#under it and so correct me if I’m wrong but these are scheduled episodes right? Like automatic release

[crippling-pages]

update on sbg:

I finished episode 89.

They jumped onto a train

A TRAIN and they lived??? They’re so stupid and I love them but how did they not die

also RYAN WTF and Jasmine and Charlie and ALEX ugh I’m so confused

but I guess I’m all caught up? I’m also a bit traumatized too

[staticscreenwriting]

I could find you in a crowd || JJ Maybank

Summary: Based on Listen to your heart and I must be dreaming by the Maine. It’s pure fluff with some swearing.

Pairing: JJ Maybank x Female Reader

A/N: I only just started watching Outer Banks but you can’t give me a blond sadboy and expect me not to fall in love with him. I’m pretty sure there are no spoilers for the show in this because I am literally only on episode 6.

Likes, reblogs, comments are all much appreciated. I am German. Sometimes I get the tense wrong or make mistakes. I am useless when it comes to punctuation. Go easy on me, please.

This promise Doesn't have to be too loud Just whisper I could find you in a crowd

She’s shrouded in the golden glow of the sizzling bonfire the first time JJ spots her across the boneyard. A radiant smile takes over her face as she seems to be in a deep conversation with some other locals JJ vaguely recognizes. She’s new though. She must be. He would’ve noticed her for sure.

There’s a strange pull tugging at him, a magnetic force drawing him towards her. Maybe, if he was a little less jaded, he’d think it might be magic. But magic doesn’t exist, except maybe in the flow and crash of a perfect wave. But not here on the land. And not in a girl.

So what if it isn’t magic? It’s something for sure. Something he wants to explore. And if all it leads to is some wet hot kisses then who is he to complain?

He grabs his solo cup and pushes away from the log he’s been sitting on for a while now. The crowd swallows him like an angry ocean during a storm, trying to drown him, pull him under, suffocate him in the sweaty mess of bodies. But there she is, cutting through the chaos like the beams of a lighthouse. Guiding him to save shores.

“ Hi. “

Dumbass. There’s the potential girl of your dreams right in front of you and all you can think of saying is hi? JJ scolds himself mentally. She doesn’t seem to mind though. Her beautiful eyes find him and for a second it feels like nothing exists but the two of them and the sounds of the ocean and the music playing around them.

It’s kinda scary, JJ thinks, that one look can put him under such a spell. That his heart does the weird flip flop thing just because she looks at him.

And then she smiles and he’s pretty sure he dies. It’s a smile meant solely for him and it puts every other smile he’s ever seen to shame.

“ Cute. “ she says. Not Hi. Not hello. Just “Cute.”

“ Cute? Me? Cute, me? “ the blond boy stumbles over his words, pointing his finger to his chest.

“ You have a really pronounced dimple. Only on one side though. It’s very cute. “

She says and lifts a finger to his face, softly poking the spot on his right cheek where his skin dips into a dimple whenever he smiles.

“ Right there. “

It’s not news to him, obviously. He’s been living with this face his entire life. Sees it every time he looks into the mirror. And yet, it gives him a weird sense of pride to hear her compliment him on a physical feature he literally had no part in creating.

“ I’m JJ “

He says after a moment of silence. A moment that his heart takes to settle down and stop doing the somersaults.

“ I know, “ she replies and shakes his hand in a way so gently, he’s not sure anyone has ever been this soft towards him. “ Your reputation precedes you. “

“ Oh shit, in a good way I hope. “

“ Depends on who you’re asking. “

“ Point me towards the ones saying the not-good-things and I’ll make sure to change their minds. “

That’s the version of himself that feels familiar. The one with the quick retorts. The charmer. The one that doesn’t let a situation pass without trying to get a little flirt in. And it makes her smile which is an automatic win in his book.

“ Heard you brought a gun to a fistfight. “

“ I uh — “ he stammers and combs his fingers through his hair nervously “ that isn't entirely correct. It wasn’t a scheduled fistfight. And, for the record, someone tried to drown my friend so what’s a boy to do. “

She thinks he’s crazy. He can tell by the faces that she’s making. The cute little scrunch of her nose. The furrow of her eyebrows. She thinks he’s crazy. Full-on coo coo.

And still, she grants him another smile. One so radiant he’s sure it could light up the entire boneyard better than any bonfire ever could.

“ That’s real noble of you. “

“ What can I say? I’m a regular, everyday hero. Now, does that earn me your name?“

The night settles around them like a thick blanket, shielding them from the outside world. From the noise and the winds blowing and the fact that one night doesn’t change your life. Not in the way the movies like to make you believe at least.

She regards him for a second, screws her lips up in an exaggerated thinking gesture before they get pulled into yet another smile. “It’s (Y/N)”

“ I’ve never seen you around. You’re new here, right? “ he inquires, taking another sip from his cup, leaving it empty. He doesn’t give a fuck right now though. He wants to be right here with her, no way he’s gonna leave her side for something as trivial as another drink.

“ Maybe you just didn’t notice me? “

Maybe it’s the beer talking. Or maybe he’s already half-drunk on feelings.

“ Uh no, I would’ve noticed a pretty girl like you. “

“  Hold your horses, buddy. It’s not gonna be like that. I’m not like that. In a totally non-sexist way. I just — I can’t. Not right now. Not a one-time-thing kinda girl.“

His heart sends a sharp little pang through him. It’s not a full-on rejection. Just a little one. A not now.

“ So to answer the question … ?”

“ Yup. Just arrived here a few days ago. My dad took over the boat rental, spent the entire fall and winter fixing it up to be ready for the summer crowd of tourists. Mom and I followed once he had everything figured out and set up.“

He wants her to keep talking, to tell him more about herself, about her life. Really, he knows that there’s no place for him in it. She seems to have it all figured out. Two parents who seem to care for her. A proper family. He’s a puzzle piece that doesn't fit into the picture.

That doesn’t mean he doesn’t want to know everything about her he possibly can. Doesn’t mean he’s not allowed to dream. Doesn’t mean he can’t let the silly little part of his brain, the one that loves to overthink hypothetical scenarios and romanticize everything, take over.

“ You like — rich rich? Like kook rich? “

“ Nah, “ (Y/N) replies and shakes her head. “ I guess we’re dancing on the line drawn between both groups. We’re getting by just fine but it’s not like we own a mansion or get invited to country club shit. And I’d hope there’s more to define me than how much money my parents make. “

She’s right. Of course she is, even JJ can admit that much. But it’s just the way things are here. The way they’ve always been. You’re one or the other, and even though sometimes the lines get smudged, like with Kie, they’re still there.

“ So tell me then? “

“ Tell you what? “

“ What defines you? “

“ I’m really good at roller skating. “

“ Man I’m jealous. “

“ I bet. What else hmm — I’ve read the twilight books way more times than I like to admit. “

“ Aw man a bummer for a girl this hot. “ JJ jokes as holds his hands above his heart in mockery.

“ They are enjoyable trash. Stop judging. I love the ocean and swimming so much that as a child I was convinced I’m part mermaid. “

“ That’s adorable. “

“ … and I’m terrified of not fitting in anywhere here. I’m scared that I am simultaneously too much and not enough. “

It’s not a sentiment he’s used to. There has always been a place for him. With his friends. His family. It has been them for as long as he can remember. If nothing else, this was the one certain thing in his life. Maybe, he thinks, it’s time to pass on the feeling. Make her feel part of something.

“ You can have a place with us. With me. “

(Y/N) locks eyes with him as the bonfire dips the world around them in beautiful shades of gold and orange and red. Her hand holds onto his arm, soft and gentle and warm and for a second it sends little electric shocks through him.

“ It’s not gonna be like that, sweetheart“ she exclaims, her voice serious and calm. “ You and I. I thought I told ya. “

“ What if all I want is a friend? “

He doesn’t. He wants so much more. But above all, he wants to keep her around. And if that means being her friend and nothing else, then that will always be enough for him.

“ Friends I can do. Sounds good. “

“ Okay cool. So do you — “

“ Hey, (Y/N). We’re leaving. Come on. “ a voice calls from further up the shore.

“ That’s my queue to leave. It was nice to meet you though. To a beautiful friendship. “ she says and lifts her cup in celebration, cheering it against his empty one, and drinks the last gulp of her beer.

“ To friendship. “ JJ replies, a small smirk playing on his face.

As she walks towards her friend calling out to her, she keeps her eyes on his and raises her hand in a wave goodbye “  Have a good night, Dimples “

“ You too, Guppy. “

“ Guppy? “

“ Cause of the mermaid thing, you know? It’s the first fish I could think of and it sounds better than bass or mackerel.”

“ It's cute, I like it. “ with that and another laugh she walks off into the night leaving JJ alone with a head full of thoughts and a heart shaking with excitement and anxiety.

“ What the hell was that? “ Pope asks, dropping his hands down on JJ’s shoulders and shaking him from his loved-up daze. “ You saw that Kie, right? “

“ Oh, I saw that for sure. “ Kiara confirms, stepping up beside the two boys.

“ I’m glad you’re asking actually. I have an official announcement to make. “

“ Shit here we go, “ Pope moans in protest.

“ I’m gonna marry that girl one day. “

“ You’re being delusional, “ Kie remarks “ you don’t even know anything about her. “

“ I know enough. “

“ Like what? That she’s pretty ?”

“ Pretty’s just part of the things she does that amaze me. “ JJ justifies.

“ What else? “

“ Everything.”

_____________________________________________________________

The North Carolina heat can be brutal. The sun beats down on him with a fierce fury as JJ makes his way along the docks trying to push his way through the ever-growing crowds of tourists. All he cares about right now is getting out of the sun, out of the heat. His white shirt must be sticking to his body like a second skin at this point. He would kill for an ice-cold beer right now. Or even a soda really. Anything as long as it’s cold.

“ Dimples! “ a voice cuts through his thoughts like the song of a siren, pulling him in. Pulling him under.

His eyes find her across the way, sitting on the back of a small mint green Carolina Skiff, sunglasses perched on her head and that signature smile playing on her lip. He doesn’t think he’ll ever get enough of it.

“ What’s up, Guppy? “ he questions as he hops up onto the boat and plops down next to her. “ You look cute,”  JJ adds, pointing at the red polka dot summer dress she’s wearing.

“ Thanks. And not much to be honest. Helping my dad with cleaning up the boats. Make sure they’re ready for the next tourist to rent them tomorrow. It’s not fun but he pays me a little bit of money and sometimes I get to keep the stuff people are forgetting. “

“ Oooh like, phones and treasures? “

“ Eh, usually it’s more along the lines of loose change and packs of chewing gum. “

JJ gets up on his feet and walks further down to the bow of the boat, examining it with a sense of childlike excitement.

“ It’s a nice boat. “

“ I guess, “ (Y/N) shrugs and comes to stand beside him.

“ What do you mean, you guess? Do you not like it? “

“ No, I like it. As much as one can like a boat when they know next to nothing about boats. Do you like boats? “

“ I like being on the water. I prefer surfing though. “ JJ admits. There’s something about surfing that makes all his worries melt away. Like for a moment, it’s just him and the ocean and all the bad thoughts and the bad things and the hurt and the sadness doesn’t exist. There’s no one to rely on at that moment, but himself. No one to let him down. No one that can hurt him. It feels light.

“ I always wanted to try surfing. It looks so fun. “

“ Maybe I can show you one day. “ his eyes lock with hers and for a second he gets lost. There’s a sparkle of something he can’t quite name. Something more than he’s ever seen in another person’s eyes. And by god, he knows this sounds so fucking cheesy, but for now, in the furthest corner of his head, he lets himself be a tiny bit cheesy.

“ I’d like that. “ (Y/N) agrees.

“ Cool. It’s a date. “

“ It’s a plan. “

“ Ah, same thing.”

“ You don’t give up, do you? “ she asks and nudges his side softly with her elbow. She’s so close, he can smell her perfume, floral and sweet, and he’s sure if he listens very carefully he can hear the beating of her heart. Or maybe it’s his.

And when she looks up at him with those big beautiful eyes, what’s a guy to do other than tell the honest truth?

“  Never. “

“ I thought I told ya, I’m not one for one-time things.”

“Uh, we’ve been hanging out twice now so — “ he trails off leaving both of them in a  fit of giggles. For all that people can say about him, he does almost always have a point.

“ Hey, Dimples?” the words tumble from her lips while her eyes stay locked on his.

“Hmm? “

“ Do you want to go on an adventure?”

“ Always. “

Truth be told, he’d follow her anywhere & everywhere.

_____________________________________________________________

She looks like a vision of everything beautiful and precious in the world as she pulls herself out of the water, hair clinging to her face and her red bikini looking gorgeous against her skin.

JJ sinks down onto the small seat of the boat, water dripping from his hair and rolling down his chest.

When she had suggested an adventure, he hadn't expected it to end with them taking her father’s boat out for a drive and going for a swim. He won’t complain though. Even if seeing her in a bikini has given him a mild heart attack.

Their clothes are strewn across the floor of the boat, forgotten in the afterglow of a perfect afternoon. One that feels so much grander than it is in the grand scheme of things. One that holds a little bit of magic.

“ So are your parents like gonna kill you for hijacking the boat or … ? “

“ Nah. My dad might be a little pissed but oh well. He’ll get over it. “ (Y/N) replies as she hands him an ice-cold beer from the cooler. As if this day could get any more perfect.

“ Lucky. “

He doesn’t know why he lets it slip. Usually, he’s better at keeping that part of his life to himself. The less people know the less they can pity him. It’s not something he wants from anyone. Not strangers, not his friends, definitely not her. Still, a little part of him, tiny and almost invisible but there anyway, wants her to know. Wants to share that part of himself with her, so she can see all of him. The full picture. Even the ugly broken parts. And maybe if she could love those —

Man, stop talking about love. You just met this girl.

The angel and the devil inside him are at war with one another and his heart and head and caught in the crossfire.

“ Can I ask about the bruises? “ she wonders, and for a second he wishes he could look at her and see the emotions in her eyes. But he can’t bring himself to face her. Not when there’s a fear in him that maybe she could see all of him. Because the only thing scarier than not being seen is being seen for all that you are.

“ I’d appreciate it if you didn’t, actually. “

“ Okay. No problemo. Hey uh — I’d really like to take you up on that surfing lesson. It’s not something I just said to be nice. “

“ Yeah, for sure. We said It’s a date. “

“ A plan!”

“ Uh-huh. Yeah, that. Just letting you know, if you want an in with any Kooks, hanging out with me is like social suicide. So if you’re trying to get on the good side of any of your rich friends, maybe reconsider. “

She nudges his leg with her foot and scoffs, though a smirk pulls at the corner of her lips. “ They already told me to stay away from you. “

“ And? “

“ I’m here with you, aren’t I? I really don’t give a shit. “

Pride swells in his heart at that statement. To know she chose him over her friends, even in the smallest ways, it means a lot. It means everything.

“ Aaand what’s the verdict? “ JJ asks as he glances at her through his lashes, hoping and praying his cheeks don’t give away all of his feelings right now. Like the warmth spreading in his chest and the tingly flip-flops, his stomach is doing.

“ Says you’re worth every second of my time. “

He wants to kiss her right then. So badly. But friends don’t kiss. And that’s what they agreed on, right? Friends.

All the way back to the shore JJ can’t shake the smile off of his face.

Friends is enough, it has to be. Doesn’t mean one can’t dream.

_____________________________________________________________

“ Are you shitting me, (Y/N)? “

The man welcoming them back to the dock regards them with the fury of a thousand storms. JJ almost expects smoke to come out of his ears at any moment now, the way it does in the cartoons.

“ Dad, look It’s not a big deal. We just took the boat for a ride. I cleaned everything up, it’s okay really. “

It’s then, for the first time since they stepped off the boat to be greeted by her dad’s scolding, that the man looks at JJ. And all he can see is disdain. Growing up the way he did, with the father that he has, it’s a look JJ knows very well. He’s learned to ignore it. To be the bigger man. That doesn’t mean it doesn’t sting. Especially when it comes from the father of the girl you’re quite sure you’ll marry one day. Even if you don’t deserve her.

“ This is JJ by the way, “ (Y/N) exclaims and points towards the blond boy. “ my friend. “

“ Yeah, I know who he is.”

JJ hates the way those words fall from his lips. As if he’s not worthy of being spoken to politely or treated like any other human being, with respect.

“ You better tell him goodbye because you're mother and I are gonna have a little talk with you right now. About responsibilities and making smart choices. “

(Y/N) looks up at JJ with the saddest eyes he’s ever seen. And Kie pulls a mean pair of puppy dog eyes so that says a lot.  “ I’m so sorry. I — I really am so sorry. “

“ It’s okay. “

It’s not but it’s a familiar situation. When you’re at the bottom, there’s no shortage of people pointing it out to you.

“ Goodnight, Dimples. “

“ Have a good night, Guppy. “ he says and slowly walks away. Their voices carry into the air, letting JJ hear a little more of the conversation going on.

“  It’s not just the boat, (Y/N). It’s also the company you chose to keep. You know what people say about his family. “

“ He’s not his dad.”

“ He’s still not good enough. “

It stings. It really does. It’s not like he isn’t trying to be better. To do better. Life’s just fucking hard sometimes and hard times call for desperate measures.

“ Oh Honey, she’s so young. I’m sure this is just a phase. Right, (Y/N) “

He can’t make out what she answers her mother but he hopes it’s something that puts her parents’ minds at ease. She doesn’t deserve to be scolded just because he’s — well himself.

A frown stays permanently edged into his face as JJ makes his way home. It’s only when he fumbles in his pockets for his key and pulls out a piece of paper that definitely hasn’t been there before, that his mood changes a little. She must’ve slipped it earlier.

It’s a number followed by a “ yours, Guppy”  It’s very little but words it’s all it has to be. And right then, his frown turns into a smile and it doesn’t leave his lips until he falls asleep with dreams of a perfect day ghosting through his head.

_____________________________________________________________

“ I think It’s time we ran away. “ is all his text says and for a moment he thinks it makes him sound real cool and suave. And then he realizes that maybe she’ll need some more context.

“ To a party away, not away-away. Look out your window” he sends along, hoping it makes more sense now. Hoping she actually wants to go with him, appreciates his boldness.

When face pops up at the window, a smile stretching from one ear to the other, he’s sure she does. Appreciate it. Appreciate him.

Just a few seconds later her boot-clad feet hit the ground and she wades through the bushes towards him.

“  Hey, Dimples. “

“ M’lady. “ he greets her, chasing his words with a mock salute.

“ So we’re running away? “

“ Mmmmh. “

“ Where to? “

“ The Chateau. “

“ The Chateau? “ she questions and laughs her cute little laugh that makes his heart skip a beat or two. “ Sounds mighty fancy. “

JJ shrugs “ It’s just John B.’s house but we called it that because — well because it just sounds cooler than John B’s house. “

She grants him another smile before looking behind him and pointing at his bike “we’re taking that? “

“ My noble steed? yes. Oh here, I got you something. “

A second later he unclasps a helmet from the handles of the bike. It’s not a full-on dirt bike helmet with a visor or anything but it’s better than nothing. It’s red and shiny with silver fish-scales airbrushed onto one side of it. It cost him a bunch of money and a lot of sucking up to people. But hey, some things are worth the effort. And she most definitely is.

“ You got me a helmet? “

“ Yup. Do you like it? “

“ It’s beautiful. I love it. And it has fish scales, aw. Where did you get it? “

JJ nervously rubs the back of his neck. There’s a certain vulnerability in this. In showing that you care for someone. That you spend your time thinking about them. That your feelings for them give them a certain power over you.

“ I made it. Like, I painted it. I didn’t make make it. “

“ You painted this for me? That’s the sweetest thing anyone has ever done for me, JJ”

It’s the first time she called him by his name since they started talking, he’s fairly sure. He fucking adores it when she does. Yes, the nickname is nice, partially because it’s theirs. Their little thing. But this, this feels right, like his name holds a whole different meaning coming from her lips.

“ It’s nothing, “ he shrugs her off before nodding his head towards his bike. “you ready to go? “

“ Are you not wearing a helmet? “

“ Nah. You know I think maybe if I hit my head a few times it’ll shake things in place up in here, “ he jokes and knocks on his skull, sending her a wink in the process.

“ If you ask me, “ she says and steps up closer to him. So close he can smell her perfume, feel the warmth radiating from her, see the shimmer of the moon reflected in her eyes, “ everything is right where it’s supposed to be. “

Her soft lips press against his cheek in a short sweet kiss and he’s sure if he died in that moment he’d die a happy man. The happiest man in the outer banks. Maybe the happiest one on earth.

“ Hold on real tight, okay? “ JJ requests as she gets on the bike behind him which prompts (Y/N) to wrap her arms around his middle and place a sweet kiss against the skin of his exposed shoulder. “ I will don’t worry “. He hopes it’s a promise meant for so much more than the bike ride.

_____________________________________________________________

The rest of the pogues plus Sarah are lounging on the porch, beers in hand and passing around a spliff when JJ and (Y/N) get off the bike and make their way up to the Chateau.

“ Look who the cat dragged in, “ John B exclaims, arms spread out wide and a huge, goofy smile on his face.

“ You never greet me with this much enthusiasm when I come here by myself. That hurts man. “

“ Sorry, dude. I’ll remember it next time. “

JJ gives his friend an affectionate nudge with his boots and turns back to (Y/N).

“These idiots are my friends. This is Pope and Kie, “ JJ explains and points his friends out one by one. “ That’s Sarah and this idiot is John B. Pogues, this is (Y/N). “

“ It’s very nice to meet you, guys. Hope you’re all okay with me crashing your party. “

“ Oh don’t be ridiculous, it’s fine. Come sit and have a beer “ Kiara proclaims and pats the seat next to her which (Y/N) promptly drops down onto only to be handed a beer the second her but hits the cushion. “ Thanks, guys. “

“Everything for JJ’s future wife, “ Pope speaks up, sending a mischievous smirk JJ’s way.

“ Yeah JJ, have you proposed yet? “ Kie takes over the joke running with it until JJ’s cheeks dust over in a radiant shade of pink.

“ Wow, okay that was actually really uncool of you guys. She doesn’t even want to go out with me. You can’t be talking about marriage right now, you’re gonna scare her off. “

Though his words are technically true, they’re laced with amusement and his cheek spots the signature diple as his lips are pulled into a little smirk.

“ What? Does she know about the time you saved the orphans from that burning building? “ John B speaks up, throwing JJ an exaggerated wink for all to see.

“ Or when you gave one of your kidneys to a complete stranger? “ Sarah continues.

“ Did you tell her about that time when you dug and built that well all by yourself and helped an entire village to a freshwater supply? “

“ And when — “

“Guys!,” JJ cuts in, lifting his hands in surrender, “ though all of that is true,  don't want to lay it on too thick, ya know. We gotta stay humble.”

The group descends into a fit of laughter and JJ feels like everything is right in the world at that moment. Having her here, seamlessly fitting in with his friends, his family, it feels like it was always meant to be.

“ I guess in that case I’ll have to give it another thought, huh? “ she questions and throws JJ a wink across the porch that makes his heart light up with elation.

It’s a little later, the music blasting from the stereo echoes through the night and JJ and (Y/N) are high and drunk of weed and alcohol and a little bit of love. Their bodies move to the rhythm, though the movements are a little clumsy and disoriented due to their intoxicated state, it doesn’t really matter. He’s holding her close, hands on her waist while hers are wrapped around his neck, softly playing with his blond hair. That’s all that matters. Her in his arms.

“ Did you mean what you said? “ JJ asks, resting his forehead against hers. “That you’ll think about us again? “

She doesn’t answer right away, just trails her hand down his chest and draws the shape of a heart right where his own one sits. He wonders if she knows right now it’s beating just for her. In fact, it has since the first moment he caught sight of her across the boneyard, glowing in the golden light of the bonfire like a goddess. He never believed in love at first sight, hell he wasn’t even sure he believed in romantic love at all. Not anymore though. He can feel it every day in so many little things. In the “saw this funny picture and thought of you” texts he gets from her every day. In the way her laughter makes his heart soar. In the way she fits so perfectly into this picture.

Maybe he’s not deserving of her, but maybe he is. Maybe she can be the one good thing life grants him that’s only his. He wishes so badly her heart could belong to him as his belongs to her.

“ Look you don’t even have to scream it out into the world or anything. I’m just asking you for a chance to show you that I’m worth it. Can you promise me that? You can whisper it, I don’t even care. It doesn’t have to be a loud promise, but — I’d really like a promise. After all, I did rescue those orphans and give my kidney. “

Her giggles cut through the thumping of the music sending his heart into a twirl. How come he’s lived for so long without ever feeling this way about anyone and suddenly this girl steps into his life and changes everything? It’s scary. But most good things start that way.

She gets on her tippy toes, leveling her lips with his ear and so quietly, he almost misses it, she whispers the words “I promise” into the night before resting her cheek against his shoulder and pulling him as close as possible.

“ I’m falling in love with you, Guppy. “

He’s never told anyone those words. Sure he’s had girlfriends before but it was never anything serious. Not like this. Not with feelings like these involved.

“ That’s good. I’m falling in love with you too. “

The night wraps around them like black satin, soft and warm. And when wrapped in each other’s arms, everything else seems to melt away. The music and their friends. It’s only them and the night and the stars and a promise.

_____________________________________________________________

“JJ” a voice breaks through the dazed fog of his dreams, shaking JJ from his sleep. “Sweetheart, wake up. “

He opens one eye, the rest of his face squished into the pillow and comes face to face with (Y/N) who stares back at him with a smile playing on her lips, no sign of sleep or exhaustion.

“ Is someone hurt or is there a fire? “ he grumbles, his words being partially swallowed by the pillow.

“ No. “

“ Then why are you waking me up? “

“ I wanna show you something! Please, sweetheart. “

Even the strongest man in the world would have not been able to resist the sound of her voice right then. There’s no way in hell he could say no to her when she regards him with those big beautiful eyes and pleads with him in that sad melodic voice of hers. Not when she calls him sweetheart. Sleep be damned. It’s overrated anyway.

He drags himself from the bed, sleep and exhaustion still clouding his mind and making his legs feel a little wobbly. Or maybe it’s the fact that she’s holding his hand in hers as she leads him through the house and out into the dark.

“ What time is it? It’s still dark. “ he asks as she sits down on the steps of the porch.

“ Almost morning. “

“ Almost? What are we — “

“Look!” she says and softly turns his face away from her and towards the horizon where with rays of gold and orange the morning sun pulls herself upwards into the sky. There’s something about dawn, JJ thinks, that makes things seem lighter. Like the earth gives you a few moments to take a breath and hold still before the chaos of the day comes crashing down on you.

“ It’s beautiful, “ (Y/N) says and leans herself against JJ’s shoulder. It is beautiful, no doubt. Only JJ can’t focus on the sun or anything really. She’s the only thing he’s got his eyes on.

His heart feels heavy and light all the same. To be here, watching the sunrise with a girl that holds the entirety of his heart, it feels like a life that shouldn’t be his. This is so unlike all he’s ever known about life and love. Could this really be his destiny?

“ What’s got you worried?” (Y/N)’s voice shakes him from his thoughts?

“ ‘m not worried. “

“Sure you are. I can see right through you, dimples, “ she retorts and straightens the worry lines on his forehead with an unfamiliar gentleness.

“ Maybe a little part of me is scared that this is too good to be true. That something is gonna happen and take it away from me. “ he admits. There’s a certain bravery in being vulnerable. A bravery he never thought he could really possess with anyone other than his friends.

“ This as in us? “

“Is there an us? “ he raises his eyebrow in question. This talk right now is scarier than any treasure hunt, deep dive, and gun-wielding incident combined.

“ Yeah. Yeah most definitely. If you want that too. “

“ I’ve wanted that since the first time that I saw you. Like — how is that even a question you have to ask. “ he laughs and places a ginger kiss against the top of her head. She smells like warmth and summer and ocean air.

“ I’m sorry I gave you such a hard time. You haven’t left my mind since that night at the Boneyard either. I just — I was trying to figure out where I fit in and everyone was telling me who to hang out with and who to not hang out with and I just got overwhelmed. “

“ Your dad hates me. “

“ Who gives a fuck. My dad hates everything and everyone he doesn’t understand. He’ll come around. “

“ Your mom thinks I’m a phase. “

“ My mom also thinks that pink thing in my bedside table she accidentally stumbled upon when putting my laundry away is a back massager. “

When their laughter subsides, (Y/N) takes his hand between her hands and softly strokes her thumbs along his skin. Right where hands usually only leave bruises she leaves love in her wake.

“ I really don’t give a shit what anyone says. I’m in, all the way if you are. No one-time thing. “

“ You were never a one-time thing. “

There’s a vision in her eyes, of a future JJ wants so badly. He wishes he could just reach out his hand and grab it. A future filled with moments just like this. A future filled with laughter and love.

“ What if you wake up one day and realize you could have someone better than me ?”

A whole life of being told you’re worthless by the one person that’s meant to love you most leaves deep and horrible scars even if they’re not always visible.

“ How can I? I mean you did rescue a bunch of orphans from a burning building so — “

“ True. That is — that was damn cool of me. “

“ Totally. But honestly dimples, you’ll just have to trust me on this one. I’m falling in love with you so fast and so hard it’s scary but I like it. Just tell me that you’re in love with me and it will be alright. “

“ I’m really fucking in love with you. “

“ Good, because I need you just like you need me. I got one more request though. “

“ What’s that? “

“ Kiss me? “

It’s not something he has to be asked twice. His hands cup the side of her face as he pulls her lips to his. And yeah in the grand scheme of all things it’s just a kiss. But it’s not.

It’s a whispered promise. It’s a loving hand on bruised skin. It’s adventures and late nights and sunrises. It’s a future hidden in the eyes of the person you love.

“ I think we were meant to be in each other’s life. I think this right here is where we’re supposed to be. “

“ Good mor — oh shit am I interrupting something? “ John B’s voice cuts through the silence as he steps out onto the porch.

“ Nah, you’re good, “ JJ responds before placing a quick peck on (Y/N)’s lips knowing from now on there’ll be more moments like this. More kisses and more sunrises with just the two of them. But it’s only a matter of time until the days of all of them being together will be over with everyone having to choose their own path in life.

“ Come sit, John B. Watch the sunrise with us, “ (Y/N) says and pulls JJ from his thoughts. He thanks his lucky stars or whatever higher power there might be, that she understands. That she shares the sentiment. That she wants to be a part of this friendship as much as she wants to be with him.

One after the other the rest of the group makes their way to the porch, silently perching themselves next to the others and watching the sun rise above the horizon.

No one dares to say a word but JJ is sure they can all feel it. It’s the little moments like this one that will stay in your heart forever. This is where they belong. This is what life is about. Watching the sunrise with the people you love most. With your family.

_____________________________________________________________

He likes to think back to those days every once in a while when the house is quiet and the day has yet to begin. When he looks over at (Y/N) warm and soft cuddled into his side.

So much has changed since then and yet the things that matter are the same. There’s love surrounding them. It’s everywhere they go and in everything they do.

It’s in the pictures John B sends them every day updating them on yet another milestone his and Sarah’s firstborn has reached.

It’s in the countless newspaper clippings (Y/N) collects of every time Kie gets interviewed about another initiative to save the planet.

It’s in the pictures lining the wall taken at every award ceremony they attended to see Pope being honored.

And it’s in the soft curve of her belly, barely there but enough to send an immeasurable sense of pride through him when he thinks of what will be and the mug that says “best dad to be” that he drinks his coffee out of ever since (Y/N) gave it to him alongside a blurry black and white sonogram photo.

This is not the future he ever thought he’d live. This is lightyears away from everything everyone ever thought he could be, would be.

“ What are you thinking about ? “ (Y/N)’s sleep-laced voice speaks up from beside him.

“ Just thinking about when all of this started and how fucking glad I am we didn’t listen to anyone when they said we were too young and that we weren’t gonna make it. So fucking thankful we listened to our hearts. “

“ Yeah me too. Now go back to sleep, this little one's gonna wake me up jumping on my bladder in a bit. I can guarantee. Lets cherish the bit of sleep we can still get. “

He scoots back down and wraps her in his arms, placing a loving hand against her belly.

“ Love you, Guppy. “

“ I love you too, dimples. So much. “

There’s magic in the crashing of waves against the shore and a perfect storm brewing over the ocean. But the real magic, JJ thinks, rests in the eyes of the woman he loves and the smiles of his friends. And that’s so much better than anything else in this world.

[therealvalkyrie]

Through the Mirror: Part 1

my body, my music

Pairing/setting: Detective!Levi Ackerman x Female!Ghost!Reader, modern!AU within the Walls

Summary: When you’re murdered one Tuesday morning, can Levi piece together the true circumstances of your death with your help from beyond the grave?

Word Count: 2.6k

Warnings: dead body, descriptions of blood, swearing, mentions of violence

AN: Welcome to my new series because I have no self control and can’t finish projects before starting others! Lemme just start off by saying updates may come pretty irregularly because I do have a lot of other WIPs to work on, but! I’m really excited about this idea and have a whole lot planned:) I seriously hope you enjoy. After all, who doesn’t love a good murder mystery? Drop into my DMs/askbox/comments/reblogs to let me know what you think! Be kind to yourselves and others. ~valkyrie

“Ah, shit! Hello!? I’m standing right here!”

The woman completely ignores you, stepping carefully over the puddle of blood and across your tiny living room. You cross your arms and pout. She ignores that, too. 

“‘Scuse me, boys, let the experts take it from here,” she quips, gently pushing past the two detectives and crouching next to your body on the ground. 

It’s ugly, but she’s probably seen worse, you muse from where you’re leaning against the door jamb. It’s only been lying there for a couple of hours, so at least you haven’t bloated to something out of an NCIS episode. Must smell horrid, though, judging by the mask the head detective has pulled over his face.

“So, you said the landlady called at about 7 am?” the ME inquires, cocking her head up to look at the detectives, nylon gloved hands held at the ready.

“7:07 exactly. Said a neighbor made a noise complaint, she came up to check it out, found signs of a forced entry, and called us.” It’s the taller blonde who speaks up, reading from an off-brand pocket notepad in his left hand. The kind you’d find on sale at Staples after Back-to-School season.

Interesting. You lean your head against the wall, eyes trained on the trio. You’d pegged the ill-tempered shorter one as in charge. Maybe he’s just the quiet type. 

“Hmm, alright. Moblit, get off your ass and come take the pictures before we move her,” the woman calls to someone behind you, and you turn just in time to get a face full of Moblit’s chest as he walks towards you. 

You cringe back with a “God, seriously?” to no response.

“Yes, sorry, right away, Hange!” Moblit hurries past- no, through -you, sidestepping the ottoman and the blood. It feels weird, like a strong wind, but not altogether unpleasant to have someone walk through you, you suppose. You look down at your chest to watch your misty body re-settle into itself before looking back at the group in your living room.

Were it not for the gruesome accents of blood flecked up the walls and your body riddled with stab wounds, you’d chuckle at how all four of them struggled to navigate the space. It’s cramped enough when it’s just you, fitting only a couch, a chair, a coffee table, your fern (Boris), and a narrow IKEA bookshelf. With the four of them plus a dead body, it’s like watching a freaking clown car.

“Sorry, excuse me, Captain, oh, was that your toe—?” Moblit’s struggling the most, having to move to capture different angles with his bulky camera. When he steps on the shorter man’s toe, he positively blanches, fumbling over himself to apologize while the ME laughs openly.

“God, alright, just,” the Captain pinches his delicate nose between a thumb and forefinger, then decides it’s better to wait in the kitchen. “C’mon, Gin, let’s chat in there.”

The Captain and the blonde detective both pass through you on the way back to the kitchen, but you only sigh and shake the tingly feeling of being incorporeal out of your fingers before following them.

“So,” the man called Gin takes the initiative, flipping back through his notebook and standing by the fridge. “I got statements from the landlady and two of the neighbors, numbers 303 and 304 down the hall. 301, directly across the hall, didn’t answer, but I got contact info from the landlady.” He pauses to read and scratch at his whiskery beard. “It was 304 who made the noise complaint, said she heard yelling this morning at around 5:45, and that she normally wouldn’t’ve said anything but it was, quote, the fourth goddamn time this week and I work the goddamn night shift, I deserve some fucking rest, unquote.”

You grin. Mrs. Sheffield was never one to mince words, something you appreciated when your ex-boyfriend got too loud and she took it upon herself to give him a piece of her mind. You catch a glimmer of a smile on the ornery Captain’s face above where he’s pulled his mask down before he gestures for Gin to keep going, keeping his thoughtful gaze fixed on the floor and his back against your countertop.

“Then after she called the landlady, she went to bed, only to be woken by us two hours later.”

“You said she called the landlady at 5:45 and that she works the night shift?”

Gin double checks his notes. “That’s right.”

“And she works at the hospital?”

“Yes, as a scrub nurse on the night shift.”

“But the night shift at the hospital ends at 6:30.”

“It was her night off,” you and Gin say at the same time before you catch yourself. They can’t hear you, anyway. This’d be a lot easier if they could.

Gin plows ahead. “But she says she keeps the same sleep schedule so she doesn’t, ah, fuck up her circadian rhythm.”

The Captain practically snorts at this, itching for a second under his silk cravat (can someone say pretentious) before settling back into a listening silence.

“303 says he didn’t hear a thing. College kid, looked exhausted. Said he was asleep the whole night after he got in at,” a page flip, “11 o’clock last night. Wasn’t much help, but looked genuinely upset when we told him about the murder. Wanted to know if there was anything he could do. Oh, but he did, uh, hang on,” more page flips, “He did tell us that he heard her and her boyfriend arguing a lot. Which is consistent with what Mrs. Sheffield told us.”

“Ex-boyfriend,” you correct into thin air. 

“A lover’s spat gone wrong, then,” Mr. Pretentious Captain muses. You huff in annoyance. A lover’s spat. If that’s all that this is written off as you’ll have some serious PD haunting to do. Chris may have been an angry, loud, disruptive manipulator, but he wouldn’t murder you. He didn’t murder you. “Any info on the whereabouts of the boyfriend?”

“Ex-boyf—!”

Blondie cuts you off, “Not currently, but we do have a name: Chris Henderson, works in admin down at the University. Lives across town closer to the Bridge.”

“Send some uniforms to bring him in for questioning. No arrests yet, tell ‘em to keep it friendly.”

“Right, I’ll put Dreyse and Bodt on it.”

“Dreyse, really?” Captain Cravat gives Gin an incredulous look. 

“Hey, she may look like a ditz but she gets the job done. And she might get him to let down his guard,” Gin argues, grinning. 

“Fine. I’ll meet them at the station, you stay here and make sure that mousy-haired dunce doesn’t fuck up my crime scene.”

“Hey, who’re you callin’ mousy-haired, short stack?” Hange actually sticks her whole head through yours this time, to butt into the conversation, and you shriek and jump away to the other side of your tiny kitchen, now sandwiched between Blondie and Shortstack. The latter twitches and swats at the air by his ear, as though to dislodge a fly, narrowly missing yours. You give him a weird look then turn back to listen to the ME. She’s leaning into the kitchen at an alarming angle, one hand on the doorframe and the other on the end of the gurney you assume is carrying your body. You shudder at the thought of being toted around in a dark, musty, humid glorified coat bag. Ugh. 

“—takin’ this baby”-she slaps the gurney twice and you flinch-“back so I can get started on the autopsy, Moblit’s staying to take more pictures and collect forensics. If Eld’s stayin’ here with Mob, does that mean you’re catching a ride with me, Levi?” The question is addressed to Captain Grump on your right, who gives a heavy sigh and pushes off the counter. 

“I guess so. I get to choose music though.”

“Ah, ah, ah,” she’s wagging a finger, grinning. “My body, my music!”

“How about my body, my music?” you suggest, following Levi. “I deserve it after the day I’ve had.”

Again, Levi twitches and swats aggressively by his ear, nearly hitting you full in the face this time. 

“You hear that, Gin? This place got a mosquito problem or something?”

“I do not have a mosquito problem!” and “No, sir, I don’t hear anything.” overlap in the air. 

Captain Levi only grunts, then starts spouting instructions, which Gin notes down. “I want footage from any cameras in the building, and from the shops next door and across the street. I want statements from residents both upstairs and downstairs. I want names, addresses, and numbers of next of kin on my desk by noon, and lastly, I want no one, save for myself, you, shitty glasses, and mousy-hair, in or out of this apartment. Are we clear?”

“Crystal clear, sir.”

“Good. I’m leaving you Braus to help and to show her the ropes of this kind of thing. Even though she’s on the case, she will not set foot in this apartment. I don’t trust her not to leave breadcrumbs in the bloodstains.

“Yes, sir.”

“I expect an in-person report before shift-change this evening. See you then.” Then, he’s sweeping out of the kitchen in pursuit of Hange and the gurney, leaving you to scurry after. As you exit your home, he shoots a young auburn-haired woman in a crisp white blouse and wool slacks a look. “Braus. You’re with Gin. Don’t go in the apartment.”

She straightens up from leaning against the wall with a jolt and brushes croissant crumbs off her front. “Yes, Captain Levi, sir!” It’s slightly muffled by the pastry stuffed into her mouth.

“Tch.”

It’s fascinating watching how Levi and Hange manage to navigate the gurney down the narrow, twisting stairs of your walk-up apartment building. They’re both clearly used to this sort of thing, communicating only in short phrases and grunts when they encounter an obstacle. Occasionally, you offer up a pointer and watch as Levi becomes increasingly irritated. 

“Watch out for Mr. Laslow’s cat, he likes to sneak up on ya!”

“Hange, do you hear— shit!” Levi hops to the side, narrowly avoiding the tabby tail as Tubbins McGee whisks past.

“It’s only a cat, Levi, dunno what’s got you so worked up today,” Hange teases, grin echoing your own as you chortle from the landing above them. 

Eventually, they spill out onto the sidewalk and into the bright mid-day, and Hange groans loudly, stretching with both hands on her back.

“Ugh. Remind me not to die in there, I’d hate to put someone else through that.”

“Boof, tell me about it,” you commiserate. 

“Noted,” Levi snarks. 

Hange removes jingling keys from her pocket and unlocks the ME’s van parked along the sidewalk with a beep, then opens the back doors and steps in. You follow, leaning against the cool metal siding to watch.

When they both load into the front seats and the engine turns over, you lean forward between them to listen in.

“So,” Hange starts, smoothly pulling out into the road behind a silver minivan. “I’ll be able to give you a more solid answer in a couple hours, but my initial estimated time of death would be around 5:45 this morning.”

Levi nods, staring out the passenger window while he answers. “That lines up with the neighbor’s story.”

“Theories so far?”

“Well, there’s the boyfriend,” he muses, lifting a hand to rub his chin.

“Too obvious,” you say dully, not bothering to amend the lack of “ex” yet again. “Next theory.”

He’s quiet for a moment, then mutter, almost too quietly for you to catch: “Too obvious, hmm? Next theory....”

You’re momentarily flabbergasted, hand falling through the faux-leather seat back in your shock. Can he actually hear you? You shake out your hand while it re-materializes, tuning in to the conversation as Hange’s responding. 

“—a little far-fetched, don’t you think? I mean, has there been any of that activity in this area recently?”

“Mm, I’ll have to touch base with Petra. If there has been, I think it’s worth looking into.”

“What is? Wait, go back,” you frantically plead, leaning further into his airspace. But Hange plows on. 

“Oh, it’s Petra, now, hmm? Not Raggedy Anne anymore?” Her tone is teasing, and she glances over to Levi for a reaction. 

He doesn’t give her one, just stares out the window pensively before reaching for the radio dial. The stereo blares up into an Oldies station, and you make a disgusted face along with Levi. 

“You listen to this shit?”

“Hey, my dead body, my music, sweetcheeks. Don’t like it, you can thumb it back to the PD.”

“How about my dead body, my music?” you suggest again, reaching for the dial at the same time as Levi does. Just as his slender fingers touch it, your hand passes through the whole front console and the oldies are replaced with a terrifyingly loud static screeching. 

“Christ, Levi, what’d you do?” Hange shrieks, lunging forward to punch the radio off as you remove your hand. 

“Nothing! It just went berserk!”

They bicker while you stare at your offending palm. “Huh. Didn’t know I could do that.”

If you can actually interact with objects, at least to some degree, and if it turns out Levi can hear you.... This whole thing might be easier than you thought.

[popculturebuffet]

Ducktales: Jaw$! or How Lena Learned to Stop Worrying and Love Webby (Lena Retrospective Commissioned by WeirdKev27)

Trigger Warning: Part of this review contains discussions of abuse which can’t be avoided but I still want to be senstive to my audience and any trauma they’ve gone through.  Welcome back weblena world to Shadow Into Light: My Lena Sabrewing Retrospective. And Jaw$ is here, long live Jaw$. Tiffany was a shark who bites the law she was in an episode i’m reviewing called Jaw$. 

And it’s the money shark before the storm as next month i’ll be going from two Ducktales reviews a week with the Lena retrospective and the last few episodes.. to three, as i’ll ALSO be covering the Della arc from season 1 in the build up to shadow war. And if your wondering if I expertly planned this to coincide with the finale, to the point the shadow war review and those leading up to it will be on the same week as the finale.... nope. I just got REALLLLY lucky as I already had all of that planned out, and the schedule for the  new episodes happened to synch up perfectly, ending just in time for me to revisit the series start and having Magica’s big in person appearance reviewed a week after we get her backstory in Life and Crimes. Though I am VERY happy it worked out this way as I get to properly celebrate the series end with more ducks than ever, and get to cover the pilot the same month as the finale, all things i’d of loved to do anyway and probably would’ve rejiggered my schedule to do. Point is lot of Ducktales content coming for this blog if you like that so stay tuned, but for now join me won’t you under the cut as we dive into a money bin of gay ducks, shadowy machinations, and Bad PR. 

We open as Lena and Donald awkwardly sit on the couch, waiting for Scrooge and the Kids to get home. Understandably it’s just.. dead silence.Given their a cynical teenager secretly working for and forced to obey a horrifying shadow monster and a 35 year old man who dosen’t like living in this house due to painful memories of his presumed dead sister.. and painful memories of pain in general, you have a huge awkward bowl of chips and “I really don’t want to be here right now”. 

Our heroes return though, and Louie tries to take some of their haul for himself but Scrooge stops that “It goes in the bin not to next of kin. “... Man in a Hurry if you would please. 

Thank you. Man in a Hurry everybody. He has to go now, he’s in a hurry. 

 As you can probably guess I do not like this, as it reminds me WAY too much of Scrooge’s worst “quirk” in the comics: how he’d barely pay his nephews, who are often hard up for cash mind you and one of whom is supporting three children ALONE, take them around the world and reap all the benefit for their hard work. It’s not like he did nothing, he did, but it’s way to exploitive for my tastes and can often sink a story if taken too far. It’s not AS bad... but they all went on the mission they all deserve at least something. I DO get keeping the rarest and most dangerous stuff for himself, as he is bankrolling things and does have two bins and a massive garage to safetly store them. But this just comes off as douchey for this version, who while liable to make mistakes with them, is far more nurturing towards his boys and girls. 

Thankfully this was course corrected next season. While Scrooge’s greed was properly restored.. this sort of treatment wasn’t. “Treasure of the Found Lamp” had him undergo character development and realize simply hoarding his treasures isn’t right or fair, and set up a musuem wing so both duckburg and his descendants can see them and get the stories behind them. And on not getting to take things clearly he’s eithe relaxed or stopped the policy as our heroes do have souveneers from time to time. Not a LOT mind, but little things like Dewey having a giant sword or Scrooge outright giving Louie one of his things show he did soften up. Though Della’s return and likely lack of tolerance for this stupid policy in the first place probably helped a lot, I also like to think he did change a bit and realize it was deeply unfair they didn’t get more than a few treasures of their own. So the writers did realize they kind of went overboard here.  I suspect this was more to setup for the episode’s subplot and to make Scrooge’s karma at the end feel justified. Speaking of which we get the start of said Subplot as Beakley comes in with a money cart and the news the board called. Why they called his house instead of his phone I don’t know, some things slip through the cracks when you running both a billion dollar company an da trillion dollar fiendish organization  for world larceny. I mean they clearly worked themselves so hard the other two apparently died between seasons. That or it was the diet of whiskey, orphan tears and grease in a wine glass both had. Bradford always told them it’d kill them though to his credit he only said I told you so twice at their funeral. 

For once no their not mad Scrooge is spending all the money they use to buy fowl jetskis, but because the Company’s having a bit of a PR nightmare now that Scrooge is back in the adventuring game. And we cut to the beanstalk they just adventured on having tore up a good chunk of the town and destroyed large swaths of it just to sell the point this isn’t their normal old man yells at other old man for spending all me money schitck, but a serious problem. As such they’ve booked him an interview with Roxanne Fetherly to improve his image and the companies. 

Scrooge scoffs at this, baffled why he has bad pr as his adventuring is GOOD for the city in the long run: He pays for any damages it causes, and likely at a cost no less which is a LOT coming from scrooge, and puts most of the money he makes on these adventures back into the city and his company, creating more jobs and better living conditions. He does get a wakeup call via  truly hilarous gag as Launchpad pops his head up to say “Good news mr. mcdee, it missed the orphange!” before getting ready to chainsaw the stalk for him. He quickly realizes MAYBE he needs some PR and agress to the interview. 

 This whole subplot really plays into one of the series main themes, one Frank brought up a few months back: Risk vs Reward. Adventuring is entirely about this, that adventure is dangerous, can cost you a lot as we see with Della and the aftermath of her terrible decision making, and can hurt people.. but it can also help people, bring money to those who need it, free those who are being oppressed and open new worlds to everyone. This subplot distills it down great: Scrooge is right that his adventures do bring in money, and as seen with the first episode brought in clean water and power with no drawbacks and only asked to be paid for it, which is fair given he still has to run machines and likely help relocate any workers whose jobs are now redundant to other parts of the company and retrain them. But it costs people their homes and jobs, not forever but still as long as it takes to construct, tears up roads and puts people in danger. It’s plots like this that make Bradford the perfect final boss for the series: He’s someone who blinds himself to the reward of all this and only sees the risk, and raises valid points even if he himself is deeply wrong. He’s right Scrooge causes a lot of danger and threat to the world.. but wrong in that he dosen’t see it’s all worth it for the good of everyone. 

But enough about future story arcs let’s get back to this one, as Webby excitedly greets Lena and hugs her, realizes she’s not hugging her back then gives her another squeeze anyway after claming to hate hugs when just a LOOK at Webby would tell you that’s false. The two are having a sleepover, Webby’s first ever.. and given Lena’s essentially an Emo Hobo and the closest thing she has to home is that starlight ancient amptheater that’s never properly explained. Seriously ancient ruins near Duckburg dosen’t suprise me, but at least tell me what they are and why Magica chose them. And why Louie hasn’t tried to sell tickets to Dewey boxing a gorilla in them. Or probably a possum I mean their on a budget and gorillas snap necks, but still i’d pay to see that as would we all. 

Point is it’s their first sleepover and naturally Webby’s first bit of smalltalk.. is how tucking in can be used for interogation techniques. I’d be more suprised if earlier this season it hadn’t already been shown Beakly regularly enrolls her daughter in the no murder, unless you really want to, hunger games every year. The fact Webby hasn’t become the bat is only because she hasn’t found a costume that’s the right combintion of pinks and purples to instill pantswetting terror yet. That shit takes time. 

Lena goes to the bathroom.. to talk to Magica who we properly get to meet. She did speak last time, but this ep is the one that properly establishes her personality for the reboot: she has clever plans, tons of power, if sealed currently, and is a genuine threat.. but she’s also a bit of a ham, in love with the old ultra violence and really short sighted in her plans, something we got hints of last time as her best solution to the Beakly Problem was  to just leave her to die and hope scrooge and webby, two people who love solving mysteries and unlocking puzzles, don’t investigate the horrifying death, accident or not, of their only friend and grandmother, and that neither, especially the 12 year old spiraling with grief, would suspect a former spy died. Thoguh in fairness on the spy thing it’s plausable Magica didn’t know that, but still it’s a bad plan. Magica has good ideas but is just so obessed with the brute force way of doing things she forgets the subtle approach works better.. and so far it has well for Lena.  Problem is it’s VERY clear by this point that Lena likes Webby, maybe not romantic styles JUST YET but it’s getting there. Webby on the otherhand has been in love with Lena from the freaking concept art which showed her blushing around her.. and that was in her 87 design.. which they thankfully changed. It’s not terrible but it just dosen’t fit well with this universe. Point is Lena is catching feelings and Magica realizes this and tries to gaslight her telling her she’d never acccept the truth abotu her and so on. As we all know and as we’ll see that’s bullshit but it’s an effective manipulation. We also find out Magica’s plan: she had Lena sneak a jewel into the treasure going into the bin, and it’s going to turn into a monster that will seek out the Number One Dime for them. She also vaugely hints that there’s something Lena needs from Magica. 

Once Lena returns, and Webby let’s her rabbit know the interogation isn’t over, she gives her possible future girlfirend a gift: friendship bracelets! They both put them on and it’s really fucking cute.. and will be both a tangible symbol of hteir friendship and a plot point several times, something I honestly hadn’t thoguht about till now. Lena, put off by the gesture not because she dosen’t aprpciate it because of the crushing guilt of lying to the one person who cares about her under the insucrtions of a sociopath, goes to Webby’s big old corkboard which is always fun to look at.. especially since it’s clearly the ONLY glimpse at Hortense we’re going to get all series. 

We’re not getting Grandma Duck either. Though at least Frank actually regrets that one. But the important part is one of the posts mentoniing Scrooge hates magic, something Webby elaborates on: He hates spells, hexs curses and what not and feels them a shortcut.  From the man who has a garage full of them. 

I do kid as I did realize there’s a valid expliantion for this: Scrooge will use magical items, protection spells that sort of thing.. but he uses them like anything else as needed. He’s too pragmatic to not say, use the jewel of atlantis to give a city clean energy and water he can montizie, or the split sword against FOWL.. but more often than not he just dosen’t need them. He collects them because it’s fun, oftne profitable.. and their simply SAFER in his museum wing, garage and second bin will get to in two weeks. He’s seen time and time again how people misuse magic, forget it has a price, or just rely on it instead of actual skill. He’s also clearly been on the bad end of a LOT of evil sorcerers and soreceresses, especially magica. Magic isn’t inherently bad, which in itself is a BIG message of Lena’s arc, it’s just somethign that’s the OPPPSOITE OF everythign scrooge is: sacrifcing others for power, relying on something besides yourself, distance attacks versus up close and personal phsycial attacks.. it was never going to be for him and tons of bad experinces with it only cemented it. He’s just not so stubborn outside of the santa thing to avoid something if it’s going to net him a profit or come in a pinch. 

So naturally Scrooge has banned any magic books from his house, as he has no use for spellcasting and any he’d need to keep for saftey or history’s sake are likely at the archives, but just as naturally, Webby smuggled one in and wants to try it with Lena ducking it and asking to play some games. I”m sure Huey has a few yugioh decks in his room go bug him. But before they can decide on one, the boys attack for a PILLOW FIGHT.... which is a sweet gesture and them just wanting to hang out, but ends with them all eating the ground and questioning why they thought attacking the duck equilvent of cassandra cain was a good idea. Louie decides to salvage it with a swim.. but since their pool has a boat in it he has a diffrent location in mind: the bin.

So while they head off to get head injuries, Beakly tries to prepare Scrooge as the Media are vultures and looking for the next scandal with public figures and it’s accurate. But given Scrooge’s natural mood is grumpus, this dosen’t go well at all and even a spray bottle dosen’t exactly help.. I mean it is the best method to deal with grumpy old men but it can only do so much. 

At the bin we get a lovely bit as Dewey prepares to dive and his brothers treat it like an olympic one, with both doing commentary, Dewey’s apparently response to if he was worried about brain damage was Nerp, and we get the wonderous national anthem of dewdonia. Just nice as well as lovely to see the brothers just having a crack and enjoying each others company with their own weird injokes but without the injokes feeling as forced as they were in “Beagle Birthday Massacre”. Things take a turn though as we see just what magica created with the stone... a giant shark made of scrooges money who eats that fucker in a single bite.. in this case Dewey. Louie and Huey naturally run off panicked.

So while Huey and Louie gain another scarring memory to tell their therapist when their older, Scrooge begins his interview with Roxanne Fetherly who.. honestly just weirds me out. Not for any personality stuff but because she has green feathers. And it just.. really feels WEIRD. I mean green ducks are a thing in real life.. but it just looks off to have such a pastel color on a duck when the other colors are white or tones meant to invoke real world races, allowing ducks to be black, latino, asian and so on and so on coded. That’s fine and blends in fine.. but with that metaphor the green just really dosen’t fit well at all. It feels like an early decision they made, but decided not to retcon or go with for anyone else which makes it all the more weird. We’re 3 seasons in , almost at the end, and the only other green duck we’ve seen was like that because of magic and the offputting nature of it WORKS for magica. Here I just don’t get it and I never well. But naturally Roxanne starts in on invasive, gotcha questions with no real good answers or time to respond, so fox news level questions, and then asks what part of ireland he’s from. 

Naturally that sets him off so while that rant goes on, literally next time we see him he’s still going on about it, we cut to the girls playing truth or dare.. and given Webby’s first question is about deepest darkest secrets the boys once again save her by running in... to report on the monster she created that just ate their brother. Lena brushes it off but does get them not to go to scrooge claming he’ll throw them to the shark himself. I mean he’s not comics scrooge so he probably woudln’t but their also two scared 11-12 year olds so it works well enough. They just need a way to go after the money shark. Enter launchapd who in the second best bit of the episode, says he sensed his best friend dewey was in danger. Beck’s delivery is what sells it.. and I’m not going to question it. He’s somehow alive despite presumibly living off a diet of spaghett-o’s, barely avoiding a car accident on his best days, and as we’ll find out later believing children in costumes are monsters he summoned when he was 8. The fact he suddenly has spider sense specifically related to people he cares about is honestly less of a surprise than the fact he’s not in heaven crashing God’s Speedboat into God’s Golden Castle with God’s Golden Lion riding shotgun. 

So they do the natural thing and.. steal Donald’s houseboat while he sleeps. He has no more involvement in this episode other than noticing it’s back and not in great condition at the end. I bring this up because this is one of Donalds ONLY apperances this season, and it’s part of the larger more irritating problem that he’s hardly ever used.. despite promoting him as a major part of the series. 

I will talk about this more during the Della arc as i’ts more relevant there, but needless to say it bothers me a lot and not knowing how to ballance it’s massive main cast was a constant struggle for the series even up to the final episodes going on right now. 

So our heroes head out on the bin late at night, where could the Jaw$ be she’s nowhere in sight. So they decide to use other treasure as a lure they either fished out of a bin or out of scrooge’s bathwater. How bathing in coins gets him clean I don’t know and frankly I dont’ think we want the answers to that and the idea of scrooge fully naked is so horrifying I forgot what I was talking about.

Ah yes our heroes are playing bait the money monster and find out it’s a shark, and Lena.. is not okay with that and goes to talk to Magica inside the boat. Magica tells us she has a name, Tiffany. Awww what a lovely name for a money shark. I would of gone with Rags to Bitches, but I may have brain damage.  Lena understandabily does not like the idea of getting eaten by a shark, asked to be informed and while Magica is mad at her for going after the thing, Lena reasonably points out that it was this or Scrooge got involved.  Up top Huey tries catching it with a bit of treasure on a rope.. after not shutting up about shark facts because “Facts comfort me when i’m nervous!” Precious angel. But Huey’s leg gets caught and he and Louie, somehow on the latter get thrown up in the air and chomped. Back bellow Webby has a suggestion: using magic. Lena naturally not wanting to blow her cover or really liking magic period is against it for now. 

Back at the interview, Roxanne brings on a special guest to prove people don’t like scrooge: GLOMGOLD!

Glomgold may create some issues for the subplot and we’ll get to those in due time, but damn if it isn’t always a pleasure to see him. He’s also on good terms with Roxanne... are.. are we sure this is local news and not fox news? Taking the word of a conservative greedy billionare over a progressive one seems like a fox move. Though I might actually watch fox news if glomgold was a commentator.  “I propose a red new deal instead of this blasted green new deal, I throw Scrooge to a tank of sharks connected to a generator, the tank turns red with his blood and that somehow creates power! HOW DO YOU LIKE THAT MCDUCK” 

So we get the best bit of the episode as Glomgold tries to complain about his building being destroyed which would be fair... if he hadn’t tried to blow up Scrooge’s bin twice this week, with Glomgold going for THREE.. for threee.. for three... it dosen’t go off but it does get scrooge to say he’s glad the building was destroyed. Which is fair but NOT super great PR.  

Back at the shark things don’t get better as Webby and Lena argue over the use of magic, I mean as much as they can argue Webby just wants to know why she’s so cagey about this while they go with plan “Launchpad crash into it”. Launchpad also gives a hell of a monologue. Good on you bud. As you can see launchpad’s gotten 100% better since his low point in our last episode. That’s because it’s clear the writers had some struggle ballancing his amped up stupidity with actual competence, making him primarily jokey comic relief in the first few episodes and I wouldn’t be shocked if Terror of The Terra Firmians was written before a lot of the later episodes despite airing around the same time. But by mid-season he’s got his much more lovable charactersation of a dangerous moron..l but one who CAN be competent and is genuinely charming due to how much he cares about his friends and his job. They also dialed down the stupid down to an acceptable homer simpson level: still a danger to himself and others but hilariously so. Point is they fixed it and while i’ll complain about mistakes the show made I will give this crew all the credit for course correcting time and time again and actually listening to fan feedback.

So Webby figures they tried the Jaws option and lost the boat and launchpad, time for plan Magic. They hold hands, EEEEEEEEE, and try a spell.. and it clearly starts working but almost works TOO well, as Lena starts glowing first purple.. then blue. Hmmmm... intresteing. Lena breaks it off and Tiffany breaks out of the bin.. just as scrooge says on the news his adventures aren’t dangerous. 

Scrooge naturally goes to face it while Webby wonders why Lena didn’t go for it. To make it a triple Scrooge shows up in time to distract tiffany.. with the number one dime, which as lena found out earlier is on his person rather than at the bin like the public thinks. So while Scrooge puts up a good show.. seriously it’s really awesome and really neat looking, though he also gets VERY upset that people are naturally holding out buckets for the cash shark, which he’s not happy about because well.. he did EARN that money. Most bin money is stuff directly earned by him so fair enough. But while he’s you know, Scrooge Fucking McDuck, and thus puts up a good fight the monster eats him.. and gets the dime stuck in it’s tooth with Magica wanting Lena to grab for it, forgetting that minons, while mildly disposable, aren’t really replaceable when your SOUL’S ATTACHED TO THEM. That’s where Magica’s weakness is. her plans aren’t half bad but as I said, she’s far too bloodthirsty and short sighted. She has better ones than glomgold but ironcially they share the same problem of not thinkign them through. And Magica cares so little for lena she’s blinded to the fact her own personal saftey is tied up in her. 

Lena naturally dives for her future girlfrriend and heads into the belly of the beast. And it’s here her REAL moment of truth is. While the one last episode was noble.. it was also easy enough to brush off internal as pragmatisim. Letting Beakly die would’ve brought too much heat and been too easy to quickly go terrible, while saving her got her off Lena’s trail and gave her free reign of the manner. But here? Webby is about to slip into Tiffany’s stomach and whle she hasn’t digested anyone yet given who made Tiffany with it’s likely just because she hasn’t had enough mass to create chainsaws to carve them all up. It’s the Dime or Webby. Lena’s own freedom or the girl she loves. Nothing good comes from saving Webby.. other than Webby. Other than the one person whose truly loved her. I mean think about it: She was created by magica, abused for a good decade and a half. No one but Magica has had a chance to care about her and as we’ve seen Magica only sees her as a weapon to get back at scrooge and not as a person. Webby was the first person she’s ever made a genuine connection with, that’s been there for her, that loves her unconditionally and woiuld be there for her no matter what. And it’s in that moment Lena realizes she can’t sacrifice her for her own good... that after years of having to be selfish to surivive being chained to that monster... she can’t be this time. No mastter what it costs her.. Webby is priceless. So Lena recites the spell, growing bright blue and blowing up tiffany. Lena gladly hugs webby who reciorpates, awww gaybies, and Launchpad hugs dewey. Awww... what it’s still precious he’s a good surrogate uncle. The wacky kind who sleeps in a van on your lawn. 

So Scrooge is glad.. though it’s here his subplot falls flat. Him getting attacked by the media and getting a compupance by loosing tons of money from tiffany is fine. Evne if he earned it, his lack of care did bring this on him.. hte problem is they take it too far by having all his nemies show up, him unable to say anything and glomgold blatantly doing so just to steal from him. Otherwise the subplot is fine, a bit heavy on scrooge being a dick but it has to to work and puts him in an awkward situation. But this ending just feels to over the top to realy enjoy. And the series does do over the top humor well so I don’t know what happened here. But having a bunch of outright thieves steel his money instad of a bunch of citizens who didn’t know better and deserved it for the damage, feels wrong and it tastes wrong. 

Speaking of feels wrong and tastes wrong we get an INTEINTONAL dose of that as back at the amptheater, Lena and Magica argue about the situation and Magica trying to kill her. Lena tries to walk away but can’t.. phsyically. Magica won’t let her. And this is honestly a very crushing and very well crafted metaphor for how abuse victims sometimes CAN’T escape their abusers. Magica is verbally abusive, treats lena like she’s disposable and constnatly downtalks her self esteem. To Lena magica is nothing but a tool.. but like MANY children caught in horrifcally abusive situations Lena can’t get away. It’s a literal metaphor, an da good one, for how you can’t ALWAYS escape abuse easily, and this especially true for kids who have nowhere to go and hte law on their abusers side more often than not. It’s hard to escape an abusive parent and even harder when they dont’ consider you a person. I thankfully have no personal experince with this but it dosen’t make it any less of a problem nor any less noble of this show to tackle the subject in a frank, if fantastical, way, and a good chunk of Lena’s arc is overcoming this abuse and not letting her abusive past drown her. But for now.. all she can do is agree to do what Magica says till she can hopefully be rid of her. But the light at the end of the tunnel’s coming.. there’s just a whole lotta darkness first. 

Next Time: We take a break from the episodes to cover some Lena related comics for a double feature; The first Spies Like Us has everyones faviorite lesbian ducks go on a spy adventure that was never printed in the us for silly reasons we’lll get to and then the 87 ducktales comic dime after dime which features Lena’s predecessor Minima. 

Later Today: Close Enough Season 2 is here! I”m going to talk about it! Exclimation Points! 

If you liked this review feel free to follow for more. And if you have an episode of Ducktales or another animated show you’d like me to cover just hit me up via my asks or direct messages on here and comission it. And if you’d rather just support me on a monthly basis, head over to my patreon. THE LINK IS RIGHT HERE.  Even a buck a month would help and the more of you that donate the closer we get to my Duckcentric stretch goals. The current closest ones are 15, which would lead to reviews of The Goofy Movies and Treasure of the Lost Lamp, and 20 which would lead both to a review of the Super Ducktales mini series, and monthly darkwing duck reviews! So if you like me talking about ducks and want to bolt some duck reviews to the schedule, even a dollar a month would inch me closer to that goal. Eveyr bit helps. But money or not, it’s been a pleasure and i’ll see you at the next rainbow. 

[obaby-me]

Hey, uh feel free to ignore this but, could I have some headcanons on how the brothers react to an MC with really bad depression but it’s hard to spot? Like, they’re a really sweet cinnamon roll and always putting everyone before them and loves talking about anime, books, cats, music, and anything else they like. It’s hard to spot but the more time they spend with them the more the little details show, like how they never finish a meal(pt 1)

Author’s Note: No need to apologize. Really, you just handed me a bunch of starter sentences.

Lucifer

“I’m used to it,” you said with a smile.

There was nothing to smile about.

Lucifer had this whole evening planned out for the two of you. A night out at one of the finest restaurants in the Devildom, a special bottle on reserve for the two of you. He’d been prepared to take you to the skies tonight, to see the meteor shower up close tonight, and have you make wish after wish tonight.

You had been so excited for the shower. You told him of the human custom of wishing upon shooting stars over a month ago and the minute he knew the shower was coming, he made positively sure to clear his schedule for it. And yours as well.

But he’d had to break them. Diavolo had requested his presence on an emergency and he couldn’t say no. You knew that. He knew that.

And when he broke the news, while he knew you’d be understanding, he had expected at least some disappointment, maybe even tears.

He’d been prepared for that.

“The things happen all the time,” you assure him, giving him a smile. “I’ve learned to accept that. Plans are always more likely than not to be cancelled. I’ve learned not to keep such expectations.”

Lucifer felt guilt well up inside him. “My sincere apologies,” he said once again. “I did not realize I had made it such a habit to put you aside like this. I will make it up to you,” he promised.

“Oh, it’s not you,” you told him waving away his concern. “Everyone does it. It’s okay, really!” To emphasize your point, you continued, “One time, for my birthday, we were going to go to this giant indoor waterpark. But mother sort of forgot and took the family car for the day to a friend’s place. We had to cancel.”

And you laughed. You laughed and Lucifer knew that something was deeply wrong. Wrong with the people around you to treat you with such disrespect to put you aside for the most menial and selfish of reasons; and wrong with you to believe it as acceptable.

Lucifer would have to correct that. While in this particular case, because it was an absolute emergency, for the future, he made sure to keep a perfect record: every plan he made, he kept—and always perfectly on time. Nothing but Diavolo emergencies, real emergencies, could deter him. If it meant sleepless nights in preparation, or sending a brother in his stead, he would suffer it. And he made sure each brother kept their promises as well. Punishments became extremely severe should they be late when attending to you or in skipping any plans to you.

You had to know you were worth the time promised to you.

Mammon

“My church always did say I was going to hell,” you chuckled in response to Mammon when he officially, and drunkenly, proclaimed you “one of us!”

“Oh yeah?” He asked, slinging an arm around your neck and giggling drunkenly into you. “What for, troublemaker?”

“For being bi.”

Mammon gave a small snort, and waited for the rest of your list, but apparently, that was the end of your list. Or maybe he missed it. His head was spinning rather terribly. “Is that it?”

“Yes.”

Mammon laughed loudly in response, his grip on your shoulders pulling you to sway with him as the two of you walked towards the House of Lamentation. “Love ain’t a reason to be sent to hell!” What a ridiculous concept. Love wasn’t a sin, in fact, it was a kind of virtue.

You gave him a smile, smaller than you should for a night like this. Did you not believe him?

“Hey,” he said, trying to sound as sober as possible despite his drunken state. He figured it’d help if maybe he stopped walking to do so. “We really don’t judge that here,” he said. “Ya ain’t gotta worry ‘bout that.”

“I know,” you said as you tried to get him moving again.

“No, ya don’t. Ya lookin’ all sad. About bein’ bi. Ya ain’t gotta be sad ‘bout that.”

“I’m not sad that I’m bi,” you clarify.

“Ya look sad,” he insisted.

You giggled slightly in return, and he just knew the words in your brain were something emasculating, like ‘cute.’

“On the contrary, I’m happy. I’m happy you don’t mind.”

Mammon laid his head against you. “Course I don’t. They shouldn’t either.”

“Well, they do.”

“Well, I don’t. And I’m here. And they’re not.”

You gave a small laugh as he blearily babbled on about how he intended to protect you from such people, from such things. You needn’t worry about a thing with him around, he assured you.

Leviathan

“I can relate.”

“To... this?” Levi asked with some surprise, eyes averting from the screen to you cuddled into his side.

You gave a small nod, unexpressive as you watched the protagonist, having lost his match against his rival, defeatedly monologue his own existential crises to the audience. Was all their efforts for nothing? What was the point of trying for more when clearly their dreams would never be realized?

Levi was quiet for a time, watching as the hero wallow in himself, waiting for the inevitable turn around, where the hero finds the answers to his question, finds his inspiration and resolve to keep them going.

But it didn’t come, not by the end of the episode.

Offended, Levi began a tirade of criticisms for regarding the episode, his worries not for the hero despite the context—but rather, for you.

For the next week he searches for anime and manga that center around the same themes, making sure the episodes and chapters that would bring the answers and conclusions necessary were available.

You had to read them.

You had to know.

Satan

“I think I was raised by a cult,” you murmured quietly.

Satan peered over his book at you, the air of silence you two had been enjoying while you read side by side broken by the most unexpected sentence.

He had many questions, but the first to make it out of his mouth was, “what?”

“Sorry,” you apologized quickly for having broken his concentration.

“A cult?” Satan continued, curious as to where this was going. “What kind of cult?”

“I was raised to think I was my dad’s property and that to go against my parents was to go against God.” You explained quietly, embarrassed to be speaking about this topic at all. But you had been the one to bring it up, albeit by accident—your mouth converting thoughts to your external voice rather than internal.

“Not an entirely novel concept for the middle ages. Have to say I’m surprised it’s managed to stick around,” Satan responded with a frown, closing his book carefully, a marker set into place to save it.

“Do you believe that to be true?” He asked.

You shook your head. He felt relief wash over him.

“But sometimes I still feel that, sort of, guilt, you know?”

Satan shifted so that he could get his arms around you, laying himself gently against you. “I imagine it would be difficult a feeling to unlearn.”

You said nothing in return, but quietly put some of your weight against him in acceptance of his affection.

“You don’t belong to anyone. You have every right to your own choices, no matter how your parents feel.” Satan murmured reminders into you. You knew these things, but to hear it felt reassuring.

It became a running theme that when asking you out for a date, Satan would ask or simply surprise you with, “something you’ve always wanted to do that you’re parents would absolutely hate.”

Asmodeus

“My dad’s always saying how fat I am,” you explained as you decline Asmo’s offering of his parfait.

“What does that have to do with anything?” Asmo asked with a tilt of his head.

You shifted uncomfortably in your seat across from him and give a small noise that he thought you thought were words, but were entirely unintelligible once it hit the air.

“What was that, darling?”

“I said, I just don’t think I should have any.”

“Are you on a diet?”

“I mean, I should be.” You fidgeted in your seat, refusing to look Asmo in the eye. This was supposed to be a happy occasion: a special date he’d planned for the two of you out on the town trying all the most wonderful trendy treats the season had to offer.

“What do you mean you should be?”

“Well, my dad—“

Your dad, again? Why did his opinion matter to you so much? Especially when that opinion was just so wrong?

“Your dad has no right to say anything about your beautiful body, love!” Asmo protested. “If you want to diet, honey, we can go on one together. But don’t you dare say no to this parfait on account of your dad.”

For the rest of the day, and on into the evening, Asmo laid his compliments thick, and showered you with the attention your lovely body deserves.

Beelzebub

“I’m just not that hungry.”

“You said that at lunch too. And at breakfast.”

It wasn’t entirely unusual for you to skip a meal now and again. Sometimes, you just weren’t hungry after spending two hours snacking on gummies and popcorn in Levi’s room while marathoning TSL. Technically not a meal, but at least you had something in your stomach. Sometimes you were just too focused on a task that you’d forget the time all together.

But today you’d had nothing at all while holed away in your room. The few times he’d passed by, you laid curled on your side, scrolling through your phone.

A growl erupted in the room, and it wasn’t Beel’s. Your stomach was calling you out as a liar—outing you to the Avatar of Hunger incarnate.

“You should eat. I’ll pick something up for you.”

“I’m really not up to eating anything today.”

“Are you ill?”

“No,” you responded, turning your face away, as if ashamed to even look at him.

“You need to eat,” he insisted.

“I don’t want to.”

The question of why didn’t need to be asked. He only need to stare at you expectantly until you’d cave under his gaze.

“I don’t feel well,” you grumbled, contradicting yourself.

“Is it a cold? Satan does say you starve a cold and feed a fever.” He paused a moment. “Or was it the other way around?“ Beel asked himself, trying to recall the last time he and had his brothers had gotten sick. It had been centuries ago. (And it had been a disaster of each one getting sick after the other, passing it around.)

“It’s not that kind of sick.” You mumbled softly. “It’s not a body sick. It’s just... a...” You sunk further into the cocoon of your covers looking miserable. An unusual look for you.

“Sad sick?”

Not quite the way you’d put it, but it was apt enough for youYou didn’t answer. You didn’t have to.

Beel quietly joined you on your bed, wrapping his arms around your comforter wrapped form and tugging you close. He’d feed you later, he’d hug you now.

Belphegor

“My needs don’t matter.”

“They do,” came Belphie’s immediate response—cutting in a way that felt dangerous, frightening: an end to the sentence, to the thought. His eyes were stern and you shivered beneath his gaze, having both been caught off guard by how quick his response had been, and how angry it had been.

“I’m sorry,” you muttered in response, feeling guilty that you had upset him, to have ruined the lovely moment you two had been having.

Arms wrapped around you as Belphie pulled you against him. He shifted from sitting beside you, to wrapping himself around you, trapping you between his legs and his arms. “Don’t say it again. Don’t think it.”

Easier said than done, he knew that. “Belphie, it’s okay—“

“It’s not.”

“I’m sorry,” you said again, an automatic response.

“You matter,” Belphie said, his head dropped into your shoulder and neck as he curled tighter around you. “You matter to me. If you need something, you should ask it. I’ll give it to you. I’d give you everything.”

There was quiet as you thought the statement over. “I just don’t want to be a bothe-“

“You’re not.” Belphie pre-emptively answered. “You could never be. Ask me. Ask anything of me. I gave myself to you, didn’t I?”

You thought yourself so little, so unimportant, but to Belphie you were so significant, so important, so beloved—and to have you not recognize that was as disrespectful to yourself as it was to him.

[plaidbooks]

Can I request a Barba x reader based off Barba returning to SVU? He’s working as the defense in the reader’s coming trial with Sonny representing her. The reader and Barba dates before he left the show. He needed to move on and the reader wasn’t ready to leave New York. Barba genuinely believes the defendant is innocent and is still in love with the reader, but can’t see his friend go to jail for something he doesn’t believe he did. Angst or fluff; however you want to end it! Thank you!!

Time Heals

A/N: Yesssss. I love this; this is one of my favorite things I’ve written in a while tbh. I hope you enjoy, anon <3

Disclaimer: This is written before the episode Rafael comes back, so sorry for any inconsistencies for when that happens!

Tags: rape mention (reader was date-raped), angst with a happy ending

Words: 2102

Taglist: @the-baby-bookworm @beccabarba @thatesqcrush @itsjustmyfantasyroom @stardust-fray @permanentlydizzy @glowingmess @infiniteoddball @ben-c-group-therapy @averyhotchner @mrsrafaelbarba @dianilaws

(gif by @sseureki)

You rubbed your left hand nervously, a tick you picked up three years ago, waiting for Sonny to come back from the coffee machine with a cup for you both. You tried to stop your hands from shaking, your knee bouncing and your breathing picking up as you remembered the night that had changed your life, the reason you were in Sonny’s office in the first place. You had been attacked nearly two months ago; a date that had ended in you being drugged and waking up without your clothes on, sore everywhere. It still made you feel sick to your stomach, even though you had been a detective with SVU, dealt with victims of just this kind of thing for years. Olivia had sent you to a great therapist, and the nightmares had stopped soon enough.

Sonny finally came back, placing the coffee on the table in front of you, and you mumbled a thanks. “How are ya feeling, [Y/N]?” he asked softly, placing a hand over yours. Sonny was your partner once upon a time, and you were still close.

“I wish people would stop asking me that,” you replied, smiling. He still looked concerned, so you said, “I’m fine, Son. Just…a little shaky, still. I just want this over and done with.” You sighed heavily, running a hand over your face.

“I know, doll. Soon, I promise. We got Adams on tape leaving the bar with you, taking you back to your hotel room, leaving the hotel an hour later, and his confession. We got this scumbag,” he said with conviction.

You nodded, taking a sip of your coffee. Kendrick Adams was the man you had gone on a date with…and the man who date raped you. He seemed pretty upset about it, but you had no sympathy for the man who had forced himself inside you. The one silver lining is that he had used a condom; you had no STDs, and you weren’t pregnant.

“Has he got a new defense attorney yet?” you asked, idly stirring your coffee with the small, wooden stirring stick. His old attorney was court appointed, and was not doing a good job representing him. Fin, as much as you loved the man, wasn’t so sure Adams was guilty. He thought that during the confession, Adams seemed confused, upset, and he recanted three days later.

“Call it a gut feeling,” Fin had said, earning a glare from you and Sonny. Both of you were ex-Detectives, and you both knew the accuracy of gut feelings, and while you could admit that Fin was usually correct, you were positive that he wasn’t. Not this time.

“Yeah, I’m meetin’ them today. I’m not sure who it is, though,” Sonny replied, shuffling some papers around. “In 30 minutes, actually.”

“Mind if I hang around? I’d like to know who’s trying to defend that asshole.”

Sonny gave you a long stare. “Technically, you’re not allowed to. But, if you were to, I don’t know, leave 5 minutes beforehand, bump into them….”

You gave him a smirk. “Thanks Sonny.”

 ***********************

You didn’t even get a chance to make your early exit before there was a knock on the door, presumably the defense attorney. You glanced at Sonny, who rose his eyebrow before saying, “uh, come in.” Your breath caught when in walked Rafael Barba. Time seemed to stop as his bright green eyes slid to yours, locking there in surprise. He looked…different. Not just the salt and pepper beard. But he looked happier than the last time you had seen him, more…alive. He still had a deep sadness in his eyes, but the last time you had seen him, he was defeated, a shell. Now, he at least looked like a person again. He resembled the man you had fallen in love with all those years ago. You unconsciously rubbed at your left hand, and his eyes flickered down to the motion. Just like that, the spell was broken, and you sucked in a deep breath.

“Please tell me this is a joke,” you muttered, suddenly remembering why he was there, that this wasn’t random chance. Rafael simply gaped at you. “Are you really a defense attorney? For fucking Adams?”

“Nice to see you, too, Detective,” Rafael said, eyes narrowing. “Yes, I am defending Adams. And you’ll find that my client is innocent.”

“Innocent my ass,” you sneered, standing angrily.

“[Y/N], let’s not—” Sonny started, but Rafael cut him off.

“He is innocent, and I’ll prove it in court. That is, unless ADA Carisi is willing to talk deals.”

You stomped up to Rafael, blood boiling, getting right up into his face. “Fuck deals, Raf. I want that bastard dead. Rotting in a fucking cell.”

“What do you have against this guy, huh? Call you a bad name in the interrogation room?”

Sonny spoke up again. “Barba, don’t—”

“Cause he fucking raped me!” you screamed in Rafael’s face. You watched his face go through every human emotion you could think of in the span of a few seconds, ending with a profound remorse.

“[Y/N]…I’m—” he started, but you shoved past him, slamming the door to Sonny’s office as you left, tears falling freely down your face. This was the first time you had seen Rafael in three years, and this was not how you thought this reunion would go. Your heart still strained when you thought about his bright green eyes. And that beard certainly made him more attractive. But he was defending your rapist, and you didn’t know how you could deal with that. You rubbed your left hand nervously, making your way outside, trying to find some air.

 **********************

Sonny informed you that him and Rafael were unable to come to a deal, and that Rafael was going for a plea of not guilty. You wanted to hate him, to be pissed and to just…hate him. But you couldn’t. You had spent too many years loving Rafael, and a small part of your brain kept thinking that if Rafael thought Adams was innocent…well, maybe something was there. But how could you be so wrong? How could all of SVU be so wrong?

“We’ve been wrong before,” Fin mentioned, shrugging nonchalantly, as if this wasn’t your life. It made you want to scream.

You tried to move on with your life, enjoy your retirement, stopping by One Hogan Place to talk with Sonny whenever he asked you to. He made sure to schedule you on separate days from Rafael, so that you wouldn’t run into him, and you were forever grateful. But just knowing he was in the same city as you made the hairs on your arms stand up on end, and you weren’t quite sure if that was a good thing or not.

Finally, you couldn’t avoid him anymore, not when he showed up at your front door, a bouquet of multicolored roses in his hand.

“Can we talk?” Rafael asked, hopeful.

“Should I have counsel?” you replied, crossing your arms over your chest.

He shuffled awkwardly on his feet. “[Y/N]…please…not about the trial. About us.”

Sighing, you moved out of the way, letting Rafael enter your apartment. It felt small with him there, much smaller than the place you both shared a lifetime ago. He glanced around appreciatively, before turning back to you, offering you the flowers. You took them, closing your eyes at the beautiful scent. He followed you to the kitchen while you found a vase, filling it with water.

“You still look beautiful, cariño,” Rafael murmured as you placed the flowers in the vase. You felt your eyes fill with tears, but you blinked them away rapidly, not wanting him to see.

“Why are you here, Raf?” you asked, trying to keep your voice from wavering. Looking at the sadness in his eyes, it was a struggle to not cross the distance between you, to not hug him until he was happy again.

“I—I wanted to see you. I told you when I left that I still loved you; that hasn’t changed.”

You swallowed, rubbing at your left hand. You looked down at your hand, the faint tan line on your ring finger still visible, even after these three long years.

“Then why are you defending Adams?” you breathed.

He sighed, rubbing the back of his neck. “Adams is…an old friend.” Rafael’s eyes locked to yours. “I know him, [Y/N]. He didn’t do this. And I refuse to see him go to jail for it. The evidence is circumstantial, at best, and you know it. You’re a detective—”

“I’m not a detective, Raf. Not anymore. I…I haven’t been a detective since you left. I just, I couldn’t do it anymore…” you trailed off.

“Oh,” was all he said. The silence dragged on, both of you unsure of what to say. He confessed that he still loved you, and he did honestly believe that Adams was innocent. Maybe he was right; the evidence was circumstantial…besides the confession, which Adams recanted shortly after. Liv told you he was claiming that you had seemed drunk and that he had helped you to your room. That he had held your hair while you vomited, then helped you to bed, staying with you until you fell asleep, hence why he was there for an hour before leaving. But if that were the case, then who assaulted you? Rollins and Kat already interviewed the hotel staff, the people on the same floor as you, and the security in the hotel, with no new leads.

“Where does this leave us?” Rafael finally asked, eyes searching yours. “Do you still…do I still have a chance with you?”

You swallowed under his intense stare. “I—I don’t know, Raf. I still…I still have feelings for you. I know that we agreed to take a break while you…figured things out. But that was three years ago, Rafael! I just—I don’t…and with all this shit with Adams—”

“I understand. Really, I do. I’m…I’m willing to wait for you. Hell, I’m willing to start all over again, relearn everything about you. Please, just give me a chance,” Rafael pleaded, taking a step closer to you.

“How do I know you won’t leave again?” you murmured, stopping him in his tracks.

His face fell, his hands clenching at his sides. “I’m here to stay; I promise.”

“As a defense attorney?”

Rafael winced. “Not all defense attorneys are bad, [Y/N]. Besides, I’ll only do it if I’m convinced my client is innocent. I’m not in it for the money; I’m in it to keep innocent people out of jail. I’m—it’s still me, cariño…I haven’t changed that much in the past three years. I’ve just…I’ve found myself again.”

You looked at him, really looked. Rafael’s hair had grey streaks, a speckled beard hiding that sarcastic mouth you loved. His bright, seafoam eyes were still alert, intelligent, locked to yours in question. He had more lines on his face, but the dark circles that used to be under his eyes had lessened. Even the way he held himself, the way he spoke, seemed lighter, less stressed. You suddenly wished, for the millionth time since he had left, that you had gone with him. But, at the time, you couldn’t force yourself to leave New York. Even if it meant losing Rafael for a little. Neither of you knew it would be this long. This date with Adams was actually your first date since Rafael left.

“I don’t think it would be good for Sonny’s case if I dated the defendant’s defense attorney,” you said, a soft smile pulling at your lips.

Rafael grinned, coming to you and pulling you into a tight hug, his cologne comforting, even after all this time. He placed a kiss on your cheek, his beard tickling your skin.

“I’m so sorry this happened to you,” Rafael murmured into your ear.

“I am, too,” you whispered back, fresh tears in your eyes. “But, if not Adams…who?”

He leaned back to look at you. “I don’t know…I wish I did, but Kendrick doesn’t know, either. He really did just take care of you before leaving you in your room. My best guess is one of the hotel staff…maybe the bartender? They have a separate elevator; I’ll have Liv check the tapes.”

You nodded. “And us?”

“I agree that we should wait until this trial is over. Then…dinner?”

“Dinner sounds lovely,” you replied, giving Rafael another hug. It would take time to get back to where you were before. But maybe this time, the two of you would get married.

[snowpeawritings]

You’re Safe

Claude/Khalid von Riegan x Reader

IT WAS HIS BDAY YESTERDAY AND I MADE THIS PIECE BC I LOVE MY HUSBAND!!! HAPPY BDAY TO THE DEER MAN

Reader is gender neutral

CW (CONTENT WARNING): Sexual content, PTSD cw, Verdant Wind spoilers

Claude-or Khalid for that matter-keeps many things to himself.

Despite the years you two have lived together; seeing another war happen, slaying your friends, your professor housing a god inside of their body, and marrying your house leader.

Oh gods, marrying your house leader.

You could never imagine living a married life with the Duke of Riegan. You still remember the time you and Claude pranked Seteth rearranging his entire office or the time you spiked Lorenz's special tea blends with stomach poisons. That's what it just is-you thought-prank partners that just wanted to have fun in the stuffy halls of Garreg Mach. A close ally when the burdens of war were too much. A friend when he had slain an old classmate.

A spouse to the King of Unification.

You were sure that the times you two spent together had solidified your bond with the mysterious man. Even when you two are happily married, there were some secrets that he'd still kept from you. Such as his true name. It honestly surprised you that Nader was the one who, albeit drunkenly, stated that Khalid von Riegan was his real name. Not even the newly-appointed Archbishop would tell you, or rather that they don't have much to tell you.

Heartbreaking talk aside, you accepted that Khalid would let his secrets out when he wanted it.

Right now, you have your husband with you as he finally announced to you that he was going to bed.

Him being the new Duke would lead him to travel across different places where inequality of different races are still apparent. His hard work had taken too much of a toll on his sleep schedule. With bags under his eyes and a stiffness on his shoulders, you tried to coerce your husband to rest.

You tried to ask Judith and she had prepared a basket full of exotic bath salts, flower petals, and oils that seemed to be worth more than your life. With your husband now with you, your night can finally go how you wanted it to go.

If only he didn’t take up half the space of the tub.

You nudged the knees jutting out of the water with your foot. “Give some space, hun, I want to get in the tub with you.”

He pouted his lips at you, looking at you using those puppy eyes that he would always use when he was in trouble. “But aziz-am, I thought this was my night?”

You remembered the pet name he said as you huffed. Taking a bottle full of scented oil, you poured a few drops in the water. It mixed with the bath salts and the flower petals that you added. The yellow petals were highlighted against the shimmering water as the heat from the candles were giving a warm feeling across your body. Along with the pecs that were floating above the water, the water sure looks inviting right now.

Kneeling down next to the tub, you leaned towards Khalid as you kissed his cheek. “You don’t want your spouse next to you in the tub?”

You continued to repeatedly kiss his cheek before leaning down to plant kisses to his neck. “You don’t want to see your lovely spouse naked in the bath with you?”

Khalid groaned slightly from above you as his fists tightened at the sides of the tub. Before you knew it, he dragged you inside the tub, not even minding the water splashing over the tub as you gasped at your clothes becoming wet.

“Why, you shouldn’t have darling!” He said above your panicked splashing. “You know me so well!”

You stuck your tongue at him, flicking a flower petal towards his face before stripping yourself of your wet clothes. It was a hassle due to it clinging to your skin but Khalid's appreciative hum made it all worth it.

With you completely naked, you leaned against the opposite end of the tub and glanced at Khalid's expectant stare. You raise one brow before gesturing to the empty space in front of you.

Like a child, he immediately went over to your side, water splashing about as he nestled himself on your chest. "Now this is the night that I deserve."

You flicked some water at him before massaging his temples. The oils made your hands smoother so it was easier to glide over his skin. He gave a relaxed groan, inching further to your body. Once his eyes closed, you drifted down from his head to his neck and shoulders where you knew most of his knots were at.

Feeling the tension, you worked them away as Khalid moaned at the sensation. "Gods, have I mentioned how much I love you?"

Your heart fluttered at his words before planting a kiss on his temple. "Every time you try to weasel yourself out of my wrath."

What came out of his mouth was either a laugh or a groan as his hand pinched the inside of your thigh. "Ease up on the insults or else I might just start tearing up on my special night."

You scoffed, wrapping your arms around Khalid's waist. "Oh hush, you big baby."

"Correction," he said before his hands covered your own, "I'm your fawn."

You giggled at his deer-related joke of the week before leaning against the tub once more. He gently exited from your hold before leaning above you, trapping you against the side as you stared up at viridian eyes that were full of hunger.

"I thought I was treating you?" You asked, already feeling the arousal welling up within you.

"You are treating me." He replied before planting a soft kiss on your lips. Almost uncharacteristic of him before leaving a nibble on your bottom lip. "You're my feast for this evening."

A shot of arousal spiked through your abdomen. Before you could say another word, he kissed you fully, making sure you feel his tongue move against yours as he moved around so that you were sitting on his lap. You felt the hard press of his cock against your inner thigh as you moaned.

Thus the night continued on.

---

With your body still oh-so pleasantly thrummed with euphoria, you laid back against the soft sheets of the bed as you looked at Khalid. Well, the back of Khalid, but the fact that he was soundly asleep next to you brought your mind peace.

Your eyes honed in on the healed scars that littered across his back. Some were already healed and were left as pale lines in contrast to his skin. Others still ran deep (you tried to ignore the most recent ones courtesy of your nails), almost deadly when you realize that he could've died hadn't Marianne or the Professor got to him in time.

Some scars, you realized, that you weren't there to see.

You recounted the times that Khalid had scarcely stated his past. Most of the time, it was said in jest. Others, it was either in mysterious phrases that only Khalid seemed to know. You knew that he had a tough time as a child due to him being a half-Almyran, even more so as an adult. His dream of unifying the rest of the countries was a steep one but one that Khalid was determined to conquer. Even though he had left you after his proposal at the Goddess Tower, you had continued to support his dream where you are. Any help that you do to support his dream is enough for you.

Remembering those moments, you sighed happily into your pillow, happy that you were able to help his dream. You inched closer to his back, wanting to feel his warmth as you’ll sleep with your husband. You lifted an arm to wrap around his waist for you to feel his body.

The jolt that followed had you fully awake. Khalid was fully sitting up, body trembling as his hand searched for something underneath his pillow. Your arm shot out to try and calm him down but he didn’t seem to register that you were touching him.

You looked at his face, trying to ask him what was wrong until you saw his eyes. His verdant eyes that you’ve loved so much were shrunken and shaky. Looking at his arm, which was still busy trying to find whatever was under his pillow, you held his shoulders as you sat up. “Khalid?”

He didn’t hear you. He continued to shakily reach out for whatever he was searching under his pillow. You felt sweat running down his face and neck as your heart palpitated. With no other option, you struggled to sit on his lap as you wrapped your arms around his shoulders.

With your forehead pressed against his, you yelled his name. When he flinched, you yelled his name once more, shaking him off of his episode as tears welled in your eyes.

Is this what Khalid had to go through for so long?

How long had he had to protect himself even from sleeping?

The tears flowed freely now, crying his name when his shaking stopped. His eyes slowly became focused now as they stared back at your own. His hand was still under his pillow but his other hand was suspended in the air.

Your hand moved to smooth his cheek. “Khalid… You’re safe.”

His breathing was still uneven but he seemed to respond to you now as both of his arms wrapped around your body. He didn’t say anything.

You pushed back his matted hair and kissed his forehead. “You’re safe, Khalid.”

One last breath out of Khalid before he relaxed into your hold. He held that small moment of peace before he leaned back with you, his back hitting the bed. He held his arms tighter around you, finally relaxed from his trauma but not wanting to let go of you quite yet.

Your husband is safe with you.

“You’re safe with me, Khalid. Now rest.”

[emmy-writes-sometimes]

Loyal

Someone breaks into the house when your father isn’t home, leaving you defenseless.

-

“Are you sure you can handle it?” Your dad asked you. “I don’t have to go, we can re-schedule for when you can come.”

“If I need anything, I’ll call an uncle,” you insisted. “And I have Kal. I’ll be fine.” He sighed. He really didn’t want to leave you, even though it was only for one night. But he had to film in Wales the next day, just for the day, so he needed to spend the night there. He wasn’t taking the dog with him and two of your uncles were less than fifteen minutes away if you needed them. But you insisted that you wouldn’t, because who would bother you? Out of all of the houses on the street, yours was right in the middle. Your dad kept his fancy cars in the garage, so nobody would know how many expensive cars he had unless they watched him leave some mornings. If anything happened, it would be completely random and unpredictable. So he finally agreed to let you stay by yourself.

“Okay. I need to go, then, the car’s outside. I love you. Be good.” You hugged him tightly, knowing you would hate to be without him. Ever since you were old enough to travel, he took you almost everywhere with him. But you had to go to an exam the next day, even though you did school online you needed a proctor, so you were going to be apart for the night. It was the first time in two years that he wasn’t in the next room from you and you would be lying if you weren’t having a little separation anxiety. But it was one night, and you’d have to stay away from him sometime.

“Love you too.” He squeezed you in a hug before he walked over to the couch to say goodbye to the dog, and then he was gone. You locked the door and went to the kitchen to start making dinner for yourself and for the dog. You were used to being on your own in the evenings, since your dad was often filming late into the night or taking a shower at his trailer, so that wasn’t new. But you couldn’t lie, you were a little worried for the night. You hated seeing the headlights pass through your window, and thankfully that wouldn’t happen because your dad said you could spend the night in his room. His room also had a massive TV that you could keep on, but that didn’t help the whole headlights thing because his room faced the backyard.

“Don’t tell Dad,” you said to Kal as you handed him a piece of chicken. He ate it and sat down by your feet as you continued giving him little pieces, then put them in his bowl. You ate dinner and spent most of the night just doing homework, trying to distract yourself. It worked, mostly, because you spent an hour reading a history textbook, but soon it was dark.

Your brigade of uncles called in at different times to check in, reminding you that a couple of them were just a few miles away if you needed anything, but you insisted that everything was fine. Eventually you decided that you needed to go bed and started settling in his room.

You changed the sheets for yourself and crawled in, only getting up to let Kal in and out a couple times. You went to get your phone charger from your room, since he’d taken his, and noticed as headlights panned across the window. That wasn’t odd. People lived on your street. You didn’t recognize the lights, but maybe someone had a visitor or a new car or something. Kal barked and you quieted him down, trying to convince both him and yourself that everything was okay.

Your dad called to tell you good night and you smiled a little bit when he asked you to prove you weren’t at a wild party or anything. You sent him a picture of you in bed, hugging the dog, and he finally said he was going to bed too. You saw the headlights again and tried not to panic. You calmed yourself down by looking at Tik Tok for a while, using Kal as a pillow. Eventually your phone fell from your hand onto the bed and you fell asleep as an old episode of Eastenders played on TV.

“Stop, Kal!” You groaned a few hours later when you felt the dog moving. “I’m not letting you out!” He barked and you sat up, wondering what your brat of a dog could possibly want. He looked a little distressed and whined, pawing at your shoulder.

“What do you want, buddy?” You asked, scratching his fur. Another set of headlights passed and you finally got up to see who the hell was throwing a party on a Tuesday night. You walked into your room, arms crossed, and opened the curtains. To your surprise, someone was in your driveway. That was why Kal was barking. You glanced again. The car was the same kind your uncle Simon drove, but the wrong year and you were sure it was the wrong color. He liked to show up unannounced, but never this unannounced. Never in the middle of the night. You called him to see if he would answer and he was probably asleep because he didn’t answer.

“Kal!” You called the dog to your side and locked your room door, sitting down as you called your closest uncle. He didn’t answer at first, but when you called him again you did.

“Dear God, Y/N, why are you calling at this time of night?” He asked, slightly frustrated with you.

“There’s someone in the driveway and I don’t know who it is. I thought it might be Simon, but it’s the wrong color. I don’t know what to do.” He sighed.

“I’m on my way. You need to call the police and lock yourself in your room. You have Kal?”

“Yeah. He’s with me. He’s anxious too.”

“Then call the police. I’ll be there as soon as I can, alright? I love you.”

“I love you too.” You hung up and called the police as you heard the downstairs door start rattling. You felt the house shift and realized that the garage door was being rattled, too. There must be more than one person. You called the police and told them where you were, that you were alone, and they said they would send someone. You just wanted your dad. You just wanted to call him and hear his voice and tell you it was going to be okay, but he was probably asleep. Was he going to be mad at you?

You heard glass shattering and the dog started barking and you retreated into your closet, debating on whether to let the dog loose or not. No. You wanted him with you. You called his name as he barked and sat down on the floor. He came and joined you, ever the loyal dog, and you buried your face in his fur and grabbed his collar as you continued on the phone with the emergency services.

You could barely hear a thing because Kal was barking so loud. He wrestled away from you and went to the door, scratching into the white paint, howling like he wanted to kill the person on the other side of the door.

“Your dog, dear, is he aggressive?”

“Only to people he thinks are threatening me,” you said back to the operator.

“We have an officer at your drive. Just stay in the room until an officer slides his badge under the door. You said you’re alone?”

“My dad’s gone for the night. My uncle’s on his way, he said. But it’s just me and the dog.” You could hear footsteps stop at your door and the door started rattling and you hung up the phone, just out of fear, and you were crying. One of your dad’s old jackets that you’d taken from him fell on the floor in front of you, off of the hanger, and you pulled it close to you wishing it was him.

You heard commotion on the other side of the door and down the stairs. The police had arrived. You could hear as they instructed the intruder to put his hands up. You could hear footsteps pounding up the carpeted stairs and then it all just stopped. The footsteps retreated after  the clinking of metal sounded, and then you saw a shiny badge under the door.

“KAL!” You yelled at the dog to get him to stop barking. “Kal, stop barking. Calm.” He followed your instructions and turned back into your happy dog, sniffing at the badge under the door. You got up and opened the door to see an officer.

“You’re Y/N?” He asked. You nodded. “Alright. Come downstairs to the living room. If the dog’s not aggressive he can come, too.” You took the dog by his collar and got him downstairs, trying not to look at the formal living room, where there were officers standing taking pictures of the broken window. They’d come in on the armchair that was directly below it. There was a scratch on your father’s favorite reading chair. There were police everywhere and you reached over to grab Kal’s leash, putting it on him so he wouldn’t sniff around and get hurt by the glass. You sat down on the couch, letting the dog up beside you.

“Is your uncle the one outside?” The officer asked. You nodded and the front door opened a minute later, Charlie walked in, eyes full of concern for you and only you. He sat down beside you and pulled you into a hug that felt so safe and familiar that you started crying.

“I called your dad, he’s on his way home,” your uncle said, squeezing your shoulder tightly. “I’m sorry I couldn’t get here faster.”

“No, it’s not your fault,” you sniffled. You laid in his shoulder and cried for a few more minutes as the officer spoke to him. They said eventually that you needed to come into the police station and give them a statement, and your uncle agreed to take you there. You had to lock Kal up and give him a pill to sleep, so he wouldn’t bark and scratch at the doors, and you crated him upstairs in your dad’s room. You changed clothes and Charlie drove you down. Luckily, they let him stay with you because you were underage.

You told them what happened and signed all of the papers saying that you were correct about everything, wondering where your dad was, if he was okay, and they finally sat you down in another room in the lobby with Charlie to wait. The three hours passed quickly and then he was sitting in front of you, hugging you tightly. Charlie went back to the house to watch over everything and your dad put you in the car, just to get a few moments alone with you.

“Are you hurt? Are you alright?” He asked as he inspected your arms and you shook your head, shying away from him.

“I’m fine,” you said. He sighed, not understanding why you were trying to get away from him. Truthfully you weren’t trying to get away, but you just couldn’t breathe. He drove the two of you home and parked the car in the garage, even though the electric door was partially broken. He led you up to his room and just put you to bed, checking on Kal. At this point it was nearly sunrise; you didn’t understand how much time had passed until he was tucking you in his bed and the sky outside the window was turning red.

You woke up a few hours later, at first thinking you were late for your exam, but luckily you were able to take it another day when you hadn’t gone through a traumatic experience. You shakily walked down the stairs when Kal wasn’t in his crate and passed by your door, looking at the scratches he’d put in the wood. You saw your dad and sighed. Charlie was still there and the two of them were drinking tea, looking at you with sad eyes when you walked down the stairs.

“I’ll take off. I’ll see you later, kid alright?” Charlie pulled you into a hug before petting Kal and leaving. He’d had to park his car down the street, so he had a little walking to do.

“I’m sorry,” you said with sad eyes as you looked over at your dad. He sighed, turning down the eggs he was making.

“You handled it fantastically,” he responded. “I’m proud of you.”

“What do you mean? I was a mess! I literally gave away where I was, I should’ve sent Kal, I…”

“You did what you could.” He took the food off of the stovetop and turned back to you, letting them cool for a minute. “Are you okay?”

“Yeah. I am now. I was just scared. I couldn’t think about what might happen, I was just scared and I kept going in the closet. I shouldn’t have locked Kal in, but I didn’t know what to do.”

“It would’ve been worse if he got involved. I’m just glad you’re safe. I should’ve brought you with me.”

“You couldn’t have.” He knew you were right.

“I know. Or I could’ve stayed. I’m so sorry I wasn’t here.” He gave you a hug from where you were sitting. “No more leaving for the night, okay?”

“Okay.” You heard paws scratching at the floor and saw the sleepy Kal make his way over to his dad as if to tell him everything that had happened the night before. You were just thankful you had him and you weren’t completely alone. He sat down below your feet and stayed at your side, exactly as he was supposed to do. You went back up to your room later, but if you’d have stayed you would’ve heard your dad thanking him for being such a loyal dog.

A/N: This kind of turned into a love letter to doggos, but I hope you enjoyed it! I love Dad Henry so much! 

Taglist (let me know if you’d like to be added to it!): @an-adventureland, @firstangeldragonranch, @ssebstann, @winterreader-nowwriter

[transromansanders]

We Can Live Forever, If You’ve Got the Time: Chapter One: Roman’s Life Does a Backflip Unsuccessfully

AO3: Link

WC: 3,229

Ships: Rosleepxiety, Intrulogical, Moceit, Pintroverts

Warnings (chapter): homophobia, gun violence, minor character death, blood

A/N: Hey, So this has been in the works for a while. I’m finally in a place motivation-wise where I feel like I can get out at least the second chapter in a timely manner. Also! I’m looking for someone to beta read for errors in grammar and continuity. If you feel the urge to volunteer, please do so, I need help ;-;

Chapter 1 under the cut

"Daddy!" a small voice whisper-yelled. Roman groaned, rolling onto his back from his side. "Daddy!" the little voice whined. Roman managed a sleepy smile, but then little hands and knees were pressing into his bare chest and stomach. 

"Oof! Emile, you little monster," he groaned, capturing the three-year-old in his arms and rolling back onto his side with Emile next to him, between himself and Alandria, who was snoring, her dark hair framing her face and haloing out on her pillows. Her steel-grey eyes were hidden behind closed lids, and she smacked her lips when Emile rolled over and poked at her face. Roman wished he loved his wife.

Roman spared a look at the alarm clock on his bedside table, groaning again at the time: 3:43 AM on a Monday. "Can we sleep a little longer, Bud?" Roman asked Emile tiredly. 

Emile nodded, turning over to face his dad again and curling up against his chest. 

Roman wrapped an arm around his son with a smile, pressing a soft kiss to the top of Emile's head. Then he dozed back off again. 

----

Roman smacked at the alarm clock as it blared at him, whining softly. Finally, he managed to turn it off, and he began sitting up, rubbing at his eyes.

Next to him, Emile sat up as well with a cute little yawn and Alandria was running a hand over her face, looking at her husband and son with a little smile. "Good morning," she slurred sleepily.

Roman chuckled. "'Morning, sleepyhead."

"Mommy!" cheered Emile, crawling on top of her now. 

She groaned a little, sitting up to hold him in her lap. Roman stood, bare toes curling for a moment against the cold white floor. The whole house was cold, cold and impersonal. Roman wished it was warmer. He wished Emile had a home, as a child ought to have. 

He lifted the blinds so the sunlight could shine in.

Then he turned back to the bed, smiling. "I'm going to make us some breakfast. How does cinnamon toast sound?" 

Emile cheered, and Alandria smiled and nodded. Roman clapped his hands together, grabbed a shirt, and headed to the kitchen, pulling the garment on. 

Soon they were sitting around the table with plates of cinnamon toast with fresh fruit in front of them. Emile ate messily, getting strawberry juice and cinnamon-sugar all over his face and hands. Alandria got a wet paper towel and cleaned him up. 

Then they were off, Roman and Alandria going to shower and get dressed, Emile sat in front of the TV with cartoons on until one of them got to him to make him put on real clothes rather than pajamas.

Roman showered and dressed first, in a pale red button-up, a black tie, and khakis with black leather shoes. Once he was done, he scooped up Emile, ignoring his protests and wiggling. "Come on, Emmy, gotta get dressed. Then you can ask Mommy if you can watch more cartoons."

Emile let Roman maneuver him out of his pajamas and into a shirt and some pants, giggling away the whole time. Roman poked his nose when he was done. "I bet Mommy's dressed now. Wanna go ask if you can watch more cartoons?"

Emile nodded vigorously and went in search of Alandria, while Roman poured a thermos of coffee to take with him.

Alandria and Emile met him at the door, off to run some errand or another. 

"I'll see you tonight," Roman said, pressing a kiss to the top of Emile's head. 

"Love you," Alandria said. 

"Bye," Roman answered. 

----

"Roman!" Patton Casey greeted. 

"Morning, Pat!"

That was the extent of his usual personal interactions with the red-haired receptionist, though he relied heavily on Patton for matters of business. 

He walked into his shared office, and his partner, Logan Hubbard, was, of course, already there.

"Did you hear about the execution tomorrow?" Logan asked. 

Roman raised an eyebrow. "What execution?" 

"It's a teenager. They say he was stirring up rebellion among the other youths. And he's openly gay," Logan mentioned. Logan was Roman's closest friend, and one of two people in the whole world who knew Roman's secret. But he had the exact same secret, too. 

"Shit," Roman remarked. "Are we going?" 

"You are scheduled to be there on behalf of the Governor's office, so yes, you are, but I am staying here," Logan answered. 

"Damn, can we trade?" Roman asked. 

"Not a chance in hell. Get to work, Picani."

Roman sighed and set about his daily tasks.

One thing that came across his desk caught his eye. An execution order for one Thomas Sanders, age 15… He signed it with a grimace on behalf of his boss, then scanned it and sent it to the other Governors' offices. 

Soon lunchtime rolled around. He ate with Logan, and he longed for one of their nights out in the underground gay bars that dotted the bad parts of the city. He and Logan had tried the secretly dating thing, after Logan had started this job, when they'd run into each other at one of said bars. It hadn't worked out; they were better as friends. Today, they talked about how Emile had woken Roman early and different ways Logan had read about to keep kids from doing that. Logan did not have a wife or children; he just liked to read. And, truly, he did want to be a parent one day. That was one thing Roman knew about him from their drunken nights together in Logan's apartment early in Roman's marriage. 

When lunch was over, they had a meeting. With Governor Baines. Roman hated those. Governor Baines was a thin, gaunt man with balding grey hair. His skin may as well have been grey, too, with how pale he was. 

The conference room was grey as well, unrelentingly so. Roman and Logan each told him the notable things that had been delivered to the office. Governor Baines often asked in a dull voice what they had just said and if they could repeat themselves. 

"Oh, and the Sanders execution order came in today," Roman said, trying not to wince. 

"Sanders…" Governor Baines mumbled. "Tell me about this Sanders."

"He's fifteen years old," Roman told him. No reaction. Roman sighed. "He's openly gay and has incited rebellion among the kids at his school."

"I presume you signed it."

"Yes, Governor Baines."

"Good lad, Picano." 

Roman frowned a little when the Governor got his name wrong. But he didn't correct him. 

Then the meeting was over. The next several hours were filled with filing and organizing. Roman talked at Logan about a TV show he and Alandria were watching as they worked. When he finally left, giving a little goodbye to Patton, he was exhausted. It was a good job, but not a fun one. 

----

"Daddy!" Emile cried as Roman opened the door, his tie loose around his neck. Roman laughed and bent down to catch the speeding toddler. 

"Hi, Emmy! There's my little man!"

"Hi, honey!" Alandria called from the kitchen. 

"Oh, let me help!" Roman offered, carrying Emile into the kitchen. "What can I do?" 

"Get the chicken in the pan, babe?" Alandria requested. 

Emile played on the floor as his parents cooked dinner. 

"How was your day?" Roman asked when they were finally sat down to eat. 

"Oh, fine," Alandria said. "We just did some shopping, then Emile and I worked some more on the alphabet, isn't that right, Em?" 

Emile nodded excitedly. "I can go all the way to 'O'! Listen! A, B, C, D, E, F, um, G, H, I, J, K, um… M N O!"

"You skipped 'L', Baby, but very good job," Alandria said as Roman clapped. 

Emile giggled and went back to his food. 

Roman didn't know what else to say, nor did Alandria, and Emile was too busy eating to keep up the conversation. So the rest of dinner passed in silence. 

When Alandria was finished, she wiped her hands and face on a paper napkin, then stood up. "Okay, Em, bathtime!" 

Roman was going to offer to do it, but something stopped him. He wasn't sure what, just that they needed this time together, but he just finished his meal, letting them go. When he was done, he went and got into pajamas and got the show he was watching with Alandria queued up. Finally, he met Alandria outside Emile's bedroom to put him to bed. 

They wrestled him into pajamas, Emile giggling and squirming the whole time. Then Roman scooped him up and dumped him on the bed, chuckling. "Okay, Monster. What story do you want tonight?" 

"The Tortoise and the Hare!" Emile cried, and Alandria retrieved it from the shelf. 

Roman opened the book and began reading in a silly voice. Emile yawned. 

By the time Roman was done, Emile was sound asleep. 

Roman quietly put the book up and crept out of the room with Alandria. 

They sat down on the couch and started their show, the TV on a low volume. Two episodes went by before they decided to go to sleep, wordlessly. They crawled into bed, and Roman was out in moments. 

----

"They're having an execution today," Alandria said the next morning after Roman had gotten dressed in his white button-up, khaki pants, dark red tie, and black dress shoes. 

He had to wince. "I know. You're not taking Emile, are you?" 

"Why wouldn't I? It's a part of life. He has to learn these things at some point," Alandria said. 

Roman sighed and nodded. He didn't want to argue. "Maybe I'll see you there. I'm scheduled to go."

The drive to work felt long. He stared at the road ahead of him, feeling irritated for a reason he couldn't place. 

Then he was walking into work, coffee in hand.

"'Morning, Pat," he said, voice a bit strained. 

"Good morning, Roman," Patton answered, sounding concerned. But Roman had ducked into his office before Patton could ask.

"Good morning, Roman," Logan echoed Patton. 

Roman just grunted, sitting down at his desk.

The rest of the morning went along monotonously. Then it was time for lunch. And the execution. He ate, but he didn't taste. He honestly wouldn't have had any idea what he was eating if it hadn't been labelled 'cranberry spinach salad'. 

Then he drove to the Execution Courtyard. The parking was a nightmare, as always on execution days. He spotted Alandria's car. 

It took him a little bit to find his wife and son, as they were toward the other side of the crowd from the parking lot. "Hi!" he greeted, taking Emile from his wife when the child reached for him with a squeal of "Daddy!"

It was about time for the execution to start. So where…? They were near the entrance where the guards would bring in the prisoner. That's when Roman realized what was happening. There was the boy, Thomas, and another guy, beautiful, with dark hair and sharp features, small and cute, but harsh-looking… and the guards on the ground, and a gun pointed at Thomas. The other guy was trying to pull the teenager away. The gun turned to him. Later, Roman couldn't have said why he'd done it. But suddenly, he was between the man and the gun, Emile gently placed on the ground next to him. And Alandria was between Roman and the gun before the guard had the chance to fire. 

Roman, surprised to not be dead, covered in a spray of blood, and largely in shock, picked up his son quickly and cradled him close to his chest, not letting him see his mother on the ground. 

"Come with us!" the dark-haired man hissed, grabbing Roman's arm and dragging him and Thomas through alleyways. Roman followed numbly, clinging to his son, who was crying in fear and confusion. They stopped in a dead-end alleyway behind some dumpsters. "Can you get that kid to quiet down?" their savior asked impatiently. 

Thomas held out his arms wordlessly, and Roman hesitantly passed Emile over. The toddler quieted pretty quickly, sticking his thumb in his mouth and curling up against Thomas's chest. 

"We stay here for two hours, 'til things quiet down, then our ride comes. Get comfortable," the other man said. He looked to be about Roman's age, now that Roman had time to really look. 

"Who are you?" Thomas asked slowly. 

The man held up a finger to his lips urgently, and several guards ran past their alleyway. A few moments passed, then he said quietly, "Name's Virgil. I work with some people who have a vested interest in keeping you alive, Thomas. Now, I want to know who he is."

Roman gulped. "Um, my name is Roman Picani… I work for Governor Baines's office… except I probably don't do that anymore."

"Probably not," agreed Virgil. "Someone, uh… Someone did get shot back there… Do you know—"

"My wife," Roman said, trying unsuccessfully to blink back tears. 

Thomas gasped softly. "I'm so sorry…"

"Can we not talk about it in front of my son?" Roman requested, and Virgil nodded in agreement, looking away. 

"Well, you'll be wanted now, Roman. Looks like you and the kid are stuck with us."

Roman nodded slowly, taking a deep breath. "I just ruined my life…" he said softly. 

"Maybe…" Virgil answered quietly. 

"If it makes you feel any better, I ruined mine a few weeks ago," Thomas contributed. 

Roman couldn't help a small, bitter chuckle at that. "So… what now?" 

"I'll leave it to Patton to explain that," Virgil answered. 

"Patton… Not Patton Casey?" Roman asked. 

"Yep, Patton Casey. My big brother," Virgil said. "You already know him from the office, then."

Roman didn't know Patton had a brother. And apparently, Roman didn't know a lot of things about Patton, as he was to find out when Patton pulled up at the entrance to the alleyway two hours later in a non-descript black car. 

Patton was surprised to see Roman and his son, to say the least. "V, what happened?" 

"Almost got shot," Virgil answered quietly. "Roman here tried to take the bullet. His wife took it instead."

Patton covered his mouth with a hand in shock. "Oh, Roman, I'm so sorry." 

Roman just took his son back from Thomas silently as they quickly got into the car. 

"Well, um…" Patton said. "I guess… Welcome to The Resistance."

----

The Resistance headquarters was a dilapidated house next to Housing Development Number 1. Patton led them all inside, having put Thomas in a baggy hoodie so he wouldn't be recognized. They stopped in the kitchen. The walls were painted yellow, the cabinets were white, and the appliances were old. The backsplash was a gaudily painted tile, and the countertops were light blue porcelain. There was a battered wooden table with mismatched chairs in the corner. 

"Alright, Thomas. You can take the room next to Virgil's and mine. Roman and Emile the one next to that," Patton said. "Sorry it's not that much, guys, but… it's what we have." He sighed. "This is always the hardest part. Settling in, getting all new clothes and things. Don't worry, Roman; we can get some toys for Emile." 

Roman nodded, holding the now-sleeping toddler closer to his chest. 

"You'll stay here for as long as you like, Roman. Until you're settled into this new life, then we can move you to another safehouse that's not so close to the action," Virgil said. 

Roman raised an eyebrow. "Exactly how big is this operation?" 

"Oh, we have branches all over the country," Patton answered. "This is just HQ for our province's branch."

"Who's in charge here?" Thomas asked. 

"You're lookin' at 'im, Kiddo!" Patton said cheerfully. 

Roman sputtered for a moment. Sweet Patton was the head of The Resistance in Shaw Province?!

"What?" Patton asked, directing his attention to Roman. He kept up his cheery demeanor as he asked, "Thought I was just the mild-mannered receptionist?" There was a hint of amusement to his tone. "Come on, we'll show you your rooms, then, um… then you can go take a shower, Roman," he said, gesturing for Thomas and Roman to follow him. "Virgil, send Gio or Perce to the store for clothes. Oh! What sizes are you guys?" 

Thomas and Roman listed off their clothing sizes, then Roman told them Emile's size as well. Virgil wrote it all down on a pad of paper he grabbed from the table. 

"Got it. See ya at dinner, Pat," Virgil said with a little wave. 

Patton showed Roman his and Emile's room, and Roman laid Emile down on the bed. The room was fairly empty, aside from bookshelves. When Roman looked a little closer, he realized it was mostly banned books. 

He turned back to Patton and Thomas in the doorway, and Patton looked nervous. 

"Um, Roman, there's something I haven't told you…"

Roman bristled a little, unsure what to expect at this point. 

Patton took a deep breath. "Your brother, Remus, he works with us sometimes."

"Remus… God, I haven't seen him in… years…" Roman mused sadly. 

"I know. He told me," Patton said, sounding sad. 

Roman nodded. "I… I need to rest…"

Patton nodded. "Of course. But shower first, okay? The bathroom is the door just across from this one. You can borrow some of my clothes for now. Should I wake you for dinner?"

Roman shook his head. "No, no, I'll eat in the morning," he answered. 

Patton smiled worriedly. "Okay, well… I'll go get you those clothes!"

"Goodnight," Thomas said before he and Patton left. 

Roman kicked off his shoes and sat down on the bed, petting Emile's hair; the toddler whined but didn't wake.

Soon, Patton was knocking on the door. Roman stepped outside and closed the door behind him. 

"Thanks, Patton," he said as he took the clothes Patton held out to him. 

"Are you okay?" Patton asked gently. 

Roman nodded slowly, taking a deep breath. "Yeah, yeah, I just…" He sighed, running his free hand through his hair. "...What about Emile? What is he gonna do? I can't send him to school, he doesn't have his mother anymore, he can't go home…" The tears spilled over, and Patton was quick to hug him. 

"Hey, hey, it's going to be okay, Kiddo," Patton said, rubbing Roman's back. "I know it's a lot, but it's gonna be okay."

Roman wiped roughly at his eyes. "Don't get me wrong, I'm… I'm glad Virgil is okay, I just…" He sniffled. "I've sacrificed my life for his."

Patton nodded sympathetically. "...Roman, do you believe that the government we live under is oppressive?"

Roman laughed bitterly through his tears. "I'm a gay man who's spent my prime married to a woman I didn't have any feelings for. I've signed death warrants for people like me and Thomas for a living for years. I know we live in an oppressive system."

"Maybe you should stay with us, then. Fight it," Patton suggested. 

"I'd like to… I have to do what's best for my son… I just need to figure out what that is," Roman bemoaned. 

"Well… We're all here to help. You're not alone," Patton assured him. "Shower and get some rest."

And Roman did. 

For the second night in a row, he was asleep within moments of his head hitting the pillow, exhausted.

[critical-thinking-is-mandatory]

miraculous ladybug and smart characters. 

there’s actually quite a few smart characters in miraculous ladybug, but the only one we’re really made to believe is smart is max.

this got very long so i’m putting it under a cut.

max kante. there’s no denying that he’s smart, but if you’re writing a smart character and you decide to make them like max well....you’ve misunderstood what makes a person smart.

what does max do to ‘prove’ that he’s smart?

well he:

lists percentages of probability

recalls obscure facts

made an AI robot friend

uses big words

i’ve probably missed something but this is how we’re shown that max is smart. and well it’s not wrong, you do need to be smart to make such a sophisticated AI as markov but...

spouting exact probabilities and facts doesn’t actually make you smart.

for starters, recalling facts is an aspect of memory not understanding, and understanding concepts is a better indicator of intelligence than memorising concepts.

my senior physics teacher really liked to make a point of this by letting us take our own formula sheets into exams. the kicker was that we only had to apply our understanding of the formulas, not whether or not we could remember them in the first place.

as for percentage probability, well, i’ve only touched on probability in my university career but modelling the probability of real life situations includes a lot more complexity and accounting for error than is really possible from just whacking a few numbers into a calculator.

and the big words, well. most often people who use big words during casual conversation are usually people pretending that they’re smarter than they actually are. 

basically, max is your stereotypical Smart Character TM, and like most stereotypes, there’s a lot of wrong information floating around about said character type. 

(just an FYI this is not to say that stereotypes about smart people are in anyway as harmful as stereotypes based on race, gender, sexuality, or neurodivergent people. this is just an examination of what people get wrong with smart characters.)

so, if that’s wrong, and smart people don’t all list facts and percentage probability, and use big words and make robot friends, how can we know a character is smart then?

well, ‘smart’ is a lot more complicated than media, especially kids media, likes to present it as. we’re always led to believe that a character (and thus real life people) are only smart if they excel in STEM subject areas. so smart characters speak in technobabble, are really good at programming and robotics and physics and chemistry, always get the best grades in school, and so on and so forth.

and that’s just not true.

there’s so much more to being smart than maths and ‘hard sciences’ and good grades.

for starters, the grading system used by schools and tertiary education systems is biased towards students who can recall facts aka people with good memories and people who have dozens of spare hours to spend studying.

now, there are tons of reasons for people to have difficulties recalling facts. the first is that memorising things is hard. this goes doubly so for people with memory problems associated with mental illness or neurodivergence or certain disabilities.

on the second point, you might notice that students at private schools (upper-middle to upper class students) tend to have better grades. going off of the ‘better grades = smarter people’ logic that means rich people are smarter than poor people. i shouldn’t have to explain how that’s bad.

(newsflash: it’s also not true. kids from wealthier families don’t have to spend their spare time at work and their parents can afford private tutors and teachers at private schools tend to be held to higher standards.)

as for being good at STEM subjects, i’m going to let you guys in on a little secret. it comes from practice. you don’t have to be naturally gifted in maths to excel at it. being as i call it, STEM brained versus humanities brained, may make some of the concepts easier to understand initially but it’s really not a make-or-break situation.

(the girl in my grade in high school who got the highest marks for advanced maths did so out of hard work alone. she’s very smart, but humanities oriented. my little sister got a state prize for her scores in physics, and let me tell you, maths does not come easy to her.)

so, if it’s not good grades, or being good at STEM, or having robot sidekicks, or speaking technobabble, what does make a character/person smart?

well it’s about the thought process.

questioning, weighing options, using logic to get the most reward with the least risk.

this site here (springhole.net) is an excellent resource for writing and roleplaying and also has a more in-depth walk-through of how smart people and characters work.

smart people and smart characters tend to, you guessed it, use their heads. they pay attention, and often notice details that other people miss. 

all of these things are actually pretty subtle (and we all know the miraculous creators can’t do subtlety) so we’re actually seeing a lot more smart characters in miraculous than we’re being led to believe.

like i said before, most obvious is max. max’s intelligence is frequently shown to us with all the grace of a frying pan to the ear. less obvious but still obvious enough that every corner of the fandom has noticed are marinette and adrien.

i’ll get to marinette in a minute, but for now we’ll talk about adrien.

adrien is, as far as i can recall seeing in canon, stated to get good grades. correct me if i’m wrong of course, but that’s the only thing i can think of to prove adrien as smart. getting good grades is one of the main stereotypes about smart people so check one for adrien.

adrien is also obscenely wealthy and has a controlling father with high expectations so, as far as his grades go, i doubt it’s down to any natural gifts of superior intellect.

like i said before, people with money have access to all the best resources, the best teachers, the best tutors, and of course time. adrien’s days are scheduled by nathalie, and with gabriel’s expectations of perfection i very much doubt she’d be skimping on adrien’s study time.

so, adrien’s good grades: probably not actually an indicator of intelligence, but of practice.

marinette is also stated to get good grades but that alone isn’t the only proof we get of her being smart. marinette is constantly coming up with plans, making things, is clever enough to leave herself a clue in oblivio to get help, as well as figure out that she and adrien were actually superheroes, and she’s proven to have a high level of emotional intelligence (not necessarily an indicator of overall intelligence and more linked to empathy but the point still stands).

marinette’s good grades we’ve seen clearly come from practice, but there are so many other ways she proves herself to be smart.

alya is one character that certainly gets written off as being dumb by the fandom, when actually, i doubt she is.

canon hasn’t done alya or the rest of the characters any favours by doing things like having lila be a pretty average liar, and making alya think chloe was ladybug in lady wifi, but when she and other characters aren’t being dumbed down because that’s the only way the creators know how to make the plot work, she’s actually pretty clever.

alya knows how clumsy marinette can be so she made a copy of the important video of ladybug before showing it to marinette, the ladyblog is really popular so alya’s clearly got an understanding of how to make her writing appealing to an audience, and we see in the ladybug episode that alya takes a methodical approach to try and clear marinette’s name.

so it’s not obvious, and whoever is writing the show needs some serious help to not make everyone look stupid because their villain isn’t competent enough, but alya is smart. we’re just not being led along by the nose and having the fact shoved in our faces.

there are other characters too, nino, nathalie, nathaniel, i’d say juleka and luka too probably but i’m not going to go into them right now.

what i’m trying to say is: smart characters aren’t always obvious and smart people don’t usually look like the smart people in cartoons. there are a lot more smart characters in ml than you probably realise, just like in real life. good at STEM doesn’t equal smart! and if you have to make your usual characters dumb to make your villain/plot point work you’re not as good a writer as you think you are.

[justasparkwritings]

Illicit Affairs: You Made Me

Previous: Mercurial High 

Pairings: Namjoon & Reader (Barely)

Genre: Angst

Ratings: PG17

Word Count: 2,292

Warnings: Manipulation, Abuse of Power, Swearing, Negotiations and Contracts, Mentions of Alcoholism, Rehab, Therapy 

Summary: Namjoon squares off against Big Hit. There can only be one victor, and if Namjoon has any say, it won’t be Bang or Sejin. 

Listen: illicit affairs by Taylor Swift

          The five members stare at one another, eyes drifting as they catch reflections in the practice room mirrors. Their sweats adorn their bodies, different patterns, materials, weights hang off their frames as they sit, feet toward the center. It’s been weighing on their minds since Yoongi called Jin, who in turn told the rest of the group. They’d planned a time to meet, just the five of them, to discuss what happened, and what should happen next. Rather, what they could do to bide the time before management came down on them. Neither of them had endured a fight like this. Sure, they’d gotten into disagreements with one another, but a full-fledged brawl, with blood spilled over a decade’s long betrayal. They could barely fathom it.

           “Someone has to tell management,” Jimin mutters.

           “Yoongi was home when it happened,” Taehyung suggests.

           “It can’t just be Yoongi, it effects all of us,” Seokjin says.

           “You two are the eldest, can’t you?” Jimin looks at Seokjin and Yoongi, the latter having not uttered a word the entire time they’ve sat looking at each other.

           “It’s our band, our future if they don’t their shit together,” Yoongi says, eyes finally meeting his brothers.

           “How did it start? Why were they fighting?” Taehyung inquires.

           “Too many reasons,” Yoongi responds.

           “Jungkook found out about Namjoon playing God with Kook’s life, in a way Namjoon hadn’t intended, and he went for blood, literally,” Seokjin mutters.

           “How?” Ho-Seok wonders.

           “We were having a conversation about contracts, signing them, and going over the new proclivities. Namjoon was telling us about them, and Jungkook came home, heard it all, and laid in wait for Joon,” Yoongi informs them.

           “Waiting?” Taehyung asks.

           “Not literally, he pounced on Namjoon the second he could,” Yoongi corrects himself.

           “The moment he was drunk enough,” Jimin scoffs.

           “That is also true,” Yoongi agrees. Having been the only one home when the incident happened, besides Namjoon’s girlfriend, he had become the one in charge of passing on the story, one hopefully no one would hear about outside of the seven of them, Bang, Sejin and you.

           “He just came home and hit Joonie?” Taehyung asks, mind still trying to understand what had happened.

           “They had words, and I may have played a small role in it,” Yoongi says, shoulders shrugging.

           “What did you say?” Seokjin demands, all humor gone from his eyes.

           “Say? Didn’t he do something?” Jimin asks.

           “It’s Yoongi, his words cut deeper than any knife,” Ho-Seok says.

           “I said somethings to Kook, a few, nasty things.”

           “You made it worse?” Jin demands.

           “He was going off on Joonie about how he ruined his life, he was acting like a baby, so I called him out,” Yoongi shrugs, unwilling to apologize.

           “You antagonized him,” Seokjin corrects.

           “He had tunnel vision; he was mad at Joon when he should be mad at management. I wanted to deflect some of that anger away from Joon, it was clear Jungkook was going to pound him into a bloody pulp. JK has everything and he was beginning to lose sight of it,” Yoongi’s voice is curt, biting as he explains his decision.

           “He has a right to,” Taehyung says, “He was a child when we started, we all were,”

           “None of us were as young as him, he’s endured the most,” Hobi responds.

           “Some of the things Namjoon did, though, are just horrific,” Yoongi says, eyes blinking quickly.  

           “We’ve all gone through some horrible things at the hands of management,” Jimin says, and they glance at him, all knowing what pains he went through.

           “This feels like a Run episode gone wrong,” Ho-Seok says. “A Mafia game where we’re all casualties.”

           “But none of us are safe from management,” Yoongi adds.

           “Who’s going to tell management?” Taehyung repeats.

           “It should be Jin and Yoongi-hyung, they’re the elders,” Ho-Seok determines, knowing full well a few months and it would’ve been him.

           “We’ll schedule a meeting,” Yoongi agrees.

           “As soon as possible, we can’t get anything done until those two agree to be in the same place,” Ho-Seok says.

           “What do you think will happen?” Taehyung wonders. The members refuse to meet one another’s eye as they sit with the weight of what Namjoon and Jungkook have done.

                                                         ~~~~~~~

           Jungkook and Namjoon can see the steam pouring out of Bang’s ears, doubled by that of his team, fuming at the mouth, ready to pounce. Namjoon sits across from him, with Jungkook to his right. Neither man had looked at the other or been in the same space in the five days that passed after their fight. They rehearsed in separate time slots, they recorded independently, and spent time in living quarters as far away from one another as they could. Jungkook assumed this would go on until the reckoning, Namjoon knew it couldn’t.

          The reckoning, either brought upon them by Bang and Sejin, or by the other members, was sure to result in swift punishment. The members had made their frustration known, going so far as to avoid both men until they figured out their problems, or resigned to the fact that they had to work together, no matter what, and acting like adults was the easiest option. But no one could understand the stubbornness of two Virgos, both ready to accept the fault and none of the blame. Not wanting to pick sides, the five men became cool, barely cordial in the days after. At first it was a trickle, Jimin, Ho-Seok and Taehyung not knowing the extent of the brawl. Then they saw Namjoon, and the maknae became furious with both men. Jungkook for beating up their leader, and Namjoon for taking it lying down. He had the power; couldn’t he have stopped it?

          Sitting in the conference room, Jungkook didn’t know what else Bang could do to him. He already owned his life, every piece of art he’d made, every day for the past decade belonged to him, and Jungkook was broken because of it.

           “We’re here today to discuss the incident between the two of you,” Sejin states, eyes boring holes in their skulls.

           “It wasn’t an incident, it was an outright brawl,” Bang corrects, eyes solely focused on Namjoon. “Namjoon, care to explain?”

           “No sir,” Namjoon shakes his head gently, eyes still down. If he fought Bang and Sejin, he could lose you. If he said something out of character or out of line, he could lose what autonomy he had within BTS and Big Hit. No more producer RM, lyricist RM… just, Namjoon.

           “Jungkook, what caused this major act of defiance?” Bang wants to know.

           “I learned, from Namjoon, that he had been controlling aspects my life for the last few years, and that he was in cahoots with you, about what those things were. He talked about how he had played into my insecurities, how a lot of my tendencies came from him leaning into my ticks. That he was required to by his contract, that he didn’t want to, but had done far worse things than he was willing to admit to,” Jungkook recites, having practiced numerous times in his head, in the shower, any moment he had free.

           “How could you be so careless, Namjoon?” Bang snaps, ice in his tone.

           “I didn’t know, when was this?” Namjoon looks up for the first time, glancing at Jungkook, whose gaze meets his. It’s cold and jagged, frozen in a perpetual moment of anguish.

           “When you, Yoongi-hyung and Jin-hyung were discussing the contract,” Jungkook’s tone is level, honest, even.

           “You were home?” Namjoon whispers.

           “I came in, heard you and left,” Jungkook informs him.

           “To get drunk no doubt,” Bang quips.

           His words ring like fire in Namjoon’s ears and burn Jungkook equally as he glances at Bang.

           “The dive bars you frequent, out of town enough, but not too far that we haven’t heard talk of them,” Bang tells him, “You have nearly destroyed this group and company too many damn times, Jungkook.”

           “You have put your brother’s careers on the line, as well as the success of every other group at Big Hit,” Sejin scolds. “What happens when other Idols hear of your behavior?”

           “What will they do when they get word that BTS’ star, the sun everyone rotates around, has become an alcoholic with a tendency for violence?” Bang ponders.

           “If the media hears about this? You’re lucky you snuck into this room under the cover of masks and hats, otherwise the world would see the damage you did to Namjoon,” Sejin reproaches.

           “You have created a disgusting, destructive habit and now we have to decide what to do with you,” Bang is livid, far past the point of any level of anger Namjoon has ever seen.

           “Just fire me,” Jungkook says, looking the elders in the eye, “Fire me. I’m not enough for you, am I? No matter how much I work, how hard I push my body, my voice, it is never enough for you. I’d bleed for you, you know I would, I have! Instead, you’ve manipulated me like I’m some robot, the Golden Maknae incapable of meeting your demands because you’ve worked me to the bone. I have nothing, I am nothing, and it’s because of the three of you. So, fire me,” Jungkook lays it all on the table.

          He has nothing to lose, and nothing to gain.

           “What would BTS be without you?” Sejin asks.

           “Would they survive?” Bang asks, “He is the crux of the whole thing, the both of them, how could you let this happen?”

           “This is how it happened!” Jungkook yells, standing swiftly, knocking the table against his thighs. “You! You’re why this happened!”

           “How much does he know?” Bang looks at Namjoon, eyes small.  

           “Not everything,”

           “Jungkook, sit down,” Sejin tells him. He maknae does, running a bruised hand through his hair.

           “Yes, we have done things, encouraged you, pushed you towards certain things in order to support your development. Yes, Namjoon was the leader of this, at our request,” Bang starts.

           “It was a demand,” Namjoon corrects.

           “Fine, a demand. You have grown into everything we could’ve hoped for, everything the band needs, what Big Hit needs,” Bang pauses to ensure Jungkook is watching him, “You are the Golden Maknae because we groomed your initial talent, we nurtured it. Sure, we caused some strife-

           “You measured his food for two years. You gave me extra pay every time I convinced him to work out for an extra hour, and you gave Jungkook extra money for extra gym time without his consent. You gave me mantras to repeat around him, ones that stuck in his brain like porcupine needles. You had me switch out his clothes for the same outfit in a smaller size to create this illusion that he wasn’t small enough. You lied to him for a decade, you dosed his drinks you-

           “You what?” Jungkook yells, head snapping up.

           “They dosed your drinks, micro doses of different performance enhancing drugs,” Namjoon’s eyes are black, burning down everything in his sight. He sees it in front of him, his pawn advancing.

           “What?”

           “For, what, a year and a half? Drugs that were easily digestible, didn’t need needles when they could slip it into your coffee,” Namjoon’s eyes are squarely on Bang’s. This is not the reckoning they had in mind. “They gave you food poisoning, when you were eating too much of certain foods. They sent you to the states at the beginning to train, yes, but they told your trainers to demean you so that when you came home, they could build you back up. Every tick, every habit, they’ve controlled.”

           “Kim Namjoon,” Bang’s voice is a warning shot, black queen’s pawn moves two, a counter movement.

           “I am done being your mule. I am done damaging him, I am fucking sick of it. You wanted to ruin him, and you’ve ruined me too. If you want to play games, fine, but do it without me.” Namjoon’s trying to maintain his composure. Bang and Sejin were unaware that Namjoon had crafted his own strategy, his own method to get Jungkook and himself the help they need. His plan, crafted with his love in the wake of the beat down, has to take hold. Bang has to move precisely where he wants him to go in order for the opening to work. Namjoon has to give up everything to gain anything.

           “It’s in your contract.” Bang snaps, rage hot throughout him.

Namjoon snarls, queen sides bishop pawn forward two squares.

           “We will take away your dating privilege.” Sejin adds.

           “I will date her anyway, hell, I’ll marry her tomorrow. I am done being a part of this,” Namjoon declares.

           “You have seven more years of it, Namjoon,” Sejin says, contracts laying flat on the table.

           “Then come up with a plan B,” Namjoon responds, eyes still on them.

           Namjoon recognizes the look in their eyes: defeat. It’s the look he gave Jungkook as he spit at him, the wanton gaze that signifies whatever end game they had in mind will no longer work. Namjoon is no longer playing on their side, making moves to support their goal, abandoning his brothers for more hurt than growth, destroying his family like black mold, slowly seeping into every aspect of their lives, killing them. He no longer watches their moves and shifts to accommodate. No, no, the board’s been wiped clean, the pieces reset, and Namjoon is on the attack. His pieces perfectly in place, Namjoon is advancing, whether or not Bang realizes, his upper hand is gone. This is no longer a negotiation, a reckoning, but a decree. This, this is the queen’s gambit. And Namjoon will be the victor.

Next: Beautiful Rooms Pt. 1

[bella-in-a-bag]

Not mine

Ao3 

Masterpost

 - Next

Words: 2446  

Day 5 - Any intense emotions your soulmate feels you will also experience 

Maybe that was worse, because he was just broken and no one was to blame, just himself. Maybe he had repressed his feelings to the limit and they were retaliating, unlike, but he wasn't human after all. Maybe he deserves this and there is no reason, it just is and he has to accept that. 

Where Logan gets someone elses feelings.

Tags and triggers under cut

Hurt/Comfort, Unsympathetic Anxiety | Virgil Sanders, more or less, he's just mean and never actually in the story, just mentioned, it's implied that he's just stressed, mention of violence, Swearing, Remus doesn't get gross, , tw panic attacks implied

Logan didn't know how his chest had suddenly gotten so tight, his eyes watery and his gut twisted in a way that made him want to throw up. Feeling such an intense array of emotions left him unable to think, let alone reason his way out of something he didn't know the cause for. Just a minute ago, he was fixing Thomas's schedule to include his meeting with Joan, an action that he deemed deeply satisfactory, when a wave crashed into his train of thought. Anger for something he didn't know the motive but knew was wrong, as well as many other things he could only identify as a mixture of pride, guilt, grief and sadness.

Well, no use in trying to get something done now.

Logan was used to these impulses, as he liked to call them, but every time he suffered them he felt like the world was figuratively trying to crush him into a pile of dust, so maybe the appropriate term should be awareness of the situation. He didn't freak out when they happened, which was good, but the unpleasantness still stuck all the way through the episodes. Surprising no one, he hated them more than he hated Thomas pursuing theater and YouTube instead of a stable career, but unlike the latter, these problems only affected him. Maybe that was worse, because he was just broken and no one was to blame, just himself. Maybe he had repressed his feelings to the limit and they were retaliating, unlike, but he wasn't human after all. Maybe he deserves this and there is no reason, it just is and he has to accept that.

Logan realized that if Janus heard that he was going to get lectured, but he didn't really mind, not when his brain was spiraling back and forth between a decision he wasn't sure he was making himself. The pros and cons, the possible outcomes, the whole problem laid out to him in a way he could only watch someone from afar look at a map he couldn't see. It reminded him of the courtroom scenario, but at the same time the problem felt more trivial and more important. The stakes were high, he guessed while trying to assume the best decision based on the pieces he could get, but then a choice was made and anxiety filled his mind to the brim.

He almost didn't answer when he heard a knock on the door, too many things happening at once, but he pushed himself up his chair and answered with the loudest voice he could manage. "Who is it?" It still sounded too emotionally charged, or maybe it didn't and his ears were playing tricks on him. "Can I come in?" Still no answer to his question, but if he ignored them maybe they would go away. The three seconds he stood in the middle of his room waiting for an answer felt like an eternity, but to his dismay, that someone finally decided to reveal their identity.

"I'm Remus, Logan" he sounded far too broken for the Duke, and Logan deduced that wasn't good. "Can I come in?" The desperation in the voice pushed Logan to open the door and let him in, trying to look collected.

"How may I assist you?" He wanted to add that he couldn't even assist himself, but the thought remained in his head.

"I need you to coach me through Virgil's breathing exercises" it still felt wrong the way his voice broke when he said Virgil and why would he need them in the first place? Remus was becoming a decent distraction from his own problems, he realized as he tried to make sense of the situation. Logan gestured at the foot of his bed before beginning to speak.

"Ok, I want you to breathe in for four, hold for seven and exhale for eight" Remus simply nodded and Logan began the exercise, counting with his fingers when he saw the creative side struggling to follow his instructions. After 15 minutes and 23 seconds, Remus seemed to look more like himself and Logan stopped counting, finding comfort in the way his mind had started to function as well. Remus was looking at the ground while biting his nail and it didn't look like he was going to speak any time soon, but Logan needed to know what happened in order to help Remus. He might be also teeny tiny bit interested, but that is besides the point.

"If you are not comfortable you do not have to answer" Remus's finger was out of his mouth, good. "But may I ask what is bothering you, you seemed troubled. And by previous experiences, I assume you do not get easily troubled." Remus snorted, Logan wasn't sure why but that is a problem for another day.

"I might have fought with good ol' Virgin again, which might not have ended so good ol' ok" That usually didn't end up well, Logan remembered trying to comfort Virgil with Patton making cookies and Roman swearing revenge on the background.

"If you were in his room that would explain your distress"

"We were on common territory, so my bullshit comes exclusively from me."

"I wouldn't consider your stress fake, but did anything he said upset you into this state or was it the whole situation in general."

"Well, there were some things said." He paused for a moment, looking down weighting if it was worth it or not. Logan was beginning to think he would just get up and leave when he resumed talking, startling him just enough to make him flinch but improbable that the other side had noticed.

"I had this extremely good idea, you see. It was good, so good I was going to show it to Thomas. Not an intrusive thought, you don't need to worry legged dictionary, but an actual real plot for an episode." Logan nodded along, listening carefully to the side's words. "I made the mistake of telling Virgil, cause he was the only one around and I needed to tell somebody. He's still pissed that jay-nus got sort of accepted, hypocrite coming from him," Logan bit the urge to correct him, shifting a bit on the spot." so he didn't take well the idea of me making something useful. Or he was afraid that I wasn't going to make anything and kill Thomathy on the spot, but hey, same difference. He also called me something a bit ugly." Remus's voice shifted into Virgil's like second nature, which would make sense given Janus's history. "Yeah, well maybe you are better off trapped in the subconscious, no one wants you around anyway. I'm sure your brother won't miss you."

This time Remus didn't continue speaking and Logan understood that he wasn't getting more info right now.

"I am sorry Remus, Virgil has been a little over the edge lately with Janus up in the primary mindscape." Bad wording Logic, now he looks more sad. "I am in no way trying to excuse his actions, perhaps I could talk to him later. Make him see the error in his thinking, possibly getting him to apologize."

"Thanks Logan." Satisfactory, he isn't even using a nickname.

"If I’m not intruding too much, why didn't you go to Janus for help?"

"Intruding is my thing logical meat bag" That one's creative "but he's busy and you seemed good at comforting V-movie, so I guessed you could comfort me too. Well fuck me gently with a chainsaw, I sound like Roman."

"I guess you do not want anything to do with chainsaws, but I appreciate that you would come to me for help. I am not in any way qualified in dealing with emotions, but I am suitable for providing physical help, techniques do not depend in whether you are very sad or mad at someone eating your last crofter jar." Remus smiled, which was good.

"Well that was fun." Remus stretched and half laid on the bed, his legs dangling on the edge. "But you seemed pretty out of it Wikipedia, when I came in" So much for looking collected, then.

"I was not doing well, but I am fine now"

"You can't just not tell me what bothered you, I need to know what to hit." That was nice, in its own way.

"I am afraid you cannot hit my problems, Remus"

"If you don't tell me I'll have to disagree, Logan”

"Well, why would I lie to you if it doesn't benefit me?" A short idea dashed through Logan's head, and he followed it. "Remus"

"Janus lies without reason, Logan"

"I am sure he has his reasons, Remus"

"You don't know that, Logan"

"You don't know that either, Remus"

"Logan?"

"Remus?"

"You're good at avoiding issues, glasses." Maybe Logan laughed a bit, not that he would admit it.

"I like you, but if you don't tell me I won't leave your room till eternity." Logan did not appreciate the idea of Remus in his room for an eternity, whatever that meant given that Thomas, and per se his sides, won't live an eternity.

"It is difficult to explain, but let's just say that nothing caused my distress." Remus launched himself forward to sit down properly, one of his hands playing with his mustache.

"I belive I am feeling and experiencing things that haven't happened to me. I am unsure of the cause but I know for certain that it is not an emotional response to something that happened to my person."

"Do you know when it started?" Serious Remus voice, that is definitely scary.

"I do not remember"

"So you had a crisis but you didn't know why it happened."

"Yes and I did not tell you anything about a crisis, how do you- nmg" A hand pressed his lips together, making him unable to speak.

"I think I figured out and I am not smarter than you, probably." The hands off now, that's good.

"Well then, what is it?"

"I do not know how this happens, but I know why it does. Still no clue?"

"No, I am afraid I do not know. Emotions are not my expertise."

"I don't think this has anything to do with emotions. Ok, I'm going to give you the data and see if you can complete the puzzle, live up to your title Sherlock." That nickname made Logic all warm inside, not because he was being called Sherlock but because Remus meant it as a compliment and not an insult.

"You were feeling bad emotions but they weren't yours. I was feeling bad emotions. At the same time." Logan could almost physically feel the click his brain made while connected the dots, every time he had seen Remus sad or angry after he had had an episode, but as they have also happened without seeing him, there was no need to make a connection before. But it was obvious, of course it was. Obvious as it was, it still left option for a lot of questions, like for example, why?

“Ah, well.” Logan had to stop talking, the realization dawning on him. If this is what Remus was feeling, maybe that wasn’t so good. Because he knew what he had gone through, and if he had a reason, it had probably been worse. “Well, that is a lot to take in. Remus, you have gone through a lot.” A pause for air, so he wouldn’t drown in all the weird feelings he was having now. It was probably Remus, or him, or both. “You don’t need to deal with this alone anymore.”

“I wouldn’t want to drag you more into hell with me.” Sadness, and this time Logan knew it wasn’t his, even if Remus’s smile tried to convince him otherwise.

“You are not dragging me anywhere, because we are sitting on my bed and you did not choose your feelings to go to me.” Another beat of silence, this time less dense.

“I think it happens both ways.”

“Oh. That would make sense.” Logan did not want to think of what that implied, had the other side felt the anger he couldn’t control when it escaped its grasp and flooded his senses, or was he safe. No, he probably knows now, think clearly Logic.

“Don't worry dicktective, I’m not going to judge you. I don’t do that, not even kink shaming! Unless that is your kink, then maybe I’d make an exception for you.” Logan figured he tried to sound suggestive, but in all honesty he just sounded tired. He was tired too, so tired he could jawn. So he did, at the same time as Remus. Remus smiled afterwards, less maniacal, more soft. Logan smiled back.

“We are soulmates, Logan.” The logical side was taken aback. He barely knew Remus and he was sure that soulmates meant a declaration of love so good it was as if it was chosen by the universe.

“No?” Yes, appropriate response Logan, five stars would recommend.

“I mean, that’s the drill right?. We share emotions, we share a soul. Isn’t that soulmate 101.”

“Soulmates aren’t real, those are just fairy tales.”

“Maybe Thomas wanted them to be real, so he made them real in his messed up mind.”

“That, that actually makes sense.”

“Look, it’s even making me intelligent. I should hang around your room more often.” An offer perhaps, to see where this goes. Logan is very dense right now, but he nods unsure of everything.

“Why me? I’m the least emotional side.”

“That might be what you think, but you don’t know everything.”

“It’s terrifying.”

“Not knowing or soulmates?”

“Both.”

“I figured. I am pretty scary.” A feeling of discomfort, but this time is his own.

“Not you, emotions. I would react the same way if it was any other side. Maybe not Patton, as he insists on calling me his kiddo and that would be uncomfortable.”

“I’m morally depraved and it would still feel weird.”

“Yes.”

“Yeah.” Silence, this time they are just lost in thought. A minute passes, maybe ten. Logan isn’t keeping track of time. It doesn’t matter anymore, not when his world just tilted a bit to the side.

“Logan?”

“Remus?”

“How the fuck are we going to tell the others?”

“We'll figure it out, let's worry about ourselves now.”

"Thanks Lolo."

"You're welcome Remus."

He wasn’t really sure of anything. But with Remus by his side, sounding so confident and yet so scared, maybe things would turn out ok. He was greeted with happiness, a feeling that wasn’t his but still belonged, somehow. And somehow, he knew Remus was receiving happiness as well.

@tsshipmonth2020

[mahalkitajohnnysuh]

JH (Part II)

Let’s mix it up a bit with some Jeong Jaehyun goodness here at MKJS! Yes, I’m making that abbreviation a thing. 

Since I like to tease what you’re going to be reading, here’s an adorable GIF of a younger Yoon Oh as a clue! 

Mahal ko kayong lahat! :) 

––

Summary: A continuation of this post, but this is also connected to this one. I manage to write stories that follow a timeline, but could never write them chronologically. It’s just the way it is, I guess? 

POV: Both are 2nd person pieces. 

Word count: 1,440 words 

Warning: More so a reminder – italics are also for song lyrics. 

Recommended listening: The first piece has a song mention; hence it will be embedded below. 

–––

Prompt #2: “Can I sleep here tonight? With you?”

You were having nightmares recently.

There was a tall, pale woman with long hair that has been chasing you in your dreams. Sometimes, you dreamt about your dead mother berating you, and then all the holes in her face will be replaced by crawling bugs.

When you had episodes like this, Johnny was the only one who could help you. He had a routine to calm you down – he prepared a glass of warm milk mixed with cinnamon and honey, then tucked you to bed, combed your hair with his hands, and most importantly, he slept beside you while tapping your thigh.

However, you weren’t in his apartment right now, and he wasn’t in the country too. He was back in his hometown for a much-needed vacation, and you didn’t want to bother him too much since you wanted him to reconnect with his family.

You were in Jaehyun and Taeil’s apartment for now as yours was being renovated. You didn’t know who to approach regarding your problem since you weren’t that close with them like the way you are with Johnny.

As you stepped out of your room to look for milk in the fridge, you saw that Jaehyun’s door was ajar. You tiptoed towards it, peeking to see what he was doing.

He was just on his bed, checking his phone with Jamie Foxx playing in the background. You noticed that his turntable was on, and the music was playing softly.

His room looked inviting for you to sleep in – at least good music is playing, and maybe you can fall asleep listening to Jaehyun talk about anything.

Other people might find your idea to be daring, considering male and female friends don’t just sleep in each other’s rooms. But since you got used to skinship because of Johnny, you noticed how different your friends (of both genders) treated you when you became a bit touchier with them.

They were more affectionate, and they understood you better even if you didn’t say anything.

You returned to the kitchen to prepare your drink, which you were glad that you have. There was also honey and cinnamon available, and you squealed at how things were looking great for you.

As soon as you were done preparing and drinking your milk drink, you gathered your courage to ask Jaehyun for a favor that you hoped he would agree to.

\\

“Jay?”

“Yes, Essie?”

“Can I ask for a favor?”

“Sure, what is it?”

“Can I sleep here tonight? With you?”

Your conversation happened while you were standing at his doorway, your voice as soft as possible so as not to wake up Taeil.

Jaehyun’s eyes widened at your question, and he had to stand in front of you to check if he wasn’t hearing things.

“Come again? Did you just say sleep here?”

You nodded vigorously as you felt your tears were about to fall at any time. You clutched the pillow that you held tightly and looked away from his face for a bit.

“Why, what’s wrong?” You felt his clammy hand pull you into his room, and you let yourself be led inside.

Both of you sat on his bed, and you covered your face with your pillow as soon as he tilted you to look at him.

“I’m having nightmares,” you mumbled into your pillow.

“About what, dear? Is it alright if you tell me?” Jaehyun gently removed the pillow on your face and led you to lie down with him on the bed.

You sniffed first before you shared your story, tears falling from your face as you recalled in detail the nightmares you were having.

Since you were so intent on telling your tale, you didn’t notice how intent Jaehyun was on listening to your story.

When you were done, that was the time you realized that you cried. You wiped the tears that wet his sheet, and he swatted your hand away from the marks you left. “It’s fine, Essie. I understand. Is there anything else I could do to make you forget about your nightmares?” He asked, taking one of your hands and squeezing it gently.

“My housemate has a routine for me,” you started, “and I’ve already done some of them though…” You looked at him shyly and saw an aloof expression on his face.

Was there something wrong with Johnny doing things for you if you were having nightmares?

“So, what else does your housemate do for you, then?” Jaehyun’s voice sounded stern, and you were slightly taken aback. That didn’t stop you from voicing out your request, though.

“Uh, he pats my thigh,” you tapped your upper outer thigh, “until I fall asleep. So basically, he sleeps beside me.” Your cheeks felt on fire as you said all of this, embarrassed at the things some people will do for you.

“Okay, got it,” His voice became soft again, and he shifted his body toward you. “Should I sing you a lullaby?”

You nodded, and he closed the small gap between you by pulling you to his chest. He surprised you when he sang an obscure Beatles song which he tweaked a bit.

Half of what I say is meaningless

But I say it just to reach you, Essie

Although the original song was played with the guitar, he decided to sing it a capella while patting your thigh.

You felt sleep creep into your system as he hummed some parts to make the song longer.

“Thank you, Jay,” you mumbled as coherently as you could.

You weren’t able to hear his reply as slumber completely enveloped you.

If only you fought it for a few more seconds, you could’ve heard him say, “Anything for my dear.”

///

Prompt #26: “Do you have more pillows?”

There should be at least four pillows on your bed, but right now, you only had three. One of them was missing, and you didn’t know where it went.

You were about to sleep, but the absence of your fourth pillow bothered you. “Where could that be?” You grumbled to yourself, slipping on your bedroom slippers to search for it all over the apartment.

You were currently staying in Jaehyun and Taeil’s apartment as yours was under renovation. Taeil was already knocked out from his schedule and spared his room for your search. You checked the sofa if it was there and frowned when it wasn’t.

You thought of bothering Jaehyun but felt a bit shy since it was already late in the evening. You know that he’s a night owl, but you didn’t like bothering other people at this time. However, you also know that you couldn’t sleep without that extra pillow, so you gathered all your courage to knock on his door.

When he opened it slightly, you saw that he wore his silly headband again. “Yes, Essie? What can I do for you?”

“Do you have more pillows?” You asked, peeking at the small space behind him. Too bad his bed wasn’t in plain sight – you could’ve checked easily if he has a spare that you can borrow.

“Uh, yeah,” he responded, now opening the door fully. You stepped in and looked to your right immediately. Jackpot – his bed was on that side. Your eyes widened at what you saw.

It was the fourth pillow you were looking for.

“What…is this doing here?” You grabbed your pillow from his bed and squeezed it.

“Essie, you slept in here last night. Don’t you remember?”

You closed your eyes to jog the memory in your mind, and he was correct – you did sleep in his room last night since you were having nightmares for the past few days. Now you weren’t sure if you were cured of that though.

“Oh, right. Sorry, my bad. Thank you for that,” you turned on your heel and faced the door, “I guess I’ll get going then.”

“Are you sure you’re okay? You can sleep here again if you want,” Jaehyun’s response made you bury your face in your pillow.

“No, it’s fine. I appreciate your gesture, but I think I can manage now.” You faced him again and gave him a thumbs-up.

“Okay, if you say so. Night Essie,” he said, kissing your cheek before you exited his room.

As he closed the door gently, you stood dumbfounded outside.

“Night night Jay,” you whispered, hoping that it was loud for him to hear.

When you didn’t receive any response, you took it as your cue to return to your bedroom with your pillow.

–––

FIN

[royallyprincesslilly]

Title: How Do You Like It? {Headcanon/One-Shot}*

Chris Evans

Warning: Cursing, Lewd Topic, Conversation NSFW, Lewd Humor

Words: 2.2k

Note: Okay, so yet again I came up with something just by looking at these two gifs/images of Chris. Yet again, I have NO IDEA what this is, where this came from or what’s wrong with me. Rock with me though. Thank you for reading.

***Not Edited/Proofread**

~~~~~~~~~~~

He’d done a lot of interviews in his career. So many they all blended together. They asked the same questions, insinuated to the same things, told the same jokes. He could go through a regular run of the mill interview with his eyes closed and half drunk and still ace it. he was going nuts with the mundaneness of it all. He wanted to shake it up but of course, he had his image to think about. He always had his image to think about, which is why his interviews had been blander than what he’d imagined potato salad with raisins would taste like.

 He was tired of boring interviews and wanted to just go off the beaten path, just once. So, when he got wind that his team got an offer from a podcast called “The Thirsty Hour” to appear his interest was piqued. It took his team no longer than a minute to decline the offer. He’s expected that. The next day he turned right around and accepted the offer and had them go through Scott to finalize the arrangement.

 When he showed up three nights later to the address, he’d been given he did so with Scott and his partner in tow. The location was a hair salon that had a basement that the owners of the salon and founders of the podcast; Shaundra and Aleesha had set up impressively well. It looked like a professional start-up radio station. 

The duo thanked him for appearing and shook his hand over ten times with bright smiles plastered across their faces. He could tell their excitement and he was also excited to be there. It was sad this was how he got his kicks, sneaking off behind his team’s back to do interviews off the beaten path.

 He was offered a drink while they went over the schedule and possible content. Business discussions turned to small talk and a whole lot of laughs and that turned to three beers before Shaundra and Aleesha began the show. He sat back and watched the dynamic duo in their element. He liked the way they fed off each other and knew he was going to have a good time.

 Shaundra: Thanks again everyone for tuning in to our little podcast. It’s hard to believe that this is our two hundredth episode. It totally doesn’t feel like it.

Aleesha You’re right. It definitely doesn’t feel like it at all. We’ve been lucky that this has taken off the way that it has especially given how this is not a morning commute type of podcast.

Shaundra: Damn right, we’re the cousin of the morning commute podcast that many are ashamed of because they wouldn’t know where to begin when it comes to the things we talk about.

Aleesha: What kinds of things are those?

Saundra: The sex kinds. Sex positions, Kama Sutra, blow jobs, backshots, ways to spice up the marriage, how to give a proper striptease.

 Chris’ eyebrows shot up as he was mid sip of his glass of brown liquor. The immediate thought in his head was this was going to get interesting.

 Aleesha: And that is just the tip of the iceberg.

Shaundra: Tip of the dick print you mean.

 Chris couldn’t help it but snort loudly. He held up his finger as an apology for his outburst but neither Shaundra nor Aleesha seemed to mind. They just smiled and shook their heads as if to tell him not to worry about it.

 Aleesha: Speaking of dick print. I have no idea how we pulled this off, but we actually got confirmation that we’re doing things real BIG for our two hundredth episode. We have a special guest tonight, none other than Chris Evans.

 Fake applause sounds on a track and Chris takes up the headphones and puts them on.

 Shaundra: Welcome to the show Chris.

 Chris: Thank you for having me. I appreciate the thought.

Aleesha: This is your first time on the show. Have you listened before?

Chris: I’m embarrassed to say that I haven’t. I don’t get much time to myself and it leaves little time to find new things or enjoy things on my own.

Shaundra: I understand that. We’re glad you were able to come through though. You look very low key like you intended to fly under the radar tonight in your t-shirt, hat, and jeans. Also, are those the new Nike’s?

 He smiles and begins to blush.

 Chris: I’m a bit of a sneakerhead. It’s a thing for me.

 The ladies nod and look impressed.

 Shaundra: You’re sure you’re not a black man parading around as a white man?

Chris: Sort of a like a reverse Rachel Dolezal?

 The applause track plays again but is accompanied by Shaundra and Aleesha’s “ohs” and “wows”.

 Shaundra: Shots fired.

He laughs and shrugs as he takes another snip of his drink thinking this isn’t so bad and had no idea why his team shot it down.

 Aleesha: Speaking of black men. Chris, have you ever dated a sista?

Chris: Sista?

Shaundra: Sista, she mean--.

Chris: No, I know what a sista is.

 Shaundra and Aleesha eye each other in a way that speaks volumes.

 Chris: Officially no, I haven’t.

Aleesha: What’s unofficially?

Chris: I’ve flirted with, spoken with for a few days but nothing ever came of it.

Shaundra: Would you ever date a sista, a black woman?

Chris: I would. Why not? I look at more important things than skin color.

Aleesha: Like what?

Chris: Like, connection, conversation, sense of humor, interests, stuff like that.

Shaundra: I noticed you kept looks off that list. Do you not look at a woman’s looks?

Chris: The politically correct answer would be; looks don’t matter but in today’s world looks are everything.

Shaundra: Are looks everything to Chris Evans?

Chris: Nah. Beauty is in the eye of the beholder.

Aleesha: So, do you have a type?

Chris: Nope.

 Shaundra and Aleesha laugh together.

 Shaundra: What catches your eye then? Nice eyes, plump lips, big boobs, small waist, wide hips, big ass? What makes Chris Evans look like the man in those memes who’s walking with his girlfriend but is looking back at a new, fresher piece of ass?

 He laughs again and thinks about the question for a few moments. He takes another swig of the liquor and leans closer to the table.

 Chris: Uh, I don’t know.

 He was still feeling censored from his many, many years of doing just that.

 Aleesha: Come on. Are you an ass man or a boobs man?

Chris: God, this is going to be everywhere tomorrow. The headline is going to say Chris Evans reveals he’s an ass man.

 The ladies laugh again and clap.

 Shaundra: Ah, so you’re an ass man.

Aleesha: Then you have to find yourself a sista. We’ve got great asses. Do you like them firm with no jiggle or round, plump with some jiggle?

Chris: Definitely some jiggle, something I can hold on to when I’m back there.

 Shaundra’s and Aleesha’s drop open. He’d just disclosed that he likes doggy style.

 Aleesha: So, Chris Evans is an ass man who likes backshots, which is the better term for doggy style? Did I just hear right?

 His smile was wide, but he didn’t confirm or deny what she said. That action was a clear confirmation to them though.

 Shaundra: Well alright then. I would have never guessed.

Aleesha: I would have. You give off this air of—confidence, it’s a confidence similar to what black men give off. I can’t explain it but there is something about you that is intriguing. I would have guessed.

 He smiles and tips his head in a curt nod.

 Shaundra: The last guest we had on the show, we asked about how he likes his head. He gave an idea of how he preferred it.

Aleesha: He gave up a play by play walkthrough.

Chris: Sounds informative. You do know that what works for one man doesn’t necessarily work for all right.

Shaundra: So, I’ve learned. Y’all are pickier than women.

Chris: Lies. What works for one woman definitely doesn’t work for all. If that’s the case I could just suck on a clit and boom off to space.

 Again, Shaundra and Aleesha’s jaws dropped. He looked across to his brother who looked equally as shocked before he shook his head. It was at that time Chris realized he’d probably had enough to drink.

 Aleesha: So that doesn’t work for every woman you’ve been with?

 He laughs and shakes his head.

 Shaundra: Oh, come on, closed mouths don’t get fed.

Chris: Loose lips sink ships or careers.

Aleesha: The ideals of a good career change over time. Live a little.

 He laughed again but decided to just live a little and deal with it later.

 Shaundra: So. Chris Evans eats the box?

Chris: How can any man be okay with not knowing how to please their woman or not wanting to do it to perfection. I am not above any of it. All of my fingering is accurate.

 Laughter rang out in the small room.

 Aleesha: He eats the box and is an accurate fingerer ladies.

Shaundra: What makes Chris Evans go wild in the bedroom?

Chris: So, a cheat sheet?

Aleesha: Why not. Ninety percent of the world might not ever get to use it so, yeah.

Chris: Okay. Someone who’s adventurous, not just into the basic things like a kiss here, lay on your back and thanks see you next time. I’m definitely a guy who enjoys the tease, make it last. Anticipation can be an intoxicating thing.

Aleesha: So, you’re into foreplay.

Chris: Absolutely.

Shaundra: What about when it comes to the head?

Aleesha: I have an idea. Here.

 Aleesha places a standing mic in front of him and smiles.

 Aleesha: Show us.

Chris: Show you?

Aleesha: Yeah. We always record our podcasts with video, and it goes to our YouTube for those who like a visual with their audio. We told you this. I figured the ladies at home would love to see.

 He looks to his brother and his partner and they’re already laughing no doubt thinking this is what he deserves for throwing censors to the side.

 Chris: What the hell.

 He leans closer to the mic and clears his throat and acts as if he’s about to showcase some superior athletic skills.

 Chris: All right so maybe start with some kisses along the—

Aleesha: Shaft?

Chris: Right, that. Don’t be afraid of it, get in there.

 He allows the ball of the mic to jamb into his cheek before he smears his nose across it taking a deep inhale.

 Chris: Just get in there. Tease it on your lips maybe add some sneak licks and flicks of the tongue before you come up and just put your mouth on it. a lot of women forget the head is super sensitive use that shit. Make him squeal and scrunch his toes.

Again, everyone laughed, and he tried to keep a straight face.

 Chris: If you can’t take it all take what you can, don’t just have your tongue sit there either figure out what to do with it. experiment. Have fun. Don’t forget to use your hands too.

 He grasps the mic with both hands and moves them in opposite directions sort of like a wrench.

 Chris: Make them do the opposite of whatever your mouth is doing. Don’t be afraid to get messy. Sloppy toppy is not a bad thing. Let the spit drip, hell gag a little. Be enthusiastic about that shit. A man can tell an unenthusiastic dick sucker. It’s obvious if you don’t want to slob on the knob. Don’t be the unenthusiastic dick sucker.

 They all couldn’t hold the laughter, including him. As he tried to get back into character, he took another sip of his drink and echoed the same thing he did from the beginning rubbing his face across the mic.

 Chris: Just have fun with it.

Aleesha: And for the finish, are you a facial kind of man or would you prefer to give mouthfuls?

 His smile was wide as he rubbed the back of his neck.

 Chris: Why choose? Depends what the mood of the night is. It has to go somewhere though.

 With that everyone uproariously laughed.

 Shaundra: Wow. Wow. That is all I can say.

 Aleesha and Shaundra both applauded his performance. He bowed his head to them and toward the camera in the corner.

 Aleesha: I think that is all we can take tonight on The Thirsty Hour.

Shaundra: I’d say thirst quenched Aleesha?

Aleesha: Hell no, we’re parched.

Shaundra: Thank you, Chris Evans, for coming by and kicking it with us. Any sistas that wanna step to Chris and represent and do it for the culture and show him what he’s been missing, please. You now have a roadmap to his pleasure.

 The ladies close the podcast and cut the video feed shortly after. They thank him again before he leaves and gets back into the car. On the drive, Scott teases him about him possibly going too far and warning him to be prepared for the fallout tomorrow. Chris knows he’s right but can’t seem to care. Tomorrow was another day and it wasn’t there yet.

[notgonnarememberthis]

A Compromising Engagement - Chapter 5

Inspiration strikes out of nowhere but here we are! Honestly I got this idea while on a trip a while back. It’s been sitting in my head for a minute but FINALLY the ideas started flowing. Once I get conversations in my head THEN I know it’s time to begin writing. Honestly, getting inspiration for this was rough recently because I have a new fic idea that absolutely will not leave my head. I was trying to force myself to think for this one instead so I could finish a work first but that’s literally the worst idea when you’re trying to write something. Once I stopped pressuring myself, BOOM, idea. I also had to watch an episode to get their voices straight in my head again but that’s another story. Hope y’all are staying safe!

Watson settles into her seat eyes piercing the suspect across from her. The woman is eerily familiar to her, a pompous air that resonates from her very being. An attitude calling that she can’t be caught.

The case is a rough one, triple homicide with no solid evidence. Even what they managed to obtain from witnesses is circumstantial at best. The woman knows that without a confession, she’d slide by in court. Enough money for a good lawyer and an alibi that she didn’t trust. She’d been at this for an hour and she’s growing weary. There’s absolutely no security footage of her where she claimed to be. It simply doesn’t make sense.

A scream cuts her question short. She leaps up into action, medical instincts taking over as people outside the door call for 911. She grabs the door handle only for it to remain still in her hand. She tries again and again only for the realization to dawn on her that she’s locked inside. “Sherlock?” She calls to her partner who should be just on the other side of the mirror. “Sherlock let me out so I can help!” Her heart sinks when there’s no response. “Marcus?” Again, nothing. “Abreu? Coventry?” Nobody’s on the other side. Great.

She pounds on the door hoping to catch somebody’s attention. “Someone! Let me out! I can help!” She shouts. A chuckle behind her sends a chill down her spine. Her eyes flash back to the woman in the handcuffs, Elana March sits where the woman once was. A wicked grin spreads across her face.

Action settles into her as she pulls out the keychain Kitty gifted her for her birthday. She presses the blunt end against the two way mirror turning her head as the spike inside shatters the glass. She hoists herself through the new opening, adrenaline rushing too fast to feel the glass likely piercing her palms. She reaches for the door only for it to stubbornly stay in place yet again. She looks through the window in the door hoping to catch anyone passing, even in a rush to assist but what catches her eyes sends her into full blown panic.

Two cups of coffee spill across the precinct floor. Marcus is leaning over an all to familiar form giving manic chest compressions. “Sherlock!” All sense leaves her as she slams her shoulder into the door, trying desperately to force it to swing open. “Sherlock!” She cries his name, tears spilling down her cheeks. A scream rips through her when Marcus sits back on his feet, grief consuming his expression.

XXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXX

She shoots out of bed with a strangled gasp desperately trying to catch her breath. It takes her mind a second to catch up to her surroundings. A shadow passes across her room and her body moves unconsciously fetching her singlestick from her bedside drawer. She’s not quick enough, however, as the looming figure catches her wrist midswing.

“Watson!” Sherlock shouts, snapping her out of her state. He sits on her bed in front of her, worry etched into his face. She disguards her singlestick flicking on her lamp.

Her chest is still heaving from adrenaline as she tries to piece together what happened. “Why are you in here?” His brows furrow, confused.

“You were screaming my name.” His knees bounce trying to rid of the remaining anxiety in his own way. “I thought you were in danger.”

Her eyes close in both embarrassment and realization. Her nightmares had been recurrent since that night she stood up to Morland. They all ended the same with someone she cared about dead by the hands of someone she and/or Sherlock helped put away. This one, however, was the worst of the bunch. “You’re hurt.” His right hand is held close to him but she can tell he’s bleeding.

“I was doing an experiment when I heard you scream. I wasn’t careful getting out of it but it’s fine. Merely a scratch.”

“Let me look at it.”

“Watson.” He tries to bat her off again but she only looks at him. A look that tells him that she needs this right now. He obediently follows her to the bathroom for supplies and better lighting.

Once in there she determines that he is correct. It’s a painful cut but stitches are not necessary, thankfully. An apology is on the edge of her tongue when he speaks up instead. 

“What was the dream about?” She tenses not wishing to explain. Not when she’s had so many in the course of two weeks. He’d understand, of course he’d understand. The answer is simple.

“Make sure you wash this so it doesn’t get infected. I’ll go clean up the mess from the experiment.”

He catches her wrist as she tries to walk away. His grip is more gentle than before, his eyes begging her to talk to him. “Joan.” Her name makes her breath catch and for a moment, she wants to tell him everything. How she’s been extra on edge since Morland’s threat to remove his ‘extra security’ if there ever even was such a thing. It did its job, however, as she always brings her singlestick on cases now. She wants to tell him about how she’s worried he’ll take their whole livelihood away in one fell swoop. She knows he supports what she said that night, yet parts of her wish she could just take it back. Taking it back, however, would mean not standing up for Sherlock and that’s absolutely not an option.

“I’m fine.” She insists instead. It’s easier than explaining what he already probably knows.

He doesn’t push, thankfully. He only nods slightly with a sad smile. “Very well. I’ll clean up my mess. You get some rest, we have lunch with your family tomorrow, remember?”

“My mother won’t let me forget.” She jokes halfheartedly. He relaxes slightly at the return of the banter and it’s enough for now. She sulks back to her room hoping to reach a point where she’s tired enough to fall in a dreamless sleep.

XXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXX

Sherlock keeps his eyes on her the next day. The rest of the night he’d kept quiet, listening for even the slightest cry. When none came he assumed she’d managed to fall into a peaceful sleep and resumed his experiment. However, when she came down the steps ready for lunch it’s more than clear to him that she hadn’t slept any more at all.

He makes no mention of it, only making her a cup of coffee before they set out which she gratefully accepted. She hides her exhaustion well with others but he’s more than familiar with it by now. With his habits of waking her up early he’s recognized her patterns at different levels of needing sleep. He tries to curb his concern when she drags her feet across the kitchen floor. He bites his tongue when she catches herself going to rub her eyes for the third time only stopping to not ruin her makeup concealing the dark circles under her eyes. He rocks when he has to repeat himself several times when she misses something he says about the experiment he’d conducted the night prior. She’s far too tired, is what he concludes. A type of tired where if they had a case he’d wait another hour before waking her lest he be on the wrong end of a snap in her exhaustion.

“You ready?” Her head lifts following the sound of his voice. He wishes he could give her more time for her coffee to kick in but they’re behind as is.

“Remind me why we scheduled this again? As if that brunch with my mother was bad enough now we have to answer to Oren, Grace, and Lin?”

“Come to recall I don’t believe Lin gave us a choice in the matter.”

“Right.” She chuckles dryly. “Let’s go.”

The ride to the restaurant is blissfully long. It gives Watson the time she needs to wake and him time to think. Not that he hadn’t done it all night but paired with the opportunity to observe Watson, it’s beneficial at least. She no longer seems shaken by the events of the night prior, also not shocking as Watson in the past has pushed back emotions for the lack of confrontation. 

Everyone is already seated when they arrive at the restaurant. Sherlock places a hand at the base of Watson’s back for the appearance but stays back when she goes in to hug her family. He waves politely pulling out Watson’s seat before taking his own.

Conversation flows naturally with the Watson family, all things given. She seems to forget her exhaustion as they discuss how they’ve all been recently, though she does order a coffee with her meal.

“I can’t believe I had to find out about your engagement through mom.” Oren laughs. Watson shifts in her seat a little only offering an apologetic smile.

“At least you found out through someone.” Lin challenges, “I found out via the engagement party invitation.”

“And she will never let me hear the end of it.” Watson shrugs. “Truthfully we were going to keep it a secret for the sake of professionalism and the danger in our jobs.”

Lin gasps, a realization hitting her. “Did you never tell Marcus?”

“No, we didn’t.” Sherlock provides biting the inside of his cheek.

“He’s going to flip when he hears about it. I mean, the whole precinct had a pool deciding when you two were going to get together but engaged?”

“They had a what?” Watson sits up a little straighter, “How do you know about this?”

“I’m the confirmation for when you two finally get together.” He and Watson both share a look of alarm.

“Did you tell anyone?” He asks, Watson’s hand grabs his leg under the table. He’s not sure if he’s grounding her or the other way around. The entire precinct knowing about their ‘engagement’ would complicate things in unimaginable ways. They’d already lied to Hannah at the gala. If that were to get out they’d be dealing with more than minor knowing looks from coworkers but actual anger and hurt from Bell and Gregson both. Dealing with wedding questions from family was bad enough. In the workplace? Sherlock can only grab her wrist in return in order to keep himself from spiraling.

“Of course not. I got Joan’s message loud and clear that I wasn’t allowed to tell anyone. Nobody has even asked recently so you’re off the hook.”

They both breathe a sigh of relief. He lets her go but Watson’s hand remains, though relaxing her grip. He’s caught by how natural the position feels. Simply holding each other was an action he’d never thought he’d find so comforting yet her hand just above his knee curbs his anxieties he’d been feeling having to pretend. They’re partners, afterall, how much pretending did they really need?

The rest of lunch is unremarkable at best. Discussion of wedding ideas fended off with excuses over how busy they’ve been with work. Lin threatened to plan for them and for a moment it didn’t sound like a horrible idea until he thought of how long that guest list would be.

He shakes his head when that thought truly settled in. How long had he been thinking like this engagement was real? Thoughts of actual weddings and Watson going dress shopping as if that weren’t something Mary and the whole Watson clan in general wouldn’t want to be involved with.

“I think I broke him.” Lin teases gently. He’s more than used to her at this point but he’s certainly overwhelmed. Watson squeezes his knee pulling his gaze to her.

“It’s ok.” She coaxes with a smile that could calm him instantly, “We’ll figure it out.” He offers her a small smile, if only she knew what he was trying to figure out.

When they say their goodbyes his hand reaches for Watson’s, his fingers interlacing with hers as they make their way to the car. Even as the climb in the back of a cab his hand covers hers in the drive finding the comfort he yearns for in the simple touch. He didn’t realize how badly he needed it until she climbed out when they arrived home and her touch was gone.

XXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXX

He almost forgets about Watson’s nightmare in the panic that gripped his mind for the rest of the night. It’s not until Watson lingers in his doorway, her face more vulnerable than she lets most view her as, that he remembers the encounter. She schools her emotions so well most days.

“Any new cases?” Her voice sounds pleading and tired.

“I thought you’d be reading your book right now.”

“I finished it last night.” She admits with a sigh.

“Unfortunately nothing. It appears all the interesting murders have taken a holiday.” He jests, “I’d say let's take a trip to New York City but I believe they’re not quite keen on having me back any time soon.”

“Well you did lick what they thought was a deadly poison and made an officer faint.”

“Anyone with a sense of smell knew that it was italian dressing Watson.” She looks away when he meets her gaze. “Are you alright?”

“Fine.”

“Clearly not.” She shifts her weight from left to right and back again.

“You died.” He rears back, almost shocked that she relented so easily. “I was stuck in interrogation with a suspect and I heard screaming. I was locked inside and I couldn’t get out. I saw you on the ground. Marcus just stopped trying to save you. Nobody could hear me and I could’ve helped, I know I could but.” He’s up easily and in two steps he’s wrapped his arms around her. Her hands freeze in the air but when he holds her tighter she relents trembling in his arms like he could make it all stop.

“It’s alright.” He whispers into her hair. “I’m ok.” He feels her nod into his shoulder. He’s more than familiar with these nightmares, however. No amount of words can shake that uneasiness they bring. “Was this the only one?”

Her silence is enough of an answer as is.

“Only me?”

She tightens her grip but he can feel the just barely there shake of her head. “We saw your family today. They’re happy, if a tad relentless in pushing us to plan our fake wedding.” He feels her shoulders shake: a laugh, that’s good. “Kitty and Archie are likely cuddled up together after watching a Disney movie that Kitty pretends not to like but we both know she’s a secret softie hm?” A nod. “As for me. Well, you can stay in my bed if you’d like that way I’m right here if you need me.”

She stiffens and for a moment he believes he’s gone too far. She lets out an agonizingly long breath contemplating his offer. She swallows heavily, nodding more distinctly this time. It’s slow, almost giving herself the opportunity to change her mind. He guides her to the bed laying down first, controlling his breathing tightly so as to not make the smallest move that could scare her off.

She looks so small as she crawls in beside him. This woman that he associates with so much strength looking so vulnerable in this moment. He wishes he could take her pain on as his own. He’d do it in a second if he could. He opens an arm making the silent offer to her. A small smile that he hopes tells her if she doesn’t need it she doesn’t have to take it.

He has to force himself not to stop breathing when her head settles on his bare chest where she can listen to his racing heart. Her hand comes to rest on the base of his ribs content to just feel like slight expansion and contraction of his breathing. His own hand settles on her back, content to spell out meaningless formulas and ludicrous patterns until she’s lulled into a deep restful sleep.

He listens to her slow even breaths as his eyes drift closed.

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

@tamarknott @averageinside

[mappinglasirena]

Set Layout - First Thoughts

Alrighty! I’m on my lunch break and finally have a chance to properly look at those new images of the set layout from the most recent Ready Room. There are a ton of things to say about the entire... 3 minutes? of behind the scenes footage, but I’ll start with some general observations regarding the layouts they show us. (I’ll try to keep the excited all-caps screaming to a minimum, though it will be difficult =D)

First of all: here, once again, are the images in question!

And I’ll give you my first thoughts on how they reflect the physical set and my previous speculations under the cut.

So, first, this confirms a few things I have been speculating about in previous posts (I will add updates to those along the way):

1. The holodeck is, indeed, behind the prominent single door on the starboard side of the upper deck. (Here, it’s labelled “Picard’s Stateroom (Holodeck)”, though they are obviously not his quarters.)

2. Raffi’s and Rios’s quarters were filmed in the same location with the wall moved!

All in all, I think my own attempt at a floor plan wasn’t all too shabby, though it obviously got a bunch of the angles quite wrong (and sickbay is even bigger than my first estimate). I can’t wait to update it with this new information!

General Observations - Upper Deck

The entire back of the ship, the engine room, the location for Jurati’s quarters (I refuse to call them Staterooms, sorry ;9), etc., is obviously not part of the set that ended up being built. In the little behind the scenes-tour, we actually see the back of the engine lights and consequently what’s happening behind the aft wall of the set:

On the plans the window on the starboard side of the engine lights is labelled “Warp Core Access”. I think that must be referring to the pull-out intermix reactor-thingy Rios fixes in episode 10, because there is definitely no door there, if you look at the finished set.

I have to assume, therefore, that the actual access to the engine room is either via the port or starboard aft corridors. The layout only shows the portside corridor (with the two quarters on it), but we know there is a corresponding door on the starboard side of the aft wall, because we have this lovely promotional photo of Agnes Jurati, where you can clearly see it in the background:

And while we’re at the back of the ship and talking about Agnes Jurati and her quarters: I am nigh-positive that the two brief scenes of her in her own quarters (lying on the bed, looking at holos of Maddox and her, and cowering under the desk during transwarp flight) were filmed on the set of Raffi’s quarters with the furniture rearranged. This is, of course, based on my observations of the scratch-patterns on the door (how could it be otherwise?) but it also just makes sense logistically. The furniture arrangements are exactly like those in the plan, though. But I will go into more detail once I do a deep dive into crew quarters ;)

On that note, I just want to dwell for a moment on the fact that the quarters are, in fact, enormous. When I drew up a quick sketch for them while discussing doors and locations on the upper deck, I was very hesitant because on screen, Raffi’s quarters look like they’re rather small and cramped, but they’re really not! Basically, everything on La Sirena is a whole lot bigger than it appears at first (and possibly than is reasonable), but they do some amazing tricks with blocking, camera angles, and wide-angle lenses that make it seem much more... let’s call it “cozy” rather than “claustrophobic”.

General Observations - Lower Deck

There is less that I find surprising or noteworthy on the layout of the lower deck for now, it lines up pretty neatly with all of my previous observations, though I can’t wait to find a way to correct the distortion in the image (if possible) and get out the ruler to see how the sizes work out!

The problem with that, of course, is that the walls on the lower deck all slope inward (in the case of sickbay rather dramatically so), and the floor of the set is quite a bit lower than the floor of the mess hall. I’ll go into detail on that in the Mess Hall Deep Dive which, as part of the @fandompotluck​, is scheduled for the 1st of August, but maybe these image gives you some idea what I’m talking about:

So, it’ll be interesting to see how the measurements on the layout reflect that, i.e. where do they correspond with the raised floor and where with the lowest, narrowest point of the set.

One thing I did notice is that the set layout is missing the downward step in front of sickbay - or at least I can’t identify it clearly. If you watch the footage of, say, Rios running down to sickbay at the end of ep. 7, or Soji supporting Jurati as they head to the mess for the big discussion in ep. 8, it’s very clear there is a step in the floor. That’ll take some sleuthing to figure out, but we’ll get there.

There is, of course, a ton more to be said and done with these layouts in particular and the entire set tour segment in general. So many little titbits that I can’t wait to sink my teeth into! But right now I really need to get back to work, and the stringent effort to abstain from all-caps squeeing is becoming more and more difficult to maintain ;9 So, I’m gonna leave it here and will probably spend the weekend catching up on all the mapping that has been neglected over the last month (this whole pandemic business is really not helping the creativity/productivity at all... ^.^”). The second part of the Sickbay Deep Dive is almost done and there will be a lot of speculating about wheels, plants and interstellar flatpack-furniture vendors of Northern European origin, so hopefully you’ll get to join me on that particular trip very shortly! Also: more size speculation and calculation! And floor plates! Because how could there not be more floor plates?