#whew seriously so sorry this took me so long i wrote

[beerecordings]

Better Things

Part 13 of My Brother’s Keeper (Part 1 l Previous l Next)

It’s here!! It took me too long! I have been very sickly and also I am just a fool in general!! But anyway it’s done and it’s 1:30 and let’s post it :) Taglist is a separate post. I think you’re great. Let me know if you have any questions.

They’ve both been through a lot. They’ve both been through too much. In fact, all four of them have, and just for a minute - in this warmth, in this safety - they pause to look each other in the eye.

Chase's room is very warm.

Warmer than the big dying house ever was.

His blankets are very thick, and his hands are very soft, and Jameson was mostly awake by the time he was carrying him inside and placing him in his own bed, but he didn't open his eyes.

He just lay very still.

Chase left. Murmured with someone else in the hallway. Carried another body into the house.  Returned.

Jameson is good at pretending to be asleep.

“Hey, little man,” Chase whispers, and gently touches his shoulder. “Can you wake up, bud?”

He's too scared to open his eyes. He's too scared to move. Anyway, he doesn't think he could bear to look at Chase again. He'd just remember the blood.

“It's going to be okay,” Chase promises above him, and his soft, soft hands brush his overgrown hair carefully out of his eyes. “I got you, bud, it's all going to be okay. I'll be right back.”

Chase reappears with something wet and cold for his bruises, for the imprints of Anti's fingers in his throat, for his neck as black as charcoal. He presses it carefully into Jameson's flesh and his little brother does his very best not to flinch.

He expects it to hurt. Certainly it's cold and slimy, unpleasant even, but a minute passes, and another, with Chase very gently massaging it into his throat, and he thinks the pain is fading a little.

They still burn like fire. But less. And Chase is here.

Chase doesn't hurt him.

“Everything's going to be okay,” he says again, and hums something pretty and faraway.

Jameson sinks back into his exhaustion.

He is not yet a year old.

And neither was Henrik, the first time Anti stole him away.

He was eleven months and he was trying to save his Jack. Without success. The punishment of failure has redefined his reality.

Anti taught them both many things.

Pain. Sorrow. Real fear, not the cheap stuff that comes from a gun or a car crash or the end of a knife.

You might expect it to become mundane given time, but it doesn't. Pain is always pain. Sorrow's always sorrow. Fear is always fear. You can retreat into your head and hope for your brothers to save you, but in the end –

Fear and pain and sorrow.

The first time he came home, Henrik was distraught and unbelieving, and it took his brothers long weeks to convince him he was safe, and longer weeks still to learn how to deal with his trauma, and the grief and rage and hatred, too often self-directed, that it gave to him. They begged and persuaded him, held him down and held him close, kept white his hands and tried to teach him peace again. There was a whole ocean of despair foaming inside his chest, and Jackie and Chase, protection and care, were the two halves of the life vest that just barely kept his head above the water.

He survived it, or maybe he's surviving it now. He supposes his brothers would tell him, with warm eyes and gentle mouths, that he's somehow stronger for it, but in the end, he thinks he just knows how to forget. He finds other things to think about when he can. Over the past week or so, there is one thing and one thing alone that has sustained him, and that is Jameson Jackson.

The little one. The lost one. The dead one. Alive.

“I thought it was time for you to meet,” said Anti, and he brought the child downstairs. Henrik looked up through eyes that wept blood, and laid eyes upon Jameson for the first time in that cold and merciless prison cell, and loved him without reservation, without doubt, so much it made him gasp and choke and set his bruised head down against the chains that held him tight.

“Jameson Jackson,” he'd said, and he was punished for it, but it didn't matter.

He was alive.

How very unfair, Henrik had thought, as Anti carved blood from his face and Jameson stared at the floor, silent and lost, frightened and thin. How very very unfair, that he has never had what I have had since the day of my creation.

He's always had a bad temper, but it never once occurs to him to hate Jameson, even as he stood there, even as he watched.

That he has never had a gentle pair of brothers to hold onto his hands and call him friend, and stay up with him on the long nights when death is calling from a storied building or a heavy bottle of medicine.

Henrik put his head down. He let Anti cut him to pieces. And when it gave Jameson a chance to back off and slink away, he was only glad that he had spared the little one further hurt.

Yes, they both know fear and pain and sorrow. But Henrik has had comfort, has had brotherhood and respite, and Jameson – Jameson Jackson, the wanderer, the youngest – has never had anything but blood, shadow, and falsity.

Has never had anyone but Anti to love him.

Henrik grits his teeth. And he makes a promise.

To Jameson. To himself. To the universe and to the bastard who stole them both away:

He will never suffer alone again.

He is the good doctor. His patient has suffered without him for far too long already. That time is over now.

Henrik wakes up in his room.

The walls are green. The ceiling is green. The air smells like coffee beans and iodine, because someone has already cleaned and bandaged his wounds. The alarm clock on his bedside drawer reads “2:34 AM” in exasperated digital light. Beside it, there is a picture of Marvin, Chase, and Jackie, all grinning like idiots at the camera and covered in flour from some baking endeavor gone horrifically wrong.

Usually it makes him smile. Right now it makes his eyes burn.

He wasn't sure he'd be coming home this time.

“Henrik,” whispers Jackie, and even realizing that he's there, waiting patiently at his brother's bedside, is not surprising or reassuring or any cause for joy.

There is only one thing he wants.

“Jackie,” Henrik answers. Fat tears cling to his eyelashes. “Where's the little one?”

“Oh, bud, don't worry about him right now, okay? He's upstairs. He's alright, Henrik. Fuck, Schneep, I missed you. I missed you.”

He leans down to offer comfort, but Henrik isn't interested. His whole chest is one fire.

“I was his again,” he says, putting his hands on Jackie's shoulders to help himself sit up. “I was his again. Please. Let me see the little one.”

Jackie pauses, his mouth slightly open.

“Your old wounds are hurting you, ja?” asks Henrik, straightening up.

“Um – just a little, don't worry about it.”

“Good,” says Henrik, and he bolts.

Jackie gives a cry of protest behind him, staggering painfully to his feet, but Henrik is already on his way up the stairs, ignoring the grumbles of stitches in his side and arms. None of it matters but the little one. He checks the guest room first – no, stupid, Chase will already have attached himself to the little thing. Here's his room, the first door at the top of the stairs, covered in pictures and posters, and stepping through it gives Henrik the old, familiar smell of his dear friend, enough to make him stop in his tracks, just for a moment.

Chase and Jameson jerk awake in sync. Chase lifts his head off the mattress and sits up slowly in his chair, wiping the sleep out of his eyes and yawning before turning wearily to the door. His eyes only widen when he sees his brother. Jameson, on the other hand, sits up with genuine terror in his shadowed eyes.

“Schneep!” cries Chase, delighted, and hurries to his feet. He sweeps towards Henrik like he was born in his arms – in fact he'd been holding him within about an hour of his creation, a traumatic memory he doesn't have time for right now – but Schneep barely responds. He's watching Jameson.

His eyes are a little greyer than his brothers' are, and they flash in a way that makes Henrik think of Marvin, fast-tempered and intelligent and just a little wild, but he doesn't think he ever saw Marvin looking this scared. His arms are wrapped around himself. He rocks back and forth. His hair is still teal at the edges of his fringe, but other parts of him were stripped away a long time ago. There is no monocle or hat, no vest or white shirt. Anti has done his best to destroy him. Jameson's mouth is soft and still, his face blue and ivory and his body scattered in scars both faded and fresh, old memories of trauma etched deep into his skin.

Fear and pain and sorrow. Fear and pain and sorrow.

Jameson sits on the bed and shivers with terror, his eyes whipping around the room as he searches for some escape from whatever comes next. He wonders if Henrik will kill him for all the times he stood by and did nothing to help him or if he'll only be tortured.

“Asshole,” Jackie spits as he reaches Chase's door. His back is bent and he isn't breathing quite right, but he's here. “Henrik, come back to bed!”

“Jackie, what's going on? Schneep, are you okay?”

Apparently this is Jameson's breaking point. With impressive speed and startling dexterity, the littlest brother leaps out of Chase's bed, drops to the ground, and slips underneath his brother's bed like a very frightened cat.

“Holy shit,” says Jackie.

“Um, oh,” says Chase, even less articulately.

For a second, they all stand and breathe and process. Chase's hand comes up to rest on Henrik's shoulder.

“It's nothing,” whispers Henrik, because he can recognize Chase's worry in the touch of his fingers. “It's nothing, stop worrying.”

“You're crying. Schneep, what's wrong? I think Jackie's right. You should probably go back to bed, man.”

He wipes tears angrily out of his traitor eyes. “It's nothing!” he repeats. “Please, I... I just...”

Jackie sighs, and turns to Chase, and steals the glasses he fell asleep in right off his nose. “He just wants to see the little guy. Here.” He sets them gently on Henrik's face. “Take a minute. Look the kid over. We'll give you five minutes alone. After that – ”

“I'll go back to bed,” Henrik promises, finally meeting their eyes. “I will, I promise.”

Chase lets Jackie pull him out of the room, though his mouth is twisted up with worry. That's so like him. Scheisse, he missed them!

He's grateful to be able to feel that, at least.

He comes to stand next to the bed, determined to be calm, determined to be patient. The little one is shaking so hard he makes the whole bedframe tremble. He brought as much of Chase's blankets with him as he could when he made his great escape, and now half of the sheets are dragging out from under the bed.

“Hi,” says Henrik, sinking to the floor.

Just trembling. Just silence.

“He shakes so much,” he continues, tilting his head and putting on his best professional, certified doctor voice. “Always shaking. Like a leaf, right? I’ve never seen him not shaking. Are you scared, Jameson?”

In a softer voice, he adds, “I'm sorry I scared you. Opened the door too fast. I was worried.”

He pauses and sighs and glances around. Chase's room is always overheated and never tidy. There's clothes across the floor and tissues on the bedside drawer and posters all across the wall. But it's cozy and colorful and even Henrik has to admit it smells nice. He burns these fat vanilla candles whenever he has migraines and the smell never quite fades.

“This is better than that house, right?” murmurs Henrik.

Jameson turns to look at him, and Henrik feels his heart catch in his throat.

The nightlight in Chase's room casts him into ghostly reminiscence, illuminating him like the Ghost of Torment Past. For a second that lasts a very long time, they are back in that big cold house despite everything, having met only once and already understanding something deep and secret and true about the other, though Henrik doesn't know how to describe it. He would guess that if Jameson were to say anything about the truth he saw in him, he would call it “frailty” or “failure” or “cowardliness.”

It makes his eyes water. It makes him cry. It makes him cry so much harder than he's ready to be crying right now, but he doesn't have that much of a choice.

He covers his face with his hands. He weeps.

“Hi,” he says again, because he does not know what else to say. “Hi, I – you know me. Do you know me? We suffered together.”

He can't look away from those silver-stained eyes. He stares at Jameson in wonder and in love, and Jameson stares back, in fear and hope and curiousity, and knows, the same way that birds know to cross the ocean, that, in any universe, in any timeline, they were meant to be brothers.

Jameson's eyes are blue and grey. His neck is black. He nods.

He knows him.

“Come here,” pleads Henrik. “Come here and let me see you, little one.”

He shivers. He shakes. But he does come out, and his eyes speak some trust, or some knowing, or at least some shared terror, now gone away, and left them in the silence together.

“Hi,” says Henrik, and brushes his hair from his face. “Oh, there's some blood on your face. Chase must have missed. Here, I'll be right back.”

He leaves and comes back with a washcloth.

Jameson is crying.

It's late. It's dark. It's impossible.

But at long last – and he has dreamt of it so long, he has dreamt of it for as long as he has known fear, as long as he has known pain, as long as he has known sorrow –

Henrik wipes the blood from his face.

It ends up being longer than five minutes, but when it is over, Chase and Jackie are waiting for him.

“How are you doing?” asks Jackie, at the same time Chase asks, “Is everything okay?”

Henrik looks up with tear-filled eyes and a smile.

“I missed you both so much,” he chokes, and collapses into their arms.

Chase lets out a shout of pure joy, wrapping his arms around him, and the two of them crash to the ground like a messy 3 AM Pieta, and Henrik savors his warmth and his love and that kind vanilla smell that always sticks to his skin.

“I missed you!” Chase cries, again and again and again, nuzzled against his shoulder. “I missed you so much! I was so worried! Don't go away again, Schneep, that was so scary, I missed you so much, oh, Schneep...”

Jackie sinks to his knees beside them. In a favored form of affection, he presses his forehead against Henrik's, and his brother closes his eyes, and savors that too.

“Motherfucker,” Jackie whispers.

“You're the motherfucker, dummkopf.”

It makes Jackie laugh, so hard it probably hurts his chest worse, but he guesses it doesn't matter much at this point.

Henrik sighs deep. Runs his hand across the back of Chase's hair and memorizes Jackie's face once his brother closes his eyes too. Locks this moment in his memories like a save point.

“Ich liebe dich,” murmurs Jackie, pressing against his head.

“I know,” Henrik whispers.

“And you too,” Jackie adds, bumping his head against Chase's.

“I love you,” swears Chase. “I love you both. So much. I love you both so, so much.”

For a long time, they just hold each other.

For a long time, there is no fear or pain or sorrow.

Just love and protection.

Goodness, care, a big warm house far beyond Anti's reach.

And brotherhood.

[yoichichi]

Pretty People Supremacy Playlist 🖤

for my angel @1010andneji , I hope you love it 🖤

disclaimers: fem!reader, because this a request for someone with she/her pronouns, I believe the reader is referred to as she/her a few times, Kenma is aged up and this is based in him attending University just to be clear‼️

warning: it gets a little saucy in the make out department ?

gif not mine, credit to owner

a/n: ahhhhh!!! I’m sorry this took so long and I really hope you like it and you felt like it was worth the wait! Please let me know if you need me to change anything ‼️ i luv you bae 😔✊🏼 also thank you to my wife @ikigaitooru for helping me choose your matchup here! I was stuck between one other person but we ultimately decided on Kenma, we both believe he exhibits prime quiet himbo energy :) also I kind of went off and wrote a lot on this one 😶 sorry I think? Regardless, I hope you enjoy!!!

Relationship Headcannons

Ok so ultimately, I paired you together NOT just cause you thinks he’s pretty but I think you guys would be so good together!! Like you would be so good for him

You guys would balance each other out socially and just be the best pair to hang out with pleaseee

He knows he can be stupid and chaotic with you and you know you can let yourself wind down with him!!

Kenma CAN be blunt sometimes so I’m sure he’d have to catch onto your sensitivity at first, but he’d be so sincere if he ever accidentally said or did anything that made you feel some type of way

And once he is aware of your sensitivity he’s constantly reassuring you in little ways, not only that he understands and is trying to comfort you but just to reassure you he loves you, for example :

HAND SQUEEZES

I know some people have mentioned that he wouldn’t be into PDA but I disagree! It’s just not in the conventional let me be all over you types of PDA

I feel like it’s just not a big deal to him cause he’s like 🤨 what do I have to be embarrassed for?? This my mf baby and I’m gonna hold her hand if I want to ??

Like, I see him as a big hand holder frfr

He would just see it as such an easy way to be physically close to you and even if that’s just holding pinky’s he’s down!

It would also help him if he’s feeling anxious!

Like he’d fiddle with your hands and fingers if he’s feeling particularly antsy or nervous

OH

You guys are out and he wants to go in a different direction? He’s definitely bringing your hand to his lips to give a quick peck and pull you along

“C’mon, let’s look over here”

AND HES SO NONCHALANT ABOUT IT TOO LIKE HE JUST DOESNT QUITE REALIZE THE EFFECT HE HAS ON YOU WHEN HE DOES THAT (he totally does but he likes to be slick and act like he doesn’t 🙄)

He would also DEFINITELY let you play with his hands if you’re nervous or bored or whatever reason honestly, he’d find it soothing and knows it occupies you or fills a need (and you get to look at pretty Kenma hands c’mon now)

ANYWAYS there are other little ways he’d reassure you too besides hand squeezes and holding

Definitely the type to leave you little notes in places for you to find them and they’d always say such simple things like “hi- kenma <3” LMAOOOO PLS HES TRYING HIS BEST

I think the final biggest way he’d love to reassure you would be words of affirmation (this is definitely a private thing)

I think he’d still deliver them in a blunt manner but that’s how you know he’s sincere!

You two would just be chilling at his place and you’d do something simple like, ask how much water he’s drank today or play with his hair and tell him he shouldn’t overwork himself and he’d just look at you so seriously and be like, “I really appreciate you, you know that?”

And it’d be sort of deadpan but like !!!

And he’d just kiss your hand after - always the palm - and then he’d just press his cheek into your hand before kissing it one more time and moving on like that literally just didn’t happen KENMA KING OF HAND KISSES

Okok moving on before I get stuck on his hands again anskdkdksiaj

So we don’t talk about himbo Kenma enough!!!! Like ok

He’s NOT big and ripped like ya know Bokuto and he seems super smart but I’m telling you this man is a quiet clueless himbo ‼️

You can’t tell me you’d be talking on and on about biology or something and he’d just have this little lost look in his eye while he’s nodding along and smiling softly listening to you talk and you’re like ,,??

“Wait, do you even understand what I’m saying?”

And he’d really just be like no :)

“but your eyes are really pretty and I like watching your lips move while you talk :) (this man is also a king of innocent flirting and you can’t tell me otherwise!!!)

OMG and if you’re even the slightest bit flustered by his comment he WILL notice and he’ll do his best to hide his sly little smile and just grab one of your hands and squeeze it and be like, “keep going, I’m listening”

KENMA HIMBO NATION RISE

Ok ALSO you two would literally just be such a pretty couple? Just like so pleasing to look at????? Like you’re both so pretty it’s unfair! And your style OMG

Like you’re just so soft like the epitome of 🦋✨👼☁️☺️ girl and 🎮🎱🖤👾🌙 boy ykwim???

and his long hair PLS Kenma man bun supremacy 🙌🏼

I can’t stress enough how pretty you two would be it would just make sense seeing you two together ugh

UGH you dying Kenmas hair for him?? And he’d just sit cross legged in a chair while you do it and he keeps leaning and moving to wherever you are around him cause your hands are in his hair and it’s so soothing!! What’s he supposed to do??

“Kenma, stay still you’re gonna bet bleach on my shirt!”

“But didn’t you wear that in case bleach did get on it?”

“Kenma-“

“I’m just saying if that’s the case then I don’t understand why I can’t hug you while you bleach my hair? 🤨”

“😐”

“Ok so-“

“Kenma.”

“😒”

Yeah queue pouty Kenma acting indifferent 🙄✋🏼

Just give him a kiss on his nose and he’ll get over it even though he’ll feign his grumpiness to get treated like a baby a little bit longer

UGH PLS I GOTTA STOP I COULD GO ON FOREVER

Bottom line, Kenma’s your quiet little himbo and you’re his loud soft girlfriend, and it’s one of the most adorable things ever

Ok, so we’re finally to what you came for LMAO, your playlist!

OKOK so similar to the first one I made, there’s no theme besides music taste so I tried to make this like a soundtrack of your guys relationship if that makes sense?

I really hope you enjoy and please let me know if you need any changes or would like to be paired up with someone else 🖤‼️ Without further ado, your songs and explanations!

1. Siren - Kailee Morgue: ok I think this one still kind of fits the vibe you’re looking for but you can’t tell me Kenma didn’t see you as some bewitching vixen who’s caught his attention LMAO like he’s just like 👁👄👁 she’s so pretty and entrancing help me! and he’d try to be like haha I’m cool I’m cool I’m fine 😎🥴😎 but it’s so obvious he likes you too (you’d kind of be able to tell with the way he looks at you and how it took so long for the blush to leave his neck and ears whenever he’d talk to you) but he just really decides he has no choice in the matter, he wants you so bad LMAO

2. Juice - iyla: more off the first one, the way you just appeared into Kenmas life LMAO like he saw you and just 😳🥴😍‼️ and once he started to feel real feelings he’d be so 🏃‍♂️💨 WHERE THE FUCK DID SHE COME FROM??? But he wants you so BAD he can’t do anything about it, and now not only does he just want you 😳 but he wants you and he wants to be yours , pls he has it hard

3. See You Again (feat. Kali Uchis) - Tyler, The Creator: ok this is like THE song to your guys relationship just UGH I know you two would have such pining. Kenma would DEFINITELY be nervous to even talk to you at first cause he’s definitely like 🥴 she’s prettt hhng and he’s so shy and you just have such HEART EYES over him and you don’t even hide it that well LMAO (“it’s them rose colored cheeks yeah it’s them dirt colored eyes 😔😩”- u @ him) and it just makes him so NERVOUS!! But you two would definitely dance around it for a bit like you’d just be so 😍‼️ He’s pretty and shy hehe I like him gimme gimme 😍 and he’d be so flustered by it at first until you guys FINALLY get over yourselves (when kenma stops being a baby LMAO) like you guys jus wanna kiss so bad and literally everyone’s like JUST FUCKING DO IT, SHIT it’s adorable really

4. Doves In The Wind (feat. Kendrick Lamar) - SZA: ok I know this song is kinda saucy an idk if it’s overplayed but listen YOU CANT TELL ME THIS ISNT KENMAS FUCKING ANTHEM!! like he jus absolutely jams to this song definitely a sza stan and loves playing vibey music like hers during his gaming sessions but like the way he would worship the ground you walk on and be like mf im HERS do not get it twisted, in no way does she belong to me buT THE WAY I BELONG TO HER WHEW ‼️

5. Moment - Victoria Monét: ok why do I feel like most of the songs I added on here are vaguely steamy LMAO but ok this song? Yeah whew 💨 this is definitely one of those songs that play while you two would be lazily making out with those little led lights on (you just know kenma has those) and you two would just be laying there and know this is one of those moments you guys are never gonna forget. Your hands are just roaming and caressing each other while your lips are locked and you guys are so breathless and it’s just wow, you guys must have manifested each other cause this moment is so perfect between you two. And even though it’s a little sloppy it’s so intimate and you both feel like you’re living in a dream. messy hair flushed Kenma whos breathing heavy? Yeah I think so

6. Deep Cuts - Healy: Kenma is always trying his hardest to be the best he can when he loves something. We know this we’ve all seen him and Tora when it comes to volleyball and the way he gets with Hinata. And this wouldn’t change when it comes to your guys relationship, he is constantly going to be putting in his best effort to get to know you better, be the best boyfriend he can be to you and make you feel as loved as he can. He’s memorized everything there is to know about you and sometimes he gets lost in that and it makes him insecure about himself from his overthinking (you can’t tell me he’s not a chronic overthinker) and he’d forget to just enjoy himself sometimes. Like Kenma stop stressing, you can relax when you hold her hand. But he’d reach this point with you when he’d probably be being a bit difficult and you’d just make him feel so loved. He had been overworking himself again, which you HATED. You could tell from the bags under his eyes and the way his hair was messily pulled back into a low bun and the way the neckline of his hoodie showed he wasn’t even wearing a shirt underneath. But it was date night!! So what if he was tired and overworked quality time is important to you!!! I mean, that’s what he’s thinking. But you would just pull him into a hug and kiss his forehead and start to undress into comfy clothes and he’d be so confused like ?? Uhm, date night?? And you’d just pull him to your shared bed by his sleeve and under the covers and into your arms while you just kissed the top of his head. You’d take his hair out of his bun and run your fingers through it getting rid of some of the tangles and just be so CARING to him. “Let’s just stay in, you’re tired and I’d rather lay with you while you get some sleep, we can always go out another time.” Yeah he’s in love that’s it ‼️ you make him feel like he’s exactly enough for you as he is and that’s all he wants pls tbis is so long and for what??? Like this could be a Drabble in itself??? Anyways

7. Easy - DaniLeigh: you guys are definitely an exclusive couple but you really show Kenma what it means to just take it slow and relax! After the date night (deep cuts) he knows it’s ok to just relax into your guys love and he doesn’t have to force or rush anything cause it all comes naturally. Secondly , the WAY THIS BOY MAKES YOU FEEL - he just always looks at you with these deep eyes that hold so much love and it makes you feel so exposed every time cause he just loves you so much and it’s so intense l. It makes your face heat up cause he so clearly thinks your perfect. Also, this just gives total late night ride vibes. Kenma would definitely be driving on the freeway and this song comes on and he just places his hand on your thigh while he’s driving and he’s humming along to this song and he can feel you staring at him so he just casts you a quick side glance and goes “hmmm?” And you’re like 👁👄👁 nothing (Kenma is the king of late night car ride music fr)

8. CPR - Summer Walker: ok I don’t even need to explain myself with this one, the song is so self explanatory! You just make each other feel so at home. Point blank ‼️ like Kenma will just think back like 😇 where would I be without this bitch the thought makes him truly sad and he likes to avoid it at all costs

9. Rain - Lucy Park: pls this song is so soft (I hope it fits the vibe ahhh!!) but this is just more of kenma being an absolute softy for you LMAO. He’s not very good at taking care of himself sometimes and you’re always there to be like 😡‼️ NO‼️ and it makes him so soft he can’t help it, it’s not that he does it on purpose cause that’s insane but the fact you know his limits when even he doesn’t sometimes blows his mind and he’s never felt more loved than in those moments (let’s bring up Deep Cuts again 🙄✋🏼 pls this boy just needs someone soft to put him in his place LOL)

10. moonlight - dhruv: ok but when Kenma knows he’s in love with you, he has to tell you. And what better way to tell you than, well, tell you. He’d definitely try to plan it in his head to be perfect like ok what’s her favorite place? Where’d we first meet? Should I tell her there? Should our song be playing in the background? Kenma, your himbo and over thinker tendencies are showing, just tell her already! It’d be early in the morning, and you two are making breakfast together while he’s listening to you ramble on about the recent events of your favorite show and he’s just smiling and nodding, doing his best to recall the other plot points that have happened. And you, distracted with your ranting, go to take a bite of your freshly made breakfast- which is still scalding hot. You IMMEDIATELY start panting and drop your fork, running over to the faucet and shoving your head under it doing your best to soothe your mouth with the cold water. And Kenma feels awful, but this is fucking hilarious. So sure he’s holding your hair back so you can really get that water but he’s dying in the process. Almost keeled over and gripping at his stomach type laughter and you’re swatting at him to no avail and he just can’t help himself, “oh, fuck I love you.” He said it between his gasps of air from laughing and didn’t even realize it. Not until you stood up fully with water still dripping off your chin just looking at him. This idiot immediately started apologizing like omg this isn’t how I wanted to say it ahhhh but you assure him this was perfect, and that you love him too (pls love this man he can’t help but love you too)

11. Easily - Bruno Major: does this count as angst? ok call back to Kenma being an overthinker who overworks himself and probably overlooks his own needs at times, there’s bound to be some tension between you two at times. You’re concerned about his health and he insists he’s fine but you know he’s not, and while I don’t ever see him blowing up on you I could see little arguments about his self-care habits. Sometimes he stays up too late, or he’s stressing himself over something that doesn’t need that much thought! Regardless, he knows you just love him and he does the same thing for you and he just needs to get better at not being so stubborn when it comes to taking care of himself. And he just hopes that you know he loves you and appreciates what you do for him even though it doesn’t seem like it all the time, and that hopefully you won’t give up on him.

12. Streets - Doja Cat: ok I added this one mainly for the vibes but like you can’t tell me Kenma isn’t pined over in university LMAO. Like he’s pretty and polite but also indifferent, mentally ill bitches eat that shit UP; and there’s PLENTY of those in university LMAO. And like you aren’t a toxic possessive person don’t worry but MAN he’s fighting these girls off with a stick at this point LMAO and he just doesn’t get it pls, like he’d definitely be the partner in an assignment who just comes prepared and is kind of quiet to a fault but is so nice and just gets his shit done. Would also offer a pencil if you forgot one and maybe I’m just a whore but that gets me everytime 😌

13. Kiss U Right Now - Duckwrth: ok mainly for the vibes but !!! You and Kenma in the kitchen cooking and this song comes on and he comes up behind you and turns you around and your faces are all close and he keeps singing “I think I wanna kiss u” and smirking but he’s just ghosting his lips over yours instead and moving his head back every time you try to kiss him and giggling before doing it all over again! giggly Kenma supremacy

14. Butterfly - UMI: ok we been talking about how much Kenma would be devoted to you, but like you wouldn’t be the same!!!! Kenma means so much to you and you do your best to show your care and all you wanna do is see him happy as much as he wants the same for you, omg you guys are so in love it’s gross 🤢

15. Pick Up Your Phone - Hojean: what more can I say!!! You guys just love each other and love spending as much time together as you can!! (I like ending these playlists with a really happy mood :) )

——————

Here it is! Thank you for being so patient and I really hope you like this! I always get nervous posting for my baby’s 🖤 love you cutie!

-🐇out

[jimlingss]

Ok wow wow wow 👏🏽ma’am you have done it once again👏🏽😭 I’m so proud of you like wow you did that! Dynasty is amazing It’s beautiful It’s wonderful It’s well written It’s fantastic It’s groundbreaking It’s a MASTERPIECE like I can go on and on about how brilliant this story is like wow I felt like I was watching a historical movie like you literally just wrote a whole ass film like you could make a movie out of it👏🏽���🏽 I’m in awe like you keep making me speechless with your work(1/2)

Anonymous said: And like I’m so happy that I have seen you grow in your writing and ugh i feel so overwhelmed with emotions right now and I just wanna say congratulations on breaking and mending my heart once again and good job you are doing more than amazing sweetie and thank and I love you💜🥺🥺 also It was sweet how the empress protected y/n till the end like I know it was for the baby but still it’s as sweet, the emperor is so childish tho like I was disgusted for her but she had to survive 😭😭😭🤢 (2/2)

Anonymous said: Ok so turns out I have more to say anyways I know she did it to survive and wow she is so brave cause I think I would’ve died Also JEON JUNG KOOK 😭I cried whenever he and oc were together like that forbidden love shit gets to me but seriously in the ending when he came and they hugged 😭🥺whew I legit cried Also hoseok Pissed me off here like even when Seokjin was killing him he was so proud of his actions 😤 I think Seokjin was blinded by revenge tho and that was sad 😔 like I get it but yea

Anonymous said: I’m so sorry that this is so long but I promise this is the last ask but anyway I was saying how jin was blinded by revenge it’s very realistic tho and sad,atleast jungkook survivedand oc isn’t all alone with her son Oh also this part “She doesn’t know that the meaningful gaze is shared between a mother and father to be, two secret lovers separated by circumstance.”wow my eyes tested up 🥺 Overall this is a masterpiece like I’m still so pumped with adrenaline and I love it thank you so much 💜💜

Oh my god. Don’t be sorry! I love these kinds of messages that are so thoughtful and detailed. I’m absolutely honoured. First off, I’m glad you enjoyed Dynasty so much!! I was actually quite nervous posting it since it’s starkly different to most of my writing and definitely took a leap of courage to get out there.

I think I accidentally made Empress Soojin a bit too sympathetic hahahaha I’ll leave it out there that she would’ve probably executed OC after the baby was born lol. I digress, yes, the main OC definitely grew a lot and became stronger than she was at the beginning. and HELLL YEAHHH! I haven’t written a lot on forbidden love but it is fairly exciting.

You point out something very notable though. Seokjin most definitely becomes consumed by revenge. I mean it was already a huge deal he basically sacrificed his sister, but to leave her behind like that again smh. It was definitely a tragedy for him. 

Thank you for so much love :’)

[wonderingarmy]

Prince Kim Namjoon

Hello everyone! Who is excited for the comeback? I am! But first, as promised, Here is Prince Kim Namjoon. Hope everyone that gets to read it likes it. Thank you for your time. Please watch out for Prince Park Jimin. 

You met Namjoon at the local bookstore you are currently working at. The bookstore is close to the place where BTS just moved. You knew who BTS are, but you are not a real big fan since you are more focused on your work. You are also busy writing a collection a short stories that you want to be published. You have always wanted to be a writer and one of your dreams is to get your work published. You also love books and that is why you decided to work where you are surrounded by many of them. Plus the owner/manager lets you read and work on your short stories when the bookstore is not busy.

You were stocking up shelves with new books when  you noticed someone looking through one of the books you have read.

"You can never go wrong with Murakami", you said while stocking up the shelf behind him

"I mean, who doesn't like Murakami?" he said

You were surprised at his response as most people would just give you a polite smile and move on or doesn't even know the author.

"You look familiar" you said finally able to see his whole face. "Ah you're RM right? From BTS? I can't believe someone so famous would visit a local bookstore! Ah you're even more handsome in person" you continued still staring at him, you noticed he started to blush

"Ah thank you. But you can call me Namjoon" he said, still blushing

"Namjoon. That name suits your pretty face. I am Y/N and I am your friendly  customer support for the day! Please let me know if there is anything I can help you find." you said smiling brightly at him

"Do you compliment all your costumers so they will buy books here?" he asked as you continue with stocking the shelf

"Most of the times, yes. But I said you have a pretty face because you really do. And you should really buy Norwegian Wood because it's one of the best books Murakami has ever written." You said now back to looking him straight in the eye

Although his face is still red, he managed to look  back at you with a really cute smile and such an adorable dimple.

"How about this?" you said, "Buy the book, and if you don't like it, come back and I'll give you a full refund and you can keep the book for free. Donate it, do whatever with it, just don't burn it or shred it or JUST PLEASE DON'T HURT IT. Deal?"

"Your boss is not going to fire you if he finds out you're giving away a book for free?"

"He won't because you won't be back because you will like, I mean LOVE the book."

You both stared at each other for a few more seconds and finally he said he'll buy the book.

"Oh you're amazing RM! I---"

"It's Namjoon" he said interrupting you, still smiling and shaking his head at the same time

"Namjoon, I am sorry. I am just so used with RM, the BTS' leader. If you are ready for checkout, I'll meet you at the second register to your left?" you said both of you are smiling at each other.

You met him at the register after you let him browse at more books on the other shelves.

"Sir, I hope you enjoy the book. I promise it won't be a waste of your time and money." you said handing him the book

"Thank you Y/N. I enjoyed your friendly customer support" he said taking the book from you.

“whew. I am glad. I have exerted way too much effort today just for you to enjoy my company.” you said pretending to wipe a sweat on your forehead

Namjoon said his goodbye, smiled and left the bookstore without noticing the post it note you stuck at the very end of the book that says:

“You should let me know what you think of it just in case you don’t ever come back to the store. P.S. you are real handsome in person”

And below is your phone number.

It’s been months since that encounter happened. You haven’t seen him after that. You didn’t expect for him to be back since the bookstore is not that famous in your area and you didn’t know that he just lives nearby. But still you kept thinking of him. You even wrote a short story about a girl longing for a guy she knows she’ll never have. Still you wish for another day that you will meet again.

It’s already 9pm and you are getting ready to close the bookstore. You’re the last one to get off and while you were locking the door you saw Namjoon outside with that adorable smile of him. You unlocked the door and told him that the bookstore is closed.

“I am here to to give you something” he said

“Oh, you didn’t like the book?” you asked getting nervous

“I did. I love the book. Sorry it took me awhile to come and tell you my thoughts about it. I was so busy with rehearsals and concerts. I saw the note and I got sidetracked somewhere and of course, I lost it. I am really sorry.”

“Namjoon, you don’t have to apologize. It’s no big deal. Plus I am just an ordinary friendly customer support and you’re way up high like the heavens, you even look like an angel. I don’t expect you to really text me just to let me know what your thoughts are about the book.” you said shyly

“No. To tell you the truth, I kind of want to see you again after our first meeting” he said feeling a little embarrassed “I kind of like your bubbly personality. And oh well here.” he continued handing you a bag

“Uhmmn what is this?” you asked surprised as you don’t expect a famous Idol.to give you something

“Open it” he said smiling

You opened the bag and found a book inside.

“It’s one of the books I really enjoyed reading while I was in Europe for the tour. And I thought I’ll give you a copy since you recommended a really great book to me. I hope you’ll find time to read it and hope you’ll end up liking it as much as I love Norwegian Wood.”  

You just stared at Namjoon not really knowing what to say after what he just did. Nobody has ever given you a book in your life besides your parents and you look like you are about to cry.

“Oh no. Are you going to cry? Please don’t” He said now looking worried

“I am so happy” you told him and tears started falling down your face.

After that, you and Namjoon became close friends. He would always buy you great books from all the countries they would go to. You would hang out at the nearest coffee shop and just read books or exchange opinions about the same book you both just finished reading. You would often visit him during rehearsals and bring him and the rest of the members so snacks and foods. He would visit you as well in your apartment and stay the night when he wants to be away from their dorm. He would also give you tickets to see them perform.

You would often fight as well and not talk for weeks because of stupid things. Like how he would borrow a book from your shelf and not return it because he lost it.

“Why are you getting mad? I bought it for you!” he would yell

“Yeah, but you GAVE it to me. So, technically, it’s mine!” you would yell back

“Y/N you’re so childish. I’ll buy you a new one”

“No. That one is special. You don’t understand and you will never understand!” and then you’ll start crying.

When you start crying, he leaves because he knows it will take awhile for you to forgive him. He knows that you’ll need space after you had a fight. And he’ll give you the space. But after a few weeks, he’ll show up on your doorstep and apologize. And of course, you always forgive him.

He also hates it when you pull a prank on him, which causes you to argue more.

“Seriously Y/N!! You’re the worst! That is not even funny!”

“You’re so sensitive!”

He would leave again, but when you know it’s your fault, you’re the one that shows up in their dorm to apologize.

You don’t know when or how it happened, but you were slowly falling in love with. You know you’ll never going to have a chance with him but you have to tell him or you’ll just end up hurting yourself more if you don’t.

On his birthday, you gave him a copy of the short story you have written about him and some books with images of crabs. You put a note inside the gift bag that tells him how much he means to you and that you are falling in love with him.

“Y/N, thank you so much for your gift. Let’s meet up tomorrow?” he texted the next day

“Sure” you replied.

You are not sure what else to say so you just waited for the day you have to meet up. You were so nervous, you didn’t get to sleep that night. He didn’t even say anything about the note that you slid in the bag. You wonder if he lost it too since you wrote it on another small post it note.

The next day, Namjoon was waiting for you outside the bookstore.

“How’s work?” he asked and as soon as you even reply to his question he held your hands

You looked at him with surprised face

“Namjoon…”

“I am glad you love me too.” he said smiling. “I have been trying to buy you all these books so you can have your own little library and even bigger to show you how much you mean to me. And I was so worried I was telling myself that I might end up buying the Library of Congress just for you to notice how much I love you. I love every moment I spent with you. I am sorry Y/N, I didn’t tell you I love you sooner.”

“Namjoonie….” you said, tears started falling down your cheeks again.

Namjoon hugged you.

“Y/N, Let’s build a house filled with books and make and write beautiful stories we'll tell our kids in the future?” he said

“I’d love too Joonie” you said now hugging him back burying your face on his shoulders

“Please no snot on my jacket. This is my favorite” he said laughing

You punched him lightly on his back. He pulled away and wiped your tears from your face. He held your hands again and you both walk through the streets smiling at each other.

[writesandramblings]

The Captain’s Secret - p.101

“The Memory of Your Heart”

A/N: There is a scene referenced in this chapter that took place in episode 15 and was not included in this fanfic. Just want to make sure the non-show watchers know they didn't miss anything I wrote; the scene didn't really fit in this story except as a moment of reminiscence. If you rewatch this scene with a mind towards the context it's presented here, though, it really is pretty unnerving.

I'm at the big Star Trek convention in Vegas if anyone wants to drop me a line.

Also, hey, did you catch that the titular captain is Saru? Yep. Planned that one from day one. He ended up with a different secret than originally intended because Lorca lived, but it was Saru all along.

Full Chapter List Part 1 - Objects in Motion << 100 - The Captain’s Secret 102 - Only Then Am I Free >>

The lobby of the opera house was stunning. Swirl-patterned windows rose three and a half stories tall with terraced levels of curving wood and white walls that caught the reflected light of the moonscape outside. Blue and purple plants native to Vorasa system cascaded down like a waterfall of life from the top level, weaving down towards the garden on the first level with bursts of orange and green flowers.

"This is incredible," breathed Tilly, barely able to catch her breath at the sight of it.

Next to her, Stamets was more concerned with the tickets. He smacked his hand twice on the side of the holoticket and the seat numbers fritzed into view along with live directions to reach them. "There we go."

"Couldn't you just live here? If there were beds, I mean, and..." She trailed off, uncertain what else living in a space this immense would require.

"It is stunning," admitted Stamets. There was a time when he might have come here and found the architecture preferable to the music. Now he felt capable of appreciating both.

"Wow," said Tilly, head tilted up towards the ceiling, her feet following the movement of her eyes across a series of rippling metal ribbons arranged along the ceiling. There was a soft impact as she backed into another guest, almost tripping over the trailing hem of a gown. The Bolian she had collided with turned to look at her with wide-eyed surprise. "I'm sorry! I'm so sorry, I wasn't looking—"

The Bolian smiled at Tilly. "It's fine," the woman assured her, sweeping the shimmery, peacock purple fabric of her floor-length gown to the side. "Your first time?"

"Yes," Tilly nodded, excitement overcoming her fluster.

"Enjoy your visit," said the Bolian kindly and resumed her conversation with her companion.

Stamets watched the exchange with a smile of his own. "Making new friends everywhere we go," he gently teased. "Shall we find our seats?" They followed the instructions on the ticket to the middle terrace level and the far left of the auditorium. The theatre itself was shallow but tall—as tall as the lobby—with multiple levels of seating stacked almost on top of one another so every seat had a view of the stage, with the preference being for the audience to be above the performers but a stone's throw back, rather than deep and far away as most theatres on Earth. Elegant scalloping behind the stage directed the sound from the base up towards the top. At the moment, the sound consisted of a gentle, whispering murmur of patrons seeking seats and the orchestra members taking their places, punctuated by notes of instrument tuning,

"We're so high up," said Tilly, feeling slightly queasy. It was impossible not to feel a momentary sense of acrophobia. The theatre was the polar opposite of Discovery's low, modest ceilings and the scalloped back wall of the room created the illusory sensation of leaning over the stage below in a mild optical illusion.

"At least we're not on the front row," said Stamets, because merely standing at the front row of any section was enough to create the sensation of teetering at the edge of a cliff. Species prone to inner ear imbalances like humans were advised to avoid those seats entirely.

They took their seats, Stamets smart in his tuxedo and Tilly looking the picture of elegance in a long black dress and attached capelet. Her red curls were pulled back into a ponytail big enough to be a halo. Stamets listened to the whisper in the air and for a moment it felt like he might hear Culber if he listened closely enough. "Thank you for doing this with me."

"I'm honored you invited me," said Tilly, consulting her program.

The conductor arrived to brief fanfare. As the lights dimmed and the stage came to life, a triumph of horns and flutes played their spirited invitation to the world of Puccini's La Bohème and were joined almost immediately by the voices of the performers.

The notes floated upwards through the air. The movements of the singers were balletic when viewed from above, carefully choreographed to suit the swirling aesthetics of classical Kasseelian culture, and Tilly was soon lost in the music even if she did not understand the exact words.

Stamets was lost in the music, too, but he could barely see the performers through the watery field of his eyes and soon closed them, imagining he was in another time and place with a different companion. He settled back against the plush velvety material of the seat and heard partly the music and partly the memory of Culber, his mind's eye picturing the doctor's smile and the brush of stubble across his jaw. The opera house was forgotten in favor of the soft blue lights of their shared quarters late at night. Moonlight settings they had called it, and the singing became a backdrop to a far more beautiful moment.

Stamets’ eyes only opened when the version of Culber in his mind said, "Come on, we're missing the show."

At intermission, they refreshed themselves with a pair of drinks as Tilly fretted about the wisdom of drinking at all. Taking a bathroom break while the performance was ongoing seemed a terrible social faux pas.

"You're overthinking," Stamets told her.

"You know what? I am!" She downed her drink in one go. "Whew!"

Tilly turned, looking across the crowd to see what else people did during opera intermissions besides imbibe alcohol and saw something on the far side of the terrace that made her face light up with recognition. "Is that..."

Stamets turned in the direction she was looking. Even across such a large room, it was hard to mistake the form of a lului as anything else and impossible to deny the familiar shade of grey-blue epithelial tendrils beneath the gossamer strands of the lului's semitransparent shawl. She was stretched up to the height of a human with the support of a cocktail table. Beside her stood a humanoid in a full environmental suit leaning with one arm on the table and the other on his hip, an angled black cape hiding the slight offense of the environmental suit's vulgarity against the sea of well-dressed operagoers.

"I think it is! Lalana!"

"Don't—" But it was too late. Tilly was already waving her arms to get Lalana's attention and the lului, with her massive eyes that took in whole vistas at a glance, had seen them first. Stamets felt his heart drop.

Approaching the table, Tilly was startled to find she recognized the alien's style of environmental mask. She had seen one exactly like it once before. "Hello Sylvia and Paul!" said Lalana. There were three empty drink tumblers on the table, though how many had gone to Lalana and how many her companion was unclear. (The answer, of course, was that none of the alcohol had gone to Lalana.)

"Fancy meeting you here," was Tilly's cheerful reply. "Who's your friend?"

"This is Omen. May I introduce Paul Stamets and Sylvia Tilly. They were with me during my time on Discovery."

"Pleasure," said Omen, his voice a low metallic timbre that seemed to hint at a darkly wry tone.

Stamets considered the masked figure. The height and build checked out. "I think we've met once before," he ventured. "You were with Lalana when she came to visit my research station the first time. Before Discovery."

There was no audible reply, but the masked figure tilted his head to the side and Stamets could well imagine the dry and disapproving frown.

"Was that where you got the idea?" asked Tilly. Lalana's head twisted in a manner indicating confusion. Tilly gestured to her own head to supply some visual context to supplement her verbal deficiency. "The—Memory Alpha."

"Why, yes," said Lalana. "Omen's species was the source of the design." She began clicking her tongue in a private joke. Lorca figured it out after a moment and shook his head with annoyance at the lameness of essentially saying the design was a human one.

The coincidence was too much. Stamets shot Lorca a sidelong glare. "What brings you here?"

"I am very much a fan of live music, especially singing," Lalana answered. "Gabriel and I used to attend concerts when we would visit Risa."

"Lorca liked opera?" said Stamets, incredulous.

"You're telling me people enjoy this caterwauling?" shot back Lorca, absolutely confirming his identity to Stamets.

"People with good taste," Stamets retorted, though Culber's love of opera had not been something they shared while the doctor was alive. It was only now that Culber was dead and the sound of opera brought him back to life in Stamets' mind that the engineer found he could appreciate the genre fully. "I wouldn't think this would be of interest to... someone like you."

"Likewise," was the response from under the mask. Tilly reacted with momentary surprise at hearing the word, which she associated with O'Malley.

Lalana was untroubled by the tenseness between Lorca and Stamets and said, "I am enjoying it very much!"

"Me, too!" bubbled Tilly, launching into an excited discussion of the specifics with Lalana that lasted until the lights flashed to signal the end of intermission, another one of those Earth customs that had successfully migrated across the Federation as an easily understandable universal cue.

Lalana's presence Stamets could almost understand, but he seriously wondered what Lorca had been doing there. Thankfully, when he and Tilly returned the following year for what soon became an annual pilgrimage, Lorca and Lalana were both blissfully absent.

2259.

They had unleashed a monster into the galaxy. Philippa Georgiou, every bit the bloodthirsty, murderous, opportunistic tyrant she had always been, spent the first few months learning the ins and outs of the universe she had landed in, playing along with the charade requested of her by Starfleet, and when she was satisfied she had enough of an understanding of her circumstances and her enemies, she left a trail of corpses in her wake that sent a ripple of fear across the whole of the Federation.

For the first few weeks after the initial refugee camp massacre, no one suspected it was her. It was not until the massacre repeated in another system, on another planet, that the rumors began to swirl across subspace of a great Starfleet captain gone inevitably insane after a full year of Klingon prison.

Then the rumors shifted subtly, the fringes of the story changing as a new version emerged. Georgiou was not insane, they said, but rather, the sanest person in the universe. She had seen the truth of what was required in the wake of the Klingon conflict and hers was not a way of madness but of strength: a galactic necessity if they were to prevent the Klingons from reorganizing against them in the future.

The Federation, these rumors further claimed, was being taken advantage of by the Klingons and various non-member states. The aid being offered to others was not being returned with anything of value and non-citizen refugees were illegally flocking to Federation worlds, straining resources already depleted by the recent war and taking what rightfully belonged to the Federation's full, legal citizens.

Georgiou was like a virus, her actions and ideas a contaminant, but this time, her contamination had spread far beyond Cornwell, Sarek, and the other wartime leaders who had approved her hydro bomb proposal in the waning days of the war.

Some flocked to this bold legend, exactly as Georgiou knew they would, because they saw the recent Klingon conflict as a sign of things to come and they longed for the authoritarian strength of someone who would crack down on the Federation's enemies in every way possible.

Others retaliated to this evolution of the narrative by doubling down on the claims of insanity. There could be no other explanation for a mental break so total, so complete, and so bloodthirsty.

A further subset of the population saw this new version of Georgiou as proof of the dangers posed by humans and their viral genetic instability and wondered if perhaps the solution to the problem was something else entirely.

Then there were those who knew the truth of who and what Georgiou truly was.

"You must track her down," ordered Admiral Sherak. "You are the only crew who understands what we are dealing with."

"Yes, admiral," Saru agreed, but after three weeks they were no closer to stopping Georgiou and the death toll had risen to seventy-two. Saru and Burnham were forced to confront the fact their knowledge of this universe's original Philippa Georgiou was not translating into an understanding of the Terran emperor.

In the ready room, Burnham standing across the table from him and a fresh cup of salted tea between them, Saru decided it was time to consider a more drastic measure. "Perhaps it takes a Terran to track a Terran," he mused.

Petrellovitz's little behavioral experiment—approved by Sarek at the time of its proposal—had lasted only seven months on Discovery. In the end, it was not Petrellovitz's lack of morals and systematic disregard for experimental safeties that had doomed the venture, it was Michael Burnham's enduring tendency to regard herself as knowing better than everyone around her and correlating habit of inserting herself into every aspect of ship missions and operations under the auspices of this assertion.

Put another way, Petrellovitz could not get along with this universe's Michael Burnham, and Burnham equally did not get along with her. Petrellovitz was used to a version of Burnham that relied on her for science, not one that tried to tell her how to run her own projects. The two were constantly at odds with one another in a way that went far beyond the rivalry Burnham and Saru had been locked into back on the Shenzhou.

They might have continued in this battle of wills indefinitely but Burnham and Petrellovitz were both too clever for that and had come to the mutual conclusion they simply needed to be on different ships. That, thought Saru, was an exemplary conclusion to the experiment that reflected well on both of them. Petrellovitz had since transferred to the USS Lemaître, where she was now a chief science officer.

"I mean, I can help you, but you should ask Omen," Petrellovitz told them over the holocomm. "Keeping tabs on the emperor was never really my thing." Her thing had been the opposite, avoiding the emperor at all costs.

That was what Saru had been afraid of. It seemed there was no way around it in the end. "I assume you can still contact them?"

Petrellovitz hummed and bounced slightly. Being in this universe had revealed an irreverent edge to her personality that had never been able to fully manifest in the mirror universe. "I can. Mac likes to hear from his sister every now and again. In return, I'd like the full, unredacted mission report from your recent jaunt on Nirros V and detailed scans of the next five magnetars you encounter. I'll send my specifications."

"I agree to your terms." Nirros V was more a curiosity than anything else. The incident was not classified, but several personnel details had been purged to protect the privacy of those involved, piquing Petrellovitz's interest. Saru knew she would keep the salient details to herself. She might even reply to him with some insights into how the crystalline entity had caused the polarity instability in the transporter stream.

"What do you think this means for our old experiment?" Petrellovitz wondered aloud.

"It means all Terrans are different," said Burnham, "same as all humans." Petrellovitz smiled at Burnham and terminated the call.

"Send Petra a copy of our Nirros V report as soon as possible," ordered Saru, but Burnham could not leave until she had asked one more question.

"Who or what is Omen?"

"That information is highly sensitive. There is still a chance they will not respond to our request. If they do not, then there is no need for me to tell you."

Four hours later they had coordinates for a rendezvous and Saru was forced to reveal the truth. The look of horror on Burnham's face made clear she interpreted this as a betrayal. "I saw his body."

"What you saw was Einar Larsson. A gruesome ruse on Lalana's part, assisted by Mr. Groves."

Burnham shook her head, still reeling from the shock. "The Lorca I knew would never have been able to lie low this long." In her ideation of Lorca, he was a self-aggrandizing, egotistical manipulator who had thrust himself to the forefront of the Federation's war with the sole intent of using that mythos to schism and conquer the Federation once the Terran Empire was under his sway. At least, that was what she had to believe to justify the way she had watched Georgiou stab him through the chest. Sometimes she still saw his face in her dreams, his eyes twisted with pleading desperation as he reached towards her.

"Perhaps you did not know him as well as you thought," suggested Saru.

"How could they keep this from me?"

Saru sighed in almost human fashion. "I know it has always been a great difficulty for you to 'put yourself in another's shoes,' but I implore you, attempt to do so now. There was no benefit to telling you this. A decision was made by persons higher-ranking than either of us that Lorca's existence must be kept secret. It was my duty to abide by it."

"You know how he was—is obsessed with me."

"I am your captain," said Saru, but warmly, in a tone that felt like a knowing smile, because theirs was now a long friendship centered around mutual respect. "Captains must be able to keep secrets. I have not held many, so I hope you will forgive me for the one. If I thought he posed any threat to you I would have told you regardless. If you do not wish to be present when he is, there is no need for you to see him."

"No," said Burnham, "I'm the first officer on this ship and I'm the reason Georgiou is here in the first place. This mission is more my responsibility than anyone's."

She was worried, though, what seeing him would do to them both.

They waited at the rendezvous point for hours. Even Saru began to doubt if anyone was coming. Then a small, V-shaped cruiser devoid of any identifying marks and with a disabled transponder dropped out of warp almost on top of them and requested to dock. Saru and Burnham waited at the airlock.

None of the three figures on the other side of the airlock were entirely familiar. There was a pale, yolky yellow lului with a splash of darker yellow on its chest and red on its hands, tail, and head. Beside it stood a humanoid in a black and grey environment suit and rebreather helmet with silver latches. A tall grey alien with long, raven-black hair and red eye slits dressed in a navy-blue gown brought up the rear of the group—a Misellian.

"Greetings, Captain Saru," said the lului. "I am Lolalen, and these are my companions Omen and Aeree."

"Changed my mind," remarked the helmeted alien beside the lului in a metallic voice, turning on his heel.

"Captain!" said Burnham. The helmeted figure paused mid-stride. There was a chance that word had not been for him, but Burnham could imagine he wanted it to be.

"Perhaps we should convene in the conference room to discuss the specifics," suggested Saru.

Once the doors were closed and the official record disabled, all pretext was dropped. Lalana shifted back to her usual blue-grey and Lorca hesitantly removed his helmet. There were streaks of silver peppered throughout his hair and the years had crinkled some new lines onto his face, but the eyes were the same.

He did not hold Burnham's gaze. Half a second after their eyes met he looked away, focusing instead on the polished sheen of the conference table, the objects on the side of the room farthest away from Burnham, and finally the stars outside the window as he went and stood there with his back to the assembly. When he spoke, he addressed and responded only to Saru and his crewmates, treating Burnham as if she were some sort of void in the room.

Burnham did not take her eyes off him. She could not understand his behavior.

"We don't need your help," Lorca declared. "We can get her on our own."

"Then why haven't you gone after her before now?" challenged Burnham. "I thought you hated the emperor."

Lorca's fingers twitched behind his back. Burnham could just make out the enduring frown of his reflection. "Why indeed," he sighed to no one in particular, as if her question had come drifting in through the window on some cosmic wind.

"Because there could not be any question as to who had killed her," said Lalana. "We will help you, but only if you leave us out of all reports, official and otherwise, and take all credit for stopping her."

Burnham was confused. "You don't want people to know it was you."

Truth be told, he had always been a self-aggrandizing, egotistical manipulator, and he still was, but he had been forced to temper this against the realities of living on the fringe.

"It would be counter to our role in the universe," said Lalana.

"I was addressing Lorca."

At last he spoke to her, but his eyes remained locked on the stars outside. "Then you're shit out of luck, Burnham, 'cause there is no Lorca. But if you want to put a line in there about the great and mighty Captain Omen, you be my guest."

"Omen," said Burnham. "As in a portent of fate. You haven't changed at all."

Lorca snorted so hard he got saliva in his nose. Burnham was entirely missing the trick to the name. He turned away from the window, keeping his back to Burnham, and addressed the Misellian sitting at the conference table. "Ree! You handle the specs." He grabbed his helmet from the table and stormed out.

"Let him go," Lalana advised Saru and Burnham. "He did not want to come."

Burnham looked at Lalana with pity for how little the lului knew about anything. "That may be what he wants all of us to believe, but that does not make it true. The Gabriel Lorca I remember was obsessed with me."

"Oh, Michael Burnham, it was not that he was obsessed with you, it was that he loved someone who had your face. And when you have lost someone you love, it is such a comfort to still be able to see their face."

The problem, Lorca informed them all once he had calmed down, was that they were trying to track Georgiou down. "You don't track Georgiou, you draw her out to you."

They knew roughly what region of space she was in. From there, it was a simple matter to falsify a set of refugee transfer records, disguise the stealth cruiser as a transport, and fabricate a distress signal for a fake engine emergency.

"Can't be subtle about it. She doesn't go for subtle. Whatever you put in that message, you gotta clobber her over the head with it."

"If it's too obvious, she'll see through it," said Burnham.

"Trust me," said Lorca to Saru. He was still pointedly avoiding looking at Burnham.

While the real refugees hitched a ride on Discovery to somewhere more welcoming than this region of space, Burnham and three of Discovery's security officers boarded the cruiser.

"Welcome aboard the Hayliel," said Lalana.

The ship was dark both inside and out. Its interior felt like being in a hole deep underground rather than the infinite reaches of space and the passages that made up the ship's veins were so narrow Burnham and her entourage could only walk in a single file. It was claustrophobic, dimly lit, and eerily quiet. It felt very Terran.

They arrived in the cargo bay and encountered a fourth crewmember: a young human woman who smirked up at them as she expertly cleaned and reassembled a rifle weapon. "The great Michael Burnham," said the woman, identifying herself as "Simi the Starkiller."

The security officers were permitted to wander the ship freely because, as Lalana said, "Anywhere that you are not allowed, you will not be able to enter." It was an opportunity to familiarize themselves with the layout of the ship and prepare for the coming trap.

Lorca was on the bridge, sitting in the captain's chair and gnawing on his finger in agitation. Burnham took up a position just off to his right, almost but not quite in his eyeline, and kept watch on him from the corner of her eye. He remained clearly displeased by her presence even if he was refusing to actively acknowledge her.

He was not the only one to take issue with the mission. "I am under no obligation to help with missions I do not agree with," said Aeree from what appeared to be an operations station. "That's not the deal. Give me the shuttle. I can still make the rendezvous with Jochrat and complete our objective."

Most humans would not have recognized what Lorca and Aeree were discussing, but Burnham had grown up on Vulcan and knew a Romulan name when she heard one. Exactly what had Lorca and his friends been up to?

"I'm amending the deal," said Lorca. "You want Mac to find out what you did to that cat? No? Well then, you're staying here."

Aeree said in a tone so cloyingly sweet it felt like it was dripping sugary ichor, "You cannot hold that over my head forever, Omen."

"You don't eat a man's cat!" Was that anger or exasperation in Lorca's voice? Burnham could not decide which.

"Even I know that, and I once ate a man," clicked Lalana from the helm controls.

Aeree hissed softly. "Very well, but you are warned," she said nebulously. Burnham was reminded of Lorca's time commanding Discovery. Then, as now, he had created a highly contentious ship environment. She failed to realize that this was a game to them all, and that it had been a game back on Discovery, too, with the sole difference that all the participants on the Hayliel knew they were playing. In time, Lorca would do something that Aeree could hold over his head and the balance of power would be restored between them and perhaps even tip in the Misellian's favor.

They waited. And waited. Lorca's agitation grew to a boiling point and Burnham felt it necessary to point out that the reason the ploy had not worked was likely him. "Our message was too obvious," she announced. "She realized it was a trap."

Lorca jumped up from the captain's chair and stormed out of the room.

"Why did you do that," Aeree hissed at Burnham. "Do you think Omen does not see that possibility?"

"It needed to be said," said Burnham.

Aeree's reply was unequivocally firm. "If everyone in a room knows something, it does not need to be said. You only say things when you think people need to know them and do not already. Do you think we were born yesterday, little Earth child, or that there is any thought in your head that has not already filtered through ours? What are you in the face of a thousand years of experience?"

"Ree, that's enough." Lorca had turned around almost immediately after leaving the bridge and heard most of the exchange from the entryway. "Burnham, with me."

The cruiser was not very big and there were few places to go. Burnham put a hand to the phaser on her hip as she trailed Lorca. She couldn't tell Lorca's mood completely from his back, but his voice was grimly resigned. "Sorry 'bout that. Aeree's a little protective. I'd say she's harmless, but... Her bark is entirely less than her bite."

"If you try anything, I will defend myself," Burnham warned.

Lorca did not respond. Their destination turned out to be a tiny mess hall, surprisingly bright compared to the rest of the ship, with white walls and silver fixtures. A silver table with bench seating took up most of the space. Lorca hit a switch just inside the door and the lights dimmed halfway, shifting the room from glaring white to a more neutral warm cream color he found tolerable. He slid past the table and plucked two cups from a storage cupboard. "When my Michael got tense, it was usually because she was getting peckish."

Burnham watched Lorca's shoulders as he poured coffee into the cups and rummaged for something to serve with it, settling on some sweet rolls. "I'm not your Michael."

"Ree's not wrong. When everyone knows something, sometimes it doesn't need to be said." He pushed one of the coffee cups towards her and sat down at the table.

At last they were sitting across from each other and it became clear the reason he had been avoiding her so thoroughly. He gazed at her with a mixture of melancholy, longing, and relief. A faint smile touched his lips.

This time, Burnham looked away. He sniffed in mildly derisive amusement at her discomfort. "So this is what it's come to. You hate me that much."

When their eyes met again, hers were steady and cold. "I barely think about you. You're nothing but a bad memory that I put behind me a long time ago."

He frowned in annoyance, a frown she remembered from seeing it many times on Discovery, and Burnham was glad; she knew hearing she never thought about him would hurt more than suggesting she possessed any emotion towards him at all. "After everything I did for you," he said, shaking his head. "Without me, you'd still be languishing in Federation prison. Your adopted dad'd be dead in the Yridia nebula, and you wouldn't be back in Starfleet serving as first officer on that ship. A ship I gave you. You ungrateful..." He grabbed his roll and bit off a large chunk, chewing on it angrily.

Burnham was shocked. "You expect me to thank you?" she realized.

He washed the roll down with a swig of coffee and sniped at her, "That'd be a start."

"After everything you did." Burnham shook her head.

"Because of it," he countered.

"You lied. To me, to Starfleet, to everyone."

"What was I supposed to do? You think if I'd waltzed up and said, 'I'm not from this universe,' they'd've given me a ship? I'd have been poked and prodded like a goddamn specimen. I only did what I had to do to get a command."

"You were using us to get back to your universe."

"As if!" He rolled his eyes. It had been the plan, and then it wasn't the plan, and then it was again. The plan had therefore existed in a state of Schrodinger-like uncertainty, both true and untrue, until events had forced it to become a last-ditch desperate effort to retain control of his own destiny. That was all he had ever wanted, really. Control for himself to make up for a life where he'd had none. "I just wanted to keep my goddamn ship." He sighed. "Maybe win that war for you. The right way."

"By bringing the Terran Empire here to 'save' us just so you could turn around and crush us beneath your heel and become emperor of two universes."

"Now that," said Lorca, "sounds like something the other you would've come up with. Maybe I could've managed it. Imagine, the might of two universes united, the possibilities." That was one way things could have played out and he would have been entirely satisfied to make it so. There was no denying it was a solution he had considered. "But if I had..."

If he had gone through with that course of action, he would have lost her. The only thing he had left of Michael. In the end, he'd lost her anyway, but at least it was not because he had intentionally set them down a path towards that inevitability.

"Then what was your plan?"

"Well, now you'll never know, will you."

Had he been feeling more generous, he might have told her his secret. There had never been one plan, there had always been twenty. His brilliance was in coming up with plan after plan so that in the moment, he could make the most of whatever fate had presented him in a way that seemed intentioned. He made the plans and fate chose among them.

Burnham glared at him as she sipped her coffee. Despite his denials, she felt she knew the truth. He was a liar and had always been.

Another sigh. "I didn't bring you in here for this. When I first became this universe's Gabriel Lorca, someone gave me a gift. A story. Funnily enough, a story was the gift I gave my Michael. It's time I gave you one, too."

A lie, she thought to herself, but the story he told felt true.

"I've got a scar on my back. From an agonizer, handheld. Spot where it is, can't quite reach it myself. Which is exactly what the person who put it there intended. She liked to put scars in that spot so her victims would have to debase themselves by asking for help to get rid of 'em. I even did a few times. I hated that scar so much. Every time I got rid of it, she'd put it right back. The last time she put it on my back was just before I came here. Now, I coulda had someone in this universe remove it the minute I arrived because no one here knows what the scar is or what it means, but I didn't. You know why?"

Burnham waited, sensing he did not require her to ask the question.

"She had the same scar on her back. My Michael. I swore I'd keep it until I took down the person who gave it to us both. So thank you, Burnham. It looks like now I finally get that chance."

Knowing that Georgiou was in the habit of marking people on their backs like chattel was disturbing but Burnham held herself firm and said coldly, "That doesn't excuse what you did. Georgiou told me how you groomed the other me."

Lorca's stare was uncharacteristically surprised. "Did she? That's funny. You ever think Pippa mighta been describing herself?"

Until this moment, Burnham never had, because she couldn't possibly imagine the original Captain Georgiou doing anything like that.

Then she remembered a moment before she, Georgiou, Tilly, and Tyler had beamed down to Qo'noS to deliver what turned out to be a hydro bomb. How Georgiou had lit up at the sight of Tilly, stroked her hair, called her "Killy" in a way that sounded like a personal pet name. A knot of revulsion formed in Burnham's stomach. "No. You tricked the other me."

"You don't give the other you enough credit. I couldn't make that girl do anything she didn't wanna do. You have that in common. And she... she always knew she had me wrapped around her little finger." Lorca smiled, his eyes faraway as he recalled his Michael. He had committed a cardinal sin where the other universe was concerned, just not the sin Burnham thought he had. Sins were defined a little differently for Terrans. "She was the one wanted to be emperor. I was just happy to help."

Burnham instantly saw the flaw in the logic he was offering. "She was the emperor's heir. She didn't need your help."

"You think she was Pippa's one and only? Georgiou was fickle and vindictive. Still is, thanks to you. Michael and I lasted longer than most. Didn't mean we were safe. So we took a gamble. Together." He closed his eyes. "I still see her sometimes. My Michael."

If only Burnham had stayed with him in the other universe and taken up the mantle of emperor. He wished he could have seen some version of Michael on that throne. His end goal had always been to remove Georgiou and replace her with someone who would not debase him, threaten his life constantly, and take away the things he loved. Someone who would allow him the autonomy to fly freely across the expanse of the stars. Michael had exceeded his expectation in every regard.

Aeree's voice came over the comms. "Omen, we detect them."

Lorca's eyes snapped open and he smirked confidently. "Time to put on a show."

At the show's conclusion, Georgiou was flat on her back in the middle of the Hayliel's cargo bay, pinned mostly beneath a cargo crate, with Lorca's boot on her wrist and a Romulan disruptor pistol aimed at her head. Burnham stared at this reversal of fortune with panic. "No!"

"King of the misfits," Georgiou said venomously, reviving an old nickname of Lorca's. In their universe, that was what he had been: leader of the aberrations who pursued things other than power. People like Matthew Kerrigan, Jackson Benford, and Emellia Petrellovitz. There were plenty around him who were there for power, but enough that weren't to earn them revulsion.

"Emperor of nothing," he responded.

"Do it," Georgiou hissed.

Burnham walked slowly towards Lorca, her hands outstretched in a plea, her own phaser set to stun. "There's no reason for us to kill her."

"She had her chance," said Lorca. "You really wanna give her another one, Michael?"

"Yes." A chance to go to Federation prison, but a chance nonetheless.

"You didn't give me a chance."

Burnham stopped. There were always signs, of course. Pahvo, the Yridia nebula, Corvan, his attempts to rescue, protect, and help her. Moments that to Burnham were obfuscated by his darkness, his cruelty, his contempt for the people around him, and his apparent obsession with her.

She raised her phaser into the air in a sign of peace. "I'm giving it to you now."

He holstered his disruptor and stepped away. At last, long last, Burnham could see who he was.

At the end of it all, Burnham made an offer she did not expect to make. "I cannot offer you what you had with your Michael, but... If you wish to communicate..."

"No. You've been talking to Lalana." He turned towards her, years of sadness reflected in his eyes. "You know what the worst thing in the universe is? Watching the face of someone you love turn against you. I look at you and I see..." His voice began to break. "You standin' there, staring at me... I just wanted one more moment with her. One last moment. I gave you back the stars and you wouldn't even give me that!"

She could see that moment, too. A terrified face, staring at her with shocked betrayal, falling to the floor with a wound worse than the physical hole in his chest.

"I don't want to see you. I don't wanna be near you. I wish I'd never—" But he couldn't finish that sentence because it wasn't true. "I wish things had been different. But I want you to know, I forgive you."

Burnham stared at him, confused.

"For thinking the worst of me."

2260.

"We are not far from Risa," said Lalana. "We should visit Sollis and Caxus. They have been asking to see you." As with Stamets and Tilly and that seemingly calculated encounter on the Kasseelian moon, Lorca was abiding by the strict rules set out by Starfleet. He scrupulously avoided contacting anyone from his time on Discovery or the other Lorca's life.

Lalana had made no such agreement. When O'Malley mentioned where Tilly and Stamets were headed, Lalana brought Lorca to give him the chance to antagonize Stamets one last time as a small consolation gift. Also because, as much as Lorca loved pushing Stamets' buttons, he still liked Stamets in his own way.

The thought of visiting Risa made Lorca uncomfortable. Out of all the people who had known the other Lorca, he had not managed to trick any of them for very long, and by all accounts, Sollis and Caxus knew the other Lorca very, very well. He pointed this out.

"Do not worry," said Lalana. "It is you they wish to meet. I knew they could keep a secret and so I told them who you were."

"That wasn't your secret to tell," Lorca chided.

"Wasn't it?"

In the end, they could not go to Risa because it was too much a risk. Sollis and Caxus came to them, beaming aboard the Hayliel after very carefully confirming Lalana was standing far enough away that there was no danger of materializing where she was standing. Lorca shielded his eyes from the blinding white light of the transport. Since they were not headed down to the planet, he had seen no reason to spray his eyes that morning and now he was being rewarded with a wincing pain for his sulking laziness.

"Sollis and Caxus, it is so wonderful to have you on my ship at last. May I introduce Gabriel Lorca?"

Lorca lowered his hand and squinted at their guests, unsure what to make of them as his eyes adjusted.

He froze with his arm hovering in the air. It was her. Impossibly, unbelievably, and miraculously her, and because Risians lived much longer than humans, she looked much the same as she had back then. Those unmistakable emerald-green eyes, the cascade of wavy honey-brown hair, sun-kissed skin and a smile that made you want to drop everything and run to wherever she was.

These details had been entirely diminished in the version of her he had once known, but here they were presented in full radiance, and she was even more stunning.

"You're Sollis?" he asked.

Sollis smiled. "Like the word 'solace' in your language, meaning comfort."

Lorca had never known her name. In his universe, it was likely she had never had one. Many slaves were never given names or were taken from their parents at such young ages they never knew them. If he could have chosen a name for her, though, it would have been exactly that. Solace was what she had been, the other version of her, for that brief moment until Georgiou took her away and created a wound that lasted until he found new purpose in Michael. Now, here she was again, entirely restored. He could scarcely breathe at the sight of her.

Sollis could tell there was something more to this than a mere first meeting. She could see the pain and shock and sensed it was connected to her. There was a lopsidedly helpless yet hopeful smile on Lorca's face, a wish he could not speak, and a despair just beneath it.

She decided to do something about it. She approached, arms raised, and hugged him. "It's a pleasure to meet you," she said.

He wrapped his arms around her after a moment, returning the hug more tightly than he should have. Her hair smelled faintly of flowers and the sea. Destiny, he decided. It was destiny. "I've missed your face," he said softly in a whisper only she could hear.

She smiled and closed her eyes, because even if this was not her friend Gabriel Lorca, there was no denying she felt the same. "I missed yours."

Standing to the side, Lalana and Caxus watched this display of desperate familiarity without judgment. Caxus touched a finger to his lips in a pensive motion Lalana recognized all too well. "This Gabriel is a little more of a one partner person," she advised.

"That's disappointing," said Caxus mildly.

"Nn. He is a very good Gabriel Lorca, but he will never be our Hayliel, not entirely."

Caxus reached over and twined his fingers around Lalana's tail. "There was only one Hayliel Lorla."

Watching Lorca and Sollis with unblinking eyes, Lalana pressed her hands together thoughtfully. She was reminded for a moment of Mischkelovitz's sacrifice—a sacrifice intended to save some other version of Gabriel Lorca in what Mischkelovitz believed was the original timeline. If Mischkelovitz was right, then maybe there were two Gabriel Lorcas in the world she had gone to, and maybe one of them was Hayliel.

Except John Allan had gone back in time to the Triton and put Hayliel in Lalana's path. That probably meant in the original timeline, Lorca and Lalana had never met and shared the things they shared here. If so, there was only one Hayliel Lorla, and he was gone.

How happy she was to have ever known him. How much she wished to see him again. All she had left was his reflection from the other universe.

Part 102

[stargleeksil-blog]

Criminal Minds s05e02 “Haunted” reviews - or more aptly named, Hotch loses it! Damn!

Episode 02 – Haunted

Hey guys! Whew, last time was a doozie! I mean, seriously!! That was one intense episode.

Let’s hope they tone it down so I don’t blow a gasket.

Let’s see what happens.

Flashback of a kid running from something. This isn’t good.

Psychotic dude. Probably the kid from the memory. Fuck.

I don’t like where this is going, not with that title. Yikes.

Oh god. So you see he’s suffering, you don’t have a refill, you can’t do something for him? Oh honey.

So the packing dude approaches him with a knife. Oh boy.

So he touches him and he starts getting stabby? Oh boy.

Lady, why touch the psycho? Yikers.

Oh boy. A psychotic spree. Fuck.

This dude is one amazing actor. Damn.

Ha. Derek walking past Rossi’s office and he’s like, “He’s not in yet.”

XD I love how Rossi has this telepathy thingy going on.

“You’ve been walking past Hotch’s office for an hour.”

Awwww, my lovely watchdog.

So they put my lovely baby in a button-down again, didn’t we discuss this is dangerous for my already-fragile health? Damn you.

Also, his concerned face is another major trigger for me.

Let’s just agree, having Shemar Moore on my screen, as Derek Morgan, is dangerous for me. Period

Guess I’m living on the edge XD

“And you think that’s long enough?”

“You don’t? Tell him.”

“No thanks. I like my job.”

Smart baby.

“What if he’s got PTSD?”

There it is.

“He was evaluated.”

Don’t bullshit my baby, Rossi.

“Come on, Rossi, we wrote those questions. Hotch knows exactly how to answer them.”

Yup.

“Every day that Foyet is out there, Hotch loses, and you know that.”

Yup.

“You know what that makes Hotch?” “Distracted.”

Yup.

“Motivated.”

Meh.

I’m with Derek here, I think Hotch needs more time.

“Does it hurt?”

Oh honey. I love concerned Penelope, it’s like she’s the mother hen and my poodle is her baby chick.

“It really only hurts when I think about it, which is pretty much all the time.”

Oh honey.

Poodle reaching for cookies.

“No, no, no. Get away, you. These are for Hotch.”

“I get shot in the leg and I don’t get any cookies.”

Oh honey. I love you so much, just give him the cookie, Penelope.

“You know he’s gonna hate the attention.”

“It’s cookies, not cake.”

“He’s probably gonna pretend like nothing happened, anyway.”

Well, I’m probably gonna have to pretend that I don’t want to be that sucker.

“Well, it doesn’t mean we have to.”

True.

“I think maybe we should.”

Why?

“Well, I don’t roll that way.”

Damn straight she don’t.

“The entire time I’ve known Hotch, I don’t think I’ve ever seen him blink.”

Of all the things you could think about, poodle.

“I know. It’s weird.”

Lol, I love how she just rolls with him.

“Classic alpha male behavior.”

You say my dark puppy don’t blink? Hmm, guess poodle has a point.

“Do you think he stared down Foyet?”

“Maybe. If it would save his life.”

Point, poodle.

“Do you think he stared the whole time, like with each stab?”

“I have no idea.”

I really don’t like this conversation.

“Is he okay?”

“I wouldn’t be, but … I’m a blinker.”

Oh poodle.

Wait. My poodle has to leave while on crutches? Oh god.

“You look well, sir.”

You’re such a cutie, Garcia!

“Welcome back.”

Poodle!

“Actually, he’s of the hermit variety.”

I love her lingo so much!

“Nothing to live for.”

Yet he hasn’t killed himself, so something’s holding him there.

“Is he military?”

“Negative.”

Ha. If it wasn’t so serious, this reaction would have been awesome!

“This guy’s got anger, endless targets, and a gun, and he’s just getting started.”

Oh dear.

Emily Dickinson: “One need not be a chamber to be haunted. One need not be a house. The brain has corridors surpassing material place.”

Yeesh, I’m taken back to my college days when I dreaded the day we’d deal with Dickinson. That is one morbid lady.

Hey! That’s Glenn Morshower! I love that guy, he always guest stars as this super badass official guy, awesome XD

“We try to figure out where he’s headed next.”

“You got a crystal ball?”

Oh my god, I’m in love XD

So Darrin has been going to that pharmacy for years. Oh boy.

So she gave him prescription bag that wasn’t his just to calm him down? Oh dear.

“Hotch, we might have something else here.”

“Why didn’t you give him his own medication?”

Because he didn’t have any refills. Damn.

“He was on an antipsychotic?”

Oh damn. And he didn’t have refills? Oh god.

“You said he used to be. How long has he been off of them?”

A month. Oh jeez.

“And when were you gonna tell us this?” Hey, whoa, since when is Hotch aggressive towards witnesses?

“This is not her fault.”

Nope. I mean, kind of, but it’s not her fault he’s on antipsychotics and had a psychotic break.

“Garcia, he’s been off his antipsychotic for a month. What else did you miss?” FOR REAL?

Morgan, talk him down from attacking baby girl.

“I’m sorry, sir. I didn’t get his medical records yet, so …”

“Well, find them. Find everything.”

HEY!

So he’s interrupting a session with his doc because he’s so desperate? Oh honey.

Shit. The freaked out patient touched him. Oh dear.

Fuck. They’re too fucking late.

Why did Hotch just get out? What’s going on?

“Call is suffering from a psychotic break, he’s not dodging us on purpose.”

“Oh, come on.”

“Trust me.”

Yes, trust my Italian grandpa (not that I have any, but still, Joe is going to be freaking seventy this year! Wow!)

“Look at this place.”

“Yeah, it’s a mess.”

You really think that’s what caught my baby’s attention?

“No, it’s more than that. Call was looking for something.”

Exactly.

“Yeah, the drugs.”

God, you’re dumb.

“Doctor doesn’t keep the drugs here. Scrip pad is still on his desk.”

Yup.

“Yeah, baby girl, what’s going on?”

“Where’s Hotch? He’s not answering.”

Oh god.

“He’s outside.”

Oh thank god.

“Are you sure?”

Oh honey.

“Yeah. What’s up?”

“A mystery.”

Wait what?

“Come on, not today, Garcia.”

“I know.”

Oh, she sounds so disappointed she can’t give him much. Honey.

“Here’s the deal. When I missed the antipsychotics …”

“Listen to me. That was not your fault.”

I love this man to bits.

“You are ever my champion, sugar, but I believe it was.”

Really?

“I went back to the beginning for Call, except there is no beginning.”

Wait what?

Guys… I don’t know what’s up with season five, but be prepared for LONG reviews. I mrean – shit-long!

“Wait a minute.”

“Rossi.”

“Say that again. What are you talking about?”

“Darrin Call didn’t exist, like, from 1969 to 1975.”

Dang.

“Was he abandoned?”

“My least three favorite words strung together: I don’t know.”

Oh honey.

“My guess is neither does he.”

Oh boy.

Oh shit. This poor dude. Fuck.

Oh my god, Garcia starts to list the names of the prescriptions and Hotch is like, “Just send it.” Cuz he realizes it will never end. Damn.

“His doctor weaned him off the prescription for a reason. Now, that’s a big risk, so the reward must have been greater.”

“He needs the truth.”

Yup.

Wait. So Call may have run away from a scene where they abducted and killed children? Oh dear lord almighty.

So he’s going back to the orphanage to find out who he is, but the dude who ran it back then isn’t there anymore. Oh honey.

Oh dear, don’t tell me. Fuck. He took the kid because in his psychosis he’s the kid who tried to help him run back in his childhood. Oh dear.

“You’re wasting your time.”

There’s a way to phrase things, Hotch.

“They don’t need the extra manpower.”

“Since when?”

Oh god, he’s taking this back to the Foyet case. Oh jeez. Derek was right. Fuck.

Wait. Baby girl found Tommy? Oh that lady is marvelous.

Btw, currently as I’m writing up this post, the episode where Shemar comes back for season thirteen is about to air, and I’m trying my mightiest to avoid spoilers XD oh god, this is tough on me since I’m only in season five. Be patient, my Shemar-loving heart.

Why is Tommy denying that Call had been with him? Oh dear.

Oh god. That dad is messed up in the fucking head. Poor kid.

That Tommy is awesome! Wow!

So Darrin’s dad was the Hollow Creek Killer? Oh dear lord, the poor thing.

And the mother didn’t know about the kid, because she was probably dead. Oh god.

“Baby girl, I’m gonna put you on speaker.”

So behave XD

Oh my god, his dad is in the same position as he was back in the 70s? Oh god.

Why is that lieutenant so hot on dismissing the FBI? I wouldn’t. Not with that amazing face of Paget staring at me XD

Wait hold up. Is Hotch going in there on his own? What the fuck?

“What the hell is he doing?”

Again, with Derek all the way.

“Rossi, I’m not letting him go in there solo.”

“We have to trust him.”

Oh dear.

Oh god, this Ryan boy is so in over his head, poor thing.

“Stalling.”

I hope so.

“He’s got nothing to lose.”

Oh god.

Was that a signal?

Wait. So that asshole sits and watches kids all day? Ew.

The kid is safe, thank fuck.

Fuck. Those were gunshots. Fuck.

Rossi: “It’s over.”

Derek: “For now.”

Yeesh.

At least Darrin got closure with Tommy.

Polybius: “There is no witness so dreadful, no accuser so terrible, as the conscience that dwells in the heart of every man.”

I don’t know who this dude was, but he was wise af.

Wait. Hold up. So the episodes are now well-rounded and begin and end in the same place? Whoa.

“Two months ago we wouldn’t be breaking down Hotch’s decisions. There’d be no doubt.”

“Two months ago he had everything to live for, Rossi.”

“Now his family’s just been taken away. How is he supposed to think about anything else?”

“How long is he gonna let Foyet win? Hmm?”

I’m sorry, but can I just say that Shemar’s mannerisms seriously explain everything? He’s acting like he’s on The Young and the Restless in those drama scenes … no complaints here, he’s amazing! I’m just laughing my ass off because his acting genius started on a soap opera and I can never take those seriously.

“I mean, come on, by the time we catch this guy, Hotch could be more scarred on the inside than he is the outside.”

Dang, he’s right.

“Hotch took a risk, but we saved that boy.”

Like that’s supposed to make up for Hotch’s dumbness?

“He put his life at risk in there in ways that we are never supposed to, and you know it.”

“I’m not about to stand by and watch this man kill himself.”

You go, baby boy.

“If Hotch is gone, Foyet’s got no one else to torture. Hotch wins.”

Oh jeez.

“But if Hotch lives, but doesn’t get to watch his son grow up, Hotch loses.”

Hell no.

They need to put Foyet the Fucker down.

 Okay, so this episode was seriously hard for me. Because there was a dude who suffered trauma as a kid, and I never like adults inflicting trauma on kids, especially on their own children. It’s just sick. And I love how they do not let this Foyet thing go, they let it guide the season, and it’s gonna continue until he’s put down. And they show how everyone is dealing with it, because everyone is a team together, and I absolutely love it. As you may have noticed above, I am currently writing this review on Oct. 24th, meaning this week airs the episode where Shemar comes back for season 13... and I’m desperately trying to avoid spoilers. So I beg of you, spare me.

I’m honestly beyond excited about this season and cannot wait to see what lies in store. I’ll see you guys next time <3

[f-b-a-w-t-f-t]

Get A Room

Request: Could I get a Peter Parker x reader where they are in a relationship, but it’s like, a normal relationship, not super romantic, but still sweet, where one gets grossed out because the other one drools in their sleep, or one gets mad at the other for touching them with their cold feet, or for wiping their popcorn fingers on them? Just normal things? Thanks! 

Warnings: None…. Maybe something suggestive towards the end… ¯\_(ツ)_/¯

A/N: So, I might be writing a part two to this: Wait Up!, but in the meantime, you can pretend that this(Get A Room) is a part two to Wait Up!, because I think that would be cute. Oh, and if you do do that, just ignore the fact that I wrote about the reader’s parents. Or just don’t do that at all because wow that got really long and I’m gonna stop talking now bye enjoy the story.

Masterlist

A weekend at the Avengers tower, what a weekend it will be. Your parents were out of town for the weekend, and you didn’t want to be alone, so Tony had graciously invited you to the tower.

But, it that obviously wasn’t enough, so you had invited your boyfriend, Peter, over as well.

“Hi!” You jumped on him when you saw him in front of the elevator, “Let me get that for you.” You picked up his backpack.

“Jesus, Pete. What’s in here?!”

“I always bring my pet rock collection with me!” He exclaimed, holding his hands out in defense.

“Wait, seriously?” Your smile dropped.

“No!’ He shook his head.

You giggled, "Whew! Okay, that might have been a deal breaker.” (Tbh a pet rock collection doesn’t sound that bad)

“But, um, will you hold my socks?” He held out his socks to you.

You looked at him, raising your eyebrows, “Fine.” You rolled your eyes.

“Thanks!” He beamed, kissing you on the cheek before reaching inside his bag. . “Alright,” Tony looked at Bruce, “I don’t want them thinking that this is what we do every night.”

He gestured to the empty, quiet room. And then to his beer.

“But, this is what we do every night.” Bruce Shrugged.

“Exactly!- Oh hey guys!” Tony sat up straighter at the sight of you and Peter In the hallway, “We were just gonna… Watch a movie! Right Bruce?”

“Yup.” He answered quickly.

“Okay,” You looked at Peter, “Does that sound good?”

“Yeah!” He smirked at you.

You raised your eyebrows at his expression, nudging him gently with your shoulder, “You’re scaring me, Peter.”

“Alright, I’ll get the others.” Tony stood up and rubbed his hands together.

You heard Natasha’s voice coming from the other side, “What? but we never do stuff on Friday night!”

“Okay, ready?” Steve popped a disk into the million dollar DVD player.

“Yep!”

You snuggled closer to Peter, only to be met with his freezing cold feet against your thigh.

“Ew!” You squealed, earning a few glances from the other Avengers, “You’re nasty, Parker.” You pushed his leg away.

He giggled and turned his head to the side, admiring your beauty.

“I can literally feel you staring at me.” You whispered.

“Sorry.” He looked away quickly, “You’re just, so gorgeous. It’s hard not to stare.”

“Peter Parker, if you’re being sarcastic-”

“No! I mean it!” He cut you off immediately, much louder than he had intended. You blushed, “Okay.” “Ew!” Peter exclaimed, looking down at his shirt.

“What?” You asked innocently.

“You’re literally rubbing your buttery fingers on me as I speak!”

“Eh, I’ve seen better puns.” You motioned to the words on his shirt.

He sighed, looking at you with his eyebrows furrowed, “Y/N, will you hand me my drink? It’s over there,” He pointed to the table on your left.

You nodded lifting your arms up.

Peter took advantage of the situation, poking your sides with his fingers.

“Peterrrrrrr!” You attempted to pry his hands off of your sides, “No! Stop!” You giggled.

But he wasn’t going to stop, he could watch you smiling for hours and hours.

“Get a room!” Tony yelled, throwing a handful of popcorn on you.

You looked at Peter, smirking, “Don't think we won't!”

You poked him, then grabbed his hand and ran off with him.

July/22/2017

Tags,

@wannabe-weasley, @flowerprincessofcryptids, @ 8181pjh

[badapricot]

Coming to your anonymous with a quite long ask to discuss lw and the last episode further. 🙋‍♀️

At first I will say 100% agreement with the collective feelings of everyone about the way they chose to handle the ep. It's that it's not bad, it's just missing a lot that's up in the air for the viewer to go through and try to make out a full picture. (I tried and i'll explain what I got, it's what I want to discuss).

The thing about lw that I see now after it's finished is that it yes, does commentary about the bl industry but just doesn't flash out carry that burden into its entire identity. They are trying to start that discussion in a smart way while not taking itself too seriously because after all we have a romcom in our hands! I think somehow they don't want to go for a higher weight than they could carry because it's a still fresh try at it.

Now to the episode and how my effort to understand what happened went (I'll only speak about some points regarding the reconciliation):

1- the four months were actually more of waiting for gene to wear down and fully embrace his "need" of nubsib in his life? -> the more I think about the scenes, we just don't get anything to understand from them except the gene is just still, waiting, worn out and both professionally and personally is in need of nubsib to show up in front of him. nubsib on the other hand isn't even a focus 😂 (the biggest flow if I might say of the series is that we just never have his point of view, we see him from gene's eyes and nothing more) nubsib as their argument went wanted gene but he saw how he was distressed so he played along I guess? If gene can't say out loud that he can be with him those four months away from the public eye so I'll do both things myself 😂 have gene be by himself till he loses every last bit of defense against me and i'll go by his wish till my contract is over. (THEY COULD JUST TELL US THS)

2- the remembering the past and then the count to 10 then kiss is an analogy directed at their younger selves, how gene used to count and close his eyes for sib to kiss his cheek as a mean of making up after a problem. I specifically think the hazy dream-like atmosphere of the entire sequence is not necessarily how it happened? but more like the feel of it? also with how it started and ended with jap being there before with gene alone and after with both of them. (we know how jap was the one that helped nubsib everytime before to get closer to gene)

Despite how I can totally explain this point I just think it was possible for them to flash it out more. I know that conveying this message in scenes and conversations would take long but they could have also chosen other direction with the characters?

The some thing I appreciate so much about this is the connection to the beginning from gene's view. we have nubsib telling him that he took his time to understand his feelings as a child but gene didn't. I actually kinda found it strange when I was watching how when hin asked him to go home? he went to his family's house? and when jap talked about the inspiration and gene said his own story he went down the memory lane of the childhood instead of his present with nubsib? what would you think is the message there? Is it that he needed to layer his feelings down to the young gene and see how actually did like sib then also? Or it's his subconscious thinking back to how he left sib in their hiding place and he kept waiting for him while he was actually leaving? Was it that he was going back to that young sib waiting for him?

I think it's an interesting idea but not within enough time frame to get us to undertones the point. It just depended solely on gene and his inner feelings that we also didn't hear. 😂 while sib was waiting on the side lines or let's say gene kept him waiting beside him till he counted the magical ten? 😂

3- this point is just me thinking how the extra cut thing despite providing new content for us is for them and for the plot kinda not that important because they can't put important plot point in it and be deleted from the actual broadcast on the channel. so it's not like us saying they could've used the extra time for better can help. with that said I really loved the fairytale settings. It was so cute and fun.

WHEW THAT WAS LONG😅....

I'm sorry, I'm at the end of a long ask answering binge so I might not be able to match everything you wrote because I don't have the energy, but lemme see if I can get to everything:

I totally agree that Lovely Writer left too much up to interpretation because Tee thinks that viewers can read his mind despite the fact that he's producing a TV show which is a visual and audible medium. Characters need to say or at least imply things for us to understand them. Things should not need to be explained in the BTS for fans to understand what happened when you have over an hour of airtime. That's bad writing.

I don't think Nubsib was purposefully breaking Gene down. I think he stayed away from Gene to show that he could be mature because he saw that there was no way out of the mess he had made and if he tried to solve it in immature ways, Gene wouldn't have forgiven him. Gene didn't want him to solve it by quitting or with money, like a spoiled brat. He wanted him to fulfill his obligations. Because Nubsib was patient, he got his reward. But I agree with your assessment that the break was about making Gene realize how much he needed Nubsib. I just don't think Nubsib was intentionally torturing him or anything. Of course, none of these things were communicated to the viewer cause Tee thinks we're mind readers.

Same deal for the scene where Gene is wandering around his house hallucinating. It was a hazy dream sequence with lots of vague meaning that viewers need to infer. I don't think that's how it exactly happened because I don't think Gene is actually schizophrenic. It was all dreams and metaphors. I don't know what Gene was thinking or how Sib got there. On your question about interpreting why Gene thought of young Sib and not grown up Nubsib I think it's because that's when he first loved Nubsib, even when it wasn't romantic. We can see him struggle with this when he instinctively tries to baby grown up Nubsib after the big reveal, and he struggles with the idea that this buff hunk is also his cute little neighbour. I don't think they were indicating that Gene reciprocated that young and didn't understand his feelings but it's up to interpretation. In the book I think Gene did reciprocate because he told Nubsib he'd be his bride to comfort him, or something like that.

I agree that they could have cut the fairytale scenes or included them as bonus footage in exchange for clearer writing and explanations. The fairytale scenes are cute but not that important. Plot is more important than a dream sequence.