#the point is I don't find the behaviours weird strange or off putting

[ursbearhug]

Sometimes I wonder if it's really the autistic folk who are 'the problem' or the society we live in.

To elaborate; every now and then my autistic friends will share with me something funny or educational on autistic people and after watching it I feel more like an alien than I feel like human being.

So what if one cannot read visual cues? It doesn't take much from the other person to vocalize whatever they're trying to get across. I fail to see how is it the fault of the autistic person in all of this.

Everyone needs to have something spelled out to them every now and then. You don't need papers to be given the grace of extra effort.

This one time somebody compared masking (or was it stimming?) to being reptilian among humans on earth. And I understand where they're coming from and it makes me think about the people they have met before. I seriously meet more unhinged people all the time and they don't feel the need to be secretive about how they're just rude, standoffish and unlikeable. I don't need my speaker to fake emotions nor do I care if they fidget the spinner or whatever.

I have two friends (or one as of right now I guess?) that once asked me to tie my hair extra around them because it bothers them. At least they had the decency to ask instead of demanding me to be more manly. It is only reasonable to respond to kindness with kindness.

Maybe it's not the autistic folk who are the problem here. Maybe it's our society who will refuse to communicate normally, and then make it a big deal that somebody doesn't turn bright red and cry at one's unfunny joke. It's pretty rich to ask somebody to go above and beyond when one is not even doing the bare minimum.

Alas, maybe it's me missing the point again.

[woso-dreamzzz]

Mimic III

McFoord x Toddler!Reader

Summary: You're being suspicious

There is a hole underneath your fence, at the very end of the garden.

Also at the end of the garden, is a shed. It doesn't get used much so it's a little run down.

There's no connection between the hole and the fence, not an obvious one anyway. Not one that would make Caitlin investigate them both so obviously.

She's much more concerned finding out the reason for your strange behaviour.

You've been shifty recently, which is especially strange for such a little girl. Your second birthday is coming up very quickly but you've seemed to develop fairly quickly now that you've been hanging around with Sam and Kristie's Chook when Caitlin and Katie are busy.

You've also gotten shockingly independent.

There's no need for your leash when you're in the house and Caitlin's happy to let you run around the garden by yourself as she does the dishes, checking on you through the windows periodically.

You're being a little weird and what's even weirder is Coopurr's food going missing.

Caitlin's sure that she's not overfeeding him because he hasn't put on any weight but his biscuits and his wet food are going down so quickly that someone must be taking them.

That someone, it turns out, is you.

Caitlin catches you doing it one afternoon when you grab the whole box of biscuits and a sachet of wet food before toddling out to the garden.

She sighs, letting you scamper up the far side and duck behind the shed before getting up to follow you.

Caitlin really hopes you haven't been eating them like you were when you were younger.

"Gremlin!" She calls," Don't take-"

A puffed up ball of fur hisses at her from where it's dangling from the scruff of it's neck in your hand.

"What is that?!"

"My Spicy!" You say proudly," Spicy, Spicy, Spicy!"

"Katie!" Caitlin yells," You better come out here!"

You're still holding the kitten by the back of the neck, humming to yourself as Caitlin notices the pile of cat food you're been hoarding.

She crouches in front of you, gently reaching for the kitten before flinching back when it tries to scratch her. "Where...Where did you find it?"

"Stuck under fence," You tell Caitlin," I save Spicy."

Caitlin forces a smile on her face. "That's nice. How long have you been looking after him?"

"One week," You reply," My Spicy is special!"

Caitlin warily shuffles closer, kept at bay by the flashing claws off this feral kitten.

"You're being very good with Spicy but can I have him?"

You frown. "Spicy's hungry."

"I'll feed him."

"Caitlin? What's-"

Katie skids to a stop in front of you both, mouth hanging open and discarded dish towel on her shoulder from where she was using it to dry the dishes.

"Spicy, my kitty!" You exclaim," See?"

Spicy snarls and Katie very gently throws the dish towel at him before taking him from your grip.

"Spicy!" You cry, moving to kick Katie but Caitlin's already got you by the back of your overalls, dangling you above the ground as you whine," My Spicy!"

"Katie's just...taking Spicy for a bath."

"I am?"

"Yes, Katie, you are and then we'll take Spicy to the vet."

Secretly, Caitlin hopes the vet will tell her that she needs to take the kitten to the shelter. She doesn't particularly want it in her house but you seem to have gotten attached, if the way you keep fighting against her hold is any indication.

"Want Spicy! Spicy's mine!"

There's that as well and, when Katie comes downstairs with the kitten suitably pissed off and still hissing, you go straight up to it for cuddles and it relaxes in your arms.

"No vet for Spicy!" You insist," Spicy's good!"

"I'm sure Spicy is..." Katie's arms are full of scratches. "...Tolerable but we still need to check he's not sick."

"Then bring home!"

"I don't know, Gremlin, he might want to be with other cats." Katie's very proud of herself for coming up with that excuse, mentally patting herself on the back even as Caitlin shakes her head in disbelief.

You unwrap her excuse so easily, pointing to where Coopurr is sitting, licking his own bum.

"Have Coopurr," You point out," Coopurr is cat. Spicy is cat."

"Er..."

"We keep Spicy," You declare, nodding and rocking your new kitten," Spicy, new home!"

[trancylovecraft]

(KNY) YANDERE PLATONIC! KOKUSHIBO x SISTER READER: You, Shibou. I, Kokoro (CHAPTER EIGHT)

Previous Chapter ☆♡☆ Masterlist ☆♡☆ Next Chapter

AO3 link

CHAPTER EIGHT: "You’re scaring us and all of us, some of us love you Achilles, it’s not much but there’s proof"

Trauma from growing up too fast is rather severe, Causes of this can include homelessness, Parental Abuse, ETC.

Symptoms can include the belief that you need to always be strong and are disconnected from your needs, Believing that you cannot ask for help being isolated and distrustful.

It is very hard for the person to express their needs to another person, Even sometimes having trouble recognising that they have needs.

Her feet brushed against the thin wood of her sandals. Pushing in her toes she fastened the tie over them. Tapping the heel once she deemed it was steady and stood up.

Rubbing her eyes, [F/N] yawned as she stretched. The sleep rolling off her muscles as she groggily dragged her feet over to the closet. Despite having a good few hours of rest, She still felt tired.

The darkness of the room was barely an afterthought as she lumbered over to the closet and stood in front of it. The old wood coupled with splinters wasn't a bother either, The entire room that felt so foreign faded into an unwillingly familiar terrain.

Opening up the old closet door with a creek she was greeted with the row of kimono's and other accessories organised neatly inside. She sighed, They were new and exactly her size. Her fingers itched, How he knew her measurements exceeded her.

It had been a good few days since her encounter with Akaza, Or at least she thinks so. There was no clock to tell the time or anything that could even signal day or night. Everything was dark constantly, Her best estimate on the time was that she had fallen asleep sixteen times. A number she tallied onto the wall beside her futon.

After her talk with him she recalled the very next 'morning' what he did. It was weird to say the least, Why were all the demon's she encountered thus far been so strange?

At first it was just the fact he didn't raise a hand against women, Sure that was a bit odd on its own but it was ignorable if not irritating. But then it was when he escorted her back to bed when she was in pain was when his irregularity was glaringly obvious.

Demons don't show kindness, They don't. That's what [F/N] had been telling herself all this time, For all her life. Though she never had any feelings towards demons as a whole she recognised their behaviour.

Everything was weird, And she needed to accept that.

[F/N] didn't know what it was, It was probably what Akaza said that day. She was pathetic, She tried to escape once then gave up. That's what he said, At the time she had felt insulted and exposed. Like she was dropped naked into freezing water, It was uncomfortable and it made her mad.

But with the time she had to mull over his words she had came to the conclusion that yes, He was right.

Even though she had only tried once within the two day timeframe it was the days afterwards that really proved him right. [F/N] had tried running again, Putting a single foot onto the old docks before getting cold feet and backing out.

All this time she had been rotting away in her hopelessness, A dull feeling of weakness and vulnerability. She had focused on her sorrow so much that she couldn't even fathom the idea of finding another escape route.

She had to press her hands up against the molding wood at one point, Pushing her forehead against it and ignoring the splinters.

[F/N] had to breathe in and out, Confirming the bark was corporeal to the touch.

[F/N] was here. She was here and she needed to accept that.

[F/N] had no time to focus on how she felt right now, Her feelings don't matter. Cry later when you're out of here, Your emotions won't help you survive. Will they?

She bit her tongue and the way she sifted through the various kimono's grew a bit more focused. Akaza had helped her on that front too, This was the first time in ages she had actually decided to change out of her jinbei and into actual day clothes.

Though she hadn't showered, Something she was in dire need of with her greasy hair and sweat pressed skin. [F/N] would need to see if there was still a communal bathing place here, Hoping it wasn't taken out of the modifications Kokushibo made.

Kokushibo, Right.

He had arrived back to the shrine after being called by that man. [F/N] had been waiting on the edge of her seat (Or in this case, Futon) for the news. Would she be killed? Would she be tortured for information? The possibilities for what could of happened went awry in her mind.

Though nothing ever came of it. The next time she saw him was when he dropped off another bowl of soba on her vanity, He had said a curt hello before leaving. It was cold, She figured he was sticking to his promise of 'No affection' and to her he was doing it perfectly.

[F/N] figured that she was safe, It was nothing to worry about. He was probably just called for some routine Uppermoon Business, Or whatever that could be. Muzan probably didn't know she was here, If he did he would of been here to get information out of her by now.

After that Kokushibo had been very hands off, [F/N] found out that he had a sort of schedule where he'd be present in the shrine for a few hours before leaving for another good few.

[F/N] had assumed that was her sign of night and day. Kokushibo would leave at night and return in the mornings just to escape the sun. While he was here he didn't speak to her much, Keeping to his promise.

The most interaction they had was the meals he delivered to her. Breakfasts tending to be bowls of rice and miso soup, Lunches often being steamed vegetables and dinner being some kind of fish that he had caught.

Most of the time they ended up not being touched. Little nibbles here or there before [F/N] started to become full, Proceeding to abandon the dish in favour of searching around the shrine.

Apart from that she only caught him in passing down the hallways, They made no move to speak but his eyes always shifted to her. Examining and scrutinizing her, Looking like a judge to a convict all before they finally passed by and went on their own paths.

[F/N] shivered afterwards, Every time he was out of sight she'd sigh and continue on trying to forget the burning gaze he held. She often wondered what his game-plan was.

Was he trying to deprive her of social interaction? If so then it wouldn't work, She didn't want to speak to him. [F/N] didn't need social interaction, Not at all, Not in the slightest.

That's what she would like to think. In truth she felt words choke up her throat, Words wanting to spill out whenever she passed him.

Humans by nature were social creatures, She was no exception. Even though [F/N] was particularly anti-social in personality she did require interaction which often came from the Kakushi or her colleagues back home.

Now it was just him and her, The only source of communication. Well, Him, Her and Akaza that is.

He often arrived in the shrine when Kokushibo left, It seems like they rotated in shifts. Whenever Kokushibo left Akaza would be keen on entering, She could tell by the sounds of the poor dummy being punched around again and again in the courtyard.

[F/N] and Akaza didn't talk much either, Mostly because [F/N] didn't see him at all. She didn't wander out into the courtyard, On the rare occasion she did he wasn't there. Bad timing to be accountable.

Though as she finally picked out a kimono. A beautiful white with blue flower patterns brushing against the bottom, Splotches of gold to break it up and a navy obi to tie it all together she was hit with an idea.

Akaza. His behaviour the first time they met, It struck a chord in her. The language, The way he talked and the energy he gave off finally connected together. If she wanted to get out, It wouldn't hurt to gain an ally or two would it?

[F/N] on her own was practically useless. She was feeble and weak which is why she relied on things like weapons and others to keep her raised high. Akaza, The Uppermoon three despite how much she disfavoured his personality was strong and capable.

As she carefully draped the kimono around her shoulders and wrapped the indigo obi around her waist she brewed the thought inside her mind. It was the first step, The one she couldn't take earlier on the dock.

Fixing her oily hair and throwing on her signature haori she walked out of the room, Ready to bargain.

☆♡☆

The sun was rose high, A blinding white within the crystallin blue sapphire surrounding it.

The cool near frosty breeze was an after affect of the leaving winter. Birds awoken from their long sleep sung rhapsodies in the air, The tree's and bushes they sat on were abundant in a healthy basil green.

The entire scene was reminiscent of a Monet painting, Flowers and foliage in bloom. It was beautiful, The Kakushi assigned to take care of it took great patience in trimming and tending to the garden.

Inside the house all the Hashira gathered, At least the one's that were left. The shoji doors opened to let the outside scenery in as they sat together in a rectangular position. The Ubuyashiki estate was rife with life today, Yet the conversation's were dead and the air felt suffocating to be in.

All of the events were a hot topic none of them wanted to talk on. From Rengoku's unfortunate death, Tengen's retirement and the demise of [F/N]. The last time they had met it was on a lighter note, This is the first time they'd all been together since.

Sanemi and Iguro kept their heads down low, Not speaking a word. Despite the wide smile on her face, Shinobu did not tease or try to communicate with Giyuu. Gyomei and Muichiro not talking and keeping to themselves.

Usually at meetings before there would be a higher tone in the air. Tengen would be himself, Talkative and as he would put it: Flashy. Rengoku was always social as well, Always looking out for his teammates.

[F/N] often didn't show up to meetings but when he did he tended to always be in a good mood. While he didn't try to talk and kept quiet he did have his moments with a sarcastic comment, A relaxed conversation and a rare argument with either Sanemi or Iguro.

While he wasn't generally liked or paid attention to, He was still a core member of the team. Not to mention the dynamic he had with Mitsuri, The two were often inseparable and when Mitsuri was around it was only her who could bring out a charismatic and laid-back side of him.

Mitsuri, She hadn't shown up yet. It was strange but it wasn't unexpected. All of the Hashira had heard about her state from both Iguro and Shinobu, The way she appeared the last time they met and the breakdown was all accounted for.

The story they had told back then was gut-wrenching. The state she was in, The rut she called a bed and one she couldn't get out of.

Though they had told it in such detail both Shinobu and Iguro had agreed afterwards to leave some particular details out. Example being the way in which he died as well as the note.

Mitsuri was also a prime member of the tone, Her bubbly nature was infectious and could reach the heart of basically anyone. Her prescence missing was like a lost limb to the attitude, She was often one of the first that arrived.

They hoped while the master was still absent that she would return, In what state however… They had decided to wait on her, It was only right. While the majority didn't expect much, Shinobu's intuition had been telling her otherwise. A gut feeling proven right once the unnaturally loud sound of sliding shoji door's fed into the room.

A sudden jolt of noise. Everyone's head snapped round in a single motion, All in tandem. It was a noise that broke them all out of their own thoughts and theories to drag their eyes up to Mitsuri standing straight in the doorframe.

"Good morning everyone!" Mitsuri greeted. Wide smile stretching ear to ear to show off her pearly whites. Her eyes contained a bright shine inside of them, Swirling around like fish in a pound with her cheeks flushed with a burning blush.

If the silence wasn't static before it certainly was now, Eyes widening and shock coursing throughout their systems at the sight of her.

Mitsuri by all means was looking better than ever. Her hair was well washed and perfectly tied into her tri-braids, Her skin was as clear as her glassy shamrock eyes. Her uniform tidy and neat with her haori like dove feathers completely spotless.

She looked amazing, Revitalized like the first snow in winter or the blossom of cherries in the spring. Her entire energy radiated like the sun and glowed so bright, And that was why it was so striking. So contrasting to the dowry mood in the room.

"Sorry I'm late! Ah, It's really embarrassing but I had to stop by to get a snack or two. The vendor made it sound so appetising and- Kyah~! I just couldn't resist!" Mitsuri squealed. Fanning her burning cheeks.

She pranced over to an empty seat on the tatami mat, Completely oblivious to the looks and the suffocating air in the room. Mitsuri quickly plopped down onto the seat and sat cross-legged while humming a tiny tune.

The rest of The Hashira sat in a stunned silence. They thought when she arrived, If at all, She would appear washed up. From the recount of Shinobu and Iguro they expected a deep frown, Messy hair and ragged uniform. Even without the tale they expected as such.

But seeing her so.. Upbeat was concerning. The only Hashira in the room not to appear as such was Shinobu, Already aware of the reason yet kept quiet, Believing that it wasn't her story to tell.

"Erm.. Kanroji-san?" Iguro decided to speak up first. His voice hesitant and slow as if she was a ticking explosive, Ready to detonate any moment as he eyed her up and down. Checking for any cracks.

"Yes, Obanai-san?" Mitsuri replied. Pep in her voice as she looked over to him with that same gleam. It was the one she use to wear regular, It was the one she had lost when he saw her last.

"Are you.. Are you okay?" Iguro asked. Kabamaru circled round his neck once and peaked out from behind his choppy mop of hair, Curious and concerned for the girl sitting only a few feet away from them.

Mitsuri's smile grew wider.

"I feel amazing, Oh-" Mitsuri paused, Smile dropping slightly "If this is about last time then I'm really sorry, I shouldn't of spoke to you like that and I am so so sorry!" Mitsuri bowed down low in a near comical motion, Genuine regret bouncing off her tone as she did.

Gyomei's beads rattled, The tears flowing down his cheeks shown his tone once he decided to speak up.

"Kanroji-san.. I do believe that is not what we are worried about here. I understand you and Fujimori-san were close, So your happy voice is a bit.. Jarring." Gyomei spoke in a lamenting tone, His voice was as big as him as he spoke.

"It's a tragedy.. Fujimori-san had planned on retiring and he was killed only a few days before. It makes my heart wretch.. A poor man he was, But strong and respectable.." Gyomei said.

His brows furrowed slightly. Him and [F/N], The tension that they carried felt so faraway now. They never got along, Had opposing views and philosophies. They never agreed on anything yet Gyomei had always held honour and care for his colleagues.

Gyomei regretted his words, The last conversation they had didn't end in a good note. He had tried calling him out on his behaviour towards being a Hashira, Gyomei admits he was rather harsh.

Back then he had gotten in a fight with his former child, Kaigaku. He felt weakness course through him, Gyomei couldn't bring himself to behead the boy even though he knew it was for the best. Choosing to only assist from the side-lines, The shock on knowing what he had become was too much.

His frown deepened. If he only took charge and gave him the merciful kill he would've been able to get back to the shrine and assist [F/N], Maybe then he wouldn't of been killed and that thought ravaged his mind everyday on.

Mitsuri raised her head, Reverting back to her original position. She looked over to Gyomei, She was unaverred along with her smile.

"I'm not sad, Himejima-san. Not anymore. I'm guessing from your reaction that Shinobu-san didn't tell you what really happened" Mitsuri inquired, Situation only catching on now.

"Correct, I didn't think it was my place to say." Shinobu answered for him. Nodding slightly with that ever-present smile only dimming slightly by the mention of the events. Mitsuri nodded back in confirmation.

Sanemi decided to speak, Raising a non-existent eyebrow.

"Events? The hell you talkin' bout." He chimed in, Gruff and semi-aggressive tone finally showing itself in response to the hint of information. The out of line tone he wore seemed to break the suffocation if only a little bit.

"Shinazugawa-san.. Please, This isn't a time to be informal.." Giyuu pipped up though was instantly shot a look at by Sanemi, One that made Giyuu look away. Stoic expression still on his face.

Even though he wanted to, Sanemi didn't speak again.

The silence set in once more and Mitsuri decided to take the chance. It needed to be said, They needed to know what happened.

"..Well, If I'm being honest with you all.. The events back at the shrine didn't go exactly as it did in the report." Mitsuri started. Even though her words were serious they were said with such a light-hearted tone that made them seem so small.

"Why would the report lie..?" Muichiro pondered softly, The first comment he contributed was with dull eyes and a cloudy expression.

"It didn't exactly lie, Most of what happened was true however there were some bits that are wrong due to.. Withheld information." Mitsuri explained, Turning her head over to the young boy.

"Withheld information?" Gyomei inquired, Rattling the beads once more.

"Yeah, The information that I failed to provide was the way [F-.. Right, Should probably clarify first.." Mitsuri cleared her throat, Turning to the rest of the room. Shinobu looked back at Mitsuri, Ready to jump in if needed.

"Before I say the important piece of information.. I need to say that [F/N], The head shrine maiden at the Kakushi base and Fujimori-san are the same person." Mitsuri announced.

Eyes widened, Heads tilted and frowns deepened. The new knowledge being a shock. They wanted to speak, Question the impossible new knowledge. The two looked and acted completely different.

One was jovial and relaxed, Tended to forget his duties as a slayer and was generally unserious. The other was a hard-working associate of the Ubuyashiki family, One that never seemed to crack a smile and kept quiet.

They wanted to question it, But Mitsuri wasn't finished.

"Before you say anything! Please let me finish before you ask questions." Mitsuri butted in. The questions dying at the tongue and kept back by the closing of the jaw. Sanemi and Gyomei were confused, Giyuu and Iguro were curious. Iguro especially since he thought them being the same was the only piece of information she had.

Mitsuri gripped the edge of her skirt.

"The information I wanted to give you was about the way [F/N]-san died. While your report was correct on the part that she was killed by a demon.. The truth is.." Mitsuri trailed off, Taking a deep breath in.

"[F/N] killed herself."

The rattling of beads stopped.

Heads snapped back around. Eyes expanded to that of like saucers and jaws dropped open. Shinobu looked back at Mitsuri and nodded in encouragement as the entire room fell to a dead silence.

The entire reaction was a mixed bag. Sanemi's expression for the first time turned blank, No sign of aggression or emotion.. Just.. Nothing. A rare visage he never wore but now was displayed entirely.

Giyuu's lips parted. Eyelids rising at the last word spoken.

Iguro's calm expression he had before winced slightly.

Gyomei didn't speak, Nor made any motion to move. Though he had been compared before, His likeness to that of a statue now was uncanny. None of his muscles moving an inch.

"Killed.. Herself?" Muichiro muttered. The only indifference he showed now was the slight lowering of his eyebrows and the misty sapphire in his eyes start to part. He spoke as if testing the words on his tongue, A foreign concept, One completely unheard of.

Before Mitsuri could answer, Another voice butted in.

"What are you tryin' to feed me here? First your saying Fujimori-san was [F/N], Then you're telling us that he killed himself?! Bull. Shit!" Sanemi snapped, The baring of his teeth and his slowly rising figure was enough to show that.

"Shinazugawa-san, Please sit down." Shinobu called out as she watched the man get to his feet, Not bothering to look back at her as his eyes were stabbing straight into Mitsuri who didn't falter once.

"Fujimori-san was a rat bastard, I'll give you that. But him killing himself? You've got to be joking. Even if he did for what reason would he even do it? For fucks sake the man did this job for the fun of it. He had no fucking worries at all so why?!" Sanemi snapped.

His anger was unprecedented, It was unexpected too. Of all people she expected him to shrug it off like he usually did, Toss his head to the side and huff as if the act [F/N] did was simply nothing.

Instead he stood as if he was about to throw a punch, A fighting stance bracing for impact at the same time. His teeth were gnarled and his usual eyes that held a crazy look in them seemed tenfold now.

"Shinazugawa-san, Sit down.." Gyomei's voice cut through the rapidly building tension in the room. His voice echoed and was authoritative, Not unlike that of a disappointed father.

Sanemi turned around to face Gyomei, His stance still wide and strong yet it dimmed under the older man's presence.

"Kanroji-san has not finished.. Sit down and we'll discuss this afterwards." Gyomei rumbled. Still in his position, Unwavering and strong.

Sanemi hesitated, Looking at the man once before taking a step back. He turned back once more to Mitsuri before stomping off back to his seat and promptly sitting down, Anger dissipated as his head hung low. Waiting for the next few words.

"Thank you, Himejima-san.." Mitsuri nodded towards him in gratitude. "So, I understand how this can be a bit unbelievable, I know.. I was like that too.."

Mitsuri's hand traced the edge of her thick vanilla haori before snaking inside. Fishing around before reeling back and presenting a folded piece of paper, Raising it up high to display to the entire room. Brows were raised at the piece of paper, Faces contorted into all sorts.

"Kanroji-san.. That's not what I think it is. Right?" Giyuu spoke up, Eyes locked on to the fibre caressed between the girl's fingers. Giyuu was the first to realise, The only one to point it out before she did.

"Yes. This right here is the proof you need, This is [F/N]'s suicide note. Her last words spoken.. Or.. Written down." Mitsuri announced. Determination burned within the clover ocean of her eyes, Shine on the sea's surface glistened like foam.

"A.. A suicide note? Fujimori-san wrote a note.." Muichiro repeated slowly, Seeming contemplating over the words now revealed to them.

He wasn't alone, The entire room's eyes were dead set on Mitsuri. No one made a move to speak. People like Sanemi or Iguro only looked at her like she had three heads. Muichiro, Giyuu and Gyomei's expressions were simply blank and focused while Shinobu just wore her usual smile.

Mitsuri unfolded the paper. The rustling of the flaps coming undone seemed so loud, Ringing like deafening church bells within the confines of the room.

She brought the final piece back down, Levelling it with her eyes. Taking a deep breath, Mitsuri inhaled.

All before her lips parted and she began to speak.

☆♡☆

SLAM!

The back of the patchwork dummy hit the courtyard walls with force that made the old structure shake.

It dropped down to the floor, Bits of stuffing surrounding it once more. Akaza stood only about a metre away, Panting, Out of breath from his non-stop attack. It had been going on for so long that even a demon such as him felt tired, An oddity.

He leaned back up from his hunched position. Beads of sweat rolled down his forehead and the rest of his body was basically drenched in the stuff, Staining patches into his sleeveless haori.

The warmth of the courtyard contributed to that, The only place with any semblance of heat within this cold hell of a shrine. Despite being a dull and dreary nightmare it was the only place that had any sort of privacy within the infinity castle.

Stalking over slowly to the defeated ragdoll he reached down, Picking it up by its left shoulder and setting it back in place. The ragdoll swivelled around a little before he stepped back to prepare once again, Raising his fists.

To perfect his form, That's why he did this. To crease over any little crack and imperfection in his technique. What position of his hand can make it fly back the furthest? How fast can he throw a punch?

The dummy sufficed to practice on his surface level form. It was an inanimate object in the shape of a person, One that stayed still and let him do as he pleased.

And that's why it was so annoying to him.

Akaza lowered his fists, The expression of fire burning bright and ready to fight died out on his face. It was useless. It didn't matter, This wasn't a human being or a strong Hashira to fight.

Akaza 'tched and turned around away from the thing. A Hashira was strong, Powerful. A Hashira could fight back and read his attacks, They could provide the right information to him, Ways to get stronger. To hone his technique and reach perfection.

He was at a point where he was weaker than both Uppermoon one and two, A fact that made him grit his teeth and clench his fists. But he was way stronger than any of the late moons below him.

He was in the middle, He was average. He was Uppermoon three out of six.

It was a limbo he couldn't escape. One he had tried several times and why he had tried to convince so many Hashira to turn and become a demon. They provided the information, When they fought Akaza could feel himself grow stronger. It was powerful, Invigorating even.

But they never accepted his offer, One to fight and spar forever. To grow stronger together, To climb the ranks and become the strongest of all. It irked him to no end, He didn't understand. Why wouldn't they want to accept?

He had no clue. To him it sounded like an offer of a lifetime, So tantalizingly wonderful and irresistible.

Whatever, He thought. Maybe they weren't so strong after all, He shouldn't waste his time on weaklings.

Akaza started to walk away, Plagiarised confidence from his usual stance as his steps echoed throughout the courtyard. Passing by the centrepiece tree and heading towards one of the exits.

He pushed the doors open and quickly walked through. The dummy was basically useless now, It was old and ruined after years of torture from him. It didn't bring him the same skill that it use to.

The coldness of the shrine halls started to fade in and the warmth from the core of the courtyard faded out. The chill running down his spine and seeping into the fibre of his muscle as he walked.

He huffed. Passing by tapestries depicting dragons of old, Yokai and Kitsune all dancing within the threads. Disgusting, He figured that he shouldn't be here anymore. Maybe if he went out again he could find another Hashira to fight.

One that this time was str-

"Hey."

A voice called out from behind him.

His eyes narrowed in annoyance. Despite the voice only being heard a couple of select times, It was one he recognised.

Akaza cocked his head round to the side, Golden irises and ink stained kanji glaring into the form of the girl. She was leaning up against the doorway he had just left, Only capable of going unnoticed due to her lack of fighting spirit.

"What do you want?" He answered back. His voice like the edge of a cutting blade and piercing into her like one too. Yet it drew no blood, Her expression was stone and it looked like it was enticed by him.

[F/N] pushed herself up from the rickety doorframe and stood in her stance. Arms folded over her chest and her legs planted onto the ground. She had a sort of sly smile playing on the corners of her mouth when she stared at him.

"I've came to speak to you. About the other day and a few more things." She replied casually as if discussing the weather, As if she wasn't in the midst of pandemonium. The place of all demons. Akaza blew air through his nose.

"There's nothing to speak about. You were injured, I only did it because you would've told Upper one about my presence here if I left you there." Akaza responded. Irritated as to why she was here.

"I mean, Maybe. But even so you didn't have to change my bandages, That was something you did on your own." [F/N] said, Taking a few steps towards him as if sizing him up. Akaza rolled his eyes.

"What are you trying to imply here?" He asked, Taking a few steps more in return to her. They were only a few feet apart now, Staring each other down like a western frontier stand-off.

"I'm implying nothing. I'm just saying what you did outright… And thanks, By the way.." [F/N] said, The last part of her sentence was mumbled but Akaza picked it up alright. He scoffed and tossed his head to the side.

"If you're just here to thank me then get lost. I'm busy and I don't have time to talk with the likes of you." Akaza scolded. Swiftly spinning around he began to march away, Quicker than a usual stride or stroll as he wanted to leave immediately.

Staying out of this is for the best. Akaza didn't want to get wrapped up in whatever kind of relationship she was involved in with Kokushibo, She meant bad news and she looked it too. He had better things to do, People to fight, Ways to get stronger.

"Wait, Wait, Wait!" Akaza heard her voice behind him, It seemed a little more desperate and surprised attempt to get him to stay compared to the cocky and tough exterior she sported. It was a crack in her porcelain, Something that made Akaza stop in his tracks.

"What? What do you want, I told you to get lost so beat it." Akaza responded more assertively, Eyebrows furrowing into a scowl as he turned back around to face her. Whose expression was that of a surprised kid.

"Seriously, I don-"

"You hate Kokushibo, Don't you?" [F/N] quickly butted in. Her agape jaw closed and curled up into a sly smile as she watched Akaza's broken glass eyes widen in shock. Bingo, She was correct. Her gut feeling was right.

"..Huh? How did you.." He mumbled half to himself.

"You hate Kokushibo, Right? I mean don't get me wrong, I do too." [F/N] confirmed, A soft chuckle lacing the end of her sentence. Her eyes glimmered under the aquamarine reflections, White sparkles that seemed to look right through Akaza.

[F/N] smiled. Her bet paid off. Before she wasn't quite sure, But she decided to take a risk and say it bluntly and lo and behold, Her bet paid off. For the past few days she had been thinking over her previous interaction with him, Every little moment, Picking up just the little details.

She was ticked off by the way he said his name, That's the catalyst. The way it dripped with venom and burned like a wildfire was something she could feel straight from the tap. Once she realised that she started to piece it together.

The next part that helped was the way he spoke about strength while being Upper three. He valued it more than anything and most of all he trained non-stop while he was here, He wanted to get stronger.

Not to mention the report at the Mugen Train incident. The conversation and description of him provided testament to that. Alone they meant nothing, But together they gave her a key to the lock. Akaza hated Kokushibo.

And that was something [F/N] was going to use to her full advantage.

"Yeah.. I do. He's a prick but so what if I hate the bastard?" Akaza spat out, Nose scrunching up at the mention of him. "What does it mean to you?"

[F/N] hummed a little, Pacing once or twice to the side while thinking over her words. Ones that she had been rehearsing in her head while searching for him, Making sure it was just right as she spoke.

"Well me and you. Let's be honest here, We are absolutely nothing alike for well.. Obvious reasons." [F/N] drawled, Nodding towards his general figure as she took a step towards him.

"But. We both here hate Kokushibo, That's what we have in common. I'm saying that we make a sort of.. Deal." [F/N] stumbled trying to find the right word to call what she was proposing. Akaza gawked at her, Whatever he had been expecting it was not that.

A disbelieving, Mean smile crept up on his face as he shook his head.

"No, Absolutely not. I don't know why you're here but if you were taken by Kokushibo then there must be a good reason for it, I'm not getting involved." Akaza said, Speaking his name with such acidity that she thought wisteria was in the air.

"I told you, I am not getting you out of here. Whatever relation you have to Kokushibo I want absolutely no part of and getting you out of here is off the table, Even being here with you right now is a risk. Besides.. What could you possibly offer me?" Akaza found it pitifully funny as he laughed through his frown.

[F/N]'s small smile dropped, A voice ringing in her head.

Do what you can to survive.

"What can I offer you? How about Kokushibo's head?"

Akaza stilled.

As soon as the words registered in his mind his body went rigid like a wooden board. His frown tightened and froze like water. What? What did she say? His eyes rose to meet hers, Unbelieving and shocked.

"What.. What do you mean?" Akaza asked slowly.

And just like that he had taken the bait. [F/N] felt slightly weighed down under his gaze, At any moment this could go wrong and her chance of escape would be lost. She needed to reel him in slowly, He suspected nothing.

[F/N] shrugs her shoulders.

"I'm his sister, He tells me everything you know. It just so happens that I also know his weakness and if you assist me then I'll gladly tell it to you. It's his Achilles heel, You find it out and he goes down." [F/N] trailed off, Holding back a gag once she referred to herself as his sister.

She was lying through her teeth. A practiced skill she had to learn quickly growing up, One that she never exceled at yet was good enough to get by. [F/N] never liked doing it, Especially when it meant calling herself his sister and the severe consequences that could happen if she was caught.

Akaza's lips parted, Eyes rising along with them as he heard her offer. It was unexpected, How could she have any idea what his so called 'Achilles heel' was? Could she be tricking him? Was this a lie? It was impossible to tell without a fighting spirit.

"How.. But.. You hate him, How could you know that?" Akaza rebutted. He seemed annoyed and unfocused before but now his attention was fully on her, Eyeing her up and down like a voracious hawk and ready to dig in with his claws.

[F/N] half-heartedly snorted.

"Well, Yeah. I hate him but that doesn't mean he hates me, Now does it? He may or may not let it slip during our conversations" She replied with a worn poker face, Staring him straight in the eye to meet the bird-of-prey gaze he returned with.

Akaza's eyes lowered.

"How do I know you're not lying to me.. What reason can you give?" Akaza queried. The question of the century. [F/N] had to calm her breathing like her training had always taught her to, She shallowly breathed in.

"I don't have any reason to give you, Only my word. But if you don't want to know then it's fine, Feel free to go back to the training dummy" [F/N] remarked, Shrugging her shoulders. Once it left her mouth she bit her tongue.

It felt nasty to lie, It was an old habit she had tried to get rid of but it reared its ugly head once more under the threat of eternal confinement. Whatever, She thought. It wasn't as if she could stoop any lower, Besides she needed it to survive.

Akaza scoffed. Half in disbelief and the other at the sheer audacity she had to offer this without any proof of reward to him. He would of insulted her, Told her off for doing such a ballsy move. But as he went to speak he couldn't find the words, None which he wanted to say anyways.

He turned around, A single palm hitting his forehead as he stared up towards the ceiling.

"Then why on earth would I agree to that?!" Akaza exasperated. [F/N] shrugged.

"Because you want to kill Kokushibo" She replied so casually that it caught him off guard. She said it with such disregard, It felt so wrong yet so enticing at the same time to Akaza.

It brought him back to their duel. Kokushibo knocking him down, The fight didn't even last five minutes. Akaza recalled how he had lain there while the executioner stalked up to him, Shadow casting over him as he stared down at his defeated form.

He stood like an emperor over him. Lectured him with a voice that silenced the entire room while his limbs could barely even regenerate. And to top it of he didn't even absorb him, Letting him rot another day.

Akaza hated him. He despised him, Every fibre of his muscles begged to destroy him. Every inch wanted to utterly annihilate him by any means necessary. He was so helpless like an injured animal yet wanted to fight back like a cornered beast.

He wanted to be the strongest, Any means necessary. Which is why his lip shook and his eyes lost focus, Contemplating the words proposed to him.

His mouth opened.

"Still.. Even if I do agree.. If I let you escape there'll be a target on my head, Possibly not even from just Kokushibo anymore.." Akaza replied and he was right. Kokushibo as loyal as he is would not hide away information from that man. If she was here then it was very possible that he was aware and let it happen for some unknown reason.

Letting her escape would be a death sentence.

"I'm not asking you to get me out of here, I'm just asking for your assistance. Just a bit of information and maybe you sneak me in a few items here and there, That's all I ask for and once I escape on my own I'll provide the information." [F/N] explained.

Akaza went silent once her proposition finished. He stood there now looking down at the floor, Arms limp at his sides. Slowly enough however, His fingers started to curl into a fist. Veins popping out from the sheer force as his knuckles cracked.

The only thing he could see was his face appear as a spectre in his mind. He knew what he had to do.

"..That's all?" It came out as a small whisper yet held so much weight that the air around them both shifted.

[F/N] nodded.

"That's all." She confirmed. Her right arm stretched out, It raised from its side and positioned itself in a uncompleted handshake. Her eyes narrowed as the fishing line seemed to tug, A bite she needed to reel in.

Akaza chuckled, A quiet and cruel sound as he shook his head.

"I can't believe I'm doing this.." He muttered. His hand reached out to meet hers, His cold dead fingers grasping onto hers in a now completed handshake. They shook once, Then twice. A firm hold from both sides.

The ceremony had been complete, The deal had been made.

"Ditto. If you told me I was here right now a few months ago.. I'd tell you you're insane." She joked-half heartedly. The warmth of her hand slipping from his icy grip as soon as the deal was finished. Akaza huffed.

"Listen. I don't want to be friends with you nor do I want to spend more time then I need to. I don't want to get personal. We're only here on transactional means, Got it?" Akaza said with his returning composure.

"Oh trust me. I'm not betting on anything happening between us." [F/N] replied. A sort of understanding growing between them, One not built on trust nor was it on respect of any kind. Instead it was mutual gain.

Or mutual for him anyways, [F/N] still had no idea how she was gonna explain it to him.

"So? Did you want any knowledge right now or did you just make some weird pact for future reference?" Akaza asked. But as soon as he did the small smirk on [F/N]'s face stiffened then softened into a frown, One that strangely enough fit perfectly on her.

"..This is a deal. Not a pact." [F/N] stated, Her voice was frosty and colder than their surroundings. Her body growing irrationally rigid at the simple word, Eyes lowering as her shoulders raised. Guard getting back up.

"What? It's just word choice" Akaza responded, Tilting his head to the side only slightly as he eyed her new behaviour up and down.

"Yeah, Well.. It's a deal so I'd rather just use the right terminology. This isn't a pact, Promise, Oath or vow of any kind.." [F/N] trailed off, Eyes wandering to some obscure part of the room. Akaza hummed.

"What do you have against the word 'pact'?" He asked, An off-handed and disinterested question on the surface yet a tinge of curiosity lingered on the implications.

[F/N] huffed.

"I thought you said this wasn't meant to be personal?" She rebutted.

Akaza paused.

"..Touché" He said after a while.

"Well anyways.. I don't need anything right now, However I'll search you out once I do. So.. Keep coming here to train or whatever else you do here, I'll be in touch." [F/N] spoke, Turning around with a flip of her kimono and starting to pace off down the old hallway.

Akaza watched as she went, Listening to the clacks of her sandals and the way she moved like the undead. He didn't need her to have a fighting spirit to tell she was unsure of her actions as she trodden away.

He grimaced, Something she didn't notice as she finally spun round the corner disappearing on sight. He should of been happy, Excited even. A possible way of defeating the person standing in his way to become the strongest.

His elation should of been sky high yet the implications and the dangers of what he got himself into weighed him down. If he got caught then what would happen? Kokushibo from what Akaza heard was attached to her, Assumedly more.. Obsessive than most relations.

Though that was somewhat normal for a demon, Akaza couldn't help but wonder why. He shook his head, If he got caught while doing this then a gut feeling told him he didn't think Kokushibo would spare him this time.

He didn't want to be involved, He really didn't. But now that he was dragged in by the ankles and enticed by the heart he knew that he needed to get serious, Akaza needed a game plan. A way to keep this on the downlow, A way to reap the benefits.

Akaza snorted at the thought. How he was going to do that was up to him and him alone now, All he needed to do was gather items and provide information. That was all.

Akaza groaned and turned around now, Back showing to her empty space as he marched off down the hallway. Contemplating his new situation.

☆♡☆

"To Mitsuri, My dearest friend."

The high-pitched voice of the woman was now dim and serious. The room was completely silent around her as she spoke, The lilt in her voice wasn't sad nor was it anything that fit such a despondent and heart-wrenching situation. It was uncanny as the rest looked out to her.

No one dared to interrupt her announcement of the note. Mitsuri held it out in front of her as she read, All of their faces sombre and dowry under the soft morning light. A stark contrast to the dark and dreary feeling of the room.

"This probably isn't the letter you wanted from me, I know that and I've tried to make it better so it won't hurt as much."

The first verse in the letter. At the end of it the entire room's doubts were stomped down into the ground like an insect. They had questioned the validity of his suicide, Wondered why someone like him.. Or, Her now could do something like this.

Sanemi's lips pressed tight together, Eyes fixed onto the tatami mat below him as his head was hung low. Ears perked up and listening to every little word Mitsuri spoke. Fujimori.. To think he was [F/N] this entire time.

He remembered his actions, The shoves or the way he spoke.. He tried not to remember as he listened on.

"First off this isn't your fault, It's not at all. I've been feeling this way for as long as I can remember and I've tried and tried to find a way to feel something else other than monotony or subservience. Sake and such. but nothing has ever worked for me. Whether I found someone strong enough to kill me or that I finally found the gut's to do it myself. I want you to know I did it I did on my on volition. I chose this, You have nothing to feel bad over."

Nothing to feel bad over, A hope smoking up from a pipe dream. Mitsuri sat there so stoic and as stone faced as she could while the rest of the room was absolutely shocked to their core.

Iguro suddenly recalled back to the times he had insulted [F/N]. The times where he called him "A Sad Excuse of a Hashira" or other descripting words depicting him as lazy or cocky, One's he had said with such hate and ire as he spoke. Those memories bit into him like a viper and left him with a venomous guilt, Festering up like a poison as he remembered.

[F/N] always seemed to shake those words off at the time, Cocked his head and laughed but as they kept coming back to him Iguro wondered how many of his words stuck, How many left an impression.

He never had a good relationship with her. But Iguro wondered that if he hadn't said such things then maybe..

"Life just isn't worth living for me. I remember getting asked a short while ago what my purpose in life was, What my motivation was. It ate away at me for a while trying to find an answer. But In truth I have none except for protect those I hold dearest to me, Yet once I found out that my single motive became obsolete I now realise that what we call a reason to live is also an excellent reason to die."

Gyomei's eyes lowered. His face didn't make any movements but the tears in his eyes flowed down like fountains, The beads he rattled on at were dead still. He recognised what she meant in the letter, She was referencing what he had asked her.

Out in the snow, Gyomei had asked her what her motivation was. He had been harsh and brass only seeing him as lacking in her duties. He saw it as his way of questioning her decision to retire, A way to try and motivate her.

But he heard the words on the paper. The melancholy truth radiating inside him, [F/N] did her job for so long because she wanted to die. To try and find someone that could finally kill her, Her only motivation or point of existence was to end it.

It was heart-breaking, He shouldn't of been so harsh. Whatever motivation she spoke about became nothing but flakes in the blizzard as he listened on.

"I'm living a lie, Everyday I go to work as someone I'm not because of myself. It's pathetic. There isn't any meaning, I'm sorry for saying this but as these are my last words I feel like it's necessary."

Giyuu's lips curled into a deep frown, A bead of cold sweat rolling down the side of his forehead. The words on the note wasn't his but yet it resonated deep within him, He understood her words.

It was the hopeless feeling of impostor syndrome, One he had become so familiar with himself. It was the feeling of a large crowd cheering you on yet you did nothing to please them, A stolen joke told to their amusement.

He understood. The unworthy acclaim, The unjust attention. It was a sentiment he knew well so it only hit harder once she spoke again.

"The truth is its you. You were the only thing that made me feel like I had a family, Like I had my childhood, Like I was a normal person for once in my stupid little life. I adore you, Tsuri. I really do."

Mitsuri tried to hold her face as steady as possible. Her lip never quivered nor did her fingers shake while holding the paper. But even with knowing [F/N] was alive it felt hard to hold back the tears.

Her voice shook for only a second yet she settled it just as quick. She needed to get through the bad before she could speak the good. She decided to skip over a few parts however, Deciding that would be only for her to see.

Breathing in and out she continued.

"Please don't feel sad over me, I don't want that. I love you so so much and I know you probably don't feel the same. I'm sorry you had to put up with me, You deserved a better friend than me."

Muichiro's gaze was as cloudy as ever, Yet the mist that swirled around resembled more of a thunderstorm than it did an overcast day. He was never one to listen or focus at all yet the way his crystal blue focused in on the older woman made it clear he was very well interested.

[F/N], He never paid any attention to her at all. He never sought her out and usually ignored him however there were times they interacted, A head pat or a ruffle of his hair. A compliment on his sword skills or just a simple nod in the hallways.

It made him frown, He wouldn't get those small interactions again. He never felt much of anything but a small singe rose up in his chest. It.. It didn't make him feel good.

"If Shizuko ever finds out the truth, Tell him his big sister is sorry she couldn't be there for him and that I'm so proud of him for becoming a slayer."

Gyomei's eyelids rose, A sharp shock hitting him like a taser.

Shizuko, His Tsuguko.

It didn't make sense. His breath hitched in his lungs as he brought his head around to the focal point of the voice. Shizuko.. He was..?

"-[F/N] Fujimori"

Mitsuri stopped reading.

She took a deep breath in, The final stroke of ink had been spoken.

Mitsuri felt like she hadn't taken a breath in a long time as she lowered the piece of paper to gather the reactions from the room.

Everyone followed her head motion, All staring at her with unreadable expressions as everything that was read had been said. A melancholy and depressive fall, A sad and lonely final note. One that was unexpected entirely.

Shinobu looked over. The second time she had heard the letter's words as a small yet natural frown found its way on her face.

"Alright then.. That's [F/N]'s final note." Mitsuri said, Carefully folding up the paper of which rustles filled the silent void around her. She snaked it back into the pocket inside her haori, Settling her hands back onto her knee's.

"I.. I didn't know.. I.." Sanemi was the first to speak however his voice wasn't focused on anyone. It was a mindless mumble as his brain tried to process the information, Head shaking in disbelief as a small snarl curled up his lips.

"I can't believe it.. He seemed to be doing alright.. I.." Giyuu chimed in subconciously, Lips tightly pressed together as he scowled softly.

"Kanroji-san.. I'm so sorry." Iguro spoke, His mismatched eyes softening with the rush of guilt coming over him. He wasn't apologising to Mitsuri, He was apologising to [F/N]. His eyes shook and started to show bright specks under the daylight.

"I know, Iguro-san. But you don't need to apologise, Besides.. I'm not done with my news." Mitsuri comforted. Such a warm smile rising up on her face and shone like the sun looking at him.

The entire room raised an eyebrow or shaped a lip. Confusion manifesting onto their visage along with their sorrow.

Mitsuri turned back to the sombre room, Smile reappearing and adjusting back to normal as she spoke once more.

"Thankfully because of new information we've found out that while [F/N] meant to.. Die, The truth is that she didn't actually succeed.. The demon that was meant to kill her was infact Uppermoon one" Mitsuri said once more, Smile growing wider.

"[F/N] wasn't killed, Instead she was kidnapped by him. For what reason I have no idea why, I.. I'm still kinda figuring that part out so.." She finished trailing off as the words ran out.

Gyomei shook his head.

"So.. What your saying, Let me get this straight. Fujimori-san is [F/N].. She tried to kill herself.. Failed and then got kidnapped by Uppermoon one himself. Is that what your saying?" Gyomei asked.

"Basically.. yeah." Mitsuri answered with a nervous chuckle as she rubbed the back of her head.

"So.. What are you saying we should do..?" Muichiro inquired softly. Mitsuri bit her lip.

"Right now I'm in the middle of trying to find any leads. I'm.. I'm only having a little bit of trouble but for now I'm just asking for your awareness. If you find anything or if you have any idea of where she is or… Just if you know anything at all please come talk to me." Mitsuri asked.

Her voice grew pleading, A break in her peppy façade that she didn't even bother to conceal anymore. Mitsuri had went back to the shrine ruins, The oh-so familiar village she had grown up in.

The only thing she found was a massacred inn, While it was disturbing and revolting in of its own it didn't have any leads at all. There were no witnesses nor were there any survivors, So her only lead was dead in the water.

"Thank you very much for listening, I-"

Mitsuri was cut off by the sound of a sliding shoji door, Her jaw shut in place. Heads snapped around to the new arrival as they came face to face with Lady Amane and two of her children.

She bowed down, Her children followed suit.

"I apologise for my late arrival.. Master Kagaya will not be attending today's meeting due to his poor health, So I have decided to substitute for him instead.." Amane called out cordially, Raising from her bow to observe the sullen room.

"I am sorry.. But did anything happen while I was away?" Amane asked as she noticed the atmosphere and viewed the faces of the Hashira in front of her.

Gyomei bowed slightly.

"No, Lady Ubuyashiki.. We are fine, But I thank you for your concern.." He called out. Amane looked over, Curiosity bubbling up but decided not to question it. It seemed touchy by the way Gyomei's voice was pronounced more than normal.

"I see.. Well then I suppose its time we start the meeting then, Shall we?" Amane asked. Sitting down on her knees at the head of the room, Her children following in turn to sit beside her.

Mitsuri sighed under her breath as the meeting started. How would she be able to find [F/N]? Knowing demons she could be anywhere, She wasn't even sure if she was alive.

The thought made her want to vomit. No.. Mitsuri couldn't think about it now, She was alive and she needed to save her.. But..

She'd need a lead soon or it would be impossible to find her..

☆♡☆

Walking out of the shrine, Akaza took in a deep breath as he went. The weight of Akaza's footsteps made the dock below him depress with a creak, Almost as if it would break under him. However the rickety structure never gave in, Never shook nor did it sway. It just kept going, Unstable but standing.

The cool sea wind hit his face, His nose filled with the smell of salt and fresh lotus blooming from within the water below him. The rushing gusts of air came from somewhere deep within the black abyss surrounding him, Brushing past his skin with only a cold afterthought.

The sea below him rippled from his footsteps, The marine glowed a soft beryl with only lily pads and sea foliage to block it's light. It was an uncanny sight for the unadjusted, Which was someone Akaza was not as he walked along.

However he stopped. Paused in his tracks and frozen in place, But it wasn't from the cold air nor was it from fear. Instead it was a natural sense, Something he could near smell from a mile away.

Akaza turned around, Looking up towards the tall outside of the shrine.

"Come out, Whoever you are." He called out, Voice frostier than his surroundings as it echoed out into the abyss.

.

..

..

THUMP!

The sound of a body hitting the dock behind him reverberated, Akaza's eyes widened before he jerked his head around to meet the person standing there.

Only a metre away sat a boy in a crouched position, Akaza's lips turned into a snarl of that you'd see on a beast as he recognised the demon before him now.

From the black shaggy haircut and elven ears sticking out to the tigerish markings and slayer corps uniform. His sapphire obi and the hilt and flesh sword, All along with the snivelling little appearance he flaunted, Akaza knew who it was from the meeting.

"Hello, Akaza-dono!" Kaigaku called out. A snide little grin played at his grin and showed his small fangs pointing out, His eyebrows furrowed in a display of mockey. Akaza scoffed, This was a new attitude.

Respect the hierarchy, That's always what his master said. It was obvious he hadn't been listening to his superiors lessons and it made Akaza want to punch the arrogant smirk right off his face.

From what he had seen at the meeting he had always had his tail between his legs, Cowered at anyone superior. Was overall a boot-licker and suck up, It wasn't a respectable nature but it was far apart from the now cocky and egoistic tone he had in his voice.

"Upper six.. What the hell are you doing here?" Akaza spat out, Almost like a viper to a mongoose as he subtly puffed up his chest, Trying to look bigger.

"Bold of you to be asking that when you shouldn't be here at all!" Kaigaku rebutted with a trailing snicker. His weaselly smile growing as his gums were now bared to his superior, Yet he didn't treat him as such now.

Akaza shook his head and took another step forward, Continuing to walk away.

"Whatever.. If you want to keep your head I suggest you shut the hell up, I don't have any issue in severing it.." Akaza said as he walked by, His shoulder roughly brushing up against the younger boys as he went.

Kaigaku snickered as he went by him, Not shaking a single inch at his sentence.

"Take my head off? Not if you want my master to know what you've been up to." Kaigaku said, Head turning around with a predatory glint shining in the electric blue of his eyes.

Akaza froze in place.

"What..?" Akaza growled through gritted teeth. The sudden tension in his muscles creating veins across his body as he jerked his head over to meet Kaigaku's cat-like pupils.

"I've been here this entire time, I know about your conversation with that little human girl. I've known for weeks now and every interaction you've had with her." Kaigaku revealed. The glint in his eyes grew as he watched Akaza's jaw drop.

"You.. You've been here this entire time?!" Akaza yelled. His voice reverberating with his march as he turned back around to charge right over to Kaigaku.

In one swift movement Akaza had a hand around his throat, Kaigaku was extended into the air with his feet dangling a good foot off the ground. Akaza's teeth were bared like a rabid wolf as the grip on him tightened, Yet Kaigaku's grin never faltered a bit.

"Obviously.. My master had ordered me to stay when he wasn't around.. I've been watching your every move.. I don't know what you're doing with that girl but.. If you don't want me to tell number one himself right here.. Right now.. Then I suggest you back off.." Kaigaku choked out.

Akaza looked into his eyes, Searching for something. Some form of doubt or weakness bubbling up from within the pools of his irises. But he came up empty.

Akaza hissed and dropped Kaigaku to the ground in a single move.

The younger boy hit the ground with a thud and broke into a few short wheezes on the dock. Akaza looked down at him with a scrutinizing glare, Angry and alarmed.

Kaigaku knew. Akaza hadn't sensed him, He didn't know how. Was he too focused on his training or was he caught up with mystery of [F/N] to pick up on his spirit? How long had he been spying on him, Sneaking around from the rooftops and prowling about the dark corners to pick up information?

"Speak, How much does he know?" Akaza demanded, The shadow cast over Kaigaku meant nothing to the boy. Propping himself up with a single hand Kaigaku steadied himself on the floor.

"Nothing. But I don't know, How much are you willing to keep it that way?" Kaigaku asked, Mocking him with a cocking of his head to the side and a pout that made Akaza feel like a joke.

"What do you want?" Akaza asked through grinding teeth and a clenched fist, His nose scrunched up in disgust as he looked down at the boy.

Kaigaku used the hand he propped up to push himself up, On his knees he stood up to meet Akaza's eyes. He was only an inch away, Nose jabbing into his face.

"I want absolutely nothing.. I just like to see the look on your face when it's me looking down on you for once.." Kaigaku whispered. An small exhale that danced through the rushing winds around them and make Akaza want to scream.

"When have I ever looked down on you, I don't even care nor do I actually talk to you. But when I do I show you the respect when needed, So how the hell am I looking down on you?" Akaza hissed lowly as he peered into his eyes, Both locked in a staring contest together.

Kaigaku scoffed.

"Oh, Let me rephrase… I just like to see the look on you high and mighties when it's me looking down on you all for once. Just because you give me the 'basic respect' when 'needed' doesn't mean you actually mean it." Kaigaku started with a sneer.

"I know how it actually is.. Your type just loves to look down on the likes of me. People like you just don't know what it's like to get off your high horse and see the real world for once.. I just want to see my control over you, To make you feel how I feel.." Kaigaku whispered, Face only a few inches away from Akaza.

Akaza slowly shook his head to and fro. He was in complete disbelief at his audacity, His boldness to even attempt to pull a stunt like this. Akaza wanted to argue, He wanted to crush his skull between his palm and remind him of their differing strength levels.

But he couldn't. Akaza was well aware that him and Kokushibo shared a sort of telepathic link due to the way Kaigaku was initiated. Akaza knew that if Kaigaku so pleased he could tell Kokushibo what he had been up to right here and right now.

Akaza knew Kokushibo wouldn't be as merciful, Why he had such an interest and a complicated relationship with the girl he referred to as his sister. But he knew it wouldn't end well.

"If you feel that way then why do you still suck up to Upper one? Is it because you don't have sufficient blackmail or are you just afraid of getting killed?" Akaza jabbed. A passive aggressive taunt that leaned in on the latter as he took a step back.

Kaigaku shook his head.

"Don't you dare compare yourself to him. My master knows my worth, He sees potential in me and doesn't look down on me like the rest of you." Kaigaku replied. Akaza gawked at him.

"Then if you like him so much why aren't you telling him any of this? I don't see why you haven't.." Akaza questioned.

"Well I haven't told him yet, Doesn't mean I won't. I will eventually, I just want to enjoy it.." Kaigaku replied casually as he started to pace dramatically back and forth along the dock, Emphasising the moment and soaking it in.

Akaza 'tched. He kept up his strong exterior on the outside but inside he felt a cold chill run down him, A freezing panic that made questions rush through him. How was he going to deal with this?

First it was the deal with [F/N]. Second it was Kaigaku, The unknown countdown ticking away above his head loomed over him. Akaza didn't want to be involved, So how did he end up waist deep in this mess?

"You've always been such a weaselly boy, You know that right?" Akaza spat, Scowling at the boy in a well conceded defeat. Though, Akaza didn't quite expect the chill that rose up Kaigaku's spine at the words.

"..Really? Do you want me to tell him?" Kaigaku taunted to which Akaza instantly shut his mouth in response, Not wanting to urge him on.

Kaigaku grinned.

"That's what I thought! Not looking so mighty now are you?" Kaigaku taunted as he started to walk past Akaza, Back towards the shrine to where he came from. He had a swagger in his step as, A kick as he walked by that looked like he owned where he stood on.

"Hold on. I want to you to answer one thing before you go." Akaza ordered. A tone in his voice that made Kaigaku stop and leisurely toss his head to the side to meet his, An arrogant yet curious glint as he waited for his question.

"What the hell does Kokushibo even want with the girl? Does he seriously think a human woman is his sister?" Akaza inquired as if it was just a casual question but the curiosity below shined more than the spark in his eyes.

Kaigaku paused to contemplate then looked back at him.

"I don't know, I'm not allowed to speak to her or anything. Just said that she's his sister and to keep her tracked and reported on. Doesn't matter though, He must have a reason the likes of you just can't grasp." Kaigaku stabbed once more, Shrugging before turning back around and continuing to walk.

Akaza didn't question any more, Just watched as the boy leaped back up onto the roof of the shrine and start to scale up its towering walls, All the way to the top until he was only a small splotch in his vision.

Once he finally disappeared Akaza yelled, Raising his fist and punching a hole through an unlit lantern lining the dock.

It shattered as soon as it made contact with his fist, Bits of bark and splinter flew of and landed into the water below as he breathed in and out.

Akaza's breath was laboured as he watched the destroyed lantern's parts float away in the ever changing waves of the water, Teeth bared at it as he imagined Kaigaku in its place. That brat, How could he dare do something like that to his superior.

Akaza was never one for the Hierarchy, It's only use was a measure of strength. Only that and the recognition from his master. But Akaza couldn't deny it made his blood boil and burn at the sheer disrespect from the younger kid.

At least he could confirm that [F/N]'s 'sibling story' was the truth though, But the added threat of Kaigaku made the scales tip and the future ahead seem as murky as the void surrounding him.

He turned back around and marched off down the docks. He decided to go train to metaphorically sleep on it, Get his mind cleared and think this over carefully. It was tricky waters he was steering in and he needed to plan this out.

Akaza sighed, How the hell was he going to figure this out?

☆♡☆

The warmer afternoon sunlight flooded the outskirts of the Ubuyashiki estate's garden, Giving the abundance of plants and floral life just the right amount of nourishment to flourish as much as they were.

Birds sung from within their nests, It was a nice change from the screaming silence and the tense remarks spoke from within the house. As much as she loved her co-workers, Mitsuri was happy she had gotten out of there.

She pranced down the stone pathway, A skip in her step as she went.

The meeting had finally ended with the words of Lady Amane slipping away from her, Much more pressing thoughts prodding away at her.

The letter was tucked comfortably within her haori, Reading it out loud was more difficult than she had been expecting. Mitsuri thought she could deal with it, The weeks she had been mourning she had read it over and over non-stop. Committing it to memory.

Even so her breath shook the entire time, Even then she couldn't stop the inevitable turn in her stomach. It wasn't as bad as the first or the next few hundred that came after it though, That she was glad for.

Mitsuri knew once she finally found [F/N] and got her out of whatever hell she was suffering through that they would need to have a talk, Mitsuri knew that they'd need to figure it out and she was more than willing to do so.

Though how she would even get to her in the first place was a complete mystery. When she found the massacred inn and the bodies strewn about the place she had hoped that this would be the lead that set her on her trail.

But as dreaded it came up as a bust, Mitsuri had no more ideas or clues to set her down her path. A small frown appeared on her face, One that looked unfitting of a woman like her. Every second with [F/N] gone the chances increase of not finding her, And that ached hard.

Mitsuri was on the clock, She had no time to waste or spend doing what she loved. The hot springs, Late night feasts and cooking the food she loved so much. Mitsuri would need to set it aside for now.

Skipping along the trail the pep she had started to dim, But it was instantly brought back by with artificially made effort. Mitsuri held her head high with her smile widening more, She needed to look on the positive side, Stay optimistic and hopefully everything will be fine.

"Kanroji-san.."

A voice called out from behind her, A deep and sorrowful voice she recognised as she turned around to meet him.

"Himejima-san! Great to see you, I loved your input on the meeting today!" Mitsuri squealed. An over-the-top greeting she kept up along with her smile as she greeted the behemoth of a man standing only a metre away from her on the path.

"Thank you.. It is always nice to communicate with such enthusiasm.." Gyomei replied. Hands pressed together with tears streaming down his cheeks he nodded respectfully towards her general direction.

"Did you need anything? I was about to go back to the shrine ruins for another search around if you want to come with." Mitsuri offered, Tilting her head to the side as her signature blush formed on her cheeks.

Gyomei hummed.

"Unfortunately I cannot as I have been summoned on a mission.. However I have put that aside for now as I wish to have a word with you.." He said, Stepping forward only a single foot.

"Oh.. I'm guessing it's about the letter earlier then!" Mitsuri laughed nervously, Rubbing the back of her head with a sheepish smile plastered onto her face. "I'm sorry if it came off a little too harsh, I really need to know how to hold my tongue!"

"It's fine.. I believe you said it very well.. It shed a lot of light on unknown truths which if I am being honest baffle me to this very moment but.. I have came here about a few specific things actually.. Mostly about the contents of the letter.." Gyomei explained as he rattled his beads.

Mitsuri quirked her lips, Only for a second. She had a feeling this was going to happen, Maybe it was best if she hadn't said that last line, But there was no taking it back and she supposed Gyomei had a right to know.

"Alright then! Feel free to ask away, I don't mind." Mitsuri agreed.

"Thank you, Kanroji-san.." Gyomei nodded in appreciation. "First of all I would like to ask about the last part of the letter.. There was a certain line that involved one of my Tsuguko.. Shizuko Himejima.. I would like to inquire about that."

Mitsuri sighed, There it is. Even though she knew it was coming, Mitsuri had no proper idea on how to say it to him. But she tried anyway, He deserved to know.

"Right.. So, Yeah.. You heard right. [F/N] and Shizuko-san are both related, [F/N] is his older sister. I.. She wanted it to be kept a secret. Only me and her actually knew, Shizuko has no idea.." Mitsuri explained with a noticeable dip in her attitude, Frown becoming prominent again.

Gyomei's eyebrows knitted together. It didn't make sense. He had known Shizuko since he was a toddler, When he stumbled in his walk and babbled in-between sentences. The timeline was knotted and it puzzled him to no degree.

"I understand. If I may ask then why had it been kept from him as well as me, I have known the child since before I had became a slayer and I am a bit confused as to why he had been with me and not her.." Gyomei inquired.

Mitsuri inhaled, Humming a bit as she thought over her words.

"Well.. I don't want to say much, It's [F/N]'s story and I don't want to tell it for her but.. Shizuko means a lot to her. [F/N] made the choice to keep her and Shizuko apart and for her own reasons wanted to keep it that way." Mitsuri started.

"They didn't have the best living situation growing up, I don't know much about it because that was before I met her at all. I only know bits and pieces but what she told me is that she did it for his own good, What that means I don't know." Mitsuri finished.

Mitsuri sighed. She wished she knew more herself, Even though [F/N] and her had been friends for most of their lives she didn't know what happened before their friendship. Before [F/N] had a roof over her head and had her younger brother with her.

She never wanted to pressure her for more information though, It only came out in late night drinking sessions and off-handed comments. Mitsuri only had a half-finished puzzle of the events.

"I.. I see." Gyomei muttered under his breath. "I've known the boy since he came into my temple as an orphan.. I've raised him for years now. If I knew about the situation.." He trailed off, His voice turning into that of a whisper.

Gyomei remembered it well. The day the boy had been dropped off at the doorstep of the temple he resided in. Gyomei had taken him in and brought him up along with the other orphans he considered family, Remembered him being such a happy child.

It made sense now. Shizuko back then had always been a high-spirited child, Had always had something to say and had talked on about an older sister. Gyomei at the time had brushed it off, His younger self believing that she had abandoned him similar to some of the other kids.

However Gyomei had near-forgotten about it now. Probably because of what happened to him during the accident, Shizuko didn't speak much after that. His spirits lowering and the smile he wore cringing into a permanent frown, A shocked expression with a wide eyed scowl.

He never did speak about back then nowadays, Probably because he had forgotten entirely. It was a shame, Yet now that Gyomei remembered everything suddenly became much more clear yet so murky at the same time.

Mitsuri shook her head.

"Please.. Himejima-san. I'm begging you to not tell him, At least not until the time is right." Mitsuri pleaded, Her tone dripping with a sincerity and only the purest of intentions as she spoke to him. Gyomei paused, Pondering over her words and considering them with great care.

"Alright then.. But keeping lies is against my morals and good conscious, If he does ask about anything pertaining to this then I will not lie to him.. And I do hope you tell him in due time, Kanroji-san" Gyomei agreed, Nodding once.

Mitsuri sighed in relief. Her body relaxing with her shoulders as the smile reappeared on her face, A tiny relaxed grin.

"Thank you, Himejima-san! You don't know how much this means to me, To [F/N] too.." Mitsuri said full of gratitude as she thanked him. It went better than she thought and Gyomei would keep his mouth shut for the most part, That was good for her.

Gyomei nodded

"And yes.. To [F/N]. While I am unable to help out the majority of the time I am deeply remorseful for the way I have spoken to her.. Not just me but the rest of the Hashira too. In my spare time I will try to find leads of my own.. And if you at all come across anything then I ask that you inform me first to help, It is the least I can do.." Gyomei said.

His voice was full of apology, More so than usual. It was a deep reverberating sort of regret that was rare to find and it just made it all the more impactful to Mitsuri as she nodded, Trying to hold back the tears forming in her eyes.

"Thank you so much.. I.. If I find anything at all I'll let you know, It means a lot for you to say that and I hope that the rest of our friends truly do feel that way too." Mitsuri bowed in a deep respect, Low and cordial before him as she grinned ear to ear in a melancholy joy.

"It is of no issue.. I continue to pray for [F/N]'s good health and for your success in finding her. Good luck, Kanroji-san.." Gyomei bowed back, His senses telling him to do so as he lifted back up and turned away.

"Goodbye, Himejima-san!" Mitsuri called out to him as he walked off along the stone pathway.

And once he left entirely she was left alone to the sunlight shower in the garden, Alone with the insects and birds and the rustling of leaves. The warmth sinking into her skin and the soft breeze flowing through the watermelon drizzle in her hair.

It was almost enough to dry her tears, Though for once in weeks they weren't of sadness but instead of a ruminating joy. Her heart sung in happiness and her eyes filled with such a blossoming light that it could rival the sun itself.

There was hope, There was a unity and harmony between her and the rest of her colleagues. Both Shinobu and now Gyomei were both on her side, The rest were now aware of what happened.

It was difficult to say but she got over it. Throughout the heavy rainstorm it was hard to see but once the clouds cleared was nice at the end of the rainbow, There was hope and something she could hold onto like her mothers hand.

Turning around she began her skip down the rocky pathway once more. Mitsuri hummed a happy tune as she went and her blush bloomed brighter than the orchids and petunias that blossomed within the shrubbery.

Mitsuri made sure to hold on tight, To never let go and keep it close to her. She'd find [F/N], She knew she would.

It was only a matter of time until a lead would rear it's head.

It was only a matter of time until Mitsuri reunited with [F/N] once again.

Next Chapter

[eluxcastar]

Hello! Can I request romance headcanons for Arlecchino? This Harbinger deserves more attention!

What is Arlecchino like as a lover?

── ୨୧：arlecchino x reader

୨୧﹑synopsis :: just some cute little headcanons

୨୧﹑genre :: fluff

୨୧﹑content :: gn reader, that one thing where they hold hands in her pocket, they're fine with each other's atrocities, implied murder, domestic fluff

୨୧﹑words :: 817

of course you can dear anon I love women ❤️ you're so right tho, she needs more love. I barely see ANY Arlecchino content and this is such a crime 😔😔 I did accidentally lie tho cause I said my next post would probably be Pierro but it's Arlecchino 🤨

it's not exactly the easiest thing to find endearment in the knave, or so you've been told. you find it easy to notice many things to love about her, beautifully dangerous and far too protective of you though she is aware you are capable of doing so yourself.

you've heard Tartaglia say she hasn't a sane bone in her body, and with the way she goes out of her way to keep you safe even from people only looking at you in a way she finds, as she puts it, 'repulsive', you're almost inclined to agree, though you will love every insane bone in her body in return. she likes to let you do as you please, but is over-eager in snatching you away from people she feels overstep around you, or people she doesn't trust around you for one reason or another.

without hesitation, Arlecchino will hurt the people who hurt you, though far worse than they could have ever hoped to do to you as you sometimes find those people rather suddenly go missing, and of course you eye her suspiciously the second you hear only to see her looking quite pleased with herself. the murder is part of the Arlecchino package so all you can do is sigh to yourself and gush a little over how protective she can be.

she is however quite gentle toward you, at least compared to everyone else, which in reality is quite normal. she can be quite brash toward other people, though she acts pleasantly. you find that behaviour appears less so towards you, a little awkward even.

it can be hard for her to relax fully and open up properly, though she desperately wants to. her words sound cheesy to her, and her displays of affection don't match yours as she feels she falls short at times, even if you assure her that she's fine and can take her time figuring it out. it's strange to see her so flustered over small gestures of affection, wondering if you'll hear what she has to say and find it weird, but also strangely able to articulate this love she has for you in a deeper sense in ways you can understand.

you think at some point she built a shell previously impenetrable around her heart, melted away by your warmth and her own ignited fire for you that began a burning in her chest. a passion she previously found little need for, but now with you around she found that she began to indulge it, only slightly at first until she found it to be quite an addictive thing.

she finds that her preferences are inclined to match with yours, though the one thing she won't break from is adoring the way you feel pressed against her in any way, that warmth that radiates off you all bundled up in your fluffy collared coat and a nice pair of gloves you forget more than you'd like. she finds it all the more reason to use her hands as she holds them in her pocket to warm you, even knowing she likely has your gloves stuffed away in her other pocket knowing that you always forget them.

on top of this, her love for having you pressed right up against her also happens to extend to other things, curled up on the couch coiled together trying not to fall off as she holds you between her legs with your head on her chest like a pillow where she strokes your forehead. you're fast asleep and somehow still so elating to her.

however even Arlecchino's own joys cannot keep her from caring for you, often hoisting you all too carefully into her arms once you doze off to carry you to bed, all just to curl back up intertwined with your sleeping body in a place she knows will be more comfortable for you. she can never bring herself to leave you awkwardly scrunched up on the couch, even if she has to shuffle you off and hope you don't wake to move you elsewhere.

there's something so endearing about the way you squirm back to comfort and settle, breathing softly against her neck, your hair tickling her skin.

there are other things she enjoys obviously, though they cannot top her favourite thing, there's always that other favourite thing she loves about you. no matter how awkward or self-conscious you may be about it, she often finds herself to be put at ease by your smile. something about you natural smile comforts her, her sign that no matter what, you're happy and feel comfortable around her to show such a thing. it so cute.

your smiling face always makes her want to kiss you, more than anything else. if she was gooier she'd take your cheeks between her fingers and pinch them, but that urge remains private between her and herself.

[zims-left-antenna]

I was gonna write an essay about how invader zim is kinda helping me cope with my whole school experience by letting the weird kids be the protagonists and seeing everything from their perspectives, especially the pov of an alien. but then it got so messy and I couldn't bother myself to make it make sense by researching a bit more and stuff. so I'm gonna try to put it as short as I can (spoiler, it's not short)

(btw I'm using the "weird kid" term broadly. I'm including ppl who, personally, don't find a reason why they're "weird" to most ppl, and yet they are)

I love how gaz, dib and zim, aka the main cast, are weird kids in different ways and that we see the show from their perspectives, especially from an alien pov. that alone shows that there's more than one way of being weird, strange, or whatever.

I really like the use of an alien for being the odd one out in a group. no matter how said alien tries to fit in, he can't. sure, nobody cares that he's an alien, but they still stay far because of his off-putting behaviour. thus, he's not exactly blending in.

also it's worth mentioning that gaz is the only girl in tv that I have seen being grumpy 24/7, gamer and with no friends. bonus, she dresses like she just found out about goths.

I mean, girls in media don't have to check all those characteristics, but it's still rare to find characters like her, especially grumpy ones. so, props to jhonen for his contribution.

and then there's dib. man.

no one understands his interests that also are niche in his circle. he's loud, dramatic, takes said interests a little too seriously than anyone else would, socially isolated\excluded (like zim and gaz). and also, isn't even trying to blend in with everyone else. he's being unapologetically himself (for better and for worse) and STANDS out a lot bcuz of it. he draws a lot of negative attention to the point of being bullied, and altho it hurts, he still won't change.

I don't know, I'm just rambling a lot and cant seem to put all this in a short and coherent text, but this show can sometimes represent the weird kid experience in a way that isn't so sad (except in a few occasions) and can make me feel seen, even if the characters are so cartoonishly exaggerated

sorry this is all over the place lol

[hjellacott]

When I was a teenager, my father passed away from years of chronic illness and I got very depressed

I don't remember much for about a year, other than being in bed, crying. Life paused for a year or two, so that although time went on, my life didn't. Effectively ending it would've merely been a physical affirmation of what was already true: I was dead, at least, inside.

My father and I had a very close relationship. It wasn't like we got to do that many father-daughter things together, but mostly it was just that we were two faces of the same coin; similar enough to understand each other without a need for words, and to feel understood by each other, but different enough not to rub each other off the wrong way. I am far more different from my mother, and yet, the mother-daughter bond being as legendary as it is, we've always been attached to each other's hip and we have a deeply affectionate relationship. But after my father died, I felt abandoned, left out, alone. I felt like the black sheep of the family, the different one, because the one person who got me, who I was like, was gone forever. If only I'd known then what I know now: everybody tends to feel the same way at some point.

It affected my relationship with my father's side of the family. My parents were together until the end, so I'd always spent the most time with his side of the family, which lived near us, rather than my mum's, which lived farther away. My dad had been the best of his family, so I was never particularly close with anyone there except my, by then, very elderly grandparents. Without my dad, I experienced an odd feeling of disconnection; like a cable that's cut in the middle. Like, the thing that united me to them was gone, so was I even one of them any more? And it might seem strange, but actually, the fact that I had my dad's surname there was something I held onto firmly to remind myself I was still part of my family. Still, even a decade later, it's my mother's family I feel more united to.

Losing a parent at a young age was, to me, like being blown away by a bloody tornado when you were just beginning to learn how to walk on your own. And suddenly you're all alone, waking up in unknown turf, standing in the ruins of your family, your home... whatever remains when a chronic illness has been punching everyone where it hurts the most for years and years. And it took me years, and actually leaving my country, to find my footing again and stand strong again.

My point is that, for many years, I was in a deeply vulnerable and fragile mental state. I didn't seek refuge in drugs, but I did start to drink for the first time, even when I've always despised the taste of alcohol. In my late teens, it was trendy to be dark, mysterious, depressed... and none is that more than someone going through the kind of grief and heartbreak you can't make your friends understand. So my sudden drinking (not to drunkenness, but certainly completely out of my normal behaviour), my quietness, my self-isolation, were seen not as warning signs, but as cool behaviour, among my friends.

And then things got weird. I was seventeen, bursting into tears in high school, in front of everyone, because I'd misplaced something my dad had gifted me and couldn't find it. It wasn't even something important, just a pouch where to put money... but it was my dad's gift to me, and I could only find one friend who understood why it mattered to me, and helped me find it even if I was making a huge thing out of a grain of salt. And for a decade, I've been lashing out. A small feeling of discontentment or annoyance suddenly bursts into flames of fury, and I screamed at my mother, even though I'd never done it. I still go from 0 to 100 with tremendous ease; in sadness, in happiness, in anger, in laughter. Every feeling starts dull and is suddenly overwhelming. And so in the middle of these years of grief, I fell in love, went from 0 to a 100 in five minutes, and if I hadn't stopped myself right on time, I would've agreed to marry someone who simply wasn't right for me. Someone who loved me 80%, when I was there 100%. By now I've accepted that everything is always going to feel too much, too suddenly. That tears will burst out of my eyes for no particular reason, but so will laughter from my chest, and love from my heart. It is both a super power and a dangerous thing, but I'm treating it as a super power, and doing my best to control it when I can, without eradicating it.

One of the things I did in my grief was cross-dress as a man. I put on a three-piece suit that didn't really suit me, and cut my hair from long to zero, and even tried to use fake beards.

I wasn't a man. I never identified as such. I was always clear on the fact that I was seventeen and I just wanted to know "what it's like". But deep inside, it was about control. You see, I'd been left shattered, I was scrambling to keep my head above water, I had no control - and I longed for the power of being a man.

I wanted to stand strong as a man. I wanted to be like my late dad. To be a good man in the storm. To fight, to be strong, to be tough, to dress however I wanted, to stop being whistled at and catcalled, to have a man's salary, a man's work opportunities, a man's power.

It was just a period of my life. The closer to thirty I've gotten, the more comfortable I've felt as a woman, the more I've loved being a woman, the more I've remembered my father's happy eyes on me, watching me speechless the first time I put on a dress, make-up and heels, telling me how beautiful I was, taking photos non-stop with his professional camera and making me feel like a gorgeous princess. And damn it, I've never given a shit about male admiration, I've never fancied dressing "to impress", but my dad had such a way of looking at me with eyes full of wonder, not in a sexualised way, but in a "my god, you're a grown-up woman!" way, that I'd happily fight to have that back. This was the same man who, when I first got my period and was in a mood, cracked a smile on my face by grinning at me and saying "you're all grown-up now!", the same man who when I was just born, was the only one who said I was beautiful, and was too afraid of hurting me to even hold me for a wee bit, the same man who, if I was sitting alone with my head on the table going through whatever, would sit next to me and put his head on the table too, without saying anything, just so I wouldn't be alone, and the same man who'd go above and beyond to do things with me and get to know me. I don't look back on my dad as a dad, I look back on my dad as a best friend. I used to want to be just like him - now I just want to be like myself, and see in me the wonders that he saw. Now I stand proud as a woman, the woman I know he would've been stocked to know.

The Cass Report has brought back into the forefront of my mind what a pain it was to be a teenager and a young adult. In my case, it was because of Earth-shattering grief. In my case, I could want to have male things for a bit, and I got to experiment, to cross-dress, to kiss boys and girls, to make mistakes, and to, over the course of a decade, find my way back.

That is what I wish for children to be given back: the space and the time to figure things out without having to deal with more life-changing procedures.

Teens were in a mental health crisis a decade ago and it's only gotten worse since. And if my friends had seen what I was doing in my grief as alarming signs of mental health problems, instead of as a cool, trendy behaviour, then maybe I would've gone to therapy instead of opening a bottle of Vodka. I probably would've taken it wrong to be told I had mental health problems - and I would've rebelled, fought, argued, and in fact I did, the one time my mum insisted I saw somebody. God how I hated psychologists then, and now it's one of my main fields of study. I didn't want to be told I was sick any more than these kids do. But I needed to hear that. I needed my problems validated, even if I didn't want to hear it. I needed to be forced to accept help. I needed to be told grief is one thing, and feeling like you can't possibly go on is another. I NEEDED PROFFESSIONAL HELP.

That is all the Cass Report shows. That children need professional help. That children go through hell and back because they're barely equipped to deal with big shocks to the system, and the world has never been more hostile to them. And that just because alarming behaviour that points to mental health issues can be perceived as "cool" or "trendy", and become fashionable, it doesn't make it less of a mental health problem.

[jugg3rn4ut]

I've always felt detestable. Well, maybe not always, but for a good majority of my life. As if there's something deeply unpleasant about me, something off-putting buried in my bones or whatever. I was a pretty quiet kid, never enjoyed socialising (that was my little sister's niche), I'd give polite responses when addressed but mostly tried to figure out a way to escape the conversation overall. That was alright though, it didn't matter then. After all, most people don't hate 7 year olds. The trouble started once I turned 11. People become a lot less accommodating once you hit your teens.

 Any behaviours that are considered quirky for a child quickly become unnerving when you hit puberty. All of a sudden you're weird and scary. You have friends, but boys look at you with pure disgust and you cant figure out why. You've always dreamed of the perfect highschool experience, a fairytale teen romance is your only goal at this age, but you don't fit the “beautiful brunette main character” bill. You're odd and average and most importantly, black. No one wants you this way and that sucks ass so obviously you try to change, act and look more “normal”, but it's near impossible to completely detach yourself from what's natural to you when you're 13. Your mind and soul follow you like a dirty stain, making your attempt to blend in look uncanny at best. Surely everyone can still see that you're a freak, and even if they cant, you certainly can and it's disgusting. 

So eventually, keeping up the act becomes too much for you. You try to revert back to your old self but you don't remember how, the lines are too blurred at this point. Then you're angry. Angry that you tried so hard to become socially acceptable only to end up in situations you never thought you would end up in. Boys are so so so evil and you can't look past that. They grope and grin and laugh in their group chats and they burrow into your head, nestling down so you can't pull them out again. They'll say things that never leave your mind, leaving you hearing their voices on repeat like a ringing in your ears that'll never go away. Boy-induced tinnitus, or boy-induced psychosis, or both maybe. You can no longer see yourself the same way, you can't shower the same way, you can't daydream the same way, you can't speak the same way, nothing is the same after that, not ever.

But you're stupid, or maybe just human, there's barely a difference there. You still crave affection from a boy. You're mind is set on them being evil but you're so so lonely anyway. Being weird is lonely, but being a bitch feels like you're trapped in a malfunctioning submarine with no reflective surfaces and no echo. Strange description maybe, but that's it.

You're furious at the fact that you've lost so much of yourself, to the point where fury is all you can feel. Everything you do is fueled by that bitter, miserable rage, the knowledge that you've lost control of who you are and how you're perceived. You have so much misdirected adrenaline that for a while, you feel powerful, productive. You can stand up for yourself, speak your mind, put on makeup and you feel on top of the world. Untouchable. You have to be untouchable because God knows you can't handle that again.

Then comes the drop. Unfortunately, the world is constantly spinning and remaining on top of it is impossible because you are not fast enough to keep up, and you never will be. You've hit a wall, hard, and you no longer have enough energy to find your way over it. You realise that since you were 11, not a single boy has looked at you as though you were human. Not when you were odd, not when you were normal, not when you were a bitch, and certainly not now that your mind has stopped working. You know boys are evil, you know it, but the fact that you haven't experienced the full extent of a boy somehow fills you with self-loathing. 

It's crazy, its so bad of you to think, but sometimes you wish you were still sexualised the way you were when you were normal. You feel so undesirable now and your track record doesn't convince you otherwise. All the other girls are having their hearts broken but you're just hated. Boys hate you and you hate them but it's not the same. You hate boys as people but boys hate you as if you're a piece of gum stuck to the sole of their shoe. You aren't a person to them, you aren't even an object. You don't actually know what you are. Your standards are out the window now but that doesn't actually matter, because there's no one to meet them, or even fall short of them, because no one wants you. No one. Wants you. 

And you want someone so badly. You fall asleep curled up in a ball, pretending to hold yourself in a warm embrace. You crave human contact, romantic contact, even eye contact, but no one wants you. You dress up and do your hair, try to look pretty and you know you do, but no one wants you. You post picture upon picture, try to seem fun and interesting and you ARE, but no one wants you. You cvt yourself and punch yourself and cry and cry and cry because the scars are so bad that they'd surely put any boyfriend you ever get off because you look despicable, but you don't actually have to worry about that, because no one wants you. So you keep cvtting yourself, it doesn't matter either way because you're so innately unnerving and gross and weird and rude and creepy and fcking ugly on the inside.

And then you realise how similar that last paragraph is to the first and you think, I think, that I haven't actually changed. All of this shit, just for me to end up being exactly the same as I was at eleven years old. 

[arcadejohn127-9]

What if Mc was a person who don't take shit from anyone, demon human or Angel, and just was this small sassy piece of dynamite? How’d everyone react?

MC who takes no shit - brothers + undateables

Satans pact and chapter 16 spoilers

Lucifer:

So you've chosen death

This man can't even handle the smallest sign of defiance

an actual bitch boy

"You are here because you were picked to attend, you were listed to be under my care, this is MY house! You follow MY rules-"

"hold that for a second, I'm calling Dia."

He's so easy to rile up

You feed off his quick temper, he makes it too easy

But he deserves it

Too many times he thinks he can just control you and his brothers

You've cut Mammon down from the ceiling, when faced to Lucifer you just handed him the rope

"If you want someone to hang so much, do it yourself, old man, it is your fault after all - if you didn't leave your cursed valuables lying around Mammon would of never tried to steal them and get himself cursed."

Mammon:

He both scared of you and in awe of you

He's surprise you're still alive at this point

Of course you're alive, the great Mammon is looking after you

You have definitely called him out for being a tsundere

"So, you wanna make out or do you wanna keep yammering on?"

"I- You can't just be saying that to demons!! Why would I wanna kiss some human-"

"Kay, I'm going to go see if Levi wants to-"

"WAIT! DON'T DO THAT!"

Whenever he steals something from you or the others, you go on a man hunt

"Sell your own stuff! You always have something new in there! or are you that scummy and bad with money you need to steal off others ?"

Please have some mercy with him

In general, finds your sassy attitude interesting, always wonders what the new comment or roast will be

Levithan:

Scared and in awe but times it by 10

Is mostly terrified because you make him upset

Didn't expect to be called a guilt tripping bitch

"You're busy? I get it, I mean - why would you ever want to spend time with someone like me? I'm just some nobody, a yucky otaku who no one wants to be around-"

"I get having a low self esteem but shitting on yourself at EVERY given chance and then go on to be about how yucky and worthless you are when I just wanna spend time with someone else?! You can fuck right off!"

He thinks you're a delinquent, has gotten you a cool jacket so you can put it over your shoulders

You can pat him on the back for at least being able to stand up for himself, he's always ready to brawl and never shys away from calling his brothers out

Always lets you wear his headset and just watches as you cuss and sass any petty player

Satan:

It seems you keep choosing death

You wanna get sassy and back talk the literal embodiment of wrath????!

So - do you want be buried or cremated?

You take none of his shit

He respects it just as much as he hates It

We all know he has good control over his anger but there's a limit on how much of your attitude he can stand

"You're so petty, do you have to be a smart-ass about everything?"

"that's rich coming from the guy who threatened to cut off my limbs because I wouldn't make a pact wth him."

When he doesn't respond you just nod to yourself, checking your nails

"Yeah that's what I thought."

If he needs to come up with a good come back he always asks you

Sits back and watches you argue with Lucifer

Asmodeus:

He loves it until you call him out

Didn't expect to get psychologically profiled

"At first I thought you were just a narcissist but now I see you're just a Insecure man who placed his value on his looks and how people perceive him-"

" You can't seem to handle any type of bad press about you-"

"Oh? Did you make yourself look bad then blame it on someone else because they just wanted to do what they please? Oh boo hoo!"

You could end this man's career with a single word

But, if you're 'no shit' attitude is targeted to someone else? He's all over it

Will sigh dreamily and watch you chew Someone out

Unless you get super roasty and rude - he encourages you to talk to him with an attitude

"You're so hot when you talk like that~"

Knows you aren't all sass, he definitely enjoys your more softer side

Will invite you to a sleep over so you two can gossip and rant over a bottle of wine and do a mini spar

Beezlebub:

What prompted you to be this sassy? He's baby!

I mean, he did throw a fit when you ate his custard and destroyed your room

Sure, constant hunger is painful but he can survive without one custard

Yeah- he can be up for roasting and being chased out

"You've told me you literally want to eat me! How is that comforting?! You're hunger tantrums are already bad enough but now I know I could be on the menu?"

"No thanks! Do the hokey pokey and turn your goofy ass around!"

Has a habit of being your stool, he doesn't mind really, finds it pretty adorable actually

You're so small compared to demons so when a gym jock is being rude about you or Beel

You just snap your fingers and he'll sit down, hunch over and put his hands over his head

You'll just step on his palms (you take off your shoes angrily whilst telling the jock demon to not move an inch) and just go off

He understands where alot of your cusses come from, he agrees with you and feels guilty on his behaviour

Really likes it when you stand up for him; normally no one does that because he's such a big guy

Belphie does it but things can be abit disheartening when your twin Is the only one rushing to help you

Belphegor:

You know what? Understandable, please, fire away

Just keep making jokes and references to all the bad things he's done

He needs to be put in his place

The dude has literally killed you! If you weren't going to give him an earful when you recovered then what was the point?!

This man is one of many bastards in this school

Either watches you go off on people or sleeps mid arguement to stop hearing you call him out

"I'm innocent, I haven't done a single thing wrong in my life."

"wELL-"

He will always respect you for looking out for his twin, when he can't do anything he always looks to you to step in

Has held things out of your reach just to watch you get mad

UNDATEABLES↓

Diavolo:

You've chosen a fate worse than death at the cost of sassing a pure man

He gets upset but is very understanding, it's his companions who will handle your fate

I honestly, CANNOT, think of a reason you'd want to be sassy or rude to him

If it's just in general and not meant to offend him; he thinks it's very attractive

You've got a silver tongue and able to make a comment without much thought

Very impressive

His type is Lucifer very simple

You'd call him out for letting dangerous behaviour happen at the school and putting loads of faith into Lucifer

Perhaps point out how reckless inviting humans to a demon realm - who could easily be killed if they don't have an escort with them at all times

But other than that? He's safe

Barbatos:

He is your executioner

He can handle a jab

But he will remind you he was the one who saved you if you get too out spoken with him

that only gets him more cussed out though

"So you're aware of pretty much every event that happens, Right?"

"You could say that."

"Then shouldn't you use those abilities to then help anyone and stop all sorts of tragedies?"

"My Lord has stopped me from using my powers freely."

OKAY THAT'S SOMETHING YOU CAN CUSS DIA OUT ON

In general, you just make comments about how vague he is

He's too mysterious that it's just ridiculous

You want to get to know him but he just gives you that smug look and amused laughter

Solomon:

Can you really be blamed for being Sus of him?

He's so suspicious, for what?! For what reason?!

He doesn't like being called old? Depending how disrepectful you wanna be, you like to use the nickname "Grandpa Solo"

"I'm surprised you aren't actually some evil Wizard trying to get the brothers pacts so you can be the most powerful human alive and take over the Devildom."

"Who says I'm not?"

He's witty and smug

You're sassy and explosive

You're a duo that should be feared

The two powerful humans banding together? I'm sure there's a website on the two of you with theories of your evil plans

Simeon:

Finds your attitude delightful!

Didn't want his kindness to annoy you but it did, sometimes it is a crime to be Too nice

His favoured company are all sassy bastards so it only makes sense he likes you very much

"You gave them bangles that made them into SAINTS! that's fucking weird! And you had them turn into angels despite the fact they have truama from heaven!"

as mischievous as Simeon can be

His angelic nature really does pop out alot

"aren't you tired of being nice? Don't you want to go ape-shit?"

"Of course not, there's no need but thank you for worrying about me, I know I can seem force and strange to you but I really do enjoy being kind to others."

"disgusting."

Almost fought him during the TSL event; you didn't expect him to do a 360 and become super strict

Despite your hard shell you care alot about the people you're close with and can't stand to see them upset

Luke:

It appears you're trying to throw hands with a 10 year old

He does seem demonphobic

Why are you always denying your true feeling??!! Just admit you like demons!

You try not to swear and be outwardly rude Infront of him

But sometimes this little boy really tests your patience

"Okay species-ist."

Is your main response when he's being a tsundere

He's the one who's the safest from your attitude

[avnkin]

undrunk - jj.m

Warnings: angst, underage drinking, mentions of sex, kinda toxic relationship & mentions of substances.

Word Count: 2.5k

This fic is based of the song Undrunk by Fletcher

gif is by the talented @toesure <3333

Wish I could get a little un-drunk so I could un-call you

At five in the morning, I would un-fuck you.

JJ Maybank was your ex, the two of you had broken up almost a month ago but still always managed to find each other when you were intoxicated, ending up wrapped in each other’s arms at late hours of the night. One of you always being gone the next morning.

He’d broken up with you because he felt he wasn’t ready for a serious relationship, but it was borderline impossible for the two of you to cut off all communication.

When you were together a part of you always knew this wasn’t how it was supposed to be, but you loved him so you started finding excuses for all of the things he did and the stuff he put you through.

At one point you had even started asking yourself, what did I do that made him leave? It wasn’t right but you couldn’t help it, the manipulative thoughts clouded your mind like a drug.

To go from being so involved with him on such an intimate level, to then, becoming a complete stranger and having no part of his life was a pain you couldn’t even begin to describe.

The first time it had happened was after almost three weeks of being apart. You weren’t doing any better from the day he’d ended it, your tear-stained cheeks stuck on the screen before you, when suddenly what you thought was a ray of sunshine lighting up the darkness that had consumed you appeared.

He’d knocked on your window like he’d done so many times before but this time it was different. He didn’t tell you how much he loved you as he hungrily kissed you and tore your clothes off.

He barely even looked at you as he spent the night with you, making sure the two of you were on the same page when he finished, stating that he didn’t want to be in a relationship again but wanted to continue sleeping together and you had agreed even though every part of your body was telling you not to.

You loved him and thought that being with him in some way was better than not being with him at all.

But you knew it was only so long until one of you was bound to break this endless cycle of running back to each other.

Honestly, this party's over

Everyone here shoulda gone home

But I’m afraid of being sober

As you stumbled home after yet another party, you felt tears well up in the corner of your eyes, having nothing left to distract you, no substance, alcohol, or fling to silence your thoughts about the boy who had held your heart and crushed it.

It was the feeling after you’ve hosted a pregame or a party and everybody’s gone and the only thing that’s left are the wounded soldiers. Just you and your drunken thoughts, swirling around in your head. 

You’d endured this feeling so many times after the breakup and you tried so hard to cover it up with anything you possibly could, but it was like a virus, that just keeps on coming back.

So once again you found yourself standing in front of his window lightly tapping your nail onto it waiting for him to appear and let you in.

When the curtains lifted you felt sane again, seeing his face as he smiled down at you before pushing the window open allowing you to climb in.

His lips were on yours within seconds as he hurriedly went to remove all items of clothing that covered your body, desperate for your touch.

You didn’t fully realize it then but every time he kissed you and touched you it would take out a tiny piece of your heart, knowing that this was all it would ever be.

The morning after you’d woken up in a haze, his ring clad fingers resting on your stomach as he lay peacefully beside you, his blonde hair sprawled all over the pillow beneath him.

‘Fuck’ you thought once memories from the previous night started flooding back into your mind. You carefully lifted his arm off of you and started searching for your clothes, which had been thrown all over the place the previous night.He’d woken up when you’d accidentally tripped over your shoe as you tried to get it on. 

“Shit” you mumbled when he started propping himself up onto his elbows, furrowing his eyebrows at you.

“What are you doing?” he asked, his voice raspy as he rubbed the sleep from his eyes. 

“Leaving?” 

It was more of a question than an answer but he just shrugged his shoulders turning his back towards you as he continued his slumber. You sighed as you twisted the doorknob, taking one last glance at him before shutting the door and walking out to your car.

So I squeeze out the lime on the ice of my drink

And the juice hits the cuts on my fingers

It still doesn't burn as much as the thought of you

Sarah was throwing a little get together and you had been fine through most of the night, feeling that maybe, just maybe, you were finally starting to get over him. Finally not feeling the need to look at your phone every few minutes to see if he had texted you or go on to his Instagram to see if he had posted a picture of him and another girl.

You’d been helping Sarah gather shot glasses for everyone when you’d accidentally dropped one, cutting your finger as you attempted to pick up the broken pieces of glass sprawled all over the kitchen floor.

Sarah had told you not to worry about it simply grabbing a vacuum and quickly cleaning it up before ushering you into her living room where you all sat in a circle beginning to play truth or drink. 

You stared down at your newly cut finger, watching as the blood trickled down it and into your palm, it hurt like a bitch, but you didn’t pay it any mind, pouring salt onto your backhand smiling up at Sarah as she passed you a shot glass filled to the brim with tequila.

“Alright Y/N, your turn” Topper stared devilishly at you before looking over at Rafe who gave him a wink, furrowing your eyebrows at the silent exchange.

“How many people have you had sex with?” he raised an eyebrow taking a swig off his beer as Rafe gave him a thumbs up causing you to only roll your eyes in response.

“Ew Top seriously?” Sarah huffed crossing her arms over her chest, “you don’t have to answer that” she directed at you, hitting Topper in the back of the head making you giggle.

“Wasn’t going to” you chuckled, licking the salt off your hand and downing the devil's drink, scrunching your face as the liquid burned your throat.

You quickly reached out for one of the lime wedges with the hand you’d cut earlier and as your finger touched it you winced the juice going into your fresh wound the cheers of your friends fading out as you suddenly began to think that not even this burned as much as thinking about him does.

I wish I could un-kiss the room full of strangers

So I could un-spite you, un-lose my temper

But some things you can't undo

And one of them's you.

After a relationship ends everybody goes through a different healing process, for you it was definitely seeking attention from somebody else, needing to feel wanted again, because it momentarily ‘convinced’ you that you were fine.

But you soon realized that no matter what you did or who you kissed no one could compare to JJ, the sad realization hitting you as a boy you didn’t know the name of let his hands wander all over your body.

His touch didn’t send shivers up your spine as JJ’s did and his lips on yours didn’t make you feel butterflies in your stomach.

You just felt empty as he whispered endless compliments in your ear, cutting him off by reconnecting your lips with his, hoping that it would fill the void inside of you.

You wished nothing more than to go back to all the times you’d slept with JJ after you’d broken up and taken it back, wishing you’d never have let him waltz back into your life after he single-handedly destroyed it.

I'm afraid to turn the lights on

I don't wanna face this rebound

Is it weird if I come over?

I want to, but I know that she's around

You couldn’t stop thinking about all the other girls he’d probably slept with by now, doing whatever with whoever.

It was that sick feeling that just kept on coming back, sticking with you from the time you woke up and to the night when your head hit the pillow, “what did he do last night?”

“It doesn’t matter, I shouldn’t care” those were the two things you were mostly battling with, caring but pretending that you didn’t.

One time you’d been hanging out with Kie, she’d invited you to come and eat dinner with her at The Wreck, stating that you’d spent little to no time together since you and JJ had ended things.

You, of course, agreed, driving over to the restaurant, practically running into Kie’s arms as she engulfed you in a tight hug.

The pair of you quickly sat down enjoying a plate of hamburgers and fries as you caught up with each other.

You couldn’t help but notice every time you mentioned JJ she’d tense up, panic settling on her face, always dodging the questions or changing the subject.

“Kie what’s going on?” you finally asked tired of her strange behaviour.

“What do you mean?” she tried to write you off but you wouldn’t let her, pestering her until she finally broke. “Okay fine look I really didn’t want to be the one to tell you this but- uhm... JJ’s been seeing someone.” You froze dropping the food you’d been holding as you stared wide eyed at her, “Wait... I don’t know if there’s actually anything to it- I mean you know him, he’s probably just sleeping with her until he finds someone else, you know?” she tried to comfort you before realising how insensitive that sounded, “Oh shit! No, wait that came out wrong!”

“Kie it’s okay, I don’t care,” you lied, pasting on a fake smile as you grabbed a french fry from her plate and placed it into your mouth.

“A-are you sure?” she hesitantly asked furrowing her eyebrows, not quite believing your words. You only nodded in response and she quickly dropped the subject, thankfully, you knew if you’d had talked about it any longer you would have started crying.

So when you finally arrived home you let your tears fall free, now convinced nothing could fill that void inside you except JJ.

Been through every emotion

Right now, I'm sad and broken

Like the bottles on the floor, but I'm too buzzed to clean 'em up

Self love was something you had always struggled with and sometime after the breakup you’d finally realized that it was impossible to love somebody else if you didn’t love yourself.

You didn’t love yourself when you were with JJ so you depended on him to make you feel the love you couldn’t provide for yourself and it was only after you got out of it that you gained that perspective, aside from going out and partying, you really had to take the time to do a self dive and ask yourself. Am I good? The answer definitely being no.

You slowly but surely started doing the things that you loved again, surrounding yourself with the people that made you feel like the best you.

It was a roller coaster of emotions. One day you’d be totally fine, reassuring yourself that you could do this but the next you’d be curled up in a ball on the bathroom floor of your shower or crying in a stall at a restaurant or a bar.

And it was at your lowest points that you’d run back to JJ or let him come to you, spending the night with him only made you feel better temporarily but in the long run you knew it was what was hurting you the most.

Wish I could get a little un-drunk

So I could un-love you

“I can’t do this anymore J” you frowned as you got out of his bed, untangling yourself from his tight embrace, he looked at you confused eyebrows contorted.

“What exactly do you mean?” he asked propping himself up onto his elbows as he stared intently at you, tears beginning to well up in the corner of your eyes as you finally realized that you had to end this, you couldn’t keep doing this to yourself.

“I mean this, JJ,” you said, gesturing between the two of you, “Whatever it is, I can’t do it anymore!” You shook your head, hurriedly gathering your things wanting to get out of there as soon as possible.

“Wait Y/N,” he pleaded, getting out the bed, grabbing your wrists, turning you to face him. “Why?” he finally asked, his voice just below a whisper.

“Because, I love you too much and it hurts to see you leave, it hurts to see you with somebody else and I can’t keep trying to convince myself that one day we can go back to the way things were, because I know that’s not what you want.”

This was without a doubt one of the hardest things you’d ever had to do, but you knew this had to be done or you’d just end up hurting yourself even more.

So you left him standing alone in his room, not giving him a chance to talk as you stormed out of his house and into your car, sobs racking through your body as you let your head rest on your steering wheel.

You took a deep breath before placing your keys in the ignition, beginning the long drive from The Cut and into Figure 8.

It was raining pretty heavily and as the calming sound of the rain droplets hitting the top of your car you began to realize your relationship with JJ made you who you were, it taught you a lesson and you learned from it, growed from it, even though it was really hard to see it when you were in the thick of it.

But once you gained some perspective, you began to see things a lot more clearly, realizing that JJ was a really important part of your journey.

You wouldn’t go back in time and undo the relationship, because it had taught you so much about yourself that you didn’t know that you needed to so you finally drove back home, leaving JJ behind, even though it physically hurt you to do so.

This was for the best.

Thank you @angellissy & @harrysbbby for helping me with my grammar!!!! I love y’all💓💓

[elejahfanfic]

FANFICTION

Part 2

A Joel Goran x Elena Gilbert

_a crossover fanfic, but still tvd

_AU of course

a/n: Elena leaves Mystic Falls to live in Toronto. There she meets Joel, who if course us Elijah's doppelganger...

_song is I just Wait by Paloma Faith

link to part 1

tag_ @eternityunicorn @beautyandwords @elejahforever @bulldozed88

*

Toronto, Canada

Hope Zion

"I don't know if I could describe it as love at first sight. I think there’s an energy that some people have where they elicit all of the stuff from you and you suddenly become the best version of yourself around them. It’s as terrifying as it is magical." Joel said to Alex as they were discussing his recent great interest in one particular woman that seemed to have changed his behaviour, finding him ordering flowers for that special someone.

"Where have you read that?! There is something so strange about you lately. It's like you have become this calm and colkected and soulful person. No flirtations. The nurses are bewildered. It can't be that this woman out of nowhere just changed everything... and you are actually dating her the old-fashioned way?! That is so not your style?!" Alex said.

"Maybe I will start believing that some women do possess the gift of witchcraft. I have to prepare for the OR!" Joel  his fellow collegue behind the OR prep.

Whatever it was Joel Goran was mesmerized by Elena Gilbert. They had a lenghtly talk in the cafe and asked her out for lunch straight out. And they did have lunch, as well as dinner and they didn't even kiss let alone end up in bed, which for him was like eating breakfast. And he sent her flowers, big bunch of red tulips.

"Maybe she has just awaken the gentleman in him!" another nurse remarked to Meg. The gossip wouldn't stop and everyone was eager to meet her.

*

In Elena's apartment, Elena answered Bonnie's call.

"So, what have you found out? He can't be a doppelganger, can he?!" Elena said.

"We have resurrected old witches, and you saw your own doppelganger, why is it weird to believe that Elijah couldn't have a doppelganger?!" Bonnie said.

"He is - yeah- totally looks like Elijah, but he is different. I made a mistake and aaid Elij...oel to him."

"Elijoel, ha?!"Bonnie remarked.

"Oh, I will take a photo of him and send it tonight. He is taking me out to a jazz club! Figure that." Elena said,

"I wanted to say no... and just leave Toronto, all this is too much, and then, I just can't. I find myself in this weird moment when I look at him and he is so normal and I want to tell him about Elijah, but then I see him run a mile if I tell him that witches and vampires exist."

"You don't have to tell him anything. You are free of Klaus and you only now have a witch friend and a vampire friend." Bonnie exclaimed.

"Just one vampire friend." Elena said.

"I thought Stefan left?!" Bonnie asked.

"Yes, but we still kinda speak," Elena confirmed,"why does everything always have to be complicated?!"

"Nothing is complicated. Just go out with Elijoel and... have fun! I will call you if something weird happens!

"Ok. Talk to you later." Elena said and hung up.

She looked at the flowers. It screamed Elijah to her.

"Huh" Elena huffed a little. It felt like fate played a trick on her and the tables were turned. 

Hours later, Joel was in his office, the night had fallen and he just finished with his daily paperwork. He turned to look outside the window. It was a supermoon night. 

"Hey. mate!" Joel said jokingly to the moon," are you going to cause havoc tonight?!" 

As he turned away his eyes caught a reflection on the window of himself but something was unusual. It was as if he saw himself in a suit and yet he was wearing a T-shirt. He looked back and then shook his head.

"I am too tired!" he said picking up his phone, pressing the speedial with Elena's number.

"E-Joel?!" Elena said as she picked up the call.

"Elena- are we still on for tonight?"Joel said.

"We are." Elena replied.

"Good. Shall we grab something to eat, first?!" Joel suggested.

Elena agreed with all and they soon met in a bistro to Joel's liking. The place or the time was not important to Elena. She wanted to get to know him. And he was pleased to tell her some of his life story. Elijah with a New Zealand accent and so cool- Elena thought. And the mannerisms were all Elijah. Elena flashed back to a day ago when she followed him to the hospital. He was wearing a suit and she watched him talk to a hub nurse, explaining something official. 

It was so Elijah. When it came to her to tell how she came to travel the US and Canada for two years, Elena found herself masking the truth, telling white lies and omitting the supernatural part of her life.

At one point her looks swayed to the supermoon outside. He noticed some strange longing in her gaze.

"Don't tell me you believe in all the crazy superstitions about the moon?!"

"Ha?" Elena looked back at the surgeon, "sorry-uhm- it looks beautiful -superstitions?! Me?! But I believe in vampires, werewolves-I am only joking," she said chuckling a bit and then thought, "if only you knew."

"A friend of mine has a theory that moon does affect some people deeply. She said something about the blood moon after the harvest- anyway, I have nothing against folklore and myths. The stories are deep and carry  great morals." Joel said.

The waiter came to offer desserts but they declined. Soon they were on their way to the club.

They were ushered to their table as they got in. They  ordered their drinks. The show had already started. The singer was introducing the next song. 

"Oh, I've seen her in Chicago!" Elena remembered.

"She is really good, I heard- from the nurses!" Joel smirked cutely.

Elena laughed a little now, " so, this date thing was the idea of the nurses?!"

"No. I just heard them talk about Paloma Faith and..."

"It's fine. I will tell you something you probably wouldn't believe" Elena said but Joel cut her off midsentence.

"Oh, don't tell me- your ex was a werewolf and I should actually be beware of him because we have a supermoon outside"

"Yeah!" Elena chuckled a little,"no-it's- I can't remember when I was on a date the last time?!"

"Ok. Let's then do the whole date thing- do you want to dance?" Joel offered his hand.

Elena nodded. They walked to the dance floor.

.....The twinkling in your eyes makes me wonder if I’m dead or alive,

And I, I just wait.

How many clues you need me to leave you?

I feel like I leave ‘em all the time.

Spending days together, I just,

Can’t help wondering when you’ll be mine.

If I could hold your hand, yes I would,

Be with you every day, if I could ....

Joel looked at Elena as if she was this mysterious woman, as he thought. There was something magical about her and although he kept denying it, his soul knew it was love at first sight, the moment she turned and looked at him at the cafe. Again, she was looking at him with familiar eyes that twinkled with a strange invitation making him wonder if he was dead or alive and he now pulled Elena into a gentle kiss as his hand glid up her neck feeling her skin tremble with sweet sensation of the union.

When you gonna open up your eyes and see,

That you and I could always be.

Put your palm into mine,

And stop wasting time.

My heart is breaking, without you,

I don’t wana live another day.

And tick tock, tick tock, tick tock, I’m waiting.

[btsandvmin]

can you tell me what makes you think jk is not straight i mean i agree with taehyung giving the vibe that he is not straight i feel that too sometimes but i don't know not matter how hard i try to think jk isn't straight i cant believe it maybe bcoz of his obsession over iu, he is just shy, since he is my bias i can see he is interested in girls what do you think?

Originally I was going to make a proper post about this, but I don’t think I will, so I decided to answer this. It’s years old by now so I don’t know if you still read my blog. But because this is related to JK I have put it off. Also there isn’t much to go with for any member, for obvious reasons, so it’s of course only me guessing.

As for JK and BTS in general I don’t want to look too much at their sexualities as something “set”. So I keep the thoughts more to myself, even though I have guesses. As for JK I feel he gets more labeled as “straight” automatically because of his looks and the image people have of him, and “vibes” is something I won’t trust in general. For example when I first came across BTS the more flamboyant members for me was Hobi and Jimin, which made them my first “hmm, I wonder if they maybe aren’t straight”. But now, looking beyond just the norms and people’s stereotypes I actually would guess Hobi is one of the more “straight ones”. I also think Jimin has shown less indications of being non straight than both Tae, JK and Namjoon. Jimin is more difficult to read and seems more careful with what he says and does. And personally I just think JK seems to show more interest in men than women, though this is very vague and can have different reasons.

Anyways, when it comes to JK you mention his “obsession over IU” but what about his obsession over G-Dragon, Justin Bieber, Charlie Puth or even Namjoon? Isn’t it you putting different value in similar behaviour? IU is Korea’s sweetheart and it’s not weird to like or look up to her simply as a singer/artist. She is a safe choice as a type, and it’s difficult to know if he would have any attraction towards her. Especially since even if he wouldn’t be attracted to females he still has to pick a type, and thus in general using those replies to questions they have to answer as confirmation aren’t the best. In my opinion JK seems to idolize men more. See the Australian interview where he is supposed to pick a celebrity crush and JK even gets the option to pick Nicole Kidman (Namjoon suggested the answer) but JK says no, and then picks Hugh Jackman first and then changes to Ironman.

For JK I agree he is shy, and I also think he might avoid girls more because he knows how people ship him with everyone as soon as he does anything. So maybe he seems so uninterested simply because he’s awkward. Like in the American Hustle life JK even gets annoyed with the other members for being so interested in the girls and says “grapes above girls”. JK is literally part of many of the most popular ships in Kpop and honestly his image of being some kind of playboy seems completely fanmade from how JK is in fics, and not based much in JK himself.

He is actually much more feminine that most people seem to remember. Even the members have said he is the most feminine amongst them. Using unisex/female fragrances or clothes, saying he likes the feeling of moisturizing his legs, collects make up and is the best at applying it on himself etc. Obviously this doesn’t make him non straight, I just want to point out people like to ignore JK’s softer sides because they have the image of him being very manly. Just like Jimin has the opposite problem of being labeled as very feminine while people ignore some of his very manly sides.

He also seems to right from the start be the member with least negative statments about male and female stereotypes and gender norms. Most members have said things like “Men don’t do that” etc. But I just want to say JK is the one I have seen do it the least. You have jokes when JK has said it like “Men don’t use hand cream” while Jin was using it, and then right after used it himself and Jin says “You’re not a man then” and JK simply smiled.

Either way, back to the actual question I think JK seems to have been a bit avoidant when it comes to questions about ideal girlfriends, what he would do in situations with girls and other similar “date” questions. Sometimes even the other members jump in to answer for him. For me JK is the one in the group who tries to avoid these types of questions the most, and it seems to be more of a pattern than just happening from time to time.

You also have examples of JK using attributes that can be seen as masculine when answering about his ideal type like “fit” or “muscular” or clothes that aren’t particularly feminine.

He’s said that he doesn’t want to get married and the way he swerved the “celebrity crush” question with “i know her face, but I don’t know her name” etc. is just one good example of how he often tries to not answer these types of question at all. Something common in LGBT people to not have to lie is simply to try and not answer these kinds of questions. Basically he has a lot of “cop out” answers or copies what the others have said or something very impersonal.

He also support a lot of LGBT+ artists and though it’s nothing strange and he’s not the only one I think it counts. He sings Fools by Troye Sivan and specifically recommended his Blue Neighborhood series, in particular the last song, which if you watch the video is obviously about a gay couple. Back in 2015, Jungkook shared the song "MEMO" of Years & Years and it’s also a song about a man who is in love with a closeted man. JK also say the lyrics of the songs he listen to are important.

You have his song with Namjoon where he sings “Cause I love you boy”, even though it’s for fans it’s still a love song where he uses boy (and I know it doesn’t have to have meaning, but it’s small stuff like this collected together).

I honestly also think we shouldn’t ignore Golden Closet, even though I know he did literally live in a closet. Again, obviously things like this could be nothing, and there aren’t a lot with any members. They would have to be very careful and obviously can’t say much if they are part of the LGBT+ community, so I don’t think we can find any real proof for any of their sexualities. 

In general I haven’t seen much that point at JK being specifically straight either, so I am not going to assume him to be either. We also need to remember that showing interest in one gender doesn’t mean you can’t also be interested in others (which is why I personally see Namjoon seems to like women, but I still suspect he isn’t fully straight).

There are many small things like this, just how Big Hit or other members show small hints of LGBT+ support and even use things in the story lines or “gay rights posters” in Danger etc. Things you won’t notice unless you look for it. There are many other examples, but I don’t really feel like talking about it much more, especially as it’s focused on JK.

In the end we don’t know and this is my personal guess. I could definitely be wrong, and that’s fine, but at least to me JK seem to lean more towards being non straight from how I interpret him.

Thanks for the ask, and sorry for the very late reply. Some of you might have no interest in this kind of post at all, but I still kind of wanted to get it out of the way. Again, you don’t have to agree, it’s all just different opinions and speculations after all. I hope you all don’t find this post too unfitting for my blog, I promise it’s not something I will talk about a lot. As for about my thoughts on Tae I might talk about that more at some other time. Hope you found this reply ok. ^^’’’

[disfordevineaux]

I don't know if you've done this before. But, do you have any Chase headcanons about his childhood or early teens? I'm kinda curious about how my favorite disaster boi could've been like back then 🤔

Chase childhood/teen/early 20s headcanons

I actually answered an ask I will link HERE with a little bit into what I think about his whole ‘growing up’ situation, if you can even call it that. I’ll delve a bit deeper into my hcs but I recommend you read that post I linked. It establishes my thoughts on his childhood to where a lot of these hcs will spawn from. So essentially this is a Part 2 of my Chase childhood headcanons. Going to focus on his late teens and early 20s.

As stated in my previous hcs Chase was an ‘orphan’ until his uncle (his mothers older brother) who magically showed up to adopt him for the government checks. His uncle was a long haul fisherman or something along those lines. This is where he officially received his last name of Devineaux once again.

I have a feeling his name wasn’t originally Chase. That being most likely his middle name or one he came up with which he changed to be his first, either shortened from something or just as is. He seems like an Alexandre to me. He would have negative connotations towards that name and preferred to decide a name a for himself rather than keeping the given name from a mother or family who didn’t really want him. He would have changed it once he left home.

No matter the living situation he was in, there wasn’t a lot of money around and if there was it wasn’t shared with him.

The majority of his teen years or the years that sculpted him into who he is now were in a town North-West of Paris along the coast. Somewhere like Dieppe, a fishing-port town.

You’d think by looking at him as an adult he was a bully or one of those ass hats at school who tried to be cool by being a dipstick or forcing a ‘class clown’ motif. In reality, he did everything in his power to blend into the shadows as he hated school, especially the social aspect of it.

Still, he was a sarcastic little shit when needed.

Spent a lot of his time outside or working dead-end jobs. Sometimes couldn’t return home or had to get into his house through a window instead of the front door.

Didn’t have many valuable possessions but had many crazy experiences like witnessing a flock of birds attack a drunk man, and won.

Was strangely optimistic about his future. Couldn’t get any worse than this, yeah? Yeah, it can and it will buddy.

Did watch Footloose religiously and intensely enjoyed it. *Wink*

He was reasonably good at school and tried to fast track it and graduate a year early. His application was accepted even with the few blemishes on his school academic report thanks to a few fights he partook in.

He was best at literature, English studies and writing in general. He was the top English and writing student and once even tried joining the drama club but the second he walked in the door he was instantly annoyed with everyone inside and did a full 180 out of that hellscape.

He then tried out for the sports clubs and teams but didn’t have time between work after school.

Chase actually made a friend during his last few years at school who managed to be the school’s main weed dealer (Chase draws chaos to him enough said). They actually were a good duo and Chase developed a serious attachment to him. His friend had a lot of money thanks to his business and often would get Chase to be his ‘bodyguard’ when selling to older clients.

They were both weird guys with different levels of intensity over random things. Both had that ‘dudebro’ vibe who would listen to Abba but in reality, the type of dudes who sit right next to each other in a hot tub, no need for 5 feet apart.

Somehow both comfortable with their sexuality which is refreshing. But, that won’t last long :(

They never got to really developed their relationship further before Chase left but it was a silent agreement between them that they liked one another on a physical and emotional level. They rekindled and I guess, ‘officially’ date when in the Air Force when training together. (Lovers in the military trope don’t @ me it fits him PERFECTLY.)

He and his friend were actually going to join the Air Force together. And they did. Chase first and his friend later.

Dude did some stupidly impulsive shit. Especially once he had a friend. Antics? Yes, many. Young, bored lonely boys with repressed feelings do stupid shit to fill the long hours. Jumping off things at high speed? Yes. Buring stuff? Yes. Smashing stuff? Yes. Listening to Green Day? Unironically, Yes.

No doubt they once burned down an abandoned house while trying to hotbox in one of the rooms. Nearly replicated the incident with the school DURING CLASS in the janitors closet. Boys just wanna get high and kiss okay?

Chase was born strong physically but mentally? Nar. Could fight a bear but would crumble under an anxious moment.

Never wanted to appear weak. It was what everyone expected but he never backed down from a fight or rivalry to his detriment. Stood up for himself no matter the circumstance. He always stood up for his boyfrie- SORRY I MEAN FRIEND.

He was an angry guy, mostly because people constantly tested his patience and intelligence and his home life was always a tense situation where there was no time to be soft or delicate.

Did get into many fights with one particular guy during school and out of school hours.

He was an attractive teenager. I like to think (like is a strong word) he was targeted by this one particular asshole because of their pent up feeling towards Chase. Chase either rejected his advances which set it all off or you just got that vibe from all their exchanges. Either way, at one point the tormentor made his feelings cryptically clear and Chase made sure they weren’t reciprocated.

One particular final fight between them, Chase wound up with a bat to the face which broke his nose badly.

The nose never really healed the best or back to how it was originally. This was something that scared him forever, becoming more resentful and unable to let things go. A lot more guarded from then on.

Chase used to be the pretty buff tall boy but the nose downgraded him to just a tall buff boy who has hints of a pretty boy in him.

Worked a few jobs during most nights. Needed money, mostly supported himself financially. Worked as a dish boy in a local restaurant and at the cinema as a cleaner. He always seemed to get the cleaning jobs.

Chase used to skateboard. He was pretty good at it too.

He started smoking young, around 15-16. And thanks to his companion, would often smoke weed supplied to him by his friend.

Loved going to the dentist when he could. He started eating those strong cheap dusty mints when he smoked as it was a cheap form of keeping his breath fresh after he smoked. Also, he thought it made him look cool and ended up getting addicted.

He wasn’t a joyless kid or teen, He just wasn’t one who smiled a lot.

Chase never really trained for his driving license. He just went for his test at the police station. They made him drive around the block once and they just gave it to him.

Chase: the aspiring pilot.

Chase wanted to be a pilot ever since he was young, specifically the French Air Force. No real trigger set that dream in motion, he just liked the idea of piloting a high-speed plane and seeing the world from up above. Moving fast is his ultimate goal.

He studied and prepared early to join the École Militaire de l'air (Military Air Force before it folded into the Air School). But you have to be over 18 and with his plans to complete school early, he would spend the year until then in basic military training, then would transfer over. All of this was to increase his chances of being accepted along with the examination, which he passed thanks to his passion for it.

Of course, things don’t always go to plan and even though he was on a path to graduating early a huge final brawl broke between him and a longtime bully halted this.

He had always fought with him specifically and this time, after years of building it all up, it hit the fan.  The incident put a hold on his plans and wasn’t able to graduate a whole year early.

Fast track forward and due to home pressures and school weighing him down he decided to just leave school and home and when he left, as one last ‘fuck you’ to his tormentor, his friend helped him break into his house and stole his car and drove it straight to Paris, abandoning it in the countryside just before. No one ever knew it was him and it is by far his greatest victory, as he knew how much he loved that car. Major mood. Chase was tempted to push it off a cliff in spite but couldn’t find one.

Chase still went into the general military before transferring to the Air Force once over 18 and acing his entrance evaluations.

Chase and his ‘friend’ managed to get in at the same time. Que, LLLLLLLL LOVERS!

They made sure they were in the same dorms, ‘classes’ and that their schedules lined up. They even swapped around so they had the same duties.

Chase thrived and was a great pilot. He achieved his pilots’ license and began working his way to completing the 2 years here then moving on to a higher position. His friend focused more on the engineering courses.

For someone spontaneous in an impulsive way, he liked the regimented schedule. It gave him purpose and meaning

Chase ended up getting kicked out after a massive brawl incited by an argument with another cadet about the particular notion of his relationship with his ‘friend’.

It was made clear to him such behaviour receives no second chances and was forced to leave, meaning he never officially completed his 2 years and was never allowed back in the foreseeable future.

Chase was desolated and once again hardened by this turn of events.

His 20s in a nutshell

Chase sought employment in the police force thanks to his military origins. He did, in fact, complete the basic military training aspect so he was a front runner for the police force.

He needed a job as all his money was wasted on a fruitless dream.

Spent the first few years of his police force employment as a ‘beat cop’ until his arrest numbers/success and work availability sought his promotion to a detective quite early in his 20s.

Chase was used to working full time and all the time at odd hours from very early on. He started his work career young.

They say you have 10 years in the prime of your career and Chase used that up instantly, shooting up the police then detective ranks fast due to how hard he worked, non-stop. His obsession and dedication with keeping busy and solving cases made him unmatchable.

Chase was physically skilled despite his smoking habits and mentally quick too, even if he acted dangerously without foresight sometimes.

He was very successful as a detective. It was his true calling

Chase has seen some nasty things and is a very good shot with a handgun.

Has he killed anyone? You decide. Personally? Yes, obviously. This has never and will never phase him.

He has been through so many police issued cars he now gets the second-hand cars due to how reckless he is.

Perused criminals with crazy car chases even when he was just a lowly beat cop. It got worse when he became a detective.

No doubt he kept and took home case files (sometimes even evidence) and didn’t give them back even when he became an Interpol liaison. He worked on those cases, he solved them, they are his. He keeps them all either at his apartment or in a storage unit.

Work became his life. His only vice.

Opted out for a partner as it wasn’t a department regulation just a personal option if wanted. Don’t need someone wasting his time, slowing him down or possibly taking away his shine.

Developed obsessive tendencies.

Detective work is competitive. You end up running around trying and fighting to get the best brutal murder homicide case as it will look great to your superiors. It was all a race to see who was the best. Chase was one of the best thanks to having no outsider life to distract him.

Somehow Chase wasn’t a suck-up his those above him. You would think he would be but Chase just enjoyed working and solving, completing things.

You are measured by your achievements and you have to be sure of yourself and your capabilities to survive in the race.

For work that was on the outside very heroic and selfless. Most detectives he worked around and ‘with’ were selfish, heartless and egotistical. The successful ones were anyway. Chase one of them.

He hated them all just as much as they hated him.

Ended up not caring for normal citizens and fellow employees disdain for his abrupt nature. Developed a superiority complex as a result.

But he remained composed and well mannered when dealing with victims and witnesses.

He was very susceptible to the alluring nature of the egotistic know it all.

All of this aged him rapidly. I have no doubt he is only in his early to mid-30s (in the show) but has aged himself visibly with unhealthy working hours and lifestyles.

(I’m not going to go too deep here as at this point I might as well insert my dam fanfiction. I have a whole story planned for what I think his detective days were like. I’ll give you a hint, it’s dark.)

Final relationships.

In regards to his love life? Don’t have one. One night stands? Eh, maybe very occasionally but he isn’t the sort of person to get wrapped up in such things. He is very professional and despite being touch starved he can live without physical relationships easily. They also make him uncomfortable now due to certain events.

His ‘friend’ asked for Chase to wait for him, that once he was finished in the Air Force his partner would come find him. Chase did for the entirety of his 20s and pretty much would for his entire life. First loves are hard to forget.

They only met up again once when Chase was in his late 20s and his friend no longer felt that way towards him or that kind of way anymore. He had a family. Chase sort of understood that his lover realistically would have moved on and blamed himself for not looking for him instead. He became obsessed with his success with work after all.

He couldn’t comprehend why his friend would finally contact him after all these years just to tell him he didn’t love him anymore. He always assumed it was to tie up loose ends or to make fun of him for waiting. To hurt him.

Chase was physically and mentally devastated to say the least. Especially when the last interaction they ever had was his old friend handing him a goddam conversion camp pamphlet.

This really dragged on and I’m sorry I really went off there. I hope it was at least relatively what you were after.

[failing-to-write-again]

Germany x Ireland!Reader: Snow Storms and Confessions

Ok so the plan was to post another scenario and write two more yesterday. But Tumblr did an oopsie and deleted everything.

Every cloud has a silver lining however, my friend sent me this gem of a find and all I could think about afterwards was this story. I was going to write them as scenarios but I found it difficult to imagine situations for the other characters.

So here's a different story. A one shot...goody.

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

*Ireland's POV*

I sat there cold and alone in the Russian airport terminal. My flight cancelled due to the violent snow storm outside and no hotel room to go to. All the other countries had already left, the usual flights to Ireland weren't available. Just one at 10pm when a blizzard was due. Russia didn't exactly give a direct response when I brought it up...

*flash back*

"Little Ireland! You are feisty small one, you're lack of fear is amusing."

"I'm not being feisty I just want to know why there's none of the usual planes to my country. I don't want to end up caught in the blizzard"

"Она умнее, чем выглядит...I don't involve myself petty plane issues. Perhaps this is fate, you believe in a lot of those magical fairy tales no?"

she's smarter then she looks

"Она также говорит по-русски. Что ты прячешь?"

she also speaks Russian. What are you hiding?

*flash forward to present*

Just before I could pry, Germany got the meeting started and I was left to get to my seat and ponder over Russia's behaviour. He's a strange study for sure.

Germany was as well. We became properly acquainted in the early 1900s only labelling ourselves as friends around the 70s when I joined the early version of the EU (then EEC). He definitely is a layered character, and even though he is sweet once I became closer with him, he seems to still be hiding aspects of his personality. But enough about that I'm cold and have to figure out where I'll sleep tonight.

"Ireland? Vhat are jou doing here?"

Speak of the devil and he shall arrive...

"Hey Germy, my flight got cancelled and it was the only one available, my hotel booking also ran out so I'm just sorta stuck here haha."

A rather enjoyable shade of red spread across his face at the mention of the nickname. I'd do anything to see those little cracks in his tightly woven character. Anything to see the little smiles or chuckles, the crush I'd developed over years of friendship pushing me to.

"V...Vell mein flight vas cancelled as vell...vould you like to share a hotel room vith me? I still have an extra day."

Panic.

"I wouldn't be against it, but you probably would like to not share a room so I understand if you don't want to and everything. Thanks for the offer though"

"Nein it's fine I don't mind ve're friends ja? It's ok!"

The air is so fucking uncomfortable. Big brother France is looking on in disappointed from Paris. I just know it. After a few more rounds of pitiful back and forth we agreed we both were ok with sharing a room and set off, chittering throughout the walk.

*[insert timeskip joke] Germany's POV*

Ireland was in the bathroom getting ready for bed as I sat mentally preparing to sleep beside her.

At some point my feelings of friendship began to be replaced with... love as Italy put it. I thought I was ill whenever my heart would flutter like a manly butterfly near her. After voicing my concerns to my brother and Italy, bruder proceeded to have a laughing fit. Italy took the time to gush about love long enough for me to come to the conclusion I was in it.

Ireland. She's not perfect by any means and we've had our fair share of arguments and disagreements. Though we always manage to work then out. Would it be the same if we were dating? I would be living in a dream if that was true...

The door opened and in she came. In the shorts she wore for sleep her false leg was on full display. I remember helping her make it, replacing the standard wooden one for a metal one with upgrades bring added whenever we visited eachother or were together in our free time from longer summits. The leg, essentially fully functional due to her use of spells and my use of metal. Light blue swirls, famous for their use in her history giving off a slight hum in the dark room, dancing up and down the metal limb. Gott she was an angel.

"That meeting left me a wreck." She stifled a yawn, lowering herself slowly to the bed beside me. The blue began to fade slowly as she stopped using magic, bleeding up her leg until disappearing once it reached the end of the metal at her upper thigh. "How does it vork?" I lowly hummed.

"The magic I use to move the leg? It's a weird mix of electricity and telekinesis. I use the electricity to stimulate the metal wires and pistons you put into it and use the telekinesis to make it move in a more natural way. I just wish it didn't glow, it makes it impossible to hide"

Hide? Why hide it? It's beautiful...is it inappropriate to say that out loud? I settle on a less invasive response.

"Why hide it? The blue looks like the tattoo you always joke about getting?"

She went quiet did I go to far? No she always said when I went too far same as I always did if our discussions on my...past got too vivid...She continued.

"When I lost my leg, I lost a part of myself. The image of the country who would fight anyone to be free, that had the confidence of countries ten times her size, it was gone. I kept up the act in letters and statements acting like the leg didn't phase me...Then I got to finally see my siblings again. None of them were allowed near me after one of my attempts for freeedom out of fear I'd help them escape or convince England to go rogue against his boss. They watched me struggle to do anything, they watched me have to ask for help to move, they watched me weak. It's been hard adjusting...then..."

She took a deep breath and looked up. Something she often did when trying not to cry. I gently lay a hand on her back and put on the calmest voice I could.

"Then vhat? Take jour time, I know it's difficult, but please tell me vhat happened?"

"I met someone. They helped me without even realising it. They slowly built up my confidence in myself, taught me how to laugh and smile like I used to. Obviously my family helped but the help from this person stuck with me more I suppose. He built me up, tried to help when he didn't have to."

He. My world slowly shattered and fell around me. So she has somebody else. Someone better. Someone who can show her all the love they probably expect being raised by someone like France and England.

"Oh...vill jou tell me more about him?"

She let a slow smile spread across her face.

"He's kind and sweet but covers it over with a stiff outer shell. He has many talents...so many talents. He's amazing really, but one thing in particular is what I think made me fall for him."

"Vhat vas it? That he did"

I was probing. I was pushing too far into her private life. If she never spoke about him in all our years of friendship, she had a reason not to. She's a damn ex-spy and rebel leader she knows how much to trust people. But...I didn't care. I wanted to know. Needed to. I had loved her for years only for her to slip away the moment I had started working to con-

"He built me a new leg. Then he called it pretty and sleek and said he liked the blue the magic made on it."

Oh...this was...not what I expected. I was the one who built the leg...she knows that...she...she...

"Ireland I..."

I slowly pulled her gently, she was straddling me so I could look into her eyes.

"Do jou really. But vhat I've done. How could jou?"

"Fall for a lovable human being? It's rather simple. I'm just hoping you'll give this amputee a chance."

She looked at me hopefully through her eye lashes. At that moment I realised why us Germans aren't seen as great romantics. We're better at doing, not speaking. So do I did.

I kissed her. Pouring every piece of emotion I felt for her, because of her into it. Desperately trying to show her how much I cared regardless of how bad I'd be at saying it. And it was bliss. My pulse was racing faster then any of my, no Germany's, F1 cars.

She was with me, not my country, not my people, ME. And I'm going to be selfish.

Her soft warm lips, pushing against my colder ones. Tasting like that brand of chocolate she loves mixed with the minty taste of toothpaste. Her arms, laying around me neck, playing with the hairs on the back of my head. My arms, pulling her closer filling every gap between us I could find. I was in heaven, kissing an angel, and I wasn't going to give it up for anything. The entire world could be damned so long as she was in my arms. Everything Italy, France, Spain, Bruder, and all the other countries preached about love suddenly clicked. I loved her. I never wanted to leave her side. I wanted to be her hero, her Ritter (knight), her lover.

And by the way she was kissing back she wanted to be mine.

*POV switch*

HOLY FUCKING SHIT HE'S KISSING ME!

HOLY FUCKING SHIT I'M KISSING HIM!

AAAHHHHHHHH!!!

I barely thought of anything else, all I could focus on was getting drunk off his kisses. He was kissing me like the world was ending and I loved it.

At some point it went from me in his lap to beneath him on the bed, staring into icy blue eyes.

"vell..." He drawled "ve have a hotel room, a snow storm. no ozher countries on zhis floor, or anyvone for that matter until tomorrow. and a very horny country. vhat do jou suppose ve do Ms.Ireland?"

I spoke before my mind could think. "Well Mr.Germany. A second, equally as horny country is beneath you so the real question is...Was wirst du dagegen tun?

What are you going to do about it?

Snap.

"Ich heiße nicht deutschland Ich heiße ludvig" he growls out. Responds very well to German if the kisses are any proof.

My name isn't Germany. My name is Ludwig

I leant up to whisper in his ear..."Es ist gut zu wissen, was ich später schreien werde. Ich bin (Y/N)."

It's good to know what I'll be screaming later. I'm (Y/N).

I hear a growl before my hands are held above my head with kisses attacking my neck...If this was Russia's plan for only having only one flight home then he's getting cookies next meeting.

*both POV*

Thank God/Gott for snow storms.

[blancheludis]

Fandom: Marvel, MCU, Avengers Characters: Tony Stark, Steve Rogers, Clint Barton, Natasha Romanoff, Thor, Bruce Banner Tags: 2012 Avengers, Team Bonding, Miscommunication, Enemies to Friends, Team as Family Chapters: 8/? Wordcount: 41.872

Summary: It was supposed to be a mission without surprises, but then a building collapses on top of them and traps them underground.

Tony is hurt but doesn't tell anyone. Steve just wants Tony to give a damn for once. And Clint, who cannot run away from their bickering since he broke his leg, just hopes they do not kill each other before they get him out of there.

---

Tony earns himself some weird glances when he arrives for dinner early that day. He comes marching into the kitchen with a smirk and a box that he drops unceremoniously on Clint’s plate. Without comment, he looks over Bruce’s shoulder at what he is cooking, then saunters over to his own place to bury his nose in a tablet while he waits.

He is aware that Thor, who is leaning against the counter while he chats with Bruce, has been frowning at the dark shadows under Tony’s eyes. Worse, when Steve comes in, he actually stops in the doorway to take in the scene. He does not say anything beyond a hoarse good evening so Tony guesses they are good.

Things become more interesting when Clint and Natasha arrive.

“Tony,” Clint exclaims. His voice still holds a bit of a strain, as if he is not sure talking to Tony is worth the chance of them arguing again. “I thought you had fled the country when we walked by the workshop and no one was there.”

For some reason, Tony is touched by Clint coming to look for him again, no matter how the last time ended. He is not used to that. Rhodey has been suffering his moods for decades now but has always been prone to giving Tony room. Pepper, on the other hand, is not one for a tactical retreat. She might be all cool and professional to him for a while, talking about nothing but business, but she never let Tony chase her away.

Clint does not have any history with him. Once, they saved the world together and now they are essentially roommates. It is strange to find him care.

“You’re bringing Natasha now to threaten me into submission in case I don’t want to come?” Tony quips, careful to keep the bite out of his tone. He realizes that he should not have taken his frustration out on Clint.

Face brightening, Clint steps farther into the kitchen but stops across from Tony. “Easier for everyone around, yes? She doesn’t make a mess if she doesn’t want to.”

Tony refrains from saying that an arrow to the heart would not make much of a mess either. It is not a thought he has put much effort into. Out of everyone at this table, he thinks Clint would be the least likely to snap and leave nothing standing in his wake.

“She’s also not discriminating who she’s going to beat up if you two don’t behave,” Natasha interjects dispassionately as she makes her way to her seat. She sounds almost bored by the prospect.

Tony shares a grin with Clint. It feels natural, as if they are meant for friendship, if only their conscious mind would not always set them back again. Curiously enough, Tony finds himself longing for it with an acute urgency sitting heavily on his chest. Barely being able to breathe is nothing new to him, courtesy of the arc reactor, but it is usually not because of something he wants.

Tony wants this. This team, these people. He wants the easy camaraderie with Thor. He wants to know that Natasha watches his back not to stab him but to protect him. He wants hours flying by unnoticed when he is in the lab with Bruce. He wants to fall into a rhythm with Clint where neither of them has to think twice about getting too comfortable. He wants to be friends with Steve, simple as that.

This is not only about proving his worth anymore, about making up for his mistakes. All his life, Tony has been searching for a place to belong. He has made room for himself wherever he went, commandeering everyone’s attention by being brighter and louder and smarter than everybody else, but at the end of the day, he was always lonely. This team has become more than another chance at redemption. With each passing day, it looks more like this could be home. Tony has always wanted a family.

“What is that?” Clint’s voice rips Tony out of his musings. He has stepped around the table and found the box on his plate, staring down at it with the wariness of one who likes playing pranks and therefore expects them in return.

“It’s a new explosive arrow.” As soon as the words are over Tony’s lips, Clint opens the box and takes out one of the arrows, twirling it in his fingers with obvious glee on his face. “It goes boom. Don’t point it at any of us.”

Because Clint has never been prone to listen to anyone, he spins the arrow until it points directly at Tony. “Did you make me an apology arrow?”

Tony would have preferred to do this in private, but he guesses this team could profit from things done less often behind closed doors. It would not surprise him if Clint was very vocal about his anger over Tony’s behaviour the other night. If Tony does not want to destroy all the progress they have made, a public apology might help.

“I guess you prefer this over a letter,” Tony says, just barely managing not to sound dismissive. He is acutely aware of the rest of the team watching them.

“Next time, I’ll take both,” Clint remarks offhandedly. His grin, though, shows too many teeth to appear innocent. “Or, you know, you could use your words.”

It certainly is a new experience that Tony can hurt people by leaving them alone, by taking himself out of the equation. Up until now, he thought Pepper and Rhodey are anomalies.

“I was trying to not provoke you into shooting me with your new toy,” Tony smirks. Talking usually gets him into trouble.

With careful fingers, Clint replaces the arrow and closes the box, nodding at Tony in thanks as he stashes it to the side. When he is back at his seat, his expression is a little more serious.

“Perhaps you should just put up a sign when you don’t want to be disturbed,” Clint says once he is seated.

It would have been too nice if they could have just let this topic be. They argued, Tony apologizes the way he knows best, surely that is enough. “The door was closed, Barton,” Tony replies dryly. “That’s usually a good indicator.”

Next time, he just has to initiate lockdown. The problem is that Pepper always finds out if he spends too much time locked up there. Tony has no particular interest in discussing the reasons with her. She has never liked talking about his nightmares since they usually remind her of hers.

“It’s your workshop,” Clint says slowly as if this is news to anyone at the table, “where things blow up all the time. I’d very much hope you keep the doors closed. What I mean is, tell me to go without the yelling.”

Tony pushes down the urge to answer something scathing. He had told Clint to go. Several times.

“Perhaps I should have a look at your hearing aids then,” Tony quips with just enough sharpness underlying the words to warn Clint off, “since they’re apparently not doing their job.”

For a moment, Clint sits straighter but then visibly relaxes his shoulders with a grin, inclining his head to indicate he is not going to start another fight. Next to him, Natasha wears a private smile, barely visible if one does not know where to look.

With their conversation out of the way, a little more life returns to the kitchen. Conversations start, Bruce orders them to help with getting the food on the table.

They are all still trying to figure out each other’s moods and quirks. Tony will learn to keep his doors closed instead of going on the attack. Perhaps he will even find someone to distract him from his bad moods. Sometimes, Natasha takes him sparring. Sometimes, Bruce and he talk.

The Avengers are still a work in progress. Luckily, Tony is not one to give up.

Steve stands in front of Tony’s workshop, far more nervous than he ever was before entering one of the recruitment offices, chanting his chosen fake name inside his head, determined to be picked this time. Something about Tony Stark is more terrifying than the prospect of fighting a war. It feels the same, at times. A constant uphill battle where the ultimate goal is not even in sight yet.

That said, things are getting better. Steve is not sure he deserves any credit for that, but it is like all of them have decided to just become more patient with each other. Especially since Clint and Tony’s argument last week. Whatever it was about, that new explosive arrow design helped smooth things over.

If anything, Steve now feels like the odd man out. Natasha is following Clint’s lead and has softened her edges. Bruce and Tony are working better together than ever. For the first time ever, Steve sees the wariness in Tony’s eyes whenever they meet. It is buried deep but grows whenever they argue. It is not that hard to admit that Thor has been right. Steve does not clash with Tony just because they have differing opinions. Tony does not disagree out of spite. They really do not know how to deal with each other. Steve is here to begin to change that.

Well, he has been here for ten minutes already, standing in front of the closed door. No matter his inner resolve, his hand refuses to knock. He has already refused JARVIS announcing him, so he is stuck.

Without warning, the door is ripped open, revealing Tony. While he is wearing his working clothes, his face is one he usually dons for the press, a mixture between blank and smirking, drawing in attacks without letting them through. It is as if Steve’s mere presence has Tony preparing for a fight.

“What?” Tony snaps by way of greeting, then almost hesitantly changes course, “What happened?”

Before he came down here, Steve has prepared what he wants to say, a nice little speech designed to keep them from stumbling into yet another misunderstanding. The moment he is faced with Tony, though, all those words vanish from Steve’s mind.

“Nothing happened,” Steve says quickly.

He instinctively takes a step forward in case Tony decides to close the door in his face. In response, Tony raises an eyebrow at him.

“What have I done wrong then?” Tony asks, crossing his arms in front of him.

The impossibility of their situation has Steve almost giving up. Ever since that first meeting on the helicarrier, they have been like this, expecting an attack and ready to counter.

“You’ve done nothing wrong,” Steve says.

He fights not to wince when Tony’s smirk grows. “That must be a first.”

Steve is sure this is meant to be provoking and he feels the immediate annoyance rising inside him, but he is here to forge a new path instead of walking their old one for the thousandth time.

Consciously relaxing his tense shoulders, Steve says, “I’ve been told repeatedly now to ask you about Afghanistan.”

Amazed by his own inability to stay on course for one whole minute, Steve almost misses the deep rotted misery flashes over Tony’s face before it closes off.

“And now you want to get it over with like a bothersome chore,” Tony drawls. “I get it.”

This time, Steve cannot find a single excuse to blame him for his tone. He is sure he would react worse if someone came to him and wanted to know about the Valkyrie out of the blue. Especially since Steve must be the last person in this tower that Tony would want to talk about is trauma to.

“No, I –” Steve shakes his head in frustration. “It’s like everything I say to you comes out wrong. It’s also hard not to make wrong assumptions when I know so little about you.”

“So I’m supposed to spill out my sad little life story to you, so next time you yell at me you can say something that actually hurts?” Tony scoffs. His expression tightens, making him look like he is one wrong word away from hitting Steve with the door after all. “Just a thought,” he adds in a scathing tone, “you could try that thing where you don’t assume the worst of me just because I exist.”

That is fair. Looking back, Steve can see how he did that every time Tony did, well, anything, whether he went off-script during a press release or changed plans mid-battle or just minded his own business in his own home. Steve likes to complain that people like Tony Stark are everything that is wrong with the future, but in a twisted way, Tony has become a sort of anchor for Steve, something to hold on to in this new century, even if it insults his sensibilities.

Taking a deep breath, Steve explains, “I would like to know so I can be aware of situations that are difficult for you even when you don’t want to say anything.” Remembering their misadventure in the lab, he adds, “Preferably before we get thrown into them.”

“Then read my file,” Tony says dismissively. His face remains twisted into something off-putting but his posture otherwise loosens a bit. “Natasha wrote it. It’s a fun ride.”

Steve knows about Natasha spying on Tony and not recommending him for the Avengers. That is not the main reason he disliked Tony from the very beginning, but it played a big part. If someone trained to read people assessed Tony as unfit to be a hero, Steve’s own feelings on the matter could not have been that wrong, after all.

“I want you to tell me what you’re ready for me to know,” Steve reasons, He thinks mentioning that he has read that file will not get them anywhere. “I’d hate to make things worse for you. I want us to trust each other.”

In the silence that follows, Tony stares at Steve like he has grown a second head. Internally, Steve has to agree with the incredulity he displays. Trust is a very far-fetched wish. Perhaps not laying into each other every time they meet would be a more sensible goal for now. Withdrawing now would only make things worse, though, so Steve keeps his face earnest and does not budge.

“If this is a heart on heart,” Tony finally says, obvious mocking in his tone, “I suppose you’re going to tell me all about yourself too?”

He looks smug, like he is sure he has won this argument, like he expects Steve will just clench his jaw and leave. Steve is so tempted to give him that, to turn around and tell Thor that he tried, at least. Instead, he inclines his head as if Tony’s request is completely reasonable. Perhaps it is. Trust is a two-way street after all.

“What do you want to know?” Steve asks, careful to keep his eyes on Tony, both to show he is serious and to not miss Tony’s reaction.

Tony does not disappoint. His eyes widen just a bit before they narrow. He looks at the empty hallway behind Steve as if he expects someone to jump out and call “Prank.” When nothing happens, his expression solidifies into something harder.

“How close were you really to my father?”

Taken aback, it is Steve’s turn to stare. He has expected a lot of things, accusations wrapped in insults or Tony hitting Steve’s insecurities with one well-placed remark. This, however – there is something raw on Tony’s face, making his question seem like it is an honest one.

Steve is very aware that he is still standing right out in the open. Normally, the hallway in front of the workshop is not a place where he would expect people showing up all of a sudden. Clint has developed a habit of coming here fairly often lately, though. This is not the right place to open his heart, but he can hardly ask Tony to let him in. This feels like a test.

“We weren’t –” Steve begins, resolved to answer Tony’s question to the best of his ability. It is not as easy as it seems. “I mean, he helped me out quite a lot. He made me my shield. He flew me into an active war zone once. He offered me shelter. He was a good man.”

For all that Steve has spent his first weeks after meeting Tony for signs of Howard in him, his relationship with the older Stark was not actually that close. Steve’s years in the war were a whirlwind of struggling to do what is right and survival. He has made meaningful friendships there, but Howard was not the type to sit around a campfire and share stories. He was always aiming to impress, which he certainly managed. Steve owes him a lot, but that is basically the farthest they ever got.  

“All my life, he compared me to you. I was never measuring up, of course,” Tony says, the light in his eyes fierce. “He made it sound like you two were the best of friends, off saving the world together. He was always so disappointed that I was just human, while you, apparently, didn’t have any flaws at all.”

Immediate protest jumps to Steve’s lips to defend Howard. Looking at Tony, though, he realizes that this does not sound awfully much out of character. Howard might have always been good at recognizing the value of things, but he has never been a man of the heart. The few times they talked about love and possible families were mostly spent with Steve gushing about Peggy without ever actually mentioning her name. Howard had been curiously impassionate about that topic, although Steve remembers the word legacy coming up.  He has never thought much about it since they had a war to fight.

“I didn’t know that,” Steve says quietly. “I’m sorry.”

He has meant for that to stop a possible argument before it can begin, but Tony does not look mollified, like he has been expecting a different answer.  

“Don’t apologize for my father’s failures,” Tony says, distinct irritation in his tone. “The thing is, he told me you wouldn’t like me. And then, the first thing we do after meeting for the first time? We lay into each other. We do everything short of starting an outright brawl. If not for Loki’s brilliant timing, I’m sure we would have gotten there sooner rather than later anyway.”

“That was the sceptre’s influence,” Steve says slowly, even while he is trying to process why Howard would sow discontent between his own son and a man who was reportedly dead. It does not make any sense, but Tony sounds upset enough that Steve does not question it for a second.

“Was it, though?” Tony asks, taking a small step forward as if to underline his argument. “I was already sure you’d hate me, and you were looking for signs of Howard in me. We were meant to clash.”

Put like that, Tony has a point. They never met each other from neutral positions. SHIELD’s introduction to the future alone had biased Steve.

“That doesn’t mean we can’t do better now,” Steve says, willing himself to believe it. That is the whole reason for this little standoff; to start over. “You’re not your father, and I’m not just Captain America.”

Steve is sure Tony will say no. He looks like he already has a rejection on his tongue, ready to hurl it and cut Steve out of his life for good. For the first time, that thought has regret rising in Steve.

To his utter surprise, Tony closes his eyes briefly before nodding his head. “All right,” he says. He still sounds like it is an undesired chore, but Steve will take what he can get. “J, schedule a retelling of my sob story for tonight. My room. Take a nap, Cap, and bring some popcorn. It’ll take a while.”

Not waiting for an answer Tony does close the door in Steve’s face now albeit gently so. For a long moment, Steve remains rooted in space. This conversation went better than he expected, even if the worst part is still ahead of them. Pinching the bridge of his nose, Steve realized that he has to leave and build up enough courage to meet Tony again tonight. As if one time was not bad enough.

Just yesterday, though, he stumbled over Clint, Tony and Natasha sprawled over the couch in the living room, laughing loudly. He left before they could spot him, but their faces are burned into his memory. When he thinks of Tony smiling, he sees that shark-like thing Tony likes to throw at reporters, full of boundless confidence and the certainty that he is meant for higher things. This, however, has been different. Tony’s eyes had been bright, his face was curled into comfortable wrinkles.

Steve knows he will go to Tony’s room tonight and do his best to find an amicable way forward for them. Because, just once, he would want for Tony to smile at him that way.

Something is wrong. Clint notices that before he has even fully stepped into the kitchen. The only other person already there is Steve and he looks worn out, going through the motions of preparing breakfast with a far-away look on his face.

“Good morning,” Clint greets loudly, managing to startle Steve. While this would usually bring him satisfaction – everyone not named Natasha has a hard time trying to sneak up on their good Captain with his enhanced senses – it falls flat since Steve only mutters something under his breath and goes right back to mechanically scrambling eggs.

It is a mystery, and one that does not bode well for the team. They are slowly falling together, but another crisis, no matter of which nature, could set them back immensely. Clint does not ask, though, not immediately. People have nightmares and bad days. That does not mean their careful truce has to come apart.

Slowly, the rest of the team filters in. Natasha appears and drains Clint’s coffee before she goes and gets her own. She picks up on Steve’s mood immediately but does not say anything either, and merely throws a questioning glance at Clint. Bruce and Thor come in together, discussing what sounds like Asgardian tech. Of all of them, their friendship might have been the most surprising, considering Bruce’s rather shy and Thor’s boisterous nature. The more time passes, the more obvious becomes that it fits them.

Tony’s seat stays empty. That in itself is not very surprising. Their resident genius has never heard of a healthy sleep schedule or the concept of eating three meals a day. Sometimes he comes into the kitchen looking both wired and exhausted after an all-nighter to drown himself I coffee. Most of these days, Clint is sure he goes right back to the workshop. Other times, he sleeps until noon and is still cranky when someone dares to wake him.

He is very much unpredictable, and normally, Clint would not have paid much attention to Tony’s absence – they had lunch together the day before, so he has not holed up long enough to go blazing in with food and lectures. Steve’s behaviour, though, puts a new light on the scene. Every few moments, Steve’s eyes slid to Tony’s empty seat, which is just about the only interaction he has with anyone in the room. Otherwise, he just stares ahead and puts food into his mouth without sense or order.

Something, Clint decides, is definitely wrong. Just because he prefers to hit his problems with arrows until they go away does not mean he cannot be subtle, though, so Clint waits patiently until everyone is done eating. Then he looks meaningful at Natasha, inclining his head just so in Steve’s direction. Nothing changes in her demeanour, but, just a moment later, she herds Bruce and Thor out of the room under some excuse about training or some mission. Clint does not exactly listen because he is busy staring at Steve, who looks like he has not even noticed their departure.

“What’s going on with you?” Clint asks, turning in his seat to fully face Steve, who whips up his head, visibly surprised at being talked to.

“What do you mean? I’m fine,” Steve says, frowning when he sees they are the only ones left in the kitchen.

With some impatience, Clint clicks his tongue. He wishes they could just skip the games. With two spies on the team, one old god, a man used to being on the run, and one taught to manipulate people, few secrets actually remain so in this tower.

“You’ve been jittery all morning,” Clint explains slowly, “watching the door as if you were waiting for a horde of doombots to fall in and devour us right there.”

For a moment, Steve looks like he would prefer that over talking to Clint. “That’s a disturbing image,” he says, aiming for a dry tone. “Also, JARVIS would have alarmed us if there were intruders.”

“Not my point,” Clint dismisses simply. “Stop trying to change the topic.”

Again, Steve’s eyes stray over to Tony’s empty seat. It is probably too much to ask for subtlety from someone walking around clad like the American flag.

“I –” Steve briefly bites his lower lip, avoiding to look at Clint. “I talked to Tony last night.”

Clint feels doubt pooling in the pit of his stomach. Those never just talk. Not without insults flying or battlefields being torn apart. “And the tower is still standing?”

A small frown appears on Steve’s forehead. “We didn’t argue. I asked about Afghanistan, as you advised. We just – talked.”

Clint very much hopes Steve did not open his line of questioning by mentioning Clint is responsible for it. Otherwise, all the progress between him and Tony might be destroyed. Again. “And?”

“And what?” Steve asks back, sounding almost irritated. That is not very promising.

Leaning forward, Clint asks pointedly, “Did you pressure him into it? How was he when you left?” Since Steve’s face darkens with each word, Clint adds with some humour, “Can we expect mum and dad to stop arguing so much?”

“I believed him,” Steve says with deliberate firmness.

Disappointment spreads through Clint. This was not the right answer. Questioning whether Tony’s trauma actually happened has never been the intention behind nudging Steve to take an interest in his teammate’s stories. This was supposed to make things better, to help them understand each other more.

“I hope that’s not all you took away from that?”

“No. I mean – He’s such a good actor. There is nothing in his file about it, and Natasha’s report too shows him as he was before.” A degenerate and careless billionaire then. “But the way he talked about it – I guess he should be more messed up.”

“He’s a Stark,” Clint says, unsure whether he wants to say that this means Tony is hereditarily a mess or that he just cannot allow himself to seem like one, no matter how he truly is. Leaving every party drunk and with two women in his arms might cause shocking headlines, but in the end, that is what people expect from Stark, what they want to hear. Actual trauma, PTSD – that is still not something publicly discussed. More so, Tony likely does not even admit suffering from it to himself.

Steve looks down at his empty plate, rearranging the cutlery with a thoughtful expression. “How do you know about all of that?” he then asks, sounding lost.

Clint could almost pity him for that. “None of us knows all of it,” he says. “I’ve never had a heart-to-heart with Tony either. It’s just obvious something bad happened.”

Then again, perhaps it is not. Steve lived in a way and never got to go home afterwards. The forties were not exactly a time where people could get help for dealing with trauma. Back then, soldiers went home and had to get back to their lives. And if they did not, it was them who were faulty.

“You didn’t know him before,” Clint continues, knowing Tony’s playboy times will come up sooner rather than later. “I’m pretty sure a lot of his flashiness then was an act to, but one he lived fully. Afterwards, it wasn’t just SI’s weapons division that burned. Tony has a lot of issues. Some of them you could write down as a rich person’s quirks, but not all of them and not with how quickly he developed them.”

Clint wonders whether Steve is now cataloguing all the little tells that show Tony Stark is absolutely not fine, no matter how easily he seems to pretend. There are the fake smiles that have become so much sharper, and the instinctive motions to protect the arc reactor whenever he is in an argument, and the way he always fully faces an enemy although he must have been taught to always give an attacker as little chance to land a hit as possible.

Judging on the frown Steve is still sporting, though, leniency towards Tony’s character is still a way off.

“Why doesn’t he tell anyone, then?” Steve asks. “If he has changed, why does he keep up the act?”

The hypocrisy of that has Clint wanting to hit something. He almost wants to snarl back and remind Steve of how much he is not talking about his problems either. Everybody knows about the picture of Peggy Carter he sometimes takes out before a fight, or how he likes to sit up on the roof of the tower, too close to the edge, or how he spends their time out carefully not looking at how New York’s skyline has changed.

Nobody on this team knows how to deal healthily with trauma. Nobody just talks about it. Just because Tony’s life is much more public then theirs, much flashier and unforgiving, does not mean that he should get pressured by his own team on top of the rest of the world. No one cares for how the rest of them deals with their shit as long as they function out in the field. Tony, though, has to get up and face the masses. No one ever said being a Stark is easy.

“Tony has more than himself to think about,” Clint finally says, unsure how to make Steve understand that. Where he comes from, media coverage was nothing like it is today. One wrong word now and so much of one’s lifework can go up in flames. “How he acts and holds himself has an influence on his company and thousands of people working for him. He can’t just take a break from being himself. He can’t just become someone else.”

“He did, though,” Steve argues. “He stopped making weapons.”

“And Stark Industries only survived because Tony worked day and night to keep it afloat.” When Natasha came back from her assignment at SI, she had been impressed by that, by Tony’s willingness to run himself ragged for his company despite his obvious character flaws. “If he had changed who he is at the same time, neither he nor the company would have had a chance. People knew two things back then: that SI makes the best weapons and that Tony Stark is an incorrigible playboy.”

Clint understands the concept of masks, he grew up in a circus, after all. He does not particularly like it, nor does he have any patience for it, but he sees how they can be useful and necessary at times. Also, Tony has been donning his less and less when in Clint’s presence. That helps.

“Clint,” Steve says suddenly, sounding urgent, “what are you afraid of?”

The question catches Clint off-guard. They are talking about Tony here not him, and especially not about what Clint might hypothetically fear.

“I very much hope this is not how you started the conversation with Tony,” he replies dryly, buying himself time with a joke. “But in case that is, in fact, how you’re doing this, please let me be there when you ask Nat. It’ll be fun to watch her take you down.”

Steve does not smile. “No, I mean now. You’ve been disliking Tony for the longest time too, but now you’re defending him the loudest.”

Holding in a curse, Clint stares hardly at Steve. He is so tired of this, of walking in circles. Being thrown together as Fury did to them might have not been easy, but it is long enough, and they have done enough good, that it should not be too much to ask for them to just suck it up and become a team already.

“Tony’s still an asshole,” Clint says slowly, “but underneath that he is kind and loyal, and he deserves getting backup from us.”

Deliberately not looking at Steve’s reaction – because it might come to blows if he sees any doubt on Steve’s face, and contrary to public opinion he is not reckless enough to initiate a fistfight with a supersoldier without his bow or Natasha nearby – Clint gets up and gathers some bread and left-over pancakes on a plate.

“Where are you going?” Steve asks, sounding surprised that their conversation is cut short. Clint thinks it has been going on for far too long already. He is not the type to explain everything in excruciating detail.

“To check up on Tony,” Clint says, rolling his eyes because that should have been obvious. “He’s the kind to bury his trauma. Spilling his guts doesn’t help with that.” He knows that intimately.

“I didn’t think –” Steve starts but Clint is tired of this.

“You’ve got us for that,” he interrupts with fake cheer. “You keep pointing us at where we need to hit stuff, and we’ll do the picking up again afterwards.”

He only realizes that might have been a bit harsh when Steve’s face falls. Things are not perfect, but Steve is trying, Clint has to concede that at least. They are all more or less stumbling around attempting to make this work. He is not going to offer an apology, but perhaps he will hold his tongue next time.

To his utter surprise, Steve gets to his feet too, expression morphing into something cautious. “Can I come with you?” he asks quietly. “I mean, you’re right, someone should probably check up on him. And I should –”

Make more of an effort, Clint thinks but does not say it. Instead, he shrugs. “Suit yourself. Might do you two some good to have a buffer for your enormous egos there with you. Pack more of those pancakes. I’ll take the eggs.”

[magical-sim-girl]

SSFF Challenge 8 - Introducing Myself!

Hello! I just wanted to introduce myself since I’m still a bit of a newbie in the Simblr community, and @simblrsimplyforfun challenge 8 was the perfect excuse! So here we go =D

This is me! ^^ 🦄💕 (in a quick selfie without filters xD I hope I haven't scared you 😂)

Introduce yourself, your name, age, where you live etc. What words would you use to describe yourself and why? What words would others use? Tell us some childhood stories that you think show who you are.

My name in real life is Ailén, but my pen name since the age 13 is Piper, nowadays most of my friends call me that name and I’m really more comfortable with it, so please just call me Pip or Piper! ^^ I’m 19 years old and I live in Buenos Aires, Argentina 🇦��

I can describe myself as a kind person, I love meeting new people, to debate about random things with them and listening to them speaking about what they like or their plans, I’m very creative but sometimes I just run out of inspiration 😂 I’m also very affectionate! I love hugging people I appreciate and telling them I like them. Other people... I don’t know, I can’t speak for everyone 8′D but I guess they also see me as affectionate, sometimes even clingy, I act goofy at times (you can see it mostly when I talk, I tend to finish my sentences with ‘ahre’ a lot, which is an Argentinian expression to state you’re just joking), so I guess they think I have a good sense of humor as well, I love making people laugh 😄 I’ve also been called ‘cute’ or ‘adorable’ more than once and I’m proud of it! 😄💕

About my childhood... I dunno it was pretty normal, although I got bullied from 5th grade to second year of high school :( it was tough, I even developed depression at the age of 14 due to the lack of friends and the constant name-calling and pranks, but I don’t know if it would be okay to talk about it since that was on my teen years... Overall, my childhood was okay, I used to be a curious little girl, I loved to wear pink dresses or skirts xD pink was always my favourite colour c: 💟 At the age of 8 I was forced to attend English lessons as an extracurricular activity, and I ended up loving it! I’m currently teaching this language to my bff’s aunt and I’m planning on studying English at university to be a teacher ^.^ I also had a fascination for women as a child, I always created female characters for my stories, or played girl barbies with my friend, nowadays I’m a feminist and always try to defend my fellow women c: (as long as it’s an unfair situation for them, ofc) ♀️💕

Write a little about your simming time. How do you like to play your game? Which style of blogs do you like? Who are your main characters and how did you come up with them? Do you tell people in RL you are a simmer?

I learnt about sims when I was in 6th grade I think, but didn’t take interest on it until sims 4 was announced, so I started palying when I was 15 ^^ I love playing legacy style, and also use the game to take nice pictures (I’m still learning how to edit, it’s quite fun but also time-consuming ;; ).

I follow all the simblrs who follow me tbh ^^ but I love simatography blogs! Maybe one day I’ll learn how to do proper edits and poses, and then I’ll become a simatography simblr 😂

Main characters... I don’t really have, my favourite ones though are Anine and Kyung-soo. Anine was the result of a frustration night *shot* I didn’t use to have much confidence on my sims, so I put all of my effort on her, I really like the facial features of Nordic women, so I decided she’d have Nordic origins, and ended up loving her so much that I posted about her ^^ as for her personality, I didn’t have a slight idea of how her behaviour or characteristics could be, but by that time I was kind of obsessed with Overwatch, and all of a sudden imagined her in a D.Va cosplay thanks to zauma’s CC, so I thought the best was giving her a gamer/otaku likes, and her personality in general is really based off mine, she’s a happy-go-lucky girl in her late teens, always friendly and willing to help people. I had the idea of making an Asian OC the night I went to Monsta X concert, and that way I created Kyung, he’s kind of a frustrated idol lol, he’s got a really tragic story involving being rejected by his parents, friends and entertainment gorups, but is always smiling and tries his best to make people happy, kind of resembling the life of a kpop idol, who only wants to see their fans happy despite of having a tough life uwu

And yes, I usually talk about my strange obsession with sims with people, they don’t see it as something productive, but luckily I’ve never been judged badly because of it. Maybe my mum thinks it gets extreme at times, but I try to balance simming with real life activities :3

Write about your time on tumblr. Maybe some nice stories of the people you met. How you got started. How long have you been on here? What has been good and bad? What kind of things have your learnt? What kind of things do you think you can help other simmers with? Any nice stories from here? Do you still have your first sims?

(I didn’t know if I should have talked about Tumblr in general or the Simblr community... So I made a summary of both just in case)

I started using Tumblr when I was 14, my best internet friend had a blog by those times and encouraged me to make one as well. I was starting to get depressive by those years, so most of my posts or reblogs were about “dark” things (I deleted that blog long ago, lol), so Tumblr was like a safe place, where I could speak my mind out without getting judged, I even met some people who suffered the same illness as me, and they always supported me and gave me strength to keep going on (unfortunately I’ve lost contact with them :c)

Regarding Simblr, I joined in at the beginning of 2018 I think, I wanted to share my ideas with people, but I was too shy then... It was thanks to the SSFF challenges that I started getting out of my cocoon and talking to simmers, and I’m so glad I did! The people I met are lovely and I’m really happy to have them now ^^

Things I learnt are lots of... From meshing or modding, to social values. I mean, it’s always good to have basic knowledge of informatics (it helps a lot, especially where I live), and I’m very grateful for all of those tutorials who taught me so many things. But I learnt one thing or two about people in general, I always used to put words into others’ mouth, I always thought they didn’t like me because of my looks or my behaviour, that they thought I was weird; now, I understand that they might be like me, they’re simply too shy to talk, and I won’t know what they they actually think about me if I never go and say ‘hi’; and now thanks to that ‘hi’ I met wonderful people, people who are creative and won’t judge me... That’s the most precious thing I learnt 😊

I don’t think I could help other simmers from a technician point of view, but I’m always here to talk and share my little knowledge, I love hearing other simmers’ ideas (one of my best friends irl isn’t a simmer, but loves to create OCs and stories, and I’m always there to listen about them c: ), suggesting some other things for their stories, etc. I think I could offer more of a friendship than technical help, but it’s something as well! 😂

And yes, I keep my first sims! In a folder so full of various saves that I must erradicate someday *shot* I had them for three generations, if I remember correctly, the legacy began with a pink-haired sim named Jenna, she married a vampire townie from Bridgeport, they had a daughter, Emilie, Emilie married a townie from University, who was a Plantsim, so they had a plantsim daughter, Wynn, Wynn had an imaginary friend named Percy (who’s also a fairy) and they’re now in University, they’re a couple. I made such a chaos when I was 15 xD

Write about the people you have met here. Do you take part in discord chats? Met anyone in RL? Which simmers influenced you? Do you do RPs?

I don’t take part in discord chats, I made a discord user a few days ago but tbh I don’t use it a lot ;; I’d love to be in a server tho, it’s just that I don’t talk much when I’m in a group ^_^’

I haven’t met any simmer irl, I’d love to, tho! It seems to be a little hard to find simmers where I live 😂

The simmers that influence me the most are marshmallowsims, gruesim, theseprettylittlepixels and lehma! I want to develop my own style though, they’re my biggest references and hope to inspire people as much as they do someday ^^

And I’ve never done RPs, but I’d love to do some! Actually, I’m working on an AU with a sim of nonsimsical ‘s, it’s really fun to plan, and I hope I can do more of them in the future ^^

I think that's all. I want to add that you can always come and say hi! 🖐🏻💕 we can chat about sims or whatever you like, and also, if you got any other question for me or for my OCs (although their character sheets are still pending ;; ) don't hesitate to ask 😊

PS Excuse my horrible English ;;

[jestbee]

Us, As Told by Other People

Written for the 28+ Phandom Meetup, this fic grew too long for me to finish in time. But here is it. 

(~8k, pining, smut, getting together, friends to lovers) | [AO3 Link]

Big shoutout to @killingmeitsso2yearsago​ and @adorkablephil​ for listening to me rabbit on about this one. And to @cosmicphandom2k16​ for hosting the meet up that inspired me to write this. 

Summary: People make a lot of assumptions about Dan and Phil, but what happens when Dan starts believing some of them. You can’t actually ship yourself with your best friend, can you? 

Or: the five times Dan was guilty of over-thinking things, and the one time he wasn’t.

i.

It starts as an accident. Mindless scrolling turned into lurking on fan blogs, turned into making an anonymous blog in order to like things so he could save them and… well, it all just sort of fell apart from there.

It was weird, being told about your life by the internet, and he found it strange how so many things were just accepted to be true on there. Apparently his daddy kink was alive and well but also, more worryingly, in certain corners of the web the question about whether he and Phil were an item wasn’t even being asked. It was just accepted as fact.

The ‘proof’ was the worst. A long list of behaviours that apparently proved, beyond a shadow of a doubt, they were an item. Stood too close, let their gazes linger too long, moved in each other’s space without thinking. They were too close, too forgiving of each other’s presence, too much, too much of everything. And the trouble was, Dan started to notice it too. He saw patterns and meaning in the everyday where he hadn’t before. Prompted by the insistence of unknown people on the internet with his own face in their display pictures, he started to question everything.

“God, I barely slept at all.” Phil said, moving into the kitchen with tiny, uncoordinated steps.

“Yeah?” Dan said, pulling mugs from the cupboard.

“Yeah. Don't know why, I was really tired.”

“Why are you awake now then? Go back to bed.”

He watched as Phil reached for the cupboard above the oven and pulled down the box of cereal.

“Heard you up and about.” Phil shrugged, as though that answered the question. He yawned and began pouring out cereal.

Dan simply hummed in response and moved around Phil to get the milk for the coffee, closing the cupboard door Phil had left open in the process.

When he was done with the milk he slid it across the counter top to Phil.

“I was thinking we could get lunch at that weird noodle place after the meeting today.” Phil was saying as he poured milk. “I can't believe they did strawberry noodles, what even is that?”

“Sounds good.” Dan said, distracted now.

Phil was babbling about the meeting and unusually flavoured noodles and all Dan could focus on was that somehow, without needing to be asked or discussing it first, they had made a small division of labour.

As they left the kitchen Dan had a coffee in one hand and a bowl of cereal made by Phil in the other. Similarly, Dan had made coffee for Phil without even thinking about it.

They moved around each other with practised ease, sinking into the couch at the same time, putting on anime they'd been watching, picking up from the last episode.

It was troubling. Was it troubling? Perhaps Tumblr had just got in his head. There was nothing wrong with having a comfortable routine with your housemate. They were best friends after all.

He tried not to believe that Phil, despite lack of sleep and the want to be curled up in bed, had gotten up just to spend time with Dan. Just because this was their routine and he didn't want to miss it.

He tried to convinced himself, but when Phil nodded off on the couch once breakfast was finished, curled in on himself, head tipped towards Dan, it wasn't as easy to believe.

ii.

It wasn't just Tumblr. Dan started noticing people they actually knew making assumptions too.

“Hey, where's Phil?” he heard someone ask.

“Over by the bar,” Dan responded without looking up.

“Thanks, I knew you'd know.” There a giggle. A small one. It shouldn't have affected him the way it did and yet…

“What do you mean I'd know?” Dan whips his head up to see a sheepish Jack Howard hovering by his elbow.

“God, Um.” Jack looked shocked at Dan's response, hand coming up to cup the back of his own neck. “I just meant, well, you always know where he is.”

“I don't… I…” Dan frowned. “Not always.”

“Okay Dan,” and the smile was back in place, awkward moment seemingly passed. “You know better than I do. Always losing the other half of my duo. I've got no idea where Dean is, probably causing a ruckus somewhere. Maybe I should know. Fuck. I'm going to get blamed for it aren't I?”

Dan laughed, because that was the appropriate response. He was only slightly perturbed that he’d referred to them as a ‘duo’ at least it wasn’t ‘couple’. Jack comparing them to him and Dean just meant a comparison to a working partner, nothing more. “You'd better find him then.”

With a final good natured laugh Jack was gone, disappearing into the crowd. Sure enough, he caught up with Phil who was stood chatting the bar. Dan couldn't consciously remember how he'd known that, they'd been separated as soon as they'd entered this party so God knows how Dan had known where he was. Was he that conscious of his friend’s movements around a room? Tracking him in his peripheral vision all the while?

Dan caught Phil's eye as he looked up and felt a weird sinking sensation in his stomach as he smiled. He couldn't explain why.

Instead, he downed the drink in his hand and went to order another one, because it was easier than thinking about it.

Later though, drunk and loose in the taxi home, he couldn't help but ask.

“Do you know where I am?”

Phil's eyebrows knitted together and he didn't even verbalise a response, simply tipped his head in a manner that suggested Dan wasn't making much sense.

“I mean at parties and stuff, do people ask you where I am?”

“You mean on the rare occasions we're not stood next to each other? Yeah, sometimes”

“And do you know?”

Phil looked confused again.

“I mean--” Dan attempts, swimming through the thick fog that has descended over him.

“Yeah I know what you mean, I just hadn't thought about it before.”

“Oh.”

“I mean, I guess I do. But I suppose it's because I know I'm going to have to point you out or drag you into a conversation eventually so it saves time, you know?” he laughs, “I didn't even know I was doing it.”

“Me either.” Dan admitted, satisfied with Phil's reasoning behind it. “Is it weird?”

“No,” Phil shrugged leaning back in his seat, “We're like, business partners, most discussions I have at work things like that will involve you at some point.”

“I guess you're right.” Dan nodded. “But, just, go out sometime this week okay? And don't tell me where or when you're going.”

Phil laughed good-naturedly. “Sure. If it will make you feel better.”

He reached out and patted Dan's leg reassuringly and Dan, alcohol-fuzzy and slow, stared at the spot Phil's fingers had touched the whole way home.

And Dan thinks it will be fine. Until Phil is on his way out of the door on Wednesday and Dan shouts goodbye down the stairs followed by “Say hi to PJ for me.”

Phil blinks up at him and grins. “Sure. But Dan? That's a little creepy.”

“I know,” Dan says as the door swings shut, “I know.”

iii.

It keeps happening. It's not even the big stuff, that's the problem. Because as much as Dan could try to curb his behaviours with the most obvious stuff, it always ends up being the unconscious little things that resonate the most, that make him question things.

The way they reach out to each other, touch without thought. The press of a hand to a arm to get the other’s attention, gentle pushes against the rib cage in response to a joke, consoling palms swept gently across shoulder blades in times of stress. IT’s all too much and it makes Dan aware of his body, calculating the space left between them and wondering if it’s too much or too little for any given situation. He used to be able to work it out easily, now it seems he’s lost the skill, finds himself drifting closer. But Phil doesn’t mind, or if he does he hasn’t said anything, but Dan knows it’s probably only a matter of time.

Other people though. Other people making assumptions is what really sends Dan’s brain into overdrive. It’s easy to notice when the fans do it, but it never occurs to him that people in their lives do too.

It sneaks up on him, when his phone rings in mid January.

“Hello?”

“Dan,” Louise says happily, “Hey sweetie. I'm just calling to find out about Phil's birthday.”

And maybe he's being thinking too much, and he's definitely been on Tumblr too much because instead of simply telling her he says “Why would you assume I'm doing something for Phil's birthday?”

“Well, aren't you?”

“Not the point.” Dan mumbles, dropping down on his bed. “I resent the assumption.”

“That's a weird thing to say.”

Louise won't ever let Dan get away with things, she's always calling him out on his bullshit.

“Sorry,” Dan apologises, “I am doing something for Phil's birthday, party round here. I'll text you the details.”

“What's going on, Dan?”

Dan stays silent for a moment but Louise gives him the space, doesn't let him off the hook.

“I just, why do people always assume things about me… and Phil?”

“Assume things? I don't… I mean, I hadn't thought I was assuming anything. What has brought this on?”

“I don't mean you.”

“Then who? The internet? Because honestly you sort of bring that on yourselves. It's been your branding for years and you really do mess with them a bit.”

“No,” Dan says hurriedly, “I know, I don't mean that. The shipping and stuff, when it's ridiculous and made out of nothing. I get that, it's just…”

“Daniel Howell, exactly how much time are you spending on your Tumblr tag?”

“Not alot.”

“Really?”

“Okay. But sometimes I think… like, when they point stuff out that I didn't even notice, you know. Sometimes…”

“You believe them? Dan, that's ridiculous. You can't start shipping yourself.”

“Ugh. I know.”

“Well then.”

“I just mean, it's easy to start reading into stuff when you're given situations from a third party perspective. There’s only so many loops of gifs I can watch before I start believing their interpretation of that moment. It’s just so easy to get swept along.”

Louise hums in agreement. “It is. But, tell me, do you want it to be true?”

Dan is silent.

“Dan are you reading all of this in to it because you want there to be some truth to it? Are you hoping?”

“I…” He snaps his mouth shut for a second, frowning into the phone. “I just want to know why everyone assumes things. Like, it's just expected that I'm the one doing Phil's birthday thing.”

“You're best friends.” Louise says, “Sure, you're closer than most but, that's just who you guys are. It's doesn't have to be any more than that. Unless you want it to be.”

Dan takes a deep breath and, in a rush so that he doesn't lose courage, finally let's out the thought he'd been holding in. “I don't know if I do.”

“Well I can't answer that for you hun.”

“I know. I've just never even thought about it before but now… every little thing. Why is it so difficult?”

“I don't think it has to be.”

“How?”

“Well, you know. Stay off Tumblr for one.”

“Obviously.”

“And,” Louise says with a sigh “Talk to Phil.”

“Lou…”

“I'm serious Dan, it's the only way.”

“I’m not even sure what I'd say.” Dan admits, “I don't even think it makes sense to me.”

“Yeah,” Louise sympathises, her voice soft and lilting “I know. But you're the only one that can work that out.”

“Right.” Dan says standing up from his bed as if willed into action. “Less of this, it's stupid. It's all just too much Tumblr and not enough sleep. Honestly I don't even know what I'm going on about.”

“Okay,” Louise says, but she doesn't sound like she believes him.

“Party. Here. Weekend of Phil's birthday week. I'll text you.”

“Right, thanks Dan. I'll see you then.”

“See you.”

Dan stands in the middle of his room for a moment, adrift in the middle of his carpet. He knows he should let it go, it is just over thinking and absolute nonsense considering that he hadn't even noticed any of this before. But he can't shake it, the little voice in his head that keeps asking what it all means and whether Phil thinks about these things too and whether any of it is normal. He's aware of himself at all moments and he can't be at ease knowing that his unconscious actions might mean something more than he'd originally intended them to. Especially when he can't be entirely sure that he hadn't meant them on some level.

“I know what you're up to” comes a voice from the hallway.

“Shit Phil, you made me jump.”

“Sorry,” Phil grins.

“What do you mean you know what I'm up to?”

“The party. I hope it wasn't supposed to be a surprise. If so, you're pretty crap at keeping it.”

“No,” Dan says, “Not a surprise. I just hadn't gotten around to sorting it yet. You didn't have other plans did you?”

“No,” Phil shrugs, “I just kind of assumed you'd be…”

Dan wonders how much of the conversation Phil heard and what he might have discerned from it.

“Oh, yeah. Of course. I am.”

Somehow it doesn't make him feel weird when Phil assumes, he feels warm. His face could be flushing but he isn't sure.

“Good. And don't worry, I don't know anything else about it. I only caught the end of your conversation there.”

“Good.” Dan nods, “That's good. But, it's not a surprise. You can have anything you want.”

“I trust you.” Phil smiles, soft and small, “You'll sort it.”

“Yeah,” Dan says, smiling back “I will.”

iv.

Dan knows he’s really reading into it all when his over-thinking brain thinks Phil’s mum might be in on it. Of course, she has always been accepting of Dan, drawing him into the tight circle of their family without comment. There is always a spot at their dinner table, and Dan has always been grateful.

So he tries not to bat an eye when Phil is on the phone to his mum one lazy evening and says “Yeah, he’s fine.” and “I’ll let him know you liked it.” and “Yes mum, do you just want to talk to him?”

He probably shouldn’t assume that Phil’s mum is talking about him but, who else would it be?

Phil gestures with the phone a few moments later in Dan’s direction and removes any doubt. Dan accepts it in silence because it's normal, or it would be, if he could just stop overthinking everything.

“Dan,” she says as soon as he gets the phone to his ear.

“Hello.”

“Tell that son of mine that you’re coming up next weekend will you?”

“I am?”

“He hasn’t even told you has he? I don’t know what I’m going to do with him. Always forgetting. Yes, cousin Rita’s birthday. Not Phil’s cousin, not even my cousin… come to think of it I don’t know whose cousin she is.”

Dan laughs slightly, trying to keep up, catching Phil’s eye on the other end of the couch. Phil stretches his legs out and wriggles his toes under Dan’s thigh. That’s new.

“Anyway” she’s continuing, “We’re having a party and I told Phil that of course you’re invited. He says that you wouldn’t want to come but I said of course you would. You would, wouldn’t you Dan?”

“Err… yeah.” Dan swallows, feeling how cold Phil’s feet are against his leg. He’s only wearing pyjama pants and Phil hasn’t got socks on and for God’s sakes it isn’t like this is in any way a strange situation but Dan can’t stop focussing on the sensation of Phil’s toes pressed under his leg. “Of course I will.”

Phil is looking at him intently and Dan shrugs.

“If that’s okay” Dan adds, mostly for Phil.

“Well of course it is,” she says in a rush, “It’s been ages since I’ve seen you both. You really should come to visit more often. We miss you, you know.”

Dan laughs, but he isn’t sure it really sounds sincere, because he’s pretty sure that isn’t normal. Since when did people’s parents accept strangers into their families so readily? The Lesters were warm and inviting people but this was a stretch, thinking of Dan in the same breath as thinking about their son.

“We’ll see you next weekend.” Dan reassures and watches Phil’s eyebrows shoot up.

He says his goodbyes and hangs up, passing the phone back to Phil.

“Did you get the guilt trip too?” Phil asks, removing his feet from Dan’s leg.

“She mentioned she hadn’t seen… us in a while.”

“Yeah. I try to get up every few weeks but, we’ve been really busy you know?”

“I know.” Dan nods as Phil twists in his seat to flop down on the couch.

“We really should visit more often.” Phil sighs. He lands so that the top of his head is now pressed where his feet were, crown brushing Dan’s thigh. “So you’re coming to the thing?”

“I mean, not if you don’t want me to.” Dan clarifies, resisting the urge to put his hand in Phil’s hair. It comes from nowhere and he vows to stay off Tumblr tonight, because this is getting ridiculous.

“No, of course I want you to… I mean, whatever, you might as well.” Phil shrugs, “I just thought you wouldn’t want to.”

“Why?”

“Because it’ll be boring, it's just a family thing. A small thing for a distant relative. I don’t know…” he trails off and Dan can see the genuine look on Phil’s face. “We have to go to that panel thing with the BBC the next day.”

“I’ll come.” Dan insists, “Like you said, I haven’t seen your mum in ages and… well it’ll be good to get away won’t it? Besides, the panel is up that way, we'll be closer if anything.”

“Yeah,” Phil says, closing his eyes, “It makes sense really.”

“Yeah.”

--

When they arrive at Phil’s parents’ house the next weekend they are greeted with hugs and Dan is quite swiftly passed a drink of something strong.

“Drink it dear,” Phil’s mum says in a conspiratorial whisper, “You’ll need it.”

“Oh god, I will?” Dan says, making his eyes go wide and trying to stop the rush of affection he feels for this family.

“Cousin Rita,” she says glancing up at Phil with a knowing look.

“I told you.” Phil says with a slight grimace.

“Just ignore her,” Phil’s mum says, “She won’t be told.” She swipes a hand across both of their shoulders, dusting off invisible lint. “You both look so handsome.” she pinches Dan’s cheek and reaches up to pat Phil’s head. “I’ve put you both in your room Phil, go drop your stuff and come and mingle, there’s a lot of people that want to say hi.”

With that she wanders into the party leaving Dan wondering who won’t be told what.

The rest of the evening passes quickly and with so many small awkward encounters that Dan is fairly glad that Phil stays by his side so that he doesn’t have to waste any more of his brain’s capacity subconsciously tracking him around the room. He still hasn’t dropped the habit, however much he told himself that he would.

When they meet the infamous Rita she announces loudly, to the room, that it is so good to finally meet Phil’s ‘special friend’. Dan thinks he could be reading into the elderly relative’s proclamation a little bit, due to his recent rumination on the subject, but she proceeds to explain that her new neighbours are ‘two lovely gay gentleman’ but that Dan and Phil make a ‘much more handsome couple by far’ so Dan’s pretty sure that he was spot on with his interpretation.

Dan is mortified, red in the face, but Phil gets him another drink and pleads with his eyes for Dan not to say anything.

Similar conversations happen with a number of Phil’s relatives who seem to be under the impression that because Dan and Phil live together that they also live together. Phil doesn’t seem to want to cause embarrassment for relatives he won’t see again for a long time so he doesn’t contradict them, and Dan doesn’t either.

The drinks keep coming and Dan is warm and Phil is leaning somewhat by the time they get some space. Dan has dropped his guard and has let his mind run wild with speculation and as he accepts yet another compliment on how happy Phil looks, and how lucky he is to have a friend like Dan, he begins to let himself imagine that it’s true.

It’s innocent at first, and he doesn’t mean to, but as he replies with “I’m quite lucky too” he catches Phil’s eye. His friend smiles shyly and nods a little and Dan almost thinks he might be going along with it.

They don’t outright agree to play along. But it happens anyway.

They drift closer, as if they’ve been maintaining a sort of distance between them up to now and have finally relaxed the tension. Their shoulders brush, fingers gravitating to a lower back to move the other through the crowd. Hands brush as they pass each other drinks, lips brush the soft shell of an ear as they lean close to speak over the music and Dan lets himself just, be.

It is the most free he has felt in a long time and suddenly, he feels as though he doesn’t want to go back to leaving that gap between them.

Phil slips a hand into his on the way up the stairs once the party is over. They are both a little worse for wear in the drink department and Dan can excuse the hand holding with the fact that they both sway against the banister.

“That was mad.” Phil says once they reach his room. He drops Dan’s hand and sits on the bed, lifting a leg to pull off his shoe. Dan tries not to feel disappointed at the loss.

“Completely mental” he agrees instead.

“Shit,” Phil says as his shoe flies off with too much force and he is propelled backwards on to the bed.

Dan lets out a loud raucous laugh, bending at the waist. Unfortunately, this only serves to tip him forwards too and Dan falls face first on to the bed beside Phil.

They laugh together for a few moments, shaking and rolling on the bed so that they move closer. Soon, the thread of what they were even laughing at disappears and they are simply looking at each other, matches grins gracing their features.

“Tonight was mad,” Dan repeats, “but I had fun.”

“Me too.” Phil agrees, reaching out a hand to cover Dan’s where it is spread on the duvet between them. “I liked… not having to contradict everything all the time.”

Dan’s eyes must go wide and he feels his lips part.

“I mean,” Phil corrects, “There is nothing to deny, of course. I mean… it was nice not having to worry about it all the time. To just let people think whatever the hell they want.”

Dan nods slowly, lets his eyes slip shut and blames the drink for what he says next.

“Do you ever… have you ever thought about it?”

Phil goes silent for a moment and Dan almost thinks he might have fallen asleep.

“I’ve thought about it.” Phil whispers finally. “Have you?”

“Yeah,” Dan admits, “Sometimes too much.”

“I don’t want to talk about this.” Phil announces.

Dan freezes when feels Phil roll away. It’s only when he hears Phil continuing to get changed that he dare move, safe in the knowledge that Phil hasn’t left the room because Dan has pushed this too far.

“We need to go to sleep.” Phil says, insistent and final, and Dan drags himself up to get changed too.

They finally climb into the bed beside each other, which in itself should be weird but the alcohol is lending a pleasant sense of ‘not-giving-a-fuck’ to Dan’s brain and he’s thankful that he doesn’t have to overthink this one right about now.

“Thanks for coming to the party,” Phil says as they drift off to sleep, flat on their backs on separate edges of the bed.

“Thanks for having me,” Dan says, and he means it.

He loses himself to thinking a few minutes later, imagining what it would be like to always have conversations like he did tonight, to always let the space between them dissolve, to collapse the boundaries they’ve built up, to fall asleep next to Phil like this every night. Thinking of this, he finally sleeps.

v.

The next time it is pretty much his fault. He hadn't checked the travel plans for the panel closely enough, hadn't really thought he'd had to because this was the BBC and he's so sure that they know what is and isn't going on in the world of Dan and Phil that it hadn't crossed his mind.

But it turns out, whatever unknown person in a random office somewhere who is responsible for booking hotels has either been vastly uninformed or is an actual shipper because as they drop their bags on the hotel room floor they come to the slow realisation that there is only one bed.

“Well,” Phil shrugs, “Here we go again.”

“Is this becoming a weird pattern?”

“Nah,” Phil says.

“Should we say something? Try to switch rooms?”

“I mean, it doesn't bother me. We should probably drop it into conversation at the radio station at some point but… does it bother you?”

“No,” Dan says and realises that it doesn't, really. “It doesn't.”

“Good. Right, panel. I think some of the others are meeting in the hotel bar for coffee before we head over, you want to go down?”

“Definitely.”

It turns out this thing is bigger than he'd thought and there are even Americans. Which means there is even an awkward encounter with Cat to navigate. He's thankful for the coffee in his system to make it tolerable but less thankful that Phil gets dragged away within minutes of ordering it.

“Hey stranger,” Cat says, cheerful and loud in his ear.

“Hi Cat.”

“Long time no see.”

“Yeah, busy times huh?”

And while it's true, they both know that isn't really the reason.

Somehow they've found themselves separated from the crowd, perched on the end of a table while everyone else is in conversation with each other.

They talk for five minutes before she asks.

“So,” and she flicks her hair out of her eyes distractedly, “Any gossip? Potential love interests? Come on, what's going on with you?”

“Nothing,” Dan insists. “Definitely no love interests.”

“You sure?”

“Come on Cat, when does that ever work out for me?”

“It will,” she assures him.

Dan purses his lips for a moment and really does try not to ask. He hears the words falling from his own lips before he's made up his mind to say them but once it's happened he's fairly intrigued to know the answer.

“Why didn't it ever worked out with us? You know, just so I can get a handle on where I'm going wrong.”

Somewhere across the room Phil is laughing at something Hazel Hayes is saying and Dan feels a grin on his own face. Phil looks up, catches Dan's eye and smiles. He tips his head as if to ask if Dan's okay and Dan just nods.

“It's Phil.” Cat says bluntly.

“What?”

“Phil… is the, you know, reason.”

“You like Phil?”

Cat laughs, it's warm and not at all mocking. “No.”

“You don’t like Phil?”

“Phil is literal sunshine, I defy anyone not to like Phil, come on.”

Dan feels his brows furrow. “You think… I like Phil?”

Cat is suddenly serious, turning in her seat until she is facing him. She sighs before speaking.

“I can't answer that. All I know is that regardless of where you guys draw the line in your relationship it's never visible enough for anyone else to be able to see.”

“I don't understand.”

“When something exciting happens, who do you tell?”

Dan frowns again.

“When you think about doing something you’ve always wanted to do, or to go travelling, or hell, see a movie, who do you see next to you doing that stuff?”

Dan licks a lip as if thinking, but this is the one thing he doesn’t have to overthink. At least not the initial image of those things, the implications of it though… that’s another story.

“Fair point.” he settles for saying.

“It's difficult for someone to get close to you and try to be the most important part of your life when that role pretty securely taken up already.”

“But people's friends are important.” Dan insists. “With the absence of a romantic possibility, wouldn’t you usually imagine your best friend for those things?”

He’s not sure who he’s trying to convince, her or himself.

“Yes,” Cat nods, a soft small hand on his arm, “But Dan, when that possibility comes along, people usually make room in their lives for new people, rearrange things, make a girlfriend or boyfriend some space to develop in that role. But…”

“I don't?”

Cat shrugs, “It felt like it wasn't even an option.”

“Oh.”

“I don't mind,” Cat corrects, “It wasn't meant to happen and it's not like I'm still sore about it or anything.” She smiles, all teeth.

“That's good, I guess.”

“Do you think… well, I mean.. not to sound like a weird fangirl or something but what if the reason you can't let anyone in is because Phil is the moment important person… in more ways than he already is. What if you don’t want to change that, ever.”

Dan glances over at his friend.

“You should see the way you look when you think he can't see you,” he says when he doesn’t respond.

“What? No I…”

“Even more though, you should see the way he looks when he thinks you can't see him.”

Dan shakes his head and tries not to let that thought invade. Somehow though, it does anyway.

vi.

The final straw is when he starts projecting it onto Phil. Curse Cat and her putting the stupid thought in his head, but as soon as it’s wriggled in there it sets up camp and Dan can hardly stop himself from reading into Phil’s actions now, as well as his own.

He’s asking himself questions every second of the day. Is it usual for best friends to be so emotionally codependent? It can’t be normal for a roommate to be the person that knows you better than anyone else ever has. But then, they’ve never been normal.

He barely has to finish sentences.

“Can you pass me the--” is met with the precise thing he’d wanted.

“I’m hungry,” results in Phil cooking the exact thing he’d been craving because, shock horror, he’d been craving the same thing because they’d seen it on some stupid tv show earlier that day.

Utter silence is met with compassion. Quiet comfort in the form of space, or allowing Dan to choose the movie they put on and then ignore. It’s sitting shoulder to shoulder on one end of their couch even though the other end is completely empty. It’s Phil not asking to fill the silence because he knows Dan can’t, and Dan offering Phil the same in return.

There isn’t much Dan doesn’t overthink these days and it’s almost inevitable that he’ll have to tackle the problem at some point. He’s been spending so long taking everyone else’s assumptions and opinions on their relationship, he thinks maybe it’s time to ask Phil what he thinks, or at least tell Phil what he’s feeling. If only he could actually work it out.

“Do you ever think about it?” he asks again, because it harks back to an earlier conversation, and it seems like a good place to start. It’s familiar. Safe.

He doesn’t know if Phil can read minds, or if it’s just because he can see Dan has Tumblr open on his laptop, but Phil understands what he’s talking about.

“I think about it,” he nods, looking pensive but not actually looking up from his computer. “But, you don’t need to worry, you’re not actually in love with me Dan.”

“How do you know?”

Phil smirks, “because I’d know if you were.”

“What if I didn’t even know?”

“How would you not know if you were in love with someone?” Phil still isn’t looking at him, but Dan can tell from the way his eyes stop tracking over the screen that he isn’t paying attention to what’s on his computer either. He eyes keep slipping sideways, glancing in his peripheral vision.

Dan shrugs, because he knows Phil can see it. “It could happen.”

“Well, I don’t think so. If you’re in love, then you’re in love. And you Dan, you’re not in love. So it’s fine.”

“I just think it’s a bit presumptuous isn’t it? To assume I’m not.”

Phil does turn to look at him then.

“Are you trying to convince me that you’re in love with me? Or are you trying to convince yourself?”

Dan just bites his lip and can’t think of what to say, because he’s not even sure any more because it’s all just wrapped up with other people’s opinions and assumptions they’ve made. Maybe it’s not even possible for him to know anymore.

“Do you think it’s possible to overthink yourself out of love?”

“With you Dan, I think it’s possible to overthink yourself out of anything. Or into anything. Coffee?”

Dan marvels. How can Phil go make coffee right now, hasn’t he just said that he might be in love with him? Or has he? Has he really said anything at all or, for all his words, has he said absolutely nothing?

“No, thanks.” Dan says quietly.

“Probably for the best, it’ll only make your brain work even faster than it already is.”

Phil rises from the couch and pauses for a moment, leaning to run a finger through Dan’s fringe, pushing it from his face. It’s surprising, and Dan doesn’t really know what to make of it but before he can ask, Phil leaves to room.

It’s time, he thinks, to stop asking for other people’s opinions and just sort it out for himself. He takes the first step, and closes the lid of his laptop, cutting off Tumblr’s hold on him and equally, silencing a million voices.

The next step is the logic. To try and piece it out.

Falling in love is a messy and complication business and it’s not something he’s ever tried before. Perhaps because it’s not something one usually has to try at. It’s a shame, he thinks, because if only he could work it out it could be great. Because if it turns out all of his behaviours add up to having fallen in love with Phil, then all of Phil’s behaviours should add up to him having fallen in love with Dan too. At least, that’s the logical angle. Two plus two equals four. Dan plus Phil equals…. Well, he’s not sure.

He spends a few hours staring into space on the couch and Phil mercifully doesn’t return so he’s left with his thoughts. It isn’t until hours later that he rises, pads carefully and determinedly down the corridor to Phil’s room and knocks softly.

“Uh huh?” Phil calls, letting Dan know he can go in.

“You’re right.” Dan says upon entering the room, standing awkwardly in the doorway.

He doesn’t want to shut the door behind him because it feels like he’s trapping them both in there, he hovers near the entrance, unsure and timid.

“Not that I’m not glad,” Phil grins, “But what am I right about?”

“I haven’t fallen in love with you.”

“Oh,” Phil says, grin dropping, “That’s… I mean, was that in question?”

“Yes.” Dan nods, “It was.”

“Well, then I’m.. glad you worked that out.”

There’s a beat of silence where Phil goes back to what he was doing- watching the tv- and Dan sways slightly on the spot, feet restless and shuffling.

“That’s not all.” Dan finally manages.

“It’s not?”

“No, Phil, God please, this is important.”

Phil lets out a long breath before moving over on the bed, signally for Dan to sit next to him. “I know it’s important. I just… why do you want to talk about it now?”

“Because… because everyone says I’m in love with you.” Dan exclaims sinking down on to the bed and pulling his knees to his chest.

“They do?”

“Yes.”

“Everyone?”

“Well…” Dan corrects, “Not everyone. But some people.”

“People say you’re in love with me?”

“Not in so many words,” Dan finds there is a tiny hole in the knee of his jeans. He can’t remember when or how it got there but it’s as good a thing as any to focus on while he does this so he pokes a finger into it, widening the gap between the fibers. “People assume things.”

Phil nods at him to continue.

“Like your birthday, and the fact that we’ll share a bed. Your family assume we’re together and we don’t correct them. Your parents… they’ve welcomed me in with open arms like I’m one of their own. And Cat… she pretty much said the whole reason me and her didn’t work out is that I’m in love with you.” He leaves out the bit about Phil, it’s not a wise decision to bring it up considering. “I’m not even going to mention goddamned Tumblr.”

“No,�� Phil says slowly, hesitating between words. “Probably best not to.”

Dan pulls on a particularly stubborn thread of his jeans, it digs into his finger for a moment but then gives way, the hole growing bigger.

“So, because people have said things… it somehow caused you to question whether you actually have fallen in love with me? Because… you might not have noticed?”

“It sounds really stupid when you put it like that.” Dan agrees.

“Well it is a bit odd, Dan.” Phil says placing a hand over Dan’s on his knee, stilling his fingers. “But if you’ve decided that you haven’t fallen in love with me then everything is okay.”

“No, I haven’t fallen in love with you,” Dan summarises, “My feelings for you haven’t changed since the day I met you.”

“Well… that’s… I mean, I’m glad you’re not confused anymore.”

“I’m not.” And Dan smiles.

There is silence again and Phil looks around himself awkwardly. “Not really sure what you’re looking for me to say here, Dan.”

Dan takes a breath, holds it for a second and lets it out in one long stream, the words following after it.

“I haven’t fallen in love with you Phil. I think… no, I know… that I’ve been in love with you the whole time.”

“Oh.” Phil’s mouth goes still and small. Lips pursed in thought.

“But I think… and I really don’t want to spring this on you but trust me, I’ve given it a lot of thought… I think you’re in love with me too.”

Phil laughs. He throws his head back and lets the big sound escape him. His tongue points shyly from the corner of his mouth for a second before his hands come up to cover his face.

“Oh my god.” He’s high pitched and incredulous.

“I know,” Dan insists, “It’s strange. But I honestly have thought about it… I know, I know, I overthink everything. But I do that so you don’t have to, can’t you just trust me?”

“I should just… trust what you’re telling me. Just… go along with whatever you’re saying.” Phil says, still giggling.

“Yes.”

“Because you’re given it some serious thought… and have decided, after much much intense deliberation… that you are in love with me.”

“Yes.”

“That you always have been.”

“Yes.”

“And, this is the most important bit,” Phil says, face deadpan, “I am, in fact, in love with you too.”

“Yes!” Dan says, voice raising, irritation becoming apparent.

“Well I wish you hadn’t bothered giving it so much thought,” Phil says casually.

“What do you mean?” Dan asks, straightening his legs on the bed, the hole of his jeans bigger now so that a flash of pale skin shows beneath it.

“I mean that well… of course I’m in love with you.”

Dan feels his lips part, mouth dropping to accommodate all the words that he would say, if he could find them.

“Dan I’ve been in love with you since you were a pixelated Skype call, since the moment you stepped off a train and into my arms… Dan, I’ve been so in love with you for as long as I can remember. I don’t need people making assumptions or sharing opinions to tell me that. Frankly, I’m kind of surprised it’s taken you this long to work it out.”

“Why didn’t you say something?”

“I thought you knew!” Phil said, “I thought that it was just something we’d silently agreed not to acknowledge. Because you were… struggling with it or whatever. And I was never going to be the one to pressure you into something you didn’t really want. I thought I was… obvious. I didn’t give it much thought.”

“You didn’t give it much thought, Phil, are you kidding me? You just accepted you were in love with me and lived with it for 7 years?”

“Pretty much.”

“You’re an idiot.”

And Dan moves forward in a rush, gripping the front of Phil’s t-shirt in one fist and bringing their lips crashing together. There’s a moment of adjustment, Phil’s hand curling around Dan’s jaw and neck and Dan pulling, pulling on Phil until they are pressed from shoulder to hip. They topple over with force of it, Dan landing solidly down on Phil, but neither seem to mind.

And it lasts. God it lasts, for blessedly long minutes and Phil rolls them until he is hovering over Dan, kissing the last 7 years of emotion into Dan’s mouth with his own. Dan answers back, sliding his legs to part so that Phil can rest between them, hands wandering all the while. Tracing lines over shoulders, waists, backs, hips.

Phil licks a stripe along Dan’s bottom lip and he parts his mouth in response. Making a tiny sound in this throat as Phil’s tongue comes into contact with his own. But he doesn't know what to focus on most, Phil’s tongue in his mouth or Phil’s hand at the hem of his shirt, sliding heated digits below the fabric to caress his rib cage.

Instead he moves his own hands, running along the strip of skin above Phil’s belt where his shirt has ridden up at the back. Taking a risk and gripping the soft cotton tightly, he moves insistently upward until Phil gets the message and pulls away for a moment to lift it over his head.

Their eyes meet and Dan gives a small nod. It is all that is needed because after 7 years of waiting, and thinking and hesitating, Dan doesn’t want to stop this now. Not now everything is finally making sense, and he doesn’t need anyone else's opinion on this particular activity thank you very much.

So he rips off his own shirt, sending it flying off to the side where it lands on an unknown, unseen patch of carpet. And Phil is kissing him again, but now there is the added sensation of their bare chests pressed against each other and the heat of their bodies combining. Dan moans.

“Feels good,” he says between kisses.

“Yeah.” Phil answers. “Do you want…”

“Yes.” Dan breathes quickly, “Anything.”

Phil grins lasciviously, “Anything?”

“Pervert.” Dan admonishes, laughing.

And Phil swallows the laugh with a kiss. Moving to work at Dan’s belt and button and zip until he has Dan’s jean’s undone and is wriggling a hand in to them.

“Fuck,” Dan says, squeezing his eyes shut as Phil’s hand wraps around him.

“Not yet,” Phil pants, again, “Maybe next time. Takes too long.”

“Oh god, only you would make a joke--ahh” Dan it cut off mid sentence by a moan as Phil twists his wrist and runs a thumb over the top of Dan’s cock.

Meaning to get his own back a little, he too has Phil’s jeans open in a matter of moments, sliding his own hand into the heat of his boxers and tracing the firm length of him.

“That’s… more than I was expecting.” Dan admits.

Phil just smiles.

It’s bumpy at first, their wrists knocking at awkward angles until they are both released from the confines of their underwear and they set an easy rhythm, stroking and thrusting into each other in sync.

Dan falls apart first, bucking and writhing underneath Phil, spilling over his hand as the air is filled with the sound of Dan’s hoarse voice calling his name. His own hand tenses around Phil who cries out and follows only moments after, moving his hips to slip through Dan’s fist, tight and perfect.

They fall against each other. Jeans at half mast, spent cocks trapped between their bodies, the collection of their orgasms sticky and wet collected on their respective torsos. They are silent in the haze for a moment, breathing heavily, eyes closed.

“That was…” Dan manages.

“It was.” Phil answers.

“Hmmm.”

It might seem, to Phil, that Dan is monosyllabic and pretty zoned out. He’s silent and listless, arms wrapped loosely around Phil's shoulders, the heavy beat of his heart in Phil’s ear. But behind it, Phil could swear he hears the gears of Dan’s brain working.

“What is it?” he asks, “What are you thinking?”

“It’s just…” Dan says, tracing light fingers over Phil’s shoulder blade, making patterns Phil can’t work out, “Where does this leave us? Are we together now?”

Phil chuckles, lifting his head to gaze into Dan’s eyes. He kisses him softly, a brush of lips and against lips.

“I love you,” he says, because it's true, it always has been.

“I love you too,” Dan replies, and the same is true for him.

“You think too much.”

“I do,” Dan admits, “I really do.”