#AND SORRY I MISS SO MANY REPLIES.....CHRONIC PROBLEM

[cherubchoirs]

I posted this in like a comment or something wasn’t sure if you saw it, it’s in the context of V1’s main flesh part bein’ a heart ‘n everything:

Take it a step further: the heart was a donation from one of V1’s designers, someone who put so much of their heart and soul into making their machina magnifica that when the AI was finished and they were constructing the body, they made it literal

It was their greatest creation and they would do anything to make it perfect.

Like, I can’t help but think that there must’ve been someone on that team who had that kind of love or passion, engineering borders and overlaps with art in the nature of creation, and V1’s so finely tuned, made to such precision that it couldn’t have just been a project to them.

OOOUGHGHGHHHH this is absolutely true for how i characterize v1's head designer and now i'm really considering it as a possibility. i'm still in the process of designing them all, but the lead designer has advanced lung disease due to exposure to pollutants and heavy smoke damage that occurred when they were younger. they are on oxygen pumped constantly into a custom made mask - though i do imagine most humans, if not all, are wearing gas masks at this point in the war, given how smoke-filled the air must be, the damage has been done with them and they are aware they likely won't live to see the v-series put into production. yet their passion is evident, they draw up detailed plans by hand and have many artistic renderings of what they believe v1 will look and behave like by the time it's completed. this is the last thing they will do, a virus to destroy the earthmovers from the inside out, something that will halt the devastation of their world (i will note they aren't super introspective in this regard or anything, it's a much more practical 'save the world from burning down' than anything personal as many have suffered in similar ways). i wouldn't at all say they're an idealist, but they are an artist and v1 is a culmination of a vision for them. they work past their limits to create it, they are present with it at every step, and even its preliminary trials, buggy as they are, they see what it will be. v1 is what their passion is. so if they came to the point where they were dying, they would be more than willing to give their heart for v1 since it really already belongs to it

[wxldchxld]

Life Update/Vent

I’m not taking an official hiatus, I just wanted to kinda talk about where I’m at currently and what all has been going on in my life.

I’m having a really hard time keeping track of my threads currently. And while I know a lot of your responses will be like “use a thread tracker” or draft everything that’s just not... plausible atm. I don’t have the emotional spoons for that kind of task and it’s honestly really overwhelming, and even when I attempt to get people to tell me what threads we’re missing only about three people respond to me, which makes it even harder for me to get my shit together. And that’s not a blame thing, I just get really easily distracted and even looking for old threads can be next to impossible. Again, no one’s fault but my own, but it is where I’m at right now.

And I’m gonna put the rest of this under a cut. Just kind of telling y’all what is going on in my life and why writing is hard right now in case you’re interested or you’re thinking my lack of engagement is about a lack of desire to interact.

So I knew at the start of the summer I was going to go for some pretty intensive psychoanalytical testing. Over the years of working with autistic students, I noticed a lot of similar behavior patterns in myself. Issues with social interaction, sensory processing, emotional regulation, etc. After much reassurance from my therapist I agreed to go in for formal psychological testing. I came to her with my suspicions and got very lucky in scheduling.

Right out of the gate my summer was filled with anxiety about what was going to happen and how things would go at the intake, and then after the intake was done my anxiety ramped up about the testing. The testing was extremely emotionally taxing. It took hours and was very repetitive and just overall didn’t make me feel good about myself. I felt like every time they repeated a question about depression or anxiety that I was falling even deeper into the pit of self loathing. But I told myself that if these tests could help me get extended insurance coverage for therapy and some correct medication then all of it would be worth it. Well then before I even had the chance to recover from the experience of testing, I found myself getting extremely anxious about the results of the test and if I’d messed anything up. Not to mention during this time my family from out of town was here for nearly two weeks, and I had to do a hands on crisis management training (where I had to touch and be touched a LOT).

So honestly, while I haven’t being doing a lot from day to day this summer, emotionally I’ve had so much going on that if I’m not in near tears from anxiety I’ve gone completely numb and can’t get out of bed.

Today I got the results for my testing and I just have a lot of mixed feelings about it. I found out that the woman testing me (who I thought was just passing time on her phone ignoring me) was actually watching me the whole time and taking notes on me and while I think the report was meant to sound clinical there was some language in it that kind of feels untrue and dismissive. At one point it says I blame a lot of my issues on my parents. Which isn’t false, but it is weird language when I have years of documented treatment for chronic PTSD due to childhood abuse from those parents. 

They also took away my diagnosis for OCD and Idk how I’m going to wrap my head around that. I’ve had this diagnosis for years and I feel like it really accurately describes me and my experiences. And the clinician flat out told me that the tests strongly indicated toward obsessive compulsive disorder as well as obsessive compulsive personality disorder, but that she didn’t put that in her diagnosis because “I already had 4 diagnoses and adding any more was too many.” And not only does that kind of throw me for a loop in terms of where I stand but it also concerns me about the accuracy of my diagnoses if real results were discounted just because she didn’t want to go “overboard.” 

This is honestly a lot. I’ve gone from feeling pretty neutral about the information I’ve gotten, to being optimistic about it, and now to feeling kind of shitty about a few things after reading the full report myself and not just having it summarized. 

And I say all this possibly just because I have no one that I can really talk to about it and I need to get my thoughts down because it’ll be nearly a week before I get to a therapist, but I also need you guys to understand I’m just in a trash emotional space. I also found out that the people who preformed my testing don’t provide psychiatric care so I have to go through contacting more people, getting another intake with someone, and going through all of this before I potentially find any medication that could help relieve my stress. And to top it all off school starts back in a week.

So I’m very sorry on multiple levels. I’ve been a flaky communicator and dropped the ball on talking to several of the people I call friends on here. I’ve lost things. I’ve dropped threads. The only replies I can get to are the ones directly sitting on top of my draft pile because they’re the easiest ones to find/respond to. I hope you understand the problem is just with me and my very low tolerance for my every day life experience lmao. I appreciate those of you who are supportive of me, who talk to me and reach out and are patient. I haven’t left tumblr, I have no intention of leaving tumblr, and I love my threads and my partners very much. Life’s just hard folks. And I’m sorry.

[theotherackerman]

My Mind Turns Your Life Into Folklore

My Mind Turns Your Life Into Folklore

COPYRIGHT DISCLAIMER: Any recognizable elements belong to Attack on Titan.

NOTES:

Friday January 22nd

chapter twenty-five: said i'm fine but it wasn't true

It was Mikasa and Levi’s grandfather’s birthday.

Mikasa only knew it was by the calendar in the kitchen.

“He was an ass anyway. You didn’t miss much by not knowing him,” Levi informed her as he did every year.

Armin and Eren left that afternoon.

--------------------

Apparently being a dumbass was contagious.

While Zeke was trying to process the file Levi had given him, Armin had dropped Eren off back at the house on Friday morning.

"Niccolo and Sasha broke up," Eren informed him. "Well, not that they were actually together yet…"

Zeke groaned. "Why?"

"Apparently, he had some issues with her still being friends with Connie...is Pieck drunk on our couch? It's not even the afternoon!"

"You're one to talk, tiny Jaeger," Pieck said from the couch.

"Oh see that dumbass there just broke up with her boyfriend too," Zeke said as he pointed at her.

"He wasn't my boyfriend!"

"Wait, is this the mystery guy? Who was he?"

Pieck face planted into the couch and mumbled something that Eren and Zeke didn't understand.

"Is she drunk?" Eren asked him.

"On sugar probably. She already ate the last of the ice cream."

Eren didn’t say anything as he went to his room upstairs.

Zeke looked over the still face planted Pieck.

“Will you go talk to him already? It is not too late to go back and tell him you are a dumbass,” Zeke said as he looked at the scans of the file on his computer.

“It is! I broke his heart and now he’s going to go out with a younger woman.” Pieck said as she sat up.

Why did Zeke have to be the only sane one in his group of friends?

“You didn’t see his face, Zeke. I destroyed him and just left. Without looking back.”

“Pieck...go back. Go admit your fuck up.”

Zeke had seen Pieck cry a handful of times. Once when her father had been diagnosed with cancer and the other when Dina had died.

But not like this.

Pieck hadn’t been in many relationships. She always said things like she was allergic to relationships or why waste time on something that statistically wouldn’t work out. No, Pieck was married to her art.

It was this moment that Zeke realized Pieck had said all of these things to keep herself safe from this.

The tears were streaming down her face.

Eren came downstairs and stopped there.

“Pieck….” Eren said as he crossed to Pieck.

“I just see him in my head. I go back and he’s already with her. She’s so much younger and prettier than I am. I just...I can’t. Eren, I’m sorry,” Pieck apologized.

“Why?” Eren asked.

Zeke moved from the table over to sit next to Pieck.

“He’s your friend and you’re going to find out very soon. It’s Jean. I’m sorry,” Pieck began crying more.

Zeke did not have the first clue about what to do. Neither did Eren.

“I’m going to make a phone call,” Eren said before stepping out of the room.

“Don’t! It has to be over. I don’t want to feel this….anymore..”

“Okay,” Eren said. “I won’t call Jean.”

Eren stepped out of the room.

After what happened with Armin and Mikasa, Eren said he wouldn’t lie about things like this anymore. But Eren had to lie this time.

He went out of the room and pressed Jean’s contact in his phone.

“What do you want, Jaeger? Now is not a good time,” Jean’s voice rang out on the other side of the phone.

“Are you in love with Pieck?” Eren asked.

“What? Why is that any of your business?”

“Because she’s crying to Zeke in my living room right now.”

“She’s the one who ended it. Not me! So don’t come at me about it.”

“I’m not. I just..”

“What do you want me to do, Eren? Beg her to stay? I told her just to say the word and I’d tell my mom not to set me up on a date. I told her I loved her. She said she didn’t feel the same. She said she didn’t love me and it was just sex. So no, I’m not fucking begging her when she’s made her feeling perfectly clear. We’re not you and Mikasa. If she wanted to be with me, she had the chance.”

Eren couldn’t argue with that.

“I’m sorry,” Eren said after a moment.

“It’s whatever. I’ll bounce back. I mean how can I not? I’m me.”

“If you need to talk…”

“You’d be the one I’d call?”

“If anyone knows about losing the one they love…”

“Well, you’ve got a point there. You do know about fucking things up, don’t you? You idiot. How is that going by the way?”

“Good.”

“Good. Don’t do that again.”

“Oh. Don’t worry. I won’t. By the way, why didn’t you make a move on Mikasa when we were broken up?”

“Because unlike you, I’m not an idiot.”

“What’s that supposed to mean?”

“I dropped that idea the day I asked her out and she turned me down. She told me she had feelings for you and then when I saw you two together the next day, I knew. You two were meant for one another. Even if you’re an idiot who fucked it up, I wasn’t. I knew there was no way I could compete with you...when it comes to Mikasa.”

“Did you just say something nice to me?”

“Don’t get used to it.”

“Okay, horseface.”

“Fucking idiot.”

“...you want to get online and shoot some shit?”

“Give me ten minutes.”

“Don’t pull my rank down.”

“Don’t pull mine.”

--------------

Pieck eventually stopped crying.

Zeke patted her on her back while she cried.

And Pieck cried until she couldn’t cry anymore.

She was done.

“So teach me another song.”

“Do you..”

“No.”

“Okay. Yeah, sure.”

----------------

Mikasa’s writer’s block had begun to disappear. She spent most of the day in the sun room writing lyrics to one of the unfinished pieces she had from Historia.

Annie had given up on work half way through her shift and shuffled into the sun room where Ymir was restringing her acoustic guitar.

The sound of power tools in the basement could be heard.

“They having any luck down there?” Annie asked before she sat down in one of the chairs.

“They brought up some ripped out carpet,” Ymir said as she tightened the string down.

“So this is actually happening. We’re going to record,” Annie gave a small smile.

“We’ve come a long way in a little over a year,” Ymir replied as she finished tightening the string down. “Speaking of coming a long way, how’s our social media numbers looking?”

Annie sighed, “well, Facebook sits at the same numbers. Twitter gained a few. YouTube has gone up. Instagram is the problem. We’re dropping views on whatever we post in the feed.”

“Why?” Mikasa asked as she stopped playing.

“It’s the algorithm. The more people who see and interact with our stuff, the more it spreads but it has to show up on the feed first. We’re fucked sometimes. I’ve been trying to put everything into stories where I can but people still have to interact with it.”

“You remember the days when things were just chronical on our feeds?” Ymir asked. “Now you have to be a math genius like Annie to get anywhere.”

“To be fair, I still haven’t beat it.”

“You’ll figure it out. You always do.”

“We all need to interact with the posts. That’ll help too. I know we have been but we have to keep it up.”

“Just tag me in that shit and I’ll share it everywhere. Speaking of genius...are we going to have another new song or what?” Ymir asked as she looked over at Mikasa.

“I’m working on it. Have we thought about the idea of collaborating with The Restorationists? Their follower numbers are larger than ours. Plus, they just got a new bassist. Might be a good idea to see if they want to do a livestream with us or something,” Mikasa said before she shrugged.

“What about Niccolo and Sasha?” Ymir asked.

“Yeah, I’m worried about that too,” Mikasa sighed.

“Wouldn’t hurt to ask,” Annie shrugged.

-----------------

Sasha kept her word of not speaking to Niccolo for a little bit. He didn’t try to contact her and she didn’t try to contact him. However, as Sasha had said, the farm was doing great at the farmer’s market. Mr. Blouse even gave both Sasha and Historia a bonus when they finished work today.

“I don’t know how we’re going to have four guitars,” Ymir scoffed.

“And a bass,” Annie added.

“Yeah, that too. I love the song as much as you all do but I’m wondering how we’re going to pull it off.”

“What about a collaboration with The Restorationists?” Annie asked.

“Oh yeah. Niccolo did tag us on their Instagram. We should do that,” Sasha said.

“Even with you and Niccolo being all….whatever?” Ymir asked.

“I can be professional. Besides, I thought you all wanted this to be a more stripped down song. I can use the cajón,” Sasha shrugged.

“What the fuck is a cajón?” Ymir asked.

“The percussion box,” Sasha answered.

“Then just call it that!”

“This song is pretty personal, Historia. I’ll leave it up to you,” Sasha said before she hit the cymbal, causing Ymir to jump.

Ymir responded with a very horrible sound from her bass.

Annie sat down on the piano bench next to Mikasa and Historia as she sighed.

“It is pretty personal,” Mikasa said as she looked over Historia.

“We need four guitars, two percussion, and a bass. Can they read music?” Historia asked.

“Eren can,” Mikasa answered.

“Pieck is their bassist now. She can read music,” Annie said.

“Didn’t she work at the tutoring center with you for a while?” Ymir asked.

Annie nodded.

“Small world,” Ymir said.

“That leaves Zeke and Niccolo,” Historia said.

“Niccolo can,” Sasha answered before looking down.

Levi walked by the sun room with Sawney and Bean following him.

“Hey Levi, can Zeke read music?” Ymir asked.

“Why would I know the answer to that?” Levi asked as he stopped.

“He’s your therapist. Maybe you two bond over music or something. I don’t know but do you know?”

“No, I don’t. It really doesn’t come up in conversation.” He continued on his path with Sawney and Bean followed him.

“I’m sure Zeke can read music. I can always call Eren after practice,” Mikasa said as she turned to the next page of her sheet music.

“Are you okay with it being a collaboration, Mikasa?” Historia said.

“I’m okay with it,” she smiled.

“Guess that settles that. Just need to ask The Restorationists. Do you want me on bass, electric, or acoustic for this song?” Ymir asked.

“Acoustic,” Historia and Mikasa said at the same time.

“All of our band…” Historia started.

“On acoustic,” Mikasa finished.

“Add their band here,” Historia said as she pointed to the music.

“Should we do all five of us singing this lyric here?” Mikasa asked.

“Wait, I didn’t agree to sing on this song!” Sasha said as she stood up from her drum set.

“Oh yes, let’s do that. That should be low enough for everyone to sing, right?” Historia asked.

“It’s hopeless, Sasha. They’re in the zone. They’re not hearing a thing we’re saying,” Ymir said as she put her bass down on its stand.

“If that’s the case, I’m going to go figure out what to make for dinner,” Sasha said as she left the sun room.

“I’m going to go make myself some more tea before I get morning sickness again,” Annie said as she placed her guitar on the stand.

Historia and Mikasa were left alone in the sun room to continue work on the song.

While Rod Reiss sat on his throne, his daughter was dismantling it in her music.

[mistyeyedpea]

Me losing sleep over this entire post on fb but i had removed it cause i know it would cause issues-

its really crazy that i have my family on here and literally none of them check in on me (other than my mom and dad occasionally checking in)

My grandparents in pr yell at me for never contacting them, but im the one calling their phones and being sent to voicemail. Im the one checking in on my cousins and aunts and grandma. Phones do work both ways ... The last time i saw my aunts was when i had surgery in 2019. I was happy to sew them, but i knew they were just stopping by. I dont get invited to barbeques. My mom never tells me about any family events, but i am never personally invited to begin with by anyone. When i was younger i had a "better" relationship with my family. (We basically actually did things together) But i dont know what has happened. My cousin gives me a ride one time and tried to charge me 10$ for it. For a funeral mind you. I only rode w him cause i missed him.

Same cousin talks abt being woke but still uses terms like "my fav cousin" and says passive aggressive things like "i know who my real family is" when i am just trying to talk to him and see him. This is the treatment i get.

My other cousin that i used to be close to, acts like i dont exist.

I was never able to establish a relationship with my niece bc of this. She doesnt even know who i am.

My youngest cousin whom i love to pieces, i havent seen him in years.

I am currently feeling extra upset because i dont care about the strangers on here, but mainly my family is on here, and they never show to me that they care. Life is short and i just want to say im tired of being made to feel like i dont matter by the people who are supposed to care i spent too much of my life hoping MY FAMILY could understand me. But instead i am cast as the black sheep as i was in my youth when my cousins got away with bullying me. I was seen as the problem, and i know why.. i just wont say it cause it will get me in trouble (even at 26 i stilk have ptsd from speaking the truth) And me being young, neurodivergent and lacking boundries i fled to any arms that would accept me, since i was so "broken"

I dont think its me thats broken, after all these years i realize that perhaps im better off without them and this weird limbo they always kept me in.

As a person who has physical limitations, mental health issues, chronic pain etc it should not be me going above and beyond just to have a chance at a reply... or hoping maybe ill get invited this year. No.

If you dont care, i dont care. Tired of watering dead plants.

This is why i cannot wait to move away.

I cant help but think the reason i get treated this way is because i am neurodivergent and any issue anyone else had with me immediately blamed on me being "mentally ill" (ive heard this line too many times) as if they didnt directly do something to trigger me... right.

Anyways im done ranting. If you were mentioned, sorry but you suck and i am in a place where im not sure if i want a relationship with anyone anymore, so you can continue to ignore this like you usually do or apologize to me via dms where i will most likely not reply.

[shra-vasti]

MOON JUNHUI

Series : To all the boys

Pairing : Moon Junhui x reader

Type : non idol au, ex-couple au

Genre : angst, drama, fluff, romance

Warnings : cheating

Word count : 2k approx

Synopsis : You decided to write some letters to every boy who was a part of your past as your last message after getting diagnosed with chronical disease.

MAIN MASTERLIST

[Received, 12.10.2020] | one | previous | next

You couldn't be in contact with Jun for a long period of time now and you were starting to get used to his absence rather than missing the hell out of him.

You have had talks with Seokmin when he bumped into you few times and you were glad to hear he was finally going out with someone instead of being stuck up on you, you learned her name was Seuji and you were very happy for him feeling a weight was lift off your shoulders.

"I've been talking with a guy from other school."

You casually mumbled scrolling through your Instagram not paying much attention to it.

"You're talking with a guy? What's his name?"

"Yoon Jeonghan."

It was Seokmin who had asked you that question and he was accompanied by Zeny and Dani, all of you sitting on one of the benches which were located at the garden of your university.

"You mean to say Yoon Jeonghan from Hanlim school? As in the one who went to the same coaching class as us?"

The other three were more attentive and interested in your life than you were at this point cause you just nodded your head with a little hum, you weren't even talking with the said guy with much interest but you had been continously talking with him so you thought might as well inform them.

The only people who were currently aware of you being in a relationship with Jun was only Zeny and Andie but Andie was admitted to another University and you asked Zeny to shut her mouth up since you weren't sure about your relationship yourself.

You didn't even spend much time with Jun before he left, both of you did try your best, him being the one to reach out to you more and you didn't quite get the chance to properly be with him as a couple.

But getting used to the university life was sure tiring and most of the nights one of you would just crash down on the bed and sleep not having enough will in the body to stay up and talk with each other.

You knew Jun was trying his best but he was living with his family and being with the family had its own ristrictions as compared to when he was in Korea, living alone in his apartment.

This was the exact reason why you didn't fancy the idea of long distance relationship, you had never been to one before but you had hated it'd idea ever since you were aware of it.

"Why are you talking with him out of all the people?"

You looked at Seokmin raising your eyebrows, you knew he was getting jealous of you talking with someone else but he can't tell you what to do.

"Why? You got some problem with him? Is he that bad? I'm just talking, it's nothing serious."

"He told me the other day that you said you like him but I didn't believe and now you're telling me that you guys are talking."

"I didn't say I like him, I said I like him as in person, it isn't my fault he's so full of himself, don't worry and focus on your own life."

"Just be careful with him y/n."

"Sure, I'm going to meet him after few weeks when he'll be back from his hometown though."

You got up from your spot, packing your stuff and going off towards your next class. Your mind was clouded with Jun but you weren't sure what to do with him and you had a date with Jeonghan too, hanging out with new people instant supposed to be a crime when you're in relationships right?

"Jun come on pick up the phone."

Your heart beat was irregular as you anxiously dialed his number one after the other but he wasn't picking up.

You had met with Jeonghan today and you didn't expect it to turn out like it did. Now that you were back from it, you suddenly remembered about Jun which you had completely forgotten since the last few weeks.

Your breath hitched as you looked at the time, you knew Jun must have return from his college since it was late at night but you weren't sure why he wasn't picking up your calls and you needed to talk with him.

You groaned when he didn't pick up your call for 8th time deciding to just write him a message instead since you were getting drained due to nervousness and as the time passed, you were overthinking about how he would react.

You took a deep breath thinking about how you were going to start, you didn't expect yourself to lose control over your conscious state so easily.

To Jun : Hey, how have you been? I am sorry I couldn't contact you from past few weeks and you were too busy too, I tried calling you so many times because I wanted to talk to you about something but you weren't picking up so this is the only way I could get done with this and not feel anxious. Jun, I'm sorry, I know you would be confused as to why I am apologizing but I'm really really sorry, I'm crying as I write this I'm sorry I betrayed you. I never thought I would get attached with Jeonghan, I didn't think too much while I hungout with him, I genuinely saw him as a friend Jun, but he was so sweet to me and we kind of clicked, I was missing hanging out with you and he was there to fill your spot that I couldn't push him away, your thoughts were completely blocked by the thoughts of him, I forgot about you, I'm so sorry.

You took a deep breath to steady yourself as you wiped out your tears before hitting the sent button, he wasn't even delivered, he wasn't even online. You took the phone again typing another message.

To Jun : I don't think I can continue our relationship with the guilt I'm carring and you deserve better, I'm sorry I betrayed you like that I wasn't in my right mind I'm so sorry. I don't expect you to forgive me but don't blame yourself please, you're my best friend and this just isn't right. I shouldn't have broke your trust like that but whenever I am with Jeonghan I can't think of anything else other than him please don't be angry I really want to apologise for the damaged that I caused but this relationship just wouldn't work, I can't do this, I can't handle long distance relationship well I'm sorry.

You hit the sent button, getting away from the phone and started doing the house chores to keep yourself busy till the time he replied but he didn't.

You finished the chores later and went towards your phone to see if anything was sent but it wasn't which disappointed you as well as made you more anxious, what was in that mind of his.

You went inside the shower to relax your muscles and got dressed and did your night routine before plopping on your bed and tucking yourself inside the blanket.

You got you phone to see just a single message notification, your heart beat increasing as you unlocked the phone.

To y/n : Have you lost your mind? Are you aware what you're trying to say? How can you do this to me? I thought you loved me y/n this isn't a joke. I am studying and working my ass off here just for me to come home to see this? Do you realize how happy I was seeing all those calls and messages from you thinking you just missed me that much only to find out what? That you cheated on me? Is that what you're trying to say? I loved you, I love you so damn much and you did this? You had the nerve to even message me about it y/n, do you realizes you have tore me apart. I don't even know how to behave how dare you? I'm so angry, I did so many things for you, I didn't care about my own reputation just to gain your love and you let it go to waste? Don't you dare contact me after this y/n it's over between us, how will I trust someone else after what you did to me? I'm blocking you, I don't even want to see your face cause I myself don't know if I would be able to control my anger if I did, I hope that you atleast don't cheat him. I hate you y/n I hope you realize what you lost and what you did. Don't contact me or show me your face ever again I'm blocking you.

Your eyes with in tears once again as you read his message again and again, you knew he had blocked you and he was so damn angry. He should be, you deserved his anger.

[365daysofsasuhina]

[ 365 Days of SasuHina || Day Three Hundred Thirty-One: Boiling Water ] [ Uchiha Sasuke, Hyūga Hinata ] [ SasuHina ] [ Verse: Best Years of Your Life ] [ AO3 Link ]

Another day...another away basketball game. Which means a pretty empty classroom for the Home Ec group.

And Sasuke still has a lot on his mind regarding the class.

It’s true that he’s really enjoyed this semester. He had his doubts in the beginning. It has a bit of a reputation for being...well, girly. Of course, now he knows better. Sewing, cooking, cleaning...it’s not a girl thing, it’s a person thing.

While most of his classmates are underclassmen girls, they’ve subtly - in their own way - help impress just such a fact upon him. Doesn’t matter what you are. Got a hole in your shirt? You can fix it, just gotta know how. Need to make a dessert for a friend’s potluck? You can make one, just gotta know how! And literally everyone needs to know how to clean. Otherwise...you’re just gross.

In short, he went from one of those senior guys to a better equipped soon-to-be-adult. And also from someone rather intimidating in the class to the girls’ favorite person to fill in on gossip and ask opinions for. From scary upperclassman to adopted older brother of the class, really.

Well...for everyone except one person.

Hinata’s been...different. Mostly because she’s a senior, like he is. But also because she’s pretty much teacher number two. A copilot for the class, but especially for Sasuke. She helped him catch up in a variety of the class’s aspects, but especially cooking. Which his mother has been ecstatic about.

And over time, it’s become less about him learning from her, and more just...hanging out with her. They use free days to just...sit and cook things and talk. He hasn’t ever really had a friend like her before. Mostly he’s only ever just been commandeered into friendships like that with Naruto, or Shikamaru, or any of the other guys in their year. Any girls he’s met have generally been obnoxious and only wanted one thing from him.

...ironic then that the one he’s been able to tolerate and actually befriend...he’s been trying very hard not to feel more than that for.

He didn’t even mean for it to happen! It just...did! She’s so kind, and soft-spoken, and sweet...and she’s never treated him like the other girls have treated him. Like some kind of prey to be stalked and hunted down. It drives him up the wall...no, Hinata just treats him like anyone else. Like a friend.

And...and that’s what he wants.

...ugh.

It just so happens, too, that this entire conundrum is coming up as the semester is about to end. Technically Sasuke only needs one semester of this class to meet his requirements for graduation. And at the beginning of the year, he had assumed he’d be thankful once it was over. But now...he’s not so sure. And not just because of Hinata. He genuinely enjoys the class, and wants to stay.

There’s just one problem: his dad has been hounding him about taking as many “attractive” classes to colleges as he can. And needless to say that a Home Ec course doesn’t really do much for him in that regard.

Which leaves Sasuke in a bit of a bind. Does he ignore his father’s very obvious hinting and risk making him mad? Or does he abandon one of his favorite classes to please him (and whatever university ends up accepting him), making himself all the more miserable?

It’s been bugging him for a few weeks now...and he really isn’t sure what to do.

So...he decides to ask the one person he thinks he should.

“Another quiet day,” Hinata muses, letting her bag rest near the table she always sits at. “Well...want to cook something?”

Sasuke doesn’t reply at first, and her head tilts curiously.

“...Sasuke?”

“Could we maybe do something...else first?”

“Um...sure! What...what were you thinking?”

“I’d like some advice.”

Pale eyes blink in surprise. “...okay! Um...would you like some tea for while we...talk?”

“...yeah, that’d be nice.”

Nodding, Hinata fetches one of the Home Ec room’s kettles, filling it with water and letting it sit on the stovetop. “Is...everything okay?”

“Y’know how I mentioned changing classes the other day?”

“Oh...yeah. Still haven’t m-made a decision yet?”

His head shakes.

“Well, I...I don’t know if I’m really the person to ask, Sasuke.”

“I already asked my mom. She said I should stay.”

“...I take it you, um...you haven’t asked your dad?”

“No. I already know what he’d say. And...I didn’t want to risk bringing it up and having him make up my mind for me, y’know?”

“Yeah...I get that.” Going quiet for a moment, she seems to mull that over. “...what do you want to do?”

“...I want to stay.”

“...but?”

“But...I don’t want my dad to get angry. I don’t want to risk screwing up my college apps.”

“Will half a credit really make or break you…?”

“No. I don’t think so? I don’t know!”

Holding up a hand for a pause, Hinata lets the kettle build to a steady whistle before pouring two mugs of tea. “...here.”

“...thanks.”

“Let’s sit.”

Sasuke follows, holding his cup and not yet drinking. It’s almost more soothing just to hold it.

“...before, when we talked...you said you liked this class, right?”

“Yeah.”

“And that you...you already know your major, and...what kind of job you want?”

“I guess. It’s not really that I...want it? More just I guess it’s what I’ll do.”

Hinata’s eyes lower to the table, clearly thinking. “...do you...enjoy the things we do in class? Like...would you consider them hobbies, now?”

“...some of it? Cooking, yeah. I was kinda meh about it before, but...now I really like it. The rest is just useful.”

“...then I would stay, if I were you. Your dad can’t throw much of a fit about half a credit, right…?”

Sasuke sighs, a hand running back through his hair. “...I guess not. I just…” There’s a beat of hesitation. “...my dad’s pretty strict with my brother and I. Itachi’s already getting his undergrad in business this year, and he’s going on for a master’s. I don’t even think he wants to, he just feels like he has to because Dad pushed him into it. And then he started doing the same to me when Itachi started college.”

Hinata’s expression sobers. “...I know how that goes. My father and I, we...we had a big f-falling out when I was younger about what I wanted to do. When I told him I was going to take a year off...he told me he was cutting all support once I graduate.”

“What?!”

A nod. “He doesn’t think it’s proper. So I’ll be on my own. But I don’t have a plan...nothing’s ever felt that c-clear to me. I wanted the year to take and just...discover myself. See if...there was something I wanted to pursue.”

Sasuke’s brows furrow with a frown. “...I still say you do culinary stuff. You’re so good at it, Hinata! And you clearly enjoy it! Screw your dad and his snotty standards. Take a year, explore, and then go to culinary school. Look...I know there’s a pretty good program with the local community college. I bet you’d do great, and it wouldn’t be very expensive. Hell, I’d help you if I could.”

At that, her face slackens in surprise. “You...you really…?”

“You’re like...the nicest person I know. If your dad’s gonna treat you like that, it’s his loss, not yours. It’s your life, ‘nata. Do what you want with it.” Sasuke takes a gulp of tea in a spike of temper, feeling it burn down his throat. “...and if you open that baker you talked about? I’ll come work for you - do your books and stuff. Doesn’t matter what I’m doing otherwise. I’d do it.”

“But...w-why…?”

“Cuz you’re my friend. And I want to support you. Look...I know it’s only been a semester, but...you’re one of my best friends. Maybe even my best friend. So what kinda friend would I be back if I didn’t do that much, huh?”

To his own surprise, her jaw trembles, tears beading along her lids. “No one’s...n-no one’s ever...told me that before. Just...said I should do it.”

“Then you need to find better people to be around,” he mutters stubbornly.

“...thank you, Sasuke. Heh…” She dashes at her eyes with a sheepish smile. “...this was supposed to be advice for you...not me.”

“Hey, it’s a two-way street. I’ll stick to the class. That much we pretty much already knew anyway, right?”

“...right.”

Sasuke’s eyes flicker between her own, which stare a bit somberly at the table. “...it’ll be fine, Hinata. Besides, we’ve got a whole semester before we graduate. You can make some plans between now and then. Just...forget your dad and his attitude. It’s all gonna work out.”

“...I hope so.” Finally looking up, she gives him a rosy-cheeked smile. “...I’m glad you’re staying. It...it means a lot to me to have you to talk to, and just...y’know...hang out with. Is...is that lame?”

“...nah, it’s not lame at all.”

                                                           .oOo.

     (This is a sequel to days 98, 108, 139, 227, 284, and 301!)       Heyyy, guys - sorry for the unexpected two day break. But uh...I'll talk more about that below for anyone wondering. For now, about the drabble!      We're back in the Home Ec verse! I love this one, for a couple of reasons. Mostly cuz it's just so domestic and slice-of-lifey, y'know? It's relaxing, even when writing more stressful parts for them like this one. I dunno. It's just nice xD Not really a full 'story' per se since not much really...HAPPENS. But it's one of my favorite series.      Anyway, a lil behind-the-scenes for a second, which comes first with a little warning: the rest of the year is going to be VERY busy for me due to some irl changes happening this month. The next two weeks especially, but it'll probably drag on until at least the new year...I dunno. But in short, I've been missing so many days the last few weeks because life is REALLY stressful, and I've just been too tired. Add in that I have a chronic illness to deal with, and just...yeah. I get behind and have to take breaks.      And honestly I'm getting very burnt out by a whole year of writing an average of 1500 words A DAY. For reference's sake, this challenge JUST past 500,000 words. And I also did SHM, which was another 30,000, and ANOTHER ship month which was 75,000. That's over 600,000, and that's not counting other side projects I've done. So yes, I write other things too, but that makes this challenge all the more...well, challenging. For reference, today's prompt was for November 27. That's how far behind I've gotten. But there's just...really not much I can do about it, sadly. I don't have time to make them up, and likely will just have to drag the event out past December 31. Then on top of that there's organizing all the mini series for AO3, and just...yeah. I'm gonna need a LONG break once that's done before I even THINK of taking on all the projects I want to that will stem from this challenge.      SO, in short...just please be patient with me ;w; I'm doing my best, and in the end - as much as I love this - it IS just fanfiction. Real life has to come first. So I hope you'll bear with me for the last few weeks, and then the much-needed hiatus once it's over to recup before hopefully turn some of these into proper fics. We'll see how life goes.      But, that's enough rambling out of me! I just thought I'd elaborate a bit in case anyone was curious. I'm all right, just...very busy and stressed ^^; So I'll just have to take this challenge as I can. But thanks to everyone sticking with it. I appreciate it! On that note, though...I better go. Thanks for reading!

[continuallycrow]

i wanna know (when the pain stops)

Linhardt has 'Good Days'. Linhardt also has bad days.

title from dread by nothing,nowhere.

basically this is what happens when my brain helpfully supplies me with "what if the reason linhardt naps a lot is because he has a chronic illness but they're not really named or recognised in the time period of three houses".

i listened to a lot of nothing,nowhere. and this happened.

can be read as gen or gay aside from the very last line which is gay. caspar and linhardt are both sixteen.

Linhardt always knows, when he wakes, whether it’s going to be a good day. Or at least, a ‘Good Day’. He’s taken to borrowing the air quotes Caspar loves so much when it comes to describing the highs. Mostly because it means he has the energy to do them, and sometimes, it’s the little things.

A ‘Good Day’ begins with sleep, late enough that the morning rising over Garreg Mach is bright enough to creep in through the drapes, but not late enough that Edelgard is knocking on the door, demanding in shrill tones that he “better not be about to skip a lecture again!” It means he can wake up, swallow whatever potion or herbal tea Professor Manuela wants him to try this month, and dress in his own time. He replaces the burned-out candle from the night before, puts away the book he was reading before he fell asleep, and straightens the bedsheets, sometimes tucking them in if it feels like it’s worth it. He pulls the curtains aside and the day streams into the room, illuminating the dust motes, the sun warm on his hands. He dares to think, perhaps, that today will be fine.

There’s time for breakfast, even, sometimes, and he can walk there. The monastery grounds hold his many fellow students, clustered in pairs and groups talking, or walking alone to their duties and classes. Annette and Mercedes bid him quiet good mornings in unison as he passes, and he responds with a greeting and small smile in return. He meets Ashe under the arches, and they walk to the dining hall together, the grey-haired boy spinning a tale of Alois and the stable cats, and as Linhardt listens to his chatter and not-too-distant birdsong, he wishes all days would be like this.

Later, he is the last to their classroom for Professor Byleth’s lecture, but only by seconds, since Petra spots him from across the courtyard and sprints for the door - and of course, he understands why, because he’s late so often it would be an insult to the professor to walk in behind him. As it turns out, though, they both arrive before the professor himself. Linhardt slides with almost ease into his seat at the desk he shares with Caspar, and it’s as though the shorter boy’s whole demeanor lights up. “Lin! You made it.” Caspar beams, and Linhardt’s chest blooms with warmth. “Of course,” he replies, like it’s the simplest thing in the world. And really, it should be. Making it to class before the cathedral bells ring is supposed to be the easy part of academy training. Punctuality is a simple request, if he listens to what Seteth says.

Caspar only seems to grin wider. He scoots closer to Linhardt on their shared bench, and then Linhardt is being hugged. It surprises him every time, the affection that Caspar is so willing to give him. Others treat him like he’s made of spider-silk or blown glass, afraid to so much as bump into him in the hallways or land more than a tap during training. And of course, it’s sensible, for the most part. But it’s like Caspar can read him at a glance, and the embrace is the perfect amount of pressure, of warmth. So Linhardt allows himself to melt for just a moment, closing his eyes and finding the right way to return the gesture. For a few seconds, he forgets the dull ache behind his eyes, the heaviness in his limbs that even the short walk over from the dining hall has brought. All he knows in that short moment is Caspar.

“Your heart’s beating fast,” his friend whispers, shattering the spell. “My heart is always beating fast,” Linhardt reminds him gently. It’s one of the first things to slip Caspar’s mind, if he’s going to forget anything. He laughs a little as he pulls away, but stays sitting right by Linhardt’s side. It’s a good thing he takes notes with his right hand, while Linhardt uses his left. “Of course. I’m sorry.” “There is no need to be.”

Professor Byleth chooses that moment to stride in, and what could become of their conversation is lost to the respectful silence that sweeps the room. “Good morning, Black Eagle house.” A chorus of greetings in return. “We will begin today by recalling the sword blocking technique we studied last week. Ferdinand, if you would join me here…”

On a ‘Good Day’, Linhardt’s notes are neater than Caspar’s. His script is small, neat, slanted to the right in neat lines across his pages. On a ‘Good Day’, there are no ink spills or broken quills. There is simply the professor’s voice, and Caspar by his side, and when he’s asked to stand and demonstrate Recover on Edelgard as one of Bernadetta’s arrows goes awry, he’s more than happy to do so.

----

It stands to reason, of course, that after a streak of ‘Good Days’, and better days, and average-but-not-terrible days, the black clouds will come at their worst. And it’s just typical of Linhardt’s luck for it to all come tumbling down, just as he was beginning to hope he might feel better one day.

He first wakes to the bells chiming early morning - exactly what time, he can’t tell, because each toll sends what feels like earth-shattering pain through his head, radiating down his spine. It’s only because it’s early and the dormitory walls are thin that he finds it in him to grit his teeth, to hold back the cry that so desperately wants to tear out. He pulls the blanket over his head, but even the small movement is enough to bring hot tears to his eyes. It isn’t supposed to be like this, it’s incredibly rarely like this, but when it is, every time feels worse than the last.

He searches his mind for something to blame, to bury his head in the pillow and curse until his lungs give out. But there’s nothing there, nobody to spit at, because everything they’ve been doing, to try and help… it’s been working. Manuela’s latest syrup, infused with fresh herbs from Dedue’s small patch in the greenhouse, has had all but cured his headaches, pushed back the constant looming nausea to a level where he’s been eating three regular meals for weeks now. He’s been putting on a little healthy weight - putting on muscle , much to Professor Byleth’s delight, his hands hardly shake at all when he draws back the string on a training bow - and attending all his classes. He takes up weapons at the training ground and works to a programme devised just for him by the professors and Edelgard. A little more every day. Just three nights ago, he accepted Caspar’s offer of a duel after hours, and damn near knocked him across the classroom with his first successful Cutting Gale. He sleeps through the night, and only naps once a day, if at all.

He’s been getting better.

And yet, now, he’s powerless to do anything but lie motionless on his stomach, alone in his room. With the blanket pulled over his head, his feet and ankles are exposed and freezing. He’s always struggled to retain body heat, but the thought of moving to resolve the problem is too much. It’s all too much. So he shivers, and slips in and out of restless sleep, waking with tears drying on his cheeks more times than he cares to keep count of.

Daylight comes, and brings with it the soft sound of rain at the windows, because, well, of course it does. Linhardt’s father once hypothesised that his pain changed with the weather, and while experience has only served to prove that wrong time and time again, (he skates on the monastery pond with the others when mid-winter allows, and more than once has been bedridden as his friends frolic in the Blue Sea Moon sun - he missed Caspar’s sixteenth birthday, and is sure the regret will never leave him) it does seem that whenever the rain comes, so does the deep-set ache in his bones. He doesn’t see himself falling asleep again, at least not without a heavy dose of healing magic and another new potion or balm to try, and he knows that sooner or later, someone will come looking for him.

He doesn’t wait long. The thing about Edelgard is she seems to have a sixth sense when it comes to members of her house missing class. She must have a routine. Checking the infirmary, passing Bernadetta’s door to haul her, kicking and screaming, to the classroom, and then, coming by Linhardt’s room. Her sharp rapping at the door and the accompanying command of “Linhardt! Up!” is too much, too piercing, too painful. “Edel… please…” His lips are cracked, throat sore just from the effort of forcing out the words she probably can’t even hear. “I know you’re in there. Wake up!” When he doesn’t reply, she only goes on. “Come on, Lin! You’ve been so… spirited lately. So much better. I will not have you fall back to old habits. Open this door, before I open it myself.”

He knows she means it, and he doubts he’d be able to stand even if she gave him all day to do it, so he’s not surprised when the door flies open, hits the door with a thud, and reveals the princess in the light it lets in. She’s wet through from the rain, a sure sign that she’s made her way here without Hubert, as her advisor would insist upon carrying an umbrella for her. It wouldn’t do for a noble lady to catch a chill, of course. Something about that thought makes pained laughter spill from Linhardt’s mouth. How he wishes he could, one day, simply catch a cold and have that be the worst way his body could betray him. Edelgard strides in, and for a moment Linhardt fears she’s going to snatch the blanket right off him and order him to his feet. But as she blinks, her eyes adjusting to the darkness in the room, he watches her face soften, in familiar concern, and then even more familiar, pity.

Normally, he would despise her pity. But in this state, he’ll take what he can get.

“Again?” she asks, the anger in her voice melted away, replaced by a whisper. He closes his eyes against the disappointment in hers, and confirms, “Again.”

The Black Eagles all know of Linhardt’s affliction, though the Empire doctors don’t have a name for it. There was no way to keep it from the other students, either, though he suspects they think they know more than they do. He tried, of course, at first, to keep it hidden. Even lied to Caspar, whom he hadn’t seen in a year or more, and told him it was getting better, under control. Fainting at the steps up to the entrance hall within a week of enrolment had not been one of his finer moments, and had sparked a lot of questions and prying eyes. But by now, the students surround him with support, for the most part. He knows he frustrates them at times, with his constant exhaustion, his inability to concentrate or remember the point of conversations or the passages of the books he pours over, again and again, desperate to retain the information through the fog in his mind and the tears in his eyes. Sometimes it’s hard to remember a lesson, or call back a moment in battle. And it angers him, let alone them.

But now, Edelgard perches at the edge of his bed, he can feel the slight dip in the mattress as she settles there. She’s hardly the most affectionate of his classmates, but still, he appreciates the warm touch of her fingers on his icy skin, as she draws back his tangled hair from his face and ties it loosely with the ribbon he lost at some point in his sleep. He whispers a thank you, but the words are lost once they pass his lips. “You’re welcome,” Edelgard tells him anyway. “Are you absolutely certain… no. No, disregard that. You are clearly too unwell to come to classes.” She sounds as though she regrets even going to ask. “I cannot stay. But I will fetch your medication, and send for Professor Manuela the moment she is available. And some extra blankets.” Her presence is suddenly lost, but only for a moment, and he can smell sweet-mint. Too exhausted to even consider sitting up, he allows Edelgard to pour a small dose of the syrup into his parted lips, and somehow, swallows it without choking. She rearranges the blanket to cover him properly, and in lieu of a cool rag to cover his eyes, finds a small towel and lays it there, to block out the light. “Rest, Linhardt. Do what you do best.”

He hears the door close, and with the help of the medicine, manages to pass out again.

He guesses it’s mid-afternoon when he next wakes properly. He’s been roused a couple of times, first by Professor Manuela with some stronger medication and a couple of magical tests to make sure this is just another relapse, and not something that’s going to spread through the academy like the flu that did this time last year. When she’s sure it’s just him, she leaves, and the second time he wakes coherent, and she’s brought blankets from the infirmary, which he’s infinitely grateful for. He manages to thank her, and she gives him cool water to drink. When she tries to coax him into eating, though, he manages a few bites of something plain and unidentifiable before the dizziness overcomes him once more and he drifts off again.

He recognises the smooth heat of white magic before he even opens his eyes. He expects Manuela again, but instead finds Mercedes in a chair at his side, her brow knitted together in concentration as she casts healing spells over him. He watches her for a while, almost transfixed by the spirals of light bridging the space between them, until she notices he’s awake and closes her hands. “Linhardt.” She’s always so at ease, it puts his mind to rest too. “How are you feeling?” He takes a moment to answer, first assessing the state he’s in, and then deciding whether it’s worth lying to her. “Quite dreadful,” is the reply he ends up giving, with a rueful smile. “Though better than this morning. Warm, at least.” It’s a little easier to speak, easier to breathe. “Such is the way these things go, I suppose.” She stands up and picks her way over to his desk, bringing back a steaming teacup. “You absolutely must drink this. While another remedy is brewed, this will help.” The tea smells familiar, and Linhardt tries to focus on that instead of how much his body protests as Mercedes helps him sit up.

He insists on holding the cup on his own. Something about having a fellow student there, even if she is practically Manuela’s apprentice, brings a little shameful heat to his cheeks. “Angelica?” he asks, after a long moment inhaling the steam. “For nerve and joint pain.” Mercedes practically claps, which he thinks is ridiculous, because he’s a healer too. What kind of a healer would he be if he didn’t know the uses of simple herbs? He smiles anyway. “My favourite kind. Thank you, Mercie.” It’s slow, but he raises the cup in shaky hands and takes a sip. It’s perfectly warm, and brewed just right, and as he  drinks, he feels a little more human again. It clears some of the clouds in his mind, at least.

Mercedes sits with him until the cup is finished, and she talks about the weather - it’s still raining -  and an incident in the courtyard involving Ferdinand and a cat exactly the colour of his hair. It makes Linhardt smile, her insistence on filling him in on the day he’s slept away. She tells him Ashe and Annette are making sweet buns for dinner, and she’ll be sure to have someone bring him a plate, since there’s no doubt in either of their minds that he will see this day out in his bed. And when his tea is finished, she takes his cup and goes to help him lie down once more, but he pushes her away, albeit gently. “Not yet. When I want to sleep again, I will call for someone, if you leave the door ajar.” “If you’re quite sure, then of course. But I doubt that will be necessary. Your house have been quite desperate to see that you are recovering,” she tells him, still smiling. “Professor Manuela insists only one visitor. Perhaps two, if they’re quiet. But last I heard, Caspar was willing to spar someone for the honour, so…”

Despite everything, that idea is so undisputedly Caspar that it makes Linhardt laugh, for the first time all day. “Let him come. No, tell him I requested him, specifically. The others can wait.” “Of course. I’ll pass the message along, I’m sure he’ll be with you shortly.” She beams. “Take your syrup before bed, as usual. The new blend should be brewed by morning, Professor Byleth has been working on it all afternoon. I hope you feel well again soon, Linhardt.” As promised, she leaves the door open just a little on her way out, and he’s left to wait for Caspar.

He listens to the rain on the window for a while, and hopes that every set of footsteps to pass his room will be his blue-haired friend. Just as he’s wondering whether he should have asked Mercedes to pick out a book for him, though he doubts he’d be able to focus his eyes enough to read more than a few lines, the air fills with the sound of running boots on wooden floorboards, and Caspar comes rushing in in a flurry of cold air and wet clothes, though thankfully without his armour and weapons, so at least Linhardt knows he hasn’t come straight from a training session. “Lin!” Caspar’s excitement at seeing him takes over for a moment, and Linhardt winces at the sudden noise, enough to be visibly uncomfortable if Caspar’s reaction is anything to go by. The shorter boy presses his hand to his mouth and mumbles out a muffled “I’m sorry!” before getting his volume under control. “I’m sorry,” he says again, once he’s taken off his academy jacket and hung it on one of the hooks on the wall. He takes Mercedes’ vacated seat by the bed, and perches on the edge of it. “Hey… I missed you today.” The easiest smile of the day makes its way onto Linhardt’s face. “Hey, Cas. I missed you too.”

They talk for a while like that. Caspar takes off his boots, and the warmth of the room dries his hair, leaving it fluffy. His hand creeps across the blankets, and when Linhardt notices it getting close to his own, he moves to close the gap, entwining their fingers. Caspar always worries about being too rough when he’s like this, yet Linhardt still hopes that before tonight ends, he’ll get to feel his friend’s arms around him. Caspar hasn’t hugged him on a bad day before, and he’s too proud to ask for it, even though he thinks, or perhaps hopes, that it might take some of the edge off, the same way it does on the days he makes it to class, or the library, or the pond.

“Come closer,” Linhardt hears himself say, later on when the candles have been lit and the exhaustion is setting in. He can see that Caspar is tired now too, and most likely uncomfortable, leaning in to talk in the dim light and still sitting on that awful chair that Linhardt hates because it makes his back kick up a fierce complaint any time he tries to work in it. “I can’t move the chair any more, Lin,” Caspar points out, trying anyway. He drops it back to the floor with a thud, and Linhardt smacks his hand lightly. “Ow. You can get on the bed, you know. Idiot.” It’s a fond insult, and accompanied by a tug at his wrist, there’s no doubt that he does, in fact, want Caspar there beside him, quite desperately. Caspar frowns. “There’s not a lot of room. I don’t want to hurt you.” “When have you ever hurt me before? You won’t. I trust you.” “You trust me more than I trust myself, you know.”

“I know I do.” Linhardt pats the bed. “We’ll figure it out. Come on.”

Caspar looks as though he’s fighting an internal battle for a moment, but he sighs and relents, and moves from the chair to the space at his friend’s side. The pillows are all propped up, and he sits against them. He’s right, there isn’t much room for the two of them, but Caspar is short for his age and Linhardt, despite everyone’s best efforts, is thin for his height, so they’ll make it work. And Caspar is so warm, so familiar, that it’s all Linhardt can do not to collapse against him and, though he’s too proud to beg, beg to be comforted and held.

Because really, that’s what it all boils down to. To Linhardt, Caspar’s presence is safety, sanctuary. It means a hand to grasp onto when it all gets to be too much, an arm around his waist when he grows weak with fatigue, a voice in his ear that tells him it’ll all be alright, even if it doesn’t seem in the moment like it will be. Sharing the bed with him is awkward and painful, but if it means they can be this close, he won’t so much as whimper.

It’s a surprise when Caspar sighs, exasperation evident in his voice. “Lin, you’re hurting. Come here.”

And he’s resting on Caspar’s chest. His friend may be shorter than he is, but when they’re pressed up together, and muscle tension has Linhardt curled in on himself to be most comfortable, the difference is barely noticeable. He lets out a shaky breath, and cuddles closer, and to his delight, Caspar’s arms wrap around him and he cuddles back.

For a moment, the room is quiet.

“Better?” Caspar murmurs into his hair, so close and yet so soft it makes Linhardt jump. “More than better. Nearly perfect,” he admits, not sure when he closed his eyes, yet making no effort to open them. If this is a dream laced with medicine and pain, he doesn’t want it to end just yet. Caspar laughs quietly, and Linhardt feels the sound go right through him, flooding his veins with warmth and bliss. He decides he doesn’t ever want to move from Caspar’s embrace, right here in his bed. “Good. That’s good. You gonna be okay?” Linhardt yawns. “Oh, absolutely. I promise.”

“You wanna go back to sleep?” “It won’t help.” “Does anything help?”

“You do.”

“Me? Sure you’re not feverish, Lin?” Caspar is laughing again, and Linhardt feels like his heart might swell right out of his chest. “I don’t know how I do. But you’ve always got me.”

“Don’t leave,” Linhardt hears himself murmur. “I’ll sleep, but don’t leave.”

He hears the smile in Caspar’s voice. “I couldn’t, even if I wanted to.” And perhaps Linhardt imagines the kiss to his hair, as slumber pulls him in once more.

[chronicallyfabulous4]

Insomnia...

Likely the first post of many about being awake at stupid o’clock. Got a sleeping baby on one side of me and a snoring man on the other. I’m jealous of how easy it is for other people to sleep. It takes me hours, and even then I’m the lightest sleeper ever. The slightest noise and I’m in the bedroom window like a possessed meerkat looking for nefarious characters up to no good in the street outside. Most of the time it’s the wind, or people returning home from wherever, or (rarely) neighbours having an argument. I don’t think anything interesting has ever happened in our street in the middle of the night.

As much as I hate not being able to sleep, sometimes there’s something quite wonderful about being awake in the middle of the night. In my experience, chronic insomniacs form sort of a community in the wee hours. You can always tell a fellow insomniac by the speed in which they reply after 1am. And only other chronic insomniacs understand the internal conflict that comes with not being able to sleep.

For those who are not chronic insomniacs, I’ll spell it out. You can’t sleep. Your brain won’t switch off. You feel like you’ve had four cups of coffee (even though your sleep hygiene is impeccable and you know not to drink caffeine after 6pm) and you can’t stop thinking about what you did last week or your holiday plans for next year or the argument you had a few days ago. You want to sleep. Sort of. You can almost feel that heavy woozy blanket starting to slide down your arms as you’re propped up reading a book/watching tv, so you lie down. And now you’re awake. Brain is back to life. What are we having for tea tomorrow? Maybe we should paint the spare room. I need some new jeans. The landing needs hoovering, I’ll do that tomorrow. Oh but the bathroom needs cleaning, that’s a quiet job I could actually do that now…

Most of the time, I’m a better and more thoughtful and responsive friend after midnight than I am at any other time. Start a conversation with me at 00.30 and I am your girl. Deep dark secrets? Let’s talk. I am here for you. 11am, you need to talk? Sorry, the little man in charge of my brain is napping, I can’t follow the conversation, please come back in 13 hours for a more appropriate response to your problem.

Ok. Bathroom clean. Check time. Lie down. Try to sleep. Eyes open, check time. How has it only been 15 minutes? This goes on and on and on. It is a continuous battle. You know that even if you lie down and close your eyes and try to sleep with every single ounce of willpower that you have, you know that you’re not going to be able to sleep, so you find things to keep you occupied. But you also feel really guilty because you know that you should really be trying to sleep, like normal people do. So you get a bit defensive about being on your phone playing candy crush at 3am, because normal people don’t play candy crush at 3am, normal people are asleep at 3am, but you’re not normal. And you know that even if you did put your phone away and improve your “sleep hygiene”, you’d still be lied awake, alone, in the dark, twiddling your thumbs, waiting for your brain to stop running at a mile a minute so that you can finally crash out and grab a few crappy hours of sleep before the day starts again. It’s torture. We’re tired because we never get a good night’s sleep. To use the technical term, we get 2-3 hours of non-restorative sleep and this means that we’re perpetually grumpy and promise ourselves an early night to catch up on the sleep we missed the night before, and then suddenly it’s 11.45pm and we’re still wide awake despite going to bed at 9. I read somewhere once that every hours sleep achieved before midnight is worth two of those achieved after midnight, which I think is a load of rubbish. My brain doesn’t know what time it is so how can it quantify the worth of an hours sleep based on time? Ridiculous. If that was the case then the whole world would go to bed at 4pm and get up at 2am.

Anyway. I’m going to have to try and go to sleep. And by that I mean I’m going to put on a creepypasta and lie in the dark until my brain stops running in circles around my skull.

[millionsofmarks]

INTRODUCTION POST

*** This is just an intro post, skip if you want and go straight to the design's post that you are looking***

*** Or if you looking for my Gogetfunding campaign, my store or my other social media accounts, there should be buttons somewhere here. But if they are missing, the links are listed at the bottom of this post***

Why Alien?

Because even though there are almost 8 billion humans on this planet, I can never get connected with any of them. It's like I'm different. An anomaly. The way I think, see and behave always been so different from others. So I have always been an outsider. Outside looking in. Never fit in anywhere. Also because I’m suffering from AvPD (avoidant personality disorder). Problem getting close to people. I’m born weird. It's like I don’t know how to be a human. So I avoid people. Lastly, I’m also a chronic dreamer. My head is always in the cloud. Or to be precise, in outer space. It's like there’s another planet in my head. So I believe there’s maybe some advantage for your humans to hear me out, it’s good to have a different perspective. Besides, I have a planet full of stories and ideas to share too.

My Lifelong Dream

I had this silly dream since small to make a difference in this planet. And I want to do it with my marks and by helping others. I just want my life to mean something and that I mattered before I die. And my mark so people might remember me when I gone.

The 'Dead' line

And my end, I believe, is quite close as I'm facing all kind of issues right now, some of which can end me before I can achieve my dream (You could learn more of them at Gogetfunding)

My Marks

So with clock’s ticking, I want to make my marks as quickly as possible. I already started a t-shirt designing business. And if it becomes successful and I’m still alive, other mediums like graphic novels, fiction books, tv shows, and movies will follow up suit too. So follow me as I create more marks in the future. And as for the “helping others” part, I'm donating 10% of whatever profit I made to a variety of charities depending on the cause that I’m promoting for that particular mark. And in the future, I hope I will give more. And as I still want to live until old age, the rest of those profits will go toward my self-preservation, solve some of the other issues that I’m facing and achieve my other dreams (more on that in Gogetfunding). But before that, there are things you should know about me.

My Many, Many Flaws

1)Like I mentioned before, I have AvPD. It’s really hard for me to interact with people. Just the thought of talking or replying to people will make me hyperventilating. So if I don’t reply to your comment or reply it with just a few words, please forgive me. I’m not trying to be snob or anything. It’s just that I’m programmed that way. I can’t be sociable even if my life depends on it. 2)I’m a born idiot. So I’m predisposed to making really stupid mistakes and offend people a lot. So if you are offended by any of my works, words or my actions, please forgive me. It’s not my intention to do so. 3)My drawing and my computer graphic designing skills are rudimentary at the best because the only training I got are bits and pieces that I get from youtube. And my social media and my I.T knowledge are even worse. Before this, I have avoided them like the plague. So if you think my work are bad, I’m truly sorry. But please do correct me if I did something wrong and teach me if you can (I love learning).   4)I'm not very articulate. It’s hard for me to say right words or what exactly in my mind. So, I tend to rewrite my post or my tweet a lot to get the message right. And I'm also my very own worst critic. So whatever work I have done, I always see flaws in them and I want to correct them always. And as I’m still in my learning stage, I will be experimenting a lot too. So if these annoy you, please forgive me. Just bear with me on this. It’s something that I can’t seem to shake off no matter how much I tried.  5) My marks usually have some messages behind it. I'm not trying to be holier than thou nor am I wise. Actually, I'm the total opposite. And because I want to represent everyone (men, women, race, religions, nationalities etc), I will put my two cents in everything. Ii’s just that I don’t usually don’t speak up in the outside world because of the fear of appearing stupid. But everyone should have a voice. So, here’s mine before my time’s up. And I tend to write long. It’s my nature. So, bear with me on this too. 6)There may be a long gap between my marks because (i)I’m still in my learning stage, (ii) I’m a slow pace person (iii)I’m a super-sensitive person. So, I get hurt easily from criticism or failures and these things takes time for me to heal (iv) I have to fight my many inner demons like depression, procrastination, fear, self-loathing, etc. to get anything done and the final reason is that (v) I'm dead. If it's come to that, I would like to take this opportunity to say thank you for all your support, sorry and goodbye.

Dying Wish

1)I wish to be anonymous here. This way, I can be myself, my true self, the one behind the mask that I put on for the world. And if the people start looking for me with torches and pitchforks, I can always run back to whatever hole I was hiding before. 2)Please like and share my posts with as many people as you possibly can. Because you are my only hope link to this world.

Final Note

Follow me as I have lot of marks to show you. I hope you like them and make your mark too with me on this planet. Thank you for checking out my blog. And now, let my world domination begins. Muahaha.

STORE (to shop or to check out) GOGETFUNDING (to help me survive) TWITTER (Follow me here) INSTAGRAM (if you bought my apparels, take a picture wearing it and make your mark here using my hashtag #millionsofmarks)

[littlechronicillnessthings]

Feedback!

Hey everyone, I have something I want to ask, and I need some opinions so I’ll likely reblog this multiple times. 

One of the main things I wanted to do when I made this blog was foster not only a space for psychically disabled folks, but also a space for communication. Whether it’s asking for support, spreading awareness, getting feedback, news, etc etc, I really wanted to build a place where we could all talk. 

I’ve kind of realized that maybe tumblr doesn’t work as well for what I had wanted! All of the messages being routed through one place, a lot of which can get missed because I have multiple blogs, and my own forgetfulness meaning a lot of them can just sit in the inbox for a long time, and the difficult way tumblr’s always been set up for replying and discussing on reblogs. Them taking away the ability to snip reblog chains also affects it IMO, because some people don’t like adding on to an already long post. 

So, I was thinking, what would you all think if I made a subreddit for us? The ability to tailor one’s feed based on recent posts, popular posts, etc seems way more useful for communication! The ability to scroll past topics in a quick manner without having to slog through pages and pages of one blog with a half-assed tagging system would, I assume, also be easier. (On that note I’m sorry about the mess of tags, or lack thereof, I started out well and then it snowballed ToT) 

I know a lot of people dislike Reddit for obvious reasons, but the ability to lock a sub and only let people in on an invitation only basis would be great if any problems arose! And I can’t speak for everyone, but I’ve found depending on the subs you visit, Reddit can actually be pretty pleasant! 

Having a Reddit Sub would mean I’d be able to expand my ideas in a much more cohesive format, too. I’d be able to make threads for the Chronic Illness Vents event I started, and instead of me having to ferry messages through and try not to forget about them, they’d already be posted and available for everyone to see and discuss!! I could also start my idea of Chronic Illness Positivity discussions, for those things that sometimes don’t suck as much as others. I’ve also had ideas for where I wanted to get feedback and info from people to start a monthly illness highlight thing, where people who deal with issues that aren’t as common get a chance to talk about it and spread their own awareness! 

I have so many ideas but it seems like no matter how I try to do it, tumblr’s format doesn’t match up with what I envision. 

If anyone would be interested in a Reddit community based on this blog, and the things I wanted to do with it, but seem unable to because of tumblr’s format, please let me know! I don’t want to make a sub and then have no one on it from here because of a lack of interest. 

As an aside: if I did/do make a sub reddit, this blog WILL NOT be going anywhere. I’ll still be here and doing stuff! The Sub would just be where most of the more interactive things would be, is all. 

[spotifypremiumapks]

Who is Abigail Elphick? Wiki, Biography, Age, Family, Video, Instagram

Abigail Elphick Wiki - Abigail Elphick Biography

Abigail Elphick is the New Jersey woman nicknamed "Victoria's Secret Karen." Video of an incident involving her at the Short Hills Mall has gone viral. The 25-year-old woman was seen in a video charging a black woman, Ijeoma Ukenta, and later claiming to be the victim. Ukenta posted videos of the incident on TikTok and YouTube. On Twitter, some people criticized the Millburn Police Department and mall security for not doing more to protect Ukenta. “There were many egregious violations of her rights and general welfare by both the Millburn Police Department and Short Hills Mall security. Abigail Elphick should have been arrested {and still needs to be arrested} and at least charged with assault and intent. of theft, ”wrote one Twitter user. NJ.com reported that the incident began when Ukenta, 38, of Newark asked Elphick to move six feet away from her. At one point, Elphick appears to raise his hand towards Ukenta in the video. The police report says this caused Elphick "to have a panic attack, at which point she followed her to stop recording her," according to the news site. The police did not make any arrests. "Pending further review, the Millburn Police Department believes that our officers acted in a professional and competent manner to defuse the situation and restore calm and order," the police statement reads to NJ.com. “I was banned from Tik Tok, yet everyone else was able to tell my story. I'm traumatized, ”Ukenta wrote on Twitter. Victoria's Secret issued a statement saying that “the safety of associates and customers is our top priority and we are committed to creating a safe and welcoming environment for all. The video taken at our store is disturbing and we have launched a full investigation. Our associate followed our protocols and immediately called our Emergency Operations Center, as well as mall security, to provide support during the altercation between our clients. We are dedicated to continuing this critical conversation and demonstrating our commitment to diversity, equity and inclusion through our actions and our words. "

Abigail Elphick Age

Abigail Elphick is 25 years old.

Elphick can be seen in uploading videos

The video series begins with Elpnick charging at Ukenta and trying to hit her and the camera. She backs off when Ukenta says, “My God. Oh, Lord. See this? Oh, Lord. I never thought anything like this would happen to me. She tried to run and hit. "Elphick then crouches down, holding her head in her crying hands, and says," No, I didn't. "She says," I don't want to be recorded. " Ukenta tells other customers and workers: “Did you see that? … Karen had a nervous breakdown. She tried to hit me. "Elphick again states that she did not try to hit Ukenta and says," I don't want to be recorded, "while crying. While Elphick continues to cry, Ukenta, holding a coupon in front of the camera, says:" I tried to come to get my free panties. "Elphick then yells," Why aren't you defending me? I just don't want to be recorded. " Elphick then yells and yells, "Don't record my mental breakdown, please. Please please please." The second video begins with Elphick lying on the ground, screaming and kicking. "She's recording me. Tell her to stop," she squeals. "You keep lying saying I'm threatening you, so I'm filming to protect myself," Ukenta replies. She doesn't seem to be very close to Elphick. The video shows Elphick yelling and running towards Ukenta, who was filming the scene. Ukenta kept repeating that she was concerned that the police would believe Elphick if she claimed that Ukenta attacked her when the video shows Elphick charging at Ukenta and Ukenta doing nothing more than recording the scene. "She's trying to attack me, no, no, no," Ukenta says at one point. "Once the law comes, who are they going to believe?" She says that she is concerned that the police will believe Elphick about Ukenta because Elphick is white and Ukenta is black. Elphick, who makes a phone call at one point, yells, “Stop her so she doesn't record. ... She is recording my mental breakdown. ... My heart races ". Ukenta narrates: "She's lying on the phone. I don't give a damn if she's sick. I'm worried about myself. This is real. This is really happening to me. She's on the phone with the police for me and she was chasing me around the damn thing. store ". At another point, Ukenta says, "I just came to get a free panty, that's all.… This lady chasing me. Now she's calling the police. I can't believe security isn't here. This is how black people die. Do you see what these people do? They call the police and they call in a panic and tell the police that you are doing something to them when clearly she was chasing me around the store. " She also says, "I don't want to turn my back on this white lady, sorry. She's crazy. Did you see her trying to accuse me again? That's the third time." The video does not show Ukenta attacking or making any moves towards Elphick. Read Also: Who is Angela Alberts? Wiki, Biography, Age, Trev Alberts’s Wife, Children, Instagram

GoFundMe campaign

Ukenta created a GoFundMe page that had raised over $ 38,000 as of July 13, 2021, a day after it was created. "I am a black Muslim Nigerian AM and I was treated like it was 1920 in Short Hills Mall. I was assaulted and harassed by a white woman and neither security nor police did anything," she wrote on the page. “I am looking to hire an excellent lawyer who can help me clear up this problem. All videos and updates on the situation are on my YouTube channel: Mama Africa Muslimah. They threw me a TikTok for posting what happened to me and they let someone else post and get millions and millions of views, however, they deleted 2 of my accounts. … One that I have for my garden that was my original account and another 1 that I created after my main account was deleted. I have been harmed by Abigail Elphick (Karen in my videos), Short Hills Mall security, the Millburn Police Department, and most of all, humanity. Please help!"

Elphick told officers that he wanted the video to be recorded

In a video, Ukenta read what he said was a police report: I spoke to the "crazy lady" and told her that she had spoken with the store clerk and that they replied that what Miss Ukenta had said had happened. Miss Elphick seemed to admit that she was wrong and she said she was worried about losing her job and her apartment if the video was posted online. She was having a panic attack from the video recording. I told you that Miss Ukenta has the right to videotape. I asked her several times if she was okay and if she needed an ambulance. And she repeatedly refused. She kept expressing her concern for her job and her apartment. She finally said that she was going home, I asked her if she could drive and she answered yes. At this time, Ms. Elphick voluntarily left the mall with mall security. Ukenta says in a video update: “I see everyone asking me for an update. I'm at the police station. I have the police report, which is somewhat true, but very, very long. I'm happy I recorded because even the officers said that I only showed him the video of her lying on the floor when I showed it to him. Of course, first, they took a statement because she, of course, she called the police. And she completely lied. She is trying to say that I started recording her, which triggered a panic attack, at which point she followed me to try to get me to stop recording. " She adds: So, I am filing a complaint against the two officers who responded. I did not feel protected. I am also filing a complaint against the mall security. Victoria's Secret, in my opinion ... what can we expect? Grab this woman? The manager even sent someone to walk to get security because they were taking too long. So, I really don't have a problem with them ... not at the moment. Now if they give us trouble getting the video, we'll talk about that. That will be another story. "The Internal Affairs Division is now investigating the matter to assess how the officers behaved," the police department said in a statement to NJ.com. "The second woman who was filming much of the incident asked officers to remove the first woman from the mall because she felt threatened," NJ.com said, as described in the police report. "The officers explained that they did not have the authority to do that because they had no indication that a crime had been committed or a crime that could be arrested." Heavy has contacted the Millburn police to get her response as well as police reports, both of which will be added to this story if received.

Elphick says she has worked as a teacher's aide

Elphick posted a short biography on a site that lists people who have a colostomy. In it, she said that she is a teacher's aide. "My name is Abby Elphick," she wrote. “I was diagnosed with chronic constipation and pelvic floor dysfunction. I am a 24-year-old woman who has a colostomy. I am a paraprofessional assistant/teacher who works with children. I love walking outside, shopping, eating out at restaurants! I want to feel comfortable with people who have an ostomy like me to know that I am not alone! " Online records show that she has ties to Cedar Grove and Newark, NJ. The Cedar Grove School District has denied that she is an employee there, writing in a note at the top of its home page: “The person involved in the Mall at Short Hills that took place on July 11, 2021, is missing and she has never been employed by the Cedar Grove Board of Education. " Elphick wrote on a Classmates.com profile: “I am 24 years old and I am going to school to become a Child Development Associate in teaching preschool-age students. I graduated in June 2014 from Cedar Grove High School when I was 18. " She stated on the profile, "I got good grades" and "wrote a book." The Verona-Cedar Grove Times mentioned Elphick in a 2013 article about her brother with a developmental disability and indicated that she had a colostomy. Elphick appears in a photo with her brother and her parents, Kim and Andrew Elphick. There is no state professional license for Elphick listed in the New Jersey state database.

Elphick is not related to a Secaucus

A police lieutenant created a Twitter account just to counter what she wrote were false accusations that Elphick is related to her. "Wrong. This is me and I have no kids. I also have no idea who Abigail is," she wrote in response to one such statement on Twitter. Police Lt. Kim Elphick added: “Additionally, this incident occurred at the Short Hills Mall, which is covered by the Millburn Police Department. Secaucus has no relevance to this case at all, other than the last name. " She added: “Because I am the officer that everyone says is my daughter. I don't have children and I have no idea who Abigail is. Coincidentally, I have the same name. " She concluded: “I received personal messages about what was being published. I created this account to fix it. It spread too fast to get ahead of me and tackle it. Feel free to call the agency tomorrow and I'll be more than happy to verify my identity. " FOLLOW US ON FACEBOOK Read the full article

[thefaeriereview]

  Taking Stock by A. L. Lester 

Historical Gay Romance

It's 1972. 

Fifteen years ago, teenage Laurie Henshaw came to live at Webber’s Farm with his elderly uncle and settled in to the farming life. Now, age thirty-two, he has a stroke in the middle of working on the farm. As he recovers, he has to come to terms with the fact that some of his new limitations are permanent and he’s never going to be as active as he used to be. Will he be able to accept the helping hands his friends extend to him? 

With twenty successful years in the City behind him, Phil McManus is hiding in the country after his boyfriend set him up to take the fall for an insider trading deal at his London stockbroking firm. There’s not enough evidence to prosecute anyone, but not enough to clear him either. He can’t bear the idea of continuing his old stagnating life in the city, or going back to his job now everyone knows he’s gay. 

Thrown together in a small country village, can Phil and Laurie forge a new life that suits the two of them and the makeshift family that gathers round them? Or are they too tied up in their own shortcomings to recognise what they have? 

A 1970s historical gay romance peripheral to the Lost in Time universe. Stand alone, not paranormal.

A gentle story about two people who are hurt and angry and tired, finding their way toward each other and healing.

4 out of 5 fairies

Taking Stock is sweet. Honestly, I was little worried this was going to be a bit boring and dry. Instead, I kind of felt like I was watching a Lifetime movie unfold. It's sweet, and although I wouldn't say it's very fast-paced, but the way Lester writes, the slow pace feels right. Normally that sort of thing would drive me up the wall, but curled up with a hot cup of tea and a warm blanket on a cool night this was the perfect sweet escape. If you like Lifetime movies and love reading, you'll fall in love with this book.

Excerpt

  Phil found his feet turning up the lane toward Webber’s Farm a couple of days after his meeting with Laurie Henshaw almost without thought. He had got in to the habit of walking regularly early on in his sojourn in the cottage. Some days he took sandwiches in the knapsack he’d bought and just went up the footpath at the top of the lane and headed off into the winter woods. It was quiet and peaceful and he found that if he could get in to a swinging rhythm, one foot in front of the other, the swirl of anger and betrayal that seemed to accompany him like a cloud quieted, gradually draining down in to the earth as he walked. 

Today though, rather than his feet taking him up the hill in to the burgeoning spring, they took him down toward the farm. Henshaw…Laurie…had grabbed his interest in a way that nobody had for months. The man had been on his last legs sitting in the Post Office and his frustration with himself had been obvious. Phil had enjoyed coaxing a smile out of him. Sitting in the farmhouse kitchen with the quiet warmth of the Rayburn at his back, he’d spoken more about his personal life to a complete stranger than he had opened up to anyone since that awful day when Adrian had got him out of the police station.  

It would only be neighbourly to pop in and see if he was all right. That’s what people did in the country, didn’t they? Phil had been here months now, apart from a brief visit to Aunt Mary over Christmas and New Year, and if he was going to be here much longer he should probably make an effort to get to know people properly.  

That made him pause for thought. Was he going to be here much longer?  

He didn’t know. 

He walked through the farmyard cautiously. He knew enough to go to the back door, not the front. The two sheepdogs who had cursorily examined him earlier in the week shot out of the open porch and circled round, barking and wagging cheerfully. No need to knock, then. He did, regardless. And called out “Anyone home?” 

“In here,” Laurie’s voice answered, distantly. “Come in, whoever you are!”

He stepped in to the porch, past a downstairs bathroom and through the scullery with its stone-flagged floor, and pushed the door into the kitchen fully open.  

Laurie was washing up. His stick was hooked on the drainer and he was resting against the sink with one hip. He turned as Phil came in, propping the final plate on the pile beside the soapy water and reaching for the tea-towel flung over his shoulder to dry his hands. 

“Mr McManus! Phil, I mean,” he corrected himself, “what can I do for you?” 

Phil paused. He hadn’t got this far in his head. He had just…walked.  

“Erm. I was just passing?” he tried. His voice lifted at the end, in a question. 

“You were?” Laurie looked at him, one side of his mouth twisted up in a little smile. Or was that the side affected by the stroke? He didn’t know. Didn’t matter, anyway. 

“Yes. I was.” He made his voice firmer. “Sally is at my place this morning, so I thought you might let me hide here.” 

“Only if you’ll let me retreat to your place when she’s cross with me,” Laurie replied. “Although that will probably mean I have to move in, at least for the moment.” He pulled a face. 

“Have you upset her?” 

“No. Yes. Sort of….” He turned toward the Rayburn and dragged the kettle on to the hotplate. “She wasn’t very happy about me over-doing it the other day. Patsy told tales on me.” 

“Ah. Yes, I can see that. She obviously cares about you a great deal. She talks about you all the time when she comes up to do the cottage.” He paused. “Have you been together long?” 

Laurie choked and dropped one of the tea-cups he was moving from the drainer to the table. He fumbled for it and at the same time Phil stooped to catch it. They both missed and it smashed on the stone floor into a thousand tiny pieces. “Shit!” Laurie said, trying stifle his coughing. “That was one of the good ones, too.”  

He bent to pick up the pieces, still choking and Phil said, “Stop it, you bloody fool, let me. It’s everywhere.” He put his hands on Laurie’s shoulders and pushed him upward from his bent position and then back and down, in to one of the kitchen chairs. Laurie’s leg gave as he sat and he made the final descent with an unglamorous wobble. 

He was still coughing. “Sally!” he got out, around between coughs. “Bloody hell!” 

“Where’s the dustpan?” Phil asked, ignoring him. 

Laurie gestured to the cupboard under the sink. “Under there.” 

It was the work of moments to sweep it all up, on his knees at Laurie’s feet. Thankfully it had been empty. He rested back on his heels with with full dustpan. “Where does it go?”  

“Put it in one of the flower-pots on the window-sill,” Laurie said, gesturing. “I’ll stick in the bottom of a pot for drainage when I plant the new ones up.” 

Phil nodded and got to his feet. He lurched as he did so and steadied himself on Laurie’s knee as he rose. Warm, he thought. The man smelled nice. A mixture of soap and fresh air and woodsmoke. “Ooops,” he said, pushing himself upright. “Sorry.” 

Laurie grinned at him as they briefly made eye contact. Something flickered in his eyes. “Not a problem,” he said. He pointed at the window-sill behind the sink. “Knock those dead chives in the middle pot out the window in to the yard.” He grinned again, but it was a different sort of smile this time, with slightly too many teeth. “I can’t really balance to water them properly at the moment anyway.” 

Phil opened the window and emptied the dead plants outside ad then tipped the pieces of crockery in as instructed. He replaced the dustpan under the sink and stood up and leaned against it, crossing his arms. “Doesn’t Sally help with that sort of thing?” he asked, looking down at the other man. 

“No. Yes. Sometimes.” Laurie wouldn’t meet his eye and started to stand. “Sit down, let me get a new cup.” 

Phil put his hand back on his shoulder and gently but firmly pushed him back down on to the chair. “What do you mean?” he asked, in a voice that matched his grip, “No-yes-sometimes covers all the wickets.” He removed his hand and turned round to collect another cup and saucer, moving past Laurie to put it on the table beside him and then reaching to pull the kettle off the Rayburn and put both tea-leaves and the boiling water in the teapot. 

He brought the teapot over and put it on the cork table-mat in the middle of the table before opening the pantry door and rummaging in the fridge for the milk-jug. Laurie sat and let him, watching him slightly warily. 

As Phil sat down and folded his arms again, waiting for the tea to brew, Laurie muttered, “I told her not to do it.” 

“You told her not to do it?” Phil repeated. “Ah, I see.” And he did, in a way. He wouldn’t be in Laurie’s shoes for anything. 

Laurie worked his thumb over and over one of the whorls of wood in the table-top. It was smoothed from long use. “I hate it, Phil,” he said in a low voice. “I hate not being able to do all the simple things. It makes me feel useless, having them all run round after me.” 

“You’d rather let the plants die than accept help?” 

Laurie bit his lip and continued to worry at the knot in the table. “It sounds daft when you put it like that,” he said. 

Phil didn’t say anything. 

“Okay, I know it’s daft.” He looked up and met Phil’s eyes, his own anguished. “But I hate it,” he said, vehemently. “I hate it, Phil.” 

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About the Author: A. L. Lester is a writer of queer, paranormal, historical, and romantic suspense. Lives in the South West of England with Mr AL, two children, a badly behaved dachshund, a terrifying cat and some hens. Likes gardening but doesn't really have time or energy. Not musical. Doesn't much like telly. Non-binary. Chronically disabled. Has tedious fits.

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[ichoiheedong]

who Are You [JJK] M  pt .1

Genre: smut angst

Summary:- please y/N do this for me you already did a lot before so why not this time??"  Tali begged she looked pale and weak and you hated seeing your twin like this  you bit your lips you couldn't tell her the truth you were hiding - but how can i just marry him , i don't even know him  and i can't though - we look the same he will never have a clue just do it until i recover ...

heyyyy i’m back again i hope you will like this fanfic ^^ 

four years ago

you respectfully bowed to your parents and grandpa , you know they really feel sorry for you but you didn't have an other option Tali needed you again and you have to help her ,

you felt sorry for her a girl in eighteen years old who suffered from chronic pain even she was in the best doctors's hands here in Seoul, she still didn't recover but what you really hurt you how much she was tough specially to you even you were her twin.

your mother was always reassuring you say it was ok because she was suffering

you sighed and went to wear your uniform again,  you thought it will be the last time when you graduated few months ago but it seemed like you will do for few more days to save your sister

sitting in front of your mirror you brushed your long black hair and stood up passing by your sister room

the place was clean and empty ; you didn't even know when will she come back from the hospital after the surgery ,you missed her though

you grabbed her name tag ;Min Tali and her hair favorite accessory and carefully put it on ,you sprayed some of her perfume and left the house towards the car

-

you  walked again in the same corridor , fortunately your sister classmates weren't there and any way no one until this day managed to different between both of you the only thing that you got a sweet shinny smile while Tali was always quiet with a beautiful poker face and that's what you did today

it was hard but ,you needed to do it any way you're going to pass the exam in her place so she could took her graduation license

she wasn't stupid but she was sick ,and you doing this and saving her wasn't the first time any way you remembered that day she liked a boy and she couldn't even go to her first day because of her strong pain and she ended up begging you to go and meet him then telling her what happened

it was ok to do because you saw how much she suffered you always cried when you saw her in pain , when you see how much medicines she took and how often the family doctor came to your house

but what you didn't even understand why she never continue in any relation even you helped her with the first date ,even if you asked she shrugged " it's boring i don't like him any more " that was her answer...

you sat on the chair and started to work on the exam trying your best to get a good mark as always it looked easy because you did passed the same topics before

"Tali ..tali you suddenly stopped hearing some one shouting your sister's name

" hey  didn't you hear me unnie " you looked confused as you stared at the girl who looked confused too

"i'm sorry i didn't really hear you

she cutely chuckled "no problem Tali unnie , i just want to wish you good luck

you grinned "thank you so much you said looking to her name tag " Sunmi

she smiled " i wanted to have more time with you at school but you're graduating while i still have one year to follow you

aha so Tali was her senior , you didn't know how they met that's what you tried to be careful with your answers , damn it Tali never tell you she had friends at school she said she hate talking to them because all of them are stupid

" emm sunmi see you soon i need to go now bye

the girl bowed and you quickly made your way out the school asking your drive to go to the hospital

your parents were already there as they were worried about their daughter fortunately yoongi was taking care of the company

you came in and stepped towards your sister bed

she looked fine comparing to yesterday

"how are you Tali "

"fine did you finish my exam "

"yeah don't worry i did great finally you will be able to graduate "

she nodded

ah by the way i saw a girl and she talked to me her name was sunmi i didn't know you have friends i'm happy though

" she just a stupid girl , i needed her help one rainy day before because i couldn't hold my embrella so she helped me and since that day she tried to befriend me she smugly smirked

and you sighed " how could she be this heartless

you nodded and tried to talk about random things she liked at least she don't suffer ...

************

mommy mommy waterr! the boy cutely asked gripping your sweatpants

you held him walking to the kitchen jungha was your life and all what you could ask for to live happy he was cute and handsome and you adored the spark in his eyes

your ruffled his hair and sat him on the kitchen board blocking him with your torso he was gripping his iron man mag with two hands drinking

" are you hungry sweetheart

" yes can i eat apple "

sure baby boy i will grab a big yummy apple for you

three years passed since you gave birth to him and next month will be his third birthday, you didn't know how much more you will hide the fact that you had a boy now, but you were sure if your parents know this it will be the third war soon

you were their favorite child and they really support you since you graduated as you wanted to go study abroad, it was one of your best decision in life because you could start enjoying your favorite passion freely now

you loved to go camping a lot , in korea you already went to different places alone and enjoyed being lonely looking to the dark sky and the beautiful shinning stars

calm , wind whispers and peace  that's what you were in love with and now going to America you got a chance to discover many favorite zones and forest many mountains and rivers

it was what made you stronger and in love with nature even after having jungha you didn't hesitate to take him a long since a year now and the boy seemed to grew up fond of this kind of activities

the phone ring suddenly on your apartment caught your fluid of thoughts so you hurried to pick up

"y/N

it was Tali voice and she was weakly speaking

"Tali you're okay ?

" please come back i need you i'm in hospital again she said and you could hear the nurses around

"omg what happened !! the line suddenly was cut and you quickly dialed your brothers number

"yoongi oppa what's going on with Tali

"y/N don't worry please she will be ok , any way our secretary there will come in the morning to take you to the airport so please pick up your things we need you here soon

you panicked , how will you go back , jungha !! you mumbled hurrying to hug the boy who was enjoying watching  some of Disney films

" mommy this man can fly look he has a flying carpet can i have one ?

you cried and he suddenly frowned

"mommy the boy mumbled "are you ok

"yes sweetie yes but mommy will go to see your auntie for few days will you promise me to be a good boy until i come back

he looked confused god he never stay away from you so how will you leave him here?

you tried to calm down so you could think and it seemed like your best friend was the best solution now

you called her

"y/N what's up ,

"Maiva i'm in trouble i need your help you quickly told her what's going on and she asked you to bring the boy to her house

you know she was a good person who you could trust but the fact that you will not see jungha for days pushed you to cry more

he acted like a big man and it made it worse for you because you know how much he will miss you and you know he will secretly cry at night

-

the plane finally landed on korea's land and your first destination was the hospital

you thought Tali was alright but your mother told you she started to have pain again since two months and she hided that because she didn't want to under go the surgery again , you cried hearing that

she looked fine since four years and she started to go to the university and having some friends she didn't call you often but you know she was doing okay and that was what matter after all

you waited there in the corridor until the doctors let you in ...

*****

"the trip is tomorrow sir so please have some rest the secretary said and jungkook flashed a playful smile

he quit his office early today just because he needed to rest for his long trip

"why doesn't she reply " he mumbled dialing his girlfriend number again , she didn't pick up since last night and he started to get worried

three months passed since he met her in korea again she looked fine as always but more sad and confused but he didn't care

the phone rang again and again so he pressed to leave a msg

"y/N  baby are you okay please call me back i need to see you before i go to america ; my trip will be tomorrow at eleven am , i missed you "

he hung up sighing  he missed her a lot

he chuckled because how much he had change since he met her

"sir where shall i take you the driver said and jungkook looked up "

"my apartment

*********

Tali was laying on the bed when you came in , she couldn't even move her hair

you panicked seeing the machines around her and tried not to cry in front of her

" tali sweetheart i missed you you said pressing her hand

" i'm happy you come i was waiting for you the whole night you know

"tell me "

" i have a boy friend she let out and your eyes beamed "great !

" he doesn't know i'm here ,he doesn't know any thing his name is jungkook she said trying to read any expressing on your face but she didn't find any thing

"but why if you guys love each other he has the right to know "

" i'm dying y/N i don't want him to suffer i even told him my name is y/N not Tali

you gasped as you started to get what she was trying to say "no way in hell Tali

"listen sister , i was supposed to marry him soon because his company and ours is going into a partnership so you need to help me with this until i come back

"come back ?

" my dad will take me to america for treatment, I'm sorry i know this is gonna be hard for you but marry him he will never find out he doesn't know i have a twin i hated mentioning you and don't forget we lookthe same a so go on and help dad even you didn't want to help me

It's the last thing i wanted to do for him but i think my journey will end soon  

"no you're gonna be okay you said panicking but how can i marry  him i don't love him i don't even know him

" i thought of this day before that's why i wrote every thing in my diary it's in my closet go home and find it and don't worry he is in love with me so he will never find out  

you felt like a truck hit you when you suddenly remembered your son and your life in america you will say good bye to all this soon

you were looking to the window tears falling

" is it that hard you already did a lot before y/N he is so handsome you know ! remember y/n we are twins we used to like and have the same thing but fortunately dad could bring each thing twice ,now i think it's really hard to find an other jungkook one  for you and one for me, i know you will love him like i did any way so take him" she smirked it felt like she was giving you her unwanted salad

" you never wanted something i craved for but i always do, it was me who was always wanting to have what you have "Tali added and you shook your head

"don't think this way we are twins we supposed to be there for each other but seriously Tali i can't do it i just you bit your lips

"because of jungha right ?

your eyes widened as she spelled your child name

"how did you know?

" i have my ways sis , and i already think of that you can keep him telling jungkook he is my son and i need to go into a trip and you will take care of him

then when i come back you will take your son and leave and i get back my man deal

it seemed ok as long as you could keep your son next to you but you hated the fact that you needed to tell your parents all of this

"if you're thinking about our parents i will help you ,any way what happened to your son's father ? did you accidentally get pregnant

" yeah you said sighing

"you will never change  , always a stupid girl ,any way listen jungkook is leaving Seoul for ten days for a quickly work trip and he is worried i didn't talk to him since yesterday

go to meet him tomorrow in the airport  , you will have enough time to bring the boy back here and settle down until he come back

i will try to recover soon

" how much shall i do this ?

" two or three months until i recover "

-

you called Tali more than twice asking her to send you jungkook picture how could you recognize him if you didn't know him and the airport was crowded you stood up there pressing on your temples when suddenly you felt some one hugging you closer

" i was sure you will come to see me before i go "you panicked hearing his voice slowly he turned you to face him and you looked up , he was him god it was him and you were about to faint

"baby y/N why didn't you call me ?"

you were standing like a dumb as he hugged you again , i will miss you don't dare to ignore my calls ok

you grinned nodding , and he smiled you didn't expect that he will drop his lips to kiss you he kissed you slowly passionately as he hugged your waist

it was him yeah god he was the same person , the same taste ,and  the same scent ....

[ceescedasticity]

Ghost Army Enlistment

(Okay, really not kidding about deaths here.)

==> BE FUTURE ARADIA It's the fucking Gleeful Abandon that gets you. The terrible killjoy captain (not to be confused with the killjoy commodore) has finally decided that the level of haunting is interfering with operational efficiency, and contacted the Bureau of Retermination to at least get the officers' diningblock cleared out. All the administrative material was in order, you checked in, bowed and scraped, you did everything you were supposed to, and some junior subjugglator walks in, decides he doesn't WANT the ghosts cleared out, and casually crushes your throat and snaps your neck.

Feferi's given him a massive brain hemorrhage before you're even clear of your body. You give her a mildly reproving look. "I WAS going to haunt him a bit myself." "Sorry?" She sounds a little sorry. "You could still terrorize his ghost." "It's not the same." It's the work of a moment to fix your neck, followed by dozens of aches and pains which have built up over the sweeps. "Okay. I am professionally obligated to completely trash at least half the ship now, but I want to go talk to Sollux before he hears it from the official report." Oh, fuck, he probably HEARD you, too. "You mind getting started?" She cracks her knuckles. "Not at all." Sollux is upset, of course, and threatens not to help you learn to type with your brain, and gets sniffly, but you both knew this was coming sooner rather than later, and it's not like you're GONE. He agrees to message the living individually. You head off to look for Karkat, Gamzee, and Vriska -- they deserve to hear it from you before you send out an all-points bulletin to the Terrifying Ghost Army re: avenging your slightly premature demise. Skeleton -- back in the Fleet this sweep while a ghost necropath called Latecome watches the Caverns -- finds you while you're working out how to jump to Karkat's location. "Megido." She's never really picked up calling you by your adult name. "Hi," you reply absently. Where is he... oh right, Gathering Swarm. "Welcome to the club. I can see you're busy right now, but... We need to talk when you have time. There's some stuff I haven't told you." By the time you escape the -- admittedly very informative -- conversation, the rest of the terrifying ghost army has trashed at least two-thirds of the Gleeful Abandon. You just go ahead and trash the rest.

~~~~ ==> BE FUTURE SOLLUX Between hacking and your information network, you find out about the agreement to sell you out of the squadron almost as soon as it happens. The prospective buyer is higher-ranked, more conquest-focused. Fleet data indicates that he likes well-trained, integrated helmsmen. That MIGHT have been manageable, but the out of the squadron part isn't. You announce in the dropbox that you think it's time. KK throws a fit, but the out of the squadron part convinces him, too. You let Kanaya and disorderlyImpulse know transmissions on this end may be delayed for a while until you get used to ghost computing, and to hold off on routing anything to twinArmageddons until you inform them everything's transferred. It helps that disorderlyImpulse already knows about the ghost thing. Your closest friends are in the dropbox. Outside that... You consider leaving messages for Ananas, Cephal, maybe Pachex and the least odious of your techs. (Why do you have FRIENDS?) You decide against it. You'll stop by in person later. You DO leave time-delayed taunts for the captain and the more odious techs.

You initially plan on taking care of it yourself -- there are features specifically designed to keep helmsmen from offing themselves, but you sneer at their pathetic hardware constraints. But that COULD get someone else in trouble, and it might be someone you don't want to get in trouble, so you agree to let a ghost do it. Ghosts, as it turns out. AA drags you out of your body, and FF quickly and efficiently shuts down all your body's functions so no one can use it as a mindless battery. You blast the memory of biowire off your hands and feet, and avoid looking right at the body. "As long as you're at it, mind killing the helmscolumn?" You'd do it, but if you're anything like everyone else it'll be a while before you can affect the real world. "Dibs," KK says, and manifests a sickle. AA hugs you. You hug back. ~~~~ ==> BE FUTURE TAVROS Most of your colleagues from your Conscription days are gone. Even beyond the preferential treatment you get, you have a much smaller problem with some of the significant areas of chronic stress in lowbloods -- if your knees don't like the weight of your horns, you can fix them yourself with a wrench, and you added a back brace pretty early on.

But then you get sick. Really sick, and in the back of your mind where you're not too fevered to think you're pretty they're not going to spare the medicine for you. Lowbloods -- especially lowbloods your age -- don't get antibiotics. But you've built up a lot of goodwill, so you get Terezi informed before and not after, in time to visit, and you get an anesthetic overdose to make everything easy. You coalesce in the Mediculler bay to find Terezi must have passed the information on -- Aradia and Gamzee perched on the counter and Vriska pacing back and forth behind them. "Tav-bro!" Gamzee says enthusiastically. "Feeling better?" "Give him a minute," Aradia advises. "That infection did its best to fry his brain, and everyone's a little disoriented to start with." "I'm good," you say. "Infection?" "You got a cut on one of your stumps where you couldn't feel it and didn't know to treat it," Vriska says. You... guess that explains why she's here? You sit up, look at the body the medicullers are hauling away for disposal, and hastily look away. "How's Terezi?" Aradia shrugs. "Sad. Karkat's ghost stalking her." "I'm about to go join him," Vriska says, "but I need to apologize for finally killing you. I cannot BELIEVE I've now killed you how many sweeps later? Just, wow." She disappears without waiting for a response. Okay then. You stretch. Your head feels so light. Your legs feel so light. You feel like you could just float away. "...How long does it take to learn to ghost hover?" ~~~~

(==> BE FUTURE KARKAT) (You hit a lull in the Ghost Inner Circle's expansion, since Sollux checked out early. There are near misses with Terezi, plenty of them, since she no longer has to worry about endangering Tavros, but you eventually manage collectively to convince her that she should try to do for new conscripts what Sharpeye did for her, and having a few protégés settles her down.) (You master looking like you died at full growth, not as a young adult. You still revert under stress, but at least you don't spend much time looking like a pupa on stilts, VRISKA.)

~~~~~ ==> BE FUTURE NEPETA You honestly think you're going to die when you get poisoned by a young indigo pissed off that an aging midblood occupies the dashing seadweller first officer's red quadrant. But none of your quadrants are ready to let you go just yet, and you get the best care possible, and soon enough you feel fine. (And the poisoner is in inquisitorment, being led to frame 'poisoning a greenblood' as 'plotting against a seadweller'.) The medicullers don't tell you -- or your quadrants -- that it did damage to your blood pusher that probably won't ever heal completely. Tavros reads it off your chart over the mediculler's shoulder, and tells you later. He picked up a lot of mediculling knowledge while he was alive, and now it's even easier to snoop.

"What does it mean?" you ask. "This will get me eventually?" Tavros grimaces. "Unless something else does, I guess. But it could be sweeps, especially if you slow down a little..." You nod understanding, not agreement. "Don't tell Equius or Eridan, please." It IS sweeps. It might be longer if you took it easy, but -- no. And it's not like the endurance terrain runs you keep doing kill you RIGHT AWAY. They're just fine until the one that isn't. You just power along the track, pass a few young ceruleans who could really be in better shape, and then suddenly you feel dizzy, and go to your knees, and everything fades out. Well, shit. That's... annoying. You fade back in looking at Aradia, with Tavros just behind her, looking anxious. "See, I told you," Aradia says. "She's fine. She just didn't turn up right away since -- I'm assuming -- she wasn't very upset about it." "A little annoyed, maybe," you say, looking around. Still on the track. Your body is still lying where it fell. You really did just drop dead. "Pawsibly a little embarrassed." "No, it's kind of nice we've at least got one person with a natural death." "Except this was probably because of the poisoning, ultimately," Tavros puts in. "That was sweeps ago, it doesn't count." You go see Equius and Eridan, to say -- not goodbye, but hello from the other side. Eridan will be okay. He's moved on before. Equius... is harder. "I'm not telling you to find someone new," you say. "I'm not saying goodbye. But I'm not going to let you turn into Corpsepap, either." "It -- is not the same. We all--" You're all more heavily involved with the dead than is normal. Or -- from this side -- with the living. "That's true. But it's not going to be the same, and we need to -- we need to come to terms with that. Both of us. EACH of us."

He agrees, but he still doesn't take it WELL that you'll be gone for a while. That you want to be gone for a while. So you break down and tell him. "I'm going to go back to Alternia and run around in the mountains the whole time. I am *so tired of spaceships*." He doesn't try to argue with that. ~~~~ (==> BE FUTURE VRISKA) (Rainbow drinkers live longer, so Terezi is next, and unfortunately she KNOWS it. She's PLANNING it practically.) ("I am not," she says when you call her on it. "I just... don't see myself going from heart failure. Nepeta wasn't very happy with the outcome, you know? And I don't want to end up there too.")

("How is that not planning?") (Karkat is making a point of Not Being Pushy for some weird Karkat reason, and everyone else is not sufficiently anti-death, so YOU AND TAVROS have to form the Make Terezi Live To Retirement Team. It's sort of awkward, even after all this time, but you're both motivated to stay on task and get stuff done. Together you head off or mitigate all sorts of risk-taking behavior!) ("I can't BELIEVE that YOU TWO are in CAHOOTS," Terezi complains.) ("Shut up and put your gorget on.") ~~~~ ==> BE FUTURE EQUIUS You do not die in a predictable mishap involving Gathay, a robot, and a disintegration ray, despite several close calls. (You aren't sure Gathay's robots have ever killed anyone, actually. You've never heard of any cases, however unlikely it seems that she could avoid it.)

You don't die when your moirail dies, even though you sort of want to for a while. She wants you to keep going. You can be strong a while longer. You don't die when a senior archeradicator brings in his subdued, two-sweeps-past-Conscription teal "matesprit" for robotic feet and doesn't even pretend he wasn't what happened to the originals. "Now that she's learned about RUNNING," he smirks, and you VERY BADLY want to be VIOLENTLY insubordinate. Instead you alert the terrifying ghost army. After some discussion they finesse a transfer to First Officer Deepfall's ship. Eridan has the... FUCKER detained for conduct unbecoming an officer and orders him questioned. Inquisitormentor Burnteye maneuvers him into expressing resentment of Deepfall, and then suddenly he's the insubordinate one. He gets demoted and sent packing out of the squadron; his EX-matesprit gets sent to admin training. It's immensely satisfying. No, you die in an ALIEN PLAGUE. Initially a reconnaissance ship is blamed, but it turns out to have come in on a courier vessel from another squadron. The plague tears through the lowbloods -- it incubates asymptomatically for a week or more, and then in the space of a night the victim is drowning on the fluid in their lungs. The death rate is almost thirty percent WITH TREATMENT. Without treatment, it's over fifty. One ship loses its helmsman. It stops dead after teals, though. No one knows why, but highbloods breathe a sigh of relief and try to go about their business, watching the plague with dismay but also making fun on the Ruthless Regulation's stringent universal isolation procedures. It turns out highbloods have a LONGER asymptomatic incubation period, after which their lungs more or less LIQUEFY. The death rate is sixty percent with treatment, and treatment has to start immediately. Without treatment, it comes close to ninety. (For landdwellers, that is. Seadwellers can ride it out by going underwater and staying there until there's an opportunity to reconstruct their lungs.) You know the odds aren't good, so you aren't surprised to wake up to Vriska and Feferi floating over your desk and sitting on your ceiling, respectively, both looking as clear and solid as Aradia when she puts effort into it. You glance back at your body. "Well." "Welcome to the Terrifying Ghost Army!" Feferi says. "Sadly at the moment we're a little overwhelmed by terrified ghost plague victims, it's completely out of hand. But it'll take you a while to get control enough to be helpful, so I could take you back to Alternia for now. Meet up with Nepeta." And you feel guilty about it, but-- "Yes, I would like that, if you can spare the time." You pause. "Terezi? And Eridan?" "The legislacerator quarantines were effective, seems like, so Terezi's fine. Eridan doesn't know if he's infected, but he's moved underwater in case he is, and he is NOT happy about it." Vriska barely snickers at her own words, though, so you know they're taking the situation seriously. ~~~~~ ==> BE FUTURE TEREZI Everything's a mess after the alien plague is finally eliminated, and personnel get sent every which where in an attempt to fill some of the emptied critical positions. The squadron gets put back on Conscription duty ahead of when rotation would call for it, but throwing in COMPLETELY UNTRAINED highbloods is not, unsurprisingly, terribly helpful. It would make a lot more sense to break up all the plague-afflicted squadrons (how many squadrons is classified information, but the ghost army confirmed it was EIGHT) and consolidate them into fewer squadrons, but this is more useful to you, so.

Over your protests, you get put in charge of crew assignments on the Gathering Swarm. You resolve to come down like a meteor on any murder-recon-like situation, keep a close eye out for any illegal trade, and manipulate the assigned teams to encourage highbloods to play nicely with others. You keep it up for a good few sweeps, too, and you need your swordcane to LEAN on by the time a brownblood grieving a culled matesprit decides an elderly teal administrator is the most PRACTICAL revenge target available. "I thought you were smarter than this, Serfin," you inform him. "No, you -- I don't know why you're even BOTHERING to hide the body, I'm going to be missed regardless, but if for some reason you MUST don't hide it THERE. Do you ever even talk to maintenance people?" Tavros shows up while your body is still only halfway in the air duct. "Aradia said-- What happened?" You throw an arm around his shoulders. (It feels a little strange, you hadn't quite hit full growth before he died.) "Generalized rage happened, I think." "...The air duct, really?" "Not exactly a criminal mastermind, is he." "...Looks like he broke the screws on the grate, too, he's never going to get that back on." ~~~~~ (==> BE FUTURE GAMZEE) (After the plague, you really start networking with other squadrons. You're one of the people on the... goodwill tour? Well, anyway, you go around between squadrons, talking to other ghosts and necropaths and occasionally other people if it's called for, and distributing ghost music players and palmhusks which hardly ever bite anymore.)

(You always find time to stop by whatever subjugglator ships there are and talk to the ghosts, in case they need help. You never PLAN to do anything more than that, but somehow you always end up delivering at least one ghost smackdown to a living subjugglator.) (When you get back Karkat tells you you've become an urban legend: a phantom who protects people menaced by highbloods and curbs the power of the subjugglator cult. People haven't really settled on a name, but since you hardly ever try to look like a full adult, a lot of them say The Small Highblood.) (You think that's pretty cool, but decide to bring your guitar to future interventions so you're associated with music, too.) ~~~~~ ==> BE FUTURE KANAYA As a rainbow drinker converted young, you may live a very, very, very long time. At one point you almost decide to die out of sheer BOREDOM. You love the caverns, you do, you LOVE the Mother Grub you hatched yourself, your friends never neglect you, but still, after so long... Then you realize you have a certain amount of authority at this point and assign yourself to go survey the virgin mother grub population. Much better. With some variety, you can stick it out much longer. As an Attender (you turned down Altadona when they offered it) you're not in a position to directly change culling policy, but you can make suggestions, so you always make sure to have current contacts in grub handling. So you hear things pretty quickly. And... not yet. ~~~~~

==> BE FUTURE ERIDAN Nepeta shows up while you are supervising the re-enameling of your new command block. "Aradia said they'd given you a purroper ship this time," she says, looking around. You do not roll your eyes st her where anyone can see, but do head to your personal blockset as soon as you can get away with it. "Good to see you -- is something going on?" She nods. "I just came from Alternia--" "Is it Kan?" you ask, feeling your vascular system seize for a moment. It doesn't really make any difference, but you don't want to be the only one alive. "No, no, she's fine. No, it's -- an heiress made it through the Trials." Your blockset should be clear of surveillance, but you still don't say anything beyond "Oh." A lot of hypotheticals may be about to become actuals. "I'm mostly sure I didn't say anything about being bored that could've tempted fate," you say, more to the ceiling than to Nepeta. She laughs anyway. ~~~~~ (==> BE FUTURE FEFERI) (You wave to your lusus, who seems a little nonplussed by your presence but not hostile, and ghost-swim down to the hive rising from the sea floor. Karkat follows basically ghost flying.) (The Heiress is two sweeps old and is playing with a box of colored sand, swirling her fingers through to make patterns. You crouch down beside her and make sure you're visible. "Hi there.") (She looks at you with big eyes. "Hello?") ("Your name is Pelagi, right?") (She nods.) ("I'm Feferi! And this is Karkat, and I hope we can be your friends.") (You've got a lot to tell her.)

[ncislaficexchange]

Blackmail is Such an Ugly Word

A/N: Dear reader, I hope you enjoy this fic. Please know that a lot of love, frustration and often confusion went into this story. Based on your preferences I focused on Densi (and Deeks), but also the team as friends to both Kensi and Deeks. I hope you won’t mind my creative interpretation of your preferences. It was done with the very best of intentions.

This story occurs about six months from the season eight finale. Happy reading!

***

Kensi raises an eyebrow, catching Deeks’ gaze as he sidles into the mission, once again just a few minutes short of being late. His lips twitch in what she supposes is meant to be a smile, but it turns into more of a grimace. The twisted feeling in her stomach amps up another notch with each step he takes.

“Cutting it a little short, aren’t we, Deeks?” Callen observes mildly though his gaze is just as focused on the detective. She makes an effort to look away which is difficult given Deeks’ exhausted appearance, his posture slumped in a way that spells defeat. If not for the presence of Sam and Callen she’d be pulling him into her arms as she does every night when he returns home.

“Yeah, my mom is, uh, having some issues with her landlord and asked me for some advice,” Deeks says distractedly. Technically it’s true, though that particular call had come three days ago at 10pm rather than this morning.

“I didn’t know your license was current,” Sam comments, as though he has an actual interest in discussing Deeks’ former career. Kensi wonders just how much they know since neither he nor Callen has called them on the strange schedule Deeks is keeping of late or the guilt she knows is lurking in the back of their eyes.  

“I’m afraid Deeks’ extracurricular activities will have to wait,” Eric announces, arriving at the top of the stairs and cutting Deeks’ reply short. He hooks a thumb behind him, pulling a face. “You’re needed in OPS.”

As the others make their way upstairs, Kensi pulls Deeks to the side, giving him a concerned look.

“What happened? You were gone all night again,” she hisses. The chance that Hetty might materialize behind them at any moment has her glancing around nervously. If she doesn’t end up with an ulcer by the end of this whole mess, she it will be a miracle.

Deeks heaves a sigh, closing his eyes briefly as he shakes his head.

“I’ll tell you later,” he murmurs, his voice just as low as Kensi’s though it appears to be due to exhaustion rather than fear of discovery. Kensi cants her head, questioning his decision to be silent; he’s been pretty good about filling her in and she really doesn’t want him to start hiding things again. “It’s not that,” Deeks adds quickly, seeing her look. “It’s just getting a lot more complicated than I thought it would, which is saying something, and I don’t have the time to explain it now.”

“Is there a problem, Miss Blye?” They both school their expressions as Hetty’s voice drifts down from above though Kensi’s certain that the older woman isn’t fooled in the least.

“No, we���re coming,” Deeks answers for both of them. “I just wanted to tell Kensi about Monty’s vet appointment.” As far as excuses go, it’s fairly believable; Monty has had his share of ill health in the last few months. At the very least it’s better than chronic plumbing problems. Hetty merely accepts it with a slight nod of her head, waiting for them to start up the steps.

***

“We can’t keep this up,” Kensi says in a low voice an hour later. Feeling ridiculously covert, she checks over her shoulder once more before following Deeks into the burn room. Deeks comes to rest against the nearest available surface, his posture slumping again as he brings both hands to his eyes and lets out an unsteady breath. In an instant Kensi’s irritation is gone with the obvious distress she sees in every fiber of his body.

“Baby,” she murmurs and closes the small distance between them to wrap her arms around his broader frame. After a moment’s hesitation she feels his arms lift and settle on her back, his head lowering until his nose is burrowed in her neck. Keeping a soothing rhythm Kensi gently runs her fingers over his muscles, feeling a collection of knots that are courtesy of the ridiculous amount of tension he’s been under recently. His ribs are slightly more prominent as she slides her hands up his sides and along with the loser fit of his clothes, it’s just another item on her list of worries.

“I’m sorry about this,” he says into her neck. “I know I keep saying it, but I never wanted you to have to deal with this crap.” Placing a hand on his jaw, she lifts his head and makes sure she has his full attention before she speaks.

“I want you to stop apologizing because this is not your fault,” she says firmly, punctuating the statement with a gentle kiss to the corner of his mouth.

“Yeah, but if I hadn’t told Whiting–” he begins miserably. It’s an argument that Kensi has heard far too many times to count in the last few months and she treats it with the same level of import as always.

“Deeks, it’s not your fault that Whiting is an opportunistic, blackmailing hag.” Deeks blows out a shaky breath that might just have a hint of a laugh at her unbiased summation. “The point is that you saved her life and told her the truth. And if she can’t see that you’re an honorable man who was just trying to protect a vulnerable girl, then there’s something wrong with her.” Deeks nods, looking even more overwhelmed by her unfailing support.

“Now, I’m not saying that things wouldn’t be a lot easier if you hadn’t told her…” she continues, eliciting the closest thing she’s seen to a grin from him in a long time.

“Yeah, next time I’ll have to remember that,” he says almost playfully. “I love you,” he adds. Lifting a hand, he mirrors her own position, carefully cradling Kensi’s jaw as he brings their lips together.

“I love you too,” Kensi breathes against his lips, slipping a hand up his neck and into the hair curling around the edge of his collar. He’s never let it get this long since she’s known him and though she doesn’t exactly hate it, she can’t help but associate it with his current predicament.

Abandoning all pretense, Kensi tugs at Deeks’ arm, leading them farther into the room until her back hits an unknown piece of equipment. Deeks presses his body tight against hers, his weight welcome after the uncertainty of the night apart. She moans slightly as Deeks angles his head to deepen the kiss and drops a hand to her hip.

The creak of the door opening stills Deeks’ hand which had been slowly creeping towards the edge of her bra.

“I bet they’re in here.” Callen’s voice says, his head popping around the door. “Ha, told you they wouldn’t be in the showers,” he adds to whoever is on the other side of the door before taking in the still embracing couple in front of him.

“I thought you guys had a rule,” he says with vague interest as he and Sam, closely followed by Nell and Eric trail through the door.

“Didn’t really work out for us,” Deeks explains as Kensi gives him one last squeeze and steps back slightly. She keeps one arm low on his back, silently supporting him.

“Right. So you want to tell us what’s going on? Cause I gotta tell you, Sam’s not taking all the secrecy too well.”

“I wasn’t the one who wanted to show up at their house at 12:30 AM when and I quote ‘their guard will be down’ and demand answers,” Sam says irritably. Rolling her eyes, Nell cuts in before either of the older agents can continue their bickering.

“What they’re trying to say, and doing a really bad job of it, I might say, is that we’re worried and we want to know what’s going on. So, who wants to start before Hetty actually comes looking for us?”

“It’s personal and doesn’t need to affect anyone else here,” Deeks answers shortly. Withholding a sigh of exasperation, because she knows he’s just doing what he thinks is best, Kensi squeezes Deeks’ hand briefly until he looks down at her.

“We should tell them,” she says, ignoring the four pairs of curious eyes watching them with various levels of suspicion and interest.

“Kens, you know they can’t get involved in this.” Deeks nods his head in the rest of the team’s direction as he speaks. “No offense, but subtlety isn’t really NCIS’ strong point. And I really don’t need you guys rushing in with guns blazing.”

“Ok, first of all, I personally am very offended,” Callen says, earning another eye roll, this time from Sam. “Second, when has going solo ever worked for any of us?” There is an overabundance of agreement to Callen’s comment, particularly from Sam who seems to have forgotten his own forays into rogueness. Even if we can’t be directly involved, at least will know why you look like you’ve gone one-on-one with a character from The Walking Dead.”

“I do not look that bad,” Deeks mutters, as though it’s the relevant part of the conversation.

“Your eyes have been bloodshot for a week,” Callen rebuts remorselessly. Behind him, Sam makes an irritated noise, pushing past the others so he’s standing directly in front of Kensi and Deeks.

“Deeks, we all know you can counter-argue in your sleep, but why don’t you just make it easy on everyone and spill? Callen’s right, you are exhausted. Maybe it’s not effecting you yet, but the way you’ve been overextending yourself is gonna get you hurt. So just tell us what’s going on with LAPD.” Nell makes a harsh hissing sound.

“You weren’t supposed to mention that,” she murmurs as though she won’t be heard from three feet away.

“You’ve been spying on Deeks,” Kensi says flatly. She shares a glance with her partner who looks equally ticked off at the prospect. No matter their good intentions, they should have known that following Deeks would not go down well. Nell merely shrugs her minute shoulders. As if to say, ‘what did you expect?’

“Well, both of you really,” Eric adds helpfully. “You see, we didn’t know if both you were involved or just Deeks.”

“Awesome,” Deeks mutters under his breath. Kensi gently squeezes his hand again, reminding him that he’s not alone in this. She knows how much he wanted to keep his dealings with Whiting a secret and fears the repercussions if any one of them knows too much or became involved.

“If you still don’t feel like telling us,” Callen begins in an offhand tone, “we can always go to Bates and ask him what’s going on,” Kensi glares at Callen, angry that he would threaten Deeks, when he’s feeling so cornered and overwhelmed.

“Yeah, and I’ll let slip who really knocked over that rare plant Hetty has in her office,” Deeks says after a moment, not to be outdone in the blackmail department. Grabbing Deeks’ shoulder, Kensi turns him so their bodies are facing away from the others, giving the illusion of privacy.

“Deeks, we need to tell them something or they’re not going to give up,” she murmurs. Deeks instantly tenses up as expected, giving her a look of betrayal. “We knew it might come to this. And imagine the trouble they could cause if they think their helping somehow, but only end up making it worse?”  

He sighs, the sound short and exhaustive, running a hand through his hair and turns back to glance at the four people openly watching their every move. Kensi catches Sam’s eye, hoping he’ll have some sense of the added pressure this is putting on Deeks. He nods discreetly and casts a brief glance at his cohorts before clapping his hands together like a coach gathering his wayward players.

“Alright guys, why don’t we give these two a little time to sort things out?” he suggests. Eric and Nell both take a look at his will-not-budge expression and easily agree, scurrying from the room while Callen is less cooperative. Sam places a large hand on his shoulder, gently but firmly steering his partner towards the doorway, he turns the knob, pausing briefly after Callen exits.

“We’ll be looking into Lieutenant Madison’s acquaintances when you get things figured out,” he informs them, clearly insinuating that while he’s giving them a moment to talk without an audience, copping out isn’t an option.

“I’d like to go on record as saying this is a terrible idea,” Deeks says the moment Sam leaves the room. The comment is Deeks through and through, but his tone lacks any of his usual humor and his face is decidedly grim. What she wouldn’t do to make it disappear and have him home again without this miserable worry and threat hanging over both their heads.

“Baby,” she murmurs, wrapping her arms back around him and pulling his head into the crook of her neck. “You know we can’t keep this up. They’re going to find out one way or another and like you said, we won’t be able to control what they decide to do.” Deeks shudders into her neck, the motion working its way straight up his spine and into Kensi. Comfortingly, she runs her fingers through his hair.

“If I tell them what I’m doing for Whiting then I’ll also have to explain what she has on me,” he says, bringing up a point that has been discussed multiple times in the past few weeks and caused quite a bit of dissension.

“Deeks, you told me you thought Sam and Callen already knew, chances are they do. And even if this is a revelation for them, you’ve stood by them without question when their actions have been less than by-the-book,” Kensi reminds him. He has a terrible habit of believing that he’s better off alienating people and having them think the worse than know the truth. There’s good reason for his secrecy she knows, but she also knows their team and whole heartedly believes they will stand behind Deeks.

“What if it changes how they treat me?” he asks, finally voicing his main fear, the same one he later admitted to Kensi after confessing about killing Boyle. “You know how long it took everyone to accept me…” shaking his head as though he can’t quite voice such thoughts, he ducks his head and presses his forehead against Kensi’s shoulder. “I don’t think I could take that,” he finally murmurs in a creaking voice. He sounds so unsure and vulnerable, terrified of losing what he considers his family.

“I know you’re scared,” she whispers into his ear. “I am too. But you can’t keep this up, you know you can’t. You’ve barely slept in three weeks, you’re not eating and you’re so tense I’m worried you’re going to have an aneurysm at any moment. And I don’t care how many times you tell me, I know that what Whiting has you doing is dangerous.”

“Going on the run is sounding better and better,” he mutters into her neck. “We don’t even need to have ice cream.”

“I will buy you an entire gallon of that expensive organic stuff with the free-range milk,” Kensi offers as though she’s compromising a visit to the doctor with a reluctant child rather than the reveal of Deeks’ deepest secret.

“I thought they only sold it in pints,” he points out, his words still muffled by her skin. Kensi snorts but doesn’t say anything, waiting for him to make his decision and silently holding him as tightly as she can. No matter how much it hurts her to see him in this situation, she knows that the decision to tell the others is fully his to make.

“Ok,” Deeks says a few minutes later, lifting his head from Kensi’s shoulder. It takes a bit of restraint not to pull him back to the safety of her embrace. He sniffs loudly and blows out a short breath. “Let’s do this,” he says in a determined voice.

“I am so proud of you,” Kensi tells him, overcome by a sudden wave of emotion. “Don’t think for a minute that I don’t realize how hard this is for you or the possible implications. I just want you to be able to live without anything hanging over your head.” Deeks nods, now reassuring her.

“I know,” he says simply. His gaze is filled with love as he leans down to kiss Kensi, his hand pressing hard against the back of her head for a moment before he lets go.

***

The rest of the team waits by their desks as promised with a collection of files open before them which seem to be mostly for appearance sake. Eric and Nell have commandeered Kensi and Deeks spots momentarily and appear to be in the middle of a somewhat heated conversation when they arrive, fingers linked.

“You know, it’s rude to talk about people when they’re still in the building,” Deeks interrupts, bringing an abrupt halt to the bickering. Callen turns with an expectant expression, not bothering to comment while Sam’s gaze flicks between Kensi and Deeks linked hands and up to their faces. He nods once in admiration as he notes the resolve in Deeks’ posture. Despite the snarkiness it’s obvious that he’s made a decision.

Deeks turns his head slightly, glancing at Kensi out of the corner of his eye. She may have pushed him to be open with the team, but she knows that ultimately what he tells them and how much is his decision. With that thought in mind she squeezes Deeks’ hand and waits.

He clears his throat once, not to gain attention because everyone is already completely focused on him, but rather to gain some sort of control in this less than desirable situation.

“Ok, I know I owe you all the truth, but before I tell you anything I need you to promise me that you won’t try to interfere. Even if you think it’s the right thing to do,” Deeks says, earning a few looks of surprise that the confession hasn’t begun though Sam nods once more with a mixture of approval and understanding. “Things are already terrible and bringing NCIS into it will only make it ten times worse.” When he receives four various signs of assent, he blows out a short breath and continues,

“About six months ago, Detective Whiting contacted me asking if I wanted to get coffee and talk.���

“Ok, I didn’t see that coming,” Nell comments. “She’s the last person I expected you to be having a tete-a-tete with.”

“Well, she wasn’t exactly my first choice either,” Deeks says dryly, his dislike of Whiting momentarily overcoming his worry and allowing a hint of sarcasm through. He sucks in a long breath, immediately releasing it and rolls his shoulders as though psyching himself up for a difficult pitch. “Beverages aside, Whiting also had another request.”

“What did she want, Deeks?” Sam asks gently.

“To help her investigate Bates without him knowing. She thinks he’s dirty,” he responds in one rushed breath as though getting it out before he can stop himself. A little bit of tension eases from his shoulders with that first hurdle behind him.

“How does she think you can help?” Nell asks, her brows furrowed. “I mean, you haven’t really worked any LAPD cases in like, what, 4 or 5 years.”

“Whiting thinks Bates likes and at the very least, trusts me, which means he’ll be less suspicious if I’m snooping.”

“Like that worked so well last time,” Nell says under her breath.

“So that’s what you’ve been doing for the last 2 months,” Callen surmises. “Spying on Bates.” He pauses to share a look with his partner that clearly says, ‘I told you so’ but Sam just shakes his head, pointing his chin in Deeks’ direction.

“I do what I can when I’m not needed here, although Whiting’s been pushing for me to spend more time at the station,” Deeks allows. He follows the statement up with a deep sigh, likely thinking of the arguments this particular point has brought on. The first time he’d come home after a full 48 hours without contact Kensi had been sick with worry which quickly morphed into anger when Deeks had shrugged off her concern with an exhausted and evasive shake of his head. It feels good that someone else knows, even if there’s nothing they can do about it.

“For my cover, Whiting spun this story that I’m actually investigating two other questionable cops in the precinct. Bates things Hetty agreed to let me help out in a show of interagency cooperation,” he adds. Eric snorts, speaking for the first time since they entered the room.

“Seriously?” At the teams’ questioning looks he clarifies. “If Bates actually believes that then he doesn’t know Hetty very well. Plus Deeks has a clause in his NCIS contract that says she has to sign off on any LAPD run operations. There’s no way Hetty would just ok an op like this without talking to Bates at all.” Eric’s voice holds a note of irritation and perhaps worry at what he clearly feels is a poorly thought out cover story.

Deeks shrugs. “Bates has so much going on right now with demands for more cops, increased accountability, not to mention the constant threat of budget cuts that I doubt he can remember what he had for breakfast let alone whether or not he signed a paper with my name at the top,” he explains, a touch of defensiveness leaking through on behalf a man he has grown to respect.

“Well, that answers the ‘what’, now how about the ‘why’?” Nell prompts, ever the pragmatic. “Clearly Detective Whiting is blackmailing you for something.” Deeks flinches as though Nell’s words have physically hurt him. Making a soothing noise, Kensi smooths her hand down his back, past the point of caring what anyone thinks of her hands-on approach.

“He hasn’t done anything wrong,” she says, instantly jumping to his defense. It earns five varied looks of surprise and interest, but again, she finds she doesn’t care what they think.

“Nell didn’t say he did, Kensi,” Sam reminds her softly. Only slightly mollified, Kensi sends a sweeping glare around the room. She had promised Deeks that the team would be supportive and while they’re not exactly accusing him of anything, the leading questions have her on edge. Just as she’s taking a step forward, readying another barb, Deeks interrupts.

“Before you offer any more help or implicate yourselves in this gigantic mess, you should know that Whiting is blackmailing me and her charges against me were legitimate. I did kill Francis Boyle. I could go into all kinds of explanation and excuses, but I’ll just stick with: Boyle hurt Tiffany and I stopped him from ever having that opportunity again,” Deeks says in a purposeful, even and unapologetic tone. He doesn’t pause once in his explanation. There’s a rather disappointing lack of response when he finishes; no one gasps or looks horrified, confirming their theory that at least certain members know. Kensi is perhaps the most surprised by Deeks’ sudden reveal.

“Feel better?” Callen asks simply.

“That’s a lot of weight to carry for a lotta years, it’s good to have it out in the open,” Sam says gravely, but sounding once again oddly proud at the same time.

“You don’t care?” Deeks asks, his voice caught between disbelief, perhaps a little anger and definitely a lot of shock.

“Babe, don’t push it,” Kensi instructs quietly. Although she says it somewhat jokingly, there’s absolutely no reason so invite trouble. She’s feeling a little light-headed herself and is struggling not to pepper their team with questions.

Callen takes one look at Deeks’ slightly pale complexion and bewildered expression and hooks a foot around a spare chair, sliding it towards the other man.

“You look like you could use this,” he says with a smirk. Deeks wordlessly sinks into it, looking immensely grateful for the support before Sam starts speaking again.

“I think we all understand the kind of secret you’ve been keeping, we’ve all had them,” Sam explains, gesturing at each person in turn. Somehow Kensi sincerely doubts that any of them have felt the pressure of knowing they actually killed someone, but she accepts the pardon without question. “We know the kind of man you are and the kind of man Francis Boyle was. That’s enough. You protected an innocent person, I would hope the rest of us would do the same given the situation.”

Beside her, Kensi sees Deeks’ lip caught between his teeth as he attempts to deal with the emotional upheaval of the last few minutes. She know that the five people currently staring at him with varying levels of fondness and exasperation aren’t helping any so she leans down to wrap her arm around his shoulders and presses a kiss to the side of his head.

“And you all feel the same way?” she feels the need to ask. Eric and Nell have both been fairly silent and she wants to be completely certain there’s no hesitation on their part. Nell appears slightly hurt by the implication but it’s Eric who speaks up, his voice quiet and as serious as she’s ever heard it.

“I had a chance to see Steadman’s work firsthand and I trolled through so many reports against him and Boyle that…Tiffany was lucky you were there for her,” he concludes.

Deeks shakes his head. “I don’t…I don’t even know what to say,” he stutters, his voice horse. He presses his hand tight against his mouth, as though he can keep the overwhelming emotion inside by sheer force.

“That’s a first,” Callen chimes in, drawing a derisive snort from his partner. They give Deeks a few minutes to compose himself, the chatter starting back up while Kensi rubs his shoulders. While she greatly appreciates their support, she can’t help but wish for another minute alone.

“So what have you found out?” Nell asks “Is Bates guilty or is he the most unlucky man when it comes to IA investigations? Second to you, of course.”

“I don’t know. All I can tell is that Bates has been running a lot of undercover operations and working to weed out some bad apples. It means he doesn’t particularly care that I’m working on Whiting’s little project. But in order to back up my cover story, I actually have to spend time around these guys, which also means the occasional shift as back up. It’s not exactly easy to hang out with an LAPD lieutenant as it is, seems kind of suspicious and all, but now my time is just about cut in half.”

“You said you were making progress,” Kensi admonishes quietly.

“I didn’t want you to worry and compared to how things were going the first couple weeks, I am making progress,” he explains.

“You didn’t answer the question,” Callen points out, catching on to his obvious reluctance to implicate his superior. “Come on Deeks. You’ve never had a problem saying it like it is before this. If you think Bates might be involved in something, then spill.”

“Look, all I can tell is that there’s been a lot of compromised covers and operations in the last few years, but whether or not Bates is involved in some way, I don’t know. I got a chance to look over some paperwork from a botched job and it seems like Bates did everything by the book,” Deeks explains tiredly.

“You said Whiting mentioned something about finding evidence while investigating you,” Kensi reminds him suddenly, bringing up a bit of information that had obviously slipped through Deeks’ already overcrowded mind. “Do you know what that evidence was?” He shakes his head, dispelling Kensi’s momentary excitement.

“No clue…I’d need to see the files but I have restricted access to all files from my case. But the only way I can think Bates could possibly be involved is if Whiting found out he helped me bust out of LAPD and that’s not something to start this kind of investigation over,”

“Maybe he enacted a little…social justice himself,” Nell suggests slowly, her voice rising higher as she speaks. Perhaps she’s worried that Deeks’ will lash out or react in some other negative way, but he merely shakes his head.

“Bates has way too much control for that.”

“So what’s your plan moving forward?” Callen asks.

“I don’t know, man. What I do know is that I can’t let it interfere with my work with NCIS or Hetty will decide to intervene, but I also can’t put Whiting off any more than I have,” Deeks says and Kensi is disappointed to notice that any positive effects of the last half hour have completely disappeared, leaving his mood as despondent as ever.

“I might be able to help with that,” Nell slips a hand into the pocket of her cardigan and removes a familiar looking object. “It’s not exactly the cavalry, but it should help if you get into trouble,” she says, extending the earwig in Deeks’ direction. He stands and silently takes it, his expression unreadable.

“Nell, I appreciate this but…”

“I set it to its own private frequency so no one else should be able to access it unless they’re already linked in and an agent-in-distress alert will be sent to all of our phones if you have it turned on and use the distress word three times in a row,” she continues, talking over Deeks’ protest and then again at his reluctant expression. “This is more important than anything Hetty can do if and when she inevitably finds out. I am not going to let you play Whiting’s fall guy.” Her expression is so fierce and determined that Deeks would be stupid to attempt further protest.

“Alright then,” he murmurs with a very faint smirk.

“And um, if Hetty mentions something about a two week long LAPD training seminar, just go along with it?” Eric adds, looking just as fierce as Nell and somewhat pleased with himself. “That should give you a little more time to investigate without taking a graveyard shift.”

“Do I even want to know how you generated that memo?” Deeks asks, looking overwhelmed by the generosity of their friends.

“Nope,” Eric answers immediately and definitively. “Suffice it to say that the course coordination office had a little snafu with their database.”

“Guys, we really don’t want you to get in any trouble,” Kensi reiterates. “This doesn’t even come close to a sanctioned operation and you’re using NCIS resources, hacking LAPD…” she trails off, letting the mounting pile of minor offenses sink in. Sparing a glance at Deeks, she worries for a moment that she’s overstepped her bounds, but he’s nodding in agreement.

“You don’t know how much I appreciate everything you guys are doing, have done, but I need you to understand that Whiting is not afraid of bringing down anyone who gets in her way. She’s already threatened to bring Kensi in for questioning which is part of the reason why I haven’t pushed back. And she’s knows it.” Deeks says, glancing at Kensi in particular. He knows that this is a sore spot with her; she hates being a weakness of any sort.

“If we don’t do anything, then she’s just gonna get her claws in deeper and deeper, Deeks,” Callen points out, sounding frustrated by the constant requests to stand down. “You need to show her that she doesn’t hold all the power.”

“Well right now she does,” he snaps back, blowing out a short breath a second later and pinching the bridge of his nose. “Whiting’s smart and plays mostly by the book from what I can tell. If she’s been blackmailing other officers into helping her, there’s no evidence. Not that I haven’t been looking when I have the chance. It’d have to be pretty damning though and I’d have to be sure she had absolutely no conclusive proof I was guilty.”

“Then we have a plan: Nell and Eric, find something on Whiting that is worthy of counter-blackmail without being too obvious, Deeks will keep Whiting happy and the rest of us will make sure he doesn’t get himself arrested again or killed,” Callen sums up, wearing a self-satisfied expression.

A shrill beeping interrupts suddenly, the sound drawing everyone’s gaze to Eric’s right pocket.

“Ah, Hetty’s just left the Commissioner’s office,” he explains, silencing the alarm. “We better get to ops.”

“We’ll go with you,” Sam says, getting up from his chair.

“But there’s nothing for us to do in ops,” Callen complains, earning an eye roll from his partner.

“We’ll find something for you to do,” Sam retorts while tugging a mildly resisting Callen away from his desk. On the way past, Sam squeezes Deeks’ shoulder. “I’m sure Nell has lots of files that need to be destroyed.”

“Do you ever get the feeling we’re not in control of our lives?” Kensi asks as they watch the pair argue their way up to ops.

“Every single day since I met you,” he jokes.  

***

Later that day, well night really, Kensi is driving home, one hand on the steering wheel and the other grasping Deeks’. His body is angled away from her, forehead propped against the passenger window. She might think that he’s angry with her if it weren’t for the almost undetectable brushing of his thumb across her knuckle.

They’re driving home together for the first time in over a week and despite Deeks’ solemn mood, she can’t help but feel a touch of contentment.

“What did Whiting say when you told her you weren’t coming in tonight?” she asks, partially out of curiosity but also hoping that it will draw Deeks out of his own thoughts.

“I don’t know. Left a voicemail,” he answers in short, clipped sentences. After a few more moments of silence he slowly shifts himself around until he’s facing her, a groan or two slipping out when his legs get caught in the small space. “I thought about what Callen’s said earlier and he’s right,”

“Wow, I’m pretty sure that’s the firsts time those words have ever left your mouth,” she jokes, pleased when it earns her a brief smirk. Deeks brings her hand to his lips and presses a soft, lingering kiss there.

“Well, today’s been full of surprises, so why not?” he murmurs. “I can’t let Whiting have this kind of control over me. If I make it through this investigation with my badge, and that’s a big if, she’s still going to have Boyle to hang over my head. There’s nothing to stop her from using me as her personal mole indefinitely.”

“So what are you going to do?” Kensi asks, internally relieved that he’s being sensible. Deeks sighs, letting go of her hand to run his fingers through his hair. She misses the contact immediately and once again realizes how little time they’ve had together recently.

“Figure I’ll start with any officers she’s investigated and look for evidence of misconduct…anything that will give me an edge,” He shrugs, his expression bleak as he goes back to watching the darkened blurs that represent trees and bushes.

“Well I’m down for any plan that gets Whiting off our backs for good,” Kensi says lightly although deep down she’d rather approach the IA detective in a more hands-on manner. When she’d heard that Whiting had been shot, she’d been sympathetic, putting aside her dislike. Any compassion had evaporated the second Whiting had approached Deeks with her proposition.

“I need you to do something for me,” Deeks says suddenly, still staring out the window.

“Of course,” she agrees immediately in her eagerness to help. It’s only a moment later that Kensi recognizes the guilt and hesitation in his voice for what it is. “You’re going to say something really stupid now, aren’t you,” she predicts. Deeks presses his lips together.

“You have to stay away from Whiting and LAPD this time. I don’t care what she does or says but I don’t want her to have another opportunity to threaten you or force you into testifying against me. If you think it’s bad now, it’s probably only going to get worse and you can’t play into her hands.”

“If you remember, it didn’t work last time she tried,” Kensi points out, her mouth dry at what she things Deeks is suggesting. He’s already pushed her away enough as it is and she’s terrified he’ll try something really stupid, like putting off their engagement.

Deeks makes a derisive noise in the back of his throat. “Yeah, only because you were abducted and Whiting got shot,” he retorts. Pulling into the driveway, Kensi puts the car in park before throwing up her hands in exasperation.

“Fine, I won’t provoke her. But if I find out she’s putting you in danger or risking your career, I will not just stand by.” Deeks nods at her fierce words. “We’re partners,” she continues in a softer voice. “Here at home, at work, wherever, whatever we do, no matter how many IA Detectives come after you. I’m not going to abandon you and there is no way in hell I’m letting this force us apart. I said it earlier and I’ll say it again since you apparently are experiencing short term memory loss: “I love you and I am not going anywhere, ever.” Deeks sniffs a couple times, refusing to meet her gaze.

“This has the potential to get a lot worse,” he whispers again.

“Only if you try and go off by yourself like an idiot,” she replies stubbornly. She watches Deeks’ face in his window, waiting for him to react with his typical wit and when he doesn’t, she grabs his, kissing it in the same place he had hers. His head falls then, that guilty, miserable expression she hates so much back again. She’d give anything to see him smiling and laughing once more.

“This isn’t fair,” he whispers. Scooting over in her seat until the console impedes further movement, she places her palms on Deeks’ cheeks, ignoring his mild resistance. She gently pulls his forehead down to meet hers and relishes the moments when he finally leans into her touch.

“None of the crap we’ve been through in the last eight years has been fair,” she reminds him. “But we’ve always made it through together and this is no different.”

“I don’t know how I’m going to get out of this one,” he admits on a sigh, the sounds making Kensi’s chest throb. “Even if I find evidence against Whiting, it might not be enough or in time to be go any good.

“We will,” she assures him. “We will. And when this is all over we are going to plan out wedding and get married and go on a ridiculously expensive honeymoon in the middle of nowhere, where Hetty won’t even be able to find us.” Deeks chuckles weakly at her fierce tone and nods his head again.

“Ok,” he agrees, leaning down until his lips meet Kensi’s, his hands clasping the back of her head to pull that much closer. He is exquisitely gentle as he eases her lips apart.

“I love you so much,” he breathes into her mouth. As they stumble from the car and through the front door, Kensi knows that one night of lovemaking isn’t going to fix anything. She’s desperate for the reprieve though and as Deeks presses her against their bedroom wall, she silently vows to do whatever it takes to keep him safe.

by - @ejzah

[auroraphilealis]

Heaven Scent Chapter Two

Heaven Scent | Dan Howell rarely leaves the house unless he has too, too socially awkward to function normally around other people, and generally making his only friends through Louise, a sweet beta who took him under her wing a few years back when they were both still in college. It’s no surprise, then, that the omega has yet to find a mate, despite craving one rather a lot. It’s not until he attends Louise’s birthday party and gets accidentally-on-purpose set up with an attractive alpha named Phil Lester who smells absolutely heavenly that Dan starts to fall into a proper romance, complete with courting and scenting and the like. | Phan | Mature | A/B/O dynamics (Omegaverse fic), Fluff, Getting Together, Eventual Smut, Courting | 4,523 Words this chapter

I’m so, so happy with the feedback on the last chapter and your guys excitement for more of this fic!!! I can’t wait to see what you guys think of all the things I have planned as I bring to life a more healthy version of a/b/o dynamics that still includes some of my favorites parts of the trope!! I also decided I’m a maniac so I’m going to post Wednesday and Friday instead of just Wednesday, so enjoy the next chapter ^.^

Disclaimer: In no way do I pretend that this is real or cast aspersions on Dan or Phil.

(Ao3) (Previous)

Chapter Two

Dan didn’t know how not to be late to most things. He was a procrastinator by nature, and generally sat around in his pj’s most days if he didn’t have any plans - which, less face it, Dan almost never had - which just meant that Dan was often unlikely to get dressed when he did need to go out until about ten minutes beforehand.

That was how he ended up twenty minutes late to his lunch date with Louise, the first of many of her birthday coupons she was likely to use on him in the next few months to ensure she got to see Dan a little more often than she usually did. On the upside, his friend was fairly used to Dan being chronically late anyway, so when Dan did finally show up, she wasn’t angry in the least bit.

Instead, she held a book in one hand, and a coffee in the other as she read with her long hair pulled back in a tight ponytail. She’d dyed the ends pink recently, and it looked gorgeous on the beta, something that Dan commented on the second he slid into the seat across from her.

Louise smiled instantly in response, closing her book and turning her full attention onto Dan.

“Thank you! I needed a change. You’re only twenty-five once, you know,” she explained.

Dan rolled his eyes, lips twitching as he replied, “Louise, you’re twenty-six.”

“Exactly why my hair is now pink, Daniel,” Louise quipped back easily enough, raising a hand and waving the waiter over now that Dan had finally joined her.

Dan didn’t waste another second arguing with her, merely laughing at her self assuredness and confidence that Dan wished he possessed.

Before Louise, Dan had never quite understood why anyone found him attractive until Louise had literally shoved the truth down his throat, but that didn’t change the fact that he still struggled with his own self image.

It was kind of funny, considering Dan had had more than his fair share of alpha’s, beta’s, and omega’s come onto him in the past, often complimenting his appearance because they couldn’t his scent, and reassuring him that he was a right good looking lad, but they’d never quite stuck around. Dan knew it was for the best every time, but he couldn’t help that it had left its fair share of strain on his personal self confidence.

Dan kind of sort of really just wanted a mate already, even though he wasn’t - or, hadn’t been - currently looking. In the past, it had just put a damper on him when he hadn’t been able to keep anyone around. Now, though… well, now Dan kind of just let others come to him, rather than seeking out a lover, and Louise’s birthday party had definitely brought along something that Dan really wanted.

The problem was, Dan was kind of shit at taking hold of what he wanted.

Their waiter arrived then, smiling as they greeted both Dan and Louise. The familiar scent of scent hiding shampoo wafted over Dan, comforting in the way it had always been for him. It wasn’t the same as the calming scent of an omega, but reassuring in that Dan didn’t feel so alone hiding his own scent.

“I’ll just have a coffee,” he ordered easily enough, sighing as the waiter bustled away and he was allowed to peruse the menu Louise had passed to him. She’d clearly already decided on what she wanted, as she was back to her reading her book, but that didn’t surprise Dan.

She’d arrived on time after all, but it helped that the cafe was a favorite place of both of theirs.

Morello’s was a small cafe within walking distance to both of their apartments, cozy and friendly enough that Dan even ventured out to have lunch on his own here from time to time. There was a lounge inside with a few booths and tables scattered about, but it was the outside patio that really drew the customers in.

It was beautifully decorated with flower beds and neatly crafted tables and chairs, three large trees shading the huge area with little glimpses of sky overhead. There was an awning that could be dragged out further on rainy days, as was per usual in London, but it was drawn back today, leaving a sense of calm hovering over the large space. It was the patio that had drawn Louise and Dan inside one cold winter day two years ago, and they’d been visiting ever since.

They both had their favorites, and while they always swore up and down to order something different from time to time, it was no surprise that most of the waiters here already knew their orders off the top of their head.

They usually teased Dan and Louise when they came in, but not today. Today, they had someone new.

As their waiter returned with Dan’s coffee and a notepad for their orders, Dan cast Louise a mischievous grin, and opened his mouth to order at the same time as her. Their words melded together as they both ordered the salmon over a bed of rice for Louise, and the fish and chips for Dan, Louise turning to stare in giddy humor at Dan as they spoke. Her eyes sparkled, and her throat burbled with suppressed laughter, setting Dan off as they spoke until the end of their sentence was nothing more than a garble of unrecognizable words.

Their waiter started between them with an awkward smile, confusion and terror at war on his face.

“I didn’t catch a word of that,” they joked, laughing forcefully, only for Dan and Louise to laugh even louder at the expression on their face. The noise was offensively loud, but so was the busy street of London around them, so neither tried to quiet themselves as they giggled over their own ridiculousness. The waiter, for their part, merely stared between the two of them with wide, confused eyes, as if they weren’t sure if they were missing a joke or not.

Taking pity on the poor soul, Louise pulled herself together first, flapping her hands aggressively at Dan to make him pipe down and shut up before clearing her throat and stifling her giggles as best as she could.

“Sorry, sorry! I said I’d have the salmon, and Dan over there’ll have the fish and chips,” Louise stated more clearly this time, her cheeks stained pink from their humor, and little tittering giggles still escaping past her lips.

Trying to salvage the situation even a little bit more, Dan cleared his own throat after he’d pulled himself together, and said, “Sorry we’re so awkward. Promise we aren’t laughing at you,” only for the waiter to smile even more nervously than before, and turn on his heel to walk away.

It was more than clear from that action alone that Dan’s words had been less than reassuring, and when Louise turned to look at Dan once again, the two of them burst into another bout of uncontrollable laughter.

“Dan!” Louise was gasping, grasping herself around the middle in a clear attempt to hold herself together, laughter like a hyena spilling from her lips as Dan tried to rein himself under control. He was sputtering and choking around his own ridiculous sounds, but it was difficult to stop when Louise’s face was so red and Dan could just about see their waiter speaking to someone else inside, who looked red in the face themselves as they held back giggles and explained to the new waiter just what exactly was going on.

Dan gasped as he curled in on himself, mouth aching from all the laughter and the smiling, and shook his head as best as he could.

“Stop - laughing!” he complained to Louise, who only laughed harder still at the sight of Dan.

They were a mess, but there was nothing new there, and Dan couldn’t even bring himself to mind that the other patrons were beginning to stare. So what if he made a fool out of himself? Louise loved him, and that was all that mattered in the end.

Eventually, the two of them managed to settle down, and Dan grabbed at his mug of coffee to calm himself down, inhaling the wonderful scent it produced before taking a quick sip. It was perfect, as always, and Dan flashed a smile through the glass door at the workers inside.

He had no clue if any of them would notice, but it was the sentiment that counted in his mind.

“So, anyway,” Louise piped up, finally. “Now that that’s over. How are you? You didn’t tell me how things went with that alpha at my birthday party,” she teased, looking giddy as she leaned in close over the table to get right up into Dan’s face. Always greedy for the details, she said, “Phil, right? He’s a great guy. Met him at work.”

Unfortunately for Dan, the question had been the one thing Dan had been hoping wouldn’t be brought up today, and he put down his mug of coffee with a little sigh as his cheeks went a blotchy red all over again.

“He is great,” Dan agreed easily enough, hesitating. “Thank you for uh - intervening and making me sit with him, it’s just…” Dan trailed off, not wanting to admit to Louise just how much of an idiot he was.

Louise being Louise, however, wasn’t one to let something like that go, and her eyes narrowed as she stared at Dan. Doing his best to avoid her sharp blue gaze, Dan took in the way her eye makeup made her face seem more surreal and echoed her new hair color.

“I like the pink on you,” he stated calmly.

Rolling her eyes at Dan’s attempt at a distraction, Louise shrugged the words off.

“Thanks. It’s just what, Daniel? Have you talked to him since my party?”

Dan bit his lip.

The thing was, he hadn’t, and that was kind of the whole problem right there. He was definitely interested in the alpha if his intoxicating scent and wonderful personality were anything to go by, but it had been an entire week and Dan - well, Dan had been too cowardly to text the poor guy.

After paying for Dan’s meal and beginning the courting process between the two of them, Phil had left Dan with his cell phone number and his express permission for Dan to text or call him any time. Since Phil had initiated the courtship, it was now Dan’s job to reciprocate the interest, only… only Dan had been too afraid.

Louise groaned as Dan’s face evidently twisted up in an echo of his shame, and reached across the table to flick Dan across the nose.

“You haven’t talked to him!?” she asked shrilly. “But he told me you accepted a courtship with him that night! He literally sent me a text five minutes after you guys left to tell me he’d left you with his number! Dan!” Louise moaned, closing her eyes and shaking her head again for good measure. “What are you doing!?”

Dan winced as Louise put his shame into words, and tried not to look at her again. The disapproval was practically radiating off of her in waves

“I just assumed he hadn’t texted me about you again because he was - busy with you,” Louise complained, sighing loudly as her hands hit the table with a light bang. “Daniel Howell, you are an idiot.”

“I know,” Dan agreed, ashamed. He didn’t even have an excuse, not really, he was just - being Dan. “I don’t know what’s wrong with me. I just -” he began, fully intending to explain his own ridiculous fears when he clammed up on himself. It was just, he knew what he had to say sounded stupid, and Louise already seemed annoyed with him. “Sorry I screwed everything up with your friend.”

Suddenly, Louise placed her hand on top of Dan’s and squeezed gently, prompting him to finally look up and face her. Her expression was sympathetic, a small smile on her lips, eyes soft and caring.

“Dan,” she said, “You didn’t screw anything up.”

Her voice was gentle, far more understanding than Dan deserved, but he should have known it would be. Louise was strong willed and motherly, but that didn’t always result in her knocking sense into Dan by screaming at him for being an idiot. Sometimes, it meant just this.

Dan offered a small smile of his own in return.

“Okay, fine. Maybe I didn’t screw up anything for you, but -”

“Shush,” Louse said, cutting him off. “And start from the beginning. What’s going on? You just what?”

Dan closed his eyes, briefly, unsure where to start. He just had a lot of dumb fears in the back of his mind that were probably going to result in nothing, but he couldn’t just stop them. If he could, he would have texted Phil by now.

With another drawn out sigh, Dan pulled his hand out from under Louise’s, and shoved his fingers through his hair, pushing the bouncy curls back against the top of his head.

“It’s stupid,” he complained. “I just - well, he doesn’t exactly know what I am, does he?” he offered, avoiding Louise’s gaze all over again. “I hide my scent because I don’t want to be known as my instincts, and I know it doesn’t matter, I know that no one really cares, but, I just… I don’t know. Some alpha’s don’t even like omega’s, and what if he won’t continue to court me unless I tell him what my secondary sex is?”

The words came bursting out of Dan like word vomit once he started speaking, something he was unable to hold back any longer than he already had. It would have surprised him more if he wasn’t already used to blurting out all of his insecurities to Louise in the first place.

Still, he didn’t seem to be done, really. Before he could stop himself or Louise could interrupt and insert her two cents, Dan was opening his mouth to continue on his tirade.

“I just want to get to know him as Dan, first, and not an omega who sometimes has… uncontrollable urges,” he explained, now picking at his fingernails because he had nothing else to focus his attention on. His nail buds were bitten as far down as they could be, so Dan picked at his cuticles instead. “I mean… you’ve seen how I can be, Louise. I can get - kind of needy.”

Dan expected Louise to laugh, but she didn’t. Instead, she let out this soft sounding almost-purr that was a beta’s means of reassurance, and reached for Dan’s hands again. This time, she took both in hers, fingers gentle on his palms.

“Daniel, your sex doesn’t define you, you know that,” she told him quietly. “And anyone who gives a damn what your instincts cause from time to time doesn’t deserve you, considering we all have to put up with each others instincts from time to time,” she continued, a reassuring smile plastered across her face.

“But I know Phil. He’s probably one of the most genuine, nicest people I have ever known. He’s not going to care what your sex is, and he’s not going to ask, I promise. Phil… Phil probably just wants to get to know you too, regardless of what your sex is. So don’t be afraid, because I think - I think he’s really interested in you,” she continued. “In all the time that I’ve known him, he’s never courted someone before.”

That was enough to take Dan by surprise, who looked at Louise in wide-eyed astonishment. It was one thing to be told that Dan didn’t need to be afraid of Phil, but to hear that Phil rarely courted? That was both interesting and unbelievable. An alpha like Phil, who wore his scent with pride, and made everyone feel at peace around him? Impossible.

Louise giggled at the look on Dan’s face.

“Phil’s a hermit too, didn’t you know?” she teased, dropping Dan’s hands. “Text him. I’m sure he’d still really like to hear from you.”

Dan stared at Louise for another minute before he finally started to grin, something like excitement boiling in his stomach.

“Okay,” he finally agreed. “I will.”

 Actually doing so was easier said than done. By the time Dan returned to his apartment after lunch with Louise, he was practically shaking with nerves. It had been a week since he’d seen Phil, after all. Despite Louise’s reassurances, Dan was terrified the alpha would have lost interest in him by now.

How shitty was it for the person you were trying to court to not reciprocate in an appropriate manner? Dan might be able to believe that Phil wouldn’t care about his sex, or ask, but that didn’t change the fact that Dan had yet to message him.

Would Phil even reply, once Dan finally reached out to him?

There was only one way to find out, and after collapsing on top of his bed with his phone in his hands, Dan finally brought up Phil’s number. The alpha had stuck a little heart emoji after it when he’d put it into Dan’s phone, and even now it made Dan’s heart flutter.

He’d never quite been this enamoured before.

Usually, when he got asked out, he was wined and dined and then taken home for a one night stand. Rarely had Dan ever been courted, and even when he had been in the past, never with as much seeming importance as Phil had put into this already. After all, Phil had left it to Dan to text him back, and hadn’t instantly set a date for their first date. There was no rush, no pressure, no clear attempts for a hook up and nothing more… this felt real.

Phil seemed intent on taking this far more seriously than anyone else Dan had ever dated, and that, if he was being honest, was part of why he was so afraid.

Dan licked his lips as he stared at the contact in his phone, and finally pressed the “message” button.

To: Phil Lester <3

hey its dan haha sorry for getting back to you so late i

Dan scrunched up his nose at the words, and didn’t even hesitate to erase them, backspacing with a sigh until he was back to a blank message with no idea how he was meant to start this conversation. It felt awkward to bring up how long it had been since Phil had given Dan his number, but rude not to apologize. Still, he really did just want to message the alpha already, wanted to make it clear that he was just as interested, but it was hard to figure out the right words to say.

Dan dropped his phone on his chest for a brief moment and closed his eyes. Why hadn’t he just messaged Phil sooner? Then, maybe they would have gone on their first date by now.

The very thought of it made Dan grin. He really did like the alpha, after all. They seemed like the kind of guy Dan could actually get along with, somehow nerdier than him, and, according to Louise, not only just as socially inept as Dan, but a house hermit too. He was attractive to boot, and he just smelled so good…

Dan picked up his phone and tried again.

To: Phil Lester <3

hey :) its dan <3

Dan hesitated again, thumb hovering over the “send” button, wondering if the heart was too much or not. He figured the simpler the better, and if Phil responded, he could apologize then for being a coward, but if he didn’t, no love no loss, right? But the heart, was that too much? Phil had left one under his contact name, but…

Before Dan could overthink it anymore, he pressed “send” and dropped his phone on his chest again with a little groan. Squeezing his eyes shut, terrified he wouldn’t get any response, Dan sat up and let his phone fall to the mattress below him.

Maybe he should just get away for a bit, do something to distract him, try to get his mind off the fact that the alpha very likely wasn’t going to respond for a while. Surely they were working or something, it was only - Dan checked the time - three in the afternoon. Not everyone worked from home like Dan, after all, and -

Dan’s phone chimed from next to him.

His eyes went wide, and his heart started to race like crazy in his chest. Surely, that wasn’t actually -

Desperately trying not to get his hopes up, Dan fumbled to pick his phone up from his covers, and turned on the screen.

Phil Lester’s name flashed across it, and Dan felt a giddy sort of excitement fill him. Phil hadn’t waited but a few seconds to reply to Dan’s text message, and somehow that filled Dan with hope. Surely, if he were being rejected, Phil would have taken far more time to reply. The fact that Phil wasn’t even trying to play at being uninterested excited Dan.

He pressed his thumb to his phone screen and unlocked it, Phil’s message popping up instantly.

From: Phil Lester <3

Hey dan! It’s good to hear from you ^____^ I thought I might have scared you away! :’(

Dan felt his heart flutter at the words, and clutched his phone close as he replied.

To: Phil Lester <3

haha of course not. i might be a little shy is all D:

From: Phil Lester <3

That’s okay :’D I can do all the talking for us if you like ;’)

*** :’)

Shoot, sorry. I swear i’m not trying to flirt with you already!

Okay maybe a little <3

is it working yet? :’D

To: Phil Lester <3

hmm, i dont think so maybe try a little harder?

From: Phil Lester <3

charizards are red squirtles are blue if you were a pokemon i’d chose you :’D

how bout now?

To: Phil Lester <3

i think youve won me over <3

From: Phil Lester <3

good cause i was really hoping to see you again ^____^ if thats alright with you?

Dan felt his heart flutter all over again. He hadn’t stopped grinning once since Phil had first texted him back, far faster than Dan had ever expected him too. He hadn’t put his phone down once in the last three minutes, and it seemed next to impossible that Phil could still want to talk to him after Dan’s lengthy silence, let alone see him again.

Dan definitely wanted to see Phil, though. There was no question about that.

To: Phil Lester

of course :D

From: Phil Lester

great! hows saturday at 7? i could pick you up at your place? ^_____^

To: Phil Lester

sounds great <3

Phil responded with a ton of happy faces after that, with Dan sending a quick text with his address in reply, but then the conversation stopped. Dan had no idea what to say in return, and it was honestly a little disappointing considering how much Dan had been enjoying himself talking to Phil, but it came as no real surprise. They’d kind of run out of things to say, and Dan was too nervous to try and start another conversation with Phil so soon after being asked out on a date.

Still, that didn’t change the fact that Dan wanted to be talking to Phil, and he sighed as he shut off his phone screen and laid back down in bed.

The conversation had gone far better than he’d expected. He’d honestly thought Phil would call him out on taking so long to text him after Louise’s birthday, perhaps yell at him for allowing Phil to pay for his dinner and then not bothering to repay him with something as simple as a thank you text, but he hadn’t, and Dan had the feeling Phil wouldn’t have even been mad if Dan hadn’t texted him back

The fact that someone like Phil could exist was actually amazing to Dan.

And the fact that his phone went off again a mere two minutes after that made his heart flutter all over again.

From: Phil Lester

sorry, didnt i hear you mention you watch game of thrones? cause uh, id love to talk about it if your up to it? :’)

this is totally not just an excuse to keep talking to you btw

just... curious is all :’D

Dan laughed, because even if it was just an excuse to keep talking, well. Dan wanted to, too.

To: Phil Lester

you heard correctly, although im not sure your ready for these ~opinions~ i get quite heated

From: Phil Lester

is that right? well now youve got me all excited!!! hope you can deliver dan ;’)

that one really was meant to be a winky face ^____^

give me your best shot!!

Covering his face as he turned red with glee, Dan chuckled into the palm of his hand, and settled back into his pillows with every intention of getting comfortable.

If Phil wanted to talk opinions, Dan could talk opinions. He just hoped Phil was ready to see just how passionate Dan could be.

 They didn’t stop talking until three am. Dan had no idea whether or not Phil had a job, as they’d done nothing but argue and debate over the characters in their favorite tv shows and movies, ranging from Game of Thrones to Marvel in an obvious ploy to keep talking to each other, but he hoped he hadn’t ruined the rest of Phil’s day when they finally say goodnight.

Phil signed off with a ^____^ and couple xoxoxo’s that had honestly set Dan’s heart on fire, and by the time he himself climbed into bed after replying with a blushing emoji and a simple xo of his own, Dan had felt well and truly infatuated.

He’d never gotten along with someone so quickly before, nor had he ever been able to text with such ease. It had felt so natural arguing with Phil, and even when they’d gotten heated, there’d been a sense of lighthearted humor to everything they said. Dan never got along with people so easily, let alone one’s who didn’t quite share the same opinions as he when it came to his favorite media, and yet… here he was, sat purring away in the comfort of his duvet, practically dreaming of Phil already.

Purring. Content. Pleased. Something that Dan had so rarely done in his life up until this point, an instinct so primal and rare that Dan hadn’t quite expected the sound to erupt from his throat of it’s own accord.

His heart was still racing in his chest, and he could practically feel it making his nerves sing. All he wanted, as he thought about how many times he and Phil had actually agreed and shouted exclamations over their favorite things, was for it to just be Saturday already.

(Next)