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dandelionflower · 4 years ago

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I saw on one of your post that said to send you prompts sooo... can I request A childhood friend AU either Felix or Marinette moves away and then reuniting in college in France at age 14 in Felix's school with the Quantic Kids.

It was a pretty normal day, which probably meant something was going to happen. If it wasn’t a normal day, something was bound to happen as well; life in Paris hadn’t been normal in months. It being a normal day meant that Marinette was late. Super late. Way, way, so very late she might as well be early for the next thing kind of late. So late that- (oh, she’s beginning to catch onto why she’s so late.)

She knew even as she was shoving toothpaste into her bag for Tikki and brushing her teeth with frosting (wait, switch that) that she would be late, and her erratic movements were enough to convince her parents to write her an excuse. Not that anyone could blame her; she had to deal with three akumas in one night. Three akumas. Who could blame her, or anyone for that matter, for being late when there were three emotionally-stunted teens each wreaking havoc upon the city? It was a wonder that anyone else got to class on time, except for Alya, who Marinette was pretty sure didn’t sleep.

Marinette kissed both parents goodbye, thanking them again for the excuse note. They shoved a box of pastries into her hands, as was their habit whenever she didn’t leave school fast enough.

They had done it since her first day at her new school, when she was tiny and frightened of new people; having the same best friend since birth would do that. Her father had shoved a box of macaroons in her arms and her mother placed a bracing arm on her back. They told her what to do and she tried her hardest to follow their instructions, standing up straight at the front of the class, introducing herself, and offering cookies. Unfortunately, that was the same day Chloe Bourgeois was joining public school, and compared to cookies, her offer of money to ten year-olds wasn’t all that effective. And Chloe was excellent at holding a grudge.

Of course, she ended up with friends: Alya, Nino, Adrien, and everyone in art class, but it was hard to go about her first couple years of school without anyone in her corner. Becoming Ladybug really gave her the boost of confidence she needed to break out of her shell and make new friends, and now she had a whole class full.

She stopped in the classroom to put her stuff away, pausing for a second to breathe. How was she out of shape? She’s Ladybug, for heavens’ sakes! Those three akumas really took it out of her. Luckily enough, she had gym class up next. (Can you hear the sarcasm?)

“Girl! Where have you been?” Alya smiled up at her from where she was stretching her hamstrings.

“Sorry Alya, slept in too much.” She fell into place beside her, choosing one of the more advanced stretches to accomplish instead. “Three akumas yesterday; couldn’t get much sleep.”

“You need to get over yourself, Mari. Ladybug and Chat Noir always win against the akumas, this fear of yours is ridiculous.” Alya glanced at her with an incredulous look, but when she saw her intense yoga pose, the look shifted and she yelled over her shoulder. “Adrien! Get over here! Marinette’s doing her physics-defying stuff again!”

Adrien joined them, laughing at Alya’s exaggerated despair. “It’s really not that hard. You just have to-” He fell into the position easily and began matching her movements. “There.”

“How on EARTH?” Alya shrieked and threw herself to the right, toppling into Nino, who was in a shaky warrior two. They ended up in a heap on the floor, Alya staring in horror at the two still upright and Nino staring bewildered at his girlfriend. “How are you two doing that?”

“Well, I don’t know about Marinette,” Adrien moved into an upward dog, “but father insisted that I be physically active in some way and my mother used to do yoga. So I picked it up.”

Nino leaned close to Alya’s ear. “I’m not sure whether to add this to the ‘reasons Gabriel sucks’ list or be happy he has this thing with his mom.”

“Both I guess?”

“What about you Marinette?” He moved into a handstand-like position. “Why do you know all this stuff?”

My superhero moonlighting requires me to be as stretchy as a rubber band, so my partner, who is also a furry, taught me yoga. “My first best friend and I learned tai chi, and this just felt like the next step.” Not a lie, just not why she chose yoga.

“Okay, you’re fine.” Alya pointed a finger between them both. “But next time you do something weird, I’m starting a cryptid blog about you.”

“You don’t have the guts.” Marinette leaned in and Adrien flipped down to join her. It felt familiar, like deja vu; not her crush, she killed that with fire once he started dating Kagami.

“Heey!” Nino opened his arms in front of them. “Let’s change the subject, what about that new student?”

“There’s a new student?” Marinette turned to the rest of the class, who were all stretching dutifully. No new faces whatsoever. “Where are they?”

“Not here, he went to the office over a scheduling conflict. Seems like a jerk.” Alya pulled an arm behind her head, glaring with derision in the direction of the office.

“Alya, don’t.” Adrien nudged her with a foot. “First impressions don’t mean anything, right Marinette?” He shot her a playful glance.

“Don’t remind me.”

“That one was a misunderstanding. Mister Ice Cold over there doesn’t even say a word, just nods and walks into the back of the class. At least Adrien did something and he asked for forgiveness afterwards. Frosty doesn’t even look at us.” With that final comment, Alya joined the rest of the class in dodgeball.

“Is she alright?” Adrien side-eyed her.

“Yeah, she just really hates people acting superior to her. Let’s go.” Marinette shrugged it off and joined her in picking teams.

Dodgeball was a mess; it always was. The entirety of the class had been akumatized at one point, and some of the strategic prowess remained. Marinette’s team always won, which everyone attributed to her agility, but it was really that Ladybug had more practice in strategy. The only way the teams could be considered even was if Adrien was against her.

She still won; she always won. When it was all over, each team, sweating and exhausted, gravitated to the center line to shake hands and congratulate one another on a game well played. Adrien met her in the middle with a weary smirk. His hair was disheveled, but there was a spark in his eyes that made him seem more familiar than he already was.

“I almost got you that time.” He gripped her hand tight.

“All that training with Kagami is really upping your game.” She quipped, shaking his hand. “Better luck next time.”

With that promise of another match, everyone vacated the gym to the locker rooms, where Alya continued to warn Marinette against the new student.

“Even Chloe doesn’t like him and he seems like the kind of rich boy that would be right up her alley.”

“Alya, I get it. You aren’t the new guy’s biggest fan.”

“And the feeling’s mutual too.” She griped.

“So just don’t talk to him; it works with Chloe. Why not this guy too?” She wrapped an arm around her shoulder and led her to their desk.

“Fine, but I don’t have to like it.”

“You don’t have to like him either.” She pulled out her notebook and began writing down the date.

Before Alya could make another passive aggressive comment about the mystery new boy, Miss Bustier walked in, the usual skip in her step. “Class, I know I already introduced you to our new student but since some of us weren’t here for the first period,” Marinette ducked her head with a sheepish smile, “I’ve decided there’s nothing better than a redo. So, here’s Mister Culpa, introducing himself again.”

Culpa?

A boy with pale blond hair and paler skin strode into the room. He wore what could only be called business-casual, all monochrome. His eyes were a one-in-a-million breathtaking ice blue.

Culpa?

“Hello.” His eyes scanned the room emotionlessly. “As I previously said, my name is Felix Culpa and I am from-” He stopped when he reached her. “Nette?”

“Felix.” She breathed, barely even daring to say it louder, lest he disappear.

He was a blur, climbing the steps and reaching her in the time it took her to stand. There were no words when they hugged, other than the other’s name. She was on the tips of her toes, pressing her forehead to his collarbone. Felix got tall.

“I missed you.” He whispered, squeezing just a little tighter.

“I missed you too.” She laughed, pulling back to see his face. He was crying. She was crying.

“What in Ladybug’s name is happening?” Alya’s shout broke them from whatever pocket dimension they were inhabiting together. “You two know each other?”

“Alya, this is Felix.” She turned to look at her, hand still on Felix’s shoulder. “He was my best friend from birth to ten.”

“Was?” He bumped her hip with his. “Didn’t know I’ve been replaced, Netta.”

“I couldn’t contact you after I moved! I was ten and your mom never told us what her new number was.” She punched his elbow. “What are you doing here?”

“My family moved. I didn’t know you were in this area too; imagine my surprise when I see what the current events in Paris are and find out that there are superheroes and my best friend is now a borderline celebrity.” He chuckled, running a hand through his hair.

“We have to catch up some time.” She grabbed his arm.

“Certainly, maybe not here and now, though.” He gestures to the class around them, avidly watching the exchange.

“Right.” She released his arm and rubbed the back of her head awkwardly. “Coffee and macarons later then? My place?”

“I would like nothing more.” He quirked a smile that would seem tiny to anyone else, but to Marinette was as bright as the sun. “Until then.” Felix squeezed her hand and moved to the back of the class with a little wave.

She returned it, a goofy smile definitely on her face as she sat back down.

“Well,” Miss Bustier coughed, “since Felix has been so thoroughly introduced to everyone else, I suppose I should start the lesson.” And she dove into a spiel about the first World War.

“Dang, girl. Is it just me, or do you have a date after class?” Alya whispered to her from behind her textbook.

“It’s not a date! We’re just catching up.”

“Sure.”

She spared a quick glance at Felix, who was nose-deep in his book, just like when they were kids. He had such sharp features, and upon reconsideration, his eyes looked even more beautiful than she remembered. Felix grew up just fine without her. Really fine, in fact.

It took Marinette a couple seconds to realize she was staring, and when she did, her head turned back to the front of the room so fast she swore she heard a snap.

This was... going to be complicated.

#felinette #ml felix #felix agreste #felix culpa #marinette dupain cheng #ml marinette #ml alya #alya cesaire #ml nino #nino lahiffe #ml adrien #adrien agreste

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dcforts · 4 years ago

Text

[something more]

ao3.

Dean never wants to go to hunter gatherings.

First, because they don't exactly have the best track record when it comes to meeting other hunters, and second, because whenever they go there's always people looking at them like they’re freaks. He knows they tell all sorts of stories about them and some are hard, ugly truths that Dean would rather stop thinking about for the rest of his life.

But he's got a text from Carol while he was about to get in the car after wrapping up a case, and Sam asked who it was, so it had become a Thing to discuss.

And Dean’s main argument was “Why would we go?”, but Sam’s was “Why not?”, which was objectively stronger. And it got worse because from the backseat Jack kept interjecting with, “Go where?” and, “Who are these people?” until Sam paid attention to him and explained that hunters meet up sometimes to “get a drink, exchange stories”, and that had made him light up like a Christmas tree because Jack loved stories and the idea of expanding his pool of knowledge on hunting and creatures appealed to him greatly.

So the fact that Dean had tried to point out that, “This is stupid. We are hunters, not a book club,” had sorted no effect whatsoever. No, instead, Jack had said, “That sounds nice. We should go,” and when Dean had met Cas’ eyes in the rear view mirror, all he had offered was a shrug.

Typical.

It’s not that Dean wants to be a hermit or something, but he always feels like he needs to be wary of who’s gonna be at these sorts of things because some may treat them like Hollywood stars, but some may want to shoot them on sight. Anyone could come up to them and call them out for starting the end of the world, letting monsters out of Hell and Purgatory, cosmic beings out of their cages, getting their family killed, destroying their lives.

And there’s also this: are they really ready for Jack’s debut in society? Sam thinks they are. He thinks it’s a great opportunity to show that the community doesn’t have anything to worry about. He’s with them now and he’s not going anywhere so they should get used to that. Cas says he’ll be there to intervene in case things go south and Dean’s mind flashes with Carol’s house burning to the ground after Cas’ has gone all mama swan on the hunters. He meets Sam’s eyes briefly and it looks like he had the exact same images playing in front of his eyes, “I’m sure it won’t be necessary," he adds quickly.

So Sam wanted to go and Jack wanted to go and Cas didn’t seem to be able to say no to the kid even if he tried, so Dean had to bite his cheek and wake up early the next morning to drive across the state.

At least it’s a nice day, at least it stopped raining and the sun is breaking in from the clouds; the chilly air that comes in from the window that Cas is in the habit of keeping rolled all the way down brings in the pleasant smell of wet leaves.

Dean feels his knees bumping on the back of his seat from time to time and looks at him in the rear view mirror and Cas sometimes catches his eyes and sometimes he doesn’t.

At least they are spending time together. It’s rare for Cas to stay around after a hunt these days. He doesn’t need the down time they require, or so he says. He gets bored in the bunker, starts climbing the walls the second the door closes behind them. He gets restless, and then there’s Heaven and always bigger things to deal with, and Dean imagines that that beats staying behind to play foosball with him and Jack.

Going on hunts with Cas is always fun, but it’s also a run against time and there’s death and guns and fear involved, even when it’s an easy-peasy salt-and-burn. And it’s the four of them crammed in a motel room, so they don’t get much time to be alone. And Dean likes when they are all together, but likes it more when Sam and Jack disappear in the maze of the bunker and he gets to have his best friend all for himself.

That is why Dean had been pleased when Cas had expressed his intention of staying with them for a couple more days. In that moment Dean had been busy keeping his lunch in his stomach - he’d just found the shredded skin of a shapeshifter in a freaking kitchen drawer - but he’d heard him loud and clear all the same.

They were moving about in the victim’s house looking for clues and talking about other stuff, when Cas had said something along the lines of, “I could work on it once we go back to the bunker,” and Dean had asked, half distracted, “So you’re going back with us?” and Cas had his back turned and Dean had opened the drawer in that moment, but he'd heard him when he’d said:

“I guess.”

It was barely a whisper but it meant yes, that’s all that mattered. And it also meant, from Dean’s perspective, a really nice weekend, that included, not in order of importance: his hot dog pants, driving around with the music up, Dean’s cave and Cas.

So, yeah, if Dean was completely honest with himself – something that he generally tried to avoid – it’s not like he wanted to waste a whole day of that to go spend it with a bunch of strangers.

But it doesn’t matter now, because they’ve piled up in the Impala and driven to Carol’s.

Dean likes her. She spent half her life working at a bank, but after crossing path with a djinn she hanged her suit, moved out of the city and created a safe place for hunters, soon becoming a beacon in the community in Kansas. Her door is always open, as she said that one time they met her on a case. Dean likes her for no-nonsense ways, her honest looks and, not less importantly, her amazing sandwiches.

Carol fusses over him and Sam in the hall, scolds them for taking so long to visit when they live in the same state, then Sam makes the introductions, and it’s only his shifting a little from side to side that betrays his nervousness.

Her eyes focus on Cas and her expression speaks of wonder and surprise.

“The angel Castiel,” she calls him and he nods, “a long way from Heaven.”

“The weather here is nicer,” he says, and Dean snorts softly next to him.

Jack wins her over immediately with his wide smile and polite hand shake, “I look forward to exchanging stories,” he says and she huffs a laugh and says:

“Sure, Jack. We heard a lot about you. I bet everyone will be eager to talk to you.”

On the other side of Cas, Sam gets more fidgety; he says, “If you think uh – we don’t want any trouble.”

But she shakes her head and gestures dismissively. “Nonsense. No one will start trouble if they don't wanna see the end of my rifle. A friend of yours is a friend of mine,” she reassures him. “Plus, Eileen vouched for him.”

“Sh-she is here already?” Sam almost chokes up and all of the sudden he seems to have grown a few inches taller.

Dean understands now. He pieces together his insistence in coming to this thing, his bouncing knee throughout their journey, the way he checked his phone more or less forty-five times. He feels slightly less bad about having caved in. There are a lot of things that Dean would give up for Sam, and things that he would conjure out of thin air just for him to have, if he could. But there’s so much he can’t give him and he wants Sam to just get out and take, have and enjoy. So if he wanted to come here just to meet Eileen again, Dean’s happy to be complicit.

Sam is the first to disappear in the packed living room, with Jack following right behind, but Dean grabs Castiel’s elbow before he can take another step. He circles him to block him from the entrance and says, “Hey, stick with me, alright? Last time I was at one of these things this guy Norman talked about his knife collection for three hours.”

“But, Jack…”

“He’s with Sam, he’s gonna be fine,” says Dean, dismissing. He grins, “Come on, I’ll introduce you to some people; don’t you wanna make friends?”

Cas makes a face but doesn't say anything else. Apparently Jack is not the only one who he seems unable to refuse something to and that makes Dean feel good. He trails after him around the room as Dean stops to say hello from familiar face to familiar face.

There’s Max and Alicia, sprawled on a couch, nursing the worst hangover Dean’s seen in a long time. They say they're happy to see him, but then they eye Cas up and down and Max says something along the lines of, “Oh, I see now why you keep him hidden from us," and that prompts Dean to quickly move along.

Then they bump into this old man who claims to have been one of the patrons of the Roadhouse. Dean has no idea who he is, but he swears he remembers him from when he was a boy - of course he remembers, and hey, if he needs anything, did he know that he was retired but still kept an eye out for monster sightings, and did he hear of that one time he and Bill Harvelle -

Dean tries to nod and smile appropriately for the whole time and when they finally manage to escape him, Cas leads him to an empty corner where they can take refuge.

"I didn't think there would be this many people," Cas says, surveying the room clearly looking for Jack.

Dean elbows him and points at where the kid is talking animatedly to two young hunters he's never seen, "What is he even talking about?"

"Our last case."

"Wh-? Oh, right, I always forget you have the superhearing," then he has a thought and adds, "Hey, you gonna tell me if you hear someone talking shit about me, right?"

Cas' eyebrows raise in thinly veiled amusement and that's all the answer Dean needs, "What? Who?" he asks, outraged.

But Cas doesn't have time to answer before they get interrupted and soon surrounded by hunters Dean's seen on the road, worked with, heard about. Some share their epic tales of escapes from impossible dangers, some are curious and some are brave and blunt and they ask Cas questions and address him without fear and Cas is polite and just a tiny bit awkward.

It gets a little chilly when this guy with too many beers in starts bragging about how he knows all about angels' weaks spots. Cas' face stays as stony as it gets for the whole time but then he says “I suggest you check your sources,” with a deep voice that runs a shiver down Dean’s spine, and he’s not even the one who’s directing his intense gaze at.

There are so many different people that Cas doesn't stick out like a sore thumb, and Dean finds himself thinking that if they were just two regular hunters in a crowd and nothing more, perhaps some things would be easier.

He almost sighs of relief when he eyes Eileen on the other side of the room and steers Cas towards her.

"I can't believe I still haven't had a single beer," he mutters as they elbow their way through the crowd. Sam hovers around her with a timid smile plastered on his face that doesn’t seem to take any breaks.

Dean hugs her and tries not to follow Cas’ movement with the corner of his eyes when he senses him stepping away from his side.

Eileen calls his attention back. She makes fun of him saying, “Sam told me you didn’t want to come. Getting too old to leave the house?”

“Very funny,” Dean says.

“Next time we can organize something at the bunker. There’s so much space," she says, smirking.

Dean thinks 'Yeah, no way' and says, “Yeah, no way,” and she laughs.

“But you,” Dean adds, “you can come stay with us. Anytime. For as long as you want. We would love to have you. Me, Sam,” he says wiggling his eyebrows in a way that has his brother close his eyes in embarrassment, “you’re always welcome.”

“Thank you,” she signs, blushing a little, “I’ll try to come by.”

Dean is glad to know that. She has opened a door in Sam’s life that he probably thought closed forever and Dean will always be grateful to her for that. Also, she is a badass and totally out of his brother’s dorky league.

Cas comes standing by his side again and Dean feels a gentle touch on the small of his back. It's intimate and unexpected so he steps away immediatly almost on instict and Cas' drops his hand. He meets his gaze and they frown at each other for a second. Cas seems about to say something, but then goes back to sporting his usual face, “I think I saw Claire. I’m going to find her.”

So Dean, with that spot on his lower back still tingling, follows him out of the room and into another where there’s only a few scattered hunters and Jack, happily squeezed on a couch with his new friends, his mouth hanging open as he hears a story from this guy named Ronnie that Dean knows for a fact only talks shit. The kid seems to be having fun though, he waves at them as move along.

They find Claire in the empty white kitchen, and catch her right when she’s about to open herself a beer. Her eyes widen in panic but she doesn’t manage to hide the bottle behind her back fast enough.

“Hey guys,” she says with a nervous laugh, “didn’t know you were going to be here.”

Dean stretches out a hand without a word and she drops the act, sighs and hands it over. Before she can say anything else, Cas steps between them, "Claire, it's nice to see you," he says and she lets him squeeze her into a hug.

Pressed against his shoulder, Dean sees her face change expression, her body slightly relax in his arms. She pats him on the back and says: “Good to see you too, Cas.”

“What are you doing here?”

“Just passing through,” she replies, putting on airs, “Finished up a job a few miles north. I thought I’d drop by Carol’s before moving on.”

She flips a strand of blonde hair over her shoulder and Dean scoffs.

“So you are in Kansas, and you don’t call, and you drop by Carol’s? Were you even planning on stopping by the bunker?”

She rolls her eyes at him, “I go where the job takes me, Dean. I don’t make plans.”

Dean rolls his eyes in the exact same way, “Right. Well, you know it wouldn’t kill you to stay with us for a while. We could get you a bit of training.”

She groans as if she's heard that same speech about a thousand times, but Cas cuts off whatever she was going to retort with and says, “We weren’t planning on coming either. Sam and Jack are here too.”

“Jack’s here?” she lights up. She says she's heard all sorts of things about him and she can’t wait to meet the kid and of course she’s gonna go easy on him, it’s not like she’s gonna eat him, Jesus, Dean, protective much?

Dean frowns at her but she’s already halfway out of the room. “I can be his big sister. I mean, he should have someone he can talk to. Living with you three must be – a lot.”

“Hey,” protests Dean, but she just laughs and disappears down the hallway.

Dean shakes his head and leans against one of the kitchen counters. Cas does the same against the opposite island. At the end of the narrow passage between the furniture there’s a glass door that gives into the patio and a small garden beyond it.

The door is ajar and fresh air comes in; Cas gets engrossed in watching the pattern the raindrops formed on the glass and Dean gets engrossed in watching Cas. He seems lost in thought and Dean would like to say something but doesn’t want to be annoying. Not today, not when tomorrow he could be gone.

He’ll take this quiet moment instead.

“She’ll be a bad influence on Jack,” he breaks the silence, and that gets him an amused quirk of lips, “But it really would be nice to have her around more often.”

Curiously that has Cas' take his eyes away from the glass and lay his gaze on him. He has his lips pressed in a small smile.

“What?”

“You want people you love around you.”

Dean frowns, “What about it?” he asks, and it comes out sharp and defensive.

Cas shakes his head a little, but there’s a shadow on his face that confuses him: “Nothing, I only meant -" but he doesn’t get to finish his sentence, because a group of hunters enters the kitchen talking loudly and soon Dean has his vision blocked by half a dozen bodies and he has to press himself against the cabinets to let them through, towards the garden door.

One guy in a baseball cap stops in his track as he sees Dean.

He asks with his eyes wide and stunned expression if he is Dean Winchester, the Dean Winchester and Dean is glad that the rest of the group is already out of earshot because he wasn’t in the mood for a meet and greet session. But the guy starts talking about some hunter named Troy, who he has supposedly hunted with a couple of years back. And Dean’s not in a habit of calling people liars but he's pretty sure he'd remember if he had wiped out a nest of fangs with this guy and allegedly taken down five all on his own and went and get steaks and beer afterwards.

He tries to shoot him down gently and say, “Maybe your friend had me confused with someone else,” but the guy’s face falls and tells him Troy has recently passed on the job and this was his favourite story to tell, and he would always tell it, all proud and all.

Dean pats him on a shoulder then.

“You know what, we shouldn’t ruin it for him now, should we? Troy, you say? Of course I remember him,” he says and throws in a wink. The guy beams at him and thanks him and gets a little chocked up because Troy might have been a liar but he swears he was one of the good ones.

The guy invites him to join his friends for a drink but Dean raises his half-empty bottle and says “I’m fine, thanks.”

When the guy walks away, Cas moves to lean on the counter by his side. Dean feels the familiar weight of his arm against his and he wonders if they could pick up the conversation where they left it. But Cas says:

“That was nice of you.”

Dean shrugs looking down at their shoes lined up and for some reason he thinks it’s a funny sight. If they were just two shoe wearing creatures standing side by side and nothing more, perhaps some things would be easier.

“Doesn't really change my life. And it's a good story,” he huffs a laugh, it comes out bitter, “Better than some of the true ones anyway.”

“I understand what you mean,” says Cas with a sigh and Dean extends his arm to offer him his beer, and even though Cas usually refuses, this time he takes it.

Dean does his best not to follow his hand bringing the bottle to his lips. And he does his best, later, not to wonder if the wetness touching his lips when he drinks is just beer or something else.

If they were just two drinking creatures, sharing a bottle of beer and nothing more, perhaps everything would be easier.

Soon the bottle is empty and Cas says, “I’ll get you another one,” but Dean refuses.

It’s nice there - someone's turned the music on in the other room, but here it's muffled by the walls, and the light is just right to make Cas’ eyes look like sapphires. They don’t need to move.

But then the group of hunters out in the patio erupts in laughter and Cas’ gaze shifts on them and then lingers on the glass door.

Dean feels him slipping from him once again. He sighs, “You wanna go out, check the garden?”

Cas nods and heads out and Dean can’t do anything but follow, past the hunters and the patio. They walk the perimeter of the small square of grass, wet and glistening with old rain. The sun and the clouds draw patches of light on the ground and they move from dark to light to dark again in an irregular rhythm, chasing the warmth of the sunlight and the relief of the shade. Dean feels uncomfortable in both, but there’s no middle line he can walk on.

“Sorry we dragged you here,” he finds himself saying, “You never stick around, and for once that you do, that’s what you get.”

Cas frowns slightly at him, “I stick around,” he protests.

Dean laughs, “You don’t,” he says and although he tries to reign it in with the bitterness, it stills seeps out. Cas’ gaze prompts him to explain himself, “Come on, the minute we’re done with a case you are out of here. I don’t blame you,” he quickly adds cutting off whatever Cas was opening his mouth to say. “I know you don’t like sitting around. Believe me, no one understands that more than I do.”

A long beat passes and then Cas says, “I’m sorry, I never meant to make you feel like I don’t want to spend time with you.”

Dean stops in his tracks and Cas stops with him to face him.

Dean shakes his head, “Cas, you don’t have to apologize to me. This is not about me. And I said, I get it,” he shrugs.

Cas doesn’t look at all convinced and Dean doesn’t feel at all convinced either. He knows this is not about his feelings. It’s more like a general way of how things are. It’s a truth, a fact. Sam would say the same.

Sam would. Standing here in the garden with him, Sam would tell him the very same things and wish for the very same things. He’s sure he would. He's not accusing Cas of anything. On the contrary, he’s showing him understanding.

“It’s all the same for me, I swear. I don't care,” he adds, but saying that hurts a little, for some reason he can’t quite determine, and he finds his own frown mirrored on Cas’ face.

“Alright,” he says, sounding profoundly sad and again the same shadow passes on his face.

This is all wrong. What did he do?

“Look, I don’t get what you want me to say. If you wanted to - ” he exhales, angrily, “Just - forget it, let’s go back inside,” he says but as he tries to walk away Cas stops him by his elbow.

“You could ask me.”

He looks unsure, troubled, as if he is not quite certain this is a good idea. Dean breathes out a confused, “What?” that he himself can barely hear.

Cas squares his shoulders, “To stay. You could ask me,” he sounds accusing, and he takes a step forward. His eyes are firm in Dean’s and with his elbow still in his grip, he feels like a hummingbird flapping his wings in the paw of a dragon, “You ask everybody else.”

Dean’s heart starts pounding. He tries to swallow but his mouth is too dry.

“I don’t wanna ask you, Cas,” he says, cutting, yanking his arm free of his hold, and it sounds bad, bad, bad to his ears and he can read hurt all over Cas’ face. He needs to explain himself. He takes a breath, says a lame, “I mean, if you don't -”

And then, Dean suddenly understands.

Cas thinks he doesn’t -

He thinks he doesn’t care if he’s around and doesn’t ask because he doesn’t need him.

Dean feels like his heart is about to leap out of his chest. He’s not ready for this. He’s not ready for this. He fights the need to look down. He doesn’t know why this is so hard for him. It’s just Cas. But that’s the point, isn’t it? It’s Cas. It would hurt ten times more if he were to say no. It’s nothing like with Claire, he asked her for her; it’s nothing like with Eileen, he asked her for Sam. But if he asked Cas, he would be asking for himself, wouldn’t he?

Seeing him walk away anyway would be too much then.

But maybe he wouldn’t.

Cas senses his struggle, “If you want, you can ask me,” he says, coming closer, in his eyes his timeless patience, that gaze that tells him that he is seen, he is known. Cas says: “I will say yes,” and it’s barely more than a whisper but Dean’s brain is a step away from short-circuiting anyway.

He looks away and he doesn’t recognize his own voice when he blurts out a hurried, muttered, nervous, almost angry: “Well, stay, then.”

But then a sunbeam decides to cut through the clouds in that exact moment and has Dean looking up again. The lazy sunlight of an early afternoon shines on Cas’ face. He’s not bothered by the sudden change of light, unlike Dean, who has to squint and bring a hand to his forehead.

Cas’ eyes sparkle like shimmering water when he says, “Okay.”

Dean barely remembers what happens after that. That image gets imprinted behind his eyelids and he can’t stop thinking about it.

He floats through a darts game and a dozen of Carol’s sandwiches. Then there's Jack telling an embarrassing story about him that has people folding in two with laughter, and Claire agreeing on following them back to the bunker only with the promise of destroying him at foosball.

There's Sam introducing him to this lady to work a job together on alledged arachnes activity in Winsconsin and a girl who wants him to debunk some stuff she's heard about them but she doesn't believe (he disappoints her cause they are mostly true) but most importantly, there's Cas' thigh pressed against his when he's sitting and Cas’ shoulder just an inch away when he's standing, and somehow it's different than it was before.

Most of all, he feels lighter than he's felt in ages.

Later, as he gets to his car with Sam, he says, “Hey, you know, you were right. It was a little fun,” and his brother looks at him in disbelief.

“Are you kidding me? We came here to meet new people and you spent all your time with Cas.”

Dean shrugs, embarrassed to be called out. “So what? You spent all your time with Eileen,” he says and he regrets it immediately, especially as Sam purses his lips like he’s holding back a laugh.

He nods, “I see your point,” he says diplomatically, stressing the t, before he slips into the passenger seat.

Dean doesn’t look forward in continuing the conversation, crammed in a small space with his ears burning and Sam’s gigantic enquiring eyes on him, thank you very much, so he stays out of the car, his arms crossed on the roof, frowning at himself.

He watches as Cas comes down the little pathway with Jack and Claire. In the orange light of the sunset, Jack turns to ask him something and Cas nods. Typical. At the end of the path they split and only Cas makes his way across the street.

"Jack is riding with Claire," he says as soon as he's within earshot. He sounds like he doesn't think it's a good idea and it's a little funny.

"Relax, we're gonna be right behind them."

Cas seems reassured by that, but it only lasts the time it takes for him to make his way around the car, because even before he can grab the car handle, Claire speeds past them shouting, "See you, dorks." Now he looks truly alarmed.

Dean says, "You up for a ride after we drop Sam off?” and all his worry melts away from his face. He says a soft, “Alright,” and disappears into the backseat.

So when they get to the bunker, Dean doesn't follow Claire’s car to the garage and stops up front, the engine running. Sam looks at him confused, “We’ll be here in an hour,” Dean just says, grateful for the shadows around his face.

Sam is stunned for just a second, then snorts, “Fine guys, I’ll babysit tonight, but next time you gotta ask.”

He gets out and the next moment Cas has taken his seat. He doesn't waste time to pop one of Dean's tapes in the deck as he takes the road again.

Dean rolls his window down and in the night air that ruffles his hair he can smell another storm coming. He turns the music up and meets Cas’ eyes. There’s a smile in there somewhere that mirrors his own.

And - they may not be just two individuals in a car going nowhere and nothing more, and things may not be easy, probably never will, but maybe, Dean thinks, it doesn’t really matter in the end.

#deancas #deancas ficlet #destiel fanfic #deancas fanfic #destiel #4.9k #this is about how dumb they are #'why doesn't he stay VS why doesn't he ask me to stay' kind of dumb #their usual basically #jack claire and eileen are in this #i wish we got to see more of the hunter community cooperating #in the beginning there were waaay less people - then i guess i just miss crowds #how do you do titles #spncreatorsdaily #my writing #ive been working on this for ages and im still not sure i did it right

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miss-choco-chips · 5 years ago

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From Baby to Babe~

I once wrote this https://miss-choco-chips.tumblr.com/post/190983954737/theres-a-point-in-all-the-rouges-gallerys-lives and @theturdis wanted a fic about it, so... Just remember, you asked for this hon. This ain’t my fault.

Tagging @animemangasoul who just told me to tag them the next time I wrote something.

Fair warning everyone, I somehow did this in one sitting, and, I can’t stress this enough, there’s no edit whatsoever. Like, none. Enjoy, if you can ignore the eyesore of my multiple mistakes.

----.----

Bruce despairs in the knowledge of his sons growing up hot.

---.---

When Dick came back to Gotham as the new Nightwing for the first time ever… well.

Bruce didn't like to think about the first suit, back then. All those feathers and glitter, the plunging V neck, the mullet… His son had insisted on it being the trend at the time. Bruce just couldn't grasp how was he supposed to blend into the night and take anyone by surprise. There was too much... everything, and not nearly enough stealth.

He was an innocent man, back then. He looked at a horse gift in the mouth and was completely blindsided when it raised on it’s hind legs and kicked him where it hurted.

When Selina approached him a few weeks after N had come to him with the blueprints of his new suit, he had been quiet relaxed. Or as relaxed as one can be when crouched like a gargoyle and looking over the city. He was just getting back on track after… Jason (it still hurted, and probably always would, to think about him), his new partner helping in ways he couldn’t foresee, violence tampered by Tim’s brilliant smile every time he came to Bruce with the answer to a particularly difficult riddle he had been having trouble with. He had to get his act together, because Tim was so bright, mind so beyond what Bruce could ever aspire to, and he was at such an impressionable age… If Batman allowed himself to fall deeper into despair, he would set a dangerously bad example to the kid, which could be really damaging… to the world at large. He was the kind of kid that B wanted on the side of Justice, because the opposite would be quite catastrophic.

So yes, he had been very distracted lately, merely glancing over Dick’s blueprints, noticing the lack of brilliantine and gold, and giving his wholehearted approval.

Stupid, innocent man he was. He had needed Catwoman of all people to open his eyes.

(To this day, he still wondered about Alfred’s reason for not warning him sooner. Perhaps, and this was the theory he had running, the old butler had been just so delighted at seeing the Disco suit gone, he would approve almost everything in its place, and Dick’s virtue had never been his responsibility to preserve, so to hell with it.

Betrayal always hurted the worse when it came from those closest to you)

-Hey handsome.

-Cat.

She rolled her eyes, already beyond his brood, and just walked out of the light, joining him into the shadows with a sigh at his dramatics.

-No theft today?

The woman grimaced a bit, letting herself fall at his side with as much grace as she did everything else. Diamond claws scratched at her scalp, carefully not tearing the frail skin, and Batman finally conceded and turned his head to look at her directly. She was never so hesitant.

-Look. I really, really don’t want to be the one telling you this. I would literally rather leave this to anyone else, but… it’s getting out of hand.

-What is it?

-Nightwing. Hadn’t you noticed anything about him?

That got whatever rest of his attention she hadn’t already caught. Speaking of his sons always had that effect on him.

-What happened to him?

-Nothing, just… He’s been out a lot, hasn’t he? I thought he didn’t operate in the city as much…

She was stalling, which was worryingly out of character for Selina. But since this was about Nightwing, he had to be patient and let her talk her way into whatever information she was going to lay on him.

-I’ve been… -training a new Robin, not that he could tell her that- busy, lately. He’s picking up the slack while I’m focusing on it -a.k.a helping him both patrol the streets and teach Tim.

-I noticed the changes, yes, whatever therapy you’re doing is great for you -she encouraged, more honest than he thought her capable of. He could already see her deadpan when she figured out the reason for his change, his ‘therapy’ as she put it, was an eleven year old thrusting himself at this dangerous life of his.

-Hm.

-Well… Anything noteworthy about him lately? Crime Fighting related?

Since she was stressing the words so much, he gave them deep thought.

-He has been on a streak lately. A lot more arrests… What’s your point?

He could almost see the second she internally said ‘fuck it’ and just blurted everything out.

-That’s because his new suit is, and this is coming from me, B, indecent, and every criminal out there is focusing more on his ass than his punches and flips so he’s kicking ass easier.

Bruce kicked his way to the forefront of his mind, the father in him hip checking the vigilante out of the way so he could properly freak out.

What? He knew the suit was a lot more tight than the former one, but he’d been so relieved at it being mostly black he hadn’t given more than a cursory look… and he barely saw the man in it, often training together in workout clothes and coming and going to patrol at different times. He… wasn’t prepared for this.

-Excuse me?

-I’m sorry, someone had to tell you. Normally, I’d be completely on board with a suit change from boring to daring, and you know of my good relationship with leather, but I’ve literally seen that kid grow up. If I have to listen to Harley talking about Nightwing’s ass one more time, Ivy won’t need to worry any more about the Joker killing her, because I will do it myself.

He wanted to thank her for standing up for his son, but he was still busy internally screaming.

-You want to hear Riddle’s last work? While looking directly at N, he asked ‘is buttcheeks one word? Or should I spread them?’. And then he winked. Winked, B. At your eighteen year old kid. You need to get your ass on gear and make sure Nighting changes his. I mean, I’m getting used to it, but you’ve been doing great lately, violent wise, and I’d hate for you to relapse because you heard Zsaasz asking N to tie his ropes tighter and harder.

B… needed to go back to the cave and call N back early. They had to talk.

----.----

When Jason came back, the first thing to break past the ‘holy shit my son is alive’ wall surrounding his brain was just how tall he had grown. How strong, how broad, how big. The little boy he had picked up from the street, underfeed and hurting everywhere, had turned out almost bigger than B himself and twice as brave. The wave of pride he felt was massive, but the feeling was short lived.

Jason was killing criminals, had even attempted to murder Tim. Even if the father in him could, in his desperation, try and overlook the first bit, the same side couldn’t get past the second. Tim was as much his as Jason, and he couldn't turn a blind eye to it.

The relief of him being back that overflowed from Bruce clashed horribly with Batman’s unbending morals, and the two sides warred for days for control. The attack on his youngest son had been the deciding factor in who finally won; Bruce couldn’t fight the darkness in him when he needed it to help protect Robin from his predecessor, as much as it pained him.

Theirs was a long road, a difficult path to come back together as a family after so many mistakes on both parts (more his than Jason’s, he knew, but admitting so was so hard…), but they had finally, finally came back together. All his children, sitting around the dinning table at the manor, throwing food at each other behind Alfred’s back, Dick failing to give Jason a noogie, Tim succeeding in elbowing his way past both of them to claim first picks over the brownies, Damian rolling his eyes while sneakily drawing in his notebook what B suspected was a portrait of the three of them, Cass and Steph laughing at their antics… His heart felt like it could give out.

Again, his mind was anywhere but in… that. Already used to the dirty looks aimed at Nighting, he focused his anger into strength behind every punch, taking care to kick specially hard when aiming at the criminal’s genitals as light punishment for the lust they aimed at his oldest, but not longer trying to essentially castrate them.

He had the hang of it, and it was just one child. He could do damage control with one, it wasn’t that hard. Stephanie wasn’t really his, just under his protection as a mentor, and even then, she was mostly Barbara’s; Cass could and would take care of anyone who dared look at her in a way she didn’t like, so she was also good. Seventeen year old Tim and thirteen year old Damian were babies, so they wouldn't be an issue for a long, long time.

And then. And then, Steph had opened her mouth.

-Why can’t Tim do this? -she had whined, raising the heels to eye level and studying them with profound distaste- I hate fighting on these. He’s much better than me at that anyway, and he makes a hotter chick than I when he goes full out on his undercover gig.

Red Robin, who was walking past her on his way to the training mats, high fived her.

Barbara’s voice came from the Batcomputer, Oracle’s voice filter not needed while they still were on the Cave.

-Because he and Jason can’t act like a couple for more than two hours before one of them breaks into hives or laughter, and this is an all night long gig.

-Then why can’t Tim and Dick go? You just need a girl as pretty arm candy distaction, the guy is the one who’s gonna do the work, and Nightwing can take care of a few drug dealers himself.

-While Dick is certainly pretty enough to gain permission to enter this very private party -the man, stretching with Tim, stopped mid motion to give the computer finger guns. Barbara coughed to cover a laugh and kept going-, the goal is for him to be invited into the boss’s personal office, and we can only do that if he’s interested in what he sees. From what Tim gathered for me on his last recon, he favours… Jason’s body types more than Dick’s.

Bruce, who was just getting out of the locker room, suit fully in place except from the cowl, raised an eyebrow at that, stopping to analyze his second oldest. Tilting his head, and still as confused, he asked what would undoubtedly bring him an unhealthy amount of regret in the very near future.

-What does that mean? Jason’s...body type? You mean tall? Dick is also pretty tall.

There was total silence in the cave for a few moments. Dick and Tim got up from their positions, shared a look, and made a run for the showers, claiming they were ready for patrol (they weren’t, not warmed up enough, but he had other things to focus on now). Damian, already fully suited, tutted and dragged the hood of his cape over his face, almost completely covering it. Cass looked on impassively, and Stephanie seemed to be getting a worryingly amount of glee from whatever this was.

Jason himself was… blushing? What?

-Who’s gonna tell him? -finally asked Barbara, amusement breaking her professional facade.

-Oh, me, me! Let me do this!

Apparently still a naive man, he nodded at the blonde, ready for someone to clear this up for him.

He was regaled with a half an hour long rant about biceps, pecs, and thighs that could compete against tree trunks and win. It was supported by apparent citations from different criminals that ranged from appreciative to full on scandalous.

In the end, everyone left the cave, Batgirl with a notorious spring on her step, and Bruce had to stay home instead of going out, needing the night to fully process about his second son, almost twenty one but twelve in his mind’s eye, apparently featuring in multiple Arkham calendars.

He came out of that realization a scarred man, to say the least.

-----.-----

It was barely a few months after his traumatic chat with Stephanie when it happened again. He’d like to say he was ready for this.

He wasn’t.

When Conner Kent found him, he was completely focused on his WE’s work. For once on the office, with the TV providing some white noise in the background, he was fully prepared for a day catching up. He couldn’t keep letting Tim take over most of the work, the kid deserved to have a normal (or as normal as any of them could achieve) teenage life.

He was of course notified the moment the meta breached the city’s limits, but figured he was here on Titan’s business or hanging out with Tim. The light knock on his office window was a big surprise.

-This is unexpected, Conner. What can I do for you? -he greeted after letting him in- Tim isn’t here today, he’s giving a press conference.

-Yeah, I know. I’m actually here for you. We, the team, heard from Tim you’re making the blueprints for his next suit.

This conversation was already going in a very confusing way. Why did they care about Tim’s gear?

-Yes?

-Well, you need to double check with us before you show anything to him -something akin to indignant surprise must have shown in his face, because the meta quickly raised both hands-. We don’t mean that as you needing our approval, of course you’d know better how to keep a non-meta well protected. We know jackshit about kevlar and armor. But it’s the… style, that has us worried.

He let the anger bleed out of him, replaced with puzzlement.

-What do you mean?

Conner looked down, as if gathering strength, then up and straight into Bruce’s eyes, a feat very few younger heroes could achieve. This was serious.

-Tim isn’t big like Jason, or as… stretchy as Dick, but he has… very, very attractive features. I won’t go into detail with you about how thin his waist is, how shapely his legs or cute his ass. That’s not something I need to say or you to hear.

Yes, it definitely wasn’t. Bruce was having an inkling as to where this was headed, and he didn’t like it. Tim was a baby! Barely eighteen and so damn small!

-But I do need to tell you, his ugly ass suits have been good at keeping that all on the downlow. We made fun of him for them, sure, but never encouraged him to change, because we know what will happen if he does. It would be awful. You think Nightwing and Red Hood have it rough? Tim has Ra’s Al Ghul’s undivided attention and appreciation. If we add attraction to it? Mayhem. Absolute mayhem. We can barely keep him from being kidnapped by older, nasty villains as it is. We don’t need the extra work, sir. I’m begging you on behalf of the team, don’t let him get anything that would look good on him. Like that Untranet suit he told me about, for example. That one would be so bad. Or the Red Robin one with tighter pants and a domino under the cowl so he can take it out and flash the world his luscious hair.

Bruce fell back into his desk chair. Elbows resting on the table, he buried his face into his hands.

A long silence filled the room.

-You already approved and made one of those, right?

A small, shaky nod.

-...The Ultranet one?

A firm shake.

-Fuck me. The Red Robin with tighter pants and domino?

Another nod. Conner sat abruptly on the empty chair in the other side of the desk, like a puppet with its strings cut.

-Well, fuck.

Fuck indeed.

Bruce despaired.

----.----

This time, he would be ready. He swore it on his honor, on his oath, on his parents.

So when Damian turned sixteen, growth spurt kicking in (he towed over Tim, and it wouldn’t be long until he left Dick in the dust as well), he made a thought but necessary call.

He phoned Talia.

-We need to talk. About Damian, and… sex appeal.

Her shock was evident even through the phone.

-Excuse me? My son is a child. He has no such thing.

He closed his eyes. Once, a long time ago, he’d been just as naive. Now he knew better.

It was a hard lesson to learn, but she needed to. And quickly. Damian was growing faster than his other children. Time was of essence.

-Let me tell you what I wish I knew years ago, when Dick decided to change his Nightwing suit.

She was probably going to hate him for opening her eyes like this, but Bruce just couldn't do this alone.

He could deal with Talia’s hate, but criminals lusting after his baby son? Hell no. He might actually go rouge.

#my writting #I have no excuse #no edit #bruce wayne #dick grayson #jason todd #tim drake #damian wayne #Cassandra Cain Wayne #Stephanie Brown #selina kyle #barbara gordon #Alfred Pennyworth #conner kent #kon el kent #batfamily

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itsbenedict · 3 years ago

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Two-Faced Jewel: Session 12

Foolish Heroes of Barley

A half-elf conwoman (and the moth tasked with keeping her out of trouble) travel the Jewel in search of, uh, whatever a fashionable accessory is pointing them at. [Campaign log]

Last time, the party had returned to Barley to deal with a few loose ends. They've been staying in town for a while, waiting for their hired Deathseekers to deal with the dragon in the tower. This session, their stay comes to an end, and as you can see from the image here, they don't get into any trouble whatsoever.

A few other things happen before their fateful final night in town:

Kevin Softbreeze, the herbalist from the Deathseekers, visits town and sells Looseleaf some magic flowers that repel demons- though they're not very potent, and she'll need to stop by his garden in Cauterdale if she wants some seeds to try growing. Saelhen buys some potent knockout drops.

The villagers appear to still be arming themselves and preparing for battle with Wheat- since they didn't mention Arnie as the culprit at all, and tried to pin it on the dragon directly, Malath is still skeptical that they're totally safe from invasion, and defensive preparations continue.

Rumors spread that Chitch has gone missing, but no one can find the body. The party spreads rumors of their own- true ones- that Chitch went to go find his daughter after learning that the pain-wizard is dead.

On their fifth night in the village- somewhat earlier than expected- they notice something outside the window of their rooms in the inn. Lumiere's tower, previously unnoticeable, is suddenly aglow with some sort of yellow cylindrical magic barrier, made up of hexagonal panels.

Looseleaf rouses the rest of the party- the plan is to watch from a distance, and not interfere. A very loud roar is heard in the distance, which is suddenly cut off in the middle- it seems the Deathseekers have sprung their trap.

It's not too much longer after that when they begin to hear screams from around them in the village.

Saelhen's elf eyes spot... something rustling in the fields around the village. All of them. Quite a lot of somethings. Except despite the rustling, she can't make out anything but barley stalks. And the nothing- the hordes of nothing- is moving towards the tower.

The party leaps into action, heading downstairs with weapons drawn. On the ground floor, they see... something sort of familiar. Those Greed Echoes, the mud-and-grass monsters they fought on the road- one of them is forming itself out of broken bottles, dust, and wooden planks uprooted from the floor of the Harvester Inn. Cassie, the innkeeper, is watching in terror, knuckles white gripping a frying pan.

Congratulations! You're both right! The dragon is summoning an army of hateful Justice Echoes powered by the roused hatred of Wheat that's been stirred up in town!

Oyobi thinks fast, and oneshots the echo in the kitchen with an arrow, shattering a bottle that'd become its core. The screams outside continue, though, and the party exits the inn to find panicked villagers fleeing their homes. Justice Echoes made primarily from twisted stalks of barley have formed in their fields and homes, taking the weapons amassed for self-defense from their owners. They attack only those who resist, and make their way towards the tower.

Looseleaf: Let's just attack some hate-plague spirits and see if they decide to attack us instead. If they don't attack us at all, then we can just ignore them and run leisurely next to them and pick them off as we go. If they attack us, then it's a regular fight. "We're up to do some heroism this fine night, right, team?" Oyobi Yamatake: "Obviously!" Orluthe Chokorov: "Uh, I don't have that one prepared, do I? Uh..." Vayen: Saelhen du Fishercrown: "I am up to rub Mother K's face in the super obvious consequences of her actions while incidentally preventing pointless suffering." "Go team! Woo!"

Looseleaf starts us off by rending the spirit of the closest barley-monster, using her new Painspike ability to make the target Frightened of her.

However... these monsters have no purpose except to attack that which they fear, so rather than the normal effect of being Frightened, Looseleaf has now drawn aggro from this monster. Which is kind of what she wanted! So, that's a win! She now has a way to goad the enemy!

The party takes some swings at the monsters, knocking a couple out, but most of them seem to just be ignoring them, continuing to run through the fields towards the tower. They could become a problem for the Deathseekers if they're not dealt with- or for Wheat, for that matter.

Backup arrives in the form of Malath Kanthalga, who perceives these events as- what else?- an attack by Wheat. She's screaming, demanding to know who's responsible, and smashing echoes apart with her mace. Still, the echoes are mostly ignoring the village- they're grabbing anything they can find to use as a weapon, sort of ransacking the place, but most of them are just fleeing.

So Saelhen comes up with an extremely well-timed plan. It's a really good plan, I love it, and I'm excited to hit them with the consequences of her plan- until Looseleaf issues a timely bit of advice:

Saelhen du Fishercrown: Saelhen dashes (Cunning Action), steps forward, inhales a great gulp of breath... "FOOLISH HEROES OF BARLEY!" she bellows. "WHILE YOU FUTILELY WASTE YOURSELVES AGAINST WHEAT'S DEFENSES, I, THE SECRET SHADOW MAYOR OF WHEAT, WILL BE HERE BURNING YOUR HOMES!" "AND ALSO MENACING YOUR CITIZENS WITH MY PERMISSIVE IDEOLOGY!" She waves her hooded lantern, unlit, above her head, to drive the point home. "WHO AMONG YOU CAN STOP ME AND DELIVER JUSTICE? NO ONE, PROBABLY, I ASSUME!"

Vayen, in a surprising show of, let's call it camaraderie, is very much in support of this plan for some reason! He takes a break from his busy schedule of doing absolutely nothing every turn in combat to cast a helpful illusion, to ensure as many monsters aggro Saelhen as possible!

A few more rounds of combat ensue, with a good chunk of the monsters- including a few very large building-sized hulks- immediately turning to kill Saelhen. The party gets some good hits in, and Saelhen gets a little roughed up. She... would like maybe fewer things to be attacking her, actually.

Saelhen du Fishercrown: "Their attention is on me, Mother Kanthalga, the secret mayor of Wheat this entire time, but you might be able to calm their anger! These creatures were born from this town's... collective mind, or something, they may listen to you if you order them to stand down!" Benedict I. (GM): Not with advantage, but a 22... "Wh... what? What are you saying? That's..." She hesitates, then speaks, in a booming voice she- well, you spent a few days here, you know she reserves it for sermons. "STAND DOWN! The time to strike against our foe has not yet come!" "We must be prudent! We must defend ourselves, not attack!" [DEFEND OURSELVES,] the echoes agree, continuing to bear down on Saelhen. Saelhen du Fishercrown: Worth a shot!

It doesn't seem like these things are hugely receptive to emotional appeals or logical argument- they have the one emotion, which they're made of, and they don't super do other ones.

In the following combat rounds, Saelhen... takes a few more hits, which she is not designed to do on account of being a rogue.

Saelhen du Fishercrown: WHY DID I NOT DECLARE ORLUTHE THE SECRET SHADOW MAYOR

More echoes emerge from the fields and attack, and Saelhen is starting to look really rough- and Vayen just keeps the illusion on her, not actually helping in any way. Until... one of them goes for Looseleaf, instead. When it starts looking like she might be in danger, he fires off a bolt of blue electricity, which begins to singe one of the monsters attacking her for damage every turn. He's... a higher-level spellcaster than anyone else in the party, apparently!

Looseleaf, with a little room to maneuver, unfolds her wings and takes to the air- up and out of reach of the smaller monsters, drawing their aggro and forcing them to waste turns. Meanwhile, Orluthe and Oyobi, backed up by Malath and a couple of villagers who've reclaimed their weapons, cut down a few more echoes as more surge forth from the fields to replace them.

Saelhen... keeps trying to persuade Malath to persuade the echoes to stop. She does very well at persuading Malath to try that! Malath tries that, wholeheartedly, once again to no effect! Eventually, Malath stops trying.

Saelhen du Fishercrown: "Would you consider coming to them as a trusted comrade, who trained them to protect them, rather than the one leading them off to war? Maybe?" Malath Kanthalga: "I am going to come to them as a very angry warrior with a mace," she growls. Saelhen du Fishercrown: "Okay! Okay, fair enough. Spiritual remedies off the table, understood."

Orluthe is getting really tired, and keeps whiffing his swings- it's touch-and-go for a while. But Saelhen and Looseleaf's frantic attempts to kite enemies out of range have been paying off, and they manage to down the remaining super-hulks juuuuust before anyone dies.

Benedict I. (GM): Y'know, it's possible that making the two squishiest members of the party draw aggro was not the number one best strategic move Saelhen du Fishercrown: IT MAYBE WASN'T, NO Looseleaf: eh, it's worked out so far!

The combat wraps up, and we transition to a bunch of Athletics rolls to chase down and terminate as many of the smaller echoes as possible. They build a firepit in the center of town, to dispose of defeated echoes in- just in case that's necessary, because who knows what kind of magic is animating these guys.

So after a wild night of chasing, taunting, fleeing, and burning justice echoes- well, it's not so much a wild night as a wild twenty minutes or so- there's a point at which the fields just suddenly fall silent. A pair of echoes chasing Saelhen fall to the ground, inert.

With a good roll...

Saelhen du Fishercrown: "...of course, you're free to dismiss this as the ramblings of a crazed outsider. But keep in mind, Mother Kanthalga, that the ones who fell upon your town, tore it apart in a frenzy of violence, and stabbed you repeatedly for your pains, endangering your people, your daughter and your livelihoods, were repeating the words you taught them." Benedict I. (GM): Malath winces. "That... I don't know why they..." Saelhen du Fishercrown: "...think on it. You're reasonable people, around here. You can come to your own conclusions." Benedict I. (GM): "I tell you, I did not make these things! If not for..." She's kind of lost for words. "...Apologies. I have much work to do," she says, and leaves.

After some work mending the village and cleaning up the aftermath, Looseleaf heads back into the inn to check on Vayen, who hasn't been helping at all and is instead drunk at the bar. He asks "Did she make it?"- and Looseleaf gets a nat 20 on Insight.

She's pretty sure that he was talking about Saelhen- and that he sounded almost hopeful. He was unusually jazzed about a plan that involved her being attacked by a horde of angry monsters- and he chose to shoot the echo that was attacking her, not the one bearing down on Saelhen with a bunch of its friends. When she informs him Saelhen survived, she's able to tell he's disappointed.

Saelhen du Fishercrown: so he doesn't hate us, as a group he hates saelhen specifically Looseleaf: But also weirdly- okay, what if: what if he actually has an ancestral quest involving that bracer and he's mad that saelhen beat him to the punch and furthermore used it as a shitty cover story Saelhen du Fishercrown: saelhen going THE DE LA SURPLUS ANCESTRAL QUEST IS REAL???

Looseleaf switches to talking to Vayen via her spirit-magic imitation of the Message spell.

Looseleaf: (Like, Vayen, everything you're doing is about Saelhen in some way or other. And I can't figure out why. You seem pretty much ambivalent towards all of us except for her. I don't get it. If you want Saelhen dead, why haven't you just killed her? I saw that lightning bolt- if you wanted, I bet you could take all of us, in a straight fight.) (You're sending real mixed signals. If you want her dead, why isn't she dead? Why do you want her to be dead via a hand other than your own?) Vayen: He locks up. And then sighs. Looseleaf: (And now you're sitting here sounding all tired and sad and I feel bad about that.) (I dunno, do you want to, uh, talk about it, with someone.) Vayen: "I don't... want her... to be dead," he says, clearly choosing his words carefully. "I have nothing against her." Looseleaf: (Then it's the- bracer??) Vayen: I'm letting that one Insight roll do a lot of work here, but he definitely reacts to that. "I- um, no," he says, lying. Looseleaf: (There is literally nothing significant about Saelhen other than her bracer, unless you plan on telling me that your deepest desire is to defeat the dance emperor of Kanzentokai in a danceoff and reclaim your ancestral throne of dancing glory.) (Which, granted, if that's the case, that'd be amazing.) Vayen: "I don't know what you're- that's not..." "It's all coincidence. Whatever you're thinking. I don't have- I don't have anything against- Saelhen? Noeru?" Looseleaf: (Look, I- okay, here's how I see things. I don't know how the bracer works, it's weird magic stuff, but the way I see it, there's two major ways the bracer could work.) (That is, you either want the bracer for yourself, because whatever it does or whatever you need it for, you need to be the one wearing it- OR, you just need anybody willing to use the bracer to do whatever it is the bracer's supposed to do.) Vayen: "...Can you not?" "I- I have a job." "I have an important job." "It's from the School of Restricted Arts." Looseleaf: "Well, tell us about the dang important job then! Maybe we can help you with it." "I don't get why you're preassuming that we'd never do anything you might want us to do." Vayen: "It's from the School of- are you listening?" "It's secret." "Look, it's- you don't need to worry about it, okay?" Looseleaf: "Hhhhhrlgkrkshxzshktkrrrzzzzktttttkzzz," Looseleaf says, reverting to her natural dialect in a brief moment of frustration. Vayen: "Sure, it's easier if- I mean, she- that was her idea, she wanted to..." "I just- I can just..." "As long as I can keep an eye on..." He groans. "I shouldn't be talking to you." "You're not in the School." Looseleaf: "Okay, just- hhhjkkkkkrkxxxxxtk." Vayen:"Are... you okay?" He's never asked a question like that before. Looseleaf: (I'm fine, that's just how we express frustration, our throats don't naturally conform to making sounds like 'hrrrrrgh', whenever I do that it's a performative thing that I do to adhere to human expectations- look, the big reason why I'm trying to, pound my way through your portcullis of secrecy with a twenty-foot battering ram of blunt communication,) (is because right now Saelhen is like, probably 80% convinced you're trying to poison her in your sleep.) (Seriously, this amount of in-party distrust is, like, way too Ccorde-damned much.) Vayen: "I wouldn't do that," he says. "If I were going to do that, I'd have done it already. Looseleaf: (If you'd express, in a credible way, that you're actually just trying to get Saelhen to do whatever it is she'd do anyways, she'd feel a lot better about it!) (And then she might even work with you to further your goals directly!) Vayen: He doesn't say anything for a little while. "...This is stupid." "This isn't even- it's wrong, even." "Maybe that's why." Man, that bottle he's holding is emptier than you thought it'd be. He's only been here less than half an hour. "Don't try to- guh, friends. He'll never- stupid. What's the point." He sort of collapses on the bar.

Vayen, it seems, can't hold his liquor. Looseleaf... carries him back up to his room.

Next time: the party finally leaves Barley, for good this time! And also a minor medical emergency happens, and also they kidnap a twelve-year-old, but like, it's fine. It'll be fine. Don't worry about it.

#twofaced jewel #tfj log

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surveys-at-your-service · 4 years ago

Text

Survey #356

“i’m just a painting that’s still wet: if you touch me, i’ll be smeared, you’ll be stained, stained for the rest of your life”

Have you ever used emotional blackmail to get your own way? WOW, no. What a starter. Has anybody ever used emotional blackmail on you? Not to my memory. Who did you last worry about and why? Honestly? Myself. My physical health just isn't very good right now. When are you next at work? Do you enjoy your work? N/A When was the last time you ate/drank something gross just to be polite? I'm not sure; I'm honestly very, very bad at this. I struggle big time hiding if I don't like something. Last time you heard a growl, who or what did it come from? My stomach. When did you last make up a baby’s bottle? Never. Do you have a mouse for your laptop? (Assuming you have a laptop) I use a mouse. I'm not a big trackpad fan. Do you have the right time set on your microwave? Yeah. What is your most expensive bill? I don't have any bills that I pay myself, because I can't. Do you have a big yard? No. Is there someone you would love to punch right now? Myself lol. Does the water in your shower take a long time to get warm? Yeah, it does. Song playing? I have "Leave A Scar" by Marilyn Manson on. Are you tired? I'm always tired. If you had the power to instantly transform someone’s life (for the better), who would you choose to use this on? My mom. Her entire life has been so fucking unfair, and she doesn't deserve it whatsoever. Just one day of her being perfectly happy would make my entire life. You wake up to a ZOMBIE APOCALYPSE. Your family is safe, but most of your city is zombified. You need weapons and various other supplies. What is your first general course of action? I seriously cannot even begin to imagine what I would do besides panic and be one of the first to die, honestly. If a family member (or boyfriend/girlfriend, if you have one) happened to be infected by one of these undead creatures, how would you go about dealing with that situation? It would tear me to shreds, but shoot them in the head to hopefully prevent them from turning. I couldn't let them suffer. Does someone’s view on homosexuality affect how you feel about them in any way? Sure as hell does. How about someone’s view on religion? This one depends on what their beliefs entail and to what intensity. If you were paralyzed from the neck down, would you still want to continue living? Why or why not? NO. NO. NO. This is seriously one of my biggest fears. Just fucking kill me. That sounds like very legitimate torture to me. Has any medication you’ve taken ever made you sick? How so? Three, to my memory. When I started Latuda, it made me throw up semi-frequently, BUT its effectiveness made me stay on it. My body eventually adjusted. The same thing happened with my current mood stabilizer, Vraylar. I was also on another, Trintellix I think, and that one did nothing but consistently make me puke, so I stopped it. Would you ever consider being a foster parent? No. Would you rather drink alone or with friends? With friends. Do you have too much time on your hands? WAY too much time. And yet I do nothing productive with it. Have you ever thought about hurting someone? Not seriously, no. Do you thank people for helping you? Always. Have you ever seen a zebra up close? Yeah, a few. Do you freak out if you see blood? Nah, it doesn't bother me. Have you ever complained to a manager about anything? What was it? No. Are there any songs that make you feel angry inside when you hear them? "Eternally Yours" by Motionless In White makes me feel that, among a thousand other emotions that are way too strong for me to handle, so I just don't listen to it. Have you ever been in a building that was on fire? YIKES, no. Are you in an argument with anyone right now? No. Have you ever written a poem for someone? Numerous times. Who’s the last person who cussed you out in anger? I think only my grandmother has done that. Who is the person you are closest to that you’ve meet online? Sara. (: Have you friended your parents on FB? I have my mom on there, but Dad doesn't have a FB. Where do you go out to eat for a special occasion? It depends on what we're in the mood for and what the occasion is. When someone sneezes, do you say “Bless you,” or “God Bless you?” Just "bless you." Have you ever seen the movie A Walk to Remember? Cliche or worth watching? Yeah, it's a wonderful movie. Do you live in a house, apartment, or another type of arrangement? House. Are you one of those people who like to spell out numbers? Grammatically speaking, any number below ten should be spelled out. I obviously spell out "ten," but w/e. Did you or do you still have a Furby? Was/is it annoying? I did as a kid. It didn't annoy me then, but as an adult I know they're creepy as shit lol. What's one event your town has that you don’t like to participate in? I don’t participate in any town events. Are any of your siblings married? What are their spouse’s names? Yeah. There's Nick, Josh, and Franky. Do you know how to sew? What's your favorite thing to sew? No. Have you ever owned a turtle? Did it ever bite you when you owned it? It's so awful looking back on, but my sisters and I kept a box turtle that wondered into our yard once as kids. No proper husbandry or anything; it was just in the kiddie pool. Thankfully, we were smart enough to not actually keep it forever (or rather, until it probably died from improper care); we wound up releasing it into the pond near our house, from which we assume it came from. Do you have Photoshop? If so, how often a day do you use it? I do; it comes with the Adobe photography bundle I have. I definitely don't use it daily, or even weekly. Has your school ever had a lockdown? If so, for what reason exactly? No, only drills. Do you enjoy it when your school has drills? (ex/fire or tornado drill?) I didn't, no, because I didn't like imagining the real situation. Do you watch any shows that you know your parents wouldn’t approve of? I'm an adult, for one. But anyway, I've never watched shows they'd have a problem with. If you have any pets, how would you describe their personalities? The cat, Roman: very, very affectionate, boisterous, demanding, playful, smart as fuck, and shy when it comes to strangers. The snake, Venus: curious, chill, and a bit timid. Do you have any friends that own a private lake? Not to my knowledge. Do you have a drone? No. Who is your favorite comedian? It was John Pinette, but following his death, probably Gabriel Iglesias. Where were you the last time you stayed in a hotel? I think at a dance competition? Do you know anyone with Crohn’s disease? Yeah. Out of all of the shows, movies, and books you love, who is your OTP (one true pairing)? Probably Spyro and Cynder from The Legend of Spyro trilogy. I love them. But I honestly don't have like, intense OTP feelings for any fictional characters? No real reasons, I just don't. Rhett and Link are my *true* OTP haha, but I didn't know if they counted since they're obviously real. Have you ever written a fanfiction? Did people actually like it? Nah. Have you ever liked playing dollmakers or online dress-up games? OH MY GOD my little sister and I would do that together ALL the time. Have you ever sent any celeb fan mail? No. Have you ever gotten a serious injury at school? What happened? No. Do your pets follow you when you walk around the house? Oh yes, he's my shadow. What was the very first social media site you signed up for? Myspace. Are you the type of person who knows exactly what they want in life? I mean, I know what I want, I just don't know if it's achievable for me. Do you have commitment issues? Nope. If you were to start a business, what kind would it be? I'd love to have like my own facility for boudoir photography. I've only shot boudoir once, but it immediately became a passion because of how empowering it was for my then-friend. I could go on a real ramble as to why I love it. What’s something you’ve done that sounds too crazy to be true? Been to psychiatric hospitals like six times. I honestly did lose count. Are there any flowers planted outside your house? No. What was the last thing you drank? Water. Truly incredible, I know. What’s the weirdest decoration you’ve seen in someone else’s home? *shrug* Did you have your own bathroom when you were growing up? No. Does anyone in your family smoke? My dad and his wife. What’s an opinion you find impossible to take seriously? That dinosaurs never existed. What was the very first election you voted in? This past one, actually. Do you feel positive and optimistic about your future? I don't want to think about this. What exes do you still associate with? Just Sara and Girt. Who told you they loved you last? My mom. Your worst enemy? I don't say I have any enemies. People who don't like me or I don't like them, but "enemy" isn't the proper word. What was your last dream about? Ugh. What a fucking question to ask, considering what I dreamt last night. I had both a nightmare and a normal dream; in the nightmare, I was sucked up into a tornado and carried away, and it felt so, so real. I was terrified. The dream is more vague in my memory, but I know I was at Jason's house (which wasn't actually his house) and his mom was still alive. I was hanging out with her and just chatting. It made me wake up in a really somber mood. Have you ever been admitted to the hospital? Psych hospitals, yes. Have you ever built a snowman? Yeah. What is your favorite milkshake flavor? Chocolate. Do you have any scars? I have a lot, but most are from negligible instances that just won't go away for some reason. If you could breed two animals together to defy the laws of nature, what new animal would you create? Putting all impossibilities aside as well as any potential health repercussions, maybe a meerkat and an opossum? Just in general a meerkat with a marsupial tail would be SO cute. Plus imagine the pattern. What is the most unusual conversation you’ve ever had? Oh I don't know. Can you do any accents other than your own? I can pull off a really convincing British one. Do you sing in the shower? Or do anything unusual in the shower? Explain. No. I just get clean, get out. I've always hated showering (the process anyway, I obviously enjoy feeling clean), so I get my business done adequately and then I'm done. Do you believe in aliens? Eh, maybe. It does seem pretty questionable to believe NOTHING else can exist in an infinite space. I doubt they're little green men, though. What do you think about babies? WAY too much work and WAY too much responsibility. Keeping another life safe, healthy, happy... the idea alone is terrifying. No thanks.

#survey #surveys #questions #lyrics: ''leave a scar'' by marilyn manson

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kpopmalereader · 5 years ago

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awful ; johnny seo

• summary: you’re the youngest ’99 liner in u & 127. one night you figure out you’re gay and start having a panic attack in your room because you’re scared and worried and freaking out about everything, johnny hears it and comes to comfort you • pairing: johnny seo x male!reader • word count: 1045 • to do

“Y/N?” Johnny knocks on the door lightly, debating between not wanting to intrude and wanting to make sure you’re okay. “Can I come in?”

You don’t answer him, frantically wiping your eyes and sniffing. You try to look as presentable and okay as you can before opening the door but get caught halfway through your desperate attempt at blinking away tears as he opens the door. You freeze and turn away from him, already shaking your head.

“Hey.” He shuts the door behind him, sparing you even more embarrassment if anyone else were to hear you.

“I’m okay.”

“I heard pacing and then someone trying to quiet cry, so sorry but I don’t really believe that.”

Quiet sniffs fill the room as you search for an answer, trying to push past your clenched throat that won’t allow any words to come out, and as he debates with himself over what to say to you. He opens his mouth a few times, hoping for words of consolation but even if he could say anything at that moment, your throbbing heart jumping into your head muffles the noise.

“Pup, what’s on your mind?”

His soft tone and complete concern for your well being causes the tears to start up again, pouring out full force. You gasp and cover your mouth, leaning down on your hand as you crumble. He joins you on the floor, clearing a space beside him.

“You don’t have to go through things alone, there’s too many of us for that.”

Your shoulders start to shake and your hand stops effectively covering the sounds. A few seconds of conflicted silence pass as Johnny debates holding on to you or not. He decides it would be best to ask and slowly opens his arms, eye contact not wavering one bit. You half-tackle him, burying your face into his shirt.

“Let it out.” He holds you tightly, gripping on to your shirt. “Cry, scream, punch me, throw things, talk, anything, but you have to let it happen.”

“I don’t want- I don’t want anybody to hate me.” You hiccup a few times and curl up further. “I don’t want things to change or people to think differently. I’m still me, but I don’t think I am anymore. I don’t want people to leave, maybe it’s not even what I think it is, maybe it’s all in my head, I just don’t- I don’t- Are people going to hate me? Is this wrong? I know it’s not wrong, but is it wrong for me to be- am I-”

Johnny repositions as you talk, trying to keep you from crumbling in on yourself. One of his hands presses on your lower back and his other finds your hair, doing everything he can to keep you up. “You need to breathe, breathe in and out slowly.”

You grip his shirt and pull back, shaking your head frantically. “I don’t like this. I don’t like this.”

“I don’t either, but you have to be in it for a little bit, it has to pass by itself. I can do anything about it, pup, I’m sorry.”

“I feel like I’m dying.” You grip your hair, only slightly aggravated when Johnny pulls your hands away, choosing to hold them tightly. “When is it going to end?”

He nods and his heart breaks with every look you give, wanting nothing more than to fix everything you’re feeling. “Should I go get Taeyong? Or Mark?”

“No, please, stay. I don’t know-”

“Okay, I’m right here. I’ll stay right here.”

Time passes at a snail’s pace until you slowly unfurl yourself, choosing to slump over in his lap. He brushes your hair back and gently runs his hands over his cheeks, drying your face off. You sniff again and let him do it.

“Hey, pup.” He mumbles, holding your faces. “Are you okay?”

You nod and hug him once before standing up. “I- Thank you.”

“Do you know why it happened?”

You sniff and fight yourself against starting your pacing all over again. He tilts his head up and slowly stands, watching you the entire time.

You pick at your lip for a second and takes a few steps back. “Promise me that you’re not going to think of me any different?”

“Of course, nothing you could do would make any of us change our opinion on you.” He nods, slowly trying to get you to open up.

You start to get goosebumps and rock up on your toes, pointedly looking up at the ceiling. “I found out- figured out- Wow this is awful. I think I’m… gay… and that really scares me and I’m worried about everything that’s going to happen now.”

Johnny feels pride from being the first one you’ve come out to and that you’re comfortable enough with him to divulge that information, but the thoughts of someone else hating you or hurting you for who you are and that you were scared to the point of a panic attack from somebody finding out bring him back to earth.

“Y/N,” He shakes his head and takes two quick strides to you, immediately pulling you into a tight hug. “Listen, I love you so much, we all love you. This is just a part of you, who you love is no one else’s business but your own. This isn’t going to change how any of us see you whatsoever.”

Tears start prickling at your eyes again and you bury your face in his neck, letting your feet lift up as he hugs you.

“The only time I’m going to be upset at you for dating a guy is if I don’t get to meet him and threaten him first.”

You crack a smile and Johnny cups your face again, smiling brighter than ever.

“I love you, little pup.”

“I love you too.” You finally relax your shoulders and fall into him, forcing him to carry all of your weight. “That was torture. Can you tell everyone else from now on?”

“I’ll be by your side when you tell everyone else.”

“Can we sleep first, I kind of want to stay with you for a bit after that.”

He smiles brightly and picks you up, jumping onto your bed. “You had me at sleep.”

#nct #kpop #kpop scenario #nct x reader #male reader #nct imagine #nct scenario #johnny #johnny seo #kpop male reader #kpop x reader #kpop x male reader #nct male reader #johnny x reader #johnny x male reader #johnny x male!reader #johnny seo x male reader #johnny seo x male!reader

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boredinterview · 5 years ago

Conversation

Libby Jansing on self-care, snickerdoodles, and divinity.

H: what are you wearing?

L: I’m wearing a striped rainbow sweater and this corduroy jumper thing my aunt got me for Christmas like two years ago. it was hers when she was younger and she gave it to me. she’s like “I saw it and I thought of you!” she’s my godmother.

H: my nanny texted me this morning when I was at cece’s, this picture of these overalls she saw on a facebook ad. she was like “these look like you”, they had like flowers all up and down.

L: that’s so sweet, I love that! I call my grandma nanny too.

H: oh yeah! I feel like we’ve talked about that before.

L: yeah, I love when other people call their grandma, nanny. It’s so sweet. my grandpa who I didn’t really know—he died when I was little—but we called him poppy.

H: dude! I call my grandpa pops, but then on my other side of my family, my dads mom is called grandy. which, she chose that name for herself. she started enforcing it when I was in the womb. and my grandpa, he died when I was little too, but we called him pawpaw.

L: that’s really sweet, I love that. my catholic grandparents were just grandma and grandpa which is like such catholic shit.

H: basic, straightforward, down to business. No frills whatsoever.

L: exactly!

H: so, describe your idea of self-care.

L: I think for me it shifts and changes depending on how I’m feeling. I’ve been really focusing on astrology lately and I think the transits really effect how I interact and take care of myself. It’s been a lot of trying to start new things which I think is because of aries season. starting new things—not even necessarily finishing them—but just starting them is making me feel good. and honestly still just like taking baths every day.

H: yeah, that’s so nice. what kind of new things have you been starting? like creative projects?

L: I’ve started a few things. I’m still working on five commissions that I have left which are projects I need to prioritize since you know they’re for people. I’ve been paid for them so I have to finish them, but I’m getting close on all of them which is good. I purchased a printer so I can print off the shipping labels.

H: hell yeah, that’s great!

L: also my friend Kelly and I are starting a podcast!

H: (excited gasp)

L: it’s an astrology podcast. we also talk about politics, we just have the best interactive mercury signs with one another. I have a gemini mercury and hers is in aries so we just talk talk talk and can’t stop. I’m always thinking constantly but I don’t always take note, I’m better at communicating my ideas out loud rather than writing them out so I’m excited to be communicating on a level like that.

H: yes! that’s so good.

L: yeah, so that’s been fun. I’ve been baking a lot too which I don’t really do usually.

H: amazing. what have you made?

L: I made snickerdoodles the other day just because I had those ingredients in the apartment and like.. they were so good! I felt like I did a really good job.

H: I love snickerdoodle ice cream.

L: snickerdoodles I think are my favorite cookies. I love cinnamon.

H: same! what is something that brings you joy lately?

L: I watch the British baking show a lot, and that brings me joy.

H: I love that show. I need to catch up on it, I know they switched out some of the hosts right? Like Mary Berry isn’t on it anymore.

L: I don’t think anyone’s the same. I haven’t watched the new seasons at all. like the two hosts—I don’t know anyone’s name on it at all—they’re introduced like every episode and I can never remember any names except for Mary Berry. her name is so easy. I know most of them are gone now though.

H: the old ones are nostalgic.

L: it totally does feel like that.

H: okay, what do you miss?

L: I miss thrifting honestly. going to antique stores and just looking at things. I don’t miss buying things, I miss browsing. also I really miss my friends.

H: I feel you. I miss both of those things a lot too.

L: yeah! I miss flea markets.

H: I’ve been so tired of all my clothes too which is so inconvenient! I’m trying to think what I can do at home to alter my clothes.

L: same! I don’t want to online shop for anything that isn’t essential either cause I just feel like that’s shitty.

H: I know. I feel like it’s a little bit irresponsible in a lot of cases.

L: yeah same. I’m also excited to get back in the studio. tommy and I are sharing that studio in Brighton.

H: yeah! the space looks great!

L: it’s part of sew valley. it isn’t really working right now, like their production isn’t going right now. I’m just excited to make clothes but I think I’m going to start crocheting clothes as well.

H: yeah that’s awesome you can just make new shit! It’s a good skill.

what do you not miss?

L: I do not miss working at all. honestly I’ve needed to go to therapy less during this time.

H: (laughing)

L: it’s fucked up. literally that’s how bad capitalism is. like, it’s shitty both ways because I’m not making any money right now and unemployment is really hard to get for whatever reason, but I’m so happy to not be at a restaurant every day. Honestly I think I’ve decided to go to a state school and get my masters in something. I’m thinking about going back to school—that’s what this time is giving me.

H: that’s awesome!

L: yeah.

H: the restaurant industry is so crazy sometimes because it feels like every single day just piles on and you don’t really have time to consider shit like that.

L: not at all.

H: you’re just so spent all the time.

L: yeah I was constantly tired. It was really hard to make things during that time too, I found myself very mentally exhausted all the time. I don’t have the temperament or personality to be a host. I can fake being sweet in that position but it’s hard to be on all the time.

H: yeah, I think that’s the hardest part about it. If you’re having an off day talking to the people who don’t care about you and don’t show you respect is really difficult.

L: yes. that’s exactly it. there’s always people that you meet who are nice, but even people who are kind to you and nice—it can still be exhausting after a while.

H: yeah it’s just so high volume.

L: yes!

H: what is something beautiful you’ve seen lately?

L: there’s a german sheperd that lives above me and this dog is so beautiful. sometimes it sounds like there’s a horse above me (laughing) but this dog is so pretty. I love seeing him every day.

H: that’s beautiful, I love that. that’s a great answer to that question.

describe your concept of divinity.

L: that is such an intense question but I love it. I had a super religious upbringing, going to a catholic school all my life and like even my preschool was Christian. I think I went to one year of public school when I was five. it was a young fives program and it was like… fucking amazing. the public school systems are amazing, we were like planting things in the ground. I think because of that it really engrained in me a need for ritual. catholics are very ritualistic. It’s a very clear stepping stone to me to get into my own spirituality. when I realized, you know—christianity isn’t it. It’s not great. It’s not for me and I don’t think it’s like, net good for the world. I always felt spiritual and connected whether it’s like to other people or the divinity in each other. I feel like everyone has divinity within themselves and it’s just about accessing it and respecting it. I feel like I more so practice it than I know what it is. you know what I mean?

H: totally, it’s a feeling.

L: yeah absolutely. I don’t know what it is. astrology is super important to my spiritual practice and tarot. I don’t know how it works, but it works you know? I don’t understand how these things happen. I love mystery and the mystical. I would be so bummed if I didn’t have that in my life. things that you can’t explain—I think that to me is what divinity is. I see it around me all the time.

H: thank you so much, that was awesome to hear.

L: I love that question. what is it for you, harris?

H: oh man! now I’m being interviewed. I am coming from a similar mind as you. I was not raised religious. I have people in my family like my grandparents are christians but even then we only went to church when I was really little so it didn’t have like a lasting effect on me. in terms of religion I was afraid that it might be real just because of hell, and then I rejected that pretty early once I started to like feel …gay. I was like “this doesn’t add up.”

L: yeah! harris, when I was little and I was like “oh… girls are pretty” probably around eight or something—my reaction was like “I’m going to be a nun when I’m older so I don’t have to think about sex” genuinely! That was my reaction.

H: wow!

L: I feel like I didn’t reject it, I went extreme. that’s like the guilt that comes especially with catholicism, it’s a religion built on guilt. it’s like even if you are worthy of god you’re still a sinner, it’s all built on guilt and like how shit you are as a person. it’s not great, you know? but you started to reject it after you were feeling gay?

H: yeah I stopped putting any stock into religion at all. but I have always been very spiritual as well. I’ve always felt like similar to you, a feeling of connection with my surroundings and things I can’t see or explain. I love astrology because it’s this weird cosmic thing that is just so fun to talk and learn about and somehow rings true. I don’t understand how it’s so accurate but it is. I love the moon (laughing) I love—not to get all over here with it—

L: get over there with it!

H: (laughing) I think poetry is a part of it for me as well, just conjuring things up that feel like they come from somewhere else. there are things that are impossible to understand which is crazy and cool.

L: yeah, I love that. that’s beautiful. thank you harris.

H: yes, thank you!

the next question, what’s your favorite body part?

L: oh my god my favorite body part. I feel like hands are my favorite utility. I’m so grateful for my hands, I think about it all the time. the cutest part for me though is definitely noses. everyone has a good nose.

H: I agree, I agree.

L: it’s such a fixation for people, like an insecurity but I literally see everyone’s nose and I’m like “that’s a cute nose.”

H: yeah! there’s no such thing as a bad nose.

L: no, noses are amazing, I love them. and I feel like smell is such an interesting sense too. it’s so connected with taste. do you remember that chef’s table episode where the chef has cancer on his tongue and he loses the ability to taste and smell the food?

H: yeah!

L: I think about that a lot. smell and taste is so important especially if your life is devoted to it. it does bring a different aspect of joy to life. the external part of it but its function too.

H: yeah, its amazing that he was able to continue and find new ways of creating with food.

L: yeah, so cool!

H: tell me something stupid.

L: (laughing) I could say so many things. because I’m in this new space, this new apartment, my body hasn’t figured out how to be in it yet. I live very much from the shoulders up.

H: YES!

L: and like, from shoulders down we don’t really know what’s happening. it’s a mind of its own. I’m very clumsy. my dad used to call me a bull in a china shop when I was growing up, and that rings true! I’m genuinely not aware of my body. I feel like that’s the gemini stellium, I’m very in the brain and not where the body is. I keep hitting this part of my leg in the same spot every single day and I have this giant bruise. It’s getting bigger because I keep hitting it. It’s in the bathroom, the toilet is just in this location that my body hasn’t gotten adjusted to. it’s the outside of my knee.

H: fuck. you’re body just isn’t with it yet.

L: it usually isn’t with it and in this moment it just has no idea.

H: I hope you start adjusting soon!

L: me too Harris! I think I will. tommy said it’s probably just a matter of time.

H: (laughing) I don’t love that for you but I love it.

L: it’s one of those things I’ll cry in frustration about and then laugh over how silly that is.

H: do you have any confessions to make?

L: (laughing) forgive me harris for I have sinned! confessions, oh my god. I’m transported. probably, you know! I hear my neighbor groaning and moaning a lot and I feel like I’m being too hard on him, you know what I mean? I feel like he’s just a person but my brain is taking me to this place. I feel like he’s an incel that’s going to kill me, and I know that’s irrational. he’s probably just living his life. I have to be careful for myself. I feel like I judge people too hard from a safety standpoint sometimes but I think that’s also without a basis.

Madison: I feel like you’re really good at meeting people though and then changing it. you’re good at not letting your initial judgements cloud when you meet someone.

L: thank you so much Madison, that makes me feel a lot better. I feel like my scorpio rising energy makes me not trust people right away but I try to not let that influence too much. sometimes you have to listen to your intuition but I don’t want it to get in the way of me treating people like people.

H: totally! I also feel like that instinct comes from a place of being a person in the world who is vulnerable. the hesitation is understandable. it’s not necessarily bad.

L: I’m okay having it and I should listen to myself when I’m really feeling something but I don’t want it to get in the way of treating people with humanity, that’s my fear with it. I want to be actively aware of that portion in my brain that jumps there immediately.

H: that’s a practice everybody should be doing definitely.

L: yes, in multiple ways.

H: to bring it to a close I’m going to ask you a series of one word questions.

wanting?

L: food. I’m hungry.

H: wishing?

L: I’m always wishing. fantasy, that’s me. I’m always a little bit in the clouds sometimes.

H: advice?

L: If you have any I’ll take it.

H: I’ll get back to you on that.

L: anyone who feels like they have advice to give me, I’m open. I’m usually not for unsolicited advice but I’m asking for it right now.

H: allowing?

L: myself and others to make more mistakes and not punish them for it. holding people accountable but allowing people to grow and make mistakes.

H: doing?

L: doing crafts! yeah. that’s my answer.

#interview boredinterview

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c-is-for-circinate · 6 years ago

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Ten episodes into Critical Role (starting with the second season, and NO SPOILERS PLEASE), and okay yeah, I get why people like the show.

There’s a lot to talk about and I’m sure most of it’s been said before, but I’m just in love with how nuanced and contradictory these characters are. And contradictory is exactly the right word, not just because of how they oppose each other (though goddamn that is fun), but how they oppose themselves, how every single character is this mess of characteristics that don’t match up on first glance, except they actually fit together to create such rich characters.

Like Fjord, okay, start with him--he’s not the leader because this group is too much of a disaster to have a leader, but he’s the most consistently calm, solid, reliable, and generally sensible person in the whole group. Which is not usually how you’d expect your party’s half-orc to behave, but that’s fine, that’s just messing with race expectations, that’s easy. What’s interesting about Fjord is that he’s so clearly the group’s token decent guy, the honest man. He has an eldritch nightmare and actually tells the others about it, which nobody else in that fucking crew except maybe Jester would. He’s a straightforward guy who seems like he was maybe actually normal once, again unique in this group, who also happens to be a warlock with very clearly eldritch powers he doesn’t understand. And he has no problem whatsoever with using and expanding those powers, or with killing, or with stealing and conning and enjoying any ill-gotten gains the group may collect. His objections to the team’s plans are almost always practical and logistical (the ‘this seems very complicated and also is likely to end in this very obvious disaster when this logical hole gives way under us’ sort), not moral. It consistently feels like, if he hadn’t had whatever disaster shipwreck eldritch sea-beast warlock pact experience set him off on this path, he out of the whole group would be obeying laws and being generally decent to the people around him and working a simple, honest job with some hard labor involved, and he’d be happy with it--but he’s on this boat now and he’s in completely, and he’s just as forthright with that loyalty as he is with everything else.

And Jester is flighty and silly and fun and describes a childhood that horrifies the entire rest of the group in blithe, carefree tones, and I love it so much because it makes so much sense. Sure, she was isolated, secluded, and hidden from the world for years--but it was important for her mom’s business, and her mom loved her, and it was normal, and it was fine. Because that’s normal to her. And she’s completely carefree about her childhood, just like she makes a carefree game out of slaughtering gnolls and being entirely willing to kill guards or other sentient people, with the same level of fun as she gets pulling minor pranks. She would happily and generously give away pastries or money or healing to anyone, and then turn right around and fuck up their entire day just because it’s funny, and not even see a conflict there. Except that every once in a while we get a glimpse of just how desperately lonely she’s been for so fucking long--and it only comes out when she’s talking to or about the Traveler. It’s never when she’s talking about home, or the brothel, or the room when she was locked in, because those things were normal and fine. What’s not fine is the idea that she might lose contact with the Traveler, or maybe her mother. And of course that’s it. Because everything that was normal and fine and happy and funny had to be okay, because it was life, and that’s just how it was, but the Traveler and maybe her mother were the things that made it all okay, and if she loses them, she loses everything.

And I haven’t even begun to figure out Nott yet, Nott who seems in many aspects like the most straightforward member of the whole crew--not in the Fjord way of directness and honesty, but in the easy, tropey, simple-to-classify way. The goblin rogue who loves picking pockets and collecting shiny things, quick and sly and easily intimidated, with quick fingers and a bit of a background in alchemy, it all makes sense. Nott makes sense. Except that if you take a step back and look around at context, Nott makes no fucking sense at all. I have no idea why she’s out here, adventuring with these losers, instead of back home with the other goblins. We have seen zero other goblins out and around populated places so far. Even her partnership with Caleb straddles the line between ‘oh, of course’--a couple of criminals who met in prison and helped each other escape and decided it was more practical to stick together? sure! makes sense for a goblin!--and ‘wait, what the fuck?’. Why was Nott in any sort of prison that Caleb would ever be in to begin with? If she was arrested by humans, why didn’t they just kill her outright, given the attitudes most humans we’ve seen seem to have to goblins? She is so friendly and ready to hang with the rest of the group, is so delighted to play with Jester, she’s such a social creature, so how did she ever end up playing sidekick with this socially awkward human disaster to begin with?

And right, speaking of Caleb, the man is a goddamn mess, even putting aside all of his stubbornness and his mysteries and the actual literal mess of him. He’s shy and awkward and anxious and scared around people, except for when he decides to very intensely threaten somebody with murder and disembowelment, just as a matter of course. He’s anxious about everything, but he’s okay with monster-hunting. And he’s fine with murder, so long as it isn’t done with fire, he’s one of the first to go in for robbing corpses, he straight up does not give a shit about the people he and Nott rob, he doesn’t trust or even particularly like the rest of the Nein, he doesn’t (appear to) care about other people at all--except that he would do anything for Nott, full stop. And he has strong feelings about parents and kids and families, and he gave Jester the money he swiped from the spider lair because he got angry at her for being an apparent spoiled rich girl and wanted to apologize, and because it seemed important to her an he cared. And all of these truths hang together around the central figure of this one guy with a fucked-up past he doesn’t have words for, who prefers books to people and doesn’t really know what he’s doing, in the world, in general, even at the fairly low level he thinks he does.

And of course Caleb keeps clashing with Beau, because Beau is simultaneously so self-invested and yet also somehow more interrogative of the whole world around her than anyone else in the group. Beau wants to know all of Caleb’s secrets. She wants to know everybody’s secrets, but she wants Caleb most of all, because he’s spent the most effort trying to keep them that way. And she’s so curious about her party members, so curious about things going on in the world--she asks more questions about random shit than anyone, she’s currently spearheading both the investigation into the Gentleman and, with Fjord, the Zadash revolutionary’s club, because she wants to know. Except Beau never gives off the impression of actually liking anybody or anything she discovers. (Fjord trying to give her lessons on complimenting somebody without making it sound like a backhanded insult was amazing.) She has ‘chip on my shoulder’ writ so large across her it might as well be in neon. She is Out For Herself; she hates the system but she’s not going to go looking for ways to take it down, not when she can drink and fight shit to get cash that she can spend to drink with. But she can’t stop asking questions. She Doesn’t Care, but she can’t stop trying to learn more. And right, the constant back and forth of ‘yes she cares’-’no she’s a self-interested bitch’ could feel wishy-washy, but instead it just feels right, because Beau is very young and very angry and very impulsive, and she is very bad at effectively caring for the things and people she cares about, and it is so clear that she’s been treated so badly and had so little power to fight back. And now she’s got the power to fight back so she lashes out and she hits things and she’s constantly mean, and she chokes out the little girl she got arrested to protect two days earlier because nobody ever taught Beau how people actually take care of other people, did they. She needs to know Caleb’s secrets because Caleb having stuff going on that he won’t talk about means that there are factors at play that can affect Beau’s life that she can’t control, can’t even know about. All I know about her parents so far is that they had enough money to pay a temple to take her away when she caused too much trouble for them. Which actually appears to say pretty much everything that needs to be said.

And fucking Mollymauk Tealeaf, the one goddamn spoiler I had for this show before I started it and I am simultaneously gutted over him from day one and grateful to be prepared because I do not think I would take losing him well as a surprise. Molly is so fucking good. He’s a good character, and he’s such a good person, except he would cheerfully deny it with a grin if anyone ever accused him of it. He is such a tremendous cynic. He has been all over and he believes that people in groups of any size are stupid, dangerous, probably corrupt, generally bigoted, probably lazy, and out for themselves at every turn. No horror anyone does can surprise him, and yet he’s blithe and easy about it all. Of course people are terrible, that’s just how people are, no sense getting depressed over it. He’ll just slide his way in with a smile and a deck of tarot cards and a bit of flash and dazzle, use people’s vices against them, maybe run just a bit of a con if it looks to be profitable, and slide right back out again. Except that by god, Molly cares every bit as much as Beau does and unlike her, he actually knows it. He was ready to go to the mat for any- and everyone in that circus, called it a family and held on to it as hard as he possibly could even as everyone in it bickered and hated each other and were ready to jump town and leave each other behind. He is so kind to people with less than he has. And he’s never forceful about it, he never pushes his care forward, he just makes a few gentle comments to Jester about expectations and disappointment that might help ease the crushing blow he so clearly sees coming her way, without actually calling her out or starting an argument. He just suggests to Nott that there exist people in the world that shouldn’t be robbed, not because they’ve no money worth stealing but because those people can’t afford to lose what little they have. At some point he took it upon himself to be the person who keeps an eye on everyone else in the party, whether to try to defuse an argument or pick someone up when they’re down or corner them and take them to task, quietly, out of earshot of all the others. It’s impossible not to get the sense that Molly is already more invested in this group working and staying together than anyone else here, and he takes that fact as a given, and he’s ready to put in the quiet background work to keep it in one piece. He’s already brushed off or buried whatever mourning he did for the broken circus family he so clearly loved so well, and it should be a contradiction, but mostly it just feels like Molly is too used to being ready for things to go south and people to leave, because life is just shit like that and you take what you can get. He treats love exactly the same way he treats money: a thing that’s hard to come by and well worth collecting if you possibly can, to be enjoyed and played with to the very fullest while you have it, because soon enough it’ll be gone again either way.

At any rate, I’m really enamoured of this show that has characters so nuanced by ten episodes in. (Granted, ten episodes clocks close to 40 hours, but shhhh. D&D time is different.) I chalk a ton of it up to, ‘oh, shit, this is why voice actors are the perfect people to put on D&D as a massive serial fiction adventure’. Every single person at the table makes a living out of putting nuance into characters with just their voice, so of course they know what they’re doing, and they’ve all played zillions of characters (their IMDB pages are so long, jfc) with plenty of nuance to begin with. They know how to do this shit.

The other thing, I think, is that everybody at the table feels safe with the idea that they’ll have enough time to draw these characters out all the way to the end. Everybody in this group has so many secrets, so many of the linking pieces that lay out and explain the layers and contradictions, and nobody is rushing to pull any of them out on the table right up at the start, because everybody there is totally secure in the idea that they’ll get 500-odd hours to tell this story and it doesn’t all have to happen yet. Character death is always a risk, but the only healer isn’t going to up and move to another state, and nobody is going to get married and have no time any more, and the DM’s manager at work isn’t going to suddenly start assigning Thursday night shifts and all of the sudden scheduling is a disaster for so long it never gets fixed. Nobody is going to decide they don’t care any more and just stop showing up. They’ve been at this together a long, long time, and also they’re making an actual show about it that they actually get paid for, and they can take as long to tell the story, and make it whatever story, that they want. It’s a really different kind of energy than any D&D game I ever managed to play, and even different from most shows that never know when the ‘cancel’ hammer might come down from the network.

It’s pretty cool. I like it a lot.

#critical role #yes I am blacklisting that tag #that I just used to tag my own post #NO SPOILERS I AM SERIOUS #driveby meta attack #just can't help myself with the wordspew sometimes #that final Farscape post is still a mess of a draft #so many thoughts #so little time

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dcforts · 4 years ago

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[foosball]

They’ve got a foosball table now.

Dean spots it by the side of the road, one leg bent, a little rusty, the glass smashed in and a couple of men’s heads cut off. He goes back to load it on a truck and bring it home and Sam’s bewildered face when he unloads is enough to pay off for the extra journey, even if his “Ta-da” has no effect whatsoever not on him, nor on Jack who clearly has no idea what that thing is.

Dean doesn’t care, he’s too excited.

It’s not like he’s ever been a champion at it, but if someone asks him that’s Sam’s fault: he’s always been too young and not enough competitive and Dean just didn’t have anyone else to play with and never enough time at the arcade to practice.

But now, he’s got one all for himself. He cleans it up and fixes it up the best he can and his excitement grows and grows.

And then it plummets like a sinking ship when he finally gets his chance to play and Jack kicks his ass ten times in a row.

Sam is no help: one, the more Dean gets frustrated the more he laughs at him, and two, he’s now too big to fit on the same side as Dean so he can’t even team up with him. And no, winning with Jack against Sam doesn’t count.

“He’s just a kid,” Sam laughs when Dean voices his suspicious on Jack using his powers to beat him.

“That’s not the point!” he retorts and then retires to his room to grumpily listen to music for the rest of the night.

Hope comes back full force the next afternoon in the shape of two familiar shoulders covered by a trenchcoat. He finds them in the library, sitting at one of the tables. Cas has a laptop open in front of him and he is intent on consulting a news website, one index finger moving slowly on the touch pad.

Dean circles the table to stand in his field of vision and points one finger at him. “Foosball,” he says, serious.

Cas looks up at him and his expression stays neutral. “It’s a table top game.”

“I kn- ,” Dean rolls his eyes. “What do you know about it? How good are you at it?”

“I never played.”

A wicked grin stretches on Dean’s face. He puts both palms on the surface of the table and leans in.

“I propose an alliance. You, me, against the giant and the kid. What you say?”

Now Castiel seems confused and slightly alarmed, not exactly enthusiastic at the idea of being dragged in a situation that would likely make him uncomfortable. He gapes at him like a fish.

Dean keeps going. “I secretly train you to be the best foosball player on Earth and then we crush them”, he says it closing a fist in mid-air.

“I don’t know -”

“Hell, maybe you’re a natural, just like Jack. And I’m not above using a little bit of angelic powers to cheat. I’m pretty sure he’s not playing clean either.”

“Dean -,” he starts, but Dean takes hold of his trechcoat sleeve and tugs at it. “Come on, before they see us.”

Cas is definitely not a natural. Which doesn’t turn out to be such a bad thing after all because that means that Dean gets to win a match for the first time since he got the table.

And it’s a good thing also because, unlike Sam, Cas is competitive, and the fact that he seems unable to properly coordinate to move a few rods and excel at a stupid human game bothers him greatly, so he focuses like his life depends on it until he finally wins a match. After the shot that seals the match, he looks up at Dean, genuinely pleased, “I won,” he states, almost incredulous.

Dean feels giddy. He smiles back at him.

So now with a fourth guy, Dean can finally have his long sought balanced match.

Sam and Jack make fun of him for how badly he wants a rematch, but after they lose two matches in a row against Dean and Cas, a thick silence falls into the room, broken only by rare grunts and the sound of the ball rolling around on the table.

In only a day, Cas’s got incredibly good. He has the great ability to always anticipate Dean’s intentions, and moves his bars to accommodate his strategy. It’s like, in addition to learning the rules of the game, he learned how Dean plays and that makes him the best teammate Dean could ask for.

They only share a satisfied smile the first times they close a match. Dean is too busy shoving it in Sam and Jack’s face, really. But on the third match, they’re head to head and the adrenaline’s pumping and on the last ball, Cas’ goalie blocks Sam’s shot with a swift and clean movement and sends the ball flying back quick like a rocket on the other side of the field and into their goal with a clunk, and Dean is so surprised and amazed that he lets out a shout and raises his fists in the air.

Jack and Sam are groaning and calling for a time out and Cas is smiling at him, his hands still on the rods, content to just stand there and watch him bouncing on his feet like a child. Dean is so euphoric that he shouts, “That was awesome,” and cups Cas’ face in his hands and leans in to smack a loud kiss on his cheek, only Cas startles at the unexpected contact and Dean’s lips end up pressing dangerously close to his mouth.

So if they lose the next two matches it’s entirely his fault.

As soon as he realizes what’s happened, he drops Cas’ face like it’s a hot potato and they look at each other alarmed. That kind of unbalances the whole thing; Dean’s ears keep ringing and Cas keeps messing up too, unable to focus.

They lose the third match in a row and Dean doesn’t even make fun of Sam and Jack when high-five three times with both hands as if they’re five years olds because he’s busy being too aware of the tension on his side of their table.

With three matches each, they decide, whoever wins the next one, is gonna win it all. Dean calls a time out and pushes Cas to the side.

“We need to get it together.”

“Dean -”

“Cas, let’s just focus on the match. No distractions, okay?”

Cas nods reluctantly. “No distractions.”

And so they play, slightly better, but still struggling.

And then there’s one ball left.

Jack and Dean do a little bit of a silly ritual, taking turns blowing on it and then Jack presses it against his chest, closes his eyes and says, “If you make me win, this will be one of the best days of my life.”

“Yeah, alright, just play,” Dean mocks him, but when he looks towards Cas and Sam they both look like they fell for his little act.

So Dean is not exactly surprised when Jack gets a chance for a clear shot and Cas just – doesn’t catch it.

Dean sees clearly the way he pulls his rod ever so slightly to allow the ball to go in. He sees the way he looks immediately up to Jack not to miss his face light up. The way he smiles fully, with crinkles on the corner of his eyes and all, as Jack laughs and cheers with Sam, and then Jack is pointing at him and Dean has to take his eyes off of Cas and deal with the obnoxious truth that they lost. He lost. Again.

But Cas is pleased, and Jack has stars in his eyes and Sam is having fun - although at his expenses - so Dean doesn’t even think about complaining, or calling bullshit, or asking for a rematch.

After dinner he says he’s going to bed but quietly sneaks into Dean Cave once again to watch tv. Cas finds him anyway, even if the lights are off and the volume is set very low.

He comes in like he knew exactly that he was going to be in there. “You alright?” he asks.

Dean says, “Yeah.”

Cas doesn’t occupy the other empty chair, but comes to hover next to Dean’s until he moves his left arm and he can perch on the armrest. It’s an usual position but not an unusual closeness and Dean feels warmed by the familiarity of it.

“Sorry about earlier. I know you wanted to win.”

Dean shrugs. “It’s okay. It was fun, wasn’t it?”

“Yes,” Under the light coming from the tv screen, Cas presses his lips together, looking troubled. Dean knows he’s about to confess, so with a small smile he anticipates him: “I know what you did. There was no way you couldn’t have caught that shot.”

Cas lowers his head, showing guilt.

“It’s fine.” he reassures him before he can say anything. “It was nice seeing him happy.”

Cas nods and his leg bumps against Dean’s knee and that prompts a quirk of lips. Dean feels the need add something about earlier.

“And – I guess I-, sometimes I get a little too excited over stupid stuff. Sorry for throwing off your game. T’was an accident.”

Cas is silent for a long moment and Dean can’t guess what he’s thinking from his expression cause he’s very intent on looking at a randomly selected spot on Cas’ dress pants.

Then Cas says, “No need to apologize,” and there is a warm hand on his shoulder and Dean finally looks up. Cas has a smile stretching his lips and Dean can’t believe that just hours before his mouth was so close to them it almost touched them. “Do you want to play now? I can let you win,” he teases.

“Hey!” he protests, but with no real heat in it, “I don’t need you to let me win.”

Cas raises his eyebrows and tilts his head as if he’s sorry for him, “You sure?”

“Oh, that’s how you wanna – okay, smartass, you’re on. But -” Cas is about to stand up and Dean stops him with a hand on his tight. Cas stares at the hand and then up at Dean. “- not now? Let’s play another day.”

“Okay,” says Cas and sounds a little breathless. Dean smiles bravely, hoping he doesn’t look too scared. He doesn’t remove his hand.

“Wanna stay here? Catch a movie?”

Cas nods and as Dean presses play on the remote he shifts on the armrest to get comfortable and moves his hand to entwine his fingers with Dean’s.

A long time passes before either of them says anything. They stay absolutely still, watching straight ahead the one minute fifty-six seconds of opening credits as if it’s the most interesting thing they’ve ever seen.

And only when Dean is sure he’ll be able to hear his voice above his own heartbeat again, and the world didn’t end and nothing terrible happened and Cas didn’t just suddenly change just because their hands touched, he casually calls: “Hey Cas?”

Cas seems to relax as well when he hears his voice. He looks back at him, “Yeah?”

“Jack cheats, right?”

Cas huffs a laugh, “No.”

Dean slides down in his chair and pouts, “Damn it.”

#deancas #deancas ficlet #destiel fanfiction #deancas fanfiction #1.8k #i hope the terminology is right #a bit crack-y?#it's soft and domestic and there's hand holding and sitting on armrests #i really like that image #but i know its not comfortable sorry cas #if we imagine a different armchair then it's a bit better #i guess set somewhere during s13 #even if it can't be #deancas ficlets #my writing

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taexual · 6 years ago

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HOLIC - 15 | jb x reader

pairing: Im Jaebum x Reader

genre: enemies to lovers au | roommate au

warnings: strong language, some angst

words: 3.5k

disclaimer: i do not own the gif, please let me know if it belongs to you, so i can give proper credit

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Your friends didn’t object much after that – Kiera, especially. She had been the one who suggested you confront Jaebum about his abrupt reunion with his ex, so you weren’t very surprised when she whispered an encouraging, “you got this!” into your ear as she walked past you and away from the table, leaving you and Suji alone.

“Look, I don’t know what you’re doing here but—” Suji had started to say once your friends left, but you shook your head, cutting her off.

You were done listening to her. It was time she listened to someone else.

“Look,” you said, your intoxicated mind not providing you with a very clear idea of what to say to her, but you’ve thought about talking to her enough times before to still know what point you wanted to make. “I defended you. Or, at least, I think I did. I got into a whole argument with Jaebum about you, even though, as I can see know, I didn’t know shit about you. I should have never come here – and I changed my mind about seeing you a million times – but here I fucking am, so let’s get this over with.”

“What are you—”

“Do not interrupt me,” you cut her off again, the alcohol giving you the much-needed boost of confidence to keep going. “I don’t know if you realize what you’re doing with Jaebum – and for the sake of what little respect I have left for you, I truly hope you don’t – but you need to stop this. You need to let him go.”

“I need to let him go?” Suji repeated. She was really unable to stay quiet for longer than a minute. Thankfully, her shock gave you the advantage of being the one with a semi-clear mind, excluding the dizziness from all of the alcohol you’ve consumed tonight, of course. “Why do I need to do that? So, you could be with him? Is there something going on between you two?”

You groaned, annoyed because she wasn’t getting it. “No! And that’s not the point!”

She was still very much puzzled, so instead of demanding your explanation, she waited for you to keep going. Perhaps she loved to talk and have control of everything, but, evidently, she also loved to argue. Had she been less oblivious, she would have made an excellent lawyer.

“Suji,” you said after a moment, hoping that tonight wouldn’t end up with you truly knocking her out with your fists because words wouldn’t work. “You’re a huge fucking bitch.”

You stopped for a second because she frowned, her lips parting in surprise, but you weren’t going to stay quiet for much longer because you knew she’d say something once she recovered, and you didn’t know how much longer you could use your drunk mind to force yourself to say all of the things you wanted to say to her.

“Not just that, actually. You’re a controlling bitch,” you continued. “You need to let go of Jaebum. You can’t keep reappearing in his life. You know he has no self-control sometimes and you can’t take advantage of that. You’re bad for him. No, hold on—you’re fucking toxic. And not just for him; for everyone around you. I mean, do you not notice the fake reactions whenever you start to speak? You’re selfish, you’re rude, and you are—for the lack of a better word—an absolute snake. You’re so toxic, Suji, that I’m glad Jaebum and I don’t own any plants or they would have died after you came over.”

You could feel yourself go a little overboard, but you’ve rehearsed this speech a hundred times in your mind – sans the curse words and the obviously unnecessary offensive comments, of course – when you first decided you were going to meet up with Suji in order to let her know everything Jaebum was feeling since he wasn’t able to do it himself. You knew what you wanted to say to her and you were going to say it no matter what.

Contrary to what you’ve imagined – you totally expected her to literally claw your eyes out – Suji had exactly zero emotions on her face after you stopped and you truly envied her in that moment – you knew your face was flushed from the drinks you’ve had before and from your outburst of rage.

“Wow,” was what she said once she finally opened her mouth. “I-I don’t understand where this is coming from. I think there’s a chance you got a little too drunk here, because Jaebum and I want each other, and we—”

“You don’t,” you shook your head. “He doesn’t want you, and you don’t want him, either. You seriously can’t be that stupid not to see it. You just want someone you can control. Since you have me now, you don’t even need him anymore. I don’t doubt that you would have texted him as soon as you left our apartment that morning, but you didn’t because I came along and you realized you could text me instead. I was fresh in your life so you chose to drag me around instead of him.”

Her voice sounded shaky when she spoke, “I don’t drag people around.”

“That’s exactly what you do,” you said, a little surprised once you noticed that she had been listening to everything you’ve said and she seemed to have heard you. “You kept texting me. I’m not kidding -- you literally did not leave me alone. You wouldn’t give up no matter how many times I said no and maybe, in time, you would have gotten bored of me refusing to see you. Then, you’d get back to Jaebum because he’s so easy for you to control. He has so many secrets and the thickest walls I’ve ever seen wrapped all the way around his heart and you’re the reason why. You can’t turn someone who was once open-hearted into someone who’s so afraid to open up, he fights off anyone who wants to get close to him because he’s scared it’ll be you again. You can’t take Jaebum for what he is and then turn him into someone completely different -- someone you want him to be. You can’t ruin his life by forcing your relationship on him. That’s just psychotic. Jaebum isn’t yours – and you have serious problems if you think he is. He belongs to himself.”

You were still standing but Suji hadn’t gotten up, so you were towering over her and, suddenly, when her lower lip quivered, you didn’t feel so comfortable attacking her like this anymore. You sat down to hopefully seem less intimidating, although you weren’t sure how you could have ever intimidated her.

“I’m—I don’t—I never controlled him,” she said, no longer looking at you.

You haven’t expected her to get so emotional about this but your heart was starting to hurt. She looked like she was about to cry and yet there was no way for you to go back from this. If you took everything you said back, it would have no effect whatsoever. You already couldn’t tell if her emotions were genuine or if she was just playing the victim, but perhaps there was a small chance that you’ve gotten to her. You had to keep going no matter how much it upset her – or you.

Furthermore, it was actually good that she was reacting in a way that made you feel pity for her. That meant you were less likely to hit her square in the jaw and spend your night at the police station, obtaining a criminal record.

“Hitting him when he took the job he wanted but not the one you wanted for him,” you started slowly but felt yourself give in to your emotions as you went on. “Locking him out of his apartment when he tried to break up with you. Even having him get rid of his cat because you didn’t like it… all of these are examples of how you tried to live his life for him. Fuck, how do you not think that’s wrong? That’s fucking terrible. I don’t say this often because I like to think that there’s some good in everyone, but, fuck, Suji, you’re truly a shitty fucking person. It’s—you can’t do this type of shit to him—to anyone. What’s the point of dating someone, if you lock them inside of a room -- a jail cell, essentially -- and then fucking force them to do everything you want? Where’s the fun when you make every decision for them?”

Perhaps you were the first person who called her out with concrete facts, or perhaps she just felt humiliated because your attack on her was so sudden and, frankly, so much more brutal than you’d intended, but Suji had tears in her eyes when she dared to look at you again.

You were starting to feel even worse. You wanted to let her know just how toxic her behavior had been but now that she seemed to possibly realize this herself, you wanted to step around the table and give her a comforting hug. But you couldn’t. You couldn’t because you were still so unexplainably angry at her.

The look on Jaebum’s face when he told you about the things Suji had put him through in all the years that they’ve known each other was what kept you in your seat. He’d avoided breaking up with her so many times simply because she always played the victim. And maybe that was exactly what she was doing right now with you, too.

You couldn’t apologize for your words because there was a chance you’d wasted your breath talking to her and she hadn’t actually heard you, she was just pretending. You couldn’t apologize because she never apologized for plainly dismissing all your friends have said tonight to make herself shine. You couldn’t apologize because far behind the tears in her eyes, you could still see her rage – she hated losing control of this situation so quickly that she didn’t know how to get it back.

And yet you still felt uncomfortable. You weren’t used to people manipulating you into taking the blame for simply telling the truth, but you kept your posture firm. You thought you’d made a mistake by agreeing to see Suji here – you knew Jaebum was going to have a fit when you told him what happened – but maybe this had to be done. You knew Jaebum would have never confronted her on his own. And maybe you were sticking your neck in his business uninvited – scratch that “maybe”, you really were doing exactly that – but you were trying to help him. You were angry and upset at her on behalf of him.

“Look…” you said when Suji didn’t reply with anything. “I’m not saying—okay, I did say that you’re a shitty person and, honestly, you are, I’m not taking that back. You’re very literally ruining Jaebum’s lif—anyway. This doesn’t mean you can’t change yourself. Maybe you needed someone to give you a piece of their mind because, clearly, you’ve lived your whole life getting free passes from everyone. We should all be responsible for our actions and I’m sure you know very well that what you were doing to Jaebum throughout your relationship wasn’t right. You never gave him the freedom to leave. Fuck, you chained him against his will. It really should have been him telling you all of this, but it’s me instead. And I’m sorry I called you names, that wasn’t very cool of me, Jaebum would have probably handled this differently, but I was—”

“No,” Suji stopped you, standing up and gathering her purse. She sniffled, wiping her eyes. “I’m going to go. Thank you for finding the time to meet me. I—I’ll leave now.”

She walked away from your booth without letting you add anything and without looking back at you. You debated stopping her – and even considered pulling her back by her hair but that wouldn’t have looked right for the people around you since you clearly had the upper hand because she was crying – but then decided that you’ve said enough. It was starting to get really difficult to keep on yelling at her when she was starting to cry, so maybe it was good that she’d left. You weren’t sure if she’s ever left like this before – Suji was always the last person standing – so, even if she wasn’t going to let your words actually phase her, maybe you’ve still achieved something tonight.

You couldn’t see her face when she left so you didn’t know if she wiped her tears and smiled instead, thinking of all the ways she was going to get back at you for everything you’ve said tonight, or if she genuinely listened to everything you’ve said and her tears were real. Maybe it was naïve of you – lots of things were, after all – but a big part of you wanted to believe that her reaction was genuine. There had to be something about her that drew Jaebum in, right? Perhaps it was her soft heart.

Then again, you didn’t know if Suji even had a heart. Jaebum knew her better than you did. But you weren’t sure if you’d ever ask him what was it that made him like her because you couldn’t see yourself ever admitting to him that, despite going back and forth on your decision to see Suji, you still followed your initial plan and met up with her to try and fix his problems for him.

“Fuck,” you whispered quietly, running your fingers through your hair. You couldn’t come up with a way you were going to get out of this without Jaebum throwing you out of the apartment, or without Suji sending trained assassins after you.

You felt even worse when your friends finally allowed you to leave the bar and go home. The alcohol was starting to wear off, so you felt the first hints of a headache tickle your brain and you were feeling extremely frustrated on top of all that. You’ve talked to Suji because you thought that was the right thing to do, and yet you didn’t feel better about anything. You’ve made her cry – but realized just how compassionate you really were to feel awful about this despite knowing Suji deserved to hear your words – but maybe you didn’t really make an impact tonight and it was all pointless.

It was half past two and the darkness inside of your apartment indicated that Jaebum had gone to sleep already. No wonder, it was Monday and he had to go to work tomorrow, after all.

Both bedroom doors were closed but you thought you’ve caught a glimpse of light coming from your bedroom, which could have meant that the street lights were flickering outside, or that Jaebum was still scrolling on his phone while he tried to fall asleep in a room full of your belongings.

Quietly tip-toeing now that you realized he might have been awake after all, you opened his bedroom and found yourself almost excited to sleep in his bed again. It had a comforting effect on you, but you weren’t quite sure how to explain it. You just knew that crawling into a bed that always smelled vaguely of him would help you forget all that had happened tonight albeit temporarily.

Not even bothering to change into something more comfortable or clean your make-up, you approached the bed, accidentally slamming your foot into the corner of it and then yelping loudly. You were sure Jaebum could hear you from the room next-door, but he didn’t respond so you exhaled slowly – trying to stay quiet – and lifted the blanket, climbing into bed. Immediately, you arranged your body into a fetal position – sleeping with all of your limbs pressed tightly against your body was the only way that allowed you to feel safe.

The moment you hugged your knees to your chest, however, was also the moment your legs touched something warm. Confused, you moved your cold – and hurting – feet again, and then heard a person hiss.

“What—” you started to say but, as soon as you turned your head to inspect what was it that you’ve touched, you saw Jaebum’s sleeping face on the pillow next to you. “Oh, fuck! Shit!”

You leaped up until you were standing on the bed, staring at him in horror, the blanket clutched tightly in your hands as Jaebum was startled awake when you pulled it off of him. Surprised and confused, he sat up, squinting his eyes as he tried to understand what had just happened.

“What are you doing here?!” you squealed, your heart beating rapidly inside of your chest. “You’re supposed to be sleeping in my room!”

“W-what?” Jaebum asked, his voice husky from the sleep. You’d have honestly melted at the sound of it had you not been so frightened and shocked. “Why are you here?”

“I just got back,” you said but that didn’t answer his question so you chose a different way, “I sleep here! You sleep in my room.”

“No—I got you the new bedframe,” he said and you just blinked, your mind empty. “I built it for you. It’s in your room.”

“You built—why didn’t you tell me?”

“I told you I was going to go get the frame this afternoon,” he countered in a tired voice as he lied back down, still watching you stand shakily on the edge of his bed, the gears in your mind finally starting to turn. “I had just left to pick it up when you went out. Remember?”

You realized that you did remember as you sighed deeply, slowly lowering yourself to your knees on his bed, the blanket all around you. Jaebum had even texted you about the crisis he was having when the frame didn’t fit into his car. All of that had completely skipped your mind.

“I forgot,” you admitted, falling back onto the pillow next to him helplessly. “I’m sorry. I was… thinking about a lot of different things and I forgot. Sorry I freaked you out by getting in here with you.”

He watched you lie down on your back.

“Are you drunk?” he asked then, surprising you.

You turned your head to look at him, slowly starting to make out his sleeping features once your eyes adjusted to the dark room. He was still squinting, a slight frown on his eyebrows, as he had a hard time keeping his puffy, tired eyes open. Mix that with the sound of his voice, and you were sure you’d have fallen in love with him right then and there if your mind wasn’t being pulled into twenty different directions.

“I’m not drunk,” you said, turning away to look at the ceiling instead. “I’m pissed.”

“That’s the same thing,” he informed you, not losing his wit despite being tired.

“I mean angry,” you explained, although he knew what you meant. “I made someone cry tonight and I don’t know if it was worth it.”

Jaebum was quiet for a little while, clearly not having expected the sudden confession.

“Did they deserve it?” he asked then.

“I think so,” you said. “But I still feel bad. I went there to take pictures of my friends having fun and instead of that…”

“Life has a funny way of working out,” he mumbled, sighing and then settling into his previous sleeping position again. He sounded like he wanted to keep on talking to you, but he was starting to slur his words, his sleepy state catching up to him.

You looked at him again and, this time, allowed yourself to watch his face for a little longer since he’d closed his eyes as he lied on his side, facing you. He looked so peaceful like this – all people must have looked peaceful when they slept, but you’ve never watched anyone sleep before – which was the exact opposite of what you were feeling. Even though looking at him like this seemed to calm you down, you knew you shouldn’t have been here. He’d built you a bed, you were no longer supposed to be sleeping in his.

“I should go,” you whispered, feeling the need to inform him that you were leaving so you wouldn’t scare him again.

But as soon as you lifted the blanket off of yourself and gently threw it on him, preparing to set your feet down onto the floor so you could leave, Jaebum extended his hand, stopping you. Almost gasping in surprise, you turned to look at him

“It’s fine,” he said sleepily. He didn’t even open his eyes. “You can stay here.”

A little confused, you allowed him to pull you back into bed until he felt you lie down next to him again.

“But my bed is—” you still tried to protest, even though you weren’t sure why you weren’t shutting up – the rapid beating of your heart was a clear indication that you did not want to leave.

“It’s fine,” he repeated, dropping his hand until it landed clumsily on your waist. “Just sleep.”

You were suddenly unable to reply as he sighed softly and shuffled on the bed, trying to get into a better position. You’d turned away from him – preparing to relocate yourself to the furthest corner of his bed to give him more space – but, as Jaebum got more comfortable, he didn’t remove his arm from you, unexpectedly turning you into the little spoon instead as he hugged you from behind, deciding that this was the only proper way for two people to sleep in the same bed.

You had a feeling that this was his way of comforting you – he was far too tired to use actual words, so he settled on using his actions and, honestly, it was so effective, you completely forgot about everything that had made you so uneasy before – and you didn’t protest; not that you could move much in his deathly grip. But you didn’t want to move. You felt like you were right where you were supposed to be.

Jaebum didn’t know what you’d done tonight - if he’d known, he would have never held you like this -- but you decided you were selfish enough not to tell him. You two would have so many cold nights to spend arguing in the future, there was no harm to use one night for comfort, even if it was wrapped in lies that could potentially damage your relationship beyond repair.

Within moments, you felt Jaebum’s breathing slow down as his close proximity and each of his soft sighs washing off on your neck made you shiver. He had his arm wrapped tightly around you as he fell asleep, unconsciously making sure you stayed in bed with him, and although you were afraid you were going to suffocate from how close he was to you, you truly never wanted to leave the bubble of safety he’d created around you with his embrace.

Maybe this was your last night in this apartment. Maybe this was the first and the last time Jaebum voluntarily got close to you. Maybe you’d never see him -- never feel him -- like this again.

You couldn’t risk these possibilities. You weren’t going to sleep tonight.

You were going to focus on every sensation you were feeling in his arms so you’d remember. Because if this was the last time you and Jaebum were at peace with each other, you never wanted to forget about it.

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literaphobe · 6 years ago

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a rose from rosa

It's Valentine's Day 2019, and the squad finds out that Jake and Amy have never celebrated the holiday together. And yet, for the past decade, Amy's been getting valentine gifts from a secret admirer who's not Jake. Or so it may seem.

for @letsperaltiago (from your secret valentine <3) read on ao3

2019.

“How have the two of you been married for years and years and not celebrated Valentine’s Day even once?”

“We haven’t been married years and years,” Amy denies, and Rosa only rolls her eyes.

“Yeah, Rosa. We got married like, last year. You were at our wedding. Keep up!”

“Rosa, I didn’t know you liked Valentine’s Day,” Terry remarks as he walks past, tearing open a new cup of yoghurt. Apple flavor, from Gina’s flavor of the month fridge thing she got him subscribed to. “Guess you’re a ro-“

“I don’t,” she interrupts, quick and harsh before he can carry on with this line of thought. “Valentine’s Day is a sham. Florists use it as an excuse to sell roses. Stores use it to sell candy and cards.”

“Oh,” Terry backs off, kind of terrified, and decides to dig into his yoghurt instead.

“Wait, Rosa, you don’t like Valentine’s Day?” Amy clarifies, holding her hand up in confusion. “But you get gifts every year. Why would you let anyone send you gifts if you hate the holiday so much?”

Rosa looks momentarily taken aback by this question. Lucky for her, her lack of response does not mean silence in the conversation.

“I mean, they’re probably all from ex-cons and criminals. She pulls in the interrogation room, Ames. Rosa has scared countless criminals into falling in love with her,” Jake says, obviously very impressed. “Wish I knew how to do that.”

“Hey, what are we talking about?” Charles asks as he returns from the break room. He’d been having some kind of fight with Hitchcock and Scully that no one else could really be bothered with.

“We–“

“We’re talking about how Jake and Amy have never celebrated Valentine’s Day. As a couple,” Rosa almost desperately interjects, as if she’s afraid of this topic of conversation to be focused on her. That’s not really suspicious though, because she doesn’t tend to enjoy being the focus of most conversations.

“What?!” Charles slams whatever he’s holding on the table, and everyone flinches at the sound. He glares at Jake and Amy. “Tell me that’s not true!”

Jake and Amy sigh.

“We’ve just,” Amy begins to explain, “we just haven’t had the time.”

2015.

“You’re as... sweet as gummy worms?”

“Jake, if you’re planning on getting me something for Valentine’s Day, I’d suggest you don’t run through your ideas out loud and in front of me,” she says without looking up from her paperwork, working on a report she’s been struggling with for a while. It hasn’t put her in the best mood. “And please, don’t compare me to gummy worms. That alone would be a great Valentine’s Day gift. In fact, I’d prefer it if I wasn’t compared to candy of any kind.” She looks up, her eyes widen, and she suddenly realizes how hostile she might have come across. “I mean, anything’s good though. So... keep up the good work, boyfriend!”

Her tone is light and awkward towards the end, she’s trying to sound as nice about this as possible, which, well, isn’t a shock. They’re uncharted waters, they’re a new relationship, and they haven’t even had a fight yet. It’s cute that Amy’s trying to be nice so that nothing gets ruined, because god knows it would kill him if this thing they’ve got going on blew up in their faces so quick. It would kill them both.

And yet, Jake yearns for a future where neither of them are quite so scared, where they don’t fret about stepping on the other’s toes just a little, where Amy bosses him around like she did in the past and now does in the bedroom. He knows he’d love her so much more for it.

“It’s okay,” he smiles, “this isn’t for you, it’s for Charles. When he found out Gina and I used to give each other friendship valentines as kids, he got super jealous so now if I don’t get him a gift every year he gets hella grumpy.”

“Oh wow,” Amy laughs almost relievedly. “That’s sweet.”

“Don’t worry,” his eyes light up with that sparkle they get when he grins, “your va–“

“Delivery for Amy Santiago?”

“Oh,” Amy turns around, and smiles as she receives what appears to be a basket of various Valentine’s Day gifts. “Oh wow, this is amazing.”

Gina walks past and looks up from her phone upon seeing the love-filled monstrosity. “Wow, you’re a little early, Jake.”

“Oh, this isn’t from Jake,” Amy says knowingly, almost pointedly, actually, and Jake gives a sort of awkward smile in response. “It’s from my secret valentine.”

“Your secret what now?”

Rosa walks by, groaning. “Damn it, we’re doing secret valentines now? Is secret santa not enough for–“

“It’s not a precinct thing,” Amy explains. “I was on a blind date about five years back and they send me Valentine’s Day gifts every year. It’s kind of a tradition. Don’t you guys remember?”

Gina and Rosa look at each other, indicating that they have zero recollection of this whatsoever. Jake is strangely silent throughout all this.

“Okay, that’s a whole can of worms,” says Gina, giving her an inquisitive look. “A blind date? So you’ve met them?”

“Met them? Not physically.”

“What the hell does that mean?” Rosa crosses her arms, looking stern. “Shouldn’t these gifts stop by now since you have a boyfriend?”

“She doesn’t know who this person is,” says Jake. “She doesn’t know any of their contact information, so there’s no way she can get the gifts to stop, unless she found out who her secret valentine was."

“Yeah...” Amy looks over at him. “That’s exactly right, Jake. I don’t remember telling you any of that though.”

Jake looks flustered. “Uh... I figured it out because I’m such a good detective and boyfriend?”

“Okay, but I still don’t understand this blind date thing of yours, Ames–“ Gina continues, but gets cut off when Charles barges into the conversation.

“Blind date?!” He looks very worked up. “Amy, if you’re cheating on Jake, I will kill you! I swear to god, I will kill–“

“I’m not cheating on Jake!” Amy retorts in exasperation. “I’m talking about a blind date I went on years ago on Valentine’s Day. It was... one of those things where you don’t see the person because there’s a divider put up and you talk to each other through these devices that mask what your real voice is.”

“That sounds creepy,” Rosa makes a face. “Why would you go on a date like that?”

2009.

“I don’t know, Kylie, I think I’m better off alone for now,” Amy speaks quietly into her phone, nearly shuddering at the thought of dating again. She only just broke things off with Constantine, and she already knew she didn’t want to be with him since... hours after their first sexual engagement. Imagine who she might get saddled with this time? “Plus, this whole thing seems sketchy.”

“It’s not sketchy,” Kylie insists, and she seems offended Amy would think so. “It’s a blind date.”

“Exactly. A blind date where I don’t get to see who I’m talking to. Or hear their real voice. You know what? I’ve changed my mind, it’s not sketchy, it’s downright creepy, Kylie.”

“Don’t knock it till you’ve tried it!” There’s a lull in their conversation. “Okay, look, there’s some benefits to this thing too. If you don’t like the person you’re on the date with, you can just choose not to reveal your name and contact information. They won’t see your face or know how you sound like! Doesn’t that sound safe?”

“What if they seem nice at first, but then when I choose to meet them they turn out to be weird once we really get to know each other?”

“How’d that be different from any of your past relationships?”

Amy looks up, scowling. That wasn’t Kylie speaking, that was Jake, who’s apparently been eavesdropping this whole time. He’s fiddling with his pen and grinning at her, legs on top of his desk like the disrespectful degenerate he is. Kylie, on the other hand, is laughing her head off on the other line. Traitor.

“What? You forget how loud your voice gets when you get all anxious and stuff. What’s this about a blind date?”

“It’s none of your business,” she seethes, looking away from him and trying to keep her voice down. “Can we be done with this now, Kylie? I have work.”

“You always have work,” Kylie groans, “I’ll hang up if you say yes.”

“Fine!” She whispers harshly. “I’ll go on the date, okay? Promise me this is just a one-time Valentine’s Day thing?”

“I promise,” she says. “After this, I’ll put aside my guilt about getting married before you and I won’t force you to do anything ever again.”

“Okay, great. I’m hanging up now.”

“Wear something pretty!”

Amy shuts her flip phone harder than she usually does and this action coincides with a file getting slammed down on her desk. By Rosa.

She gulps. “Uh, hey... Diaz,” she says that deliberately, remembering how someone got punched the other week for calling her Rosa. She would rather go un-punched today, thank you very much.

Rosa snorts. “Hey yourself. That’s the Kowalski file.”

She fumbles in realization, dropping some papers, which she sees Jake snickering at from the corner of her eye. Asshole. “Thanks,” she says to Rosa, who picks a pen up for her. “I’ll take care of this.”

“Yeah, whatever,” she crosses her arms now, smiling slightly. “So. Blind date?”

“Oh yes, Rosa,” Jake chimes in, uninvited as usual. Amy hates how he seems to just know everyone so well and so deeply, and how he occasionally pretends to know her too. Sometimes he’s right about the things he claims to know about her, but those are probably lucky guesses. “Detective Santiago here’s going on a blind date for Valentine’s Day.”

He makes sure to emphasize that for effect, and it works.

“Woah,” says Gina, who’s returning from god knows where. “A blind date on Valentine’s Day? That just seems tacky, Santiago.”

“Not that this is at all related to work,” Amy says carefully but pointedly. “But I’m not voluntarily going on this blind date. Just doing it to appease my friend Kylie.”

“Wow. You must be a really good friend.”

Hm. Was that a heartfelt compliment? Amy’s not sure she expected it, especially from Jake, but she’ll take it. “I guess I am.”

“I mean, to go on a crazy bondage-themed blind date on Valentine’s Day just to make your friend–“

“What? It’s not bondage-themed!” Amy protests in an outrage, and the rest laugh at this. “Where did you get that?”

“You said it was a sketchy, creepy, thing where you couldn’t see your date. Sounds sexual to me. Hey, I’m not judging–“

“Because there’s nothing to judge,” she retorts, firm on this. “It’s just an anonymous blind date. Whether there’s a second date will be completely up to me. But everyone’s clothes stay on.”

“That sounds dumb and boring,” Gina says, disgusted. “I thought Valentine’s Day was supposed to be romantic. You’re ruining Valentine’s Day.”

“Eh, who cares,” Rosa responds nonchalantly. “Valentine’s Day is a sham. Florists use it as an excuse to sell roses. Stores use it to sell candy and cards.”

“Rosa,” Gina places her hand on her chest, clutching it dramatically. “You’re not telling me you don’t like Valentine’s Day, are you?”

“No, that’s... exactly what I’m telling you.”

“Well, then stop telling me! Because girl, I’m gonna change your mind.”

2019.

“Delivery for Rosa Diaz?”

Rosa looks like she’s just seen a ghost. She doesn’t move.

“Rosa Diaz?”

Everyone looks weirded out at her reaction. She still doesn’t move.

“Uh, she’s here,” Jake says, pointing to Rosa, and the delivery guy gives her a weird look before placing an elaborate basket filled with many Valentine’s Day themed gifts. There’s nothing surprising about the whole thing. Except Rosa’s reaction to it. She now appears to be gathering herself, shaking her head as she puts the gift basket under her desk.

“Rosa, what’s wrong?”

“What? Nothing.” She clears her throat. “Nothing’s wrong. Shut up.”

“You get Valentine’s Day gifts every year, why do you look so shaken?”

“Nothing I just,” her voice is choked up, “I just didn’t think I’d get one this year.”

“Why not? I mean—wait.”

“Oh,” Amy continues from Jake’s apparent silent epiphany. “All the gifts came from one person.”

“What?” Rosa denies, an octave too loud for truth. “No they didn’t. They were all, all from random losers I don’t know.” It’s almost pitiful to watch her like this. “Talk about literally anything else right now.”

“Okay... I’ve got something,” Charles begins hesitantly, not wanting to cross Rosa. She gets vulnerable from time to time, they all know this by now, but she never becomes less of a threat. “Why haven’t you two given each other anything for Valentine’s Day? I can’t believe I let this happen.”

“You let this happen?”

“We always get swamped with work, Charles. That’s all there is to it!”

“No! That can’t be all there is to it!”

2015.

“So,” Jake leans over to Amy’s side of the table. “Valentine’s Day is in a few days.”

She smiles, her face lighting up actually. She looks nervous yet excited. This would be their first Valentine’s Day as a couple, and that’s big. “You’re right. Got any... ideas of what we should do?”

“A few,” he winks, indicating that its sexual ideas he has.

Holt bursts into the briefing room, and they sit upright in shock. Or well, Amy is. Jake nearly falls off his chair. He looks like he’s not to be trifled with this morning, like he’s stressed out about something.

“Peralta. I need you on a week-long stakeout with Sergeant Jeffords. Your murder case just became a top-priority drug investigation.”

Terry nods. “Yes, sir. We won’t rest until we’ve got our guy.”

Jake and Amy look at each other. “Crap.”

2019.

“Oh wow, that really is all there was to it,” Charles nods, standing corrected. “How about every year since then?”

“Stuff just kept cropping up,” Amy explains, and Jake looks tense about this again.

“That’s no excuse!” he whines. “You can’t be married and not celebrating Valentine’s Day. Jake, normally I’d blame Amy for this–“

“What?”

“–but there’s something you’re not telling me here! You’re getting beaten out by some random loser who gives Amy Valentine’s Day gifts every year!”

2009.

A blonde woman rushes into the bullpen and makes a beeline toward Amy’s desk.

“Woah woah woah,” she looks up in shock. “You must be Kylie.”

Her shock melts into simple delight. “And you must be the Jake I keep hearing about.”

“Oh wow,” Jake reaches out and shakes her hand. “Amy talks about me a lot? Gotta say I’m flattered, can’t say I’m surprised.”

Kylie rolls her eyes, but keeps her smile. “She told me you’d be like this. If I didn’t know what a slob you were, I’d tell her to date you.”

Jake laughs nervously, and a bit too loud, but it’s chill, because it’s 2009, and Captain McGintley is their captain. No one gets into trouble for being a too-loud laughing slob, except for with Amy. He’s so glad for that. His desk is a complete mess and sure he sees the occasional ant but why should that have to change?

“Great!” His lips are frozen in a not at all convincing grin. “Just great! Hey Kylie, what are you doing here? Amy went to investigate a lead.”

The almost deranged energy to the way he talks never drops throughout this.

“Oh, I just came here to charge my phone. Amy and I have the same phone brand. My phone went flat. Don’t tell her I was here though.”

“Oh yeah, sure,” especially since Kylie being here violates many rules. He’s not sure how she got in so easy. Maybe this precinct could do with some tighter security. “Any pal of Amy’s a pal of mine.”

“Ooh,” she grimaces, “please don’t call me that."

“Not a fan of pal? Alright,” he looks down, and pretends to focus on his paperwork instead of letting Kylie know how distracting and terrifying her presence here is. Also he does not want to do his paperwork. He hears the faint sounds of her phone starting back up.

“Oh crap,” he hears, a few moments later. “This isn’t good.”

“Anything wrong, buddy?”

“Yeah, I don’t like buddy either,” she looks up from her phone. “I’ve just been told Amy’s blind date for tonight cancelled.”

“Aw man, and Amy was really looking forward to that!”

She doesn’t sense his sarcasm and begins to look panicked, the kind of horror that scares Jake into thinking maybe telling the truth would get him in even more trouble than this bold-faced lie.

“She did?”

“Uh, yeah, yeah, totally. She couldn’t wait to... get off work and go for that date.”

He’s hoping maybe at some point, she’ll just stop taking it seriously, and never bring it up again, and never tell Amy, and also agree to be his best friend.

“What am I gonna tell Amy? Oh, this is bad, this is bad—wait—a replacement. I just need a replacement!”

Jake claps his hands together. “Yeah! Yes! You go, Kylie! Four for you, Kylie!”

“Mean girls?”

“Best movie that came out five years ago. Because it’s 2009. And that movie came out... in 2004.”

“I don’t have time for movie release facts, Jake!”

“Sorry!” He holds his hands up. “Sorry.”

“I need a replacement date. So Amy doesn’t get stood up.”

“Yes!” He points at her in agreement. “You do need that.”

“You!”

“Huh?”

“You, you’re gonna be the replacement.” She smiles wide now, proud of herself for figuring it out. “Yeah, you’re gonna be Amy’s blind date.”

“Uh, no I’m not.”

“Uh, oh yes you are,” Kylie scowls at him now.

“Yes I am,” he says in fear. “Except I can’t!”

“And why not?”

“Because... Amy and I work together. That would make things weird.”

“Are you dumb? It’s just the one date. She’d never know it was you. If you’re afraid she’ll want a second date somehow, then just be terrible on purpose. Amy’s beautiful. She’s gonna find someone great. I only make her go on the occasional date so she doesn’t stay cooped up in here where romance goes to die.”

“What...” he bites on his lip. “This place is super romantic.”

“Uh huh,” Kylie snorts, unplugging her phone, which apparently got juiced up enough during their conversation for her to leave conveniently right now. “I’m gonna go. Don’t be late, and–“ she hands him a slip of paper–“here’s the place.”

“I won’t,” Jake says, not exactly a promise but a hopeful notion for himself, given his track record with attendance, which doesn’t really matter at work yet, because it’s 2009. “This is... gonna work out great.”

2019.

“Hey!” Rosa calls out, stern, her finger pointing straight at Amy who looks like she’s about to get eaten alive. “What’s that?”

She’s currently interrupting Charles who’d been cajoling (note: annoying) the rest of the squad with romantic (note again: gross) escapades with Genevieve on every past Valentine’s Day.

“Uh... nothing?” Amy is holding onto a very fancy looking card, concealing it in her hands.

“Don’t give me that crap,” her forehead wrinkles as she gets off her desk. “Give me that.”

“It’s just, it’s, it’s my ideas for Valentine’s–“ she throws the card at Jake–“Jake, catch!”

Jake looks at her in horror. He obviously wants to know who this secret valentine Rosa’s been hiding for years is, but he also doesn’t want to die. “Amy! Why’d you do that?”

“Partners in life!”

“Oh, right, love you–“

Rosa scowls at him, still grabbing onto Amy. “Jake, don’t you dare read that–“

“Oh, I already saw the card,” says Terry, to confused looks, “what? I thought if I found out who was secretly sending you gifts I could help you get together with them."

"Yeah," Amy assents, "I only looked at the card too because he put it down on the desk. I'm sorry, Rosa."

"Terry just wants his friends to be happy."

“Aw, Sarge,” Charles touches his chest. “That is so sweet–“

“That is invasive and a violation of–“

“Diaz, relax,” Terry says, holding his hands up to soothe her. “There was no name on the card. I wouldn’t know who it was any better than you.”

Rosa deflates in relief, and Jake looks down at the card. “Uh oh,” his eyes widen after he reads it.

“What, what is it?”

Jake looks up at everyone, just a little bit apologetic, a little bit wary of Rosa, who... looks like she’s given up. “I... know who Rosa’s secret valentine is.”

2009.

“Godiva chocolates?” Rosa holds up the pretty looking box, it has a pink post it taped on saying ‘from your secret admirer, xoxo’. She scoffs at Gina, who’s sat at her desk subtly grinning like she’s a hero. “You really think this is gonna change my mind about Valentine’s Day?”

“You really don’t know me, huh?”

Rosa smirks, proud as she crosses her arms. “No. And I don’t intend to.”

“Stop lying to yourself, sweetie,” Gina’s words flow slow like sticky honey, tender and unwavering. Rosa’s having a hard time convincing herself she’s not a bee. “Here’s something you don’t know about me: I don’t just do one thing and leave it at that if I’m trying to accomplish something. You think chocolates is all I have planned?”

“Whatever plan you have, I don’t want any–“

Gina’s phone rings, and Rosa hates how it gives her power, power that Rosa doesn’t have. She can’t say that about most people. She finds that she found her match when Gina Linetti first stepped into this building. No, not match like that, gross. She means it in a competitive way.

“Jake?”

“Gina, I don’t think I can do this.”

“Then don’t,” she says, and winks at Rosa. Rosa isn’t even sure why she’s winking. She elects to roll her eyes, but the fact that she reacts at all is Gina’s victory.

“What? Gina, you’re supposed to tell me that I have to do this!”

“Okay, then do it.”

“Okay, I’m doing it.” Jake takes a deep breath. “Thanks? I guess?”

“You’re welcome. Bye...” Gina puts her phone down.

“What’d Jake want?”

“Who knows?”

Jake, who’s on the line, who Gina unknowingly hasn’t hung up on yet, sighs and hangs up. He slowly walks back to his chair.

“Sorry about that,” he says into the microphone, and then he hears Amy say “no, it’s fine!” back through the speaker, her voice muffled to sound different but still easy on the ears. He misses her real voice. “Yeah, there was a line at the bathroom. So, about your question...”

Jake screwed up. Unlike what Kylie said to do, Jake didn’t play the asshole blind date who you never want to see again, he played himself. Which, well, he figured was enough to make Amy not want anything more. But the unthinkable happened. Amy... likes him. Well, she likes blind date unseeable him at least. She laughed at his jokes, they bantered back and forth, and he can’t see her face, but he’s pretty sure she didn’t make a single expression of annoyance. Not even once.

So what’s the issue here? Yeah, well... Amy wants a second date. In person. And that’s just too much for Jake, he can’t let that happen, because Amy finding out he’s him is one thing, but Amy knowing that they were on a date and she wanted a second one? That would just make things so awkward at work. For her, at least. And while Jake is usually a purveyor of Amy doing and saying embarrassing things... he feel like this one would cross the line. She’d never understand and maybe she’d even leave the Nine-Nine and they wouldn’t be partners anymore.

That scares Jake more than anything else.

“So? What do you think? I mean, not to sound too forward, but I thought the date went well... or was that just me?”

“No, it’s not just you,” Jake insists, because keeping this under wraps is one thing, but he doesn’t want to hurt Amy and make her think that there’s something genuinely wrong with her. “I loved this. You’re amazing, and I’m sure you’re beautiful, although that doesn’t matter because you uh, your personality is beautiful enough.”

She sighs, sounding disappointed. “Just get to the point, please.”

“I can’t see you. Ever. And it’s not that I don’t want to! I just—I just can’t—and I can’t explain why.”

“Okay...”

“Yeah, yeah,” he sighs. “I know. It sounds sketchy as hell. But I’m serious. You’re great, and I’ll prove it. We just can’t ever see each other.”

She seems interested. “How?”

“Today’s Valentine’s Day, right? Yeah, I mean, that’s why we’re here. How about... I promise you I’ll be your valentine every year from now till... forever I guess.”

“That’s sweet, but what does that mean?”

“I’ll send you a Valentine’s Day gift every year,” he nods. “And that way you know how special you are. Every year.”

“That doesn’t sound fair,” she says. “If I give you my address and don’t know anything about you, what’s gonna stop you from breaking into my house and murdering me in cold blood?”

“I’ll set it up through this... is this an agency? I’m uh, the... the people in charge of this super anonymous blind date thing. They have both of our personal information, right?”

“Yeah, they do. I only put down my work address though, not that you deserve to know that.”

“Okay. I’ll... get this place to deliver it to you. We do it through the middleman, and that way this whole thing stays anonymous. And you get a valentine every year, no matter what. I won’t make the gifts too sexual, so whoever you end up dating won’t get jealous.”

She laughs. “You know what? That actually sounds nice. You have a deal.” A pause. “For what it’s worth, I really love the way you think.”

“Oh, thank you.” He refrains from saying ‘and I love you’, because even he knows that’d be too weird. “And... for what it’s worth, since we’re doing that now, I think you deserve to be so happy. Because you’re one of the best people... I know.”

“Wow, you got all that from one date?”

Uh oh. Making it weird, he’s making it weird. Time to tap out before he gives the game away.

“Uh... yeah! I have to, I have to go.”

2019.

“So, who is it?”

Curious eyes latch onto him, every pair looking but Rosa, who Jake is scared to hurt.

“I–“

“Just tell them, Jake,” Rosa says, defeated, and her consent only drives up the desperation of the crowd.

“Tell us!”

“It’s me!” He yells, and everyone shows a range of expressions, best described by confusion, perhaps a bit of disgust. “It was me all along, okay?”

“That’s a lie if I ever heard one.”

“Jake, you have a wife. You can’t really expect us to believe you’ve been secretly sending Rosa Valentine’s Day gifts every year, right?”

“What?” he scoffs. “No, I’m not talking about Rosa. I meant Amy. I’m Amy’s secret valentine. The one, the one who’s been sending her gifts all these years.” he looks sheepishly at Amy. “Surprise?”

“Oh, I knew that.”

“What?!”

Amy shrugs. “I found out years ago, Jake.”

“How?” His entire life has been a lie. Okay, maybe not his entire life. Just, the last ten years. Or whenever Amy found out about this.

“I’m a good detective,” she says, crossing her arms, “also that company who organized our blind date got investigated and shut down and I might have taken a peek at the files.”

“Oh, you’re good,” says Charles, nodding his head up and down in a creepily approving way. He suddenly scowls at Jake. “Why didn’t you tell her until now? You could’ve gotten together much sooner!”

Jake looks appalled by this accusation. “I didn’t tell her? Don’t you mean–“ he turns his attention to Amy–“why didn’t you ask me?”

“Why would I?” Amy snorts. “You’re the only one who supposedly had that information. When we weren’t dating, I just assumed it was because you weren’t into me like that and you were just being a good friend. Then you told me you liked me and, nothing, and then we got together, and then we dated for years, and then we got married–“

“I think we get the gist of it, Amy,” Jake says in embarrassment.

“I don’t understand,” Terry pipes up, “why couldn’t you just tell her any time during these last ten years? Especially after y’all got married. Terry hates secrets kept over a long period of time between couples who are supposed to love and trust each other.”

Rosa grins subtly. “Wow. That one was a mouthful.”

“Yeah,” he frowns. “Terry didn’t think that particular hatred through.”

“Jake didn’t tell me because he wanted to get more and more bad at hiding it until I got suspicious and asked him about it,” Amy smiles proudly at Jake, who looks impressed because she’s spot on, “I’m assuming.”

“No you’re not.”

“No I’m not, I’m pretty sure that’s exactly what you were going for,” she smiles again, sickly sweet and nauseating for all others but him. “You wanted it to be a dramatic reveal. A blaze of glory.”

“That I did,” Jake grinned. “You know me so well.”

“But I found that boring.”

“Oh,” he deflates completely, almost looking crushed.

“Because I already knew,” she explains, and it dawns on him that it was only her part of his supposed plan that she disliked. “And also–“

“Package for Jake Peralta?”

Jake’s face lights up and he turns toward her, bursting with excitement. The supposed delivery man is carrying a boombox.

“You got me a boombox?”

“Wait for it...”

The delivery man clicks on a button and upbeat music starts playing. Suddenly, several other people dressed up uber cool march in and there’s dancing, choreographed dancing, and ska is in the mix somehow, confetti is in the air, balloons rise to the ceiling, and someone kneels down in front of Jake holding up a banner that says ‘WILL YOU BE MY VALENTINE?’

Jake kisses Amy deep and messy and desperately happy. When he pulls away, they share a tiny giggle, and then he kisses her one last time on the forehead for good measure.

“Ames, this is the most romantic thing anyone has done. For me. No, wait, it’s ever. This is super cool. And yes, I will marry you.”

They laugh again, and Amy grabs his arm in a gentle grasp. “I knew I had to go big to top ten years of your work. Also, we’re married. That’s why it’s ridiculous you never told me until now.”

“Worth it,” he says, and he grabs a heart-shaped balloon that’s clearly customized to say ‘My Love For You Is Bigger Than The Nakatomi Plaza!’. “Can I keep this? All of this. This is all crazy awesome and I have no idea how no one pulled their gun out when these guys came in.”

“Oh, I sent a memo to everyone, it’s cool,” he laughs because of course she did, “hey,” she picks up the banner, “look at this.”

In fine print, at the bottom of the banner read the words ‘I Know You’re My Secret Valentine, Idiot. Look What You Made Me Do’.

He gasps, hugging her, “That’s a Taylor Swift ref! Oh my god, you listened to Reputation!”

“Not really it was just the one–“ she sinks into the hug–“oh, what the hell. Yes. I did.”

“Okay,” he releases her from his embrace. “I’m totally gonna top this next year, by the way.”

“You can try,” Amy smiles wide and haughty. “I’m already months into planning next year’s Valentine’s Day.”

They hear Rosa push open her desk drawer with a slam, and they watch as she pulls a rose out of it. Hm, a rose from Rosa. Nice.

“Diaz, where are you going?”

“My shift is up,” she tells Terry, clicking at the lift. “I have to... go see Gina.”

“Gina? Why, she already–“ his eyes widen–“oh.”

“Yeah,” Jake nods, already in the know about this. “Good luck Rosa!”

The doors close, and Jake goes back to smiling at Amy.

“Wow, so Gina’s been Rosa’s secret valentine all along?” Amy marvels. “And she knew?”

“Yeah. I guess... we all needed a push in the right direction today.”

Amy holds up Gina’s card, squinting at it. “I don’t get how you figured that one out. I’ve looked over so many reports written by Gina. This looks nothing like her.”

“Oh, this is her fancy handwriting that she uses when she writes love letters. I’ve known it by heart since grade school.”

“Did any of her penmanship... rub off on you?”

She’s teasing, and he chuckles at it. “No. I still have the worst handwriting in the world. Can I still be your valentine?”

Her next smile is one he’ll remember for centuries. So is the kiss she plants on his cheek. “You don’t even have to ask.”

“Lifetime valentine membership. I knew marrying you was a good idea.”

And really, he’s never believed anything more.

#text #b99 #brooklyn nine nine #peraltiago #dianetti #peraltiago fic #b99valentines2019 #hope yall like this? lmao #i swear the title doesn't have much to do w the fic i just liked it n went w it #and to letsperaltiago i hope u liked this!!!! hope i did u justice #happy valentine's day!!!

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realtalk-tj · 6 years ago

Note

Is it abnormal that im so self conscious. like its rly extreme for me. how do i stop being like this.

Response from Aurora:

No, it’s not all that abnormal, and it is certainly not abnormal among teenagers. I’d been ridiculously self conscious pretty much my whole life, and it got especially bad in 5th - 8th grade. But beginning in the later part of 8th grade or so, I became a lot less self conscious. I didn’t even realize what it was that was making me less constantly anxious that there was something wrong with how I looked or what I was doing - it was just a bunch of things I did without necessarily meaning to that made me gradually less self conscious.

- the second best thing I did for myself was getting rid of social media, specifically instagram and snapchat. Social media, in my opinion, has a horrible effect on your sense of self/your self esteem. Constantly seeing people post pictures of the best versions of themselves and their lives will inevitably cause you to compare everything of yours to theirs, whether you realize it or not. If you don’t use social media, then ignore this part, but if you do, try going a solid month without any social media whatsoever (except messenger, for school purposes). It’ll take a lot longer than that (i.e. probably years) for the negative effects of social media to wear away, but starting with a month of absolutely no social media will give you a taste of what kind of impact it’ll have on you.

- the absolute best thing I did was to get new friends. None of my friends went to TJ, so I got to start all over, which was fantastic. I was lucky enough to meet people who weren’t super self conscious, and even better, some of them were super carefree and never worried about themselves. My new friends are a lot more supportive and nice, whereas my old friends kinda sucked. I don’t know what your friends are like, but if they are even a little bit mean or toxic, you need to leave them. I’m not saying to immediately ditch them or something, just maybe distance yourself for a little bit, try out new clubs, etc. I know that’s so hard, and I know it’s so hard to find new friends, especially in the middle of high school when your self consciousness feels like it’s ripping you apart. You just have to try your best to surround yourself with more positive people (if you haven’t already). Hopefully you are a junior or senior? That way, college isn’t too far off for you, and you can easily meet new people that will be more supportive and uplifting.

- try filling your day with positive sayings. I know, that sounds so stupid, but it actually works. Maybe follow blogs that post positive things (I know I said social media sucks but tumblr is…… unique lol). Or put up a quote that really inspires you somewhere that you’ll see it a lot. Filling your life with a little more positivity will make you feel more positive too. Also try writing “you’re amazing the way you are” or something along the lines of that somewhere you can always see it. Saying and hearing it will help you believe it. I always thought this was the stupidest advice you could ever give anyone, but I tried it, and it actually works. It won’t suddenly make you super happy, but it will make you a bit less negative.

- compliment people!!! If you are nice to people, it will make you feel nice. I started complimenting people a lot, and it made me feel a lot better and just nicer about everything, including myself. If you’re scared, then start with people you know, like your family or your close friends.

- try to remind yourself that no one actually cares. No one notices the pimple on your face, your little stutter when you spoke, or whatever else you are a little too self conscious of. If they do, it’s only for a second, and they don’t think anything of it. Think about it logically, and think about it yourself. WHY would anyone care or notice when everyone is always so busy? And when other people have tiny little flaws, do you notice? Do you think anything of it, or think of them as any less for it? I know it’s hard to rationalize and believe it, and you probably already do. It’s just something I like to do that sort of works. Also go through a “and then what” or scenario with yourself. Like, if your hair looks bad or something, think about what will happen because of your bad hair day (hint: not much lol).

- talk to someone about this. You took a really good first step in sending us an ask :) but you also need someone really supportive that can talk you through your thoughts and feelings. It can totally be one of us, if you want. We’re happy to help!!! If you think you’d be more comfortable with a good friend, or with one of your family members, or a counselor/teacher, then you should talk to them. Explain what’s going on, and ask them for advice. You need someone who is supportive and always there for you. I talk to my close friends about my insecurities and it helps soooooooooooooooooooooo much. You can absolutely talk more to us. Just send a message to the blog.

- force yourself to think positively!! Again, this goes with the whole positivity thing. Try to counter every negative thought you have with something positive. Again, I thought this was really stupid, until I tried it. You have to literally force positive thoughts into your head, and just think them, even if you don’t believe it. I do this, and end up having like, whole arguments with myself lmao, but even the effort makes a difference.

- accept yourself. Here are two websites I found with good advice on that and basically everything I would say:

https://psychcentral.com/blog/3-small-steps-for-accepting-yourself/ (#2 and #3 are especially pertinent imo)

https://psychcentral.com/lib/therapists-spill-12-ways-to-accept-yourself/ (#6 is an especially good tip)

I’m SO sorry that this post ended up waaaay longer than I thought. I’m also really, really sorry if none of this applies to you or works for you. It honestly might not. Every person is so different, and what works for one may not for another. Just know that it will take a lot of work to stop being self conscious, but you can absolutely do it. Good luck and I wish you the best. Again, feel free to message us if you need help or just want to talk.

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kittae · 7 years ago

Text

The Witch Switch

pairing: Yoongi x reader

genre: witch!AU, catshifter/catfamiliar!Yoongi, very low-key hogwarts!AU

word count: 8321 (help me)

A/N: started off as a halloween drabble but escalated. sorry for the slight delay! special thanks to my love @dailydoseofdia for helping me out when i got stuck!

MASTERLIST

⟶ Halloween prompts masterlist

⟶ Halloween prompts WIPs

“And how exactly do you see this plan working out? Let me have a peek inside that walnut-sized brain of yours and tell me which part has convinced you that this is a great idea.”

“You know, if you’re just here to lounge around and raid my stash of catnip while making sassy comments, you can leave again, Yoongi. Go scare some mortals or something.”

“That only works on friday the 13th, you know that. Besides, i’m already on my seventh life, gotta lay low for a bit.”

You scoffed, glaring at your familiar when it was clear he had no intention of getting off your couch while he nibbled on your last leaves of catnip, his jet black ears twitching in contentment. You’d told him not to come to your lab when you were working unless you needed his help but you’d never actually expected him to listen.

“Then go get high in your room, Yoongi. I need to concentrate for this to work and you’re constantly distracting me with your nagging.” You grumbled irritably, cutting up some Lacewing flies and adding them to the cauldron of boiling broth.

“No can do. If i’m not here to protect you, who will?”

“Protect me from what? You’re a cat, get over yourself.”

“From your own idiocy. Seriously, making a glow-up potion hoping some sleazy guy would notice you? That’s pathetic, ___.” Yoongi rolled his eyes at you, but couldn’t keep a low and contrasting purr from reverberating through his chest when the catnip started to kick in.

“It’s either that or a love potion and considering all the horror stories i’ve heard about those, the choice was easily made. Besides, Park Jimin is not sleazy. Where could you possibly get that idea from?”

“Oh, i don’t know, maybe from the fact he doesn’t spare a glance your way and only talks to you when he needs your notes from transfigurations class because he was too busy making out with Lavinia Argent underneath the quidditch bleachers.”

“That’s a rumor and you know it.” You growled underneath your breath as you tried your hardest to stay calm while you were carefully weighing the ground dragon claw to the milligram, sweat beading at your temples as it always did when you didn’t want to mess up.

“Not really, i was bored when i went for a stroll outside and i caught them actually shoving their tongues down each other’s thr-”

“If you’re going to be a nuisance, do me a favour and shift back to your full cat form so you’d at least be cute while you’re at it.”

Gasping dramatically, he sat up, a hand clenched to his chest. “Are you implying i’m not cute in this form? You’re a worse liar than you are a witch and that’s saying something.”

You were getting more than fed up with your feline companion’s unnecessary remarks and although you could usually enjoy this kind of banter between the two of you, he was pushing it too far and you were not in the mood.

After slamming down the bottle of cowbane infusion you just angrily dashed a generous amount of into your concoction, you grabbed your plant sprayer from the top shelf. Very effective in both watering your vervain and expelling obnoxious cats. From the moment he spotted the plastic bottle, his ears stood up straight along with the hairs on his neck, his tail thick and swaying and a hiss slipping through his bared teeth when you came closer.

“Don’t you fucking dare, ___! I just washed myself!”

“Need a round two?” You grinned as you threatened him, spraying water in his direction from afar and already making him squirm in his seat.

As you were both too busy pestering each other, neither of you noticed the cauldron leaking over and turning a more bright pink than it was supposed to…

A blood-curdling scream teared through the house, disturbing Yoongi’s peaceful slumber as he almost fell from his favourite sleeping spot; the top of your closet. He preferred to sleep in his cat form, his body being more flexible and his senses incredibly heightened, making every little noise at least ten times more prominent. Much to his dismay, in cases like these.

“___? What’s happening?” he groaned, shifting back to his predominantly human form, grabbing some sweats from the floor and putting them on as he walked towards the direction where the sound presumably came from.

“___?”

No matter how many times he called your name, you were nowhere to be found. He was pretty sure the scream came from the bathroom, but why weren’t you there? He started thinking he must’ve heard it wrong when he checked the shower as well before going back to your bedroom and continuing his investigation through the house, when he flexed his ears and finally heard it.

“Yoongi! Yoongi, i’m here! Down below! Look down!” he heard the squeaky pleading voice from underneath the sink, almost toppling over when he finally noticed the miniature human creature tugging on the bottom of his sweatpants.

“___?! Is that you? What have you done?!”

Tears were streaming down your tiny face as you looked up at your loyal familiar, whose eyes were wide as saucers while he towered over you, cupping his hands on the floor in front of you in an invitation which you begrudgingly took. You were so small you could easily fit into one of his big hands, with its long and slender fingers. You felt ashamed, your pride infinitely hurt as he brought you back up and set you down on the countertop.

“It-It’s the potion, I-I think i f-fucked up, Yoongi.” You sobbed hysterically, hiding your face with your hands because the last thing you wanted was for him to see you like this. You were supposed to take care of him, not the other way around. This was not what you had expected to be the outcome when you took a sip of your self-made brew this morning.

“Of course you fucked up, you lousy little witch.” he smiled compassionately, carefully stroking your hair with his pinky. Damn, you were freaking tiny. “I guess you were a bit too enthusiastic with the cowbane infusion, huh? Why did you put that in there anyway?”

“I- Jimin doesn’t like it when girls are taller than h-him, so…” you muttered, beyond embarrassed. You’d only meant to put a little in there, just enough to make you shrink ten centimeters or so, but getting all worked up over Yoongi’s comments had probably made you pour way too much of it into the cauldron. You felt like Alice after she’d drank the ‘drink me’ potion and you didn’t like it at all. “What do i do now?! I need to leave for school in two hours!”

Yoongi had completely forgotten that your break was over and you’d be returning back to school and the dorms starting today. The more he thought about it, the more it started to dawn on him. You’d probably wanted to return to school a better and improved version of yourself after this break, making everyone’s including Jimin’s jaws drop. Ridiculous. How were you going to keep that up for the rest of the year?

“That’s simple, don’t go to school until the effects wear off.” he shrugged as if it was the most logical reasoning anyone could come up with in this kind of situation, but you dared to disagree.

“I look fucking ridiculous! And those stockings will make me want to murder someone by noon if they keep itching like crazy!”

Yoongi’s countless complaints had long turned to background noise while you were still marveling over his transformation. You never knew you could look so hot, not even with a glow-up potion! In fact…was it possible to turn gay for yourself?! Were you a narcissist if you couldn’t stop staring at yourself, but if it wasn’t really you?

One of the great things about cat familiars is that they are pretty powerful witches themselves, as they are able to perform a great deal of spells and being natural metamorphmagi. However, you’d never expected Yoongi to do so well in transforming into the spitting image of yourself, aside from the bright, emerald green eyes. Actually, he was much more beautiful than you were and you found it very difficult to keep your eyes off him, not knowing why exactly that was.

“I’m not sure if i put your bra on the right way, it’s so straining! It actually hurts! Why can’t you just let the girls breathe a little, huh? Let them get some fresh air-”

“No chance, you’re keeping the bra on. And stop looking down my- i mean your shirt! You’re violating my privacy enough as it is.” you scolded him as loud as your squeaky voice would let you, your cheeks blushing up a storm and you were glad they were so small, Yoongi would barely notice.

“You’re the one who made me do this in the first place, so don’t give me that crap. By the way, honey, these are definitely not yours.” he scoffed while buttoning your shirt back up and fair enough, for some reason Yoongi’s version of you went up a cup size.

“Anyway, the potion should wear off between 48 and 72 hours so i need you to act as normal as possible during that time and not draw any attention to yourself whatsoever, okay? Can you do that?”

“Is there anyone who knows you better than i do, ___?” Yoongi threw you a playful wink before hiking up your skirt way above the generally accepted three-fingers-above-the-knee. “Don’t worry about it.”

You’ve never been more worried in your entire life.

Not even an hour into the train ride to campus, your worries proved to be justified. Because out of all the days you could run into the one and only Park Jimin, it had to be today.

You were hidden away in Yoongi’s pocket, starting to doze off when suddenly a voice you’d recognize out of thousands of others startled you awake as it sounded through the small cabin you usually shared with Yoongi and no one else.

“Hi,___! Mind if i join you?” You heard Jimin say in his soft and sweet tone and you groaned inwardly. You could already picture his sugar sweet eye smile with those words and you couldn’t believe your name was one of them.

You got ready to answer him when you realized you couldn’t, and when seconds kept passing by in silence without an answer from Yoongi either, anxiety started to creep up on you. What was he doing?!

“Um…___?” Jimin snickered, although there was a slight hint of insecurity and awkwardness to be detected in his voice. Damn it, why was he so cute! So soft! Why wasn’t Yoongi answering him?!

You couldn’t take it anymore, so you took a deep breath before you pinched him harshly in the side. You didn’t know whether he took over your sensitivity when he transformed into you or not, but it was worth a shot.

When he jumped up, making a strangled sound in an attempt to keep the cuss words down, you knew it had worked.

“Sorry, this cabin’s full.” Yoongi said in your signature, silky-soft voice you’d practiced hours and hours on in front of your mirror in case Jimin would talk to you and you’d be impressed with how spot on the performance was if it wasn’t for the actual words he spoke in it.

“Really? Aren’t you the only one sitting here, though?” the biggest crush of your entire life chuckled light-hearted when he entered the cabin anyway, moving to sit down in front of Yoongi and-

“No, don’t! You’re gonna crush it!” Yoongi exclaimed, voice distraught as if something horrible was about to happen.

“Oh, shit- sorry! W-what’s there?” you heard Jimin stutter, obviously startled. You knew he couldn’t see you anyway but you wanted the ground to swallow you whole regardless. He thought Yoongi was you, and Yoongi was making a god damn mess.

“Can you keep a secret?” your shameless familiar continued and you felt your cheeks heating up even more than before when for some reason, it sounded like he was playing coy with Jimin. What was with the tone he was using?! You never used that tone with anyone, much less Jimin!

Even from inside Yoongi’s pocket, you could see the way Jimin leaned over until Yoongi’s lips were at his ear and you would’ve fainted about ten times if it were you instead of your cat. You didn’t want to watch this, but you also couldn’t look away and were you mistaken or did you see a hint of red colouring jimin’s cheeks and ears as well? Then, Yoongi spoke again.

“It’s none of your business. Get out.” he whispered the words, and it would’ve been offensive if it didn’t sound so fucking sexy. Honestly, he could’ve said something along the lines of ‘let me suck your dick’ in that kind of voice and it would’ve made total sense and you’d never wanted to kick your familiar’s ass as much as you did right in that moment.

“I- I see. I’m just gonna- yeah.” Jimin nearly tripped over his own words, for all you knew he could be tripping over his own feet too, as he scurried out of the compartment. “So, um…I’ll see you around then,___.”

The sound of the door sliding shut was your cue to crawl out of Yoongi’s pocket, so ready to curse him to the moon and back, although that proved to be difficult while he was roaring with laughter.

“What’s so funny?! You probably scared him away forever, you jerk!” your tiny fists hammered against his arm, tears pricking in your eyes, but for him it probably only felt like a stupid fly was bumping into him. He’d ruined everything. Jimin was probably so freaked out he won’t even talk to you about borrowing your notes anymore, shattering every chance you had left to talk to him.

“___, relax! You really don’t know anything about men, do you?” Yoongi chuckled, carefully placing you on the armrest next to him. “I just did you a huge favour. You should thank me instead of glaring at me all the time.”

“How in the hell was that doing me a favour, Yoongi?”

For the longest time, you thought he was just going to keep grinning at you like a lunatic, before he finally answered, “I just made that boy whipped for you.”

If you thought the worst was behind you after the incident on the train, you were in for another surprise. You’d met up with your best friend so you could go back to the dorms together, seeing as you were also roommates it only seemed logical. Well, that was before Yoongi was you and you were the size of a teacup.

“Yoongi, i need you to listen to me, okay? Listen to me very good. You can not use my body as an excuse to-”

“-be overly physically affectionate with your hot best friend? You seem to forget a minor detail, though,” he murmured when he shoved you back in his pocket before waving at your friend as she was already running across the courtyard, “It’s still my own body.”

“Yuna, hey!” Yoongi’s voice raised an octave or two when your best friend wrapped her arms around him because girls get all squeaky-voiced when they get excited, right? Hearing it from an outsider’s point of view for once, you kind of understood how some people thought it could be…obnoxious.

“___! How was your break, did you do something fun? Did you get-” Yuna’s words died in her throat when she released Yoongi from her tight embrace, finally getting a good look at him and noticing the green eyes, the healthier and more voluminous hair, the ridiculously flawless skin… “Oh my god.”

This was it, you were getting found out. How stupid could you actually be, expecting your best friend in the whole world not to see right through this scam?! She knew you so well, of course she wouldn’t fall for it-

“You really did it?! The glow-up potion i told you about! You look amazing, i never thought it would work that well! Then again, you’re really good at potions…” Yoongi had to hold down a snicker at that comment, pursing his lips together while your best friend rambled in awe as she couldn’t help herself and touched Yoongi’s face all over as if she needed to confirm this was real, playing with his hair and marveling over how soft it suddenly was. “Woah, Jimin will be all over you. Oh and i like the green contacts, nice touch.”

“Oh, thanks! Yeah, i’m so glad with how it turned out. Good thing nothing went wrong, right? Can you imagine?” the sly cat was secretly giving you a massive burn and you could feel your blood starting to boil in your tiny veins when he was laughing and giggling with your friend, but that was nothing compared to the sheer audacity of his next move.

“Say, Yuna, you think you could get us into the prefect’s bathroom again? I feel like soaking in some bubbles while catching up a little, you know,” Yoongi hooked his arm around Yuna’s and pulled her closer like he knew you always did, “just us girls.”

Oh how you wished you were your regular size so you could grab him by the scruff! You never should’ve told him about how Yuna and you used to sneak into the prefect’s bathroom so you could enjoy the hot water and different lotions in a bathtub the size of a small swimming pool. He’s going to pay for this when you get back to normal!

“Aw, it’s been so long since we’ve last done that! I’m in but you’re gonna have to share some of that glow-up potion because i’ll be looking like a potato next to you now!” Yuna whined and knowing her, she wasn’t actually joking around. Not a hundred percent. You really hoped she wasn’t serious about trying the potion because there was no potion.

“Girl, stop it! Trust me, you don’t need some stupid potion, i’d bang your brains out if i were a guy!”

Another wave of girly giggling followed and you thought you were actually going to be sick.

“You can’t! I forbid you!”

“How are you going to forbid me anything right now,___? You’re literally the size of a tangerine.”

“Min Yoongi i swear to fucking-” You balled your mini fists and took deep breaths in an attempt to calm yourself down. “You are not going to sit in the same bath as my best friend while you’re both butt naked and she doesn’t know it’s not me in that body.”

“But i was only going to look–”

“If you were ever planning on doing more than that i might actually have to skin you alive, you nasty tomcat!”

Yoongi sighed dramatically before flopping himself down on your bed in starfish position.

“Fine, i’ll call bath time with Yuna off, but it’s really not fair how i constantly have to act like you and i’m not even getting anything out of this whole debacle.”

“It’s your fault we are in this situation in the first place, so no treats for you. And for the last time, Yoongi, close your legs! You’re wearing a skirt!”

“My fault? How is this all my fault? You’re shit at potions and you screwed up, deal with it.” he shrugged, defying you by spreading his legs even wider and giving you a full frontal view of your kitten print panties.

“But you were distracting me with your annoying yapping!” you countered, cheeks flushed again even though you shouldn’t be feeling embarrassed by being exposed to your own body. You’ll never get used to this and you hoped that you’ll never again have to after this.

“Blaming it on the cat now, are you? Very mature, ___.”

You were opening your mouth to give him a snappy answer back when you heard the door handle turn from the other side, making a mental note to continue this conversation later when you were alone again when Yoongi hurried to put you away in your safe and hidden travel spot in the pocket of his blazer, before Yuna walked in on, well, pocket-sized you.

“___? I’ve been looking for you, we have transfigurations in fifteen minutes, remember?”

Of course Yoongi wouldn’t remember because he usually sleeps all day when you’re in class and the only times he cares about your schedule is when you leave and when you come back, and you completely forgot about class as you were too busy trying to manage current events and keeping Yoongi and your reputation out of trouble.

“Ah, sure! I’ll be there in a second!” Yoongi answered your best friend the exact same way you would’ve and while you were happy he wouldn’t draw any suspicion this way, it was also creeping you out how effortlessly he could copy your entire personality, if he wanted to. Sometimes, it seemed like he was even better at being you than you were.

You did not look forward to Yoongi attending class as you, though. You weren’t worried about the magical aspect, considering he was actually a really talented witch. He could perform most spells you were taught in class and if he didn’t know the answer to a textbook question, you could just whisper it to him from inside his pocket. What you were worried about, though, was his attitude.

Especially when it came to Jimin.

“Hey, ___!” Jimin greeted Yoongi cheerfully and much like earlier that morning, you could hardly believe the fact Jimin was actually talking to you- you mean Yoongi directly for the second time in the same day! You completely lost it when you took a peek and saw him sitting down on the seat next to you. You wanted to jump up and down in excitement, but that would be difficult inside the pocket of a blazer.

“Seat’s taken.” was Yoongi’s clipped response, the epitome of disinterest as he didn’t even glance up when Jimin spoke, too occupied inspecting his perfect manicure.

“Oh, is there another one of those invisible creatures sitting here? What are they called?” the blonde prince asked, genuinely curious. Not a hint of sarcasm in his voice. He actually believed that stunt Yoongi pulled in the train this morning?

Yoongi just ignored his question because making up an entire new species was too much of a hassle and you’d be in trouble after all this had blown over. So he went for the next best excuse.

“Yuna’s sitting next to me.”

“But Yuna’s already sitting next to Taehyung, so” Jimin beamed while he flopped down on the chair beside yours, “I’ll be your study buddy for today!”

You could already imagine how Yuna set this up as a ploy, knowing how crazy you are about Jimin and probably being convinced you had all the confidence you needed now, after drinking ‘the potion’. You knew she meant well, but she couldn’t have had any worse timing in her matchmaking. You listened to the conversation between your familiar and your crush and you were dying inside. What the hell did Yoongi mean by ‘making Jimin whipped for you’, when he was only going to be mean and distant towards him?!

“You’re not getting my notes.” Yoongi sighed in exasperation while he moved his hands up to tie his hair back in a ponytail, keeping the hair tie between his lips as he looked up at jimin from underneath his eyelashes.

You heard Jimin gulp a few times before clearing his throat. “I- that…That’s not what i’m here for.”

Yoongi just lazily laid his cheek to rest on his hand, tilting his head to the side and blinking innocently. “Hmm? Then what do you want, Park?”

To be honest, you didn’t know what you’d expected Jimin to answer to that as you waited with bated breath, but it certainly wasn’t this.

“I want to take you on a date and get to know you better.”

You had spent years and years trying to make Park Jimin notice you and now your damn cat was your substitute, he suddenly seemed to be everywhere. You didn’t think you’d seen him as many times in all these years as you did on today alone, much to Yoongi’s annoyance.

“When will he leave? Doesn’t he have things to do? Hang out with his douchey friends or something?” he complained when he took refuge inside the girls’ bathroom, if only to get a few peaceful minutes without having to “coincidentally” run into your stupid crush every ten seconds.

“It’s your own fault for storming off without giving him an answer!” you angrily countered, more than frustrated with your familiar’s stubborn behaviour. He knew you were dying to go out with Jimin, so why couldn’t he just say yes?!

“I thought that in itself was a pretty clear answer.”

“It wasn’t! And why are you rejecting him when you know i want to go out with him?”

“Exactly! You want to go out with him, not me!”

“Please, Yoongi.” you pouted as you tugged on his sleeve, “Just…agree to the date and stall it until i’m back to normal?”

Yoongi looked like he was seriously contemplating it, watching your little, pleading eyes staring up at him like he was your last hope. He gave in with a long and tormented sigh.

“Fine. I’ll string him along a little longer… As long as i don’t have to date the guy myself.”

“Trust me, i wouldn’t even want you to.” you snorted, crossing your arms and looking the other way to try and hide your slightly flushed cheeks. You couldn’t deny Yoongi was better at this stuff than you were. It looked like he had Jimin wrapped around his finger already and it’s only been one day, while after years of sharing classes you couldn’t even go up to him to return his pencil when he’d lended it to you once.

“Good.” he shrugged, fixing his hair in the mirror before putting you away again. “Let’s go, then.”

Truth be told, you were getting a little sick of being carried around like a freaking keychain, but staying in your room and doing nothing while letting Yoongi walk around in ‘your’ body wasn’t an option. You had to know what he was doing, when he was doing it and most importantly, you had to keep his sharp tongue in check before he scared Jimin away forever.

Speak of the devil…

“What are you doing standing outside the girls’ bathroom, Park? Aren’t you a little too old to sneak a peek?”

Yoongi only just stepped outside of the ladies room and there he was again, met with the blonde boy that raked his hair back as he smiled so bright, the sun would be jealous. Yoongi hated it when the sun shone in his eyes, but in contrast to this guy’s stupid, happy eyesmile, at least he could wear sunglasses to block the rays. He had yet to find a way to block this kind of unwanted brightness from his eyes, seeing as being an evasive bitch didn’t really seem to work.

“I saw you going in there and I thought… I know you’ve been avoiding me, ___, and i hope i didn’t freak you out by asking you out on the first day of the new semester but… Just go on one date with me and i promise you i won’t waste your time.”

Yoongi just stood there waiting until Jimin was finished speaking, hip stuck out and fingers impatiently tapping his arms after he’d crossed them, eyes rolling and lips pursed as he prepared himself to accept this douchebag’s request. His list of favourite pastimes included napping, grooming, teasing you, napping, getting petted by you, playing with yarn balls and napping. There were a lot more things on his not-to-do list. This, however, was on his never-again-or-i’ll-stab-someone list. Still, he tried to remember that this was important to you and seeing you unhappy was something he’d like even less. He just had to bite through the sour apple and then he could go back to ignoring this dumb dude.

“Sure, can’t wait.” and Jimin might as well just have been talking to a robot with the way Yoongi answered him in the most monotone voice he could manage, his expression flat as a pancake as he made an effort not to let out a long, exasperated sigh.

It didn’t seem to deter Jimin at all, though. If possible, quite the contrary.

“R-really? Awesome!” Jimin beamed, eyes wide in slight disbelief, “When do you have time? Where would you like to go? There’s this really good Italian restaurant in the village downhill and-”

“Just do whatever.” Yoongi murmured irritably, ready to spin around on his heels and bounce until a well-aimed pinch to his side reminded him of the task at hand. He couldn’t let Jimin choose the time of the date in case you hadn’t turned back to normal by then. “I mean, i guess in two days or something.”

You sighed in relief when Yoongi corrected himself. Two days from now should be about enough time for you to regain your usual size. The recipe said it should wear off between 24 and 72 hours after drinking the potion, so you should be safe.

“Okay, great! What time do i pick you u-”

“Man, go bother someone else with your stupid questions.” Yoongi snapped when it was getting too much, finally turning around and walking away, not up for staying longer than was absolutely necessary. He just realized that he didn’t just not like this Jimin guy, he decided he couldn’t fucking stand him.

“Alright! I’ll pick you up at eight! In two days!” Jimin yelled after Yoongi, who was already way down the hall by that time, and you didn’t miss how excited he sounded. Your heart was racing in your chest, adrenaline almost bursting through your veins. You didn’t think you’ve ever felt more happy in your entire life!

And so the next day went by, and it was most likely the worst day in Yoongi’s life, excluding that one day you accidentally turned him into a fucking bullfrog and the cats next door tried to kill him.

It was one thing for Jimin to always just be there everywhere he went, like he was his shadow or something, but it’s a whole other when he was constantly trying to flirt in his own weird and creepy ways. He hated pumpkin spiced lattes, but he hated the heart-shaped latte art he found at your spot on the breakfast table the next morning infinitely more. The questions and interrogations that followed by your peers gave him a pounding headache. Next up was the singing heart origami, almost giving him a heart attack when he opened your locker and it flew out and sang a ballad from the top of its non-existent lungs. It wouldn’t stop singing until he shredded it to tiny pieces.

After a whole day of similar romantic gestures that felt more like pranks to him, Yoongi collapsed on your bed, worn-out and disgusted.

“I wish i was in my cat form right now.” he groaned pathetically, and you were actually starting to take pity on him when you watched him try to groom himself in human form, but it wasn’t the same and showers were his worst nightmare.

“Why don’t you just shift? Yuna’s at her club activities all night so she won’t be back any time soon.”

Yoongi glared at you at that, eyes squeezed to slits, “I can’t. I’m afraid i might eat you.”

“You- you what?” you chortled at his unexpected answer.

“You’re so tiny! I don’t know if i’ll be able to control my instincts when you’re just out there being the size of a mouse!”

You just snorted and rolled your eyes. “Stop whining and shift, Yoongi. You’re not going to eat me, idiot, just take a stroll through campus, go outside for a bit, catch some real mice. I think you might actually explode if you don’t get some cat time soon.”

“I really think so too.” he admitted, making you nod sympathetically.

“Just put me back in my drawer bed so i can take a nap while you’re gone and you can go.”

It had been a long time since Yoongi felt so incredibly liberated! He really took his cat form for granted sometimes, he realized, as he absorbed all the stimuli around him he could. The sharp vision and hearing, the incredible smells, the heightened reflexes. Humans really were sad creatures, actually, their senses having been so dulled over thousands of years of ‘evolution’ they barely know about all the things going on around them.

A cat’s hearing range is five times that of a human and because of that, Yoongi was able to pick up some noises coming from the men’s bathroom in the hall. He recognized the noise as a familiar voice and it didn’t take him too long to identify it as none other than your all time crush, Park Jimin.

Being awfully curious about what your love interest was doing at this time, in a bathroom in an empty hallway, Yoongi decided to eavesdrop on the conversation being held between four walls.

Listening to what was being said between Jimin and his friend with the baritone voice he recognized as one he’d heard in class before, he finally understood where the saying ‘curiosity killed the cat’ came from.

“___! ___, wake up!” Yoongi stormed inside your bedroom, slightly panting and in his own human form as he took you out of the drawer of your desk and placed you on the bed before him.

“Wha- Yoongi, calm down! What’s wrong, why are you in…this form? What happened?” you babbled, still sleep-drunk and your mind working incredibly slow to wake up.

“Don’t go out with Jimin tomorrow.”

“What?! What’s gotten into you, of course i’m going! I’ve wanted this since freshman year!” Yoongi’s words were like a bucket of ice being dropped on your head, waking you up instantly, but confusing you all the more.

“I’m serious, ___, you have to trust me.” Yoongi stared down at you, his eyes dead serious and bearing a very present look of panic.

“Why?! What happened?!” you started yelling now, not that anyone but you and Yoongi could hear. You just sounded like an annoying bird or something, but you were getting seriously worried.

“I walked past the men’s bathroom and i overheard a conversation between him and- that…that guy with the low voice and the messy hair that’s in your class-”

“Taehyung.”

“Yes, Taehyung. You can’t go tomorrow.”

“Then tell me what they said! What did they say?!”

“I can’t tell you!” he sounded desperate now, beyond frustrated.

But that was nothing compared to your frustration, you were sure.

“If you can’t tell me, then i’m going.” you said, calmly, as if that was the last you wanted to hear of it.

Yoongi looked like he could start crying any second, so defeated and hopeless you couldn’t even imagine what in the world he must’ve heard to make him look like this. And why he couldn’t tell you about it.

“If you would rather trust a complete stranger that has ignored you for all those years up until yesterday, over your own loyal familiar whom you’ve been together with since you were a child and i was a kitten,” he continued, his voice raspy and his words snapping, but the fire in his eyes slowly dying, “then be my fucking guest,___. But i’m done.”

You watched him drag himself to the bed before he shifted back to his full cat form and crawled underneath the covers, as he tried not to think about tomorrow, whether or not you’ll be back to normal, trying not to think about the things he’d heard only minutes ago. He tried really hard not to be mad at you.

He knew you didn’t learn about anti-snitching spells until your last year.

Yoongi was, in fact, absolutely and one hundred percent done, as he’d said the day before. He refused to shift back to your body and go to class, even went as far as not speaking to you. Yoongi was out. He didn’t want to help you anymore, right when you needed him the most. Today was the day of your date with Jimin and the current circumstances didn’t exactly look fantastic. You were still the size of a small potato and when Yuna came home after her club activities and didn’t see you laying in bed, she started calling everyone she knew, asking if anyone had seen you as she worried sick while you were there the entire time, hiding in your desk drawer.

And you waited.

The only thing you could do was wait and hope that you were back to your normal size by eight. As the clock kept ticking and time kept going by without any result, you started to become desperate. What if it didn’t work out and you missed your one chance to be with the person you’ve been pining for for years?

“Yoongi…Yoongi, please,” you pleaded softly, scratching him behind his giant ear after you’d managed to climb onto the bed when Yuna went to class. He was like a big, black, furry monster now you were this small and you could imagine the unadulterated fear of the small wildlife he hunted very vividly. “Yoongi, we need to talk.”

His only response was a low growl, a threatening sound coming from the depths of his throat, indicating he didn’t want to talk and he was going to stay in his cat form until it was all over. He didn’t want to have anything to do with it anymore.

By 7:30, you had already given up any hope of going on your date as you were still smaller than a can of peas, until you felt a strange tingling in your stomach. You thought it was stress-bound at first, but then, gradually, the furniture around you started to look less like skyscrapers and all the other objects in your room became more and more recognizable.

“Yoongi! Yoongi, look! I’m growing again, it’s working! It’s wearing off!” you squeaked excitedly, hoping your familiar would be equally as happy to have you back in your normal size, but he just threw you an uninterested look over his shoulder before he started grooming himself, as if nothing out of the ordinary had ever happened.

You couldn’t be too bothered with his attitude now you were finally feeling like you could breathe again, especially because if you hurried up, you could still make it to your date with a few fashionably late minutes. So you jumped into the shower and did your makeup in turbo-speed, laying the last hand on your eyeliner when you heard a few knocks on your door that made your heart take a giant leap.

“Just a second!” you yelled from the bathroom, doing your best to control your trembling voice as your nerves were trying to get the better of you.

You took a last look at your hair and makeup, made sure your favourite outfit was spotless, took a deep breath or two, or three, okay four, and scurried to the front door.

You should’ve been prepared, you should’ve gotten used to it by now but you didn’t. When you opened the door, there stood a glowing Park Jimin, looking the most handsome and radiant he’s ever looked in a loose dress shirt and tight jeans, his blonde hair styled a little messy as if he just rolled out of bed after a heavy makeout session. And you were not ready. Oh, you were so not ready.

“Are you ready?” he smiled his famous, or infamous depending on how weak you were, eye smile that made your legs turn into blobs of jello as he handed you a bouquet of flowers that looked like it was made to impress. Well, it worked.

“I-yeah! Yeah, let’s go!”

Your body was tingling all over, a euphoric sensation surging through every nerve and you constantly had to remind yourself to hold down your nervous giggles when you were walking downhill to the Italian restaurant, glad Jimin talked the entire time so you didn’t have to. You couldn’t quite trust your voice yet. The walk to the village was already so romantic in itself, you felt like it was gonna be hard to top. Jimin must’ve enchanted the path because every step you two took, there were beautiful flowers blooming from the sides, fireflies accompanying you all the way and even though it was already dark outside, the birds were still singing lovely songs. Jimin wasn’t just desirable because he’s so good looking, he was also an incredibly talented wizard. He was able to perform spells and kinds of magic you didn’t even learn in school and you wondered if he wasn’t incredibly bored going to class when he already seemed to know everything.

“We’re here.” Jimin softly announced when you reached the glass doors of the small restaurant, and you nodded shyly before he guided you inside.

When you sat down at your table and the waitress brought you the menus, you still couldn’t think of anything to say to him. You were so nervous you could faint, but you had to stay strong. Maybe he’ll talk to you about something and you can just go with the flow from there. So you waited.

“Are you okay?” Jimin suddenly asked, like he was kind of joking, but the crease between his eyebrows showed he thought something really was up. “You’ve been quiet and you look a little uh…tired.”

Shit.

“Me? Yeah i’m fine. You?”

Double shit. Fuck.

“Oh, m-me? I’m…Okay. Haha.” he laughed, but even you could notice the lack of humor.

It was silent for a few minutes and it was getting painful. You needed to do something and you needed to do it quick.

“S-so…What have you done over summer break? Gone on vacation?”

Okay. That wasn’t too bad, right? Your voice seemed to be getting more stable, too. You got this.

“Nah, we didn’t go anywhere. Parents had to work and friends were gone with theirs to save money so i stayed home alone a lot. You?”

You were glad he asked because you did tons over summer break and at least this way you could keep the conversation going.

Halfway through your story, though, he whipped out his phone and started texting. First, it was only once every few minutes and he put it away after he was done. But then he didn’t even try to make it seem like he was listening to you anymore, sitting with his phone in his hand the entire time. His attempts to keep himself from grinning at those texts didn’t exactly work either. You were boring him.

You were about to cut yourself off in the middle of your sentence because what’s the point if he’s not even listening to a word you’re saying, when the waitress came back to take your orders.

“You can order anything you want.” he let you know with a small and brief smile that held no sincerity whatsoever.

“Thanks.” your voice was small and feeble, just like how you felt.

“I’ve changed my mind about the wine, can we get this one,” he pointed at somewhere on the wine card, “instead of the one i called for earlier? Oh, and a bottle of sparkling water. Thanks, sweetheart.” he winked at the cute waitress before handing her the card again.

“Very well, sir. I’ll come back to take your orders in a minute.” the waitress blushed as she took the card from him and made her way down to the kitchen. As she left, he was still watching her go with his bottom lip between his teeth for a few seconds longer.

Did he just openly flirt with that waitress or were you getting paranoid? This date was not going well, granted, but maybe you should calm yourself before making accusations.

“Which wine did you choose?” you decided to break the ice, once again, trying to come off as relaxed as possible.

“Ah, just one they recommended. A red one. You probably don’t know it.” he answered while he was reaching for his phone again.

You wanted to say something about it, but then the waitress came by again, notebook and pen in hand.

“Have you decided on your main dishes?” she asked sweetly, but not to you. She was solely looking at Jimin, giving him her best sugar smile.

“Hmmm, I don’t know…what’s good here?” Jimin answered her question with one of his own as he raked his eyes over her body so suggestively it couldn’t be missed.

“D-don’t you know, sir? You come here all the time…”

“Yeah, but i just like to hear you say it again.” he chuckled and she giggled and you felt like you weren’t even there because you were being treated as such.

You couldn’t believe this, didn’t want to believe Jimin has been like this since the day you met him, that he’s never been interested in you in the first place.

“Jimin.” you started, quietly, but were easily ignored while he and the waitress chattered away as if they were the ones on the date.

“Jimin.” you tried again, this time louder but you were still getting no reaction. you might as well have been another empty chair. And then something snapped.

You took a few deep breaths as you let the anger consume you, there was plenty of time for sadness later. Right now, you needed to accept that your long time crush is just a fucking douchebag, just like Yoongi has always said. Just like he tried to warn you not to go on this date. You needed to accept this. And you needed to say something about it.

“Jimin! Listen to me!” you raised your voice so loud even other people in the restaurant turned heads.

That did it and Jimin was finally looking at you. You got his attention back.

“What is it, ___?” he asked, coolly. As if nothing happened, although there was a slight edge to his tone this time.

“Why did you ask me on a date if you were going to be texting or flirting with the waitress the entire time?”

your voice was trembling. You weren’t sure if it was because you were trying not to cry or because you were still holding in a lot of anger and disappointment.

“___, listen-”

“No, you listen! Jimin, I-I’ve had a crush on you since freshman year and it never went away. I’ve been trying to-to get you to notice me for all these years and when the day you ask me out finally comes…You’re like this? Why would you do that?” the last sentence came out in a whisper, hurt finally starting to seep through the minor cracks in your freshly broken heart.

He sighed, irritation clearly visible on his handsome face now.

“Honestly, the reason why i was into you was because the first day we met again, in the train, you were nothing like the way you are now. You were cold, distant, beautiful, sexy. God, you were so hot, what happened?” he shook his head, confused, while he took in your current form in front of him, “You’re back to how you were before and ugh, i just- i just can’t stand you whiny, desperate bitches. You’re all the same, boring-”

His words got cut off by a glass of cheap, red wine splashing into his face. Your hand was shaking and your cheeks were stained with salty tears but you could just manage to put the glass back on the table and not drop it to the ground before you grabbed your purse and bolted out of the restaurant.

“You were right.” you murmured against the darkness after sitting yourself down on your bed, scratching Yoongi behind his furry, little ear. “About everything.”

Shifted back into his human form, aside from the ears and tails as usual, he came sitting beside you, silently pulling you into a hug and shielding you with his arms so you could let your tears fall safely.

“I know.” he whispered, but not in a condescending way. He felt sorry for being right.

“I was n-never good enough for h-him,” you hiccuped against your familiar’s shoulder while he softly stroked yours. “If i h-hadn’t fucked that p-potion up, this would’ve never h-happened and–”

“Shut up, you idiot!” He suddenly snapped, tearing you off his shoulder so you could look him in the eyes as he shook you back and forth. “Stop with that bullshit! Stop thinking changing yourself is the solution to everything! Do you even hear yourself?”

You were caught off guard, to say the least.

“I-I’m not–”

“Why would you ever want to try and change yourself? Especially for a piece of trash like Jimin? Don’t you want someone who likes you and loves you for who you are? Someone you don’t have to pretend with?”

“Yoongi…”

“You don’t have to change for anyone,___.” he softly added, his emerald eyes boring into yours. They held a lot of warmth for such a cold color. “You just need to learn how to love yourself a little more.”

You didn’t know how many emotions a person was supposed to be able to feel all at once, but you were pretty sure you would explode soon. You knew he was right but it still hurt so fucking bad not being able to make the person you like, like you back for who you are. You wanted him to like you so bad you were ready to change everything about yourself, everything you are and that thought scared you. Your heart was aching, breaking in a thousand pieces as you let the hurt do its work while your mind was already starting its healing process.

You couldn’t make everyone love you, or like you, and that was hard to accept. But you knew someone who would always love you for your own idiotic, impulsive, stubborn, sensitive and even pocket-sized self.

And now, all you needed to do was to add another person.

You.

#yoongi scenarios #bts scenarios #bts!au #bts #min yoongi #suga scenarios #cathybrid!yoongi #shifter!bts #hybrid!bts #shifter!yoongi #shifter!suga #bts magic #bts magic au #magic au #hybrid au #familiar au #familiar!yoongi

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thestraggletag · 7 years ago

Text

Ties of Blood, aka the Rumbelle cursed!faux!incest fic, Part One

Summary: There’s nothing more tragic that rip two lovers apart, except piecing the broken pieces together wrong. Never say the Evil Queen doesn’t know about revenge.

Rating: NC-17

AN: This is NOT an incest fic. It is, however, a “lovers are cursed to think they’re brother and sister” fic so it IS kinda an incest thing, in a way. Let us all remember fanfiction is full of things we would rather NOT see happen in real life, just so the hate is kept to a minimum. If it’s not your think then please, don’t read. There are hundreds of other amazing Rumbelle stories out there waiting for you.

Happy Rumbellesary, guys!!!! Hope it doesn’t take me forever to put up part two.

Rent day was never easy. The people of Storybrooke were under the mistaken impression the landlord lived for those days, for the threatening and the squeezing people dry, but it was a common misconception, one he was careful to never act against. It served his purpose to have people think it gave him a thrill to go around one by one collecting the money he was rightfully owed. It tended to dissuade people from trying to slip by him or make excuses as to why they didn't have the money and how they just needed a bit more time. For the more problematic tenants he had Dove, the gentle giant who couldn't hurt a fly but looked like he was one nasty look away from snapping and going on a killing spree with his bare hands.

As always, he finished his rounds with Granny's, after which he limped back home, feeling the stress of the day melt away with each step he took. Even so he all but collapsed on his favourite Chesterfield club chair, feeling the butter-soft leather as his hands gripped the armrests. Its low back didn't quite allow him to lean back comfortably, but it was precisely that feature he loved the most. The reason why made her appearance a few seconds later, wrapping her arms around him from behind and resting her forehead against his lower jaw, allowing him to press his face against her hair. The shampoo she used smelled faintly citrusy and distinctively like home.

"How's your ankle?"

He felt the words against the side of his neck, the beautiful accent wrapping around each one, as thick as his own. Belle planted a kiss on his cheek before rising to pour them both a cup of tea. She'd made a batch of shortbread in preparation for rent day, to help cajole a smile or two out of him, and the buttery taste was enough to get rid of most of the tension settled on his shoulders. He was the one that did the cooking on a regular basis, a secret hobby of his. But Belle loved baking, and it showed.

"A bit swollen, it's been a long day. Chased three tenants up and down town, almost had to run Mr Clark over before he stopped trying to squirm away. Would've made a mess of the Caddy."

Belle's laugh washed over him, one of his favourite sounds. It was genuine and free, embodying her to a T. She didn't laugh easily though, and had an endearing predilection for his brand of dark humour, the kind that made most people shudder. That little quirk of hers unsettled everyone else, he knew, but it warmed him right up.

"Did you wear that shirt for me? I know you hate it."

She gestured to her checkered skirt which, indeed, matched his shirt almost perfectly. He liked to do that, to incorporate a particular colour, texture or pattern she wore into his own outfit so they seemed like a matching pair. Silly, of course, but he couldn't help it. He wanted everyone, at all times, to be reminded of who Belle was connected to, who she belonged to in the most basic way.

"Nonsense, it's just a happy coincidence."

Belle made a noncommittal sound, clearly not buying it.

"Any other surprises? No fights with Moe French, I hope."

She had a soft spot for the hapless florist, for some reason. Moe French was a useless waste of space, with no head for business and a perpetual sheen of perspiration, no matter the time of the day or the temperature. He could be counted on for two things: being late on the rent and always stocking hydrangeas, which happened to be Belle's favourite flower. It was likely the reason why he hadn't evicted the lowlife yet.

"He forked over the money eventually, after swearing up and down he didn't have it, of course. Oh, and..." he paused, frowning, feeling a wave of something wash over him. The stranger at Granny's, he'd forgotten about her for a moment. Which was odd, because the moment he'd seen her, heard her name, it was as if his world had tilted, had shifted in some profound way. It had been deeply unpleasant, as used as he was to micromanaging every aspect of his existence, but coming home to Belle had for a moment made him forget. "There's someone new in town. An Emma Swan. Has the looks of a troublemaker."

"Well, that's unusual. Can't remember the last time anyone came from out of town."

For a moment that gave him pause. Wasn't it strange, after all? Storybrooke might be small and quaint, but it should still attract tourists and the occasional wanderer. And yet he couldn't recall the last time he'd seen a new face around town.

"You're in deep thought. Guess this Emma Swan's made a bit of an impression."

Belle's tone was mildly suggestive, only hinting at something. He pretended he didn't notice, humming in pleased surprise when Belle combed a hand through his shaggy hair, murmuring something about him needing a trim. He staid absolutely still as she petted him absentmindedly, something she did when she thought he needed some human contact. Sometimes he wondered if Belle was as physical as she was because he was so touch-starved, as if she'd learned to compensate.

"You're the only woman in my life, sweetheart, and I rather prefer to keep it that way."

He took her hand and kissed it, trying to push the memories of his time before her to the back of his mind. She smiled at him, and as if she knew of the unwelcome thoughts in his head, leaned over and kissed his forehead.

"You need to make room for more than just your little sister, Rabbie."

"Nonsense."

In spite of his put-on nonchalance Gold found that, indeed, Miss Swan had made an impression on him that first night because he found himself wondering about her almost relentlessly over the next few days. For some reason her name pressed into his mind, as if it was trying to jostle something inside. To try and get rid of the feeling he set out to learn as much as he could about the newcomer, and what he found out was extremely interesting, indeed. Emma Swan, biological mother to one Henry Mills, teenage delinquent turned bailsbonds person, who seemed to have no personal attachments whatsoever. A product of the American foster care system, apparently, discovered lying on the side of the road hours after being born... just outside Storybrooke.

What were the odds?

Miss Swan, contrary to what her commitment-phobic background would suggest, seemed to be leaning towards staying around for the time being, apparently at the behest of her son. She seemed to have more than a few misgivings about Madam Mayor's parental abilities, not that he could blame her. Other than Regina's patently-clear emotional issues it said a lot about her that her ten-year-old son had ended up alone in New York City. He bet the kid had snuck out while Regina enjoyed her bi-weekly... meeting with Sheriff Graham. Getting a nanny or someone to mind the child would have potentially exposed her trysts to the general public, so he figured she left him alone with a stern warning to stay put.

There was something to gain out of all of this, he considered. Emma Swan was an exciting new weapon against the mayor. Untried and untested, for sure, but with boundless potential. Already she seemed to be having a bit of an effect in town, if her newfound friendship with mousy Miss Blanchard was anything to go by. And then there was that strange episode with the comatose patient... Not that he could really blame it on Emma Swan, but it felt like too much of a coincidence, all the connections there.

Belle was uneasy about the newcomer.

"I just worry about how serious she is regarding Henry. The kid already adores her, I don't wanna know what will happen to him once Miss Swan decides she's had enough of Storybrooke."

Gold knew little Henry Mills was a regular at the library, and not just for the books. Belle often told him the boy sat down to do his homework or read his comic books. For him it was a safe place away from home. And his sister, bleeding heart that she was, had gotten attached. Henry Mills was a charming little boy, after all, he couldn't blame her.

"Oh, I wouldn't count on it. Miss Swan looks quite determined. Ready to take on the Mayor herself for the wee lad. It's quite commendable."

"She already gave him up once, remember?"

He didn't reply to that, knowing that parental love was a sore spot for Belle. Instead he gently squeezed her waist as she passed by, a silent reminder that she was loved.

He was looking to try and figure out a way to get a bit of power over the woman when Ashley Boyd gave him a golden opportunity. Stupid, feckless girl, with very little impulse control and no common sense, but her sudden attempt at skipping town without paying her dues ended up working in his favour. It was almost worth the concussion he'd given himself after being attacked by the pregnant little chit, and he had to admit that his puffy eyes and the gash on his forehead did make him look the right sort of pitiful for Miss Swan to brush aside the rumours of his reputation that she has, surely, heard already. Getting her to agree to locating Ashley was easier than even he anticipated, and Miss Swan's guilty body language hinting that she might have had an involvement in Miss Boyd's decision to quit town.

He had to force his feet not to carry him to the library the minute he was out of Miss Blanchard's apartment. His eyes stung and the cut on his forehead felt like it was on fire and he wanted nothing more than to go to Belle, to let himself be petted and tended to lovingly. He remembered skinning his knees as a child or cutting himself while out playing, remembered first the utter indifference of his parents and then the well-meaning but awkward touch of the "aunts" he'd been left with when his parents high-tailed it to Australia, running away from trouble and responsibility (him being the main responsibility). His aunts had loved him, but in a stilted, strangely devoid of touch way, the only way they knew how to love him. But then Belle had come into his life again and she had made him addicted to loving touches. Hugs, kisses, passing touches in the arm or the back and, of course, caring, loving touches when he was sick or injured. He used to hate it when she tried to approach him when he was weak, the product of his upbringing, but Belle had patiently wormed her way in so thoroughly that he now had to actively fight the instinct to get to her.

As a child she'd treated her role as his own personal nurse very seriously. She had put band-aids on every tiny little cut he'd ever gotten, had applied antiseptic with the precision of a surgeon, telling him sternly not to move. She'd always kissed his injuries after patching him up, what she called the "kiss cure". His cut was certainly in dire need of a kiss, but it was necessary to see things through first. Time was of the essence, as it turned out. Like he had predicted Miss Boyd did not manage to get too far from Storybrooke- not even past the town line. He hadn't counted on her going into labour, though he couldn't deny it helped his plans immensely, gave the situation an urgency that would play in his favour.

But news in Storybrooke travelled fast, and so he wasn't surprised when his sister walked into the hospital looking for him. Though he knew Miss Swan was watching and it didn't serve his purpose to let her see him so vulnerable he didn't try to stop Belle when she bent down to gently cup his face, cooing in that soft, sweet tone that could put him in a near-catatonic state. For someone so prickly it was stupidly easy how Belle managed to utterly disarm him.

"Oh, my sweet darling..."

She ran her hands through his hair before bending down further to place a feather-light kiss on the cut and two on his swollen eyelids. Though he knew he didn't have time for it, that his confrontation with Miss Swan was important, he wrapped his arms around his sister and rested his head against her lower stomach, breathing in her scent and basking in her warmth. Her hands carded through his hair and, Lord, it was heaven. Almost tempting enough to side-track him, to make him give up his machination. But after a while he straightened out, taking a deep breath to prepare himself. Gently but firmly he told his sister to go home, that he had a deal to close. Belle always respected that, strove to separate herself from his shadier practices, but he did catch the faintly hurt look in her face and the way her eyes darted towards Miss Swan, unsure. True to herself, however, she kissed his cheek and took off.

He was finally confronted by an enraged Emma Swan when he sauntered close for coffee. He'd banked everything on her fledging mothering instinct, in whatever was keeping her in Storybrooke in the first place. She was passionate, for sure, as she rounded in on him for dealing in children. Apparently, her disgust did not translate to Ashley, somehow managing to make this about him buying a child but not her selling one. People were very good in general about making their mistakes somehow into some nefarious plot of his own doing. The conversation, in the end, well exactly as he planned. She was all bluster and self-righteous anger, the right frame of mind to be to start making stupid, rash decisions. And he remained cool and almost playful, sipping from the awful cup of coffee from the hospital machine mainly because he knew it made him look all the more nonchalant. He did a marvellous job of hinting at all he had discovered about her, to throw her off balance, and of hitting all the sore spots in the process, from her voluntary surrender of her baby to the horrors of the system she had grown up in. And in the end, when she thought she had him beat, all cocky and self-assured, he had "conceded", as if this wasn't where he had wanted the conversation to go all along. And just like that he had gotten Miss Swan to owe him a favour. A small thing to others, perhaps, but a powerful tool in his hands.

Dinner that night was a quiet affair, Belle's distance and her silence putting a damper on the high he had gotten from deal-making. Familiar, cold fear crept up his spine, like it happened every time he let his dark side out too much. He was always afraid then that Belle would finally see the monster she called brother and leave him, move away and distance herself from him, leaving him alone. Losing his parents had been rough as a child. Losing Belle, though... he didn't think he could survive it.

"Do you ever wonder what it must feel like?"

Her voice was quiet, subdued, very unlike her. It made Gold uneasy.

"What what must feel like?"

"Being loved by a parent like that. Being wanted as a child. Going to meet the mother you never knew and have her fight so fiercely for you, for no reason other than she gave birth to you."

He knew where this was going and did not like it. Usually Belle was not one to go down memory lane. As much as she had suffered in the past she rarely alluded to any painful events or recollections, always seeming to choose to focus on the present. To a certain extent it was one of Belle's greatest strengths, her resilience and ability to move forward, to hold on to her sweetness and her positive outlook on life. It was also, to a minor extent, a blatant lie, a mask she donned so carefully, so craftily, that almost no one noticed it.

But he did.

"Sometimes... sometimes the past seems like a haze. And I wonder if it's because of... of what happened, or if it's something else."

There was a vaguely worried look about her face, and he felt raw, blind fear grip him. Whenever Belle even as much as alluded to her ordeal he dreaded what it might lead to. Nightmares, usually, and sometimes days on end of disconnection with the rest of the world. Sometimes Belle could burrow so deep inside he wasn't able to reach her. For some reason the sheriff seemed to be able to sniff out whenever Belle was suffering one of her spells and they'd do something, spend some time together. For some reason the sheriff seemed able to connect to Belle in a way he couldn't and, in spite of the lingering jealousy it gave him, he was glad of it.

"I've never wondered, myself. I know what it is to love unconditionally, and have that love be reciprocated." He looked at her intently, adamant about getting his meaning across. "I know what it is to have someone to belong to, to call home. I only regret the years of my childhood I spent waiting for it, waiting for you. Mama and papa might have been right bastards, but they did provide me with a family. They gave me you."

Belle reached out for his hand, and he noticed that hand-holding was something they did often, most of the time unawares.

"I never loved our parents, not in any deep way. I knew it wasn't safe. But you... I loved you the moment I saw you, the instant you were in my arms. You were mine and I was yours and I knew then what it felt to have a family."

She squeezed his fingers gently, her long nails scratching his skin pleasantly.

"I wish I could remember. But I know that, ever since I can remember, you've been the first person to catch my attention. My first memory. You and Peter Rabbit."

Change seemed to be everywhere, which was unusual in Storybrooke. Ashley Boyd's ordeal was big news for a while, along with her reconciliation with baby daddy Sean Hermann, against his father's express wishes. Everyone thought it incredibly romantic, though Gold thought it rather trite, not to mention fickle. Two teenagers raising a child, with one of then barely now acknowledging the child was actually his, was lunacy. Thankfully, at least, the boy hadn't gotten it into his head to cross him out of some misguided and rather late sense of chivalry. On the contrary both him and Miss Boyd avoided him as much as possible, even though they were forced to rent one of his smallest properties to live in. Miss Boyd, however, became a frequent presence at the library, to peruse material about child-rearing. And it later evolved into her dumping her little bundle of joy on Belle whenever she had to take the odd job and could not arrange for a friend or cheap baby-sitter. It seemed ridiculous for Ashley to trust the sister of the man she claimed had "tried to take her baby", but in the end everyone knew Mr Gold always kept his deals, and that meant like Alexandra was safe from him.

The child was well-behaved, thankfully, though no one would know that from hearing her mother talk. Having had little to no experience with babes he'd expected the new-born to be fussy and prone to crying, but she was a quiet, rather solemn child. Pretty, too, with wide eyes and pinkish skin, and dressed to the nines thanks to the efforts of Granny Lucas and a gaggle of people she had rather strong-armed into charitable donations. Gold knew that Belle had made her own anonymous contribution, which she had kept secret from him, as if he'd oppose. He rather approved of it. No matter the circumstances the child was not to blame for the way she'd been brought into the world or what her parents had done.

The baby also brought with her a strange freshness to Storybrooke, as if the time before had been stale and lifeless somewhat. She was a constant, unavoidable proof of the change he felt all around him, tugging on his senses, pressing on his brain. The nebulous feeling of forgetting something had turned into a pressing, anxious itch, and little Alexandra with her chubby hands and baby smell for some reason seemed to make it worse. Sometimes when he was in the library and the baby made a sound or fussed and, strangely, he knew exactly what it meant, how to differentiate a sound of hunger from one that meant uneasy digestion. Though he promised himself not to get close to the child, lest someone see him and send Miss Boyd into a panic Belle alone managed the entire library, so it was inevitable that, during a lull in the afternoon, when she was too busy reshelving to look after the baby, she'd ask him to do it. And, though he expected to fumble and fail spectacularly, the moment she'd been in his arms he'd known what to do, as if some sort of muscle memory was kicking in. He had Alexandra burped and soothed in no time at all, leaving his mind free to wander to strange places, images of rustic cottages and the strong smell of sheep plaguing him. It was all accompanied by a strange wave of almost crippling sadness, as if he had lost something, something vital to his very existence, only he couldn't recall what or when.

He was quick to give the child back once Belle came back, his hands twitching in that nervous way of his he always tried to hide. He took several steps back, relieved, trying to dispel the strange feeling having the babe close had caused. Belle held the baby with the certainty of someone who had gotten used to doing it and for a second all he could think about was that Ashely Boyd was taken advantage of his sister's kind and trusting nature to get a free babysitter. Belle already worked hard at the library, volunteered at the also-understaffed local animal shelter and even, on occasion, helped out at Granny's when they were swamped or Granny's arthritis acted up. Adding unpaid nanny to the list of chores seemed more than a bit extreme.

The babe fussed, prompting Belle to gently rock her and coo softly. She made such a pretty picture, clasping the child close as if she was her own, looking at her with such tenderness. And it dawned on him what a lovely mother his sister would make. She was affectionate by nature, though not prone to sharing her most intimate self with a lot of people. Naturally shy and wary she let her guard down only for those closest to her and those too innocent, mainly children and animals. But he'd never before stopped to consider her as a mother. She had never seemed eager to find a bloke, move out, and start a new family, but seeing her with the baby made it clear how right it was. If she wasn't interested in finding a man for that all the better, there was no one in Storybrooke or beyond good enough for her. He could give her a child, a child that would be lovingly raised in their home, lacking nothing in terms of material goods or affection. A child who would have her endless curiosity and, perhaps, his cunning.

He snapped himself out of his daydream as soon as he started imagining a child with his sister's cheekbones and his brown eyes. Adoption was the only way for what he'd been foolishly entertaining. It'd be incongruous for the child in his fantasy to resemble them in any way. And it was entirely possible, likely even, that it'd never come to pass. Belle would likely meet someone, some strapping, able-bodied young buck, and would get married and moved away. And she'd have handsome children who'd call him "Uncle Gold".

For some reason that made his stomach hurt.

It wasn't often that Gold caved in to his sister's request to eat at Granny's but he'd agreed to meet her at the diner that day, to try and cheer her up. The recent quake at the mines had the Mayor sniffing around the Library with veiled threats regarding its closure due to what she claimed was a "shaky foundation", though she had yet to provide any documentation to support her allegations. After some subtle threatening, and a well-placed please, Regina Mills had relented to only chaining up the doors of the ancient elevator, which hadn't been used in ages anyway as the library had ample storage space in the attic, where the old librarian's apartment had once been. Knowing a burger and some strawberry pie would cheer her up he'd proposed the outing himself, earning an extra-long hug and goodbye kiss that morning. His cell-phone rang just as he was getting ready to close the shop, forcing him to drop the keys to pick up.

"Sweetheart, I was just about to close and go- What's wrong?"

Over the years the Gold siblings had developed an almost uncanny ability to read each other, something that didn't even require them to be face to face. Belle hadn't said anything since he'd picked up the phone, but her breathing was off and he knew- he knew- something was wrong. Horribly wrong.

"Sweetheart, please answer. Where are you?"

"H-hos-hospital..."

His blood turned to ice and for a second he thought it impossible to breathe. He spared a second or two to pull himself together, to calm down. Belle needed him calm.

"Are you injured? Did something happen to you? Was it someone else?"

The silence that followed seemed to stretch on forever. Finally, after letting out a wet, pitiful little sigh his sister spoke.

"Graham's dead."

He'd never understood the connection between his sister and the sheriff. It had always seemed to be there, a sort of camaraderie, a companionship different from that she had with him. It wasn't romantic or sexual, at least it had never felt that way to him. The sheriff was an honest, caring man and he supposed a good potential love match for his sister if it had ever come to that, but he was relieved that it never showed signs of progressing in that way. The good sheriff's complicated, unsavoury relationship with the mayor made him dangerous dating material. Regina hated his and Belle's platonic friendship, anything else would have been too much of a provocation for her.

But for whatever reason Belle and Sheriff Graham shared a tight, close bond that had more than once pulled Belle back from some very dark places, from shadowy corners of her mind where even he could not venture. They'd go for walks in the forest mostly, after which they'd get ice-cream and Belle would come home later looking more like herself. Sometimes they went to a movie, the sort Belle knew her brother wouldn't enjoy, or for a bite at Granny's. He hated it, of course, hated how Graham was privy to a part of Belle he could barely scratch the surface of, but he was also deeply thankful. The sheriff could piece his sister back together when he failed, and that made him invaluable in his esteem.

Only now he was dead.

The Caddy took him to the hospital in a flash, and no one even tried to get in his way once inside. One of the older, less jittery nurses led him to the waiting area of the ER. He spotted Miss Swan first, hair in a dishevelled ponytail and face red from crying. She looked fragile for the first time since he'd met her, like she could barely keep herself together. He felt a stab of pity for her. It was unpleasant to see someone so strong, so guarded, be so publicly broken. She was still crying, only she was trying to make it look like she wasn't.

Belle was sitting to the side, looking at the floor. Her hair obscured her face but he knew immediately that her eyes were likely dull and vacant, as if she wasn't there at all. He stamped down the panic that threatened to engulf him and rushed to her side, sinking to his knees as soon as he was near.

"Belle, sweetheart, I'm here."

Gingerly, as if afraid to spook her, he rested a hand on her knee, noticing she didn't seem to register him at all. Too deep inside her own mind. He sat down next to her, kissing her forehead and stroking her hair, willing her to come back to him. She looked stupidly young at the moment, almost child-like.

"I'm here, sweetheart, I'm here. It'll be alright."

Dr Whale strolled by, having the decency to look somehow sympathetic when he passed them by. Everyone in town knew of his sister's friendship with the sheriff, though he gathered few understood the nature of it. Though the sheriff had been beloved he hadn't had many close friends, mostly beer-buddies and some friendly acquaintances. Belle had been the closest thing the man had had to a family, which he supposed meant that they ought to see about his funeral arrangements. Just as he began to make a mental checklist of all that would need taking care of Mayor Mills strolled into the waiting room, her high-heels clacking unpleasantly against the linoleum. She looked distressed, like he would have expected, but also strangely... cold. Detached.

"You fucking bitch!"

It came out of nowhere. One second Belle was unresponsive in his arms, looking dead to the world, and the next he was having to forcefully pull her back as she lounged at the mayor like a madwoman. Though Belle was small he struggled to hold her back, wincing at the strain he was putting his ankle under. It was a testament to how far gone his sister was that she didn't notice. She was usually uncannily attuned to his moods, and in particular to his pain.

"You killed him, you killed him!"

Her screaming attracted the attention of a couple of orderlies and three nurses, but none dared act against her in his presence. He chanced a glance at the mayor, surprised she seemed more rattled about his sister's outburst than was warranted. A second later her usual mask came down and she sneered.

"Control that crazy sister of yours, Mr Gold, before I have her committed in the name of public safety."

As much as he hated to admit it the threat hit home. She caught the gleam of fear in his eyes and smiled, once more the in-control, seductive viper she was.

"After all, she does have a history of... mental imbalance, doesn't she? Spent quite a few years in a padded cell, from what I remember. Perhaps they weren't enough."

Belle finally stopped struggling in his arms, sagging against him and almost sending them both toppling to the floor. He bared his teeth at the mayor, asking her to please leave. Though she seemed put off by it she stormed down in the direction of Dr Whale's office. He sat down heavily on one of the waiting room's uncomfortable plastic chairs, his sister cradled close and sobbing against his shoulder, whimpering over and over about how Regina had killed Graham. It made no sense, as far as he'd gathered Miss Swan was present when Graham had collapsed. Whatever seemed to have happened to the man looked to be a natural occurrence.

Even after it was ruled a heart attack Belle didn't seem convinced, though to his profound relief she didn't seem eager to go after the mayor again. Instead she threw herself on the funeral arrangements, viciously securing the spot on the local cemetery closest to the forest. Burying him in the actual woods was impossible, regulations and all, but his sister was adamant Graham's resting place would be as close to the wild as she could make it. She made sure the headstone was simple and was resolute about there being no flowers at the funeral, but rather people donate the money to the animal shelter.

The event itself was simple and classy, with Dr Hopper leading it and saying a few words. Belle herself didn't participate in any way other than attending, choosing to stay near the Lucases. She had dressed up for the occasion in a lace Zac Posen dress and a Burberry coat, her armour against Regina, a subtle power-play of sorts. She was beautiful in her grief, now that the sting of it had lost its freshness, pale and distant, like some sort of winter maiden. They'd barely spoken or interacted since leaving the hospital, the metaphorical distance between them making him feel uncomfortable in his own skin.

"It was nice of you to arrange this. I was dreading having to bear Regina organising Graham's funeral."

Emma Swan sidled up to him, wearing black skinny jeans and a blouse under a black coat, her red leather jacket forgotten for the occasion. Her posture was loose but her eyes tight, tension visible in them.

"I didn't do anything, this was all Belle. They were... The sheriff and she were close."

He saw her tense more out of the corner of his eye and smiled joylessly.

"Mind out of the gutter, Miss Swan. Belle and Graham were friends. Close friends, true, but nothing else."

"Yeah, how close?"

The tone was hard, brittle, but he knew better. Miss Swan, for all her hard-ass New York City bail-bonds person attitude had begun to have feelings for the deceased sheriff. And that necessitated a level of vulnerability that he knew was uncomfortable, not to mention hard to achieve. He knew what it was to feel like being alone was the safer, better option. And he knew the risks and the pain of letting someone in. It'd be unfair to let her memories of the sheriff be tainted by suspicions.

"Belle was born when I was a teenager and I loved her since the moment they placed her in my arms. Our parents... were no parents at all, lowlifes and conmen who had no business having children. I raised her, taught her her first words, saw her first steps, bought her clothes and made sure she ate. We... we were family, the two of us."

The pain that accompanied the recollection of his past was as vague as the memory itself, but it was real.

"But one day I was dumped with a couple of aunts while my parents took Belle for some scheme or the other. Wasn't that uncommon, I had been used in plenty of those as a tot. They never came back. Moved to fucking Australia, running away from a loan shark or ten, taking Belle with them because she was still useful. I was too old to elicit pity or play along without questioning. But I knew she'd at some point grow tired, or rebellious or simply too old like me and they'd dispose of her like they did me. So, I made it my mission to get her back. Earn enough money to support both of us, get a plane ticket and just... yank her out of there."

He could tell he had Miss Swan's undivided attention. She always seemed to be watching both of them, for some reason, always suspicious, but undeniably intrigued by their bond, by their nearness. Poor wretch didn't know what it was like to have a family, didn't know what it was to have someone be a part of you. She didn't understand, but she wanted to, on some level.

"Took years. Years to gain the means to support us and even more to find her. My parents never used their real names, and the ones they adopted didn't last long. It took them dying for me to find them, some car crash. When I went to Australia everyone I talked with claimed they'd never seen my sister. No one had ever seen her with them."

As he talked he looked at Belle, safe and sound a few feet away, talking to Hopper, Ruby like a sentinel by her side. A far cry from the little wisp of a thing he had found fading away in Brisbane.

"Turns out my wilful little Belle had outlived her usefulness a long time ago. Became a burden, so they had her committed to a mental fucking hospital. Passed the evidence of their abuse off as mental illness. She spent... years there. Locked up in some grungy little room, forgotten. When I managed to get her out she wouldn't talk, wouldn't eat, wouldn't leave her room. I feared she'd forgotten me, that they had stripped everything that was her away at the asylum."

"So, what happened? I mean, Belle is such a lively person, clearly she's recovered from... everything."

With anyone else he would have thought the need to pry too much, too gossipy. Miss Swan, however, was not the type. She was good, annoyingly so, and had a great capacity for care, almost against her will. He felt the need to give her something, to show her a glimpse of the man she'd begun to fall for. Graham's association with Regina, as unsavoury as it had been, must have tainted him to her somehow. It seemed inevitable. But Gold was sure he had been a victim in it, like most people that had any sort of link to Regina. And though he couldn't explain this to Emma, he could at least give her a glimpse of Graham's true personality: loyal, kind-hearted and compassionate.

"Belle's resilient. Tough as nails, even though it doesn't show. At first, I thought I could make her better all by myself, chase whatever monsters plagued her on my own. But it soon became clear that there was a part of Belle, some dark and hidden part, that I couldn't reach. She'd have these... spells. Get very quiet, sleep very little. Hated being inside, hated walls and confined spaces in general. Graham... sensed that, somehow. Began taking her on hikes in the woods, and later to the animal shelter to volunteer. It became a thing. Whenever Belle got into a mood there was the good sheriff, ready to take Belle fishing or bird-watching or whatever else he could come up with. He'd always make time, and it would always do Belle good. She returned more herself, pieced back together in a way that I could never... That I have never been able to accomplish."

The panic hit him all at once, like a sharp stab through the heart. He struggled to breathe, trying to imagine what he'd do the next time his little Belle went down a path he couldn't follow, couldn't pull her out of. Without Graham there to do something, he risked losing her.

"Hey, Gold, calm down, deep breaths."

He felt one of Miss Swan's hands on his back, doing something that was half-patting and half-rubbing, her body pressing up against his to make sure he stayed upright, as if unsure of his footing. He was glad they were far enough removed from everyone else that his little show of weakness went mostly unnoticed. He did feel, every now and then, Belle's attention on him, as familiar a feeling as the sun on his face.

"I'm fine, Miss Swan." He tried not to let her see how it bothered him to have her see him anything less than perfectly composed. He fiercely pushed aside the gnawing fear threatening to choke him and reminded himself why he was sharing this with Miss Swan. To repay, in some small way, a bit of the considerable debt he owed the late sheriff.

"I hope... I hope you won't judge the good sheriff harshly. I know there are... details about his personal life that were unsavoury, to say the least. But, if it's any consolation, I rather thought he was a man trapped by circumstance more than anything else."

"Thanks. Knowing the kind of person you are, opening up like this wasn't easy. I appreciate you doing it."

She glanced over at the freshly-filled grave, wistful tenderness blooming in her eyes. He imagined she was contemplating what could have been, what almost was. He thought about the sheriff's now empty apartment, about his things. Maybe he could offer Miss Swan a keepsake of sorts, something to hold onto. He put a call to Dove, who was in charge of packing up the sheriff's apartment- under strict orders of having everything put into storage as soon as possible, so Regina could lay claim to nothing- and arranged for a box of personal items to be delivered later to the pawnshop. The rest was to be sold and the proceeds donated to the animal shelter, as per Graham's instructions.

The drive home from the cemetery was a quiet one, but not the sort of silence that sat well between them. There was a coldness to his sister that he didn't like, a distance that didn't have anything to do with the melancholia that had set in since Graham had been pronounced dead. There was something faintly accusatory about her eyes, the way she pressed her lips together. After a quiet dinner she retired immediately to her bedroom, which she never did, and her made a conscious effort to let her. Seeking Belle out when she was closed-off never worked. She tended to shy away even more, retreat further into herself. Only Graham was able to reach out successfully but without him he'd have to trust that Belle would come to him when ready.

When she stopped by with his lunch- he had a bad habit of skipping meals if left to his own devices- he brought her the box with the sheriff's personal possessions, thinking that she bringing him food was a small way to try and re-establish the bond.

"What, Miss Swan didn't want any of this?"

Her voice was so brittle it was almost unrecognisable.

"What?"

"I know you were kind enough to offer her Graham's stuff. And she might be satisfied with the walkie-talkies for now, but what if she wants more later? I'd rather not pick something that Emma might later want to claim. Thanks for the afterthought, though."

Though he expected her to sit and have lunch with him, as she often did, she waltzed out of the shop before he could even process her last words.

She wanted to be happy for him. After all, she had liked Emma Swan well enough for Graham when it had become obvious the sheriff was getting attached. She'd even encouraged such an attachment, seeing how it was managing to draw Graham away from the mayor and her poisonous affection. Though she worried that the blonde might decide to leave Storybrooke as abruptly as she'd arrived, she had still nudged her friend in her direction, hoping for the best.

But it wasn't just Graham's attention Miss Swan had managed to catch. Henry seemed besotted with her, even though she'd already given him up once and was liable to do so again. Graham was an adult, he could cope with rejection and disappointment, but Henry was a kid already dealing with a difficult family situation. He was fragile, for all his boundless optimism and cheerfulness. Emma Swan could do a lot of damage there with minimum effort. And considering her own upbringing, and her own parents, it was easy to justify why she felt a bit of hostility with the newcomer whenever it came to Henry.

It was difficult, however, to justify similar thoughts when it came to her brother. She had noticed his blossoming interest in Emma Swan early on, but she had given it little thought, thinking it had more to do with one-upping the mayor than anything else. She'd often wondered about the source of such dislike, how it almost seemed like Regina Mills had done something personal to him, something other than squabbling for power. She'd wondered if perhaps the mayor hadn't unkindly rejected some romantic advance her brother had made in the past, though something about that theory seemed off. But Rabbie delighted in toying with the other woman a bit too much to let her rest easy. In that sense his newfound interest in Emma should've made her happy. She was miles more palatable than Miss Mills. But, far from it, it unsettled her. The way he said her name, Emma, made the skin on the back of her neck prickle uncomfortably, as if it held some sort of power.

Perhaps she'd been encouraging of Graham's suit because it allowed her to rest easy when it came to her brother's heart, and the thought, now that the sheriff was dead, made her sick. He'd been so good to her, so supportive, but she'd been willing to risk his heart to protect her brother's. And she hadn't even been able to give her friend her full attention at his own funeral, not with the way Rabbie and Miss Swan had spent most of it whispering to each other, heads close and body language intimate.

And now Emma Swan was acting sheriff, Graham's badge on her belt and one of his walkie-talking always nearby, the other in the hands of little Henry, looking like she might love to stay. And Belle hated herself for caring about that at a time when her friend's death should occupy her thoughts completely. Hated herself for the distance she was forcing between herself and Rabbie, who she knew was worried. Who thought her kind and good and had no idea she was petty and jealous and was worrying him just because she couldn't deal with the idea that he might not want to be just hers anymore. Rabbie had always been the one person whose love was constant and all-encompassing, who always had time for her, who was, in a way, hers alone. She had never before had to even contemplate the idea of sharing him with anyone, and hadn't realised it'd upset her so, that she would be so selfish as to want to keep him from making a meaningful connection with someone else.

She could see it, what could possibly draw them both together. Desperate souls, prickly and damaged, with a sort of sarcastic veneer and a standoffish nature. They could be good for each other, and she needed to make her peace with it. Needed to get her act together, needed to sleep and eat and function like a human being again before she worried her brother to death.

It wasn't until she knocked on his door and got no answer that she realised it was a little past three in the morning. Softly she opened the door, wishing to erase the distance she herself had created during the last few days. Rabbie seemed sound asleep, dark circles under his eyes indicating, however, that he wasn't doing much better than her. She brushed the hair out of his eyes before toeing off her slippers and tucking herself right next to him, like she'd done a million times in the past when a nightmare or something else unsettled her in the night. Instinctively he turned to the side, wrapping an arm around her waist.

"We're good?"

His voice was soft and uncertain, almost afraid. Belle snuggled closer to him, as if it was possible, trying to make up for the hurt she'd caused.

"We're good."

She closed her eyes, humming in contentment when he began to recite an old Scottish poem, his accent deepening until the world ceased to make sense and her eyes finally grew heavy with sleep. If and when the moment came, and if Emma Swan proved worthy, she'd be ready to let Rabbie go, ready to share him with someone else. But until then he was hers and she was his and all was right with the world.

#rumbelle #rumbelle fic #cursed!faux!incest #Ties of Blood

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