#instead of giving it to a long-time race that a lot of people have expressed an interest in playing

[diloph]

THEY GAVE THE “ONIONS HAVE LAYERS” SHREK QUOTE TO THE DRACTHYR?! THE DRACTHYR?!

FOR SHAME.

[panda-writes-kpop]

Jihyo Fluff Alphabet (Requested!)

a/n: hi everyone! apologizes for a later fic, I had been feeling a bit under the weather but I'm starting to feel better now! sorry for those who were looking for the return of these fluff alphabets - I didn't mean to take a month and a half off 0_0 anyways I hope you enjoy this and thank you to the person who requested this!

tw: none!

♡ Masterlist ♡

Affection (How do they show their affection? What love language(s) do they use?)

Jihyo shows most of her affection for you via acts of service and words of affirmation. She’s always the first to wipe your tears when you’re feeling down, and the first to tell you how amazing you are when it feels like you’re nothing but.

Beauty (What do they admire about their S/O? What makes their S/O beautiful?)

Jihyo admires your compassion for people (and animals, if you’re an animal lover!). You always find a way to help others, whenever possible, and it warms your heart. In terms of physical appearance, she loves your smile… especially if she caused it with a bad joke or some mutual teasing!

Comfort (How would they help their S/O if they were having a rough day?)

Jihyo will race to your side if she doesn’t have any schedules for the day. She will gently rub your back and hold you in her arms as long as you need her to. If Jihyo can’t be there, she’ll FaceTime you and comfort you with her sweet words as long as she can.

Dreams (How do they picture their future with their S/O?)

Jihyo definitely dreams of a “stereotypical” life for the two of you - settling down someplace quiet, getting married, and introducing kids into your lives. Of course, you both have career ambitions and need time to figure out what you both want out of life, so she’s in no rush. As long as you’re together, you’ll figure it out with time.

Equal (Do they tend to be more dominant or passive in the relationship?)

Jihyo tends to be the more dominant person in the relationship - she’s very chivalrous towards you and she’s often the one planning dates due to her busy schedule. If she’s busy with work or is worn out from a long day, Jihyo will happily let you take care of her instead.

Fight (Would they easily forgive their S/O after a fight? How would a typical fight go?)

You two don’t get into big fights, but your bickering can get on each other’s nerves at times. Jihyo can be a little headstrong, so she has to take a moment to calm down before apologizing to you if things go too far. If you apologize first, she’ll admit her fault and apologize back to you if needed.

Gratitude (How grateful are they for everything that their S/O does for them?)

Jihyo always expresses her gratitude for you with actions or words. If you prepare lunch for her the next day because she’s busy, she makes sure to buy you lunch some time during the week. She’s all about reciprocating the love she receives.

Honesty (Do they tend to keep secrets from their S/O, or do they share everything?)

Jihyo definitely shares everything with you, her partner, and it may be overwhelming if you’re someone who is a bit more reserved. She’s totally understanding towards your reserved nature and will give you space, but she’s also happy to learn lots about you if you want to reveal more about yourself.

Inspiration (Did their S/O change them, or was it the other way around?)

You definitely are inspired by Jihyo because she’s a hardworking, passionate woman - who wouldn’t be? She puts her all into everything, and it makes you want to do the same. She rubs off on you so much that improves you as a person, even if your paths aren’t destined to be intertwined forever.

Jealousy  (Do they get jealous easily? How do they deal with it?)

Jihyo swears up and down that she doesn’t get jealous, but if she sees someone flirting with you, her jaw clenches and she’s folding her arms with a disappointed look on her face. Not towards you, of course, but the other person - you and her had walked in together, how could they have not noticed? Jihyo fights with herself for a bit before deciding to confront the person - kindly, of course - before they run away in embarrassment after realizing what they’ve done.

Kiss (How often do they kiss you? Where do they like to kiss you?)

Jihyo likes to kiss your cheeks and lips the most. Cheek kisses are an easy greeting/goodbye between the two of you, and kissing you on the lips is an easy romantic gesture that the both of you enjoy. She will often kiss you on the cheek, in public or not, but kisses on the lips are saved for times when the two of you are alone.

Lazy Day (How do they like to spend days off with their S/O?)

Jihyo doesn’t mind going out or staying in - either are fine with her, as long as you’re spending time together. If you go out, you’ll go to dinner together and see a movie/show before heading home. If you stay in, you’ll order food from her favorite place and spend the night playing board/video games and catching up on your favorite shows.

Marriage (Do they want to get married? How often do they think about marrying their S/O?)

Jihyo definitely thinks about marrying you quite often - in the more domesticated moments, where you’re making dinner together, folding laundry, or just cuddling under the couch on a cold winter’s night. It feels so natural between the two of you, like you’re meant to be together like this for the rest of your lives.

Nicknames (What do they call their S/O?)

Babe, dear, love

Jihyo is a mix of old-fashioned and new-fashioned nicknames. She’ll often call you the one that makes you the most flustered because she thinks it’s funny to see you so flustered. (and she hopes that you’ll do it back to her).

On Cloud Nine (What are they like when they are in love? Is it extremely obvious to others?)

Jihyo mostly goes about her business as per usual - she won’t be too revealing of your relationship or of you. She says your name in passing, as she would a friend, until the two of you are serious enough to introduce each other to family and friends. Once you do, she talks about you lovingly and constantly until the other person has to change the topic of conversation.

PDA (Are they very upfront with their relationship, or do they prefer to keep things quiet?)

Jihyo gives you moderate amounts of affection in public - cheek kisses, a warm hug, or holding hands. She wants you to feel comfortable around her, so she won’t be more affectionate in public unless you are more affectionate towards her in public.

Quirk (Some random personality trait that makes them an excellent partner.)

Her loud voice is something that she uses to help you and herself. If you’re being talked over or simply not listened to, Jihyo will command people’s attention with a few words before lovingly looking at you and asking you to continue talking so she can listen to you, along with everyone else.

Romance (Are they a born romantic ready to woo their S/O at any moment, or do they struggle to spark romantic moments with their S/O?)

Jihyo leans more towards being a natural romantic. She doesn’t struggle to make you blush with her words, or to “sweep you off your feet” with a sweet date or kind action.

Support (How do they help support their S/O to reach their goals?)

If you’re passionate about your goals, then Jihyo is also passionate about your goals. She’s supporting you by being physically there for you - picking you up if there’s a bump in the road, or celebrating with you if things go right.

Thrill (Do they like trying out new things to spice up their relationship, or do they prefer to stick to a routine?)

Jihyo likes to try out new things, together with you. It’s always fun to explore the world around you with a willing partner who wants to learn and grow with you.

Understanding (How well do they know their partner?)

Jihyo understands you when it comes to your emotions. If you’re feeling upset, she knows how to comfort you. If you’re happy, she knows how to keep the good mood going.

Value (How important is the relationship to the person versus other relationships and things in their life?)

She values your relationship as much as she values her platonic and familial relationships. You’ve become an important part of her life over the years, just as her family and friends have, and you all should have equal importance to her.

Wild Card (A random fluffy headcanon that you have about the relationship?)

I’ve talked about this in another fic, but Jihyo is the best hype woman. She’s always there to support you, however she possibly can. If you’re feeling down, she’s immediately at your side so she can comfort you so you can feel better as soon as possible.

XOXO (Do they like to kiss, hug, and cuddle you? How often do they do so?)

Jihyo loves to hug, kiss, and cuddle you, but she understands place and time. You probably don’t want her all over you when you’re in public, so she saves the cuddling and lingering kisses for times when the two of you are alone.

Yearning (How will they cope when they’re missing their partner?)

Jihyo calls/FaceTimes you whenever you’re apart due to work or other plans. She always works off of your time zone, if your time zones are different. It’s sweet of her, especially since she falls asleep on camera and you have plenty of screenshots to show her when she wakes up.

Zeal (Are they willing to go to great lengths for the relationship? If so, what kind?)

Jihyo will definitely go to great lengths for the relationship, given that you will do the same for the relationship. When she puts all of herself in the relationship, she expects you to do the same. It’s about balance between the two of you - sometimes one has to do a bit more to make up for the partner who may be feeling a little down.

[whirlwindimagines]

hello! i was wondering if you could write something where the reader is upset and crying (i wanted to originally ask if it could be a panic attack but i wasnt sure if you were comfortable with that) and vash is at a lost of how to help them so he just presses his forehead agaisnt theirs just like he does when he's helping plants and to his surprise it works?

The way I gasped when I read this I love this so much! I used to have panic attacks lol I don’t mind writing mild ones. Also sorry I haven't been posting much ;p; I've been slowly getting ready for my trip, and work has been something! I'll try to crank more out lol

‘I don't have much to say’

Vash x Reader

You're thankful to have some time to yourself, being in a cramped car with so many other people, good be suffocating, not that you didn’t mind the company for the most part…it was just a lot.

So, when Meryl said she was tired of driving and wanted to camp out for the night, you were the first to agree! Once camp had been set up, you can feel that overwhelming feeling. Not wanting to be a bother you mention you’re going for a quick walk, and that you won’t wander far.

Choosing to ignore the concerned look Vash gives you, instead leaving to head out into the dunes. Making sure to keep the camp at least in someone what sight, you managed to find a boulder heading to the other side for some privacy you sit in the sand.

Trying to count your breaths in and out, digging your hands in the sand to ground yourself, doing everything possible to not let your thoughts race. It’s hard to even know what set this off, it’s pathetic. With that thought you know your crying, placing your hands over your mouth to muffle the sobbing. 

Not knowing how long you’ve been sitting out, your startled when a gentle hand is placed on your shoulder, breath hitching and looking up in surprise you’ve come face to face with Vash. He is on his knees beside you, a look of such concern in his eyes your mind registers his lips moving, but your ears are ringing so loud, feeling humiliated that he’s found you in such a weak state. 

The thought makes you sob more, wrapping your arms around yourself to appear smaller, Vash’s eyes widen as he looks up you, unsure how to help, but wanting too so desperately. Your clearly in pain, and he doesn’t have a clue on what to do to help.

But Vash needs to help, it’s his nature so with a thought he reaches for you with gentle hands, cupping your face with one warm and one cool hand he touches his forehead to yours in such a gentle way you nearly forget how to breathe. His eyes are closed while yours are wide open.

“It’s okay I’m here” Vash says it’s so quietly you nearly miss it, having to steady your breaths, but the feeling of his hands on your face and him being so close is just so comforting that you close your eyes breathing in his scent. You don't know how long the two of you continue to sit there simply existing with each other. 

It helps, more than you could ever imagine, pressing closer to Vash as you close your eyes. “Thank you.” You feel as if those words aren't enough, that you’ll never be able to describe the pure gratitude you have towards Vash at this moment. You feel Vash’s rub his thumbs over the top of your cheeks, the motion is smoothing and continues to help ground you.

“You don't need to thank me…whenever you need me, I’ll be there.” your breath hitches at his words, feeling his breath ghost over your lips, opening your eyes just to take a peek at his face, your surprises that his are now open and he’s looking at you with an unreadable expression, his blue eyes so kind. 

Your eyes soften looking at him, he pulls back a bit to place a kiss on your forehead before pulling you completely into his arms. You know all your problems aren’t solved, and you have your worries and anxieties, but you let yourself enjoy this moment here with Vash.

[bi-scottsummers]

Hi, hello, just came here to say that I love your fic "trending in Japan". I was wondering if you had headcanons regarding Kenji or Emi or interpersonal relationships and stuff. Many hugs for you.

hi hello, thank you for the encouragement and hugs! After some thought ive realized I do in fact have some hcs about some of the character dynamics in the movie as well as just kenji himself, cause hes captivated my entire brain:

Kenji & Emi

Emi does not have teeth but she does inexplicably have a teething phase. kenji is forced to hide all his (salvaged) fancy cars in the garage bc the corvette's already been chewed to hell and his heart is gonna give out if he has to watch any more classics get wrecked

he reads her bedtime stories. A lot of aesop's fables, because theyre short and fun and hes trying to raise his monster daughter with good morals. emi goes hogwild for these but its unclear if she actually understands what hes saying; kenji's pretty sure she just likes the silly voices he uses for different characters

they go flying together! they go first thing in the morning before breakfast - it helps kenji shake off the grogginess of sleep and emi gets to stretch her wings. shes not able to go very far for very long initially, but as she grows and gets those cardio gainz she almost gets to be quicker than him. they have races and play air tag :)

while she doesnt have the vocal range to speak english herself, it becomes clear that emi does understand it well. (kenji also develops an ear for her chirping/squawks, though body language & facial expressions play a big part in communication for both of them) during her (much later) rebellious phase she'll simply pretend not to know what's being said when kenji is telling her to do something she doesn't wanna do, which frustrates him to no end

Kenji

developed a pretty massive chip on his shoulder after moving to the states. it wasn't just bitterness over his dad staying behind, though that was a part of it. this is canon but he was picked on in school for "how [he talked], how [he looked] and what [he ate]." he felt like he had something to prove to both his father and the world. he threw himself into sports - specifically baseball - and his academics, and he did so well that it forced everyone to shut up about how he was different from them and focus on how he was better than them

^ playing off this: kenji had a bonkers fucking yonkers routine when he was a kid/in highschool. he'd get up hours before school started to practice his swing, go for a ~1hr run, workout, study, etc. He'd go to school, come home, and do it all again. this is exaggerated but my point is that this kid was DETERMINED and had the discipline to see that determination through to the end

didnt have many friends because of all aforementioned things. he had acquaintances, and he was invited to parties and outings and stuff (never went), but he spent most of his free time hanging out with his mom. he never really had a "parents are so embarrassing" phase. he always liked to do anything with his mother: going to the bank, going grocery shopping, watching cheesy telenovelas till ungodly hours in the morning, etc. she was his no.1 supporter, confidant, and best friend

he played for his university's baseball team and got scouted at 19. his mom forced him to finish his bachelor's first so once he graduated with his degree in kinesiology at 21, he was drafted to the dodgers

Kenji & Ami

both of them, up until meeting each other, were totally dedicated to their career (and child) so they had basically 0 time for friends. theyre both borderline losers but theyre juuust good enough at what they do for people to admire them instead of finding them sad and lowkey pathetic

kenji is way more into the idea of being friends than ami is. hes pretty enthusiastic about it; he thinks that they have a kind of rapport, since they share a similar work ethic and are both (unbeknownst to ami) single parents. he calls her to chat abt random things. ami initially isnt superrrr into it; she thinks kenji is kinda lonely and desperate for human connection, & it isnt until her mom points out that she has not spoken to anyone outside of work-related reasons in 10+ years that shes like oh shit, i am also lonely and desperate for human connection. so she grudgingly acquires a friend. theyre both really bad at it

need to clarify that in my mind their dynamic is 95% kenji yapping about work and drama in his personal life (circumventing the 8m baby kaiju hes raising) while ami goes "mhm mhm" and takes notes until kenji notices and is like What are you doing. at which point ami is like...... right . nothing. im listening. and forces herself to put the notepad away. she has a hard time disengaging from the reporter mindset and just hearing something intriguing without turning it into an article. the other 5% are the rare moments where theyre connecting super well - ami's psychoanalyzing the hell out of whatever kenji just said and hes like what are you my therapist. over time she starts opening up to him, too, and eventually theyre comfortable enough to be having philosophical discussions over breakfast just for funsies

before kenji reveals that hes ultraman, ami thinks hes in a gang. he keeps showing up to their lunch "dates" with like bruised eyes and fractured bones and gets all shifty when she tries to ask about what happened. when she eventually confronts him about it, hes so offended that she thinks hed be involved in something like that that he tells her about being ultraman

thats about all i can think of rn, though im sure ill think of more after rotating all the characters in my head for a while. thanks again for stopping in, i appreciate the support :)

[moonshynecybin]

Hi! I have been thinking about Marc and the ways he expresses his anger... giving the cold shoulder... the silent treatment if you will (he will speak ABOUT vale but not TO vale let alone WITH vale)... need your input please....

hmm good question.... this got. STUPID long sorry

uhhh marc is, in general, good at keeping his (negative) emotions in check. like i think marc loooooves to think of himself on track as a mature, controlled, and rational dude. above distraction. a killer. a cyborg. idk his dad has talked about how he doesnt really complain much about injury and there's also allll these stories about what a mature kid he was... so i think that when he was young - ESPECIALLY in a racing sense because he was so much younger than most of the people he was competing against - he internalized that in order to do all the stuff he wants to do racing-wise, he reallyyyy has to keep a level head and not well. act his age! and i think that extends to a lot of how he manages his emotions today (at least in a public setting). even in places where im pretty sure hes PISSED (sepang. phillip island 2013.) he just kind of. visibly contains himself. not a confrontational dude in the outright sense he'll clench his jaw and try to work through it.

which is part of what makes his valentino-oriented crazy so interesting. bc people were noticing that marc in 2015 was kind of. being weird. as his and valentino's relationship deteriorated. like they were both outwardly very much like we can keep it on track :) until the big fallout towards the end of the year but uhhhh. well marc has said that vale started pulling back in september of 2014 like he was noticing SOMETHING, and they clashed on track A LOT in 2015, and i think marc sensed vale cooling on him and freaked a lil. hashtag neurotic 22 year old moments. he is my favorite crazy ex girlfriend. like usually he IS good at separating that stuff out and managing his emotions in the racing sense but in assen that year when vale overtook him off track after they made contact he raised a BIG stink with race direction and actually had some uh. not especially chill quotes about it. (it should be noted marc was also flopping for the first time in his motogp career. like in his brain he stopped winning AND vale stopped talking to him he was goin through it) adn all the reporters noticed too they were like. why werent you sucking and fucking in parc ferme. like vale's left turn wrt to spaniard sabotage comes outta nowhere but people WERE noticing that things were changing. i bet marc noticed too. BUT they are not the type of people to talk about these things so they keep it to vague flirting in presscons and escalating on-track tension slash proxy wars waged in race-direction contexts... liek truly you are 22 you are not going to keep your championship title and your hot sports idol bestie is no longer flirting with you on twitter and you COULD just talk to him about that but you'd rather DIE so youre going to ask honda to back you up to race direction about your last race where you DEFINITELY lost bc winning is the ONLY thing thatll make you feel better. even though thatll help convince your hot sports idol that you are engaging in a benedict arnold level betrayal scheme against him. an insane time to be marc marquez. 2015 really kind of is a study on how both of them handle losing: NOT WELL.

and then the thing about sepang is that then the lid is blown clean off and marc spends the ENTIRE race being annoying on purposeeeee. hes so fucking pissed and hurt at valentino that he decides to get under his skin for REALSIES instead of focusing on his race. like idk he probably would have fought hard for the win without the drama that how he works but uh. i think he was being annoying specifically to bite at vale's edges. and part of that is bc marc is naturally and effortlessly annoying. but i think part of it was SPITE. like his team advised him not to speak on anything from that presscon and he didnt, but he can still fuck him over on track. get under his skin. like he cant tell vale to his FACE that he's angry and confused and hurt. but he CAN let him know on that fucking racing line. where he cant be ignored. idk like i cant see marc letting anyone else get under his skin like that.

AND another big ass exception to the marc marquez anger management philosophy is from misano 2019 where vale messes with his qualifying lap. a lovely anon sent me some videos of marc talking to the press and jesus christ i dont think ive ever seen him angrier oh my god. AND the anon also linked the race from that weekend where he won and he celebrated harder than ive seen him celebrate some TITLE wins like he went. notably nuts. the commentators were all like uhhhh. he mustve REALLY wanted to get one over on vale adjfhlkdh... idk if any of this answered your question but his relationship to his emotions fascinates me hes so weirddddd. and its interesting to me that he can shrug off jorge ruining his last race at honda and be friendly but also be like. kind of aloofly pissed at bezz. because of valentino! he can repress the rest of it, but valentino shines through the cracks.

[topzsun]

WHAT A LONG WINTER, WHAT A BAD JOKE

── ♡ RENO ICHIKAWA

you couldn't be the hero reno wanted you to be.

Every time you remember Reno Ichikawa, it’s with flakes of snow clinging to his lashes and bundles of clothing that looked too big on his figure. You had met him in the winter, and it’s that version of him immortalised in your mind. Sometimes, you wonder if he thinks of you this fondly, before realising the answer would be less than favourable.

It starts with his grandmother’s hand on your back, urging you closer in the direction of her grandson. The youngest Ichikawa, unable to meet your eyes, keeps his gaze strictly on the carpeted floor even when his grandmother calls his name gently. You felt pity for the old lady, who had all but pleaded that you’d come to play with her grandson after having just moved into the house next door. While you were reluctant, preferring to choose your own company, your bleeding heart of a mother did not give you any choice on the matter, especially not with a glassy-eyed elder in front of her. You understand her desperation now, Reno was incredibly seclusive.

Seemingly having given up for now, Reno’s grandmother lets you know that she has fresh fruit for you in the kitchen, before exiting for her household chores. Now left alone with no supervision, the silence has become even more unbearable. You realise if you weren’t going to push him, you’d have to come home to your disappointed mother, and so you steel yourself for the uphill battle that is befriending this odd boy.

“Do you wanna play outside? I saw a cool hill earlier, have you seen it before?” When Reno nods his head slowly, you puff out your chest pridefully. “Well, everyone says I’m the best at making up games. The hill is gonna be a lot more fun now that I’m here!”

While he doesn’t protest, you can tell from his furrowed brows and permanent frown that he doesn’t believe you. This doesn’t bring down your confidence, instead sparking your competitive streak as you dash to the front door to tug on your fur-trimmed boots.

“You’ll see, then! I’m gonna race you there.”

Finally, some form of life comes back to the young boy, as he fumbles behind you to put on his shoes lest he falls behind on your head start. Despite your initial advantage, he manages to beat you to the beginning of the snow-painted hill, and you usually this would be your cue to throw a tantrum. However, when you see him finally smile gleefully at his first win, you decide to keep your mouth shut. You were too young to understand the flutter in your stomach.

Maybe it’s life’s cruel joke, to have you grow up under the adoration and dependency of Reno Ichikawa, only to snatch it away at the last second. You’re seated on your bed, white-knuckling your quilt till you are sure you could almost rip it apart. Reno, who stands in front of you, refuses to lower his resolute stare but you can tell he’s growing hesitant, his violet eyes flickering from your shaken expression to your trembling hands. Who could blame you? His news to you could shake the heart of anybody.

He wants to join the Anti-Kaiju Defence Force. He’ll die.

He wants you to join him.

“I can’t,” You manage to croak out, and his face falls.

“It’s okay,” He says softly, a tone he reserves just for you. He looks like he wants to reach over and grasp your hand in his, but restrains himself. “I’ll go.”

“No,” You insist, voice rising and you have little care for your parents who are still sleeping comfortably across the hall, unaware of the living nightmare happening to you. “I can’t do this. Where is this coming from? Why do you want to put yourself in danger for people you don’t even know?”

Why do you want to leave?

He isn’t able to answer you right away, but the stare he gives you is long and heavy. Reno’s affection has always been loud to you, but right now his disappointment is louder. You’re thankful that darkness mostly shrouds your bedroom, you don’t think you can handle visibly seeing Reno’s opinion of you chip away.

“I want to be a hero,” He finally answers, and you know he does. He always wished and prayed on it every Tanabata. Whenever you guys had played games, he had always picked to be the hero. Yet, it was only you who seemed to hope that an unrealistic ambition like that would eventually fizzle away.

“Can’t you do that some other way?” You are unable to bite back your frustration, and he freezes under your harsh tone. However, where you were stubborn, he was worse. He refuses to shrink under your firm gaze, his eyebrows puckering and a deep-set scowl on his lips.

“Why can’t you be supportive?” He snaps back, and you launch to your feet, the whiplash from the sudden movement making your head spin.

“Fine then, I’ll be supportive! Go die at the battlefield, where everybody will forget about who you are, and what you’ve done!” Your heart pounds rapidly against your ribcage, blood swimming in your head. “Go die, and leave granny and I to bury your remains, if the Kaiju feel nice enough to leave any bits of you behind!”

You know you’ve gone too far when you see his face contort, stung by your callous words, and you know it is too late to take them back. You didn’t even think about his family and the cruel losses he suffered under a Kaiju. An apology had already begun to leave your lips, but Reno didn’t wait long enough to hear it. His back is already turned, halfway out of the window he had first used to climb in, and you can only watch desolately as he disappears into the shadow of the night without a second glance back at you. You all but throw yourself at your pillow, sobbing silently into the sheets.

That night, long-forgotten memories of a young Reno haunt your mind.

(“I wish I had a hero,” He mumbles into the sleeves of his jacket, legs tucked to his chest as he twirls a stray leaf. You stop your ruthless onslaught on the piles of dead autumn leaves just to turn in his direction, head tilted as a sign for him to continue.

“It’d be nice,” He continues. “To have somebody always in your corner… knowing no matter what they’ll save you.”

You are not ignorant to the date, having only earlier visited his family grave with him and granny. The concept of death is much too grandiose and far away to your naive mind, but when you see the tears dotting the corner of Reno’s eyes you begin to have an understanding. He is wishing for something that could have spared him the heartache.

You stroll over to the bench he rests on, heaving your small body so you can sit beside him. Absentmindedly, you reach over to brush aside some stray leaves that had fallen in his hair. You miss the red that decorates the corner of his ears at the action.

“Then, I’ll be your hero!” You declare boldly, slapping a palm over your heart as you grin widely at his bewildered expression. “No matter what, I’ll save you!”

You feel relieved when a familiar smile quirks on the corner of his lips, and he’s back to being your beloved, kind-hearted Reno.)

Oh. You broke your promise.

[frozenjokes]

what is everyone’s love language/how they best express their affection…..iirc you’ve talked abt this in a fic or a post (scar is touch, cub is qualitt time, i forget grian) but i want to hear it Again!!! this has nothing to do w any fic planning btw :3 i am a normal guy w normal thoughts and behaviors all the time

(side note — if we genderbent/hit all of them with the lesbian ray, would you be chill w that? don’t wanna write stuff abt them and then you just feel weird abt it 🫶)

life would be so much better if they were all girls because then grian could call other women cunts and I wouldn’t have to erase it (enthusiastic yes)

Scar is huge on touch, yes he is the ultimate guy Big Toucher. A lonely Scar will be down on his luck in a fight, say ‘hey what if we chose love instead’ and get his nose broken. If you’re a fan approaching him you are going to Get Hugged. If you’re anyone he remotely knows you’re going to Get Crushed. I imagine the strongest of his hugs are reserved for cubfan135 and skizzleman. I don’t even know if Skizz has been mentioned by name in these fics but he’s there. To me. He does love to bother Grian but he is a little more wary because of the one time when Grian first met Micah (alter ego) Grian told him he has bad hands and Scar has been thinking about the /derogatory/ ever since. Scar does actually have differently textured skin but it’s mostly subtle and probably only something someone who knows him well and/or someone in the middle of a deep extremely autistic mental health crisis would notice. Oops! Grian has no idea btw. He doesn’t even remember saying that. It’s safe to say actually he doesn’t remember most of that night. Quality time is also big for him. He just likes being around people. He probably also enjoys giving gifts, but more in the way of just Paying for stuff. Buying lunch. Stuff like that. It’s mostly a thoughtless gesture because he is aware of One Thing and that is that he has A Lot More Money Than Most People, but something he enjoys. Also making stuff. He likes to make things and he does NOT make them for himself he makes stuff to be Validated. On that grind for ATTENTION. this applies to coworkers as much as it applies to friends and lovers.

Cub is absolutely quality time, you pinned that well. He loves a good *sit in the presence of my friends in complete silence.* parallel play? you’ll kill him with that. I don’t think he or Grian are fantastic at cooking or anything, but Cub enjoys being talked at while he’s making dinner while Grian’s sitting at the kitchen table or vice versa. Just thought about them all doing a puzzle together and how much of a disaster that would be. Cub isn’t nearly as bad of a control freak as Grian is but he would start foaming at the mouth when witnessing Scar attempting to shove two pieces that obviously didn’t go together into one. I think Cub and Grian would get competitive about puzzles. NOT a relaxing activity when they’re doing one together. You know how with cats they each have the Same Food in different bowls but they just HAVE TO KNOW what the other is eating because it MUST BE BETTER. them with different parts of a puzzle. but both of them have resource aggression. They’re having fun. Get them two different puzzles and they’ll play nice. The puzzles can’t be the same piece count thought because then they’ll start racing to finish them first. Both of them know this very well.

Cub isn’t a psych major but I feel like he also expresses that Weirdo Autistic Psych Major Affection with the piecing people out and puzzling out all the different aspects of their personality into boxes and lists. He is studying you. This fuck isn’t just ’spacing out in your direction’ he is looking directly at you and wondering what your fucking problem is. The only exception to this is Grian, only because he’s known Grian for so long that doing this is literally just exhausting. He’s given up. ‘hi, my boyfriend saw you from across the bar and was wondering what the fuck is wrong with you’

Grian I think also has a quality time thing going on but it falls under more of a line of Shenanigans. Guy that LOVES to make a scene. The CuteGuy and HotGuy dynamic appeals to him so much because it’s just drama and fun. Guy that loves to be sneaky with his friends. do. do crime. Start a funny cult with his good friend mumbo jumbo and party alllll night but EVIL. He should really make ocs and start rping with mumbo. Scar would be shit at rp despite spending all of his life playing different character versions of himself he would be so bad. Cub. I don’t know. It doesn’t Quite seem like something he’d be super interested in, but he would listen to Grian talk about his ocs. Shenanigans can also mean arts and crafts. He loves a good arts and crafts. It’s one of the only ways to stop him from being so competitive. Indulge him in his interests and he will kiss you on the mouth. Type of 30 yr old at the sleep over pajama party to suggest prank calling random numbers. Or truth or dare. This cunt would be ALL OVER truth or dare oh my god. He makes me sick. Fun fact, if you want a fun rp idea, putting your whole cast together and making them play truth or dare is Really great. It gets old, but it’s a fantastic once in a while thing.

it’s been an hour help

[liorae]

Snow in The Summer ୨୧ 𝓨ang 𝓙ungwon

two. snarky welcome | wc: 987 warnings: none written in third-person, not proofread.

Y/N stared out the airplane window as the vast expanse of the Pacific Ocean stretched below her. The hum of the engines was oddly soothing, a steady backdrop to the whirlwind of thoughts and emotions swirling in her mind. She was nervous but determined; this trip to Korea felt like a crucial step toward finding the closure and peace she desperately needed.

As the plane descended towards Incheon International Airport, Y/N’s heart raced with a mix of excitement and anxiety. She had never been to South Korea before, and the idea of meeting family she had never known was both thrilling and terrifying. She clutched the locket of her mother she always carried, drawing strength from the image of the woman who had been a mystery to her for so long.

Once she disembarked and went through customs, Y/N found herself in the bustling arrivals hall. She scanned the crowd for a familiar face, hoping her uncle and aunt would be easy to spot. Instead, her eyes landed on a young man holding a sign with her name on it. He looked bored and a bit irritated, his expression matching the wry twist of his mouth.

“Y/N L/N?” the boy asked, his tone flat.

“Yes, that’s me,” Y/N replied, eyeing him warily. “And you are?”

“I work for your uncle. Let’s get moving. I don’t have all day.”

Y/N frowned, her suspicion growing. “How do I know you’re not some kidnapper? This all feels pretty sketchy.”

The boy sighed, his patience waning. “Look, I don’t have time for this. If you don’t want to come, fine by me.” He turned to leave, but not before nonchalantly grabbing one of her bags and walking away.

“Hey! Give that back!” Y/N shouted, hurrying after him. The boy’s indifference only fueled her frustration. She caught up to him, huffing, “You can’t just take my stuff!”

“Seems like I just did,” He said with a smirk. “Now, are you coming or not?”

Y/N glared at him but had no choice. “Fine. But don’t try anything or I’ll scream.” she muttered, following him out of the airport.

As they walked through the parking lot, Y/N peppered him with questions, each one met with a curt reply. “Where are we going? How long have you worked for my uncle? Do you always kidnap people’s bags?”

The boy rolled his eyes. “We’re going to your uncle’s house. A while. Only when they’re being difficult.”

Y/N was about to retort when she noticed the car they were approaching. It was a 1967 cherry red Chevy Impala, gleaming in the sunlight. She stopped in her tracks, gaping.

The boy questioned the sudden silence. He looked over his shoulder to see Y/N eyeing his car. He couldn’t hide a small smirk. “Finally, you’re quiet. Thought that would never happen.”

Y/N rolled her eyes with a small huff. She began to open the car door but quickly let her hand drop. “I don’t even know your name. What if you plan on killing me and throwing me into the ocean?” she said, lifting a brow.

He finished loading the bags and looked at her, clearly annoyed. “Jungwon. Happy now?” He walked over to the passenger side and opened the door, gesturing for her to get in.

“Wow. He has manners,” Y/N joked before getting in. Jungwon rolled his eyes and shut the car door, knowing this would be a long ride.

As they drove, Y/N found herself alternating between silence and questions, unable to fully trust her surly chauffeur. Despite his gruff exterior, there was something oddly reassuring about Jungwon’s no-nonsense demeanor.

They eventually arrived at her uncle’s house, a cozy, traditional Korean home tucked away in a quiet neighborhood. Y/N’s initial anxiety began to fade as they pulled up, the sight of the warm, welcoming home giving her a sense of comfort.

Jungwon helped her with her bags, his silence a stark contrast to Y/N’s nervous chatter. As they approached the front door, it swung open, and her Aunt Min-ji appeared, her face lighting up with joy.

“Y/N! Welcome!” Min-ji exclaimed, enveloping her in a warm hug. “We’re so happy to have you here.”

Y/N felt a wave of relief wash over her. She glanced back at Jungwon, who, to her surprise, greeted her aunt with a polite bow. “Mrs. Kim,” he said respectfully, his earlier irritation nowhere to be seen.

“Thank you for picking her up, Jungwon. We appreciate it,” Min-ji replied warmly.

“My pleasure,” and without another word, picked up his own bag and walked off towards a room down the hallway. Y/N watched him go, baffled by the sudden change in demeanor. “He’s staying here?” she whispered to her aunt.

Min-ji nodded. “Yes, he has nowhere else to stay, no family in South Korea. He’s been working with your uncle for a while now.” She paused, sensing Y/N’s curiosity. “He’s had a tough life, but I think it’s best for him to share his story when he’s ready.”

Y/N took one last look at Jungwon’s closed door, her mind swirling with questions, before turning back to her aunt. “Here,” Min-ji said, taking some of Y/N’s bags. “I’ll show you to your room.”

As they walked upstairs, Y/N couldn’t help but glance back at Jungwon’s room, her curiosity piqued by the enigmatic boy. She knew there was more to him than his brusque exterior, and part of her was determined to uncover the layers he kept so tightly wrapped.

Her room was a small but beautifully decorated space with soft bedding and a window that looked out onto a serene garden. Y/N unpacked her suitcase slowly, each item a reminder of the life she had left behind. She glanced at the photo of her mother again, feeling a surge of determination. She was here to uncover the past, to piece together the fragments of her mother’s life and find the answers she had longed for.

prev | masterlist | next

taglist: open!

𝓼ynopsis : you embark on a quest to uncover the untold story of your deceased mother. Staying with your family in a vibrant city, you meet Yang Jungwon, a reluctant boy who agrees to guide you. Alongside your journey of discovery, you find yourself drawn to Jungwon, whose tough exterior masks a sensitive soul.

[crownofstardustandbone]

Of Open Houses and Forever Homes

Sequel to "Of Second Chances and Small Joys", "Of Wedding Dances and Gravity", “Of Wildfires and Dandelions”, and “Of Hopeless Hearts and Falling Stars”. Full series can be found on AO3, "Stop the World on This Moment"

Buck sighs as he looks at yet another house listing on Zillow that’s out of his price range—or rather, their price range—because he and Tommy had agreed just a few weeks ago that they were tired of splitting their time between their places and wanted to buy a house instead of continuing to rent. Since then they’ve been to at least a dozen open houses and scoured every listing within a 15 mile radius of both their jobs, trying to find someplace that feels like home, but so far they’ve had no luck.

Leaning back against Tommy’s chest, Buck sighs and drops his phone into his lap. “We’re never going to find a place,” he says, aware that he’s pouting, but he just can’t let it go that nothing has been right—and the few houses that they had actually liked had been out of their price range, in need of expensive renovations, or just too far away to make their commute to work feasible.

Tommy laughs softly and kisses his temple absentmindedly, gaze still focused on the baseball game on the tv. “It’s going to be okay sweetheart, we’ll find something eventually,” he promises, and Buck makes a disgruntled noise but doesn’t say anything else and instead turns his attention to the game, enjoying the weight of Tommy’s arms around him as he forces himself to relax and not focus on his continued disappointment with the housing situation.

They’ll find something eventually, just like Tommy said.

 Buck is helping Bobby, Chim and Eddie douse the remains of a house and complaining once again about the lack of progress they’ve made on finding a house when the former occupant, still wrapped in a blanket and smeared in soot, sidles up next to him, her expression nervous as she reaches out to touch his elbow.

“You’re looking for a house?” she asks and Buck nods uncertainly, nonplussed by her approach.

Smiling, she adjusts the blanket around her and reaches a hand out for him to shake, “Melody Greene, realtor,” she says and Buck’s eyes go wide as he fumbles the hose so he can shake her hand. “Have you been working with anyone to help you find a place?” she asks and Buck stutters for a moment before Hen rolls her eyes and takes his hose, pushing him out of the way so he can freely talk to Melody.

Taking his helmet off and propping it against his hip, Buck runs a hand over his sweaty head and shrugs, “Not really? We’ve mostly been looking on Zillow and realtor websites and going to open houses.”

Melody nods, “Most people do that,” she confirms, “what are you and your boyfriend looking for in a home?” she asks curiously.

“We’d like a place with at least three bedrooms so we have plenty of space for family or friends to crash, a nice kitchen with updated appliances, and someplace between our jobs so neither of us has to drive for a crazy long time. Which doesn’t sound like a lot, but nothing has been right!” Buck exclaims unhappily and Melody smiles sympathetically.

“Have you considered looking at foreclosures?” she asks and Buck just stares dumbly because no, they hadn’t thought of that, and Melody laughs lightly, “well I’d give you my card, but they’re all gone, so if you’d like I can give you my number and I’d be happy to help you and your boyfriend find your home.”

Buck grins at her, delighted, and before they leave the scene gets her number in his phone with a promise to message her soon. When he gets back to his apartment Tommy is already there, showering upstairs and singing along to something Buck can’t make out. Kicking off his sneakers, he races up the stairs calling out as he goes—“Babe! You’ll never believe what happened to me today!”

Pushing open the bathroom door, he takes a moment to ogle his wet, naked boyfriend who ogles him right back with a goofy grin, and then leaps into his story. “I’m going to text her first thing tomorrow and see what she says,” he finishes, holding out a towel as Tommy steps out of the shower, water running down his body in enticing rivulets that Buck can’t help but track, his attention rapidly splitting from the topic at hand.

Tommy smirks and towels off his hair and then his body, “Sounds good sweetheart,” he agrees, hanging the towel on the rack before he steps close and starts stripping Buck out of his clothes, grinning as he kisses Buck and he can’t help but grin back, hands sliding around his still damp waist. Buck goes along eagerly as Tommy pushes him towards the bed, humming in pleasure as Tommy kisses down his throat and then follows him down onto the mattress to continue his path down Buck’s chest and stomach.

Sucking in a sharp breath when Tommy starts mouthing at his still mostly soft cock, Buck exhales shakily and wraps a hand around the nape of Tommy’s neck, grip gentle as he sinks into pleasure and breathes out Tommy’s name like a prayer.

“Missed you,” Tommy murmurs against his thickening shaft and Buck snorts a laugh, “Me or my cock?” he asks, grinning when Tommy rolls his eyes at him and resumes his attentions.

“Both of you,” Tommy answers a moment later as he licks across the head of Buck’s cock and Buck lets out a breathless laugh that slides into a moan when Tommy takes him deep into his throat and swallows around him. Stars burning in his vision, Buck shifts his hand and tangles his fingers in Tommy’s thick curls, gasping softly when Tommy really starts to work him over, one of his thumbs seeking out the sensitive spot behind Buck’s balls.

Tommy pulls off with a wet sound and Buck groans when he sees how slick and red his mouth is as it slides over his shaft, Tommy’s eyes on his. “I can’t wait to do this with you in our house,” Tommy murmurs, “no neighbors on the other side of the wall to complain about us being loud, no shitty landlord who won’t fix shit unless we threaten to sue.”

Buck nods in agreement, and this really shouldn’t be doing things for him, but god, yea, he can’t wait to own a house with Tommy—to have a place that’s all theirs where they can be as loud as they want during sex, where they can paint the walls any color they want or hang as many paintings as they like.

Tommy swallows his cock down again and Buck shouts weakly, arching into it and gasping as Tommy focuses all of his formidable knowledge on making Buck come. It doesn’t take too much longer before he’s spilling down Tommy’s throat and whimpering as Tommy keeps sucking him till he’s shaking, breathless and overwhelmed. Tommy pulls off and kneels over Buck, jerking off fast and hard, panting as he stares down at Buck and Buck stares back, hands roaming up his thick thighs and the firm cut of his stomach, tracing all that strength that’s all his to touch and admire whenever he wants.

“Come on me,” he murmurs, sliding a hand up to cover where Tommy’s heart is beating rapidly, “c’mon babe, give it to me,” he says intently and Tommy groans, hips jerking forward as he comes, hot streaks of it falling across Buck’s stomach and soft cock. Collapsing forward onto his clean hand, Tommy kisses him with sloppy coordination and Buck meets him eagerly, tangling a hand in his hair and tugging, just to hear Tommy groan softly.

After a few more kisses he pushes Tommy off him and onto his back and then climbs off the bed to grab the wet washcloth from the shower, cleaning first himself and then Tommy off before he puts on a pair of briefs and goes downstairs to grab a pint of ice cream and two spoons. When he gets back, Tommy is tucked under the covers and watching some home repair TikTok, so Buck slides under the covers next to him and offers him the extra spoon, grinning fondly when Tommy shakes his head.

Leaning into Tommy’s side, he smiles, pleased, when Tommy throws an arm around his shoulders and pulls him even closer. Scooping out a spoonful of salted caramel brownie ice cream, he offers the first bite to Tommy and enjoys the way his boyfriend hums in pleasure as his lips close around the spoon, his gaze still on his phone. Pressing a wet, sticky kiss to Buck’s jaw, he murmurs, “Thanks sweetheart,” and Buck smiles down into the ice cream, heart overflowing with joy.

Taking another spoonful for himself, Buck snuggles closer to Tommy. “What are we watching?”

“This awesome trans lady who knows her shit about house repair and renovations. Figured we might need to know some stuff for when we buy a place.”

Buck grins and drops a kiss on Tommy’s cheek, earning him a quick grin and a soft kiss before they both turn their attention back to the phone.

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

That weekend they meet with Melody to review the foreclosures in the area that aren’t on the market yet, and that’s when they finally find it—their home. It has everything they’re looking for, and more—Buck loves the Mediterranean blue shutters and Tommy is enamored with the yard that’s already got a garden patch in one corner, and when they walk through the house, neither of them can keep the look off their face that this is it, their excitement palpable as they huddle together in the kitchen while Melody waits out front.

“We’re doing this?” Buck asks softly, nervous and hopeful and terrified all at once.

Tommy looks around the kitchen, a soft smile on his face before he looks back at Buck, “Yea Ev, this is it,” he says quietly, “this is our home.”

Buck nods in agreement and grins, unable to restrain his excitement. “Let’s do it.”

They make an offer on the house and are moving in less than three weeks later, the 118 and Tommy’s crew there to help with painting, ripping up carpeting and laying down hardwood, Marisol there to oversee everything and make sure they don’t all ruin Tommy and Buck’s house.

When everyone finally leaves and it’s just them, they lay the mattress on the bare floor and make love as loud as they want, well into the night until they’re both exhausted and content. Buck falls asleep with his head cradled on Tommy’s chest and wakes up the next morning to the smell of fresh pancakes and Christopher’s laughter in the kitchen.

Grinning, he nudges Tommy awake so they can rush through a quick shower and dress before heading out to find the 118 and kids filling up their house, working to unpack boxes, wash dishes and hang paintings. Slowly, the house comes together and they eat what seems like a car load of pizza, laughing and talking and filling the house with love and noise and Buck shoots Tommy a soft look over Athena’s head as she tells a story that has everyone laughing, heart so full he can barely stand it.

His parents send them a bottle of whiskey as a house warming gift that Tommy rolls his eyes over, because even if things between them and Buck are better than before, they still don’t really know him. Still, Tommy enjoys some in one of the cut crystal tumblers they also sent and Buck sips at his beer, leaning against Tommy’s side where they’re curled together on the swing on the back patio. It’s dark and quiet now, their neighborhood mostly families with kids and pets, and Buck imagines a lifetime of this—of sitting in the dark on the patio, rocking together on the swing and maybe chasing some kids of their own around the yard.

They’ve talked about it a little before, the idea of marriage and kids, and Buck knows that Tommy hadn’t thought of it a lot before, but he’d admitted somewhat shyly that he’d like those things if he could have them with Buck. They’d gotten a noise complaint the next morning from how loud Tommy had gotten when Buck had fucked him, intent on showing him just how much he loved him, how he longed for that future too.

Sighing happily, he leans into Tommy’s side and closes his eyes, enjoying the slow, steady rhythm of the swing and the feeling of Tommy’s shoulder rising and falling under his cheek as he breathes.

When he opens his eyes a little while later after Tommy nudges him awake, his gaze falls on a cluster of dandelions and a smile breaks across his face. Swooping down, he plucks one and then holds it out to Tommy, heart thumping at the way Tommy’s eyes go soft and warm as he takes the flower and carries it inside with them, putting it in his washed out tumbler with a little fresh water.

It goes on their bedside table and is the last thing that Buck sees before he closes his eyes, a smile on his face and overwhelming joy in his heart.

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

Buck is at work when he gets a text from Tommy, and when he opens the message he nearly fumbles his phone out of his hands, blushing at the way it makes Hen cackle—“Oh that’s gotta be something spicy from your boo,” she says teasingly and Buck flushes deeper but shakes his head and holds it out to her to show her.

“A cat?” she exclaims, confusion twisting her face.

“Yea, guess Tommy found her in our garage when he went out this morning to work out,” Buck says, smiling down at the picture of a tiny black ball of fur curled up on his boyfriend’s bare chest, a pleading look on Tommy’s face and a written plea—can we please keep her?

He can’t say no to that face and Tommy knows it, so, shaking his head and smiling wryly, he writes back and asks what her name is.

Cleo Tommy tells him and then follows it up with, we can be her forever home and Buck’s heart squeezes in his chest at that—he and Tommy have found their forever home, so why shouldn’t they give Cleo one too?

Smiling softly, he replies back you’re a big softie and I love you.

Love you too sweetheart

Rubbing his thumb over the words for a moment, Buck stares at them until the bell rings and he has to hurry to get into his gear and then to the truck.

When he gets home he finds Tommy in bed already, asleep in preparation for an early shift, Cleo asleep on the pillow beside his head.

Heart in his throat, he takes a quick photo of them and then undresses in a hurry and slides beneath the covers, cautious when he pets Cleo’s sleeping form. She sighs softly and his heart aches at the sweet sound, a smile on his lips as he slips an arm around Tommy’s waist and kisses the nape of his neck gently, so as not to wake him.

He likes the addition of Cleo to their lives, to their home.

Their forever home, all of them, together.

[starburst2000]

I cannot reblog the post, so I'll copy-paste it here

I asked @discowormfan: "Everyone in the StEx fandom likes to shit on Pearl, while forgetting that the World Championship Railroad Race practically brought out the worst in mostly everyone. GB and eElectra were fixated on winning by any means possible, CB derailed Rusty in front of everyone, even Rusty himself finally decided to race after seeing Poppa almost killing himself by stressing himself out despite his old age.

Let's not even count the fact that the Rockies decided to remind Rusty to "stay in his place" after getting derailed by CB and beaten up by the other Diesels, instead of getting conforted in any way. After "Right Palce, Right Time", it almost seemed like Rusty was on the verge of giving up on even his whole life, and he would have done so, hadn't the Starlight Express itself interviened.

As for Pearl, she's firstly captured by Electra's magnetism, and then got with GB because she thought that he wanted her to have "just some fun", and only the aftermath of the Uphill Final helped her to open her eyes about the whole situation. She even blames herself during "Only You", thinking that Rusty lost because of her. This is some big ass MATURITY, coming from her.

But NO. Let's all get angry at this one specific character, just because she has trouble understanding others' feelings.

Any opinions?"

She answered:"there are a multitude of reasons why i think that pearl is a flawed but good person at heart, basically for all the reasons you stated. regardless on whether they act like this extreme in day to day life, gb, slick, cb and electra all do arguably worse things than pearl. they lie, cheat, betray, mistreat and bully all throughout the show, and pearl’s worst sin is having really low awareness of the feelings of the people around her. even if electra didn’t entice her, i can see why she didn’t want to couple up with rusty for a few good reasons.

1. he simply just isn’t what she’s looking for in a partner. that’s fine! she doesn’t owe a relationship to him just because he’s nice to her. also good on her for knowing what she wants in a partner!

2. (assuming they’ve known each other for a long time and are friends) pearl likes rusty platonically and wishes to remain just friends, because she doesn’t want their dynamic to change. also fine!!! i’ve had countless friendships where, while we were very close, they didn’t go romantic because we simply just didn’t want to alter our relationship and were fine being just friends.

3. (assuming the events of the show are when they first met) pearl literally met rusty like 5 minutes ago and doesn’t feel comfortable getting with someone who she just met, who is also REALLY insistent that he race with her. i’d be pretty apprehensive to get with that guy too.

she wasn’t even that mean to rusty when she rejected him, she didn’t go “EW NO GET AWAY FROM ME FREAK” and like spit on his face, she gently said “i’m sorry rusty, i know you have good intentions but you just aren’t what i’m looking for” yes it hurts, and sucks for rusty, but pearl is being very clear and kind to rusty while she friendzoning him. she was being VERY nice i think.

as you said, pearl wasn’t even aware that dinah and greaseball had broken up at that point, she even says “it’s only fun” implying that she only saw getting with gb as a temporary thing before moving onto another engine. could she have been a bit NICER to dinah rather than saying “STOP FUCKIN CRYIN BITCH WAH WAH WAH I DONT WANNA FUCKIN HEAR IT” yeah. could she have maybe ASKED why dinah was so upset at this? yes? was it still really messed up she hooked up with dinah’s boyfriend/girlfriend RIGHT IN FRONT OF HER AFTER THEY BROKE UP? yes very much so. pretty messed up of pearl, not cool. but is it THAT WORTH LOATHING her for? compared to how literally everyone else acts in this show, i’d say it isn’t.

hell, if you look at it from the perspective of her being a newly built coach, it gives a lot more understandability to why she acts the way she does. she was literally born yesterday and is still figuring out how the world works, and people are already pushing her around and trying to kiss her. i wouldn’t have the best sense of what’s right and wrong and identifying people’s emotions and seeing things from their perspective either if i was immediately thrust into an unfamiliar world just YESTERDAY and people are acting all crazy banana cuckoo around me either.

even if you don’t see pearl is a newly built coach and she’s been around longer than just like a day, i still wouldn’t hate her for being flawed??? because flaws are what make characters interesting!!! even people who’ve been around for a long time are flawed, it’s not just a young person thing. and it’s satisfying seeing someone recognize their own flaws and try to atone and grow from them, which pearl does!

she realizes that her unawareness of other people’s feelings resulted in her friend getting beat up, and she even says that “this wasn’t how i wanted it” her intent was to find love, but her selfishness only resulted in people getting hurt, and she recognizes that. she laments why she let greaseball blackmail her into staying silent about rusty’s crash (“whyyyy did iiiii, haaaaave to liiieeee?”) she feels remorse for seemingly costing rusty’s victory in the race, and ultimately becomes better because of it.

hell, even rusty is flawed! he’s stubborn, insecure, dependent, easy to give in, and i’d argue at the beginning of the show, he and pearl have the same flaw of being selfish in that they fail to consider other people’s feelings in spite of what THEY want (rusty doesn’t understand why pearl wouldn’t want to race with him, and is rather pushy when offering to race with her, and pearl wants to find her “dream train” and doesn’t understand how rejecting rusty, and getting with dinah’s significant other might make them upset), it’s just that rusty completes his half of the arc before pearl completes her’s.

might i reiterate, pearl’s biggest sins were having extremely low self awareness, and getting with dinah’s bf/gf. compared to greaseball’s cheating, mistreatment, bullying, beating up of racers, and cb’s everything, and electra’s cheating, pearl’s crimes are literally NOTHING when you put her against them.

now if you want to criticize how pearl is written that’s another thing, which i actually can agree with since i don’t really think of this show when it comes to “really great character writing, especially for the girlies,” i think there is a lot to criticize on that front, but saying pearl is this mean, vindictive bitch for the crimes of being really not self aware is complete poppycock.

anyways to answer your question yeah i agree pearl is pretty cool"

[honkytonk-hangman]

Afterburn – V.max

Jake 'Hangman' Seresin x OC/Reader

Masterlist

Summary: “Let me come in?” he’s asking, adjusting his hands on your cheeks. He’s breathing hard, watching you carefully for a moment before he dips his lips back down to yours, chastely this time, almost like he couldn’t help himself. “Teddy?” he sounds nearly desperate, his voice making your senses snap back to the present.

Warnings: mentions of aviation crash, lots of kissing, not really smut, but mentions of it winky face. lots of flirty flirty flirty jake seresin

Notes: this has been lightly edited but if i look at it too much i wont post it!!!!! i hope you enjoy!!!!

Masterlist

You find yourself unable to resist smiling as Lieutenant Jake Seresin saunters cavalierly toward you, eyes locked on to yours unwaveringly ever since he’d spotted you from across the room.

You’re almost glad you haven't had a chance to speak to him yet tonight. You’d never seen him in his dress whites before, but you should have guessed he’d look even more dangerously handsome than he usually did.

By the time he’s stood in front of you, you’ve more than had the opportunity to get your rapidly beating heart and flip-flopping stomach under control, and yet the moment his broad, cocky little grin turns a shade softer, and he loses the wolfish glint in his eyes, your pulse is sent racing all over again.

He gives you a short salute, though you think it’s more out of habit than duty, what with the amount of Admirals and Generals in attendance.

“Fancy seeing you here,” Jake cocks his head slightly, his eyes flickering down to quickly take in your dress, before he’s meeting your eyes once more. You lift your brows, and look around you, as if you had only just noticed the sea of white dress uniforms that surrounded you.

“Me? Oh, I’m just here for a friend,” you tell him innocently.

“Huh. Lucky guy.” Jake says. You wait for the joke, but it never comes, he just stares down at you. Quickly, you gesture to his shiny new medal.

“Congratulations,” you say warmly. You’d already caught up with the others on Dagger Squad who'd been honoured tonight, but you and Jake had unfortunately kept missing each other between all the various people who’d wanted to talk to him tonight, so you hadn’t had the chance yet to say as much.

For a split second his eyebrows seem to twitch together into a frown, and his smile starts to fade, but the look is gone again in a blink, and his expression is once more easy-going and carefree.

He looks off to the side with a shrug, smirking slightly when he looks back at you.

“I should thank Bradshaw, if it weren’t for his daddy issues, I wouldn’t have had the chance,” he tells you, half rolling his eyes. If you weren’t already aware of the apologies shared between the two, you would have told him off, but as it is, you think even Rooster might’ve cracked a smile at that.

Instead, you roll your own eyes before stepping a little closer, hands reaching up to straighten and primp the collection of pins and shinies on his chest, already perfectly straight, but you can’t help yourself. Jake straightens as you do, lifting his chin a little, but his eyes never leave you.

“We’ll be getting our new orders soon,” he says quietly. His words make you pause briefly, and you blink, quickly finishing with his newest medal, and stepping back.

“You already know where you’ll be sent?” you ask, keeping your voice even. It was always inevitable that Dagger Squad would be sent their separate ways soon, you knew from the start, and yet you’re still surprised by the wave of grief that washes over you at the thought.

At least Mav was staying.

“Carrier, eighteen months,” Jake tells you with a grimace, watching you carefully. You smile as best you can, and let out a puff of air.

“Well, at least I’ll get my office back,” you say, trying your hardest not to think about how long eighteen months really was. Jake looks as though he wants to say more, but you get there before him.

“I’m really proud of you, you know that?” you ask him, wanting to amend that you meant you were proud of all of them, but you stop yourself. You were proud of him.

Jake’s expression falls and he stares at you blankly and blinking rapidly several times as if still trying to process what you’d said, his lips parting as if in surprise. You watch his reaction closely, having never seen him like this before. Sure, on occasion you’d be able to make him blush and stutter, but this wasn’t that, not by a long shot.

Jake swallows thickly, dropping his gaze to your shoes, and when he looks up at you again, he’s every bit the sweet Jake you’d come to know, not a single ounce of Hangman remaining, for now.

“Thank you,” he says at last, voice sounding a little dry, but he quickly clears his throat. You aren’t sure what you’d just witnessed, but you feel elated that you made it happen.

You check the time on your watch, and are able to excuse yourself just as Admiral Simpson approaches. Jake looks like he hasn’t finished talking to you yet, but you tell him you’ll see him in the morning, and make your exit while you still can, stifling a yawn or two on the way to your car.

An hour and some change later, you’ve happily showered and pulled on your sweats, groaning at the soreness of your feet from the heels you’d been wearing earlier. You’re considering absconding to your hobby room, to put a couple layers of paint on your most recent model jet, but a sudden frantic knocking on your door makes you freeze.

Frowning at the time, you cautiously tip-toe toward your front door, just as the knocking comes again. A quick look through your peephole makes you frown even deeper, but you quickly undo your chain lock, and pull open your door with no small amount of surprise.

Jake stands with his fist raised to knock again, and from the way he looks, your first thought is to ask him what was wrong. He’d changed since the ceremony, a simple navy sweatshirt and jeans replacing the dress whites of earlier, but his eyes were wide and his hair a little mussed, like he’d spent the past hour running his hand through it repeatedly.

You’re still processing his wild-eyed appearance before you, mind jumping to every worst-case scenario when you realise he’s kissing you, lips melding softly against your own, hands cupping both sides of your face gently despite the force of him crashing against you making you stumble back several steps. You let out a tiny yelp, purely from the shock of it, and he pulls back quickly, his eyes still wide and frantic, as if he were just as surprised as you about the sudden turn of events, but he doesn’t go far.

“Let me come in?” he’s asking, adjusting his hands on your cheeks. He’s breathing hard, watching you carefully for a moment before he dips his lips back down to yours, chastley this time, almost like he couldn’t help himself.

“Teddy?” he sounds nearly desperate, his voice making your senses snap back to the present. 

Nodding as best you can with his hold on you, you open your mouth to answer him out loud, but he seizes your permission the moment you give it, and your words get swallowed up when he kisses you again.

You can’t help but laugh against his lips as he hurriedly walks you backwards, far enough to kick your door closed behind him, and you curl a hand up over his shoulder, into the hair at the back of his neck. It was as soft as it looked, and you smooth it over.

It wasn’t as if you hadn’t thought about this in the time you’d known him, in fact, you dedicated a lot of time to trying to not think about this exact scenario. You had lung disease, but you weren’t blind, Jake was hot, and given the nature of your friendship, the constant quipping back and forth, it was only getting harder to ignore the chemistry. You’d wondered if he’d struggled similarly, but you hadn’t been certain.

Any trace of doubt disappears when his own laughter mingles softly with your own, a soft and breathy sound that you’ve never heard from him before. Your back bumps into a wall, and your kiss slows, turns a little sweeter even as he deepens it.

You crane your head back further, and Jaketakes this as permission to move his hands from your face at last, one of his arms moving to press against your back, the other tracing the length of your own arm until he reaches the place where you’ve absently grabbed a fist full of his sweatshirt. His hand covers your own, squeezing gently, and without even thinking, you release his shirt, and let your fingers tangle with his own.

You honestly couldn’t say what you were expecting when he’d shown up, kissed you, and begged you to be let in, but you realise a part of you had assumed this was going to be a purely physical thing. His fingers weaving with yours tells you otherwise.

Jake squeezes your hand again, and you almost let out a sound of complaint when he pulls his lips from yours, but he quickly manages to console you as if can tell, pressing a kiss to the corner of your mouth. He leans his forehead against yours, and at last seems to breathe. When you open your eyes, you half expect him to be staring down at you, but his eyes are closed, and you can’t stop yourself from tilting forward to kiss him again, soft and quick, keeping your eyes open to watch the way his lips twitch into a smile even as you pull back again.

You finally take note of how hard he’s breathing, but more importantly, how hard you were breathing, and the spots that appear in your eyes as you blink quickly. 

“Don’t laugh, but we gotta slow down… I’m kinda dizzy, and I don’t want to faint– or worse…” you trail off, swallowing your embarrassment at the thought of going further and needing to stop thanks to the symptoms of your various conditions. You wanted whatever this was, and if you had to take a bit of the sexiness out of it by warning him first, then you would.

Jake frowns lightly, eyes finally opening so that he can peek down at you.

“Why would I laugh?” he asks, and though amusement dances in his voice, you get the impression it isn’t because of what you’d said. He pulls his forehead off of yours, so he can look down at you fully, his gaze hungrily taking you in, pressed against his body and the wall, your head tipped back for him still.

He hums appreciatively, and dips down again. The hand in yours adjusts to hold it tighter, and at the same time, he leans forward to press a soft kiss into your hairline, making your stomach flutter.

“Hmm?” he practically purrs, pulling back to look down at you again, his eyebrow raised. You nearly huff in bitter annoyance when his familiar cheshire smirk forms. You’ll never be able to see it the same way, and you know it’s going to take some work to be able to brush it off in public again, the way you were now used to.

You don’t though, because as much as you know you’ll struggle, you know you’re going to enjoy his unbearable smugness even more. You do let your brows crease into a small frown though, and purse your lips.

“What?” you demand a little too forcefully, which only makes his own brow arch more, and he tips his head.

“Why would I laugh?” he repeats himself, and you blink at him, at his wanting an answer.

“Because… because I lose my breath easily? Because if I get too worked up I’ll probably pass out?” you reply hotly, not hiding your displeasure that he was making you spell this out.

Jake’s smirk morphs into something very akin to solemnness, but definitely isn’t at all.

“Neither of which are a laughing matter,” he says, and despite his stony expression, his voice still sings with humour. “In fact, you should know I take both very seriously.” He shifts against you, bringing the hand pressed against your lower back up between your shoulder blades.

You can’t help but narrow your eyes at him. You lean back as best you can, fixing him with an actually serious look, aided by the anxiety you felt crawling into your gut now.

“Jake, I’m serious, I have pulmonary hypertension– I could faint, or start coughing, or get chest pains and–” your voice cuts off sharply, and likely only as a result of your rising nerves, you quickly pull your head to the side as a light cough scratches at your throat in demonstration. 

Jake pulls back then too, though not completely. His hand on your back begins patting, then rubbing soothingly, his face turned properly serious now.

“Hey, I know, I know,” he coos hurriedly, and once it's clear you aren’t going to dissolve into a coughing fit, he brings your joined hands up to his lips, pressing a kiss to the backs of your fingers, still wearing a slight frown.

“I’m not laughing, Teddy. I know,” he assures you, kissing your hand again.

“I’ve got you,” he tells you firmly, resolutely, before releasing your fingers and letting your hand drop back to his chest so he can cup your cheek gently, a sweetly reassuring smile pulling at the corners of his mouth. You feel your heart skip again at what he’d said more so than his movements, but you don’t fully understand why those three little words send a sudden wave of emotion through you.

Your mind takes you back to the last time you’d all been at the Hard Deck together, and how before you’d even thought about the effects someone else’s smoking would have on you, Jake had almost gotten physical over it.

Actually, he had gotten physical, you correct yourself, playing back the way he’d closed the space between him and the other man in two strides, yanking the cigarette from his mouth and tossing it to blow out in the sand, before anyone could even blink. 

If Phoenix hadn't shown up when she did, you’re not sure you alone would have been able to keep him from hitting the guy, or at the very least dragging him inside, all the way back to the bar just so he could ring the bell, and toss him out.

Normally you hated when people lingered over you because you happened to have two lung diseases, namely COPD and pulmonary fibrosis, as well as related conditions, like your aforementioned pulmonary hypertension. You’d made a choice after your diagnoses that you wouldn’t define yourself by your health status, but it was incredibly difficult to actually do that when it felt like everyone around you did.

Especially those who were aware of your career as an aviator.

Especially if they were also aviators.

Jake’s concern was never really that, though. You had struggled for a while trying to put a finger on why it didn’t bring about the same sharp anger in you, convinced it wasn’t just as shallow as being born from the fondness you had for him, and you’re vindicated as it finally hits you, the distinction suddenly making itself clear as crystal.

Jake’s concern for you was always practical. To most, practicality doesn’t exactly equal romance, but in this instance it makes your breathing go all shaky, and for once it isn’t because of your lungs struggling to take in enough air.

From the start he’d shown he wasn’t afraid to poke you, to joke about your retirement or illnesses with you, and it had been his laissez-faire regard that had formed your particular fondness for him in the first place, and it was why you’d never found him abrasive or antagonistic the way even some of his squad did at times.

Purposeful or not, he’d quickly picked up on your distaste for condolement and the glass treatment you tended to receive, and so he had never really displayed either, rarely handling you with any particular concern. It was a trait you cherished more and more with each passing day recently.

As was the way he’d react any time he had shown you concern. Even if you weren’t sure what you’d be getting each time, you could be confident that he was only giving it because you were his friend, and not because you were sick.

You think that maybe you understand suddenly why those three words felt like a lot more than just those three words.

Jake Seresin got you, understood you in a way very few people had long before your accident, and even less had attempted to since.

“I’ve got you, Teddy, I promise,” he repeats himself, a tiny frown working its way between his brows.

“I know,” you say truthfully, at last pulling yourself from your wandering thoughts and focusing back on the present. Jake’s frown instantly disappears with your assent, and this time when he leans back in to kiss you, it isn’t chaste, and he doesn’t pull back again.

You stumble together up the first few steps that lead to your second floor, the both of you almost stacking it entirely before Jake tells you to wait, easily hitching you up against him so he can carry you the rest of the way, your legs wrapped securely around his waist. He laughs at your surprised laugh, and maybe a little at the way your hands smooth appreciatively over his shoulders as he almost effortlessly holds you up, his hands curled under your thighs.

“What? You thought all this was for show?” Jake teases, tilting his head away from you as he reaches the top step, and peers past you briefly to search the hall ahead.

“With the way you get around, I might have,” you reply almost instantaneously, waiting for him to swing his gaze back to you before you continue.

“Second door, right.” You tell him, ignoring the indignant stare he’s fixed you with, even as he carries you onward.

“Don’t think I’m appreciating that tone,” he sniffs, pausing briefly when your back meets the aforementioned door, one of his hands leaving you only momentarily before you’re met with the warm light of the lamp that you’d turned on when you first got home, preferring the cosy glow it emanated from your bedside, over the stark downlights on the ceiling.

“I’m sure you’ll get over it,” you roll your eyes, landing softly on your feet even though you get the impression Jake had just attempted to drop you haphazardly. You step away from him then, mind not clouded enough to distract you from the dress and shoes you’d left strewn on the floor, and you quickly grab both, dropping them into the hamper in your bathroom, and quickly shutting the door.

Jake peers around your room with curious interest, though it's polite more than anything else, you didn’t really have a whole lot on display. That would be the military in you. His eyes land back on you the second you turn back to face him, catching you in the act of fluffing your hair but you stop the moment his lips quirk, and he shifts his stance as if to watch you in amusement.

“You look great,” he tells you, only making you scowl at him, to hide your pout.

“You couldn’t have shown up an hour ago, when I still had my makeup on?” you huff, and the all too familiar cheshire grin makes a reappearance on his lips. He takes a step toward you.

“An hour ago, I still had my whites on,” he informs you, but you aren’t seeing the point he’s trying to make. You’d have had no problem with him in his whites.

“So?” you shrug, and he takes another step forward, cocking his head down at you, eyes practically holding yours for ransom.

“So,” he repeats, finally getting near enough to reach out and tug you closer with his hands at your hips. “I don’t know much about your free time sweetheart, but I don’t like spending mine hanging up a needlessly complicated uniform.” Jake’s accent drawls lazily around his words, a little more pronounced than it usually is, and you find yourself struggling to remember the relevance of the current conversation as he draws you even nearer, but with no wall this time around, it’s just his firm hold that pulls you against his body.

“Especially if that free time is about to get spent doing the things that’ve been on my mind since you let me in.”

Your mouth nearly turns dry, and you must look like a startled deer, because he chuckles lowly, and runs his hands up your sides as you attempt to get a hold of yourself, but it’s not working, and you aren’t completely certain you want it too, either.

“Aren’t you gonna ask me what things?” Jake takes advantage of the state he’s got you in, his grin nothing but wolfish as he settles one hand over your waist, the other still roaming, moving up and down your back now.

“No,” you blink rapidly to regain your faculties. Jake doesn’t even flinch at your denial, he only moves closer, and you realise absently, he’s been turning you both slowly, away from your bathroom, and towards your bed.

“I wasn’t going to tell you, anyway,” he doesn’t sound anywhere near as petulant as he should, which you think is unfair.

“It’s a good thing, too. With your ego, bragging would just come across as if you had something to compensate for,” you shoot back quickly, unable to stop the smile pulling at your own lips. “But you’d never fall into that trap, would you Hangman?” you finish dryly, unable to resist poking a little fun at him, even if you were currently putty in his hands.

Jake stares at you squarely for several seconds, slowly pursing his lips as he seems to be considering your jabs. At last, he lets his roaming hand come to a stop between your shoulder blades again. Slowly he begins pressing against you, until you’re completely flush with him, and forced to tilt your head up to maintain his eye contact.

“It’s mighty sweet of you to assume that I’m really above all that, honey. There’s a first time for everything, I suppose,” he begins, voice low, calculated, and rife with his amusement. He leans closer then, lets his nose brush against yours, and hovers tauntingly close to your mouth before he presses his lips against your slowly, watching you, daring you to look away or close your eyes.

You aren’t sure which reaction he’d prefer, though you know it didn’t really matter, as long as he got anything from you. His gaze simmers as he lifts the hand on your hip to suddenly grasp firmly at your jaw, fingers digging lightly into your cheeks. Your eyelids flutter involuntarily at the decidedly rougher, more possessive hold, the pressure forcing your lips to part slightly, which you realise dumbly is the point.

Heat is already building through you, and you let out a seemingly exasperated sigh through your nostrils, rolling your eyes at the both of you as you give in and do exactly what he’s waiting to see if you’ll do. If it came down to a game of patience, fine, maybe he’d win, but you couldn’t see the point in all his patience if it just took longer to get you both where you wanted to go. You close your eyes, and push your lips as much as you can manage against his own, which is a fair amount, his hold on your jaw not actually restricting you at all, despite the bite of his grip.

Jake hums approvingly, though you start to get the feeling he’d have approved of whatever you’d done, which is both a little annoying of him and sort of sweet.

At last, he breaks the kiss, pulling back enough to look at you, like he had earlier downstairs, taking in the way you looked, lips wet and waiting for him. He smiles, keeping his firm hold on your jaw as his eyes flicker over you.

“Truth is, I’ve just got a lot to brag about,” he grins bright as he finishes what he’d been saying, clearly proud of himself, and you can’t blame him.

His hold on your jaw releases then, and his self-assured smugness softens as you can’t help but laugh.

“I can’t believe you just said that,” you chortle, shaking your head, even as you bring your arms to wrap around his neck. You see Jake attempt to stare through your laughter with a level of annoyance, but he can’t seem to commit to it, instead he rolls his eyes and lets out a huff.

“You know, a man might think you were tryna disheartened him, honey,” he tells you, dry tone put to task by the smile he fails to fight off.

“I like that, ‘honey’,” you admit, ignoring his fake pity party. Jake seems to forget about it too, and he cocks his head, a little laugh of his own breaking free from his lips.

“Yeah?” he questions. “More than Teddy Bear?”

You screw your face up and shake your head.

“I can’t stand ‘Teddy Bear’ and I know you know it,” you scold, and feel him shift, leaning closer so that he can press his lips to the side of your head with another little laugh.

“What did people call you when you were little, then?” He pulls back to gaze down at you in a mix of genuine curiosity and confusion. You want to ask him about why he’d assumed that had been your childhood nickname, but instead you answer him, before you even really think about it.

“Teo.”

Jake pauses, and blinks slowly down at you, his eyes searching.

“Teo?” he repeats, and you shrug, tearing your eyes off of him for the first time in what felt like hours, heat burning your cheeks.

“Yeah. Teo. People have always just assumed my full name is ‘Theodora’, but it’s… It’s actually ‘Teodora’,” you swallow and shrug again. “It’s Romanian,” your voice weakens, and you feel regret start to creep in, wishing you could just rewind to a few minutes ago, when you were still kissing.

“Teo,” Jake says again, and you hum. His fingers take hold of your chin far gentler this time, and he directs your face back toward him, ducking down to meet your gaze, and you realise bashfully he hadn’t been repeating the unfamiliar name, but calling you by it.

“Teo,”

“Yes?”

His eyes flash with delight at your answer, and want to tell him that you can’t remember the last time anybody had used the name, but you decide quickly not to. You didn’t want him to think it made you sad, because it really didn’t, not when he was the one saying it, and especially not when he seemed so sweetly pleased that you’d shared it with him at all.

“M’gonna kiss you again now, Teo,” Jake announces then, making you blink up at him a smile pulling at your lips.

“Don’t really plan on stopping again. That gonna be alright, honey?” he fixes you with a serious look, as if he was really asking you to make a difficult decision. You nod, opening your mouth to reply, but once again, he swallows your words, moving with you until your legs hit your bed, and let yourself crash against the soft, unmade covers, pulling him with you.

The sound of your own heavy, wheezy breathing is the only thing you can hear for a few moments, a thin layer of sweat covering your body in the aftermath of… that. Your stomach flutters as you play back your memories, which you note probably isn’t going to help you calm down, but you can’t help yourself. You hear some soft shuffling, and peek your eyes open just in time to watch as Jake steps out of your ensuite.

If your memories weren’t helping you calm down, then watching a fully nude and lightly sweaty Jake Seresin move around your bedroom definitely isn’t either. You half expect him to turn and join you, but he doesn’t, and you frown slightly before you realise with an internal chuckle, that he’s picking up all your discarded clothes. You shake your head.

“Pretty sure you’re not deployed just yet, Lieutenant…” you call out, stomach fluttering again when he looks back over his shoulder at you, shooting you a soft smile.

“It’ll just take a minute,” he waves you off, and you chuckle out loud this time. It makes sense, you feel like a part of you already knew, but it still makes you hum in amusement at the fact Jake Hangman Seresin, is a compulsive tidier.

Briefly your mind wanders back to when he’d fiddle with your desk models. You’d always thought the fact that he’d always make sure to return them to exactly the right placement was because he’d noticed that's how you liked it, and maybe that was a part of it, but you think now perhaps it bothered him too.

It made sense, if you took the sum of him as a whole into consideration. Never a hair out of place, uniform perfectly pressed (perhaps even starched), even his self-confidence. It must be a control thing, you think, and drop your head back to your pillows.

You can't help but wonder how the two of you would have gotten on if you’d never had your accident. The answer was likely that you wouldn’t, or at least, you wouldn’t for a long time. Nobody who knew you now would guess it, but you hadn’t always been as mellow and pragmatic as you were. You probably wouldn’t have become a fighter pilot if you had. In fact, despite your inner-insistence that you hadn’t only been considered talented based on raw skill alone, that you’d studied hard too, truth was, that had come just as naturally as your skill in a plane.

You and Jake were more alike than you’d probably admit, but not because you were ashamed of it. No, you don’t think there's anything wrong with the way Jake carries himself, he had every right to, could back up every last ounce of his talk. If that frustrated people it was only down to their own doubt. And that's why you wouldn’t admit it. You doubt anyone would look at you now and see the similarities between the two of you.

Except, maybe, Jake.

The bed behind you dips, and the light of your lamp suddenly disappears. You move to roll over, but big hands stop you, followed by the rest of him, tucking himself into place beside you. In the dark, you can see him lying on his side, head resting on his hand as he hovers over you, watching. His other hand grazes up over your stomach, and knocks aside the palm you still have pressed against your clavicle, but he presses two fingers up to the side of your neck, feeling for your pulse.

It almost makes you glare, and you only barely hold yourself back. Your eyebrows must twitch in defiance though, because his smirk grows wide and nearly taunting, daring you to complain. His eyes stay warm though, and he relaxes his hand, simply resting it there instead.

“Can you blame me, honey?” he asks, tipping his head just slightly.

“I mean, I know I’m good, but it’s not everyday I can literally take someone's breath away.”

You respond with a scoff, and reach out to shove his hand out from under his head, but he barely moves, grin widening to maddening heights.

“Fuck off, Jake,” you grumble half-heartedly, and he doesn’t stop you from rolling, this time away from him, only gladly fills the gap left between you, draping himself fully over your back with a hum.

“I was about to suggest the recovery position,” he says, as if he hadn’t heard you, but manages to dodge your elbow with a chuckle, catching it and giving it what feels like a warning squeeze, before trailing hand along the length of your arm, guiding it down again.

His hand curls around your own, linking your fingers like he had earlier and it makes your chest flutter.

“Just focus on breathing, Darth Vader.”

You grumble again, and Jake hushes you, snickering into the back of your shoulder.

“The sooner you’re breathing normally, the sooner I can get you all worked up again, sweetheart,” He murmurs enticingly, moving his mouth from your shoulder to your neck, grinning to himself at your unrepressed shiver when he blows lightly on your neck.

“It’s hilarious you think I’m going to let you fuck me again after you called me Darth Vader,” you laugh and behind you, you feel Jake shrug.

“Whatever you want, Teo,” his voice fills with a yawn as he speaks, and your chest flutters at the nickname. He wraps himself a little tighter around you, and stifles another yawn against your back. A few seconds pass before you catch his sleepiness, your own yawn forcing you to stretch a little. You manage to twist in his hold, enough to turn and face him. His eyes are closed, but his lips twitch in the corners.

As you drift off, you can’t help but wonder how long it will take for his scent to leave your sheets.

just tagging a few pals who might b interested!!! @ussgallifrey @bvckysmoon @natrace @jake-seresin

[just-an-enby-lemon]

Of all Unburied Riddler lines one that always stayed with me was the moment in his interview with Barbara were he says "I'm a very good text taker, though". I don't know why. Maybe there's just someone on how Hasan says it. But stayed with me. And I'm not the best person to explain Unburied Riddler but maybe I'm the best to explain how he resonates with me. So this time instead of a silly edit, my propaganda for the @riddlersexymancompetition is going to be a long ass post about this sentence and how it resonates with me. And it has different parts.

• Part One: Defense Mechanism

The easier way to interpret this sentence is if we twist it to manipulation. Riddler is a good text taker because he can identify the answer other people want to hear and genuinaly express them no matter if he agrees with it or even if it's true.

Is the type of tecnique one developes with time and need and to imagine how and why he needed it is a fascinating rabbit hole. But no matter what it's a defense. Knowing what to say is how he gets Barbara to accept his help after all. A direct relation with the scene the sentence is in. He get's what he wants because he knows what to say and who to say it to. It can also explain why he took so long to trust Barbara with the truth - because he needed to access her to find the moment the truth would be safe, because he is used to it not being safe - or why he can easly know how to calm Bruce down. It is a skill and it did protect him.

It protected him more than he thinks.

Of all the rogues on his ward Edward is the only one who never had direct contact with Strange. All the others have horror stories or at least bad footnotes but Edward barely knows him. Strange is never mentioned as his psychiatrist or even as nothing more than "departament chief" by Eddie. And this is odd. During the time it was launching on Brazil one of the few youtubers that talked about it - the type who insisted it was about Gotham police and not the general system - even used this to theorize that Edward was involved somehow (because he loves to be wrong I suppose).

Edward never got in contact with Strange. Why would he? Strange only dealt personally with difficult cases - after all why would chief of psychiatry treat normal patients - and while he was a rogue, Edward was also a model patient. He was rude and mean and annoying but he always gave the right answers. And therefore Strange had no reason to treat him. Maybe he wanted to, maybe he didn't. But without even realizing Eddie turned himself untouchable by the head of psychiatry abuse and mal practice.

• Part Two: Identity Crisis

Unburied Edward cannot be defined more than by this two words. It is his center turmoil, his theme, in his core he is a man that has no clue who he is.

There is an unlimited number of points and analisys to be made here about mental health and race and existencialism. But this is a post about a sentence and therefore I'll talk about how this sentence fits these thematics.

I know one thing or two about being a "good text taker", I'm no Riddler, far from it but I understand something or other of mimicking others aspects and answering like I think they want to because it's easier and it gives me praise. But I don't do it often because I'm not always ready. Eddie is. All his lies make sense when he knows he will get away with it. That his answer is the perfect one. But when you mold yourself in being an enigma, in being exactally what everyone wants where does you end and the others begin?

• Part Three: Neurodiversity

Again this need to fit in by lying is not necessarialy an autistic behavior. It can be a result of a lot of factors. But as an autistic that was only diagnosed later in life this is what I can talk about in my reading.

Edward's hability was my dream as kid: to be abble to just read people into knowing exactally what they wanted no matter what because than I would stop failling, stop having to deal with the consequences of giving a "wrong" answer or do a stupid thing. And for someone who had to really learn this skill, who never had that and always wanted, will likely be dependant of it. Good text takers but confused people.

Because who they are becames secondary to the point they stop knowing allthogether. It's a dream becaming an existencial nightmare. And that's why Riddler's sentence resonates. The mix of sardonic desperation and total pride that it's present on this sentence. The way it's sayed as a brag but also as a plea. Barbara's response of this being the first true thing he said. His tendency to just say what he wants others to hear being the first thing he says without wanting to manipulate her somehow. Is genius.

That's to say I do read it as masking. Or at least as how I see masking, as answering questions not with the right answers but with the expected ones.

• Final Considerations:

Unburied does characther work like no other and Hasan deliever makes it real and full of unexpect, new and high emotions to the point I could write all this for a single line. It's an amazing show truly and completly and it's Riddler is part of it! Vote Unburied!

[depressedhatakekakashi]

Cannon

Competitions were something that Maito Gai thrived on. Win or lose Gai always felt as though he had accomplished something. Bettered himself in some small way.

So it was understandable that when word reached him about a competition being held throughout all of Konoha to decide on the most popular shinobi, he had to officially challenge his eternal Rival for the top spot.

If he didn’t make the challenge official between them, Kakashi wouldn’t put in any effort. As popular as he was, he simply did not care whether he was beloved or hated, so long as his friends were by his side.

An admirable way to exist most days, but Gai wouldn’t be proud of his win if Kakashi didn’t at least try.

He had hoped that his challenge would spark some energy into his rival, but instead Gai was greeted with a rather blank expression.

“A vote?”

“A vote.” Gai buzzed with excitement even though his friend looked exhausted at the mere idea.

“I don’t know, Gai. Wouldn’t you rather have a race around the village?”

Refraining from reaching out and feeling Kakashi’s forehead for any signs of a fever, Gai instead pointed to one of the posters hanging up on a wall beside them. A poster similar to the one that he had seen proudly displayed inside of the dango shop, though this one had Naruto front and centre while the other had portrayed Sakura instead.

“The village is handing us a competition, Rival,” He watched as Kakashi glanced towards the poster. “How can you ignore such a youthful challenge? To be named the most popular shinobi in all of Konoha would be the highest honour!”

“I’m already the Hokage, isn’t that enough?” Kakashi practically whinned, though anyone else who heard him would claim he sounded board. Gai knew better though.

He knew Kakashi.

That was a whine. A call for help from the man who wanted to do anything but partake in the greatest competition of their lives.

“The winner gets to choose dinner.”

“I already get to choose our next dinner,” Kakashi fired back. “Remember? You lost our handstand competition yesterday.”

If he could forget, Gai gladly would. It had been an embarrassing display on his part, and he would go to his grave refusing to acknowledge that competition.

Even if it was officially Kakashi’s win.

“The loser has to do the winner's chores for a week.” He offered instead, refusing to walk away until Kakashi agreed to take part in the competition.

“A week really isn’t that long.”

“A month,” Kakashi’s eyes widened with shock. “Loser does the winner’s chores for a month.”

“So… if I win-“

Gai could feel the hair’s on his neck standing up. He knew exactly what Kakashi was going to say and he hated it because it was the worst job anyone could possibly end up with. A job that Kakashi was more than happy to do most of the time, if only because no one else was willing to even try.

Even Naruto had begun refusing the job. Offers of free Ramen couldn’t make the great hero of the world pick up a hose and scrub brush and do the job for his old Sensei. “I will give the dog’s baths for a month, yes.”

Kakashi seemed to contenplate his choices, weighing them in his mind while Gai stood there practiclly exploding with excitement.

“The hounds could use some change in the routine, and Bull does like it when you give him his bath.”

“You have to win first, Rival.” Gai reminded him.

“Oh, well that will be easy,” Kakashi responded with a dismissive attitude, which quickly earned him a glare from Gai. “For some reason people like me. I’m not sure why, but they do.”

That was a lot too unpack.

“Alright, we’ll deal with your self-hatred later,” Gai declared, fully intending to keep that promise as soon as the competition was done. “I’m going to win.”

“Are there any rules?”

Gai’s hair stood up on end. A warning that his body had become accustome to giving him over the years whenever he could sense Kakashi thinking up a truly evil plan.

“No cheating.”

“It won’t be cheating,” Kakashi assured him. “It might just be a little… underhanded.”

Gai didn’t like the sounds of that. It was clear to him that Kakashi was scheming. Something that his friend was very good at.

It wasn’t going to win him the competition though.

No matter what Gai could claim victory. After all, he was the kindest shinobi in all of Konoha.

There was nothing that Kakashi could do to beat that. Even his signiture ‘puppy dog eyes’ wouldn’t beat Gai’s yourhful energy. Not if Konoha’s great green beast could help it.

[sunspira]

this is really really good i've been trying to find words for it. it also leads into my feeling that a lot of white girls in general especially lily white american skinny white girls from evangelical christian south find words like beast disgusting slug gremlin as freeing and affirming and a departure from the restrictive dainty little box they were pushed into. but simultaneously a lot of girls who are not white find those terms degrading and insulting and misogynistic and not feeling to reclaim at all and are like "don't call me that 😑" because they have been boxed into a very dehumanizing and animalistic and dirty image pushed on them under racism and misogynior and have had the humanity to be seen as remotely delicate or innocent stolen from them for as long as they can remember as little girls. i think some anger towards her post coming from chicks who are not terfs is rooted in this disconnect.

i think miss cain is similar to a lot of white girls where she is completely unaware of how her white privilege impacts her self image and can make her oblivious to what words are inadvertently and inappropriately cruel and cut deep for women of color who love trans women but do not want to have their vagine called disgusting and beastly with thick coarse dark manly hair thrown back in their face by a white girl in an attempt to be affirming and feminist. by a white southern daughter of all things, which isn't exactly enormously privileged over me but comes from a world that is so , so different to me and a womanhood so linked to old americana and emblematic throughout media and is more mainstream. idk maybe if it was a black southern trans woman posting this it would feel more earned and have that affirming and box escaping impact for women of color. while coming from white queer people can be so sour tasting. now let's be really clear all that was NOT the intent and she was clearly saying all that directed at other white girls in her music scene who are very transphobic. I say this more the sense of us understanding why some trans women or trans positive onlookers from outside her very skinny white alt girl rebel scene found all that kind of obnoxious. i am always interested in how gender role defiance affirmation can be so different depending on if society has infantilized you or animalized you as a woman.

the post in question

i can definitely look at this girl and her blog and be like ok you're achieving fragile and delicate tomboy rebellious femininity better than me please don't tell me how gross dirty oily and beastly 'our' slug body is. like you're completely right ideologically and you and i should not feel ashamed of our bodies and being trans is a huge factor in this that i think gives her a lot more credence to reclaim masculinized insults. but every time girls like this do it there's some bitter taste in the mouth for sure and i think she passes so well as a cis girl who is also otherwise all those traditionally feminine things under white supremacy i struggle to see her trans marginalization over her other glaring privileges and perhaps that's why i and others felt annoyed with her too. which is why i needed to unpack for a while, both on my shortcomings and hers. not because she is in the wrong nor deserved hate but because women across backgrounds body types sexualities ethnicities races cultures nationalities have so many different forms of misogyny pushed on us. until what can feel revolutionary freeing and affirming for one girl can instead almost mimic the restrictive status quo beating us into a forcibly masculinized self image once again. this can be addressed collaboratively and in good faith though like by no means am i saying one girls masc presentation is oppressing or hurting me. only that some self expressions by women will feel a bit mid for other chicks and it helps and brings a sense of peace and unity to think on various greater reasons why and still love and accept gross gremlin feminism for what it is and the good it's doing

[a-small-batch-of-dragons]

lies are only as good as the person telling them (and you've never claimed to be) part 7

Read on Ao3 Masterlist

Warnings: none

Pairings: nolan/bishop/hartley

Word Count: 3414

Sarah Black did not get to where she is today without being exceedingly good at preparation.

Such a thing can come in the form of having an extra parachute tucked into one of the cargo crates, having another exit planned when the first one is swarming with guards, or slipping a bio digestible tracker into Nolan Booth’s food just before she and John leave for the gala.

Unfortunately, the tracker can only get them so far before it washes out of his system or moves completely out of range. The blinking light on the screen in front of her shows that Nolan’s still moving—stole a car, most likely. John grunts when she says as much, making a hard turn onto a nearby autoroute and swerving around too-slow cars.

“The tracker only has a few more hours before it leaves his system.”

“Any idea where he might be headed?”

“No.”

An answer that rankles her just as much as it makes John’s shoulders tense. Nolan is an unknown variable right now, one they both can’t afford and can’t avoid. He might have left them all they need to do the heist by themselves—or at the very least plan a way to do it with two people instead of three—but that doesn’t change the fact that Nolan Booth left them. A month ago, a week ago, even a day ago, Sarah might have been able to shrug and brush it off. He was not one of them, he was not someone she knew she could trust, he was an asset insofar as he wasn’t a direct liability. He was cocky and egotistical and reckless and prideful, he did not work well in teams and cared far more for the thrill of the heist than the actual monetary reward.

And yet, here they are, speeding down the autoroute after him.

“The wound wasn’t fully healed,” she hears John Hume lie, mostly to himself, “what the fuck was he thinking?”

“Do you really think a bullet wound would stop him when he puts his mind to something?”

John exhales sharply. “He’d better be alive when we find him so I can kill him myself.”

“Get in line.”

Paris bleeds into countryside as they keep driving, She makes a note to develop one of these that has a longer range; Nolan’s been at the very edge of their tracking system for almost the entire ride. He’s still heading north—where could he be going?

And why is he leaving now, without telling them?

The cynical criminal hisses that he’s betrayed them. He’s sold them out in some way, stabbed them back for their betrayal on the beach all those long months ago. But she knows that isn’t true; he left everything except for his clothes, his personal notebook, and the pair of eyeglasses he thinks they don’t know about. That, and he gave them the next part of the heist plan with a drawing of a…with a drawing.

Not for the first time, she thinks back to his expression on that beach. How confused he was, how hard he tried to keep up the facade of someone who was unaffected. When they left him handcuffed to that tree, how plaintive his plea for sunscreen was, and how he looked at them behind those sunglasses on the boat with Inspector Das racing across the water after them. But more than anything else, she remembers the clench of his jaw when she and John had explained that there were two Bishops.

And a whole lot of pawns.

A warm hand covers hers and she blinks, noticing her white-knuckled grip on the edge of the screen. She sends a quick glance at John who doesn’t take his eyes off the road, but gives her hand a pointed squeeze. She takes a deep breath and forces herself to relax.

“We will find him,” she repeats, because they have to, “we will.”

“I know.”

The car speeds on into the growing night. The closer they get to the edge of the country, the fuzzier and fuzzier the tracker’s signal becomes. Nolan hasn’t stopped which means it still has some signal, but it keeps growing fainter and fainter.

“It doesn’t make sense,” she mutters, barely resisting the urge to bang on the side of the computer, “it’s like he’s putting up…walls of concrete or something to block the signal.”

“I don’t think it’s that far off. Look.”

She glances up to where John indicates and sees a sign pointing out the Channel Tunnel in three exits.

“Shit.”

“Passports are in the glove compartment.”

She just nods. Out of the corner of her eye, she sees John clench his jaw and press the car ahead of another, ignoring the honk of protest. She looks down at Nolan’s signal, watching it blinks slower and slower as they race after him.

Why did you leave, she asks silently, what happened? What changed?

But she knows—she knows it the same way she knew when she saw his jaw clench on that beach. The most valuable currency to people like them was trust and they’d already conned it away from him once. The pawn laid itself on its side and refused to play the game any longer. They should do the same. They should go back to planning the biggest score of their careers, they should go and make sure this plan goes off without a hitch, they should be toasting to the fact that they no longer have to deal with Nolan Booth, but—

But she’s seen John with him now. She saw what he looked like when he was dancing with the count. She saw the look on his face when he confessed what had happened in the car on the way back to the apartment—was that really only four hours ago?

And yes, she had seen her own expression in the mirror when she discovered Nolan was missing. She has done this for far too long to avoid analyzing herself for the sake of her own pride. Nolan Booth has his hooks in them and they have no desire to dislodge them.

And if that has them racing across France in the middle of the night after him, then so be it.

***

The trail leads them to the middle of the English countryside before it goes cold. They trundle to a stop in the parking lot of a long-abandoned store to regroup. Sarah scrutinizes a map pilfered from a rest-stop as John taps impatiently on the steering wheel.

“What was his plan,” he mutters under his breath, “where was he trying to go?”

“I’m not sure he thought that far ahead.”

”No, why would he?” He shifts. “Okay: he’s impulsive, he wanted to get as far away from us as quickly as he could. He left the country, left any sort of big urban environment, but didn’t go for an airport. Why?”

“Flights draw attention, it would be the first logical place to look for him.”

”So he comes out here. Someone he knows?”

“That would involve an excuse. For all he talks about himself, he’s not one to get…” Here she has to take a deep breath. “He doesn’t like to talk about himself like that.”

The silent reason of why that might be the case permeates the air like a stale cigarette.

“Alright, so no personal connection. What else is out here?”

They ruminate for a few moments before a growing noise makes them turn. A van drives by blaring music with several people hanging out the windows. Even in the closed car, they can smell the alcohol. The van totters off into the distance, the music fading eerily back into silence.

They look at each other.

John pulls the car out of the parking lot back onto the road, heading in the direction the van came from. About half a kilometer later, they see a pub with a rickety sign hanging out front and a conspicuously familiar car parked in the back corner of the lot. They park right next to it.

“Wait,” John says before they walk in, “what are we going to do? How can we be sure he won’t just run?”

Sarah glances at the door. In truth, she’d been wondering the same thing. Nolan is a wounded animal right now, fleeing to lick his wounds and here they come to chase down the trail of blood. As much as she wants to have whatever conversation they’re about to have with Nolan on equal footing, it’s probably more important to make sure he doesn’t bolt the second he sees them.

“Back entrance?”

“Yeah. Hey,” he says as she turns to go, “whatever happens, I’m with you.”

“And I’m with you.”

He kisses her cheek and ducks around to look for the bar’s back door. She walks up to the stoop, squares her shoulders, and pushes her way inside.

The pub is dark, nearly as dark as it is outside. They’re clearly at the end of their run, with people in various stages of intoxication draped over the tables and the bar. In the back is a small dance floor, upon which three couples are slow dancing. She steps around the worst of a sticky mess on the floor and peers closer. In the shadows next to the jukebox, nursing a glass, is Nolan Booth.

He looks up as he hears the door chime and spots her. With less of his typical grace, he gets up and makes for the back only for John to step in before he can make it away from his table. His shoulders visibly slump and he looks back and forth between them for a moment before sinking back down into his chair with a scowl.

She makes eye contact with John and they both weave their way across the pub to him. He lets them approach, staring into the depths of his drink, until they’re right next to his table. John squeezes himself into the seat across from him. She takes a chair from an unused table and sets it between them. Nolan doesn’t so much as glance at them.

“You left,” she says, a hint of accusation in her voice.

“Yep.”

“Why?”

He doesn’t say a word. She glances at John, who settles back in to wait, and she reaches out to touch Nolan’s shoulder. He flinches, grip tightening on his glass. She withdraws it. The jukebox next to them wheezes as it changes tracks.

When it becomes clear that Nolan isn’t going to say a thing, she stands up and holds out her hand. He looks at it like it’s radioactive.

“Dance with me,” she asks, “just for this song.”

“What?”

She doesn’t retract it. Nolan scoffs, looking at her then John, who doesn’t so much as twitch. He scoffs again, finishing his drink and getting up. She follows him to the dance floor, taking his hand in hers and swaying back and forth.

“It was difficult to find you,” she murmurs as they dance.

“How did you find me?”

“Tracker in your food before we left.”

He huffs, and despite his drinking, she can’t smell it on his breath. Good. “Of course.”

“It was in case you got kidnapped. I didn’t think you would leave.”

“Sure.”

“I mean it, Nolan. You said it yourself, we make a good team, don’t we?”

“I had to threaten you two with serious jail time to even get you to consider it. Even for this line of work, I know that’s not a healthy foundation to a relationship.”

She tries to deny the clench in her chest when he mentions relationship and fails. “I recall you saying that healthy people don’t come into this line of work anyway.”

He barely glances at her. They dance the next chorus in silence.

“Why did you leave,” she whispers eventually, “we’re so close, why now?”

“Because I got tired of working in a team,” he says, but it’s as fake as the Mona Lisa Arlo’s making, “because I was sick of seeing you two lovebirds make out on every surface of that apartment? Take your pick. I should be the one asking you why you’re here. Thought you’d be popping champagne with me gone.”

“Champagne is for after the job is done,” she says by habit, “not before.”

“Then you should be off doing the job, not here slow dancing with me to crappy Bette Midler covers.”

This isn’t working. Judging by the way he’s suddenly able to stare at her he knows it too. She tries not to think about the weight of his hand in hers, the steady way he holds her even as he tries to verbally push her away. The way this feels right in ways she can’t quite articulate. But the song is coming to an end and his grip is already slackening.

The jukebox wheezes out the last note and they come to a stop.

“Well,” he says, shaking himself free, “thanks for that. I’ll be sure to remember that when I’m on my next job.”

“Nolan—“

John stands up as Nolan turns. She watches the line of Nolan’s shoulders tense as he eyes him, only to nearly stumble back into her when John holds his hand out too.

”Oh, you can’t be serious.”

“Deadly.” John holds his hand out again.

Nolan huffs, glancing back and forth between them, but she slips between him and the wall and sits down, watching. This time, she can see the barely disguised flicker of fear in Nolan’s face as he lets John take him by the hand. Their conversation is too quiet for her to make out, even at this short a distance, but she can tell by the way Nolan keeps clenching his jaw that John’s having more success getting through to him that she was. More than once she sees Nolan’s hand twitch, and every time John gives it a reassuring squeeze.

Then John says something else and Nolan’s face darkens.

He pulls away from John without another glance and moves quickly toward the exit. She’s up and out of the back door in the next instant, hurrying around to the cars in case Nolan tries to make a run for it. Her hand moves instinctively toward the holster but she forces it away.

But Nolan isn’t trying to get into the car. Instead, he’s sitting on the broken concrete edge of a flowerbed next to a few abandoned tables along the side of the pub. John jogs around the corner a second later, slowing when he sees the same thing. A cold breeze blows up from the road and Nolan shivers.

“You won,” he croaks, “you won, okay? Is that what you want to hear?”

She frowns. She glances at John and he shakes his head, risking a step closer. “We won what, Booth?”

”This!” He waves back and forth between them. “Whatever this is, whatever game you’re playing, whatever—whatever plan. You won, okay? I fell for it, you got me, hook, line, sinker. Checkmate, endgame, I surrender. You win.”

Sarah swallows with no small amount of difficulty. She edges closer to him, taking a seat on one of the other pieces of concrete.

“It’s not a game, Nolan,” she says and watches him flinch as she uses his first name, “you’re not a game.”

“You can stop selling me.”

“I’m not selling you. We—we make a good team. You were right, this score is good, we have—we have all the things we need to do it except for you, just come back.”

He huffs. “So that’s what this is all about, the job?”

”No, it’s not just about the job, we…we need you, Nolan.”

But she doesn’t even believe herself. Nolan’s jaw sets and she looks up John for help. John slowly sits on Nolan’s other side, folding his hands and resting his elbows on his knees. He takes a deep breath a lets it out just as slowly.

”When you got shot, I thought I was gonna have a heart attack.”

Nolan turns his head slightly.

“And then I saw you in that bed and you were so quiet I thought…” He shakes his head. “Jesus, Nolan, I thought you weren’t gonna make it. And that…that scared me more than anything that’s happened in a long time.”

A car drives by.

“It’s not just about this job, Nolan. It’s about every job after it. It’s about you, joining us, full-time. I know you’re not big on teamwork, but…I think we could work on it, don’t you?”

”Well, when you put it like that.”

Sarah eyes him, not willing to let herself hope just yet, when Nolan sits up straight.

“Gotta hand it to you, Hartley, that was a hell of a little speech there. Way better than you whole cop routine.” No, no, no— “But I’ve seen this once before and I wasn’t a big fan of the ending. So I’m gonna dip out now, actually. Get a head start on the drive home before the traffic gets really bad.”

He sniffs and runs a hand under his nose.

“You don’t have to worry about me selling you out again. Well, maybe in future, but not for this one. I'll just go back to being the second-best art thief in the world.”

“Nolan, wait—“

“Hartley, let go of me.”

“Please, just hear us out—“

“Now.”

“Play a game with me,” Sarah blurts out.

Nolan looks over his shoulder, one arm still caught in John’s grip. “What?”

“Play one game with me,” she repeats, pointing to the tables that has an old, weather-worn chess board set up, “just one game. Then you can go. We won’t follow you.”

John opens his mouth to say something but she gives him a look and he slowly lets Nolan go. Nolan furrows his brow and stares at her, hard, before he sighs.

“Just one game?”

“Just one.”

“I get white.”

“Of course.”

He huffs and sits down at the table. She sits opposite him, staring at the little black pieces. John comes to stand next to her, out of Nolan’s path from here to the car. She can feel his silent question and just implores him to let her play this out.

“Alright,” Nolan mutters to himself, staring at his pieces, “what the hell.”

The game begins. She tamps down every urge she has to end this as quickly as possible, letting him take her knight, her rook, a few of her pawns. She takes far fewer of his, but keeps the board moving as much as she can. And every time he takes on of her pieces, she talks.

She tells him that she first started admiring him as a thief when he stole the Rothko. She tells him that she took his recommendation shouted to her across an empty cathedral and loved the restaurant. She tells him that the moment she saw him get shot, she wanted to hunt down the man who did it and kill him for daring to so much as point a gun at him.

The game nears its end. There are only a few pieces left for either of them. She’s close to putting him in check, but he swipes her queen before she can get there. She moves a pawn forward and sits back.

“Your move.”

Nolan frowns, staring at the board. He’s got a few options: he could move his rook to take her other knight, he could move his queen to get ready for his next move, or he could move his pawn to the edge of the board.

He looks up at her. She doesn’t say anything. With slow movements, as if he’s expecting her to stop him, he picks up the little white piece and sets it on the black square just in front of her.

Without saying a word, she picks it up and replaces it with a white bishop.

His breath leaves him in a rush. The bishop being where it is puts her in checkmate. All he has to do is take her king.

“…what?”

“That’s checkmate,” she says quietly, “you win.”

“You…you…”

She picks up the king and holds it out to him. He looks at it like it’s liable to explode.

“Take it,” she whispers, holding it out, “take it, Nolan, please.”

For long seconds, none of them move. They dare hardly breathe.

Then a shaking hard picks up the black king and lays it down on the board.

“Game.”

[ninjastormhawkkat]

The Chaotic Four: Curse of The Weremouse - An Idea is Born

"I can keep her occupied and far away from your stupid festival just fine without the police knocking on my door every hour! So take your "fair" plan and shove it somewhere else! Good day! Steven sneered as he left the room, slamming the door shut behind him in front of the gobsmacked faces of the Mayor and board members. 'That didn't go so well.' the Mayor thought. Steven leaned back against the door that lead to the room he marched out of. A large breath of air exhaled from his lungs as his anger began to dissipate. He was still upset at what that gullible mayor and greedy board members were trying to ask of him. Yet, he also felt an old, familiar anger. One combined with pain and guilt, all directed towards himself. 'They wouldn't have asked my daughter to make that stupid request if I was the one fused to that parasite instead.' Steven thought with a crestfallen look. A hand was placed on Steven's shoulder. The man snapped out of his emotional state long enough to see Tim Botsford hovering near him, giving Steven a sympathetic look. "I'm guessing the meeting with the Mayor and the heads of the safety and events committee didn't go so well." Tim calmly said. "Understatement of the century." Steven snorted with lingering bitterness. His expression then morphed back into a more placid look. "Thank you again for giving me the heads up about them wanting to see me. As well as coming here for support." Steven spoke to Tim with a grateful underlined tone. Tim smiled widely "No problem Steven. I know you do such a great job of raising your daughter even if most people don't realize that. Mouse is still a good and well behaved kid even if she is a villain." Tim spoke, trying to reassure his friend. "It's a shame most people can't see Mouse for who she is due to her villain side." Steven frowned, he agreed with Tim wholeheartedly, which was why his friends words were so painfully true. "It's not her fault her will can't override that vicious mouse's instincts and constant cheese obsession." Steven grumbled bitterly, the common feelings of guilt and regret pushing through him again. Tim just nodded solemnly, knowing how Steven felt about his daughter's condition. "I know, unfortunately there is no way you can't make animals ignore their nature and eating habits on their own. That's a sad but true fact about mother nature my friend." Tim replied. Steven slowly nodded, taking in Tim's words. The two men walked to the parking lot where there cars were left waiting. They waved goodbye to each other, well after Steven had to decline a dinner invitation from Tim for another time. As Steven drove back home through the city streets, he grimly took in the images of people setting up for the Cheese Appreciation Festival celebration. Steven scowled silently as he looked at all the cheery faces of the townspeople setting up, acting like they didn't care how their actions would affect a certain cheese craving villain. 'There is no way you can't make animals ignore their nature and eating habits on their own.' Tim's words echoed in Steven's mind. "I guess there really isn't a way is there." Steven muttered, feeling dejected as he mulled over his conversations with Tim and the Mayor. "But what if there was?" Steven spoke, shrugging at the false hope. Then an though struck his mind. "That's It!" Steven exclaimed as his eyes widened at the idea which began forming in his brain. His mood brightening as he raced home. Eager to share his plan with one of the few people who could help him pull it off. "This will work. It just has too." Steven spoke aloud. A small smile forming from his usually sullen face. He might finally have the solution that would ease their situation. Even if it was temporary. "Fair City's First Annual Cheese Appreciation Festival is sure too..*click* brought to you by the Cheese...*click* The giant grilled cheese sandwich is once again making an appearance at..*click click*. "Please turn off the television Jenkins." Mouse moaned as she tried covering her ears with the couch cushions. @melodythebunny @erraticeris