#a cope being faced with a problem he was never meant to solve

[artgletic]

case study of the self-identified god

[nuggets-and-french-fries]

Note: I apologize for taking so long (much longer than I wanted to take) to get this out for you to read; but I want to thank you for your immense patience and I hope that the quality of this imagine makes up for having to wait.

Also, I used a couple prompts you sent me which are highlighted in bold. Thank you for sending me the prompts.

Last note, I did try my best to edit the imagine but I'm not sure if I missed anything. If I did, please excuse the mistakes etc.

That about covers it. Please feel free to request again and feel free to be as details as you like, the more details the better.

Enjoy and Happy December 1st!

P.S: Please let me know your thoughts on this imagine❤️

---

Being an only child was one thing, but when you pair that with your father being high up in the echelon of the FBI, you have a recipe for disaster. Especially if you are anything like Y/N and the only way you could cope with your father's job was by falling in with the wrong crowd, eventually getting yourself arrested and charged with minor offenses. 

Sure, they weren't near as severe as former convicted criminal turned FBI operative James Keene's were, but they were still enough to make her father disappointed and feel as though he had to work harder to prove to his bosses that he was an upstanding and law-abiding citizen.

Y/N knew how much the FBI meant to her father, which is why she made it her mission to rewrite the wrongs she had done in her past. She wanted to make her parents proud and the best way she knew to do that was to follow in one of her parents' footsteps. In this case, it was her father's footsteps.

She had gone to her father one rainy afternoon, begging him to let her help with a recent case that was in jeopardy of going cold. She was good with problem-solving and she was amazing at investigating things. She had been since she was a small child. It's why her parents could never hide her Christmas gifts at their house and always hid them at Y/N's grandparents' house. 

Robert was reluctant but knew that Y/N wouldn't let it go until he accepted her pleas. He allowed her to look over the case files, and ever since that afternoon, Y/N began her job as an FBI operative. 

This takes us to today. Y/N sat in the passenger seat of an old beat-up truck with broken air conditioning, whilst the sweltering heat made beads of sweat cling to her brow. She wiped the sweat away and tied her hair up into a high messy bun in the hopes that it would help with the heat. It didn't. It only made things worse if you asked her. The baby hairs at the nape of her neck were forced into little ringlets, refusing to be tamed. She growled in annoyance and returned to the open map on her lap.

"This is ridiculous. Are we there yet?" Y/N groaned, hoping her partner on this case would tell her they were.

He turned his head to face her and looked at her over the rim of his dark sunglasses while his hair flopped in his face, clearly not appreciating the heat either.

"Why are you asking me that again?" Jimmy asked with a slightly annoyed tone.

Y/N continued looking at the map even though she could feel his lingering gaze on her.

"Is the pretty boy losing his marbles?" Y/N cooed sarcastically, smirking at him afterwards.

Jimmy rolled his eyes and turned his attention back to the road ahead of him.

"You're the one with the map, so if anyone knows how close we are to the town, it's you." He remarked, making Y/N roll her eyes this time.

She was about to reply when a large sign saying 'Welcome to Arizona' passed by them in a flash.

"Well, now we both know we are close." She said with sarcasm. 

Jimmy refused to say anything else. Normally he wouldn't mind working with others on a case but Y/N was starting to feel like a thorn in his side. She would sass him when he asked her a question, or she would remain silent and stare out her window and God forbid he ask her to look at a map. Oh and another thing, when he said he was driving and she wasn't, she scoffed and pouted.

He wasn't entirely sure if he wanted to yell at her or kiss that put off her face. He decided against both choices though as he knew he'd probably have ever loving shit out of him. Something told him that the woman beside him was a tough one and was a force to be reckoned with, especially with how well-known her father was. Jimmy was sure that Y/N could make his death look like an accident if she wanted to.

=

After another couple of hours of driving and bickering back and forth, Jimmy and Y/N arrived at their motel.

"Uh, are you sure this is it? It looks so-" Y/N started before Jimmy chimed in.

"Charming, American, yadda yadda." He said, listing off words, waving his hand in the air.

"No, I was going to say gross, dingy, dilapidated, and damn near abandoned." She answered, feeling nervous about what awaited them in the small office building with dirt and cobweb-covered windows.

"Oh come on, it's not that bad." Jimmy said confidently but Y/N could see through that confident facade. She knew he felt the same.

"Are you fucking blind Keene, it's beyond a shit hole and if we're the next victims of murder, I'm blaming you." Y/N said through gritted teeth as she followed him to the office.

Once they reached the tiny box that was the office, they stepped inside and instantly Y/N's hand flew up to cover her mouth as she attempted and failed at suppressing a gag. The smell of old urine, old smoke, musty carpets, mold, and other odors embraced every nook and cranny with their vile scents. Even Jimmy wanted to puke and he had seen and smelled some pretty intense things in his lifetime.

Jimmy looked behind him to make sure that Y/N was ok but by the fact that her complexion had turned white with a hint of green, he knew she needed air, however hot and suffocating it was outside.

He was about to tell Y/N to wait outside when a man resembling hamburglar walked out of what appeared to be a small room. He was covered in sweat and dirt. He smelt of old cigarettes and stale beer. His hair wet with sweat, stuck out at odd ends as it curled from the heat.

"She good?" The man asked through a mumble as he pointed at Y/N, clocking the way she was acting.

She looked at Jimmy and silently begged him to make something up or was it to let her wait outside, he couldn’t tell.

When she tried to hold another gag, he knew it was to let her wait outside, so he took the keys out of his pocket.

"Car sick. Takes her a while to get over it." Jimmy said, handing Y/N the keys, fully trusting her to not drive off without him.

She snatched the keys from him and hurried outside just in time.

The men watched the woman for a minute before they went on with the business of sorting out a room.

Thankfully It didn’t take too long to check in before Jimmy could rejoin the outside world. He was glad for that fact as the extremely pungent smell in the office was starting to get to him and turn his gills green.

Y/N watched the man breathing deeply and dramatically from where she was in the truck and chuckled to herself. He looked absolutely ridiculous huffing and puffing in his now off white tank top and blue Levi jeans. Why he chose to wear jeans in a hot climate was beyond her, especially since he opted to wear boots on his feet. Ones that didn’t look like they were made for the desert.

“Are you just going to stand there or can we actually go to our room?” Y/N asked as she pooped her head out of the passenger side window.

Jimmy ignored her but made his way over to the truck. He was eager to get to the room and see if it looked better or worse then the front of this so called establishment.

=

“Are you fucking kidding me, Keene?! I am not sharing a bed with you!” Y/N exclaimed as she and Jimmy stood in front of the only bed in the room. The bed that looked like no one had washed its sheets in decades…no, make that in centuries. 

“Sleep in the truck then.” Jimmy said as he put his bag on the bed. 

Y/N gasped and picked his bag back up. SHe was appalled that he wasn’t even questioning what the hell was going on here.

“Don’t do that, you don’t know what diseases are hiding there.” She told him. 

“I’m almost touched that you care about me.” He said.

“I care about the bag. Do you know how long bacteria can stay on something like your bag.” She shrieked, making Jimmy roll his eyes.

“Why don’t we drive around looking for another place to stay because I’m telling you right now, the FBI hates us.” Y/N said.

“Why don’t you just stop bitching about this place. It may not be ideal but it’s a place to rest and work.” Jimmy warned her.

“I am not bitching. This place is vile and I really don’t want to stay here.” Y/N replied.

“At least it’s not a prison.” He said. He had her there.

“With a choice between this place and prison, I choose prison.” Y/N said, looking at the man square on.

“You aren’t going to budge on this are you?” Jimmy asked.

“Not a chance in fucking hell. I’d rather lick Satan’s asshole than stay here.” Y/N said, making Jimmy chuckle.

“Alright, fine. Put the bags back in the truck. I’ll tell him we had family members insist we stay with them.”  Jimmy said, giving in.

Y/N threw her arms around him in a tight hug.

“Thank you!” Y/N said as she took their bags to the truck while Jimmy locked their room door.

=

25 minutes later, Jimmy and Y/N had found an even better motel. It was one that actually looked inviting and not like something straight out of a horror movie. The reception smelled clean, looked clean and the staff were so nice and less fat and sweaty. 

Unfortunately for Y/N, the only room they had available had one bed. It wasn’t that she didn’t want to share a bed because she hated Jimmy, rather it was the idea that if she was to sleep next to him, she may do things that were…unbecoming of a respectable woman shall we say and completely unprofessional. 

“Still?” Jimmy sighed, noticing the look on her face at the mention of their room only having one bed…again.

“You know what, no. Because you were my knight in shining armor back there and saved me from a night of horrors, I’ll keep my thoughts on sharing a bed quiet.” Y/N said, patting Jimmy on the shoulder.

Jimmy raised his brow at her and decided against replying. He’d save his remark for later.

“Come on Keene, I’m tired.” Y/N called over her shoulder as she walked toward the door. Jimmy shook his head and followed suit.

=

Finally settled in their room, Y/N sat on her side of the bed looking over a case file while Jimmy showered and rinsed off the last few hours. Y/N had previously done the same and boy, what a world of good that did her. She felt refreshed and happier.

“Did you know that this motel is closer to the prep’s house and to the route he took.” Y/N called as she heard the water shut off.

“We should scout it out.” Jimmy suggested as he walked out of the bathroom with a towel hanging loosely around his waist.

Y/N pretended not to notice how fit the man in front of her was but with how quiet Y/N became, Jimmy smirked to himself.

“What’s so funny?” Y/N asked, trying not to look up at him.

So many replies were flying around Jimmy’s mind but he didn’t want to embarrass Y/N or give her a reason to get all pissy with him.

“I spotted a burger king down the street.” He said as he slipped his clothes on back in the bathroom.

“And?” Y/N asked, refocusing on re-reading the paragraphs on the paperwork.

“Are you hungry?” Jimmy questioned as he padded back to the room and plopped on the bed next to Y/N.

Y/N stopped reading and looked at the tv on the wall, deciding if she was hungry or not.

“I could eat.” Y/N said after a minute. Jimmy nodded and stood up.

“Let’s go then.” He said as he got his things together.

“Oh, I thought you were going to get it and come back.” Y/N admitted, feeling dejected. She loved the idea of getting fast food and eating it in the motel bed while watching cartoons.

“I could do that or we could get it and eat in the restaurant and then go for a drive.” He suggested, loving the idea of seeing what else this town had to offer and maybe scouting out where the crimes took place.

“You go enjoy, I’ll just order a pizza or something.” Y/N said, putting her head back down.

“Suit yourself.” Jimmy said, shrugging his shoulders.

Y/N would be lying if she said she wasn’t disappointed and a little hurt that he would leave her alone on their first night here in favor of going for a  drive.

Jimmy walked out the door and got into the truck and felt a pang of guilt hit him in the chest. There was something about Y/N’s demeanor that told him she was excited at the possibility of a motel room picnic, if that’s what you want to call it that.

Taking a deep breath, Jimmy got out of the truck and unlocked the room door.

“Change your mind?” Y/N asked, now flipping through the tv for something to watch.

“What burger do you want?” Jimmy asked. 

Y/N’s gaze  shot to Jimmy and he could see a spark of joy shine in her eyes. 

“What about your drive?” She questioned. 

“Just answer the question before I change my mind Y/N.” Jimmy said and for the first time since meeting her, Y/N gave him a genuine smile and he’d be lying if he said his heart didn’t skip a beat. 

“You got a pen?” She asked, knowing that she wanted a few things.

Jimmy grabbed a pen from the small desk in the room and a piece of paper. 

“Hit me with it.” He told her.

“Ok, I want an extra large whopper meal, a large order of onion rings, an extra large chicken nugget meal and a chocolate sundae. I also want two cheeseburgers and a chicken burger.” She said, making Jimmy’s eyes bug out of his head.

“Damn.” Jimmy remarked.

“What? I’m thinking of breakfast tomorrow and if I know anything from traveling as a kid, it’s that burger king always tastes better cold and for breakfast the next morning.” She explained.

“Never thought of that.” Jimmy said as he finished writing her order. “Anything else or is that all?” He asked.

Y/N thought for a minute.

“One more thing?” She questioned.

“Fuck me, ok.” He said as he put pen to paper again.

“A caramel sundae as well as the chocolate one.” She said, remembering her mother’s tradition of mixing the caramel and chocolate sundaes together.

“To confirm, you want an extra large whopper meal, an extra large chicken nugget meal, a large order of onion rings, a chicken burger, two cheeseburgers, a chocolate sundae and a caramel sundae.” Jimmy said, reading the list carefully.

“Yup, that should do it.” She said proudly. She was excited for cartoons while she ate. It was going to be just as fun as when she was a kid and on holiday with her mom when her dad was away working.

“Awesome.” Jimmy said as he headed toward the door.

He barely had his hand on the doorknob when Y/N spoke up again.

“Jimmy?” Y/N asked. He turned to face her, waiting for her response.

“Thanks for getting all that.” She said, genuinely.

“You’re welcome.” He muttered, opening the door, heading to get their food.

=

While Jimmy was out getting their food and some other treats he wanted from the store, Y/N got the room ready for the night and for their fast food feast.

She untucked the blankets on the bed and set up a partition in the middle of the bed so their sides were clearly marked, she turned on the nickelodeon channel ready for the cartoon binge fest and she had changed into her cozy pj’s. She didn’t care that they were oversized and granny looking. The point was that she was comfortable and had room for all her food.

When she was done with all of that, Y/N sat back on the bed and watched spongebob. It was one of her favorite cartoons to watch while she was traveling. It gave her a sense of nostalgia.

This particular episode, spongebob and Patrick were up to their usual chaotic mischief and every moment of the episode, Y/N was in a fit of giggles so loud Jimmy could hear them as he came back with the mass amount of food.

“Uh, a little help.” Jimmy said as he struggled to balance the items in his hands.

“Oh my god Jimmy, that’s way more than what I asked for.” Y/N told him.

“Thank you captain obvious, I hadn’t noticed.” He sassed her.

“Ok, Ok, no need to snap.” She said.

Y/N set the burger king bags etc. on the bed and the rest of the things she placed on the small desk.

“That’s everything.” Jimmy said as he entered the room with four six packs of beer.

“Beer?” Y/N asked, surprised that Jimmy drank beer. She took him as a wine guy after all.

“It goes with the chips I got.” He said.

Y/N squinted at him.

“What kind of chips?” She questioned.

“Salt n vinegar and bbq.” He replied.

“I approve.” She said.

“Good to know.” He said. 

“So is it a split situation?” She asked.

“For what?” He asked in reply.

“For the beer.” She responded.

“Uh, yeah. 12 for me, 12 for you.” He said.

“Thank you.” Y/N said as she sat down to eat her melting ice creams.

Jimmy soon joined her in eating his food and the both of them laughed and reminisced while they watched cartoon after cartoon.

In fact, they’d go as far as saying they bonded over their festivities. Jimmy learned things no one knew about Y/N and Y/N learned things no one knew about Jimmy.

=

At 2am, Jimmy woke up with a start. It wasn’t a new thing. He had been having nightmares ever since he had left Springfield and as much as he tried to rid those thoughts and memories from his mind, it never seemed to do much good.

“What’s wrong?” Y/N muttered lowly, feeling Jimmy stir beside her.

He didn’t want Y/N to know the truth so he came up with a quick lie, hoping it would appease her.

“You were snoring.” He said hurriedly.

Y/N knew that she didn’t snore but she had to give him kudos for all the lies he was able to think up on the spot. It took some real talent to do that.

“I do not snore. You liar.” She scoffed.

Jimmy sighed.

“You don’t have to tell me but you don’t have to lie either.” Y/N said.

“I’ll keep that in mind.” Jimmy replied, turning over to face her so that he could see her better.

“Don’t let this get in your head but you’re a good guy Jimmy and whatever is bothering you, you shouldn’t let it overtake the goodness you have.” Y/N said.

Jimmy smiled. He knew that she was right and it made him feel good to know that someone saw that he wasn’t just a pretty face like so many women had told him. Y/N could see something in him that held promise and that made his heart happy.

“Is there anything I can do that will help you go back to sleep?” Y/N asked, not knowing that Jimmy had already fallen asleep again. His body feeling exhausted from the day’s events.

“Rest easy Jimmy and don’t worry, I’m right here.” She whispered, kissing his cheek gently.

-Fin-

---

Tag List:

@geo-winchester

@elizami11s

@stilesbansheequeen

**And anyone else who wants to be tagged in anything I write whether imagines or original work, let me know.**

[the-starry-seas]

You gotta tell me more about Whisper's problems. How bad could it *really* be for ne and Sol to be drinking buddies?

LOL well-

The biggest thing is, well, y'know. The kind of people who say "an army of child slaves sounds like the perfect way to solve problems" are probably the kind of people who dehumanise said army of child slaves. Jango straight up calls them livestock. Plus the whole barcode and CT numbers thing. Enough to give anyone issues when it's all they know! And that's not accounting for the extra trust issues coming from the fact that the Aces were betrayed by a clone from their own company.

Also I have a really incoherent set of thoughts about clones not having personal autonomy or the ability to say 'no', and the ways that can break them. And about how much worse that is for clones with touch aversion, like Whisper. And about how nonverbal episodes can make anything difficult, but are potentially lethal in a life-or-death situation. And how with emotions being all... fucky wucky, sometimes the only way to feel something is to get punched in the face. Kiss with a fist is better than none, etc etc.

(I also have a lot of thoughts about there being a different version of the clone chip that's installed with "live" programing, when sending a clone back to Kamino for reconditioning would take too much time. These chipped clones have to obey every order they're given, even if it would kill them to do so, and are forbidden from fighting back against anyone hurting them. I have even more thoughts about Whisper being threatened with a chip like that and being scared shitless because ne could never let the Aces endanger themselves to protect ner.)

This is entirely headcanon, but, Kaminoans are transphobic as hell when it comes to the clones. The army was made male on purpose and there's no reason for them to not stay that way. They hear about a clone changing up their gender and consider it a 'programming aberration', something tweaked in the DNA that makes the clone a little cuckoo for cocoa puffs in comparison to the 'real' soldiers. For one thing, Whisper is not fond of being called an aberration. And apart from the effect transphobia has on a kid, it's just stressful to wonder what's enough to get you taken from your family.

But that's not ner only aberration, as far as the Kaminoans are concerned! Or would be concerned, if they knew that Whisper was autistic. Which also brings a whole new set of Shit Whisper Doesn't Want To Deal With. I'm ready to kill someone with my bare hands like a gorilla after 15 minutes in a Wal-mart supercentre, and Whisper spent ner entire life in either a multi-million-people city or a war zone. Considering ne has no idea what a coping mechanism is (presumably some kind of machinery), is it really any surprise that ne has a load of emotional disregulation and anger issues?

The Aces did a lot to protect Ember and keep his deafness a secret. An unintentional side effect of that is that he sees his deafness as a Problem that would get them all killed if anyone figures it out. Did the Aces try to accommodate Whisper's own disability and accidentally teach ner the same thing? Does Whisper think there's something wrong in ner brain, and that ne needs to be fixed to be normal so ne's no longer a problem that ner family has to keep covered up? Yep. It sucks when your family teaches you shame, especially when they never meant to.

Also Whisper is asexual and demiromantic so like. That is also very alienating when you realise that you're not physically capable of feeling something that everyone else considers a defining trait of being human. Which also definitely ties back into the whole angle of Kaminoan dehumanisation, and the whole "ah fuck gotta fix the brain to be normal" thought pattern.

But the big thing is the child murder! In canon, one of the Cuy'val Dar had a fight ring, and multiple cadets died from their injuries. Whisper got kicked into the fight ring when ne was seven years old. Ner first time there, ne ended up killing ner opponent. And ne was efficient enough about it that Priest kept bringing ner back for more fights. Killing other cadets (some of them younger than ner) since childhood has, what's the phrase... deeply fucked ner up.

There's also the fact that ne internalises everything instead of relying on ner family for help or support. Everything is ner fault, therefore ne has to fix it all on ner own, too. It's like a damage multiplier against ner emotional state. The other Aces don't even know about the fight club thing, ne told them it was intensive training for consideration for an ARC program. That's gonna be a fustercluck.

[blackacre13]

Can you do part 2 of Debbie getting jealous of Lou and her sponsor

(Part one linked above)

And it wasn’t just that they were both in AA and that Sam was Lou’s sponsor. Sam owned a bar. And Sam rode a motorcycle. And Sam was gay.

Debbie knew that Lou would never cheat on her. She absolutely trusted her. And Debbie knew that sponsors couldn’t have relationships with their sponsee. And Debbie knew that these dilemmas and hypotheticals were all in her head and that she was just torturing herself for no reason. But she couldn’t help it.

Sam wasn’t a criminal. Sam had almost everything in common with Lou. Sam wasn’t an Ocean.

And Debbie was jealous. Too jealous for her own good.

Debbie took a deep breath. In and out. Twice. Three times. Her fingers twitched against her phone, heart aching. She knew who she wanted to call. Knew the only person who could quite understand what she was going through.

But Danny wasn’t around to play the role of big brother anymore.

Rusty’s sobriety had hit him hard. Danny had done nothing but blame himself, chiding himself for bringing Rusty into a world of thrill chasing and illegal activities, with a night cap after every plot, every con, every heist. She wasn’t making light of the situation when she thought that Danny’s rock bottom went even lower than Rusty’s, and he didn’t want to ask Rusty to help pull him out from the hole because he felt like he’d flung his best friend down even lower than himself and didn’t deserve anyone helping him climb his way out.

It was a unique position to watch someone you loved go through this. But Debbie was almost struggling more with the upswings of Lou’s sobriety than the hard times of addiction. Not that she’d been around for much of it. But that’s what made everything even worse.

Debbie could do fixing. All Debbie did was plot and plan and calculate. If Lou had a problem, Debbie had solved it before the blonde had even realized there was something that needed damage control. Debbie had suggested watering down the vodka at the club. Debbie knew Lou needed to be in the kitchen for the heist to work. Debbie even knew how to fix them back then, she just didn’t think she deserved to have things fixed. Oceans were meant to break things. Destroy them. They didn’t deserve structure or settling down or love.

But she knew if she had been around, she could have helped. She would’ve taken Lou to meetings and come up with fun coping activities. Made a game out of it. Made it cheesy so she could pull that messy smirk and eyeball from her partner that said “I hate you” out loud but “thank you” and “I love you” from inside. She would have made her lists. Helped her count. Let her turn her sobriety chips in for prizes. Found a new healthy habit for them to both pick up and do together. They could’ve gotten through it together.

But she also knew that this was her fault, no matter how many times Lou told her it wasn’t. Taking away the blame didn’t take the self-blame and guilt away. They both knew that. Had both learned that the hard way time and time again.

“Debs?”

“Oh,” Debbie breathed, not even remembering having dialed the phone, staring down at it with a puzzled face. She knew she couldn’t have called Danny. But somehow her mind must have settled on Tammy instead as a suitable substitute.

“You alright?”

“I’m doing it again.”

“Being a criminal mastermind?” Tammy laughed. Debbie could hear the blender whirring and the kids shrieking behind her. As much as things changed, Tammy had mostly stayed the same.

“Being a stubborn asshole,” the brunette sighed, moving out of her chair to sit on the floor, her head landing against the wall with a thunk.

“Where’s your better half?” Tammy chuckled, fumbling around in her kitchen no doubt.

“My tits are right here, Tammy,” Debbie smirked, trying to dodge the question that would bring about the actual reason she had called without realizing she had even initiated it.

“Your wife, Deborah,” Tammy practically snarled. Debbie wondered if she had paused in her weird food concoction to lean against the counter with a sigh, judging Debbie from across the Verrazano bridge.

“Debbie.”

“You have to admit they’re a nice pair, Tam.”

“I’m not entertaining this conversation, on the contrary,” Tammy sighed, most certainly raking her hands through her hair with a huff. “Where’s the other pair of tits in your relationship?”

“Do you think she’d let me call her daddy long legs?” Debbie wondered aloud, scratching at the corner of the desk with a frown. Maybe it was time they redecorated in here.

“Deborah Ann, I swear—“

“She’s with Sam,” the brunette finally huffed, Sam’s name sounding more like a swear word than a name, bitter on her tongue.

“Oh.”

Debbie didn’t even have to say anything to know that Tammy already knew everything. She always knew.

“You know she loves you, Debs. Right?”

“Sam does?” Debbie teased. “She knows I’m married, right?”

“Lou, you pain in the ass,” Tammy hissed. “I don’t know why I put up with your bullshit, Ocean.”

“You love me,” Debbie sang, her energy waning as she decided to stop trying to deflect and actually let Tammy know how she felt. “I know she does,” Debbie nodded, whispering it like a secret. “And I know she has every right to a sponsor. And a friend. And someone to confide in. And I just—god, I already sound like a manipulative bitch.”

“No,” Tammy promised her. “You just sound like you love your partner and you wish there was more you could do for them.”

“Yeah.”

“And you’re not saying you don’t trust Lou, because I know you do, but you’re scared that you don’t deserve the happiness that you have right now.”

“Everything’s been so good, Tam,” Debbie whispered, surprised to feel tears prickling at her eyes. “What if it’s been too good?”

[icharchivist]

I think Bubs just got the short end of the stick. I believe he was supposed to be the big bad of 000, so he was kept hooded and mysterious throughout Paradise Lost, but then everyone latched onto Belial instead, because he just stole the show, so they decided to follow his storyline more closely and Bubs got overshadowed by Lucilius. Ironically.

I hear Versus put him in the limelight and even revealed his name and face for the first time, but not every Gbf player played the fighting game spinoff, so once again, a bit of a raw deal for him.

By this point he weaseled his way back in through Tower of Babyl, some quests and Elsam's fantasies of him, so he's finally getting his dues, but he mostly got snubbed by Belial and Lucilius. Story of his life. He would appreciate a loyal following.

I also think this explains why in Versus it's said that he put primal cores into his body himself to grow more powerful whereas the main game tells us Lucilius experimented on him without his consent. Even Gbf is meowifying Beelzebub. But I think since Versus was in development earlier they took all the production notes from WMTSB and finished Beelzebub, but the writers later decided to change how he got the cores to better fit in with what they were now going for and that explains the disparity. Or he got experimented on and then took more cores for himself to take the power back to himself, basically. As a weird coping mechanism/ to grow more powerful still.

He's definitely an interesting one.

I personally appreciate how he's very eloquent and intelligent and not just the dumb muscle. Or how he always has his eyes on his goal. But he was in the unenviable position of competing for attention with Belial and he's just very good at grabbing an audience and never letting them go. Few people would stand a chance,if any.

Oh yeah i agree

I do think Lucilius might have been planned earlier as a real problem and stuff since Lucifer namedrops him in part 1 still, meanwhile Belial and Bubs only both appeared in wmtsb pt 2 and we all know Belial was only created to unblock a writer block.

and also Sandalphon being a villain in wmtsb pt 1 was actually meant to keep him as a villain, i've read that they only planned on redeeming Sandalphon after seeing how popular he's been in wmtsb pt 2. So pt2 had to basically redirect Sandalphon's story and introduce new villains to bridge to the Lucilius story they had planned.

And i believe Bubs was supposed to be this villain, in an original draft idea, Bubs was probably the one supposed to bring Lucilius back and the power struggle between the two astrals would have been a centric point to the saga.

but then writer block happened and they created Belial to counter it, as a companion to Bubs's crimes and probably also as a continuation of the ideas they had for Sandalphon as a villain. Considering how Belial and Sandalphon end up acting like foil, with their devotions easily being put into parallelism, it makes sense Belial would have happened both out of Sandalphon's redemption and trying to make Bubs work more mysteriously.

But yeah. Then Belial became too popular and the dilemma he raised were more interesting, both as Sandalphon's foil and with his relationship with Lucifer. Bubs only really had a relationship with Lucilius, who still was a mysterious figure then, so i think it made it harder to emotionally connect with him in pt 2.

Basically they went so hard on Bubs's mystery that it meant we didn't know enough to get affected, while Belial was right here with connections left and right and his winner personality.

and so by 000 they doubled down on Belial because he got that popular. And i would assume that more than being overshadowed by Lucilius, Bubs was really overshadowed by Belial, because suddenly this character who only happened to solve a writer block and replace villain Sandalphon had taken too much of a life of his own and fans wanted his story to continue, over figuring out what mysteries were behind Bubs at the time.

I do think wmtsb did the best it could with what it had, and the story we got in the end was really tight and cool, and i do think that Belial was necessary for the plot to work out as well as it did.

But yeah, Bubs definitely got shafted as a result. I think there's still plenty of moments in the trilogy that makes Bubs intriguing, but we don't get enough answers about him until he gets discarded to focus on Lucilius so we're kinda left in limbo about him if you read just the wmtsb trilogy.

GBVS definitely put more focus on Bubs before the base game did, and it helped shapping him back into the villain he was meant to be. And then he also had his raid battle, and Tower of Babyl, both of which added a long needed lore about him........ but also those are locked behind HL contents. Those aren't accessible to your regular fans.

There's a joke to be made about how Bubs believes himself so mighty that he will obviously make you work to discover about him, but purely out of universe, i do think it's a bit sad that he's the one wmtsb character who ends up requiring this much work to know about him.

as for GBVS meowfying him over the base game, i wonder how much of it is actually GBVS working with scrap storylines/not knowing the full plot that was planned, and how much is just the same reasoning as to how Belial became Avatar Belial in gbvs with no mention of Sariel: they just didn't want to add more complicated lore when they could simply said he did it to himself.

But i honestly don't know which one it is. As it is, yeah, GBVS gave him more of a stand out behavior than GBF.... but idk. Like..... Honestly last time we were discussing his primal core and people were mentioning how he put it inside of himself, i was confused because i could have sworn i remembered it's something that happened to him against his consent, but i felt like i was just rusty on this plot point. So it's good to know that i wasn't wrong about it.

bc ultimately it makes more sense even by wmtsb pt3 that Bubs didn't want this primal core? he looks down on the primals, and this core is the one thing that makes him vulnerable to be sealed away by Cags. The idea that he'd put something like that onto himself seemed odd to me, especially bc i still remember just horrifying it was to see Beelzebub agonizing on the experiment table while Lucilius is genuinely studying him as a bug as he makes him half primal. And reading he "just made himself half primal" really clashed with what i remembered.

If they decide later to expand that "yeah Lucilius gave him the first core, but Bubs experimented more on the core later to regain agency" it would be a nice way to bridge back those two lore points.

I do also think Bubs is really interesting, and it's not even mentioning how he's in a similar position as Lucilius as a clone and stuff. There's really a lot that goes with making Bubs interesting, this dilemma being half primal, this love for Lucilius while he also resents him for what happened to him, all of that.

And yeah i agree with you, i love that he's actually eloquent and smart, and for all we tease him for it, i do think him being extremely self centered // considering himself to be the greatest ever is actually a super interesting character trait, because it's not here just to say he's annoying and self absorbed, but it pushes even further this thematic of what it means being someone who has inherited this sentiment that he doesn't belong among his peers.

But yeah. Belial really held people by the throat and therefore Bubs was shafted a bit for later as a result.

Bubs remains a very interesting character even with the scraps we get into wmtsb though

and i think it's where it's interesting to discuss him even more because if you only read the wmtsb trilogy, it's good to know what else we learn about Bubs elsewhere.

but also i AM a Belial stan so i can't act like "geez it's unfair Belial gets all the focus and Bubs none", i also kinda see that well, it's the choice gbf took at the time.

But yeah. it's good to talk about Bubs imo!! he's a fascinating little guy who ended up in a weird position as a character, overshadowed both in writing and in universe by the same people over and over again.

poor lad.

[quirkless-accident]

A Dog? A Mouse? A Bear? A...Dad? pt 2

sequel to the one where Nezu adopts Nezu @scarlette-foxx @nonbinary-disaster

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

With Nezu's influence, the Guys in White had been absolutely decimated over a short weekend with a little time to spare. He spent the extra time playing chess with his new son.

Summer was here and it was bright and invasive, but it was obvious Danny loved it nonetheless. He had his own time to cope, as well as his scheduled times with Hound Dog. His parents were given proper funerals, and Nezu did his best to reduce Danny's stress.

Unfortunate, his staff could be a bit overzealous.

It started on an early Thursday morning when Danny had offhandedly mentioned that he had always wanted to be a hero, and if he couldn't do that then he'd be an astronaut. e

Needless to say, the whole staff had taken that to heart.

His training, much to the boy's excitement, began immediately. Nezu was more than a little excited about the untapped potential he had. His physic, while small, could still pack a punch. He had superhuman strength and wasn't afraid to use it. Aizawa was very pleased with the sparring and physical tests he had put the boy through.

HIs English was also near perfect. His parents had been from America, and thus had taught it to them growing up. Mic had decided to start teaching him JSL instead, since he was leagues ahead of the upcoming first years.

While he was lacking in his literature class with Cementoss and his Art History with Midnight, he absolutely excelled in math with Ectoplasm, and had a knack for problem solving that was far past even the skill of their third years. Because of this, they had taken him to the support course and had him do whatever he wanted. Needless to say, everybody was impressed.

In between all of that, Nezu took the time to spend time with Danny. He had no intention of not spending time with the child he had adopted. Academic progress aside, he was glad Danny was genuinely doing better. Maybe not okay, not yet, but he wore his heart on his sleeve and was much more emotionally open than most teenagers. Danny had said they had his sister to thank for that, since she had wanted to become a psychiatrist. Their conversation after bringing her up hadn't lasted very long, but the fact that he had brought her up so freely anyway was miles ahead of how he talked about them when he first came into Nezu's care.

They would play chess, and at some point Danny had convinced him to play Doomed with him. While the strategizing Nezu did while playing was, well, child's play, he did enjoy himself. If anything, the faces Danny made made it all worth it.

Nezu's never really been an affectionate person. He cared deeply for his staff and his students, but he can't say he loves any of them. They're colleagues. Coworkers. Principal-student relationships.

But Danny is different. That's a constant that Nezu seems to be running into quite a bit. Because Danny is the first human he genuinely loves. Danny is his son, and just the thought of anything bad happening to him makes his hackles rise and his teeth bared.

Nezu is not an angry person.

Or, at least, that used to be true.

Because when it comes to Danny, he will burn the world to the ground with a flick of his finger and a phone call if it meant keeping his son safe.

Hero work is different, of course. Danny is hell bent on it, and Nezu would be a hypocrite to not let him into the entrance exam. He is bound to get hurt, and he is bound to end up in situations he probably won't be able to get out of alone, but he will not be afraid. Danny is a brave young man with courage the size of oceans. With a drive and determination that reaches past the stars.

Danny is a Fenton, and they famously don't do anything by halves. With them, it has always been all or nothing. But that mixed with being taken under Nezu's wing, well.

It makes for an interesting future, that's for sure.

[butterflyyeo]

drunk in love

pairing - yeosang x fem reader

genre - fluff, angst (?)

tw - lots of alcohol consumption, swearing

wc - 10k

side ships - seongjoong, yungi

a/n -- was meant to be angst but turned into fluff... im trying my best to get better at writing angst aaaah. but please enjoy this for now <3 thanks for letting me tag you @iminchaosnow !!

------------------------------------------- you had known kang yeosang for nearly two years now. two, dreadfully slow and exhausting years.it was your final year of high school when he transferred to your school, he was a close family friend of wooyoung's. his parents had spoken highly of the school, insisting that yeosang transfers in order to excel for his last year of schooling. as far as you were concerned, he had decent grades, but he preferred to spend his time hanging around the skatepark after dark, when everyone else had left.

and in all the two years you'd known him, you had never once had a full conversation with him, despite being in your group of friends. his side of the 'conversation' usually consisted of monotonous 'yeahs' and 'mhms'. wooyoung constantly assured you it was because he's shy and that he'd eventually open up. but you weren't convinced. you tried so hard for him to like you, but your efforts were fruitless. it was infuriating, feeling like you were constantly doing something wrong whenever you were around him.

you currently found yourself in the backseat of yeosang's car, wedged between a drunken yunho and mingi while a chaotic wooyoung was singing along to his chosen playlist. (though, it sounded more like wailing.)

you and the eight boys had all decided to take a gap year, spend every last cent you earned on adventure and alcohol to make lifelong memories, before your careers became a blockade in your friendship. but the year was coming to an end soon, it was already mid november. on the bright side, that meant your favourite holidays were just weeks away.

yeosang was always the designated driver. that was something you had noticed about him over the last few years. to be honest, you weren't sure just how he coped with a screeching wooyoung, because you sure as hell weren't dealing very well with yunho and mingi who were playing a very intense game of rock paper scissors to decide who would be crashing on the couch in your apartment.

"i win!" mingi cheered, waving his hands excitedly. "you're on the couch, man."

yunho frowned, "damn."

you laughed, "it's okay, yunho. you can share the bed with me if you'd like."

"hey! that's not fair y/n! you said i could this time." wooyoung whined from the front seat.

"sorry, woo. you know i keep my promises, but you're going back to your apartment. remember?" you tried to reason.

wooyoung looked as though someone had switched a lightbulb on behind his eyes, "oh yeah! i forgot."

the four of you burst into laughter, mainly caused by the alcohol and partially because of wooyoung's realisation. and still, yeosang didn't crack a smile, hands just gripping the steering wheel tighter as his knuckles turned white.

soon, you arrived outside your apartment block, quickly stepping out the car after yunho. wooyoung wound his window down and you poked your head in, attempting to hug him goodbye.

"bye woo!" you said, giggling at your faltered farewell.

"good night y/n, thanks for the drinks!" he shouted, exclaiming a bit too loudly next to your ear.

"thanks for the lift as always, yeosang!" you yelled, pulling away from wooyoung's tight hug.

he nodded, "no problem." before putting the window up and driving away.

you pouted, turning around to face the two boys. "i just don't understand what i'm doing wrong." you buried your face into your hands, "why doesn't he like me?" you groaned.

"y/n." mingi began, "its nearly 1am, its way too late for this 'why does yeosang hate me?' crap." he shook your shoulders, literally trying to shake some sense into you.

"yeah, mingi's right. we've had this discussion a thousand times." yunho said grasping your wrist and pulling you up the stairs, stumbling along the way. (because lets be real, stairs are difficult enough as it is, let alone when drunk.) "now, let us into your apartment so we can eat your food and crash on your couch!" he joked, nudging mingi in a playful manner.

you reached into your pocket and fumbled around with they key for a moment before unlocking the door. the boys practically pushed you inside and made a beeline for the fridge.

"help yourselves! i'm going to shower." you called, dragging yourself to your bedroom.

once you'd finished showering you went back to the living room to check on yunho and mingi. not so much to your surprise, they had fallen asleep on your couch already, cuddled up into each other. it was cute, even picture worthy to show their sober selves. you reached for your phone which typically lived in your pocket, though you began to panic when it wasn't there. hurrying around the apartment, you searched every possible nook and cranny for your phone, but it was nowhere to be found. you collapsed onto your bed, snuggling into the soft sheets, too tired to worry about your phone anymore and content with the assumption that you'd left it in yeosang's car.

shortly, your heavy eyes fell shut and you began to sleep away the tequila.

————————

the next morning you awoke to mingi and yunho's deep, hungover voices, discussing their plans for the next week.

you reluctantly pulled yourself out of bed and dawdled down the hallway.

"ah! there's our favourite karaoke partner!" yunho greeted, jokingly.

you laughed, "shh, don't let wooyoung hear you say that."

"she's right, man. he'd be so offended." mingi said, stretching out his sore limbs. "how are you feeling today, y/n?" he asked.

"not the worst hangover i've had. what about you guys? you're welcome to stay here as long as you'd like, until you feel better." you replied, knowing them well enough to know that they'd need at least a few painkillers and a good meal before they went home.

yunho chuckled, "i feel like crap, but nothing a sandwich and glass of water can't solve."

"i second that." mingi said, raising a hand.

"okay, well in that case, i'll go to the store and get something for breakfast. sound good?" you reasoned, running a hand through your hair. you loved these boys, and making them breakfast was just a nice way of showing you cared. drunk or not, they knew how to make you smile and laugh, which they loved to see.

"sounds amazing!" yunho said, breaking into a sincere smile.

you quickly changed out of your pyjamas and slipped some shoes on.

"i might be a bit longer, i need to stop by yeosang's. i think i left my phone in his car." you explained, picking your keys up from the kitchen counter. "see you guys soon! feel free to take a shower if you want." you said, waving goodbye and heading out the door.

"okay, bye y/n!" the boys called from behind you.

the first stop was yeosang's apartment, he only lived about ten minutes away with wooyoung and san, in the same building as jongho. both yunho and mingi lived on the other side of town, which is why they so often crashed at your place after parties. seonghwa and hongjoong were fortunate enough to live in a house, just outside town, they had actually been the hosts of last night's party.

it didn't take long to get there. you pushed open the lobby door and made your way over to the elevator, disappointed to see that it was out of order for maintenance. instead, you took the stairs and began spiralling upwards. less than a minute later you looked up, only to bump into the man you came looking for.

"oh, yeosang! i'm so sorry, i didn't mean to." you quickly apologised, worried about creating another reason for him to dislike you.

"it's fine." he shrugged.

you both began to talk again at the same time, "ah, sorry, you go."

"i was just gonna say, you left your phone in my car. actually, i was about to bring it back." he pulled your phone from the pocket of his jacket, handing it to you. as he did, your fingers brushed against his. he spun around suddenly and began to walk away, "i'll see you around."

he had left before you even had a chance to thank him. slightly confused and frustrated, you turned back around and traipsed down the stairs.

you gathered what you needed for a hearty breakfast at the local convenience store before heading home and spending the rest of the day in the enjoyable company of yunho and mingi.

yeosang had entered back into his apartment and sat down on the couch.

"back already?" wooyoung asked, rummaging through the fridge.

"she was coming to get her phone and i ran into her on the staircase."

wooyoung sighed, "when are you gonna stop hating her?"

"i don't hate her." yeosang said, not looking up from his phone.

"then why do you act like you do?"

yeosang pretended to not hear that question and continued to scroll through his phone. see, he'd rather not dwell on things that he couldn't understand.

————————

to fill up your weekdays during your gap year, you had picked up a job at a hotel in town as a receptionist. to your dismay, your boss had asked you to work night shift all week, which is how you found yourself here on thursday night, sitting alert and waiting for the slight chance that someone might check in at this time of night. it was a pretty fancy hotel, and the job payed well enough, so really, you had nothing to complain about.

the nights seemed to drag on for an eternity. to keep yourself busy, you often wasted time counting the cars that drove past, or tried to count the number of crystals that hung from the chandelier. so far, only a few people had checked in during your shift, having come from overseas and recently arriving at the airport. honestly, whenever someone walked through the front door, lugging a suitcase behind them, you got excited as it gave you something to do.

the clock was creeping up to 4am and you let out a quiet yawn, feeling drowsy as your body clock hadn't yet adjusted to the change of sleeping patterns on such short notice. taking a sip of water, you shook your head, trying to stay awake. your head suddenly jolted up at the sound of the front door opening.

a man stumbled forward, and you'd seen enough zombie movies to become instantly paranoid. you quickly pushed the thought out of your head, feeling ridiculous for even considering it. but as the man got closer, you could smell the cheap, potent alcohol lingering on his body.

he leant against the desk, peering down at you. "i need a room for the night."  he grumbled. "my stupid wife kicked me out." he said under his breath.

you forced a friendly smile, despite feeling uneasy, "of course! i just need you to fill in this form with some simple details." you said, sliding across a clipboard and a pen.

he huffed, picking up the pen and scribbling onto the sheet of paper before pushing it back to you. "can i go now?"

"just a moment, sir." you replied, eyes skimming over the form as you copied the information into the computer in front of you.

the man was growing impatient, stepping from foot to foot with his arms crossed.

"uh, sir, you missed a part of the form. could you please provide your phone number here." you pointed to the empty space on the sheet.

"for fucks sake." he muttered, "i don't have my phone on me and i don't know my phone number." he said, annoyedly tapping on the desk.

"i'm really sorry, sir, but—"

"can't you just find me a fucking room?" he snapped, hands balled into fists and slamming against the desk, making you jump in fright.

before you had time to try and reason with him, he continued to shout.

"you're as stupid as my wife! i'll just find a different fucking hotel." he yelled, swiping the clipboard and pen off the desk. "useless bitch." he mumbled as he kicked over a chair on his way out.

you chewed your bottom lip, trying to fight back the tears. with shaky hands, you picked up your phone and dialled the first place that came to mind. after a few rings, the phone answered.

"woo?" you croaked, trying hard to not cry.

"he's asleep. this is yeosang." he replied, evidently having just woken up by the sound of his voice.

"oh." you began, instantly feeling guilty for waking him up, "i'm sorry i didn't mean to disturb you."

"did you need something?" he asked.

"i just, i was..." you let out a sob, wiping at a tear falling from your eye.

this didn't go unnoticed by yeosang, "are you crying? what are you doing awake right now anyway?"

"i'm at work." you managed to choke out.

"at 4am?"

"i'm on night shift."

"why are you crying then?" he asked, feeling something slightly tug at his heart, but choosing to ignore it.

you began to ramble, "a man came in and he was really drunk and complaining about his wife and then he yelled at me because i asked him to give his phone number and—"

"i'm on my way." yeosang cut you off.

"what?"

"i'll be there in ten." with that, he hung up the phone.

exactly ten minutes later, you were sat in the passenger seat of yeosang's car. he was dressed in sweats, clearly having come straight from bed. you'd left a note on the desk, explaining to your coworker why you wouldn't be there when she arrived to take over your shift. a silence filled the car, and you felt the need to talk, but chose not to, worried about giving yeosang another reason to hate you.

once you arrived outside your apartment building, you were surprised that yeosang got out the car too and trailed closely behind you up the stairs to your apartment. when you reached the door you spun around to face him.

"thank you for bringing me home." you said, voice quiet and still rather shaken up.

"it's no problem. good night, y/n." he replied, sensing that you were still upset. he suddenly felt this overwhelming urge to wrap his arms around you tightly and not let go until you stopped crying. he wanted to protect you from every drunk idiot on the planet. he wanted to make you feel safe.

but instead, he watched as you closed the door behind you and locked it from inside.

————————

you arrived at work the next morning, instantly feeling more comfortable with cleaners, employees and people coming and going. immediately, you headed for your boss's office.

"good morning, sir. i just wanted to come and apologise for leaving my shift early last night. i can assure you it won't happen again." you said, feeling nervous as to what your boss might say.

he shook his head, "i should be the one apologising, a man came in this morning and spoke very sternly about the safety problems here. i realise now how stupid it was of me to make you work night shift, alone, at such a young age. we've hired security guards and have also made sure that two people will be on desk at all times. i'm sorry that you had to deal with that."

you were at a loss for words, you didn't think that there would be such drastic changes just from the once incident. "thank you so much." you replied.

"for now, take the rest of the day off. you'll only be working day shifts for next week and can return to doing night shifts whenever you feel ready to do so." your boss said, motioning for the door.

the rest of the day you spent in deep sleep, catching up on some much overdue rest.

———————

weeks passed and you found that work was much more enjoyable. you still hadn't returned to working night shifts, but at least now you had someone to run the front desk with you and keep you company.

this weekend, you were going to visit hongjoong and seonghwa. hongjoong was sick and so you decided to go help out since seonghwa couldn't always be there to look after him.

you knocked on their front door and was surprised to be greeted by san.

"good afternoon! come in." he gave you a hug before ushering you inside.

"what are you doing here?" you said, following him down the hall.

in the living room, you saw all eight of the boys gathered around a couch-ridden hongjoong.

"jongho was already here when me, yeosang and woo arrived." san explained.

"yeah, and then mingi and yunho turned up." wooyoung continued.

"y/n! i have never been more glad to see you! you gotta save me from them." hongjoong laughed, arms open, signalling for a hug.

you went over and embraced him in a hug, "good thing i brought an excessive amount of cookies." you said, placing the box of cookies on the coffee table next to the couch. the table was covered in empty mugs and bowls, you could tell seonghwa had been busy and hadn't had the chance to clean up. you opened up the box and handed him a cookie before offering them around to the rest of the boys.

"you're the best cook ever." mingi said, taking a big bite.

"i made you spaghetti last night!" yunho countered, feeling offended that his roommate didn't think he was the better cook. mingi just laughed and took another bite.

"jongho get off the counter, please." seonghwa said, coming through the front door. "don't be so comfortable, you were throwing up in my toilet like a month ago." he joked.

yeosang glanced your way, his eyebrows furrowed like he was contemplating something.

"lets head off and give these two some space." yunho said, dragging mingi behind him.

wooyoung stood up, "yeah, lets get going."

yeosang pulled his keys from his pocket, "okay, bye guys." he said, heading down the hallway.

"can we get some food on the way home?" you heard san call as they left.

"bye hongjoong! i hope you're feeling better soon." jongho said, "bye seonghwa, i promise i won't throw up in your toilet any time soon." he joked, leaving through the front door.

"seonghwa, how are you? don't forget to take some time for yourself as well." you frowned.

"i'm tired, but i'll be okay. i just gotta clean up and—"

"why don't you go rest a while? i can keep hongjoong company for a few hours." you reasoned, wanting to help as much as possible. there was nothing you hated more than seeing you friends in distress and upset.

he looked between hongjoong and yourself, "i couldn't."

hongjoong let out an audible huff, "hwa! will you just let her help please, she clearly wants to."

you grinned, "exactly, now go read or sleep or watch some tv or something." you said, gently pushing him towards their shared bedroom.

you spent the afternoon tidying up and talking with hongjoong. you managed to do all the dishes and put them away before scouring their kitchen, deciding on what you could use for dinner. you found everything you needed for a decent meal and began cooking it up. hongjoong had dozed off mid conversation, surrounded in a pile of tissues, you chose to let him sleep so he would recover quicker.

about an hour later, you placed two steamy hot meals onto their dining table next to two full glasses of water. you quietly knocked on their bedroom door, finding seonghwa asleep amongst the covers.

you gently shook him awake, "hwa, i made dinner for you guys. you can wake joong up, i'll head off now." you said with a smile.

leaving the two of them to enjoy their dinner, you headed home and cooked yourself something to eat. it was nice having some time to yourself, but saturday nights were becoming more and more empty as winter grew closer. december was only days away and the year would soon come to an end. you reached for the phone, suddenly desperately missing your friends despite only seeing them hours ago.

"hey woo, are you free next weekend?" you asked.

he paused a moment, "i think so, why?"

"you wanna go out with the others? it's been a while since we have all caught up for drinks."

"count me in!" wooyoung cheered.

you called everyone else up and they all agreed, even hongjoong promised to come if he was feeling better.

————————

you found yourself surrounded by wooyoung, san, yunho and mingi as the music blared. it was a less popular club on the far side of town but it was a comfortable place for you all. you often came here for drinks and the staff members knew you, quite well, a little too well. san grabbed your hand and spun you around a few times with the music.

you laughed, leaning against him, "maybe spinning around isn't the best idea right after two shots of vodka."

"what?" san yelled into your ear, struggling to hear you over the music.

you laughed louder, pulling him closer to you, "i said, spinning is not a good idea after drinking vodka!"

"oh!" he joined you in laughing before trying to twirl you around once more.

hongjoong and seonghwa sat at the bar, holding hands and being intimate as always. yeosang was sat next to jongho at a booth, quietly talking with him, but from the corner of your eye, you saw jongho stand up and walk away. your eyes watched him worriedly and you couldn't help but run after him. you followed him as best you could, stumbling every now and then. he'd gone to the bathroom so you patiently waited outside until he came back, looking slightly pale.

you practically leapt at him, doing a quick scan to make sure he was okay, "jongho? are you alright?"

he smiled at your overwhelming concern, "yeah, i just drank too much as usual. i'll be alright, you can go back to dancing."

"let me just get you some water first. i'll be right back okay?" you patted his shoulder. "don't go anywhere i'll be back in a second."

you made your way back to where jongho had been sitting with yeosang. as you approached, yeosang eyed you up and down, taking in your drunken state, though, it wasn't the first time he'd seen you this way. you nearly tripped as you reached the table, struggling to walk in heels.

"i need a glass of water, do you have a glass of water? jongho needs a glass of water." you mumbled to yourself, reaching for the jug in the center of the table.

"are you okay?" yeosang asked, quickly pushing your hand away from the jug.

"i'm okay, but jongho needs water. can i take this cup? he's waiting for me, i told him not to go anywhere, i need to get back to jongho—" you tried to pick up a glass but yeosang pressed your hand back down once more.

"i'll take it to him, you stay here." he said, filling the cup full with water and heading towards the bathrooms.

your brain suddenly felt fuzzy and your eyes became blurry, it was like the alcohol hit your system all at once. your head spun round and round and you leaned forward, resting your hands on your head. you'd never felt this sick from drinking, maybe you'd had too much too quickly, maybe it was the spinning. there was no way to tell, all you knew was that you felt like you were about to fall from the top of a very high roller coaster.

your eyes felt increasingly heavy, you allowed them to slip shut, head falling to the table with a not so gentle thud.

"y/n?" someone shook you, "y/n wake up!" it was wooyoung.

"shit, is she okay? should we call an ambulance?" jongho said, reaching for his phone.

"is she breathing? has anyone checked?" seonghwa gently lifted your shoulders and sat you upright, relieved to see the rise and fall of your chest. "we should call a taxi and get her home."

"are you crazy? she's unconscious, she won't be able to get up the stairs to her apartment! what if the driver is dodgy? she's already had to deal with shitty men while working night shift, imagine if something happened while she's drunk!" yeosang blurted out. the boys were shocked over his sudden concern for you. yeosang had never once shown any interest or care for you in the presence of them.

"well, what should we do then?" mingi asked, worriedly running a hand through his hair.

"i'll take her, you've all been drinking." yeosang concluded. "she'll be fine, don't worry. enjoy the rest of your night, okay? i've dealt with woo passing out before remember?"

"that's true." san said, throwing a light hearted glare in wooyoung's direction, who showed a rather sheepish expression.

the boys went back to their drinks, taking it a little slower now and yeosang carried you to his car. it wasn't easy, but he managed to sit you upright in the back seat of his car with his rear view mirror aimed directly at you so he could make sure you were okay.

he was able to lift you up the stairs and get your house key from the pocket of your jacket, which would've looked questionable to anyone else, but he had the best intentions. he sat you down in a dining chair, watching as your head lolled forward and your body slumped. he quickly filled a glass of water and came back to you.

"y/n." he whispered, resting a hand on your shoulder. "y/n." he said again, louder this time.

the last thing he wanted to do was hurt you, but you weren't waking up and that was becoming concerning. he shook your shoulder, as gently as he possible could in a moment like this, and to his relief, your eyes hesitantly opened.

your head felt like a bowling ball and you groaned quietly. "yeosang?"

"here." he said holding the cup to your lips, allowing you to take a small sip.

"how did we get here?" you mumbled, head rolling to the side.

he caught your head and carefully pushed you back upright, "i drove you, this is your apartment."

"oh." you said, eyes drooping shut again. "oh." you repeated.

"y/n, i really need you to stay awake right now." he said, bringing the cup to your mouth again. "lets talk."

"we never talk!" you exclaimed. "this is the longest conversation we've ever had!"

"i know." he said, pulling up a chair to sit directly in front of you. yeosang felt that slight tug at his heart again tonight, the way you sounded so excited just to talk with him.

"no, no, no." you whined, "this is so bad!"

"what is it?"

you pouted before nervously biting your lip, "i'm really sorry."

"for what?" he questioned, leaning back in his chair.

"for ruining your night and making you stay here with me! now you just have another reason to hate me." you sighed, letting your head fall into your hands.

"i could never hate you." he said, voice barely above a whisper.

but you had fallen back asleep, so yeosang sat you upright once more and monitored you closely all night. with every minute that passed, he wished more and more that it was easier for him to show his emotions, to you especially. he wondered if maybe he wasn't so closed off that things would be different between the two of you. but it was hard for him, to let people in, he was afraid. afraid of people judging the real him, afraid of what might happen if he lets himself become vulnerable, afraid of facing his feelings about you.

you awoke hours later with a raging headache and extreme nausea. you headed straight for the bathroom and hunched over the toilet, feeling the sickest you'd ever felt. yeosang waited patiently outside the bathroom door with a glass of water and painkillers.

when you came out, he held his hand out, "take this."

you looked down at his hand and then up at him, slightly confused, "what are you doing here?"

"you passed out last night, and i drove you home because everyone else had been drinking." he said, passing the glass of water.

"oh my god." you ran a hand through your hair, "yeosang, i'm so sorry. i didn't mean to be any trouble! you must of been here all night, i promise it won't happen again, that was so stupid of me—"

"it's fine, don't worry about it." he said, shrugging, "i'll get going now, but make sure you take it easy and drink enough water." his eyes carefully scanned your body one last time, making sure you were really okay. he headed for the door and you followed.

"i'm really sorry." you frowned, feeling as though no amount of apologies would make it up to him.

he let out a slight chuckle, "it's okay, seriously y/n." he said before leaving. you heard the all too familiar jingle of his keys as the door closed behind him.

he'd stayed with you all night, eyes watching over you closely. ready at your side whenever you stirred in your sleep. he'd been there in the morning prepared with water and painkillers. this was never how it was, usually this was your job, taking care of the boys. it was your way of showing you cared, helping out wherever possible.

this wasn't like yeosang. at all.

————————

as soon as yeosang got home he was greeted by a very concerned san and wooyoung.

"is she okay?"

"are you tired?"

"did she wake up?"

he was bombarded by questions.

"she's okay, she fell asleep after a while and i made her take some painkillers when she woke up." yeosang said, collapsing onto the couch.

"so you really don't hate her then." wooyoung thought aloud.

"he can't, he spent the whole night looking after her!" san said, hitting wooyoung like it was obvious.

"owww," wooyoung rubbed his arm, "even she thinks you don't like her!"

"i know, she said last night. but she probably won't remember saying that." yeosang said, feeling increasingly drowsy from his lack of sleep.

"maybe you guys should like, talk things out?" san suggested, taking a seat next to him.

"maybe." yeosang said, drifting off into sleep.

you had spent the day curled up in bed, wondering how you could make it up to yeosang, and there was nothing more you wanted than to get to know him better, but what would he want? you called up san on that thought.

"hey sannie," you said, "i need your help, actually, is woo there as well?"

"oh my god she's alive!" you heard wooyoung call from beside san.

"what do you need help with?" san asked.

you paused a moment, "is yeosang there?"

"well yes, but he's asleep."

you groaned, "i feel so bad that he stayed up all night looking after me. i really wanna make it up to him but i don't know how. plus, it's not like he's that fond of me. maybe i should just thank him by staying out of his space."

"i don't think he'd like that." wooyoung interjected. "i still think he just needs time before opening up to you."

"i think its just me." you sighed, worriedly chewing on your bottom lip.

"hey! don't be like that! there's no reason to not like you." san scolded you for down talking yourself as he always does.

"agreed." wooyoung said, chiming in.

"i'm sure i'll work something out. thanks guys! enjoy the rest of your day!" you said.

"good luck!"

"bye y/n!"

————————

you had been staring at your phone for at least an hour, typing and retyping the message to yeosang. wooyoung gave you his number so that you could contact him when you'd finally worked out how to make it up to him. in the end, you decided that you would let him decide.

you drew in a sharp breath and squeezed your eyes tightly shut as you pressed send.

you: hey yeosang, i still feel really bad about the other day, i wanna know how i can make it up to you !!

yeosang: did wooyoung give you my number? T~T

you: yes he did.. i hope thats okay !

yeosang: of course yeosang: how about you make it up to me over a cup of coffee? >.<

you: that sounds great !! you: when are you free ?

yeosang: does tomorrow morning work for you ? i can pick you up ^_^

you: of course ! i'll see you tomorrow :)

yeosang sat in his room, facepalming. why was it so easy to be more open over text?

you on the other hand, felt your heart swell in a bizarre way. maybe it was the way you hadn't expected him to use such cute little emoticons. maybe it was the way that you'd be able to have a full conversation with him. whatever it was, excitement had taken over you.

————————

a knock pounded at your door and you rushed to open it.

"ready to go?" he asked, leaning against the door frame coolly.

"yes, lets go!" you said, sounding a little too excited.

the two of you made your way down the stairs and into yeosang's car. you found yourself smiling as you looked out the window.

your excitement hadn't gone unnoticed, "you seem awfully excited."

"i really wanted to make it up to you," you beamed. "it must've been boring to watch over me all night."

"i didn't mind so much." he said, shrugging.

you frowned, "you shouldn't of done it."

"and leave you passed out in the club?" he quirked an eyebrow up at you.

"well..."

"exactly." he said, parking the car outside a small cafe nearby his apartment. "come on, lets go inside."

you followed him in and took a seat across from him at a table close to the window. you both ordered coffees and resumed conversation.

"so, where were we?" you smiled, taking a sip of coffee.

"talking about how you wanted me to leave you passed out in the club." he said. you were almost convinced you saw a teasing smile pulling at his lips.

"right. i'm so sorry about that."

this time he actually chuckled, and you were taken aback. it was like the wall yeosang had surrounding himself was crumbling before your eyes.

"you need to apologise less." he laughed, bringing his coffee cup to his mouth for a sip. "half of the time we talk its just you saying sorry to me."

"i'm so—"

"hey!" the two of you broke into laughter.

his laugh was loud but warm and you couldn't help but notice the way his nose scrunched up cutely, the way his eyes looked full of stars and the way he brushed his hair out of his eyes after, revealing his beautiful birthmark. from that point on, you wanted to be the one to make him laugh every day.

he felt that familiar tug at his heart, the one he'd been feeling every moment he spent alone with you. the one he felt when he first met you. the one he couldn't make any sense of. it was as though his heart was a violin and you were the one playing it. (which would explain the tugging feeling.) but you were playing the sweetest song and he never wanted it to end.

the two of you laughed the morning away, gradually making up for what you'd missed over two years in a matter of two hours.

you'd discovered that even after getting him to open up more, he wasn't one for words. you found yourself talking his ear off while he listened intently, occasionally sharing his opinions and stories. in all his honesty, he didn't mind listening to you talk. he could've sat there all day, drinking countless cups of coffee, watching the way you bit your bottom lip whenever you paused to think or the way your eyes filled with sparkles when you talked about something that made you happy.

you insisted on paying for the infinite cups of coffee, as it was your way of making it up to him. he reluctantly agreed, but promised that he would pay if there ever was a next time, which he secretly hoped there would be. he'd finally had the chance to let his walls down. (it was actually more like you'd climbed the walls and torn them down with your bare hands.) but he was thankful for it.

he drove you back to your apartment, even after you persisted on walking home, seeing as it wasn't that far. he refused, insisting that he drive you. he even followed you up the stairs to the door of your apartment.

you turned around to face him, "you know, you're not so bad when you actually wanna talk to me."

"you know, you're not so bad when you're not drunk." he countered, his lips breaking into a playful grin.

you glared jokingly, "hey! don't make me apologise again."

"okay, okay. i won't." he said, raising his hands in defence.

you smiled, resting against the door, "alright, well, i've really enjoyed hanging out with you today. maybe we should catch up more often."

"maybe we should." he said, bearing a coy smile, "bye, y/n. i'll see you around."

————————

it was only about a week later he showed up at your work, at the end of your shift. you were pleasantly surprised to see him, and at first thought he was just someone coming to book a room.

"hello, are you looking for a r— yeosang?"

"when do you get off work?" he asked, glancing over to the clock.

"five minutes."

"i'll be waiting in the car, okay?" he said, turning on his heel and heading for the door.

on his way out, you saw as he ran into your boss, the two of them beginning conversation.

"it's good to see you've made those security changes." yeosang said as he nodded, extending his arm for a friendly handshake. "i'm very thankful."

your boss shook his hand, "and i'm thankful that you suggested them."

just over five minutes later you got into the passenger seat of yeosang's car.

"it was you who told my boss about the safety problems." you said, in near disbelief.

"hello, to you too." he joked sarcastically. "well, i would hate to think that the situation could happen again, so i just suggested some possible improvements. thats all." he shrugged like it was nothing.

"suddenly, i feel the need to make it up to you again." you smiled shyly.

"you can do that by accompanying me to the skate park." he said, motioning to his skateboard on the back seat.

"ah, so thats why you came."

"well yeah, i wanted to bring you to the skate park."

your heart swelled once again, feeling joyed that he wanted to share one of his favourite places with you. (despite him never telling you directly, you knew he loved the skate park as he spent majority of his high school time there when he wasn't studying.)

when you arrived, the sun was beginning to slip behind the horizon, causing the sky to glow a rosy pink. there were still a few kids, probably high schoolers, hanging around the park. you took a seat at a bench and waited for yeosang to come over, who was getting his skateboard out the car. you felt oddly out of place since you were still in your neat work uniform and didn't know the first thing about skateboarding.

yeosang rolled over with a grin plastered onto his face, you'd never seen him so happy, and it made you happy to see him this way. it was strange how all it took was a few cups of coffee for him to become a completely different person around you.

he didn't need to ask you to watch as your eyes were already glued to him as he dropped into the bowl, showing countless tricks and flips.

the truth was in fact that yeosang was grateful for you 'making it up to him'. he'd never been able to comprehend his feelings for you, if they were even feelings at all. he hated the confusion and decided it was easier to ignore it, and to an extent, ignore you, to make it go away. it had been working for the most part, until every time the two of you were alone together, he couldn't ignore the slight tug at his heart, that was becoming more of a pull over the last few weeks.

"you're amazing!" you cheered as he sat down next to you, out of breath.

"thanks." he smiled shyly, running a hand through his hair and out of his face. he leaned back, looking up at the sky. "do you sometimes wish you could see the stars from within the city? hongjoong and seonghwa are so lucky they can see them from their house."

you pondered a moment, thinking about the last time you actually saw stars in the sky. "i see stars in your eyes sometimes." you said, absent minded.

he felt warmth burning in his cheeks, "you do?"

"do what?" you turned to him, "did i say that out loud?" you gasped, covering your face in embarrassment. "i'm sorry, i didn't mean to say that it was just a thought and—"

"what did i say about apologising?" he laughed. "it's getting cold, right? you ready to head home?" he asked.

you smiled, "if you are."

he drove you home and said goodbye, feeling happy about spending time alone with you once again. he couldn't stop thinking about what you said and you couldn't stop feeling like a fool for saying it.

————————

the weather got colder and colder and soon it began to snow as the days of december passed. you had spent the day helping jongho move some new furniture into his apartment. it was a difficult job, but easier with the two of you, even san and wooyoung came to help. you couldn't resist wondering where yeosang was and why he didn't come, seeing as they lived in the same building. maybe he was busy, you thought.

"hey, where's yeosang?" you asked, lifting a box and placing it on the kitchen counter.

"at home, i think he's been feeling sick or something, he hardly comes out of his room lately." wooyoung shrugged, assuming it was all good.

"if he's sick i'll bring him over some food and painkillers, maybe keep him some company." you explained, not wanting yeosang to be unwell.

"i think he'd rather be left alone, to be honest." san said, giving wooyoung a side glance that you couldn't miss.

you pulled out your phone and sent yeosang a quick message.

you: are you feeling okay? san and woo said you were sick :((

he didn't respond right away and you just figured he was asleep. but as you finished helping out at jongho's house a few hours later, he still hadn't responded. when you were sitting down to eat dinner at home, he still hadn't respond. just before you were going to turn the lights out and go to bed, he still hadn't responded.

something was up. this wasn't like yeosang, not anymore. not since the two of you had been spending so much time together. maybe it was like the boys said, and he was truly very sick, but in that case, why wouldn't they let you help?

————————

days passed and you went to work as usual, repeating the same few lines, asking people if they want a room, asking them to fill in a form, then directing them to the right room. days passed and you still hadn't heard back from yeosang, you wondered if he was still sick. days passed and you began to think maybe you should go over there to see if he's okay.

but if there was one thing you'd learnt about yeosang recently, it was that he was the quieter type, and probably wouldn't appreciate you going over there to keep him company and would rather be alone. so that evening when you got off work, you didn't go visit him like you so desperately wanted to, instead, you went straight home.

you cooked and ate dinner for yourself, before picking up your phone, only to see still no messages from yeosang.

you: hey woo you: is yeosang feeling better ?

wooyoung: yeah he is

you: well then can i come visit tomorrow ?

wooyoung: i think he's busy wooyoung: sorry

you: its okay woo you: its not your fault !!

you switched your phone off and headed for the shower, trying to wash away the stress and worry for yeosang that had built up over the last few weeks. you had really grown to like him and there was still so much about him you wanted to learn, like when he learned to skateboard or how he got the small scar on the back of his hand, that you'd noticed when ever he brushes his hair out of his eyes.

two years he'd spent, not interested in holding conversation with you and two years you'd spent, wondering what you'd did so wrong. but lately, you felt like you were doing something right around him, getting him to smile and laugh, share his own stories.

you couldn't shake the feeling that maybe he still didn't like you, and had just been trying for wooyoung's sake.

or maybe he was genuinely starting to like you, but you went and fucked it up by weirding him out and telling him about his starry eyes.

or maybe he'd just had enough of you already. decided that a few weeks was enough time spent trying to change things between the two of you.

as you finished showering and changed into comfortable clothes, you glanced at the clock which read 10:56pm. you switched on the television to watch some youtube before going to bed. as you felt yourself dozing off, a faint knock sounded at your door, so quiet you almost missed it.

when you opened the door, you were shocked to see yeosang standing there, leaning against the door frame for support. he looked up at you, his normally starry eyes were dulled with tears.

you rushed forward to him, smelling the alcohol as you got closer, "yeosang are you okay? what are you doing here? i thought you were sick. are you drunk? you never drink, come inside." you gently pulled him inside, closing the door behind you. when you turned to face him, he was staring at you, tears about to spill over the brim of his eyes.

"i hate you." he breathed out, voice barely louder than a whisper. he didn't seem angry though, he looked fragile, like a glass vase balancing on the edge of a table.

you felt the urge to cry, finally hearing those three words that confirmed your biggest concern, yeosang disliking you. "yeosang, i'm so sorry. i never meant to—"

"i hate you." he said, louder this time before running a hand through his hair hastily. he let out a frustrated groan, dragging his hands down his face. "i hate the tugging feeling in my heart whenever we're alone. i hate the way you put yourself before others. i hate the way you ramble on when you're nervous. i hate the way your eyes sparkle when you laugh. i hate the way i don't drink around you because i feel the need to protect you and make sure you're safe. i hate the way i tried to ignore you for two years because i was scared and confused about my own feelings. i hate how it only took one cup of coffee with you for my walls to come crashing down!" he paced from side to side, waving his hands around crazily.

yeosang looked scared and lost, like he'd never felt this way about anyone before, and that was the truth. he didn't know how to comprehend these feelings and it terrified him.

you watched as he spiralled, seeming as though it would never stop. you weren't sure what to do, so you just listened to that swelling feeling in your heart once again, the one that had led you to develop feelings for yeosang, and you pulled him close into your arms. he clung onto you tightly, scared to let go, like if he did then he'd lose you forever. you ran your fingers through his hair briefly, trying your best to comfort him.

"i'm sorry." you repeatedly whispered to him. you'd never meant to upset him or confuse him.

yeosang let out a quiet sob into your chest, "i hate the way i've fallen in love with you." he croaked out.

he didn't hate you. never did. never will. your heart swelled completely in your chest, feeling as though it would burst through. but it couldn't be true. he's totally drunk out of his mind.

"you're not in your right mind, yeosang, you need to get home. you're drunk and talking nonsense." you embraced him tightly one more time, and you could've sworn you felt the beat of his heart through the hug. "come on," you urged, steering him towards the door, "wooyoung and san are probably worried and waiting up for you."

with much effort, you led him down the stairs of your apartment block and walked him home. the street lamps led you in the freezing city night air. you held his wrist lightly, guiding him up the stairs to his own apartment. he didn't speak a single word the whole time, instead, sniffling and wiping at his eyes. it hurt you so much to see him this broken, but you knew he wasn't saying the truth under control of the alcohol in his veins.

you knocked at his apartment door, hoping that one of the boys were still awake. luckily, they both were and quickly they flung the door open.

"y/n? yeosang?" san questioned, his eyes wide open with disbelief.

"we've been so worried about you!" wooyoung said, pulling yeosang away from you. "hang on, are you drunk?"

san had noticed his tired, tear stained eyes, "you look like you've been crying! are you okay?"

you let out a quiet sigh, knowing you didn't need to be here anymore. you gave a small wave goodbye and headed home, utterly exhausted.

and though you were so drained, you couldn't seem to fall asleep. those words yeosang said to you kept running through your mind busily.

did he mean any of it?

————————

yeosang felt bad. he felt terrible. like he wanted to vanish into thin air and float away with the breeze. though he couldn't, no, he desperately wanted to apologise to you. but he didn't know how, he wasn't good with words or expressing his feelings, and you wished he knew that was something you loved about him.

wooyoung and san tried to ask him what happened the night he drunkenly confessed to you, but he couldn't have them know that he'd been harbouring feelings for you for all this time, they'd never let him live it down. he could imagine the continuous teasing they'd give him, nudging him whenever you were together or giving him side glances after talking to you.

yeosang gave it lots of thought. he mulled it over in his head repeatedly. it was only after hours spent hidden away in his room that he decided to go back to where it all started, a text. a text that said how much he wanted to make it up to you for having to deal with him drunk, just like the one you'd sent initially.

yeosang: hey y/n, i feel really bad about the other day, i wanna know how i can make it up to you! T^T

your heart leapt a mile seeing his name appear on your phone. you grinned upon reading his message, realising it was scarily similar to the message you had first sent him.

you: hmmm you: that sounds familiar

yeosang: >.< yeosang: seriously though, how does dinner at my place tomorrow night sound? i'll cook

you: you can cook?

yeosang: there's a lot you don't know about me x_x

you: okay, i'll be there !!

————————

yeosang wasn't lying when he said he can cook. as you traipsed up the stairs of his apartment block you could smell something delicious laced in the air.

the usual swelling in your heart had instead fell to the pit of your stomach, you were feeling slightly nervous as to what would happen when you entered yeosang's apartment. you inhaled deeply before knocking at the door of his apartment.

"hey y/n, come in." yeosang greeted, holding an arm out, signalling for you to come inside.

"you must've been working hard cooking! it smells delicious." you said, feeling a sense of comfort just from the smell of food.

"yeah, lucky i sent wooyoung and san over to jongho's place, otherwise i doubt there would be any pasta to serve." he joked. "you can take a seat, i've just gotta serve up."

you sat down in front of a neatly laid table, it had somewhat surprised you how much effort yeosang had put into this dinner tonight. he placed a steamy hot plate of pasta in front of you and one where he would sit.

"so." he began.

"so." you copied, teasingly.

"i guess, i really just wanted to say i'm sorry for how i behaved the other night when i was drunk. you shouldn't of had to deal with that." he frowned, poking at his dinner.

you furrowed your brows, "it's seriously fine yeosang." you took a bite of pasta, "i was just surprised to see you drunk, since you never drink."

he chuckled, bringing a hand up to cover his mouth, "actually, i do. i just never drink when you're there."

"really? why?" you questioned, eating another mouthful of pasta.

"because..." he paused. "no, it sounds dumb out loud."

"it's okay, you don't have to explain yourself." you smiled warmly, "but that does remind me to ask... do you remember anything you said to me while you were drunk?" you leant forward, genuinely curious.

he sighed, "i remember.. enough."

"you don't really hate me, right?" you asked, playing with the food on your plate.

"of course not! that's why i invited you here tonight. to show you that i don't, and to make it up to you." he had to refrain from reaching across to hold your hand, just to show how much he cared that little bit more.

you nodded, "well, thats good. i was kinda worried that we'd gone back to square one."

comfort settled within you. it was relieving to know you weren't hated by the one person whose love you wanted most. a tiny thought crept into your mind, maybe, just maybe, now would be the right time to tell him about your blossoming feelings for him. or would that confuse him more? now you were the one feeling conflicted.

"are you finished eating?" he asked, reaching for your empty plate.

"yes, thank you! it was delicious. you're a good cook, y'know."

"ah, thanks y/n." he turned away to hide the blush appearing on his cheeks.

"would you like me to do the dishes? since you cooked." you offered, standing up. but he quickly opposed.

"don't be ridiculous." he shooed you back to your seat. "can i get you a coffee? water? wine?"

"a coffee sounds good, i think you and i have had too many drunken situations lately." you laughed.

yeosang pulled out two mugs and put the kettle on. he felt your eyes carefully watching him. once again, he hated the feeling that was pulling at his heart. the way you could say nothing, yet he felt everything.

"can i tell you something?" you asked, voice now quieter and more hesitant.

"sure, what is it?" he said, placing a warm cup of coffee in front of you.

you took a sip, humming in delight. it was exactly the way you liked it. when the two of you went out for coffee, he had unintentionally remembered just the way you like it.

"well," you began cautiously, in case you brought this situation into flames again. "i just... i always wondered why you didn't like me. if i was doing something wrong, if i said something once that really upset you. and then after we started spending time together, i finally felt like i was doing the right thing." you groaned, frustrated with yourself for not getting to the point quicker. "what i'm trying to say is that i have feelings for you. it's okay if you don't feel the same way. i wouldn't expect you to, i just thought you should know—"

yeosang basically choked on his coffee, eyes widening in shock. "it's okay, y/n! in case you hadn't noticed, i'm crazy about you."

you had continued to ramble nervously before hearing what he said.

"wait. you are?"

"basically ever since you said that thing about stars in my eyes, yes."

you cringed, remembering how you had said that so absent minded. "yeah, sorry about that."

"it's okay, it was cute. and what did i say about apologising?"

you shook your head and smiled, "i know."

————————

ever since the two of you confessed to each other, you had been almost inseparable, except of course when you had work. but he dropped you home most nights, even though you insisted it was okay and that you could walk. he came over every weekend just to spend time with you, even if the two of you just sat and talked, enjoying each other's company. you'd been dating for a few weeks now, but kept it undercover, not wanting to suffer the incessant questioning that would come if you told your friends.

it didn't go unnoticed either, wooyoung and san were constantly nagging yeosang about why the two of you spent so much time together, and each time he just shrugged it off.

christmas was just around the corner, so you were spending the evening at seonghwa's and hongjoong's house, who of course, were throwing an unnecessarily large house party to celebrate.

you were sat between a very drunk yunho and mingi, who were trying to talk to an also very drunk jongho. you eyed your boyfriend from across the room, as if asking for a way out and he just laughed at the situation you were stuck in.

after at least ten minutes more of having your ear talked off, yeosang came to pull you away to the dance floor.

"care to dance?" he asked, extending his hand to you.

you immediately jumped up, latching onto his hand, "i would love to!"

he chuckled, pulling you close to his side and leading you to the makeshift dance floor that seonghwa and hongjoong created.

the two of you laughed at the boys' reaction. they were completely shocked to see the two of you so close together and yeosang being friendly.

he twirled you around a few times with the music, before settling his arms around your waist. he brought you near to him as you placed your arms behind his neck. you swayed back and forth, engulfed in your own little bubble of comfort in each other's arms, completely out of time with the loud thumping music that blared around you.

you felt content, and yeosang no longer felt confused. he found his home in your arms and his happiness.

you reached up to place your lips on his, capturing the moment surrounding you. yeosang melted into the kiss, discovering that your lips were soft and sweet against his, just as he had imagined, which caused his knees to feel weak and his heart to skip more than just one beat. he never wanted to let you go, he wanted to compensate for every second that he didn't spend with you since the two of you met.

he leaned forward and whispered softly, just so you could hear above all the music and singing, "lets stay like this forever."

[like-the-rest-of-la]

It really is kind of hilarious that eddie made buck christophers legal guardian if something happens to him and he just told no one. Like babe that is really importnat information that you should share with at least one person

God I know right???

I'm still so... why did you not tell Buck this before? Why keep it to yourself for over a year? Like, there were opportunities, eg., around Buck begins, where it would have made sense for Eddie to tell Buck, but... he just didn't talk about it. He just kept it to himself.

(I know we like to talk about the implication of feelings involved in and around the act of making Buck Chris' legal guardian and why it might have been so hard to articulate what exactly it meant to Eddie at that point, bc he probably wouldn't have been able to put it into words at that time but) Part of me also thinks it's because Eddie didn't really deal with the well incident, which was also a traumatic experience for him? (like, I know we talk about the shooting a lot, but... being buried alive, barely making it out of a collapsed well... that's no joke either (it's my absolute nightmare). Instead he tackled the problem that immediately presented itself to him (what will happen to my son if I'm gone) and once that was dealt with, he sealed the whole damn thing shut and then used the good old Diaz coping mechanism, he 'moved' on. Because that was what was expected of him after he returned from Afghanistan, right? and he thinks that he kinda failed that one a bit, cause he (selfishly, Eddie would probably say) needed time and it drove his wife away.

So, maybe he didn't talk to Buck at that time because it would have meant to talk about the well (Buck sure would have asked questions) and what it was like being faced with his own mortality again, with the fact that he easily could have died that day (which is now a whole new level of fucked up because Shannon is gone, he's the only parent left). And Eddie can't really do that. He can't talk but he can do something. And he does, controls the situation - problem solved. And it breaks my heart a bit. Cause I keep thinking about season 3 eddie in therapy FIGHTING TO NOT CRY, to keep it all bottled up. Because, sometimes I get the feeling that if he would talk about it... really talk, it would just all break out of him, and he'd definitely need a LOT more time then - which he doesn't allow himself, not again.

And then when he finally told Buck about the will, it was still a hard conversation for him to have, but, honestly, I think he did it more for Buck's sake than his own in that moment? (Which on the other hand is such a testament to how important their relationship is for Eddie sjjskdkkdkd!!!)

Idk, Eddie always has problems talking about the trauma that happened to him in relation to himself (only always in the effect it had/has on others). As much as he tells Chris that it makes things less scary when you talk about them, he can practically almost never do it.

The problem is that we're now at a point where he stuffed so much trauma down into the little Eddie-Diaz-box that he can't hold it in any longer, and it's spilling over (hello panic attacks) - and I think it's pretty telling that Chris is having problems as well atm, bc he is close to his dad, subconsciously or even consciously, he's noticing that Eddie is NOT okay, and children tend to mirror that. Basically, Chris threw Eddie's own fear back at him, when he said 'you could be dead next year' something that Eddie struggles to articulate and then deal with.

Anyway this got way too long, I'm so sorry omg!!! 🙈🙈🙈

[neil-neil-orange-peel]

I only just found out (looking for old photos and articles) that filming the last season of TNS had to be postponed because Rik had broken his shoulder falling down the stairs at his house - I’d never heard of him having any other accidents besides the horrible 4-wheeler one! And I’m like: !!!!! Were there any other mishaps that you know about? Poor bby Rik! 🥺

I have more info about this!

It was actually before the filming of series 3, and ended up being a good thing for the show. 😂 On 22nd November 1990, after eleven terrible years in office, Margaret Thatcher resigned as PM after being stabbed in the back by her own party - this is what the Tories do to their own once weakness or opportunity is spotted, they're ruthless. This was all well and good for humankind as a whole... but it did sort of bugger up series 3 of The New Statesman, which was in pre-production.

Marks and Gran had already written a couple of scripts, but they were scripts where Thatcher was PM. Now she wasn't and their scripts were already out of date! So, what to do? What to do?

Luckily, their leading actor Rik Mayall solved this problem for them by very selflessly, drunkenly breaking his shoulder after falling down the stairs while celebrating Thatcher's resignation. 😂 This put him out of action for a bit, acting wise, meaning they had more time to rewrite the scripts.

It is true that Rik seemed to get injured - or very nearly injured, in some cases - a lot. This somehow doesn't surprise me at all 😂 but poor Rik. The other instances that spring to mind include the time he and Ade ended up in hospital after filming an episode of Bottom/performing a live show (can't remember which). Rik also said the first time they performed An Arse Oddity - which was Rik's first live performance onstage after his quadbike accident - during one of their fight scenes Ade accidentally whacked him with a frying pan and split his forehead open. Rik seemed to think this was very funny. 😂 I've also heard reports that after filming a particularly tricky scene in Guest House Paradiso, Rik managed to knock himself out by hitting his head on something.

As for near misses: quite a few in The Young Ones, because health and safety was basically nonexistent. 😂 There's the exploding oven we see in Oil, where the footage had to be slowed down to cope with the very large - unexpectedly large - explosion. We see Rick leaping away in shock and can hear someone in the audience scream - the shocked expression on his face is actually just Rik reacting, because the explosion was NOT meant to be that big! He might actually have gotten injured by that one, but not too seriously I hope. It happened because the team in charge of the explosives put them in, had lunch, forgot they'd put them in, so put more in. Basically, double the blast power! The other verified near miss from TYO I know about is from Flood. Alexei Sayle mentioned in How The Young Ones Changed Comedy that Rik got a little too close to the bedroom door while he was attacking it with the axe, and there's actually one swing where he very nearly got Rik. I've heard other stories from the set of TYO involving Rik and injuries - including one about him getting knocked out in Sick and having very temporary amnesia, but I really can't verify that because I've only seen it mentioned once in an old Tumblr post.

And as for TNS. WELL. In the last scene of Piers of the Realm (aka the last scene of series 2), Alan B'Stard is gunned down in broad daylight. Rik performed this stunt himself and was reassured it was perfectly safe. That turned out not to be the case. One of the shots bounced off the windscreen of the car and got dangerously close to hitting him in the eye and blinding him. Fun!

Those are all the Rik incidents that spring to mind at the moment, although there are definitely more. 😂 Thanks for the ask.

[luffysbasement]

RE: Dreamscape XD is a representation of George's thoughts and feelings surrounding Dream

WARNING: VERY LONG AND PROBABLY RAMBLY, THESE WERE WORD VOMIT THOUGHTS AT THE TIME

I have a sneaking suspicion that XD has become a manifestation of George's thoughts and feelings surrounding Dream, and the line "Don't give up on me." from him is pretty telling of that. Beneath it all, I sincerely think George is struggling with losing his best friend and hasn't come to terms with the fact that he could've helped - could've reconciled, could've at least listened - but didn't. Through trying to “teach” XD, I think it’s his way of trying to make up for that and figure out how he could've done it right.

Either from witnessing it first-hand and/or from the accounts of others, George knows the good and the bad in Dream, and he recognizes them both as part of him. Still, he doesn't know how to fully deal with the weight of it all yet, and he genuinely doesn't want to have to deal with it - it'd be way easier if he didn't have to. Basically, he may recognize it, but he doesn't entirely accept it as of now. You can see this in how he treats the Dreamon and XD as both the same, yet separate entities - which is a good way of compartmentalizing how he views Dream and his actions. The issue with this, however, is that those parts are split into different eras of the SMP’s timeline now.

Currently with the way he’s handling XD, we can see George wants the Dream from the beginning back - the easier reality to face, in his eyes - but his mind recognizes that he isn't that same Dream in the present - the harder reality to face - and therefore the Dreamon lashes out. Because of this, George has to put more work into helping and teaching XD rather than either standing idly by or fighting back as he did with Dream originally.

Eventually, I think George will realize that everything regarding Dreamscape XD and Dream is, of course, a dream and isn't real, as much as he desperately wants it to be. He wants things to go back to how they were and have that second chance, and he has a hard time acknowledging the truth that it can't be that way. That's why he's created this dream world of his to cope with it. Unfortunately, by trying to relive what was through his dreams at times, though, he’s also reliving the tragedies because he isn’t doing anything to change what happened/happens.

Fun as they may be at times, his dreams simply can't replace reality in the end, and that harsh reality is he misses his best friend more than anything no matter who he's become... But he also hasn't made any effort to reach out to him, choosing to avoid the problems between them rather than solve them just as before. With hope and time, he'll learn that isn't going to work anymore, and the best way to get back to the sort of reality he wants is to face the problems head on, and that include swallowing his fear and facing Dream again.

The real Dream, mind you - not XD, and not Dreamscape Dream. His Dream, even if George doesn't feel like the prisoner in Pandora is that person anymore because he is. Dream is still Dream regardless of what he's done, and George should recognize that as his friend if he still thinks of Dream as such in return. He should've recognized that back during the dethronement era, but the past is the past, and as I've said, they can't go back. Now all he can do is move on and look to move past it, hard as it may be to navigate if there's any hope for their friendship left.

Bottom line with all that I've just said is this: Life just isn’t meant to be lived like a dream and it never should be. George needs to wake up from that belief to actually fix the things wrong in his life rather than ignore them, or wish that they were different without putting in effort to make them so.

George needs to face Dream, not just dream about doing it with a substitute.

Been a hot minute since I've written and read over this - I'm talking back when XD was first properly introduced - but I still stand by most of it lmao

SMP DNF is just very messy and honestly tragic when you really delve into it - and it still very much is - but there's always room for things to change and people to grow, so who knows if that's how it'll stay when we reach the end? ¯\_(ツ)_/¯

Hope you enjoyed my word vomit, I'll be here in my hermit hole if ya need me...

-

/dsmp /rp

[by @lady-star-strings]

okay wow; this is so well thought out and its all forming in my head

(now im thinking about the fact that the whole server knows about dreamxd's existence tho, not just george. but with george being able to bring things from his dreams to reality, its not so far off to assume dreamxd formed and became a real thing after george's dreams and feelings manifested him)

[nona-piccolo]

Obey Me you say ?? Oh HECK yeah, I’ve been thinking of a bunch of stuff ! Feel free to just respond to ones you enjoy, and I wish I had a preference of the brothers or others but that’s also really just up to you! The gender neutral pronouns are amazing, thank you !!! Now that that is out of the way, on to thoughts and questions!

How do you feel the brothers or others would react to a very blunt and honest MC? Like one that is nice as heck, but will not hesitate to tell you their actual thoughts on things- for example the constant bashing on Mammon or maybe helping Solomon out in the kitchen with friendly suggestions kinda vibe !

How do

Oh I love this one! A part of me thinks that the brothers truly need a blunt MC in their lives, especially with how they treat Mammon and such sometimes LOL Because there is no preference, I decided to only do the brothers for now. But I do feel bad, because my Asmodeus, Beel, and Belphie ones appear to be much shorter… Thank you for the request though, I really hope you enjoy the answer 💗

How the boys react to blunt MC

Characters: Lucifer, Mammon, Leviathan, Satan, Asmodeus, Beelzebub, and Belphegor

Reader: gn!reader

Warnings: none :)

Lucifer

I think it’s well known that Lucifer is not the softest guy when it comes to words.

Not only does he say whatever is on his mind, no matter how harsh it may be, but he also doesn’t care at all whose feelings he hurts in doing so. And yet there has never been anyone else to try and voice their opinions fullheartedly towards him.

So when he first begins spending time with you, truly, he was lowkey shocked at how blunt and honest you were.

Especially when it was towards him.

“Lucifer, did you just hang Mammon from the banister… again??” you ask, barging into his office without knocking. He was quite used to this however, and the demon had long since given up trying to scold you for it; it was no use, you would just keep doing it.

It’s not like he minded though. In fact, your presence made his head feel light after the many hours of paperwork he was going at.

“Yes, I did actually. Why do you ask?” he replied, glancing up to see you situated in front of his desk. You had your hands on your hips, obviously looking displeased. For a second, he thought your irritation was directed towards him.

“Why do I ask?” you replied back, no hesitation in your voice. “This is the third time this week. Mammon clearly hasn’t learned to fix his behavior after the first few times, and it’s obvious that hurting him won’t solve a thing!”

Oh… your irritation was directed towards him

Lucifer blinked up at you, his red eyes trying to read your face. No one ever had a problem with him punishing Mammon in the creative ways he could find; in fact, his younger brothers appeared to love watching Mammon suffer.

Apparently… you had not.

“Y/N, I-” Lucifer sighed, hell bent on just straight up telling you that Mammon will never learn.

“No. Stop doing it. He doesn’t deserve that.” You cut him off, the frustration still showing on your face. And before the demon could reply, you had turned around to whisk yourself out of his office. 

The only thing left in the room was him and his thoughts--- and the sound of his pen slipping from his fingers to bounce onto the desk.

Ohhh boy, Lucifer had never had someone stand up to him like that. It wasn’t even like you were trying to be mean, or be the more ‘dominant’ one… you were just saying what was on your mind. And Lucifer wasn’t blind.. He knew how much his other brothers meant to you, so for you to care so much as to voice your opinion to the very avatar of pride himself--- maybe, just maybe, he could give Mammon a break from punishments.

Even though people like to portray Lucifer as someone who is super strict and would want to be around I guess more ‘submissive’ people who would obey him, I think he would certainly not like an MC who allows people to walk all over them. You are the perfect balance between kindness and honesty, making you a trustworthy companion.

And a good ol’ honest comment could never truly hurt Lucifer’s feelings. His skin was as thick as bone, so to finally be around someone who isn’t intimidated to speak their mind around him… it’s almost relieving

I guess you could even say he finds it attractive….

Mammon

Mammon had always enjoyed spending time with you

From the moment he met you, you had always given off a fun and compassionate aura, and so the demon was ecstatic to finally have a partner-in-crime!

Ehhhh… it wasn’t like that though

Although you found humor and joy in going along with his harmless schemes, there were some where you put your foot down without a grain of hesitation.

When you first voiced your opinion on how bad of an idea it was to try and snap a picture of Lucifer when he was sleeping, he instantly thought you were a debby downer with a goody-goody type of attitude. Mammon had groaned out in frustration as if he was a 3-year-old child.

“Oh come on! It’ll be fun! It’s not like Lucifer will even see ya coming,” he responded, pulling out his phone to text Satan and Asmodeus his plans.

You had stared at him after that for a solid minute, your arms crossed and your eyebrows furrowed as if you were thinking. It wouldn’t take a genius to recognize how bad of an idea that was.

“Mammon, you’ll probably be punished again. Respect Lucifer’s privacy please. Besides, I think it’ll be more fun if we watched a movie tonight! What do you say we rewatch the TSL series together?” you had brought up an alternate solution to keep him out of Lucifer’s wrath, hands folded together and eyes wide as you hoped he would agree and listen to you. Mammon was just confused though, looking at you as if you were crazy.

You’d rather watch that series all over again instead of trying to cause trouble for Lucifer??

Ugh… but look at your expecting face… he couldn’t just let you down.

Surprisingly, and begrudgingly though, he had agreed.

And guess who wasn’t thrown from the banister that night?? Mammon.

Your honesty doesn’t just stop there though.

As the family punching bag, Mammon was so used to taking the hits for his stupidity and then moving on. He never fought back. So when you decided to voice out how ridiculous it was that he was being called “stupid” and how ironic it was that Asmodeus was calling Mammon an “attention-seeker” or that Satan was referring to Mammon as an “asshole”, he was whole-heartedly surprised. 

Apparently so were his other brothers.

Everyone just sort of sat there in silence as you shot comments back at them, scolding them for treating Mammon like he was dirt. It wasn’t just one instance either; Every. Single. Time. You told them to knock it off.

And just like that, the harsh insults towards Mammon began to disappear, especially whenever you were around.

The avatar of greed never had anyone to stand up for him in the ways that you had. And he feels his heart swell up with warmth as you berate Lucifer of all people for hanging Mammon upside; the fall causing his sunglasses to slip and break, much to his disappointment.

Mammon made it a goal to always be near you when he voiced his opinion around others; because not only would you acknowledge what he said, but you also made sure the others wouldn’t shoot him down for simply being himself

It was like he could breathe when he was around you. Like every single thing he said wasn’t nitpicked apart and thrown away as a stupid thing. You were different. You told him what was wrong and gave him constructive criticism.

BUT-- that honestly doesn’t protect him from himself

No one is safe from your blunt persona, not even Mammon.

I think this is what he truly needs in his life though; because I believe honesty and bluntness comes from a place of love and comfort. You are blunt because you want Mammon to be the best that he can be, you are blunt because you want to see Mammon succeed, you are blunt because you care about him.

Every honest thing you say about him is to protect him.

So whenever Mammon sneaks into Leviathan’s room at night for a limited edition figurine, or slips down Diavolo’s corridors to try and snatch a vintage portrait that could make him some potential money… he always pauses to think of your reaction to his late night greedy urges. So that when he hesitantly puts down the portrait, he can sleep comfortably knowing that you’d be proud of him.

Leviathan

To be honest… I think it would make him very nervous when he observed that you were an honest person

Even though his brothers are equally as harsh to him-- for example, they don’t hesitate to call him a nerd, or a weeb and otaku-- he doesn’t seem to mind it anyways, since Leviathan has fully absorbed and accepted his otaku persona.

But this situation is a bit different… because even though Leviathan is used to his brothers being honest with him, it’s a whole different thing when Y/N does it.

Someone out of his family circle telling him that he’s a weirdo??

Yikes, he doesn’t think his heart could handle that.

So to cope he’ll at first just stay in his room… far away from you… so he could get to his usual activities.

He is already so used to being locked up in his room away from prying eyes and others’ opinions, so as soon as he takes notice of your blunt tendencies (especially when you had first voiced your thoughts to Lucifer), Leviathan shies away from being close to a normie like you. Besides, he doesn’t even need to leave, right? He has an emergency built stash of food for when he needs to eat, and he could just do school work on his own computer.

He has this whole imaginary field of comfort that he had built up for years and years; a room full of figures and merchandise-- his own personal utopia.

Leviathan doesn’t want you to judge him; he doesn’t want you to think that he’s weird or a loser. His poor introverted otaku heart couldn’t handle it

Clearly, he didn’t understand you at all...

That doesn’t stop you from hanging around him either. You insist he shouldn’t have to wait up all night alone for tickets on Zaramela’s new worldwide tour, and you had dragged Mammon along with you to give Leviathan some company.

He felt cornered, deciding to let you in to stay up late with him. And while Mammon had fallen asleep (much to Levi’s anxiety), he was left to try and entertain you to the best of his ability.

Leviathan hesitantly hopped onto his gaming console, turning on a classic favorite of his. It was simple, it was easy, and he was very familiar with it, especially considering he had played it and completed it over 25 times.

Perhaps his movements will be more shaky and unsure, however. When you sat down to watch him play his video games, he may mess up more often, to his dismay. Your distance to him was decent enough, and you couldn’t help but smile as you watched him begin to get absorbed into the game.

“You know, you’re very good at the game…” you mutter, looking down at his fingers flying across the controller. You wonder for a moment how Leviathan can even stare at the bright screen for so long without any permanent eye damage.

Apparently he took your comment as a sarcastic one, lightly scoffing. “Okay I get it… we can do something else… like uhh..” his eyes flitted down to a random CD he had discarded on his floor a while ago. “We could watch The Girl Whose Grandparents Travelled Back in Time to Tell Her She Was a Princess,” he casually brought up airily; already in the process of turning off his video game. He reached over to grab the CD, realizing too late that this was one of the animes he didn’t really like...

You were a bit confused at the offer though. “Um no thanks. It’s a total rip off of The Girl Whose Parents Time Travelled To the Past to Tell Her She Was a Princess.” Your response was automatic, looking at the CD as if you were bored.

Leviathan paused. “What?! Y-You noticed that too??” he questioned, tossing the CD back onto the ground where it originally was. “Finally someone who understands!! The heroine was almost a complete carbon copy, I can’t believe the studio got away with that!”

You nodded your head, a serious expression on your face. “What a let down. Besides, the original had a better soundtrack 100%.”

Leviathan almost jumped on you with excitement.

Apparently not even Leviathan knew how harsh of a critic he himself was. All that harsh judgement he does on animes and video games… Perhaps you being just as blunt would be new to him. You were somehow both one in the same.

All in all, Leviathan didn’t understand how much of a blessing having an honest person in his life could be. Especially as someone who doesn’t judge; your honesty never crossed the line into personal territory. 

Instead, you gave him an opportunity to gain feedback on animes that you two binge watch together

And for the first time in forever, Leviathan felt like he had someone to indulge in.

Satan

He really really enjoys this

Satan pegs me as the type of guy that would find humor in hearing your honest opinions--- and you notice that whenever you speak your mind towards Lucifer, you can briefly hear a quiet chuckle escaping Satan’s lips.

Of course, as mature as Satan is, it’s not that he actually finds what you say humorous; he just never thought he’d see the day where some mortal human would stand up to a group of demons as intimidating as they could be.

You remind him of himself in some ways… both of you unafraid to speak your minds and both of you able to stand up for what you truly believe in.

And because of this, he registers the fact that instead of going to Solomon or Asmodeus for opinions on his books or feedback for his many essays, he goes to you.

Especially when Satan needs proper and honest feedback from someone who wouldn’t sugarcoat it. And unlike Leviathan, Satan relishes in some proper assessments.

Satan feels more drawn to you than the rest of his brothers, coming up to you for some of his more diabolical actions--- like the many pranks he kept under his sleeve for Lucifer

“Do you think Lucifer will see this one coming?” he asked you casually, sliding you a piece of paper containing a scribbled down--- yet well thought-out and detailed scheme to cause trouble yet again.

You quirk up an eyebrow, glancing away from your phone and down towards the sheet of paper. With a small sigh, you decided to give in and at least entertain the idea. He just didn’t give up, huh?

“Hmmm… didn’t you try a plan like this similar to before?” you replied, eyes raking through the pencil marks.

“Have I?” he mumbled, leaning in to feign involvement. “Yes,” you answered, dropping the paper and acting like you didn’t need to see any more.

“And it didn’t work that time. I don’t think it’ll work this time either Satan. Sorry…”

“Don’t be sorry,” he grinned.

It’s not like it was just Satan who enjoyed your presence; you would grow increasingly more and more comfortable about voicing your opinions around him. There’s only one thing better than a straightforward honest person--- and that is someone who can actually appreciate the honesty

After you recognized that Satan truly does not get bothered by whatever is on the tip of your tongue, things only got better.

I can imagine late nights where you and Satan would stay up until your eyelids became like lead and you couldn’t continue without sleep. Those nights were filled with honesty and intelligence. He thought you had a beautiful mind. He wanted to hear every opinion that popped up in your head

Asmodeus

Hmmm… Asmodeus is a bit trickier. 

As an outward and bubbly extrovert, Asmodeus was bound to hear all types of opinions from all types of different people. And judging by his insane amount of confidence, he doesn’t let any of that negative energy affect him (He says it’s bad for his skin).

It’s not like you’d say anything mean to him to begin with, especially purposefully--- but I feel everyone takes criticism differently, and some take it to heart more than others

Considering you don’t fall for Asmodeus’s mind-controlling charm, your honest and blunt nature just adds the cherry to the cake on what kind of person you are. This just makes you more natural and pleasant to be around.

So instead, he makes his use of it, making sure to drag you along with every one of his shopping sprees around town.

You wouldn’t suck up to him, or brush off his hyper enthusiasm by simply saying ‘yes’ to everything--- much like his brothers do to him

“Y/N, Y/N, do you think this color will look good on me??” Asmodeus excitedly asks, holding up a beige scarf to his neck. Both of you couldn’t care less about the wandering eyes that followed trailed towards the loud demon of lust. “I think this color looks good on me, but definitely not with the outfit I’m wearing currently.”

You smile at his animated gestures, nodding your head in agreement. 

“I do think the color suits you, but didn’t you get a beige outfit a week ago? Maybe a cream color will look better,” you mention, shifting through the scarves on the rack.

Asmodeus pauses to pose in the mirror that was conveniently placed on the store wall. “You could be right~ I heard cream is more in style right now anyways. Thank you darling 💗.” 

Beelzebub

Beelzebub doesn’t even notice you’re more blunt and honest; like, he doesn’t isolate that as your special quality

Instead, he just thinks that that is how you were as a person.

Honestly, it’s quite cute.

Whenever he eats off of the plates of others, or realizes that he just vacuumed down the cookies that you were supposed to deliver to Luke, you don’t hesitate to voice your disapproval. 

“Beel, please don’t eat other people’s food. It’s not nice,” you reprimand gently, noticing that no other brother on the table was going to say anything to reprimand him.

He quietly gulps down the rest of the food that he had finished chewing in time. “Oh… sorry,” Beel mumbled, wiping the remaining crumbs of the cookies that he knew you worked on for Luke.

He didn’t even realize he reached over to take the food.. One moment his stomach grumbled hungrily, and then the next moment he smelled the cookies you had spent all morning baking.

Whenever he ate his brothers’ food, they would always sigh and complain to Lucifer about it---which in turn caused Lucifer to tell them to just grab some more.

He really really didn’t mean it…

You sighed quietly, grabbing a napkin off of the table to aid in ridding the crumbs all over his shirt. “It’s okay Beel. Try not to do it again, kay?” It looks like you needed to throw together another batch of cookies in order to get them delivered to Luke before it got too late.

You glanced behind you, watching as Beel followed you to the kitchen again. The redhead noticed your questioning glance, and he only grinned in reply.

“I’m going to help you make more. It’s the least I can do…” he said.

The gesture must have made you happy, because he could see you return the grin instantly.

Beelzebub also happens to be lowkey blunt in his own way, because while he may hold back in speaking a lot of the time, much of what he does say (besides things food-related) is actually quite honest. He isn’t afraid to tell people what he thinks about them, but on a much lower scale than you.

I think this mixture of two similar people is wonderful--- 

Remember how I said some people take honesty and criticism to heart more than others?? Well… Beel takes to heart what you say and attempts to fix anything he can within his power.

Belphegor

Ha ha ha… ahhh Belphegor. Okay correct me if I’m wrong, but he’d totally be the type to purposefully do things that would make you snap at him or cause you to be more blunt.

He always knew you were kind-- I mean, you were the one to help get him out of the miserable attic. You were also the one willing to deal with Mammon, so… ya know.

But his level of respect for you rose when the demon took note that you were no welcome mat. 

No one could step all over you, and for a human, that was damn impressive to him.

For example, the first time he had fallen asleep in a weird position in front of you was when you, Beel, and Belphie decided it would be fun to bake some muffins for everyone. He was assigned the role of mixing together the mix and well… he fell asleep.

While standing…

You quickly snapped him out of it, voicing your opinion on how it was not the time to be sleeping--- especially if these muffins were to be done before dinner

He liked getting your attention in that way though

Belphegor was another demon with thick skin, and yet another demon who also happens to be blunt and honest (probably one the most in the family)

“You look like shit,” he mumbled into his pillow, watching you trudge into the room tiredly. You had dark under eye circles, probably due to the lack of sleep you had within the past two days, and your hair was unkempt. The strands thrown about your head like a cyclone just hit you. Belphegor had heard that you were taking extra magic lessons with Satan and Solomon, and he only assumed this was a result.

You grunted, flopping down onto the bed right next to him.

“Well, you don’t look too good yourself. But I guess that’s what 10 hours of sleep will do to you,” you bit back, the words were a bit slurred and muffled due to your face plant on the bed.

He chuckled lightly, scooching over to toss his blanket over you.

Belphegor would ask about your little magic experience later on; the loads of opinions you probably had would make due for an interesting listen.

[wingletblackbird]

Hi. I've been a long time fan of your meta posts. I've been wondering from a purely legally perspective if, as a senator, Padme had the authority to pardon Anakin following his confession in AotC?

Thanks for the compliment!

I'm pretty sure Padme does not have the authority to forgive Anakin's actions on Tatooine from a legal perspective. This isn't just because she is a senator though, and I don't think senators unilaterally have that authority. Even if she did have that kind of authority, and had it on a planet not in the Chommell Sector, she would lack jurisdiction on two counts.

The first is that Tatooine is really only nominally a part of the Republic. It is ruled by the Hutts. Padme has no authority here whatsoever. On top of that, there is no local law enforcement on Tatooine. There are Jabba's enforcers, and your blaster. There is no real law at all. This is the Wild West at it's worst. That is why when Shmi is kidnapped, Cliegg gathers up his farming buddies, and they go after the Tuskens. They can't call in the police, or the military, or any one else to do it. It's a harsh world, and it is just them to do what is necessary. That is why, from a Tatooinian legal perspective, Anakin has not violated the law. On Tatooine justice=vengeance. It is hard to break the law when there isn't one. Sure people will think what he did was excessive, but everyone hates the Tuskens, (you could even call it speciesism), so no one will do anything about it.

The second reason Padme has no say is because Anakin is a Jedi. The Jedi, as seen in Ahsoka's trial, handle all legal matters concerning violations by the Jedi, if not all Force-Sensitives. Now, this system does have room for abuse. However, there is good reason for this system to exist. Force-sensitive beings can choke you from afar, mind trick you etc. The Jedi are the only ones who can ensure a sound judgement, and/or minimal chance of an escaped convict.

Not only do the Jedi need to be in charge in this case for security, they are also the only one's who can truly appreciate how difficult the Force is to handle. What I mean by this is that there is a difference between falling to the Dark Side, and brushing against the Dark. The former is a choice you can be condemned for, the latter is more like manslaughter. Think in ANH when Obi-Wan tells Luke, essentially, that the Force can also control you. You need to be careful how you draw upon the Force. What might be murder for a non-Forceful, could be manslaughter for Forceful if they are overwhelmed by a Force they cannot control, but controls them.

Taking all of this into context then. When Anakin finds his mother, he is grief-stricken, guilt-stricken, furious, horrified, terrified etc. He decides someone needs to die for this, and fair enough. His mother has been tortured to death over several weeks. He gets out his lightsaber and kills the guards. After that, Tuskens come running up to him, he swings his lightsaber. Fade to black. The fade to black symbolizes his brush with the Dark Side. Anakin intended to kill the guards. This is not against the law. This is justice on Tatooine. However, Anakin is also Force-sensitive, and extremely off-balance. He draws on the Force wrong, gets overwhelmed by the Force, and more and more Tuskens, and next thing you know, he's gone and killed the whole village. This was not intentional at all. (As an aside, I think drawing on the Light Side the wrong way can be just as bad, even if not as obviously destructive, but that is a meta for another day.)

Anakin is shocked, horrified, sickened. We can see him struggle to come to terms with it when Padme comes to find him. When he was using the Dark Side he was on a high of power, all the justifications whispered in his head he remembers, now he's awake and trying to cope with what he has done, and why, and how it felt. He has no clue how to handle this. He is a trainwreck. Now, if he'd been bragging about it, I think Padme would have noped out and reported him. He wasn't though. He felt bad. He should be better than this. She forgives him. This is not on a legal level, just a personal one. Padme's gift and flaw is that she always looks for the best in people. Anakin has committed no wrong on Tatooine, and the other wrongs are a Jedi matter she has nothing to do with. In the same way she likely assumed the Jedi would handle Shmi, she thought Anakin would go to the Jedi. Then the war broke out, and there were other things to worry about.

As for Anakin, he was horrified about what he did, and knew he would have to tell someone. He was scared to tell Obi-Wan/the Jedi though. He had never quite fit in. He didn't want to let them down. He didn't expect them to understand how losing his mother affected them. How could they? What should he do? So, he goes to Palpatine first for advice. Palpatine will tell him what he should do. Had Palpatine been a decent man, he would have been sympathetic, but still would have told Anakin that this was beyond his area, and Anakin clearly needs the Jedi's help. Anakin would have gone to the Jedi. Palpatine is not a good man though, and wants Anakin to feel miserable and dark and dependent only on him, so he isolates Anakin further. Of course, the Jedi would never understand, my dear boy. And, besides, it's not like what you did was really all that bad, right? After all, they killed your mother. All water under the bridge! Anakin may not believe this, but it is permission for him to not face his fears, so he doesn't. He vows to do better, and leaves it at that. If Padme brings it up, he tells her he got help. He legitimately thinks he did. Even if he mentioned it was Palpatine he went to, at this point in time, Palpatine is an old friend/mentor of Padme's. She trusts him too. Problem solved.

Now, had Anakin (or Padme) actually told the Jedi what happened. I do not think they would have risked expelling Anakin outright. First of all, they could not have condemned the murder of the Tusken guards, as that could be considered justice under Tatoonian law. However, the rest is manslaughter, arguably even involuntary manslaughter. (Anakin definitely would not have killed kids at this point in time intentionally. He could barely do it even when he chose to fall.) Given Anakin's remorse, he is not beyond hope, and they do not want to expel a man who still could be a danger to himself and others, (and they want to keep track of “The Chosen One”), so he is punished and offered extra meditative training.

I think generally 1-5 years is the typical penalty for involuntary manslaughter? Up to a maximum of 8-10? I don't know. I'm no expert, but I reckon it is pretty similar for Jedi. I imagine the council would suspend him from all further duties, place him in confinement for a year for meditation, counselling, therapy is that too much to ask for?, after that, they would let him out for remedial training under a watchful eye. If improvement was seen, he would eventually be allowed to return to active duty. His knighthood would be put off for quite some time. Alas, this does not happen.

Even if it had though, I don't picture Anakin ever being knighted. Honestly, the increased supervision would have also meant he couldn't see Palpatine or Padme. I think the latter would be the breaking point. Anakin would insist on seeing her and he would get expelled. He would still be expected to do his time, of course, but after that he would leave and never look back.

[shurisneakers]

shut in [5]

Summary: When your high profile mission goes terribly wrong, you’re forced to hide in a safehouse with a man you’ve never met before. With seemingly nowhere else to go, you’re forced to work together to figure out who is trying to have you assassinated before it’s too late. (Sam Wilson x Reader, Hitman AU)

Warnings: cursing, threats, implied ptsd, violence

Word count: 2.9k

A/N: sam wilson nation how are we feeling after that trailer. only about a month to go for my two dumbasses to get the recognition they deserve!!

i also appreciate feedback so if you would like to, please consider dropping me an ask or comment ly guys!! also if you want to be on the taglist, it’s mentioned at the bottom of the chapter.

here’s my ko-fi if you’d like to support my writing <333

Previous Part || Shut In Masterlist

“Where are they?”

“We don’t know, boss.”

Their eyes glossed over with rising anger, masking its earlier aloofness.

“I’m going to need more than ‘I don’t know’.” Their voice was acidic, dripping with faux politeness. A bad sign.

“Police say they pulled off the highway at one point and then they lost track of them because there were no cameras.” The agent looked at his partner who only nodded in confirmation.

“They could have ditched the car before going on foot,” the partner suggested rather unhelpfully,  “We have no idea where they could be”

They were silent, mouth pressed in a hard line, leaving everyone in silence.

“Have I told you about the time my dad hired someone to fix the sink here?” they finally asked, looking away from the agents. “Some drunk fuck got in a fistfight and absolutely decimated the thing. Dad got someone to fix the hole in the wall and the fitting.”

They turned away, facing the wall.

“He did an alright job, that guy. Fixed up the place, installed a new sink. But there was a problem that he said he’d be able to fix only the next day, something about water dripping through an unsealed pipe.”

The agents just sat there on their chairs, feet cold. They knew where the story was going. It was a myth at their organisation, a cautionary tale to everyone who joined.

“My dad, he agreed. Said ‘Yeah sure, come back tomorrow’. Guy packed up his bag and was on his way out when my dad called him back. Asked him to hold out his hand for the money and then he just,” they paused, “cut one of his fingers clean off. Told him that he’d get his payment and his finger when the job was done.”

“I loved my father,” They skipped a beat before whipping their head around to look at the two agents. “But he was a coward. I would have shot him in the head.”

The agents looked paler than what they were a few seconds ago.

“If I tell you to do something, either do it perfectly or don’t do it all because the next time you’re here and those two are still alive,” they sneered, lunging forward to grab one of their collars, “I’ll blow your fucking brains out. Do we have an understanding?”

“Yes boss,” the partner was barely audible, speaking for the one who was breathing heavily, looking like he was on the verge of passing out.

“Go on then.” They smiled, letting go of the agent’s collar as he stayed frozen in his place. They dusted their hands off before straightening up. “Don’t return without good news.”

The frustration of not knowing something was not one you were used to.

You were used to knowing. The satisfaction of a puzzle. The ease of a predictable pattern.

So when this mystery wasn’t getting solved within twenty minutes, it was starting to affect you. You spent hours staring at the ceiling, replaying every detail for months leading up to the case. Every client you shook hands with. Every coworker you greeted with a nod. Every vile sicko you had killed.

And yet, no matter how much you thought and rethought and rethought again, it simply didn’t make sense. There was a piece missing. A hidden variable.

Sam helped wherever he could. He offered up arguments and rebuttals. If you had a theory, he’d find the flaw or the lack of proof. He was keeping it reasonable. Only snorted when you suggested that maybe the president was involved in a large scale extermination of underground mafias. A absurd theory that had no roots in reality.

“You could point out any official on the damn senate and they would have some connection to our gang that you can dig up with one Red Bull and twenty minutes on the internet,” he had said. “It’s too much of a liability if we get caught. They’ll just get exposed for all the nasty shit they’ve been hiding under the carpet.”

You knew this, of course, and it didn’t help to be reminded of it again because it also meant that one more theory was ruled out. And with each theory ruled out, the further away you were from your answer.

It was frustrating.

Sam was in front of the TV, lounging on the couch with the copy of Pride and Prejudice in his hands. You were working on plausible solutions, drawing up flow charts to see what could be connected.

If Pierce wasn’t the common link then it had to be something else. You couldn’t proceed with the other spies theory because no one else immediately sprung to mind. There was one... but you decided against writing it.

If Ransone was telling the truth, and there was no way of knowing he was, Sam and you were unrelated and his being there was coincidental. You just had to rely on the employee-employer relationship you shared, if you could even call it that.

“Fuck,” you cursed loudly, tearing up the piece of paper and crumpling it. You groaned, holding your head in your hands. Your eyes were burning from straining it for too long and your shoulders were in pain from slumping over the table all day. 

You took a deep breath, shaking your head before instinctively reaching for another sheet. Your hand came up short so you fumbled around the table blindly, trying to grab at a piece of paper without spending the extra effort of searching.

“You’re not getting another sheet,” Sam’s voice came from above you. “You’re going to watch some shitty movie, eat some soup and relax for today.”

“Give it back, Wilson,” you muttered, reaching out your hand.

“No. You can use your unhealthy coping mechanism when I’m not around to see it. Half of this is my mess too and I’m not going to watch you have a breakdown over it.”

He was going to be annoyingly persistent; somehow he had exhibited that magnificently over the last few days. You knew better than to argue with him over something that he had made his mind up about by now.

“I don’t want to watch a movie.” You let your head fall onto the table, wishing that the cool wood would do something for the headache you felt coming.

You heard him set the paper back down, not saying a word. Your head was throbbing and all you wanted was the frustration to ease. It was killing you.

“Come on. We’re going outside.” That piqued your interest. Sam had never invited you anywhere before.

“Where?”

“Y’know; the outside. I know you haven’t seen it in a while but see if these words jog your memory. Sun. Grass. Win-”

“I know what the outdoors is, Wilson.” You smiled against the table, not giving him the satisfaction of seeing it. “I’m asking where exactly we’re going.”

“You’ll see. Put some shoes on.”

By the time you looked up he was already walking away from the table, leaving you to follow.

You sighed. He sounded too determined and you didn’t have many other options.

Pushing your chair away from the table, you went to go put on your shoes. __

“If in care you were planning to, I’m just going to tell you right now that you can’t kill me.”

The both of you had been wandering along the path for a while. When you met him by the backdoor, he had a bag with him filled with who knows what.

He declined to tell you what was in it either, despite you asking thrice.

“Calm down, Keanu Reeves. That’s not what I was going to do.” Sam gave a short laugh.

“I’m serious. I know karate.”

“So do I.”

“Krav Maga.”

He hummed in agreement. 

“Kickboxing.”

“Now you’re just insulting me. That’s level one.”

The path was littered with tree roots that stuck out of the soil, stray branches and leaves that crunched satisfactorily under your feet. One second of distraction and you were sure you’d fall flat to the ground. 

You both continued for a few more minutes before he finally came to a stop.

It didn't look very different from the rest of the woods until something caught your eye. In front of you, one of the trees stood out. The bark had large concentric circles, resembling a large dart board. A few indentations were already made in it; clearly it was being used for practice regularly.

“Here you go,” he spoke from beside you, handing you a tomahawk. “Go ahead, throw it at it.”

You looked at the tiny axe in his hand.

“Think of it as adult darts,” he encouraged, “Here, I’ll throw the first one.”

He extended his arm in front of him, pulling his wrist back before effortlessly throwing it at his makeshift board. It was two circles away from the bullseye he had carved out. It must have taken a while to make.

“This doesn’t look very safe,” you commented as he picked up another one, launching it at the tree. You followed its trajectory, watching it embed itself into the bark closer to the centre than the previous turn.

“That’s what makes it fun.” This man had no regard for safety protocols. Given, these were things that came with the job but it didn’t mean you did it in your free time. “It helps, just try.”

“Why are you doing this?” you asked curiously, trying to assess his reaction. Pulling you out of the house for a bar game wasn’t exactly the type of thing people generally did for you.

“Because I wanted to.” He shrugged, not giving you any further explanation. “Try one.”

“Okay.” You followed his example, watching as it glided smoothly before landing close to his initial throw.

“Nice shot.”

A smile made its way to your face automatically as he handed you another one. You repeated your action, an unusual sense of pride establishing itself in you when it came closer to the middle.

“Now what?”

“Now we collect and do the whole thing again till you feel better,” Sam replied, making his way towards the tree and plucking the small axes out easily. His back muscles tightened against the material of his shirt in the process. It wasn’t a bad sight at all. “Endorphins and all that.

“Is this where you keep disappearing to?” you inquired, taking two of them from him when he returned.

“Sometimes.” He took aim before throwing it at the board. “There’s a few things you can do around here.”

“Your coping mechanism is extreme sports without proper guidelines.”

“You gotta do what you gotta do.” Sam took a step to the side, giving you space to take your turn.

“Have you always been this wise, or?” you teased, concentrating on the circles in front of you. Your shot came pretty close. 

When you didn’t receive a reply, you glanced at him through your peripheral vision. He wasn’t moving, a thousand yard stare in his eyes.

“Hit it.”

“I can’t.” His fists were bleeding through the bandages wound around them. He could feel the tear in his skin, the burn of flesh against sweat soaked clothes.

“I said, hit it,” Emil commanded once more. Sam could feel his chest rising and falling steadily from beside him, his putrid breath making him want to vomit.

“I can’t.” He could barely stand up. Exhaustion seeped through every muscle in his body.

“You’re weak,” his trainer spat. “Nothing but a fucking child.”

“He’ll die.” Sam looks down at the boy, bloody and mangled on the floor. He had passed out ages ago but that did nothing to stop them from forcing Sam to continue relentlessly.

“It doesn’t deserve mercy. You hear that Wilson?” He leered right into his ear. “Do you fucking hear that?”

Sam flinched, nodding his head. The saltiness of his sweat was fresh on his tongue, burning where it dripped onto his busted lip from his forehead.

“So fucking finish it.” He knew that if he didn’t listen this time, there would be consequences. He didn’t want to find out what it was because he had no doubt it would pain a hell of a lot more than bruised knuckles.

“No,” he whispered, eyes wandering over the body on the floor. “I won’t.”

“What’d you say?” Emil straightened up, taking a step towards him.

“I said no.” Sam turned around on his heel. He could barely stand straight but the spite running through his veins was driving him, giving him enough energy to not collapse right there on the spot.

“He said no,” his trainer repeated, leaning away from Sam. “He said no.”

He turned to look at Ransone. Sam had forgotten he was there in the darkness of the room, observing the fight for the past two hours.

“He said no.” He started chuckling. His chuckles soon gave way to hideous laughter. Stomach clutching, tear inducing laughter.

Before Sam could even realise the change in attitude, Emil’s entire demeanour shifted. He stepped forward, forcefully gripping Sam’s neck. He shoved him backward until his back was pressed against the wall, no doubt bruising his spine further than what it was.

“Say that again, you fucking idiot,” he growled. But Sam couldn’t say anything. He could barely breathe. He was terrified, but determined not to let it show on his face. “When I say something, you better fucking listen.”

His trainer observed his expression for a few more seconds. Sam didn’t open his mouth.

His trainer finally loosened his grip, letting go of his neck.

Sam’s knees nearly buckled but he kept his balance, coughs racking through his body. He felt lightheaded, swollen eyes watching Emil walk towards the body on the floor. The only friend he had.

“Maybe this oughta teach you a lesson.” Emil flashed a quick smirk at Sam before raising his fist above Riley’s face.

Within a split second a guttural cry escaped his throat as he launched himself at the much larger trainer, taking him by surprise. The pure rage he was feeling had him seeing only red, the adrenaline steering his body on autopilot.  

With their position suddenly switched, Sam found himself on top of Emil, bloody fists beating down on his face without a break. The pain didn’t even matter anymore.

“Fuck you,” he screamed, not giving him even a second to defend himself. “Fuck you, you fucking dickhead.”

When he could feel his trainer raising his arm to grab from behind, he took a pause from pummelling his face to grab his arm, twisting sharply it till he heard a crack. The roar escaping Emil’s throat didn’t dissuade him from finishing what he started, returning to landing a punch wherever he could.

He didn’t even know how long had passed before his body was being pulled away, kicking and cursing.

“You see how good it feels Wilson? You feel that relief?” Ransone held him tightly as he squirmed furiously trying to get back to beating the shit out of that asshole on the ground. “Next time you’re angry, remember that’s the only way to feel good. If you’re in pain, you cause pain.”

Sam’s flailing was reducing as the adrenaline wore off. The exhaustion was beginning to take hold of his body as he looked at the onslaught of blood splatter everywhere, two bodies side by side on the ground. He did this to both of them.

“Violence is your only friend. Don’t you ever forget that.”

Ransone let go of him. His feet gave out beneath him, chest rising and falling heavily. His shoulders ached as he dragged his body towards Riley, praying to every force in the universe that he wasn’t dead.

He was still breathing. Sam nearly cried out of relief, collapsing next to him. Ready to defend him if Emil woke up.

“Next time you want to let out some anger, come find me,” Ransone called out. “I’ll find you your next victim.”

“You okay?” You waved your hand in front of his face. “Earth to Wilson.”

It seemed to work as he snapped back, blinking rapidly.

“You zoned out a little there. Everything alright?” you asked. He looked at you blankly for a second before realising what you asked.

“Yeah.” He gave you a half smile. “Yeah, I’m good. You done with your turn?”

The light that was there behind his eyes a few minutes ago had dimmed considerably. He looked weary. You recognised what had happened, what he was probably thinking of. You didn’t bring it up, not risking the chance of him reliving it.

“Kinda.” You pointed towards the target where a tomahawk was sticking out of the centre.

“Damn,” he whistled, resting his hands on his waist. “Best of three?”

“Didn’t know it was a competition.” You went to collect it. It was harder to pull out than you thought. You wondered how many times Sam had practiced it to make it look so effortless.

“Only if you want it to be.”

“Nah.” You walked towards him, handing two of them back to him. “Maybe next time.”

“Next time, huh.” He tested his throw before letting go of the handle. Bullseye. “I’m going to hold you to that.”

You only smiled.

Next part

[illumiru]

hi cami!! based on literally everything because you have good taste I was wondering if u had any fic recs?? I am in like a good fic desert and if u have any good reads would love to read them! thank u!!

Thanks!! I have to be honest that I don't read a lot of dc fics lately bc a lot of what's posted on AO3 doesn't appeal to me tbh. But I do have some favorites that live rent-free in my head. I hope you enjoy!

baby, it's a sign of the times by danishsweethearts

Dick Grayson has a pretty bad day, but hey, he's coping.

let your love grow tall by danishsweethearts

In a move endearingly predictable and highly amusing, Dick Grayson buys a bunch of plants and proceeds to pack bond with all of them.

cold was the night and hard was the ground by danishsweethearts

Laundromats are save points.

i've been longing for silence by danishsweethearts

The Titans are Dick's family. Damian is also Dick's family. Cue the collision.

un haeng il chi by danishsweethearts

un haeng il chi (언행일치) | yán xíng yī zhì (言行一致) idiom 1. word and actions coincide; to live up to one's word 2. to match words with deeds 3. practice what you preach

The Cassandra Wayne guide to truth-telling, manifestation and prosperity.

big d stands for big (demon)or by danishsweethearts

The one where Titans Tower is haunted, and Dick Grayson, Boy Wonder, original Robin, one and only Nightwing, esteemed leader, part-time exorcist, un-haunts it.

young volcanoes by dottie_wan_kenobi

You should join the Justice League, Dick says when he’s ten years old and hopeful. No, Bruce says. You should join the Justice League, Dick says when he’s fourteen and realistic. No, Bruce says. I’m going to join the Justice League, Dick says when he’s seventeen and furious. No, Bruce says. No, you are not.

Dick is nineteen now. And he’s not joining the Justice League—he’s joining the Titans.

the last of the real ones by dottie_wan_kenobi

Gar is like a blessing. He doesn’t seem to notice the shiny parts of Vic, not until it really counts—when there’s wires sticking out, something shoved through Vic like it was nothing, when he’s in danger. And even then, he treats them like any other part of the body, like a wound is a wound and it doesn’t matter that it’s not flesh, but technology.

When he asks, Gar tells him about Cliff Steele, and shrugs like it’s nothing. “I’m just used to robot guys, I guess,” he says, flippant like he’s not the first person Vic has met who didn’t recoil at the sight of him.

Vic manages a laugh, his eye—his real eye, his human eye—stinging.

if you just call me by BeatriceEagle

“Dick.” She squeezed his shoulder. “Dick, look at me.”

Slowly, as if he were pushing against a terrible force, he lifted his head.

“I have known you since I was thirteen years old, and I have known you in a dozen other lifetimes, so I need you to believe me when I say that there is nothing you could do that would make me stop loving you.”

Dick held her gaze. He looked like he was searching for something in her eyes, so Donna held still and hoped he found it.

“Did you really know me in other lives?” he asked.

_____

Dick and Donna, after the action, through the years.

once upon a time... by Mayarene Rose (DickRoy)

The announcement is the talk of the kingdom. Men on horses, coming from the capital itself, shout it to every corner of the land to make sure everyone hears.

There will be a three-day festival held in honor of the crown prince���s name day!

So of course, no one can shut up about it and everyone’s making plans to make their way to the capital, one way or another.

Gotham, after all, isn’t known for its decadence. Celebrations from the capital are few and far in between. But, it’s also well known that the king absolutely dotes on his children. The has the makings of being the biggest feast anyone has seen in their lifetime.

“Huh,” Roy says. He’s in a farming village when he hears, about five days ride from the capital if he had a horse, which he does not.

Or the one where Roy is a knight errant, Dick is the crown prince, and there is a three-day celebration.

Dr. Wilson, Will I Ever Play the Violin Again? by HoodEx (DickJoey)

1 Missed Call 1:12 PM TUES 9 MAY Frank Hardy

A fond smile spreads over his face. He remembers Dick writing that as his own contact name in Joey's communicator the first time he and Joey exchanged numbers. Joey knows it's an action influenced by paranoia rather than something meant as an inside joke between friends, but he likes to think of it as a mixture of both.

"Who are you mooning over?"

Lissa crosses her arms over her chest and cuts across the room to get closer to him. Joey tries not to instinctually jerk his communicator closer to his chest as she peers down at it with a curious glint in her eye.

"Frank Hardy," Joey spells out with his fingers. "He's a friend of mine."

Her brow furrows. "Frank? Have I met him?"

Joey shakes his head.

"What do you think he was calling for?"

Hopefully not to tell me that the world is on its way to ending, Joey thinks, worrying at his lip.

"Not sure," Joey signs. His thumb hovers over the call-back button. "I guess I'm about to find out."

Red Letter Day by silverwhittlingknife

Dick Grayson, stressed pseudo-parent to a preteen assassin, tries to solve the case of Damian’s Mysterious Wednesday.

He never expected it to help him fix his relationship with Tim, too.

(... Though only after everything fell apart first.)

Eventual fix-it for Dick & Tim’s Red Robin fight, but other rocky relationships - Dick & Jason, Tim & Damian, Damian & Bruce, Dick & Bruce - wow, this family is dysfunctional - might improve too. Eventually. They just have to, y’know, work through All of Their Issues first. XD

Two of Six by silverwhittlingknife

There’s nothing special about this kid, no reason to remember him. But Dick remembers. Because of the photo.

Dick and Tim’s pre-nu52 relationship, from the beginning all the way to the end.

or: how Dick acquired a stalker, attempted to make him go away, and failed so badly that he acquired a brother instead.

(So far: missing scenes from childhood, Lonely Place of Dying, Knightfall, and Knightsend. Current arc: Prodigal.)

In the Palm of Your Hand by lapsedpacifist

Dick was forced into becoming a host for an entity of unknown strength, unknown motive, and unknown reach. The only thing he did know? It needed him alive.

Neurodegenerative series by lapsedpacifist

The general premise: Bruce has completely forgotten about Dick, and Dick only. Now tension is high between them and the rest of the family as they attempt to resolve the memory problem -- while drawing battlelines and realising that Dick had always been much more than a brother to them all.

the primacy of personal conscience by birdsofthesoul

"WHAT MAKES IAGO EVIL? some people ask. I never ask."

— Joan Didion, Play It as It Lays

Or: Dick, his family, and the moral morass of a wishing well.

This is all I could think of at the moment! I'll add more once I read the ones I encountered while I made this list. Enjoy!!

[c-is-for-circinate]

So uh, would the end of runs count as an escalation of the abuse? Like Ik it's a last resort to stop Zagreus from leaving, but it also shows that he has no qualms with hurting Zag to get what he wants.

I definitely had not yet gotten to the end of a run when you sent this ask, nonny, and I was all set to scold you gently for spoilery stuff, but you were actually trying very hard to be nonspecific and this only pinged as a spoiler because I was already pretty sure how things were going to end anyway.  So good job trying to be vague!  I have now fought through to what is fairly clearly the final boss, and my answer is, categorically, ABSOLUTELY FUCKING YES.

(We are going to just keep putting Hades posts under cuts until they stop being about a parent abusing their kid! I realize this helps nobody on mobile and I am tagging for that purpose but hey, at least I might save someone's dash! I swear I will talk about other things in this game eventually! Until then, once again, CW abuse.)

It’s not even about the violence, entirely.  Like, yes, it’s about the violence--but Hades has shown all along that he has no qualms with hurting Zag (with killing him, over and over again) to get what he wants.  Even if we take most of the enemies we’re facing as general nuisances of the zones we travel through, and not Hades’ doing (and oh, if Hades wanted he could give Zagreus a safe escort through those zones in an instant), there are obstacles put in our way that are obviously and deliberately commanded by Hades to stop us at all costs.  The level bosses, for one.  (Also, remember the Hades voiceovers we get at every ‘survive for 45 seconds’ level?)  He wants us to stop.  He wants us to die, and yes we’ll come back, but he’s still setting his employees to hurt us, so like, that’s very much a thing to begin with.

The fact that he’s willing to take up arms against us and kill us himself probably feels like a big escalation to Hades personally.  What really gets me is the dialogue.  “I have always kept my temper, unlike you.”  Wildly revisionist history, placing all of the blame for what’s about to happen on Zagreus the victim for ‘making me do this’. The absolute disgust and disdain, when he finally gets us.  “I have slain titans, boy.”  He’s spent a lot of time throwing scathing remarks in our general direction, wanting us to bow under them, being blandly sarcastic and self-satisfied and smug, but he's never sounded like that.

Because, before now, he thought we couldn’t do what we set out to do.  He thought our suffering as we tried was its own punishment, and he enjoyed watching that punishment.  He did not watch us fail with the affectionate resignation of a parent watching a child learn a harsh lesson.  He watched us and gloated. 

The thing that infuriates him now is not that we’re trying to do the thing we literally said we were trying to do ninety-eight runs ago at the start of the game.  He could have stopped us from trying at any time.  Hypnos to put us to sleep.  Literal chains.  Had he bothered for five seconds to actually step into the courtyard beyond our room, we could be disarmed and helpless.  But it’s fun for him to watch us fail, and it proves that he’s right about us and how pathetic we are, and it reassures him that he’s right about the universe, that nobody can escape from Hades, that we are stupid and foolish and weak.  What drives him to such absolute fury now is not that we’re trying, but the fact that we’re about to succeed.  We’re going to prove him wrong, prove that he was wrong about how he handled this situation in the first place, and that’s flatly unacceptable. 

There is no interpretation of this fight that does not include Hades wanting us to feel inferior, subjugated, crushed.  It’s not about keeping us in his realm.  It’s about breaking us, for daring to try to escape in the first place.

No matter why he’s doing it.  And let’s get into that for a sec, the “it’s a last resort to stop Zagreus from leaving” bit.  At this point in the game, I don’t know why Hades is so desperate to stop Zag from leaving.  I haven’t found out yet!  Don’t tell me!  Don’t hint about it!  But from where I’m standing, I can see, hmm, five main possibilities?

He is trying to protect Zagreus from something on the surface.

He is trying to protect the world from Zagreus, whose arrival out of hell will destroy something/everything in some magic way that Hades knows about but keeps secret.

Zagreus is actually a prisoner, meant to be chained in the Underworld for crimes he doesn’t remember committing, Tisiphone is right, and we were meant to be as condemned as Sisyphus all along but Hades has been generous.

Hades made it law a long time ago that nobody and nothing escapes the Underworld, and Zagreus cannot be allowed to break that law because nobody breaks Hades’ laws, period.  He could have chosen to make an exception but he did not, so all of this is flagrantly illegal and needs to be punished.

Hades himself is trapped in the Underworld, or at least feels that way, and is projecting and taking it out on his kid.

My best guess is that it’s some combination of a few of those (like, I am fairly sure that #5 is absolutely true no matter what other reasons are in place as well).  Thing is?  While I’m curious about this mystery for the story’s sake, I also really fundamentally do not care.

Any one of these things could better have been accomplished by telling Zagreus literally anything.  Even if there’s magic and prophecy bullshit binding Hades away from explaining the whole truth, it is not hard to hint at vague disaster befalling innocent bystanders “because of cosmic reasons I am beholden to keep secret”.  Hell, Hades’ own life becomes easier if he restrains himself just the tiniest bit in an effort to make Zagreus not want to leave in the first place.  Hades clearly does not want this to be happening!  He doesn’t seem to regret any of his actions, but he sure is annoyed and infuriated that he has to go through the trouble of doing them.  Literally one explanation could solve so much.

If the reason is to protect Zagreus?  Then it is one thousand times bullshit, and I think the game knows that.  (The game has to know that.)  When your kid is so miserable that they’d rather flee straight into traffic to escape you, then your kid is not safe.  Nothing that could hurt him on the surface--finding out that Persephone doesn’t love him and never did and in fact wants him dead and tortured for eternity--is any worse than what he’s facing down here.  He already knows one parent feels that way.  At least out of the Underworld he has the option to find some relatives who don’t.

And yet this situation doesn’t ping the “stupid plot that could never happen because it entirely rests on unrealistically shitty communication” sensors.  Because it absolutely, categorically makes sense for the Hades we’ve come to know to refuse to explain himself.  Whether he’s got good reasons or bad ones, HIS WORD IS LAW, and how dare anybody ask him to justify or clarify it, ever.

I am very very sure that Hades has lots of reasons: reasons for being furious, and bitter, and for making rules about his son never leaving the Underworld, and for being so desperate to enforce those rules, and for all of it.  Some of them may even be good.  What makes him an abuser, what those reasons do not and cannot justify, is the verbal and physical violence he uses against the people in his care to cope with those problems.

[datawyrms]

Not As Such

For Phic Fight 2021! Using @dp-marvel94 ‘s lovely prompt. On AO3

Something was different with him. It had been for a while, and to his horror, Danny Fenton thinks he might have finally pinpointed it. He's felt off, strange, like his memories, his life, even his own body was foreign to him because....he might not be Danny Fenton at all.

It was the photographs that ruined his life. They were a reminder of some choking wrongness curled up in his chest, solidified it so it got harder and harder to dismiss. The occasional twitches of discomfort that rolled beneath his skin was ignorable, just a weird side effect of being half ghost. Rubbing at his arm, scratching at his hair and running his tongue over his teeth to count them over and over again were just signs of stress. Anxious people didn’t like to keep still, Jazz said all of the extra responsibly just weighed on him that way. Of course a stressed out teenager might be a bit jumpy, or grit and grind at the meaty thing in his mouth that he needed to speak. He always stopped once the foul coppery taint of blood warned him. A damaged tongue could still taste, and the dull pain didn’t really matter. No one else noticed. It was just a way to cope. Totally normal. Even if he felt somehow, it wasn’t. Enough to know not to bring it up. Sam and Tucker would be concerned about the flakes of skin scratched from his ears, or hair tugged free of his scalp, because he lost parts of himself. Bleeding into his own mouth was fine, he didn’t lose anything. The logic was shaky, but he had better things to worry about. Grades, fighting ghosts, hanging out with friends. The little times where he was a cold outsider stuck in the wrong shape always passed. He just had to pull it together and relax.

The photographs always unsettled him. He was not in the photographs. He never remembered any of the times or circumstances that they were taken. He was in them, Danny Fenton absolutely was in those photographs, but the blue eyes always seemed to be judging him. Accusing him. Asking ‘when was this taken, how did you feel’. New photos didn’t do this. The new photos were of him. He compared some from slightly before the accident to now, trying to see the difference, but he never could find a flaw. He used to be able to play it off, think it was just a strange intrusive thought until he actually really looked at the family photo album. Not a single one was familiar. The only ones he recognized, felt attached to were ones his family had mentioned, or talked about before. Second hand knowledge that ‘felt’ right in the moment, but seemed more like a disconnected farce when he tried so hard to find something familiar. A fishing trip, a picnic, hell he’d take a ‘first day of school’ photo at this point, but none of them triggered a familiar sensation or memory. Danny Fenton had been there, he’s there in the photo, so why can’t he feel anything about them? Why can’t he recall something that prompted the picture, what had been happening without guessing from what he can see in that little framed moment of the past? ‘Oh do you remember this?’ was a question he ignored until they clarified, explained more about the photograph so she could nod and say ‘yes’. Even if the answer was always ‘no’. The events sounded right, felt right when a living person told him, but left on his own with only a silent image? Nothing. He’d sound ridiculous if he said that out loud. So what if his memory wasn’t the greatest? He was still Danny. Their friend.

Who didn’t remember grade school. Who didn’t remember their history, their friendship. Of course he remembered how they met. After Sam and Tucker had spoken about it. He was lucky they talked so much, were open and caring while he was disoriented and ‘weird’. From the accident. Of course he was a bit slow on the uptake after playing human electric cable. He only noticed now how he never corrected them, or remembered something different. Tucker would often go ‘oh this reminds me of x’, and he never said that. As nothing really triggered that feeling, the recognition that was fun or amusing to his friends. Ignoring how ‘bad’ his memory was was taking a toll. Sliding a nail under the curve of his ear to scratch at the uneven mess of broken skin helped. He didn’t leave it alone long enough for it to properly heal, the different texture somewhat soothing. The layers and bumps were 'wrong', but only because he'd damaged it when it was whole and flat. It was still his ear, even if the outside was smooth as he hid the self inflicted damage. He was still Danny, just a bit different where no one could see. He had to be, he insisted. Fallen skin, a bit of blood, it wasn’t a big deal.

The photos knew he was a liar. More and more ended up face down, or ‘went missing’. He didn’t want to see the Danny Fenton that wasn’t him. He remembered his friends, he loved his parents (even if he didn’t love being threatened, but nobody’s perfect), and cared about doing well in school. He was still Danny Fenton. Not a ghost just...going along with what he heard and following social norms. You needed to do well in school to get a good job. What kind of job? Should he care? He didn’t know yet, he was young, that was fine. He always liked space, he didn’t just make that up. Didn’t just see how his room was decorated and accepted those were his interests. He didn’t like fighting ghosts as an escape from Danny Fenton’s life. He fought them to protect people, to make up for letting them out in the first place. The tension that eased in his ghost form had nothing to do with being a ‘different’ person. It had nothing to do with being a different face, one with no expectations set that he had not created himself. Danny Phantom was him, and always had been. Always would be. His gloves weren’t a problem, he never needed to scratch or pull or dig. He didn’t need to breathe, so he didn’t choke on the hissing voice in his mind that insisted he was an imposter.

Running away from a problem wasn’t too hard. Just exhausting. He had always been bad at math. Except Danny Fenton had not been bad at math. He had always done fairly well in school, As across the board, like Jazz. Fentons did not get C minuses. It was just being tired, just the ghost fighting that kept him from applying himself like before. There were hundreds of excuses, and everyone bought them. They made far more sense than something as ridiculous as ‘someone else is pretending to be Danny’. Except he spent time staring at questions, reading books that ‘built on fundamentals’ and still struggled. Fundamentals he had, had demonstrated he had, but had lost. Forget solving for ‘x’, he could barely muddle through a times table. ‘You should know this from previous years’ always made him ill. He didn’t know. He didn’t remember it. Danny Fenton knew, because he was the one who lived it. Denying it wasn’t working. Staring at himself in a mirror, trying to find some sign or quirk that felt familiar and purely human only made his veins hum in a furious frustration. Everything comforting, everything familiar was something true of his ghost form. A reflection, an inverted copy of a face that was his; but wasn’t. He should be alarmed, or concerned his anger was strong enough to turn those blue eyes green, but it only felt right that they did. Unnatural, glowing, inhuman. His real eyes to show his own emotion.

Ectoplasm and post human consciousness. That’s what ghosts were, according to his-yes his parents. So he should be fully, properly dead. Danny Fenton could be who he was, while alive. That would be easier. It didn’t explain why he felt nothing familiar about himself. If he was a post human version, why wasn’t there any of the human? Other than the beating heart, the heaving lungs and the smothering, crushing expectation of an identity he’d been expected to assume. One that he liked, at first until the cracks widened. As his discomfort grew and the evidence started making the cracks into chasms. The obvious flaws that everyone glossed over but clung to him like a leech, until there were so many that simply existing was too much to tolerate. He denied it so long that he no longer had a choice in the matter.

He genuinely loved Sam and Tucker, his best friends that always stuck by him, ghost troubles or not. The first people he’d seen, worried about him and trying to calm him from the jarring sensation of existing. So he had to be Danny Fenton. That’s who they thought they were talking to, thought they were helping out, and he’d latched on to that. He’d been confused, adrift and they’d given him a role to fill and a group to belong to. He had so many reasons to admire and like them, separate from who Danny was before. Things he had witnessed first hand, Sam’s willingness to go to bat for those who were pushed aside or considered inferior. How Tucker would throw aside his personal dislike and fears if someone he cared about was in danger, that he could and would put aside even his own jealousy just to be a pleasant person to spend time with. He didn’t need to know about before, or why they chose to be Danny’s friends. They would see it differently. That he had deceived them, pretended to be their friend- even if he truly thought of them as friends. Would they think he was a mockery of Danny Fenton? A creature that wanted to cause them pain and anguish by deception? He couldn’t tell them Danny Fenton was dead. He had to keep being who they expected him to be. They expected Danny to be in this body, and he was stuck in it. A part of it, but not the part his human friends would like. It would be so much easier if they suspected something was wrong. Then they might understand that he hadn’t meant to be lying. That he really did think he was the boy he saw in the mirror, at first.

Jazz noticed more. She knew Danny best, to be fair. Siblings, always under the same roof. Someone who always helped out when going to his parents wasn’t an option. Yet she mostly noticed his fidgeting, not the cause of it. Her ‘dorky little brother’. The one who liked to make spaceship models, but hadn’t so much as looked at one to wistfully hope for it. Not since the accident. They seemed fiddly and complicated, not an enjoyable way to pass the time. Still, that was chalked up to being a teenager with different priorities. Friends and school came first. She’d cover for him, try and help with ghost hunting even though she had avoided it before and generally was a helpful shoulder to lean on when hearing how much pain their parents wanted ghosts to be in. She would be crushed to know her brother, her first brother, the real one was gone. She might even deny it, assure him that it was all in his head, that she loved him even if on some days he just felt like a freak. That he was fine as he was. So he had to keep being Danny Fenton for her too. Even if the taste of blood wasn’t enough to make the unbearable itch stop anymore, that he’d taken to biting his knuckles until flesh broke. The red, thin blood was enough. Human, he just had to be a certain human. It wasn’t that hard. His body knew how to bleed.

Why had he let himself find the answer? Why did he look at those photos enough that he noticed the common thread of where his memory issues stopped? An answer he couldn’t use, couldn’t act on was worse than the baffling twinges and strange thoughts that boiled to the surface of his mind unbidden. Why did he feel heavy and weighed down in his own body, why did the sound of his heart jar him awake in the night like it was some foreign sound? Because it wasn’t his. He felt like he didn’t fit because he wasn’t meant to fit. He was ectoplasm twisted and shoved in an emptied vessel, a monster squirming in a meat puppet that was his- but also not. If he had just ignored it, kept taking it as just ‘ghost powers and humans don’t mix well’ he wouldn’t be sitting here, desperately wishing he could claw free of himself- of Danny without ruining everything for everyone he cared about. One desperate thought was that he was a ghost, fully and entirely. A spirit in a bad place at a bad time, just unlucky. That he could figure out a way to separate himself from this human life he’d stolen by mistake. Except he had no memory of being a ghost either. The Ghost Zone was new and terrifying territory. He genuinely struggled to grasp how to use his powers, and didn’t have a helpful family like he did as a human, people that could remind him how legs worked. Didn’t have people he could mimic and follow enough that it felt natural after the fog of confusion after his accident faded. If he’d woken up on the other side, would he still be like this? Thinking he was a ghost, had always been one until suddenly gaining a weird human side? The Ghost Catcher didn’t work because there was no Danny Fenton to split from. It just skewed aspects of himself. The thing left behind would be no more Fenton than he was, and he doubted either would live long. He was still half human, in body at least. Just not the human they expected, or wanted. A new thing, created in that portal with feet in two worlds he didn’t understand. He didn’t want to be a new thing, he wanted to be the old thing, but he hated being the old thing. He had to keep everyone happy, he couldn’t branch out or act differently, that would be wrong. He owed it to Danny Fenton to live like he would have. He stole his life and gave his family and friends a false hope, he could hardly take it back now. Realized too late, far too late. So he pretended. Noticed how he could pick things up of how he should be when people talked, felt the sickly squirm inside as he lied about remembering, or nodded along. How he could almost sense how people were feeling and follow their lead. A ghost thing? A human thing? A freak thing? He didn’t know how, he just knew once he was alone he wanted to throttle that feeling until it died, and only another pain seemed to lessen it. It was fine. Chapped lips were common enough, it wasn’t a sign that he kept biting them open. Humans didn’t heal that quickly.

 He wasn’t fine. He’d never be fine. Everyone he loved would despise him if he ever slipped up, if they knew the truth. His mom and dad were proof of it. They hated him, completely and utterly. Which they should, he’d stolen their son’s body. Not that they knew that. They didn’t really know they had another son. They made the portal. They looked after him, fed him, said they loved him while he was Danny Fenton. He couldn’t exist without them, it still felt right to call them Mom and Dad, even if he wasn’t a proper Fenton. Maybe on some level they did know. Maybe that’s why they hated Danny Phantom so much, recognized him as the thing that set off their devices and weaponry. Phantom was him, had never been something before he existed. He could feel comfortable in that form, and somehow they could feel it and despised him for it. The monster pretending to be their child daring to feel unrestricted and at ease. Jazz would call him delusional. She would probably be right, if he was Danny Fenton. Which he wasn’t. That was the entire problem. Just crack a smile, remember what he was meant to like and forget it. He owes them. Everything. He can handle it, even if he wants to grab his friends by the shoulders and tell them to really look at him, and stop seeing who they want to see. Who he wants them to see; for their own sake. He half expects the lie curled under his rib cage to fling it open one day in a gory splatter of ‘justice’, but it is content to stay still and remind him with every stolen breath who he isn’t.

 Jazz catches him ‘managing’. She thinks the wounds are for a fight, and he goes along with it. Danny Fenton wasn’t some animal that needed to claw out of his own skin to repent for the constant lies he tells the people he loves. All he needs to do is go along, like always. Maybe fight a bit sloppier next time, take a few more blows. He just wants to move on, live as himself, but can’t. He never can. He probably isn’t all that different from Danny Fenton anyway, but unless they know it isn’t genuine. There’s always the chance he’s acting, pretending to be a dead kid. He can’t tell what feelings are his if he learned how he felt about things second hand, if he hadn’t been doing anything but trying to ‘get back to normal’. Was his ‘favourite food’ his favourite because he genuinely enjoyed the taste? Or was it because someone told him it was, so he deluded himself into agreeing? He slips up.

“I’m so tired of lying, Jazz.”

His sister is thrilled that he’s opened up, even as he bites his lip and wishes he could take those words back. Can he spin it back into a joke, or something less important?

“Danny, I know you’re worried. If it’s stressing you out this much, you should tell them.” Her hand on his shoulder is warm, her tone is encouraging.

She means Mom and Dad. She thinks he means the other secret. The secret that isn't. Yet telling one is impossible. It’s too much as it is. Adding them to the list of those tricked about his nature- it makes the blood in his body feel like phlegm. “I can’t, Jazz. They hate me, remember?” Playing it off, but he’s slipping again. He knows the ‘truth’. They accept Danny Fenton. Which is why they can’t know.

“Danny, you know they don’t hate you. They just need to understand they’re wrong about you.” A weary smile, her hand still in place. “The sooner they know, the sooner they’ll stop saying those kinds of things. And the sooner I can tell them off properly!”

“No- Jazz, they hate me. They’re pretty loud about that.” He doesn’t know why he’s trying to convince her. He just needs to back away, say he’ll think about it and leave it. Now he can’t with how she crouches down a little to look into his eyes, instead of his red and angry knuckles.

“They love you just as much. Hiding from them isn’t helping you, you’re jumpier than a jackrabbit every day. I don’t want you here while I’m off at University feeling like everyone in the house hates you, okay?”

She’s begging for him to let her help. Wanting what’s best for him. As she doesn’t know she isn’t talking to her brother of fourteen years. His tongue bleeds, but the guilt doesn’t lessen. “There’s nothing I can tell them.” She doesn't catch how his words slur slightly.

“What? Danny, just tell them you’re their son. I’ll help you, oaky? You’ll feel so much better not needing to hide anymore.”

He probably would feel better. Every bit of him longed for it, but knew he couldn’t in equal measure. “I can’t tell them that.” He doesn’t want to tell that lie, to double down on it. Their absolute hatred of him is warranted- he can’t steal that from them with another lie.

She rolls her eyes. Like he’s being a fool. “Of course you can! If the lies are stressing you out, you can tell them the truth.”

She doesn’t understand. It’s easier to slip away by going intangible so she can’t keep her hand on his shoulder. The comfort feels unearned. “They wouldn’t like the truth.” No one would. Besides him. He’d be free of the burden of his ‘human form’. The body he took to exist with. Not that he’d probably last long once Mom and Dad knew. They’d properly hate him in both forms, not just the one he was comfortable in.

“They’d be thrilled to know you’re a ghost hunter like them, you know that. Seriously, what’s wrong? You look pale.”

“I’m always pale.” He can’t answer that question. He’s wrong, everything’s wrong. He wants to spit, but he has to choke the blood down instead. She was just trying to help. Stay calm, stop talking.

“No, this is little brother is being weird pale. Did something happen? Why do you think they’ll hate you now?”

She won’t believe him anyway. “Uh. Being told how much they hate Danny Phantom will do that to a guy.”

“All the more reason to make them stop, you just need to tell them Fenton and Phantom are the same person.”

“And what if we weren't?” He isn’t thinking. He’s covering his mouth, too late for it to matter. Yet so many muscles relax once it’s out. The weight on his back shrugged off by even posing the question. A question he shouldn't be posing, one she’ll disregard, but the moment of freedom is nice.

Her eyes are too serious as she looks at him, a quick scan up and down. To check if he’s joking? Does she see how ‘the truth set him free’ there? A corny saying, but he can admit it feels better than the snarling smothering force jabbing at his heart. “But you are?”

Not a statement. A question. All he has to do is laugh and lie again. So why- “No. I don’t think I am.”