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johnhardinsawyer · 1 year ago

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Tidings of Comfort and Joy

John Sawyer

Bedford Presbyterian Church

12 / 10 / 23 – Second Sunday in Advent

Luke 1:24-45

Isaiah 40:1-11

“Tidings of Comfort and Joy”

(Thank God, We’re Not Alone)

Well, it’s official: the Oxford English Dictionary word of the year for 2023 is “rizz.”[1] And, it’s official: as soon as I learned this very important news, I took a moment to feel just a little bit old, and I went to look up the meaning of the word “rizz.” I get the feeling I’m not the only one who had to do this, though. In fact, when I typed “rizz” (spelled r-i-z-z) into Google, one of the first automatic suggestions for my search was “rizz meaning.” So many people had to look up the meaning of “rizz” – which is short for “charisma” that the Artificial Intelligence computer programming at Google predicted that I also needed to look up the meaning of “rizz.” Thank God, I’m not alone. And, thanks, AI. . . ?!

Actually, it’s official: I’m not too sure what to think about AI – Artificial Intelligence. By the way, according to the Collins English Dictionary (which is different from the Oxford English Dictionary), “AI” is the word of the year for 2023. Apparently, it’s official: Depending upon who you ask, there are multiple words of the year. Merriam-Webster’s word of the year for 2023 is “authentic,” [2] which makes sense.

Thanks to the rise of “AI,” we have to pay special attention to make sure that the things we are seeing, and hearing, and reading are actually “authentic,” or if they are so-called “deep fakes,” or something else. I heard an interview recently in which an MIT-trained expert on AI said that Artificial Intelligence in 2023 is at a stage similar to when cars were invented but there weren’t any drivers licenses, or safety checks, or roads that were paved.[3] What does all of this mean for us? I’m not sure. And maybe you’re not sure, either. Thank God, we have each other. Thank God, we’re not alone.

Even though we live in an age in which loneliness has been declared a mental health epidemic, and that a lack of connection “can increase the risk for premature death to levels comparable with smoking fifteen cigarettes [nearly a pack] a day,”[4] and even though the quality of our authentic human connections seems to be at an all-time-low as a society, I’ll say it again: thank God, we’re not alone.

To be human is to be in need of authentic connections with other humans. We see this in the early pages of the Bible, when God sees that Adam needs a companion. “It is not good that [he] should be alone,” God says. (Genesis 2:18) This is so true. When it comes to needing one another, we are not alone. And, it might sound strange, but for me there is no small comfort in knowing that we are not alone in needing authentic connections with one another.

One of the most lovely, authentically spiritual and human connections that I find in scripture is the story of Mary and Elizabeth in today’s first reading from the Gospel of Luke. Here are two women who have heard – via an angelic messenger named Gabriel – that they are going to each have a baby. As we heard last week, Elizabeth is “getting on in years,” which is one way of saying that she is thought of as being too old to bear children. So, for Elizabeth to give birth at an advanced age would be, by all accounts, a miraculous occurrence. And, as we heard this morning, Mary is not married yet and is still a virgin, which is one way of saying that for her to have a baby would also be some kind of miraculous occurrence.

Now, there are some people who might get all caught up in the validity of such a story – whether a geriatric or a virgin birth is possible or not. All we know is that when Mary asks about this, she is told by the angel, “Nothing will be impossible with God.” (Luke 1:37)

And so, as today’s story goes – for these two women – the impossible becomes possible. In some ways, I imagine that, among her friends and neighbors, Elizabeth’s later-than-normal pregnancy probably seemed more miraculous and less problematic than Mary’s. In the Gospel of Matthew, we see Mary’s fiancé, Joseph, more than a little worried about the scandal of being engaged an unwed pregnant girl, but after an angelic encounter of his own, Joseph stays with Mary – God, bless him! Oh, how I imagine people talked in the town of Nazareth as Mary’s belly started to swell. Perhaps this is one reason why she travels south, to the home of Elizabeth for three months.[5] But I also imagine Mary has another reason: Elizabeth is the only other woman that Mary knows who is so uniquely – divinely, angelically, miraculously – “with-child.” Thank God, Mary and Elizabeth have one another. Thank God they are not alone in all of this!

This is one of the reasons why scripture recounts the joy between these two amazing women when they greet one another. In today’s passage, we find one of the most beautiful images in all of scripture. “. . . when Elizabeth heard Mary’s greeting, the child leapt in her womb. And Elizabeth was filled with the Holy Spirit. . .” (Luke 1:41)

The baby in Elizabeth’s womb – the future John the Baptist – is so excited to be in close proximity to the baby in Mary’s womb – the future Jesus of Nazareth – that Elizabeth’s baby does an in utero back flip of joy. Oh, if you and I would only be people who leap for joy whenever and wherever we encounter Jesus. The world would be that much more joyful.

I think it’s very interesting. . . when Elizabeth feels the baby in her womb leap for joy to be in the presence of Mary and Jesus, the text tells us that Elizabeth is “filled with the Holy Spirit.” Even though it is not specifically used in today’s reading, there is a word from the original Greek language that captures – in part – the joyful gift of grace that Elizabeth experiences. Believe it or not, that word is charisma. That’s right, it’s official: Elizabeth has “rizz” – the 2023 word of the year. Of course, in 2023, the word means “style, charm, or attractiveness,” but originally, the word means “a gift of grace.” And there must have been something attractive about Elizabeth’s joy – a joy she shares with Mary, and – all these years later – with us. This joy can be wonderfully contagious. It is definitely contagious in Luke, Chapter 1. But not all of life is full of contagious, Holy, gracious joy.

This Fall, as we have made our way through the Narrative Lectionary, we have been tracing the history of God’s people from the very beginning, through wilderness wanderings and times of prophets and kings. There have been some triumphant and powerful moments for God and God’s people, but in recent weeks, we have touched on some difficult times. You might remember that just last week, we spent some time with the prophet Jeremiah as he awaited the destruction of his city – the city of Jerusalem – by the Babylonians.

In today’s reading from Isaiah, the surviving people of Jerusalem have been taken into captivity in Babylon, where they will live for a generation. Some of the saddest passages in the Hebrew Bible were written during this period of time. And yet, in Isaiah, Chapter 40, in the middle of this season of suffering and grief comes a message of comfort.

“Take comfort, my people. . . this season of sadness is coming to an end. A voice cries out in the wilderness of our suffering, ‘God is on the way!’ – traveling toward us on a straight and level highway – and God’s glory will be revealed. Human beings are temporary – our lives are fleeting in the big scheme of things, but God’s good news for us is forever. God is on the way and will gather us together in a Holy embrace – gathering us and feeding us like a shepherd cares for helpless sheep.”[6]

God is on the way. This is good news, not just in the season of Advent, but in every season. This is good news that is meant to give us some comfort and joy and peace when we need it the most. . . in the wilderness times and spaces of our lives. Do you need some good news today? I know that I do.

Take comfort in the good news that God is on the way. Take comfort in the good news that you and I are not alone. Take comfort that the Holy Spirit is always offering us the gift and blessing – the charisma – of faith, to trust this good news to be true.

I do feel I need to say that many of us who read these ancient words of comfort and hope from Isaiah can’t help but hear the beautiful and familiar strains of Handel’s Messiah: “Comfort ye, my people. . . Every valley shall be exalted. . . And the glory of the Lord shall be revealed, and all flesh shall see it together. . . He will feed his flock like a shepherd. . .” This is good stuff – worth setting to music and singing about.

It would also be good for us to note that when we read, “A voice cries out: ‘In the wilderness prepare the way of the Lord,’” (Isaiah 40:3) this is exactly what that in utero backflipping baby who will one day become John the Baptist ends up doing. He goes out into the wilderness and cries out: “prepare the way of the Lord.” “The one who is more powerful than I is coming after me. . . I have baptized you with water; but he will baptize you with the Holy Spirit.” (Mark 1:7-8). Would John the Baptist ever say, “God’s rizz will be given to you. . . ?” I don’t know. . .

What I do know is this: Friends, take comfort. Hear this good news: There is nothing artificial about God’s authentic grace. It’s official: God, in God’s own gracious and divine intelligence, has come into the world. We are not alone. You are not alone. May we welcome this good news and share it with joy.

In the name of the Father, and of the Son, and of the Holy Spirit. Amen.

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[1] https://www.npr.org/2023/12/04/1216950808/rizz-oxford-word-of-the-year-swiftie.

[2] https://www.longmontleader.com/local-news/beyond-local-merriam-websters-word-of-the-year-authentic-reflects-growing-concerns-over-ais-ability-to-deceive-and-dehumanize-7894307#:~:text=In%20a%20lexicographic%20form%20of,provided%20by%20generative%20AI%20programs..

[3] https://www.npr.org/2023/11/28/1197958913/fresh-air-draft-11-28-2023.

[4] https://www.npr.org/2023/05/02/1173418268/loneliness-connection-mental-health-dementia-surgeon-general.

[5] See Luke 1:56.

[6] Isaiah 40:1-11 – Paraphrased, JHS.

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theveryworstthing · 4 years ago

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So over on patreon Trevor asked for my take on the Addams Family and I grew up LOVING the Addams family movies so here we are. Instead of doing a straight up style interpretation, I decided to do a full on design challenge, using the characters as bases to make a black southern gothic Addams au. I actually drew the kids first, using the character bases of Wednesday and Pugsley to create some delightful kiddos I'm calling Sunday and Blanche. I of course then redesigned Gomez and Morticia into Carlisle and Mortesha.

The Addams have a very specific high aristocratic goth aesthetic (they've got a butler and nobody really works among other things) so in this re-imagining I wanted to go with vibes that run a little more middle class/upper middle class. I thought it would be interesting to think about what would be considered weird and off-putting in an entirely different culture, and how being a big ol' goth is way less controversial than it used to be.

I tried to keep this short (HAHAHAHAHAHA) so I didn't spin off into an essay about villain coded families, black people in the horror genre, and normalcy as it pertains to social survival, but just...bits of that are in these designs and lore. Keep that in mind.

Also I made the kids twins because they've flip flopped in age so much in different media and also twins run in my family (i'm the daughter of one). And let's face it, I'm pulling a lot of their southern gothic traits from living as a southern goth so *shrug*.

10 thousand pounds of lore incoming loooooooooool.

The Parents

From the moment he saw her he knew that there was a 50/50 chance of him either never making it out of that swamp alive or marrying the figure that was creeping out from under the distant willow tree in a black cocktail dress. The third time she found him trussed up in one of her traps, he complimented her rope work and asked if she'd like to go out sometime after his head wound stopped bleeding.

Or while it was still bleeding.

If she was into that.

Some kids and a mysteriously burnt down Piggly Wiggly later, their love is still as strong and inescapable as a bear trap in a sink hole.

Carlisle Guillermo (now Addams through marriage but I wanted to give him two first names for a name since Gomez has two last names) makes a vaguely described living practicing ‘law’ around town. A loophole king, people come to him from miles around with contracts signed in blood, fights over chunks of hair buried in their rivals’ yard, dehydrated primate hands, memories that seemed like dreams until the evidence of their happenings became too real, and other regular Legal Items asking for counsel which he is all too happy to give. For a price. Sometimes that price is a homemade pie and sometimes it’s a million dollars, depends on who you are. Whatever you’re asked to pay it’s worth that price, and if you try to scam him out of work or he just plain doesn’t like you? Well. He knows how to twist a contract better than anything at the crossroads.

And he always gets his due.

He doesn’t just serve the local (living)humans though, there are many things that need proper legal representation in this day and age. You wouldn’t believe how many city councils try to build on sacred burial grounds even after he lets them know that his ghostly clients are totally gonna haunt the FUCK out of the ensuing shitty condos and curse their families for all eternity. At least 50% of his energy goes towards dealing with real estate bullshit.

Carl is an excitable and good natured(?) man who loves his family, cigars, dancing, and his many knife-based hobbies. People find him very charming once they get past the feeling that they’re talking to a sultry gator badly disguising itself as a human. I didn’t put a ton of deep thought into designing him, mostly I wanted to make a middle aged dude who looked like he would have been voted ‘most likely to smooch the literal devil’ in high school. Tbh he probably has, but no demonic ex’s can compare to his lovely wife~

Mortesha Addams(her name was already perfect so I just tweaked it)is a woman of many talents. A self proclaimed homemaker, she prides herself on a greenhouse full of Concerning Foliage, a beautiful wasp apiary, and a coop full of what are probably chickens that she keeps for what are probably eggs. She’s also an avid creator of the outsider art that can be seen around the estate. She has taken on the family business of selling her homemade goods in a little stall by the road just outside the swamp with her mom, and makes pretty good money doing so. A surprising amount of poison gets bought in quaint southern towns.

Speaking of poison, people who come out to the edge of the swamp to buy it are usually carrying a lot of secrets around, and Mortesha knows most of them. It’s not like she pries the truth out of people, it just so happens that many nervous hellos eventually turn into the tragic backstory power hour if she’s alone with a client for long enough. She supposes that’s just how people are. Despite the fact that the Addams are very active in the community (whether the community likes it or not) she especially, as a direct descendant of the first Addams matriarch, is seen as…Well not an outsider because the community feels A Certain Way about outsiders and despite it all the Addams are their people, but maybe something like an exception. They feel like whatever weirdness they’re hiding can’t be weirder than any given Addams, so they get a little loose with their words.

This is amusing to her, since Addams’ don’t naturally keep the kind dramatic secrets that their surface level prim and proper neighbors do. It’s much more fun to openly talk about those things.

Do they have a sadly decrepit yet terrifying grandma up in the attic? Yeah, like three. They got a tv, all the creepy porcelain dolls they could want, and they’re close to family. Where do you keep your gram-grams?

Any bodies buried on the property? Yeah some, but most are thrown to the gators.

Any creeping through the balmy summer night with ill intentions? Yeah dude, everyone loves a nice family stroll.

What about dangerous forbidden love? If an adult Addams isn’t incorporeal then they’re either queer or in a torrid romance with some person/thing mysteriously drawn to that awful swamp. Sometimes both at the same time. Most times actually.

Mortesha would know.

The current head of the Addams family is just as outgoing as her husband but a lot quieter and harder to read. She never really seems to get mad about much and always has a genteel smile for everyone whether they deserve it or not. A seven foot tall human shaped “Oh, bless your heart”. A perfectly composed Lady even when she’s, oh I dunno, burning down a Piggly Wiggly. You know. A regular southern mom. Chat her up at the hair salon for 50% off a jar of wasp honey with your next purchase of a mysterious but foreboding packet of herbs.

Designing her was pretty easy because I just drew a lankier Grace Jones and called it a day. I had some problems with her outfit simply because if we were going HARD southern gothic then she’d probably be wearing a white/cream dress with a fuller skirt but I thought keeping the silhouette and the black was more important. She’s supposed to be an anti southern gothic southern gothic character anyway. A woman who looks like she has a million secrets who is actually the most open person you could meet. For better or worse. The red hair came from a coloring error that I really ended up liking (my mom had red hair her whole childhood that only darkened up in high school so I can buy that an Addams can be naturally fire engine red) and the veil was to get more of that classic Morticia silhouette in there.

The Children

Sunday and Blanche are the twin children of Carlisle and Mortesha Addams. Some say the Addams clan got their cursed homestead when a wealthy local businessman made a deal with the devil and lost, leaving his grand mansion to his least favorite maid and cutting his losses once he realized that the swamp would do everything it could to drag the house into the water and take what was owed with its horrible curse. Others say that the family has just always squatted there and no one really cares because man, fuck that particular swamp. Have you been in there? Absolute horror show.

Anyway.

Blanche is the more outgoing sibling and quite the engineer/mad scientist in the making. He started going grey at 2 weeks old but considering he was also rocking some extra fingers, toes, and a tiny tail (he takes after his dad), his parents just put it on the 'not life threatening' pile and decided not to worry about it. He's the kind of smart that teachers find utterly infuriating, less a dog eagerly learning and obeying commands and more a hyena who keeps teaching itself how to pick locks. He has a few friends in his school's robotics club (which they honestly allowed him to make so the school could contain his... creations) but mostly hangs out with his sister exploring the swamp. They find all sorts of neat things in there! wedding rings, suspiciously lumpy garbage bags, cloaked cultists who can't read private property signs, it's an adventure every day!

Blanche is all about experimentation with his creations, his look, and his tether to this mortal coil. Is lipstick a cool thing to try? Let's find out. Can he get out of a strait jacket fast enough after being pushed into the depths of the swamp by his sister? let's find out. He's not dead yet and confused local doctors can attest to the fact that he's rarely attained more than a bad bruise so he's pretty set on continuing to kiss rattlesnakes on their cute little heads and have his sister practice her knife throwing at him until that fact changes.

Blanche is very much a country goth. Cowboy boots (customized by his mom), knife, and lighter are daily accessories. He likes to wear the crusty swamp jewelry they find (the rust adds a splash of color!) and despite appearances he does try to keep himself neat. He's just got natural Grunge Colors and a tendency to wear clothes he likes until they fall apart. Pugsley always seemed the most modernly styled to me (which might just be because little boys clothes have been the same for a long time) so I wanted Blanche to be the most purposely fashionable Addams. Everyone else is goth by nature, but he's the only one truly familiar with goth as an alternative fashion.

I got really into designing Blanche because honestly, I find Pugsley to be the most boring member of the family. And he was hard to design! I had to mess with his vibe a lot to get him looking how I wanted. I know he's supposed to evoke an " 'evil' little boy next door who's parents never reign him in", but that's just goth Dennis The Menace. I's 2020. We can at least go queer goth Calvin.

Sunday was much easier to design. Wednesday was my favorite as a child (of course) and I really wanted to keep the spirit of her look while adding things like billowy sleeves (it gets HOT down here), big poofy twists instead of braids, and a nice tie. She's a professional after all, been running the local pet cemetery since she was 6 and the previous groundskeeper met with an unfortunate accident after telling her that tarantulas don't have souls. Her specialty is creating beautiful naturalistic animal funerals similar to those that Maquenda (https://linktr.ee/artofmaquenda) makes, and she takes pride in creating miniature dioramas of her subjects after each burial which she uses as a kind of 3D catalog for future clients.

She really wants to try out her skills on humans one day. Well. Publicly try out her skills. Lotta random bodies float into the swamp. None of them have turned down her requests for diorama models so far. Most seem downright flattered. Plus, she usually figures out which graveyard/crime scene they floated over from and gets her parents to give them a lift back. She'll even help enact terrifying revenge from beyond the grave on whoever put them there if she's not, y'know, busy.

Besides arts, crafts, and pet based funerary arrangements, Sunday is an avid lover of archery (any ranged weapon really), books where little fantasy adventure animals die dramatic deaths, and history. She is That Kid who eagerly raises her hand when asked who Christopher Columbus was and ends up being sent out of class after 15 minutes for making 'a scene'. Her favorite party trick is just picking an item in the room and talking about how it relates to either some obscure historical figure with a buck wild life or a horrible disaster. At least one charity pancake breakfast ended with children in tears after her vivid description of the Great Molasses Flood of 1919.

Social-wise, while Wednesday is the girl that people ask to smile because they think she'd, "look so pretty", Sunday is rarely asked anything at all. People just kind of assume from her quiet nature (in between horrible history facts) that she's angry all the time and that she hates everyone. This is untrue. She hates some people but she's ambivalent to most everyone else and even downright friendly if you bother to talk to her like a person instead of a terrifying cryptid. Like, she IS a terrifying cryptid but she's also a little girl.

That’s about it for now. One day I might do the other family members but for now I’m happy with the four I’ve redesigned. Making an au! Lurch in a family that doesn’t do butlers could be interesting. Over on patreon I put forth that he could just be Motesha’s mute little brother (similar bone structure) but Amy Crook had the nice idea of quote: “ a mysterious "cousin" that "helps around the house" whose origins are both long in the past and faintly unsettling. He's good for lifting heavy things, like that tank of propane you're about to throw into the burning Piggly Wiggly... “ which i now consider canon. Who's kid is he? How old is he? Not important. Anyone willing to commit arson with you is family.

Annnnyway. This challenge was a lot of fun! I love indulging in AU’s.

#long post #the addams family #Character Design #au #design challenge #i am incapable of doing a design challenge like a normal person #oh god i forgot the cut lol

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bullet-prooflove · 2 years ago

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Survivors Part 8: Free (Will Halstead x Reader)

Trigger Warning: Mentions of sexual assault

Tagging: @daniacat @misscharlielulu @cosmic-psychickitty @tonio-dawson @brianbabygirlzvonecek @afriendlyneighborhoodhufflepuff @ikbenplant @rosaliedepp @annieradcliff @mrspeacem1nusone @sowrongitslottie @readingbookelf @earthtolottie

Part 1: Survivors

Part 2: Where You Go I Go

Part 3: Monster In The Closet

Part 4: Don’t Lie To Me

Part 5: Cry For Help

Part 6: Brothers

Part 7: Memories

Before the attack Sunday dinners with both Will and Jay had become a thing. The chef would usually rotate depending who was on shift and when. Over the past few weeks, you and Jay had both started up the tradition again, it was a way of catching up, establishing the friendship once again. Things were different now; you were different but there was still a bond, and you weren’t ready to give that up.

You’d decided it was time to move forward with Will, Jay was happy to provide some neutral ground for the two of you. You knew things couldn’t go back to the way they used to be, but you felt this was step in the right direction. A meal between the three of you was a start, a way of testing the waters.

It was Jay’s turn to cook. As usual you had turned up early to help only for Jay to realise, he needed to pick up a couple of items from the grocery store. You’d already started prepping potatoes when you heard his key in the lock before the door swung open.

"As promised, I bought dessert…” Will trailed off as he stepped into the kitchen, his eyes falling on you for the first time in what felt like an age.

You stood before him clad in a plaid apron, potato peeler in your hand. You looked different from the last time he’d seen you. You looked leaner, less gaunt. The angles of your face sharper, more defined. He didn’t know what to say so he let you take the lead as he placed the brown paper bag onto the kitchen table.

"Hi." You said softly.

"Hi." He responded equally as soft.

"I’ve missed you." You said in a small voice, placing the potato peeler down upon the work surface.

"I’ve missed you too." He said, clearing his throat against the emotions that were overwhelming him. "I've been trying to give you space..."

There had never felt a moment that hurt so much as this one. Being so perilously close to having everything that he wanted but not being able to reach out with both hands and take it. It cut him deep down to his core.

"I know. " You responded. "And I appreciate it."

It was stabbing him in the chest feeling like this with you, his body was already reacting the same way it did when the two of you had been in a relationship. Being around you felt natural, and it was a struggle for him not to become completely enthralled in that again because the truth was it couldn’t be like that. He was different now too; his issues ran a lot deeper than just your attack. He had been selfish before, unkind. He’d had blinkers on, focusing on what was happening in his own life not considering you or yours. If he was honest with himself and with you, the relationship had been in peril before the rape. Communication had never been his strong suit but here with you he was willing to try because deep down he loved you. He thought he always would.

"I'm not quite sure what you want from me, what I can give you." He confessed. "I… I’m not good at this stuff but I want to be… I want to be there for you if you need me.”

"I know things can't go back to the way they were." You told him, slipping into one of the kitchen chairs. “I’m not the same person I was before…” You sucked in a deep breath and forced yourself to say it. “Before I was raped. I feel like I’m a brand-new person and that’s not the person you fell in love with. We have a choice right now; we have to decide whether we want to start over or cut our loses.”

Will sat down across from you, his hands clasped together, his thumb running over the inside of his palm as he spoke.

“I want this.” He told you, his lips pursing together as he struggled to find the words. His eyes were stinging, he pinched the bridge of his nose trying to stave off the influx of emotion that threatened to overwhelm him. “I want this so badly. I wish there was a way I could make everything better, but I can’t and that is my problem.” He said putting a hand over his heart. “Right now, you are still healing and me… I barely know who I am at the minute. I thought I had it all figured out, but therapy is making me challenge that and… I am not the best version of myself.” His dark eyes met yours and you could see pain in his eyes, the agony of the decision as the pieces snapped into place. “You deserve the best, someone who can give themselves entirely and I just can’t do that at the minute. He sagged back in his seat, raising his eyes towards the ceiling and exhaling deeply. “I’m sorry I thought this would end differently.”

You shook your head, swallowing hard past the pressure in your chest. It hurt, it hurt so badly it felt like your heart was going to burst out of your chest but still there was relief, relief because you hadn’t been able to see this conversation going any other way.

“I should go.” You said quietly, raising to your feet before shrugging into your jacket and picking up your handbag. Will said nothing, he could barely bring himself to look at you before you closed the door to Jay’s apartment quietly behind you.

Thank you, you wanted to tell him. Thank you for setting me free.

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danielxricciardo · 3 years ago

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Where do we go from here

Daniel Ricciardo x Reader

Chapters: 1/?

Rating: Mature

Word Count: 3,015

Playlist for the series

It was your fault when you agreed to go to Monaco. After what happened the last time, you swore you would never go back there. Because it fucked with your mind and soul. You were crushed and your best friend had to scrap you off the floor for weeks, he had to remind you to shower and to eat. Knowing he will be so pissed you chose to go back to him, you didn't tell him you were leaving for a week until you were on the plane. His reaction was everything you were expecting, he called you a bitch and he advised you not to get back to him with a broken heart to cry on his shoulder then he hung up on you. Sure, you both knew you will cry on his shoulder after this week.

The entire flight you were questioning your life choices. How did you get there? You wanted - you needed to know how you allowed yourself to become dependent on a piece of affection from Daniel. You were trying to figure out when you became a sucker for him but you couldn't, maybe because you always were.

You'd always been good friends, ever since he moved from Australia to Europe. You were his first non-Australian friend and he was always been grateful for you and your friendship. You were with him even when he didn't ask you to and even when he told you he wanted to be left alone. That was your first choice. You went with him to almost all the junior competitions, until he reached Formula 1, you cried with him when he had a bad race and you partied with him on a podium or a win. Fuck it, 9 years later, you were still with him. Red Bull Racing was the team that helped him discover himself as a driver and gave him confidence that he could get far. After only one year in the team, he finished third in the drivers' championship with 238 points and secured the first fastest lap of his Formula One career at the Abu Dhabi Grand Prix.

But all this has consequences. The fact that he was so good and became so well known attracted many girls who wanted to meet him and be affiliated with him for increased media attention. The worst part was that he liked all the female attention. Who wouldn't like it? He could have a new girl every day and they would still not end. But Daniel was not the type to take such advantage of his name and his position in society, you thought at the time. But that was exactly what he did. At the end of the 2014 season, days would pass without hearing from him because he was too busy to enjoy the female attendance that crossed his threshold.

After a few months, you already had a pattern. For 5 days you would not hear from him and on Saturday morning he would call you with a guttural voice, asking you to come to his place. And you went there with some headache pills and for a few hours, you would listen to everything that had happened during the week with different girls. At first, it hurt a lot. To hear how your best friend and the person for whom you develop some romantic feelings, has fun, and fucks with different girls is not very ok, but over time the whole situation had become repetitive and you became immune.

But you didn't realize you became a regular girl in his bed too. The only difference between you and the tens, maybe the hundreds of girls before you, was that you warmed his bed on Saturday and Sunday. It was just you, all weekend, every weekend. You felt special. He gives you his full attention all weekend and you hope he doesn't need anyone but you, except that Monday was coming and you could see that to his right was another model looking for fame. But have you ever told him what bothers you? No. Because you'd rather share him with so many girls than not have him in your life at all.

So what happened when you ended up crying for weeks without eating or taking a shower? Daniel told you that he is done with all the girls and he wants to focus on his career. This is after in 2015 he finished the season in 9th place with only 92 points, without a victory, and only twice on the podium. Of course you were happy! Daniel was going to have only you in his life. But he told you that what was between you before, sex and everything else, must end as well. I mean, you had to go back to being just friends. But how do you go back to being just friends with the person you've shared the bed with so many times? Friends don't know the way you taste. Your luck was that you had to go for a visit to your parents for 2 weeks and you didn't have to see him. You had 2 weeks to lick your wounds and return to him without a broken heart. Troy, your best friend, was with you and he tried to put your heart back together. Just when he succeeded, you had to go back to Daniel as if nothing had happened. Broken heart? Who?

Making your own decisions makes you responsible for what comes out of that decision whether it was a positive move or not. Making your own decisions also allows you to make your own mistakes and learn from them. It was your decision to go back to Daniel, to your friend. It was hard to look at him and not want to kiss those fleshy lips but you could manage it.

"There she is!" you heard Daniel say as soon as the Nice Côte d'Azur airport gates opened. He was wearing his merch purple hoodie that you wore so many times before and a pair of black jeans. He had a pair of sunglasses on to keep him away from the press. You smiled. It's been 2 weeks since you've seen him and it's as if your heart has tightened in your chest. You really missed him. You ignored his calls because you didn't want to hear his voice and start crying on the phone and all the messages he sent you were deleted by Troy. You don't even know what he wrote to you.

"Hey, Daniel!" you said and hugged him. You were enveloped by the smell of his perfume and you smiled. He was your safe place. "Missed you."

He hugged you back and the force he put in that hug was enough to crush your bones. But it didn't hurt you. You wanted to be one with him, to be absorbed by him. Everything platonic, of course.

"Missed you too, Y/N."

The road to your house was not a long one but at that moment everyone seemed to be on the road at the same time as you so what needed to be a 45-minutes road trip was now more than an hour, and you were still in the car. The small talk already finished about your parents, your brother and your best friend, Troy, and about all the new things from your home town and at the moment in the car was an uncomfortable silence which none of you knew how to break.

"I tried to talk to you these 2 weeks, you know?" Daniel said and you swallowed loudly. You knew that at some point he would ask about why you didn't talk to him for two weeks, but you hoped it would take some time until then - you hoped you had more time to think about a pretty good reason.

"Yeah, sorry, I just wanted to focus on my people there, you know?" you bit the inside of your cheek until you felt the metallic taste of blood. You hoped it would be a pretty convincing reason but you knew after so many years of friendship that Daniel is not the type to press you if you don't want to say something.

"Yeah, I get it, I'm the same when I'm down under, y'know?" you both laughed, and for the first time in a long time you felt good around him. You felt yourself, no labels and no shoes to fill.

In front of your apartment block, after Daniel took all your luggage out of the car trunk, he leaned against the car, his hands folded, and looked at you.

"Aren't you going to help me get them up to my apartment?"

"Yes, in a minute," he says, still looking at you. "Would you like to do something tonight?"

You shrugged. You weren't tired after the flight, so you could have done something but you had so many questions. Just the two of you? Was anyone else coming? Any friends of his? Some girl? But you couldn't ask him, even if you were friends, you didn't want to give him the feeling that you were jealous. Were you jealous? You didn't have a reason just yet but you could become one.

"Sure. Do you have something in mind?"

"Remember Jay? He just opened a nightclub. Actually, tonight is the opening, he asked me to swing by for a few hours, want to go?"

"Yeah, sure, sounds like fun."

Daniel took two suitcases and passed you to enter the block, but he walked with the wheels over your toes.

"Hey, idiot, watch where you're going!" you yelled at him and immediately laughed. Daniel turned to you, laughing too. You didn't realize when you said it, but that was the exact phrase you told him when you first met.

You got out of the cab in front of the restaurant and slammed the door shut, despite the pleading of the driver to be gentle with his darling car.

You arranged your dress on your body and put your hair behind your ear. You were ready for this blind date that Ellie, your co-worker, planned for you. Of course, there were better things for you to do on a Friday night, such as drinking a bottle of red wine watching a few episodes of your favorite show. But you were there, prepared for a shitshow. You took a few steps towards the big glass door until someone hit you hard and made you unbalance and break a heel.

"Hey, idiot, watch where you're going!" you yelled at the boy that hit you. A tall, dark guy that made you lose the little balance you still had. A small amount of his curly dark-haired was peaking out under the white hoodie he was wearing and his brown big eyes were looking at you like you were a statuette that broke.

"So sorry," he said and the thick accent made your legs soft. Whatever accent that was, you knew you wanted to hear him talk non-stop. "Was looking for an address, I'm fucking lost."

"That's fine, maybe I can help you," you smiled at the boy and you took off your heels. One was already broken so there was no point in wearing them at this point.

"Oh, no, it's fine, you look so elegant, you must be dining with your boyfriend or something," he laughed and then saw the broken heel. "Bloody, I just broke your shoes, I'm so sorry!"

You laughed even harder at the panicked boy in front of you.

"No boyfriend, just a blind date I didn't even want to go in the first place so you saved me, I'm the one that should say thank you. Where do you need to go to?"

He came closer to you with a map in his hand. He showed you where he had to go and you explained to him that he was in the wrong part of the city but you were more than happy to show him the right way. But after you stopped at a boutique to buy a 5 euro pair of sandals.

"This city is not so big that you get lost in it," you told the boy, whose name is Daniel Ricciardo, he told you so. "How long have you been here?"

"Ugh, just a day, and I thought it was a good idea to go out and see the city, I even took this stupid map, but I still got lost."

"Okay, but why did you go out by yourself in the evening and not in the morning or, at least, when is sunny, y'know?" you ask him and point to his left, where you had to go.

"I woke up two hours ago. I slept for eleven hours with the whole time zone, jet lag, and shit and when I woke up I was hungry. I went to get some food and to visit the surroundings because why not," he shrugged.

"But where did you come from?"

"Perth, Australia, baby!" he smiled and leaned back, pulling his chest forward. Anyone could see how proud he was of his hometown.

"This is you!" you announced when you arrived in front of the apartment building, his final destination. He smiled so wide and hugged you.

"Thank you so much, you saved me!"

"No biggie," you smiled at him and then waved. "Bye, Daniel Ricciardo."

"Hey, hey, let's meet tomorrow for a brekky!" he casually announced.

"For a what?"

"Oh, sorry!" he laughed. "Forgot for a second you're not Australian. For breakfast."

"Sure, I'll come here at 9 so you won't get lost again. Bye, Daniel Ricciardo!"

"Bye, Y/N Y/L/N!"

"I'll come and pick you up at about 10 o'clock, ok?" Daniel announced just as he was about to leave your apartment after he got up all your luggage. "Sounds good?"

"Yep. All good."

"And wear something sexy!" he yelled as he was closing the front door. Something sexy? Why would he request a sexy outfit for a night out from you? His best friend. Sometimes Daniel made your head spin, that was one of those occasions, you didn't pay much attention to it, you just went to grab a shower.

The night had come too fast. Sure, you had enough time to put on makeup and do your hair, but you had no idea what to wear. You were sitting in front of the bed in your underwear, with three dresses lying on the bed when the clock struck 10 o'clock. You heard the front door open and close but you did not hurry to put something on yourself so that Daniel would not see you in your underwear; he saw you even worse than that.

"Hey, are you ready? Whoah!" he says and turns his back on you, with his hand covering his eyes. "You should have told me you were naked!"

You scoffed at him.

"Cut the crap and come help me pick a dress for tonight, Ricciardo."

Daniel removed his hand from the eyes and looked at you and swallowed hard. The underwear you were wearing was almost a silky one, black, that hugged your curves just right. He couldn't take his eyes off you and you loved all the attention.

"Stop drooling and come help me. Do you want to go to this club or not?"

Daniel came near you, his eyes were now on the push-up bra that lifted your breasts, making them fuller and bigger than they really were, and at that moment Daniel wanted nothing more than to touch them and play with them. But he remembered who was in front of him. He told his best friend that the sex games were now over because he was focusing on his Formula 1 career. That was not a lie at the time, but he just wanted to throw her in bed and make her forget the words he said that evening. He coughed a few times to regain his voice and then looked at the three dresses lying on the bed.

"That one," says the brunette and points to the short black dress that fits perfectly on your body. You would have chosen that one too.

"Ok, I'll be ready in a few minutes," you said and went to the bathroom to put the dress on. You adjusted your make-up and grabbed the bag and you were ready for a night out with Daniel. Or so you thought.

No one can see the dance floor, it's wall-to-wall people dancing to the club music. There's no room for any more but somehow Daniel was pulling my hand to where he knew Jay was sitting. The music vibrated in your ears and you were tempted to move to its rhythm, but you had to follow Daniel. After going through the whole room you reached your friend, the owner of the club. He told you that the drink for you was on the house and wished you a good time. Daniel announces that he is going to have a drink for both of you and leaves you alone among hundreds of strangers, driven by the same inner desire to get rid of inhibitions for a few hours that night.

The DJ moves everybody in ways no one has ever done before. Mixing the loud music on the turntables to the beat you desire to hear, the DJ watches the half-naked bodies of young men and women dancing around as if something has possessed their bodies. Men are wearing an undershirt, or no shirt at all, and pants. They eye the women who strut around in tank tops and tight dance pants or skirts, and who are smiling, and letting all their worries go away. A smile appeared on your face and look at the line at the bar for Daniel and you were pleasantly surprised to see that he was already looking at you. When you saw his smile you realized that the night will not end with you two still being just friends.

————————————————————————————

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let-it-raines · 4 years ago

Text

I Hope We Never See October (2/?)

When his personal life and football career go up in flames, Killian Jones escapes England for America, finding seclusion in Martha’s Vineyard in order to hide from his demons. It’s a fresh start, or at the very least a paused moment in his life, and all he needs is a few months alone to allow his heart to heal. He doesn’t count on meeting Emma Swan.

Emma’s life depends on tourists who come to the island every summer. It’s how she makes her money working in restaurants and clubs across the vineyard, but every year, she cannot wait until autumn comes and her life returns to normal. She especially cannot wait for Killian Jones to leave.

Rating: Mature

a/n: Thank you guys for reading the first part of this! I cannot say enough how much I appreciate all of you and how glad I am little things like this bring you guys joy! Thanks to @resident-of-storybrooke for reading over these words. ❤️

AO3: Beginning | Current

Tumblr: One | Two

-/-

“Emma, the couple at table two wants to talk to you, and the woman at table seven has a complaint about the quiche. Something about there being eggs in them.”

Emma groans and closes her laptop to look at Ashley, one of the new waitresses she hired this summer. She’s good, courteous, and she’s always here on time. Emma is going to hate to lose her for a few weeks when she has her baby, but come hell or high water, the girl is getting maternity leave even if Emma can’t manage more than three weeks without the owner getting involved and likely trying to fire all of them. She deserves months more than that, but Emma can’t change the system.

It’s a shit system, especially for moms.

“They don’t want eggs…in their quiche? Are you serious?”

“She’s vegan and claims she’s been misled.”

Emma rolls her eyes and stands from her chair. She pulls her jean shorts down, the frayed edges covering just a little more thigh, and unties the bottom of her button-down. She probably needs to start dressing up more for this job, but she can’t be bothered. She managed to wear her Blue Dog Tavern polo last week, so that seems like enough effort. “We have symbols on the menu to indicate dietary restrictions, but this isn’t really a restaurant for dietary restrictions beyond one or two items. I’ll deal with it. Thanks, Ashley.”

It’s Sunday morning, which is their second busiest time after Friday and Saturday nights, and the Blue Dog is packed. It’s all hands on deck this morning, but Emma was hoping to get some scheduling and produce ordering done in her office during it. But this is a restaurant, so of course there’s never any time for a breather when she needs it the most. She’ll finish all that later, she guesses, because she has a feeling neither of these conversations are going to be a short one.

And she’s right about that. The woman hating on the quiche pitches a fit and demands her money back before threatening to sue the place and, quite frankly, threatening to cut off Emma’s legs, and Emma has to resolve that without losing her cool when all she wants to do is punch jerks like that straight across the jaw. Then the couple at table two asks her to run through every item on the menu and whether or not everything is organically sourced.

They serve fried mac and cheese balls at ten in the morning and have kitschy, slightly tacky artwork nailed onto the darkly stained wood. If you eat outside on the patio, you get a nice view of people taking off a little more than they should while sunbathing on the surrounding beaches and docked boats. There’s also the occasional ferry that drives by and blows a loud horn that tourists seem to get a kick out of. Do they really think everything is organically sourced?

God, sometimes she really hates tourists.

This is a nice place, though. It’s not somewhere you go for fine dining, but their brunch is divine, it’s got a good atmosphere, and the new bartenders she’s hired this summer make better drinks than you can get at any reasonably priced bar in a ten-mile radius. She likes this little part of the island, and even though she hates tourists, they do fund her entire life. So maybe she hates them a little less than usual when the paychecks roll in.

Today is not a day where the paycheck is rolling in.

Emma notices some of the tables are a little slow, so she picks up the slack, getting drinks and refills and checking on meals. It keeps her on her feet for most of the morning and through the lunch rush, but when it’s over, she collapses on a stool at the end of the bar.

“Chip, can you get me a coffee?” she asks without looking up. “I don’t care what milk or creamer you put in it as long as you don’t bring it to me black. Though, I think I need the caffeine so badly that I’d drink it. I don’t know why I agreed to work the late dinner shift at The Oaks last night. I’m exhausted.”

When she doesn’t get a response, she looks up for Chip. He’s nowhere to be seen, and when she checks her phone schedule, she realizes it’s his break time. Of course it is.

“Lass, I don’t believe the barkeep is here anymore.”

“Yeah, it’s his break, but I can help you. What’s your poison?”

“The coffee you’re having.”

Emma nods and turns to look at the man talking to her, and if she wasn’t so tired, she would have recognized the voice a hell of a lot faster than she did. A lot of different accents pass through this place, but he’s the first British one in awhile. Also the first one to show up in her backyard. Or the Fishers’ backyard, technically, but she’s been renting it for long enough for it to feel like her own even if she’s changed very little of the furniture and decorations outside her bedroom.

Killian. She thinks that was his name. Honestly, she’s surprised she remembers anything because she was in such a rush to get to work that she didn’t have time to deal with all the people at her house. But he was unexpected and attractive – she’s not blind to attractive men no matter what Ruby and Mary Margaret think – and he threw her off for a minute. He looked familiar, but she has no idea why. There’s no way she would have met him before.

But she also doesn’t care. She’s got a gut feeling that she needs to watch out for him, that there’s something that’s not right, and him being at her job is proving that to her. What are the odds that he’d wander in a few days after meeting her when she’s pretty sure he’s never been here before?

Then again, maybe that’s why he’s familiar. It’s June. A lot of people come through here, and she’s not going to remember all their faces. Sometimes she does, though, in the back of her mind where vague, slightly blurry memories reside.

“Sure thing,” Emma sighs, standing from the stool. “Do you have a server?”

“Aye. Heather, I believe, but…”

“But she’s on her phone.” Emma shakes her head. “My boss’s niece. Not much I can do about it, but I’ll get you your coffee, a water, and take your order right away.”

He nods, going back to his own phone, and Emma takes that as her cue to get behind the bar and start making some coffee. She doesn’t usually work this machine, so it takes her a minute to get it right all while she feels Killian staring at her.

“Do you need any suggestions on the menu?” Emma asks as the coffee percolates.

“How are the salads?”

“I prefer things with more calories, but they’re good. Our vegetables are fresh, and I personally enjoy the strawberry poppyseed with chicken, but I know not everyone loves fruit in salads.” He hums behind her as his mug fills, and she grabs some milk from the fridge under the sink, turning to show him. “Milk okay?”

“It’s perfect, Swan.” She raises her brows, which he mirrors, until he cocks his head forward and his lips form an obnoxious little smirk. “On the nametag, love.”

“Now, what did I say about being your love?”

“That you’re not.”

“Exactly.” She finishes making his coffee and hands it over. He’s a customer, she reminds herself. She’s got to try to be a little bit nicer than she wants to be. “So, the salad? If you’re looking more toward the healthy options with protein, the grilled chicken breast on its own is fantastic. You get two sides, which you can find at the bottom of the menu.”

He nods and looks at the menu for half a second before looking up. “The salad would be great. Thank you.”

He picks up his mug, pointing it toward her, and Emma takes it as a dismissal so she can put his order in, and hopefully she can get Heather to do her damn job and serve him for the rest of the meal. She doesn’t like that he knows where she lives and works, and even though she doesn’t think Ariel and Eric spend time with shady people, something about him gives her weird vibes.

His face just looks so damn familiar, and usually she’s really good remembering faces. Huh.

And Emma is usually right about these things. He’s likely nothing more than a rich man looking for a break from life by renting out a large house on the island. He’ll spend a week or two, maybe a month depending on his work situation, here, sleep with as many women as he can, and then he’ll go, never thinking of Martha’s Vineyard again. And she’s pretty sure Ariel does something having to do with high-powered people over in London, so he fits the profile. God, she must have seen him before with Ariel or something. That has to be it.

But for now, he’s a customer, and since Heather seems to be completely checked out, Emma guesses she’s going to have to deal with him. After this morning, he won’t be the worst person she has to deal with all day, and since she’s working at The Oaks tonight, she imagines being treated like shit then will outshine all of this.

Why the hell did she decide to pick up so many shifts at The Oaks? It’s a stuffy country club where tips reflecting the price of the meal aren’t even guaranteed, but it’s extra money with a flexible schedule. She’s doing okay on the money front right now, though, and if she were sane, she’d take some time off and relax, maybe enjoy the beach or any of the hundreds of good restaurants around here.

She is obviously not sane.

-/-

“Oh my God,” Emma grumbles as she strips out of her jean shorts, kicking them to the ground before unbuttoning her shirt. “I’m so tired of people.”

“I’m people,” Ruby says. “Nice bra, by the way. The girls look great.”

Emma rolls her eyes, but she does glance down at her boobs and hike them up a bit. They do look great today. “Shut up.” Emma picks up the black dress she has to wear at the country club and slips it over her shoulders. “You know I’m not tired of you.”

“That’s because you’ve barely seen me.”

“Busy. I’m busy. I work way too much. Speaking of that, why the hell aren’t you at work?”

Ruby stands from her couch and grabs her name tag from the end table. “I’m in between shifts. Granny’s in charge downstairs. I have a five-second commute to work, unlike you. Why are you changing here again?”

“Don’t want to run into any of the people at my house.” Emma smooths her dress and turns to Ruby’s mirror to reapply lipstick and put on some mascara. She’s got to wash her hair tomorrow. It’s hanging by on a thread today, if that thread is a little greasy and has a hell of a lot of dry shampoo in it. “But don’t worry, tomorrow, I will be out of your hair as they will soon be out of mine.”

“You know I’m always fine with you being in my business. Mary Margaret and David are coming here for dinner tonight. Any chance you can slip away?”

Emma finishes another coat of mascara. “Can’t. Working until past closing and then heading straight home to sleep in my house of strangers.”

Ruby laughs, carefree as always, and for a moment, the jealousy stings. Ruby has plenty of her own shit going on, but she always handles it with such ease. She’s the most carefree person Emma has ever met, and Emma can’t imagine living like that without way too much alcohol in her system.

“I told you that you could stay with me this week. Have I ever said it’s batshit crazy that they come to visit and are okay with you still staying there? Because that is batshit crazy.”

Emma shrugs and pulls back to take in her appearance. This is as good as it’s going to get. She doesn’t think she’ll be using her looks to get her any tips tonight, which is a crying shame since that’s half the reason she took this job in the first place. She knows exactly how to charm some of the older men into giving her more money by flirting a little, and she’s not ashamed that she has to give away her dignity to do it. She had to hire a dinner-shift manager at the Blue Dog because she was doing the work of two people with the pay of one. Now she’s doing the work of five people with the pay and of one and half people, so obviously she’s winning at life.

“I’m never there, and they seem like good people. I think they’re just glad I actually maintain the place and am slowly but surely getting through some of the renovations.” Emma looks at her hair again and ties it up in a ponytail with the elastic from her wrist. “Any way you can make me a grilled cheese to go?”

“Only if you agree to go to a bar with all of us sometime in the next month.”

“Yeah, fine. Whatever you want.”

God, she hopes Ruby doesn’t remember this conversation. The last thing she wants to do right now is go out with her friends and then end up sitting alone as they all make out with their partners and leave without telling Emma goodbye.

Actually, the last thing she wants to do is go to work again today, but here she goes.

-/-

Emma quietly turns the key in her front door. She saw that the kitchen light was still on from the street, and while the Fishers likely just forgot to turn it off, she doesn’t want to run the risk of seeing them tonight. It’s their last night here, so she only has to make it through one or two more awkward conversations before she has the house to herself. It’ll be just her and the creaky floors. She can collapse on the couch in her dress instead of having to walk all the way up the stairs and make it to her bedroom like a responsible adult.

In another world, Emma would like to own a house like this. It’s charming. That’s the best way to describe it. It’s two floors, three bedrooms, has bay windows and built-in bookshelves, and the cabinets in the kitchen are a light green. She likes that it’s not cookie cutter white all the way around like some of the nicer houses around here. It has character, and though there are a few things she’d change beyond the needed repairs she does for the Fishers, it’s got good bones. Plus, the location is fantastic, and the backyard is spacious. It allows Emma to spend time in the sun without being stuck on a crowded beach or near a busy dock.

But this is not another world, and Emma could never afford a house this close to the coastline. She’s got no idea why she still lives here. Well, that’s not true, she knows exactly why she still lives here, and it’d be possible for her to pick up and move inland toward Boston. She just…she can’t. She’s been here for ten years after leaving her last foster home in Brockton, and it’s been a comfortable reprieve. She’s got her friends and her job(s), and even though she’s got years of hospitality experience, there’s no guarantee someone like her with a GED can get a job this well-paying and accommodating somewhere else. Plus, her housing is almost free, and she really can’t pass that up.

It all comes back to the house, which she’s dreading going into now no matter how much she wants to collapse onto her bed.

(Or the couch. She really misses the couch. It’s the best for napping.)

Emma steps inside, avoiding the places that make the floor groan, but it’s impossible to dodge them all. She tenses, then hurries across the living room toward the stairs, only turning to the opening to the kitchen at the last minute.

“Holy fuck,” Emma gasps, dropping her purse. It hits the ground in a gentle thud, her keys spilling out and clacking along the floor.

“Didn’t mean to scare you there, Swan.”

Emma’s breath hitches as she realizes who it is sitting at her kitchen table.

Killian…whatever his last name is. She’s got no clue and doesn’t care to ask. What she does want to know is why he’s sitting here alone at two in the morning like a fucking serial killer.

“What the hell are you doing here?”

He takes a sip of his drink, coffee she thinks from the smell, and leans back in the chair, the front legs tipping up with him. “Getting sober so I can drive home. Had two drinks with dinner, and it appears I’ve become a bit of a lightweight.”

“Don’t drink much then? I thought all you Brits liked going to the pub.”

He laughs, smile bright against the black of his stubble despite her poor attempt at his accent. “We do, but not so much me anymore. Trying to cut back.”

“Yeah, I get that.” She leans down to pick up her bag, grabbing her keys and tossing them back in. “I also get that we have Uber here. You might want to try that the next time you have a little too much to drink. You look like a murderer sitting in my kitchen like this.”

“It was two glasses of rum, nothing excessive. Wishing Ariel and Eric well before they leave in the morning.” He leans forward, the chair landing on all four legs, and downs the rest of his mug. “I don’t make a habit of drinking too much.”

“I don’t care what you do in your personal time. Just don’t make a mess in my house…or your friends’ house, I guess. And sleep on the couch if you want. There are blankets in the basket.”

She doesn’t know why she’s offering him the couch. She should be making him leave. Her heart is still leaping out of her chest from him scaring her, and even though this has been her home for years, she technically can’t ask him to leave. In reality, Ariel has probably offered him the couch already.

What a long day.

She wants it to be over.

“That’s surprisingly kind of you.”

Emma’s step falters, and while she was turning away from the man, she decides to turn back and narrow her eyes. What the hell is that supposed to mean? “I guess I’m full of surprises for men who don’t know me.”

“Just who are you then, Swan?” he asks, standing from the chair and putting his mug in the sink, turning the faucet on while never losing eye contact.

“Wouldn’t you like to know?”

“Perhaps I would.”

A shiver runs down Emma’s spine, but she ignores it and walks up the stairs. This is a weird week, one she doesn’t want to repeat, and the last thing she needs is to spend too much time with a man who thinks he can charm his way into anything with a few smooth words and a smile. She’s been around enough men like that in her lifetime, but it doesn’t matter with him. Tomorrow, he’ll be gone with Eric and Ariel, and she’ll be back to being able to walk around her house without pants whenever she wants.

Tomorrow, this weird as hell week will be over, and she’ll be back to normal…mostly.

-/-

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#I hope we never see october #cs fic #cs ff #cs fanfic #cs fanfiction #captain swan fic #captain swan ff #captain swan fanfic #captain swan fanfiction #captain swan

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flutteringdreams-matw · 3 years ago

Text

Out of Time (17)

First/Last

Read on AO3 /FFN

Word Count: 8593

Previously: The aftermath of the fight scene. Danny's still unconcious and everyone tries to deal. Loads of angst. CW: Injury descriptions, swearing and angst.

Now: The aftermath part 2 - some flashbacks, some concerns and lots of guilt. One of my favourite Lancer and Clockwork moments too.

Please let me know what you think! Feel free to drop a reply or reblog whatever. WE ARE CAUGHT UP! I'm hoping the next chapter will be up on Sunday - depends on if I have a chance to edit or not. Regardless the link will be in the replies!

Sam was going crazy.

She was exhausted - the nightmares that haunted her kept her up most nights. The other nights? Her thoughts spinning out of control over one measly kiss by her best friend.

The same best friend she had a crush on for over a year.

The same friend who kissed her first.

And she kissed him back.

Nope. Not measly in the slightest.

She shook her head, clearing it as she neared the infirmary. She opened the door, a greeting at the tip of her tongue before she stopped with wide eyes.

Frostbite stood over Danny in deep concentration, his ice arm glowing a faint blue as it was stuck through the boy's chest. Ethelwulf nodded absently, eyes running over the core monitor's readings with quick precision. Danny laid motionless on the bed through the entire thing.

Danny's anguished screams as Dan taunted him, attacking his core.

"A little more Frostbite," Ethelwulf told him. "It's headed down."

The way he arched upward in the duplicate's grasp.

Frostbite's hand glowed brighter, engulfing the boy in blue. Eventually, it subsided, leaving the yeti ghost with a grim look on his face. "It should be maintaining its cold by now," he said softly. "Why isn't it?"

His head snapped to his chest, breathing heavily. She wasn't even sure he was conscious anymore.

Ethelwulf frowned. "I'm not sure," he admitted. "His injuries are healing, but slowly - even slower than what a human should be healing at - "

Sam turned abruptly, walking quickly up and out of the lab. She breathed hard, ignoring the memory flashes and the ghosts giving her a greeting. It was too much -she needed to get away.

He was going to get through this.

It's already been a week.

He's going to get through this.

He's not healing.

He's going -

Sam stopped her internal argument when she found herself outside of Danny's room. She blinked, suddenly frowning at where she found herself. She stood there for a few moments, debating whether she should go in before she realized something else.

She desperately missed her best friend.

She swung the door open. The first thing Sam recognized was that it still smelled like him. The second was no one was in here since probably Tucker when he grabbed his stuff last week. Sam smiled softly, walking toward the unmade bed - he probably didn't even sleep the night before. She touched it fondly, thinking back to the strategy meeting in the Ops Center. She sighed, deciding that she should perhaps find Jazz when she kicked something, making it slide under the bed.

With a confused frown, she peered under it, ignoring the dusty litter of old beaten thermoses, the boooo-merang and garbage. The only thing not covered in a layer of dust was a brown picture frame lying faced down. Sam grabbed it, sliding it across the floor and turned it over. It was a photo of Danny with his family in front of FentonWorks, with his arms around Tucker and Sam with a big goofy smile on his face. She remembered this photo - it was just before freshman year a few weeks before his accident.

Wasn't this normally on his desk? She wondered, eyes glancing toward the computer with a frown. Her frown deepened as she noticed that there was nothing on his desk but the keyboard and mouse. Bringing the photo with her, she walked to the desk, noticing the giant pile of stuff on the floor beside it. "Boys," Sam muttered fondly, picturing Danny just throwing things into a pile with a smile, saying absently he'd deal with it later. She put the photo on his desk, sighing slightly as she jostled the mouse.

The computer monitor came alive, the screen brightening the room giving her three options: play, save and discard. "What's this?" she questioned, violet eyes curiously looking the screen over. A video file? She frowned, looking at the computer for any sort of hint to what it was before she saw what it was called.

For Sam.

Why is there a video for me on Danny's computer? She wondered, grabbing his computer chair and rolling it over. She sat in the chair, drumming her fingers on the desk with a thoughtful frown. "I shouldn't watch this," she said to herself. But it's addressed to you her subconscious argued back. She debated for a few more minutes before coming back to the reason she was in his room to begin with… she missed Danny. Besides, she should see if she should save this file, right.

Right?

Biting her lip thoughtfully, Sam pressed play.

The date on the video said September as Danny's face came into view, looking a little uncomfortable as he stared into the camera.

"Hey Sam," he started with a sheepish smile. He rubbed the back of his head. Sam laughed softly, a sad smile on her face as he got settled. "This is kinda weird, but Jazz says it actually might help in the long run." Suddenly, his face was serious. "If you're watching this, it probably means… well I'm dead."

Sam paused the video, rolling the chair back with wide eyes as she stared at the screen. He's saying goodbye. He was recording this to say goodbye? She frowned as she looked at the date. September… apart from Vlad becoming mayor, nothing happened in September. So why back then? And why is it on his computer now?

She rolled closer, wondering whether she should continue the video. Curiosity got the better of her, pressing play again.

"Well -more dead I guess," Danny continued, shrugging. "Not now obviously - but Jazz will have all the files and give them to people. She thought it would, I dunno, I guess give me a way to say bye." He paused, again looking uncomfortable, opening his mouth to speak before the video skipped.

Sam frowned, watching a slightly older, tired version of Danny on the screen. The time stamp said eight days ago, pretty early in the afternoon. That explains why it's here. There was no sheepishness in his behaviour, dark circles under his eyes from the lack of sleep. "Hi Sam" he greeted softly. He smiled at the camera. "I just… I wanted to say…" he frowned, furrowing his eyebrows in thought. "If I don't make it back," he said finally. "I want you to know that I -" he broke off, eyes widening just a little as he stared at the camera. He stammered for a moment, before he sighed, looking down at the floor. He muttered something quietly that the microphone didn't hear. Sam waited with baited breath, watching Danny try to compose himself. He stiffened, looking at the camera determinedly. "Sam, I -" suddenly losing all confidence, he deflated. He sighed in defeat, looking up into the camera sadly, his arm moving toward the monitor.

The video shifted again, this time with Danny Phantom at the computer, floating in the air. Sam assumed he had pressed record. With a playful smirk, Phantom turned his back to the camera to the bed, where Danny Fenton's legs currently hung off of. Sam laughed softly, realizing that he had split himself.

"Oh come on," Phantom teased, hands on his hips. "This isn't like your facing down a legion of ghosts for the fight of your life. It's just a video."

"If you say that one more time - " Danny started.

"You'll what? Shoot a ghost ray at me? I have our powers right now idiot, I'm the one -" Phantom was cut off when a pillow hit his face. "Okay, fine, be that way."

"You think this is easy?" Danny asked angrily, sitting up on the bed. "I don't like doing these damn videos!"

"It's not about the videos," Phantom retorted smartly. "It's about this video."

Danny frowned. "What do you mean?"

Phantom made a frustrated noise. "You know what it means." Phantom floated in front of the bed, staring at his human self like they were in a mirror. "Why is it so hard for you to admit it?"

"Because I don't want to say it like this!" Danny said, his voice rising. Sam watched as his hands gestured wildly to the computer.

Phantom's eyes narrowed. "Say what?" he challenged, voice also rising.

"You know what!"

"But do you?" The question caught the human off guard, making him sputter a few excuses at his ghost half. Phantom rolled his eyes, pointing a gloved finger at him. "You need to come flat out and say it. To her face."

"I'm not sure -" Danny started.

"You are sure," Phantom said angrily. His eyes flashed. "You're so afraid of changing things! Why is it so hard for you to tell Sam you like her?"

Sam gasped softly, watching Danny Fenton's whole body tense as he stammered excuses. "I don't know!" he exclaimed. "It's Sam! It just is okay!"

"Because," Phantom pressed, gesturing for the boy to continue.

"Cause I -" Danny's voice cut off, looking at little unsure.

Phantom got in his face. "Because you what?" he asked.

"Because I think I'm in love her!" Danny exploded.

Sam gasped again, pausing the video as she stared at the screen. Her mind was racing at his admission, her heart doing backflips in her chest. She looked back at the screen, watching both Phantom and Fenton mid-reaction with wide eyes. I shouldn't - this is -he l-….what!?

Numbly, Sam pressed play again, desperate to see what happened next. Phantom had jumped backward at the boy's outburst, dropping out of the air and onto the floor. He stared up at Danny with wide eyes. Fenton had paled drastically, chest heaving and wide terror filled eyes stared back.

What. The.

They were quiet for several minutes, staring at each other in absolute shock as the admission settled in the air around them.

"You just…" Phantom said quietly, trailing off.

Danny nodded. "I know…" he breathed.

"Did you -" Phantom started again.

"I. know." The boy punctuated each word, breathing hard with wide eyes.

"Do…. Do we even know what that word even means?" Phantom finally asked. Danny stared at him dumbly. "I mean - we do, but like…. To say that…"

Danny put his elbows on his knees. "I dunno," he said. "I've never felt like this before." He sighed heavily silent for a few minutes.

Sam waited, every nerve on fire as she watched him swallow nervously on screen. "I… I like her" he said at last, shaken. "A lot."

Her heart burst as she heard him say those words.

Phantom grinned, punching the teen lightly in the knee. "Told you so," he teased. Danny glared lightly. "So what now?"

Danny raised an eyebrow. "Apart from going up against an evil version of us from the future, ignoring any glimpses of time that come our way and fight for our lives?"

Phantom gave him a pointed look. "I meant that revelation of a lifetime."

Danny frowned. "You want me to tell her, don't you?"

Phantom raised an eyebrow this time. "You want things to change right?"

Danny fiddled with his hands for a few moments. "I mean, yeah."

"Only way to do that is to tell her how you feel," Phantom told him earnestly, shrugging.

"But now?"

Phantom scoffed. "No, at graduation - yes now!" he said sarcastically. Phantom flew up, floating toward the door. "Preferably before we face Dan."

Danny didn't move, face suddenly clouding in thought. "Dan," he said quietly. Phantom turned, frowning at his human half's tone. Whatever light heartedness at their revelation was snatched out of the air. "What's he after?"

Phantom regarded Fenton for a small moment. "You mean other than revenge?"

Danny looked up. "Yeah," he said. Sam watched both their brains work, desperately trying not to yell at the screen in warning. "I just wish-" Danny broke off, grimacing as blue sparks wracked his frame. Phantom disappeared, leaving the boy stifling a scream as he weathered the abuse from his core. He doubled over, face turning away from the camera for a few minutes before they disappeared, leaving the boy breathing hard.

"Fuck," he said. "That one hurt." His brow furrowed, left eye turning green for moment before he rolled his eyes. "Shut up," he muttered. Danny rubbed his chest absently, frowning in thought at whatever vision over took him. Then he got up and left his room.

Sam sat watching the video play on, her mind reeling at what she just saw. Danny had not intended to record that conversation - nor anything that came after. His face after he admitted he liked her looked so terrified. Did he like her? Was it the time visions messing with him? It was -

It was hours before their conversation in the Ops Center. He was about to go downstairs and run into her. Where he told her he wasn't afraid anymore. And she shot him down.

What had happened in between? She had wondered later, staring at the monitor for some clue. Tucker had changed her mind, but what changed his? Why didn't he say anything - do anything - until that moment in the clearing?

Frowning, she watched ten minutes go by on the computer. Danny still hadn't returned.

"You don't get to say what you want to say and then just run into battle."

"What happens after this Danny? After you say what you want to say and go off to face Dan… would you regret it?"

She had told him those things- she didn't want to get her hopes up. It wasn't his regret that she was worried about.

It was hers.

Realizing Danny wasn't coming back soon, Sam hit fast forward, watching the timestamp speed by until his room door finally opened. Sam hit play, just as Danny entered.

His expression was unreadable, blue eyes dark in thought. Clockwork she realized, remembering the Time Master interrupting their conversation. Danny faltered, crying out as another set of blue sparks coursed through his body. Sam frowned worriedly, watching as he fell to the floor, writhing in pain. How many times did he go through this before he faced Dan? He breathed deeply, letting them subside before he let out a long shuddering sigh that seem to envelop his whole body. He stayed crouched for a few moments before he stood, hair covering his face. Then he transformed, flying out of his bedroom.

Sam fast forwarded the video again, watching the time zip forward before she saw Danny flew back into his room. It had been a few hours since he left. She pressed play, watching as his transformation slowed to normal speed and illuminated the room.

Danny sighed, walking over to the computer desk tiredly. Blue sparks ran through his frame, making the boy stumble and grimace in pain. He clutched the edge of the desk, fighting the sparks and pain that was coursing through him. Suddenly, Danny's expression changed to one of anger, blue eyes turning green. With a yell of frustration, he swept all the items of his desk onto the ground with a large crash. Sam jumped at noise, glancing briefly at the pile of stuff next to the desk.

"That's enough!" he yelled, sparks suddenly disappearing and leaving the boy breathing hard. Danny's arms were shaking with effort as he gripped the desk for dear life, black hair blocking his face from the camera as he looked down. Phantom appeared behind him, hovering a few feet behind the teen watching him in pity. Sam reached out to the monitor, unable to help.

Neither spoke, only Danny's ragged breathing coming through the computer microphone as time ticked forward. Eventually, Danny broke the silence. "Why does it have to be me?" he asked, broken. Sam's heart broke at the words.

Phantom's green eyes softened at the question. "I wish I knew," he replied quietly. He ran a hand through his white hair and breathed out deeply. He floated closer to his human half slowly. "Clockwork did say there was one favourable outcome."

Danny snorted. "He also implied we weren't coming back alive," he snapped back.

Phantom held up his hands in surrender. "All I'm saying is: it's possible."

Danny sighed, back straightening slightly, but still not moving from place in front of the camera. Sam still couldn't see his face. "We could run," he whispered. "Let Vlad and Valerie handle this; get the GIW involved."

Phantom snorted this time, crossing his arms in disgust. "I can't believe those words came out of your mouth," he said drily. "Like you'd ever run from this."

Danny laughed bitterly, finally standing up straight and looked Phantom in the eye. "True," he agreed, a small smile on his face. The smile faded as he crossed his arms in thought. "Did you ever think we'd be here after almost two years of having these powers?"

Phantom rolled his eyes as he made a face. "Dude, you're proving that we do have some sort of hero complex."

"No, not like that," Danny told him, making the ghost frown. "I know we've faced big threats before and anticipated not coming back. This fight though..." Danny bent down and picked up a small picture frame. "Did you ever think we'd be ready?"

Phantom was silent, observing his human self searchingly. He made multiple attempts to speak before he sighed tiredly, just waiting for Danny to continue.

Danny gripped the frame determinedly. "I'm not going to tell them," he continued softly. "They'd talk us out of it; attempt to make a plan that might put them in danger. It's better if they fight in the city. That way they won't-" Danny's voice cracked as he broke off.

Phantom nodded readily. "Okay," he agreed softly. Green eyes drifted to the computer before they settled back onto the black haired boy. "Are you at least going to talk to Sam?"

Danny let out a shaky breath and shook his head. "She's right," he said softly. "I can't tell her how I feel and go face Dan. If I somehow make it back, then I'll tell her. It wouldn't be right otherwise."

Phantom scowled. "So you're going to make the decision for her? Somehow, I think she'd be even angrier at that."

Danny scowled back. "Don't you think I know that!" he argued, waving his arms emphatically. The frame in his hand went flying onto the bed, bouncing slightly at the two teens glared at each other. "It's easier if I don't tell her."

"For you," Phantom countered angrily.

"For her!" Danny shouted. Phantom raised one of his eyebrows as Danny sighed. "Look – if I tell Sam and don't make it back…" He looked down to the floor. "I can't do that to her… not… not now."

Phantom frowned as Danny trailed off. He floated over to Danny and put a gloved hand onto his shoulder. "I get it," he said simply, floating past the boy. They stood side by side, facing opposite directions as if they were two sides of the same coin. They were silent again for a bit, before Phantom started speaking again. "Being fifteen sucks."

Danny's laugh was cold and sardonic at the abrupt change of topic. "Tell me about it," he replied ruefully.

Phantom looked up at the ceiling wistfully. "What would you do if we got out of this?" he asked.

Danny smiled, lost in thought. "Same things I normally do," he said. "You?"

Phantom chuckled. "Probably annoy you a little more," he joked. "More of the same."

Danny and Phantom turned to each other, any sort of amusement sliding off their faces as the reality of their fate once again sunk in.

"You ready?" Phantom asked.

Danny nodded. "Let's do this."

Both boys turned to the opening door as Jazz walked into the room. "Danny, you in here?" She looked over to them, surprised, before frowning slightly. "Are you okay?"

Phantom disappeared, leaving Danny standing alone on his side of the room. He gave her a bittersweet smile. "Yeah," he replied softly.

"Good cause –"

The video stopped, the pop up window again giving her the options of play, save or discard.

Sam's eyes were wide as anger, fear, regret, guilt and sadness overwhelmed her as she stared at the screen. It had been a week since this video. So much had happened.

And Danny wasn't any closer to waking up.

More tears came to her eyes - she thought she had finished with them by now - as she sat at his computer.

"It's fine… This can wait."

"Let's talk later."

There wasn't a later.

It didn't wait.

She replayed the video.

:-=-:

"I don't know! It's Sam. It just is okay!"

Jazz stiffened, hearing her brother's voice for the first time in over a week. "Danny?" she breathed hopefully.

"Because?"

She frowned, cautiously walking down the hall to Danny's room. That was Phantom's voice. The door was opened a crack, a small glow of light coming from the room. Had her Mom or Dad finally gone in?

"Cause I -"

Danny's voice sounded again, making Jazz's eyes widen. "Oh no," she whispered rushing forward.

"Because you what?"

Jazz flung open the door.

"Because I think I'm in love her!"

"Sam!" Jazz exclaimed. The girl paused the video, turning slowly in the chair. She was breathing hard, like she couldn't get enough air, tears flowing down her face. Jazz moved quickly, rushing over to the girl and knelt in front of her. "Sam, what are you doing in here?" Jazz glanced at screen with a frown. "And what're you watching?"

Sam didn't answer, starting to hyperventilate. Realizing the girl was more of a concern, Jazz breathed with her, trying to get her to mimic her actions. Her breathing became a little more normal, hiccupping slightly as she continued to stare at the red head.

"That's it," Jazz soothed, nodding. "Breathe in and out." Teal eyes glanced at the computer again, eyebrows furrowing in thought. "That's better. Want to tell me about it?" She took in Sam's appearance, the dark circles under her eyes more pronounced up close. Sam stayed quiet, making Jazz sigh. She stood, moving past the younger teen to the computer, dragging the mouse across the video clip and watching glimpses of her brother on screen. Jazz pursed her lips. "Did you watch all of it?" Jazz asked softly. Sam nodded. Jazz sighed again, moving back in front of the teen.

"I was wondering yours went," Jazz told her gently. Sam looked at her in confusion. Jazz smiled sadly. "It was my idea - after the whole Fear incident and my parents finding out… Danny was worried about, well, worrying about us blaming ourselves. That he wouldn't be able to say that whatever happened was on him." Jazz chuckled fondly. "Guess he took the whole 'saving people' thing too seriously huh? There's one for my parents, me, Tucker - I think he did one for the news too."

Jazz paused, sighing again. Sam looked at her expectantly. "After last week, I took these out again - just in case he-" her voice cracked. Jazz swallowed, shaking her head. "In case he didn't make it," she managed. "Sam, I'm sure he didn't want you to find out like this."

Sam scoffed, a hint of the girl's personality flying outward. "He didn't even manage to tell me," she said bitterly. Jazz looked at her confused. "He split Jazz - Phantom pressed record. They didn't even remember that it was going." Suddenly, her face softened. "He tried to - before he left. I… I thought he was just trying to tell me in case... It wasn't that, I see that now."

Jazz gave her a gentle smile. "He cares about you Sam."

She had said it as comfort, but Jazz's words made Sam upset. "We shouldn't have let him go out their Jazz," she said darkly. She pointed to the screen. "The Time Visions affected him more than we realized, he was… he was at his breaking point. And Dan? Dan -" her eyes scrunched tightly, a pained look on her face. "I still hear his screams. Still see Dan's hand through his chest. Danny twitching in between consciousness as Dan electrocuted him. All that blood. Now he's…."

"He will," Jazz assured firmly. "He'll get better Sam."

Sam shook her head. "I heard Frostbite and Ethelwulf," she replied. "He's not healing anywhere close to normal - not for him, a ghost or a human." Sam's eyes glistened with tears. "Did I do the right thing?" she asked hushed. "Giving him the Ecto-Enhancer?"

Jazz's eyes watered, realizing now what Sam had been going through over the last week. Sam blamed herself.

"Am I the reason he's still like this?"

:-=-:

Tucker closed his locker a little forcefully, eyes narrowing at the metal object.

"What do you want to do for your birthday honey?" His mom had asked him yesterday. "It's not every day you turn sixteen."

"If you miss my birthday caused you died, I'm running up your tab at the Nasty Burger."

"The Usual?" Danny had asked.

"With extra everything."

He fiddled with the lock, growing more and more frustrated with every second. Eventually, he growled, punching the thing angrily. He winced, wringing out his hand with a small string of curse words underneath his breath.

I want my best friend to be okay.

It was their first day back at school since Dan's attack over a week ago. Ten days since he last spoke to his best friend. There was still no word on when he'd wake up.

If he'd wake up.

"Remember Tucker, it was Dash who stuffed you in there, not the locker itself. Stop senseless locker abuse."

His head whipped up at Sam's voice. She grinned, rolling her eyes at him. "Happy Birthday you big idiot," she wished, leaning against the lockers in her best Danny impression.

He smiled. He and Danny had thought the birthday greeting was the best thing ever since they learned 'idiot' meant. "Thanks," he said. "I needed that."

Sam's grin morphed into a sad smile, her eyes dull with guilt and self-loathing. "I think I did too," she admitted. "Jazz said her parents had the school excuse them for the last few weeks. She's only coming in for her exams."

Tucker nodded. "They told Ishiyama and Lancer then?"

"Yeah," Sam said softly. She looked down the hallway, whispering teens surrounding them. "Wonder how long it'd take for the whole school to find out."

Tucker shrugged. "Beats me." He noticed the dark circles under her eyes and frowned. "Still having the nightmares?"

Sam scowled. "Are you?" she retorted with an eyebrow raised.

"Yeah," he admitted readily. Tucker gave her a searching look, daring her to lie. "And all I know is what I saw when I hacked into the school camera system. Sam - it's okay if -"

She held up her bandaged wrist. "I am," she replied sourly. "Happy? I admitted it." She sighed. "Between Dan's attacks and Danny kiss-" Sam stopped abruptly, eyes widening as she realized what she was about to say.

Tucker's eyes widened also. "The what!?" He exclaimed loudly, causing some students to stare. Sam turned red, glaring at Tucker. The boy grabbed her shoulders, shaking her. "He - what? When? Why didn't you tell me this sooner!? Sam this is huge! He actually -"

A cough stopped his excited rant. Tucker and Sam turned.

Valerie stood, her hand on her hip watching them with an annoyed look on her face. She eyed both of them warily, green eyes glancing briefly to Sam's bandaged wrist before addressing them both. "Where's Danny?"

The two friends looked at each other.

"Still out sick," Tucker told her, shrugging non-committedly.

Green eyes looked him over. "Sure he is," she said bitterly. "Not what I heard."

Sam's eyes narrowed, stepping forward. "And what did you hear?"

Valerie shrugged. She took off her backpack, rummaging in it for a moment before grabbing a small envelope. She held it out to the two friends. "Nevermind. Can one of you give this to him? When he's up?" she asked.

Tucker eyed it suspiciously, paling slightly as he saw the name 'Phantom' written on the top. "Wait - which Danny are we talking about here?" he asked confused. Sam took the envelope, glaring at Valerie.

Valerie stared at them for a few moments, challenging them to do something. Her eyebrow rose again. "It matters?" she replied coolly. She turned, hearing the two friends gasp behind her as she walked down the hall. When she got to the end of the hall, she looked back, watching their wide eyed stares looking back at her.

:-=-:

Skulker phased into Plasmius' lab, frowning at the half-ghost's back. "You wanted to see me?" the hunter asked.

Vlad didn't turn around from the computer, nor did he transform from his human form. "Ah Skulker," he greeted. "Any word?"

The ghost landed, green eyes glaring at the man's dismissive tone. "The whelp's still not awake," Skulker replied. "Though why you insist on using me instead of just asking the humans is beyond me. Aren't you toying with the orange one?"

Plasmius scoffed, still typing away at the computer. "Jack only tells me the basics now that he knows who I am. You tell me what I need to know." Vlad got up, finally facing the ghost with a sombre look. "Do you think he'll survive?"

Skulker hesitated. "They still don't know," the robotic ghost replied, shrugging. "The young hybrid is strong, so it's possible."

The half-ghost sighed. "Best make contingency plans then," he said softly. He locked eyes with the ghost in front of him. "Can you retrieve the Infi-Map from the Far Frozen?"

Skulker blinked. "The Infi-Map?" he asked slowly.

"Yes," Vlad said, pacing. "I'm sure it will be easy to steal since most of Frostbite's people are tending to Daniel."

Skulker watched him, frowning in thought. "That would go against the truce."

"And?" Vlad said, raising an eyebrow.

"A truce against the Far Frozen and the Master of Time," Skulker replied, as if the answer was obvious. When the half-ghost didn't respond, Skulker let out a frustrated sigh. "Plasmius, you cannot do this. Messing with time and space is unwise."

Vlad transformed, floating above Skulker with a smug grin. "I didn't take you to be a coward Skulker," he challenged.

Skulker's eyes glowed at the insult. "I am more versed in Ghost Law than you, halfa," he growled. "Going against a truce lands you in Walker's prison. Going against a truce from Clockwork? I don't remember any ghost being alive to tell their tale."

"Daniel did," Vlad retorted flippantly. "And I am much smarter and powerful than him."

"Are you though?" Skulker rose in the air, staring his employer down. "Can you do any of what the whelp did?" he tested. "The boy defeated Pariah Dark and the abomination."

"With my help!" Vlad cut in.

"And yet it's Phantom who is victorious," Skulker stated with crossed arms. "You've heard the whispers, I'm sure."

Plasmius' eyes glowed. "I will not be ruled by a child!" he retorted angrily. "They're just rumours - they cannot be true!"

Skulker glared. "They may not be… but those rumours are why you're collecting powerful artifacts," he said. "Why you're trying to force ghosts to your side. Plasmius - the Master of Time sides with him. You will not win with war."

Plasmius laughed. "Who said anything about war?" His hand lit aflame, watching the swirling energy light up the robotic ghost's face. "If Daniel dies, then the throne is open."

The ghostly hunter eyes flew wide, letting out a sharp gasp. "You wish death on your own kind?" he asked suspiciously. "After everything you've done to get the boy to your side?"

Vlad's face fell slightly. "No," he replied softly. "But the boy's core is damaged Skulker. If he survives, I doubt he'd be able to take his place. Nor will he want to. I'm just preparing to step in for him. This is about protecting him." Vlad sighed heavily, red eyes looking defeated. "I do not want Daniel to die - but I cannot deny that with him out of the way benefits my plan. He's young - too young to make this decision."

Skulker watched the older hybrid start pacing again, regarding him carefully. "Somehow, I think he'll see it differently." Skulker sighed, shaking his head. He floated upward. "Do as you wish Plasmius," he said quietly. "But do so alone."

Vlad stopped pacing, staring at Skulker incredulously. "You would go against me?"

Skulker shook his head. "I will not go against Clockwork - even if it means siding with Danny Phantom."

Vlad watched him go with a frown. "Daniel…" he whispered worriedly in the silence. His eyes found the computer screen again, shifting his train of thought. "I guess I must do this myself."

:-=-:

Lancer fidgeted with the small pouch in his hand as he heard the doorbell echo throughout FentonWorks.

"We're not giving any interviews!" he heard Jazz's irate voice from inside the hallway. "Go awa-" The door flew open, the girl stopping mid-sentence as she realized who was in front of her. "Mr. Lancer?"

"Ms. Fenton," Lancer greeted. The star student held a broom in her hand in an attack stance. She looked down at the broom and sheepishly put it behind her. "Are your parents home?"

Jazz looked back inside. "I think Dad's asleep," she said with a concerned frown. "Mom's in the lab. I can get her?" She opened the door wider, inviting the teacher inside. He nodded in thanks, looking over FentonWorks with a small frown. The normally vibrant house was filled with a soft buzz, tension filling the air as soon as he settled himself in the living room. He fiddled with the pouch again, wondering what he could do to help.

"She'll be right up," Jazz said, returning with a tray and teapot.

The teacher looked her over, frowning. "Jasmine, are you alright?" he asked.

She smiled, but it didn't reach her eyes. "Haven't been sleeping much," she replied. "It's been a rough two weeks."

"I'm sure," he agreed softly. He changed the subject. "Decide on a college yet? I know Yale's deadline is fast approaching."

Jazz smiled. "Amity U," she replied. "I'd get more on the job training here than anywhere else." Lancer arched an eyebrow. "It's okay," she told him softly. "I'll head there for Grad school. My place is here - at least for a little while longer."

Lancer studied her closely. "Jasmine, you can't put your life on hold," he said.

"Mom and Dad said the same thing," she admitted with a sad smile as she poured him some tea. "And Danny will probably be upset with me when he finds out -" Jazz stopped, her eyes widening slightly as a deep rooted sadness washed over her features.

"I'm sure he's proud of you," he assured softly.

Jazz gave him a watery smile. "He is."

"Jazz?"

"In here!" the girl called to her mother.

Lancer watched as Maddie Fenton came into the living room, the same dark circles around her eyes as her daughter. "Sorry Mr. Lancer," she apologized, taking a seat across from the man. "Was working on something to help Phantom."

"Any luck?" Jazz asked hopefully.

Maddie caught Jazz's eye. "I hope so," she said. Jazz looked in between her mother and Mr. Lancer and nodded.

"I'll check on Dad," she said. She rolled her eyes. "He has another conference call with Vlad this afternoon."

Maddie pursed her lips, watching her daughter go.

"I thought your husband and the mayor were friends?" Lancer inquired, catching the girl's tone.

Maddie sighed. "It's gotten a little complicated," she told him. She turned to the teacher. "How can I help you Mr. Lancer?"

Lancer gripped the pouch tighter. "How's Daniel?"

Maddie tensed at the question before she sighed. "He's still unconscious," she said wearily. "There's been no change."

Lancer nodded, not quite trusting his voice in the moment. In all his years of teaching, this was a first. "May I ask…" he asked finally, his question trailing off.

Maddie watched him closely, lips pressed together before glancing at the stairs. "He's been ill," Maddie said, still staring at the hallway. "We thought it was a cold at first, then he started collapsing." She finally turned back to the teacher with a thoughtful frown. "Tucker told me you had a run in with Phantom?" Perplexed, Lancer nodded. "What happened?"

"Dan - that's what Phantom called him - came after me," Lancer said. After a moment's pause, he frowned. "Actually, I thought it was Daniel that came toward me; Said something about the Career Aptitude Test creating him. I thought he was possessed." Maddie nodded. "What does this have to do with Daniel's condition?"

"Everything," Maddie told him fiercely. "What happened next?"

Lancer's frowned deepened. "Phantom came and told me it wasn't Daniel, that he was safe at FentonWorks."

Maddie chuckled. "That boy," she admonished softly. Lancer gave her a quizzical look. "Did Phantom tell you about Dan?"

"Briefly," Lancer replied. "Something about a future that doesn't exist."

Maddie nodded. "Dan is… was an alternate Phantom," she explained. "A dark Phantom. Danny's decision to hand in the answers changed the events so that he never existed. That's why Dan targeted him."

Lancer's mouth hung open. Maddie continued. "Dan made him sleep deprived; paranoid. He made him relive parts of the alternate future over and over again… we thought it would be fine when Phantom faced him." Maddie sighed, taking a moment to compose herself and look toward the ceiling. "Dan and Phantom, they were drawn to each other in the worst ways. I think Sam saw that before any of us realized."

"So she went after Phantom," Lancer said, remembering the absurd phone conversation he had between Mr. Foley and Phantom.

"Dan trapped them both," Maddie continued, nodding. "According to Sam, it was a close call." Maddie gave him a sad smile. "Danny… Dan must have shown him something that made him go out there, something awful. He managed to push Sam out of the way and got hit with a large ecto-blast instead."

Lancer paled. "He what?"

Maddie's sad smile grew slightly, eyes radiating with regret. "We should have been there sooner," she admitted in disdain. "Then maybe both of them would be okay."

They sat in silence for a few minutes before Lancer broke it. "Can I see him?"

Maddie gave him a small smile. "I think he'd like that."

Lancer smiled in appreciation. "Oh!" he exclaimed suddenly. He brought up the small black pouch and held it out. "I'm not sure, but I think this may help Phantom. He left it behind."

Maddie's brow furrowed. "What is it?"

Lancer shrugged, unzipping it and holding it out to her. "He asked me to give this to him - to heal him."

Maddie gasped. "Is this…" she whispered hopefully. She swallowed, looking from the pouch to Lancer. "You administered one of these?" Lancer nodded. "What was the effect?"

"Phantom looked quite a bit better after a while," he replied. He frowned, watching Maddie's eyes dart back and forth as she did calculations in her head. She took the pouch from the teacher, staring at the last syringe as if it was her only hope. "Is this… helpful?"

She looked up at his with wide eyes. "If this is what I think it is," Maddie said slowly. "Then it could be the breakthrough we're looking for."

:-=-:

Lancer watched Maddie walk in first with a deep breath, a nod and a then a smile. He attempted to do the same, but stopped at the sight of his student lying in the bed.

When Maddie had told him Daniel was injured, he wasn't expecting this.

Daniel's chest moved steadily with the help of machines. His face was covered by a small mask over his mouth and nose. Lancer noticed the many bandages along his torso, almost covering the boy from shoulder to hip. He swallowed heavily; taking a deep breath as he finally stepped inside the makeshift hospital room.

"Hi sweetheart," Maddie whispered softly, touching the side of the face. "You have a visitor." She turned back to the teacher, waving the pouch at Lancer. "You'll have to excuse me; I need to give this to Ethelwulf." She glanced to the corner. "Clockwork, you coming?"

Lancer turned and jumped, seeing an old ghost with purple robes shaking his head. "I will remain here," he told her, his voice calm.

Maddie nodded. "Let Clockwork know if you need anything, Mr. Lancer," she said quietly before exiting the room.

Lancer approached the bed apprehensively, unsure how to interact with his unconscious student. He settled in a vacant chair, watching the boy's chest rise and fall. He frowned, noticing now that the boy sported many more injuries than he originally had seen. "How can one blast do this?" he asked quietly, green eyes finding the boy's bruised neck.

"It didn't."

Lancer jumped, turning to the old ghost in the corner as he spoke. The red eyes seemed to look through the man, making the teacher shiver. "What?"

Clockwork raised an eyebrow. "It didn't," he repeated, a small frown hidden underneath his long silvery beard.

Lancer's eyebrows drew together in confusion, expecting the ghost to elaborate. Clockwork merely stared back. "What do you mean? Mrs. Fenton said -"

"I'm aware of what you've been told," Clockwork cut him off. "But you're also a smart man, William."

"Come on - you're a smart man."

Lancer bristled, remembering the words the dark Phantom had said. "How… how do you know my name?"

"I am the Master of Time," Clockwork said. Lancer detected a bit of bitterness underneath his calm voice. "Or at least, I will be again when this is all over."

"Come again?" Lancer asked weakly.

Clockwork sighed, floating toward the bed. Lancer's green eyes followed him, confused and unnerved by his presence. "I cannot see the present or future currently, but I can see the events of the past." Clockwork told him softly, regretful red eyes bore into the teacher. "I saw what he did for you."

Lancer was thoroughly confused, frowning so intensely that he was slightly worried it would stay that way. "You mean Phantom?"

Clockwork didn't reply, instead turning to the unconscious boy in front of them. "Even I cannot deny fate for a moment of my choosing," he said apologetically, red eyes soft as he looked the boy over. Clockwork put a frail hand on the boy's injured shoulder, holding it there slightly before he sighed, floating back to his corner.

Lancer turned back to his student, taking in the strange conversation and looking at the boy again. The bruising on his neck looked familiar but he couldn't place where. "I never would have thought Daniel would be involved with ghosts," Lancer said after a while. "Ms. Manson, maybe. Mr. Foley even! But Daniel?" Lancer shook his head. "I was under the impression he was scared of them."

Clockwork smiled mysteriously. "You'd be surprised what scares that boy."

Lancer glanced nervously at the old ghost before turning back to the teen. "He could've died."

Clockwork's red eyes looked Lancer over again. "You're his teacher?" he asked. Lancer nodded. "I find teachers are the best to pick up on change and growth faster than most." Clockwork glanced in Danny's direction. "Does it really seem that strange that he wanted to save his family? His friends?"

Lancer looked at the ghost quizzically, before turning back to the student. Lancer's impression of Danny's freshman year was a lazy student, often skipping class, falling asleep or forgetting his homework. But he was loyal - fiercely so - to his friends and family. He understood the consequences of his actions, accepting of detentions with a brief nod of the head with a resolved expression on his face. This year he had hardly gotten in so much trouble, but that loyalty he displayed in freshman year grew. So did his confidence in the person he was growing to be. He looked like he carried the weight of the world on his shoulders - almost as if…

As if he had to save it himself.

"That isn't Danny Fenton. And it never will be."

"Nah - He found out what would happen on his own; realized it was too high a cost."

Phantom had told him that earlier. The teen who literally throws himself into battle with no regard for himself; Just as Danny threw himself in front of his best friend to save her life. "Clockwork," Lancer started, finding himself staring at the boy's neck. His mouth went dry. "Where's Phantom?"

Clockwork shrugged. "Here," he said flippantly. His red eyes sparkled in amusement at the question. "At FentonWorks."

Lancer frowned. Phantom's neck had been bruised too; he had remembered thinking the ghost's vocal chords being crushed. Danny's entire neck looked swollen, blue-purple blotches that look suspiciously like the boy was choked. But didn't he just jump in front of a blast? To save Ms. Manson?

"She's with Ethelwulf, safe and away from battle."

Phantom was friends with Tucker and Sam. Best friends he had said. Danny's only friends were Sam and Tucker.

"It was more how I said it rather than what I said."

Phantom has been seen battling ghosts all over town at all times of day. Danny regularly missed school.

"That isn't Danny Fenton."

Phantom spoke to Lancer as if he knew the man. Danny had Lancer as his teacher for two years.

The shield had been up for days before Phantom's first clash with Dan. Danny was at school for all of an hour before he collapsed.

"Do you see it yet Mr. Lancer? The resemblance?"

"The Strange Case…" Lancer murmured softly, eyes widening just a fraction. "Of Dr. Jekyll and Mr. Hyde."

"Yes," Clockwork said with a hint of amusement. "I believe Stevenson's novella does apply here. Although, perhaps not in the way you may think."

Lancer swallowed, nodding as he remembered his interaction with Danny Phantom, playing it over in his head as he stared at the unconscious teen. "There's more to this story, isn't there?"

He heard Clockwork chuckle. "There's always more to a story than what is on the page."

:-=-:

Ethelwulf held the last Ecto-Enhancer in his disguised hand over Danny's unconscious body, glancing at the ground with unease. "There's no guarantee that this could work," he told them gently. He locked eyes with Frostbite, the latter shaking his head as he withdrew his hand from Danny's chest. "Are you willing to risk his life?"

Maddie and Jack shared a look briefly before sending an uncertain looks toward Sam, Tucker and Jazz. Tucker stared grimly at the heart monitor, Jazz nodded stiffly and Sam stared at the Ecto-Enhancer as if it would explode.

"What would happen if we didn't?" Maddie asked evenly.

"The Great One's core is shifting," Frostbite said gravely. "I have been able to cool it down, but after two weeks, it's starting to injure him rather than heal. If this continues, he'd either assimilate to the new core or…"

"Or he dies," Sam finished coldly. Frostbite nodded grimly.

"So what, he'd gain new ghost powers?" Tucker asked, shuddering slightly.

Ethelwulf shook his head. "The Halfling has been gravely injured - we have no idea how a new core will affect his mind. In an alternate timeline, it broke him." Ethelwulf paused, looking at them intensely. "This will help him heal physically, but if his mind is already gone, he may not be who you remember."

The weight of his words sank in, Jack grabbing Maddie's hand tightly. The mother swallowed. "Can he reverse it?" she asked curiously. Ethelwulf looked at her in confusion. "Danny, could he reverse whatever is happening to his core?"

Frostbite hummed thoughtfully. "If he can reclaim his self-generation of cold core energy, it's possible," he replied. "But for all the power the Great One possesses, I'm not sure if he's strong enough to pull that off." His paw glowed, showing a small smooth ice sphere with patches of snow. "This energy," he pointed to the smooth clear sections of the sphere, "is the Great One's normal core energy. The patches are whatever is growing around it. As it stands, we are not sure what has the upper hand."

"From what Sam and the teacher has told us," Ethelwulf continued, waving the syringe in the air. "It seems like this was an immediate reaction into his blood stream. For this to have a chance we'd need to dilute it; else we run the risk of an overdose or worse."

"What about a diluted dose to his core?" Jack wondered out loud. When Ethelwulf beckoned him to continue, he elaborated. "A small amount to restart some of his speed healing and cold energy regeneration - to monitor what his core does. Wouldn't that tell us if he could overcome it?"

"That could work," Frostbite said in thought. "Providing his normal core energy still outweighs the foreign one. "

"Which is a large if," Ethelwulf replied sombrely. "If we're wrong, we could be dooming us all." He looked from his hand to the group of humans around them. "Are you really willing to take that chance?"

Maddie didn't hesitate. "I believe in him," she said without any guilt or remorse. Jack nodded readily at her shoulder. "If anyone can do this, Danny can."

"Mom's right," Jazz said strongly. She looked at the two other teens. "Danny's been in similar fights before right?"

Sam's mouth was in a thin line, looking worriedly at Tucker. Flashbacks of Danny's injured body floated through her mind, vowing to return with a smile. "Tucker?" she asked.

The boy in question jumped. "I shouldn't be part of this," he said finally. "I nearly killed him -"

"Tucker," Jazz admonished, but the boy shook his head.

"No Jazz," he said softly, anger and self-loathing covering his words. "I told you all that I wouldn't put up the shield until I knew I had Danny's ecto-signature programmed. I promised. And I really thought I had it," he looked down at his hands. "I shouldn't have listened to him - we could have got to him in time!"

Frostbite and Ethelwulf frowned pitifully at the young teen. "Tucker of Tech," Frostbite said gently. "I watched you work on that shield, saw the gravity of what the Great One had asked of you." The ghost showed him the orb again. "I don't believe he knew how much his core was altered."

"It also makes you the most knowledgeable person to make this decision," Ethelwulf added. "Apart from myself, Frostbite and the Fentons. You know Danny's signature, do you believe you made a mistake?"

Tucker hesitated, looking at Sam for assistance.

She smiled. "Hey, you're the one who figured out what the Ghost Zone's destruction would do to our world," she said lightly. "And took down Nocturn with just your PDA - Tucker, I think you had it. I say we go for it. The bigger question is - do you think this will work?"

Tucker looked at the heart monitor again, watching his best friend's core reading beep simultaneously with a heartbeat. The core was cooling again. Not trusting his voice, he nodded.

Ethelwulf nodded, hand outstretched to Frostbite for another syringe. "Then let's try it."

#danny phantom #cartoons #fanfiction #danny fenton #action #adventure #cross posted on ao3 #no phantom planet #But his parents know #ecto storm series #Out of Time #multichapter #ANGST #family #friends #Lancer #we need some comfort after this hurt...

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bulletballet-arch · 3 years ago

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REALLY LONG CHARACTER SURVEY. RULES. repost , don’t reblog ! tag 10 ! good luck ! TAGGED. I took this from Minnie’s archived Bioshock blog. I’ve been looking for this meme all this month. TAGGING. @hammurabicomplex. @bluuxriising. @ Me - for Sal on @bulletsoverbensonhurst. @immaterialed (charlie) @soypeor (bella) @svmmercmance. @mrflayed. and you!

BASICS. FULL NAME : Eve Delores Littlejohn NICKNAME : Evie, Little Evie (by her maternal side of the family), Delores, Didi NAME MEANING / S Eve is from the ancient Hebrew name חַוָּה (Chawwah), which was derived from the Hebrew word חָוָה (chawah) meaning "to breathe" or the related word חָיָה (chayah) meaning "to live". Delores is a variant of Dolores, meaning "sorrows", taken from the Spanish title of the Virgin Mary María de los Dolores, meaning "Mary of Sorrows." Littlejohn is a surname that has historically been found in England and Scotland. With potential origins being either ‘to distinguish a beloved child that was not the eldest.’ Or, ‘a contradictory nickname for a large man.’ HISTORICAL CONNECTION? : She’s named after her grandmother, Evelyn Hollins.

AGE : 42 BIRTHDAY : June 2 ETHNIC GROUP : Black-American. Meaning she’s mixed with a lot (Some of her relatives are respectively Creole and Italian) but uses Black as a catch-all term. NATIONALITY : American LANGUAGE / S : English, Italian, Spanish, Latin, some French SEXUAL ORIENTATION : Bisexual ROMANTIC ORIENTATION : Biromantic RELATIONSHIP STATUS : Verse dependent, usually married -or connected- to Salvatore Scozzari in some way. CLASS : Upper-Class HOME TOWN / AREA : Brooklyn. Spent time between Bedford-Stuyvesant - with her paternal grandfather and Park Slope - with her maternal grandparents. CURRENT HOME : In her childhood home in Bedford-Stuyvesant. PROFESSION : Ballet Instructor. Former Professional Ballerina. ( Other verses see her as a professional thief. )

PHYSICAL. HAIR : Black. In terms of her natural hair, Eve has springy, 3C hair she seldom shows off because she was raised in a family where straightened hair was deemed presentable and professional. EYES : Thin almond eyes. Dark brown. NOSE : Straight and small. FACE : She has a prominent, high forehead, that’s accented with high cheekbones and a pointy chin. LIPS : Full. COMPLEXION : She has a light brown (tawny) complexion. SCARS : None major. TATTOOS : None. HEIGHT : 5′4″ BUILD : Eve has a slender build. One of those people who have been small and petite since childhood. Despite this, she also stays skinny because she is obsessively conscious of the food she consumes. The older she gets the more she weighs, however. USUAL HAIR STYLE : Her hair is cut short. Reaching her shoulders in a neat, even bob. She either curls it in a retro fashion or curls the tips. For work she wears it in a traditional, pinned bun. USUAL FACE LOOK : In public, she appears stoic for the most part. Any emotion shown (such as the length of a smile) is carefully calculated. She has to seem perfect. USUAL CLOTHING : Form fitting dresses. Incredibly chic and fashionable for the time. Shoes include heels - never open-toed, unless she has on stockings. Extravagant earrings. Jewelry that can include either necklaces, crosses, pearls, or dainty rings. Prone to wearing black sunglasses in public.

PSYCHOLOGY. FEAR / S : Thunderstorms, airplanes, creatures like weasels, snakes and ferrets, break-ins, men she doesn’t know, harm coming to her children ASPIRATION / S : Formerly wanted to become a major [black] ballerina in the elite world of ballet, now she just wants to expose more [inner city children] to dance through her job. Personally, she wants her children to change the world in some form or fashion, too. Eve also has good ideas on improving the community, but at the moment has no idea how to go about these ideas. POSITIVE TRAITS : Generous, compassionate, patient, protective NEGATIVE TRAITS : Strict, sullen, hard to read, represses her emotions, secretive MBTI : Advocate - INFJ-T ZODIAC : Cancer TEMPERAMENT : Melancholic ANIMALS : Lioness VICE / S : Pride & Lust FAITH : Christian. Grew up Baptist, but Catholic influences have been around her since childhood. Attended a Catholic High School in Park Slope, her grandmother Evelyn was also a practicing Catholic. GHOSTS ? : Yes and no. She feels that objects formerly owned by the deceased posses the essence of their previous owners and that they essentially live on through these pieces of property. AFTERLIFE ? : Yes. REINCARNATION ? : No, but it’s a romantic concept. ALIENS ? : No. POLITICAL ALIGNMENT : Democratic ECONOMIC PREFERENCE : She likes being where she’s at now. But honestly, being upper class is all she’s ever known. SOCIOPOLITICAL POSITION : Bourgeoisie, basically. The Littlejohn’s represent The Historical Black Elite. EDUCATION LEVEL : College level. FAMILY.

FATHER : William ‘Bill’ Littlejohn MOTHER : Linda Littlejohn ( nee Hollins ) SIBLINGS : None EXTENDED FAMILY : Amos Littlejohn (paternal grandfather) Liza Littlejohn (paternal grandmother) Evelyn Hollins (maternal grandmother) Giuseppe D’Aietti (maternal grandfather) and a wide host of cousins, aunts and uncles.

FAVOURITES. BOOK : Night Song by Beverly Jenkins. The Color Purple by Alice Walker. Some sort of old, French erotic novel that was published before she was born. MOVIE : Eve watches films along the lines of...Waiting to Exhale, Beaches, The First Wives Club and Fatal Attraction. She loves Made-For-TV movies from the time period. In regards to plays, her favorite one is Sunday In The Park With George. 5 SONGS : Meet Me On The Moon / Essence of Sapphire / No One In The World / People / The First Time I Saw Your Face DEITY : Persephone HOLIDAY : New Years Eve, Christmas, Thanksgiving. Major holidays during the colder season. MONTH : October SEASON : Autumn PLACE : The dance studio she works at. WEATHER : Sunny, but cool. SOUND : The voices of Anita Baker and Sarah Vaughn. A skilled hand running over piano keys. Soft trumpets. Running water. Cats making chipper little meows. SCENT / S : Perfume, floral scented lotions, her partner’s cologne TASTE / S : Caramel, the tang of dark chocolate, strawberries coated with either chocolate, or sprinkles of white sugar. Light Vinegar. FEEL / S : Performing in front of an audience. Hot water engulfing your skin after a long day. Satin - whether it be the fabric of her clothes or sheets, your fingers tightly intertwined with another’s, feeling your significant other’s chest raise and lower against your skin with each breath they take. ANIMAL / S : Cocker Spaniels, Afghan Hounds, Cats, Birds - she loves all ( well, a majority ) of animals. NUMBER : Doesn’t have one. COLOR : White, Pink, Gold.

EXTRA. TALENTS : Dance, Eve is trained in ballet when it comes to her main verse. She has attended ballet classes since the age of eight and ever since then she placed all of her focus into it. Similarly, Eve has always had the makings of a good artist - as a child she enjoyed drawing and had informal art lessons with a man who lived in the basement of her grandfather’s brownstone, but she never invested into that half of her. BAD AT : Singing, Being interviewed, Public Speaking (as in Speech Giving), Decision Making TURN ONS : Charisma, Leadership Skills, Temperature Play, Phone Sex, Heavy Kissing, Light Roleplay TURN OFFS : Public Sex, Tearing [ Her ] Clothes, Threesomes, Cruelty, Senseless Violence HOBBIES : viewing plays & some musicals, reading romance novels, shopping, working out (she was into the whole celebrity VHS tape exercise trend), playing tennis, decorating AESTHETIC : Vintage Black Glamour, Black Ballerinas, Champagne and Wine Glasses, Paintings by Melinda Byers and Edward 'Clay' Wright QUOTES : "I'm bad with words, I hope you're good in reading eyes." / "There are truths I haven't even told God. And not even myself. I am a secret under the lock of seven keys."

FC INFO. MAIN FC / S : Lynn Whitfield ( A Thin Line Between Love & Hate ) ALT FC / S : Kylie Bunbury ( Twisted ) OLDER FC / S : Lynn Whitfield ( Greenleaf ) YOUNGER FC / S : N/A VOICE CLAIM / S : Lynn Whitfield

MUN QUESTIONS.

Q1 : if you could write your character your way in their own movie , what would it be called , what style would it be filmed in , and what would it be about ? A1 : Recently I decided that if/when I try to write anything serious about Eve again, it’ll center on her being a jewel thief because it presents me more fun, and emotionally diverse, opportunities. That and I have a very specific cover image in my mind. Ideally, her adventures would be a series of books. I have no title in mind, no idea about how ‘it would be filmed’ ( although a style replicating 90s films would be excellent, film grain and all. ) but, I do have a bunch of plots in mind that I really don’t feel like typing out here.

Q2 : what would their soundtrack / score sound like ? A2 : Her score would have a vintage sound (or a jazzy Spike Lee sound, if you will) with instrumentals by Dorothy Ashby (a Jazz Harpist) the Ahmad Jamal Trio, Pharaoh Sanders, Yusef Lateef and Tarika Blue. For music with lyrics, the soundtrack would include the likes of Julie London, Sarah Vaughn, Ella Fitzgerald, and Dionne Warwick.

Q3 : why did you start writing this character ? + Q4 : what first attracted you to this character ? A3 : Whenever I make NPCs for my character’s lives I actually can’t just let them just be NPCs. I start thinking about them too much. Developing them too much. And then I’m like, ‘wow! I really like this character!’ Eve was a different character when I began writing her, and likely wouldn’t be considered the same character as she was previously, if I told someone in real life who knows about my writing (like my grandma) about all the changes she has undergone. Originally Delores was a university professor, because I thought it could lead to interesting interactions with college-age muses. And her previous history with the mafia was also something interesting to tap in. But then I started thinking about what was realistic, what wasn’t realistic, what did I feel comfortable/interested writing? What didn’t I feel comfortable/interested in writing? So as time went on, things would alter about this character. And the new things I came up with attracted me more.

Q5 : describe the biggest thing you dislike about your muse. A5 : I have a love/hate relationship with Eve’s quiet demeanor. On one hand, I think quieter characters need love and the ability to be fully dimensional but on the other hand, writing louder characters has always been more fun for me. But really, Eve’s guarded behavior makes writing her stressful in some cases with others because sometimes...if I’m going to be honest...people don’t know how to carry a thread and interact with someone of her demeanor effectively.

Q6 : what do you have in common with your muse ? A6 : We’re both black, we’re both into art (although our exact interests and aesthetics with art differ)

Q7 : how does your muse feel about you ? A7 : Realistically she would think I need to take better care of myself.

Q8 : what characters does your muse have interesting interactions with ? A8 : We skippin’ this question.

Q9 : what gives you inspiration to write your muse ? A9 : Films such as, “Waiting to Exhale,” “The Kitchen” and “Widows.” Books by Alice Walker, like “The Third Life of Grange Copeland” as well as her short story, “Roselily.” The historical mob figure Stephanie St. Clair.

Q10 : how long did this take you to complete ? A10 : A few hours.

#long post #dash games.#headcanons.

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confusedinfj · 5 years ago

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Cognitive Functions and What They Look Like Explained with Objects

I’m going to attempt explain the cognitive functions better than I have before, and hopefully in a lot more depth. The risk with this is that it could be wrong, but at least an attempt was made. I’m not an academic or anything, I’m just writing from observation/experience stuff that I find helpful to understand. Hopefully this can help you type yourself more accurately too! All functions are described as they are in the first 2.

I hope this helps you see how EVERY FUNCTION IS IMPORTANT!

And no. None of these objects really make sense.

Fe: The Thermostat

A thermostat can’t feel whether it’s hot or cold itself, but it can feel if you are! And depending on how fancy your thermostat is, it will cool you or heat you until you’re just the temperature you want to be. That is its single goal in life: to keep you comfortable. If you’re sad, it will try to fix it.

Basically, Fe is about everyone being genuinely happy and comfortable. It wants to be in touch with other people and respond to their needs accordingly. It’s not necessarily good at showing or expressing this, but that’s its aim.

Well developed Fe is the function that encourages open discussion of problematic feelings that it KNOWS are right there - remember, it can FEEL them, cos it’s a thermostat. Poorly developed Fe ignores unspoken problems and pretends it’s a good little thermostat anyway.

If you’re upset with a Fe user, just tell them calmly. If you need space, just tell them calmly. If you’re angry, tell them why. READJUST THE THERMOSTAT. Don’t be surprised when the Fe user does the same - that’s their way of trying to keep everyone happy in the long run. Good Fe believes arguments are necessary. Bad Fe is passive aggressive and let things build up until they’re too big to handle. If you sense your Fe user is doing this, approach them about it and get it out while you still can. Fe users don’t talk about issues with emotions most of the time - they speak about feelings clinically. It helps if you explain to a Fe user how the problem makes you feel, but also that you still love them.

High Fe - is a natural thermostat. It doesn’t even realise that’s how it operates, it just DOES. High Fe users can struggle to even FEEL that they have their own problems, and can easily be ignored as a result (sheeple). As their Ti develops, they should become a little more self aware, and better at turning their natural thermostat off every now and again so they get a break. A key feature of high Fe users is that they’re just ALWAYS THERE. You might hate them, get sick of them, find them annoying, or feel like they don’t understand you... but they’re always there. Always trying. Immature high Fe is very sensitive to extreme temperatures, but with Ti development comes a bit more separation and ability to help you through, even if you’re not responding to their attempts at cooling/heating you. Because constantly living as a thermostat requires you to learn that SOMETIMES you just can’t change the weather. So at the end of the day, even though they’re not a T type, well developed high Fe users can actually be less sensitive and more useful in a rough patch than their low Fe counterparts.

Low Fe - is a thermostat with emergency settings. It kicks in at unusually high or low temperatures and gets it back into humanly-survivable temperatures. As Fe develops, low Fe users become more sensitive to other people’s temperatures and can regulate the environment a little better. While low Fe users aren’t naturally very sensitive to your extreme temperatures, they can become suddenly overwhelmed and deeply upset if things go too far and they’re the reason you’re not doing so well. With good character development, which is totally SEPARATE from MBTI, a low Fe user can become just as good at maintaining the perfect temperature as a high Fe user. It will just take a little more effort and skill. BUT, since they’re not always used to being a thermostat, they’re not always aware of what’s the weather and what’s their fault. So at the end of the day, even though they’re not an F type, well developed low Fe users actually seem to be more sensitive and fragile than their high Fe counterparts.

Fi: The Thermometer

The thermometer can’t really do anything about the weather - it can just tell you what’s going on. Fi users are very sensitive to what’s going on around them, and feel the need to regulate the climate they’re in as much as possible. That is: going against their own feelings can actually be painful for them. They feel a very strong NEED to be who they are. Fi is about being in touch with yourself and your own emotions/beliefs/you name it. Bad Fi can easily be selfish, but good Fi has the capacity to help where Fe stands... clueless.

Good Fi values you feeling good too! Fi users CAN apply their thermometer to others and get a reading on how hot/cold their climate is. They can’t feel your emotions like the Fe thermostats, but if you express emotion they can essentially measure it. Good Fi users try to help you in any way they would feel would be helpful if they were in your shoes. This means Fi users are much better at showing sympathy than Fe users.

If you’re upset with a Fi user, you have to tread carefully. They can be easily hurt, and will definitely take things the wrong way if you don’t articulate it correctly. The clinical approach of Fe users is often not appreciate, because it’s interpreted as cold, uncaring, or worse - nasty. You’ll have to express a lot more emotion when talking to a Fi user. From what I’ve found, you have to approach Fi with Fi, so I’ve never managed to do this successfully. It always becomes a fight for like an hour until finally the Fi user understands what I was trying to say. So, from what I’ve found, Fi finds the Fe approach hostile, but responds better to genuine displays of emotional vulnerability.

High Fi - is a natural thermometer. It knows what it’s feeling, what it believes in... all that jazz. It finds it hard to compromise its feelings and beliefs for ANYTHING or ANYONE. It can be kind and sensitive as a result, but also very fragile and easily overwhelmed. Well developed Fi users learn to work through the emotional instability of thermometer life, but immature Fi can be unstable and selfish. Te development helps high Fi users get on with things and move through whatever they might be feeling. They can apply that same resilience to others who are suffering, and inspire people to get through their emotional lows. So at the end of the day, even though they’re not a T type, high Fi users can function better under emotional pressure and inspire action better than their low Fi counterparts.

Low Fi - is a thermometer that is usually ignored in favour of getting things done. This means high Te users can be confident and headstrong most of the time, but occasionally have dramatic shut-downs into low Fi. And since they usually ignore their thermometer, they don’t really know what to do about it. HOWEVER, well developed low Fi users can learn to apply their thermometers to others with some skill. And they can be more overwhelmed by others’ emotions because their Fi is so low. So, at the end of the day, even though they’re not an F type, well developed low Fi users can be more sensitive and sympathetic than their high Fi counterparts.

Te: The Car

The car is designed to get you from point A to B without death or injury. It’s complex, but not too much can go wrong at any given moment. The process itself is fairly simple: engine sparks, wheels go round - drive. Te wants to get to point B quickly, and is focused on action and outcomes. And if you stand in its way, you might get run over. It isn’t necessarily focused on the steps required to get from point A to B, it just sees the end and drives.

Well developed Te values doing things effectively as well - not just getting them done in the first place. This means Te users can be persuaded to change their approaches and routes providing you can argue that it’s worth it. Te is good at seeing potential in other people, but can make the mistake of seeing the end point and missing the starting point or steps required to develop.

If you’re upset with a Te user, you’ll have to appeal to Fi. No one likes criticism, not matter how high a T function is! However, high Te users can tolerate and even appreciate the Fe approach to relationships and conflicts, providing they’re not having a low Fi moment.

High Te - This is life in the car, on the road. Always heading towards a new goal. However, contrary to popular opinion, Te users can actually be very kind and considerate! Providing they’re well developed, Te aims to take care of the people it loves. High Te users can fall into the Te trap of seeing the person’s potential without recognizing they’re not quite there yet. They can be very idealistic and romantic in relationships because their Fi is so low. They can also be angry little cars who run people over if they’re poorly developed or just mean. This is why Te users have a reputation for being cold and controlling. I’ve found Te users only really act like this when they’re succumbing to low Fi.

Low Te - This is the car that mainly sits in the garage, but occasionally comes out for a Sunday drive. Although, poorly developed low Te looks like saying mean things just to hurt people when you’re upset, or provoking people for a reaction.High Te users definitely go through phases like this when they’re young, but low Te users are more open to these problems when they’re older. Well developed, low Te helps high Fi users overcome their overwhelming feelings and get through things. It may even help them compromise if they absolutely must.

Ti: The Aeroplane

The aeroplane is designed to take you over long distances very quickly, and as safely as possible. There are back up systems, back up systems for back up systems, and multiple things can go wrong if you forget to do even one simple thing. It’s a much more dangerous process than driving, but it’s also much faster if you’re trying to go far.

Ti is about understanding things so that you can run your life well. Poorly developed Ti is dysfunctional, but well developed Ti can get you pretty far with very little effort! But unlike Te, Ti isn’t as focused on the end destination so much as it is on the steps required to get there. Every little detail matters, just like on an aeroplane. And if even one small detail has been misunderstood, the Ti users’ entire understanding of something can go crashing down like an aeroplane. They MUST understand the parts to understand the whole.

If you’re upset with a Ti user, you can refer to the Fe section. Ti users prefer a clinical approach to emotions simply because they want to UNDERSTAND rather than be overwhelmed by negative feelings their thermostat will detect once you start crying in front of them. Ti will then engage thermostat measures to ensure relationship contentment.

High Ti - Life in the sky as a pilot. The Fe thermostat doesn’t matter so much when you’re trying to make sure you don’t fall out of the sky. High Ti users aim to understand every small thing in life. Poor high Ti users have a faulty misunderstanding and drive everyone insane arguing they’re right. Well developed Ti users have a good understanding, but often enjoy arguing anyway, just to make sure they don’t have any flaws in their understanding. When you’re arguing against yourself, you have to know your stuff pretty well! While they’re not given enough credit for it, high Ti users can be very considerate in relationships, and aim to understand their loved ones just as well as everything else. Ti isn’t satisfied with a functional understanding, so it may provoke and tease to better understand people. And when it goes too far and upsets people, the emergency thermostat kicks in to fix the problem.

Low Ti - life in the sky as a co-pilot. Low Ti users prefer to take their cues from someone ELSE - preferably the pilot (high Ti user). Low Ti users can be overwhelmed if they have to take on too much responsibility or have to understand too many small details. Then they can feel like a co-pilot taking control of a plane after the pilot has died and the plane is spiraling down. They’d rather do what they’re told and keep the pilot happy! But they also take comfort in knowing that - if it really comes down to it - they can fly the plane and land safely. They like knowing they have back up systems, back up systems for back up systems, and are capable of making it out alive.

Ne: Google Search Auto-predict

You’re not even finished typing, and Google already has 10 ideas about what you might be asking. That’s the Ne brain - branching out, and out, and out... sometimes a bit TOO out.

High Ne - Google search auto-predict is always on. It all happens at once, just like how Google suggestions change with every letter you add. And when you finish your question, it’s kind of disappointed you didn’t ask one of the 10 other more interesting ones. Easily bored, always sees a better option... but also very good at picking which option is most realistic. May or may not care.

Low Ne - random auto-predict. Because sometimes Google doesn’t predict anything as you type? That’s a weird phenomenon. But then it’ll just suddenly appear halfway through a sentence? Yeah... like that. Poorly developed low Ne can mistake every new idea as a great idea, but well developed low Ne knows which ones are worth listening to :)

Ni: Google Search Results

Did you mean...? Not only shows you every single possible thing on what you Googled, but also shows you what could be immediately connected to it.

High Ni - Figures out what you’re looking for based on a few key words that may or may not have made sense - understands your typos. Does it all in seconds, doesn’t really understand the algorithm. Just does it. Can take you down a rabbit hole for hours. Forgets about time as a concept. Sometimes connects strange things, but somehow makes sense anyway. Usually isn’t wrong about what you were Googling. Bad Ni thinks it knows everything though, and forgets it needs to add things to its database. Good Ni is always learning MORE

Low Ni - Like the 20th page of Google Search Results. Doing the same thing as high Ni, but not as effectively. Might have a few conspiracy theories in there. Might’ve misunderstood your question or taken the typos literally. Occasionally gets it right, but the best results are usually on the first page anyway.

Se: The Camera

Takes a picture of the moment, every detail rendered exactly as it was.

High Se - High focus camera, good colour, good lighting - the kind of pictures you want to keep forever and frame. Se knows what’s right in front of it. It doesn’t miss anything it can see. Might not understand what’s about to happen, but knows what IS happening.

Low Se - Like a polaroid camera, and the pictures might not be worth keeping. Awkward shots that are accurate but not great quality. Might be blurry, not really able to see faces... just a LITTLE bit out of focus, so that you miss something that was pretty obvious. Has a kind of artsy vibe though.

Si: The Diary

Recorded everything, but from a very subjective point of view that may or may not be accurate. Is structured so that it can be read again and again.

High Si - A very detailed diary. Concerned about detailing every aspect of life. Some pages have been ripped out. Sometimes pages are inserted to add in additional information that may or may not alter the entire memory. A nice little organised diary that’s written very neatly.

Low Si - A diary that gets an entry once every 6 months or so. Still valued and personal, but a lot is missing. Since it’s less tended to, pages are less likely to be missing or replaced - so what’s written is probably more accurate. There’s just not that much of it. A very badly written diary that’s got coffee stains and might not be entirely legible.

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ladycatofwinterfell · 4 years ago

Text

Dealing with the consequences, part 2

Summary: One day, six months after they move into their new house, Ned and Cat wake up to an unfortunate surprise. This small and seemingly insignificant event sets things into motion, and they try their best to repair what they can despite that they have messed up before. Because maybe, just maybe, they can do things a little bit better that time around. And you know what they say, third time’s the charm.

Consequences

This chapter will be entirely from Cat's POV, and I plan to make the next one all about Ned, but we'll see about that. Anyway, hope you like it <3

“Hello, Ned” Minisa said when Ned came inside.

Catelyn was glad for that only her mother had come. It would have been a lot harder if she had brought Dad as well. He and Ned didn’t really get along. He didn’t know everything and had therefore immediately jumped to the conclusion that it was Ned that had wronged his daughter in some way, and not the other way around. Mom was kinder and for that Catelyn was immensely grateful. She loved her father but sometimes he made things a lot harder than they had to be.

“Hello, Minisa.”

Minisa had Sansa on her lap and was gently bouncing the overjoyed baby up and down. Sansa had previously spent ten minutes trying to eat her grandma’s hair.

“Is it okay if we eat?” Catelyn asked. “I’m quite hungry.”

“I’m gonna leave soon, I just wanted to see how you’re doing.”

For just a second Catelyn got eye contact with Ned over her Mom’s shoulder as he walked into the kitchen to get plates for them. The scent of something that smelled much like her favorite pasta was filling the room and she had to hold back a smile. He knew just what she liked.

“We’re doing fine” she assured her mother.

They were doing fine. A bit of uncertainty, a dash of conflicted feelings, a few unsolved problems. But fine. Maybe no more than fine, but definitely fine. They did their things, raised their kids, lived their lives.

“Except for the kitchen, of course” she added.

They were definitely not doing fine on that point.

“Yes, what is your plan for that?”

“I’ve been looking at some options today while Ned was at work, but we’re gonna talk more about it.”

It had been deadly dull and she wasn’t looking forward to sitting down with Ned and look into it more, but it would probably be a little more bearable than doing it alone. Sansa really hadn’t been of much help.

“Would you like any help with that?” Minisa asked and smiled.

She smiled like Catelyn was a child who had no idea of that she was doing. Sure, she had no idea at all of what she was doing sometimes, but she was an adult and could figure it out.

“No, we have this.”

The last thing they needed was family members coming with more or less, most often less, helpful advice. It would only stress them. The only one she took advice from was Cersei, which was strange considering where that had taken her. But at least Cersei didn’t pretend that her advice was great advice and that she always knew best... Who was Catelyn trying to fool, she definitely did that. Maybe she was just supposed to stop taking advice.

“Okay.”

That smile didn’t go away.

“Don’t look at me like that” Catelyn said firmly.

Perhaps a little bit firmer than intended, but that pitiful gaze was driving her nuts.

“I’m not looking at you in any particular way” Minisa said, raising her eyebrows.

“But you are” Catelyn sighed. “And I know all of you doubt everything I do, and that you have done so since I had Robb, but can you please not? Because I’m sick of it.”

It wasn’t doing any damage to anyone. Her son was a happy child, her daughter would be as well because no matter what she would be loved and cared for. And she knew what her situation must have looked like from the outside, but she was so goddamn tired of people judging without knowing a damn thing.

“Oh Cat, we don’t doubt you. We know you always try to do the right thing and that you’re doing your best, as we all are...” she paused, waved a hand through the air, and when she spoke again she had lowered her voice. “But are you really fine? Are you happy?”

Catelyn had to keep in a number of angry responses. She couldn't really be angry because of course her mother would be worried. That was what mothers did, they worried. Catelyn worried for Robb, she worried for Sansa, she understood. But the small difference was that her kids were still kids, while she herself was a grown woman.

“I am” she said. “My kids are happy pills and I have the luck to live with a man who is probably a better person to live with than most. And I have a good job, and friends, so I don’t have much to complain about.”

She definitely wasn’t unhappy. Of course everything didn’t feel great all the time, but she was building with what she had. And that was fine. Not fantastic, but fine. She had a few things to complain about, but not enough for there to be a serious problem. Okay, there was a pretty serious problem, but she couldn't acknowledge that without Ned and he pretty much refused to acknowledge that.

“Okay.”

Her mother was smiling again. But it wasn’t the same smile as before, and that was a relief.

“I think I should get home to your father now, but it was nice to see you and little Sansa again.”

“It was nice seeing you too” Catelyn said.

Seeing her family was always nice, her mother’s timing just hadn’t been ideal. There was a lot of feelings going on.

“You don’t need to hide anymore, she’s gone!” she shouted at Ned once the door had closed behind Minisa.

He had been in the kitvhen for much longer than necessary and she knew perfectly well why.

“Oh thank the gods!”

She had to laugh at that.

They discussed what she had been looking at during the day while they ate. She had been right about the pasta, and it was just as amazing as usual. They got somewhere with what they were going to do an everything felt a little better when they agreed about it. She wished that could have applied to other discussions as well, but she had to do with what she got. At least the kitchen would be fixed.

“We’ll have to take everything out tomorrow or Sunday if they’re gonna be here Monday” Ned said.

“We should turn off the electricity in the kitchen as soon as possible, so I think we should do it tomorrow” Catelyn responded through a mouthful of pasta.

“We’ll have to move the fridge and the freezer out here.”

“Ah, damnit, as if the table wasn’t enough.”

After dinner she handed their daughter to Ned and then she had a shower. She had been longing for that shower all day, there hadn’t really been time for it and Sansa was never too happy when Catelyn showered.

She came down the stairs half an hour later to a sight so perfect that she had to stop for a moment. It really was a dangerous thing, living together. Because then she could see stuff like that and be hit straight in the face with the desire to have it like that always. They were a family, that was true, but she wished it could have been full circle. She wished she could have looked at the man lying on the couch with their baby and think “that’s my husband and our baby”. Instead it was just “that’s the man I have a messed up relationship with and our baby”. She wished they could have been something to each other as well, she wished things had been different.

“Say whatever you want about the mess we created, but we do make cute babies” Ned said, looking at the small bundle sleeping on his chest.

When they had been together long ago he had never expressed a wish to have children. He had actually seemed quite opposed to it. That had been one of the reasons for why she had done as she did. But just that second she couldn’t understand how she had ever thought that, because the way he looked at their daughter was so soft and loving. He was a great father. What she was looking at was the way it was supposed to be.

“Yeah. We do.”

The knowledge of that they could make good things as well, that not everything they did together ended up being terrible, made her happy. They had made Sansa. And Robb, but Robb was different. Robb was hers. Sansa was theirs. And she was perfect, Catelyn could look at her for hours. She had looked at Robb that way when he was a baby as well.

“I’m a bit amazed by it” she added. “That we created her.”

“I’d love to take some credit for this lovely little thing, but it was mostly you.”

“I couldn’t have done it without you.”

He had given her Sansa, and he had been with her through almost everything despite that he had been very angry at her. And she most likely wouldn’t have been able to take care of another baby completely on her own, no matter what she had thought in the beginning. Or, well, she would have been able to do it, the question was about whether or not she would have been fine while doing it.

Catelyn sat on the edge of the couch and laid a hand on Sansa’s back. She was so tiny. Robb had been much bigger.

“I had almost forgotten what it feels like to have a small baby” Ned said.

“Me too. She’s entirely dependent on us. We are necessary for her survival.”

“That’s crazy.”

She looked at him. He turned his eyes from Sansa and to her. But that thing in his eyes, the one she associated with how he watched her daughter, the one she associated with love, that thing was still there.

“It’s nice though, isn’t it?” Catelyn said softly. “Being that important to someone.”

“It is.”

She couldn’t help but smile, and when he smiled as well she had to look away. Damnit. What was she playing at, what was she trying to do? What was he trying to do?

“I should put her to bed.”

When she reached for Sansa he took one of her hands and held it. She met his eyes once more.

“Ned. We really shouldn’t...”

“I know, I know.”

She carefully took their daughter and held the still sleeping baby to her chest. She could feel how Sansa breathed steadily. It was always calming to feel that since she was still in the phase when she was constantly terrified of that her baby would just stop breathing and die.

Ned sat up. That brought him much closer to her, she could almost feel the heat radiating from his body.

“Why do you want to?” she asked, keeping her gaze on Sansa. “You haven’t forgiven me, we haven’t fixed anything, why do you want to?”

He was quiet and Catelyn was just about to leave the couch and take Sansa upstairs when he answered.

“I don’t know. Why do you want to?”

She could answer that question in a heartbeat.

“Because I miss you.”

She did. She missed him. He was right there, but not like he had been before. And that was her own fault. Everyone could have been happy if it had not been for what she did.

“I miss you too.”

Why had he said that? Anything else would have been better, anything else would have made it easier to stay away.

“How can you do that when you hate me?” she asked.

“I don’t hate you. I hate what you did, I’m angry and I won’t forgive you, but I don’t hate you.”

“It sure as hell would have been easier if you did.”

He chuckled at that. But it wasn’t a happy sound.

“I don’t know if I’m able to. Sometimes I wish that I could, but I can’t. You did something to me that hurt me and still I can’t hate you. Maybe that is the reason for why I want to.”

That made no sense at all. But nothing ever really made sense. Or maybe it did and she just couldn’t understand it. At least she wasn’t alone in that, she had a strong feeling of that he probably understood nothing as well.

“Because you can’t hate me?”

“Clearly there is something about you that stops me from that, no matter if I like it or not.”

Despite that everything in her screamed at her not to do it, she leaned a bit closer to him. She couldn’t do that, she couldn’t, but she wanted to. It felt like she had never wanted something more.

“I can’t” she forced out. “This won’t make anything better.”

If anything it could make everything worse.

“No, but what can make things better?” he sighed.

She had asked herself that question a million times. What could make it better? She didn’t know. He almost refused to talk about it, gave her nothing on what she was supposed to do. It felt like she was walking in a dark room with no way of knowing where the light switch was. What she did know was that she was incredibly tired of it. It was draining. She was the one who had turned off the lights, but she was still tired of it.

She moved away from him again.

“Am I supposed to answer that? I’m not the one who won’t talk.”

And suddenly his face was no longer soft, but hard and cold as the northern winter.

“Have you considered that maybe trusting you is a bit hard after you kept a child secret?”

“I’m not asking you to trust me, I’m asking you to talk to me. This is the closest we have been to a meaningful conversation in more than a year. I just want to know what you want me to do.”

“I don’t want you to do anything. You have messed up enough as it is.”

All that worked as quite a reminder of why she had not said anything about that earlier. They wouldn’t get anywhere with that, there was no point in trying. And she didn’t want to fight, she didn’t have the energy for that, so she simply stood up and took Sansa upstairs to her crib.

Catelyn stayed in her room for the remainder of that evening. It was better than risking anything. He didn’t want to fight either, she was well aware of that. But it was hard, and multiple times she found herself almost going to him. To apologize, or try to talk again, or anything, really. She didn’t know what she wanted to do, but she wanted to do something. The fact that she had no idea about what to do ached in her. She hated not having a grip of the situation.

And when she heard him come up the stairs she just couldn’t stop herself. She opened the door, but he walked right past her.

“I would take it back if I could” she said, leaning against the doorframe. “And I’m sorry.”

Ned stopped. He didn’t turn to look at her, but he sighed.

“I know you are because I know you’re not a bad person. You never meant to hurt anyone, but here we are.”

It was slowly killing her to see him hurt so. It hurt in her as well. Because she loved him. She had denied it for quite some time, but she did love him. Otherwise it wouldn’t have hurt so much. Otherwise the guilt wouldn’t have been eating her up from the inside.

“Here we are” she mumbled and once again wondered where they would have been if it had been different.

“Loving you is undoubtedly the hardest thing I have ever done.”

She could say the same. Loving him was the hardest thing she had ever done. But she loved him all the same.

“Don’t you mean it was? It should be past tense.”

“No.”

That didn’t make any– oh. Oh.

“Ned.”

He loved her. And she loved him. Catelyn had never experienced a stranger emotion than the mix of joy and sorrow that filled her at that realization. It was supposed to be a good thing, and to some extent it was, but at the same time it kept them from going forward.

Ned just continued to his room, not looking back at her. That time she didn’t hesitate before following him, she couldn’t leave it there.

“Ned” she repeated, laying a hand on his shoulder to stop him.

“Cat” he responded.

When he turned around he was so close to her that she could almost feel his breath on her face.

“I’m sorry” she whispered and turned her gaze to the floor. “I’m so sorry.”

She didn’t know what she was apologizing for. For keeping the secret for so long, for showing up at his house one day without a warning, for partaking in the affair, for that he still loved her. Maybe it was all of it. Maybe it was something entirely different.

He leaned his forehead against hers and she could feel the tears in her eyes. Why did it have to be so hard? Why couldn’t it be easy? She was exhausted.

“I love you, and I miss you” Ned said. “That is why.”

The only thing Catelyn could do in response to that was kiss him. It wasn’t accidental, it wasn’t something she did in confusion, she did it because she wanted to. Because she believed he wanted to as well. And it felt just as good as she had imagined when he pulled her closer to him and deepened the kiss.

~*~

She had not meant to fall asleep afterwards. She had meant to go to her room and sleep there. But still she woke to the sound of Sansa’s cries and did not realize where she was at first. It took her a moment to understand to who that warm arm around her belonged to.

Ned stirred when she moved away from him and climbed off the bed. She began gathering up her clothes from the floor. It definitely was time to move back to her bedroom and she might just as well do it when she had to go to Sansa.

“I can take her” Ned offered.

“No” Catelyn said, perhaps a bit too quickly. “I’ll do it. I should get back to my room anyway.”

She left before he had time to say anything else. The night before she had been too caught up in the moment to feel ashamed about it. But after that sated bliss had left her she could look at it in another light. Last time things had ended so terribly bad. And the circumstances were very different that time around, sure, but still something tightened in her chest. How would he feel about it? Would he regret it? Would he regret sleeping with her again after what she had done? She didn't want to go back to how it had been between them mere months earlier.

She held Sansa in her arms and kissed the top of her little head. She wasn’t hungry and was quite quickly soothed back to sleep. But Catelyn wasn’t quick to put her down.

She half expected Ned to come after her. Or maybe she just wished he would. She didn’t know. But he never came and in the end she put Sansa down and crawled into her own bed. And she couldn’t help but thinking of that morning in the kitchen when he had made her pancakes. It had been more than a year since that. And a lot had happened. But she felt the same as she had felt then. She wanted to be with him. All of him. They were living together, she had been in his bed just minutes earlier. It was more than she had had back then, before Sansa. But she still didn’t have every part of him. And she was very sure of that he would never give it all to her. She understood that, and she was aware of that she had fucked up badly. But it still hurt.

Catelyn had slept little when morning came, Sansa had refused to sleep longer than an hour at a time, which was unusual. But Catelyn still wasn’t that tired. And she heard when Ned passed her door and walked down the stairs. Always the early riser. Even up earlier than the baby.

She wanted to stay in bed longer. Because she had no idea about what to do or say when she saw him. It had been fine. Why had they decided to throw sex into the mix as well and shake everything up? She didn’t know. But it had felt so damn good that she was almost ready to take every consequence there was just for more of it. And they loved each other.

After a while Sansa decided that it was time to get up for them too. So Catelyn fed her and then took her downstairs.

“Mornin’” Ned said when she came downstairs.

He didn’t look up from the newspaper he was reading. Was he as stressed about all of it as she was? Or was he as calm as he seemed? She genuinely had no idea. Lately it had been very hard to understand his feelings and what he wanted. She just didn't want them to hurt each other because of it.

“Good morning” she responded as she put Sansa in her chair.

It felt a bit weird to have the kitchen table in the living room, but they would have all of their kitchen in the living room in a day when they started renovating the kitchen.

Ned put away his newspaper and directed his attention towards Sansa instead. He was great at keeping her in a good mood.

The morning slowly passed. They did some cleaning, which was a hundred times easier when Robb and Jon weren’t home. Lovely lads, but terrible at putting things away. And Catelyn had not even reflected over that they had baby stuff literally everywhere, but she did when she was picking it all up. She could only imagine what it would be like once Sansa learned to walk.

It was actually quite nice. They didn’t talk much, but it didn’t feel bad at all. He even smiled at her occasionally so he couldn’t hate it too much, right? It could go well.

After lunch they took boxes down from the attic and began packing down things they had in the kitchen. Catelyn was surprised by how many things they had after only having lived there for half a year. They were just taking a break when she got a messege

haven't seen you in a while, wanna take a walk or something?

The timing for that couldn't have been better and an hour later Catelyn found herself walking towards the little coffee shop a few blocks from their house so that she could get some desperately needed coffee before meeting up with Cersei. Ned had happily taken Sansa for an hour so that she could go out for a walk, he was probably glad to be rid of her for a while. He probably needed some time to reflect, just as she did. It had been hard to do so while being just a few meters apart.

“Well, don’t you look miserable?” was the first thing Cersei said. “Baby keeping you awake?”

“Among other things” Catelyn responded and took a sip of her coffee.

She regretted it when she burned her tongue and pulled a face. She should have known that she had to wait until it cooled down a bit. But she should have known that last night as well. And that hadn’t exactly stopped her.

“And your kitchen flooded. You’re really living the dream life.”

Catelyn had to smile. She was living quite the opposite of the dream life.

“Fucked up relationship, flooded kitchen, kids that won’t sleep, people wish they were me.”

Cersei snorted.

“You still call that a relationship?”

She hesitated for a moment. Was it a good idea to tell Cersei about it? She didn’t want to keep it to herself, but it was still so new, she didn’t know what to do with it. But what would change if she told Cersei? Nothing. So she decided to go for it.

“I don’t know what else to call it.”

“Have you considered dating or seeing someone else?”

She had absolutely not considered that. Who would have wanted her anyway? She was living with an ex and three children between the ages of ten and five months. So even if she had been interested in that the situation really wasn’t ideal for it.

“No. And he told me he loves me last night. I don’t know what that makes it, but it sure is something.”

She had expected some sort of reaction from Cersei, but the blonde only shrugged.

“Huh, I thought it would take longer.”

And what exactly did Cersei mean by that?

“What?”

“I knew it would come sooner or later, but not this soon. Ned’s a stubborn son of a bitch.”

Catelyn had to stop and look at her. That it would come sooner or later? Had she not listened when Catelyn told her about what had happened before? Ned had barely spoken to her for weeks, had refused to meet her eyes. There had been no sign of love, no sign of that they could ever be what they had been before. How could she have expected that?

“How could you have known that?” she exclaimed.

“Because I’ve been observing this relationship for years now, darling” Cersei laughed. “And no matter what happens you two always manage to snake your way back to each other. I don’t know if it’s a good thing or not, I’m just saying that’s how it is.”

It would have felt better if she could dismiss that as something that wasn’t true, but Catelyn knew it was. Nothing had ever stopped them before so she probably should have expected it to happen. She should have been ready. She hadn’t been ready. Not for him telling her that he loved her.

“I don’t know if it’s a good thing either” she sighed. “It just feels like we’re digging through rock bottom together.”

“That’s not great.”

“No. I thought that maybe it was about to get better now, that maybe we could finally move forward, but instead we just fell down the hole. Again. And I can’t even be mad about it because I love him.”

She didn’t want to feel that way, but she did. It should have been a good thing, love was a good thing, and how many nights had she not dreamt of them being happy with each other again? But that was the thing, she had dreamt of happiness. And at the moment their love didn’t make any of them happy. At least Ned wasn’t happy. And how could he ever be? When he loved the woman who had wronged him so terribly. It would have been a lot more welcome if they had talked more first, and actually started fixing their relationship.

“Maybe admitting that you love each other is what it takes for you to start digging upwards instead of downwards” Cersei said, sounding way too optimistic for Catelyn’s liking.

She couldn’t escape the feeling of that his feelings for her made him unhappy. That he disliked it. And it was hard to blame him for it. She just didn't want to hurt him more. She couldn't stand the thought of making things worse for him.

“I guess you could fix this if you want to. But the question is whether or not it’s a good idea.”

Catelyn had to believe it was a good idea. For the sake of her children. And for hers and Ned's sake. She wanted it to work so badly that it ached in her. And if they fucked up yet another time she would never forgive herself.

“I don’t know if he wants to. We’re in the same house because of the kids, not because he wants a relationship.”

It was fully possible that it had made him realize that he didn't want it at all and that he didn't want it to be more than a thing that happened once. She didn't want to dive right into it if he was going to back out as soon as it was brought up again.

“You haven’t talked to him?” Cersei asked, seemingly surprised.

“No. We tried to talk, got irritated with each other, I apologized and he told me he loves me and then–“ she stopped herself from finishing that sentence.

Cersei laughed again.

“I knew it!”

“Oh shut up, that’s really not important.”

The important part was literally everything but that. But she would have to talk to Ned about everything, she understood that. He understood it as well. Because they couldn’t just leave it there. Some things they just had to deal with as soon as possible.

They should have had that conversation the first thing that morning, but they hadn’t. They had had a good time instead.

“The mood was good this morning though, so maybe I shouldn’t be so pessimistic” she added. “I don’t know, I’m not brave enough to hope for anything because if I get my hopes up and it falls apart yet another time I’m gonna lose my mind.”

“I believe you shouldn’t think too much on it before you have actually talked about it with him. Because worrying isn’t doing anything good for you.”

“You’re probably right. I just don’t want us to go into it too fast and end up messing things up for ourselves and our kids.”

“I get that, Cat. But you really should talk to each other. I’m definitely no relationship expert, I have my fair share of mistakes regarding that, but even I can see that you two fucking suck at talking.”

"Oh believe me, I know."

But she was going to talk to him because walking around and being uncertain was quickly becoming unbearable.

#catelyn stark #catelyn tully #ned stark #ned x cat #minisa tully #cersei lannister #sansa stark #consequences #dealing with the consequences #i was planning to post earlier but i got distracted by a friend so im sorry about that but here's the chapter

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neocityarchive · 5 years ago

Text

blind love | l.m.k.

— in which mark lee is so much more than just your best friend but you were too blind to realize it.

word count: 7.2k | warnings: light swearing | blind love - lola young |

a/n: i didnt mean for it to be this long but i hope you enjoy!!!

“Just friends,” Mark said, his voice still steady even in the growing tension of the moment. “That’s all you said we are, right?”

Your head dropped down to look at your hands, not knowing what to say. The overbearing guilt of rejecting his sudden confession was crushing your chest that it became painful to breathe.

“I’m sorry, Mark,” was all you could say. You forced yourself to meet his gaze through your already glassy eyes, wanting to let him know the sincerity of your words.

He smiled kindly, shaking his head. There was sadness in his eyes. And in all the years you two have known each other, you could tell how hard he was trying to hide it. “It’s okay. That’s all we’ll be.”

You bumped your head repeatedly against your study table in an attempt to rid yourself of the memory that’s constantly been playing in your head.

It was a Sunday which meant there were no classes, which meant the university was closed, which meant that you couldn’t even make an excuse to see your best friend Mark who somehow, after almost three years of friendship, suddenly decided that it was a good idea to tell you he loves you more than a friend should love a friend.

You couldn’t say it happened out of nowhere. He’s been saying he has something important to tell you for almost two weeks before the incident but every time you confront him about it, he always makes up some lame excuse to dodge. It took a lot of self-hate for yourself and a nice amount of his protective instinct to finally make him spit it out.

He came to your apartment that night, finding you barefaced, wearing a pair of sweats and one of his hoodies that you stole some time ago. From that he already knew you weren’t okay. You like wearing his stuff to seek some sort of comfort. Somehow, the smell of his clothes helps calm you down.

You were supposed to help him finish a report but you couldn’t concentrate after getting a below satisfactory grade on a major exam. College has done nothing but give you a shitload of insecurities lately and this just pushed you off the edge. The only thing that has been keeping you sane was the knowledge that you had someone who you can run to at the end of the day. Someone who is willing to listen to your rants and would do almost anything to cheer you up.

That day, however, none of Mark’s usual encouragement worked on you. He was getting frustrated hearing you downplay yourself because of a single exam. You started going on about how stupid you felt, how staying up all night to study did nothing but make you ugly. Mark countered every insult you threw at yourself, throwing in a few jokes here and there, all of which you ignored. But when you went on about how all of this made you unworthy of anything, how no one could possibly love you in this state, he just couldn’t take it anymore.

“I love you,” he snapped, cutting you off from your long self-deprecating speech.

“You’re my best friend. You’re supposed to say that,” you whined, clearly missing the point.

Mark, on the other hand, was barely holding it all inside. He ran his hands through his hair and sighed. “No, idiot. I love you. Stop saying no one could love you, because I do. And not just because you’re my best friend.”

It wasn’t until you noticed his hands were quivering that you realized what he really meant. Looking back on it, you couldn’t help but hate yourself. You were sure it took a lot of his courage (and frustration) to come clean to you like that, and you couldn’t even take him seriously at first.

“Mark, no,” you remember telling him.

“I do. I hate that I do, but I do.” He looked away. “I love you and I know you’re feeling burdened right now, but you don’t have to say it back.”

A part of you broke that day. You hated rejecting people after having gone through several rejections yourself. It’s the worst feeling. You always wished there was a way you could always return people’s feelings just so no one would get hurt, but the universe just doesn’t work that way.

You muttered about a hundred sorries to which Mark replied a hundred ‘it’s okay’s. Maybe it was meant to make you feel better, but it just felt like your heart was getting ripped off your chest.

Mark didn’t stay long after that. You didn’t even get to help him with his report. He said sorry for suddenly dropping the L-word and you said sorry for not being able to say it back. He smiled sadly and it took your everything not to cry. He asked if he could hug you and you didn’t even answer. You just went straight into his arms, burying your head in his chest like you’ve done so many times before, breathing heavily to keep yourself from breaking down. And when the two of you pulled away, he insisted on being alone for a while. You said okay followed by another sorry.

You didn’t know “being alone for a while” meant ignoring you for god knows how long. You see him at uni but he wouldn’t even meet your eye. Even when you share the same class, he would choose to sit as far from you as possible. Once, he entered a cafe you were in and upon seeing you inside, he immediately turned around and walked away.

He’s ignoring you and he isn’t even being subtle about it. Mark Lee could never be subtle about anything, not even his feelings. You really were just too blind to realize anything.

Even other people saw how he felt. People used to come up to you all the time and ask about your “boyfriend” Mark. Sure, you would blush, shy that people thought you’re in a relationship with your best friend. When you explain that you weren’t actually dating, you would get the same shocked reaction every time. One of your friends even said you acted more like a couple than most people in a relationship do. You always thought it was just because you and Mark were such good friends.

“Friends don’t hold hands in public,” you remember Renjun saying.

“We don’t hold hands. He just grabs me and drags me to places,” you said defensively.

“And they don’t hug each other and stare at each other’s eyes while talking about pizza,” Jaemin scoffed.

You just rolled your eyes at them. It never crossed your mind that maybe they were right. You and Mark have never acted like how friends should. Maybe it’s the reason why you’re in this mess after all.

You sighed to yourself. You miss him. You can’t even pretend that you don’t. He’s become such a huge part of your everyday life that you couldn’t just ignore the sudden empty space he left when he said he wanted to be alone. You know he needed time to be by himself. But a part of you keeps holding on to his promise that even after his confession, you two would still be friends. And friends text each other, right? So all your attempts at communication depended on just that.

Thursday, 5:31 PM

You: wanna go watch a movie? i’ll buy the tickets.

Mark: cant. i have an exam tomorrow. sorry :/ maybe next time?

You: oh. okay. goodluck on your exam :)

Friday, 2:21 AM

You: [photo] this is possibly the cutest cat photo i’ve seen in awhile

Mark: that’s cute but dogs are still cuter

You: … okay?

Mark: go to sleep, y/n

Friday, 12:03 PM

You: i know you dont have class rn. have lunch w me?

Mark: oh i already ate with jaemin. sorry!!

You: it’s okayyyy :>> i’ll see u later? it’s friday night sooo we can hang out.

Mark: idk the boys already asked me to go out tonight

You: oh okay have fun!

Saturday, 6:54 PM

You: maaaark

Mark: y/nnn

You: [types] i miss you kajdhfhdksjdh [deletes]

You: nothing haha wanna grab some coffee?

Saturday, 7:01 PM

You: nvm haha have a nice nighhhttt

Sunday, 10:21 PM

You: hey can we talk

Mark: ???

You: please?

Mark: ye what about?

You: you said we’d still be friends

Mark: lol aren’t we?

You: this isn’t how friends talk to each other. i miss having an actual conversation with you.

You: we dont even see each other anymore.

Mark: i literally reply more to u than i do to jaem wdym haha

You: wow fine okay

Mark: ?????

You: i guess i deserve that haha

Mark: im tired y/n. night.

You: :( nighttt

You checked your messages for the nth time, reading everything as if something was gonna miraculously change with the cold conversation thread. Your fingers have been hovering over the keypad, typing and deleting ‘i miss you’ and ‘talk to me’ for about a hundred times already.

You don’t get why you can’t just say it. What’s so wrong with telling your best friend you miss him? Why is it so hard to press send? Why are you suddenly so afraid of how he would reply or if he would even reply at all?

It was only 10:30 in the evening. You know for sure Mark is only lying about going to sleep. He never sleeps this early unless he really is tired. He does nothing on Sundays so he can’t possibly be tired. Sundays are usually just the two of you hanging out in his apartment or yours, just to watch movies or study together. So what did he do today?

“Stop thinking about him,” you grumbled to yourself. “It’s just Mark. He’s a big boy, he can handle himself.”

But that’s not the point, a voice inside your head said. Just tell him you miss him.

You typed it again, ‘I miss you,’ but deleted it as soon as it was finished. Again.

You’ve spent everyday with Mark that it suddenly hurts to think he’s enjoying the time you usually spend together alone. It’s crazy how you can’t stop thinking about how his day went or if he’s okay or whether he’s eaten or not. You know how stubborn he can be. Sometimes, he’d get so engulfed in whatever he’s doing that he would accidentally skip meals unless you remind him otherwise.

“Fuck this,” you muttered to yourself. You figured you won’t ever be left at peace if you don’t do anything about whatever you’re feeling, so you decided to text Jaemin.

Sunday, 10:52 PM

You: jaeeem hi :)

Jaemin: y/n!!!!! hello :>

You: sorry for bothering you but have you talked to mark lately?

Jaemin: im talking to him rn haha why? you want me to ask him something?

You: not really hahaha how is he?

Jaemin: haha why not ask him yourself

You: he doesnt wanna talk to me lol pls just answer

Jaemin: he’s stubborn as always. he wont listen to me.

You: why, what’s he doing?

Jaemin: idk but it’s definitely not talking to you ksjdjkd

You: … very funny

Jaemin: sorry lmaooo he’s running on an hour or two of sleep everyday

You: jaemin!! why won’t you scold him?

Jaemin: we do! he just doesn’t listen. u know he only listens to you.

Jaemin: idk why you guys still arent together lmao bunch of idiots tbh

You: we’re just friends

Jaemin: rlly? oh btw mark hyung is looking for his save the bees shirt. did u see it anywhere?

You: yeah he left it here like two weeks ago when he slept over

Jaemin: LMAOOO DOESNT SOUND LIKE FRIENDS TO ME CHIEF

You: i fckingskjfhfn hate you

Jaemin: HJSJSHHDJD ok but seriously tho mark hyung is fine. just give him time, he’ll come around.

Jaemin: he misses you but u didnt hear it from me

Jaemin: ok bye he’s getting suspicious now lol

You: idk how you’re both an angel and the devil at the same time

You: anw thanks jaem. dont tell him i asked about him lol byeee

You sighed, putting your phone down in surrender. Your mind was more of a mess now than it was before you talked to Jaemin. You hate that he makes sense especially about the weird, more-than-friendly dynamics of your relationship with Mark. But more importantly, your head was beginning to be overfilled with worry.

Mark runs on barely two hours of sleep everyday. No wonder he always looks so out of it whenever you see him in the hallway. You wanted to call him, to tell him that he should sleep already, to remind him that he shouldn’t overwork himself, that doing just enough is okay. But you know he doesn’t want to talk to you. The cold replies and the ‘????’ were more than enough to tell you that.

Still, you figured it was worth a try sending him a little reminder. So you grabbed your phone once again and typed a message, revealing a little more of your emotions than you intended to. And before you could even think twice about it, you hit send.

Sunday, 11:04 PM

You: hey i know you’re still not asleep. dont worry, you dont have to reply to me. i just wanna tell you that you should take care of yourself. i know you. you’re stubborn and sometimes you won’t sleep or eat unless someone reminds you to so,, this is me reminding you haha. stop overworking yourself mark, please? you cant be sick cause i cant take care of you since you wont talk to me… lol jk. but seriously, get more rest (and talk to me,, hahah jk again unless u wanna ;)) please go to sleep now. goodnight. see you around i guess.

You stopped texting Mark after that. You wondered if he would find the initiative to talk to you first if you didn’t start the conversation. Now, two days have passed and your sleep reminder remains to be the last message on your conversation thread. You couldn’t say it didn’t hurt. You were hoping for at least a small thanks but didn’t get anything at all.

You were starting to get more and more frustrated as the days went by. It’s so unfair that you are slowly losing your best friend because of this. It’s unfair that you can’t even be mad at him because you just broke his heart. You wished there was any way you could have changed what happened, but the past remains to be written.

That afternoon, you passed by one of the cafes you and Mark always go to. You went inside, suddenly craving their special banana muffin which he introduced to you some months ago. The owner recognized you right away as you came up to the cashier.

“You’re not with your boyfriend today?” she asked.

You felt your heart skip a beat and not in a good way. It hurt. You figured there was no use in explaining since she probably won’t believe that Mark is not your boyfriend so you just smiled sadly and answered, “No.”

The lady somehow talked you into buying two muffins so you can bring one to your “boyfriend.” After handing her your payment, you realized maybe that wasn’t such a bad idea. Mark always brings you stuff whenever you’re mad or upset. He knows exactly what you’re craving for even before you knew you were craving for it. Why not try if it works on him?

As soon as you headed out the cafe, you whipped your phone out to text Jaemin, asking if he knew where Mark was. It’s Tuesday, his most free day of the week so he could be anywhere. Jaemin replied not after five minutes.

Jaemin: not sure but he mentioned something about the library??

You: okay thank you!

From that, you knew exactly where Mark is. There was a small patio-like spot beside the library that he likes going to. Not a lot of people utilize the place since the tables and chairs are almost always filled with dried fallen leaves from the surrounding trees but Mark likes the thought of being close to nature.

That day though, there were more people around the area than usual. It was lunchtime so most people were out of the classrooms. Still, it wasn’t hard spotting Mark. It has never been much of a challenge finding him in a crowd of people. You saw him as soon as he came into view, sitting by the table on the corner under one of the ginkgo trees. He had his laptop open and a box of food beside it. His eyebrows furrowed in concentration one moment and then he was laughing the next.

You were about to make your way towards him but immediately stopped in your tracks when you realized he wasn’t alone.

You didn’t know who the girl was. You’ve seen her a lot of times in class and in the hallway. You even have a vague memory of Mark talking to her one time. But you never really bothered to learn her name. She had that soft, innocent look that goes so well with her shy smile. She had her hair tucked in her ears to show just enough of her pretty face. She was beautiful. Unconventionally but undeniably. But none of that mattered.

When she said something with a smirk and Mark let out his trademark laugh, nose scrunching, hand repeatedly hitting the table, shoulders shaking and all, it felt like something punched you in the stomach. He uttered something in reply and now both of them are clutching their sides for laughing too hard.

He looks happy, you thought, I should be, too.

But you aren’t. You continued watching their exchange, him showing her something on his laptop and both of them laughing once again. Your chest felt heavy, like something was sitting on it and now it hurts to breathe. You didn’t realize you’ve been clutching the plastic bag containing the muffin too hard until you felt the sting of nails digging on your palms. You knew you should look away but you couldn’t. You wanted to run towards him. You wanted to tell the girl to scooch over so you can sit beside Mark and give him his muffin.

This is pathetic. I should be happy for him, you said to yourself. But why am I not?

You wanted to be angry, to scream and say that it should be you he’s laughing like that with. To say that it’s you he should be spending his time with. You wanted to ask if he still feels the way he said he does about you. And if he does, then why this? But you remained glued to the ground.

You hated how you were being selfish. You rejected him, remember? So why do you expect him to follow your tails like an intoxicated mad dog? Why can’t you be happy at the possibility that he found someone that feels the same way he does? Why does it… hurt? It’s not supposed to. If you really are friends, then him being happy with someone after your rejection should make you happy as well. If you really are friends, then you shouldn’t be standing here looking stupid, watching them from afar, wishing he’s with you instead.

“What are you looking at?”

You jumped at the sudden disruption, almost dropping your muffins. “What the hell, Jaemin?!” you whined, finally looking away from Mark.

“Mark hyung and Mina?” he snorted.

So that’s her name. “No,” you lied, forcing yourself to take a step away, then another, then another.

“Are you jealous?” Jaemin teased. “Have you finally realized you’re also whipped for our hyung?”

“No,” you grumbled.

“Then why are you almost crying?”

You blinked. You didn’t even realize the tears pooling in your eyes. Why are you being like this? “Shut up. I’m not.”

Jaemin only shrugged. “Fine. Torture yourself, then.” He smirked. “By the way, Jeno and I are inviting people to our place this Friday after exams. Just some drinks and maybe karaoke, I don’t know. We all deserve a break from hell. Wanna come?”

You didn’t reply. Your mind was too preoccupied with other things.

“Mark hyung is coming,” he said. “Maybe Mina too.”

“I don’t wanna go,” you said immediately, suddenly coming up with a decision.

The boy laughed. “You are jealous! God, I love it when you prove yourself wrong. You shouldn’t be though. You already know he likes you.”

“I’m not jealous! Stop it,” you whined, really wanting to cry this time. Everything is so frustrating and Jaemin is not being of any help. You wanted to go home and just wrap yourself in your blanket and maybe one of Mark’s hoodies.

“Then come to our place this Friday. It’s gonna be fun.” He grinned.

“Fine. Whatever. Just get away from me, you little shit,” you said, kicking him lightly in the butt.

You didn’t know if it was a lie or not but if Mark really is seeing someone now, you just didn’t like the idea of seeing them flirt with each other in front of your eyes. Even the thought of it makes you want to pull all your hair out. Is that considered jealousy? If so, why are you feeling it for someone who’s supposed to be just a friend?

Thursday came and you found yourself crying after realizing the shirt you’ve been wearing the whole day was Mark’s. No wonder he looked surprised seeing you in the hallway. He looked away immediately though, acting as if you weren’t there. It didn’t even cross your mind since you use this shirt quite a lot.

After calming yourself down, you put your playlist on shuffle and cried some more after Friends by Ed Sheeran started playing. You didn’t even realize how fitting the song was for your situation until now. Mark probably did.

You remembered him singing that song once. The two of you were just lounging in his apartment. He was playing his guitar while you pretended to study when in reality you were just looking at him. You watched as his fingers plucked and strummed the guitar strings while he softly mumbled lyrics, head bobbing to the tune. He’s good. Unsurprisingly, since he’s good at everything.

When he realized you were staring at him, he turned his head slightly to meet your eyes, one side of his lips curling up into a smirk. “No, my friends won’t love me like you do,” he sang.

You looked away, your cheeks heating up almost immediately. It was hard to focus on your readings when he’s sitting right in front of you looking like that, singing like that. You sighed. He truly was never being subtle about how he felt.

After finishing the song, Mark put his guitar down and laid his head on your lap, not even bothering to ask if it’s okay. That’s how comfortable you were with each other.

“What are you doing?” You remember whining.

“Wake me up after 15 minutes,” he said, already closing his eyes. You took a photo of him that night. He’s cute when he’s asleep. Even cuter when you look at him up close.

Of course, you just had to search your camera roll to find the photo. When you did, it felt as if a storm was raging on your stomach and a gorilla was pounding on your chest. It never dawned to you just how much it hurts that he suddenly left you alone until that moment.

“Goddamn, I miss you so much,” you muttered, looking at his peaceful expression in the photo.

And then you cried some more. You feel lost.

All you wanted to do was curl up in his arms and inhale his scent and listen to how his day went (and maybe accidentally fall asleep together). It sucks because you really had no one else to turn to. The single person who has always been your safe place doesn’t want to talk to you and even if he did, you really wouldn’t know what to say. Perhaps friends really aren’t like that. The thought of everyone being right when they said that maybe you and Mark were never really just friends has never been stronger than it was tonight.

Still, you couldn’t be bothered to sort your feelings out.

He feels like home, you thought. It was the best way to explain the sense of comfort and safety and the feeling of being more than enough that he provides you. It’s the only thing you can think of when your mind drifts to how he is always the constant person that you run to at the end of the day. But friends can feel like home, too, right?

Not to this extent. Not really.

Friday. You found yourself aimlessly roaming around the neighborhood after your classes in the hopes of distracting yourself from your feelings or whatever the hell they’re supposed to be called. You wouldn’t have remembered Jaemin’s party if you didn’t happen to pass by their apartment building.

You stood in front of it for two solid minutes, contemplating whether to go or not.

Mark might be there, you thought. With everything that’s going on in your head and with all the mess happening in your chest, would it really be a good idea to see him? You thought maybe all these things you’re feeling are just a result of missing him. All these sadness and confusion might just be because you miss your best friend.

So you entered the building. You told yourself that you’ll try talking to him again this time, no matter how stubborn he’s going to be. And if it still doesn’t change anything, then you will take it as a sign to let him go. If not forever, then at least for now.

You reached the door to Jaemin and Jeno’s apartment. Even from the outside, the sound of the bass can already be heard. You wondered how long before the neighbors would file a complaint against them, but knowing Jaemin and Jeno, their neighbors are probably inside, partying with them right now.

Before entering, you looked down on your chest just to make sure you were wearing your own shirt and not Mark’s. It didn’t feel right wearing his stuff anymore. God, it really felt like you just broke up. Why is it like this?

You took a deep breath and opened the door. There were already a lot of people inside even if it was just 8 in the evening. Most of them, you know the faces of. You smiled to greet some and muttered a hi to others.

Renjun spotted you as soon as you came into the living room. “Y/N!” He grinned, handing you a cup of god knows what. “Jaemin said he invited you but we were all pretty sure you were gonna ghost us. But you didn’t!”

You laughed hesitantly. “Thanks, I guess?”

“Drink up. It’s a cocktail I made myself,” he said proudly, almost forcing the cup into your mouth.

You took a sip, figuring it won’t do any harm but you spat the liquid back to the cup as soon as it touched your tongue. “What the hell did you put in this?”

He shrugged. “Honestly, I don’t know. I just mixed in everything I could find. Thanks for trying it out though. I’ve been looking for a volunteer for five minutes already.”

You frowned. There were a lot of things you were unsure of at the moment but there is one thing that’s certain: you have weird friends. You were about to complain to Renjun when he plucked the cup from your grip and went on to find another victim, not even bothering to listen when you said you literally spat on the cup.

Mark didn’t seem to be anywhere. The apartment wasn’t that big so if he was here, it would be easy to spot him. Maybe he decided not to show up after knowing you were coming. And honestly, part of you was relieved. As much as you wanted to talk to him, you still didn’t know what to say.

I’m sorry I broke your heart, but I miss you so much and I did a lot of thinking and maybe we really shouldn’t be labeled as just friends but I don’t know if I love you, is that okay? That’s just stupid. This whole thing is stupid.

You wanted to leave. Parties have never really been your thing. You usually just go because Mark asked you to since he loves interacting with people. But you figured you needed some alcohol in your system, mainly as a distraction, but also to give you a boost of courage just in case. So you made your way to the kitchen, avoiding eye contact with anyone as much as possible.

You stopped in your tracks as you came to the kitchen. The sound of that laugh was all too familiar.

Great, you thought. Mark was there. And Mina was too. But so were Jeno and Jaemin who exchanged looks as soon as their eyes landed on you. They were all laughing about something before you came.

“You’re here!” Jaemin said a little too enthusiastically in a poor attempt to address the sudden increase of tension in the room.

“Hi,” you said, smiling sheepishly, purposefully avoiding Mark’s gaze which you could feel boring into you. “Just gonna get a drink.”

“Help yourself,” Jeno said. Jaemin smirked beside him.

The refrigerator was just beside Mark. Just great, you thought again. You walked towards it, desperately trying to ignore the four pairs of eyes following your every move.

“Excuse me,” you muttered, still not looking at your best friend.

Mark took a step sideways before opening the fridge for you. You muttered a quick thanks before grabbing the first bottle your hands landed on, not even bothering to check what it was. You really just wanted to get out of there. Maybe the talking to Mark plan was flawed from the beginning because you clearly can’t find the courage in you to face him now.

Beside you, Mark clicked his tongue. He was so close that you could smell his perfume mixed with a bit of alcohol. It made your knees weak.

He took the bottle from your hand and put it back before grabbing a different one and handing it to you. “The other one had vodka. Vodkas give you a headache, remember?” he said in a slightly annoyed tone.

“Oh.” Your voice sounded small even to your own ears. Not gonna lie, you wanted to cry at that moment. “Thanks.”

You could hear Jaemin snickering behind you but you couldn’t bring it in yourself to care. You turned to everyone and said a quick goodbye before dashing out of the kitchen.

Your heart was beating hard and rapidly and not because you moved too fast. You didn’t know why but it hurt seeing Mark like that, like he was okay, like nothing changed with the two of you. It hurt knowing that even after everything, he still knows you the best.

You wanted to run. You wanted to disappear. But you couldn’t leave without passing by the kitchen. Somehow, you know someone in there would stop you. If not Mark, then definitely Jaemin. But you really wanted to be alone. So you resorted to the next best thing. You whipped your phone out and sent Jaemin a text.

You: thanks for inviting me to this party. now i feel like shit :D

Jaemin: IM SORRY BUT DONT LEAVE YET TF

You: i need to be alone and i cant leave without passing by the kitchen and seeing mark. so pls let me use your room for a while.

You: i wont do anything i promise. i just need to calm down.

Jaemin: fine but dont lock the door

You: okay thanks

The door to Jaemin’s room was at the other end of the apartment. You made your way through the noisy crowd, slipping from Renjun’s weird gimmicks when he tried to make you a victim once again, before finally reaching the quiet confines of Jaemin’s room.

The thin walls barely blocked the noise but at least there was no one else here. You sat at the edge of the bed and placed the beer bottle on the floor. You forgot you didn’t even manage to open it. So you just stared at your feet, trying to catch your breath even if you didn’t do anything. That heavy feeling on your chest was back again. It was now associated with being in Mark’s presence.

You started counting to ten to calm yourself down before burying your face on your palms, breaking down into sobs as soon as your forehead came in contact with your fingers. “God, why can’t I just…” you cried, “... admit it to myself already?”

You wanted to thrash around in the bed in frustration but you thought Jaemin didn’t deserve such a mess so you settled with getting up and lightly banging your head against the door. It’s a bad habit you do when you feel annoyed or frustrated. Mark has always been reminding you to stop before you hurt yourself.

Mark. Again. You groaned, hitting your head a little harder this time.

Someone knocked on the door making you stop. You took a step back, thinking you just imagined it. But there it was again.

“Someone’s here,” you said, trying to hide the sound of your voice breaking.

“I know. Can I come in?” It was Mark. There was no question.

Your heart started pounding on your chest once again. You wanted to tell him to go away but you couldn’t find it in yourself to do so.

He took your silence as a yes. He swung the door slightly and poked his head through the small opening. Your hands immediately flew to your face to hide the fact that you’ve been crying.

“You know, I came in here because I didn’t wanna see you when I pass by the kitchen if I leave then you come here making me look like a clown,” you said, your voice muffled by your hands.

Mark chuckled softly. “Why didn’t you wanna see me?”

You didn’t reply. Your face felt hot, not just because of the tears that just won’t stop falling but also because all the blood has come rushing to your cheeks.

Mark grabbed both your wrists and gently lowered your hands down, trying to see your face, but your head bent down as soon as it wasn’t covered. “Y/N, look at me,” he said, hands still on your wrists.

“No.”

“Are you crying?” The idiot crouched down to have a glimpse of your face making you whine and cover your face again. “Last I checked, I should be the one looking brokenhearted around here.”

“God I hate you,” you mumbled. “You ignored me for nearly four weeks and you come in here just to make fun of me.”

He let out an empty laugh. “Well, you did break my heart so…”

At that, you removed your hands from your face to look at him. You were going to say sorry but Mark had that smug look on his face that made you want to punch him. It was almost convincing if you weren’t so good at reading the real emotions in his eyes. His expression softened upon finally seeing you properly.

He looked away, not being able to hold your gaze either. That just confirmed how hard he was trying to keep up with the exterior he was showing everyone.

“I’m sorry,” you said, voice breaking.

He sighed. “I told you. It’s okay.”

“But it’s not,” you cried. “I’m sorry I hurt you. I didn’t realize how easy it was to misread what we had because let’s face it, we don’t act like ‘just friends.’ I’m sorry because I was too blind to see how you felt even when you weren’t really trying to hide it. I’m sorry because even though I rejected you, I was so selfish that I still wanted to keep you for myself without realizing that you probably needed to be away from me to move on. I’m sorry because…” you swallowed.

Mark was just looking at you, eyebrows slightly raised in anticipation of what you were going to say next. You missed him. You missed that cute face of his. You missed being in his presence. You missed his voice and his laugh and how he loves teasing you even if he probably feels like shit inside. You missed everything. Four weeks have been too long without each other. Four weeks is too long without your best friend. Four weeks is too long without your home. And that’s when you realized…

“... I can’t let you go. And I might be too late, but I’m sorry that I only just realized why.”

“Why?” he asked.

It was a simple question. Why? Yet it managed to carve out every single feeling you’ve ever felt for this boy. Every little moment he made you laugh. Every small heartbreak you get when he fails to keep his tiny promises. Every single night you ‘accidentally’ fell asleep next to each other. Every ounce of fulfillment you get when you finally convince him to sleep after a long day. Every goodnight. Every good morning. Everything.

“I love you,” you said. It sounded almost like an exhale.

For a moment, Mark didn’t reply. Your head immediately started swarming with unwelcomed thoughts. Maybe you were too late. You almost forgot about Mina who he seems to be having an excellent time with. Maybe he managed to move on within those four weeks. It’s possible, right? You had your chance and you missed it.

Finally, Mark let out a laugh, his head falling down to look at the floor. “I told you you didn’t have to say it back,” he said, voice soft.

You shook your head. “I’m not saying it because you said it first,” you said. “I realize this might be the worst timing but I just thought you should know you weren’t the only one being stupid enough to fall for their best friend. I was just too dumb to realize that that’s what it was.”

“Why would it be the worst timing?” He frowned.

You felt like crying again. You really wish you had some alcohol in your system right now. Why is this whole confession thing taking so long? “‘Cause you’re dating Mina? Or trying to. I don’t know. I tried not keeping tabs on you because our friends are assholes who wouldn’t stop teasing me. She’s pretty, by the way. You two look good together.”

Mark laughed again. It was raw and real this time, and god, the way your chest tightened in endearment at the sound was so pure. “You thought me and Mina are dating?”

“Aren’t you? I’ve seen you guys together a lot.” Well, once. But you tend to overestimate things.

“No!” He snorted. “Jaemin and I are trying to get her and Jeno together. If anything, she made me realize that we definitely aren’t just friends.”

“Really?” Now you just feel stupid. But what else is new? It’s all you’ve been feeling lately. Come to think of it, Mark and Mina didn’t even come close to how you two act with each other.

“Really,” he said. “Friends don’t stay at each other’s place and cuddle with each other just to fall asleep, Y/N. Besides, I said I love you, didn’t I? Did you really think that’s just gonna go away that quickly?”

“Mark, I can’t even sort my feelings out. How am I supposed to figure out how yours work?” You sighed.

“Fine. Just to be clear, I still love you. Even if you don’t, I love you,” he said, taking both your hands and placing it on his shoulder before putting his on your waist.

“But I do.”

“Say it then.”

“I love you. Even if you’re the dorkiest person I know, I love you.” Your fingers tangled themselves in his hair. You’ve run your hands through his hair so many times before. You wondered why it never crossed your mind that you liked doing it not because his hair is soft but because you were sucker for the domestic feeling of it.

Mark couldn’t stop himself from smiling that he had to bury his face at the crook of your neck. “I’m not used to this, sorry.”

“Me neither,” you laughed.

When he finally composed himself, he pulled away just enough to look at you. All those times you’ve stood this close before does not even compare to how it’s like right now. This is the perfect mix of feeling new but familiar.

“You have no idea how many mornings I fought the urge to kiss you whenever we wake up next to each other,” he said in a soft voice.

“Well, nothing’s stopping you know, is there?” you muttered, eyes fluttering to his lips.

You pulled Mark down by the neck as he pulled you closer to him, your lips finally connecting. The idea of kissing him isn’t new to you. There were so many times before that you’ve found yourself inches away from his face and slamming your lips together wouldn’t have been such a bad idea. But this is the first you actually kissed him yet he felt so familiar that you were almost sure you’ve done this a million times before. His lips were soft against yours that it made you weak in the knees. If he weren’t holding onto you like he was, you probably would’ve crumpled already.

The two of you pulled away, breathless.

“Wow,” he breathed. “That didn’t even come close to how I imagined it would feel like.”

You laughed. “This whole night didn’t come close to how I imagined it would be like. I thought you were gonna keep on ignoring me. And honestly, I wouldn’t know how to cope anymore because I really, really miss you already. So thanks for saving me.”

“Stop making me blush. I don’t know how I can possibly love you more than this.”

You rolled your eyes but you couldn’t stop yourself from smiling. This was only one of the very few times that the reality went better than your expectations. But then again, maybe you and Mark have always been meant to happen. It was happening even before you realized it was. And now that you finally managed to sort how you both felt, there was no more wasting chances.

“Do I still have to ask you to be my girlfriend?” he asked.

“We’ve literally slept in the same bed so many times. I’d be more surprised if we’re not dating already,” you joked.

Mark grinned. “You’re literally the only one who didn’t realize that until today, but it’s okay, I still love you.”

You laughed. “Wanna go outside and pretend we didn’t make up? I’m 100% sure Jaemin betted on us.”

“I worry how your mind works sometimes, Y/N,” Mark said with a frown before kissing you on the forehead. “But let’s do it.”

You smiled. You’ve said it a lot but you really missed this proximity. You missed being able to hug him whenever you want, and now you can kiss him whenever you want too. You wanted to say you could get used to this, but the thing is… you already are.

#y/n is a clown here read at your own risk #BUT PLS ENJOY CAUSE I DID #dhjdkjfhdfk i should stop writing about mark #nct au #nct imagines #mark lee imagines #mark lee #nct mark au #nct prompts #nct blurbs #soft nct hours #sad nct hours #nct fluff au #nct angst au #nct dream au #nct 127 au

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gumnut-logic · 4 years ago

Text

The Tattoo (Part Ten, Bit 2 - The End)

Okay, I’ve been staring at this all day. I have no idea what I’ve written anymore so I’m just going to dump this here and run ::hugs::

For @vegetacide cos it is her fault. Many thanks to @tsarinatorment @vegetacide and @scribbles97 for the read throughs, plot help and support. This was a bloody hard one to write. It started with Virgil, but Scott ate me alive. 2848 words, fic total 18,111 words.

I hope you enjoy whatever the result was.

-o-o-o-

“Son, sit down.” He waved him to a chair across from him.

A sigh. So, interview it was.

He loved his father. Would go to the ends of the solar system and beyond for him, but some things never changed. Jeff Tracy was a determined man.

At least Scott knew where he got it from.

He killed the coffee machine and made his way back to the table, this time taking up a seat that set his back to the shadow of Mateo.

Grey eyes latched onto him.

“I’m proud of you son.”

Blink.

His father reached over and took his hand.

Scott’s eyes widened. Dad had never been one for a great deal of physical contact, but that had changed since he came back. Scott stared at the scarred fingers holding his.

“Son, I…” His father swallowed. “I need to know your brother is okay.”

Scott frowned. “Virgil is okay, Dad. I promise.” It was what he had been saying all along.

A drawn out sigh. “I need to know if being part of International Rescue is in Virgil’s best interest.”

Eyes widening, Scott pulled back, his hand slipping from his father’s as his back straightened. “Dad, no.”

A held-up hand. “Hear me out.”

“Dad, this happened a long time ago. International Rescue is our lives, Virgil’s life. You can’t take it away from him.” A pause. “I won’t let you.”

Those old grey eyes latched on to him and his father’s lips thinned. “Is he on medication?”

“Dad, you need to speak to V-“

“Is he on medication?”

“Yes. It is handled and monitored. Virgil is fine, Dad!”

His father made a sorrowful sound that cut Scott to the quick, before burying his face in his hands. “I wish…” It was muffled, but Scott heard it. “I’m sorry I wasn’t here. If I had known…” But his voice drifted off and Scott was left staring at his father, his heart sinking more by the minute.

“We made it, Dad. We’re okay.”

His father’s head shot up. “How can you say that? Virgil is suffering from a mental illness exacerbated by his job. Yet you tell me he should keep doing that job despite what it is costing him.”

Voice quiet but firm. “It is his decision, Dad.”

“And what happens if it becomes too much? What if-“

“Dad! It is under control. Virgil is an adult. He knows what he is doing and yes, if something does go wrong, he has all of us. We back each other up. None of us are perfect. We work as a team.”

Grey eyes snapped at him. “What else don’t I know?”

Scott held back a snarl. “What else do you want to know? If you think I’m going to give you the lowdown on all my brother’s personal information, dream on, Dad.”

Those eyes didn’t falter. “Then what about you?”

“What about me? Have I had moments? Of course, I have. You know this job, Dad. It can be hell. And yes, there is a whisky stash in your desk. There always has been.” He returned that piercing glare with one of his own.

“I never claimed to be perfect, son.”

“And neither did we. Virgil’s mental health is his business. He prefers to keep it to himself. I’m aware of it. It is being managed. End of discussion.”

The steel in his father’s eyes did not vanish. “I only want what is best for my children.”

Scott’s lips thinned as he stood up. “We’re not children anymore.”

“I know that, son, but I’m still your parent.”

The tension in Scott’s shoulders only tightened. “Dad-“

“You know, I always remember Scotty being a bit of a clone of you, Dad, but up until now, I’d never really seen how much.”

A blink as Gordon slipped out of the darkness beside the stairs. He had his swimwear on and a towel thrown over his shoulder. His posture was casual, but Scott could see the tension in his shoulders. “Gordon-“

“Hey, Dad, welcome to the whacky world that is International Rescue, your local rescue organisation run by five brothers of questionable sanity. Here be the eldest, a strong, masculine heartbreaker who has an obsession complex that can drive the whole family out of the solar system. His back up and apparently medicated…” He glared at Scott. “…second in command, artist and sensitive type who takes on far too much and suffers for it. Coordinated by our communications guru who is so introverted he can’t go to parties without breaking a sweat. Not to mention our aquanaut who suffers from PSTD because his body was broken six ways to Sunday and yet still managed to survive. And finally, our kid brother who has yet to be traumatised enough to sport a mental illness, but give him time.” A sigh. “Honestly, Dad, what did you expect?”

“Gordon!”

“Scott, c’mon! Face it. It’s a hard job. We do it. Shit happens.”

Their father climbed to his feet. “Are you finished, son?”

Gordon glared at his father. “That depends.” His lips tightened. “Are you seriously considering pulling Virgil from IR?”

Scott flared. “That is not on the table.”

That earned him a brown-eyed glare. “Isn’t it? The fact you are questioning Virgil’s ability to do a job he has excelled at for years…” The glare returned to his father. “I just thought I’d let you know that if you do choose to do that, you can go find yourself another aquanaut. Because Virg goes? I’m going with him.”

“Virgil isn’t going anywhere!” The mere thought of losing any of his brothers… “Gordon, Dad just had some questions-“

“Yeah, questioning if the heart of this outfit was able to do his job.” Gordon rounded on his father again. “If you had seen what Virgil is capable of, you wouldn’t have any questions.”

“Gordon, for god’s sake!”

Their father held up a hand. “It’s fine, Scott. As you said, Gordon has a right to his opinion.” His voice was quiet enough to bring Gordon’s ire to a halt and the sudden gap in conversation let the sounds of the ocean in through the open doors. “But as your father, I have a right to my opinion also. I need information. Scott has been in command for those eight years, so I am asking him for a report.”

“On our brother.”

“On a staff member of International Rescue.” An indrawn breath. “And my son.”

“Then perhaps you should speak to your son.” Those brown eyes flared.

“I intend to.” Those grey eyes turned back to Scott. “However, I was hoping to put him through the least amount of stress by gathering enough information beforehand, in particular what instigated this issue.”

Scott straightened again. “I’m sorry, Dad. That is not my story to tell.”

“Even as Commander of International Rescue?”

Ever so quiet as his eyes held his father’s. “Even then.”

They were all interrupted by the whine of a not-quite-out-of-teenagerhood-despite-being-an-adult at the top of the stairs. “Oh, c’mon, John. I don’t need a warm milk.”

Smooth musical tones. “You had a nightmare, Alan. Warm milk is the best option for a quick return to sleep.”

“Really? Have you got a stash up on Five? Doesn’t that UHT milk taste vile?”

“It’s an acquired taste.”

“Blech!” His little brother caught sight of the three of them. “Wha-? What’s going on?”

Scott just felt sad as Alan and John took the last few steps into the room. But then John’s eyes had that wiser-than-you-know look about them and Scott’s shoulders knotted just that bit more.

Hiding anything from John was futile. And Alan?

John played for keeps.

As if subjected to an antibiotic for anger, Gordon’s stance changed immediately. “Woah, John, you got the squirt up before the sun? How did you manage that without the side effect of death?”

“He had a nightmare.” There was something in his brother’s eyes.

“John! Geez, it was only a bad dream. I’m not a little kid anymore!”

“One that had you screaming.”

“John!”

Scott stepped around the table. “You okay, Allie?”

“Oh, god, John. Now look what you did.”

The elder astronaut had a rather knowing smirk on his face.

Scott glared at him.

He put a hand on Alan’s shoulder anyway and squeezed gently.

His little brother growled at him. “I’m fine. It was time to get up anyway.”

“It’s before noon, Alan.”

“Shut up, Gordon.”

“Hey, I just have your teenage need for sleep at heart.”

“Shut up, Gordon.”

“That’s enough, you two.”

“He started it!”

“Alan.”

“Scccottttt…” It was pure whine and a strong sign that Gordon was probably right. Alan needed more sleep.

“You going to grab some warm milk?”

“Heck, no. That was John’s idea. I was just going to plug in some tunes, but he demanded I come down here. What are you guys doing anyway? Dad?”

Scott shot John with his eyes. This was worth a discussion later.

The smart ass just shrugged and smiled that smile of his.

“Dad?” Alan left Scott and hurried over to the table. “You okay?”

Scott spun to find their father reaching for his cane. Alan was there in a second and handed it to him. His little brother had an arm wrapped around his father and whether his help was wanted or not, he gave it.

“Are you okay, Alan?”

Alan rolled his eyes. “I’m fine, Dad. Johnny is just making a big thing out of nothing.”

As usual, the ‘Johnny’ moniker riled the astronaut. “You were calling Virgil’s name.”

The room froze.

Alan shot daggers at John from under his father’s arm. “Thanks a bunch.”

John tilted his head. “Well, you were.” He held up his hands. “Just trying to help.” But his eyes flickered to Scott.

He glared back. Yeah, right.

John’s small smirk just wound Scott up further.

But he would kill his middle brother later, right now, Alan was the concern. “You want to talk about it?”

“Nooo.”

“Is this about Virgil’s tattoo?” His father’s voice was quiet and a little sad.

“I’m fine, Dad. I’m eighteen. Not a kid anymore.” It wasn’t a ‘no’.

“Age has nothing to do with dreams, son. I have nightmares all the time. Even some about you.”

Alan shrunk back just a little. “Me?”

Their father nodded and Scott’s heart finished its plummet somewhere amongst the flagstones.

“About all of you. Sometimes you’re calling out to me and I can’t answer. Sometimes you’re hurting and I can’t help. Sometimes all of you are just gone.” He looked up at Scott. “In more ways than one. That I’ve lost you. That my one misstep cost us everything. Even now I find it hard to believe that all of you are here safe and sound.” His voice hitched on that last word and Scott knew the truth. Knew that they weren’t as sound as they could be.

“We’re here, Dad. All of us.” Alan was looking up at his father in that same way that eleven-year-old had looked up at Scott all those years ago. Eighteen years or not, his little brother still had faith.

“I know.” He tilted his head and caught Alan up in his arms, burying his face in his youngest’s hair. “It doesn’t stop the dreams, though, kiddo. I’m still scared.”

Scott swallowed hard.

“I’m sorry, Dad.” It was muffled against their father’s shirt.

“Not your fault. I just wanted you to realise that we all have bad dreams from time to time.”

“Heh, I know. Gordon walks and talks in his sleep.”

“Hey! I’m over that!”

Alan poked his head up. “Newsflash, bro. Virg had to lead you back to bed three nights ago. Found you by the pool at two am talking to your ‘coach’.”

“Aw, shit.”

“Language, son.”

Gordon ignored his father. “Why didn’t Virgil tell me?”

Scott was more concerned as to why Virgil hadn’t told him.

“Dunno. You’ll have to ask him.”

Gordon muttered to himself about locks and tying himself to the bed.

Dad looked at Scott. “How long has this been a problem?”

Yet another sigh. “Long term, Dad. Left over from the Olympics. Flares when he’s worried. Hasn’t happened for a while. We have strategies.”

“Are there any other issues I don’t know about?” It was asked of the room at large, but Scott knew it was aimed at him. He pressed his lips together.

“Plenty, but they are all managed and safe.” The familiar baritone echoed down the stairwell and Virgil, trailing Grandma, was the last brother to join them.

His dark eyes ranged over the family gathering, obviously making an assessment and drawing conclusions. “Did I miss a meeting?”

His brother’s arm was strapped up but he was otherwise shirtless. It was obviously a statement because Virgil never went shirtless…ever.

He looked tired and worn.

“Virg, what are you doing up?”

It was Grandma who answered. “He needed his medication and I thought he could do with something in his belly before he goes back to bed.” She stepped past her grandson and headed towards the kitchen.

A quick glance at Gordon and the aquanaut was moving. “Hey, Grandma, let me help you with that…” He followed her into the kitchen proper obviously vetoing any villa-burning-down attempts in the making.

Virgil took the last few steps onto the flagstones and eyeing all of them, made his way towards Scott, suspicion on his face. “Did you sleep at all last night?”

“Some.”

“Obviously not enough.”

He turned to their father. “Dad, you’re up a little early, too. Anything I can help you with?”

It was a blatant barb. It was obvious Virgil thought he was the topic of discussion and Scott didn’t blame him.

“Just finding my feet again, son.”

Virgil nodded once before turning to Alan who was still holding onto their Dad. “You okay, Allie?”

“He had a bad dream, Virg.” It was shouted from the kitchen.

“Gordon, I’m gonna kick your ass!”

“You and what army, squirt?”

“Gordon!” It was choral – Scott, Virgil, John, Dad and Grandma.

“That army, idiot!”

“Alan!” Same chorus, younger name.

“He started it.”

“He always starts it and you always fall for it.” Scott glared at his little brother. He really was too tired for this. “It’s early. Get yourself some food or drink and back to bed. I’m going for my run.” The early morning pre-dawn glow was now bright enough to see by and not kill himself. God, he needed some time alone.

The expression on his father’s face clearly showed the man wanted to talk further. “Dad, give it time, please?”

His father blinked, but didn’t say anything.

“Trust me.”

He straightened. “I trust you, Scott.”

“Thank you.”

Scott turned to Virgil. “And you, wear your uniform next time. Don’t think I didn’t notice, Thunderbird Two.” He threw a glare at his second for emphasis.

That brought his brother up short. “FAB.”

“And fix whatever caused the accident so it doesn’t happen again.”

“Uh.” Virgil appeared suddenly panicked.

“Virg? What did cause you to fall?”

His brother’s face fell and he slumped with a wince. “A bat startled me.”

“What?”

“Did I just hear that correctly?” Gordon was far too gleeful in the kitchen. “Did you get scared by a bat?!”

“Shut up, Gordon.” It was the chorus again.

The aquanaut might have said something more, but a small explosion on the stove had him yelping and hurrying to wipe milk off the walls.

“It was a bat, okay? It startled me, I stepped back and fell. Can we ignore that now, please?”

“I’ll speak to Brains about finding a bat deterrent to keep them off the ‘birds.” Scott was firm.

Virgil turned to him and there was nothing but gratitude in his eyes.

“And if I hear anyone bugging Virgil about this, they will be cleaning all six of Two’s modules with a toothbrush. Is that clear?”

There was a muttering of assent among his brothers.

Gordon had milk in his hair.

Scott turned to John. “You and I will be having words, Thunderbird Five.”

“What did I do?” The astronaut was innocence itself.

“Strong words, Thunderbird Five.” He glared even more for emphasis.

John shrugged. “FAB.”

Alan. His littlest brother was still holding their father and didn’t appear to be separating from him any time soon. “Allie, you want to talk. Any of us will listen, you know that. Dad included.”

The young astronaut looked at his feet. “I know, Scott. Thank you.”

“We all have bad times. We get through them together.” His eyes drifted up to his father. “We do this together.”

Those strong arms held Alan even tighter and his father gave him a single nod.

Scott took a step back and stared at his family, wishing briefly that Kayo was home and Penny, Parker and Brains were there as well, even if just to complete the picture.

“Grandma, I love you. Gordon, don’t burn the kitchen down.”

And with that, he turned towards the pool, ran out on the deck and into the beginnings of the day.

-o-o-o-

FIN.

#thunderbirds are go #thunderbirds #thunderbirds fanfiction #Scott Tracy #Virgil Tracy #jeff tracy #Gordon Tracy #John Tracy #alan tracy #grandma tracy

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