to this realization, before she sheepishly tucked him back in and said that they could talk about it after he came back from work the next day.

Upon doing so, he was hustled to the new house by Torako and Dipper, who had procured paint and paintbrushes courtesy of Dipper’s house in the nightmare realm. Bentley looked at the paint cans, set down in the middle of a thin but sturdy tarp covering the entirety of the house floors (it glimmered, just a little, to his uncovered left eye), and pursed his lips. “Um,” he said, pointing at one which—while new-looking, was covered in an archaic form of English that made his head hurt to try to decipher—“does that say, by chance, that it expires in May of 2152?” Dipper hummed and lifted the can in question. “Close, that actually says March.” Even Torako, whose judgment was not always to be trusted on these matters, squinted at the paint can. Distrust crinkled into the corners of her eyes. “But he got the year right?” “Yeah, 2152. Not that long ago, I’m sure it’ll be fine! It was in the Nightmare Realm anyways. That place preserves stuff like nothing else.” “Dipper,” Bentley said. He tried to ignore the one paint tin he couldn’t make heads or tails of. He suspected it was in an entirely different language from any that currently existed. “Saying things like ‘oh, it was in the nightmare realm’ doesn’t exactly instill a sense of relief in me.” Dipper stuck out his tongue. Torako set down the pthalo green she was holding. “I hate to ask,” she said, “But will there be any bad…side effects from using this paint? Is it—is it even up to modern code?” “Ah,” Dipper said. He went slightly cross-eyed. Golden ichor brimmed up from under his eyes until they overflowed, trickling sluggishly over the slight swell of his cheeks. A scent not dissimilar to smoldering peat rose faint into the air. Bentley felt the hair on the back of his neck and along his arms rise on end. Torako shifted her weight as Dipper’s hair rose in a wind that affected him alone. They waited. Moments later, he blinked. His hair fell back to its normal flouncy poofiness. “Oh wow, gross,” he said, and used his gloved claws to wipe away the golden—blood tears?—from off his cheeks and out of his eyes. His nose curled up. “That’s a sensation—hey, wanna feel it? It’s a wild texture.” “Haha, no thanks, I’ll pass,” said Torako, who had learned many things since having her arm accidentally broken when they were college babies. “Anyways—did you find out if the paint was up to modern code?” “Um, so the can you’re holding is fine, and so is 2152! They hadn’t tried to introduce petrichorite to paint, yet. By the way, petrichorite is in Baby Mint #295 from 2799, so we should figure out how to dispose of that—but not with Tad, because he charged us an arm and a leg for our trash last time.” Torako’s brow furrowed. “Tad—do you mean Felix, the satyr at the recycling center? Where we dropped off those bedside tables that were in very bad condition?” Bentley ignored her side-eye-accompanied pointed comment, put his hands on his hips and counted the paint cans in front of them. “So, back on topic—out of the twenty-three paint cans here, which ones aren’t viable?” In the end, they pulled eight cans that would guarantee nasty side-effects from the collection, then the colors ‘Purple Olive’ and ‘Peat Moss’ because they weren’t personal favorites. Bentley took Torako’s pthalo green and a container each of black, gold, and what Dipper assured him was a ‘non-haunted glow-in-the-dark white’ to the bedroom while Dipper and Torako haggled over whether to use a deep red or an ultramarine as the accent wall color in the living room. Bentley set down the paint cans, then retrieved and prepared brushes of varying sizes and widths. He had to pop open the lid of the pthalo green with the end of one paintbrush, but the others opened easy enough when he pressed and held his thumbs to the (antiquated) locking systems on opposite sides of the rim. The somewhat suffocating smell of paint was quick to fill the room, and it drove him to opening a window. It had started drizzling, actually. Bentley stood there a moment and let the fresh rainwater air waft in, hands flat against the sill, head against the bottom edge of the frame he’d just moved out of the way. If he closed his eyes and just listened, he could hear the light tapping of rain against the leaves of the Sweetbay Mongolia tree growing only a few meters away. He took a deep breath, then ducked back inside. Time passed. Three of the walls were slowly painted in the pthalo green. Between coats of that color, he worked on covering the ceiling, the trimmings, and the wall across from the door with black, glasses on and a PaintKnight shield over his head to keep the worst of the paint off his face and clothes. He rolled the paint on until his shoulders ached and he couldn’t quite get the wet sound of the roller out of his head, even when he paused to work out the kinks in his arms. The rain outside dropped heavier, echoing against the roof and in through the open windows in a way that settled something in Bentley. Eventually, he finished the final coat of black on the ceiling. Setting down the roller across the paint well, Bentley set his hands on his hips and arched his back. His spine popped and cracked a little. He winced, then leaned forward to touch his toes. There was a knock at the door before it slid open into the wall. “Hey, Bentley. Dips and I were thinking of finishing for the day.” Bentley straightened up from his stretch slowly, arching a little past the twinge in his lower back. He blinked at Torako, then asked, “Did any paint actually get on the walls, or did you plaster it all over each other?” “Harr harr harr,” Torako said. She pouted at him, face almost entirely red from what Bentley assumed from the texture was a paint roller. Her bangs on the left side were clumped together and spiking up a little. “So funny, Bentley. Yes, we managed to get the living room done, though I still think that the ultramarine would have looked better.” “We can touch up the bathroom with it,” Bentley said. He bent down to pick up the roller. “So we clean up and start making dinner back at the apartment?” Torako wrinkled her nose. “I guess we have to wait a day for the paint to dry before moving anything in, don’t we.” “And I’m not done,” Bentley said. He twisted the handheld portion of the roller off so that it would be easier to carry. Paint-smell wafted up and overwhelmed the clear scent of rain from outside. “So the earliest we could be in here would be the day after tomorrow—honestly, though, we should plan on a week.” A rustle of cloth; Bentley turned his head to catch Dipper sticking his very colorful fingers down the side of Torako’s neck. She squealed, then cocked her elbow and slammed it into Dipper’s gut. Bentley laughed at the expressions on both of their faces. “Could be worse,” Dipper wheezed, even though he didn’t actually need the air. What a drama king, Bentley thought to himself. “It used to take like, a week to safely dry, not just a day.” “Still,” Torako said. She put her fingers to the paint smeared across her neck and scrunched her nose up at the sensation. “It’s a long time, now that we finally own the house. Nothing else is stopping us from moving in and it makes me itch. ” “Well,” Bentley said, pointing the still-black roller at her and grinning a little to take the bite out of his words, “the end is at least in sight, now.” She stuck out her tongue at him, then gacked when the dark red smeared on her lips came in contact with it. “Uuuugghhhhh, ewwww,” she said, and disappeared to the bathroom to the sound of Dipper cackling. Bentley raised his eyebrow at Dipper. Dipper looked back at him. They both shared a grin, shook hands, and Dipper made off with Bentley’s freely-given roller still saturated with black paint. Bentley looked down at the non-haunted glow-in-the-dark white and the ‘Guaranteed to Glimmer!’ gold. He remembered that he still had some old brushes back in his desk at the apartment. Torako screeched, and then Dipper did, their voices echoing through the mostly-empty house in a way that filled it. Bentley thought about what they would best like for dinner tonight. He turned, closed the window, and brought the trays out of the room to wash them. As he paused to try to remember where the bathroom was, he was smacked in the face with the very roller he’d just lent to Dipper for nefarious purposes, and well, that just meant that payback was due, right? They ended up ordering pizza. - Bentley had an early shift the next day so that he could be home in time for lunch at one. He’d dragged himself through about three hours of work on nightmare-riddled sleep before Karl Svinhish took one look at him and made Bentley sleep in the break room for ninety minutes. Even then, once Bentley woke up, he sent Bentley packing home with orders to ‘not try to explode us all through lack of sleep, don’t worry, we’re still paying you.’ Once back in the apartment, Bentley managed to crash on their (unfortunately, permanently magical) couch for a couple hours before he woke up from fear-anxiety-pain. In all, he managed to eat, pack up, and be out to the house by about 1:30. With Dipper out visiting somebody he vaguely knew in Europe, and with Torako having snagged a small case in the area to find a missing cat, he was alone. If he’d been alone in that apartment, it would have been one terrible thing. Being alone in the house—where the wards were freshly installed, the layout was completely different, and the only items that really glimmered to his left eye were temporary parts of their life—was another thing entirely. After he opened the window, Bentley slid on his glasses, activated the PaintKnight shield, and flipped through the music in his phone before settling on Comeback Kid’s Greatest Hits. Torako had introduced him to them, ages ago when they were both fourteen and not-studying in Bentley’s room. It seemed fitting, considering that he was going to paint parts of his childhood bedroom into this place. He lay back on the EZ-Liftr Lite they’d rented from a nearby library and thumbed at the controls until he was comfortably near the ceiling. After a moment of contemplation, he angled himself just a little bit up. Pulling a brush out of his apron pocket, he slid it into the glow-in-the-dark white and began to paint. It had been so long that the first stars turned out a little lopsided, edges a bit wonky where he still struggled to re-adjust to painting with a brush. The angle didn’t help; any time he’d painted in the past, it was either upright on a canvas or flat on a desk, not several meters above the ground and on his back. So they were a bit odd, bigger than he’d initially planned as he tried to mask the mistakes, less neat than he knew he was capable of. It would have frustrated him to tears just months ago. It still kind of did. But now, he breathed through the frustration and settled himself with the knowledge that he would adjust—it would just take time. It was a not-bad day, so the reminder worked. It was around the fourth song that things started to finally click. Using an extra-long paintbrush handle to steady his painting hand, Bentley drew a small seven-pronged star to the brassy trumpets of Comeback Kid’s “Horse in a Hospital” and didn’t wobble at all. His lines were clean and clear, the shape was even, and filling it in wasn’t nearly the exercise in concentration that the first few had been. Outlining in gold was just as easy. Bentley smiled a little to himself, refilled the brush, and continued. Over time, the light coming in from the bedroom windows shifted into the deeper warmer tones of evening, shadows from the overgrown garden stretching further into the room as it set. The bedroom was set on the north-western side of the house, just enough to be warmed in the evening without facing the glare of the sun head-on. Bentley sighed, stretched over the back of the EZ-Liftr Lite, and almost fell off when the door slid open. Thankfully, it was only Torako. Unfortunately, she had noticed. “Haha, got you and I wasn’t even trying,” she said, grinning. She had twigs in her hair and a couple scrapes on her face. “And hot damn you’ve been busy—wait, is that Comeback Kid? Talk about nostalgic.” “That’s a lot all at once,” Bentley said, shifting the EZ-Liftr Lite so that he wasn’t halfway to a concussion via headfirst fall to the floor. “And I don’t know what you’re talking about, nobody got me at anything.” Torako snorted and entered the room to better peer at the corner Bentley was working on. He only had a little more to go before the ceiling was done, but then there was the rest of the detailing. “Keep deluding yourself, I know the truth. And that is Comeback Kid! Wait wait wait—is this ‘Mr. Bittenbinder’? It’s gotta be ‘Mr. Bittenbinder.’ Is this the top tracks playlist?”   “Yes,” Bentley said. He turned his attention to the current space ahead of him, hummed, then added a few more dots in aesthetically pleasing places. “Why?” Torako flicked a finger at his socked foot. Bentley twitched it back before scowling down at her. She grinned, unapologetic. “It’s been ages. Like, since high school.” “You listened plenty in college, I remember you blasting it whenever I brought you stuff in the gym,” Bentley said. He pointed the paintbrush in his hand at her—gold, just enough left in the bristles that he could leave a mark if he wanted to. “But yeah, I was thinking about home. With—Dad.” “Oh,” Torako said. Her face softened. “Yeah, now that you say it, I can see the similarity to your bedroom. Back then, I mean.” He smiled at her, then turned his attention back to the ceiling. After a few strokes, a few quiet moments filled with the discordant keys of “Mr. Bittenbinder,” Bentley let out an ‘ah’ as he came to a realization. “If you—sorry for taking over things and making this my childhood—I mean, you had a childhood bedroom too, you know, and—” “Aw, lighten up, buddy,” Torako said. She patted his leg. “I’m not angry or upset or anything. Your bedroom was cool. Just let me put up some old hurling photos or stash my stick on the wall as some kind of deco and it’ll bring enough of me in. I like the stars, anyways. It’ll be nice to have them up at night.” Bentley reached over with his free hand and ruffled her hair. A couple twigs and half of a leaf were dislodged and fell to the ground. “Thanks,” he said. He thought a moment. “What about Dipper?” “We’ll see if he has anything he wants here in particular that aren’t too, you know. It’ll work out. It’ll be all of ours,” she said. Then, tilting her head so his hand was more on her forehead than in her hair (and how odd it was for her to be looking up at him), she grinned. “Need any help painting?” “Uh,” Bentley said. The memory of their college fridge, covered in drawings of Korato and Alcor, flashed through his mind. “I, uh, that’s very nice of you but, how do I say it—” “Your drawings suck,” Dipper said from over Bentley’s shoulder. Even feeling him tesser in wasn’t enough to stop Bentley from startling. This time, it took both Dipper and Torako reaching in to steady the Liftr and pushing him back onto it in order to keep Bentley from falling off. His glasses were still knocked askew from the jostling. “Look what you did!" Torako said, wiggling her index and middle fingers together at Dipper, mock scowl on her face. “You nearly made him fall—what if he’d hit his head?” “Even if he had fallen, he would’ve been fine,” Dipper said. He narrowed his eyes at her fingers. Bentley nudged his glasses back into place. In the background, “Mr. Bittenbinder” finally drew to its eight-minute close. “I would have caught him. You’re just mad that I said you suck at drawing.” Torako rolled her eyes. “I know I suck, I just thought I’d lighten the mood, you doofus. Anyways—the reason I came in here in the first place was to see if Bentley wanted dinner. It’s a bit early, but I’m hungry and we’ve all been working hard today. How was whosit over in Europe?” “Oh, Olla?” Dipper flipped upside down and drew his legs together, criss-crossed, as the song track changed to “Then I Didn’t”. His gaze remained fixed on Torako’s outstretched fingers. “She’s doing great, working hard at school and all that. Had to skedaddle before her mom came home and ripped me apart, but it was a good visit overall.” “Rip you apart?” Bentley said. He lifted his brush and picked up where he left off painting. “If she can do that, I think you’ve lost your position as most powerful being in existence.” “Did he have it in the first pla—ow, what the fuck Dipper, my fingers!” “Serves you right,” Dipper said. His voice crackled with half-realized laughter. “Stick your fingers in my face and get bit.” “I’ll bite you, you little—” Dipper’s voice got all low and purr-y. Some half-forgotten instinct in Bentley tensed. “Where you gonna bite me huh, sugar?” There was a pause. Bentley pulled his paintbrush away from the ceiling. Not a second later, Torako said, “Where you want me to bite, honey? Here, or here, or…here?” “If I look down,” Bentley said, “and you two are playing het chicken in front of me, at this moment in time, while I have paint and you don’t, we are going to have yesterday happen again except I am going to win. Hands-down. I will decimate you.” Bentley gave them three seconds before he looked down. When he did, they were staring up at him, Torako’s outstretched finger brushing against one of Dipper’s collarbones, his shirt collar unbuttoned just enough to give her access. They blinked—at the same time, eerily enough at the exact time Jonathan from The Comeback Kid crooned after a long piano solo, ‘Oh, but I couldn’t, I just couldn’t stop myself, the pages were calling but the party’s calling louder…’ He pointed his paintbrush at them. “Don’t.” Torako laughed, and what tension there was in the room dissipated. She papped Dipper’s cheek, looking into his eyes, and said, “Well, looks like we’ll have to save this for another time. His Majesty commands us.” “Well, if it’s His Majesty’s edict…” Dipper grinned and swung himself back upright to lay on thin air, his chin propped on an open palm. “Would you also like food, your Majesty? We could go back and get it started while you finish here.” Bentley narrowed his eyes. “This is a very sudden change of topic.” “True,” Torako agreed. “But it’s like, five, and if we divide and conquer, we can get stuff done. I’ll paint tomorrow, and I’m sure Dipper could get a room done right now if we throw him a bag of Peach Wheels.” “Make it a bag of Peach Wheels and a TimTom Bar, and we have a deal,” Dipper said. Without looking, Torako slid her hand out. “Kitchen in royal blue with gold trim and switch out the cabinets and countertops for that Eggshell White we saw in HomeReno Catalogue #539 Issue twenty…three, yeah, sure, deal.” “Ugh, fine,” Dipper said. There was a flash of blue flames. He frowned and patted his stomach. His stomach. Bentley’s turned at the thought, cold nothingness tickling at the back of his mind before he bit at the side of his mouth to bring his attention back into the present. “—hard bargain, now. When did you even learn that trick? Tacking on specifics in the seconds you go for the handshake.” “I live with you, dumbass,” Torako said. She ruffled his hair and ignored the way Dipper hissed and patted it back into place. “Also, I have a degree in this shit. Practice makes perfect—anyways, Dipper, Bentley, how do we feel about fried rice tonight? Lettuce wraps?” “Sounds good,” Bentley said. He pushed the thought of—that—out of mind and resolved to bring it up with his therapist the next time they met. Lifting his paintbrush back up, he added, “I’ll try to be back by six or six-thirty, okay?” Torako nodded. “Call us when you leave, okay? And if anything happens on the way back, it doesn’t matter who’s around, just summon Dips—” Bentley paused, turned his head, and stared at Torako. “I’m not going to summon Alcor the Dreambender in the middle of the street,” he said. “Ok,” Torako said. “Just—be careful, okay?” “Yeah, I promise,” Bentley said. It was easy to—the streets were well lit, and it would be early enough when he left that anybody involved in Norfolk’s relatively low crime rate was unlikely to be active. Also, Fantino was dead and nobody else had any hare-brained ideas about Bentley being a Mizar or something like that. Torako grinned. It was a little strained. Bentley narrowed his eyes when he remembered that Torako still hadn’t started looking for a therapist they could all bully into signing a ridiculous NDA. Bentley still thought that Dr. Anikulapo-Kuti would be a good fit, but Torako kept avoiding the topic. He sighed, then reached out his hand. “Nothing is going to happen,” he said, threading his fingers through her hair. “And if it does, I’ll be prepared. I promise.” “Yeah,” Dipper said. He patted her shoulders with both hands and hooked his chin over one of them. “Ben’s tough, he can take care of himself—and just in case anything does happen, I’ll keep an extra close eye on the bond, okay? Torako closed her eyes. She tipped her head to rest against Dipper’s. “Yeah,” she said. “You’re right.” “Besides,” Dipper said, giving Bentley a sly look before tilting his head to whisper in her ear. She grinned and giggled a little, eyes cutting over to Dipper and then to Bentley and back again. Bentley’s suspicions resurfaced. He narrowed his eyes. From his phone on the ground, the ‘15% battery left’ alarm chirped a whistly little tune over the final stanza of “Then I Didn’t”. “You want me to pass you your phone so you can charge it?” Torako asked, already leaning over to pick the phone up from off the ground. The sound quality wobbled a bit as the speakers adjusted from reverbing off a solid surface and to sounding through the open air. “Sure,” Bentley said, switching his brush to the opposite hand so that he could receive the phone more easily. He held his hand out and wiggled his fingers. Dipper threaded his fingers through Bentley’s. “Um,” Bentley said. He blinked across at Dipper. “Not that I don’t appreciate it, but I was actually going for my phone?” Dipper grinned, wide and a little soft. “I know,” he said. “That’s why I did it.” Then, Torako jammed his cold phone down the front of his sweater. Bentley yelped, jerked, and they all went down in a tangle of limbs. Somehow Bentley managed to be sandwiched between Dipper and Torako, whose arm was still stuck down his sweater. “Torako!” Bentley screeched, his hand still comfortably in Dipper’s. They both burst into cackles, one cut through with bursts of static, the other clear and resounding. Bentley scowled up at Torako and the line of gold that slid wet down the curve of her cheek. Seconds later, a grin fought its way past the façade and he couldn’t help but laugh along. This really could be home, he thought. - “I can’t stand it,” Torako groaned from where she was sprawled face-down on the floor. “I can’t do it, Bentley.” “Yes you can,” he said from his seat at the kitchen table that they had found in an antique store. It was a little inconvenient in that it didn’t have functions to store and consequently automatically drape tablecloths, but it also wasn’t an eyesore first thing in the morning without his glasses, so everybody considered it a win. “Bentley, it’s not a proper home yet,” she said into the floorboards. Dipper rolled his eyes and sipped at the overly sweetened coffee he’d exchanged for dragging Torako from where she’d been languishing on the bed. “Torako, we don’t even have a couch yet,” Bentley said. “Or mirrors other than the one in the bathroom. How do bedside tables even make a home in the first place?” “It’s a place to put all your stuff,” Torako said. “That you need when you’re sleeping but don’t want to get up to get and I’ve fallen out of bed five times this week reaching for my water bottle.” “I keep saying that I have furniture at my house,” Dipper said. Bentley eyed the scratches in the rim of the mug—even after millennia of being a demon, Dipper kept forgetting to watch his teeth around the dishware. “But you guys are all nooo, what if it’s haunted, nooo, what if the demonic energy, nooooooo.” “I had enough problems dealing with your ambient energy affecting things like security sensors when I first started working at the company,” Bentley drawled, hands curled around his own cup of tea. “And now? With this incomprehensible body? I don’t need even more exposure. Besides, everything we’ve vetted hasn’t passed Torako’s ‘Bentley Safe’ test.” “Except the coffee table,” Dipper pointed out. “Except the coffee table,” Bentley ceded. It was the ugliest coffee table he’d seen, but it was solid wood and was void of any enchantments or extra tech, unlike everything else they had been able to find. Any demonic energy that had lingered on it had dissipated in hours without a supernatural handhold.   “Unfortunately,” Torako groaned, “Bentley makes sense. I hate it, but Bentley makes sense. Bentley, stop making sense. I want bedside tables.” Dipper sipped at his coffee extra loud. Bentley raised his eyebrows in Torako’s direction, even if she couldn’t see them. “Well,” he said. “I seem to recall that we did have bedside tables that weren’t very magical except around the hinges, and you could barely see those anyways. I wonder what happened to them?” Torako groaned extra loud. She turned her head just so that she could glare at him past the hair in her face. “One of them fell apart when we dropped it off,” Torako said. “Like, legitimately, we put it down and it collapsed.” “But you could have had one,” Dipper pointed out. He drummed his claws against the tabletop. Bentley squinted at the little pricks that started forming in the surface and realized that he was going to have to figure out how to non-magically reinforce the surface. Somehow, he didn’t think that Dipper would react well to claw-caps. “Then just Bentley would have to suffer.” “And I’m okay with that,” Bentley said, still staring at the claw dents. There was a pause. Bentley blinked, then registered what he said and started waving his hands. “Wait—no, I meant, like, I don’t mind not having a bedside table for a little longer, Torako’s the one who keeps falling out of bed, not me, she needs the table, it’s not that—” “Hey,” Dipper said, frowning. He reached over and slid his hand over Bentley’s, eyebrows serious over his dark eyes. “Being the masochist is my job.” After a beat, Torako burst into laughter. Bentley considered the ramifications of threatening Dipper bodily harm, and dismissed them very quickly on the grounds of ‘this will never end if I do.’ “Anyways,” Bentley said in a voice just loud enough to be clearly heard over Torako’s giggling, “We’ll figure out the bedside table thing. In the meantime, Torako, you could always take one of the chairs and use it.” His chair shuddered a little and there was a smacking noise. Bentley looked down to see Torako’s hand wrapped around the chair leg, her hair tangled between her eyes. “This chair?” she asked. Then she looked at Dipper and wheezed. “I think I don’t need to answer that,” Bentley said. “Why do you keep laughing, anyways? It wasn’t even that funny?” “Rude,” Dipper said. “Is…” Torako choked out. “Is because he—oh gosh, he’s unemployed, Bentley!” Dipper scowled at her. “Am too employed,” he said. “As a maSOCHIST!” Torako screeched out the last word and started smacking her feet against the ground and howling in laughter. Then she squealed when Dipper leapt over the table (and Bentley) to get at her. Bentley shifted his teacup in his hands and felt himself settle further. His phone pinged a notification as Torako and Dipper began to actually wrestle on the floor. He took one look at the phone, winced a little at how sparkly it was, and slid his glasses on to check the notification. At first, it didn’t make sense. He couldn’t remember having any business with Celestial Spaces Storage Services. That branch didn’t even exist out in Norfolk, that was strictly a Federation thing. The only ties he had there were Torako’s parents and his dad’s urn in the City Ancestral Home. The apartment had long been leased to…wait. The apartment. Bentley opened the message. Dear Customer, We hope this message finds you well. We write to inform you that your lease on Unit 4968 is set to expire approximately one month from now, on October 24th, 4042. Please indicate to us whether or not you would like to renew your lease or change the terms. We are accessible by phone, message, or in person at the facility you rented space from. Thank you for your time, L’lanee Etchen Celestial Spaces Storage Services “Oh,” he said out loud. In his bare hands, the battery ticked up from 88% to 89%. “I forgot.” “Forgot what?” Dipper asked. Bentley looked up from his phone to see him laying on the floor, Torako’s heel in the small of his back and both his arms wrenched up and behind him. Bentley winced at the thought of him in that position, but of course Dipper was nonplussed. His wings were relaxed and everything. Torako, on the other hand, was panting a little, cheeks dark and hair even wilder than it already had been. “Forgot what?” she asked. “How awesome I am at wrestling?” “Dad’s…stuff,” he said. Torako blinked and let go of Dipper’s wrists. “The stuff from our apartment, the lease on storage is expiring.” “Oh,” said Torako. She sat down on Dipper’s back. He let out a soft whoof of air that was more for fun than because Torako was pressing down on his non-existent lungs. “I forgot too.” Dipper reached back and jabbed at Torako’s sides until she squirmed far enough off of him that he could sit up. “It sounds familiar,” he said, peering up at Bentley from where he was nestled under Torako’s chin. “What do you want to do, then? For the right price, I can always blip it all here.” Bentley opened his mouth to refuse. Then he closed it, tapped his forefingers against the face of the still-warm teacup, and considered Dipper. “Our living room is pretty empty,” he said. “No sofa or bookshelves yet. All our stuff there is still in boxes.” “And it would be very economical,” Dipper wheedled. There was a glint in his eye that never failed to set some very deep, animal part of Bentley’s brain on edge. He was good at pushing past it by now, though. “In one sense of the word,” Bentley said. He pulled one hand off his teacup and set his chin in the heart of his palm. “But what would you want in exchange for this little chore?” Torako lifted an eyebrow. Her eyes flicked momentarily down to Dipper before she met Bentley’s eyes again. Bentley closed his eyes and shook his head a little; he could handle a deal like this. Alcor intertwined his fingers together in such a way that only his index fingers were free, flush against each other as he pressed the tips of them to his chin. He suddenly had gloves on. “Good question,” he said. The reverb in his voice had grown stronger, a little deeper. He sounded like he knew the answers to all your questions, had the power to fulfill every desire you had, and would never sink his fingers into your chest to pull out your soul. Not that, you know, that part actually mattered to Bentley, what with his soul not even being his to begin with. Dipper’s actual sister had given it up millennia ago.   Bentley hummed. “I agree, it was,” he said. “So what would you say is a fair price?” Alcor’s face was relaxed even as he draped an arm over Torako’s bent knee. “Usually I’d ask for a couple of teeth, an eye, maybe your left pinky—something noticeable for all these priceless, sentimental items I’d have to transport out of an extra-dimensional plane into this very well warded house. But it’s your lucky day! For you and just you, I’ll do it for the low, low price of one treasured memory of your father!” Bentley swallowed and tried to not let the grief well back up. He closed his eyes, considered the deal for half a second, and then dismissed it completely. Memories with his dad were priceless. He wasn’t going to be able to make any new ones. “Dipper, what the fuck,” Torako said. Bentley opened his eyes to see her leaning back a bit. Dipper flinched, and something about his face shifted. He leaned forward, towards Bentley, his cheeks softening to something less twenty-five and more sixteen. “Bentley, I—” “You’re right,” Bentley said. He looked Dipper right in his wide, childish eyes. “That is a lot of work. It wouldn’t be fair to ask you for something so big you can’t resist crossing lines.” “I shouldn’t have asked anyways,” Dipper said. He twined his fingers together and worried them against each other. “That was wrong, I know it was wrong and I did it anyways because it was right there and it seemed—it was just. Tempting.” “I understand,” said Bentley. He rubbed at his temples. “I’ll call the company and ask what it would cost to ship everything here.” “That would be so expensive,” Torako said. She leaned back forward, smoothed her hands over Dippers, and tucked his head under her chin again. It was easier than it had been before. “The Federation is so far, and then there’s customs to go through, and we’d have to choose an option that didn’t rely on shipping things with exdim spaces.” Bentley inhaled and then exhaled, deep. “I’ll call the company,” he said, again. That night, Torako dragged a chair from the dining room and set it up by her side of the bed. She still, somehow, managed to fall out by reaching out too far for her water bottle. - What ended up happening was this: Bentley called the company to extend the lease. Then he called the company again, after a couple days of first arguing and then discussing the details with Torako, to ask if actually they could arrange a video tour of everything in the unit. After the company explained that they didn’t have the time or resources to devote to that (which was utter bull, but Bentley wasn’t willing to shell money out for the Perk Plan Copper Edition), Torako took time to physically travel to them, visited her parents, and used her phone to show Bentley around the place. It was nostalgic, but the level of magical interference was faintly visible even through the screen and his glasses. Bentley was glad that he let Torako argue him out of going himself. When he made soft eyes at the long, old dresser from his father’s bedroom, Torako slapped a ‘removal’ sticker on it without hesitation (“We can put it in the living room or by the entrance or whatever, there’s definitely a place for it somewhere!”). When Torako started cackling over the ugliest coat rack in existence, awkwardly heavy and brassy at the ends of each hook, Bentley didn’t protest too much over her demands to bring it back (“It’ll go with that awful coffee table Dips brought back, I love it so much.”) When Dipper showed up halfway through the call and interrupted their discussion over the merits of bringing or leaving the sofa with its simple seat-warming enchantments, Bentley cackled at Torako’s initial screech of surprise and then Dipper’s squawk as she wrestled him down to ruffle his hair (“Sea’s mercy, don’t sneak up on me like that—say, what do you think about this couch, it’s got enchantments but I think my dads can hook me up with somebody who can strip it off…”) When discussion turned to a possible matching (mostly) set of lamps that Dipper had stashed somewhere, Bentley set his chin on his hand and watched his family go back and forth about logistics and re-wiring and oh, wasn’t that a really nice bookshelf, wouldn’t that look good in the house too. In the end, they found nearly everything they wanted, arranged to have the whole lot of it shipped by non-magical means (paid for by Torako’s dads, who were apparently side-eyeing Dipper with less fear and apprehension than they had initially), and came home. It would take a month for everything to arrive but until then— “It’s come to this,” Torako said, laced fingers under her nose, elbows set to the sides of her empty dinner plate. “We need to search harder than ever for the final, most vital piece of our home.” “The bedside tables?” Dipper asked sullenly. He scowled down at the vibrant claw tips Torako had slipped on him while he was napping earlier. “You don’t deserve them, you heathen.” “Even heathens deserve bedside tables,” Torako countered, eyes bright with something Bentley couldn’t name. “It’s a basic right of Personhood.” “You violated my Personhood,” Dipper hissed, eyes narrowed in mock-betrayal as he wiggled his capped claws at her. “You don’t deserve a bedside table. Besides, I don’t even get a bedside table, so why should you?” “I keep telling you,” Bentley said after taking a sip of his water, “if you want a shelf above the bed, we can put one up there for things you wanted to put up there that weren’t, like, eyeballs or the shriveled dismembered fingers of that one dude who tried to enslave you when you were a baby demon.” “I also veto the cursed paperweight that croons the regretful thoughts of all office workers ever into your dreams,” Torako said with a shudder. “For more than just the fact that it might be a pain to Bentley. It’s just super, super disturbing.” “You have no taste,” Dipper sniffed. He gnawed a little at the rubber claw caps and then made a face. “Also, these are disgusting.” Bentley couldn’t stop himself from laughing a little. He avoided Dipper’s wide betrayed eyes and looked out the kitchen window instead. It faced the front, where there was a little pathway leading up to the house and there was a stone wall that was covered with aesthetically pleasing moss. Dipper had said it was installed a couple centuries ago, when everybody had their ‘ye olde cottage in the woods’ phase. Bentley liked it, at least. He watched as a small songbird, dark brown back over light brown belly interrupted by a dull crest of yellow, fluttered down to perch on top of it. It cocked its head this way and that, then trilled out a few notes. “Sucks to be you; you keep putting holes in our super hard-to-find dining table, we take preventative measures,” Torako said. Outside, the bird hopped forward a couple steps. “Could have just told me,” Dipper groused. “Woulda stopped.” “Not nearly as much fun,” Torako said. “Now—the bedside tables. The Quest to end all Quests. The most honorable, invaluable, unbelievably necessary endeavor yet on our long journey towards houseownership.” The songbird pecked down once, twice, and picked up a twig. Bentley watched it fly off with its prize. Weird, he thought, that a bird might make its nest in fall. He blinked. “Why not make our own bedside tables?” When he turned to look at them again, Torako was blinking in mild confusion. Dipper had stopped chewing at the rubber caps that he could absolutely take off himself but didn’t for whatever reason. “I thought you didn’t have power tools?” Bentley frowned. “Power tools? I’m not going to…I don’t have any magical tools, remember? We got rid of everything overly magical.” Even the wards could have been a pain to deal with if Torako hadn’t researched and then integrated the time-consuming, archaic, and possibly illegal additions that rendered the wards magical signature null. Dipper sighed. “Mechanical saws that go buzzity buzz through wood and stuff to make it the size you want. Or things to screw in screws without agitating your wrist. Machines.” “Oh,” Bentley said. “Yeah, Tristools. The library has a workshop; we could find the right materials and make our own with their resident Carpenter?” Without warning, Torako stood up and slammed the table. The dishes clanged and clattered as they were jostled, and Bentley only barely saved his water from spilling everywhere. Dipper screeched, his hair fluffing up and out in momentary alarm. “Bentley!” Torako yelled. “You’re a genius.” Bentley blinked at her rapidly. His fingers curled around his glass protectively. “I…thank you? I guess?” “I am going to make,” Torako said, a terrifying grin on her face, “the biggest, baddest, most amazing bedside tables ever.” “Oh,” Bentley said. He tugged the glass closer, as if he could stop Torako’s enthusiasm from bubbling over and making everything more complicated than any of them could handle just by protecting his water. “Oh, no, Torako, we just need—we just need function. We just need something we can put things like pain medication in and water bottles on.” “That’s boring,” Dipper said. He was floating off his chair, a matching grin on his face. “And we’re not boring, we need exciting furniture. Personalized furniture. Furniture with as many non-magical bells and whistles as we can manage.” Neither of them, as far as Bentley knew, had built anything in their lives. Dipper tended towards destruction anyways—and thinking of Torako’s several collisions with opposing hurling players that ended in somebody with fractured ribs or concussions or, in one memorable case, a flattened nose that needed emergency on-site reconstruction, so did Torako. “Guys,” he said weakly. “Think—manageable projects?” “I want a carved dragon in mine,” Torako said. Then she gasped. “No, wait—Korato holding Alcor in her arms as they’re flying off on a carved dragon—oh I have to write everything down.” “Mine is going to have so many hidden drawers,” Dipper said, in spite of the fact that he wasn’t going to use a bedroom table. “So many traps to dissuade thieving fingers. You won’t be able to open anything without first solving the initial puzzle lock. I can’t wait, I have so many ideas.” “Just…a drawer?” Bentley offered out, loudly so that Torako could hear him from where she had burst into the master bedroom. “Maybe a couple shelves? A flat surface? Maybe a fancy handle for the drawer if they have them?” “It’s gonna be A WORK OF ART,” screeched Torako from across the house. Dipper had dissolved into muttering about which traps and tricks would be best for its size, and they could mount it on the wall so it could have a secret bottom that held all the best things. Bentley looked down at his water, and could only think about the poor resident Carpenter who would be dealing with them all. - “I’m so sorry,” he said to Mx. Tchaikovsky, resident Carpenter at their nearest expanded Library, as zi looked first at their plans, then at the materials they had sourced and brought with them. Zir nameplate, which displayed zir name and pronouns, fritzed a couple times before steadying out. “I tried to talk them out of it, but…” Mx. Tchaikovsky looked at him. Then, zi grinned wide and said, “Are you kidding? These are the greatest things I’ve ever seen!” Behind Mx. Tchaikovsky’s back, Torako and Dipper high-fived each other. Bentley made the mistake of making incredulous eye contact with them. In response, Dipper put his thumb on his nose, crossed his eyes, and wiggled his fingers at Bentley. The gesture was unfamiliar; the childish, gloating triumph on his face was not. “I…” Bentley said, slowly, “I thought that they would be too…complicated for our skill level. Those two, at least,” He said, tapping the plans that he knew weren’t his. “Oh, for sure,” Mx. Tchaikovsky said. Zi half-turned to Torako and Dipper, and asked, “You two don’t have any carpentry experience, do you?” Dipper opened his mouth. “I made a custom bedroom set for my—for a child, once,” he said. Bentley, who had not seen Dipper do anything without using supernatural powers ever, widened his eyes at him. Dipper clearly saw, but elected to say nothing. “Oh wow,” Mx. Tchaikovsky said. “That’s really cool! Do you have any pics? How many pieces was it? Were there any custom decorations? What tools did you use? I want to know what you’re familiar with in here.” This time, it was Bentley who felt that cathartic burst of childish triumph. Dipper laughed and started scratching at the back of his neck. “Oh, sorry, I—it’s a running joke we have after somebody misheard me say that I had commissioned a custom bedroom set for a child, nobody’s child in particular, just a child that I thought needed a custom bedroom set with appropriate thematic imagery, I haven’t used any of these tools, but that’s fine because you, a professional, a professional carpenter employed by the Library, is here to help us and I think that’s just great, don’t you? Say, Torako, what experience do you have??” Torako grinned. “Nothing and you know it, dweebus.” Mx. Tchaikovsky returned the smile, long, thin hands on zir hips. “Okay, great to hear! Thanks for being honest, I really appreciate it. What about you, Mr…Farkas, right? You got any experience?” Bentley repressed the urge to stick out his tongue at Dipper and turned his attention to Mx. Tchaikovsky. “I took a couple sculpture classes in undergrad and used some tools there—a 3D printer, a pattern cutter, and a handheld rotary tool, if I remember right—but it’s been several years.” Mx. Tchaikovsky nodded, then stroked zir chin. “Okay, I see what’s happened—you know how hard it’s going to be and how much time it’s going to take, whereas these two—” Zi gestured at Torako and Dipper “—don’t have an idea of what they’re getting into. But, like, if you guys are willing to spend a significant amount of time on these custom bedside tables…why not go for something you want in your life for a long time?” Bentley blinked at zir. He looked around the room, machinery piled against the walls, spare materials organized (mostly) into shelves and containers. The thin light from an overcast sky filtered in through the windows and highlighted lazily floating dust motes. “Huh,” he said, a little quietly. He looked back at Mx. Tchaikovsky. “You sure that wouldn’t be too much work for you?” “It would be a challenge,” Zi admitted, still grinning a little, lopsided, and zir boot scuffed against the concrete flooring. “For everybody, really. But I like teaching, and if things get too difficult to manage partway through, we can improvise and level down.” A glance at both Torako and Dipper told Bentley everything he needed to know about what they thought of levelling down. To be fair, he thought, he was also feeling…competitive. “Okay,” he said, holding a hand out for his previous proposal application. “I can change it up.” Torako and Dipper high-fived again. Mx. Tchaikovsky said, “That’s the spirit!” and handed over the proposal. Bentley took the holographic file in his gloved hand and looked down at it, before smiling over at Torako and Dipper. His design was going to crush theirs. - In late November, they were finally able to take their monstrous creations home. Monstrous, in Dipper’s case, meant that he’d made an almost seamless shelving unit that they installed above the bed for a package of shrimp chips. Even if anybody were to figure out how to get into the hidden drawers in each wide span of wood framing the open shelves, they would be very hard pressed to not lose any fingers (or noses) in the process. In Torako’s case, it meant that her bulky, stupidly heavy bedside table that was more sculpture than functional furniture was so dense that it took bribing Dipper with a pint of ice cream and a bag of anatomically correct gummy hearts (scaled down) to get it from the workshop and into the bedroom. Torako had gleefully chucked the dining room chair out into the garden the morning they went to pick up their pieces—and then promptly was made to go outside into the snow to get the chair because “Those were a bitch to find, Torako, and if you’ve broken it you get to fix it.” In Bentley’s case, it was simply shaped, fairly light-weight. The overall shape was rather boxy, as opposed to Torako’s (hourglass) or Dipper’s (in a word: aerodynamic). There was a single drawer above an empty space at the bottom for any larger things he might need. The biggest visual difference, however were the flowers carved into the sides and carved into the top of the table—spider lilies, vibrant reds and yellows and greens standing out from a dark-varnished background. They had been painstakingly carved, and recurved, and glued back together when the support was too weak and he went too far. Then they had been painted, shaded, dusted here and there with shimmering gold powder, and on the underside of one petal near the bottom-right corner, Bentley had very carefully inscribed his name as small as he could. He set the bedside table down, took a step back, and looked the room over. Torako was sprawled across the bed to take up as much space as possible. Dipper was floating upside-down in the corner. Their tables—new, custom made—matched even less than the rest of the furniture in the house, cobbled together from several sources and time periods. Bentley appreciated matching furniture and themes as much as anybody but somehow this just…suited them. He rubbed at his mismatched hands, and smiled a little. “So,” Dipper asked, hair unbound and floating around him in a way he probably thought was cool but just made him look even dorkier than usual. “Why spider lilies?” Bentley thought about it for two seconds, then said, “Because they’re the most stupid difficult flower I could think of to render in three dimensions?” Muffled by the pillow she had her face pressed into, Torako said, “I knew it, you competitive little shit! You couldn’t just let me have my figure of the three of us, you had to outdo me!” “Three of us?” Bentley asked. He looked at the flying dragon (that resembled more of a badger than anything else) and the two figures on its back that made up the support for the top of her table and narrowed his eyes. He knew the one in something resembling armor was Korato, and the figure with too-long arms draped across Korato’s back was Alcor, but he didn’t see anything like… Dipper started cackling. “He’s the dragon?? The dragon!!” “A talking dragon,” Torako said, rolling over so that she could speak easier. “I decided it halfway through the project—it just. Made more sense if it was all three of us, you know?” With a sigh, Bentley stepped forward and flopped onto the bed, half-on Torako’s legs. “Goddammit,” he said. “If it’s all three of us, I guess you win.” She laughed. Dipper sputtered. “But—but look at how smooth and seamless mine is! How perfectly hair-trigger the traps are! It’s even and sleek and beautiful and I can’t believe you’re saying Torako won!” “Torako’s may be ridiculously heavy and technically unrefined,” Bentley said, curling over onto his side so he could look Dipper better in the eyes, “but she made me a dragon. She wins.” “Also you hella cheated,” Torako said, pointing a finger up at Dipper. “Even Mx Tchaikovsky was baffled as to how you managed a couple of those traps, and zi held our hands all the way through this mess. You definitely used a couple tricks to get things to work.” Dipper flushed all the way to the tips of his pointed ears. “So what?? I used the tools at my disposal, and I made the perfect trap furniture.” “Bentley got second place,” Torako said. She reached down to scrunch her fingers into Bentley’s hair. He sighed and tipped his head back a little, eyes sliding shut as she began to lightly massage his scalp. “What the heck!” Dipper said. The air itself bristled a little. Bentley inhaled deep, counted to three, and exhaled slow. “The heck,” Dipper said, the air loosening up again. “You two are—you’re in cahoots! You have to be!” “So take some pics and show them to other people,” Torako drawled. Her leg shifted underneath Bentley, and he obligingly lifted his weight so that she could rearrange herself into a more comfortable position. “Or, instead, you could join our ‘the house is finally a home’ victory snuggles.” “That’s what these are?” Bentley asked, draping an arm over Torako’s waist. “Yes,” she said, her fingers moving out of the way so that she could press a kiss to the crown of his head. “That’s exactly what these are. Yo, Dipper, you going to sulk or you going to cuddle?” “Both,” Dipper grumbled before settling in on Bentley’s other side, an arm sliding over his side and curling around his chest. “Don’t think I’ve forgotten this injustice.” Bentley hummed. “Okay,” he said, and shifted himself further up the bed. “You do that, buddy.” After a moment, warm between their bodies and under the soft cover of sunlight coming in the window, Bentley heard Dipper whisper to Torako, “So—you happy with everything?” “Yeah,” Torako said, after a moment. Her long fingers stilled on his head. “Yeah, this is good. This is—really, really good.” A heartbeat, and then Dipper, soft: “I’m glad.”