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iviarellereads · 2 years ago

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Nona the Ninth, Day One, Chapter 1

(Curious what I'm doing here? Read this post! For detail on The Locked Tomb coverage and the index, read this one! Like what you see? Send me a Ko-Fi.)

(Locked Tomb icon)(1) In which we meet Nona.

Day One comes with a set of teasers.

REGARDING NONA—HOT SAUCE IS WATCHFUL—THE CITY HAS A BAD DAY—NONA GETS A BEDTIME STORY—FIVE DAYS UNTIL THE TOMB OPENS.(2)

Nona closes her eyes and recounts her dream to Cam. Someone with a painted face, who might be, no, is definitely a "her", is above her in "the safe water".(3) Nona knows that Cam's notes often include boring things like what face she makes when she says certain things.

Then, she forgets the rest of the dream, so Cam ends the session and clicks the button on the recorder. Nona launches into action, changing clothes for the day. She's proud she can get changed herself: she once got very upset and claustrophobic when her nightshirt got stuck over her head before she could handle dressing herself.

She had only ever had two tantrums in her life, but it would be humiliating to have a third.

When she's done, Cam praises her quickness, and Nona dives into her daily stretches. She pretends her leg muscles are extra tight, trying to get Cam to help with a certain stretch, but Cam doesn't fall for it. She calls Nona's bluff and says maybe she can't go to school, at which Nona insists she's done, she's up. Cam tells her to go see if Pyrrha(4) needs help with breakfast. Nona wonders, hopefully, if it's gone cold already.(5) Cam says Pyrrha should do Nona's hair, as well, since Cam's going to "talk".(6) Nona asks Cam to write down that she sends her love to Palamedes.

This Camilla Hect did unblushingly, though Nona had to take it on trust. When she squatted down on her haunches, following the strokes the pencil made, she could not make out a single word. She could not even make out a letter, not of any alphabet she'd ever been shown, which interested everyone but herself.(7)

Still, she trusts Cam fully. When the pencil stops, she tells Cam she loves her and asks if they know who she is yet. Cam says she's someone late for breakfast.

Still, Cam smiles a rare smile, and Nona can feel that it's going to be a good day.

Nona goes out into the kitchen. A baby is being loud a few apartments over, and the neighbours below and above are dangerous to piss off in different ways, so Nona walks on tiptoes. Pyrrha is preparing a pan with spray oil, and wearing a string vest(8) and pyjama pants but no shirt. Nona asks if the mix in the bowl is pikelet mix,(9) but Pyrrha says it's just eggs. Nona wants something cold instead, but cold eggs aren't the same, and Pyrrha insists the eggs aren't optional.

Pyrrha asks after Nona's dreams, and Nona says they're same as always, but she wishes she could dream of something else. She asks if Pyrrha dreams, and Pyrrha describes a nightmare about not wearing any pants while giving a speech.

During a pause in Nona's gurgles of mirth, she added solemnly, "It was no fun, my child. I knew I'd be okay so long as I was hiding behind the podium, but I didn't know what I'd do once I had to sit down again. Die, I guess."(10)

When Nona's mirth calms, she asks if Pyrrha was being serious. Pyrrha says yes, but put a mark on the chart for an ass joke anyway. She guides Nona's hand with directions until she's in the right section of the chart. Nona counts(11) seven this month, and chides that Pal will think Pyrrha is skewing the data on purpose. Pyrrha says she "could never help giving the girls what they wanted".

Pyrrha finishes cooking the eggs, fills Nona's bowl, and tells her to eat while Pyrrha braids her hair. Nona asks for one big braid, with two little braids coming off it, so it won't come loose. Also, to avoid the temptation of chewing on the ends of "plain plaits".(12) Pyrrha comments about wanting to get into the cigarette drawer, but Nona says they're bad for her and she loves her.(13)

Nona eats her eggs while Pyrrha styles her long, fine, black hair.(14) Eventually, Pal comes out, in Cam's body. Nona can tell them apart from their physicality, posture, movement, but the easiest way is the eyes: Pal's are brownish grey, while Cam's are fully grey.(15) Pal and Pyrrha banter about meat prices, and then go into the other room to talk while Nona is advised to finish eating her eggs. She eats three mouthfuls then goes to sit next to the door to eavesdrop.

They mention that someone gave them a year, and they're not giving "her" up early.(16) Then they move away from the door, so Nona can hear even less. Eventually they come back closer to the door, and discuss tactics. Why are the BOE running when they're in the best position they've ever had? Pyrrha doesn't know, despite sleeping with the enemy, and she won't tell Pal and Cam her suspicions in case they're interrogated.

There appear to be some barracks with some House personnel barricaded, and there's some discussion as to how to rescue them. Even the locals are split on how to handle it: some of Pyrrha's command are eager to kill the Houses, some would welcome them if they'd just clean up the gangs running wild on the streets. The divisions in the BOE are stronger than their common cause.(17) Pyrrha's ready to steal a ship and get the three-and-a-half of them off-planet and to anywhere else in the universe at any time.

A timer goes off, and Pal has to swap back out again. They discuss whether Nona should go to school or not, but Pal wants her calm. Nona tries to eat the last lumps of egg in her bowl, when Cam asks how long she was listening. Nona admits, nearly the whole time.

Cam eats the rest of her breakfast while Nona drops a cleaning tablet in the dishes and Pyrrha shaves. They dress for outside, with hats and masks, though Nona doesn't think they really need hats or masks. Still, the need to blend in outweighs the practicality of needing or not needing the protection.

Pyrrha runs them through this week's scatter and all-clear words, and what to do in an emergency. Both Cam and Nona defy what Pyrrha wants to hear on the latter, but she sighs and they get on with it anyway.

=====

(1) What could that mean, in this context? This is just meeting Nona and getting introduced to her life. Why is the Locked Tomb here? One fair guess is that it's used as a generic icon since this is the Locked Tomb series, since we know Nona isn't of the Ninth House. There may be other guesses to be made. (2) Awfully ominous for the first pages of a book. (3) Obvious allusions to memories between Gideon and Harrow. (4) Well well! We have located one person whose situation was in some jeopardy at the end of HtN. Only, how did Pyrrha get here? And where is "here" exactly? (5) Definitely something unusual about this young lady. (6) Presumably to Pal, via those notes and tape recorder. (7) My my. Why would someone not be able to read even when taught? (8) Elsewhere might call this a tanktop. (9) Australian and New Zealander name for pancake. (10) Guess I'll Just Die meme. The one with the old guy shrugging. (11) She can count, just not read. Fascinating. (12) This bit still makes absolutely no sense to me. A plait is another word for a braid. It's possible that Muir is distinguishing between an English/plain braid as a plait and a French braid as a braid, but even French braids get ends tied off that are temptingly chewable. You can pin a braid to a head whether it starts off French, Dutch, or English. (13) The tagline that "Nona loves everyone" or "Nona loves you" really isn't kidding, huh? She's so warm and open. (14) Black hair. Well, that rules out Nona being in Gideon's body. This must be Harrow's, then. The veiled allusions to how quickly Nona's hair grows throw back to Ianthe messing with the follicles during the lobotomy process. Only, how did Harrow's body get to the BOE with Pyrrha after the Mithraeum went down… and why isn't Gideon still in it? (Sure, she died, but we know how much that's worth in this series.) (15) Now that's a bit of a swap, isn't it? In Gideon, Palamedes is distinctly described with pure grey eyes, and Cam with brown in the mix. Typo/editing oversight, or intentional clue that something has happened to them in the process of sharing the body the way they do? (16) Presumably, Nona. (17) I can't fit it in without going into far more detail than I think this section really needs right now, so: Ctesiphon Wing is mentioned. Ctesiphon was an ancient city, not too far from modern Baghdad, that served as the seat of power for two empires. So, lots of the BOE wings have ancient powerful city names.

#the locked tomb #tlt #nona the ninth #ntn #nona the ninth spoilers #ntn spoilers #nona #camilla hect #pyrrha dve #palamedes sextus

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agentsoftie · 5 years ago

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Sleepless Nights ( S.R )

summary: Reid and Y/N aren’t the most fond of each other. So what happens when they can’t sleep, have to share a bed, and be married.

pairing: Spencer Reid and female reader

a/n: AHH okay so here it is! It’s my first au so it’s probably not the best. But big thanks to @anepiphany! Ani baby none of this would be happening without you! Thank you for you tips and making me not go insane! Also pls tell me if I slept something wrong cuz like, your girl not the best when it comes to it. Also there will def be a loophole somewhere in my case and if you find one, just let it slide because life is filled with loopholes ❤️ also this is gonna be a two parter!

warnings: mentions of a case, little angst (like the smallest amount), fluff really though

remember to like and reblog!!

You were always the type of person that got along with everyone. And by everyone you meant everyone. You were a people pleaser, always changing your personality for someone. To the security guard, you were a sports junkie, always catching the latest games. To the guy who worked at the bookshop, you were the classical girl. And to the barista, you were the girl who was always late but always paid 3 dollars extra tip. But Dr. Spencer Reid was the only exception. 6’1 and standing tall. Mr. Eidetic Memory and 187 IQ but oh God how you cared for him. You loved him, you loved him more than all the moons in the galaxy. But him? He hated you, so naturally, you hated him too. As the saying goes, if you can't beat them, join them.

“Guys we got a new case,” Garcia says.

You walked into the room and sat to the seat closest to the front where Garcia would be since she was your best friend. Ironically that was the seat farthest from Reid.

“Okay, so this is Mira Normen and her husband John Normen. They had gotten married 2 months prior to their deaths. Mira was 25 years old and she was a teacher at the local middle school. John was 26 and he ran a local pet grooming business. As you can see, but not me for obvious reasons, they were both stabbed once in their chest and then once in their thigh. Mira was shot once in the heart and once in the head and John was shot twice in the heart and twice in the throat. The M.E. found a ring stuffed into both of their throats. And not the cheap kind, I mean a year's worth of salary for one of us.”

“Okay, so this guy’s rich,” You said.

“Yeah, no shit sherlock,” Reid said.

“Guys,” Hotch said in a stern voice “Garcia do we know anything else?”

“Yes actually. They were both last spotted at an event for rich people. So like something Rossi would go to.” She said, chuckling at the last part.

“You and I both know very well that I do not go to those kinds of events. I stay at home for god sakes.” Rossi says causing you and a couple of other people to chuckle.

“Why does this case sound so familiar?” JJ asks, breaking the chuckles.

“Well there was a case exactly like this a couple of years back if my memory is correct, which it always is. We tried to solve it but we just couldn't so it ended up as a cold case.” Reid said.

“And everythings the same?” JJ asked.

“Yep, everything. Well except the city.” Reid said.

“Great, well i think we got everything. Wheels up in 30.” Hotch says while getting up.

-------

You sat alone, like always. At first everyone was concerned, like they had done something, but they then soon realized that you just liked to be alone and this was really the only time.

“Okay, so I checked if anyone had moved in the years and I have 5 names. Thomas Maddison, Stephanie June, Eliza Honeycutt, Devi Paradise, and Klaus Hiller. And only one moved to our little town and that would be Miss Eliza Honeycutt.” Garcia said.

“Can you ch-” Morgan was saying but got cut off when she said

“Already did ‘Hot Chocolate’. Miss Eliza moved a total of 3 months after the case. Looks like it was due to a messy divorce. Her and Mr. Maddison had not been going strong for the last couple of months and it looks like they decided to call quits just before you guys came to town.”

“Can you-” Morgan started to say but then was again cut off by Garcia.

“Already got you babes. The address should be sent to your tablets.” Everyone was still looking at her, “that means look at your tablets.” She says while gesturing her hands making them look down.

“We got it babygirl,” Morgan said without being interrupted.

“Great! Now, this is the time I leave and let you amazing little people do your jobs!” And with that, she was out and so were you.

-------

It was 10 pm when you got to the hotel. You weren't exhausted but you definitely were not in the mood to solve a murder or multiple in this case. You all had checked in now was your favorite time of all choosing rooms. You never bunked with anyone unless Garcia, but that's if she ever came on a case. Emily and JJ were already gone, same with Hotch and Rossi. You were about to grab the key for the single room but Morgan got it before you.

“Sorry hot stuff, I need room alone this time.”

“What!? Why!?”

“I don't need to explain myself to you Y/N,” Moran says, and just like that he was gone.

You and Reid grabbed the keys without looking at each other and walked in the elevator. You both did not make any eye contact until you got into the room. There was only one bed. You immediately called room service but they said that there were no more rooms available so you two were stuck with that one.

“Okay, which one of us is gonna sleep on the floor?” you heard Reid say.

“Excuse me,?”

“You heard me.”

“Oh stop being such a baby Reid. We both know that if you don't sleep on a bed or something remotely similar you get all grumpy and get headaches all day. And if I don't sleep on a bed or something similar I get high on caffeine and get paranoid. So for the sake of the team, we are gonna sleep on the goddamn bed together!”

He didn't know you paid attention to him like that. Sure everyone knew that he would get grumpy, but headaches? No one, not even JJ. He didn't like to tell people about them fearing of being babied around even more than he already is. Although he did know that whenever you don't get enough sleep not only do you high on caffeine, but you have nightmares. You never told anyone except Garcia of course. He’d realized that you had nightmares after a group holiday to Rossi’s beach house, he heard you talking in your sleep and there were not good things being said.

“Okay geez fine whatever. Are you gonna go shower first, or am I”

“Me obviously,” you say while getting your clothes.

The water was hot when you got in, just how you like it. You started to soak your hair in the water needing to cool down a little and prepare yourself for the days ahead of you. All you could think about was sharing the same bed with him. With the guy, you're in love with but doesn’t know. And will never know.

After 30 minutes you got out of the shower and changed. You wore a pair of shorts and a loose flowy t-shirt which you had knotted after putting it on because it was too big. After you brushed your teeth, did your skincare, and brushed your hair.

“Finally, how long does it take?” You heard Reid say while you were walking out of the bathroom. He didn't look up until you sat on the bed turning the tv on.

“It takes 40 minutes Reid, it always takes 40 minutes. But you would never know because you've never had a girl stay over,”

“Oh, you're so funny aren't you,” he says in an annoyed way.

“Yeah, I am.” You said smirking while looking up expecting to see him annoyed but instead greeted with a small smile which was then washed away quickly by the sound of his voice.

“Okay, I'm gonna go take a shower now. Don't wait up.”

“ I won't, don't worry.” You say while he goes into the bathroom. You swear you saw him smile. It may have been small but it was there.

-------

“You waited for me.” You hear while turning off the tv. He was wearing a pair of basketball shorts and a white t-shirt. His hair was an absolute mess, and you could tell that he had to take a shower in not the hottest water.

“Ha, yeah no. You took like 10 minutes, did you think I was gonna fall asleep in 10 minutes.”

“Yeah well, that's what happens when you take up most of the hot water.”

“I'm sorry, you should have gone in the shower first.”

“You wanted to go into the shower first!”

“Okay and? Look, can we just go to bed or something? We have a long ass day ahead of us.”

You felt the bed dip and got chills all over. He didn't seem to notice, thankfully. You were cold, but not cold enough to want to layer up. You looked over and the time and it read 11:15. You tried to sleep, but you just couldn't. So again you looked over and read 11:39, and then it was 12:06. You felt like you were going insane.

“Why are you still up?” Reid said in a raspy voice while turning over to face you.

“Huh? Oh, um, I couldn't, can't sleep.”

“Ugh, fine come here.”

“What?” Before you could say anything he had wrapped his arm around you and forced you to nuzzle up against his chest. It actually felt pretty nice. You felt like you were on top of the world and that everything was going to be okay. You put your arm on him after processing what was happening. He then pulled you in closer and when you looked up at him you realized that he was knocked out, gone like a light in one of those horror movies. And before you realized it you were out too.

-------

“Y/L/N wake up,” is all you hear. The sun was barely out yet, so naturally, you just wanted to go back asleep.

“5 more minutes”

“Fine.” Although he didn't want to say anything or admit in this case. This was the best sleep that he’d gotten in a while. At first, he thought it was because of the way he slept but he then quickly realized that it was because of you. With your legs intertwined with his, one of your arms on his chest and the other in his hand. Your hair, so messy, yet so perfect at the same time and he would give anything to fall back asleep with you. He was in love. He was in love and was falling, falling harder than ever.

“Y/N, come on it's been 10 minutes. We need to go, get up.”

“What? Oh. Wait, fuck, what time is it?” You say in your very raspy yet airy morning voice.

“6:13, now we have to get ready or we will be late.”

You didn't want to get up, you really didn't. You wanted this moment to never end, but sadly time was not on your side for this one. “We never speak of last night, got it.”

“Yes ma’am.”

“Its agent.”

-------

“Miss Honeycutt, hi I’m Agent Y/L/N,” You say while sitting down for the interrogation.

“Hi yeah, why am I here?”

“Oh, no one’s told you yet?’

“Well yes the people who rudely (italicize) came into my home said something but I wasn’t really listening.”

“Oh okay then. You're here as a suspect for multiple murders.” Her face was in total and utter shock. “There has been a murder recently that connects to a murder that took place back a couple of years ago. You lived there when it had happened and then you moved. And now you’re here because a murder played out exactly that same way as the one that took place in the past.”

“Look, I have a valid reason for moving-”

“Divorce I know.”

“Yes, well you don’t know the reason.”

“Oh, and what would that be?”

“I was cheating on him, Thomas. He found out and then immediately filed for divorce.”

“Huh, is that so. Well, you kno-” You were cut off by the sound of the one and the only doctor himself.

“Y/L/N can I please speak to you.”

“Um yeah.” You walk outside of the interrogation room to face him. “What is it?”

“I don't think she did it. The way she’s reacting to all of this is way too natural to fake and she still hasn't called for a lawyer to be present. Normally in these types of situations the un-sub mostly always calls for a lawyer or anyone in that case.”

“I know, I know, I know. But she mentioned an ex-husband that could help us with this case.”

“So what you're just gonna “interrogate” her until she starts to talk about her former husband, or just talk about that and only that as a whole?”

“Yes, precisely.”

“You amaze me Y/N,” this was the first time he said your name in conversation naturally and not because he was forced to for an undercover assignment and shit. Well except for this morning but you can't decide if that was a small little fever dream or actual life so it doesn't count.

“And I you Spencer.” He noticed, oh he noticed and his heart practically burst from his chest because of the serotonin he got when you said his name. It was like every time you said his name an angel got its wings.

-------

“Hey Garcia, could you dig a little deeper on our little Thomas Maddison?” You ask her.

“Of course pumpkin. Okay so here's what I got. Thomas Maddison born May 30th leaving him to be a Gemini and you know how I feel about those. He moved from our fun little town too, well, um,-” was what she said before being cut off by Emily.

“What do you mean by ‘um’ Garcia?” She said with a puzzled expression.

“Well, ‘um’ means he disappeared from the face of Earth. Completely gone. No new dental records, no new home, I mean, not even a simple receipt. It’s like he just clicked ‘erase all’ after the divorce.”

“Is that even possible?” I ask.

“Well yes, but you have to literally become a new person for that to happen.”

“Garcia look into anything in his life that could possibly lead him to have hundreds of thousands of dollars,” Reid said.

“Okay, so it says here in one article that he owned a local jewelry store that got burned down around that time of the divorce. The local paper wrote it off as an accident but everyone thought he wanted to skip town after the divorce so he would just take all of the insurance money. Which I guess is kind of true. Um but anyway, yeah that’s really the only explanation. His parents didn't leave him that much money in the will, and he wasn't a drug dealer.”

“Okay, thanks hun! You've been of more help then you know. Call Hotch and everyone else in. I think we got the profile.” You said before ending the call.

* literally 5 or 6 minutes later *

“Okay, so the guy we’re looking for is very popular with the people. He always tries to make everything about himself. Your classic narcissist.” Hotch starts off with.

“This guy hates love though. He never brings up the topic and hates it when people bring it up. And although he hates love, he looks like the guy who could pick anyone he wanted, although he relatively picks on younger women.” JJ adds.

“Yes, and this guy is going to be a white caucasian male. Most likely in his late 20 or early 30s. And he is going to have wealth and will show it off as often as he can.” Emily says.

“Any questions” you heard Hotch ask.

“There’s an event tomorrow just like the one that Mira and John attended. Will he be there? And if so, do you think he will attack again? And if yes then what will do?” You see an officer asking.

“Well yes, we heard of that and already planned everything out. Tomorrow night Agent Y/L/N and DR.Reid will be attending the event.” Rossi said.

You were in complete shock, and frankly so was Reid. You guys never agreed to this, and as much as I love black tie events, they aren't really my cup of tea when there can possibly be a serial killer there. Not to mention the guy I fucking love more than anyone in the world would be there, with me (italicize). Like now I have to look badass and sexy (italicize) at the same time, although that wouldn't be that hard you thought to yourself.

“Guys, can Reid and I please talk to you all in private.” You give Rossi and Hotch very unobvious yet obvious death stares.

“Yeah, now please.” He says.

* again like 2 or 3 minutes later *

“Um hello, last time I never agreed to this and by the look on Reid’s face, neither did he.”

“Y/N you heard, our unsub likes younger women,” Derek says,

“Okay well then just send in Emily, or JJ, or both in that case.” You say in an angry tone.

“Oh baby, you think we're young? Were flattered but no. Sadly out of all of us, you look the youngest, and are the youngest.” JJ says while laughing along with Emily.

“And for you Reid, you out of most people should know that the murders happened between young lovers who got married. And Derek doesn’t call you pretty boy for nothing. Rossi says following JJs statement.

“We really aren't getting out of this one huh?” He asks.

“No. Now it's late so I want you all to get a good night's rest and be ready tomorrow. Reid and Y/L/N you guys can sleep in a little but you'll have to be ready by 4:30.” Hotch says. And with that, everyone goes back to their rooms.

“I fell in love the way you fall asleep; slowly, then all at once” – John Green, The Fault in our Stars

Part two coming tomorrow!

#so lets hope you like it #thanks to ani though #none of this would be happening without her #so thank you ani baby 🥺💕#spencer reid x reader #spencer reid x y/n #spencer reid #criminal minds #mira writes

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runningdownthatroad · 3 years ago

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I just have to get this off my chest after seeing some very disturbing posts about 9/11 floating around on my dash as well as some truly crude commentary. A lot probably won't agree with my sentiments but I feel like this needs to be said.

I've seen a lot of things on Tumblr in the past that maybe I consider to be in poor taste or don't agree with but I usually just scroll past, sometimes block for curating sake, but today is the first time I truly was shell-shocked. To see the memes and blasé jokes people are making about this day are just absolutely horrific and appalling.

I get that a lot of people on this site now may not remember what happened that day and only learned second hand through school or media or other people telling them. I get that a lot occurred after this that wasn't right which we definitely should be learning from. I also get that there is a lot of anti-American and anti-white sentiments going around currently, especially on this site.

But here's the thing:

Not only Americans died that day. Not only white people died that day. That's the thing about terrorists and what these hijackers did: they don't care about your skin color, your culture, your religious preference, your sexual orientation, your gender orientation, your age, your economic status, your personality, whether you support them or not, your political persuasion, your job, or any of it. Everyone is fair game to them. For crying out loud, look at what the Afghani people are currently going through and how the Taliban are treating their own country's people, women especially. If you think this is bad (which it truly is), have you seen how things went under their rule before 9/11 even happened? Do you know their terrifyingly violent and brutal history? Women had acid thrown in their faces if they didn't wear a full hijab. People were mutilated or executed if they didn't fall in line with the law of the Taliban. And this doesn't even begin to go into Al-Qaeda or Isis. But I'm not here to talk about that or delve into that topic too much.

My point in mentioning all of this is that white Americans weren't the only ones that were killed that day. People of all faiths, of all colors, of different countries, died that day, too. And the unity that is consistently discussed every 9/11 anniversary is in regards to us being aware of that fact, us mourning all of their losses together, and the collective desire to come together and help once the planes hit and after the towers collapsed.

So when people say "why am I supposed to cry over white Americans getting killed that day" think about that. Not only white Americans died that day. And regardless of their color, their nationality, their culture, their religion, etc. anyone dying is always sad. Whether it be a jetliner being used as a weapon that crashed into their floor or someone dying of cancer or someone being killed in a mudslide or someone dying in a car accident -- it is always sad. And empathy should always be shown in response, even if it doesn't impact you personally. Let's not forget these people have loved ones that got left behind, that are still here.

So when people say "if something knocks into a cow and knocks it over, I'm not expected to care, but if something knocks into a building and knocks it over, suddenly I'm supposed to care?" think about that. People aren't grieving two large pieces of steel architecture. People aren't saying "always remember those two towers". The WTC Towers were a symbol (yes, for American wealth, I get it) but became so much more of a multi-faceted powerful symbol after 9/11. The towers represent a way of life before 9/11 happened, but more importantly they represent the people lost that day, who were in the towers when they collapsed. For all of the first responders who were stuck on those floors still trying to help evacuate people to safety when the buildings finally gave. The two footprints and two blue lights aren't a symbol of American wealth or a naivete and simpler way of life pre-9/11 - they are a symbol of memorialization for that day. The Freedom Tower was erected to show that despite the loss of that day, we stood united (even if there seems to be more and more division these days). It's a message to the world that yes, destruction and death happened that day in NYC, but so did rebuilding and life carrying on. It's a symbol of strength, resilience, and unity - something that was everywhere you looked days after this event occurred. The two towers (aka NYC) may have gotten knocked down but the city got back up. They weren't kept down - that's the point of the Freedom Tower.

When people say "I don't understand, what is it that I shouldn't be forgetting since I can't remember it anyway" here is what we all should be remembering despite our age or our connection (or lack thereof) with this event:

2,997 innocent civilians died that day. Among them were 343 firefighters, 37 police officers, 23 Port Authority police officers, 8 EMS workers, and 4 other first responders. Also among them were 246 people on the four planes that crashed.

The passengers of United Flight 93 made a choice to fight back against the hijackers and saved lives that day by sacrificing their own.

Many children lost parents. Many parents lost children. Many brothers lost sisters, and many sisters lost brothers. Many spouses lost their significant others. Many lost friends, family, and loved ones.

For those who want a better connection to this day who didn't experience it and/or don't remember it, and for those others who are seriously lacking in empathy: yes, it was a highly publicized event due to the hundreds of cameras (including media outlets) watching that day, but if the horrific images aren't enough to garner some of your empathy, then there are plenty of other resources at your disposal. Documentaries like 9/11 by James Hanlon and the Naudet brothers, 102 Minutes That Changed America (which shows you not only all of the first-hand eyewitness accounts that day but also lets you hear 911 calls, radio transmissions between firefighters, and people's reactions to the event and each other who were there), 9/11 Firefighters (on Discovery Plus) and even more recently, 9/11: The Turning Point (on Netflix) which provides a 360 degree view of the events that led up to 9/11, 9/11 itself, and what came after, displaying all different viewpoints. You can read the 9/11 Commission Report or there are several books and memoirs out there like Wake-Up Call by Kristen Breitweiser, or even historical accounts in books, newspaper articles, and online. But most importantly, listen to people's stories. The ones who were there, the ones who saw it happen, the ones who ran in to help, the ones who lost loved ones. That is the most important part and the most powerful. On Hulu, ABC News ran segments of 9/11 Twenty Years Later, "Women Of Resilience" being especially powerful. It's hard not to feel a human connection to these stories or any kind of empathy.

For those who are making these jokes and memes, if you like shows like 9-1-1 and Chicago Fire, etc, imagine those first responder characters rushing into those buildings to save lives and losing theirs in the process. If you don't remember 9/11 or feel any connection or empathy, imagine hundreds of Bucks or Eddies or Bobbys or Hens or Chimneys dying that day as they worked to save so many. Sorry to be so blunt because I love those characters too, but do you get a little bit of the connection now? Do you feel any empathy? I'm not trying to equate real life heroes and sheroes with fictional characters of course, but if it helps you to understand a little better in some way, well...I'm throwing it out there.

I myself lived in the Tri-State area at the time of the attacks. I remember seeing the second plane seconds before it crashed into the second building. I remember the devastation I felt watching the first tower collapse knowing that a loved one was most likely inside and how hard I cried thinking he was dead. (thankfully, he had been late to work that day and he got out of the area before the towers came down) I remember the relief and gratefulness we all felt hearing from him to assure us that he was alive when he finally was able to get to a phone, stating he was covered in dust and ash from the buildings. I remember the panic and fear we all felt, thinking the world was ending and we were all going to die, that this was it, this was World War III, after it was confirmed that the Pentagon had also been hit and there was also a downed plane in Pennsylvania. I remember the grief another loved one suffered because she lost her entire floor (she had been out sick that day) and every single one of her co-workers. I remember the race to pick up children from school and get them home as soon as possible. I remember the rage that coursed through us seeing the footage of some people in certain countries celebrating the attacks in the streets, enjoying the deaths of so many Americans, a couple of these countries who lost citizens themselves in these attacks. I remember the camping out in front of the televisions night after night for a week straight afterwards, watching the news 24/7, worrying that there might be more attacks. I remember the feeling of sheer terror anytime a plane was heard overhead or seen appearing low enough in the sky that you could practically make out which airline it was for months afterwards. I remember seeing the lights the first time they were lit from our home. I remember feeling pure fear not only for what happened that day but also what came afterwards (not yet understanding that these weren't practitioners of Islam that did this but radical extremists who had literally hijacked the religion). I remember seeing the devastation at Ground Zero through a tear in the fabric over a fence as we walked through the city months afterwards. I remember not wanting to fly for years. I remember the anger I felt that our government had failed us due to political bs between agencies and countless others (which we found out especially when the 9/11 Commission Report came out) and that because of this horrific and absurd failure, thousands of innocent people had died. I remember seeing the crushed ladder truck, and the toy of the little girl who was on one of the planes at the 9/11 Memorial Museum and all of the pictures in that room that just floored me. (I also remember being pissed off that many were treating it as a selfie op where they were allowed to take pictures, completely missing the point of the museum's existence) But most of all, I remember feeling that life would never be the same for any of us ever again, and that the feeling of safety we had naively enjoyed on September 10, 2001 would never return.

But I also remember the compassion and unity we saw rising in the country after those attacks. I remember the gratitude for all of our first responders, those we lost that day and those who were still with us, actively working to recover those lost and to clear Ground Zero. I remember the feeling of collectiveness, that we all shared grief and showed support to one another in those days afterwards. I remember the fallen heroes and sheroes who ran into those buildings, who were off duty but raced from wherever they were that day to come and help. I remember The Man In the Red Bandana aka Welles Crowther (and many like him who worked to save others) who has become another important symbol of that day. I remember hearing all of the stories of people helping one another before and after the towers collapsed. I remember the good that this day represents. That while we may have seen some of the worst of humanity that day in the form of violence, death, weaponized airplanes, and devastation, we also saw the very best of humanity in the form of our first responders and people helping one another.

Look, did Islamophobia happen? Yes. Was it right? No, absolutely not. As I stated above, I myself feared the idea of the religion until I was educated by a friend of mine about the difference between the religion and extremism. This form of hijacking ideology can be seen in examples like the Westboro Baptist Church or even Hitler. Terrorists do not represent the true spirit of Islam no matter what the former tries to force people to believe. Just as the WBC is not the true spirit of Christianity, and so on and so forth. But even during the time I had feared the religion before gaining understanding and clarity, I never confronted or mistreated any practicing Muslim or Arab-American. Ever. I never posted hate or spewed vitriol against them. Just like with the current pandemic, I still cannot believe there are people out there attack Asian-Americans as if this whole thing is their fault. That's still mind boggling to me and it is absolutely 100% WRONG. It should not be happening. Same with Islamophobia. And it breaks my heart to read that many Arab-Americans and practicing Muslims still worry when this anniversary comes around that they may be attacked. It might not mean much, but I just want to say I am truly sorry for that and you have my full support. Always.

Did we go to war and was it just? Yes we did go to war. Was it just? Afghanistan? I need more information in order to have a fully-formed opinion but there are plenty who say yes and plenty who say no. Plenty who say we made things better over there (before we exited and the Taliban advanced) and plenty who say we didn't and only made it worse. I truly cannot say which assertion is correct and I think it would be narrow-minded and completely moronic (and possibly arrogant and presumptuous?) of me to speak on a subject I know so little about, one way or the other. Iraq? No, I don't think it was just and I honestly wish we could go back and do things differently.

But coming back to 9/11 and what this day means for so many, the people who died, the people who rushed headfirst into danger, the people who lost their loved ones. We saw incredible bravery, selflessness, and compassion for your fellow human that day despite what happened. We saw the strength within ourselves despite the fear and anger. We saw resilience. That is what the anniversary is meant to be a reminder of. The sacrifices, the loss, the courage, and the strength. Black, White, Gay, Straight, Christian, Muslim, Man, Woman, Young, Old -- it didn't matter. We all came together.

So regardless of whether it's the cool thing to do right now on this site (or elsewhere) to hate on America or 9/11 or white Americans or the anniversary itself on the very anniversary of these attacks, I ask that you please consider when posting these hurtful (and frankly harmful) words of hatred and vitriol such as referenced above that there are people out there who lost their loved ones on 9/11, that yes some of them may be on this very site and going through the 9/11 tag, and that some of them may have even lost a loved one in either war and are again on this site reading your words. Regardless of what you think or feel, please consider them and tag appropriately if you're going to post. Please consider that some of these people are currently losing their loved ones due to 9/11-related illnesses because of the cleanup at Ground Zero. Please consider that there are children who lost a parent or loved one, or who were orphaned that day (yes, they exist, we had some in our school district) who are also on this site reading your words. Basically, please just consider and be considerate. Please stop spreading hatred on a day that happened due to hatred; please stop perpetuating that cycle.

Like Martin Luther King Jr. said, "Darkness cannot drive out darkness, only light can do that. Hate cannot drive out hate, only love can do that."

TLDR: Love and light, my friends. Love and light. ✌️❤️

#9/11 #never forget #remember 9/11 #9/11 isnt a joke or a meme

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thatonesadending · 4 years ago

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Caleb gets to show Molly his Tower, but Essek doesn't approve (Chapter 3)

Caleb knew he was being childish, overly excited. But he had put a lot of work into his tower, spent a lot of time thinking about his friends and their own stories, and how they impacted him. He was eager to share it with Molly. The man was that was ostentation to a fault, and so Caleb thought he might appreciate how much thought and whimsy he had put into their little band of hero’s home away from home.

He lead Molly through the entrance of the Tower, he hadn't explained anything, and the tieflings reaction didn't disappoint.

“What the fucking hell. I am still dead aren't I?” He had almost ghosted past Caleb to the middle of the Entryway. Looking up, he gasped and put his hands on his hips. “Caleb Widogast, you tricked me. You made me think I was going back to the material plane, but this, - this is Heaven, isn't it.”

Caleb couldn't help but chuckle at the mocking tone. He was surprised when Molly looked back away from the ceiling, and stode back to Caleb to clasp his shoulders. “I knew you were a sneaky little bastard, smarter then you let on. Good Boy.” Caleb should have felt embarrassed at the teasing praise, but he wasn’t, at least not yet. Mollymauk continued to wander around the Entryway. He spent a good long while asking questions and Caleb gladly answering.

“How do you get up there?” Molly pointed up thru the center of the tower, after taking in all the windows and art surrounding him.

“Come, I will show you.” Caleb offered his hand to the other man, normally he would not be so bold, but he was riding a high from having all of his worries and suspicions so easily dowsed. He could overthink things later, currently, he just wanted to think about the now, something that Molly valued.

Molly took it easy, and Caleb told him all he had to do was think “up”. Of course, in an effort not to be outdone, he said what Caleb could guess was the infernal translation and pulled the wizard with him.

They made it to the center of the salon floor before Mollymauk stopped and stared. Truth be told, isn't not that Caleb had forgotten, but he had never thought Molly would see the salon, never prepared an explanation for the large stained glass window. He had made it of course as a tribute that the other Nien would appreciate as much as he. It hadn't occurred to Caleb until that moment that he had surrounded his books, his knowledge around the lighted artwork that represented Mollymauk Tealeaf.

“Caleb, I -” he wasn't sure he had ever experienced Molly speechless before. Embarrassment was spreading up his neck, and Caleb wanted to find a way to explain, minimize - lie - about the significance of the fact that the third floor of the Mighty Niens home has a vast library containing all the books and knowledge Caleb ever held dear, and a larger than life depiction of Molly’s tattoos, that case color and light on all of Caleb’s texts. He wanted to say that he had just made it as a comfort for his still grieving friends, but he couldn’t. He wouldn’t lie.

Surprisingly Cad started answering some of Molly’s questions when he eventually stopped staring. It wasn't until Caleb scanned the room and remembered that Essek was also with them, that he realized Caduceus was being more polite than him.

Caleb tentatively walked over to the other wizard, unsure of what to say. There had been a lot of floating and conflicting feelings around the two of them as of late, but Caleb had just started to feel like they had been unraveling them, getting to a place where they could be more than friends with a tentative trust. But then Caleb had asked Essek on this trip, and then literally kissed the enemy. He had no idea what the man must be thinking.

“Thank you for guarding me, you know - while I cast th-”, but he was caught off by Essek.”

“This is foolish.” Caleb hadn't been expecting the reprimand. Essek didn't let him respond.

“You have now twice let a man that may or not contain a friend that you knew for only a couple of weeks into your home. Shared your secrets. For what Caleb? I understand that your friends and you -”

Caleb cut him off abruptly, but did not slow Essek down. “Our friends.”

“Yes, our friends - have an affinity for this ‘Mollymauk’, but it is my understanding that you only knew the man for 4-5 weeks. How do you know this isn’t Lucien? Playing off your limited memories of a man who barely knew you. Whereas I -”

The door two floors below them slammed open, and Caleb found himself prepping to use his arcane fire, but all he saw was the rest of the Nien trudging in, and closing the door behind the,

“Cad, do you think you could come heal Beau? She is ok, we got Cree, but Jester is a bit tapped.” Fjord’s deep voice rung through the tower. Cad excused himself from Molly, and drifted down to Beau. the rest of them followed soon after, back to the Entryway. Caddie quickly took care of all of them, but took care not to include Cree, who was flung over Yasha’s shoulder like a sack of potatoes and unconscious.

“Molly what do you think?! Isnt great?!” Jester asked to her fellow tiefling.

“Love, I am fairly sure that I am stuck in a coma or a demiplane somewhere, but this all couldn't possibly be real.” He said with a grateful smile on his face. Caleb barely heard Essek mutter, uncharastically, ‘I am sure you would fuck with demiplanes.’ Before Caleb could confront that, Molly was calling to him.

“Caleb, this is truly fantastic, and I really would love to see it all, but I wasn't lying when I said I was tired. I don't know what that other guy did with this body, but it doesn't feel like sleep.”

“Oh Molly! You can stay with me! I am sure you don't want to be alone, and Essek has the guest room, and my room is like - really really awesome. We can totally snuggle and I can-” Fjord was growling again, it wasn't loud, but just displeased enough that Jester heard. Caleb wasn't sure what to make about this recent possessive streak, but he knew his own jealousy isn't helpful since Fjord had obviously scared Molly.

“Or maybe Yasha would be better, she really really missed you.” Jester supplied, with a bashful smile.

“That would be divine dear, if that’s ok with Yash, don't want to intrude, love.” Molly said, but he seemed to be struggling with something. It Caleb only a moment to realize that the man was overwhelmed with their change in dynamic, unsure of how he fit in, and might need some space.

“Actually, that might not be necessary.” Caleb hadn't planned on telling them all, but he also hadn't planned on being able to bring back Molly as such. He kicked himself mentally for not arranging things in the tower before he cast it, but hopefully the others left him alone about it. He wasn’t going to hold his pride up before making sure Molly knew that he belonged here with his family.. “Both Mollymauk and Essek have their own rooms if they choose to stay in them.”

Caleb noticed Essek’s normally imperceptible demeanor change, soften just a bit, he was thankful for it after their brief but tense exchange.

“Ah, Essek, I had wanted to show you your first night here, but unfortunately circumstances as they were prevented that. I would show you tonight, but I would like to take Mollymauk to his, seeing as this is all a bit new to him.” Caleb waved his hands to indicate the tower, but what he didn't say was why it could only be him that could show Molly.

“That is alright. I would be glad to wait, I didn't get to explore your library as much as I would have liked anyway.” Essek’s offer of patience was welcomed. It meant that he wasn’t too angry with Caleb. “Thank you, Essek.” Caleb knew the others didn't understand Caleb’s gratitude, but he didn't care at this moment.

“Caleb, when did you find the time to make Molly a room? And I count the same amount of doors, where is?” Of course, Beau would be the one to pick up and challenge Caleb on this first. He couldn't think of a convincing lie, so he tried to go for nonchalant.

“On the floor above Veth’s and my own.” He tried to say it casually, but not a single pair of eyes around him didn't stare.

“Caleb, when did you put a room for Molly on the eighth floor?” The question came telepathically, though Caleb could hear Beau’s pointed tone perfectly. His eyes immediately jumped to his hands, the other red eye still there. Before panic could flood him about what that meant, Beau was in his mind again.

“We can worry about it tomorrow, Molly doesn't have any eyes on him other than his tattoos, we probably just have to kill this city. Now, tell me, when?”

So he wasn’t going to be able to avoid this.

“It’s always been there.” A simple answer to a very complicated issue.

“Fuck man, why didn't you - I, I didn't know.” Caleb didn’t like hearing her pity. Part of him was grateful that she understood why he had included it in his floor of memories, however, he didn't want to talk about it just now. Everyone was still staring at him, they knew Beau was in his head, and likely knew what she was asking, but mercifully not saying anything.

“Ja, well, Yasha can put Cree in one of the rooms of requirement, no? For us to deal with tomorrow?” He supplied quickly to change the focus of the room. “And I can take Mollymauk, to at least change into different clothes for now, and he can choose where he stays.”

“That sounds like a fine plan, I can help Yasha. Then we all can get settled for some needed rest.” Fjord supplied, taking control of the situation from Caleb, which he was very grateful for.

“Lovely. Caleb, dear, take me wherever you want, to be honest, I would be happy to sleep on the floor right here, but I’d love a change of clothes just as much.” Molly didn’t look tired, as much as a man who really wanted to catch his breath. Caleb knew this feeling well, and only hoped he could maybe provide a calm space for Molly to get a little more acclimated in. Without really thinking about it, he put out his hand to the purple man, and of course, he took it in return.

“You only need to think the word ‘up’.” He reminded.

“But where is the fun in that? Up.” Molly tugged Caleb up through the floors of the towers, and he couldn't help but laugh at the other man’s enthusiasm as he fell upwards.

#critical role #cr2 #widomauk #shadowgast #caleb widogast #mollymauk tealeaf #essek thelyss #lucien

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hxh-secretsanta-2017 · 7 years ago

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Here’s My Secret Santa gift for @patch-of-shore !!

The Chrollo/Phinks pairing was one I’d always found really cute but had never tried my hand at, so writing this was a really cool opportunity for me and was honestly such a blast! I’ve seen a lot of fics that explore these two at the beginning of their relationship so right off the bat I knew that I wanted to write them a little further in their relationship; past the initial awkward phase and past their first I love you, but just reaching the point where they start to work through real roadblocks like insecurities and doubts… Also I threw them in our world where Chrollo is a poet and Phinks really loves Starbucks.

Anyways, sorry for my stupid rambling. I really hope you enjoy! Merry Christmas!!

Idiots, Muses and Stupid Starbucks Drinks

Phinks’ feelings were officially cancelled. Sure, without things like emotions he would lack the ability to cry, or love, or enjoy really delicious frozen Starbucks drinks, but Phinks had few qualms about terminating every single one of those abilities in himself. Forever. After all, it had been that exact, unfortunate combination of abilities that led him to the place he now found himself; wrapped tight in Chrollo’s arms and trembling from the combined effects of an overflow of emotion (manifesting itself via violent sobbing) and the bitter chill of the winter scene they found themselves immersed in. So whatever it took- a deal with the devil, black magic, ritual sacrifice- he was ready to give it all up.

His night hadn’t started this way. As with all good scenes, there was a build-up; of suspense, of insecurities, of upset. But upon later tracing the whole saga back, Phinks was unsure if he’d ever overcome his irritation at the fact that a coffee run had been the first domino in this obnoxious chain.

“Ah, Phinks, you’re back,” Chrollo startled out of his work, belatedly acknowledging his boyfriend’s reappearance on the balcony of their little apartment.

Chrollo’s gaze met Phinks’ own. He stifled a small gasp. No matter how many times Phinks would see Chrollo inspired, he was certain he would never get used to the shock of it. Despite the bags below his eyes appearing deep enough to give Mariana’s Trench a run for its money and the bite of prolonged exposure to the cold staining his face with a harsh flush, Chrollo was practically overflowing with ethereal beauty. Phinks was pretty damn sure the universe was trying to kill him in that exact moment. Pools of deep obsidian glinted in the soft light streaming from the bedroom that lay just beyond the glass door, betraying for a moment what their owner held within; passion, wisdom, and perhaps a touch of madness. Even compared to the cityscape that lay three stories beneath them, all tiny and twinkling and sleepy in the quiet fall of snow, there could be no contest. This may have been the view that Chrollo himself sought when the words were stuck and he needed inspiration, but Phinks would argue that Chrollo had it beat on every account.

“Oh, I nearly forgot what I sent you out for!” Chrollo exclaimed, breaking Phinks from his gawking. He eyed the cup in the blond’s grasp, receiving it gratefully when Phinks crouched down to the ground where he sat and placed it into his cold-numbed hands. Regardless of whether he remembered asking for it or not, Chrollo seemed pleased in the fact that, one way or another, he had a coffee warming his hands and dispelling the chill in his bones. “I’m not sure I even realized how cold it was before being reintroduced to warmth…”

Phinks frowned, moving from his squatting position to join his boyfriend on his makeshift seat of pillows and blankets snatched from their couch and bed. “You should come inside. How long have you been out here?”

“Not long enough. I’m still writing, Phinks. I’ll be alright.”

“Can’t you work in our room? You can still see the city through the door…”

Chrollo’s eyes fluttered shut and his head fell backwards to rest on the glass of said door. “It’s not the same as out here. Out here I can feel it, you know?”

He didn’t. But he knew that it mattered. And he knew what it meant; Phinks wouldn’t be able to make Chrollo go inside right now if he had a SWAT team backing him. “I know,” he exhaled, “I’ll stay with you.”

“Phinks, you don’t-”

“I’ll stay with you.”

A small, grateful smile lit up Chrollo’s mouth and eyes as he met Phinks’ stare. Slowly, fluidly, Chrollo leaned forward and brushed their lips together.

“Thank you,” Chrollo’s words were consistent with the kiss they followed; gentle and sweet and taking nothing for granted.

“Y-yeah. It’s nothing.” Phinks’ gaze found the floor, equal parts flustered and emotionally inarticulate. Out of desire to have something, anything, to do with himself, his hands found his own nearly-forgotten drink.

A hiss of discomfort fell from Phinks’ mouth. In his close-encounter with forgetfulness, it would seem Phinks misplaced one pretty important detail; the drink he ordered himself was cold. As soon he came into contact with the clear, trademark Starbucks cup, his already cold-numbed fingers ached in protest. His hand slid to grip the cup where its rim met the base of the domed cap, fingers no longer subject to a quick and thorough freezing as they now contacted only plastic.

“Phinks, what the hell is that?” For the first time that night, Chrollo looked at Phinks minus that look in his eyes; the spell of perfect concentration and inspiration had broken.

Phinks grimaced inwardly, “Uhh… a chestnut praline frappuccino?”

“You’re-” Chrollo fought and failed to keep the amused smirk off of his face, “You ordered something frozen? Do you even realize how cold it is right now?”

“Yes, of course I do. I’m- We’re outside right now…” Phinks shuffled microscopically away from the man beside him. Despite the cover of night already obscuring the reddened shade of shame from view, Phinks still reflexively turned his embarrassedly flushed face out of sight.

Chrollo closed the tiny gap the other had made and then some. “I think I’m just having trouble understanding why…”

“Huh?”

“If, you know, you can feel and everything, then why in the world would you order something that’s as cold as the weather?”

Phinks’ mouth dropped open for a moment before clamping shut again. He huffed his breath sharply through his nose, considering where he wanted to start with this. “It’s one of the holiday drinks,” he said plainly.

“Starbucks offers hot versions of all of their holiday drinks, if I’m not mistaken.”

“Well, yeah, but they just aren’t as good. This is my favorite drink from there and it’s only available during this season, so…” Phinks shrugged, hoping this would suffice as all the explanation he needed to give.

“Alright, but- Wait a minute…” Chrollo cut his thought short in favor of another, “when we went out to Starbucks with Nobunaga and Feitan the other day you got one of those generic espresso drinks. Not a holiday drink at all. If you love this drink so much then why didn’t you get it then?”

“Uhh, yeah. Those two would have ripped me to shreds for it,” despite the levelness in Phinks’ voice, it would be hard to miss the undertone of bitterness that coupled it, “I would never hear the end of it.”

“Well, it is the middle of winter…”

“Oh, great. And now I won’t hear the end of it from you.”

“Phinks, I’m not trying to upset you. I just genuinely can’t understand why you would go out of your way to make yourself more cold right now. And furthermore, why you didn’t get the drink you wanted the other day. Why were you were so scared of how your own friends would react?”

“I wasn’t scared! I was just-”

“Phinks, you were. You were afraid of their judgement and so you chose something that you deemed as safer,” his thin brows bunched together in concern. “Are you really so caught up with their opinion of you?”

“Wha- Alright, that’s enough, Dr. Phil. I thought you had poetry to write or whatever.”

The way Phinks projected himself in that moment, eyes cast down and guarded and arms crossed indignantly against his chest, was like the physical embodiment of a shop closed up for the season. Chrollo allowed his eyes to clench closed for a moment, breath coming slowly. It was possible to get through to Phinks right now, but it was becoming increasingly apparent that any kind of direct approach would only result in failure and hostility. After all, a closed-up shop wouldn’t very well leave the front door unlocked; you’d have to be a little more crafty if you wanted to break in.

“Phinks,” Chrollo’s voice was gentle, barely above a whisper, “I’m just concerned.”

“Oh, don’t do that!” Phinks snapped exasperatedly, causing both men to jump minutely. Genuine conflict between the two of them was not familiar territory.

“Do what?”

“I don’t know! Just… whatever you’re trying to do, don’t. I just want to ignore this. So just go back to doing your poet stuff and I’ll just sit here and enjoy my stupid fucking drink.”

“You can’t be serious…” Chrollo tried to keep the giggle from bubbling past his throat. He really did. But his experience of bodily betrayal proved unavoidable. “You’re really going to drink that? Out here?”

“What, you don’t think I’m serious?” The words tore out of Phinks’ mouth in a way that spelled out just how irritated he was. No matter how stupid the premise might have been, attempting to make light of the situation was probably not the best move.

The small smirk on Chrollo’s face was quickly swallowed. “At the very least, I hope you aren't…”

Rather than answer, Phinks leveled a look of stubborn determination at the man beside him and raised the green straw of his frappuccino to his mouth.

“Phinks, don’t.”

With his free hand, Phinks conveyed a certain gesture to the man he loved as he drained the contents of his cup. Said man simply looked on in stony silence, deeming it ineffective to attempt to intervene.

Only when Phinks moved the newly emptied cup away from his lips did Chrollo say a word. “Very mature. But if you’re quite finished with whatever tantrum you’re throwing, we ought to get you inside. You’re shaking.”

Try as he might to will it away, Chrollo was right. Phinks was practically a phone set to its its highest level of vibration. But despite every cell in his body begging to be given solace in the warmth of their apartment, Phinks refused to give in.

“No! I told you I’d stay out here with you.”

“I don’t care about that now. There’s no way we’re staying out here with you minutes away from freezing over.”

“So it is true?” The words were soft and felt a little bit broken. When Phinks was only met with a look of confused guilt, he continued, “I fucked up your focus. You were inspired, Chrollo. I could see it. But almost as soon as I got here it left you. You fought to stay out here; to work more, and now you’re giving up. Because of me.”

“Phinks-”

“No. Let me finish. You’re right. God, of course you’re right. I care too much about what people think. I do stupid stuff to prove stupid points and end up making everything worse. I always end up miserable because that’s how I always end up making everyone else feel. And now I’m sitting on our balcony, freezing my ass off, and probably proving nothing to my boyfriend except for the fact that I’m an absolute fucking idiot and not even half good enough for him. Not that it was much of a secret. But, God, I am so stupidly in love with you, Chrollo Lucilfer, but I can’t for the life of me understand why the hell you would ever decide to settle for some idi-UMPH”

Phinks’ words were cut short by a quick tug on his coat collar that resulted in a crash of lips and a sense of love so urgent he couldn’t possibly miss the message behind it; “Do you understand now?” He was trying. He would understand. A hand moved to cup his cheek and he leaned into it, allowing himself to be open; vulnerable. He embraced the new rhythm they set. When Chrollo pulled away, thumb softly caressing Phinks’ gentle flush, it didn’t feel like he was losing anything. Sure, he had lost some contact with him, but the feeling between them in that moment was one of wholeness. One that meant they were okay just to exist, so long as the other was there.

The pad of Chrollo’s thumb swiped beneath Phinks’ eye. “You’re crying.”

“I-” Phinks pulled back, wiping both hands down his face and examining them to find that they were, in fact, wet. “Yeah, I guess you’re right.”

Phinks breathed out a laugh as tears continued to well up in his eyes. His vision blurred, distorting the image of Chrollo before him into vague shapes of ivory and black and grey. His chest heaved, transforming a laugh into a body-wracking sob. And then the tears fell, sensations of warmth and wetness along with the taste of salt overtaking his face.

He honestly wasn’t even sure why he was crying. He wasn’t feeling sad or frustrated or anxious. In fact, he was feeling more content than anything. At least, he was pretty sure he was. Perhaps he was relieved, or letting out bottled up emotions, or just overwhelmingly in love; or maybe some combination of them all. Whatever it was, there was a lot of it. The overflow of emotions channeled itself through his tears.

Phinks felt an arm snake around his waist, bracing him against a strong and steady body as he shook from the combined efforts of the winter air, his sobbing, and a goddamn Starbucks drink. The blond buried his face in the crook of Chrollo’s neck, effectively soaking the exposed section of his sweater. Chrollo’s opposite hand laced itself through Phinks’ hair, working soothingly in time with his whispers of reassurance.

“I love you so much. That’s right; you. I love you and I choose you and no matter how many idiotic things you do, I’m still going to be right here. I don’t expect or want you to be perfect. I want you to be happy. And if that means drinking frappuccinos in the middle of winter then so be it. I’ll just always have to be there to warm you up.”

Ever easily flustered, Phinks nuzzled his face deeper into his boyfriend’s shoulder. He was unsure if he’d ever be used to such declarations of affection. As the heat in his cheeks began to sink along with the tingly sensation that accompanied heavy bouts of crying, Phinks suddenly became quite aware of the situation he was in. Not only had he started a very real argument with the love of his life primarily over a Starbucks drink, but now he was quite literally crying into said love’s shoulder. Just as it had began to calm, Phinks felt the temperature of his face soar once more. At the very least, he didn’t have to worry too much about the cold for the moment. But he’d done more caring and sharing in the past half hour than he had done in most of his life, and he was not a ‘talk about your feelings’ kind of guy. Phinks groaned into Chrollo’s sweater, this sudden self-realization causing him to feel a bit like a burnt out socket.

“I don’t think I want to have feelings anymore.”

Chrollo only chuckled in response.

“Please tell me you won’t tell anyone about this,” another muffled groan, “Especially not Feitan.”

“What? And miss my opportunity to let everyone know that my kisses can bring men to tears? I don’t know about that…”

Phinks lifted his head, leaning away from Chrollo’s embrace and wiping away what was left of his tears with the sleeve of his coat. “Ha, ha,” he deadpanned.

A soft smirk broke out on Chrollo’s face. “Don’t worry. I won’t let anyone know about these top-secret feelings of yours. Now, come on, we’re going in. You’re only getting colder out here and you’re right; I do have all of my ‘poet stuff’ to get done.”

Phinks spluttered like an old car engine. “I- What? I thought you- being out here, you know… inspired you, and all.”

As Chrollo connected their gazes, Phinks inhaled sharply. Mischief, madness, and a previously missing spark of pure inspiration filled those obsidian orbs.

“Something tells me that I won’t have any trouble finding my inspiration.”

Phinks was beginning to consider uncancelling his feelings. Had they led to a stupid quarrel? A breaching of every wall he’d ever put up around himself? A close encounter with death via freezing? Definitely. But if that was all he had to give in exchange for moments like these- moments where he felt no shame in loving with his whole self, moments where he could exist free from fear of judgement (especially over choice of Starbucks drinks), moments where he was no longer some idiot but a muse for the man he loved- then he was willing to bear it all.

#hunter x hunter #hxh #phinks #chrollo lucifer #fanfic #submission

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