#the third one was drawn two and a half months after the first two and i feel like you can tell haha
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sadfishkid · 1 year ago
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zzs pokemon evolution
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diejager · 1 year ago
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Hi! In your Only Human AU what would happen if TF 141 + König and Horangi go into a something like a “rut”? Or is that possible in this universe? If it is would they ask Y/N for help? If possible can it be in the form of a Drabble🥺?
Rut Cw: rut/heat cycles, mention of sex, possessive behaviour, obsessiveness, mention of knotting, implied smut, tell me if I missed any.
Ruts were odd phenomenons, it reduced hybrids and monsters to desperate and horny men, clinging onto the person they considered their mate for relief and pleasure. Some hybrids had ruts, like canid and felid shifters or shifters in general, a monthly cycle that incapacitated them. Others were luckier, having a few ruts per year, sometimes once every few month or once a year; these could range from a dragon to a harpie or from a percht to a gorgon. There, however, were some exceptions, spectral beings and the undead were without ruts, their body long dead and able to function without it, yet they could impregnate and be impregnated as any other hybrid and monster could. They suffered from bouts of occasional arousal, little flares of pleasure when faced with a situation that turned them on or by strong emotions towards someone or something.
You were unfortunately enough to be thrown into a group of rutting hybrids - with the sole exception of Ghost - unprepared and without a forewarning on how to deal with them. You had to deal with a clingy werewolf, howling at the moon and whining in utter heartbreak because you told him off for humping your leg in the rec room, huffing and gasping down your neck. A hissing and possessive tiger, stalking you down the halls and jumping you whenever you were alone to ravage you against the wall, mouthing and nipping at your neck, making sure his scent would stick over the wolf and nagual musk. And a protective nagual, looming over you like a shadow, arm slung around your shoulder and ready to start a fight with the other shifters if they tried masking his scent.
Luckily, their ruts never overlapped, it might’ve been a fortunate coincidence, but one that you wouldn’t take for granted. You had a schedule drawn up in the first year after they accepted you into their pack, Soap’s was always after the full moon, the silver disk being the catalyst to his urge; Horangi had his in the later days of each month, oftentimes beginning on the last day of the werewolf’s rut; and Alejandro took the first week of the month, starting slowly on the third or fourth day and ramping up on the following day.
Unfortunately, you hadn’t put in consideration for the others. Price, Gaz and König also had their moments in the yearly cycle, falling victim to the throes of instinctual need. You thanked your lucky star that Gaz rutted once or twice a year - thrice on rare accounts - with little to no change in his character. He might’ve been more hands, wanting to keep a hand around your waist, to give you soft and loving kisses on your lips as much as he did on your cheek, nose and forehead.
Price and König were a handful, one hoarded you to his office and had you follow him wherever he went, and the other was deathly possessive and deep into his instincts. König was on the extreme side of his type, breaking out nearly six to seven times a year, stuck mid shift with broader shoulders, red eyes and a monstrous appearance, and he had half the mind to stay considerate to other. A danger stumbling on two feet. Price was the medium, a perfect balance with three or four ruts yearly and a the self control to let you go if the situation demanded it. Despite his self-control, he was still a dragon, controlling and possessive, ordering you to come straight back to him whether or not you were knotted to Soap or Rudy was balls deep inside of you.
Despite Rudolfo being considered a monster, he was simply a human with the ability to control cadejos, as vulnerable and as resilient as one. And being human meant that he got aroused, coaxing you into his room for the night and taking care of the heat brewing between your legs. Much like Rudy, Ghost retained his bodily function - human wise - and came back as a monster, but he was a stranger to ruts, scoffing at the neediness and vulnerability of one. That, however, never stopped him from indulging in his sexual kinks and dark fetishes, having you as the subject of his exploration if no one else hit their cycles.
They were a handful, from Soap’s mutt-like character to Rudy’s calm demeanour, they had you exhausted, wringing you dry and panting, always ending up face down or backed against the wall. You were grateful - truly - that the others would willingly jump in and take over for you, helping whoever it was spend his rut. Now, you’d have to redraw your calendar, tired and clinging to your bed to stand up.
Taglist: @craxy-person @crowbird @dead-cipher @iwannabealocalcryptid @iizx7y @mxtokko @yeetusspagheetus @capricorn-anon @perfectus-in-morte @sae1kie @yeoldedumbslut @bvxygriimes @distracteddragoness @konigsblog @havoc973 @angelcakes-22 @cassiecasluciluce @ramadiiiisme @ramblingsofachaoticthinker @ki-cant-spel @im-making-an-effort @love-dove-noora @jinxxangel13 @daisychainsinknots @0alk0msan @mul-pi @danielle143 @virginalsacrifice @beau-min @makayla-666 @urfavsunkissedleo
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ckret2 · 7 months ago
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Chapter 55 of human Bill Cipher finally having a little fun for the first time in over a month of captivity in the Mystery Shack:
Bill does his level best to teach Mabel everything he knows about everything as fast as possible (while Ford eavesdrops). In the process, he finally reveals something about his home dimension!
But not everything about his dimension.
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"Did you have rainbows in Flatworld?" Mabel had started drawing her shapesona again at the bottom of a fresh piece of paper. The heart was holding out one hand with several strips of glue shooting in a beam out from the palm; Mabel started shaking glitter onto the glue strips to make them rainbow.
"Not natural ones."
"Awww!"
"We could make them with flashlights and prisms, though."
"That's something." Still, it wasn't as cool as a real rainbow. She started carefully drawing Bill floating above her shapesona. (She probably should have drawn him before she put down glitter. She had to push up her sleeve and lift her wrist to avoid smearing the glue.) "When's the first time you saw a real rainbow?"
Bill didn't answer.
Mabel glanced at him. He had a hard look in his eyes. "Bill?"
####
For the first time in his life, the triangle was up—up but not north—in space, in the third dimension, looking down but not south at the plane where he'd spent his entire existence. It shuddered and rippled and cracked, contracting, as the entire universe crunched together around him.
Great walls of pale blue flame half a googol light years wide erupted into third dimensional space, where stars were caught and crushed between the quickly collapsing cosmic tectonic plates. He hadn't known his flat universe had stars of its own.
His home world shattered and crumbled, shrapnel and rubble spraying out, stone instantly pulverized into dust. Distant oceans rode the waves of the convulsing universe, flinging billions of gallons of water into space in a fine thin spray, glittering in the sunlight.
As the triangle watched, a great flickering rainbow ring formed in front of the ejected ocean, like the hollow eye of a hostile god staring at him in judgment.
He stared back.
And he felt himself fill with more and more and more power.
####
"Bill?"
"Sorry, I was trying to remember!" Bill sat back, laced his hands behind his head, and shrugged, "It's not coming to me. But I'm sure it was after I took charge of Dimension Zero. From time to time planets with weather systems would fall in through a wormhole, I must've seen a rainbow on one of them!"
"Oh." The answer disappointed her, but she couldn't quite put her finger on why. She puzzled over it as she drew a fireball shape around Bill's hands in glue and shook on pale blue glitter.
Bill nodded at the page, "So what are we up to?"
"Fighting evil! With rainbow lasers and... whatever that magic fire thing you do is!"
"Hey, superheroes! Sounds fun. Who are we killing?"
"Superheroes don't kill people!"
"Fine. Who are we sending to the hospital with third degree burns?"
"I don't know, I haven't made up a villain yet." She almost asked Bill what kind of monsters existed in his world; but the question died in her throat. That might be too depressing a question. She added a heart-shaped glue outline around her shapesona and shook on a glitter rainbow, and set the picture aside to dry. She grabbed a fresh paper and tried to imagine what a two-dimensional butterfly would look like. Would it just have flat little stick wings since that was more aerodynamic? That sounded boring. She started drawing a two-dimensional squid instead.
Bill studied Mabel's latest finished work—the glitter-outlined heart, the glitter rainbow laser, the glitter fire, and the plain him. After a moment, he casually mentioned, "I used to wear body glitter."
She blinked at him. "What?"
"Earlier you asked me about glitter in my dimension," Bill said. "Body paint was makeup to us. I wore it when I went dancing."
"WHAT!"
"And I'd cut open glow sticks to paint my arms and legs!"
"What color glitter did you wear?!"
"Usually gold."
"What?! Bill!" Mabel laughed. "You're already yellow!"
"But I didn't glitter. That's important!"
"You're boring."
"Shut up! I was gorgeous and I knew it! Why mess with perfection?!" He gestured down at himself, perfection, as though he'd momentarily forgotten what body he was in. "Listen, club fashion gets repetitive. If you've seen one equilateral in cutesy primary color gradients, you've see 'em all. There's beauty in simplicity—not a lot of shapes can pull off a solid color with a little light highlighting and still look flashy!" He'd sat up straighter, chest puffed out proudly, as he talked about how pretty he thought he'd been. "Buuut sure, sometimes I highlighted my points for fun. And to keep from stabbing people—it's hard for other people to judge distances with strobe lights on."
"What colors."
"Usually red, blue, or purple. You know—nice contrasts with gold."
Mabel grabbed another paper and started drawing Bill dancing. He leaned closer, elbows on the table, watching with more interest now. Mabel asked, "You had clubs with strobe lights?"
"Of course we did, we aren't barbarians." Bill picked up yellow and black markers out of Mabel's supplies, leaned over to her drawing in progress, and started adding a decorative border around the nearest edge of the paper in dots and dashes.
"What kind of music did you listen to?"
"It was... It's closest to the music in— You've never been to that dimension. Well, it kind of sounds like... I'll never hit those notes with human vocal cords." He drummed his fingers on the table. "Hold on. Let me get Questiony's piano."
####
It turned out that Flatworld club music sounded kind of like a broken tornado siren.
"It doesn't sound very good on a human piano," Bill said, giving the electric piano balanced on his knees a disapproving look. "The intervals between notes are tuned wrong, it's about four octaves short, and it's missing that tympanic membrane shredding tremolo when the treble jumps."
Mabel regarded the piano with some dismay. "Do you know how to play anything else?"
Bill sighed.
He played "Don't Start Un-Believing" for her. He even did that cool thing where you drag a finger up half the keyboard at once.
####
By now, Bill seemed a lot happier to answer Mabel's questions about his world; but she quickly worked out which ones he'd actually give a direct answer. He was the most free with science-y questions, hit or miss on the fun cultural questions, and instantly evasive when asked about his own life or uncomfortable political issues.
When she asked if shapes and their houses just kinda floated unattached to anything because they didn't have a home planet, Bill said they did have a home planet—hundreds of miles below, marking south by its gravitational pull—and they lived in the sky in between their planet and its rings. When she asked what kind of clothing they wore, Bill said they usually didn't wear anything, unless it was for practical purposes (gloves for gardening; goggles for chemistry; elbow-, knee-, and corner-pads for spelunking), and when she asked about his top hat he said slyly, "You mean my telescope?" and gleefully refused to explain further.
But when she asked if it was true that equilateral triangles were the lowest rung you could stand on before getting knocked off the social ladder altogether, Bill said that was a pretty rude question to ask a triangle. And then he said his world didn't have ladders.
When he casually let slip that he'd been able to see the third dimension when nobody else could, she asked how that was possible. He'd paused, looked up from his seventh completely incomprehensible drawing of an animal (she'd asked him whether Flatworlders had pets), and, with an eager gleam in his eye, he asked, "How much time do you have?"
####
Ford heard Bill's voice the moment he opened the door—"All right, star girl, pop quiz, let's see how much of that you kept in your noggin."
"Oh, I'm so ready!"
Baffled, Ford leaned in the living room doorway. The room was absolutely plastered in crayon-covered papers—illustrations, lists, mathematical and scientific diagrams—stars, cells, planets, vehicles. At the moment Bill was pointing at six papers taped together with a diagram on them that Ford thought was a Punnett square that had been expanded into a four-dimensional tessaract. "A polygon's sides are determined by...?"
"Genetic inheritance!" Mabel announced, the proud student who knew all the answers. "You have however many sides your parents have genes for!"
"And the idea that polygons increase by one side each generation...?"
"Is propaganda! Because if everybody hides their kids without enough sides, and they only talk about the kids that did go up a side, it makes everyone think that's what always happens and their family is the only one that's failing!"
"Perfect! And the highest natural amount of sides a shape can have?"
"Twelve! Decadoggins!"
"Close enough, dodecagons! But this isn't Greek class, I'll give you full points. So, any shapes with more sides than that got them through—?"
"Random mutation!"
"Correctamundo! Meaning the only way to get shapes with hundreds of sides is..."
"Crazy bonkers inbreeding! Because the same rich families just keep marrying each other!"
"With consequences including—?"
"Um..." Mabel puffed out her cheeks as she thought. "Skeletons getting all crackly, having a hard time making babies, and high—uh—infant morality!"
"Mortality."
"Lots of dead babies."
"Yes! And remember: when a mutation makes a body produce so much more of something than it needs that it starts harming the body, that's called...?"
"Cancer!"
"Meaning circles are...?"
"Tumors!"
"And what do we do with tumors?"
"EXECUTE THEM!"
"YES!" Bill ripped the Punnett tesseract off the wall. Behind it was a piece of paper that read, in blood red crayon, ANTI-MONARCHIST ANARCISM. "You're ready to man the guillotines! A+, star girl! Give yourself another sticker!"
"Yes!" Mabel peeled a sparkly purple star off a sticker sheet and stuck it on her cheek. Her face had over twenty star stickers.
Ford leaned against the living room doorframe, watching the scene inside with wonder. He was more than a little iffy about the political lesson—he, personally, was incredibly opposed to the idea that it was morally imperative to execute anybody with extra body parts, nobility or not—but the presentation of it was certainly captivating. It had been a long time since Ford had seen Bill like this. (It had been a long time since Ford would have trusted any lesson out of Bill's mouth.)
"Now let's get back to biangles." Bill picked up a fake crystal ball that he'd drawn various lines and shapes on with a marker.
"Awww, again?!"
"Hey. Listen," he said firmly. "I believe in you. You'll get it this time, I know it."
Ford looked around the room, taking in the scene more fully. The floor was scattered with drawings of aliens. A few of them were various polygons—regular and irregular, with the irregularities further broken down by whether they otherwise showed radial or lateral symmetry—each with thin limbs and an eye on a corner. Most were fantastical alien animals, a few that Ford had seen or been warned about on other worlds. Some had been scribbled out and redrawn when Bill's limited artistic capabilities didn't live up to his unknown standards; a few were in Mabel's art style, meaning Bill must have described them to her while she drew.
Twenty pieces of paper had been taped together on the wall behind the TV, with a drawing of a planet surrounded by a circular ring of small blobs—a planetary ring?—and a moon further out. The empty atmosphere between the planet and the ring was filled with squares and rectangles, which were grouped together in red blobby circles that were each labeled by letter: "Country △," "Country B," "Country C," "Country D (communists)," etc. A badly-drawn sea serpent slithered along the outside of the ring with the words "Here There Be Monsters" written over it.
A tall column of taped together papers was covered in examples of alien writing systems—some of them Ford recognized from his travels through other dimensions. From the ones he understood, it looked like the words were demonstrations of Mabel's name in dozens of alien writing systems. Sometimes Bill spelled her name Maybell or Mabelle.
And there were so many papers scattered around the room with little graphs and symbols and arrows Ford couldn't make sense of. And in the center of it all, Bill, alive, energetic, his full attention enthusiastically focused on his student.
Bill had to be up to something; but Ford couldn't imagine what, based on the bizarre assemblage of information in front of him. What nefarious purpose could be behind showing Mabel how to spell her name in alien languages? Unless his goal was to so enchant her with tales of other worlds that he could persuade her to help him open a new portal...? No, even for Bill that felt like a stretch. 
He looked at the wall again. Surely, that wasn't Bill's homeworld. Ford had spent years of his life trying to find the world Bill was from; surely Bill hadn't just drawn it in the middle of Ford's living room. Had he?
"Okay, let's start with spherical geometry from the top," Bill said, polishing the crystal ball on his leggings to rub off the marker lines. "Don't tell anyone I can do this." He held up the ball, tapped it twice on the bottom, and it hovered in place when he let it go, freeing up both his hands to hold a ruler and marker. (How long had he been able to do that? Had he even noticed Ford was standing right outside?) He drew a line across the surface of the ball, "Pretend it's a planet. If you draw a line on a sphere, it's obviously curved, right?"
"Right," Mabel said.
"But now pretend you're on the planet. The surface of the world is a flat plane to you. From your perspective, you can walk in a straight line from point A to point B."
"But it's actually a curve. From space."
"Now you're catching on. That's what makes spherical geometry a little weird: when you're on the sphere you treat everything around you like it's 2D even though when you're off the sphere you can see it's 3D." Why in the world was Bill teaching Mabel about spherical geometry?
Bill drew two more lines to connect to the first. "So! You can draw a triangle on a sphere, no problem, right?"
"Right."
"And something you can only do in spherical geometry... is... pretend this is the North Pole and the South Pole..." Bill carefully rotated the ball under his marker as he drew a straight line from one "pole" to the other, and then drew a second straight line from pole to pole next to it. "Ta-da! If a tri-angle has three angles, a bi-angle has two angles. You've got yourself a two-sided polygon. Right?"
Mabel hesitated. "Right."
"You with me so far, Shooting Star?"
"So far," she said, with a tone that suggested she expected that to change very soon.
"But if you try to transfer that shape from spherical geometry to Euclidean geometry—" Bill turned to an expanse of still partially-uncovered white papers taped to the wall like a makeshift whiteboard, drew two points, and drew two straight lines, red and blue, between the points, "—it just doesn't work. You can't see a biangle in a flat world."
And now Mabel was squinting suspiciously at him.
Bill said, "I lost you."
"But where does it go!"
Bill shrugged. "You lost it when you lost the third dimension."
"But you said when you're on the sphere it's two dimensional!"
"From your perspective it's two dimensional, but there's still a third dimension enabling the sphere to exist."
"Then from my perspective when I'm on the planet shouldn't a biangle look like that?" Mabel pointed at the two straight lines on the piece of paper. "Since everything looks all 2D to me? But it doesn't! It's like flying from the North Pole to the South Pole through America and then flying back through China! China and America don't just squish together into the same place just because you're going in a straight line on a sphere!"
"I'd kill to hear you give a geography lesson to a Flat Earther convention."
Mabel gave him her best angry scowl.
"It was a compliment! I think you'd inspire some hilarious arguments, that's all!" Bill put two dots on the paper and offered Mabel the marker. "Look, try it for yourself! Draw a biangle."
Mabel took the marker and, after a moment of thought, drew two curved lines between the points, making a football shape.
"Those aren't straight lines, kid."
"Argh!" Mabel pulled the paper off the wallpaper, bent it into a curve, and shakily drew a straight line between the two points; but no matter how else she twisted or bent the paper, she couldn't find a path that would let her draw a second straight line between the points without overlapping the first line she'd drawn. She crumpled the paper, tossed it on the floor, and whispered, "It's witchcraft, Bill."
He burst out laughing. "I could name a few horror writers that felt the same way about non-Euclidean geometry."
"But whyyy does the biangle disappear when it goes from a sphere to normal flat paper."
"Because..." Bill groped for an explanation he hadn't already tried. He crossed an arm across his chest and tapped a knuckle just under the bow tied in his hoodie's draw strings the way some humans might tap a hand to their chin, his eyes narrowed in thought. How many times had Ford seen him make that exact same face in his true triangular form, whenever Ford was struggling to understand a lesson on portal physics and Bill was struggling to find a way to translate it into concepts Ford had encountered in his human education? "Let's try this another way."
The scene made Ford ache.
Look past the paper and the crayons, and the graph- and figure- and writing-covered walls looked so much like the advanced physics lessons and blueprints that Bill had coated Ford's starry blue dreamscape in during his sleep. Look past the flesh and bone, and Bill moved and gestured and spoke the way he had when he was teaching Ford how to build a bridge between worlds.
It was the first time since Bill's death that Ford had seen 100% of his personality shining—unhindered by grief, secrets, or a disdainful human audience. It was the first time in decades that Ford had seen Bill at his best.
In that moment, for a split second, Ford forgot how to hate Bill. He couldn't see Bill the traitor, Bill the invader, Bill the homicidal party animal. The only person in that room with Mabel was Bill Cipher the Teacher, Mentor, and Muse that Ford used to know so long ago. Like an ancient god who'd chosen to spend a day roleplaying as a giddy professor—Bill was holding back a tsunami's worth of vast, ancient, unintelligible alien knowledge so that he could drip out revelations at a faucet's pace, slow enough for his student to catch each drop in her hands.
Over thirty years ago, there had been moments when this Bill peeked out behind the above-it-all façade—and that had been the Bill that Ford was happiest to see, the Bill that Ford had thought of as a friend rather than a mere teacher... but each time, it hadn't been long before Bill seemly caught himself and turned off the faucet for the night.
Because he couldn't let Ford learn too much, or he would have seen through Bill's ruse.
Hatred tiredly crept back in.
"I've got it!" Mabel triumphantly flung her hands in the air. "It's like orange slices!"
"Orange slices?" Bill repeated.
"Be right back!" Mabel zoomed to the kitchen, shouting, "Hi Grunkle Ford!" as she passed.
Ford watched her go, then looked back at Bill; Bill had glanced at him for the first time. But all he did was frown and mutter, "I don't remember inviting you to audit this course."
Before Ford could decide whether to retort, Mabel charged back into the living room with an orange and a sharp knife. "Okay! If you draw a triangle on the orange," Mabel said, doing so with a marker, before cutting into it with the knife, "and then you—you cut it out all the way to the center..."
"Be careful with that," Ford said. Mabel was holding the orange in one palm and stabbing into it from the opposite side.
Bill said, "Lay off, Six Fingers. I'm keeping my eye on her, she's not gonna hurt herself."
"I'm being careful!" Mabel was struggling to get an even wedge cut all the way to the center of the orange; she eventually gave up and  dug into the orange with her fingertips to tug out a messy mangled handful of fruit, attached to a roughly equilateral patch of orange peel about two inches to each side. She shook orange juice off her fingers. "Pretend I cut that out better."
"I dunno what you're talking about," Bill said. "It looks flawless."
She pointed at each corner of the peel triangle. "Okay so, these are the three corners of the spherical triangle, right?"
"Right."
"And if you want to make a regular flat triangle, you can... try to cut a straight line between the corners, like..." She squeezed the rest of the orange between her knees, held the edges of the triangular peel with her fingertips, and sawed off the orange pulp underneath, trying to cut a flat level plane as near to the triangle's corners as she could. Ford almost warned Mabel about the knife again, but glanced at Bill's face and his expression of unworried, keen curiosity, and kept quiet. Bill reached out and caught the sawed-off chunk of orange pulp before it hit the ground.
Mabel held out the peel slice. "There! Right? Spherical triangle on top and flat triangle on the bottom!"
Bill considered that, one hand on his hip. He popped the orange chunk in his mouth. "All right. So far so good."
"But if you make a biangle..." Mabel drew two lines between the top and bottom of the remaining orange, and cut a wedge free. "There isn't anything extra to cut off to let you make a flat shape. There's just a straight line between the two points!"
"Ha! Okay, all right, that works! Brilliant! What do you need me for? You just taught yourself the whole lesson!" Bill ruffled her hair so enthusiastically that he knocked her headband askew.
She shoved him away, laughing, and straightened out her headband. "Bill!"
"What did I say! Didn't I tell you you'd get it?" Bill was beaming at her, impressed, delighted, proud. "Congratulations, you've just mastered college-level geometry."
"Wh—What? Are you serious? This is college stuff?" She shook her head. "No way, you're lying."
Bill pointed at Ford without looking at him. "Tell her."
He felt a little like a dog being commanded to bark; but he said, "He's right. I didn't start studying spherical geometry until my second semester in college." He was sure he could have studied it sooner, if his high school had offered it; and he doubted Mabel had absorbed an entire semester's worth of spherical geometry; but he didn't see any reason to point any of that out when Mabel's face lit up in excitement.
Bill said, "There you have it! Way to go, star girl! Two big stickers."
"YES!" Mabel peeled off two jumbo-sized star stickers with smiley faces and stuck them onto her earrings. "So does that make a biangle a girl or a boy?"
And Ford was immediately lost again.
"No," Bill said.
Mabel sighed loudly and tried again. "Does that make a biangle a line or a polygon?"
"Still no, but for a different reason. Externally, they look like lines to anyone who isn't psychic. Internally, their anatomy usually functions like a polygon's. But socially, you've gotta ask. Some of 'em consider themselves lines, some polygons, some claim biangularity is neither linear nor polygonal. Personally, I say they're whatever they say they are. Because," he said grandly, "I'm just that open-minded and accepting."
Ford stifled a derisive snort. But Bill's self-aggrandizing aside, Ford's mind was reeling trying to keep up—spherical geometry, the (gendered?) socialization of shapes, Flatworlder anatomy—what did psychics have to do with anything? Ford's fingers itched for a pen. He wished he had his journal with him.
Bill grabbed several papers off the floor and the floating crystal ball and climbed on top of the wooden TV cabinet. He left the ball hovering behind him seven feet up in the air, tossed aside several papers he'd already used both sides of to let them flutter back to the floor, and taped the rest to the wall with their blank backsides turned out. "Now back to remote viewing." He drew a grid in blue lines on the papers, said, "Toss me that triangle wedge," used a marker to draw an eye on the triangular orange peel, tapped it twice like he had the crystal ball, and stuck it against the grid, where it sat unmoving.
And the entire time, Ford watched with his arms crossed tightly.
Almost a month ago, Bill had given Ford his manipulative trap of a birthday gift, a miniature grimoire, five pieces of paper, margins filled, two rows of text per line, packed with as diverse an array of magical spells and occult knowledge as Bill could fit. It wasn't a gift, it was a boast and a taunt: look at everything I know that you don't; look at what I could teach you if you let me live. 
It was something Bill could have given him all along—effortlessly, with no cost to himself—but didn't, until Bill wanted something from him. 
On his birthday, Ford had wondered, furiously: when this was what Bill could have been—gift-giver, wish-granter, teacher, guide, friend—why did he choose not to be?! It was an internal scream of rage, the howl of a wounded victim at the condemned criminal as he was marched to the gallows: you monster, you monster, you monster, when it would have been so easy for you to be something better, why instead are you a liar, manipulator, torturer, murderer, life-ruiner, world-ender? Answer for yourself: why are you this instead of someone better? How dare you?
It had made Ford want him dead even more.
This was the exact opposite of the grimoire.
The question in Ford's head wasn't a scream of rage anymore. It was grief. It was a plea. It was one last desperate attempt to understand:
Instead of being who he was, why couldn't Bill have been this person? This charismatic, energetic, ecstatic muse who ruled like a king over a classroom he'd constructed himself, eager to share a trillion years of collected wisdom with a fragile mortal mind, lighting up with joy whenever she grasped something that was trivially simple to him? This guide to the vast wonders beyond Earth, competent and encouraging and funny, delighting in the weirdness of the wide wide universe? The Bill that Ford had once liked so much—the Bill that he'd called his friend?
"Okay," Bill said, all sunshine and excitement, "Back to how to view the third dimension from the second dimension—"
Mabel said, "Can you view the fourth dimension from the third?"
Bill hesitated a split second, but said, "Sure! You can view any dimension from any dimension! You've just gotta bend your eye the right way to see higher ones!"
"What does the fourth dimension look like?"
"Well—hm. Imagine the way that the third dimension looks different from the second, and that's the way the fourth dimension looks different from the third."
Mabel stared at Bill.
"Eddie wrote an entire book about a square meeting a sphere because that was the closest he could get to telling other humans what seeing the fourth dimension is like! If I could still visit dreams, I could just show you, but..."
"Isn't the fourth dimension time? Blendo showed us the time stream! Is that what it looks like?"
"Nnn—close! You're close. The fourth dimension isn't time, but time is in the fourth dimension."
"How's that different."
Bill pointed at the floor. "If the carpet's the second dimension and the lamp's shining on it, the third dimension isn't light, but light is in the third dimension."
"Ohhh." Mabel gasped. "That's why you called some weird thing flying around in a higher dimension an eclipse! Because eclipses were in a higher dimension in Flatworld!"
Bill's face lit up in surprised delight. "All right, skip three lessons ahead, why don't you! In a week's time you'll be teaching people how my dimension works." He turned back to his papers and started drawing a branching river. "So! That time stream you saw isn't time itself! It's a visual metaphor being generated so humans can see time too—sort of a hologram projecting from the fourth dimension into the third—have I explained that the universe is a hologram yet—"
Why weren't you this person, Ford wondered. Why did you choose not to be this person? When it was so easy for you to be this? When this made you happy, too?
Why couldn't you have been this person?
Why are you only like this now, when you're about to die?
####
(Hope y'all enjoyed Infodump: The Chapter. This is one of those chapters with something hidden in it that'll unravel the whole fic if you happen to find it, so have fun searching for that. Let me know what you thought of this week's chapter! And get excited—we've got Big Things coming up... soon.)
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cobaltperun · 28 days ago
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Eternal Flame (14) - Fighting Myself
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Jenna Ortega x Female Reader
Summary: For her it’s a passion, for you it’s an accident. And as she continues shining brighter and brighter with each role you are left mesmerized, drawn to her flame and cherishing every time she lets herself be vulnerable with you.
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Masterlist / First Part / Previous part / Next Part
Word Count: 6.4k
-I don't want you to promise you can change everything and make it better-
Turns out working again was the best choice Jenna could have made. It certainly kept her mind off of you and made her busy, meaning she had less time to miss you. Yet still, after a long day of shooting, she still went back to her room and wished you were there with her in some way. At the very least to hear your voice, to come back to her room and maybe open the messages and find you've sent her an audio message, or just a text message or anything really, if not outright have a phone call with you. But despite her own wishes to once again see you, and your own desires to fix things, the two of you remained separate, with no contact whatsoever for over a month and a half now.
So, to put her mind at ease and help her fall asleep a bit faster, Jenna got into a bit of a habit. She sat down, pulled out a piece of paper and grabbed a pen, and she began writing a letter that would never reach the one it was addressed to. She put her thoughts on the paper, working through her feelings in a way, and by now she had a clear picture of what was going on in your head back then.
And she truly felt that what Enrique had told her two weeks ago was right, that at the end of the day that choice was nothing but an unhealthy coping mechanism. More importantly, that not only would you never hurt her, there probably wasn't anyone then she could feel safer with. In her heart Jenna felt like you not only stand by her and support her through anything for as long as she wanted you in her life, but also be protective of her in a way she sometimes craved.
This was a lonely job, filled with so many unpleasant experiences, and every now and then Jenna just wished she could have someone who understood it and who she could feel emotionally safe with. That was the kind of protectiveness she craved, to have someone take her heart help shield it from the rest of the world as she did the same for that person. And she wanted that someone to be you.
Thus, she kept writing, and she was somewhat thankful that her writing was kind of difficult to read, even for herself, because she was bearing her heart out on these pages. She usually only wrote about a page and a half per letter, she didn't even think much about what to write, the words just flowed through her, materializing on the white paper until she just had nothing left to write. Once she was done for tonight, she folded the paper and took an empty envelope putting the letter inside and sealing it away.
She wondered what you were doing right now. She guessed you were probably sleeping, since it was the middle of the night in New York, where you probably were right now filming The Daughter with Hugh. But that didn't stop Jenna from still wondering how you were doing, if you were maybe dreaming about something, or if you ever dreamt about her like she so often dreamt about you. She sometimes dreamt of the days spent filming Scream, and sometimes her dreams were about things she wished would happen in the future. Jenna lost count of how many times she dreamed of reuniting with you; those dreams were always the most beautiful while they lasted and despite reality being different, she always woke up from them feeling happy and hopeful for the future.
She got up and put the sealed envelope in her bag next to about a dozen and a half letters already written, never to be sent to you.
~X~
You were sitting in a chair going through the lines of the next scene you had with Hugh; the filming was about a third of the way done and you were actually moving quite quickly with it. Much quicker than you, or anyone else, imagined you would. Hell you were several days ahead of the schedule because you and Hugh just kept nailing the scenes and Florian’s approach really worked for both of you.
It wasn’t just that though, it all felt real. Considering everything you and Hugh went through it was very easy to just tap into this father-daughter relationship that was strained and somewhat fractured, but still there. This idea of not knowing how to approach one another and still at the same time not knowing how to express yourself felt familiar, and in some moments, you almost felt like you weren't acting at all.
“You ready?” Hugh said as he patted you on the shoulder and you grinned, doing your best to lift his spirit as well, because you've had some tough scenes over the past few days.
“Ready whenever you are,” you hopped to your feet and left the script on the chair.
“Let's do this,” you went and took your positions, and soon enough you heard the signal to start.
As Hugh watched over the baby brought in to play Theo, you slowly came in “Dad, do you have a moment?” you asked slowly, speaking as quietly and with as much uncertainty as you could.
“Yeah, of course. I'm just trying to get him to fall sleep,” Hugh whispered back. “What's up?” he asked, rocking the bed slightly.
You stepped closer glancing at the baby with a hint of softness in your eyes, a genuine fondness could be seen in your expression, and it was something you, Hugh and, Florian figured out. Nicole was supposed to show this kind of softness only to her baby brother, showing that despite being hurt by what her father did she neither blamed nor resented the boy. “I was thinking about school,” you nervously brushed the few strands of your hair back.
“You're anxious about it, it's understandable. But you'll do great, you're a bright kid, Nicole, give it a bit of time and you'll be caught up before you even know it,” Hugh said almost dismissively and your jaw tightened at that, but he wasn't paying attention, he was busy with the baby.
“Wouldn't it be better to wait for September? It's the middle of the year,” you still tried, raising your hand slightly, but then letting it drop.
“That's nonsense, going to school will be good for you! It'll all be fine, you’ll meet new people,” he said as he gave up on rocking the bed instead lifting the baby into his arms. Yet you just looked away and sighed quietly. “What is it now? You'll be fine, you just need to put some effort into it.”
“Dad, I just don't want all these people's attention on me. I'm transferring in the middle of the year, everyone will look at me and ask questions,” you tried to explain yourself, putting more effort into your body language than the tone of your voice. You kept your tone a bit more even, resigned, but your body language was jittery. “And I don't have the answers.”
“They’ll just be curious.”
“That's exactly what I'm telling you!” you spread your hands cutting him off in a slightly sharper tone, but Theo began crying and you both fell silent.
“It's OK, it's OK,” Hugh cradled the baby, calming him down and you just took a couple of steps back.
“Sorry, I didn't mean to make him cry,” you said while covering your eyes.
“I know,” Hugh’s voice softened as you just leaned back against the wall and pressed the back of your head against it. “Why are you so nervous about this? Why did you even stop going to school in the first place? I keep asking you that and you never even explained it to me,” he sounded tired, which was exactly what Florian wanted. He wanted Hugh to progressively get more frustrated, he wanted that from both of you, and you were giving him that.
You let out an exasperated sigh and quickly looked around the room, just for a moment adding your own flare to the scene. “I've been telling you, I don't know how to explain it. I just I can't take it,” your voice cracked at the exact same spot it was meant to, and you didn't even need to act it out, it just naturally cracked right there.
“Try telling me in your own words then. What can't you take? What happened at your old school?” Hugh tried, he reached out, and you just shook your head.
“I’m trying, dad, but I don't know what to tell you. I can't even explain it to myself, I just feel like I'm suffocating. Dad, I don't know what is wrong with me,” the desperation slipped into your voice as you just for a moment almost reached out to him, and for a moment it almost felt like you would, like your character was just about to open her mouth and ask for help she desperately needed.
“Was Theo crying just now?” and then Vanessa came in, breaking whatever momentum the two of you had.
Hugh looked surprised, as if he just remembered he still had a baby in his arms. “Yeah, don’t worry, I’ve got him,” then he turned to you. “We'll talk later, OK? And you're going to school on Monday, trust me, it’ll be good for you,” and you looked like you were about to argue but you just let resignation show on your face as you walked past Vanessa and out of the room.
“Cut!” and the scene ended, and you could finally properly breathe again.
“Holy shit, this is intense!” you exclaimed, and by now it really looked like this was taking its toll on you and Hugh. You were both genuinely struggling with what was going on here. In every scene you shot you could both recognize the moments where just one tiny difference would have changed the conclusion of the movie, and you knew where you were heading. You were heading toward the tragedy where Nicole takes her life, and right in this scene you felt that if your character was a bit more open, or if Hugh’s character was a bit more attentive, or if Vanessa's character just didn't come in, that maybe it would have been the point where things could have changed.
“You can say that again,” Hugh sat down on the sofa in the living room of the apartment you were filming in while you went to the fridge to grab water for the three of you.
“Forget action scenes, I could do them all day long, but damn am I happy we do this only a few times,” you handed the bottle to Vanessa and then want to Hugh and leaned against the back of the sofa. “Maybe we could do more, today, maybe something lighter?” you asked Florian and then turned to Hugh and Vanessa. “If the two of you are up for it, of course.”
“It’s up to you and Hugh,” Vanessa said, since she mostly had to show up at times and wasn’t an active participant in most of the scenes.
Hugh thought it over. “I’m down, we could use a lighthearted scene after these past couple of days,” he figured.
“That settles it, the three of you go and get changed and we’ll keep going,” Florian clapped, and you all went to get ready for the next scene.
~X~
On the seventh of March, exactly three weeks after you began filming, and full two weeks ahead of the schedule, you were done filming The Daughter. And it felt incredible to have this behind you. You were emotionally drained, completely exhausted, and all you really wanted was to just fall asleep and go back to Denver tomorrow.
The knocking on your door made you sigh, but you still got up from your bed and put the necklace with Jenna's ring back on. You did it almost instinctively, rather than as a conscious effort, and you dragged yourself to the doors to open them. You weren't sure who you were expecting but you probably should have guessed it was Hugh. He looked just as exhausted as you, sleepless nights plagued both of you during these past weeks, caused by the heavy subject of the movie. The scenes you filmed were the most difficult scenes you have ever done. The scene in Logan where you pretend you were cutting yourself with the claws, the scene where Logan dies, or the heavier scenes from Scream, particularly the one in the hospital, none of them compared to what you had to do. It felt like the movie was pulling all the things you desperately tried to ignore about yourself to the surface.
“Hey,” Hugh leaned on the door frame and forced a small smile on his face, but it didn’t reach his eyes.
“Can't sleep?” you asked, and he just nodded letting out a heavy sigh carrying all the exhaustion of the past three weeks.
“I just keep thinking,” Hugh paused, and you went and invited him in. You imagined things would have been a lot worse if his family wasn't here. With them here the two of you could have some form of light-heartedness during the nights, they kept both your and Hughes sanity in check. If it was just you and Hugh you doubted you could properly support each other through this.
Hugh came inside and slumped into the chair at the desk, and you just fell back onto the sofa. “You want to talk about it?” you asked, thought your mind wasn’t entirely focused on the conversation. You guessed it was just the final scene you filmed today, where your character broke down and yelled at him and he yelled back, and it just felt way too real and way too raw and you were thankful you didn't have to repeat it.
But instead of talking about himself Hugh looked at you and instead asked: “How are you?”
“I'm fine,” you said, dismissing the question out of habit. You weren't fine, it's been over two months since you last saw Jenna, you've been struggling and though you were adamant on never again fighting, you had to find another way to release all of these emotions.
“Come here. Tell me what's really happening,” his words surprised you, there was a different tone to them. When you sent him a questioning look he gave you a sad smile. “I've been told ‘I'm fine,’ is the biggest lie we tell, so I'm putting it to test. Tell me what's really going on.”
He was right, you did tell a lie. You got up and went to the table, sitting down next to him. “I'm worried. I don't know what will replace fighting for me, it was a form of release and now that I've done two movies and I'm about to take a bit of a break I’m afraid of falling into some other unhealthy coping mechanism,” you said, finally admitting it to someone else as well.
He quietly considered your words, seriously contemplated what you said, what that meant for you. And he took his time, and you patiently waited, knowing he would eventually say something. “I don't,” he began the words getting stuck in his throat. “I don't know what to do,” your eyes widened at that, you've never heard him say that, hell, you never heard any adults in your life say that. At least the ones important to you. “I don't want to make this about myself,” he tried to backtrack, but you put your hand on his shoulder.
“Finish that sentence, don't hold anything back,” you weren't even sure where that came from, but if there was one thing this movie thought you, and probably Hugh as well, it was that people should talk, should be more open about what they felt. And if your own life taught you anything it was that if you didn't take the chance to be open with loved ones, you might never get another one.
“I don't want to lose you, yet I don't know how to help you,” he admitted as tears filled his eyes and all you could do was just sit there and watch, almost unable to breathe. “I've done those scenes with you and all I could see were my kids, and all I could think about was if I was good enough for the three of-“ he stopped, both of you halting completely at the number he chose.
“Three?” you repeated, your voice hoarse and shaky as his lower lip trembled. “You said three,” you said again, a bit harsher than you intended.
“You as well. I consider you my child,” Hugh told you and you just stood up, your chair scraping against the floor as you backed away, burying your fingers into your hair as you took several deep breaths. He got up and reached out to you, only to stop just as he was about to touch you, as if afraid that if he did he would only make things worse.
Your mind was in complete chaos, you found yourself caught in the whirlpool of emotions threatening to pull you under and drown you. This wasn't the emotion you were prepared for. Deep down, subconsciously, you were aware of it, you were feeling that warmth, and you knew he was more than capable of looking at you like that. Yet… “I can't give that back to you, I can't call you dad,” you gasped, looking at him as your heart broke over that. “I can't go through that again, Hugh. I already lost my parents once,” it wasn't even about replacing your parents, you knew that wasn't what he wanted. You always considered Hugh as someone like a father to you. Yet, that one word, that ‘like’ was the key difference. Hugh saw you as his child, you could only see him like a father.
“I don't need you to,” Hugh quickly told you, finally bridging that gap, slowly lowering your hands back down from your head and hugging you. “I understand, and I know how much you care about me. I know how many times you had a fight one night, only to the day after come to the hospital so you could be with me while I was waiting for the results. Always making sure that if somehow Deb and my kids couldn't be there that at least you would be there,” he told you and you gripped the back of his shirt, hugging him tightly. “I don't need you to call me dad to know how you feel,” and that brought you so much relief. “But I-“ he stopped again, now more vulnerable than he's ever been with you. “I need to know how you feel about other things, I want to know what troubles you, or what makes you feel alone, what makes you feel the need to escape. I want you to be vulnerable with me about yourself, I need to know that you can do that.”
And those words, perhaps for the first time in four years, just opened the floodgates. “I thought I was going crazy after their deaths,” you said pulling away and stumbling back to the sofa, not to get away from him, but so your legs wouldn’t fail you.
Hugh sat down next to you, full of understanding, as he put his hand on your back. “In what way?”
“I kept coming back to an empty apartment. Day after day, night after night, I kept being all alone. Thought that I would never again come back to an unlocked apartment, to people waiting for me, or to an apartment that someone else would come back to. I was sixteen and I just buried both of my parents in one day,” tears fell down your face, every word you spoke came out as a sort of a cry for help, often coming out as gasps as you tried to get your breathing under control. “I had you and Barbara, but you had your own lives, your own families, you couldn’t fill that void. I would never again be able to hear their voice, to hear them say my name, or laugh,” you paused, sobbing as you tried to put what you felt into words. “They never even got to see Logan, not even the trailers and they all that time in a coma.”
You felt cold, and you gripped Jenna’s ring, trying to find something to anchor yourself to. You felt like you were once again sixteen, going down the rabbit hole of the numerous studies about comatose patients.
“I kept thinking how they must have been in so much pain after that truck run them over. They must have felt it, and I had no idea how unconscious they were. In the worst moments I wondered if they somehow actually knew what was going on. Asking myself what if they were waiting for me to do something and wake them up? Or worse than that what if they wanted everything to end and I kept putting them through it. That pain must have been unimaginable, and I kept them in that state for two months,” you want it to be judged and punished for failing them, yes, but this was another reason you ended up going back to the fighting. “As unreasonable as it was, in that state I let panic and loneliness and dark thoughts consume my mind, and I felt-“ you clutched your head, tightly shutting your eyes. “I felt like I tortured my parents to death by keeping them alive in so much pain.”
And Hugh was unable to come up with words to say, he could only hold you tightly, grounding you, anchoring you to the hotel room you were in so you wouldn't slip back into that state of mind. He sensed you weren’t done talking.
“And then, right before I went back to fighting, that man, that monster that killed nine people, went and pleaded insanity, and instead of being locked away in prison for the rest of his life he got sent to psychiatric ward,” you spat out, anger rising within you again. “My parents and seven other innocent people died because he got high and lost control over his truck, and he gets to-“ you didn’t finish that sentence, instead focusing back on how you felt. “I was consumed with so much rage and hatred, and I became almost terrified of myself. I hated fighting more than anything else, yet it was the only thing that gave me any kind of release,” that was all that drove you back to the fighting, that insanity caused by loneliness, by isolation and the fear that it would just keep going, by rage at the injustice, and by the fear that you somehow ended up not only not saving your parents but hurting them in your attempts to save them. It all just pushed you back into that world.
“I never wanted to hurt anyone, I never wanted things to turn out this way. I just wanted to find release for all those emotions, just for a moment. To feel the pain that I could explain instead of that thing ripping through my hear,” you knew it wasn't healthy, you knew it was wrong, you knew all of that, yet you needed it desperately to stay as sane as you could be.
“I was terrified when I saw what you did to try and save them,” Hugh began, seeing as you shut up and didn't continue. You just had nothing else to say. “I wasn't terrified of what you were doing, I understood it, I was terrified of losing you, because I had no idea how to handle what you went through. I didn't know what to say to you, I didn't know how to approach you, and it made me unable to talk to you properly. I couldn't get you to open up to me because I had no idea how to be open with you. I thought you needed me to be strong, when you actually needed me to approach you like this, without restraints, without fearing that if I didn't appear strong enough, that you wouldn't open up to me,” you supposed there was some truth in his words, and that that might have been a part of it, but it wasn't all there was to it.
“It wasn't just you,” you raised your head and looked him in the eyes, and you saw nothing but compassion and love. “Neither one of us was ready. You could have been open and vulnerable with me, but I wouldn’t have been ready. I needed to feel like maybe I could have someone by my side like that again.”
“And that was Jenna, wasn't it?” he asked, but it was more of a statement.
You nodded. “While we were filming Scream a lot of things happened between us, and one night I was supposed to go to a fight and Jenna appeared at my door just as I was about to leave. She stopped me and that night I spent hours thinking about everything. I was hoping that maybe one day maybe I could be able to find a place with her that I could call home. That it wouldn't be just a house or an apartment, but home we would come back to no matter how long it took or where our jobs took us,” and you still wished to have that with Jenna.
“You'll have a home again,” Hugh told you and somehow you believed him, and you just hugged him, finally letting all those pent-up emotions out. You were being vulnerable and crying without breaking, just releasing everything that made your heart feel heavy, and he cried with you.
And somehow that hour and a half or however long you spent like that healed you more than anything you experienced over the past four years.
“They would be so proud of you,” Hugh said, and it was a thought you held on to, hoping it was true. “I know this, if they were ever conscious of what was going on while they were in a coma, they would have been happy knowing you were trying so hard to save them. Y/N, if they felt anything when they were dying, they felt your love.”
And you cried like a baby, wailing and sobbing, finally letting them rest in peace and learning to live with their deaths instead of letting it define the rest of your future. “Thanks, pops,” that was as close as you could ever get. You couldn't call him dad or father, but pops would do, and the way Hugh’s breath hitched, and he held you a bit tighter made you know it was worth more than anything.
~X~
Barely twelve hours later you climbed up the stairs to your apartment, your suitcases in your hands and your backpack on your back. You set one suitcase down to grab your keys, since Hugh brought them to you, only to find out that your apartment was once again unlocked. You smiled and swung the doors open. “Barbara, you really need to find another hobby!” you exclaimed, leaving the suitcases at the doors and walking into the living room. You kept your backpack still on your back, after all you had some gifts from your vacation for Barbara in it.
“Nah, this is more fun than any other pastime I could acquire,” she jumped from the sofa and ran into your arms. “Welcome home I missed you so much, you stupid asshole,” right, since she met you Barbara hasn't ever in her life spent two months away from you. Not even when you were filming Scream, which lasted about a month and a half, so this must have been a really big shock for her. “I mean, I let you go get your girl and you not only fail to get the girl you take a trip to Italy before you needed to go, and then take a vacation, leaving me here and then instead of coming back here to talk to me, you go to work. That does it, we're breaking up.”
You laughed at her dramatic monologue. “We can't break up! We aren't together,” you chuckled, and she just swatted you on the arm, a playful smile appearing on her face,
“That's what you are latching on to? Incredible,” she pulled away, shaking her head in disbelief.
“I guess,” you shrugged and pulled her into a one armed hug. “Anyway, how about we go and get some shopping done? I wanna make something for you to eat,” you suggested, actually really eager to get some cooking done, especially since you learnt quite a few tricks on your vacation.
“I did the shopping, I was really bored,” Barbara said and you figured that was good, because you wanted to be in the kitchen right away.
“Great, thanks! I'm just gonna go and freshen up a bit, and I'll be right in the kitchen making us an early lunch,” you said and went to the bathroom. For a moment you caught yourself thinking Barbara had a knack for knowing how you felt, and you guessed that deep down she maybe even subconsciously understood your issues with coming back to an empty apartment. So, she tried her best to create an illusion of coming back home to someone, but it was an illusion broken by stepping into the bathroom and seeing only one toothbrush. You replaced it with a new one because it's been two months. That one toothbrush was just one of the little things that broke Barbara illusion, but you guessed the thought was what counted. Especially since she's been with you through the toughest moments
“Say, Barb!” you called out from the bathroom.
“Yeah, what's up?” she asked from the living room.
“I want to reconcile with your family! Think we could go and see them tomorrow night?” you asked her and were met with silence as you washed your hands and dried them on the towel, a clean one at that, courtesy of Barbara being here. You walked out and saw her utterly shocked.
“You mean it?” she asked and you could see the wide grin spreading on her face.
“Yeah, it's about time I start putting all the broken pieces back together,” and the smile on your face told her everything because it looked almost close enough to the way you used to smile before your parents died.
“YES!” Barbara yelled, spreading her arms up in the air and that cheer was for a lot more than just reconciling with her family.
~X~
You could see Barbara was more nervous than she was in a long, long time and as you stood in front of her family’s apartment. You couldn't blame her, you couldn't tell how this would end, or if you could accomplish what you set out to do, but you would do your best. You would start fixing your life one step at a time.
“We’ll be fine, right?” she asked, for the first time looking uncertain. A contrast to how excited and happy she was when you said you wanted to do this. But now that it was time to do it, she was nervous. “They’re going to flip when I tell them there was no boyfriend, and it was only you.”
You stifled a laugh at that, imagining the looks on their faces. From what Barbara told you they were actually happy that she was serious with someone, and it would turn out that it was just you, and it wasn't even that kind of relationship. “I mean, I had to dress up as a guy when I was fighting, so if you really want me to, I can put on a mask and play pretend,” you suggested just to light up the mood for a bit.
“Oh, hell no! I'm not risking Jenna killing me,” Barbara said and then she suddenly froze as you turned to look at her. “Ah, shit! I should really think before speaking,” she slapped her forehead, and you finally pieced everything together.
“You and Jenna are talking?” you completely forgot about the entire meeting with her parents deal and just focused on Barbara. “Are you fucking kidding me right now? Why didn't you tell me anything? How is she?”
Barbara just blinked a few times, watching you blankly. “Of course that's what you want to know. She settled down with a guy and she's pregnant,” she paused for a moment. “She misses you, dumbass! How do you think she is? She's been asking about you damn near every day!” you sort of shrunk into yourself at those words and flinched. “You needed to fix things with Jenna the moment she comes back, because that girl loves you!”
You leaned back against her door and stared at your feet, nodding quietly and just taking everything Barbara was saying in. “I'm gonna fix it, I'm going to wait until she's back from New Zealand and then I'm calling her. Or maybe I should just show up at her door? Hell if I know! Fuck!” you ran your fingers through your hair, unsure of what you should do or how you should get in contact with Jenna again. If you should text or call her, maybe that wasn't the best option since Jenna got anxious when someone called her, so calling might be off the table. But then so should be going right there to see her, maybe she would be busy, or tired and sleeping, and your head was all over the place but you knew you needed to do something. Because she loved you, and you loved her, and there was absolutely no reason not to fix things between you.
You’d handle her parents somehow.
And then the doors behind you opened and you fell back on your ass, which all things considered, you deserved.
“Oh,” Barbara and Sophia gasped as you landed on your ass and Barbara burst out laughing as you looked back and then up at Sophia and then awkwardly waved at her,
“Hi, nice to see you again,” why did your voice suddenly sound so hoarse.
Barbara's mother looked at you for a few seconds. “Y/N?” she spoke slowly as if she couldn't quite believe her eyes. Of all the ways you imagined meeting up with Barbara's parents again this was not one of the situations you thought would happen. Damn it, you were supposed to knock and slowly approach the reunion instead of going in ass first and falling into their apartment. “Barbara what is going on here?”
“Dear, what's wrong?” and then Richard showed up and looked at you, becoming just as confused as his wife.
“Mom, dad, there is no boyfriend. I've been going to Y/N’s apartment for these past two years,” Barbara told them directly, refusing to do this as if she was pulling teeth, she just went and said it.
You slowly got up and looked at them. “And she's still straight, by the way, it's not like we were in a relationship and trying to hide it,” you assured them because they were concerned about you and Barbara being friends, let alone you and Barbara being in a romantic relationship. They should know their daughter was about as straight as she could be.
“Y/N quit fighting by the way, three months clean now! Wait, can we say clean? Would that be appropriate for this? I never thought about it. Three months punchless? Three months violence-free?” Barbara kept suggesting the different ways they could describe your recovery of sorts.
“I think they get it, Barb,” you said and looked at her parents expecting any kind of reaction.
“And she hasn't hit you in those two years? Hasn't threatened you? Hasn't done anything to hurt you?” her dad asked and despite your best efforts you felt the words getting to you.
Barbara nodded. ”Never even raised her voice, and she put up with all of my bullshit, and all the teasing, and all the complaints about relationships, and all the times I tried to set her up with girls I met. And did I mention that she kind of solved a couple of my problems with some shady guys that wouldn't leave me alone? Because she did!” for once in her life Barbara was rambling and that was a rare sight to see, but you could see she was just as nervous about their reaction as you were.
“And you quit for good?” Barbara's mom asked and approached you, and she just raised her hand and tilted your chin up, only to then smile and push it lower so you would look her in the eyes. Your eyes widened as you were suddenly brought back to your childhood when Sophia would do that to Barbara and you and other kids you hung out. Only she would tilt your chins up because you had to look up at her, and now you were quite a bit taller than her. It was a subtle way she taught you not to lie to her, you would all look her in her warm, understanding eyes and tell the truth.
“I quit. I will never fight again,” you told her honestly and she smiled pulling you in for a hug.
“It's good to have you back, it might take some getting used to having you around again, but it really is good to have you back,” she said and Richard just gave you a thumbs up, trusting Sophia's judgment.
“Thanks,” you said hugging her back. It wasn't a tight hug you were used to, there was some distance still left to be bridged, there was time you needed to make up for, but you took a large step with them right now, and you felt so much lighter because of it.
Taglist: @lilbitdepressed27 @freakshow2501 @osnapitzmel1 @belatrixdragon @ijustlovemaths
@niqmandu @justspance @mirage018 @godamnityess
Masterlist / First Part / Previous part / Next Part
A/N: And with this chapter EF crossed the 100k words.
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cigsaftersuh · 20 days ago
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ㅡ living love letter.
🌹 a lee taeyong fic <3
୨ taeyong getting your doodles inked onto his skin ୧
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taeyong loved being your canvas.
it started with small, lazy sketches on his arms and hands whenever you were curled up together on quiet afternoons. a smiley face here, a dainty flower there — simple little doodles drawn while you two watched movies or listened to music.
taeyong would hum along softly, letting you guide the tip of the pen or marker with care, never once pulling away.
"you trust me too much," you teased, adding swirls or stars across his wrist.
taeyong smiled, eyes fond and warm. "your art belongs on me."
what you didn’t realize back then was that he’d make those scribbles permanent.
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the first one came after a particularly quiet sunday, the kind where the sunlight melted across the floor and time didn’t seem to matter. you’d drawn a tiny daisy on his wrist—crooked petals, uneven lines, but charming nonetheless.
"it’s just a doodle," you teased when he kissed it later that evening.
a week later, he showed up at your door with it tattooed in the exact same spot.
"taeyong, what-"
"i wanted to keep it," he said simply, rolling up his sleeve so you could see. the tattoo artist had copied it perfectly; every ‘flaw,’ every wobbly petal.
"it’s yours, so it’s mine now. forever."
you didn’t know what to say, just smiled at him like he’d hung the stars himself.
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the second one came on his shoulder.
it had been raining all day, and you were both curled up under blankets, passing a marker back and forth as you traced lines up his arm. "let’s do something bigger," you murmured, biting your lip as you drew a little galaxy, making sure to include stars, swirls, and even a small crescent moon.
"why space?" he asked, eyes half-lidded as he leaned into you.
"because you’re my universe," you replied softly, trying not to sound too cheesy.
taeyong didn’t reply, he just smiled, tucking his face against your shoulder.
two weeks later, the galaxy was there to stay
you ran your fingers over it when he showed you, your voice caught in your throat.
“you really don’t hesitate, do you?”
"not when it comes to you," he whispered back.
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the third one was a little heart on his ring finger.
it wasn’t planned at all. you’d drawn it in passing while you two were waiting for food at a small diner — “your spot.”
"to match your heart," you said, grinning like it was nothing.
taeyong didn’t tell you until months later that he’d gone to get it tattooed that very same week.
"wait, when did this happen?" you laughed, holding his hand between yours to look closer.
"it’s tiny, but it’s there," he said with a proud grin. "like you. always with me."
you didn’t know how to respond except to kiss him, your laughter tangled with his lips.
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the most recent one took you by surprise.
"close your eyes," taeyong said one evening, his voice full of that familiar excitement that meant he was up to something.
"why?" you asked, suspicious but still smiling.
"just trust me."
when you opened them, taeyong was rolling up his shirt sleeve to reveal a new tattoo — a delicate outline of your handwriting, right along the inside of his forearm.
you stared, mouth open. "is that..?"
"your i love you,” he finished for you, the corners of his lips curling. "the one you wrote on my arm last week."
you remembered it — just a small moment, an afterthought as you’d scribbled the words there absentmindedly. but now, seeing it permanently etched into his skin, your chest felt impossibly full.
"taeyong," you whispered, tracing the ink gently.
he smiled at you, eyes soft. "you always say it’s just doodles, but they mean everything to me."
you didn’t know what you’d done to deserve someone like him, someone who could take the smallest things you gave him and turn them into treasures.
“you’re the most precious thing that’s ever happened to me," you murmured, pressing a kiss to his forearm where the ink rested, still looking fresh.
"i’m all yours," he replied simply, his hand finding yours.
and when you looked at the collection of little tattoos across his skin — your daisy, your galaxy, your heart — you realized taeyong had turned himself into a living love letter.
the ink might have stayed, but so did he.
with love,
© cigsaftersuh
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futuremrscameron · 1 month ago
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weird girl!kook
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weird girl!kook is a social outcast amongst her fellow kooks; they didn’t her strange and offputting for her macabre paintings
she loves people watching; it helps her gain inspiration for new paintings, and it’s fun. it gives her an insight on the lives of kildare’s “elite”
her parents are both artists, so she loves to joke that she never stood a chance. one of her mothers works with charcoal and the other is a sculptor so she was surrounded by the limitless potential of expression through art since before she could talk
has two ferrets named ‘asuka’ and ‘shinji’ and they’re her babies. if they’re not rolling around on her bed they’re fighting and she’s constantly having to break them up
she does not have many non artist friends and even her non artist friends are a little artsy in their own way (ie; kiara)
knew of jj before officially meeting at midsummers. she was intrigued by the party animal front he puts up in front of everyone that barely masks his cruelty
wanted to drop out of kildare private academy and focus on her art but her parents convinced her to stay and graduate so she could at least her her high school diploma and when that didn’t work, access to their art supplies
smokes like a fucking chimney. not weed mind you, though she does get her stash from the mainland, cigarettes. she says it helps her think and that it’s good for stress but really she just likes the smell
weird girl!kook finds herself inexplicably drawn to jj after their midsummers meeting. she wants to get to know him but doesn’t want to seem desperate or like a school girl with a crush but her asking around about him isn’t helping
when he corners her asks her about it, she says it’s purely artistic curiosity, he has a good face and she would like to paint him. this inflates his ego to the gods so of course she has to humble him every so often
their painting sessions are something they both end up looking forward to though admittedly they had a rocky start
“why are you naked?”
he smirks at her blatant disgust, “aren’t you gonna draw me like one of your french girls?”
she rolls her eyes and begins packing up her materials. he frowns. “woah what are you doing?”
“if you’re not gonna take this seriously you can go. i can find someone else.”
he picks up his shirt from the floor and covers his lower half. he’s in front of her in mere seconds when she turns back from pack.
he grabs her arm, “hey hey hey okay wait there’s no need for that. i’m sorry.” she looks at him, trying to gage if he’s genuine. she looks down at his hand on her arm, he lets go.
“sorry.” he scratches his head awkwardly, she takes note of this too.
“you said that already.”
his cheeks flush at her bluntness, “yeah um sorry. sorry.” his face somehow grows pinker.
“you’re good.” she unpacks her paints and looks back at him, “well get dressed we’ve got work to do.”
he grins, “yes ma’am.”
she looks down at the arm he grabbed. goosebumps
often home alone because he mothers go to the mainland to sell their art as a kid she hated it but now she’s thankful she doesn’t have to explain why the infamous jackson genrette is sneaking out her room at 8 am
surprisingly not a lightweight, jj finds out the hard way when he tries to challenge her to a drinking game. she knew he was trying to get her drunk to fuck her so of course she hustled him, pretending not to know the rules and struggle in the first round only to kick his ass in the second, third, and fourth round. she ends up carrying him back to hers
her colorful outfits and makeup makes her stand out more than anything but she refuses to change it despite the drawbacks (being perceived) it’s how she expresses herself outside of her art
she hates being the center of attention but loves receiving praise for her art, this double edged sword always strikes when she offers to paint sets and props for school plays. she ends up the talk of the school for a month before she happily goes back to being the outcast
weird!girl!kook doesn’t realize she likes jj until he pulls up to her house in his motorcycle on one of their non-meeting days. he tells her to get dressed cause he just wanted to see her. he convinces her to take him up to the roof so they can look at the stars. he points out every constellation he can find and tells her about his mom teaching him all about them. it’s the softest and most genuine she’s ever seen him
thinks rafe is weird and sketchy but understands why him and jj are friends. rafe thinks she’s weird and sketchy but knows she’s exactly jj’s type. they get along for his sake
has jj saved as ‘my muse’ in her phone. jj has her saved as ‘sexy da vinci’ before he gets serious about her and ‘eye of the beholder’ after they start dating
no one understands how or why they’re together because they’re so different and they don’t seem to like each other, at least that’s what it looks like to outsiders. they still haven’t gotten over that time she called him a dirty dog after he asked her to put her cigarette out on him while he was drunk (she did)
weird!girl!kook who hopes to leave outer banks share her art with the rest of the world and secretly hopes jj will come along
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this took me a minute cause it was not planned but as always tell me what you thought, positive or negative just keep it classy. <3
(i wonder if anyone will catch the iwtv inspo)
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mitamicah · 4 months ago
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Are You? Uno Reverse Card. Hockey Jerseys? How many more things will these two change the meaning of for me x'D!?
This artwork is drawn to celebrate that after months of dreaming and hoping beyong belief the 'Are You' tattoo saga has concluded with me getting both Bojan and Jere's handwriting (featured in the art as well) inked permanently on my art August 13 2024 😱😭💚💙
For the curious I'll post the full timeline of the saga below the line :3
May 7 2023; Two idiots go out together during the preshow days of Eurovision 2023. Their banter birth this iconic phrase
May-October 2023; Saying Are You in the right cadence (after this called to ‘are you’/’are you-ing’) becomes one of my favourite vocal stims
October-November 2023; The idea of an Are You tattoo is born in my mind.
November 28 2023; Joker Out announces their upcoming Europe tour.
December 1 2023: I buy Early Access tickets to Joker Out’s Malmø gig naively thinking it includes Meet and Greet (and that it would be the only show I attend – I end up going to four in total). Mentally planning to ask Bojan to contribute to the tattoo.
January-February 2024; I realize MnG is not included in the ticket- changes plans to make a sign for the show.
March 15 2024; Bojan sees my sign at the soundcheck of the Malmø gig and agrees to it within half a sentence (ends up writing it twice).  Afterwards I’m lucky enough to hug and thank him. Plus, we Are You together for what seems like minutes.
March-April 2024; I make a few concept art for the tattoo using both Bojan’s sentences that I share on social media. A friend (hi @feral4kaarijasquat) suggests trying to get Jere involved.
Story 5 - March 22 2024; I get a tattoo to memorize following Joker Out around in march. I end up half promising the tattoo artist that she can work on my Are You tattoo as well when/if I manage to get Jere’s attention.
May 4 2024; I take a sign with me to the Käärijä Böle Arena shows yet despite being on the second and third row I fail to get his attention.
Spring-summer 2024; Käärijä announces upcoming Europe tour where I buy ticket for Hamburg. After the disappointing and stressful experience at Böle I decide to put my tattoo hunting on hold for the summer.
July 3 2024; Gets first row to Käärijä’s homegig at Ravintola Backas, Vantaa. Jere sees and acknowledge me twice, including Are you-ing me. (This is important because it showed me that getting his attention was possible).
July 5 2024; Makes spontaneous sign out of half a pizza lid to bring to Käärijä’s Allas Sea Pool gig. Two songs into the setlist Jere Are You the crowd, then sees the sign (I’d put in the air that second) and jokingly half-agrees to write it on my ass. With the help of a wonderful finn I go home with Jere’s handwriting after that concert (also waves at Jere by the fence outside of the venue).
July-August 2024; I put together the finished concept art and contact the tattoo artist. I’d asked for a possible appointment on September 20 (if you know, you know) but she is unable to make it.
August 13 2024; I am contacted by the tattoo artist about a spontaneous appointment – within two hours after our first message I have gotten the tattoo.
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aziraphales-library · 9 months ago
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Helloooooo again! Hope you are doing well! I have a request for some fics and I was wondering if you happen to know if there are any where Aziraphale and Crowley get married in Vegas after a drunk night (this is a very specific niche so if you can’t find any that is perfectly ok!) and it doesn’t even have to be in Vegas, just accidental marriage fics are cool too. Thank you!
Hi! Here are some drunken Las Vegas marriage fics...
to have and to hold, probably by seventhstar (G)
They have long, drawn out arguments about this, if they can even be termed arguments; onlookers inevitably describe their tone of voice as 'fond' and their mode of communication as 'bickering'. The wine is passed back and forth between them. Marriage, Aziraphale argues, is divine. It's about love. It's about making promises, and keeping them. It's about faith and hope and devotion. Marriage, Crowley replies, is infernal. It gives two people who love each other endless opportunities to ruin it. It's about power and money and pain; it's caused more evil than it ever has good. Or, the one where they get drunk married in Las Vegas.
Waking Up In Vegas by Supergeek21 (T)
Crowley and Aziraphale wake up hungover after a night out in Vegas.
Ouroboros by FriendOfLoki (T)
“We should get married!” Crowley blurts out. His face is burning the moment the words leave his mouth and enter into the night. He’s not quite sure how he got here. Or, the story of how Aziraphale and Crowley drunkenly marry each other one night in Las Vegas.
Oops! by Mimsynims (E)
This must be a dream. A fantastic, soul-crushing dream. That’s the only explanation. Right? “Aziraphale, did you hear me?” Bugger. Not a dream. “Pardon, what was that?” Aziraphale reluctantly dragged his eyes from the simple yet perfect ring on his left hand. A ring that matched the one on Crowley’s left hand. His friend, Crowley. Best friends Aziraphale and Crowley are on holiday in Las Vegas. After a getting a bit too drunk the night before, they wake up with wedding rings on their fingers. Sounds like it should be easily dealt with, or is it..?
Veni Vino Vegas (I Came, I Got Drunk, I Got Married) by A_N_D (T)
After a whirlwind drunken evening, author Az Fell came home from Rom-Con without his heirloom pinkie ring – but with a wedding license from a 24-hour Las Vegas chapel. Elsewhere, book fan Tony Crowley woke up with a hangover, vague memories, and a brand new ring he’s only seen in author photos. Mutually attracted, mutually terrified the other one thinks it was all a regrettable mistake, they turn to their dear but anonymous online friend to vent and ask for advice. …Maybe they should tell each other their screennames someday.
Waking Up Married by Caedmon (E)
"So you’re telling me that my options are either to convince this man I just met and drunkenly married to stay married to me for six months or lose two thirds of a billion pounds?” “That’s exactly what I’m telling you,” Fergus said. “Fucking shit,” Crowley spat. He hung up the phone and stared at it for a moment before rubbing his eyes with his fists. Now his job would be twice as hard. He needed to talk Aziraphale into staying married for six months. Should he try begging or bribing? This was a huge ask, and Aziraphale would be well within his rights to tell Crowley to fuck off. But Crowley was prepared to offer him pretty much anything, up to half of the trust, if that’s what it took. He didn’t care. But that was only part of his concern. Even if he got insanely lucky and Aziraphale agreed to stay legally married to him for the next six months, how the hell was he going to talk Aziraphale into dating him during that time? And was it foolish to even try? One thing at a time, he decided. First, he needed to convince Aziraphale to stay legally married to him. Then he could set about wooing his husband. He hoped.
- Mod D
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harrysmimi · 1 year ago
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Harry From Bar
Synopsis: One where YN is conflicted but Harry is there to support her.
Ps. Mentions of abortion and religion pls do not read if this is smth bothers you. And if you are planning to read it, keep an open mind and spread no hate. This is just a work of fiction and NOT real life.
More of my work
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YN was sat on her bed in complete and utter and disbelief with her head in the palms of her hand. It is horrible.
"YN!" Her friend, Brielle yelled from her bathroom. "Who's is it? Do you even know?"
"Of course I do, I do not sleep around!" YN defended herself, crying like a baby.
Look, don't take her too seriously. YN doesn't judge other people and their life choices or even let other people do the same in front of her, but she is certainly not the one who would be going out of her way to do the same. She was completely sober when she slept with this guy (so was he) she met at the bar and had a nice two hour chat with. One can say, she let her intrusive thoughts win that day. They very carefully used protection during the entire time.
She quite took on a liking on him. He was charming, adorable and caring most importantly. It is something she was drawn towards. They even exchanged their numbers before she left his place, he texted her to make sure she reach home safely.
His last text read: Perhaps we can meet again?
And her reply was a simple yes to which he reacted with a red heart. And was the end of it. Yes she went down into spiral of the weird betrayed feeling for the first time from someone who she started to grow immediate romantic feelings for. It went on for about a month, she couldn't bring herself to text him. Now this is the third month.
You see YN missed her period for the second time and it did not take her long enough to put two and two together before she was calling her best friend over. This is something serious and had her going down yet another spiral that she had to take two days off work. That isn't like her at all, she loves her job and she hardly ever takes a day off from work. The entire point of her moving to a completely different country was her work.
"Then who is he?" Brielle asked, pulling YN back down to earth.
"The guy I met at the bar three months ago." YN let out a sigh and quickly added, "I haven't dared to sleep with anyone else, before you say anything!"
"Oh okay!" Brielle sighed, "do you want to keep it?"
"I, I, I honestly don't know." YN shrugged, "I mean I am certainly not ready for it and my grandfather and dad and brother will have me buried alive if they find out."
"Who cares about them!" Her friend sighed again and sat down next to her, "it's your body, do whatever the fuck you want to!"
"I know Brielle, but..." YN stopped herself, "I need to talk to him. But I don't know if I should call him or text him."
"Duh! Call him over!"
"I am scared, what if he thinks I am just to trap him? I quite liked him, we were going to see each other again soon but it never happened." And it started, YN cried her eyes out for next hour and half.
It's not a challenge for her to bring a human into the world and raise it, she is definitely financially capable of that, but she is not mentally or emotionally capable to do so. She still has so much to grow in her life and having a baby was further down her list of priorities, most probably after marriage.
Truth is, YN had been sulking around for about a week think the same and a pink plastic stick just brought her fears into reality for her. She's been contemplating her entire life since then.
"He is not going to think that." Brielle assured her friend, "if he does, we're going to kick him to the curb where he belongs and move on."
"It's not that easy." YN shook her head still sniffling on her tears. "I, I, I am going to text him, I can't talk right now."
"Okay, let's do it." Brielle urged her and YN finally texted the guy. Just by the start of the morning three days later she got a reply back.
Harry from Bar
- Hi, this is not Harry.
- I am Jasmine
- This number doesn't belong to him anymore I recently got this :)
That made her heart drop to her stomach. And she was all alone. Her best friend had gone home. It was luckily a Sunday for her and she had to go grocery shopping, even though she didn't wanted to she's still got to eat. She still got her reusable bag and drove to the grocery store.
She has been asking her pregnant cousin what she can eat and can't eat indirectly because she has no idea what to do.
It's just so confusing!
She picked out mostly junk food which she found appetising, which contained chips, ice cream, bread and butter and some other healthier options too. Lately she has been too exhausted to even cook herself meals for the whole day.
Just as YN was loading her bags in the back seat of her car she saw the guy from the bar walking into store with a girl. He had his arm around her shoulder. Now YN knew who it was, the girl was his sister. He'd shown her the pictures when he was sharing his weekend's experience with her that night.
Just as she was about done he saw her and approached her excusing himself from his sister. Luckily she had her sun glasses on to hide her swollen eyes from crying so much. Though her red cheeks and nose would be pretty evident.
"Hey, YN!" He chirped.
"Hi." She smiled shutting her car door.
"Haven't seen you in a long time." He started, "actually, let me rephrase that I wasn't in town for a few months so couldn't get back to you."
"Oh, I, I texted you yesterday." She started, still sniffling from her tears from three hours ago. "You changed your number."
"Oh, yeah." He smiled sheepishly, "I lost my phone and we couldn't find it. They gave me a new number, also lost all of my contacts. You sound sick, you alright love?"
"Yeah, I, uhhhhh, I actually wanted to talk to you about something."
"Yeah, what is it?" Now she had his undivided attention, which intimidated her even more to approach the conversation.
"Not, not here please. Can we like go somewhere private?" She could hear her heart thump in her ears.
"Okay, you wanna go to mine?" He asked.
"I, I have groceries in my car. It's not that urgent anyway." Harry could tell it is indeed something urgent and she is making excuses.
"Then we can go to yours." He announced, "I will tell my sister she can take my car, we can go to your place and talk."
YN just nodded in agreement. He just walked over to his sister for a minute meanwhile YN got herself a few seconds to gather herself up. She's been going through a shit ton of emotional turmoil and, balancing a very demanding job with very little food and nutrition was never a challenge for her but with a growing fetus inside in a different story. Her lifestyle works for her, but it is not working while she is clearly pregnant. She knew she shouldn't have gotten that ultrasound there it's fucked her up emotionally even more.
"Okay shall we go?" Harry came back to her.
"Mhmm." She nodded. She some how managed to drive to her place and Harry carried all her groceries upto her flat for her. "You want water? Or tea, or coffee?"
"Water is fine, thank you." He nodded.
"Please, have a seat." She insisted as she reached for a glass. He watched her as he sat on the bar stool behind the kitchen counter. The flat with a loft bedroom was small yet incredibly lavish and luxurious looking, maybe it's the way she has it all set up. He also noticed she haven't taken off her sunglasses yet. She sat the glass of water in front of him and walked around the country. "I will be back, just a second." She went into her bedroom upstairs and came back down with a with a blue folder and without her sunglasses.
"You alright YN?" He asked, now clearly worried seeing her red puffy eyes.
"I don't know how to tell you," her voice cracked as she tried not to cry but her eyes were pooled up with tears.
"Hey, what happened?" He was quick to get off his seat and go hug her the first thing. "It's okay. It's okay, I promise!" She wrapped her arms around him. "You can tell me, that's okay." He caressed the back of her head as she had her face buried in his white shirt.
"I, I, I am pregnant and I don't know what to do!" She cried out in muffles, "it's yours I promise!"
"Hey, hey, hey I want you to take in a deep breath for me, okay?" He guided her through the breathing exercise to get her to calm down a little. She just looked at him with guilt and hope in her eyes, "look, I trust you. Look at you, you've gone all pale come and sit on the sofa." He walked her to the sofa quickly fetched her a glass of water. "You need time to gather yourself?" To which she nodded.
Harry sat there in silence. Well, this wasn't the first time for him to go through a scare like. Certainly his past girlfriends went through similar situations but all of those have turned out to be negative, this time it turned out to be positive with a girl he knew only for two hours.
Well, he was quite smitten by her. And to be honest he really couldn't stop thinking about all these months, if it weren't for his phone getting lost he would have asked her out. He even visited the same bar a couple of time hoping to see her there, but he didn't and he eventually had to go on the tour in America. He'd nust gotten back home a two days ago and now he's gotten the news that he could potentially be a dad now.
But, whatever YN wishes to do. She seems very conflicted to him. If she choses to not keep it, he'd support her. If she choses to keep it, he'd support her anyway and step up to be a present dad regardless of where his relation with her leads.
They both sat there for what seemed like to be hours but in reality it's just been ten minutes. "Can you please fetch that folder?"
"Yeah." Harry quickly got up and brought her the blue folder, from which she took out a few reports.
"Got these pictures yesterday when I went for the appointment." She showed him the grainy ultrasound pictures, a seahorse looking silhouette was the cutest thing ever, it took his breath away.
"Oh, I see them!" He whispered, pointing his finger to the obvious human fetus silhouette. His eyes pooled up with tears.
"Yeah." She nodded and they both sat in silence again, or at least Harry could feel his heart thumping in his ears.
"Oh my god!" He took in a deep breath to face the conversation, "you want to keep it?"
"I don't know." She looked down at her hands in her lap, "I don't know honestly. But if you don't want to have to do anything with this matter, I understand."
"Don't say that." He moved closer to her carefully, "I want to be there to support you, no matter what your decision is. At the end of the day it's your body you're going to house a human for nine months in."
"Do you want it?" She asked, "don't give me a diplomatic answer please."
"I do want a baby, I want to be a dad one day or other, yeah. I think I'd want this little one." He admitted after yet another silent pause from him. "I don't want you to base your decision on what I want YN."
"I know." She nodded, "I know I will be a bad mother, I am not emotional there to be a parent plus I'd have to deal with my family for getting pregnant like this. But I don't want to get rid of it, I know this will sound stupid but I don't think that's the right thing to do with an innocent life. I don't want to kill it."
"It's not stupid, your feelings are valid." He took her hand in his into a gentle hold, "if you don't feel ready for it, I say don't do it. Even though you'd have plenty of time to prepare, but if you really think you can't, then you shouldn't have to."
"You are not helping." She started sobbing again.
"Hey, can I hug you?" He asked carefully approaching her to which she responded with just curling up next to him, he wrapped his arms around her. "What do you want now? And be honest with me, please."
"I want to focus on my career." She shared, "it sounds mean, but I am really not ready. It's going to be a big conflict as well because I am not married I just don't know what to do!"
"Hey, first off all, your feelings are not stupid." Harry corrected her, "you don't want the baby?"
"I don't know, but I know if I have this baby I won't be able to be there for him or her. I am not ready!" She sobbed again.
"Hey look, you don't have to." He announced, "you want me to go with you?"
"You will?"
"Of course, I would!" He squeezed her in his arms gently, "look you shouldn't feel guilty for putting yourself first. It's very important you that, yes it is difficult to make these kind of decisions. But put yourself first."
"Okay." She nodded, now slowly pulling away from him not wanting to make things awkward. "Did the condom really broke?"
"You want me to be honest?" He asked with a guilty look on his red face, she nodded, "I don't know honestly, got in bed immediately after we cleaned up. I swear I would have told you."
"I trust you." And to be fair she does, the man was asking for consent at every little thing. She was also fully present in the moment.
"Did you eat something?" He asked just to get a nod of her head in answer in disagreement, "you want me to make you something? Did you get pasta?"
"Yeah." She sniffled.
"I'll go make you some pasta." He placed a delicate kiss on her head before he was off to kitchen.
"Wait, you can cook?"
"That's sounds surprising doesn't it?" He chuckled, "well, turns out I can't keep a cook as I travel so much so had to learn to cook for myself." She just gave him a small smile.
In no time Harry was done with some delicious pasta, he plated up two plates and brought them back to the sofa just to run back and get water. YN honestly did not feel like eating but she felt too guilty to let all of his hard work go to waste. It was pretty good actually, she liked it.
"I, I, will make an appointment for Tuesday then." She spoke breaking the silence between the cutlery clinking on the ceramic plates.
"Sure!" He agreed, "I will give you my new number you can text me, I will come and pick you up."
"Mhmmm." She nodded again.
That was about it for the afternoon. Harry did gave her his new number and promised not to loose it or have it saved somewhere so if he looses it he can reach out to her this time.
......................................................................
Tuesday rolled around and Harry was anxiously waiting for YN's text. It was way too early in the morning, but he was still ready for her text whenever she is.
To be honest, Harry really never got over the fact he still wants to see where things would go with YN if they both gave it a chance. He is just not so sure about how she would take it now given the situations. He is really smitten by her, so much, he will admit it shamelessly. He still finds himself grinning like an idiot when he thinks about their first interaction.
How she thought he was his own doppelganger, how she mocked him for solid fifteen minutes with an untouched wine glass in her hand. In her opinion she'd rather spend four pounds on the cheapest glass of wine even if she doesn't drink to keep the creepy men away from her.
She talked to him, apparently he wasn't being creepy and did not ask to buy her a drink. And most probably because she was having so much fun mocking him and laughing. He still doesn't know how that night happened honestly. It was blissful.
To pull him out of his day dreaming his phone started ringing, it was of course YN.
"Hello love, good morning!" He said as he answered the call, sounding way too excited.
"Hey, good morning." Her morning did not sound so good, "I called in the clinic yesterday after work they said they couldn't fit me in, and I like already took next three days off. Do, do you think you can me out here? Now I know I should have called them earlier but I had to run in early for work, there was this important thing I had to get to which I had been putting off..."
"Hey, look you don't have to explain yourself." He assured her, "let me make a few calls and we'll take care of it okay?"
"Okay." He let out a sigh, "please call me back, I'll call my friend too."
"I promise, will call you back. Give me half an hour." He reassured her again before the call was ended.
He called in his manager, and the hardest calls to make were to his mum and sister. He needed their opinions okay. He doesn't know if either of them have been into this situation but he hoped they could help. His sister told him about her friend who is a doctor at this private clinic, who she had referred her other friends too. Luckily both, his mum and sister were so nice and cool about it. To ease his nerves, it was good. Amazing actually!
He had called in the clinic and they actually had few slots open for an appointment, he made sure with YN first before booking one. Rest assure he wasn't ready for the questions she bombarded him with when he went to pick her up. The clinic wasn't so far away from her place actually.
Harry spent his entire Sunday night and all Monday researching about the pregnancy and everything which came with it. And everything about the abortion.
"Harry, it is a private clinic, I really can't afford it. Do you think they'll charge to cancel the appointment?" She panicked when he told the name of the clinic.
"Don't worry about it, we'll take of it."
"No, no, nope! I really can't afford it." She started to get stressed.
Actually she had spent more at hospital these past few weeks than she had her entire life. She had to actually dip into her savings which she was going to use to buy the flat she is living in. Maybe in a couple more years, or at least before he lease ends as her landlord was really looking to sell the property. And it was eating at her that a huge chunk of her savings went to something she could so surely avoided from happening.
"Let's just go in okay, let's just see what they say first." He parked his car and got out to get the door for her. YN was clearly nervous the whole time.
She had gone in for the procedure alone actually, she could apparently go home by the evening they said. If things seem good, or they'd have to keep her in for the night. Which none of them were prepared for. Harry had to wait outside for about an hour before he was told he could see her in the recovery room.
"Hey love, you doing alright?" He asked as he carefully entered the room. A nurse was checking up on her there.
"She is a bit drowsy, let her sleep if she wants to." The nurse informed, "she is doing well, you can probably take her home by evening." He smiled at Harry before he was out.
"Thank you." Harry acknowledged the nurse and carefully sat beside YN on the edge of her bed.
"You are blurry." She shared.
"You are under a lot of meds right now love." He shared, "you want to take a nap?"
"Mhmm." She nodded, "I, I want to lay on my side but I can't move."
"You want me to help you?" He offered already helping her to lie on her side, well, she did it on her own anyway, "is it better now?"
"Yeah."
"I'll wait here for you, okay?"
"Thanks." Her eyes were already closed shut.
Harry sat right next to her for next three hours as she took a much needed nap. He found some old magazine to keep himself occupied, he read almost every little gossip and random facts column. He got to know ketchup was once used at medicine and shrimp's heart is in it's brain. Totally weird as fuck!
None the less YN was up in a couple of hours. She was doing well.
"Hi!" He greeted her as he placed the magazine down.
"Hi." She smiled back.
"How are you feeling now?" He asked watching her carefully, her forehead was all sweaty.
"I am warm, I don't know." She yawned.
"Want me to turn up the AC?" He asked to which she nodded in yes, he did so after he found the remote, "you need a minute or do you want me to call a nurse?"
"I don't want to see anyone right now, there were like five people there." She shared.
"Mhmm, do you need something?"
"Nope, I am good, thank you!" She smiled again now lying on her back.
"You did so great, the nurse said you can be discharged by evening hopefully." He shared, "what do you want for dinner, it's my treat."
"Oh, can we get burgers? I am really craving those I don't why!" She chuckled weakly making him grin showing off his dimples.
"Sure, anything you want, love." He carefully leaned down to press a kiss on her forehead. It felt natural in the moment but he felt awkward real quick. "Hey, can I ask you something real quick? I don't know, it might be a bit of a wrong time to do so."
"What is it?" She let her hed relax more into her pillow, still teensy bit drowsy from the medications but technically sober and in her consensus. Harry took a hold of her hand, the pad of his thumb rubbing over her knuckles.
"How, how about after you're feeling better and have rested well enough, we, we��� I mean you and I can go grab dinner sometime?" He asked nervously, he is a little scared to be honest but he's trying his best to act cool. "I mean like a date. I've always wanted to ask you out to be honest!" A soft embarrassed chuckle left his mouth.
"A date?"
"Yeah, only if you want it to be." He added quickly.
"You, you sure you want that?" YN asked, her eyes welling up with tears in instance. In her defence she was starting to get cramps now, bht it was just the partial reason of her getting emotional.
"Why wouldn't I be?" He announced more than making it sound like a question, "was going to ask you out the same day but got a last minute call from my manager and then shit happened. Hey, why are you crying?"
"You're asking me for a date, I just got rid of your and my baby." She pointed out feeling guilty.
"Hey, hey, hey that's not why I asked you out my love, it's because I genuinely like you!" He announced to her, "I just want to get to know you, you are the most genuine person I've met in a very, very long time now. And you placed yourself first, don't have to be guilty about it. You know I wish I would have asked this the very morning I booked you that cab back to yours. I wish I wouldn't have lost my phone then."
"Really?"
"Yes!" He chuckled, finding her red nose now adorably funny, "I really do feel that way. Not asking you out just because I got you pregnant, lovie. I really do like you a lot!"
"I qm going to cry, stop!" And her voice was choking already as she spoke, which made Harry pull her in a warm and tight embrace.
"I respect your choice YN, that's the bare minimum I could do, you deserve so much more." He whispered in her ear.
It's been weighing on her heart, when growing up all she was taught that when she finally get married and get pregnant she has to keep that child and care for it, it's her duty to do so. If she felt otherwise, she was being ungrateful of the great gift. Her family is very religious, still. And by-product of that belief is herself and other five of her siblings. Though it is going to take time to get over those internalised misogyny, she hopes she can over come those really.
She really do wants kids, she is not sure how or when yet, but she does. This time felt just way too wrong to her. She can barely take care of herself let alone take care a whole new human and teach it how to go by their day and manage their emotions. It is definitely much more than just being able to financially take care of someone.
After what felt like whole ten minutes but actually had just been a minute Harry tried to pull away but YN wouldn't let him. "No, please don't."
"Oh, no I won't darling." He held her tight again, "you'd still let me take you out?"
"Yes!" She chuckled softly. "I want to get out of the hospital first please!"
"Mhmm, for that you'll have to let me go so I can go and get a nurse." He informed her.
"Oh, yeah..." He let go of him reluctantly.
"I'll give you all the cuddles you want, first let's get you out of here." He placed a gentle kiss on her forehead.
Soon they were out of the hospital and back at YN's. Harry was already planning a perfect date in his mind, given YN was adviced to rest (not bed rest) for a couple of days.
The next night Harry gave up and cooked up a nice and hearty meal for for both of them, they called it a date. According to Harry, that's the most romantic gesture he's ever done for anyone. Everything was starting to look like it was going to be fine.
......................................................................
N O T E:
Okay, so pls bare with me, my brain is a bit rusted lately. I apologise if this one sucks. I tried my best.
Also, pls feel to point out any typos, or not. I do not have time to go ahead and proof read this. I have to catch up on sleep. Hehe.
Hope you like it!!!
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heesdreamer · 2 years ago
Note
omg can you do a spiderman au
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FEAR OF SPIDERS
PAIRING ➩ spiderman! heeseung x reader
SUMMARY ➩ you’re pretty sure that your quiet and mysterious roommate just might be a serial killer… plus he’s weirdly afraid of spiders
WC ➩ 3k
WARNINGS ➩ none really other than descriptions of injuries and the brief mention of series killers lol
AUTHORS NOTE ➩ once again written at 4am and not proofread but im a big spider man nerd so this was fun and a perfect request for me
At this point you were pretty much convinced your roommate had to be a serial killer.
A bold assumption, you are aware, but ever since he moved in about 6 months, eagerly answering a Craigslist ad you had posted with suspiciously little amount of information on his page, you’d been attempting to understand him and his usual habits and this was the most solid conclusion you’d drawn.
Heeseung wasn’t a bad roommate necessarily, he kept in his own space and he very rarely made any messes. Honestly half the time you never even noticed somebody living with you, surprisingly light on his feet for how tall he was. He moved around the apartment silently during the rare times he was actually out of his room at the same time you were.
He was shy too you had noticed judging by the way he’d jump in shock everytime you rounded a corner abruptly or turn red and scamper off back to his man cave whenever you stared at him for a little too long. Not to mention the fact he was absolutely terrified of spiders apparently judging by the way he’d completely panic every time you screeched and announced the presence of one.
These fun fact were harmless though, so why did you think he was a serial killer?
Well the first thing you had noticed that was off about him was the fact he didn’t sleep. It took you almost 4 months to understand why he was always up before you or why he constantly had dark bags under his eyes. Your roommate simply did not sleep, maybe even during the day.
When you had told your friend Jake about this he had joked around that maybe your roommate was just a vampire. Jay, the more reasonable of your trio, had monotonely countered that guess and said that he was probably just a third shift worker and you were too nosy for your own good.
He was completely accurate in the second half of his statement, curiosity running through your veins and causing you to snoop one day while Heeseung was off doing whatever he did during sunlight hours. You’d called off from work sick, faking a pained groaned when your roommate yelled from the living room to announce the fact he was leaving and he hoped you felt better.
The second the front door was clicking shut as it closed off in the distance you had hopped out of bed, throwing your blankets to the side and racing to make sure the coast was truly clear before you began your investigation.
When you cracked open the door to Heeseung’s room after determining it safe to look, you knew you were doing something wrong and being overly invasive. Yet you couldn’t help the excitement that washed over you as you looked around his dark bedroom, somewhere you’d never even caught a glimpse inside before.
His room was spotless which surprised you considering how often he was inside of it, even eating his meals behind the closed door. There were no clothes hanging around and his bed was perfectly made like he’d never even laid on it before. He had a few posters hung up and you marveled at the bands he was seemingly interested in, wondering why he never said anything when he had heard you playing some of the same ones in the kitchen.
Despite being grateful you’d gotten some insight on who he was as a human being, nice to finally discover after all these months sleeping two doors down from a mere stranger, you were disappointed regarding the fact you’d found out absolutely nothing that would explain his weird behavior.
When you met back up with your friends a few days later to give them an update, one that they hadn’t asked for Jay begrudgingly reminded you, they had thought you were absolutely crazy. Even Jake who was originally on board with mission find-out-your-roommates-secret.
So you told then the second thing that you had noticed about the boy.
Heeseung was pretty and that’s one of the first things that drew you to him. After he had answered your ad with zero photos or information on his page other than his name, you’d requested to meet in a public place so you could make sure he wasn’t somebody crazy or trying to scam you. He eventually agreed hesitantly and two weeks later you were sat at a coffee shop as you waited for him to arrive.
The first thing you noted when he had walked in was that he was annoyingly handsome. Immediately followed by the fact he had the most gentle face you’d ever seen, big round eyes peering around the shop anxiously as he tried to spot somebody who looked similarly to your photo on your profile.
When you smiled and waved at him, calling him over to the table you were at, he had given you a small grin of relief and you immediately figured he was harmless.
So when he started to show up late at night, injured and bleeding, you thought that somebody had to be crazy to hurt a person as kind as Heeseung. At first you’d assumed he maybe had been mugged, finding bloody tissues and bandages left over in the bathroom trash one night.
It took three weeks for you to actually catch him coming home, staking out on the couch half asleep after you realized his bruises weren’t healing and more just continued to pop up. He’d staggered into the apartment around 5 in the morning, not noticing you sitting in the dark until you cleared your throat.
His eyes were immediately shooting towards yours, shocking you slightly that he was able to find you so fast considering how dark it was, and you saw his eyes widen from where his face was illuminated by the kitchen light in the distance.
“If somebody is messing with you, we need to go to the police.” Your voice was soft as you broke the tensioned silence, watching the way he tensed up at the last word you said and started to shake his head.
“I’m fine.” He mumbled back but you could hear the wince in his words and one of his hands came up to rest on his ribs.
You were getting off the couch and making your way over to him before he could disappear back into his bedroom and deal with it alone. He stiffened when you gently grabbed his hand and dragged him over to your shared bathroom, sitting him down on the toilet softly as you started to scramble and look for the first aid kit under the sink.
“You don’t have to tell me.” You shook your head as you looked and hoped he was paying attention to you. “But I took first aid in highschool and your wrap jobs are just terrible.”
He let out a little scoff of a laugh and then immediately bent over with a hiss of pain. You snapped your head up to look at him and your heart hurt when you saw the complete state of his face now that you were sat under better lighting.
His face was pretty much swollen or bruised in all areas and your stomach turned thinking about how bad the rest of his body must be. The blood from his split lip was dripping down onto his chin and shirt and you watched as he instinctively tongued at it before wincing in pain at the burning sensation.
You were standing once you found the wraps you were looking for and going back over to him, trying to ignore how cute he looked as he peered up at you from his spot on the toilet seat.
“You’ll need to take your shirt off.” You were whispering awkwardly and he froze for a second but eventually nodded.
Heeseung had been fit when you first met him but you weren’t unaware to the fact he had suddenly bulked up sometime this summer. It had confused you considering he didn’t seem like the type to work out and you couldn’t figure out for the life of you when he could possibly be making time for that, but the results were apparent as he nearly doubled in shoulder and arm width.
He started to try and pull his shirt over his head but he stopped abruptly with a low stretched out groan of pain, putting his arms back to his sides and shaking his head in denial.
You sighed and shifted closer to him, holding the hem at the bottom of his shirt with your fingertips and looking at him for permission. His eyes watched you for a second with a strange expression before he was nodding slowly, trying not to flinch away as you helped him undress and get it safely over his more intense injuries.
It was hard not to over react to the sight of his bruised chest but you didn’t want to upset him or make him less inclined to come to you for help. Heeseung’s body was pretty much a mess of colors, black and blue in most spots but some parts of his skin were tinted yellow like they were a few days old.
You glanced up at his eyes to find him already watching you, a dark expression on his face as he waited for you to say something. You imagined he figured you’d press him for answers about who had done this but you didn’t, nodding softly before moving closer to him so you could gently wrap him in the bandage.
He shivered slightly when your hands touched his skin, your fingertips brushing over him softly as you meticulously wrapped his ribs tightly in the material.
You tried to do a good job despite the fact he was still staring at you, watching you with those big eyes as you avoided meeting them. When you had finally finished he sucked in a deep breath in relief, the pressure helping the pain slightly.
He sat obediently as you continued to try and help relieve his suffering, letting you dab at the cuts on his face with a wet rag and apply ointment over them with trembling hands. When you were finished, neither one of you made a move to leave, so you sat down on the edge of the tub right beside the toilet.
Your knees knocked against his and he glanced at you, shocking you when he extended a hand in your direction. You took it gratefully, yours still shaking, and squeezed his warm skin in thanks.
It was weird for both of you to be in this situation together but it felt strangely natural and intimate. You can’t recall ever touching Heeseung like this or even hanging out with him for as long as this had been stretching on. You wondered if he was realizing the same things as he zoned out slightly.
“Why don’t you let me come with you tomorrow?” You were breaking the silence to suggest and his head whipped up to look at you with fear. “I won’t pry about wherever you go I promise but maybe they’ll leave you alone if you have company.”
He was swiftly turning on the toilet seat so he was facing you, his knee slotting in between yours as he grasped your hand with both of his and gave you a desperate look. “Y/N, look at me.”
“Under no circumstance can that happen.” He was shaking his head and squeezing your hand to properly get his point across. “And you absolutely can’t follow me, you need to promise me this.”
You watched him with a pained expression, feeling frustrated and helpless but also hearing the pure panic and sternness in his tone as he stared at you anxiously waiting for a solid response. He looked terrified at the thought of you going wherever he does and your stomach turned as you got a very bad feeling.
You were flipping your conjoined hands so yours were released and he glanced down at them in confusion but realizing you were wrapping his pinky in yours.
“I promise.” You whispered back to him.
That was the first time you had considered the possibly that Heeseung was into something very dangerous, that you had completely misjudged your soft gentle roommate and he was possibly as axe murderer or some kind of hit man.
“Maybe he’s Spider-Man.” Jake was exclaiming after you’d told them this and a few heads shot your way in the restaurant causing him to duck his head down.
Jay scoffed and rolled his eyes as he said this and you paid him no mind, the suggestion almost making less sense than his previously mentioned vampires. As far as you and the rest of the city were aware, there was only one Spider-Man in the whole world and it simply wasn’t possible that it coincidentally would be your awkward roommate.
“More realistically, he’s one of the bad guys Spider-Man beats up for a living.” You were shaking your head, knowing that statistically it made more sense.
“Why not just follow him then.” Jay was shrugging and taking a bite of his fry nonchalantly. “So what he told you not to, he might be a murderer. Why does what he says matter anyways?”
“He seemed really scared.” You were shaking your head as you sighed and leaned back in your seat. “I’m not going to die just because I’m too curious for my own good.”
“Well… we could always come with you if you’re worried.” Jake was slowly suggesting.
You glanced at him in surprise, not having thought of that for some reason. You looked over at Jay and expected to see him with a scowl, denying the idea of spying on your roommate on his only day off but he was surprisingly calm looking, shrugging his shoulders when he realized you were waiting for his opinion.
So that’s how you wound up in your current situation, ducking low inside Jake’s car with dark clothes and beanies on. You’d been preforming your amateur stake out for only two hours but there’d been no sign of Heeseung leaving your apartment building that you were currently parked in front of.
“Are you sure he’s even going to come out?” Jake was whispering from the drivers seat and you sat up to listen to him closer, elbows resting on the middle console between the two boys.
“He does every night.” You whispered back with a shrug and almost like you had summoned him, your roommate was slipping out from the lobbies from door and looking around his surrounding areas before starting to speed walk down the street.
Jake made a celebratory noise and started the car slowly, peeling off in a slow cruise around the block as you waited to see which direction Heeseung was going to turn to next. It’d been a few minutes of watching him before guilt started to settle in.
“Should we be doing this?” You sighed and rested your chin over Jay’s shoulder who was only paying half attention to the operation going on.
“Well he is kind of suspicious.” He murmured and you glanced at him from the corner of your eye as you waited for him to explain more thoroughly. “He looks over his shoulder every three seconds and he just totally ducked into that alley over there.”
Jay was right you realized as you picked your head up, not noticing you had completely lost sight of your roommate. Jake slowed to a stop behind a few cars, up the street from the alley Jay saw him disappear into and you waited to see if he would come back out or if there was maybe a secret business or club residing back there in the darkness.
It was only about 30 seconds before something was shooting out of the alley and the three of you froze, jaws dropping open almost comically as you pieced together what it was that you had just potentially saw.
“Oh no fucking way.” Jay was sitting up in his seat and showing his widest range of emotion and interest, finally seemingly invested in this situation as he leaned forward to try and look outside the front window. “Dude that was…”
“Spider-Man.” Jake was exclaiming excitedly, hollering as he gripped the steering wheel and shook it slightly, glancing back at you with a childish amount of happiness on his face.
Despite the superhero’s alarmingly large presence in the city and the feeling that he was constantly looking over everybody’s shoulder, you hadn’t actually ever seen him for yourself until he just swung his way out of the alley and off into the city skyline.
You were ignoring the two boys excitement and jumping from the car, their yells of confusion as they told you to come back bleeding off into the distance as you sprinted towards the alley. Half of you expected to see a bloody Heeseung sprawled against its wet cement floor but the other half wasn’t that surprised when you spotted nothing but his sweater and pants carefully folded and tucked away.
You could hear your friends shoes against the sidewalk before you saw them and they paused when they realized what you were approaching, grabbing the clothes in your hands and turning to look at them.
“Well fuck.”
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acewritesfics · 1 year ago
Text
Mrs. Detective Jay Halstead | JAY HALSTEAD
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⚠️ THIS IS A REPOST FROM MY MAIN BLOG @/DLMLUFICS. UNFORTUNATELY, I HAVE TO DO IT THIS WAY. MORE INFO IN MY PINNED POST.
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Pairing: Jay Halstead x Reader
Request: from @/runnning-outof-time for a celebration from my main account.
Fic Type: Imagine
Warnings: Fluff. A little cringy PDA not from Jay and Reader. Reader has a younger half-sister named Annie (if that’s your name you can change it to something else) and Annie has a boyfriend called Daniel. Annie and Daniel are both 18.
Word Count: 1,438
JAY HALSTEAD MASTERLIST || TAG LIST SIGN-UP
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As they sit across from her younger sister Annie and her boyfriend Daniel, who are clumsily making out, Y/N looks at Jay, embarrassed. Jay returns her gaze with the same expression, feeling exactly what his girlfriend and partner is feeling. Dinner had been going well, Y/N and Jay were getting to know Daniel well and both concluded that he seemed like a good kid. He seemed to really care for Annie. He talked to her respectfully, treated her nicely and didn't have any sort of criminal record - Jay had checked before the double date. 
It wasn't until the teens decided the middle of the restaurant, they are currently at would make a good make out spot when things took a turn becoming awkwardly uncomfortable for the older couple. 
Jay returns his attention to the younger couple and clears his throat, forcing the two teenagers to finally stop swapping spit. 
"Sorry," Annie apologizes awkwardly, her cheeks heating up as she looks down at her hands. Daniel beams as he takes one of Annie's hands in his. 
"Why did we agree to this again?" Jay whispers into Y/N's ear before kissing the side of her head.  
"It was something I agreed to. Like the sweetheart that you are, you went along with it," she also whispers. Looking at him, she sends him a quiet apology while placing her hand on his upper thigh and kisses his cheek. She knows she'll be making this up to him later. Jay needed a lot more persuasion than she did. Y/N returns her gaze to the teenagers and manages to smile. She intervenes just as the two teenagers lean in for another kiss. 
"So, Daniel, what are your plans after high school?" She inquires, making her feel more like a parent than a sister, as she did most of the time. 
Annie was the result of her father's affair with his then-23-year-old intern. Their father and the intern eloped the day after the divorce papers were signed by Y/N's mother, and they are still married to this day as far as she knows. Y/N has been raising Annie since she was seven years old, when her father and Annie's mother dropped her off with a bag of clothing and her favorite toy. The two L/N women hadn't heard from, spoken too, or seen them since.  
It took Y/N months to acquire full custody, but with the help of her mother and intelligence, particularly Jay, who became Y/N's partner a year after she won custody, she was able to raise Annie to be the wonderful young lady she is now. 
"I've decided to take a gap year. I'll be travelling with Annie and some of our friends," Daniel replies, hesitantly glancing between Y/N and Jay. He was clearly attempting to make a good impression on the two.  
"I did that as well," Y/N says, smiling, happy that Annie will have others with her. Her maternal instinct would rather the 18-year-old do her gap year in Chicago so she's close to home, but Annie had worked her ass off for this since she was 14 and saving what money she earned from babysitting the apartment complexes kids. Y/N knows she can't stop her and there would be no point in trying. She did lay down a few ground rules though. "It is the third best thing I've ever done." 
"What are the first two?" Annie wonders aloud, her attention drawn to her sister. 
"The first one is choosing to raise you," Y/N takes a sip from her drink, beaming proudly at her little sister, who was more like her daughter, before turning to Jay and smiling warmly at her partner of ten years and boyfriend of five years. "And the second is being more than just partners with this man." 
The two detectives began working for intelligence at the same time and were assigned as partners on their first day. It had taken them five years of walking around one other, attempting to ignore their feelings for one another that only seemed to grow stronger by the day. It only took a meeting in New York for the two to move from being work partners to also becoming partners in everything else. 
Jay lifts her hand away from his leg and presses a delicate kiss to the back of it. "I love you." 
"I love you too," she says, leaning in to kiss him. 
Returning their attention to the teenagers across from them, they see that the two have gone back to their making out session. 
"Do you think they'll notice if we leave?" Y/N ponders out loud. After dinner, Annie isn't going home with them. She and Daniel are going to see the latest superhero movie with some of their friends from school. 
"Honestly, I don't think they will," Jay answers, rising to his feet and withdrawing his wallet from his pocket, taking out some money and placing it on the table to pay for dinner. 
Y/N stands and circles the table, taking Jay's hand in hers as they leave the little restaurant and return to their apartment. 
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Y/N closes and locks the door behind her as she follows Jay into their apartment. She walks into their bedroom to change into something more comfortable. She intended to spend the remainder of their night on the couch, curled up beside Jay, watching whatever horrible movie was on TV at the time. Jay walks up behind her as she is removing her earrings, wraps his arms around her waist and kisses her shoulder. 
"I'm sorry about Annie and Daniel," she mumbles as she leans back in his arms. There was no place she preferred to be more than in Jay's arms. 
"We were both 18 once," he reminds her, disregarding her apology.  
"I don't remember ever having dinner with my sister while making out with my boyfriend in front of her," she says. "They could have toned it down a lot." 
"It's new and exciting for them," he adds as he kisses her shoulder once again. 
"I know," she sighs as she looks at him in the mirror. "But I'm still sorry. How can I make it up to you?" 
"First and foremost, you must promise me that you will never agree to another double date with those two again," he states as he stares at her through the mirror. 
"I promise," she asserts. "You said first. Is there anything else I can do?" 
"Maybe you could, I don't know, spend the rest of your life with me as your husband?" he shrugs his shoulders, with an apprehensive look in his eyes. 
He takes a step back, and she quickly spins on her heel to face him, a surprised look on her face, "Are you finally asking me to marry you?" 
"I am," he says as he walks over to his dresser, opens the top drawer and reaches inside. 
He closes the drawer after pulling out the ring box and returns to her with the ring box open. "So, what do you think? Would you want to become Mrs. Jay Halstead?" 
She looks down at the ring seeing two smaller princess cut diamonds on either side of a beautiful oval cut diamond. It was simple but elegant and she loved it just as much as she loves him. She grins lovingly at him, barely holding her excitement as she accepts his proposal, tears welling up in her eyes. "How about Mrs. Detective Jay Halstead?" 
Jay's smile spreads from ear to ear as he takes the ring from the box, slides it on her finger, and pulls her into a passionate kiss. 
"Annie won't be home until tomorrow morning, which gives us plenty of time to celebrate," Y/N mentions as she breaks the kiss way too soon for Jay's liking. 
He chews his bottom lip and appears to be thinking about it as his fingers run up her back to the back of her neck before reaching for and pulling down the zip at the back of her dress. "Let's not waste any more time." 
She smiles, bringing him in for another kiss as she reaches up to unbutton his shirt and push it off his shoulders. His hands travel to the straps of her dress and slide them down her arms, allowing the dress to fall into a black pool on the floor before lifting her up and carrying her to their bed. 
"I love you, Detective Jay Halstead," she murmurs quietly, breaking the kiss to let them breathe for a moment. 
"And I love you, Mrs. Detective Jay Halstead," he chuckles, kissing her again. 
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chosos-mascara · 6 months ago
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omg any choso fluff would do for me but, could you write a little something about him and reader going into a photo booth! i think that could be really cute, with all the poses and then getting to keep the pictures at end 🤭 i think choso would really like that
it took a while for choso to ask you out. weeks, if you were to be specific.
he wasn’t a regular to the small record store you worked in - you’d learn months later that in fact, it was an inconvenience to get to. a bus ride into the centre of town and then a twenty-or-so-minute walk had deterred him from venturing so far before, but when holed up on that side of town searching for a certain album, he found you.
a customer assistant. not a glamorous title, but god were you perfect. when he got talking to you, he realised you weren’t just cute but smart too, and not only that, you happened to know the artist he was looking for. out of stock, but it could be ordered in just for him if he’d return in a few days.
and, he did. not just for his album, but to see you again. the next visit he’d no excuse to travel so far when there were stores closer to him by miles, but he made the journey once again, and again, until you knew him by name. he’s wasted a stupid amount of money over the past two months on bus fayre and albums he didn’t need just for an excuse to see you again. the tenth or so visit, he asked you out: “there’s this local arcade that also serves drinks, if you’d like that.”
all night you’ve been playing with him, air hockey, racing games, guitar hero and some retro ones too. he’d passed up on the dance mat due to his clothing choice (he’s scared his hair would look a state, and his jewellery would likely make the ordeal uncomfortable) until you’d found yourself with a few coins left, and a photo booth in front of you.
“should we?” you ask him through an anxious grin - you think it’s the perfect way to commemorate the night, though you’re awfully worried he won’t feel the same way. your fears are eased when he breaks a small smile and gestures forward. you’re grinning as you step into the booth, sitting in the edge of the stool.
“there’s only one seat?” he asks, and you find yourself heating up a little when he watches you scooting up toward the booth wall.
“we can share?” you leave it up to him but you’re glad when he accepts, half of the small metal seat now occupied by him. he’s pretty squashed against you, his arm almost opening the curtain through the lack of space, his body tensing up from feeling you against him.
your heart is racing too because after all of this time crushing over him he’s so close, and so comfortable at your side. choso’s thigh is pressed on yours, his right arm on your left, and you’re trying not to focus on how amazing he feels pushed up onto you while you’re picking a template.
you decide on a string of four photos, a black and white filter over them.
you’re not sure how to pose for the first one, so there’s a some blur. both of you look a little awkward.
with the second, you remember there’ll be a three second countdown, and you use that time to put your head onto his shoulder. you’re shocked when he leans into you, and the flash goes to capture you in this moment.
for the third photo, you’re unsure, and a little late to decide as it captures the two of you face to face, a look of endearment as you’re staring into his eyes, wondering what he’s thinking.
you realise now, his breath is warm on your skin. you’re so close, so awfully close, and his eyes are lowering until you’re sure they rest on your lips.
he leans before you do, though you’re not far behind.
the fourth photo is captured when his mouth meets yours, but you won’t need a picture to remember exactly how this feels. you’re sure you’ll live in this forever, because this moment lasts so long with his lips over yours, a drawn out and heartfelt kiss filled with affection.
you pull back smiling, and he’s shyly matching your lovesick expression.
that little print out is under a magnet on your fridge two years later, in a home you share.
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eastwindmlk · 2 months ago
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Last and probably my least favourite one! Day 31. Prompt accidental couples costume. Word count: 1015
The boy were ecstatic about their costumes, it was hilarious and clever and no one but they would know. Which they thought was only making thing better. Still basking in the victory of becoming Animagi, they collectively decided to dress up as each other.
To make things fair they’d drawn lots and went about collecting their costumes, most of the raided from trunks and laundry piles. There was some secret arts and crafts, some nifty transfiguration and just like that they were dressed as each other.
Remus had been mildly disappointed, though they’d all agreed that the rat was the worst costume to get. They’d teased him about the large ears the moment they appeared on his bedside table, a spell-o-tape and coloured paper construction.
Peter, in turn, was more than a little chuffed to be dressed as Sirius. The moment they’d drawn their names he dove into his head first. Even going as far as to make Sirius sit for some sketches before disappearing to the library for long enough all of them were worried. Only to emerge with a pair of enchanted ears that moved and a tail that wagged.
Frankly, all of them were impressed. Though not impressed enough for Sirius to lend him his favourite dragon hide boots.
Sirius worked smarter, not harder and transfigured some branches into antlers and called it a day. It wasn’t like anyone would be able to tell the difference between his and James’ clothes. The night of the party he fished James’ old frames out from the bottom of his trunk, one of the glasses already missing after a particularly rough quidditch game. It was perfect.
That left James, who had absconded a jumper quite early in the month and then got to work on transfiguring hair colour and growing out his sideburns. Something he considered keeping after Halloween since he thought he looked quite handsome with them.
He, just like Peter – Who was beside himself when James asked him, him, to explain the charm that he used for his tail and ears. - he managed to pull it off just in a nick of time. Only half an hour late to the party, he wandered down to find his friends.
The common room was packed and he found them around the same time that he found her. Now, he wouldn’t have thought much of things if Lily had not looked at him in shock and horror before pulling the red hood further over her face.
First, James simply assumed that this was just her being peeved at him for something. While they weren’t at each other’s throats the way they used to be. - Probably because he did not make a sport about getting into arguments with her. - They weren’t friends by any stretch of the imagination either.
It wasn’t until he was talking to Fiona, a third year who had tried out of the team but barely not made it, that her look, or rather glares, started to make sense. “Didn’t know you and Lily were that close?” she remarked, eyeing his flask of gin expectantly until he poured some into her pumpkin juice.
“What do you mean?” James asked curiously, tipping a little more into his own drink before practically sinking it. His eyes searching the crowd for the red hood.
Fiona laughed and elbowed him playfully. “Funny! You know, usually only couples do couple’s costumes,” she pointed out and he nearly choked on his drink.
“Couple’s costume?” James blinked at her.
The horror on his face clearly giving her pause before bursting out into a fit of giggles. “You didn’t? Little Red Riding Hood and Big Bad Wolf? Really? That’s not a wizard story then?” He shook his head in response. “Well, you could have fooled me.”
Which was precisely what Lily thought too when she followed after him when he and Sirius disappeared through the portrait hole for a fag. Her cheap boots clacking loud against the flagstones as she shouted for him. "Potter?"
The two boys paused and Sirius nudged James with an encouraging grin. "Look who's coming round! Go them 'em, wolf boy," he teased before giving him a shove in the right direction.
The moment James stepped closer, he knew something was off. She did not look happy, actually her narrowed eyed and splotchy cheek were big warning signs. Like the ocean retreating from the beach before a tsunami.
Still, he lifted one hand and smirked at the redhead. "All right, Evans? Couldn't wait to get me alone, could you?"
She did not dignify him with an answer and instead crossed her arms over her chest, defensive now. "Did you know? You did, didn't you?" she accused.
James stood there, gobsmacked before managing to croak out the words. "Sorry, what?" Taking off his glasses to polish them on the edge of his jumper. An excuse to not look at her fuming for a moment.
"You somehow worked out my costume and decided to do-" Instead of finishing her sentence she flung her hands out at him and wildly gestured at him. "That!"
He knew he shouldn't laugh and he managed to swallow most of it, only letting a short burst escape before reigning himself in. "I hate to break it to you, Evans but you didn't even cross my mind when we chose this," he informed her smugly, bristling just a little to rub it in.
Lily sputtered and huffed before stomping her foot. "Bullshit!" she exclaimed and turned her face away from him. Almost like she couldn't even stand to look at him. He'd have taken offence if it had not been for the bright red colour of her cheeks. "What are you even supposed to be?"
"I'll let you work that one out for yourself, Little Red," he taunted and rolled his shoulders back. "But who knows, if you ask me nicely I might be your big bad wolf next year." And with that he tuned on his heel and walked away. Though, he hoped that Sirius had caught her expression for him.
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hiswordsarekisses · 17 days ago
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This is really cool!!!!!
Was Jesus (Yeshua) really born on December 25th, as Western Christian Tradition maintains, or does the careful study of Scripture allow us to infer a different time for His advent here on earth? Two cases can be reasonably made: one case for a Tishri (Sukkot) birth, and the other for the traditional late December (or early January) date. As I hope you will see, the crux of the arguments both for and against the late December dating of the birth of Yeshua depend upon when we think Zechariah (John the Baptist’s father) was in the Temple when he was visited by the angel Gabriel (Luke 1:5-80).
First we need to understand that King David divided the sons of Aaron (i.e., the priests) into 24 “courses” or groups to create an orderly schedule by which the Temple of the LORD would be staffed for the given year (1 Chr. 24:1-4). Once these courses were established, lots were drawn to determine the sequence each group would serve in the Temple (1 Chr. 24:7-19) beginning with the first course in the Spring on Nisan 1 (i.e., Rosh Chodashim). According to the chronicles each of the 24 courses of priests would begin and end their service on the Sabbath day for a tour of duty of one week (2 Chr. 23:8, 1 Chr. 9:25).
The Jewish calendar begins in the spring (i.e., Nisan 1), so the first course of priests would serve for seven days, and then on the following week the second course would serve. The third week would mark the festival of Passover when all priests would be present for service, so the schedule would be suspended until the following week when the third course of priests would serve. The weekly arrangement would then resume until the next major holiday of Shavuot (Pentecost) arrived, and then the schedule was suspended again for the ninth week. By the tenth week the eighth course (of Aviyah, meaning “My Father is Yah”) would be called for Temple service and the courses would continue without further interruption until the 24th course was completed (see the table below). Note that after the 24th course served, the first half of the calendar would be complete and the schedule would then reset for the second half of the year. By means of this arrangement each group of priests would serve in twice per year (in addition to the three major festivals of Passover, Shavuot, and Sukkot).
This weekly schedule of the Temple service allows us to infer the birth date of both John the Baptist and thereby the birth date of Yeshua the Messiah. Of particular interest is the eighth course of the priests, called the “Course of Aviyah” (mentioned in 1 Chr. 24:10) which was the course that Zechariah served (see Luke 1:5). Now since the eighth course would serve either during the month of Sivan or later during the month of Kislev (see the table above), we have two possibilities regarding establishing the birth date of Yeshua the Messiah.
First, if the visitation of Gabriel occurred during Zechariah’s first course of service (i.e., the 10th week), then John would have been conceived sometime during the month of Sivan (Luke 1:23-4), and adding 40 weeks to this (the normal time of human gestation) John would have been born sometime in the month of Nisan, perhaps around the time of Passover. Furthermore, since Yeshua was conceived six months after John was conceived (Luke 1:24-27, 36), adding six months (or 24 weeks) to the end of Sivan implies his miraculous conception would have occurred in mid to late Kislev (near the time of Chanukah). Adding 40 weeks to this (again, the approximate time of human gestation), Yeshua then would have been born sometime in the month of Tishri, during the season of Sukkot (i.e., “Tabernacles”).
On the other hand, if the visitation by Gabriel occurred during Zechariah’s second service (i.e., 35th week), then John would have been conceived after Yom Kippur (Luke 1:8-23) and born 40 weeks later during the month of Tammuz. Again, since Yeshua was conceived six months after John was conceived (Luke 1:24-27, 36), adding six months (or 24 weeks) would imply he was conceived during Passover and was born later during the month of Tevet, that is, sometime in late December. According to church historians, this was the original view of the early church.
So there you go. If you have followed my reasoning, it is clear that Yeshua could have been born either near the holiday of Sukkot to celebrate God "tabernacling" with humanity, or he could have been born in late December, perhaps near the Fast of the Tenth of Tevet which remembered the destruction of the Temple in Jerusalem. There are perhaps other options as well, but I believe God meant for the issue to be a bit obscure because He came into the world in disguise -- the Lord of Glory given in swaddling clothes... Hallelujah!
Note: For more reasoning about this topic see the H4C article: “Christmas Day: Was Jesus Really Born on December 25th?” or download the printable version (find the link below).
Concluding Addendum
The fact that various church groups have chosen different dates to memorialize certain historical events (such as the birth date of Jesus) is something we must tolerate, especially because the Scriptures do not provide enough information to conclusively determine the matter, and therefore we must exercise “epistemic humility” and follow peace (Heb. 12:14).
It should be noted, however, that the early church recognized the later December dating (rather than a Sukkot date), though assuredly not because of any pagan influences (such as Saturnalia or Roman sun worship). Indeed the early church suffered terrible persecution from the pagans in Rome and there is no historical evidence that they sought to assimilate with any of the pagan customs of that time. The suspicion that Christianity “appropriated” pagan culture to celebrate the birth of Christ actually first arose during the so-called “Age of Enlightenment” (17th century) when the use of human reason and the scientific method were dogmatically declared to be the only way to truth...
The question of the date of Jesus' birth is not one regarding his empirical reality and the historicity of the gospels, since these are not seriously questioned by honest historical scholars. However the Scriptures accommodate divergent convictions on such matters, as Paul gave the principle: ῝Ος μὲν κρίνει ἡμέραν παρ᾽ ἡμέραν, ὃς δὲ κρίνει πᾶσαν ἡμέραν. ῞Εκαστος ἐν τῷ ἰδίῳ νοῒ πληροφορείσθω - “One person esteems one day as better than another, while another esteems all days alike. Each one should be fully convinced in his own mind” (Rom: 14:5). “So then let us pursue what makes for peace and for mutual upbuilding” (Rom. 14:19).
You might not agree with my thinking on the subject here, but if you want to make a case for a different date, then do your own careful research on the question. Read the relevant Hebrew texts, do the math, consult the Jewish calendar, read the New Testament, check the Greek, and then determine whether you think Zechariah was serving at the Temple during the month of Sivan or later, during Tishri, perhaps during the time of Yom Kippur. Shalom!
[ Hebrew for Christians ]
Was Jesus Really Born on December 25th (pdf):
https://hebrew4christians.com/Holidays/Winter_Holidays/Christmas/JesusChistmas.pdf
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soranihimawari · 1 year ago
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I Missed You
Pairing: Oikawa x (gn!) reader
Word Count: tbd
Rating: Oikawa Tooru Fluff [otf]
Warnings: none// reader in timeskip becomes a doctor specializing in aging/older athletes and completing necessary check-ups before a match.
Note: I tried to not tie any gender-specific nouns when describing reader.
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How I think OIkawa & reader hug each other after not seeing each other in a long time.
[23:45]
That’s the time stamp you receive on an old friend’s text. There are only three words which the message is comprised of. When you read them aloud to yourself in the comfort of your own home, you seem to repeat them like a mantra.
‘I miss you’
Simple hope draws from this in a way that can’t be described as you stare at your screen until you ultimately lock your phone. You close your eyes for a a few minutes when your brain decides to show you a highlight reel of the activities you used to do with the sender. Learning the rules of volleyball, joining in their team jogging paths, coming to scheduled matches, accompanying him to the nurse’s office when he landed on his feet wrong, etc. He was destined to be famous, just not here at home in Japan, no. Somewhere half a world away called out to him first. Argentina was distant, far, the most you’d ever be separated and even then, the times prior were literally at the start of up schooling lives.
Unfortunately, the last memory behind the closed eyes you see is a bittersweet one: the reality your friend, confidant, (and crush) hits you. You never did want to wind up fighting with him, but for once you’d want him to fight to stay here. With you. As his best friends remind you, you’d be holding him back from his true potential ever since he started practicing with the collegiate teams up the road from where you live—this was where the initial rift began to be drawn between you two.
During lunch one day, you visit his classroom, sitting next to him explaining (or rather complaining) the trouble you were having with a particular class and one of the assignments needed to be completed prior to a content exam.
“Do you ever shut up about schoolwork, yn?”
You pause, a disappointed look heavy on your brow as those within earshot suddenly fall quiet.
“I’m sorry not all of us have a righteous path carved in front of us, Tooru,” the tonality in your voice was one of annoyance. “Some of us have to work even harder to achieve our dreams other than hoping to skip town and follow in their idol’s footsteps.”
Ever since that brief conversation, you and one Oikawa Tooru, are now practically strangers come graduation day. You hear whispers via the third year rumor mill of his accomplishments and his ultimate defeat against both Shiratorizawa and Karasuno. Matches you weren’t there to show your support for, even if Iwazumi Hajime, the ace and vice captain, had invited you because, “it would be nice for him (oikawa) to see a familiar face in the crowd.”
Glancing back at Iwazumi’s moss green eyes and stoic countenance, “and if I recall, it would be nicer if I wasn’t there because it might distract him further. There are plenty of scouts heading to those matches. I’m sure he’d catch one of their eyes.”
“And if those scouts ask him to move to another country, are you really going to be ok with not saying your goodbyes when we graduate, yn?”
You aggravatedly sigh at him, muttering an annoyed, “Yes, Iwazumi-kun, even then.”
Many months later, post Oikawa's jog in the winter while watching the Karasuno v Inarizaki match, it is now springtime. You’re holding a bouquet of flowers from your parents who pose with you for pictures around the inner school gates of Aoba Josai’s campus. Your fellow classmates and club members surround you for more photos as well. This was going to be one of the final memories you have for your high school career. You were accepted into a university specializing in biomedical engineering with a strong focus on exercise science.
This was your dream, not necessarily the same path as Iwazumi’s to become an athletic trainer, no, however you had wanted to be a doctor whose focus would help restore and maintain older athlete’s bodies even post retirement. Helping those who had maybe one or two career setbacks was something which had captivated you the more you began to focus on the life sciences of your high school careers and with the help of those teachers, they had written for you a brilliant recommendations to boost your acceptance after passing the various university exams.
[13:43]
In your office nearly a decade later from high school graduation, sits your newest patient. He comes from Argentina, like your nurses tell you, but the rumor that he had come on a friend's recommendation is what actually piques your interest. Well, to be fair, two of your friends' personal recommendation are what causes you to raise your eyebrow. The nurse on duty that day takes his vitals as normal, asks him the routine questions before giving him the proper spiel of, "sit tight and the doctor will see you in a few minutes."
Oikawa Tooru has come home for several reasons. The only one on the top of his list is coming home for an exhibition match game he was invited to by the former captain of Nekoma and now representative of the JVA. However, when word reaches Iwazumi's camp in the national team's gym, he smirks, sending a text halfway across the world. Your name is thrown into the mix of doctors who are willing to examine older, closer to retirement age, athletes. Considering this was not how he had wanted to spend his second day back in his home country, Oikawa Tooru asks to book this appointment to get an all clear before playing the V-League exhibition match Kuroo talked him into attending.
You are reading over the file of the new patient outside of the room in the hallway. You scan over the various ticks he had made on the questionnaire along with your nurse who says that his young son looks up to Oikawa-san as a professional volleyball player.
"Repeat that one more time, Sato-san," you clear your throat when Sato-san repeats what he had said earlier.
"My son is as huge fan of Oikawa-san," he points to the name at the top of the document in your hand.
Right there, next to Sato-san, the nurse's pointer finger, is the kanji of the name of a person you thought about since your high school, university, and medical school graduation days. You clear your throat, thanking Sato for his time measuring the vitals of the next patient in the room you're about to enter.
"No prob doc," is all Sato says when he walks back to the nurse station leaving you to enter the examination room where an old flame sits.
You take a deep breath prior to knocking and entering. You open the door and you see OIkawa bent over on the examination bed, reading something on his phone. His hair is cropped shorter, his shoulders are a bit broader, his skin a bit tanner, and for lack of better words, his muscles quite filled out the rest of him. He's still humming a tune you're unfamiliar with until your shoes enters his field of vision.
"Hello Tooru," your voice causes him to freeze and immediately causes his eyes to avert away from his phone. "It's been a while."
Oikawa's coffee-colored eyes study your face and the recognition hits him like a truck. Although he is dressed in a sky blue buttoned blouse and dark jeans compared to your teal scrubs and white lab coat, he stands up, arms extended to crush you in a hug. His patient file falls to the floor when you hug him back.
You hear him for the first time since that argument long ago, voice wobbly and all, "I missed you."
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maestroofcringe · 3 months ago
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< ру версия | eng version >
〔E. Nygma, Private Investigator〕
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Case Nᵒ0: Gotham's Sherlock Holmes.
Finally got courage to post it... Sorry if English is bad, not native language. Have a nice time reading!
synopsis: The brilliant mind of Edward Nygma requires action, but he does not intend to return to crime. Then a plan comes to his mind - to become a private detective. Edward is well aware that he may need help. Harvey Dent and Jonathan Crane agree to participate in the case, also unwilling to continue their criminal activities. However, the plan is not going according to plan at all...
Several months have passed since the Riddler's criminal genius was finally recognized as sane. The doctors, who had previously locked him in a cell, inevitably and independently realized their big mistake and admitted that the Riddler is a wonderful person all by themselves. They have never ever been bribed, and he have not been making fake documents, of course.
Despite the fact that Ed didn't need a job due to his fortune he was dying from boredom. He may have left most of his obsessive "dragging Batman into a game" thoughts behind, but his brain still required a challenge. If he doesn't find a way to entertain his mind, he might snap and start throwing riddles around the city again.
However, his genius had not faded. Not at all. And one day, during regular going through his extensive library, he came across a book of Sherlock Holmes. Eureka! This was what he needed! A private detective was perfect for new job! After all, Edward was an ex-cop, ex-cop undoubtedly superior to the Dark Knight in field of deduction and many others.
Therefore Nygma decided to become Gotham's own Sherlock Holmes. Edward figured out what he would need to do to achieve this goal. He came up with three simple steps to begin career of the city's most brilliant detective. The first step was to "prepare the necessary documents", the second was to find a case, and the third was to solve it successfully, getting interviewed as nice promotion and gaining more cases. And then, everything would fall into right place. Starting is always the hardest part, isn't it?
Paperwork...  No, Nygma never liked to do this, which meant he needs some good lawyer, notary, or at least someone who knows enough about it... Precisely! What better lawyer could be than former District Attorney Harvey Dent?  He heard Harvey is "retired". Ed thought he'd probably bored out of his mind, too.  Moreover, Dent is physically much more prepared. And extra guns never hurt.
Edward immediately picked up his phone and found Two-Face's number in contacts. He called him and invited for a drink at their favorite bar. Fortunately, Dent accepted the invitation.
▢▢▢▢▢▢▢▢▢▢▢▢▢
Half an hour later, Nygma entered the bar where Harvey was waiting for him. He was holding some papers with schemes and explanations. It seemed like he had drawn the whole diagram by hand, with every single detail painted.
Harvey rolled his eyes and chuckled as he asked: "I thought you invited me here to chat, not to lecture me about your new "genius" plan. To be honest, Ed, I've had enough of it and so have you."
"You don't understand, Harv! It's a win-win option. This time I'm sure on one hundred percent, I did the research and, believe me, I thought it all out. The usual. Yet, you didn't even try to hear me! When some stupid coin offers - you agree and go forward it, but as old friend ask you for help, you immediately "quit". And! AND, it's not about crime! The plan is legal, for note. Believe me, you'll regret your refusal if you won't listen to me. Therefore, let me give you a little tip - listen, or rather write it down. Maybe not only half of your brain will start working! Harv, please, don't be an idiot for the next ten minutes and let me explain. I quitted crime, agree, BUT I'm not going to get rid of my mind in order to meet the standards of society!" Edward quickly interrupted Harvey, not letting him get a word in until he finished his tirade by asking," Which one of us is the brain, after all, me or you?"
Harv frowned, not appreciating the "hints" about his past decisions. He took a deep breath, counted to ten and exhaled. Edward had a point, it was worth listening politely, Dent can refuse any time later.
" Well, let's imagine I believe you," he finally said, adding, "Go on, smart-ass."
"Harvey, what do you think about private detectives?" - Edward's smile returned as if he didn't throw a tantrum five seconds ago.
"Seriously, detective? What's the riddle here, Holmes?"
"Right, like Holmes."
"You're kidding, Ed..."
"Please, remember, I'm not the one to joke about important things. What I said doesn't sound a joke, does it? Sooooo," - Nygma wanted to push his friend to the right conclusion.
"It means you being honest. Let's assume that's not some kind of trick. Besides, your "honesty mania", or whatever it's called..." Harvey paused for a moment, trying to recall the exact word, but alas, no other idea came to mind. "Forget it. How does this relate to me?"
"That's a great question, Harv! Good job! I told you the brain would start working. Fpr why I'm here - I need your expertise. You know the law inside and out, being an expert in document management and stuff. You're the real professional, aren't you? You know how to do good work and I need someone I can trust without fear of back-stabbing," Edward seemed almost sincere for a moment, however he quickly hid behind his sarcastic mask and strange sense of humor. " Harv, I'm going to die of boredom or kill someone! Think about it. You wake up in a trap, failing to answer my riddle and getting HEAD OFF! Not that you use it anyway..."
"Come on, Ed. I was just asking." Former DA sighs, thinking about how it could be beneficial for him, after all he wants to help people again. "Ah, screw it! Will do! I agree 50%. Is that a deal, partner?"
"DEAL! It's a deal!" Edward replied, feeling happy about the success awaiting him at the next step. Of course, success always awaited him, because the unrivaled genius of E. Nygma had never let him down. It was rare to see the Riddler in such good spirits, especially after his career ended. Well, there he was, walking down the street with a happy smile on his face. A suspiciously happy smile...
"You have no idea what a great decision you made, Harvey!" He exclaimed as they walked towards the bus stop, where they would split up.
Harvey smiled, but said nothing. He was still unsure of why Nygma was doing this. It's unlikely that he was doing it out of kindness. Moreover, it was also unlikely that Ed had called him only for the sake of working with papers. Harvey knew it was too soon to hide his colt. "I should keep an eye on him," Harvey thought, waving goodbye as he disappeared into the bus. "I promise you, Gilda, I will not let him hurt anyone else. Not after what happened... not ever".
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First step was made. Gotham's own Sherlock Holmes now planning brilliantly solve the case, case waiting for him to be found. No one knew that the case would find them on its own.
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