#so if that’s the thing you don’t like your hate should be directed at frank and not at her

[m4ndysk4nkovich]

it’s not a coincidence that season four, the season where debbie hits puberty, is the season where the fandom starts to gang up on her.

[garbinge]

THE ONES THAT HAUNT YOU

Mike Franks x F!Reader // Leroy Jethro Gibbs & F!Reader // Word Count: 5.6k Summary: When cases get personal, things get messy. After getting put as lead on a case that's personal to Mike, the two of you argue at work. As Gibbs walks in on the tail end of the fight, the two of you spark up a friendship. When you get home, Mike is waiting for you, tail between his legs ready to make up for the things he said and open up about the past... just in time for your past to come knocking. Warnings: All my fics are 18+ regardless of content. SMUT. Angst. Fighting. Yelling/Raising Voices. Mike being a little mean in the beginning but makes up for it later. Canon-level case violence/death/murder. Mental Illness/manic episode. A/N: This is pure Franks brain rot. I have nothing else to say. More from this universe

“You’re being an asshole.” 

You were sitting at your desk, arms resting on the edge of it because most of the surface was covered by folders and papers. There probably had to be like 3 empty coffee cups to accompany the one cold one that you would still occasionally sip from. Mike was standing on the opposite side of your desk, his hands resting on his hips as you raised your voice to argue with him. 

“Oh, I’m being an asshole?” Now one of his hands was pointing to his chest, the sarcastic smirk tugging at his mouth as he spoke. His eyes turned to the open door frame where likely some agents still were. He was thinking of his next words, if they were worth saying or if someone was in ear shot.

It was late, both of your teams were either home by now or taking a breather from their paperwork in the break room. It was just you two in the bullpen, and when he realized that, he let the words fly from his mouth after a quick head shake. “If I’m so much of an asshole, why the hell you with me, huh?” 

“Something I’m asking myself at the moment.” Your response came back quick, not needing to think of something smart to say, it already lived at the tip of your tongue. That was one thing you and Franks did well. Argue. 

“In that case you should leave.” His reply was delivered just as fast. Eyebrows raised and the pissed look on his face growing as the seconds passed, all while his hands went back resting on his hips. 

“You’re at my desk.” It was at that moment that you placed your hands palm side down over the mess. Internally you were flinching, you hated when things got like this, when they got messy. But the irony in it was you’d hate it so much it’d pretty much become a constant.

“I came over here because I had a shit fucking day and needed to blow off some steam, figured you’d like to join me, not to get shit thrown in my face.” His voice was louder now, it was unlikely someone heard what he said, but they’d probably heard him raising his voice. Lucky for you, that wasn’t cause for alarm around here. Franks was always raising his voice. 

“You forget that I have the same fucking days as you? I sit right across from you,” you pointed to the desk 6 feet in front of yours. “I get heavy caseloads, the same late nights, and I deal with all of that on top of your annoying ass attitude.” Your face twisted at that, turning to look at your work, hoping he’d take the hint and leave you alone but that was wishful thinking.

“I–“

You didn’t let him even start the sentence before you slammed your hands against the desk in an attempt to get him to stop. “And if all you’re here for is to blow off steam, join a fuckin’ gym, Franks. i’m not a fuckin’ game, I have feelings that I don’t just shove to the back of my brain the minute they pop up.” It was a direct shot at him and by the look on his face, he knew it. 

“We really doing this?” That first question felt genuine despite the slight sarcasm in his voice. It was almost pleading, a desperate attempt to stop your arguing. But when you couldn’t hide the attitude on your face, all that went out the window. “You wanna do this?” 

“Won’t be the first time I danced with the devil, Franks.” Another shot. It’s what you’d call your, well, whatever this was. Dancing with the devil. You had a think for reckless behavior. For mess. No matter how much you’d vocalize that you hated it. 

It became a joke. Everytime you’d knock on his door, you’d smile and tell him you were there to dance with the devil. 

—-

One day you literally did it. 2AM in his kitchen, you both were working the same case, both his team and yours were assigned on it, an all hands on deck situation. When you relieved your teams, both of you went back to Mike’s place and made a work station out of his dining room table. When you retreated to grab another cup of coffee from his kitchen, you felt him grab your hand and twirl you around. There was no music, just the sounds of your own laughs and footsteps on the kitchen tile. You rested your head against his shoulder, he began humming a song lightly as the two of you fell into a rhythm of swaying. 

“We aren’t going to solve it tonight.” His voice was soft as he spoke in your ear. 

“We’re close. I feel it.” You also felt the heaviness in your eyes as you fought the sleep coming over you. 

You felt the vibration of his chuckle in your body, the light peck of his lips against your head, slightly touching your forehead a bit. “You’re stubborn.” 

“I just need to find whoever did this.” You brought your arms up tighter around his back. 

He adjusted his arm around your shoulders, now hugging you instead of using your hand to guide you in a slow pace. “This case is different for you, I can tell.” 

“It’s personal. The first victim–” you closed your eyes, you were able to hear Mike’s heart thumping, “she was a friend. Jessica. My brother’s girlfriend.” 

“And Wheeler let you on the case?” Even with your eyes closed and looking in a completely different direction, you could feel the way his brows were furrowed into one another. This was new information to him, but he deserved to know, you just had to tell him at your own pace. 

“We’re short staffed, Wheeler would make me work my own murder case.” It was a joke, but it was true, this was all hands on deck because there were massive gaps in NIS right now. 

“Now you bite your tongue.” He was pulling out of your hug, his feet stopped swaying to look at you, his brows still furrowed. 

“Why would I do that when I got you to do it for me.” Your lips turned to a smirk. 

His face lightened up for just a quick second before he was leaning down and dropping a kiss to your lips, his teeth grazing your bottom lip and pulling it out just slightly before releasing it and looking down at you. 

“You’re dancin’ with the devil, you know that?” He mumbled against your mouth. 

“Havin’ a damn good time doin’ it, too.” You placed a light kiss on his mouth since it was still centimeters away from yours. 

“And if Wheeler finds out?” Now his brows lifted, real curious towards your response. 

“Didn’t see anything about dancing with the devil in the handbook.” You shrugged and brought Mike back in close to you, moving your feet to start leading the both of you in a sway again. 

“Wouldn’t know, I never read the damn thing.” He chuckled, grabbing you right back and falling back into the motion. 

The two of you comfortably fell into a silence, just rocking back and forth, now to the hum of the fridge and the light under the microwave. It was probably 30 minutes of this, before you tapped his chest and looked up at him. Both of you had dark bags under your eyes, but sleep wasn’t going to be next on the list. There was still too much to sift through.

“If Wheeler finds out it won’t matter.” Now you were turning to grab your luke warm coffee, pouring a shit ton of sugar in it and stirring it around although there wasn’t much heat left in the coffee to dissolve it as quickly. 

“And why’s that?” Mike had leaned back on the small bistro table in his kitchen, his arms crossed against his chest. 

“Because we’re understaffed, he can’t afford to fire us for misconduct.” You smirked and turned around, bringing the mug up to your mouth to take a sip. 

Mike laughed at that and shook his head. “If he does say anything, I’ll bring up that dancing with the devil isn’t in the handbook.” 

You were walking past him, back to the kitchen table. “Mm, should be in the training, though.” 

—-

“You’re emotional. You’re immature, you run into shit without thinking first.” He began listing things off. 

“Sounds like you’re talking about yourself.” You leaned back in your chair now, your arms crossed, wondering where this argument was going to go. 

“I learn from the best, baby.” Despite the smile on his face, he was being cruel. Picking at whatever he could to get under your skin. 

It was then that footsteps entered the bullpen, neither of you were looking at who just walked in, your eyes were glued on eachother, the anger and frustration practically burning holes in your faces. 

“Get the fuck out.” You spoke it at a normal tone, but your teeth were gritted and your face was tight. 

“Hey—” He was trying to backpedal now, you could see it in that last second of him staring at you, the flinch in his right eye that said everything he never would. 

“Get the fuck out.” You repeated it, this time pushing off from leaning back in your office chair. 

Franks nodded briefly, like he was taking an order from you and was out the entrance closest to your desk in seconds. 

You knew it was Gibbs who had walked into the bullpen, without bothering to even look in that direction. He spent as much time as possible here, burying himself in the work. 

“The hell was that?” He was walking towards his desk, but took the extra steps to make it closer to yours, dropping a cup of hot coffee down in one of the only clear spots left on your desk. 

“That was Franks doing what he does best.” Your eyes looked over at the coffee cup and nodded in appreciation before bringing it to the permanent spot in your hand as you stared down at the photos you had just removed from a folder once Franks left. 

“Y–“ Gibbs began to speak but you cut him off.

“Gibbs. I want you to think very carefully before you speak.” 

He nodded and moved swiftly to his desk to work. It was just you two, the main overhead lights were off since it was well past 10PM now, the only lights being the desk lamps from yours and Gibbs’s desk. You preferred it that way, it made everything around you disappear aside from the files in front of you. 

Mary Jo had said goodbye about an hour ago, dropping one more folder on your desk based on a request you had asked her earlier in the day. Lala had been in the breakroom with Strickland and had peaked in to say goodbye, too. Randy had gone home at end of day because his kid had a sports game and you had told your team to head home around 7 because you needed to take in this new case alone.. 

You wiped your hands across your face before taking the last sip of coffee. This cup, you decided to throw get up and throw out, simply because there just wasn’t any room to store it on your desk anymore. 

“i know you two are together.” Gibbs’s voice caused your eyes to move towards his, debating what you wanted to say to him, soaking in his words.

“Doesn’t surprise me.” You nodded,”We’re sneaking around investigators, would be a bit alarming if someone didn’t realize.” 

Gibbs did his best job at a knowing smile. “What he do?”

That got you to smile, his immediate instinct was to blame Franks.

“I love your faith in me probie.” You walked over to lean on the side of your desk, your arms crossing along with one leg over the other as you stared at him. 

“Doesn’t take a genius to figure that out.” He let out a small chuckle, “plus, I know what that looks like.” 

You looked up at him with sorrowful eyes, it wasn’t a secret that Gibbs had recently lost his wife.  With your hands dropping to grip the edge of your desk, you let out a large exhale.

“If I wasn’t a part of NIS, things would be different. We run things so differently, things I do for my team compared to how he runs his. We work differently. We think differently.  Sometimes I think if I had met Franks in some other life he’d actually care about me.” 

“He cares.” Gibbs answered so quickly, and while you knew that was true, you also knew that with the lives you and Franks had, caring wasn’t always enough. 

“I got put on a cold case.” The sentence wasn’t enough to explain what had caused the tension between you two, but it was something. 

“And he’s pissed about that?” Gibbs wasn’t on your team, but you were aware that he didn’t talk much, so the fact he was open to this conversation with you was intriguing to say the least. 

“He was the lead agent on it 7 years ago.” There it was, the clarity was starting to come to light.

“Ah.” Gibbs understood now. 

“They wanted a new pair of eyes. The case officially went cold the week I started at NIS–it was Mike’s first case as a Supervisory Special Agent– It’s not lost on me the weight of that. Wheeler brought us both to his office, mentioned that Strickland had found new evidence when going over old files and the case was opening back up. It honestly is such a big case I figured both our teams were going to divide and conquer but turns out Wheeler just wanted me to take a look tonight before assigning out my team on it tomorrow. Told Franks to be available to me.” 

“You asked him something and he snapped.” Gibbs put the pieces together, but he was wrong.

Shaking your head you tilted your head. “I wasn’t ready to bring him in yet and he didn't like that.” 

Gibbs nodded. 

“I needed to marinate on it, take in everything without his perspective skewing mine. It’s how I work.” You shook your head, frustration tensing on your shoulders. “Franks knows how I am. Knows I do things on my timeline. I need a fuckin’ minute to check my gut.” 

That got Gibbs attention. “He teach you that? To trust your gut?” The question was inquisitive, like he was curious to instructions on how he best could trust his. 

That got you to laugh, blowing the air out of your mouth you kicked off your desk and looked down at the papers. “He got that from me.” 

Gibbs smirked at that too, he wanted to ask more but he let it be and stood up, making his way over to yout desk to take in the files. “That what you've been doin all night?” 

You nodded, a million thoughts going through your head. 

“And?” That was the question asked where he hoped he’d learn more about trusting your gut, but unfortunately, your gut was coming up short on this one. 

“And I need to ask Franks a god damn question.” You opened your notebook to a long list of notes. “or 20.” 

“They turn the coffee machine off at 11.” Gibbs said, looking at your empties. 

“I’m gonna head out. Change of scenery will do me good.” You grabbed your desk phone and started to press 0 for an operator. “Cab, NIS to Cherry Grove.” As you waited for them to respond you were piling all your work into a pile. “Fuck you mean 35 dollars?” Dropping the papers you grabbed the phone that was originally tucked between your ear and shoulder as if getting the speaker closer to your ear would make the answer change. 

“Surge rates? It’s 1:30AM?!” You slammed the phone down, definitely more angrily than you needed it to be but you were just taking out all the pent up emotion from earlier. 

“C’mon. I’ll drive you.” Gibbs was staring at you, bag slung over his shoulder. 

“Thanks for driving me, Franks drove me in this morning.” You never minded keeping your relationship with Mike secret, but there was something freeing about being so open about it to Gibbs. 

“How do you know when to trust your gut?” The question felt out of left field. It echoed in the cabin of his truck. 

“You always trust your gut, Gunny.” You smirked over at him before pointing in the direction he needed to turn to get on your street. “Right here.” You pointed to the only house with the porch light on. 

As he pulled up against the curb, you both saw Mike sitting on your porch, his elbows leaning on his knees. 

Gibbs didn’t say it, but you knew what he was thinking. See, he cares. 

“I know he cares. He cornered Artie in the men’s bathroom when he heard him tell Roger I was a diversity promotion.” You remembered Artie coming up to you to apologize, it wasn’t sincere, but there was fear behind it. It was likely that Franks threatened him if he didn’t say something to you. 

“Make him sweat it a little bit.” The comment earned you to snap your head towards Gibbs who was trying to hide a smile. 

“Did we just become friends, Gunny?” He wasn’t on your team, so while he was technically below you in rank, there was a little more leeway in how you two could speak to eachother, share things. 

“If we did, you can call me Jethro.” 

That got you to smile back at him with a nod. “You got it, Gunny. See you tomorrow.” 

You had full intentions to make it a point not to share anything on you and Franks but after the little conversation that went on, you knew it wasn’t necessary. 

As you walked up to your house, you stepped right past Mike, not acknowledging him, just placing your key in the door. Franks didn’t look up at you, just kept his elbows resting on his knees, his head looking down at the ground. Gibbs was still parked on the curb, waiting for you to unlock your door. He was well are that with Franks presence he didn’t need to make sure you got in okay, but you’d have to pry chivalry out of Gibbs cold dead hands. 

As you pushed the door open, you spoke over your shoulder. “You comin’ in?” 

Franks was standing up and as you waved him inside, he walked past you into your home, head still down like a sad puppy. Turning to the truck, you offered a quick wave to which Gibbs lifted two fingers in a wave himself, and then you stepped inside your home. 

You kicked your shoes off next to Mike’s, then followed your daily routine of getting home. Placing your bag on the hooks, dropping your badge on the entry table, locking your gun in the safe. Pouring yourself a glass of wine. 

This time though, you cracked open a beer to give to Franks who was sitting at your kitchen table. 

“I’m going to take a shower.” Placing the beer down, you brought your glass to your lips as you retreated to the bathroom. The hot water steamed the room up, it made the condensation on your wine glass drip even more than before as it sat on the soap dish in the shower. 

“On a scale of 1-10, how much do you hate me?” His drawl didn’t scare you, you knew he’d pop in, it’s why you left the door open. 

“8.5” You said as the water trickled down your back, grabbing the wine to take a sip from it. 

“Damn.” He clearly wasn’t expecting it that high. 

“It’s been higher.” You tried to offer some solace. 

“It’s been lower.” Now the shower curtain was being pulled back slightly. His eyes met yours which were looking over at him as you drank the rest of the glass. “Refill?” He held up the bottle and you tipped your glass so he could fill it up. “You wanna dance with the devil?” Putting the cork back in the bottle, he didn’t take his eyes off you. 

“The water’s hot, the way you hate it.” With a smile, the words Gibbs had spoken to you right before you got out of the car were sitting in your head. Make him sweat it a little bit. 

“I was an asshole.”  Those words took you by surprise. Mike never apologized, but he found ways to dance around them with you. 

“Tell me something I don’t know.” You placed the glass back down on the soap dish and tilted your head back into the stream of water. 

“I shouldn’t have been an asshole.” 

With that, you sighed. “Get in.” 

It didn’t take him long to be unclothed and standing inside the tub with you, he was quick to wrap his arms around you, your bodies pressed against each other. He placed a quick kiss to your lips, it was his way of reading where you were, if you were going to pull away, if you melted into the kiss, felt distant. 

As he pulled away, he moved his hand to grip your face, wiping the streams of mascara off your face before leaning in and kissing you again, this time longer and even though he opened his mouth slightly, he didn’t slip his tongue into your mouth, he wasn’t trying to seduce you, he was just trying to make it up to you. 

He leaned to get the shampoo and started to lather the product in his hands before rubbing it on your scalp. You wished it didn’t feel as good as it did, you let out a couple moans as his fingers massaged your scalp. 

“Turn around.” His gruff voice sent a chill down your spine despite the scalding hot water that was currently trickling down it. Turning so now your front was in the water stream, you tilted your head back as he continued to massage your head, his hands then moving down to your shoulders. Each movement moving your back closer against him. You could feel him hard against you, but he did nothing to remedy it, just focused on the suds above your shoulders. “Turn and rinse.” He spoke again and you obliged, washing the shampoo out of your hair. 

The process repeated with conditioner, and then the soap along your body. By the time your shower was done, your muscles were more relaxed than they had ever been. 

“Go, dry up. I’ll be just a minute.” He was turning to let you step out of the shower, your hand in his as you stepped on the bath mat and grabbed your towel. Closing the curtain you heard the water temperature knob squeak, the noise it always made when the water turned colder. You couldn’t help but smile, you always burned your skin in the shower and Franks hated it. Instead of retreating to your bedroom, you plopped up on the sink, waiting for him to finish up. 

As the curtain opened, you let your towel start to fall down, part of your skin starting to peek through as it did. Mike caught your eye and then let his fall down to your body before looking back up at you, searching your face to make sure he wasn’t misunderstanding the context. 

You tilted your head slightly, telling him to come closer to you with no words at all. He stepped forward, his body covered in droplets still, his hair dripping wet but still twirled in those curls that your fingers would get tangled in. His arms rested on the edges of the sink, closing you in between them. Wrapping your legs around him was all the invitation he needed, his face fell immediately into the crook of your neck, sucking the sensitive area of skin there before tracing it with his tongue. While your head fell back, giving him more area to work with, you wrapped one hand around his shoulders and the other fell down to touch him. You pumped his member right against your entrance, the tip just ever so slightly touching you. That mixed with the work Mike was doing on your neck, you could feel yourself get wetter. 

You moved slightly, leaning back against the mirror and pushed your chest out, begging Mike to put your breasts in his mouth and he obliged without any confusion in your body language. 

You let out a loud moan, your hands cupping his face as he sucked on your nipple, bringing your hand into his hair and gripping at those curls tightly. 

Not wanting to wait another second, you grabbed him and began pumping again, this time you could feel he had his own wetness at the tip and you couldn’t help but use his cock to rub it against your clit before positioning it at your entrance, letting it go in just slightly. 

“More.” You spoke into his ear and he didn’t need you to say it twice. He pushed inside you and while you let your head fall back against the mirror again, his fell on your shoulder. Both of you letting out a moan. He stayed there for a few seconds before slowing moving out and pumping back in you, each movement earning a noise from you that he gladly moved to catch in his own mouth. 

He kissed you with passion, they were hard, like his thrusts as they began to speed up. 

“You feel so fuckin’ good.” The words were whispered as your eyes practically rolled back in your head. 

“Think that’s my line, sweetheart.” He chuckled, looking down as he watched himself enter in and out of you, his tongue swiping around his lip like he was hungry for more. 

Widening your legs apart, you brought them from wrapped around his waist to snug parallel against his sides, he used his hands to hold them there as he continued to pump inside you, his grunts making you more wet if that was even possible. Moving one hand to touch your clit, you practically cried out from the tender touch of your own hand. Mike was quick to readjust, dropping his hands from your legs and using one hand to lay on top of yours, his polite way of telling you he’d gladly rub your clit for you and his other hand resting on the mirror behind you for balance. 

You kept your legs where they were, your knees pressing tightly into his side just made him go faster. 

“You look fuckin’ perfect.” You thought he was looking down at you but his eyes were staring right at your face. 

You brought your hand back up to his face, cupping it tightly as his hips grinded. The hand that was resting on the mirror moved to readjust you slightly, just sliding you down ever so slightly to change the angle he was fucking you at and bless him for it because it was then that you cried out as his cock hit that spot that made you come undone with the matching pressure of his fingers swirling on your clit. 

As you reached your climax, the tightening around his cock caused him to come undone. Both of you moaning and grunting before you let your chests rise and fall to catch your breath. He pulled out of you. Your hand still on his face as he did so he brought his own up to hold it there tighter, pressing a light kiss to the inside of your wrist before helping you off the sink. Every muscle he had just massaged in the shower had just tightened up from being fucked on the bathroom sink but it was incredibly worth it, and maybe you could use it as an excuse for this to happen again. 

He bent down to pick the towel up for you, wrapping it around you and using the bottom hem to clean up his mess that was dripping down your leg. Mike grabbed a towel of his own, wrapping it around his waist while you both retreated to the bedroom. He had a drawer with some things in it, so while you were at the vanity putting on your lotion, he was grabbing a shirt for you, and something for him to cover up. The large NIS long sleeve was being handed to you along with a pair of shorts you always wore to bed, then he moved to put his own underwear on. Pulling the cigarette pack out of his jean pockets, he then dropped those belted pants and button up shirt on the ground before picking up a lighter to his cigarette. 

“So Gibbs knows?” His voice was altered as he inhaled the cigarette smoke. 

“It’s almost like he’s a special agent.” You teased as you brought the shirt over your body. 

“So what, you two like friends now or something?” He was teasing you back. 

Smirking, you came up behind him and rested your head against his back, your arms wrapping around his abdomen. “Wouldn’t you like to know.” The words were probably in poor taste, considering he wanted to know so much about your thoughts on this case. It was why he was being such a jerk earlier. After he chuckled a bit, his body language got serious, you felt his body tense up against you.

“You remember when we were workin’ that murder case. The one where your friend was the victim.” 

It should’ve surprised you, the fact that a heavy statement like that did nothing to shake you, to make your gut twist, but it did none of that. All it did was cause your heart to stop for half a second before going back to normal. 

“That case was personal to you.” He nodded, hoping you were understanding where he was going with it, but you weren’t gonna let him not say more. “This–this case. Is personal to me.” 

“I wasn’t shutting you out.” You mumbled the sentence against his back. 

“I know.” He nodded and took a deep breath. 

“Actually have tons of questions for you. I just needed to marinate.” 

“Yea, I get that.” He nodded. “You wanna ask me your questions?” 

“No.” Now it was your turn to not say more than that. 

He nodded again and let out another deep breath. 

“But I have one I need to ask you.” You pulled your head off his back and rested your chin on it instead. “How close were you to him?” 

Him. Just the word made Mike flinch, the difference in both of you, how for you, your old personal case didn’t even cause you to tremble, but for Franks, he physically felt his body react to the question. That was the difference between these personal cases. Yours was closed. The killer was 6 feet in the ground. This case had no sign of closure in sight, and that was now your weight to carry. 

“When he was alive? Not very.”

“But after?” You knew there had to be a point for him to bring up that question. 

“When he died, I’ve never felt closer to him.” The words made him choke up a bit. “I talked to him, when I was working the case, I’d talk out loud to him like he was there with me.” He let out a laugh like he found it hard to believe himself. “He still haunts me.” 

When you saw the name in the folder, you understood entirely. It was his former team member, before he was promoted to Supervisory Special Agent on a different team. 

Just as you were about to speak, there was a knock at your door, a loud one, frantic even. 

Mike was quick to stand up straight, his jeans were on his legs in seconds, his fingers quickly fastening the buckle as he made his way to the door. 

“Stay here.” His voice was firm, he knew you were just as capable as him to deal with whoever was banging at your door at 3AM, but it didn’t stop him from wanting to deal with it himself. 

As the door swung open, his gun in hand and cigarette hanging from his mouth, his face tightened to frighten whoever was there. “Who the fuck are you?”

“Uh, sorry. I was–was looking for my sister.” The stuttering made it very clear the man was stressed, likely in a panic. 

“August?” You spoke your brother’s name, your hands grabbing Mike’s bare skin to move him over, staring almost frozen at the sight of your brother. “What happened?” 

“It’s Jessica, I can’t find her.”  And just like that, the twist in your gut came back. Your eyes closed, and you squeezed Mike’s arm before moving past him and grabbing your manic brother into your arms. 

“It’s okay, Auggie. We’ll find her.” Lie. Mike was trying to rack his brain around everything. “Go lay on the couch, I’ll make you a cup of tea.” 

Your brother hadn’t been the same since losing Jessica. It’s why you put everything on the line to take the case all those years ago. It’s why you wanted to look at this case with fresh eyes-no sway, because the minute someone planted an idea of how things went down with Jessica, you spent 12 crucial hours following that thought just for it to come up as a dead end. You should’ve followed your gut. From that day forward, you always followed your gut.

As your brother moved to the couch, his hands shaking and head nodding as he repeated your words, you turned to Mike. After you told him to go put a shirt on and put on a pot of coffee for you both, you squeezed his arm with one more thing to say.

“The cases don’t have to be cold for them to continue haunting you.”

Dividers by: realitycanbewhateveridesire ♡ 🕵️ NCIS Taglist: @drabbles-mc @justreblogginfics @kmc1989 @ilovemark1951 @shamelessturtlebeliever @babebaber (let me know if you’d like to be added!)

More from this universe

[nicohischierz]

bump in the road: tyler duke

tagging: @ivy-34, @francesfarhadi, @hzstry8, @cixrosie, @itsnotgray, @estapa94, @trevs-swiftie, @heartz4hischif you want to join the taglist let me know!!

your heart dropped at the sight of tyler's lips latched onto another girl.

your fingers made its way to the necklace he gave you for your birthday. the months of repairing your friendship and going on 'dates' down the drain.

sure the relationship had been fake but you were convinced that your feelings for each other now were true.

"y/n, are you okay?" will asked.

instead of jumping for joy that the boy you had been crushing on was talking to you. you shook your head and let out a sob.

will looked over your shoulder and grit his teeth. the blonde immediately pulled you in for a hug and directed you towards your group of friends.

sarah sobered up quickly and took you away from will as cutter and rutger asked the boy what happened.

"i don't even know why i'm so upset because it was all fake," you choked out.

sarah furrowed her eyebrows. "do you think maybe a part of you wanted it to be real?" she asked.

"i hated him sarah. for the past twelve years of my life, tyler duke made it his mission to bother me but this bothers me the most," you whispered.

tyler wasn't one for good timing, so when he reached his friend group it was just as will had explained what he saw. the duke boy was then met with a nice right hook from rutger.

"you're a fucking asshole." he spat.

tyler was stunned as he searched the crowd for you. one of the first things he noticed was the absence of the necklace he gave you. the next was your puffy eyes.

that party was the last time you saw tyler duke.

or so you thought.

it had been a year of successfully avoiding tyler, with the help of some of his friends.

“y/n/n, you haven’t looked at the hockey team have you?” franks new girlfriend asked.

the girlfriends on the team were well aware of what happened between you and tyler. rutger had accidentally slipped up one night and now the boys were protective of you.

the girlfriends had welcomed you with open arms.

“i have not. why what’s wrong?” you asked.

your question was answered almost immediately when you heard his voice.

“she hasn’t spoken to me since that night man. i don’t even know what i did wrong,” tyler spoke to his brother.

dylan had tried his best to get his brother far away from you but it was no use. tyler was determined to get back to the locker room, using the route you were stood in.

seamus tried blocking you from his view but it was useless as tyler had already called your name.

the florida native kept his hand around your waist, prompting tyler to think that the two were dating. tyler just bite his lips and nodded his head slowly.

“i should’ve known you’d go for one of my teammates.” tyler spat.

mark and ethan stepped in front of tyler, blocking you from his view. tyler just rolled his eyes and shook his head.

“you should go ty,” dylan advised his younger brother.

tyler scoffed at his older brother and pushed his way past you and seamus. dylan looked to you and apologised before following after his younger brother.

"you cheated on me!" you exclaimed before tyler went too far.

the boy stopped and turned to you. "you kissed that girl at the party and I saw it. damn it tyler the whole time we were together it benefited you way more than me," you ranted.

tyler was stunned, he realised that you hadn't seen him push the girl away and search for you instead. you also hadn't realised that the only person he wanted was you.

"and to think, i was really starting to like you," you whispered before walking away from the team.

the guys all glared at tyler. especially rutger and frank "you fucked up bad ty," they chastised him.

[dabiensworld]

Spare key

Kastle Exchange May 26th, "What Could Be" The first thing they say to each other in Daredevil: Born Again/AU day

@kastleexchange

Part 1 of my vision of how the pilot episode would looks like from Karen's POV. Further parts will be a direct continuation.

“Did you plan to sneak out?” She heard a voice behind her back and the sound of bare feet on her floor. Was sure she would be able to get ready before he exited the shower. Her mind didn't register the moment the water stopped running. Maybe she got used to his presence here, in her apartment and personal space. 

“I can't sneak out of my own home, Frank.” Karen opened her cosmetic bag and she pulled out a nude lipstick. She looked in the mirror and saw in the reflection bare chested Frank with his skin glowing from water droplets and a towel around his waist. The sight was unbelievable, and yet it looked so normal that Karen couldn't believe it. 

“You should have waited for me, otherwise you would have locked me in your house.” 

“You know where the spare key is.” Karen pointed to a coconut bowl next to her door, where she keeps all her little stuff, including car keys and spare keys. Frank took them multiple times and everytime she found them inside the bowl. She hoped that one day she would find the bowl empty. She continued to watch in the mirror as Frank finished drying his body and putting on his pants. He noticed that she was glancing at him because he stood behind her and placed his hands on her hips, began to place kisses just behind her ear, along her hairline. That simple gesture warmed her from toes to head, but he could feel that something was on her mind. 

“You’re not in the mood. Didn't you get enough sleep?” As if he himself wasn't the reason for her sleep deprivation. He moved his head to look at her from a distance and look into her eyes, but for some reason she avoided his gaze. 

“What’s the matter?” He asked worriedly. She sighed and handed him her smartphone. 

“New York mayoral elections. Experts predict a landslide win for Wilson Fisk.” Frank read aloud. “Is that what you are worried about?”

“This is making me angry. Fisk ruined so many lives, killed so many people. I can’t believe that he walks freely around the city as if nothing had happened and now people want him to rule the entire city when he should be rotting in prison.”

“Well, I've killed people too and I walk freely around the city.” Frank said. 

“Yes, but you're not running for mayor of New York.” She was amused by her own joke, and their laughter echoed off the walls of her apartment. Karen liked the sound of his laugh. A low, but at the same time a little boyish. She turned her back to him so he wouldn't see her cheeks flushing. 

“If people elect him as mayor, it means that New York has a short memory after all.” Frank finished dressing, putting on a shirt. Karen noticed that he wasn't wearing the clothes he wore yesterday. Instead, he put on the one that Karen had washed a few days ago and put clean on the bottom shelf of her closet.

“Speaking of short memories of New York City, people don't remember The Punisher anymore, you don't have to hide behind that beard anymore.” 

“Why? You don’t like my beard?“ He looked at her and for the first time today their eyes met. 

“I hate it.” Karen replied in a slightly flirtatious tone. Frank grew a beard again, although this time it didn't look like it did when he picked it up on the street. On the contrary, his beard and hair were well-groomed and evenly trimmed. He looked very handsome, but Karen preferred his clean face. The beard was a bit in the way when he ate her out. 

“Karen, you may have noticed that the faucet in your shower is leaking.” Frank changed the topic of conversation.

“I know, I already reported it to the building administrator two weeks ago.” she answered while putting the rest of her makeup supplies into her bag. 

“I can fix it for you, I'll bring the tools. You won't have to wait for the administration to do something about it and…”

“You are doing this again, aren't you?” She interrupted him. 

“Doing what again?” His tone sounded surprised, as if he didn't know what she meant.

“You are looking for… excuses.”

“Excuses?”

“To come here. To…hang out with me.” She hadn't considered whether that was a good synonym for having sex, but saying it out loud would outline what they really meant to each other, and they had persistently avoided the topic.

They started sleeping together 15 months ago. Although the first night they only slept. Karen was terrified that once again someone was trying to kill her and she asked Frank to stay with her because she didn't want to be alone that night. She no longer remembered who wanted to hurt her, but she remembered the feel of his arms as they wrapped around her body, the warmth of his breath that tickled her neck, and the scent of the soap he used, soothing yet chemical. For a moment she felt happy, but that moment was fleeting, when she woke up in the morning in an empty bed, her heart broke.

Frank returned to her life 6 months later, although she had the impression that he had been lurking on the outskirts of her life, waiting for the opportune moment when Karen would need him. When one of Nelson, Murdock & Page's former clients publicly threatened her with death, Frank did not hesitate for a moment and eliminated it. Although the police ruled it a suicide, Karen saw her own. But for some reason Frank was avoiding her, so she decided to use the only way she knew he wouldn't be able to resist.  

She bought white flowers. She put them in her window. She waited. He showed up the same night. 

“I thought you needed help.” he said with a disappointing tone in his voice.

“I don't need help from you, I need answers.” 

But he made her wait a long time that night. Her bottle of wine was almost empty when he came, but without it she wouldn't have had the courage to push him until his back hit the wall and kissed him. Frank didn't seem like the type to hesitate, but Karen knew that he was surprised when she placed her hands on his body. But he finally gave in and embraced her and kissed her back. He did this all night long. Neither of them thought about what would happen in the morning. And when morning came Karen just let him go. She heard him waking up and getting ready, but she pretended to sleep.  She didn't feel the pain in her heart like last time. She felt that he would come back to her. 

And he came back, a few weeks later. She had the best night of her life with him again. He touched her and kissed her the way she liked, as if he knew her body and did it every day. She wanted him to do this. But morning came and Frank disappeared. And then he came back and disappeared again. Months of separation turned into weeks, and weeks into days. Frank always came back, but he always needed an excuse to do so.

Suddenly, various appliances in her apartment needed repairs, even though they had previously worked perfectly. Whenever something bad happened in Hell's Kitchen, he would stop by to check if she was okay. He insisted that she change the door locks and he did it himself. 

Only once did he show up at her door without any excuse, even though he actually had one. He bought a Springsteen album at a pawn shop and wanted to listen to it with her. It wasn't Karen's vibe, but it was nice, listening to the music with their fingers intertwined, feeling the warmth of his body, and his foot gently rubbing against her leg. Karen closed her eyes and wanted to live like this until the end of the world. With the man she loved. She was in love with Frank Castle. Did she have the courage to say it aloud? Saying it out loud could change everything between them. Their relationship was not limited only to carnal pleasures, they also had many hours of deep conversations. About Karen's past, about Frank's past, about the present, but they never touched on the topic of the future, especially the one that could be theirs together. 

For a long time, Karen was happy with what she had, but she knew it was only temporary. Because the world started to notice that she was happy. At least Matt and Foggy noticed. And they started asking questions. And she couldn't answer it. Because no one would understand the feelings she has for Frank. She didn't fully understand it either. And she guessed he did too. They were stuck in this state of limbo, in their bubble that was limited to the walls of her apartment. They felt good there, but she felt like she needed something more. Perhaps some confirmation that Frank would be there when she got home from work and wouldn't be gone when she opened her eyes in the morning. She spent days trying to get herself together to talk to him about it, but each time she was overcome with the thought that she would lose him. She started looking for excuses for herself, leaving the house earlier, before he woke up.

And that morning, egged on by all this information about Fisk, she decided she had to break through. It's ride or die. Alone or with him by her side.

“Listen, Frank. I really like your presence here. And I want you to know that you are always welcome here.” she started.

“But…?” 

“There is no but Frank. But if you have any doubts about it. I think we should talk about it. With sincerity.” They were always honest with each other. It was the unwritten rule between them, since the day they met. But the silence and understatements  were part of dishonesty and in their relationship there's no place for it. 

Frank didn't say a word or look at her, and Karen didn't know what that meant. Sometimes she felt like she knew him inside and out and could guess his every thought, and sometimes he was still a mystery to her that she wanted to solve. 

“Can we talk about it? Tonight?” She asked with with a trembling voice. Karen wasn't afraid of difficult conversations, she was afraid of those whose consequences she couldn't predict.  

Frank shook his head  and without looking up at her, he said “Yeah, we can talk.” 

She didn't feel a huge weight lift from her heart, but his agreement made her feel better. 

“What time will you be available? I'll order us something to eat.” 

“I finish at 8, won't that be too late?” Frank has been back to work in construction for a few months now and she thought he even liked it. With something to keep his mind and body occupied, Frank wasn't buried in own miserable thoughts. He got sense of purpose. 

“No, I'm going out for a drink with Matt and Foggy after work, so I'll be home around 9. I'll order some Chinese, we'll have dinner and talk. Does it fit you?” 

“Yeah, Chinese sounds fine.” he answered. 

“Great.” Before he had a chance to say something more she grabbed her purse, her phone and key. 

“I'll see you at nine. Have a nice day.” She kissed his cheek and led to the door. Before she closed them she noticed he reached the coconut bowl. 

Karen slowly began to develop a scenario in her head of what she would say to Frank and tried to anticipate what his responses would be. She couldn't have predicted that they wouldn't be able to have this conversation that night because the life she knew would end at Josie's bar. 

[mimibwi]

My thoughts on shipping

I have previously been silently exploring BTS ships and decided to put some of my thoughts on “paper”.

Now, I have been aware of the toxicities of certain BTS shipper fandoms and how messy shipping has been for groups that pre-date BTS such as One direction and Fifth Harmony. I have personally never been much of a shipper before BTS and naturally discovering my ship’s bond and starting to appreciate it. It always baffles me how shipping seems to mean different things to different people or groups of shippers. This is heard often but shipping should be something done for fun and I won’t say I hate that logic or that I 100% agree with it because I personally think its okay if you have a slight inkling your favorite pair may be dating/more than what they say they are and you try looking at it a bit more seriously. I think it’s human nature to be inquisitive and curious. However, like everything, there needs to be a limit and I think that’s a huge problem not only in shipping culture but stan culture in general. There’s been so many times that I have seen jokes or otherwise harmless discourses become a bigger deal than they were ever meant to be.

To me shipping is and always would be about observation, (rational) speculation and possibilities. I am never going to fight with anyone to prove my ship is real in a romantic way because to be frank I genuinely do not know. None of us know and that’s okay. I like discussing the possibility of ships (mainly my ship) being real (this always irks me to say cause every ship is real but anyway) and sometimes even theorize things based on that assumption. This is getting a bit messy because I have so much I want to say but I have no structure to it, bare with me.

Basically, what I am trying to say is, I think shipping is okay within limits. Once again, its all about observations and all of us are only human and can’t help but pick up on things from time to time and who knows maybe your hunch might actually mean something. So I never see any shippers or ship dynamic as a competition. I even seek out analysis, theories and videos of other ships because I love to see the different dynamics and how differently we all think and how things can look solely based on one’s perspective. Despite how frustrating it gets, I find shipping culture in itself very interesting. The way the same things can be interpreted in so many ways, seeing how differently people think from me and in many cases how other’s thoughts challenge my perspective and opinions.

The type of shipping I don’t enjoy is the type that:

makes it a competition of who is the closest or which bond is the best.

is already CONVINCED and 100% without a doubt BELIEVES that the ship they enjoy is the “real” one because like I said before none of us know for sure. It gets even worse because this subset of people speak about their theories/analysis/opinions as if its a fact known by many and some of us just need to get with the program.

degrade other members for ships. this is an instant red flag for me and if I’m being honest, many shippers aren’t as forward with the hate they have toward the member that “threatens” their ship. I have seen many shippers say the vilest things or agree with the rudest asks about some of the boys but at the end say “but I love him though” like…do you? do you really?—

push theories and delusions into the boy’s spaces to get confirmation…side eye. This is one of the worst things to me honestly. Shipping is meant to be enjoyed within fandom spaces and no matter how real you think your ship is, there is absolutely no reason to try to bring it to the boy’s attention that you apparently know what they are. Please do not make weird, inappropriate or suggestive comments about ships on their welives, do not DM them about it, do not DM or bug their family, friends and colleagues about it. PLEASE JUST BE NORMAL!!! If a ship is in fact real, they have their reasons for not being public about it and you as a fan of the group and especially as someone who enjoys the pair should be respectful of that. Sure it’s fine to talk about the duos on weverse or tag the boys in cute edits because I’m sure they like that their friendships are appreciated but please be cautious when pushing it to them through a romantic lens.

I think this takes away a lot of the fun of shipping and these subsets of shippers along with others I may have missed out here are the reason that the fandom tries to push out shippers for the most part. I always joke about many non toxic shippers getting thrown into it when all some of us really do is cry and gush about our ship TT its such a shame. But its understandable since the toxic shippers make up a large, VERY LOUD subset of the fandom and with the track record of shipping among groups, I frankly wish a lot of you weren’t around either.

((a lot more below the cut))

My Approach

To me, showing love and appreciation for the very REAL bond that we see is always going to be essential and the basis of everything I do as a shipper. And I am not talking about any theories or analysis of what we’re shown but taking in and appreciating what the boys say and the many ways they show love to each other.

No matter who you ship this is a very easy task to accomplish because the tannies are so loving and every single pair or trio has a special bond that is intriguing to explore. I have learnt so much in the few years I’ve been an ARMY, not only from my ship but from almost every ship and just the tannies on a whole. They’ve taught me a lot about friendship and help me understand the type of relationships I should aim to have and the type of person I want to be for others. These lessons and small appreciations are what I’ve anchored myself to so that I don’t stray too much from this original plot and even if I do, it’s very easy to find my way back.

That being said, I have acknowledged that I can be very delusional. I refuse to believe any of my theories or the theories that any shipper presents to me as 100% fact, no matter how convincing they might sound. I have accepted that everything I theorize about could be 1000% wrong and very very far from what is true and I’m fine with that thought. It’s what allows me to think up far fetch little theories or blip off into these delusional mind bubbles where my ship is real. It’s also why I can get out of my head and acknowledge the fact that it’s likely that no ship in BTS are romantic [ref to My unpopular(?) shipping opinions and this ask]. All of it is because I leave room for deniability.

I’ve expressed this here before but it is very much baffling to me how so many shippers believe with 100% certainty that the pair they like are actually dating and are willing to go to war over it. Y’all are way better than me because I, personally, refuse to look like a fool on the world wide web. Don’t get me wrong, I would definitely defend the tannies from the “not friends anymore” or “fanservice” allegations but I am not going out of my way to fight with delusional people about 2 Korean men (who I don’t know personally😭) being sexually or romantically involved. Y’all can keep that!

Why I don’t believe the believers

Okay now I’ll try to move on and talk about why some shipper discourses or theories don’t hold up to me and why its quite insane and sort of foolish to believe a ship exists in a romantic light 100% based solely on them. The short answer of this is CONTEXT.

Forming opinions and arguments (I am not saying shipping should be an argument but since many shippers treat it like one, I’m addressing it as such for now) about a topic always requires a massive amount of context and a foundation of already factual information to be built from to sound even remotely plausible and valid. That’s why I mentioned before that a lot of this shipping business is speculation and opinions and frankly some of the speculation/opinions I see from shippers just don’t make sense to me. This is all because with BTS and any real person whose life we only see a fraction of, we lack a lot of context and for that reason building a solid argument from a 5 second clip of their life is difficult because we as outsiders are the ones who fill in the blanks. That’s why there usually isn’t any solid or shared opinion on what certain things said or done by the guys mean because we all have different experiences and biases that reflect in the way we see and interpret people’s actions.

Okay, I am going to go into a bit more detail about what I mean and what type of context I am referring to when I say this: (this is where it may get even messier, stay with me)

1// Situational context- This is more for the shippers that breakdown specific moments and (over)analyze them. Personally, I am a big picture person so whilst there may be particular moments that I see as a moment for or against a particular ship being more than friends, most times one clip or period of time doesn’t affect the way I view a ship. I think its drastic to constantly be changing your opinions based on every clip you see or changing it because a ship hasn’t publicly interacted in a while. Despite all of this, there are many things I keep in the back of my mind and maybe even form fun, (tbh) far-fetched theories on but for the most part it doesn’t change much for me. The reason why is because from moment to moment, clip to clip there is so much context that we don’t have about what’s happening in that one moment. Like did x have a bad morning? did he just receive bad/good news? is he looking forward to or dreading what he needs to do after this? is x going through something personally right now? did x and y have a falling out/misunderstanding? is x looking at y or is he just zoned out?

Okay this is going overboard and some of these may sound quite ridiculous but these are some of the millions of things that give context to a situation and for that reason they’re all things that need to be taken into consideration when analyzing the boys. I won’t even lie, I was thinking about Taehyung and Jungkook (to a lesser extent) for these cause if I see someone calling Tae rude or saying Jungkook is jealous one more time I might lose it. I am not saying any of the above ever happened cause once again I don’t know but all I am saying is stating any opinion of yours of a vague moment as fact without even exploring one of the above or any other possible factors is never going to let me take you seriously. I am also not saying every shipper who talks about a moment needs to be able to tell me what x had for breakfast that morning but if you express your observation/opinion as the truth I expect you to be able to give me CONTEXT. It feels like I am going in circles, I told you it was getting messy.

There are moments that hold up quite well on their own and have sufficient context. In other words, some things don’t require much explanation to be seen as truth. I guess what I am trying to say is the amount of factual information you have should remain proportionate to the assumptions and opinions you form. Too many times people use tiny moments to come to huge conclusions and connect dots that make no sense being connected. And I think its fun to be a bit far-fetch and delusional but it becomes a huge issue when nonsensical theories are posted on the internet and pushed to other people who don’t understand how irrational those theories are. Hence, I often believe in freedom of thought more so than freedom of speech; not everything you think needs to be said, you can keep things to yourself or at the very least only share it with one person or two that you trust to understand your intent.

2// Cultural context- I will try not to stick to this for too long because I am not Korean, so I can add very little cultural context to any ship moment minus those I have been told about before. There are some things that the boys do or say that would probably have a different meaning to me vs someone who is aware of Korean culture. There are many times, none that I can pinpoint at this time, that I see a comment or post explaining a clip/moment with cultural context, which changed my view on that particular moment. Like I said, I am threading lightly here cause there is not much I can add to this conversation. I am adding this here to remind you that the moment that is a big deal to you may just be normal for Koreans shrugs. This one is even more difficult than the first because cultural context isn’t something you can just make assumptions about, its something you need to be exposed to to understand. A mere Google search may not even cut it to fully understand as an outsider.

Things like honorifics and politeness levels of speech or even specific translations need to be taken with a grain of salt. The bromance and skinship aspect of K-pop/Korean culture is also a huge part of shipping that may be new to people from different cultures. In many countries in the West, skinship between men isn’t something very normalized or in many cases even socially acceptable so the amount that BTS show physical affection to each other might be startling to many international fans when it’s something that’s more socially acceptable in Korea and normalized amongst their team.

“Holding hands, linking arms, and hugging amongst friends are acceptable ways to show closeness and comfort. So, don’t assume that every two persons holding hands in public are romantically involved! Conversely, public displays of affection by romantic couples are more toned down compared to in societies like, say, the US”. 4 Distinctly Korean Habits To Know Before Going To Korea (sejong.com.sg)

None of this is to say that certain types of skinship can’t mean more to any two members or to say we can’t find the interactions cute or endearing. It once again boils down to the confidence shippers have when using these moments as proof of their ship being the real deal.

3// Differing personalities, beliefs and relationship dynamics- All of these points bleed into each other and are interconnected in some way but I think this one is basically the backbone of all of the others. Despite having situational or even cultural context, its still difficult to draw any clear conclusions because EVERYONE IS DIFFERENT and any analysis or opinion will need to treat them as such—different people with different values, morals, beliefs, likes, priorities, dislikes, experiences and the lists goes on.

No matter how well the boys get on, they have continuously expressed how different all of them are as people. And because of that, no two ship can or should ever be viewed in the same lens. I think this “mistake” is something I see a lot in shipping: X and Y did this and X and Z didn’t hence XY>XZ, I honestly don’t think its that simple. In order to fully grasp a ship and its possibility of being real, you need to have a good idea of who the people you’re shipping are and what their likes, dislikes, values, priorities etc are.

Now this, like all these other points require a lot of assumptions to be made. Firstly, it assumes you interpret everything they say and do the way they meant it to come across, it assumes that their BTS persona is a good reflection of who they are as people OR that you have a good idea who they might be as people. I don’t know how to explain this one cause there are members that we as fans know as being a bit different on vs off camera and some of those differences are known to an extent but once again we’re dealing with a lot of assumptions so its tricky. Anyway, many shipper theories assume that we know how they’d react in various circumstances.

There are a few reasons I am bringing this up and I’ll mention it here to better explain myself. Like I said, I have been searching around at ship content just cause the more you fuck around the more you find out and I have been seeing people’s takes on shipping and forming opinions on them. At some point, I started feeling hypocritical cause of how my opinion may be different for particular ships and I concluded that this point was one of the reasons why. Let me explain-

I saw some people giving % probability scores for certain ships being romantic and the thought came into my head that Yoongi ships, I think they were specifically talking about yoonmin or sope, are not probable to me if we’re seriously thinking romantically. Even as someone who thinks Yoongi may be into men/women/both/none (girl honestly idk). The reason why i think this way is looking at Yoongi and what (I assume) his priorities and goals are in life. I mention in a previous post that I question the member’s willingness to take the risk that would come with being in a relationship with a bandmate and how I think that many of them don’t come across to me as being willing to. Yoongi is the epitome of that opinion for me. I mention this in the next point but dating someone within the same group as you will definitely be a big deal, it will be a PR/HR emergency if anything goes wrong and I don’t see Yoongi as the type of person to want to play around that and sacrifice his work for love whether he felt emotions or even trained himself to the point that feelings don’t develop in the first place. [I’ve said that I never want to date someone in the same field as me and after that, i haven’t found any of my colleagues attractive or as a romantic interest, even when I tried]

I think another example that works really well for this is Jimin and the way a lot of shipper’s interpret him compared to how I do. I think any ARMY or any one who keeps up with BTS for even 5 minutes, can see that Jimin is a very private person. Of all the members, he comes across to me as someone who is very cautious and particular(?) about the way he’s perceived. He’s very careful with his words and his actions. You can watch any video he’s in and see how much he thinks before he says something to the members (especially when it’s of a serious nature) or to ARMYs. A very easy example of this is how concerned he was in the FESTA 2022 video about how we may take what they said and almost pleading for the audience to just take them by their word (something that literally almost every person who watched that video DID NOT do but we move smh…). All of this to say, I can’t subscribe to theories that believe that Jimin is pointing out things between him and his secret partner or behaving risky with them in front of cameras and giggling about it. I can get into this more but I’ll digress.

I am not sure how these examples will come across but these are just some random examples I can think of where I think varying personalities might affect the way I see a ship. This is not me claiming any particular ship is over another or saying that any of these above points are true because my opinions are based on my specific perception of the different members and I am not claiming I know them best.

All in all, there is only so much (little) that we know of them, its difficult to know for certain what any of them would be like in a romantic relationship. However, it seems like many shippers tend to remove the bits of individuality we do see of each member whenever they look into ships which further makes things even more unrealistic and delusional sounding to me.

To add to this, many times shippers interpret things based on their idea of a relationship without really putting themselves in the member’s place. This is totally understandable considering what I mentioned before about us being the ones that fill in the blanks but it’s one of the reasons why we can’t take our theories 100% seriously all the time. At the end of the day, every single relationship is different and something that might be okay for the members in a relationship may not be okay with you or the way the members choose to deal with their relationship may not be how you think it should or would be dealt with. So once again, you can’t take your interpretation of things too seriously. If a ship is real, we aren’t and would never be privy to their private conversations regarding what is okay for them in THEIR relationship. We don’t know what their limits are or how they would choose to maneuver through their relationship on camera so our view of things will always be one-sided.

4// Knowing the gravity of the situation if any ship is real- This one is basically situational context but on a wider scope and might be the most serious of all of these, despite me putting it last on the list. I think a lot of people who ship members romantically do not even consider how serious a situation like that would be. For the most part, I don’t think this is a problem if we’re just having fun but I think people who seriously analyze things the boys do need to take it into consideration. We all are aware at least to some extent of the state of LGBTQ+ in South Korea. Korea is still a very conservative country and though members of the LGBTQ+ community are actively seeking change, things are not as progressive as one would hope.

Taking that into consideration, any two members of BTS— the biggest K-pop group in the world and one of South Korea’s representative brands— being aware that they have more than platonic feelings for each other would be a huge deal. There’s a lot to consider regarding the way the other member’s would approach it, the way the company would approach it and the way the two members themselves would want to deal with it: whether or not they decide to pursue it and if they do, how they go about doing that.

Any two members dating would serve a huge risk for not only those two members but the group as a whole and the other members individually. Aside from the risks of any of the members being queer, the fact that we as shippers aren’t opposed to the idea of two members dating and the fact that many ARMYs would also be open to it if it ever turned out to be the case DOES NOT take away from the fact that such a relationship may be seen as highly unprofessional and inappropriate. We know all the boys are friends who have grown up closely alongside each other and feelings developing is something that is possible but at the end of the day, they are coworkers working together as BTS and many people may not be able to look past that.

I think many shippers look at ships in a very isolated way. They remove the very real world that we live in and all the problems that would come along with a ship being real and opt to live in a world where their ship is real and everything around them is always sunshine and rainbows. And I get it, that’s way more fun but it is not realistic. I think its fine to have this outlook if you are shipping just for fun but that is a lot of the times not the case. Many of these shippers on YouTube, tumblr or X that seriously analyze these relationships tend to feed a very unrealistic, clouded world view to others that may also be very naïve thinking. This is why a lot of theories grow to become these huge nonsensical conspiracies that any rational person can deduce makes absolutely no sense in the real world. Let’s address some specifics:

Addressing some unrealistic shipperverse theories

Any “real” ship in BTS are not being careless with their relationship in front of cameras or when doing other work. All your theories about them kissing on/around cameras or going into changing rooms together during award shows and coming back dishevel will never hold up to me.

If a ship is involved romantically and the company is aware of it, there’s most likely only a small subset of people that would actually know. My guess of who would know is: some higher ups in the company, the members, a select few managers and maybe bodyguards, possibly trusted and long time members of the BTS team i.e. PDogg, Son Sungdeuk, Slow rabbit etc. and perhaps a trusted PR team to advice them on how to deal with things. Even this list feels a bit too extensive. Anyway I am making this point because I don’t get why shippers think that random hairstylists or camera directors or editors would be privy to such sensitive information. And this stands for any relationship really, it’s unlikely that ALL of their staff are even aware if any of the boys are in more “traditional” (heterosexual) relationships so why do some of you act like it’ll be an open secret if any of them are queer.

Theories about love triangles or stories saying a member left a member for another member are so crazy out of touch?? Any one pair realizing their feelings for each other and choosing to pursue it despite the risk it poses to them and to the team is unquestionably a huge deal and would need to be dealt with an immense degree of care. So its very hard to believe that the members are haphazardly messing around with each other, cheating, breaking up and just overall being messy about the whole thing.

I genuinely don’t get why you people think any pair in the group are being blatant and basically trying to out themselves to the public at this point in their career. It’s not far fetched to think that they would have or want some way to express themselves but I doubt it’s as blatant as shippers suggest. Honestly, if a couple does exist amongst the tannies I am not even confident it’s something the public may ever be made aware of…

Conclusion

All in all, I think shipping is something that can be really fun but needs to be done with a huge amount of care and respect. Making assumptions about the boys and being dead set on one particular possibility being the end game can be detrimental, not only to the boys but to you as well. Many shippers are very confident and secure about their ship being real romantically and will stop at nothing to prove their point. This is a very ridiculous approach because I would bet that a secret couple don’t want or need you to prove their realness, they also don’t need you to spread their message to the world and convert people to your side. It really should not be that serious. Shipping should be something that simmers instead of boiling over. Just enjoy what you enjoy without spreading hate and without seeking real life confirmation through the members or dispatch or their family.

With the tannies getting older, it’s important for all of us to have somewhat of an understanding that what we have imagined or want their life to be may just not be what is true. I would hate (though I have already seen it being in the future of some ships😞) to see the larry-fication of any of these ships where 10-15 years in the future, shippers are still making random connections even if the members are known to be married to other people and have 5 kids. With there being 21 unique pairings within the group, even if it turns out that one of them is “real” doesn’t that mean that the possibility of most of us being wrong is greater than us being right. And that is, if we ever find out…

This was always meant to be the first post on my blog but because of the shipper climate around the time I started writing it, I held back on posting it how I initially intended to. I decided to give it a bit of a revamp and edit it to fit with what I want my little blog here to be. I’ve been writing this for almost a year now and have enjoyed putting these thoughts together in a somewhat concise and comprehensible way. Even if you don’t agree with everything I said here, I hope the main point comes across i.e. no shipper knows better than the other, we’re all going based off our own perspective and rational and so we shouldn’t be 100% certain and we shouldn’t be fighting over or confidently pushing ideas that we are probably wrong about. I really don’t care who ships who (ship and let ship) but I certainly think shippers need to be more careful about the things they say and do in the name of ships.

Thank you for reading!💜

~~🐝

links used in the post:

Harry Styles & Louis Tomlinson 'Ships' Into a Delusional Twitter Trend (ccn.com)

Lauren Jauregui Says Those Camila Cabello Relationship Rumors Were ‘So Traumatizing’ | Glamour

https://www.sejong.com.sg/4-distinctly-korean-habits-to-know-before-going-to-korea/

Interesting reads:

Queer Identity in Korea | CIEE

Ask a Korean!: I Love You, Man

It’s all in the Touch – Skinship. (스킨십) | Elwood 5566

LGBTQ Koreans Eager for Anti-Discrimination Bill | TIME

Narrow but Significant Win for LGBT Rights in South Korea (voanews.com)

[hxlda-hxlda]

excerpt from my fic that i’m slightly too proud of !!!!!

“Evan, shut the fuck up, for Merlin’s sake it’s still so fucking early.” 

He did not open his eyes to see Evan Rosier’s overly bright morning face (that he’d always hated, the fucking morning person), however. No, Sirius came face to face with none other than Frank Longbottom. Frank was sitting on the bed across from the one Sirius had just pushed himself from, the maroon curtains and red bed sheets on which he sat were still crumpled. 

This was not Sirius’ dorm. Sirius’ dorm was not obnoxiously red, nor did it have Frank Longbottom in it. 

“Good morning,” Frank said evenly, a curl of amusement to his lips. 

“I–” 

Sirius had exactly zero thoughts. None. Zilch. Nada. Aucun, if you want to be petty or like his mother (the same thing, really) and throw French synonyms in the mix. Dim, if Remus was awake enough to say it in Welsh. 

“Sleep well?” Frank asked, picking up what appeared to be his pyjamas and folding them on his crossed legs. 

“Uh.”

He set the folded clothes back down. “You alright there, mate?” 

No. That was the simple answer, but that was probably (definitely) already clear on Sirius’ frozen face. 

“Good morning,” was how Sirius chose to respond instead, like that was any better (it wasn’t). It was an awful choice, really. He should have just said ‘no’, or thrown himself off the balcony. 

“Good morning,” Frank repeated for the second time, breaking into a full fucking grin. “Any reason you were taking a kip in Rem’s bed? Instead of, I don’t know, your own room down on the opposite end of the castle?” 

“I got lost.” 

Sirius could still make the balcony, he thought. There was almost a direct route, in fact, between the beds. Maybe this was Merlin doing him a solid; there’s your pathway you pathetic little prick. 

“I’ll say, you’re pretty lost.”

If Sirius had a response to that, which he did not, it would not have mattered. Because it was then that the sound of running water shut off. In all his confused glory, his current state of ‘whattheactualfuckisgoingonpleasefortheloveofSalazaarletthisbeanightmare’, Sirius had not registered the sound of the shower running. Until, of course, its absence. 

There were two people who could emerge from that bathroom. You can guess which of the two Sirius was hoping for. 

Frank watched Sirius watch the door to the bathroom with the same amusement he’d maintained the length of their conversation, if you could call their exchange a conversation. Frank probably knew who was going to emerge. If his face was anything to go by, Sirius should have started running for the balcony then. 

He did not. 

So when James Potter emerged, dark hair still wet and towel slung haphazardly around his waist, Sirius regretted his hesitation in that act of suicide very, very deeply. 

 “Oi, Frank, we gotta get Rem up. You know how he is without break– what the fuck?” 

The smile on the boy’s lips died as he turned toward Remus’ bed and consequently found Sirius Black, his proclaimed mortal enemy (quote: second year) standing beside it. 

“Black?!” 

“Potter,” Sirius responded primly, as though he had any hope of maintaining any semblance of dignity in this scenario. As though his hair was not ratty and dishevelled without his usual pre-bed curl routine (not that his and Remus’ acts last night had helped the state of his hair). As though he was not shirtless and did not have clear hickeys evident along his bare torso and neck. As though Sirius was not standing in the middle of James’ bedroom, the Gryffindor fucking dorm. 

James stared at Sirius with wide eyes, taking in the aforementioned sight of Sirius (see: hair, shirtless, hickeys, etc.).

When that clearly did not explain enough, he whirled his head toward Frank, whose gaze was flicking between the two of them, amused as all fuck. Longbottom was zero help, mind you, only shrugging as if to say ‘I have no idea but isn’t this great?’. Sirius was inclined to disagree with that implication. Not great. Super not great. 

“What the fuck?” Potter eventually repeated. He spun again, risking whiplash, to stare at Sirius. “What the fuck? What the fuck?!” 

It was the last one in that trilogy of ‘what the fuck’s, pitched into a shout, that woke Remus. The boy, ever the heavy sleeper, groaned.

Sirius stilled. James stilled. Frank leant forward eagerly.

There was a mumbled; “Christ, James, any louder and you’ll wake the entire fucking castle.” The sound of shifting bedsheets behind Sirius indicated he was rolling over. And then: 

“Oh shite.” 

“Morning Rem,” Frank practically sing-songed in a joyous tone.

“Frank,” Remus said from behind Sirius by way of greeting. His voice was heavy with sleep and confusion. Sirius could almost see his eyes, blinking rapidly, as they did in the early morning. “James, Sirius.” 

So it was real. That sealed it. Sirius really was standing before James Potter and Frank Longbottom after having emerged from Remus Lupin’s bed. It was not some fucked up hallucination. Lovely.

If you’d have described this situation right now to Sirius from exactly a year ago, the fifth year would have slapped you harder than Dorcas could manage.

“Remus, what the fuck is going on?” 

That was James. 

“Which part, James?” 

That was Remus. 

“The part where Sirius Black was sleeping, and definitely also doing other things in your bed?” 

That was Frank. 

“He got… lost.” Well, at least you could call them fucking consistent. So much for being a good liar, the cunt. 

Frank burst out laughing. Sirius felt his face crumple into a grimace. Would Remus kill him if he tried suicide out the balcony now? Probably. He’d find a way. That, or he’d follow him off the edge. Could be romantic, like Romeo and Juliet, if Sirius was recalling the play correctly. 

James uttered another, “What the fuck?” (if you’re counting, that was the sixth one of the last two minutes).

[completely-real-and-normal-human]

an untitled magnus archives fic

the document this fic was in was just called ‘an indulgence in these troubling times’ and like yeah. sums it up really.

this fic isn’t really part of a wider au, i just threw one of the scrunklies from my brain into tma and wrote down what happened. i think it’s set somewhere in season 2 but i cannot be sure!

basic synopsis: spiral train.

my first fanfic on tumblr so pls be nice!!

tw: mentions of transphobia, spiral-typical body horror

[CLICK]

OLLIE A tape recorder? Seriously? I mean, I knew you folks were old-fashioned, but...

ARCHIVIST (mildly irritated) We've made several attempts to record to digital software, but it seems to disagree with most of the statements. This is the next best thing.

OLLIE Y'know what? I like it. Very retro. It kind of fits with this place.

ARCHIVIST Well, quite. (pause) If you'd like to begin?

OLLIE Sure. Do I, like, introduce myself, or...

ARCHIVIST Yes, just say your name and what your statement is regarding.

OLLIE Okay, uh, my name is Ollie Maverick, and this is regarding the disappearance of my coworker Grant Lewis due to an unexplained train in my workplace.

ARCHIVIST An... unexplained train?

OLLIE Well, it wasn't supposed to be there, and I sure as hell never got any sort of explanation for it.

ARCHIVIST R-right, well... (clears throat) Statement recorded direct from subject eighth of March 2017. Statement begins.

In your own time.

OLLIE (STATEMENT) Working in security was only ever okay, to be honest. The work's all right, apart from the night shifts — those really messed up my sleep schedule. I was working the night shift at a London train station when this happened. I know that's very vague, but I don't think I can name the station here, so you'll have to bear with me on that. We didn't exactly part on the best of terms, and I'd like to avoid a lawsuit at all costs. Anyway, like I said, I worked in security, and it was one of my least favorite jobs. Not the worst, but it's up there. Top four. Mostly because of Grant Lewis.

Not to speak ill of the dead or anything, but Grant was an asshole. He drank too much, chewed spearmint gum way too loudly, and he ran one of those alpha-male podcasts in his spare time. You know the ones — white guys in their twenties spend thirty minutes a week ramming their unsolicited opinions about women who won't date them and abortion and liberal politics down the throats of their listeners. That should tell you all you need to know about him. He was a prick, and he had it in for me from day one.

I was the only queer person on the security team, and I looked it. I came in the first day with a pronoun pin and a pink mullet and... well. He latched on to me, and I couldn't get rid of him. The worst part was, since we'd started working there at the same time and he kept making these awful jokes about me, to me, everyone else assumed we were friends. No one else could stand him, so we got lumped together the whole time on shifts. I spent hours with him in the control room, patrolling the station, even on my lunch break a few times when I came across him accidentally in a café. Every time, I'd have to listen to this — endless stream of unfunny jokes about my gender identity and my sex life. And, of course, those controversial opinions he aired on that podcast. He was infuriating, and he wouldn't go away.

But however much I hated Grant, I still don’t think he deserved what happened to him. Officially he's just disappeared, but I don't think anyone believes that now. I really, really don't want to know if he's still alive.

It all happened about a month ago. I was working the night shift from 11PM to 7AM with three other people — Allison Bates, Fred Landy and, of course, Grant. (long, irritated sigh) I... wasn't in the best of moods, to be frank. I'd spent the whole day dreading this, and to begin with it was exactly the kind of awful I'd expected. It was a Sunday, so the trains kept running until 2AM. The first hour or so was in the control room with Allison and Fred, who spent most of that time loudly flirting with each other. It was... very uncomfortable to watch, so I volunteered to go help Grant keep an eye on the platforms. It would have been well past midnight by this stage, coming up to 1AM, and he was out making sure the drunks lurching off the trains from holiday parties didn't get too rowdy.

There were four platforms in that station, grouped in pairs, and he was looking after platforms one and two. So, I headed off to look after platforms three and four, because I didn't feel like dealing with his bullshit. The steady flow of commuters was starting to peter out, and those that were drunk were harmlessly so. It looked like it might be shaping up to be a fairly quiet night. But I only got around forty minutes of relative peace before my radio crackled. Grant was apparently coming to join me, as Allison was covering platforms one and two. I had an idea that she'd probably sent him, as Grant had no idea how to be around any female-presenting people without getting really creepy. I may have mentioned he was a complete asshole, so I didn't really blame her, but I wasn't happy about it.

Grant showed up and we began patrolling the platforms and the small shop and cafe area together. He talked too much and chewed gum loudly, and I tried to ignore him as best I could and focus on the job. The last train rolled in around 2AM, and once the final passengers had stumbled out into the night we went to lock up.

It was then that we heard it. As we were walking back to the control room, the tannoy system crackled into life.

'The train now approaching Platform Four is not intended for passenger use. Customers are advised not to interact with the train, or indeed acknowledge it, in the interest of health and safety. Under no circumstances attempt to board the train now approaching Platform Four.

Thank you.'

It didn't sound like the usual train announcements. Those were an automated vaguely female voice, distant and slightly robotic. This voice was a garbled, distorted mess that I could barely understand, and it cut off with a screech of static that made my head ring. Grant and I stood there in confusion as the echo of that sharp static bounced off the walls, warping into something like a faint, mocking laugh.

I've not painted a great picture of Grant here, I know, but he was at least a fairly competent security guard. While I was still reeling from the announcement, he managed to get out his radio and make contact with Fred and Allison in the control room. They'd heard it too, and they were going to head towards the room that the tannoy operated out of, to see if it had been hijacked. Grant said we'd go take a look at Platform Four, to see if there was anything we needed to deal with.

It took us about two minutes to get there, and it felt like the echo of the tannoy announcement still hadn't died away. The air seemed different — heavier, maybe, and it smelled a little bitter. It made me slightly nauseous. Grant didn't seem to notice; he just started checking around the platform for anything suspicious. I was going to join him when there was a sharp, screeching whistle, like an old steam train, and I realised that I was smelling smoke.

It filled the platform as the train chugged into view, curling around everything and shimmering with colours that I — can't describe. The cloying, bitter smell of the smoke grew stronger and I could see Grant choking on it, tears streaming down his face but I breathed it in and it was... (panicked, breathy laugh) ..intoxicating. The train itself was an old steam train, bright purple and gold, with no driver that I could see. It slowed to a stop and the door to the first carriage swung open right in front of me. Mocking. Beckoning. (another laugh) It seemed the most natural thing in the world to just... step in.

Inside was a narrow corridor, carpeted in that same rich, wine-toned purple. The doors of the seating compartments faced me, and each had gauzy purple curtains pulled across the windows. I started down the corridor, and noticed a figure sitting inside one of the compartments. I couldn't make out much through the curtains, but they had long hair that seemed to be moving of its own accord, and….. their hands were... wrong.

I don't think I was entirely... myself, at that point. (shaky breath) I reached for the handle, and suddenly Grant rammed into me from behind, sending me sprawling onto the floor. He was pinning me down, talking fast and terrified, saying we had to get out, had to get help. I could see the long-haired figure in the compartment behind him slowly rising to their feet, rising and rising far beyond the proportions of a normal human body, limbs bending oddly in ways that hurt to look at. I screamed for Grant to run, but it was too late.

The door of the compartment opened with a creak, and... it wasn't a person. I don't know what the hell that thing was, but it was not a person. The hair was blond, and twisted and curled in on itself like a nest of snakes. Its eyes were hard to look at. B-but its hands... they were long, and the fingers had too many joints and they were sharp, and it looked at Grant and he started screaming, and it started laughing. That sound, it... it made my mind sting.

He tried to run, then. Got to the door that should have led back to the platform, but it was different now, smaller. Painted yellow. He opened it to show another long corridor, this time lined with mirrors and twisting wallpaper that hurt my eyes, and the monster-thing just... pushed him in. (pause) I... really hope he's dead. I really do. The alternative is just... well.

I scrambled to my feet and backed away as the thing turned to me with this... self-satisfied grin on its impossible face. Like it had just had a good meal.

Go if you like, it said. You'll be back. You won't be able to help it.

It began to laugh again as I began to run.

I don't know how long I ran. The carriage never seemed to end, and every door I opened led either to a set of seats or to another twisting corridor. Eventually, think I just... gave up. Lay on the floor and waited to dissolve into an impossibility.

I woke up lying on Platform Four with Fred leaning over me asking panicked questions while Allison was calling the police. I couldn't focus on any of what Fred was saying. My head was spinning. I... wasn't really aware of much until the police arrived. They asked me where Grant was. I said I didn't know. I was too rattled to come up with any sort of lie, so I just... told them what happened. (quiet laugh) I'm not really sure what the official proceedings were, but they didn't want to know. One of the officers dropped me home and I just went straight to bed. Thankfully my partner Rory was out on his own night shift at the time, so I didn't have to explain anything just yet. I slept like the dead until about four o'clock the next day, and the first thing I did when I woke up was send in my resignation.

I tried to... well, not forget about it, but to... put it at the back of my mind. I had no backup plan for a job, and Rory could only cover the rent alone for so long. I had to tell him what happened, obviously. I don't know if he fully believes me, but he hasn't said anything. He knows I saw something that really scared me, and he knows that that's why I quit my job. He's sticking with me, though.

Last week, I managed to get an interview for another security job in the Foundling Museum. And when I went to catch the train to get there, well.. I'm sure you can guess what happened. The smoke, this time, it... it was so hard not to get on that train. It felt... right. It was all I could do to walk away.

That blond monster-thing is following me, too.

It doesn't look as, as wrong as it did in the train, but I know exactly what it is. I see it pretty much everywhere I go. It catches my eye and winks at me, and I just about throw up with fear. Rory thinks they're panic attacks. He's trying to get me to see a doctor, or a therapist or something. He's probably right, but I wanted to come here first. I thought you... might be able to help.

ARCHIVIST (pause; a few abortive attempts to speak) Statement, eh... statement ends. I — I think I recognise this, ah... blond monster-thing you've mentioned. Did it... have you approached it? Talked to it?

OLLIE (incredulous) No!

ARCHIVIST Good. It... it calls itself Michael. I don't know exactly what it is, or what it wants, but it enjoys. toying with people. Doesn't seem to have any real purpose other than... spreading misery and madness.

OLLIE W-well, I... (clears throat) What do I do?

ARCHIVIST I'm afraid I... don't really know. (noises of panic and indignation from Ollie) I mean, I can tell you to avoid any suspicious doors, but I... have a feeling you could have come to that conclusion yourself.

OLLIE Great. Great. I knew this would be a waste of my goddamn time. Is that seriously all you've got for me? Avoid suspicious doors?

ARCHIVIST I'm sorry, I —

OLLIE (overlapping) Don't even —

[DOOR OPENS]

ELIAS Sorry Jon, am I interrupting?

ARCHIVIST Oh, Elias! Um... no, I, I think we're just about done here. R-right?

OLLIE Sure. We're done.

ELIAS Is everything quite all right?

OLLIE Apparently, you people are perfectly happy to take my statement, but you can't actually help me with my fucking eldritch stalker.

ELIAS Ah, yes. I can see how that might be... upsetting.

OLLIE (barely controlled rage) Can you, now?

ELIAS I believe I can. (pause) I'm Elias Bouchard, head of the Magnus Institute. And you are?

OLLIE Ollie. Ollie Maverick.

ELIAS Well, Mr. —

OLLIE (overlapping) Mx.

ELIAS Oh, my apologies. Well, Mx. Maverick, while I don't really know much about your situation specifically, I've found that our Institute is quite good at deterring any, ah, supernatural harassment of our employees. For the most part. And I believe you're in the market for a new iob?

OLLIE Uh. I mean….. yes, but how did you —?

ELIAS I was waiting outside for Jon to finish up, and I couldn't help overhearing. Interested?

OLLIE I... don't know that I could do much here. I don't know anything about ghosts, or - whatever it is you do...

ARCHIVIST I — Ollie, I really wouldn't —

ELIAS (overlapping) I'm sure you'll pick it up very fast. Should we discuss this in my office?

OLLIE Um... sure. May as well.

ELIAS Lovely. Oh, and Jon?

ARCHIVIST I — yes?

ELIAS Basira’s just got back. I believe you wanted to talk to her?

ARCHIVIST Oh, uh... okay, I'll — I'll go do that, I suppose.

ELIAS Right. Follow me, Mx. Maverick.

[FOOTSTEPS; DOOR SHUTS]

ARCHIVIST (sigh) Damn.

[CLICK]

[CLICK]

ARCHIVIST Well, that was... (sigh) ...anyway. Another person trapped in the archives. Better than being trapped in a corridor hellscape or an endless train carriage, I suppose. (pause)

Though... would they have been trapped? The way they described the train, and especially that smoke... what did they call it? Intoxicating.

They're clearly very scared, and I can't say I blame them, but I have to wonder if what I'm seeing here is... the birth of a new avatar. With Michael shepherding them to their new domain.

In terms of follow-up (sigh) I have been able to confirm that a Grant Lewis was filed as missing on the third of February this year. However, I was not able to find anything else about the case or the circumstances of his disappearance. The police don't seem to have done anything, and it looks as if this Grant didn't have any friends or family to make a fuss about it. I talked it over with Basira, and she agrees with me that it probably comes under Section 31. Obviously, this makes it difficult to get any real evidence for this statement, but I'm inclined to believe it anyway.

What I don't understand is why Elias would offer Ollie a job. They've made it clear that they need it, but I hardly think it's out of the kindness of his heart. (quiet, tired laugh) He's probably got some secret, evil plan for them. Some way to cripple the Spiral, perhaps. Or maybe he just wants to inflict a new and interesting kind of trauma.

Either way, I think I'll be keeping a close eye on Ollie Maverick.

End recording.

[CLICK]

[CLICK]

[SOUNDS OF SHUFFLING PAPER AND DRAWERS — A FILING CABINET? — OPENING AND SHUTTING. A DOOR OPENS.]

TIM Oh, uh — sorry, this area of the archives isn't open to the public.

OLLIE Yeah, I — I work here.

TIM In the Archives?

OLLIE Yeah, it’s my first day. My name's Ollie Maverick.

TIM Um... Tim Stoker. (pause) Sorry, what are your pronouns?

OLLIE (pleasantly surprised) They/them. You?

TIM He/him. (pause) So... you don't exactly look like the academic type.

OLLIE Says the person wearing a Hawaiian shirt to work.

TIM (laughs) No, I meant... y'know, people in this profession don't tend to be quite so buff. We're all skinny little nerds.

OLLIE Ah yes, my perfectly chiseled physique. I can see why you'd be confused. (Tim snorts) My last job was as a security guard, so...

TIM Sounds interesting.

OLLIE Well, it... didn't end well. I actually came to make a statement about it yesterday, and then your boss — Elias, I think his name was — offered me a job. For some reason.

TIM What?

OLLIE I know, right? I mean, I know jack shit about academia, but I did English in college and that was apparently good enough for him. I got the feeling that you're a little pressed for job applications.

TIM Yeah, well... I just hope you know what you're getting into.

OLLIE Oh?

TIM This place is... wrong. In a lot of ways.

OLLIE (jokingly) What, you've come across a lot of ghosts and ghoulies?

TIM I'm serious. It does things to you.

OLLIE Such as?

TIM It... won't let you quit. You can try it, but — you won't be able to.

OLLIE That all?

TIM (sigh) You'll find out soon enough, I guess. You're stuck here now.

OLLIE (pause) You're not just — messing with me?

TIM No.

OLLIE Well... fuck. (resigned sigh; pause) Out of the frying pan, into the fire. Assuming this even works.

TIM Assuming what works?

OLLIE It... doesn't matter. I guess we'll see.

TIM I guess we will.

[SILENCE]

OLLIE Hey, has — has that been running this whole time?

TIM What?

OLLIE That recorder. Did you bring it in here?

TIM Oh, for fuck's sake —

[CLICK]

[bernadethhabon]

Short story

She's a killer

By: Bernadeth Habon

“I promised you I would do my best to give you what you deserve. This is Emmanuel Frank, your future public servant. Thank you.” A warm round of applause was all I heard after my father’s speech. Now speaking in front of a hundred people is Chris Anderson, my father’s rival. He’s been so eager to get the position away from my father.

An ear-splitting noise woke me from sleeping. It was my mom’s voice. I ran faster to my parents’ room. I open the door, and I see how messy the bed is. I looked around to find my parents. I heard my mom’s voice on the balcony of their room. I don’t know how to feel as I walk on the balcony. I feel like I am walking on thorns. Every step that I took hurt my heart. I am near the glass door and I can hear the sobs of my mother. I see my mother sitting on the floor, holding her face. I slowly lift my head, and I feel like my world just fell apart. Seeing my dad hanging on the floor with a thick rope hugging his neck made me want to scream out until my heart exploded and I fell on my knees. Why did he have to do that?

“Miguel, get up.” I don’t know how I managed to stand up and move to the side of the door as I watched the guys wearing white clothes take my dad. My father’s mother is crying. I look at my grandfather, who doesn’t have any reaction on his face. I can’t see any emotion in his eyes. I know they haven’t had a good relationship since my father was young, but he is always present at my father’s celebration. He started to hate my father when he entered the world of politics. He wanted my father to pursue the field of medicine, but my father followed what he wanted. I shift my gaze to the person who is beside him, Michael. He’s chewing a piece of gum like he’s just watching a nonsense scene. Michael is my father’s younger brother who also hates my father and I don’t know for what reason.

The death of my father has now spread throughout the town. As I heard, some of them also couldn’t believe he did that to himself. And some said that maybe he is depressed and he is just good at hiding it. Even I, I can’t believe he did that. I know something is wrong. Someone did that to him. Why would he do that when he knows that he’s family is just around the house? The only way for me to find out is to ask for help. Maybe I could ask my mom.

Today is my father’s funeral, and a lot of people are here. Chris Anderson is also here. I can’t find any reason why he would attend. I know how much he hates my father for beating him twice. He looked in my direction, and I didn’t like the way he looked at me. “Hey, little man, I am so sorry for your loss.” I just give him a nod. He’s not sincere. Well I don’t care, you can have the position you are aiming for years. My biggest concern now is how I will find out who did this to my father. I have a feeling that this was planned and set up.

I went to my father’s office beside their room. My dad and mom always remind me not to enter this room without their permission because this room is for adults only. I sit down in his swivel chair. Dad and I didn’t used to spend a lot of time together since he’s so passionate and devoted to serving his people. Even with Mom, they don’t spend a lot of time together since my father came home late. They also often fight about money. I often see Mom bring home a man, but I don’t want to give meaning to that, since she told me that they are just close friends. I sighed. I stood up and decided to just roam around. I was about to open the door when a brown box placed at the side of the locker caught my attention. I never used to see that there. I never tried to tamper with my father’s things, but I don’t know what pushed me to open them. My hands are shaking as I hold the lid of the box. I sighed deeply. I felt cold as I saw a pair of gloves, a cutter, and a rope. Why should my father keep these things in his office?

And why did he have these? The gloves are stained with blood. I recall my father’s body and situation that night. I tried to memorize and picture him in my mind when that night happened. Now I remember! My father has a small amount of blood on his arms. It seems like he tried to stop the person. Or did the two of them fight causing a wound to the killer? One thing is for sure, that killer was here when that day happened. What should I do now? I grabbed the box out of the room and put it in my old playhouse. I am still shaking. I still can’t believe someone did that to him.

“Mom, I think we should hire an investigator?” I asked while we were having breakfast. “Stop it, son. Your dad did it. You are making this worse.” I guess I will just go to the police on my own.

I was at school when I received the message from my mom that we would be having our dinner at my grandparents’ house, my father’s family. I go straight to the dining table. I sit on the right side of my mother, facing my grandfather, who still does not have any emotion. I don’t have the guts to open a conversation. I thought a long silence would last until this dinner ended but my grandma ended it by asking me a question about how I was doing. “Fine” that’s the only answer I can give her.

I was almost done eating when my grandfather’s arm caught my attention. He has a wound in his left arm. It is not that big but it is visible. I remember the cutter I have found out to my dad’s office, his wound looks like it was just cut last week because it is still swelling. No, he can’t do that to his child. I don’t want to accuse him but that fact that he hates my father and the wound on his arms?

I am silently watching my grandfather drinking his coffee. Should I tell this to mom? Definitely no, he believes my father did that to himself. My grandfather looked in my direction. I stiffed when he walked in my direction. “You’ve been watching me.” he noticed. I’m not fond of him since he is intimidating and we never had a long conversation, he hates my dad. “So what is it?” I looked at his arms and I know he got what I mean. “Well, I accidentally cut it.” what a lame excuse. “I see.” That’s the only thing I said before I turned my back on him.

I went to my grandmother, who was busy reading a book on the veranda. “Hey, young man.” I smiled at her. “You were there at the pool when Dad did that right?” I saw confusion on her face “Yes.” I sighed. “Where was Grandpa that time when my dad left the pool?” I asked gently. She looks at me in disbelief. I don’t care anymore. I just want justice for my father. “Are you accusing your grandpa?” “I just want to know”. She sighed. “Well, when your father went to the kitchen to get some ice, your mother and your uncle Michael accompanied him. A few seconds later, your grandpa excused himself to go to the comfort room.”. Her eyebrows met as if she realized something. She looks at me with confusion. “I don’t know what took them so long. I remember your mom came back first, but she doesn’t have anything on her hand since they said, they just get some pack of ice. Your mom was calm, but she’s occupied with something else.” I nod. “Who came next after a few minutes was Michael, who seemed lost and occupied as well.” Michael? He never loses his cool. “A few more minutes your grandpa came, he looks-” she gulps like it is so hard for her to continue what she’s about to say. “He looks pale and bothered.” I felt cold as she told me those things.

“Kid, what do you need.” Said the Cops. He’s the one who came to our house before to investigate, but we did not get any update. “I just want an update about the case of my dad.” He looked around and he leans closer. “Kid, the case of your dad is confidential.” “We can’t find any strong evidence. We can’t find any fingerprint on his body to claim that the wound in his arm was made by someone else. So go home.” I was about to turn my back when I remembered something. The gloves! “Wait I have found something in my father’s office that I think we can use as evidence?” He looks around and nods at me.

I am with Officer Mockery at our house. The moment I removed the cover, the box that I was expecting to see was now gone. No. I securely put it here. I looked around hoping that I would find it. “What is wrong, kid?” “The box I was talking about is missing”. “I don’t have time to play with your prank, kid.” “I am not. I swear, I put it here it contains a pair of gloves stained with blood, a small cutter, and a rope,” I told him sincerely. It seems like he’s convinced, unlike what he showed me a while ago. “who is your suspect, then?” he asked. “Should I trust you?” Why do you think I am helping you?” “I don’t know.” I don’t have the evidence now. “Your father and I are friends” That shocks me. I look at him with disbelief. He just shrugs his shoulder. Yeah, now I know. Every campaign my dad attended, he was there.

“Your suspect is your grandfather? How?” I told him all about why my suspect was my grandfather. I am here at my father’s family house. Mom wants me to give these flowers to my grandma. I know it is bad to eavesdrop but I have to. “Just make sure no one will know about what I did.” What? I felt cold as I heard their conversation. So he did it? He turns his back to me. He looks shocks as he sees me. “You killed my dad.” “I did not.” “I heard you. Your wounds, you get that from our house, right? You hate my dad.” He’s jaw clenched as he watches me. “You are accusing me, Miguel. I did not do it. I got my wound because I did it on purpose. What you heard is not about your dad it is about me. I am also hurt by what happened to him. I have also issues on myself to deal with, that’s why I need to cut my arm.” I saw a tear fall in his eyes. I saw longing, pain, and regret. So did my father do that? Maybe I just don’t know him well.

My mom is not here again. I went upstairs to their room. I entered the balcony. The last time I went here was when the incident happened. I sat on the floor. I don’t know how many minutes I spent here. The sun is setting. I stood up and decided to go down but as I walked, I felt something on my foot. I went to see it. It is an earring. This one is familiar. I used to see this with someone. Right! This belongs to Michael. I remember what my grandma told me when I asked her. Is he the one who did it? He owns it. I looked at it. As I remember, Michael did not stand here at this location. He only stands beside the glass door. Did he? I don’t want to accuse someone again.

The next morning, I went to the kitchen to find my mom, but she was not still there. Did she come home? Or did she leave early? Something is wrong with her. I rarely see her at home. I was about to go back to my room when I heard a knock. It’s not mom, she has her keys. I go to the door and open it. “Hey there, nephew. Mom wants me to give you this. Is your mom there?” He shows me a Tupperware filled with food. I didn’t answer his question I just stared at him. “Hey, are you listening?” “Why do you hate my dad?” instead I asked. He smiled. “Because he’s the favorite of my dad?” He said sarcastically. “May I come in?” I let him come in. I want to clear things up if he knows something and why his earring is on the balcony. “So your mom is not here.” “I rarely see her at home.” “I see.” I just stared at him. “What is your problem? If looks could kill, I am not breathing right now.” It’s a joke, I know, but instead of answering him, I show him, his earring. His smile fades. “This is yours, right?” His silence confirms that this is his. “I found it on the balcony right where my dad ended his life. It is impossible that you two have the same earring since he’s not fond of these things.” He’s just looking intently at the earring I am holding. “Did you kill my dad?” his eyes from the earing now went on my eyes. “I know you two don’t have a good relationship, but he never despises you for hating him.” He sighed. “That is mine.” What he said made me want to punch his face. “But it doesn’t mean I am the one who did that.” “Can you at least tell the truth, even just once?” He looked at me seriously. “I hated him for being nice to me.” His eyes said it all. “That earing is mine, but I am not the one who did that to him. I know he will not, and he can’t do that. I may despise him, but I will never do that” “That night, you go with him to get a pack of ice, right? Then why did you come back without him.? That question made his eyebrows meet together. “Your mom said that they can handle it. She said instead of helping them, I can just go and get some wine from the cabinet. So I did. The reason what took me so long is because of that.” Pointing his picture at the wall. It was me when I was playing soccer. I didn’t know he was there. That competition is one of the most important parts of my life. I played knowing that no one would come, but he was there.” I sighed. Maybe Dad did it. I should start accepting it now.

It is a new morning, and I don’t dare to get up. I sighed. I got up from bed and went to my window. I looked around and sadly smiled. I was about to close the door when a familiar figure caught my eye. It is my mom. Based on where she was standing, she just went to the backyard, but what caught my attention was what she was holding on to. It’s the box that I hide. Why did she have that? Did she know?

I did not waste any time. I went down. “Mom.” She turns to face me. At first, she was shocked but added after a second. “You awake.” That’s the box. “What is that?” “Oh, it is just an old toy of yours. I’m going to donate it.” “Can I see?” “No need, these toys were your least favorite.” “Let me help you then.” I did not wait for her response. I held her arm and made her jump. “What is wrong?” “nothing.” I looked at her intently. Something is wrong with her. Michael’s last word last night popped into my mind. “Months ago, I gave that earring to your mother because she asked me to.” I wasn’t able to process that last night, but it’s clear. There’s only one thing to find out. I show her the earrings. “I just want to ask, is this yours?” She looked at it. “oh, yes. I’ve been looking at that. Maybe I just misplaced it. Thank you.” I don’t know how to feel. It’s hers! No. No. She can’t. “I will go now.” I let her. My hands are shaking. Maybe, for the third time, I am wrong. Please, no, she can’t. What brought my senses back was the ring of my phone. It is Officer Mockery. Despite the nervousness I feel, I answer it. “I found out something. Maybe it’s late, but I just got the report on your dad’s case. They found a hair on his shirt. So remember when I asked you to get a hair from the comb of your mom? The result is positive. It was your mom.” I remember when Mom said she never touched Dad the moment she saw Dad hanging. I fell to my knees on the ground. So it’s confirmed. But why? She’s a killer. My mother is a killer.

[satashiiwrites]

Anything you wanna share on Eddie Angst Discard? Thank you!

This was my first take on writing the Eddie and Deacon scene at the beach for Family, Familia, ‘Ohana. Ultimately, it was a direction I decided not to go in. It got some heavy editing before I decided it wasn’t going to work and cut it out and pasted it into its own document. Some of this ended up being used as a skeleton for the scene being reworked/rewritten that ended up getting into the chapter.

Note: Grammarly has never seen this. This is possibly second draft territory inasmuch as I hate editing.

For your amusement, @monsterrae1:

However, Eddie wasn’t sure about things again.  He’d thought he’d known how he’d ended up on the outs with Buck but now he knew that there’d been something else at play. Something he hadn’t known to worry about. 

Another thing he’d missed—that he’d missed because he trusted Bobby to tell the team the truth about the lawsuit. 

“I actually think she was worried you were so upset that you might get hurt again.  She didn’t tell me why—just asked me to find you and make sure you were okay.”  Deacon was calm, measured. He didn’t take offense. 

Sometimes Eddie wished Deacon would take offense—he was being unreasonable. He thought he’d worked on not being this way but the backslide rankled. “I’m sorry.”

“For what?” Again with the reasonableness. 

Eddie struggled a moment internally with how to, as Frank said, use his words.  He could almost see Buck saying that to him too. Looking at his hands, they were covered in sand that clung to his skin making it dusty and rough. “Some days... all I can do is focus on making sure Christopher is getting what he needs—that he’s taken care of. Everything else? It’s... I just don’t....”

Deacon was quiet and listening attentively but didn’t interrupt despite Eddie’s struggle. Maybe he should just explain...

“I.... I didn’t know that Bobby had made the recommendation to bench Buck that set off... everything.”

“What do you mean?”

Eddie licked his lips, feeling the grit of the sand that had been blowing around in the wind. “Every day.... some days are worse than others.  After Afghanistan I really.... it was tough coming back to a civilian life. I couldn’t stay in Texas.... my parents tried to file legally to take Christopher away from me and my wife—Shannon—was gone.”

Deacon sharply inhaled. “They what?”

He felt like he was swallowing glass it hurt so much to talk about this but he needed to get it out.  Frank had been poking around this a bit lately but Eddie hadn’t been able to verbalize it to the shrink—it was why he was pretty sure he wasn’t made to go to a therapist. He really just wanted to talk to Buck but maybe Deacon... yeah. “They had the paperwork all filled out and asked me to voluntarily sign Christopher over to them.”

“Eddie....” Deacon had a horrified look on his face.  “Why would they?!?”

Swallowing against the tightness again, Eddie shook his head in denial. “I wasn’t doing well when I got back and Shannon had just left.  I had... I was trying to just focus on doing what was right for Christopher and we had a few disagreements about... about what a kid with a disability should be able to do.  They kept it from me right until they put the paperwork in front of me asking me to sign them. To give them full custody of Christopher because I wasn’t being careful enough with him. I was seeing a counselor at the VA then and they said.... I was worried that they’d use my own medical records against me.  I wasn’t diagnosed with PTSD or anything but I had some symptoms and... I couldn’t keep talking to the counselor and risk that.”

“Eddie... they couldn’t... it doesn’t work that way.”

“It was voluntary they said.  It would be doing the right thing for Christopher.  That I was being too... dangerous with him.  I....” He struggled to find the words to explain. “I didn’t want Christopher to be held back. He’s capable of so much and they wanted... want to put him in this protective bubble so he’ll never...”

“They want to limit him,” Deacon guessed and Eddie nodded in relief that Deacon understood. 

“Yes.  But that’s not what Christopher needs. Buck gets that.”

“So what does that have to do with Bobby?” Deacon cocked his head, not seeing the point Eddie was trying to make.  He was making a mess of trying to explain.  This was why he didn’t want to ever talk to anyone—it was so messed up even in his own brain how could he adequately explain his fears?

“So I moved from Texas to LA. Got a job at the 118. I.... I had my Abuela and Pepa but I couldn’t....”

“Trust them?”

Eddie shrugged. “No... they supported me. It’s why I moved here... but I...”

“You didn’t have a partner,” Deacon guessed and then tilted his head back when Eddie nodded. “It’s not the same having family versus a spouse or partner who’s always there.”

“No it’s not.  I thought maybe Shannon.... but I didn’t know what to do or how to reach out.  She’d been gone for two years by then.”

“That’s a long time to be raising a kid by yourself when your family isn’t supportive,” the other man observed sadly. 

“Yeah. I missed the.... the way that I was with my unit before everything happened. Trust is big you know? I thought when I got home that my family would... that they’d support me but nobody was interested in just... in just letting me be and letting me figure it out. They all wanted something from me or didn’t have time for me to figure out how to be normal again.  Then my first day at the 118 Buck is all in my face and I thought for a second that LA was going to be the same as El Paso that I’d have to move along at some point—that it was just a stop for now.”

“But it wasn’t?”

“No.  I.... I told myself that letting anyone close was just going to end up like my parents or my wife.”

Deacon brushed his shoulder against Eddie’s in support. “So what happened?”

Eddie found himself smiling sadly at the memory. “Buck and I.... our second day we had to pull a live grenade out of a guy’s leg.”

“What?”

“I knew what I was doing,” Eddie protested. “Buck... he didn’t hesitate. He jumped in the ambulance with me despite us having had a few words earlier that day.”

“He trusted you?”

“Yeah.  And he... he didn’t hesitate. I told him that he could have my back any day....”. He’d meant it then and he still meant it.  Eddie knew he hadn’t done a good job of it lately but he still very much meant it with everything he had. “Buck he... when he found out I had Christopher the first thing he did was tell me he loved kids.... then he tried to reassure me that Chris would be fine at school.”

“I sense there’s more to that story...”

“Yeah. It was during that big earthquake almost two years ago. I couldn’t get a hold of the school but Buck knew all these building code facts about how Chris was probably in the safest place he could be in. He kept it up until I believed him....”

Another nudge of the shoulder in support. “Sounds like Buck really had your back.”

“He did.  I... I didn’t realize it but he just jumped right over all the barriers I’d made to keep people out and made himself at home before I could figure out how to keep him out. He... I trust him more than I did Shannon—my wife,” Eddie let his voice trail off.  He hadn’t really thought it out until he said it but it was true. Buck had easily avoided all the mental barriers that he had constructed to keep people at a distance—family and friends—since Afghanistan. Buck had made himself right at home next to Christopher in his life without him even having time to notice or protest. This made Buck’s absence even more painful as it was a gaping hole in his life. He’d screwed up so much. 

“Your dead wife?” Deacon prompted him. 

The chuckle that escaped sounded pained. “Yeah. My dead wife. Although she wouldn’t have been my wife for much longer....”

Deacon frowned. “What do you mean?”

Deciding he might as well just tell Deacon the whole sordid mess, Eddie hunched his shoulders but tried to get it all out at once. “Shannon tried to get back into Chris’ and my life—said she was going to be there for us again and I foolishly let myself hope that maybe... maybe I could do the right thing. Fix things. Chris was so happy to see his mom again and I... I thought maybe we could be a family again.”

“That’s understandable—“

“No.  I mean,” Eddie paused and took a deep breath. “I let myself hope that maybe it would work this time. I even bought her a new ring and I’d taken her out to a nice restaurant... but she handed me divorce papers.”

“What?”

A few tears leaked out of his eyes and he angrily wiped at them with a sniffle. “Shannon served me divorce papers the night I thought I was going to ask her to move back in and we could try again to be a family.”

Deacon gaped at him. 

Eddie decided to let the last painful detail loose. “She died the next day—car accident. Died in my arms since we were the house called to the scene.”

“Oh god.  Eddie I’m—“

“What? Sorry? Why?  It wasn’t your fault.  She’d made her decision to leave and then left permanently.”  He couldn’t meet Deacon’s eyes and glared out at the water. He was still bitterly angry at Shannon for coming back into Christopher’s life and then leaving again. 

Neither of them spoke for a moment. 

“You’re angry with her,” Deacon observed before muttering, “I’d be angry with her.”

“Yeah,” he bit out. “I am angry with her but it’s hard to be angry with someone that’s dead. I feel like...an asshole for admitting it though. She didn’t mean to leave us—me.”

Deacon was silent for a moment. “You feel like she abandoned you.”

Abandoned.  That was a great label for what he was feeling. “Yeah. Abandoned—the thing that sucks the most?  Nobody knew about the divorce papers other than Buck.”

“Really?”

“Yeah.  I guess... I thought if everyone knew then they’d know it was my fault she left.”  It had been his fault.  Shannon hadn’t wanted to be married to him anymore. Maybe who he was really angry at was himself. 

“I don’t think that.”

Eddie’s head snapped up to look at Deacon. “What?”

Deacon took another moment, choosing his words carefully. “Marriages are a two way street—it’s not your fault or at least not yours alone. It sounds to me like you actually wanted to make things work. That you were trying.  To me that doesn’t mean your were at fault.”

Eddie thought over Deacon’s words. “But it is my fault. I wasn’t enough to make her want to stay.  I... I left first with my deployments and I was never there for her.”

“In the past maybe,” Deacon interrupted. “But I’ve seen you with Christopher and I have to disagree. Someone who decides to move to try and do the best for their kid isn’t leaving—you came to LA where your wife was right?”

“Well yeah but—“

“But nothing.  You were trying to reach out. To make things work right?”

“Yeah....”

“Then I don’t know what else you could have done Eddie. Sometimes relationships don’t work out and sometimes it’s too late for reasons that are beyond our control.”

He let Deacon’s words sink in. Eddie understood what Deacon was saying and he theoretically got it but it didn’t change how angry he sometimes felt towards Shannon. “I just still... I get so angry sometimes.”

“To me that seems a valid feeling given what happened.”  Deacon carefully laid a hand on Eddie’s bare forearm, fingers warm as he squeezed in support. 

“Yeah but how do I feel anything other than angry?  I just want to stop being so angry all the time.”  He was so tired of being angry all the time and it seemed to color everything. It’d gotten so much worse once he’d been ordered to not talk to Buck with the lawsuit and he’d lost the one person he’d gotten used to using as his sounding board. Buck was...

Shit. 

Buck was his confident and partner. He’d been more like a spouse than Shannon had been even before they’d gotten married and actually talked about more than parenting stuff. He talked to Buck about everything. Buck was always the first to know, the first he told about things, the person he planned everything with. 

And then it’d stopped. Because Buck had been hurt and Bobby had made the recommendation that he couldn’t come back to work.  It didn’t take a leap of faith on Eddie’s part to understand Buck’s reaction.

He’d been ignoring Deacon who kept repeating his name,”...Eddie?”

“I think... I think I know why it got so bad.”

Deacon hadn’t released his arm and his brow was deeply furrowed in concern. “What do you mean?”

“When Buck filed the lawsuit it wasn’t too long after the tsunami. Christopher was having nightmares almost every night and.... he’d wake up crying and I had a lot of trouble soothing him.  I couldn’t... I was pretty sure he was having flashbacks and nightmares and he would wake up crying for Buck most of the time but sometimes he’d ask for Shannon too.  When he’d ask for Buck we’d call him and just talking to Buck was usually enough for Chris to settle down enough that I was enough.  The nights when he was asking for Shannon I couldn’t do anything but hold him and he’d cry and cry....

Deacon was fixed on Eddie’s words, waiting to hear the next part and his hand squeezed in comfort around Eddie’s forearm. “Eddie....”

“Let me finish.  Part of the lawsuit was that we were told we couldn’t talk to Buck by the union lawyers.  None of us. Not Bobby, Hen or Chimney without a lawyer present or we’d potentially be putting our own jobs at risk.” He paused... and then added, “ And I couldn’t speak to him either.  Chris had a good week the week before—no more phone calls to Buck at 2 AM for almost two weeks.  And the night after I was told that I couldn’t talk to Buck, Chris had another one.  He cried for what felt like hours and didn’t understand why I couldn’t call his Bucky.  I almost did and I wouldn’t have cared at all if I lost my job over it.”

“Shit.”

“Yeah,” Eddie rubbed his face with his hands, feeling so tired just remembering how sleep deprived he’d been. “I got Chris into a child psychologist the next day I couldn’t take it anymore.”

“Did it help?”

Eddie shrugged. “Some.  Chris still wakes up pretty frequently but he’d stopped asking me all the time for Buck because he knows I wouldn’t call him—couldn’t call him.”

“Still?”

“That’s the reason it started.... but I’m the asshole who didn’t... I didn’t react well when we had the meeting with the lawyer and that cabrón used Shannon’s death as an example of how Buck was being discriminated against.  I was so stuck up in my own head that I....”

“You didn’t start talking again when you could have,” Deacon summed up.

He nodded. “Yeah. I used to talk to Buck about everything and then all of the sudden I couldn’t find any words to say to him that weren’t angry or something I’d regret the moment they were out of my mouth.”

Deacon made a noise that encouraged Eddie to continue. “We went from talking about everything to not talking at all.  I’d like to blame it just on us but.... I found out the reason Buck filed the lawsuit.”

“Why?”

“Bobby made a recommendation that even though the docs had cleared Buck and he’d passed the fitness tests... Bobby didn’t think it was safe for him to return to duty.”

“Does Bobby get to make that call? Overrule a doctor’s clearance?  Because he’s your captain?”

Eddie shrugged. “Buck was doing stuff as a fire marshal. He hated it but it was something and Bobby was happy to see him back to work—we all were even if he was a terror with the clipboard.  You have to understand... Buck lives and breathes being a firefighter.  We’re his family and he doesn’t have much outside of the 118 in his life. I don’t... I get why he sued Bobby.  I wish he’d talked to me first though so I would have known... that I wouldn’t just be told I couldn’t talk to him.”

“Sounds like both of you should have talked to each other.”

Eddie snorted. That was putting things mildly. “I’m not mad or angry or whatever you want to call it with Buck.”

“You’re not?”

“I think... I’m mostly angry with myself. I’ve screwed up so many times... and at the end of the day it’s my fault.”

“Eddie... have you talked to Buck about any of this?”

“No.  I... I texted him a few times just to check in and he texts back but it’s... it’s not the same.  I don’t know how to... to do it.  And to find out that the reason we stopped talking was Bobby?  I just... I don’t know how to go to work tomorrow.”

“Why?”

Eddie gestured helplessly. “How do I trust him Deac? How do I trust that he’s telling me what I need to know? That he’s not keeping things from me because they’re inconvenient or whatever?  I just don’t know.... trust...” he stuffed his hand in his mouth and bit down on his knuckle. 

Deacon tugged at his arm, pulling his hand away. “Don’t. I...I didn’t mention that Hondo got squad leader over me did I?”

Surprised, Eddie looked at Deacon who was staring at his own hands now. “What? I mean you’re...”

“Best friends and partners?  Yeah.” Deacon sighed heavily, letting his eyes close for a moment before opening them to look out over the sand to the water. “We’ve been work partners for almost a decade but he’s been my section leader now for over a year.  He was promoted over me.”

“That... must have caused problems.”

“It should have caused more.  My wife hates it but... I.... Hondo still listens to me. Relies on me. Do I wish I’d been given the promotion to team lead that was rightfully mine? Some days yes, some days no.”

“How do you... how did you get over being overlooked?”  It wasn’t the same but Deacon and Hondo were a solid unit much like he used to be with Buck. 

Deacon took a deep breath and let it out. “I think I realized what was more important to me was my relationship with my partner than the promotion and my career. Which is probably why my wife hates it.”

“Why would she?”

“Annie... she was diagnosed with brain cancer six months ago—and she’s mostly okay now,” he added before Eddie could ask.  “We had a rough patch right before then—she felt I should have been promoted instead of Hondo and... I think she hated it that I wasn’t more upset. I spend all this time at work—a lot of hours. Most of them are with Hondo and...she gets jealous that I don’t tell him no. That when my phone rings it’s him and I have to go and leave her with the kids—it’s not an option to let someone else have his back.”  Deacon’s eyes fell to his hands that he’d laced together over his knees. “She said he gets more of me than she does anymore and she’s right. I’m more Deacon than her David.”

“But Hondo... you trust him right?  Has he done anything ever like Bobby has?”  Eddie asked, still processing the whole comment about Deacon’s wife being jealous of his work partner. 

“That’s just it... I do trust him.  We’ve had our moments where we haven’t told each other everything and sometimes it has led to less than optimal outcomes... but I can still trust him at work.  I know it’s not the same thing as it is with your captain but maybe it is that way with Buck and you.”

“Maybe,” Eddie agreed. “You said you’ve had arguments before? With Hondo?”

“All the time but we’ve worked together so long we’re mostly in sync these days.”

Staring out at the waves, Eddie nodded slowly. “I guess… I think I need to talk to Bobby.”

“What are you going to say to him?” Deacon asked, trying to be supportive. “I think you should go in with a plan.”

Closing his eyes, he rubbed his face with his hands. He was tired and hadn’t slept after getting off shift once he’d connected the dots that had been there all this time if he’d only thought to look for them. That old saying that if it was a snake it would have bit him was accurate—he’d been completely oblivious to Buck’s struggles. “I think… I need to ask him why he didn’t let Buck come back when he passed his recerts and the docs cleared him. For anyone else that would have been enough.”

“He might not tell you,” Deacon warned. “As boss he has to keep some things confidential.”

“Yeah but this is about trust and I think…. I think I need to hear him either give me a reason or that cop out. I need…” Eddie paused, reframing his answer. “I need to know if I was an asshole to my best friend because he didn’t tell us everything.”

Deacon frowned. “Are you trying to shift blame to Bobby?”

“No.” Eddie was firm, squashing that thought immediately. “I think I just need… I need to know if he’s ever going to let Buck come back—really back not this half-present thing,” he clarified with a weak wave of his hand at the water. 

“What do you mean?”  Deacon’s expression was thoughtful, brows lowered as he tried to suss out what Eddie was trying to say. 

“Because Buck is my partner.”  It really was that simple and complicated.  Eddie hadn’t wanted to look too closely at his relationship with Buck before he’d left him but now it preoccupied his thoughts like nothing else.  The word partner was both accurate as well as insufficient to describe everything that Buck was to him.  Partner. Best friend. Better half. All of them could be used to describe Buck…but the one he hadn’t dared said aloud was the label that he was becoming more and more sure of.   

Soulmate. 

Eddie was pretty sure Buck was his soulmate and possibly the love of his life—even if that meant just loving Buck as a friend for the rest of his life if Buck didn’t feel that way. He didn’t know if Buck felt that way too…

Softening his words, Eddie kept trying to explain as he stumbled over his words. “He’s got my back and I’ve got his—or at least we did or do—at least I think we do. I’ve been… talking and texting Buck so I don’t think that… I want to know if we can work back to being that for each other at the 118.  If it’s not an option then I need to know it’s not.”

“Would you follow Buck somewhere else?”

The question was seemingly innocuous but it made Eddie pause and think.

Would he follow Buck to Hawaii?  The thought of uprooting Chris and starting over yet again was daunting—Abuela and Pepa were both here in LA. Both Christopher and he had made close relationships—Carla, Chris’ school friends, the rest of the 118…so many people. 

Would he follow Buck?

He didn’t know the answer. If it had been just him?  It would be easy to answer—yes.  He’d follow Buck anywhere… but with Chris?

“I don’t know. Maybe.  I think that’s a conversation Buck and I would need to have but I think the first thing I need to know is if staying at the 118 is even on the table.  If Bobby won’t budge then well I guess that means it’s not an option.”

“I’m still not sure what Bobby’s going to say.”

“I just want the truth—he could have… I feel like he hid the truth about why Buck was suing the department.  I’m mad at myself for not ignoring the no talking to Buck directive from the union—I should have ignored it and I don’t think… maybe I wouldn’t be in this mess.”

Eddie was pretty sure that if he had talked to Buck that he wouldn’t have… no he still was having some trouble even before the lawsuit. It’d just been the cherry on top.  He couldn’t avoid taking responsibility for his mess up—even if Frank had told him that he shouldn’t make everything his fault… this one was his. 

He should have talked to Buck. Should have reached out and used his words that were so damnably hard to find the right ones to say what he needed to say. If talking to Buck was his primary coping mechanism—which according to Frank it was—then he should have sucked up his pride and done it as it was a lot healthier than getting into illegal street fights. 

“I hope you find the answers you need then,” Deacon said with a light touch to his shoulder.  “When are you going to talk to him?”

Eddie sighed. “Hopefully he’s free.  I don’t want to wait.”

“Then good luck. Do you need me to watch Chris?”

“No.  I have a session with Frank before pickup time.”

“Okay—but if you need me to watch him just let me know.”

“Thanks,” Eddie managed, clasping his hand around Deacon’s arm. “Thanks for being a friend.”

Deacon’s warm smile was encouraging. “If you ever need you only have to ask.”

“I’m working on that,” Eddie promised.

“Go talk to Bobby and get the answers you need.  If you need me after just call.”

“Thanks.”

[wellntruly]

M*A*S*H - Season 3, misc. notes

Decided to just toss these up. Since I had started taking them. Thoughts & observations that did not readily lend themselves to my viewguide write-ups -- Appendix material

-- -- --

Ah they’re letting the actors ride around on the running boards of the truckbulances this season, I see. You know they were amped. ~Action Stars~

Standout character design on this show tbh, real feat of just styling and posture. Alda and Rogers are nearly the same height, similar build, and usually wearing one of two of the exact same monochrome outfits, and yet they have completely distinct silhouettes. I bet if you’ve watched this show, all I have to do is say “back of collar flipped up and hands in pockets, surgical cap cocked at an angle” and “hands loose and collar down, surgical cap square like a beanie,” and you know exactly who is who.

I am so supportive of how they kept making Gary Burghoff play the trumpet while, seemingly, forbidding him from taking any lessons or practicing.

I’ve now seen three separate Bela Legosi as Dracula impressions by three different characters in three seasons of M*A*S*H. I think we should not underestimate the cultural reset of Bela Legosi as Dracula.

I thought N.G., for No Good, was a John Hodgmanism, but turns out that dates from at least 1975!

I finally finally finally learned the etymology of B girl: business girl. Variant on working girl. Gonna start using this and everyone’s gonna be like what DECADE are you from.

Klinger is reading RUPERT BROOKE. I squawked.

Hawk saying they’ll miss Trapper’s stupid laugh, and his two good hands…this is gonna make me insane. Don’t stand there with your heart breaking while saying things that could be homoerotic double entendres that you aren’t even winking about GOD that makes it feel REAL, GOD!

The first joke that I laughed at alone, a joke the laugh track was apparently not as pleased by as I was: an all-mood description of a barbecue sauce

I appreciate that Hawkeye & Radar's battle sounds foley on the phone is, 100%, mortar shells from the First World War. What War Sounds Like since 1914 and counting !

Is it time to confess I am supremely into Trapper/Margaret. I am supremely into Trapper/Margaret. It’s confusing, don’t worry about it. But woof!!

Radar hanging out with animals? A development I respect.

Me: overall though, so far this season has not had remotely enough Hawkeye flirting with men Mere minutes into the first episode of Season 3 they let Alda direct: [leaning into Frank] “Kiss me.”

Interesting that Trapper introduces himself as John McIntyre but Hawk as Hawkeye Pierce. I guess if he didn’t it’d be, Benjamin Pierce? Oh my god does anyone ever call him Ben. Wait am I having an immense feeling imagining someone calling him Ben. Okay lock that up in a glass box right now!

“And he’s gonna find us just the way we are, and what we are: draftee doctors, a little gamey and dazed from crawling inside people trying to keep them breathing.” Sometimes this show Fucks me up.

[introducing himself and Trapper] "Captain Sodom and Captain Gomorrah. He’s Gomorrah.” OKAYY. Also #gonchcore

Klinger’s outfits just…keep getting better? Genuinely he shows up lately and my first reaction is, “oh, Yes!”

You can’t have that great moment with Radar and Hawkeye and the lift shoes and then go back though, you just can’t! You’ve already pointed out that it was mean so now it’s just mean. I realize this is just what you get from having a stable of writers working simultaneously on an episodic series, but we better align on this when you regroup for the next season.

Trapper: “You sure she’s not coming back?” Nurse: “She’s with Hawkeye.” Trapper: “Oh, then it should be a while, he’s very thorough.” HELL yeah. Love, mm, everything about this?

Haha I hate Colonel Flagg so much. Which is good, let me be clear. It’s good that he’s both jokesy and super evil. I like perfectly, easily hateable enemies.

Oh interesting: this episode is not actually good

Season Viewguides

These

[luckyy19]

Ethan and Beatrix talk

Someone fell into step beside her. It was such a shock that anyone followed her—likely against Alessandra’s orders—she almost missed how their lumbering figure cast her in darkness. Almost, but she wasn’t so distracted yet. “Can I help you, Ethan?” 

“You know something,” he said frankly. Everything he said was frank. It was a breath of fresh air in a world where no one could ever say what they meant.

“So what if I do?”

“There are rumors that Pierce Arkos was invited to fight in Ostana, but Owen went in his place.”

She smiled. “Are there?”

“You don’t know anything about it?”

“Did I say that?”

He didn’t answer, but she could tell from his small smile that he understood. It was so easy to overlook men like Ethan, but she had always liked him. She didn’t have friends anymore, not like she used to, but Ethan was as close as she had managed to get while working for Herousia. “You don’t trust the Anexdrons,” he finally said.

“I don’t trust Luther,” she corrected. “People who want like that…they’re dangerous.”

“Spoken from experience?”

“Are we feeling introspective tonight?”

“That’s not an answer.”

“No, it’s not.”

 “I don’t trust either of them,” he said without missing a beat. “Alessandra or Luther.”

Beatrix cocked her head. Was dissent so widespread? “What’s Alessandra done that Luther hasn’t? Besides leading the army.”

“She’s inconsistent. I don’t know what she wants. Alessandra doesn’tknow what she wants. It makes her a weak leader.”

“Yeah,” she agreed. “It does. But it’s what we have, I guess. Better than following Luther. He’d have burned the city to the ground within the first week.”

“Isn’t that your goal?”

She stopped, craning her neck to look him in the eye. “Is it your goal?”

He tilted his head, considering. So different from his cousin. Kade would have answered before she finished asking. Ethan was so much slower, deeper than his swift-footed, shallow relative. It was a refreshing counterbalance to her own rapidly moving mind. “No,” he finally said. “It’s not. The Moiranians didn’t kidnap Dru. Why should all of them suffer for one man’s crime?”

Beatrix forced a smile even as her heart deflated. It was the answer she wanted, but not for the reason she hoped. Still, it was something. She smacked him on the shoulder. “That’s the spirit.”

“You’re very annoying.”

She shrugged. “I’ve been called worse.”

“Where are you going?”

“To Luther’s tent. Someone has to make sure no one gets hurt tonight,” she added at his puzzled glance.

“Why should it be you?”

She winked. “Because I know something.”

The tent was within sight now, her circuit completes. The surrounding area was barren save a handful of scattered tents and even fewer trees. One brushed against the canvas of Luther’s. An odd decision for set up—any number of things could happen to that tree—but convenient for her.

“Can I stay with you?” Ethan asked, ruining all her plans in the best way. “It’s not fair that you do this alone.”

With a long-suffering sigh, Beatrix changed directions. “If you must,” she said, back pressed against the earthen wall as she slid to the ground. “I won’t object to your company.”

“You like me?”

Beatrix snorted. “No need to sound surprised. My cold, dead heart is capable of emotion sometimes.”

He sat beside her, thrusting his sword into the ground at his side. At first, he didn’t respond, looking up at the stars with something almost like reverence. The Quelsh didn’t see the stars the same way the Varians did, but she could almost see the thoughts whirring in his mind. “I don’t think you have a cold heart,” he finally said, very quiet. “You’re here because you love Drusilla’s cousin and one day, you’ll leave here because you love her, too. A person like that can’t be filled with hate.”

Beatrix swallowed, blinking back unexpected tears. “You’re the first person to ever think that of me.”

“That you’re not cold-hearted?”

“That I’m capable of love.”

Ethan clicked his tongue. “I don’t believe you.”

“Well, you’re the first to say it.”

“You’re impossible.”

“But you love me.”

He sighed heavily. “I do,” he said with all the fondness one reserved for a friend. “Against my better judgement, I really do.”

“I’ve been told I have that effect. I grow on you. Like mold.”

“Shut up.”

The wind swept away her laughter.

[highlyflammablebark]

STIR.

FRY.

Do you hate veggies because of texture or taste?Does the idea of eating an egg make you wail and scream? Do women spit on you as you drag your meagre form past them on the street? Do the women you want to spit on you not spit on you?

I was once the same as you. Emaciated. Grotesque. Wretched beyond the point of pity. Until one day, just under a year ago, I started estrogen and that helped with a lot of it but also I started doing STIR FRIES BITCH LET’S CHANGE YOUR LIFE

Get your cracker ass a WOK and I swear to FUCK if that shit has a non-stick coating I’ll use it (the wok) to beat you into an even sorrier pulp than you already are. Decent cast iron cookware is way less expensive than you might think as long as you know where to look. If you feel comfortable cooking with something used, thrift stores and antique shops aren’t a bad place to start, but even new shit isn’t that bad as long as you don’t get big name brands. I got my like 14” cast iron wok for I think 24 Canadian Smackaroos at a Real Canadian Superstore. Take the time to find the cookware that’s right for you and your situation so long as it meets my standards of GET CAST IRON or CARBON STEEL or STARVE, VERMIN.

“But Birch,” I hear you asking, “that’s an additional dish to wash. I have (insert disability) that makes housekeeping difficult.” SHUT your FUCK MOUTH YOU THINK I DON’T KNOW THAT? YOU THINK I DIDN’T ACCOUNT FOR THAT? GET THE FUCK OUT OF MY GOD DAMNED SIGHT.

Most people (in my limited life experiences consisting largely of white North American Suburbia) think you need a pot to cook noodles. Most people (IMLLECLOWNAS) are on my non-stick-hit-list and their opinions will soon be moot. Here’s the thing: stir fry, if you want it to be, can be a 1-dish meal. There is absolutely no reason I can think of that you can’t boil, season, fry, and serve your noodles in your wok, and if you followed basic fucking directions and got a cast iron one (I can’t speak for carbon steel because I refuse to do basic research) then not only do you not have to worry about microplastics, you’ll also get that iron you’re almost certainly deficient in by following these short steps:

1: buy instant ramen/udon/chow mein/whatever the fuck carb you wanna stir fry. The quality of the carb doesn’t matter too much because gonna be frying the fuck out of this so a dollar store is your best bet for cheap ingredients.

2: while you’re at the dollar store, buy AT LEAST the following:

•Bottle of soy sauce

•Bottle of sesame oil (if sesame oil isn’t your thing, you can substitute pretty much any cooking oil)

•Bottle of rice vinegar

Advisable but not strictly necessary are: lemon juice, a hot sauce (I personally prefer Franks Red Hot), and a neutral oil

3: figure out and acquire your other ingredients. Experiment to see what you like, but as a starting point I can recommend any combination of: spinach, lettuce, bean sprouts, chicken eggs, tofu, onions/shallots, shrimp, garlic, shredded carrots, sliced carrots, bell peppers, hot peppers, and meatless beef ground. When I say any combination, I mean any combination. You could probably combine all of these in a stir fry and it would kick ass. As a rule though, you generally want your stir fry to consist of three or four basic ingredients: a carb (e.g. ramen), a green (e.g. lettuce) and/or a vegetable (e.g. carrot), and a protein (e.g. shrimp). I am a complicated vegetarian, so I can’t really speak on meats, but there’s no reason they can’t be added. Just keep in mind that normal meat cooking safety rules apply, and raw meat you stir fry should be carefully checked to make sure you won’t shit yourself to death.

4: get your shit ready to cook. Dice carrots, chop onions, etc. This should take exactly as long as you feel like doing it for; if it’s a good day, spend half an hour cutting an onion into various shapes and making the carrots frot. If it’s a bad day, you don’t need any ingredients other than carb, water, and oil. If it’s a REALLY bad day, take a packet of instant ramen, smash it into pieces while still in the bag, pour the smashed ramen into a bowl and fill with water until the smashed noodles are just covered, then microwave for 2-3 minutes, add seasoning and an egg if desired, stir thoroughly, and consume. If your carb of choice does not require boiling, skip the next step.

5: fill your wok with however much water you think necessary and add a splorsh of some sort of acid, like a rice vinegar or lemon juice, and some salt, then bring to a boil. The acid helps leach iron into the water and the salt makes it taste better. Add carb. Cook carb. Drain carb and transfer it to a separate container if convenient/possible. After draining, make sure your wok is relatively dry; droplets of water are fine, but there shouldn’t be, like, a puddle at the bottom

6: at medium-low heat or whatever heat ends up working for you, add a good amount of oil, rice vinegar, and soy sauce to the wok and stir it around so it coats ~the bottom third with a fun little pool at the bottom. Add your other ingredients unless that ingredient is egg which goes in later so it doesn’t scramble or shrimp which my girlfriend handles (I think they have to go in later or they’ll get rubbery). Fry until you get bored, stirring as frequently as possible without being stressful. Add the carb, and another good splash of oil, acid, and soy sauce as well as any other seasonings. Continue to stir until bored. Crack in egg(s) if desired, stirring vigorously to ensure that a) they won’t scramble and be gross, b) they’ll coat everything evenly, and c) you won’t shit yourself to death

7: garnish with green onions. Mandatory.

8: eat directly from wok (let it cool first) or transfer to a bowl

As long as you don’t leave your cast iron cookware on a counter or in the sink or anywhere else it might get wet you can leave it till whenever you need it again. Not a bad idea to scrape any larger chunks off so they don’t get moldy.

Fuck you im not collapsing it you WILL like the colour of the fry

i mean this in the gentlest way possible: you need to eat vegetables. you need to become comfortable with doing so. i do not care if you are a picky eater because of autism (hi, i used to be this person!), you need to find at least some vegetables you can eat. find a different way to prepare them. chances are you would like a vegetable you hate if you prepared it in a stew or roasted it with seasoning or included it as an ingredient in a recipe. just. please start eating better. potatoes and corn are not sufficient vegetables for a healthy diet.

[xxfanfiction-emo-trinityxx]

Whatever Was Before... - Mikey Way x Reader

Summary: Mikey and you don’t get along, even hate each other. Having to share a room and bed one night reveals that this is not true at all. Reader: no pronouns used, can be read as any gender Warnings: getting into fights Word count: 3500 A/N: Happiest of Birthdays to the one and only @robinrunsfiction​! I got a whole bunch of writing coming your way, so you better get ready, my dear ;) Also this is the belated Birthday Fic for Mikey, I just thought I could pack both birthdays into one ;)

Mikey was laying in the dark, acutely aware of your even breaths at his side. He wished you would have left the lights on, at least a small one, but he had not wanted to make things between you even worse by asking. Somehow the darkness in hotel rooms was always so absolute and foreign, even though there was a thin beam of light from a street lantern shining through the closed curtains. If asked, he could not have explained it, how the absence of light here differed from the one at home. But it felt suffocating; just as it felt suffocating lying next to you.

His stomach twisted at the thought of you only inches away from him. He was not sure if it was in a good kind of way or a bad one. He knew it shouldn’t be in a good kind of way. In fact, he was supposed to hate you, just as you hated him. The constant fighting between you drove him up the walls, while the other band members laughed it off. But you made his blood boil. Mikey did not even remember how it had started. It just had always been this way. Sometimes you were screaming at each other from across the room, sometimes it were hissed comments or death glares, but every interaction he had ever had with you had been filled with the same hateful tension.

There were moments where he began doubting if it really was only hate between you, like when he had to wake you at three a.m. and you blinked up at him sleepily. Then his heart beat faster in his chest with something that could not be waved off as hate. It was affection. And Mikey hated himself for it just as much as he hated you for making him feel that way. And perhaps even worse: not noticing that there were more emotions involved for him than hate.

Now, laying in the dark, he felt his heart beating in his throat, still mad at you from the fight you had had earlier, and at the same time nervous about how close you were. The fight had been about nothing basically. It had been about you being you, you always finding a way to make the band members’ less glorious qualities still seem admirable and human. Like when people made fun of Frank and called him chaotic and a menace, you defended him, saying he was passionate, no matter how many times he had fallen into your drum kit already. Or when people called Ray anti-social (which really was not true) for not hanging out with others as much as the rest of the band, you said he was the quiet genius, whose mind was working relentlessly to create new music. And the same way you had found ways to turn criticism at Mikey’s bandmates into compliments, you had done the same for him at a talk-show earlier tonight.

Mikey knew the host would go into this direction, when he begun describing everyone’s style on stage, Frank’s energy, Ray’s head banging, your passion, Gerard’s prancing. And Mikey’s passivity.

“You’re just not moving that much, are you Mikey? Scared of falling over cables,” the host teased.

Mikey just shrugged, the awkward silence that begun building in the studio drowned out by the ringing in his ears as he was avoiding eye contact with anyone. At his side he felt Gerard take a breath to say something, but you were faster.

“’s just, not everyone needs to move around to have a great stage presence, you know,” you chirped cheerfully.

Mikey’s eyes snapped to you, boring into your side as you smiled innocently at the host. You had done what you always did: make the band look good. And never let on to the public that there was any kind of tension between you and him.

Mikey knew he should not be as upset about it as he was, but his blood had been running hot in his veins, and as soon as the five of you had been backstage, he had blown up in your face, asked how you thought it was okay to always interfere and what not. He could not even remember what he had said to you. You had not react much, only asked him to not shout as loudly, which had made it even worse. The others had ignored him entirely, Frank only snickering about weird flirting techniques. So he had swallowed down the acid that was scratching his throat, desperate to get some kind, any kind of reaction from you. But you had not relented, had not given him the satisfaction to react to his jabs during the way to the hotel at all.

Neither of you had been happy about having been assigned to the same room, but you both knew better than to protest and argue with the manager. And both of you knew better than to argue if one of you should sleep on the floor. You both remembered the days in which seats in vans and narrow beds, that needed to be shared, had been the greatest luxury, so a big, soft bed was something neither of you would be willing to give up on, and somehow you both had silently agreed to argue over anything but the bed.

That had not stopped Mikey from sending one poke after the next your way, until eventually, much later than he had expected, even you had run out of patience, and got loud as well. Somehow it felt good to have you shout at him, rather than take his insults silently. It started with him saying you were always interfering, continued with you calling him ungrateful, went over him randomly insulting your music, to you screaming in his face that you hated him, and ended with the bathroom door slammed into his face.

He had not protested, and instead used the small sink next to the bathroom door to refresh himself, and brush his teeth, even though he had been so enraged that he felt like running ten miles. You had stayed locked in the bathroom for a whole while, the water of the shower still running as Mikey eventually decided to go to bed.

He had left on the ceiling lights, pulled the blanket over himself, and listened to you eventually turning off the shower. After that you had taken another half an hour in the bath. Mikey had tried to fall asleep, but been too distracted by the cluttering in the bathroom. Were you brushing your teeth right now? Applying lotion to your face, or doing whatever night routine you had?

A few times he had heard something that almost sounded like a sniffle, as if you were crying, and each time it had taken all his self-restraint to not jump out of the bed, bang against the door, and beg you to let him in so he could take care of you. But each time his pride had won, and he had stayed in bed. When you eventually had stepped out of the bath, he had pretended to be asleep. The scent of your body wash had streamed in waves from the bathroom. It was the same scent that always clung to your hair and clothes, the same scent that made Mikey’s heart beat a little faster, that threatened to drive a blush into his cheeks. All the reason to hate you even more, for making him feel like a lovesick teenager. But the way you had quietly been moving around the room, assuming he was asleep, and trying not to wake him made it hard. Not even an hour ago you had screamed at him about how much you hated him, and now you had been trying not to disturb his sleep. After every little noise you had made, you had paused, listening whether you had woken him, before eventually crawling into bed next to him.

He had felt the mattress dip with your weight, and heard the ruffling of the blanket. Then you had turned off the light. At that he almost would have spoken up, would have asked you to keep it turned on, or at least turn on the lamp above the bed, but he would rather lie awake in the dark than let you know he had not yet fallen asleep.

It had been a few hours since then. Your breath had evened out quickly, signalling him that you had fallen asleep, and for hours he lay awake, listening to your breathing and the rustling of the bedsheets when you moved in your sleep. Again and again he tried to close his eyes, but each time he did, he had to think of you, screaming about how you hated him before slamming the bathroom door closed, shutting him out. Maybe that was what he actually feared most: that one day you just shut him out.

His thoughts were interrupted by the sudden change in your breathing. Before it had been even, rhythmic, but now it was hasty, erratic, panicked. He had heard similar changes often enough when he had slept in Gerard’s room, and his brother had had a nightmare. And as if to confirm Mikey’s suspicion, you began twitching and shaking your head, mumbling unintelligible words. His heart twisted painfully, wishing he could somehow help you, but if he woke you up, who knew how you were to react. And it really was not his problem if you had nightmares, right? You were an adult; you could deal with that yourself. Normally he would not even notice because he was asleep himself.

That mind-set lasted for a whole of three seconds, before he reached out his hand, brushing it carefully against yours, and whispered your name. Like a reflex your fingers clamped shut around his, and almost immediately you calmed down. Your breathing was still fast, but you stopped moving as much.

“Mikey,” you whispered into the darkness, making his heart almost stop. He was sure you were still asleep, and yet he nodded.

“I’m here,” he whispered back, hoping that no matter how much you hated him, you might still find comfort in his voice. “I’m right here.”

You groaned quietly, still holding onto him, and began moving around in the bed. And before Mikey really had comprehended what you were doing, you had crawled to his side, snuggled against his chest, and thrown an arm around his middle, your legs entangling with his. Mikey felt himself going stiff, while simultaneously euphoria and panic were washing through him. Euphoria because this was the closest you had ever been, panic at how you were to react should you ever find out about this. Most likely you would try to lynch him or something.

He tried to relax, and forget about any possible future scenarios, instead focusing on the moment, on your soft cheek on his chest, the weight of your arm around his middle, the warmth that was bleeding though your pyjamas and his into his skin. A part of him wanted to stay awake, wanted to watch you sleep. Now you were calm again, clinging to him. How long would it last? Mikey was not foolish enough to hope a situation like this would ever arise again, so he wanted to savour every second of it. But it was like your presence was the best lullaby, and before he knew it, he had fallen asleep as well.

~*~

You woke up from being too warm. Sleepily you kicked the heavy blanket away, which had pooled around your waist, only to realise that there was something else that kept you warm, even though this warmth was gentle and soothing, not as heavy and intense as the blanket.

It was then that you heard the even breaths of the person you were sharing the bed with, the calm heartbeat of the man whose chest you had rested your head on. It hit you like a brick, that you were cuddled against Mikey. For a moment your heart threatened to jump out of your chest, but then you felt his arm around your shoulders, and his hand around yours, and relaxed. How had you ended up like this? You could not remember, could not remember if you had rolled over to him or the other way around. But either way, at least subconsciously he did not seem to mind.

Tilting your head back, you tried getting a glance at his face. He looked peaceful, calm, quiet, almost happy. There was still barely any light in the room, making it hard to make out more than his face, but you kept staring at him anyway. He was beautiful like this, you realised, beautiful and calm and almost otherworldly. It was nice being this close to him, feeling how warm he was, how alive, having his strong arm wrapped protectively around you.

You had dreamt of sleeping like this for so long, but a sense of dread settled in your stomach at the thought of what he would do when he woke up. For a moment you toyed with the idea of moving away from him, but in the end you could not bring yourself to do it. Lying like this was too peaceful, and no matter how angry he would be when he woke up, it would be worth just one more second of this.

You were between waking and sleeping, still looking at him through sleep heavy eyes, when he eventually stirred, long before your alarm clock was due to ring. He took a deep breath, and squeezed his eyes closed before slowly blinking them open. You knew you should move, should get away from him, sit up, scoot back to your side of the bed, but you were too entranced watching him to do anything of the sort. You just watched as he slowly woke up.

It did not take him long to notice you at his side, and when his eyes met yours, they widened a fraction before softening. God, you would give about anything to have him look at you like that more often.

He blinked at you, a soft smile on his lips, and you expected him to say something, anything really. Make a comment about how you were clinging to him, make fun of how your hair looked after the night, or just say at least good morning, but instead he stayed quiet, and just watched you.

“Am I dreaming,” he eventually whispered, his voice causing a deep vibration in his chest.

You wanted to answer, but were at a loss for words, so you just shook your head carefully.

“Then I want to stay like this forever.”

His words were so gently spoken that they tore at your heart, and almost drove tears to your eyes.

This time you just nodded in response, and both of you kept looking at each other until the first beams of sunlight flickered into the room.

“I don’t actually hate you,” you suddenly whispered, not quite certain where the words came from. Mikey’s smile faded as you reminded him of the last words you had said to him the previous night. “Sometimes I think it’s pretty much the opposite. It’s just easier to say I do. Then I don’t have to admit that I actually…” You trailed off at the end.

For a long moment he just stared at you, his eyes almost sad as he tried reading your expression as you were still resting your head on his chest.

And then, without warning, he lent down, and pressed his lips to yours, surprising you with a soft kiss. Although less a kiss than a brush of his lips against yours. The action took you by surprise, but like a reflex you lent up into him, pushing closer as your heart was beating hard, anxiously, while your stomach began filling with butterflies.

How often had you dreamt of him holding you this close, of feeling his soft lips against yours? It had been daydreams, which you could not even admit to yourself, after which you had been even more irritable around him than usual; and dreams at night, which left you out of control and at total mercy of your infatuated heart.

Now, kissing him for real, feeling his hands settle against your body, and melting into your skin, was better than anything you could ever have dreamt of. His kisses left you breathless, but it felt like the only way to sooth the need for air was to kiss him more, to taste the mint of his toothpaste from last night, the sweetness that stuck to his lips, and made you dizzy. How had you gone without this, without him, for so long? How had you been able to ever shout at him, be mad at him, be irritated about him? None of it mattered anymore, the thoughts flowing away like leaves on a river, as he kept kissing you, kept making your heart jump, and your breath hitch. Perhaps it would have embarrassed you, to have such a reaction, but he reacted the same, shivering when you ran your fingertips down his neck, and gasping slightly when you kissed him harder.

It was only the ringing of his alarm clock, that suddenly tore you out of your bubble of happiness. Trying not to break the kiss Mikey fumbled for his obnoxiously loud blaring phone, eventually managing to turn off the alarm, but the harmony was interrupted, and you both had been reminded of the world around you. You were still in a hotel room, in the middle of tour. You would need to pack your things, maybe go for breakfast and then head for the bus in time.

Suddenly all these things felt overwhelming, and you wanted nothing but to hide away into Mikey’s side, and hope that your responsibilities just went away. But that was not how the world worked, so, against every instinct, you sat up in bed, looking down on Mikey, who looked back up to you. His lips were red, pulled into a gentle smile, and his eyes were soft, with blown wide pupils, as he watched you.

“We need to get ready,” you whispered, your voice hoarse as you talked.

Mikey nodded and watched as you turned to slip out of bed, but just in the last moment he caught your wrist, making you turn back to him.

“Whatever was before- I don’t care why it was like that.” His voice was rough, emotional, you realised, and wasn’t something you got to hear every day, not like this anyway. You got angry, furious, outraged Mikey, but never soft, overwhelmed, insecure, hopeful Mikey. Not like you did now. “But no matter what, I don’t wanna go back to that.”

You reached a hand out, the one that was not caught in his, and brushed your fingers over his forehead, along his temple, over his cheek, and eventually bent down to peck his lips again.

“Neither do I,” you whispered.

You knew the words exchanged were both apology as well as a confession and promise. An apology for past behaviour, failed communication. A confession of love. A promise to do better, to talk to each other.

Mikey looked at you for a moment, how you were hovering over him, who was still resting in the pillows, and then he leant up again, pressing his lips to yours once more, more heated this time, and pulled you back down to bed.

Eventually, in a few hours, someone would knock on your door to remind you of bus call since you would not have turned up to breakfast. And Mikey and you would laugh at their supposed joke that the two of you should stop making out, because outside they did not know how true it was. Walking together on the bus, hand in hand, Frank would comment on a change in flirting-tactics, and Gerard and Ray would bicker along, earning nothing but an eye roll and perhaps a middle finger from Mikey and you. And then, escaping yet another discussion about lemon slices in coke, Mikey would pull you back to the bunk area and into his bed, because hell, it had only been ten minutes but he already missed your lips against his. The bed would be narrow, less comfortable than the huge hotel bed, but it would feel safer, more like home, as close to anything that was not home could feel like home. And eventually, after you would have fallen asleep, Mikey would stay up, just to watch you lying in his arms.

But none of that was of any importance right now. It was in the future, and all that really mattered was the moment, were Mikey’s lips against yours, his arms pulling you closer against him, and your hearts beating hard in a rhythm only the two of you could hear.

Taglist:

@alexstyx​​​ @jayloverthe3rd​​​ @robinruns​​​ @lookalivefrosty​​​ @butterflycore​​​  @omgsuperstarg​​ @fivelegance​ @deadlovers​​ @kpopchangedmylifesstuff​​ @casmustdiee​

[anawrites3]

"Honestly, Bruce, what were you thinking?"

Clark sighed exasperatedly as he dodged a porcelain vase flying his way - a third of which shattered pieces were already adorning the wooden floor of King's study chamber - trying to bring himself to be just a little bit more empathetic towards his fellow monarch. He couldn't even recall now how many times has he heard the words "outrageous" and "shameless" this night. If he had to be completely frank with himself although, it was hard. It's not like he didn't feel bad for Bruce when his dear friend found himself in a situation like this, with a choice that was leaving him with no good options. It was only normal that he also felt mad at him since it put his dear nephew in an even worse position.

As a bargaining chip.

"You could've accepted any courtship from so many young and virtuous men!" And Clark remembered many of them and their families taking interest in the young prince as soon as his 16th birthday came; sir Wallace with the brightest smile he's ever seen, lord Queen's charge, prince Roy, even foreign knights like mysterious sir Lucas or sir Raptor seemed bewitched by young prince's charm. Clark found Bruce's overprotectiveness amusing back then, now though..."You should've let them try at least when they asked for Richard's hand, then he wouldn't--"

"I thought" Bruce growled through gritted "I'm giving him a chance. To fall in love, to choose by himself. I thought I'm giving a chance to my son, not to some..." Bruce waved his hand in the direction of his desk where the offending letter lay. "Some old, deprived bastard to ask for him like a war trophy!"

Clark didn't have to look at the letter again, he remembered perfectly the words that horrified him more than his friend's grieving face. Lord Wilson - The Terminator as they called him - whose own kingdom was in a state of war with Gotham for years now, years that took thousands of lives, proposed conflict resolution, a pact that would unite the kingdoms in peace against stronger opponents like Nanda Parbat.

Slade Wison wanted young prince Richard as his spouse - such a small price, a bastard son for peace. A beloved child for the misery of father.

Anon, I love you so much!!! It’s so good ahhh I love royalty aus! I already said it earlier but I’ll say it again - I’m having love/hate relationship with you rn because ITS SO FREAKING GOOD but because of it I almost wrote a whole fic in this reply! I hope you don’t mind me adding to your idea, I really couldn’t stop myself! You guys seriously need to tell me if you’re okay with me writing about your ideas when you send me asks haha

Slade is a sly fucker for using a war like this, damn. And I love how Dick is a bastard son. Or maybeee people just think about him as a bastard son because Bruce took him in and he’s not a royalty by blood. UGH I LOVE IT!! Oh and I really like that Clark is here as well!

Thank you so much for sharing with me! I had to write something for you and I tried to keep it short but... well, see for yourself I guess

/ / / / / / /

"You should have let those men interested in Richard get closer to him." Clark spat out. He knew that there was nothing they could do about it now, knew that Bruce hated the situation even more than he did but he needed to let those words out. "You should have let them at least get to know each other so then Dick would be able to decide for himself. But no, you were just scaring them away instead and now-"

Another vase crashed against the wall where Clark was standing just a moment ago. Bruce grabbed another thing close to him - a potted plant, as there were no more vases left - but before he could throw it at Clark as well, another voice spoke up.

"You're making a mess." Dick said quietly from the doorstep. He had his arms wrapped around himself and looked smaller than a prince ever should. "Other people will have to clean it up for you."

"Dick..."

"I've thought this through." Dick began in a mostly steady voice, not looking at any of them. He wet his lips nervously. "Well, there wasn't really much thinking to do but still... I'm- I'm going to accept Lord Wilson's offer."

The pot slipped out of Bruce's hand and hit the floor loudly, spilling the dirt all around the king's feet.

"No." he said firmly, when he finally found his voice back.

"Bruce-" Clark tried gently but the man ignored him.

"No, Dick. I'm not letting you-"

"Then what do you want to do?" Dick demanded. He looked up at his father at last, his eyes red and rimmed, expression taut as if he was in pain. "What else can you do? Do nothing and just let even more people die in this damn war? Wait a few more years so Wilson'll ask for Jason instead when he gets old enough?"

Bruce stumbled as if he was punched. Clark didn't blame him, feeling himself like he was about to collapse.

"Dick-"

"We don't have a choice, Bruce. And I know you know it." Dick straightened with a shaky breath. "As a crown prince, it's my responsibility to take care of my people. I'm not letting them die for a war that has no purpose. If it takes just one to save hundreds- thousands... then I'm ready to do it."

- - - - -

Dick looked out of the carriage's window, trying to get his hands to stop shaking.

Bruce demanded a meeting before giving Wilson their answer and the king of a neighboring country agreed without any further demands. All warfare was suspended now that the peace treaty was being arranged but their warriors still waited with a held breath - none of them could know whether an agreement would be reached.

Dick knew. There was no way he would ever allow more people to die for nothing, not if he had a way to stop the war. Agreeing to Slade's terms was his decision, it was for the better of both countries. Still, thinking about it like that didn't help with stopping the trembling of his hands.

He met Slade Wilson only a few times in his life but he knew how powerful that man was. There was something about him, something that screamed danger. He had this aura around him that made others fear him, made them want to run away even with being aware that turning your back to him might be fatal. But with that fear came respect. Wilson was a good king, people were saying, he was rigorous but fair.

Maybe he would be a good husband as well.

"We're almost here." Clark announced softly and Dick lifted his head to stare at the castle looming in the distance.

"Oh." he breathed out quietly. He sent his uncle a small smile. "Thank you."

"Of course." Clark replied with a smile of his own, though a bit more forced. He wasn't happy about the deal either. No one was. Even Jason grabbed at his sleeve this morning and tried to stop him from leaving.

Bruce didn't look up. He was staring at his knees with a frown since the moment their journey started and it was clear he was thinking about something hard. Dick placed a hand on his shoulder and squeezed.

"It's the best solution." he said when he met his father's eyes.

Bruce placed his hand on top of his and closed his eyes with a tired sigh. He looked so old, so fragile. Not like the proud king he should be.

"Maybe..." Bruce began slowly in a raspy voice. "Maybe if we offered him something else. We still can-"

"He won't agree. You know he won't."

"Maybe it won't be that bad..." Clark offered weakly but Bruce just glared at him.

"I'll be alright." Dick assured them.

He really tried to believe those words himself as the carriage stopped in front of the castle’s entrance.

- - - - -

Slade was already waiting for them in the throne hall when they arrived. He was talking with one of his generals but quickly turned their way when they stepped inside the room. His single eye immediately found Dick and the young prince hid his trembling hands behind his back.

He felt as if his heart was beating loud enough for Slade to hear it even across the giant hall.

"King Wayne. Lord Kent." Slade greeted them with a nod, standing up from his throne. The smile on his lips was a little bit too predatory for Dick's liking. "Prince Richard. Welcome. I’m honored to host you in my country.”

Dick bowed his head. "Your Majesty."

"We appreciate your hospitality, Your Majesty." Clark said, ever the diplomat. “We are aware it was all pretty sudden.”

Not even a week passed since they received Slade’s letter. No one could blame Dick for wanting to stop the war as fast as possible - there was no point in delaying what they all knew would happen anyway.

"Not at all." Slade replied easily, his eye never leaving Dick. No one said a word about the grim expression on Bruce's face. "It's recommended for me and Prince Richard to get to know each other better after all."

"Don't get ahead of yourself. You still didn't get your answer." Bruce hissed through his teeth.

That at least made Slade look away. Dick could breathe a little bit easier without that heavy pressure on him.

"Of course not." Slade hummed. He glanced at Dick again. "You're free to stay here as long as you want before answering to my offer. We all know that reaching an agreement, especially in war times, takes a lot of time and thought."

Bruce pursed his lips into a thin line but before he could answer, Clark placed heavy hand on his shoulder and spoke for him,

"We're grateful for your generosity, Your Majesty, but I’m afraid we won't be able to stay for long."

"I wasn't talking to you. My offer concerns Prince Richard, does it not?" Slade's fingers wrapped gently around Dick's hand and guided it to the king's lips to place a kiss there. "By all means, my prince, make yourself at home."

Part 2 Part 3

[roscgcld]

ZEN’IN NAOYA || husband’s duty

request: omg if it is okay can i ask for a part 2 of sweet little things 🥲

note: you definitely can, love! honestly this definitely cracked my head a little since we didn’t get to explore naoya too much as a character, underneath all that complexity that makes him up as the man we saw in the manga. But I am not gonna sit here and say I do not simp for him AHAHAHA - that would be a huge lie. But we shall see, no? I feel like I made him too soft though, but I live for soft!Naoya - so do not touch me T^T 

part one

warning: suggestive scene throughout, but nothing happens really. just naoya being an ass lol

pronouns: she/her

A content sigh left Naoya’s lips as he leans back into the warm water of the bath, his eyes slowly sliding shut at the warmth that surrounds him. Today has been a long day on the office - with back to back meetings and piles of paperwork on his desk, he was just ready to land into his bed face first and sleep the evening away. 

“What do you want for your onigiri filling tomorrow? The farmers that produce that special rice you like sent a bag of rice to us earlier today.”

Your soft and sweet voice was what broke him out of his tranquil trance, yet he doesn’t find himself getting angry. Instead he hummed as he leans towards the direction of your voice, seeming to melt further in the steaming water when your soft hands immediately rest themselves against his broad shoulders. Fingers immediately getting to work on the knots that had started to build up since the afternoon. “Hmm...unagi filling sounds good.”

“I’ll make some for your bento tomorrow then,” You reassured him with a warm smile as you started to work through the knots on his shoulders, making sure to not accidentally dig your short but well kept nails into his skin. Whilst Naoya enjoys leaving marks of ownership all over your person, he does not appreciate having any scars left on his skin. And although he does not voice his disapproval, you know your husband well enough to know that unless he is in the mood, you should be careful about things like your nails scratching his skin. 

The idea of you making one of his favourite dishes for him, knowing that he has to deal with more paperwork and calls tomorrow has him smiling softly in response. He would not voice out how your little actions causes his usually cold heart to skip a beat; instead he just leans back a little when he heard you collecting some water from the tub with the wooden shower pale. Relishing in the feeling of the water being poured over his two-toned hair, along with your soft fingers gently running through the strands. 

Many people feel bad for you, since everyone knows what kind of man Naoya is. Everyone knows that he is nothing more but a skirt chaser, a man who views women as nothing an accessory to hang off his arm. Whose purpose is to provide strong heirs, and nothing more. You knew of the man even before you met him the first time on your family estate - listening to your older sister rant about how much of a myogenetic, rude, and disgusting excuse of a man Zen’In Naoya is. You’ve heard of the whispers from the other women whenever you would join a jujutsu event where the Zen’Ins would be in attendance. You knew that the moment both your fathers shook hands after Naoya shows great interest in you, your future was sealed to be with a man who seems to be every woman’s living nightmare.

And yet, for the last 4 months of marriage life, things have been...pleasant.

Naoya knew from the moment that he spoke to you that he needed to act ‘softer’ in order to gain your trust. That he cannot be his full self around you for at least the first month of your marriage in order to make him trust you; or until his patience runs thin from acting. 

However, even though he has promised himself that he will drop the act after the first month; here he is, 4 months into your new marriage. Still finding it almost natural for him to act softer and more...kinder around you. Maybe it is because he finds your personality just so soft and welcoming that it just...felt right to treat you differently. Maybe he is just trying to reason to himself that as his wife, you should be treated differently from the common folk outside of your private home; after all, as long as he keeps you happy, he can get away with pretty much anything. 

And yet...he has yet to find it in him to actually act like his usual self around you. Almost as if he was afraid of scaring you, or fearing that you’re scared of him. It’s laughable - how a man who was so self centered and only cared about himself and no one else, seemed to be so worried about what his wife thinks about him. He had reasoned to him that this is normal; that any husband would want their wife to fear them. 

But just...it was odd to him. How he chooses to act differently around you, and not feel like he is forced in any way.

His opened his eyes to take a peak at you when his thoughts start to wonder, scanning over your concentrated features as you carefully worked the shampoo through his hair. Somehow just seeing you so focused on making sure that he was enjoying his bath had his heart skipping a beat; something that would have scared him if it were to happen with anyone else. 

Yet, instead he found himself letting a small but genuine smile tug against the corners of his lips, one that immediately catches your attention as you carefully wash the studs from his hair. “What got you so happy, my love?,” You asked him curiously as you carefully ran your fingers through his hair, making sure that all the studs were gone. Instead of answering he just reached his hand up to grab your wrist in his gently, pressing a soft kiss against the inside of your wrist. 

Naoya isn’t a man to convey his emotions often. He doesn’t necessarily view emotions as weak; he just sees no reason to show others around him how he feels unless it brings him some form of advantage. Other then that, he just puts up an arrogant and unbothered front for the most part. But with you...well, you were different. You are his wife, and in order to be a good husband, he needs to show you that he is willing to show you what is underneath his mask. Or so, he thinks that is what he needs to do. 

The feeling of Naoya’s lips against your skin send a set of shivers down your spine, your eyes shyly glancing away from his handsome face as you felt the tips of your ears warm up. Just seeing how bashful you were about something as small as showing you emotion had him smirking against your wrist, immediately wanting to see just how far he can push his luck. 

And he knows exactly what to do. “Get in the bath with me.”

You immediately snapped your shocked eyes back at your husband in shock, immediately feeling your cheeks warm at how he was staring at you expectantly. Although you’ve seen each other naked before, with him being so obsessed of having an heir of his own - it would be a surprise if you haven’t see him naked in all his glory. It wasn’t like he was bad to look at either - from all the training puts himself through to perfect his Technique, you would be lying to say that you’ve never stared at his strong back or broad shoulders whenever you two are alone. 

It was just...so sudden. And you immediately knew what his intensions were, yet you just pouted softly as you quietly pulled yourself up from the steps you were seated on. Just seeing the soft pout tugging against the corner of your lips had Naoya biting back a smile as he watches you strip from your kimono, carefully folding the expensive fabrics to the side. 

Soon you carefully made your way up the wooden steps of the traditional bathtub, thanking your husband quietly as he held a hand out to help you into the tub. You awkwardly knelt down between Naoya’s knees, still a little nervous to touch him even though he was the one who invited you into the bath with him. Naoya found your fear quite amusing, and without missing a beat he grabbed your hand in his before he pulls you close; chuckling at the squeak you let out when you landed against his bare chest. 

“Don’t need to be so scared, my wife,” Naoya mumbles with a smirk, hands trailing down your soft back to relish the goosebumps that appear on your skin; his eyes glancing away from your shocked face to your fists resting against his chest.  “After all...if there is one person worthy enough to be by my side, it will be you,” He mumbles, hands that seem even warmer than the water surrounding you two resting on the small of your back.

A combination from his soft touches, to his overly sweet but frank words had your face burning up once more as you whine and bury your face into his neck, your actions causing Naoya to let out a soft but genuine peel of laughter come from his chest. “Did I startle you?,” Naoya asks in amusement, already knowing the answer to that question. Yet he wanted for you to answer the question yourself, since he lives for seeing you getting embarrassed over the smallest of interactions with him.

You fluttered your eyes close to try and calm you rapid heartbeat, yet you nodded your head gently to answer his question. “A-A little..,” You mumble back quietly against his skin, heart skipping a beat a little at Naoya’s soft chuckle that he breathed against the shell of your ear. Naoya did not want to admit it, but he finds this subconsciously clingy side of you quite endearing. Whilst he hates it when others touch him, even if they grazed him by accident; he does not mind it when it’s you.

Maybe he has gone a little insane after marriage. 

After you’ve managed to gather your wits, you quietly pulled away from him before you reached back to grab the wash towel you had grabbed from earlier, Naoya curiously opened one of hi eyes when you shifted against his chest. Just having you pressed up against his chest, along with the warm water surrounding him had lulled him into a tranquil and sleepy state. But he didn’t stop you as you wet the wash towel before you carefully lathered his body wash into the fabric. 

Quietly you started to wash his body like you would usually every night, yet this time it was a little different since now you were in the bath with him. Something that he has never really allowed before, since he views his bath time as his personal time. You would usually help him bathe before you leave the bathroom to prepare for bed and whatever wifely duties you need to fulfil for the night. 

But if you were being honest, as you carefully washed your husband clean, you did not mind a change to your routine. Yet you did not voice your inner thoughts as you continue gliding your hands over Naoya’s arms, making sure to keep quiet to give him the silence he enjoys whenever he’s in the bath. However, Naoya was in the mood to talk today. 

Whilst you were carefully washing his chest, Naoya’s hands started to wander along your body once more once more. “So, what did you get up today whilst your husband was out at work?”

You blinked up at your husband curiously, to which he just raised an eyebrow in response at the look you threw his way. “Can a husband not know what his wife gets up to when he slaves away at his desk?,” Naoya asks with a soft raise of his brow, his words causing you to widen your eyes as you shake your head immediately. Not wanting him to think that you’re questioning his authority. “O-Of course not! I-I just...thought...you’d like some quiet in your alone time..”

A soft sigh was your only response, to which you awkwardly looked away from your husband’s eyes to stare at his hard chest; worried that you’ve angered the man. “You know...I want to hear about your day too,” Naoya mumbles after a few tensed seconds of silence, a finger gently crocking under your chin to coax your eyes to look up at him. He did not have a smile on his serious face, yet there was a soft look shining in his usually hard eyes. “I get curious sometimes when I have time to breath...what does my beautiful wife do at home when I am away? Does she miss me? Does she take the free time she gets to pretend that she is not my wife? What could you be possibly be doing when I am away from home..?”

When you heard his words, you tilted your head softly as you scanned his face, trying to understand the meaning behind his message. He wasn’t dumb - he was more than aware of the whispers of the maids that thought he was not around, how people feel bad for you that you are married to a man like him. He honestly doesn’t care what others have to say about him - he never cared about what others have to say about him. Because he knows that when they need power or need something to get done, they will always turn to him with fake smiles and praise dripping from their tongues.

However, he was genuinely worried about you - he was worried that the whispers of his past will start to scare you away. Make you think that you are an idiot for marrying a man like him, and slowly but surely take you away from him. For once he was worried that you are going to leave him, because for once in his life, he finally understand what it truly means to be home. The very thought of you leaving him shakes him down to his very core, and he will do everything in his power to prevent that from becoming his reality.

“I don’t...think like that, you know.”

Your soft voice snapped his train of thought as he glances back into your eyes, blinking when your soft hands rest against his cheeks gently with a soft smile gracing your features. “I knew the type of man you were before you came to my family estate that day, and I have heard of all the rumours of your attitude even whilst you were courting me. But that didn’t change my decision because I genuinely enjoyed having you around.”

Your words had Naoya widening his eyes as his mind went blank at your confession. And seeing your usually stoic and arrogant husband looking stunned had you giggling as your thumbs started to stroke at his high cheekbones. “Yes, you may be a little colder and stricter then I am used to, but you are still a good man. You’ve been nothing but a good husband to me, and far from the rumours paint you to be. So don’t worry too much about my thoughts on our marriage, because I am nothing but happy to be your wife.”

Quietly you gently tugged his face close, resting his forehead against yours with a smile. “I know that you grew up in a different world from I did, and that you were brought up with different morals from mine. But I also know you’re trying for me, and that is more than enough for me at the end of the day.” You mumble softly, revealing to him that you were more observant than you let on. Yet you faked ignorance for his sake because you genuinely cared for him as a person. “Because at the end of the day, a wife is knows all of her husband’s sides the best.”

For once Naoya was completely stunned into silence, having never expected for you to be so candid about your feelings. Your response to his stunned silence was a quiet giggle as you lean forward to press a soft kiss against the tip of his nose. The feeling of your warm and soft lips snapped him back into reality, and upon realising how close you were, his pale cheeks flushed up from embarrassment. Immediately one of his hands pulled itself away from where they were resting against your bare hips to cover his cheeks with the back of his hand, eyes darting away as he leans away from you immediately.

“I-I want to get out of the bath now...”

You let out a giggle at the sight of your husband so out of character, yet you made no other comment as you nodded with a smile. “Lets get ready for bed then, my love,” You hummed out as you carefully got out to grab the towels for the both of you, biting back your smile at how cute you find him to be as you dried yourself before you did the same for him. 

It was only later into the night, long after you’ve fallen asleep when Naoya really calmed down. You had long fallen asleep, face tucked away underneath his chin whilst your arms wrapped around him loosely. He knows he needed to sleep in order to function properly tomorrow, but his mind has been racing the moment you two got out of the bath to prepare for bed together.

He still cannot wrap his head around the idea that you willingly stay, even knowing that there is a chance you might see a less ideal version of himself. You choose to stay knowing all of the rumours about him and his, admittedly, horrendous behaviour and morals. And whilst he does not know what was it that he did that had you landing in his life, he is 100% sure he will never let you go.

Quietly he presses a soft kiss against the top of your head, a soft but content sigh leaving his lips as he closes his eyes to try and get some sleep before his alarm would go off later. Signaling to a start of another long and boring day away from you once more. 

“You’re the best thing that has happened to me,” He mumbles softly into the quiet bedroom, a soft admission to you whilst you’re far away in dreamland, dreaming of things unknown to him. But the least he can pray for is that he wouldn’t become the enemy in your nightmares.

Because at the end of the day, it’s a husband’s duty to protect the happiness of their wife from the evils of the world. Even if the biggest evil in their lives is themselves. As long as he is your husband, you will have nothing to fear.

He will make sure of it.

© roscgcld — all rights reserved to me, rose, the author and creator of these works. do not repost/translate/claim my work as yours on any platform.

[milkacchan]

Request for anon: Hi!!!! i love our writing and i just knew you could do this! Could you do one with a father Aizawa and a gender nuetral chil reader, who is jealous of Midoriya. Because when Midoriya harnesses his quirk Aizawa be happy dadzawa but when the reader was like 6 or 7 and harnessed theirs he said like " Work harder." Or the world won't want a weak hero and stuff and thats why they hate Midoriya and stuff? IT IS SOO FINE OF YOU CANT!! THANKS <3

•Midoriya is nice.

• He's /so/ fucking nice

• He has a nice smile

• His freckles are nice

• His attitude is great

• He goes out of his way to make sure people are okay

• Which makes it worse and pisses you off more.

• You've been jealous of him for awhile- please he's the center of attention for everyone

• But that isn't your problem

• He's the center of attention for your own dad.

• At least it seemed that way.

• Shota Aizawa, your father, was a teacher at U.A.

• He was bound to get attached to students, that's what teachers are supposed to do

• But..it felt like you were on the back burner and not enough

• when you develop your quirk, you dad gives you a speech

• You're first sucess with your quirk, your father tells you to work harder

• And that's all it ever is

• "work harder"

• "you should be farther along by now,"

• "this isn't a joke, why are you treating it that way?"

• there wasn't a good job or a congrats or praise

• But there was with midoryia

• who got all of it.

• he got good jobs and impresseds

• He got way to go kid and that was smart

• At the beginning of the year you liked him

• He was friendly and funny and he seemed like a cool dude

• He was a cool dude and you hated him- yourself even more for that

• You couldn't ever hate him, not truly.

• Not even when your father praised him, took him under his wing, focused on him

• Even shinsou- you didn't hate him. You were great friends with him.

• But Midoriya irked you, even if you couldn't find it in you to talk behind his back or fuck him over

• Your jealousy for the boy only grew as your fathers praise to him grew and his words to you grew distanced.

• And yet you still thrived for the man's approval

• You wanted to be recognized

• You wanted validation

• You wanted praise and approval.

• You wanted love.

• You stopped speaking to Midoriya, completely. The poor boy didn't deserve a blow up from you, it wasn't his fault.

• Contact to him stopped. His conversation muted unless it was to the class Group Chat

• Your seat? Unfortunately still near him, was no longer an issue if you just ignored his presence

• If your group was hanging put with him that day, you'd skip with some dumb homework excuse.

• No one said anything

• Aside from shinsou that is.

• The smart-ass always had something to say

• "You can't just ignore your problems forever."

"I'm not, till talking to you."

"Funny. But seriously. He's going to question it if he hasn't already. Word gets around.."

• In all seriousness, shinsous worried. He's really worried.

• He's watching you distance yourself from people, from midoryia- hell the only reason the two of you still talk on a daily basis is because he forces it.

• You don't mind, of course, he know that. You did the same to him when his mental health had declined.

• But he sees you're doing it for validation

• Amd he knows Aizawas words aren't malicious. You're his kid, he's worried and wants you to survive over anyone else.

• Doesn't mean how he's going about it is right.

• and it isn't long before you start taking physical training to the max too.

• After class you train for hours until dinner.

• Sometines you miss it; sometimes you don't get home until much later.

• One day in particular though, you start training on a Saturday morning

• He tells you to be smart, keep hydrated and take breaks before he leaves for the day

• Only to come back at dusk to you still training

• "Quirks are currency shinsou,"

"That doesnt-"

"I have to get stronger, no one's going to want a weak hero"

"Y/N please- you've been out here all day. It's hot and muggy and you've barley eaten anything. You need breaks. You can't be a strong pro hero if you die of heat exhaustion." He takes your arm and pulled it down from the punching bag. "You're worrying me."

"I'm not strong enough," you mumble. "Dads right,"

• Eventually Midoriya starts to question why you're ignoring him

• He doesn't think he's done anything wrong

• Maybe he said the wrong thing? But what even is the wrong thing? What could he have said?

• After one particularly rough morning, you're struggling with something

• You're already pissed and ready for the day to be over.

• And it's only 10 in the fucking morning

• And Midoriya, desperate to heal what he once had with a friend (you), walks over to help

"Hey," he starts. "You look like you need some help?"

You pause, glancing in his direction for only a moment. "Go sit down," You mutter.

"I just want to help-"

"I don't need your fucking help. You are the LAST thing I need," you snap. "Who the fuck would /ever/ need you?" You grab your bag and shove him back, leaving the classroom.

The class quiets.

• Midoriya didn't deserve it, no. You knew that.

• You also knew that you weren't in the place to go back to school, so you didn't.

• You took the day off, wandering the streets of your prefecture

• Shinsous blowing up your phone

• Katsuki is too.

• Katsukis upset, you would be too if someone spoke to your friend that way

• Everyone else is too on edge to text you, they're worried though.

• Of course, they go to Aizawa.

• They tell him what happened and how you've been acting

• And he nods quietly and says he'll take care of it.

• Shinsou finally finds you at the Cafe you frequent and he quietly sits across from you

• "you should be in school," you mumble

"So should you."

It's quiet for a few moments before you speak again. "I think I'm going to leave U.A. Mom lives in Miyagi, they've got some nice highschools there. I talked to her over the phone last night."

"What? What no, you can't?"

"Why not, Hitoshi?"

"Because you're a hero-"

"I'm not. I'm not a fucking hero. I haven't made any successes while I've been here, I haven't developed anything, Dad was right."

"You dad was wrong. He's wrong. He's- He's worried one day you're not going to come home. Or when you do you won't be in one piece, so he's pushing you and pushing you," he took your hand gently. "You're strong. You're going to be a great hero. You've already accomplished more than you know."

"I blew up at Midoriya today," you slide him your drink and he takes a sip.

"I know." He nods. "But that's okay, we can deal with it later." He squeezed your hand.

"Yeah, later,"

• It's very much later by the time you reach your dorm.

• The day Shinsou moved to the 1A dorms was the day you'd rejoice

• Your bag is tossed to the side and you make your way to the kitchen and freeze.

• Aizawa is sitting at the table, facing you.

"Your friends are worried about you,"

Yous scoff. "Yeah I'm sure they are."

"Midoryias worried about you."

"I really don't care."

"You shouldn't have snapped at him." Aizawa sighs.

"Thats-" you take a deep breath. Of course he only cared about Midoriya. "Typical." You move to the fridge to get something to drink.

"I..apologize," he begins. "'It's come to my attention that I haven't exactly been the best father to you since your mother left,"

"You think?" You muttered.

"I'm worried. I'm scared."

You look up at him.

"The world is cruel. And I've lost so many students to hero work in the years I've taught, I wouldn't be able to handle it if I lost you to. But it seems I'm already down the path." He stood up and walked over to you. "You're my kid, I love you more than the moon and the stars, I want you to stay safe. Above everyone else, above all else, I want you to come home." He kisses your forehead.

"It'd be nice to get a good job every once in awhile. Everyone else does." You mutter, looking down.

"You are doing great, you know. I don't say it nearly enough but you impress me everyday."

• It's...a little awkward after that, neither of you know how to process emotion so after two days you just pretend like it never happened

• You quietly apologize to Midoriya and wall away before he can respond before pretending like that didn't happen either

• You're not expecting him to want to be your friend

• But he's very adamant on texting you, inviting you out, walking with you you to class

• 1A becomes whole again

• But Shota does ease up, you get the good jobs, the praise, the validation

• And you eat it up to be frank, you fucking love it.