#an interjection and exclamation of frustration

[last-of-the-lot]

I tend to watch Vox Machina a few different times in different languages.

This has had the unintended side effect of causing me to laugh for a stupid amount of time at Cassandra swearing in the castle siege scene. Oh boy did it take me a minute to stop and double check that yes, miss prim and proper said that!

Honestly with everything she went through, girl deserved it

[earlgraytay]

So the "don't call trans women dude" discourse is back on my dash, and I just read something that might explain why it's such a frustrating argument for everyone involved.

TLDR: There's gender-cultural differences that explain why people are arguing about this- and a reason it hurts trans women more than you might think if you were raised on the other side of the cultural divide.

I'll admit, I used to be very much on team "I won't call you 'dude' if it feels like misgendering, but also I don't really grok why it feels like I'm misgendering you, especially if I'm not addressing you directly." But then I read an academic paper that really unpicked how people used the word 'dude' (it's Kiesling (2004) if you're curious) and I realized that the way I was taught to use the word was different from the way most trans women were taught.

... So the thing about the word 'dude' that's really interesting is that it's used differently a) by people of different genders and b) across gender lines. This study is, obviously, 20 years old, but a lot of the conclusions hold up. The gist is, there's ~5 different ways that people use the word "dude":

marking discourse structure- AKA separating thoughts. You can use the word 'dude' to signal that you're changing the subject or going on a different train of thought.

exclamation. You can use the word "dude" the way you'd use another interjection like "oh my god" or "god damn".

confrontational stance mitigation. When you're getting in an argument with someone, you can address them as 'dude' to de-escalate. If you're both the same gender, it's homosocial bonding. If you're different genders, it's an attempt to weaken the gender-related power dynamic.

marking affiliation and connection. Kiesling calls this 'cool solidarity'- the idea is, "I'm a dude, you're a dude. We're just guys being dudes." This is often a greeting or a form of address (aka directly calling someone dude).

signaling agreement. "Dude, you are soooo right", kind of deal.

Now, here's the important part.

When [cis] men use the word 'dude', they are overwhelmingly using it as a form of address to mark affiliation and connection- "hey, we're all bros here, dude"- to mitigate a confrontational stance, or to signal agreement.

When [cis] women use the word 'dude', they're often commiserating about something bad (and marking affiliation/connection), mitigating a confrontational stance, or giving someone a direct order. (Anecdotally, I'd guess cis women also use it as an exclamation - this is how I most often use it.)

Cis men use the word 'dude' to say 'we're all guys here'. It is a direct form of male bonding. If a cis man uses the word 'dude' in your presence, he is generally calling you one of the guys.

Cis women use the word 'dude' to say 'we're on the same level as you; we're peers'- especially to de-escalate an argument with a cis man. Between women, it's an expression of ~cool solidarity~; when a woman's addressing a man, it's a way to say 'I'm as good as you, knock it off'.

So you've got this cultural difference, depending on how you were raised and where you spent time in your formative years. If you were assigned female at birth, you're probably used to thinking of the word 'dude' as something that isn't a direct form of address- and, if you're addressing it to someone you see as a girl, you're probably thinking of it as 'cool solidarity'! You're not trying to tell the person you're talking to that they're a man- you're trying to convey that they're a cool person that you relate to as a peer.

Meanwhile, if you were assigned male at birth and spent your teens surrounded by cis guys, you're used to thinking of 'dude' as an expression of "we're all guys here", and specifically as homosocial male bonding. Someone using the word 'dude' extensively in your presence, even if they're not calling you 'dude' directly, feels like they're trying to put you in the Man Box, regardless of how they mean it.*

So what you get is this horrible, neverending argument, where everyone's lightly triggered and no one's happy.

The takeaway here: Obviously, don't call people things they don't want to be called, regardless of gender! But no one in this argument is coming to it in bad faith.

If you were raised as a cis woman and you're using the word the way a cis woman is, it is a gender-neutral term for you (with some subconscious gendered connotations you might not have realized). But if you were raised as a cis man and you're using the word the way a cis man uses it, the word dude is inherently gendered.

Don't pick this fight; it's as pointless as a French person and an American person arguing whether cheek kisses are an acceptable greeting. To one person, they might be. To another person, they aren't. Accept that your worldview is different, move on, and again, don't call people things they don't want to be called.

*(There is, of course, also the secret third thing, where someone who is trying to misgender a trans woman uses the word 'dude' to a trans woman the way they'd use it to a man. This absolutely happens. But I think the other dynamic is the reason we keep having this argument.)

[80pairsofcrocs]

spacial sparks || 5

Chapter warnings - Klaus punching you in the fucking face, getting shot, crappy fight scenes, five being bipolar (again), blood, bullet wounds, guns, let me know if i missed anything.

~~~

Second pov

~~~

"Like I said to your son and his girlfriend earlier, any information about the prosthetics we build is strictly confidential," the doctor spoke from his desk as he patiently explained the sensitive nature of their work.

It was you, Klaus, and Five in the office after getting Klaus cleaned up; and you had returned to the prosthetic place to seek more answers.

Klaus, as expected, couldn't resist teasing you and Five on the journey back, prompting Five to eventually snap at him while you playfully bonked him on the head a couple of times to keep the peace.

And now, you find yourself standing there awkwardly, absently picking at your newly bruised knuckles thanks to the elevator buttons, in a mix of frustration and amusement.

"Without the client's consent, I simply can't help you," the doctor tried to reason with Five, who remained persistent in his quest for a name from the doctor.

"Well, we can't get consent if you don't give us a name," Five asserts firmly to the doctor, a hint of frustration in his tone as he emphasizes the importance of clarity in the situation. 

The doctor responds by putting his hands up in a gesture of innocence, feigning detachment from the issue at hand. 

"Well, that's not my problem," he retorts, attempting to deflect responsibility.

Klaus interjects, staying in character to demand his own consent be considered. "And what about my consent?"

"Excuse me-?"

Your expression mirrors Five's as you exchange a puzzled glance with him, both of you thrown off by Klaus' unexpected outburst. 

"Who gave you permission," Klaus begins to fake cry, drawing out each word for effect, "to lay your hands on my son and his lovely girlfriend?" 

The weight of his words hangs in the air, leaving a tense silence that is punctuated by your and Five's simultaneous questioning of the doctor's actions.

"You heard me," Klaus declares defiantly, pointing an accusatory finger at the bewildered doctor, solidifying his stance in the confrontation.

"Oh, really?" Klaus disagreed, gesturing accusatorily at Five with a sharp raising of his eyebrows. 

"Well, then how did he get that swollen lip, then?" you observed Five intently, noticing a lack of any visible injuries, especially a swollen lip. 

Your eyes shifted discreetly, betraying no hint of other intentions for inspecting his features.

As you were about to interject to clarify Five's uninjured state, the doctors exclamation was rudely cut short by Klaus's sudden outburst. 

Swift and aggressive, Klaus's fist landed hard on Five's unsuspecting mouth, causing an instinctive gasp of shock to escape your lips.

Five grimaced in pain, cradling his jaw with a hint of defiance in his gaze directed towards Klaus. 

Sensing his discomfort, you moved closer to him and delicately reached out, gesturing towards his face with a soft touch of concern. 

"Are you alright?" you whispered, maintaining a reassuring tone. 

With a slight nod, Five averted his gaze from you, bracing himself for further confrontations with Klaus.

The scene escalated as Klaus grabbed you forcefully by the collar of your shirt, his words laced with a frenzied accusation. "And another thing! how'd she get that bloody nose?! Huh?!" 

Klaus's tone bordered on hysteria, drawing confused glances from onlookers. Pushing against Klaus's unyielding grip, you struggled to free yourself.

"Klaus don't you fucking dare-!"

Despite your warning, Klaus's actions spiraled out of control, leaving you in a vulnerable and precarious position.

He swings at you as well, getting you right in the side of the nose. 

You hear a sickening 'crack' and your eyes begin to water, the force of impact causing your head to snap to the side. 

As your vision clears, you find yourself face to face with Five, his expression a mix of surprise and concern. 

Instinctively, you reach up to your nose, the warm wetness of blood seeping through your fingers.

"Shit-" you mutter under your breath, scanning your surroundings in a futile search for something to staunch the flow.

"I want it. Name, please. Now." Klaus goes back to the doctor, leaving you and Five behind him to deal with your injuries. 

"Your nose is a little crooked," Five laughs softly, pointing to your badly crooked nose.

"Really? Didn't notice" you smile at him, the small tears drying onto your cheeks, and blood dripping from your nose making you bring your sleeve up to it to catch it. 

As Five nudges you with a box of tissues, you gratefully accept them, thanking him with a mumble. 

His response is a hum before your focus returns to Klaus, who is drawing the attention of the doctor. 

"You're crazy," the doctor remarks, glancing between you and Five. 

You are seen pressing a tissue to your nose, trying to stifle a potentially harmful sneeze.

Klaus finds amusement in his own antics. "'Peace on Earth' That's so sweet," he says before impulsively smashing his head into a glass surface, causing you to startle. 

The room fills with Klaus's groans as he shakes his head, small glass fragments scattering around. "God, that hurt!" he exclaims, the sound of his voice reverberating in the space.

In the midst of the chaos, the doctor moves to contact security, only to have the phone snatched away from his grip. 

Confusion sets in as Klaus urgently commands over the phone, "There's been an assault in Mr. Big's office! We need security immediately! Schnell!" His dramatic distress evident, he forcefully hangs up the call.

"Now, here's what's going to happen, Grant," Klaus grits out, his expression tense as he leans forward over the desk, an intimidating aura surrounding him.

"It's not Grant, it's Lance," 'Lance' interjects, a touch of annoyance evident in his voice.

"In about 60 seconds, two security guards are gonna burst through that door, and they're gonna see a whole lot of blood, and they're gonna wonder, 'What the hell happened?' And we're gonna tell them that you.." 

Klaus begins to dramatically sob again. "..beat the shit out of us."

With a deep breath, Klaus drops the facade and looks at you and Five, standing united in front of the desk, a sense of solidarity permeating the room. 

"You know, Grant, or rather Lance, you're destined for greatness in prison," he mutters wearily with a knowing grin.

"Trust me, I've been there. Little piece of chicken like you. Oh, my god, you're gonna get passed around like a-" he waves his hips around. 

"You're just... You're gonna do great. That's all I'm saying." Klaus finishes his rant with a toothy smile.

"Jesus, you are a real sick bastard." Lance tells him, making you smile.

"Thank you," Klaus responds, his grin widening into a sardonic smile as he meets Lance's gaze, a hint of mischief glinting in his eyes.

The blood on your nose had finally ceased flowing after Klaus expelled some glass and allowed the crimson liquid to course down his forehead. Retrieving the tissue, you inspected the dried blood before discarding it. 

As Lance guided the group towards the location of the clients' files, an irritating itch began to emerge in your nose, likely a result of the recent break. 

Exhaling in exasperation, you halted your steps, causing Five to pause in bewilderment.

"Are you coming?" Five inquired, motioning towards Klaus and Lance ahead. 

"Just give me a moment," you replied, clenching your hands around your nose and realigning it with a forceful crack, accompanied by a grunt.

Releasing your grip, you tested your newly adjusted nose with a sniff, finding some relief. 

A slight dampness in your eyes prompted you to wipe them, leading to an unexpected gaze from Five, his cheeks tinged with pink and eyes wide in surprise.

Confused by his reaction, you questioned, "What?" 

"Nothing," he murmured, swiftly making his way to catch up with Klaus and Lance. 

Baffled but intrigued, you followed suit, hoping to uncover more about the mysterious situation at hand.

~~~

"Oh, that's strange," Lance says, flipping through the papers, his brow furrowed in confusion as his eyes scan the records.

"What?" you ask him skeptically, sensing the tension in the air and leaning slightly closer to catch a glimpse of the mysterious document.

He looks from the papers to you who is now leaning on the side of the desk, then back to the unsettling information in front of him. 

"Uh, the eye. It hasn't been purchased by a client yet," he explains with a puzzled expression, causing you to raise an eyebrow in disbelief.

"What? What do you mean?" Five presses, their voice tinged with a mix of curiosity and concern, the intensity growing as they demand more clarification.

"Well, uh, our logs say that the eye with that serial number... This can't be right. It hasn't even been manufactured yet," he elaborates, his voice trailing off in astonishment as he struggles to make sense of the unexpected revelation.

"Where did you get that eye?" he shakily points at Five, who is standing to your right, the accusatory tone laced with a hint of alarm as the mystery deepens.

You and Five exchange a puzzled glance before turning back to Lance, awaiting further explanation and feeling the weight of uncertainty settle in the room.

"Well, this is not good," Five mutters grimly, the urgency in their voice evident as they quickly steer you towards the elevator once again, the unsettling discovery lingering in the air like an ominous cloud.

~~~

The three of you - you, Five, and Klaus - were now leisurely strolling out of the building once again, with the sun beaming brightly overhead. 

"I was pretty good, though, right? 'Yeah. What about my consent, bitch?'" Klaus chuckled, a satisfied grin lighting up his face. 

"Yes, you did fantastic," you replied, returning his grin with equal enthusiasm, while Five let out a barely perceptible scoff up ahead. 

"Klaus, it doesn't matter," Five interjected with a hint of disdain in his voice, aiming his remark at the bemused Klaus. 

Klaus, somewhat confused, wrinkled his brow and innocently queried, "What's the big deal with this eye, anyway?" his curiosity piqued.

With a troubled expression clouding his features, Five turned to face both you and Klaus, the weight of his words evident in his furrowed brow. 

Catching Klaus's perplexed gaze, you silently communicated an air of shared perplexity. 

Five let out a heavy sigh, frustration evident as he raked a hand through his disheveled hair. Five sighs, and runs a hand through his hair. 

"They're gonna bring about the end of life on this earth as we know it."

Klaus, with a nonchalant demeanor, allows the comment to sail right past him without a second thought.

"Hey, can I get that 20 bucks from you right now, or are we going to have a problem?" he inquires with a playful grin, clearly attempting to shift the conversation away.

"Your 20 bucks?" Five questions, consciously lowering his voice to prevent it from escalating, causing a slight crease in your brow as he steps closer to Klaus, his discrepancy in height becoming apparent.

"Yes, indeed, my 20 bucks," Klaus retorts, a hint of indignation evident as he places a hand over his heart in a dramatic gesture.

"You did promise him the 20 bucks," you interject, coming to Klaus's defense, prompting him to nod in agreement.

Five points at you, motioning toward your encouragement. "And what have I said about encouraging him?" he directs his frustration at you. 

"The apocolypse is coming, and all you can think about is getting high?!" he chastises Klaus with escalating fervor.

Klaus, however, remains unwavering, offering a grin tinged with unease. "Well, I'm also quite hungry, tummies a-rumblin'." he jokes, enhancing his smile as he simulates the sound of a growling stomach by rubbing his midsection.

"You're useless," Five concludes, shaking his head in disappointment. 

"All of you are useless!" he exclaims in frustration before storming back toward the staircase of the building.

You weren't going to lie, it stung . It's been a complex journey so far with him, especially knowing he distrusts you around his family. 

And now, to be branded as useless - that cut deep. As he sits there with his head buried in his hands, Klaus takes a comforting approach, showing support by sitting beside you, next to Five. 

"Oh, come on,'' Klaus interjects in a soothing tone, easing the tension as he pulls you down gently to sit beside him and Five. 

"You need to lighten up, old man," he chuckles, flashing Five a friendly, crooked smile.

Five, overcome by frustration, simply sighs in response, attempting to brush off Klaus' efforts to diffuse the tension. 

"Hey, you know, I've just now realized why you're so uptight," Klaus announces with a sudden epiphany, catching you off guard and prompting you to direct a puzzled look towards him.

"You must be horny as hell!" Klaus bursts into laughter, causing you to stiffen slightly, your gaze shifting towards the bustling street ahead.

"Didn't need to know that," you mutter softly, trying to maintain composure amidst the awkward revelation.

"All those years by yourself," Klaus starts again, his tone filled with genuine concern. "It's gotta screw with your head, being alone, isolated from the world and your loved ones." 

Five, feeling a pang of loneliness, looks past you to Klaus, who interjects cheerfully, "Plus, now you have y/n by your side, so boom! problem solved~" 

Your embarrassment intensifies as Klaus sings out, prompting you to groan and humorously hide your face in your hands. 

"Oh my god, you're so embarrassing," you mutter exasperatedly. 

"Are you serious? Once I stop the apocalypse, I'm letting her go home, and hopefully, I'll never have to see her again," Five firmly asserts, feeling the weight of his responsibility. 

"Feelings mutual, fuck face," you retort, playfully teasing him as you take your face out of your hands. 

Five, fighting back a wave of emotion, insists further, "I wasn't alone, either. There was someone else, someone special."

Intrigued, Klaus gestures to him. "Oh? Pray tell."

"Her name was Dolores," Five said softly, his gaze fixed on a point in the distance, as memories of their time together flooded his mind. 

You observed the mix of nostalgia and longing in his expression, sensing the depth of their connection that transcended time. 

"We were together for over 30 years," Five continued, a hint of pride and warmth seeping into his voice.

"Thirty years? Oh, wow!" Klaus's laughter filled the room, a mix of admiration and wonder at such a longstanding bond. 

"God, the longest I've been with someone was... I don't know, three weeks?" Klaus chuckled, a tinge of self-deprecation in his tone. 

He met your gaze with a hint of curiosity, seeking confirmation in shared recollections. 

"It was three weeks right?" Klaus prompted towards you, searching for that fleeting moment in his past.

"Yeah, I remember that," you smile fondly at the memory, reflecting on the time when Klaus had earnestly pleaded for you to stay with him and his 'partner' prior to you securing your own apartment. 

Despite your repeated assurances that you could find alternative accommodations so as not to inconvenience Klaus, he brushed off your concerns as mere 'whacky nonsense' and insisted on hosting you anyway.

"It was just that Sparky and I were exhausted and needed a bed to sleep on." Klaus interjects, causing Five to roll his eyes at the explanation. 

As you listen to Klaus recount the events, your smile wanes, prompting thoughts about your own lack of experience in genuine relationships.

While fleeting crushes have come and gone over time, you find yourself reflecting on how every potential connection seemed to unravel before you could muster the courage to confess your feelings or delve deeper into exploring the possibility of a committed partnership. 

The realization weighs on you, nudging you to contemplate your journey of self-discovery and introspection, as you navigate the intricate landscape of romantic entanglements and emotional vulnerability in pursuit of a meaningful connection that has thus far eluded you.

"He did make the most fantastic osso buco, though, it-" you heard Klaus start to say, when Five grabbed your arm and teleported into a moving car, the sudden shift in reality leaving you breathless and disoriented. 

Your heart raced as you yelped and instinctively yanked your arm back, shooting a bewildered glare at Five, who, oblivious to your shock, was nonchalantly waving to Klaus on the other side of the window, a mischievous glint in his eyes.

The man driving, clearly taken aback by the unexpected arrival, let out a gasp and cautiously started slowing down the car, his eyes darting between the unusual occupants in the backseat. 

"Don't stop. Just keep going," Five's urgent command sliced through the tense silence, prompting the driver to instinctively step on the gas and propel the car forward with renewed speed.

As the scenery outside whizzed by in a blur, a loud and indignant voice pierced through the chaos, "Hey, hey, hey, hey, hey, what about my money?!" Klaus's frantic outcry echoed from outside, his figure rapidly shrinking in the distance. 

You peered out the window, a mix of guilt and frustration twisting in your gut as you watched Klaus fade into the background. 

With a resigned sigh, you turned back to fix a steely glare at Five.

"What?" he noticed your glare as he fidgeted with his hands, clearly feeling the tension in the air. 

"You should've given him the 20 bucks," you sneer at him, your voice dripping with disapproval.

Five lets out a sigh, his eyes narrowing at you as if trying to decipher your mood. "You're still mad about that?" he questions, the disbelief evident in his tone as he leans back in his chair. 

"He'll get over it," he adds, trying to pacify the situation as he averts his gaze, not wanting to engage in a further argument.

Feeling a mix of frustration and disappointment, you shift your focus to the passing scenery outside the window beside you. 

The soft hum of the engine and the rhythmic motion of the vehicle provide a temporary distraction as you process the unresolved tension between you and Five.

~~~

You stare up at the sign that reads 'Gimbel Brothers,' the neon lights now dim in the evening. Fatigue sets in, and you feel the urge to head home and unwind with a bit of intoxication. 

In disbelief, you mutter to yourself, "Are you kidding me?" 

Five's response - "Does it look like I'm kidding?" - carries a tone of certainty as he urges you to follow him. However, he pauses, realizing you haven't budged from your spot.

A scowl forms on your face, accompanied by a shake of your head as you express your feelings of inadequacy.

 "Listen, you obviously don't trust me at all and I'm useless so I think you'd be happier if I wasn't here." you reason with Five. His gaze softens, hinting at a shift in his perspective.

In an attempt to reassure you, Five's gentler side emerges. "I didn't mean it. Now let's go.," he insists, giving a light tug on the rehabilitation bracelet that still adorns your wrist. 

Leading you towards the store, he suddenly teleports both of you inside, catching you off guard.

Whispering to Five in a hushed tone, you express your frustration, "Can you please stop teleporting us everywhere?-" His focus now on finding a flashlight, you brace yourself for the next unexpected turn of events.

"It's not teleporting, it's spacial jumping," he emphasized with a hint of defiance evident in his voice.

"That's the same thing," you countered cheerfully, wanting to tease him a little.

"It's not the same thing," he persisted, his determination unwavering.

"But it kinda is," you insisted, trying to lighten the mood with a playful smile.

"No, it's different," he maintained, a touch of exasperation edging into his tone.

"How?" you prodded, genuinely curious.

"Because teleporting is instantaneous, while spacial jumping involves sequential movement," he explained, eager to clarify his point.

"...Oh?"

"Don't argue with me. They're fundamentally distinct," he asserted firmly, not willing to concede.

"Yeah but-"

"Teleporting disregards physical space entirely, whereas spacial jumping requires navigation through different spatial dimensions," he offered, hoping to convey the nuanced disparities.

"..Fuck, fine. You win, smartass."

You see Five roll his eyes and mess with the flashlight in his hands, while you make a spark in between your thumb and forefinger, similar to what you did at Griddys, which is giving you deja vu.

Five catches your eye and lets out a derisive chuckle before flicking on his flashlight. 

"Show off," he chides under his breath, to which you playfully retort, "You're one to talk," as you trail behind him through the store, echoing the familiarity of a lost puppy by his side.

Curious, you inquire, "So what exactly are you looking for?" The light emanating from your hand casts a soft, serene blue hue, illuminating every corner of the store. 

Five responds tersely, "Someone important," ensuring that you remain by his side throughout the exploration.

The sound of Five halting his steps draws your attention, prompting you to pivot and observe his fixated gaze on a pair of lifeless mannequins, causing a perplexed furrow to form on your brow.

"Dolores," Five warmly greets the piece of plastic as you draw nearer, his voice tinged with a sense of longing and familiarity. 

"It's good to see you. I've missed you, obviously," he continues, his words hinting at a deeper connection with the inanimate mannequin.

Reflecting on the tumultuous events of the past few days, Five reveals his eagerness to introduce you to someone significant. 

Despite his hushed tone, you catch the whispered mention of this mysterious person. 

A mix of curiosity and disbelief washes over you as you try to comprehend the situation.

Frustrated by the absurdity of the moment, you momentarily stop your powers and blow on your fingers, the reality of the situation sinking in. 

'Dolores is a mannequin,' you exclaim inwardly, grappling with the implausibility of the scene unfolding before you.

As Five nudges you closer, you reluctantly approach, observing his unwavering fixation on the mannequin named Dolores. 

With a peculiar sense of solemnity, Five introduces the plastic figure to you, emphasizing the significance of her presence.

"Sparky, meet Dolores."

"And Delores, this is Sparky," Five declares, his voice carrying a unique blend of sincerity and enigma as he bestows a peculiar moniker upon the doll. 

Moments of contemplation pass as you gaze at the inanimate figure.

"Sparky?- Only Klaus calls me that," you glare. His casual shrug and smirk indicate a familiarity that you can't quite place. 

Before he can say anything more, the sudden chaos erupts around you both, a gunshot piercing the air and sending you both instinctively ducking for cover.

As the mannequins crash to the ground, revealing the harrowing aftermath of the gunfire, Five scrambles to salvage what remains of the figure he had been engaging with. 

Your heart pounds in your chest as you huddle behind the clothing racks, Five mirroring your position on the opposite side of the room.

"Shit, it's them," Five's voice reaches you, laden with a mix of urgency and concern even from the distance between you. Confusion clouds your mind as you inquire aloud.

"Them..? Who's them?" The response is swift and merciless, a barrage of shots raining down upon your hiding spot, forcing a sharp gasp from your lips.

The unsettling sound of 'whoosh' echoes through the chaos, a clear indicator of impending danger. 

With narrowed eyes and a newfound resolve, you stealthily navigate the aisle you find yourself in, searching for a possible escape route. 

Another 'whoosh' nearby sets your nerves on edge, the subsequent gunfire driving home the reality of the peril lurking just around the corner.

"You see that? There's two of 'em," a woman's voice says with a sense of perplexity. "You said he was special- wait, there's two?" a man's voice asks, his tone filled with incredulity at the unexpected revelation.

Assuming that the woman nodded in response, the man probes further, "So now what?" as you discreetly peek over a clothing rack, scanning the area in search of Five's elusive presence.

With a hint of determination in her voice, the woman lays out a plan, "You start over there, I'll go to the other end. Meet in the middle." 

Her strategic instructions continue, "Shoot anything that moves," prompting you to quickly duck back down, contemplating your next move in the adrenaline-fueled situation.

As you weigh your options, pondering the grim choices laid out before you, the thought 'Go out there and die, or get found and die. Great.' flashes through your mind, intensifying the urgency of the moment. 

Suddenly, you feel a swift grab and another 'whoosh' before instinct takes over, causing you to react swiftly by delivering a punch to whoever seized you.

Your initial panic subsides as you focus your gaze, only to find Five rubbing his shoulder with a wince, eliciting a palpable sigh of relief from you. 

"Did you have to punch me that hard?" he questions in a subdued voice, the tension of the situation fading into an exchange of lighthearted banter between allies in the face of uncertainty.

"Well I didn't know it was you!" you whisper shout to him, your tone a mixture of surprise and annoyance. 

He rolls his eyes, a smirk dancing on his lips, as he shoves a duffle bag into your arms and gently pushes you down on the floor. 

"Keep that safe," he instructs in a serious yet teasing manner, his gaze locking with yours.

You huff in response, a playful glint in your eye, as you casually toss the bag on the floor, feigning nonchalance. 

Slowly getting up, you pause when Five pushes you back down with a firm yet gentle hand. 

"Stay," he commands, his voice soft yet authoritative, before turning to walk away. 

You observe him with a mixture of amusement and exasperation, unfortunately admiring his protective nature.

Resisting the urge to roll your eyes, you retort, "I'm not a dog, idiot," With determination in your step, you decide to find a weapon for both your protection and amusement. 

Ignoring Five's attempts to get you to return and hide, you saunter off, your curiosity piqued and adrenaline rushing.

Amused by the unfolding events, you confidently search the store for something that could serve as a weapon. 

Your eyes land on a rack with a couple of belts hanging from it, and you swiftly grab the longest one. 

With your makeshift weapon in hand, you stride back to the front of the store, ready to face whatever comes your way.

"Elastic wrist splint, yes!" You can't help but roll your eyes in frustration. 

Reacting swiftly, you leap onto his back, trying your best to restrain him by wrapping the belt around his neck just below his mask in an attempt to restrict his breathing.

Despite his attempts to dislodge you by firing his gun, your grip remains firm until he forcefully slams the weapon against your hand, causing you to release your hold. 

Collapsing to the ground as he massages his neck, you seize the chance to make a break for it, though your escape plan falls short due to a lack of speed. 

The man open fires, striking your left shoulder with a painful impact.

Wincing in pain, you sink to the floor, praying that he assumes you are no longer a threat. 

Peering down at your now-bleeding shoulder, your eyes fixate on the glint of a silver bullet protruding from the wound.

"Shit," you silently curse, realizing the severity of the situation as you prepare yourself for the next course of action.

Of course, right before you could try and dig it out, another 'whoosh' rings in your ears and you're behind something else with Five and the duffle bag. 

As you grasp your shoulder to prevent the bleeding, you silently lament the ruined favorite shirt, humorously wondering about the unfortunate fate of your clothing. 

"The bastard jumped again, with the girl too," the man's voice reaches you amid the distant approach of sirens, indicating the high stakes of the situation. 

"Come on, let's go," the urgency in the woman's voice prompts both of them to vanish from sight, leaving you and Five to deal with the aftermath. 

"Shit," Five mutters softly, his frustration evident as he takes a moment to collect himself before deciding on the next course of action, the tension in the air palpable. 

You clutch onto your left shoulder from beside Five, both of you trying to catch your breaths. 

You let out shaky exhales, trying to keep them quiet so as to not reveal your injury to the boy on your right who happens to be clutching the bag, you assuming that his plastic girlfriend is inside it. 

As you carefully control your breathing, you feel a dull, throbbing ache spreading through your shoulder, a lingering reminder of the chaos that just unfolded.

You notice Five look at you, making you take your hand off your shoulder to avoid suspicion. 

"Are you okay? Did you get hit?" he asks you, concern evident in his voice, his gaze searching for any signs of distress on your face. 

With a forced smile, you assure him, "Nope. I'm good, you?" attempting to deflect his worry with casual nonchalance. 

Relieved by your response, he also shakes his head, a faint smile tugging at the corners of his lips.

"Let's get the hell out of here," he suggests, the urgency in his voice mirrored by the tight grip he takes on your wrist, his determination palpable. 

You nod slowly, your eyes feeling a bit heavy but not enough for anyone to notice, the weight of exhaustion beginning to settle in as the adrenaline of the moment fades into the background, leaving behind a sense of weariness.

You hear the 'whoosh' and you're suddenly standing at the entrance to the academy, the abrupt change in surroundings jolting you back to reality, disoriented but grateful for the swift escape from danger. 

The adrenaline rush is over, and you stumble into Five who almost drops his bag in the process of trying to catch you, which just has you leaning on Five for a second before standing back up straight on your own, the brief moment of reliance showcasing the unspoken trust that binds you both in moments of uncertainty.

"Are you sure you're okay?" Five asks you skeptically, heading towards the doors. His face gives off that he's still angry about the eye, but you don't say anything.

You start to slowly drag your feet towards the doors too, a heavy silence hanging between you both, filled with unspoken tension. 

Not trusting your words to convey the magnitude of your pain and weariness, you find solace in a feeble hum and nod, an attempt to mask the throbbing ache in your shoulder and the increasing lightheadedness clouding your mind. 

Despite your efforts, you can sense Five's lingering doubt in his piercing gaze, his skeptical eyes drilling into your facade.

He opens one of the main doors with his free hand, a gesture of reluctant concern softened by the slight crease in his brow. 

His protective instinct shines through as he ensures the door doesn't swing shut, a subtle gesture that speaks of unspoken care and understanding, even amidst the turmoil that still simmers between you.

You sway with every step you take, a visible wince flashing across your features with each movement. The weight of exhaustion tugs at your limbs, threatening to pull you into the abyss of fatigue. 

Your eyelids, heavy like lead, protest each blink, a silent protest against the relentless pull of weariness. 

The bullet lodged in your shoulder throbs with a persistent ache, the metallic taste of blood rising in your throat as the wound begins to seep crimson once more, a stark reminder of the perilous situation you find yourself in.

As your breathing becomes more and more shallow, panic sets in, causing you to frantically scan the room at every slight noise that catches your attention. 

Suddenly, amidst the haze of blurred vision, a voice - Allison's, you recognize - utters the word, "Five." 

Struggling to focus, you manage to make out Luther's deep voice questioning what happened to both of you. 

Through the chaos, another voice attempts to offer help, but in your state of distress, you can no longer discern who it belongs to. 

Gasping for air, each breath becoming heavier and quicker, you hear a disjointed message barely making its way to your ears. 

"There's... nothing you... can do," the words choppy and distorted. Overwhelmed, you realize the futility of trying to resist the overwhelming fatigue surging through you. 

Reluctantly, you succumb to the weariness, allowing your heavy eyelids to finally shut, enveloping you in a momentary escape from the chaos surrounding you.

~~~

Third pov

~~~

"There's nothing you can do," Five tells Allison and Luther firmly, his grip tightening on Luther's wrist to prevent him from interfering. Sensing a hint of desperation in Luther's eyes, Five pivots around just as a sudden gasp resonates, followed by an ominous thud that echoes in the tense atmosphere.

Reacting swiftly, Allison rushes towards the origin of the sound, Five's sharp eyes recognizing y/n's figure crumpled on the ground. 

Without hesitating, he gently lifts her head, his fingers instinctively searching for a pulse to confirm her condition.

Setting his bag down with a purposeful thud, Five joins Allison by y/n's side, his expression laced with a subtle hint of concern. 

Sharing a moment of silent communication with Allison, a mix of relief and apprehension flickers in their exchanged glances.

As Allison's fingers detect a faint pulse, her relief is palpable, yet a wave of accusation directed at Five swiftly follows. "What did you do to her?!" she demands, her tone teetering on the edge of anger.

In utter disbelief, Five meets Allison's accusatory gaze head-on. "What did I do? She said she was fine-" he retorts, his attention drawn to a trickle of blood seeping through y/n's sleeve, the glint of silver catching his eye. 

With a sharp intake of breath, he instinctively turns towards Allison, a silent plea for understanding mirrored in his expression.

"We have to get her to mom," Allison declared urgently as she noticed the perplexed expression on Five's face. 

Her statement seemed to stir a sense of urgency in Five, who quickly rose to his feet and scanned the surroundings for any sign of Grace. 

The urgency in his actions hinted at a deeper concern, one that he tried to conceal from the others. 

Despite his usual detached demeanor, Five couldn't shake off the worry that gripped him when he thought about the possibility of losing his newfound companion.

It was a rare display of vulnerability from Five, a sentiment that he hardly ever shared with anyone, least of all his siblings. 

Deep down, he knew that his connection with this enigmatic acquaintance was different, perhaps even special. 

There was an unspoken understanding between them, a bond that transcended words and boundaries. 

In her, Five saw a reflection of himself, a kindred spirit that resonated in ways he couldn't quite articulate.

As they hastened towards their destination, the weight of the impending danger seemed to hang heavy in the air. 

It wasn't just about reaching their destination in time; it was about safeguarding a newfound connection that had woven its threads into Five's guarded heart. 

The thought of losing her spurred him into action, pushing him beyond his comfort zone in a bid to protect what he held dear.

As he pondered her origins with the commission, a mysterious organization shrouded in secrecy, his curiosity burned ever brighter. 

Was it through skill, chance, or something else entirely that she found her way into their enigmatic ranks? 

Questions swirled in his mind like elusive specters, demanding answers that eluded even the persistent prying of his thoughts. 

Yet, an invisible barrier prevented him from vocalizing these inquiries, locking them behind a wall of stoic silence. 

Not even Delores, his most trusted confidante, would be privy to the storm of curiosity raging within him. 

However, amidst the enigma of her past, a more urgent concern seized his attention - the safety and well-being of y/n. It consumed his every waking moment, a relentless shadow eclipsing all other thoughts and emotions. 

His single-minded determination now centered on ensuring that y/n remained unscathed, a singular purpose that drove him forward through the murky depths of uncertainty. 

And so, with each passing moment, the enigma of her commission affiliation deepened while the imperative of safeguarding y/n's existence grew ever more pressing, intertwining in a tangled web of intrigue and peril.

~~~

A/N : I hope you're liking it. :) i'm really bad at fight scenes by the way, so sorry if it's confusing. if you want just think of whatever you want for it if it doesn't make any sense.

original title names consisted of, "the other woman" "name to a face" "sparky?" and something about the eye. also a lot of you have recognized me from 'baby scarab' i miss you guys <3

word count : 6233

[halfelvened]

Work in Progress: Untitled

Maia (RT) and Heinrix play a game of regicide in the bath, and discuss a ball she is holding in his honour. He would rather be executed than attend, probably.

Rogue Trader x Heinrix Van Calox. Nothing spicy at present.

Vague endgame spoilers, maybe?

Heinrix doesn't exactly express his chagrin when Maia von Valancius announces her intention to hold a ball to celebrate his official appointment as her new Master of Whispers, but he comes fairly close to it.

“I think you’ll find that this is all just wildly unnecessary, Maia,” he interjects almost mournfully a few evenings later, as they lounge against the ledge of her bathing pool, where a battered, water-spotted regicide board - and a tray of tiny delicacies - rests between them. Heinrix has lingered over his turn, brow ever so slightly knit, before finally edging his Ecclesiarch forward with a knuckle.

“Perhaps,” Maia agrees mildly, dimples flickering in her cheeks at his mild dismay. “But what sort of Rogue Trader would I be if I didn’t lean into ridiculous excess—at least on occasion?”

Almost mindlessly, she reaches for her Knight, fingers just shy of brushing the tip, opting instead to pop a tiny, exquisitely prepared tart into her mouth.

Heinrix exhales sharply in the sarcastic little scoff that she has so missed of late, eyes clocking her lips for a breathless millisecond, before returning to the game.

“In this instance, you would be a most kind and merciful one,” he replies, voice low and wry, tempered by the hint of a crooked smile.

Maia rolls her eyes before reaching out to rest her foot on his ankle and casually flicking a Citizen forward.

“Well, we can’t have that.”

Heinrix scoffs again, but his eyes are warm.

“Naturally not.”

They sit in comfortable silence for a time, save for the gentle lull of the bathwater and the increasingly frequent clicks of game pieces being moved or snatched up—the muted exclamations of progress and frustration.

“If you’re truly against such an event, I’ll cancel it,” Maia says eventually, sipping at her neglected glass of amasec. Her voice cuts through his strategizing. “It’s just…” She sighs. “So many of us will be going our separate ways soon.”

Heinrix flicks his gaze toward her, focused and steady.

“Cassia has responsibilities to her house. Jae will rush off to conquer the Expanse in her own way.” She sets the glass down, the thud echoing off the walls with a cold sort of finality. “Even Abelard is taking up a desk job on the planet to be with family. It’s likely that we will all… That it’s the last… We’ll never…”

Her voice catches, throat suddenly dry, shamefully hot. For all her confidence and bravado, Maia was wilfully pushing away the fact that this chapter of her life was hurtling toward its conclusion— that her retinue, her closest friends, would be scattered to the winds.

Heinrix absently shuffles a piece across the board, unsure how best to respond to this sudden vulnerability, before moving to take her into his arms. He pauses at the last second, hesitant, giving her the choice to close the space between them.

She accepts, sliding through the water to curl up against his chest. She wedges her head under his chin, grateful for comfort, and the silence.

“And besides…” she murmured. “You never danced with me at my Magnae Accessio.”

She sniffed and turned to study the board.

“Frankly, unforgivable.”

Heinrix laughs openly now—a soft bark. He pivots slightly, easing her gently against the stone ledge as he reaches over to move his Emperor and launch his own counter-offensive.

“If it’s a dance you wanted, my lady, you need only ask.” He presses his lips to her forehead—firmly, lingering. “Check.”

She looks at the board for some time, hands tangled in the soft, damp hair at the nape of his neck.

“Well,” she murmurs,

“If that’s the case, then I’ll —”

...

[butchmammon]

mc who can’t stop saying “jesus christ” as an exclamation of frustration or annoyance and every fucking time om jesus interjects like “yes mc? 🥰” and it starts out with mc apologizing for using his name in vain until they learn he’s just being a shithead and they have to train it out of their vocabulary

what would happen if jesus was in the obey me universe

[englishbhashi]

Top 10 Methods to Enhance Your Understanding of Interjections

Language is a magnificent tapestry woven from countless threads of words and expressions. Within this intricate linguistic web, interjections stand out as the vibrant threads that add color and emotion to our communication. Interjections are those spontaneous and often emotionally charged words or phrases that punctuate our speech and writing. They serve as a window to our innermost thoughts and feelings, conveying emotions ranging from joy to frustration, surprise to anger.

While interjections may appear simple on the surface, they are anything but. Their nuances, meanings, and usage can vary dramatically across different languages and even among speakers of the same language. To truly understand interjections and wield them effectively, one must embark on a journey of exploration and learning. In this article, we will delve into the top 10 methods to enhance your understanding of interjections.

1. Study the Basics of Interjections

To embark on a journey of understanding interjections, one must start at the beginning. Learn what interjections are and their fundamental characteristics. An interjection is a part of speech that conveys strong emotions or sudden exclamations and often stands alone in a sentence. They are typically punctuated with an exclamation mark or a comma. Begin your journey by understanding the core characteristics of interjections.

2. Create a List of Common Interjections

To get a grasp of how interjections function in your language, create a list of common interjections. Start with the ones you use frequently in daily conversation. For instance, in English, common interjections include “wow,” “oh,” “ouch,” “hurray,” and many more. Knowing these will give you a foundation to build upon.

3. Observe Real-Life Conversations

Language is a living entity, and observing how people use interjections in real-life conversations can provide valuable insights. Listen to conversations, watch movies, or read books to see how interjections are employed in different contexts. Pay attention to the emotions and situations that trigger specific interjections.

4. Explore Cross-Cultural Differences

Interjections are not universal. They vary across languages and cultures. Exploring these differences can deepen your understanding of both interjections and cultural nuances. For example, the English “wow” might be “valla” in Spanish or “わあ” (waa) in Japanese. Learning how different cultures express emotions can be enlightening.

5. Learn the Contextual Use of Interjections

Interjections are heavily influenced by context. The same interjection can express excitement, disbelief, or sarcasm depending on the context. Dive into the nuances of when and how specific interjections are used. For instance, “oh” can convey surprise, realization, or disappointment based on the situation.

6. Analyze Literature and Poetry

Great literature and poetry are treasure troves of interjections used skillfully to evoke emotions. Read classic works and contemporary pieces to analyze how authors use interjections to enhance their storytelling. Pay attention to how interjections can change the mood and tone of a narrative.

7. Engage in Conversations

Practice makes perfect, and the same holds true for understanding interjections. Engage in conversations with native speakers to experience firsthand how interjections are used. Seek feedback to improve your usage and grasp of interjections.

8. Experiment with Writing

Writing is an excellent way to reinforce your understanding of interjections. Try writing short stories or paragraphs that incorporate a variety of interjections. Experiment with different emotions and scenarios to expand your skill set.

9. Seek Expert Guidance

Consider seeking guidance from language experts or linguists. They can provide in-depth knowledge about interjections, their history, and their role in language. Join language forums or communities to connect with experts and fellow learners.

10. Embrace Language Evolution

Language is not static; it evolves over time. New interjections emerge, and the meanings of existing ones can change. Stay updated with contemporary language trends to ensure your understanding of interjections remains current.

You can also try one of our Official Application ENGLISHBHASHI available in Play Store with which you can refine your English Skills we assure you that you will be able to speak English much better in just 30 Days.

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[sayitaliano]

Hi, could you make a post about reaction words (things like "oh wow, really?", "oh no, that's a shame!", "no way!",...). I found that when I try to talk to someone in italian, this is always sometimes I struggle with, to the point that I sometimes react in English because my mind goes blank in italian ;)

Ciao! Sure. Idk if I can come up with all the possible ones but I will try my best (I'll use some of the ones mentioned in this video as well). If you have any specific reaction you want me to translate, please add them in the comments or send me another ask, I will add them here to the list! Let' see a few ones:

Oh wow! = Oh wow! / Fantastico! / Grande! / Che figata!* (slang) (all can be used also ironically)

*So cool! / How cool = (Che) figata! / Figo! (slang; not referred to a person so the gender is not important here, it refers to the general idea: e.g. me telling my friend "I went to the sea and tried scuba diving!", their reaction "Figo!/(Che) figata! How did it go?")

Amazing / Great / Awesome...! = Fantastico! / Grande! / Top! (check the slang post I made not too long ago about this last word)

Really? / For real? = Davvero? / Sul serio? / Seriamente?

What happened? = Cos'è successo? (but also: "Che è successo" or "Che cosa è successo?" - Remember we often tend to cut parts of the speech to make it faster so feel free to choose just one between Cosa/Che. I'd say Che + è sounds a little weird bc of the 2 e close, so if you wanna stick with the grammar rules it's probably better to choose "cosa" but, especially when talking -and even more with friends/in an informal context-, nobody will pay attention)

Are you sure? = Sei sicuro/a?

Oh wow, really?! = Oh, davvero?

That's a shame! = Che peccato!

Damn! = Cavolo! / Cavoli! / Accidenti! / Mannaggia!/ Accipicchia! / Dannazione! / Uffa! (to keep it clean and not use swearing words ofc)

No way! = Noooo! (beware of the intonation if you're pronouncing it, but it's used also in writing) / Non dirmi *questo*! / Non dirmelo! (= don't tell me this/so!) || probably more common: Non ci credo! / Non ci posso credere! (=I can't believe this)

I'm sorry = Mi spiace / Mi dispiace

What a nonsense = (Tutto ciò/questo) non ha senso / Ma non ha senso (we sometimes add "ma" to our exclamations/interjections/reactions also to stress how we feel the "opposite", how wrong it sounds, to stress the negative feeling)

What a day! = Che giornata! (either fantastica or terribile -the intonation makes it all; but if you're writing, the context is enough to make it understandable)

If you use more general reactions: -What + adj + noun => literal translation e.g. What a lovely day = Che giornata meravigliosa! e.g. What an actor = Che attore (fantastico/pazzesco)!

-How + adj => literal translation e.g. How lovely = Che dolce / carino e.g. How terrible! = Terribile! / Che (notizia) terribile! (= what a terrible news) e.g. How sad = Che triste (kinda slang) / Che (notizia) triste / Che tristezza || eventually: Mi spiace / Mi dispiace e.g. How frustrating = (Tutto ciò/questo) è così frustrante!! / Uffa!

Hope it's of help!

[yourtrustyvault13canteen]

I wanted to know how sweary the companions canonically are, for fic writing. (Spoiler: not very!) Here are my notes:

It’s just Arcade, Boone, Cass, Veronica, Christine and Raul for now

These aren’t well or uniformly formatted because they are mostly just my notes I took for me. I hope they can be useful to other fic writers & maybe just interesting to other fans :)

Arcade

Arcade just doesn’t swear. He’s just too sweet. I let him swear in his internal monologue. Poor bastard deserves to let loose somewhere.

Hell x5 or x9 X4 for disapproval of violence (what the hell are you doing/thinking/ is wrong with you/ to hell with this!) X1 hell, (interjection, shock) X1 one hell of a (admiringly) X3 actual hell (actual figurative hell)

Dammit x2 Literally when dying or waking up from what he thought was his death. Half the time. And it’s sad/frustrated more than angry…

Shit x2 What a load of Brahmin shit! (this is about Caesar lmao) Holy-! (he doesn’t say it even in danger lmao)

Son of a bitch x1 Stubborn son of a bitch (Moreno)

It’s not exactly swearing but he refers to ED-E as “this little "Duraframe" sucker” which you know would be fucker, bastard for normal people so worth mentioning Also: he says “screwed up” twice and “screwed over” once. He also refers to the Fiend leaders as scumbags and can refer to you the same… :(

Boone

Boone likes to say goddamn and hell. He conspicuously never says fuck. Boone has surprisingly good manners in general, despite an otherwise lack of social skills. My headcanon is he won’t use language like that in front of A Lady (never mind that he’s the same with a male courier, and my courier has a filthier mouth than Cass)

Hell/what-why the hell/the hell I-you/to hell x 7 Goddamn x7 (it x4) (Goddamn/ed x 3) Son of a bitch (& plural) x3 Bastard x2 Damn x2 (right x1) (I’ll be /ed x1) Shit Bullshit Christ Prick

He does say worse stuff which is why him calling Benny a “piece of work” with a strained smile is so funny

Cass

Mostly fucking as intensifier and shit as stuff. Says hell a fair amount too. Generally a sweary fairy.

Fuck Fucked up (serious) xxxx Fucker(s) (serious) xxxxx (2 are about Benny, 1 is the Kings) Fucking (amplifier) xxxxxxxxxxxxx (sex but metaphorical) x Fucked (sex 1 and then metaphorical sex 3, quite serious) xxxx Fuck with xx Fucking around xx Oh my fucking god (very drunk) Fuck it/that (v annoyed at you) xx Fuck it/that (happy lmao) xx Go fuck yourself (v annoyed at you) (you) Fuckup (not super serious) x (mistake, with a hyphen) xx

Hell Interjection by itself Go to (serious) Why/what/who the xxxxxx In hell (genuine) xx Road to hell Sure as hell xx (A) hell of a xxxx Got the hell out Hell knows

Shit Interjection xx (1 Oh shi-) Actual literal shit xx Stuff xxxxxxxxxx (2 some such shit) (3 are like, shitty shit/fucked) Piece of shit (a weapon) Give a shit Shithead(s) xx (1 is benny) Shitty Load of Brahmin shit No shit xxxx Shithole Crazy ass shit I see jack and shit - 'cept no jack. (lmao)

Piss Actual literal piss xx Piss and run Angry xxx

Damn Just nude damn by itself or intensifier xxxxx Goddamn Like they are going to hell

Bitch Women she hates xxxx (inc payback’s a bitch) Generic attacker she hates xx Son of a bitch (literally murderous)

Bastard Her dad in a positive way lmao Sympathetically poor bastards

Cock Cocksucker (Benny) Cocktube (I think this is about killing House?!)

Dick It’s all pretty literal and not (inherently) insulting: whiskey dicks NCR is showing its dick to the mojave with the ranger monument, which might as well be shaking each others dicks; the whole Long Dick Johnson thing… tells a King who catcalls her to jam his dick in a locker Reflects that you need a dick to be a legionary

Ass Actual ass Asshole Asskicking, ass whipping Ass end of nowhere Dumbass Crazy ass xx Jackass

God By itself xxx Oh god Oh my fucking god Thank god

Veronica

God (exclamation, v bad) xxxxx Oh my god (happy) Oh my god (that you have news of Elijah) Goddamn it (cross at elder) Bullshit (cross at elder) Fuck (don’t fuck with me - dress)

Ronnie doesn’t swears very much… but she uses any words really. But mainly god-based. Because she’s one of the few to say fuck and she says it quite casually it stood out in my mind as her being a lot swearier than she is.

Though unlike Arcade she says fuck, she also says “screw it” and “screw them”. Cass never bothers with that lmao

Christine

goddamn & damn once each when murdering you

Asshole for male and bitch for female courier again when murdering you

But ofc she doesn’t talk a lot. And most of what she says with her voice is just immediately before killing Elijah and/or you.

I know in my heart Christine is nearly as sweary as Cass.

Raul

Raul hardly swears at all. Maybe it loses its appeal after 200 years.

Crap (DYING) Shit (shot the shit out of him) Hell xxxxx (what the, hell on my knees, beat to all hell, just for the hell) Damn (DYING!!!) Piss (only pissing off) Ass (haunt your ass)

He says “being a meaner old cuss than the rest of them”, there are so many other things he could have said, but he just doesn’t!

[jhsharman]

Gee Willerkers Beach "tell it to ron"

A novel spelling for the exclamation, usually it is "willikers". And Believe it or don't: Gee willikers” first appeared in print in the mid-19th century in the form “jewhilliken,” but the form “geewillikin” seems to have been the most popular early form. Like its relatives “gee,” “jeepers,” “jeeze,” et al., it’s primarily an interjection expressing surprise or amazement, rather than serious anger or frustration. The source and meaning of the “willikers” or “williken” component is, unfortunately, unknown, and will probably remain a mystery. One theory is that “geewillikens” was originally a substitution for “Jerusalem!” as an expression of surprise, which was indeed popular in the mid-19th century (“Jee-roosalem! You can’t stand there; the police won’t allow it,” 1898). This theory was popular at the time when “geewillikn” (or “jewhilliken”) itself first appeared (“‘Jerusalem!,’ a favorite New England exclamation. … In the West it is, as usual, improved to suit the louder taste of the people, and becomes “Jewhillikin,'” Americanisms, 1872). Interestingly, it seems likely that “gee whiz,” which appeared at about the same time, originated as a simplified form of “geewillikins” or “gee willikers.”

The OED's first written use citation is going to jar. Here, I can only assume it was in vogue again with Burt Ward's Robin speaking to Adam West's Batman.

And now what?

[peachbear88]

Island of Forbidden Love

Pairing: Attendant!Yelena Belova x Attendant!Reader

Warnings: Dark themes such as death, slavery and more, strangulation, etc.

A/N: Inspired by @roger-that-cap's beautiful Greek Mythology fic that you should all check out. Also, apologies it's not as good as I wanted it to be because it's kind of rushed and I suck at writing sad endings. :)

Summary: Wanda (Circe) runs a magical island full of beauty treatments, magic and more. Paradise. But what happens when her faithful attendants fall prey to a more ancient magic then she could ever hope of possessing?

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

"And that's you all done miss!" You chirp and the blonde girl in front of you flashes you a smile. Your cheery smile falters when your eyes meet hers. Beautiful, honest hazel eyes that sparkle in the sunlight of the cavern.

"Thank you," she replies graciously and you gulp, an unnatural feeling tickling your neck, like someone poured a bucket of ice water down the back of your flowy, satin dress.

"Y-Your welcome," you sputter, busying yourself with a mundane task in an attempt to hide the blush coating your cheeks.

Another attendant bursts into the room. Carol Danvers. She nods at you briefly, before pulling her mask back on, approaching the girl.

"Ms. Belova," Carol smiles, curtseying to the hazel-eyed beauty. "Our mistress awaits you." The girl nods before following Carol out of the room. 'Wanda has something special planned for her,' Carol mouths as she exits the room swiftly, the girl trailing behind her.

A feeling of dread washes over you and you abandon the moist towelette you were clutching, dashing after the two girls.

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

You hitch your dress up, slipping through the shadows of the cave as you approach the mouth of the cave. Disappointment is clear on your face when you peer into the cavern to find it empty, no Carol, no mistress and certainly no mystery girl.

Your shoulders slump in defeat and you slink off back to your living quarters, unaware of the dark green eyes piercing your back.

"A nosy one she is. Keep on eye on her for me, will you?" A silky smooth voice purrs. Carol nods her head vigorously.

"Yes mistress."

-----------

"Everyone!" Your head snaps up, turning your attention to the doorway. "Meet your new co-worker!" Carol announces, moving to the side and flailing her arms dramatically to reveal none other then the mysterious, hazel eyed girl.

She rubs her arms nervously.

"H-Hi." She shrinks under the expectant gazes of your fellow attendants.

"Girl, you have to tell them your name," Carol snickers and the girl flushes bright red.

"R-Right. I'm Yelena." She waves. Everyone else grumbles, turning back to whatever they were doing and she slumps, clearly expecting some kind of welcome.

You wave back at her enthusiastically and you see her face light up before contorting into rage.

"You!" She tackles you and Carol lets out an exclamation of surprise. "Ты. Маленький. Сука!" She screams, each word accentuated with a forceful punch as Carol tugs her off of you. You lay on your bed, frozen in fear. (You. Little. Bitch.)

"Wha- What did I do?" Her facial muscles twitch.

"Plumped her up like a cow getting ready for slaughter I s'pose." Carol interjects dryly.

"Oh come on!" You exclaim. "You know if I had the choice, I wouldn't even be here!"

Yelena lets out a frustrated huff before storming over to her new bed. You sigh, tentatively making your way over to her, ignoring the insinuating glances sent your way by the other girls in the room. A strong arm gently tugs on your wrist and you look back.

"Let her be for now. You know how rough it is for the new ones to accept their fate." Carol coaxes you back to your bed and you sigh, running your hands through your hair.

-----------

"No! Let him go!" You cry, wrenching your arms out of Carol's steely grasp. Wanda tuts, running a finger along your brother's jawline. He hisses.

"Such a handsome young boy," she smiles sadly at him. "Shame he won't be around long enough to enjoy it the benefits of beauty." A wicked glint flashes through her eyes as she snaps her fingers, a rope of red mist surrounding his neck, constricting him.

His eyes bulge, the veins in his neck popping. You scream, as he chokes and sputters, the light in his eyes growing dimmer with every passing moment.

Wanda squeezes her hand into a fist and the mist seemingly tightens even more.

"I'll do what you want! Anything! Please just let him go!" She arches an eyebrow, tightening her fist even more. Your brother begins convulsing, toppling over from his seated position. "Anything!"

"You swear?" You gulp. She rushes over, gripping you by the neck violently, forcing you to stare into her dark, clouded eyes. "Swear it on Styx!"

"I swear, I swear!" You plead and the red mist disappears. You rush over, bending over the semi-unconscious form of your sibling. "Are you okay?" He nods weakly. You turn back to the sorceress. "Now give him safe passage out of here." She smiles patronizingly at you.

"My child. I never swore on Styx I would let him go. You pledged your loyalty to me. I never promised you anything." Your eyes widen as she tightens her fist once again.

Your brother floats off the ground, his eyes wide, hair splayed out.

"And now, his blood shall be on your hands, all because you couldn't use that pretty little head of your to think."

You fall to your knees, your eyes wide in horror as your brother stares down at you, a final plea in his eyes before his head falls back, limp.

"Get her out of here," Wanda snips and Carol shuffles forward dutifully, grabbing you and hauling you out of the dark cavern.

----------

A warm figure shuffles into your bed, clutching your waist. You turn groggily to find Yelena there, a frightened look in her eyes.

"I'm sorry it's just- I just-" She struggles to find the right words. "I haven't been able to sleep properly after today's..." Horrors? Nightmares? Brutal murder and manipulation? "Events." You smile sympathetically at the younger girl.

"It's alright." You pat the space next to you. "Come, come." She curls into the empty spot beside you, clutching your waist tightly. "I'm not going anywhere."

"'M sorry for blowing up at you," she mumbles quietly. "Wasn't your fault." You run your hands through her hair gently in hopes of soothing her.

"Shhhhhhh... Go to sleep." You whisper as her eyes droop slightly.

"'M sorry."

----------

The dynamic between you two changed after that. Lingering glances were exchanged, words of comfort whispered in the dead of night.

-----------

You run along the beach, relishing in the feeling of the sand against your bare feet.

"Вернись сюда идиот!" Yelena sprints after you. (Get back here idiot!)

You shriek in surprise as she tackles you, sending the two of you flying.

"Give me back my shoe!" She exclaims, shaking you playfully.

"Never!" You cry, rolling over so she's pinned under you. She arches a perfectly trimmed eyebrow at you.

"No? Then I guess you'll just have to deal with the consequences!" She yells triumphantly, her hands coming up and tickling your ribs. You drop, landing on top of her, laughing.

"Y-Yelena, please, stop!" You cry desperately, tears streaming down your face.

To your utter surprise, she stops. You open your eyes slowly to find Yelena staring at you.

"W-Why are you staring at me? Do I have something on my face?" You quickly wipe at your face, feeling slightly self conscious.

Instead of laughing, Yelena surges forward, wrapping her nimble fingers around your neck and pulling you down to meet her in the middle.

"Mmph!" Your cry is smothered by her lips. You melt into the kiss, letting her pull you even closer as she slips her tongue into your mouth.

Eventually, the two of you break away from each other, gasping for air. She smiles at you dopily.

"That was nice." You burst into laughter.

"Only nice? Hmph. See if I ever let you kiss me again," you pout and she frowns.

"Noooooo! I'm sorry!" You smile, pinching her cheeks. "So does this mean I get another kiss?"

-----------

Words of comfort turn to stolen kisses as the two of you sneak around, stealing moments, moments that feel like something from someone else's life.

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

"Y/N." Your head shoots up to find Carol.

"Yes?"

"Mistress would like to see you." Her tone is cold, unforgiving, sending shivers down your spine.

You follow her wordlessly, fidgeting with a small obsidian ring on your middle finger. A gift from Yelena.

Carol knocks on the entrance of the cave.

"Come in," a sultry voice replies. You gulp, recognizing the voice of the person responsible for all your trauma, your enslavement, your pain. Carol, enters and you trail behind her meekly.

"Ah, I see Y/N has decided to join us." Wanda turns gracefully on her heel to face you, her red dress flowing.

"Yes mistress. What would you have me do?" You snap, not bothering to keep the venom from your voice. Wanda shakes her head disappointedly.

"Few years on this island hasn't taught you any manners yet I see," she comments coldly. "Maybe this will sober you up."

She steps aside to reveal Yelena, bloody, battered and bruised on the floor, barely breathing.

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

Each breath is ragged and painful as you race over to Yelena.

"You wouldn't." She smirks.

"Oh sweetie, you don't know the half of what I would do."

You press a gentle kiss to her forehead before standing up, shielding Yelena with your body.

"I'm not going to let you harm anyone anymore." Yelena tugs weakly at the hem of your dress but you ignore her pleas for you to stand down, smiling down at her sadly.

"A sweet but foolish gesture." You draw your silver pairing knife, brandishing it at the witch in front of you. "Please, a knife?" She sighs dramatically. "You were one of my favorite attendants you know?" She paces the room, turning her back to you. "So hardworking and diligent." She raises her hands. "But it's time for you to die now!"

Snapping her fingers, she whirls around, a murderous glint in her eyes as the dark energy shoots towards you.

Time seems to slow as it hurtles towards you. You close your eyes, ready to embrace the arms of death, knowing that you stood by the love of your life in the last minutes on this traumatic island. You wait and wait but the mist never seems to hit you.

Your eyes flutter open just in time to see Yelena jumping up and the red magic catch her in the chest, making her crumple in your arms.

"Lena!" You cry, catching her before she hits the ground. A dribble of blood escapes her mouth as she coughs.

"It's okay. My only regret was not being able to spend more time with you. The Fates are so very cruel but do not fret. Maybe in another life we'll be able to truly live." She coughs violently, hocking up a bit more blood before wiping the tears streaming down your eyes. "I'll see you on the other side."

She flashes you one last smile before her once bright, lively eyes glaze over, her hand dropping from your face.

Waves of anguish wash over you as you watch the life fade from her body, bit by bit.

"Touching. Very touching. A useless sacrifice however. I'm afraid it's time for you to die." Wanda snaps her fingers. "Carol." Your friend shuffles forwards obediently. "Kill her."

You can only imagine the betrayal flashing through your eyes as your former friend approached you, silver knife in hand.

With nothing left to live for, you press one last kiss to your dead lover's forehead before embracing death with open arms, knowing that Yelena awaits you on the other side.

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

Taglist: @username23345 @musicinourlips @gingerbreadcookieforlife @xxxtwilightaxelxxx @trikruismybitch @ima-gi--na-tion @nicole-rayleigh-hot @olsensnpm @peabrain112

[cherry-lipbalm]

survival of the fittest. spencer reid.

5.3k words.

masterlist

“ If they were to somehow get out of here alive, she was certain it would only be one of them. ”

three hours earlier

Y/N was ready to go home - more than ready. They'd gotten back from a hard hitting case in Boston, touching down by early afternoon meant they were expected back at the HQ, which henceforth meant piles of paperwork were in their future. Y/N knew her complaining would only go reprimanded by Hotch, so she kept to herself in her cubicle, shoved into the corner of the bullpen, and desperate to get the documents out of the way.

Over the scribbling of her pen, she heard the mutterings of Morgan and Reid's conversation beside the latter's desk not too far away from her own. She sighed in defeat, because she knew she wouldn't be able to resist joining them, especially when the opportunity arose to take the mickey at Spencer.

When it did inevitably arise, she pushed herself away from her desk and allowed the wheels on her chair to escort her over to the men. At the sound of jagged rolling, Morgan stepped aside to make space for her to insert herself, a snide smug painted on his face.

"Did I just hear the word 'Spencer' and 'girl' in the same sentence?" She asked, leaning on the armrest to shove her shit-eating grin into Spencer's face; he only rolled his eyes and gave an insincere 'ha ha'.

"Your ears did not deceive you, baby girl," Morgan said, receiving a smack on the arm from Spencer. The warning stare he gave him almost made Y/N stop pestering him. Only almost.

"Oh my! Spill the beans, who is she?" Y/N gushed, steering her chair even closer to the Doctor while Morgan watched on amusedly.

"There isn't a she," he grumbled, head bowed to his paperwork in the hopes that if he ignored the Agents they'd just go away.

"...a he?"

"No!" Spencer exclaimed, snapping his head upwards.

"Hey! It's no skin off my nose, Spence."

He groaned, then turned back to his work and allowed for Morgan and Y/N to exchange a glance as they both tried to hold back snickers at their friend's flustered existence.

She stayed huddled around with them for a few more minutes, but as soon as she saw the clock hit 5, she jumped from her chair and kicked it back to her desk. Announcing that she was off, she began to gather and pack her things. While she did so, she heard Spencer make the same announcement.

"You're off earlier than usual," she called back, "let me guess... Doctor Who marathon?"

Spencer's smile gave him away; Y/N chuckled and draped her coat over her shoulders, standing by his desk while he adjusted his satchel.

"Busy man," she commented, then proceeded to listen to whatever sci-fi related ramble Spencer was emitting, interjecting with exclamations of intrigue or surprise whenever she deemed suitable (they were all timed guesses, but she didn't waver once).

"...Christopher Eccleston is actually the second favourite, despite the fact that a lot of people skip his season, but he has a 52% popularity–"

"Wait, why do people skip his season?"

"Oh, because he preceded David Tennant. He's the favourite, with a 69% popularity."

"Ha, 69," Y/N muttered under her breath with a crude smirk. Spencer only gave a restrained smile and raised his eyebrows. The two fell into a silence, except from a 'thank you' Y/N said softly when Spencer opened the door for her.

The elevator button illuminated under her touch, and they stood in front of the steel doors, awaiting their opening. Y/N tapped her foot senselessly, and Spencer rolled on the balls of his heels.

In amidst the silence, Y/N looked up to Spencer and they exchanged a warm smile. The beep of the elevator distracted them, and after stepping aside to let people out, they ambled in and finally relaxed when the doors closed on them again.

"Today was relentless," Y/N sighed, checking her watch.

"Have any plans?" Spencer asked, out of courtesy.

"Well, I have to head to the repair store to pick up my phone, but after that there's leftover Chinese food in the fridge with my name written all over it," she chuckled.

"What happened? To your phone?"

"Morgan happened," was all she said. Spencer joined in on her judgement even though he didn't know the story, he did know that 'Derek Morgan' was simply a reason in itself that didn't warrant an explanation. Then, they lulled in the return of silence.

It wasn't until the elevator jerked and came to a sudden stop that the two spoke again.

"That's not right," Spencer muttered, and he immediately began to jab at the ground floor button before Y/N smacked his hands away, because she was already deep in a panic, so it was even worse when the next astounding jerk hit. She screamed when they were thrown off balance, and hoped she hadn't got a concussion from where she collided with the back wall upon the motion.

"What the hell?" She panted. They came to a still, but it made her even more nervous because she knew they hadn't been in there long enough to reach their floor. That, and the fact that they had just ripped through the air at about a hundred miles per hour.

Spencer's eyes furrowed, and he licked his lips in the way he did when he was focused on something. Judging by the way he assessed the doors, Y/N thought he was about to pull some thwarted stunt, or more likely reel off some facts about steel.

"I think something's wrong," he mumbled.

"No shit, Sherlock,"

"Ah, elementary my dear Watson," Spencer replied so quickly that Y/N was almost inclined to believe it made any sense.

"Did you know that Sherlock Holmes never actually said that? Sir Arthur Conan Doyle never wrote those words, they were only adapted into the movies years later-"

"Oh my god, Spencer, are we stuck in this elevator?" Y/N shrieked, her knuckles whitening under her tight clutch of the hand rails on the wall: half from fear and the other from frustration.

"Oh, uh, yeah, I think so."

Upon Spencer's bluntness, she stepped forward, desperate for any attempt of an escape plan, she began pressing the ground floor button repeatedly; when that didn't work, she resorted to aimlessly smashing all the buttons on offer. 

"That's– that's really not gonna do anything," Spencer said in the background.

"Do you have a better idea?" She snapped, turning to him with a glare before resuming her actions.

"Try the - try that one!" He pointed to the red button with an alarm bell engraved on it, and Y/N felt stupid under his stare for not noticing it before. She pressed it, and the ringing noise that emitted from it seemed to do nothing but that: ring. She was certain someone was supposed to come to their aid through a speaker, so she pushed it continuously, but derived nothing further. At least she gained some comfort in the panic of Spencer's voice that told her he was shitting himself as much as she was.

"It's not doing anything!" She cried, and when he leaned over her and pressed it too, she bit her tongue and raised her eyebrows to tell him 'see?', infuriated at the fact that he thought she could be somehow pushing a button wrong. But, then again, she'd have been even more angry if he'd done it and it had worked.

When it didn't, she alternated to the next best thing.

"Help!" She yelled, slamming her palms against the doors. She didn't know what floor they'd been wedged at (or even if they were just floating in some space between levels), but someone had to hear them; they were bound to...right?

Spencer seemed to think so at least, because he was joining her in pounding his fists on the steel. Sooner rather than later, the harsh echo made Y/N's ears ring, so she stopped and took a step back.

"Well, this is great," she sighed, slumping in a lean on the wall as she rubbed her temples.

"I'm gonna miss Doctor Who," Spencer whined, pouting.

Y/N just rolled her eyes at him and told him to call somebody. She was sure she'd seen JJ just before they left, still huddled in her office; hopefully she'd be able to call maintenance and they could be released from this death trap of a machine.

"I can't, my phone died. Use yours."

"What?"

"My phone's flat, can you use yours?"

Y/N just stared at him. She decided to give him the benefit of the doubt because the adrenaline rush of panic can make memories a bit hazy, but her skin was flustering under the rage she was feeling, her forehead was already beginning to perspire and the walls were so small and entrapping and - is it hot in here or just her?

"My phones at the store," she reminded him through gritted teeth, and watched his composure fall in both comprehension and defeat.

"Great," he remarked.

"Oh, like it's my fault?"

"Well, it's not mine."

"And it's not mine either so don't talk to me like that!"

It was only a short exchange, but it made Y/N's blood boil; if they were to somehow get out of here alive, she was certain it would only be one of them.

Spencer gulped, and Y/N was sure that had he the opportunity to he would be storming away right about now, but unfortunately for the both of them that wouldn't be happening anytime soon. The wonderful reality of this hitting Y/N, she kicked off her shoes and planted her bum down on the floor.

Spencer looked at her curiously while she did this, then quirked his lip and proceeded to do the same. He used his satchel as a pillow to support his head, and sighed loudly (it seemed deliberate just how exaggerative it was).

"No one is ever gonna find us here," Y/N said.

"We're not dying–"

"You don't know that. We could be suffocating as we speak-"

"Suffocation is impossible in elevators: the cars are designed not to be airtight and there's vents that allow air to move in and out," he pointed up at the grated opening above Y/N's head. At being proved wrong by Spencer and his big, unfathomable brain, she crossed her arms much like a stroppy toddler and even pouted her lip.

"We could still die," she mumbled.

"The statistics of that are still very unlikely; in fact, the people that die the most in elevators are elevator technicians themselves. An average of 26 people die in elevators every year in America–"

"And you're ready to be one of those 26?"

"We're not going to be. We won't suffocate, and it hasn't fallen."

"Yet," she said. "Plus, theres other ways to die. Like, I don't know, murder perhaps?" She said with a potent glare in his direction. He gave her a blank stare partnered with a sarcastic smile, one that only made Y/N more devoted to her other-ways-to-die initiative.

"We just have to wait a while... Did you know the longest duration of time someone was stuck in an elevator was 41 hours? Nicholas White. And all he had to eat was a packet of Rolaids."

More than accustomed to tuning out Spencer's rambles, Y/N barely heard what he was talking about, in a dazed trance where she was focused intently on where the paint didn't match the wall, she was so invested she almost missed what he said.

"Wait... oh my god. Do you have food?" She asked, sitting up from her subsided posture.

Spencer's face softened in dread, which didn't bring any aid nor optimism to their situation.

She watched him sit forward, shoving hands into the pockets of his blazer, coat, trousers and pulling out nothing but a few crumpled pieces of paper. Y/N matched him with an empty gum wrapper and a Walmart receipt displaying a concerning amount of pregnancy tests she had purchased last month.

"Do I even wanna know?" Spencer asked, chucking it back to the ground with a grimace as if it was riddled with germs (it probably was but, still).

"All you need to know is that I'm not pregnant," Y/N scoffed, almost amicably, but her eyebrows creased and she was back to a fuck everything this sucks expression in less than a second.

"Well we can't survive on this."

"You really haven't brought any food?" Spencer pestered.

"No, I had Chinese leftovers on the cards for tonight. And I don't see you offering anything up; what's your excuse?"

Spencer only groaned, again. He kicked his feet out and let his head fall onto the wall back in the same place. He ran a hand through his hair, and the scarce gel he had used to keep it in place disassembled around his face in random strays of curls. The sight of him relaxing like he was settling in for the night didn't appease Y/N one bit.

While Spencer closed his eyes, Y/N got to her feet and decided slamming on the door again was a better pastime. Spencer, however, did not agree.

At the banging, Spencer's eyes shot open and his body shook in alarm. His eyes darted around the space frantically until they landed on Y/N's figure aligned with the doors on which she was unleashing hell. If yelling could open an elevator, they'd have been out in a jiffy.

"I think we've established that doesn't help," Spencer said.

"Then you help!" She shouted, continuing the thrashing of metal.

"How?"

"I don't know!" Her shriek echoed, and she yet again gave up on the violence. "Use that big brain of yours and find us a way out of here."

"The 7 steps to surviving being stuck on an elevator are fundamental; we've already done them. They include pressing the open button, the alarm and call button. We still have our light source, otherwise finding one would have been number two. We've tried yelled for help. The only one we haven't done is stayed calm," he said with a heavy emphasis in her direction. Currently, she was the epitome of panic.

Y/N furrowed a brow at him, "That's six. What's number seven?"

She watched Spencer inhale deeply before he told her, "wait it out."

Y/N felt her heart sink. The possibility of her going insane while being confined within this space was only increasing as the minutes passed by. And with that, she felt like oxygen was depleting alongside it. She took a big breath to remind her that there was still air to breathe, and Spencer caught sight of it.

"Are... are you claustrophobic?"

"No!"

His eyes widened at her outburst, and he even raised his hands in defence should the situation present itself, which was looking pretty inevitable.

"I'm not, I just... get a little... panicked, that's all."

"You don't say," he murmured, and —with a grunt— got to his feet again. He treaded towards the damned doors. Y/N thought he was going to bang on them again, and she took front-row seat on the floor to watch the imprudent, futile attempt. Instead, Spencer's long arachnid-like fingers dug into the crevice of the doors and he tried to pry them open. This was an even vainer approach; his strained groans showed such.

"It's no use. We're gonna be here for a while. I can offer you a juice carton," Y/N spoke, making Spencer turn attentively at the word 'juice'. He looked down to where she was rummaging through her bag and depositing a few random objects while she did so. In a very Mary Poppins like fashion, the entities incessantly kept coming and coming, gathering in remarkable piles on the floor. There seemed to be more things than space available, but then they were trapped in an elevator and space was one of the many luxuries the agents realised they had taken for granted. Despite his astonishment at the growing belongings, there seemed to be a concerning lack of food present.

She was, however, holding out an apple juice carton, and Spencer figured that you get what you're given. So while her attention focused to the remnants of whatever was in her bag, Spencer punctured the carton with the straw, and began sucking. He made a squeal of surprise and relief when he saw her pull out a feebly wrapped, half eaten bag of crackers.

"Oh, I forgot about these," she announced, with the first smile Spencer had seen from her since the elevator had broken down.

He leaned down to grab the bag, dusting off the sprayed crumbs and then took a seat to Y/N's left. He left space between them for chivalrous purposes and also to allow space for the bag of crackers to sit.

They made attempts to ration the snack, but it soon developed into an every man for himself situation when Y/N noticed Spencer had started to take two at once.

She wasn't even hungry anymore, but the hunger for beating Spencer at something prevailed and disregarded any logical thought that they ought to save food, so she dove in again for another cracker. Unluckily, she did so at the same time as Spencer, so it made for an awkward encounter when their hands collided but neither was willing to give up their slot in the bag.

Eventually (because they didn't want the other to notice their blush), they gave up when time ran too long and reached a compromise with halving the cracker. Y/N gave Spencer the bigger half of her failed equal snap, but neither of them addressed it.

Neither of them addressed anything actually, for the next... god knows how long they were cooped up in there. They sat in a pleasant silence, free from any awkward glances or trepidations: it was both from the fact that they were in their own heads, and a serendipitous comfort in one another.

"I'm sorry you're going to miss your Doctor Who... thing," was what broke the silence.

"Oh, it's okay. I can just watch it on repeat tomorrow."

"Okay," Y/N laughed softly, and they floated into another quiet.

"I'm sorry you're stuck in an elevator."

"Ha! Me too."

"When we get out of here maybe we can go for Chinese food," Spencer suggested, craning his neck to look at her with a discreet smile.

"Sure," she agreed. "By the time we get out my food at home might have rotten anyway."

And then time after that just... passed. In Spencer's satchel he had an uncanny assortment of reading material to thrive on, and amid her odd collection of pretty much everything she had ever owned, Y/N found an old MP3 player and some earphones (only the left ear worked, but it was as good entertainment as she was going to get).

There comes a point, though, when one person can only listen to so much music from their teen years; Y/N's taste back then was... questionable, to say the least. And her earphone seemed to agree with her, because it gave out just when the unmistakable sound of an NSYNC song began.

"Ugh, just when it was getting good!" She complained, tugging the bud from her ear and throwing it onto the miscellaneous pile.

Spencer's head quirked to Y/N, but his eyes only followed after he had finished a sentence on his page. When he did, he saw her curiously leaning over his shoulder and squinting at the words.

"You can borrow it if you want," he said. "This is my third time reading it and I have others."

He gestured to his pile, which had evolved into a makeshift bookcase in the corner of the elevator. A few pages were torn, and the spines were so worn down that she could barely make out what the titles were. Not from a lack of TLC, but rather copious amounts of it; having been read over and over again. 

"No, it's okay. You continue, I'll just... meditate, or something."

"It's a good book," Spencer said, and he sounded like he was trying to persuade her, so she gave in and nodded. Readjusting her posture, she focused again on where the paint didn't meet the wall as she listened to the one thing she thought she wouldn't ever be able to stand: Spencer Reid's voice.

———

Which, to her and Reid's surprise, she found quite calming. Her hidden envy and not so hidden annoyance with his ability to reel off facts and wisdom like he was only recalling what he had for dinner hindered any fondness Y/N could associate with his voice. Until now, that is.

He was reading Strangers on a Train, supposedly his third favourite book, and they were reaching "the best bit" according to Spencer, but then every bit within the past forty five minutes since he'd started reading had been "the best bit", so Y/N wasn't sure.

But she's pretty calm, as calm as she can be stuck in an elevator, so she's actually thankful she has Spencer of all people beside her. She knew that if Morgan was in his place they'd have attempted murder at least a couple times by now; not to say that Y/N hadn't considered stabbing Spencer at all, but there's only so much damage a blunt pencil at the bottom of her bag could do.

So, she's calm. She's barely following the story because she only joined in halfway through, but she's grasped the basis of it because Spencer reads so eloquently and so well that he's practically painted the vividness of the narrative for her, even though he vouches it's down to Patricia Highsmith's words, which is true, but Spencer has a role in it too.

One thing Spencer recites makes Y/N wonder why she's never had him read to her before.

"People, feelings, everything! Double! Two people in each person. There's also a person exactly the opposite of you, like the unseen part of you, somewhere in the world, and he waits in ambush."

The story portrays an uncanny resemblance to the plots of the abundant crime scenes they analyse daily (Y/N wonders how Spencer comes home from work only to read about the same gory instances): the same mannerisms, behaviours and intricate understanding of criminal attitudes. It's accuracy is so astounding that Y/N asks if the author was ever a profiler of sorts.

Although it's selfish, because Y/N is not the real victim, she wished there was some way Highsmith's words could spring into real life and provide tainted rose coloured spectacles to which she could observe reality through. In some sick way, Y/N needed to see beauty in things like murder. She sometimes forgot that what they were doing had a purpose, and they tended to be the good guys. But there was no writing beautiful enough for Spencer to read and glorify the crimes with.

But even Y/N thinks Spencer's reading could help her see life through more of the silver lining rather than shrouded by the dark cloud that accompanied it.

The moment of rare serenity within Spencer's words is suspended, however, when he suddenly stops with no obvious justification. Y/N wonders if she's missed something profound within the story again so she goes to read over them on the page this time (because she's been rather entranced in Spencer's voice rather than the actual words), except when she looks up she sees a look of horror depicted on Spencer's face: one that doesn't register with her primarily because what's happening in the story is rather quite mundane compared to the dismay on his face. It's so poignant that she thinks something must be fatally wrong.

"What is it?" She asks, sitting up (and away because she thinks he may be about to vomit. But no, the real reason is even more horrific).

"I need to pee."

Y/N gasps; she hadn't even conjectured this predicament. It was a basic human necessity, how had she not anticipated this would happen? At first she thought, hey it's not that bad, better him than me— he can stand. Until she realises that there isn't really anywhere to stand.

"Oh no," she whispers, and he looks at her dauntingly. "You shouldn't have drank that apple juice."

"What was I supposed to do, bathe in it?" He scorns, and the two connect in an unwavering exchange eye contact with one another. Y/N dreads looking away in fear of what he'll do when she has her back turned.

So, like I said, Y/N was pretty calm, and I'd say Spencer was too; reading was a delight, and he found Y/N almost as endearing (almost). Life was bearable until Spencer needed to pee.

And it is here that they throw all peace out the window (if there was one) and give up on step number seven, and instead say hello to their old friend step number five: frantic yelling.

The energy pent up from lazing around reading and being read to is released fairly effectively. Y/N thinks she's never screamed so loud in her life, and Spencer knows he hasn't: entrapment and a full bladder can take one hell of a toll on a man.

And when the profusion of footsteps and the clanging of doors sounds, it is glorious. It is what they imagine heaven to sound like and more. Y/N collapses to the ground in relief, and Spencer throws his hands up in a prayer of thanks (even though he doesn't necessarily believe, but he is just so high on adrenaline and the discomfort of needing a wee that he'd just about believe anything now if it meant he could get to a bathroom).

"You guys okay in there?" A voice calls in from above them (Spencer genuinely thinks it's God) and Y/N has never been more happy to hear Derek Morgan.

"We're good! We're good! Oh my god, get us out of here please!"

"Right on it, baby. Bet y'all thought you were gonna die in there, huh?"

"Worse," Y/N called, "I thought I was gonna have to see Spencer's dick!"

Morgan laughed (music to their ears: any voice that wasn't each other's fit that criteria in that moment), and then told her he didn't want to know. Spencer and Y/N heard him holler behind him, and even more footsteps approached. Y/N couldn't see much from the slither between the doors that had just been pried open, since they had fallen a considerable distance from their floor. What she could see was only half of Morgan's face while he knelt on the ground.

"What happened?" Spencer asked, trying to gain some understanding for the reason behind missing his Doctor Who marathon.

"Power cut. The whole city's in blackout."

"You're kidding," Y/N replied, then turned. "A whole lotta people just risked that 1 in 26."

"Us included," Spencer said.

They recognised the voices of the maintenance team, and even a few uniforms of firefighters that worked on opening the doors with as much force as they could muster. Y/N looked again to the wall and paint mismatch, finding it too unsettling to look at their rescue attempt (that had way too much potential to go wrong) and even more unsettling to look at Spencer who was practically cradling his crotch.

"Ladies first!" A fireman called, and his hand reached into the space they had managed to (barely) increase, hoping that it wouldn't prove to be too difficult. From what Morgan told them, Spencer wouldn't have any trouble getting through it if they had halved the space ("the kid's a sherbet stick, I'm telling you").

"No, we've got a man here who's about to explode," Y/N joked, forgetting that the word 'explode' is a term one should use lightly within the headquarters of the FBI. She was blissfully reminded of this when the few surrounding agents brandished their guns. They almost didn't let them out until Spencer yelled that if he didn't get to a bathroom that instant he would give them a real reason to get their guns out.

So he was lifted out first, falling into Morgan's arms the chance he got to. He, somehow, managed to wait until he saw Y/N definitely leave the elevator before racing off down the hallway. Maintenance didn't even bother telling him that the doors have been locked because officially work finished three hours ago; they figured he had enough vigour in him to knock a wall down, never mind a door.

"Are you alright?" Morgan asked Y/N, lifting her up onto her own to feet. She's given a shock blanket, which is a pretty cool souvenir.

"I'm here, aren't I?"

"Miraculously. I don't know how you survived in there with him; I'd go insane."

"Eh," she chuckled, "he's not too bad."

———

After gathering their belongings, Y/N and Spencer make their way to leave work, again.

Morgan's nonchalant explanation of the blackout is in no way accurate to the genuine portrayal of, what Y/N can only describe as, a thriller movie come to life. She's looking out the wide scale windows in the bullpen room and can only see her reflection. It's creepy. Skittishly, she jumps when Spencer's image shows up behind her own. 

"Jesus, haven't I had enough near death experiences tonight?" She asks, holding a hand over her heart that she's sure just kickstarted (for various reasons).

"Sorry," he laughs. Placing his hands in his pockets, Y/N can sense he's more relaxed now that he's peed and no longer trapped within the restrictions of one metre.

They smile, then look out again to the darkened abyss before them. Y/N has never seen the city so quiet, yet she knows it's anything but. Once she steps outside it's bound to be hectic central.

"You normally get the subway, what are you gonna do?"

"Oh, I guess I'll just walk," Spencer shrugs.

"Absolutely not. I'll drive you home."

"Oh, no, you don't have to do that—"

"Spence, I just spent the last three hours in a confined space with you, I'm sure I can do twenty minutes more," she said. "Get your stuff ready, we can head off now."

She swung her bag over her shoulder and turned to walk out the bullpen, her heels reverberating throughout the room. Spencer watched her stride out by her reflection in the window, as to not be caught staring.

"If my car breaks down I'm gonna commit murder!"

Spencer laughed loudly, which made Y/N smile as she passed the kitchenette. When he continued to chuckle to himself he realised he wouldn't mind another three more hours stuck with her— at least he'd have an excuse if the car broke down. Maybe if he set off now he could get there in time to beat Y/N to her car and slash the tyres. He kindly reminded himself that that's illegal while he retrieved his satchel off the back of his chair and strutted out the office.

He wasn't too far behind Y/N when he suggested getting a Chinese on the way back.

"Is that a date?"

"If eating a Chinese takeaway in your car is your idea of a date," he sang.

"It very much is," Y/N grinned irrefutably.

He held the door open for her, she said thank you, and their giddy (dare I say lovesick) smiles dropped when they faced the elevator.

They've taken the stairs every day since.

fin.

[dracosaurusrex]

Bookworms (Part 3)

Summary: A predicament in the Slytherin common room is the perfect ingredient for confession.

Word count: 3.9k

Genre: Fluff; enemies-to-friends-to-lovers

TW: Bullying

A/N: This chapter picks up from the moment Draco leaves the common room and starts off with his friends’ perspective. PS. I don’t hate Astoria I promise! It’s only for the story. Anyways...I hope you like it! I have this tendency to overthink a lot, so I’m going to shut my trap before I regret anything LOL

Everyone occupying the common room that night watched in awe as Draco stormed out of the dungeons. His outlash didn’t settle well with his group of friends. Moreover, it shocked Astoria to hear the sound of your name roll off from his lips. 

“I don’t think I’ve ever seen him so bothered before. Have you?” Pansy asked. Daphne shook her head.

“Generally speaking, I’ve never seen him get that defensive over anybody.” 

“Did you notice the way his eyes looked?” The group recalled the frustration that dripped from his voice and the fire that blazed within his blue orbs.

“I didn’t know there was anything going on between them. It’s not the first time we spoke about her when he was around.” Pansy, Daphne, and Theo all murmured their agreements. Meanwhile, Astoria sat still boiling in jealousy as the conversation lingered on. She had everything--the blood, the looks, the money, the name. She could practically have the Malfoy family wrapped around her finger. What did Y/N have that she didn’t? Suddenly, the sound of Blaise’s voice broke her out of her thoughts.

“Do you think he likes her?” With this, Astoria balls her fists and rams it onto the table in frustration, putting everyone in shock once again. 

“Draco? Liking that filthy bookworm!? You’ve got to be joking Blaise! That poor excuse for a Slytherin probably slipped some amortentia in his drink!” Astoria projected her thoughts fearlessly before storming out of the room. 

“Daphne, I think you should go check on her.” Blaise suggested. She nodded.

“I will, but she needs time alone to calm down.” Silence lingers in the air before Blaise interjects once again.

“In all seriousness though, do you think Draco has feelings for Y/N?” He asks again.

“With that expression on his face, it’s hard to believe that he doesn’t. Y/N must’ve done something important to have him wrapped around her finger like that.” Pansy says.

“I don’t even think she realizes she has him wrapped around her finger. She hasn’t done anything out of the ordinary. You know her--always got her nose stuck in a book.” Daphne’s statement stirs a thought within Pansy’s mind. A wicked smile appears on her face, grabbing the attention of the others.

“Pansy, please. That smile is frightening.” Theo lifts his hand to block his view of her. She throws him a scowl.

“Hear me out. Why don’t find out then? Draco just walked out right? What are the chances that he’s with her?”

Blaise chimed in, “I think I saw Y/N leave a few minutes before he did. Do you think he followed her?” Pansy’s face lit up.

“Good sleuthing Blaise! They don’t call us Slytherin for nothing!” The girl raises herself from her seat.

“Plus, I’m over Snape’s assignment. It’s time to unwind for the night,” She looks at her friends at the table, “You joining?” Daphne and Theo get up without hesitation, while Blaise throws them a judgemental expression.

“Come on Blaise. I got a plan, and you play an important role.” She skips to where he is sat and pulls on his arm. The boy lets out a groan.

“Why can’t we let him be?” He lets out.

“Because, we love some good character development! Now get your arse up Zabini! We got more sleuthing to do!” Blaise packs his things begrudgingly before joining the group as they walk out of the common room. They sought out the Great Hall first, seeing that there were still a few students grabbing dinner. However, when they fail to see either you or Draco, they leave and try out the courtyard. Much to their disappointment, they had the same results. They even tried going to Snape’s room, thinking that you might’ve gone to talk to him about the assignment. Still no luck.

Blaise releases a grunt out of frustration, as the group continues to walk around aimlessly. 

“Have you thought, just possibly, that they’d be in the bloody library!?” He scolds them as he presses his fingers to his temples. The dull pain that was surging from the sides of his head puts him in a pissier mood. 

“This is why we need you, Blaise.” Theo gave a firm pat on Blaise’s back, followed by pats from both Daphne and Pansy. The boy sighs exasperatingly before trailing behind them.

By the time they arrive at the library, the group splits in order to cover more ground. Blaise, having enough of their antics, decides to aimlessly walk through the shelves for his own peace of mind. He enjoys it for a while, until he hears the voice of a particular platinum blonde. He stops for a moment, mentally celebrating his victory, and turns to find the location of the source. Peering through the shelves, he takes sight of Draco smiling with a book in hand.

“You seem to have forgotten my height in comparison to yours.” He hears him say. He glances at the beaming expression in the boy’s eyes. Suddenly, Pansy, Daphne, and Theo appear beside him.

In a hushed whisper Daphne speaks out, “What are you looking- oh!” Her exclamation draws the attention of the other two as Blaise raises a finger to his lips to shush them. The group obeys, and watches the scene unfold quietly.

“Give it here you git. I found it first.” Pansy and Daphne squeal at the sight of you jumping for the book.

“Draco, Draco, Draco--this boy knows what he’s doing.” Theo snickers under his breath. Their eyes widen at the scene that follows next.

“Draco!” They observe as you push off from his shoulders, successfully retrieving the book from him. What surprised them was the way Draco pulled you close to keep you from falling. Moreover, how the both of you stayed in that position for several minutes before stepping away.

Pansy mutters, “I feel like I just interrupted something.” She turns her head to see Daphne biting her knuckle in an attempt to refrain from squealing even more.

“I’m sorry Astoria.” Pansy nudges Daphne’s side before snickering herself. The group retreats back to the common room, leaving you and Draco alone. However, once they arrived, they were met with red-eyed Astoria, who began to question their whereabouts.

“I leave the room for five minutes only to find that you guys were gone when I come back. Where have you been?” The two girls kept silent and looked at the younger with pitiful eyes. She hated being pitied.

“Stop looking at me like that, and spill!” Her voice increased in volume as she demanded for answers. Blaise steps to the front and holds her shoulders.

“Astoria, you need to calm yourself down first. Breath.” The girl looks up at the boy, his voice calming her senses.

“Are you calm?” He asks. She responds with a silent nod, uncertain about what she was about to find out. Blaise led her to the couch, followed by the other three. He looked into her eyes with hands planted on her shoulders.

“We saw Draco with Y/N earlier. He looked really happy.” The prideful girl felt her heart drop at the sound of the news. Certainly that can’t mean anything right? Surely she had a chance...right? She kept silent as thoughts roamed in her mind for several minutes. However, her internal ramblings were interrupted by the sound of the dungeons opening. The group turned their heads towards the entrance revealing a pleased-looking Draco. He was seen carrying several rolls of parchment under one arm and his bag held in the opposing hand. Accompanying him from behind was you. There was a smile plastered on your face as you looked towards the boy. He returned the smile as well as the rolls that the group concluded to belong to you. Out of disappointment and frustration, Astoria violently shrugs Blaise’s hands off her shoulders and stands from her seat.

“Y/L/N!” She yells. The sudden outburst catches you off guard. You stop in your steps as you see her approaching you with an angry look on her face.

“May I hel-”

“You bet you can,” Astoria’s hands come into contact with your shoulders, throwing your balance off slightly. You give her a shocked expression, but before you can say anything she cuts you off.

“Keep that nose of yours buried in your books where it belongs. You think you have a chance with Draco? Make me laugh!” You feel your heart crack slightly at the sound of her words. Not knowing what to expect, you keep your feet planted and stand your ground.

“Look at you! Disheveled,” She pokes at your hair.

“Nerdy!” She gestures towards the rolls of parchment in your arms.

“Poor!” Your eyes widened at her derogatory statement. 

“Your only redeeming quality is the fact that you’re a pureblood. Albeit a lowly one at that!” Draco and his friend group look at the scene progress with shock-filled eyes. Never in their lives would they have thought that Astoria would say such harsh words. By the time she was done with her rant, the younger Greengrass was huffing, her eyebrows furrowed, and shoulders tense. 

You wanted to cry. You bit your quivering lip in response to her hurtful words. How dare she? Within those couple seconds she had jabbed at everything you worked hard for--all out of the need to feel superior. The image of your mother crossed your mind. You recalled her secret tears, her efforts to shield you away from the hardships you faced. You recalled how hard she worked to provide your every need, furthermore how hard she worked to open the book shop--not only for a means of living, but for your peace of mind as well. Suddenly, a pit of anger blossomed from your gut. With your lips still quivering you scoff, breaking the silence that lingered since her outlash. It catches the attention of the others surrounding you.

You placed your belongings on the floor, before looking her straight in the eyes.

“Does it make you feel better when you attempt to make me feel insecure?” You take a step forward.

“You ask if I think I have a chance with Draco?” You mock her words, while scanning her figure from top to bottom.

“Last time I checked, Greengrass, my life didn’t revolve around him!” Your voice began to grow in hostility.

“Every single thing that you look down upon are the very reasons why I’m in Slytherin in the first place!” Your voice seethed with venom. In fact, the very statement elicited shivers down everyone’s spine. There was a familiar fire that burned in your eyes--one that Draco had grown too fond of. He rooted himself to his spot, watching you in awe.

“Your words hurt, they do. Do you think I wanted to be born poor? Do you think I’m nerdy because I want to be fucking nerdy!?” At that moment, Astoria knew she struck a note--a strong one at that. Her confidence began to shrink as you stepped closer.

“Bash on my appearance all you want, Greengrass, but if you dare try to degrade me for things you know nothing of - all for the sake of your damn crush,” You stood right in front of her now, eyes piercing through hers. With a tone full of resolution you continue your statement, “Then I suggest you stay out of my way. Your jealousy is a waste of my time.” You bump her shoulder harshly before turning back to collect your belongings and make your way to your dorm. Before you proceed, you look back at Draco to see that he’s looking at you with much concern.

“I’ll be fine.” You mouthed, before continuing your way. 

Astoria was left standing there with shock of your retaliation. The feeling of regret pools in her stomach as she feels a hand on her shoulder. It’s Daphne’s. Her sister gives a strained smile as she pulls her away. The older sibling turns to Draco with an apologetic smile plastered on her face.

“You should check on Y/N. We’ll take care of Astoria.” The boy breaks from his daze and nods before dashing through the halls. Once he arrives in front of your door he presses his ear against it. Silent sobs can be heard from the other side. He softly knocks.

“Y/N? It’s Draco.” He hears her cease her cries. After a couple of moments, the door opens revealing your puffy-eyed self. You couldn’t bear to look up at him, so you keep your gaze stuck to the floor. The sight of you looking emotionally weak breaks Draco’s heart. You were always the one to hold a strong stance. A frown finds its way to his lips as he presses your head to his chest. He walks into your room and locks the door behind him all while keeping you within his embrace.

“That was so humiliating.” You croak out as tears stream down your cheeks. Your hands clench the fabric of his uniform as your face remains buried into his chest. The boy finds himself at a loss for words. As he thinks of ways to make you feel better, he suddenly remembers the way you had cleaned him up when you found him so helpless. 

“Let me take care of you?” He whispered softly into your ear. There was much sincerity and concern laced in his voice. In a short span of time, you had managed to make him feel safe, accepted, and welcomed to a sense of warmth that he has never received before. It felt safe for him to feel vulnerable around you. Seeing the way you handled the situation tonight, he felt the compelling need to do the same.

The sobs that you choked out ceased slightly as you nod in response. At the sight of this, he reaches for your hand, interlacing his fingers with yours as he leads you to the bathroom. You seat yourself on the stool situated in front of the sink, head faced down. Draco takes a fresh face towel and wets it. 

“Look at me.” You hesitantly lift your face meeting his concerned gaze. He reaches out and caresses your cheek to wipe the tear that strayed from your eyes.  He then proceeds to wipe your face. You close your eyes to relish the cool dampness of the cloth, letting out breathy sighs in relief. Your heart beats faster at the thought of you being on the receiving end of Draco’s care. At the end of the task, the boy caresses your face through the towel. You look up into his eyes with a frown.

Noticing that your hair was still up, Draco pulled the elastic and grabbed the brush that laid on top of the counter. 

“Turn around.” You follow as he says and meet both your reflections in the mirror. You stared at him, taking in the details of his facial features. He put on a focused expression as he began brushing your hair. His touch was soft and delicate, not wanting to run through tangles forcibly and put you at a risk for discomfort. The soft tugs at your roots felt soothing, inducing your eyes to droop. Draco notices and chuckles softly.

“Don’t you dare sleep on me again, Y/N.” Your eyes immediately fly open.

“It feels good.” You admit quietly. You meet his gaze through the reflection and let out a small smile.

The tugging feeling on his heartstrings prompts him to lean down an whisper in your ear, “Y/N, you’re beautiful I hope you know.” His words cause a surge of heat to rise throughout your body and you can’t help but smile wider. Draco turns the stool, so you’re facing him once again.

“I also like that you’re intelligent--in more ways than one might I add.” He says as he tucked a strand of your hair behind your ear. You chuckled. 

Out of impulse, Draco leans down once more, pressing a kiss to your forehead. Despite your erratic heart beats, you respond to his gesture by wrapping your arms around his torso, pulling yourself into him. He copies your actions while running his fingers through your hair. Everything feels like bliss. 

“I hope you don’t actually believe what she says.” He says as you both remain in the same position.

“About what?”

“That you don’t have a chance with me.” 

“I can see why she’d say that...especially with you and your fami-” He interrupts your sentence. 

“Y/N, I like you,” Your eyes widened.

“I like you regardless of my family or your status.” You pulled away to look at him. You can see him cleaning up, and putting things back in their original places. He kept a neutral expression, but when his gaze passes yours, he raises his eyebrows as he usually does before breaking into a small smile. Just before you catch yourself swooning, he pulls on your wrist.

“You don’t need to give me an answer right now. I just wanted to let you know. Let’s get you dressed.” The boy makes you sit on the edge of your bed while you direct his way through your closet. He pulls out a pair of black sweats and a black jumper and hands it to you.

“Go ahead. I’ll turn around.” You proceed to changing into the clothes that he gave to you. Once you finished you sat yourself on the bed once again, and called out to him. He took a seat by your side. There was an oddly comfortable atmosphere between the both of you. You turn to him to see a serious expression painted on his facial features. The boy looks straight ahead with his hands clasped on his lap. You reach out to grab one and hold it. 

“What’s on your mind?” You ask weakly. He stares at your hand in his. His lack of words causes you to speak up.

“I’m sorry. I get touchy when I’m at my lows. My mother would hold my hand like this.” He remains silent, only gripping your hand in response.

“Don’t apologize. I said I’d look out for you as you have for me.” He turned to look at you and sighed. The sight of your tired expression induces a tight feeling in his chest. The way you stood your ground, the way you defended yourself, the way you held everything in until you were alone--all these things made him contemplate on his actions before he had met you. He’d vividly recall the moments he’d pick on others to feel that sense of superiority that Astoria had tried to feel. He remembered the way he had celebrated in the eyes of his victim’s defeat. But, when he saw you in the line of fire, the feeling of foolishness and regret filled him. 

“Are you tired?” He asked.

You nodded your head in response, getting comfortable with the feel of his hand wrapped around yours. 

“I can go. You should get your rest.” Before he stood to get up, you gripped his hand harder. You craved for the peace he provided. 

“Stay. Please.” His eyes soften at your plea.

“I’ll be back then.” You nod in response while Draco momentarily leaves the room. You sit within the silence as your mind combs over the events that occurred that night. Never in your life did you have to worry about the way someone thought of you--let alone your financial status at home. You had always been one to be independent with your mother as inspiration to make it through. You didn’t mind isolating yourself in your study, because at the end of the week you’d be able to go back home and unwind--something not many students get to do. The feeling of suddenly being placed under scrutiny felt uncomfortable, unfamiliar, and uncertain. 

You break out of your thoughts at the sound of your door opening. Draco peers from the outside before entering and resumes his spot next to you. He was dressed in an outfit similar to yours, except his sweatpants were grey. 

“You got something running around that mind of yours. What is it?” He says.

“Is it that obvious?”

“I mean tonight was already chaotic as it is. You’re not typically placed in the spotlight like that, and you standing up to Astoria took a lot of energy from you. I wouldn’t blame you if you had any lingering thoughts.” He said calmly. He laid out his palm on the surface of your bed sheets.

“It’s there for you to hold if you want it.” He mutters. You look at him with eyes glossed over. You didn’t need to say much, nevertheless he somehow knew what to do. You reached out and grabbed it, allowing yourself to sit much closer to him.

Suddenly, a curious thought flew over the boy’s head, “Does your mother usually read to you in moments like this?” It caught you off guard, but in a good way.

“You’re a smart one aren’t you?” You say teasingly.  He smirks slightly.

“You know, I don’t fall far behind you in ranking.” He turned his head to look straight into your eyes. Time seemed to stop as you stared into his softened blue hues, tuning out the situation that occurred. Hearts palpitated, minds raced, but one glance towards your lips from him was all it took for you to slowly reach up and caress his cheek. The shortening of the distance made Draco’s breath hitch as he came to full realization of what’s going on. 

In response to your actions, he leans in closing the distance between you both. The sensation of fireworks erupted in your chest as you felt his lips slightly brush yours. The kiss was soft and short, but all the more reassuring. It evoked feelings of acceptance, appreciation, promises, and safety that both had felt for one another. It conveyed the unspoken love that neither one of you acknowledged, but had already felt in the little time you spent together. Needless to say, the worries that previously occupied you dissipated at the feel of his lips.

Your heart was racing as you pulled away. Your eyes, which have been closed, open to find him looking into yours once again. Without much hesitation, Draco leaned in for another kiss--this time grabbing your shoulders and pushing you down gently, so that your back was pressed against the bed. Lips moved in sync slowly as he carefully laid his body against your own. His fingers brush your hair away from your face before dancing over your waist. You wrap your arms around his neck to feel him closer. He broke away only to plant kisses all over your face--your eyelids, cheeks, temples, nose. All followed by more lingering ones pressed against your jaw, which soon trailed down your neck. You couldn’t resist him.

“Draco,” The boy melted at the sound of his name. He lifted himself from your neck to look at you. Your eyes were filled with adoration while a smile graced your lips.

“I think now is a good enough time as ever to let you know I like you too.” You both chuckled into the night.

“I didn’t think it would be obvious.” He sarcastically says, before leaning back down once again to kiss you one last time. He laid beside you with his arm draped over your waist, pulling you closer to his body, flushed against his chest. The warm sensation that you felt before was overwhelming now. 

“Thank you for being here and for staying.” You say softly. You feel his fingers brush through your hair. Sleep beginning to overtake you both.

“Anytime.”

A/N: Thank you for making it this far! I apologize for the long wait, but I hope this was suffices :D I hope you have a wonderful day!

Just a couple tags <3:

@fadesbrina @redheaded-hobbit @ccabian @rottenhexrt @beiahadid @ceeellewrites @xoxohollands @mxlfoy-recs @thatguppienamedbae @swiftlymoniquesblog @karamelssunflowers @phxntxmx @mushi98 @hahee154hq​

[holyyrose]

And They Were Roommates - H.H

A/N: This has been in my drafts for a long time and I’ve been in love with this concept for a while, but apparently I struggle to string a simple sentence together lately lmao.

Hyunjin x Fem!Reader 

Summary: Roommate AU/Collage AU - The Reader is strapped for cash and much to their dismay Hyunjin seems to be the only one who can help.

Part One / ?

Word Count: 1809

______

“What do you mean you can’t pay the rent, I thought Minho was paying half? He is your roommate after all.” Seungmin questioned, as Y/N, Seungmin long term best friend followed him into a café, thankful that this place had warmth, which contrasted significantly to the weather outside that had nipped at her skin, making her deeply regretful for leaving her apartment this morning without a coat.

After a long day of work, Seungmin became fed up with disorderly customers that came with working in retail and was in desperate need for a break. Therefore, as Y/N’s self-proclaimed best friend, he took it upon himself to interrupt her studies and insist that she meet him at a café in the centre of town. Much to her dismay, he insisted she come instantly, meaning the work she had left far too late to start, would be put off once again, probably not to be completed until late night with yet another caffeinated drink buzzing through her system, but  being equally exhausted and frustrated, she agreed, hurrying out of her small apartment to meet Seungmin.

“He was.” She has exasperated, moving along the queue alongside Seungmin, pulling out her purse so she could pay for her order, however, Seungmin had waved her off, insisting he’d pay.  “So, he just stopped giving you his rent money without any warning?” His face scrunched up with distort, confused by what it seemed she was insinuating.

“What? No. Minho would never. His mother had knee surgery a few weeks ago and she’s been struggling with the recovery. Minho thought it would be best if he moved back in with her for a few months, considering his father works away a lot. I couldn’t tell him that without him living with me, I wouldn’t be able to afford this apartment.” Seungmin sighed at her remark. Grabbing their drinks from the barista, he made his way over to the sofa that was nestled in the corner of the cafe, with fairy lights strung between bookshelves, creating a welcoming and content environment.

“Things haven’t been too great for him. He lost his job at the music store because they went bankrupt then his mum needed surgery. I couldn’t do it to him.” She continued, letting out a low sigh before slumping back into the sofa, letting the plush pillows welcome her. A part of her feeling idiotic for not telling Minho, even more foolish when the words were coming out of her mouth, but it didn’t feel right. She couldn’t burden Minho even more. However, it was evident how strapped for cash she was therefore, she was relieved when Seungmin had decided to pay for her drink.

“You’re too nice y/n/n,” Seungmin laughed, sliding her coffee across the table. “You need to be more direct.”

“This isn’t funny, ok. I need your help, not your laughter.”

“What you need is to find a temporary roommate, someone who can afford to pick up the rent when you’re short.” He continued, rolling his eyes.

“You know,” He paused, drawing out his words. “I happen to know that Hyunjin is looking for an apartment, he has the cash, quite a lot if I do say so myself and-”

“No, no!” She had exclaimed, cutting him off completely.  “Anybody but Hyunjin. You know I can’t stand him.” She exasperated, looking at Seungmin pointedly.

“His house got infested by rats. He needs a place to stay. He’s currently crashing Chan’s sofa because he doesn’t have a spare room, but I’m sure he’d appreciate sleeping on an actual bed.”

“Absolutely not!” She contested, as she took a sip of her drink.

“I’ve overheard him telling Chan and Jisung about those dumb parties he throws, and I can’t afford to lose my deposit on this place.”

“You know what, I take it back. You’re awful y/n/n,” He laughed, shaking his head. “You barely know the guy, I’m sure he’ll respect your decision to be boring.” Seungmin smirked, knowing how easy it was to annoy her. He rummaged through his bag, pulling out his phone before typing away. Her phone lit up, alerting her of a text.

“Here is his number. I know you’re too stubborn to admit it, but you’re desperate and Hyunjin can help you.”

She tried to ignore Seungmin’s stare by looking down at her coffee and fiddling with the lid.

“I don’t hate him.” She had murmured. “Try despise.”

“Y/n/n!” Seungmin exclaimed, furrowing his brows. “You can be so difficult sometimes.”  

“Ok, I’m sorry.” She sighed, holding her hands up in defence. “He’s just so arrogant ok.”

“He’s one of my best friends, Y/n/n, please consider it. I know you find him infuriating. I do sometimes, but he has the cash and he’s currently sleeping on Chan’s couch, at least feel some sympathy for him.”

“Sorry for Chan.” A few moments had past and Seungmin had yet to speak. The silence was deafening, and he knew that.

 “Ok!” Sitting up straight, Y/N hoped to cut the tension. “Give me a few days and I’ll think about it.”

“Good.” Seungmin smiled, changing his demeanour instantly. “Now let me tell you about what a shitty day I’ve had.”

Day’s seemed to have passed like lightning, Y/N easily becoming consumed by work. It seemed finding another source of income had gone to the back of Y/N’s mind. Instead, deadlines and reading had become the forefront of worry. Although her rent was due in a matter of days, she had pushed to the back of her mind hoping that if she ignored it long enough it would just go away. It seemed that balancing getting a degree and a part-time job as a hotel receptionist was becoming increasingly harder, especially when she had to pick up twice as many shifts as possible to ensure she had enough money to live. Luckily her boss allowed her to do some work during the graveyard shifts as it seemed not many people need to check-in at 2 in the morning, however, maintaining these shifts did mean an unhealthy sleeping pattern which took an overall negative impact on her day to day life. Perhaps ignoring her problems wasn’t the answer.

The day had been long, a 7-hour shift on her day off from University was usually fine, but with the little amount of sleep she had consumed over the past few weeks had started to take a toll on her well-being. Therefore, when she entered her apartment to find heaps of boxes scattered everywhere and 3 boys lounging on her sofa, she deemed it to be a hallucination.

“Ahh, there she is! Y/n/n! How are you?” The voice of her self-proclaimed best his friend, Seungmin, had snapped her out of her thoughts, making her realise this was not, in fact, a hallucination, but real life.

“What are you guys doing here?” She questioned, stunned by the unexpected appearance of Seungmin, Jisung and Chan.

“Erm.” Chan had started, rubbing the back of his neck awkwardly, almost as if he found himself caught red-handed.

“And what are these boxes doing here?” Stepping closer, she kicked the side of a box, regretting it instantly, as her foot collided with the hard surface, causing her to let out a string of profanities.

“Oh, I wouldn’t do that sweetheart.”

This particular voice had caught her attention, causing her to freeze and the hairs on the back of her neck to stand. Meeting the gaze of this unknown voice, she felt dread coarse through your veins.

Hyunjin.

“I’m moving in, what do you think it looks like?” Moving further into the room. Hyunjin appeared in full glory, a smirked staining his lips. He brushed past her, nonchalantly, picking up the box she had just kicked and turning to walk towards Minho’s old room.

“I never officially said you could move in.” She yelled, exasperated by his presence, hurrying past the three lounging boys on the sofa who appeared amused by this interaction, groaning as she pushed past their dangling legs to follow Hyunjin into Minho’s room, who had already unpacked most of his belongings.  

“Well I was getting a little impatient waiting for you to make up your mind and Seungmin here said it would be no problem.”

“Excuse me?” Spinning on her heel, she looked directly at Seungmin who, alongside Jisung and Chan had followed you into Minho’s room. If looks could kill, everyone in the room would be 6 feet under. Looking around, Minho’s room was looking extremely different than the last time she had stepped foot in here. If she was to admit, she hadn’t actually been into Minho’s room for a long time, however, she vaguely remembered photos of his cats which stood proudly on his shelf and memorabilia from concerts they had attended together streamed across his dresser had been replaced with a large bottle of vodka and small trinkets. Most of the stuff she didn’t recognise, but the posters that littered the wall caught her attention. They were almost like Minho’s, but Hyunjin’s taste seemed to vary. His taste seemed to be a little darker.  Seungmin froze at Y/N’s exclamation, stunned by her outburst.  

“You heard me, sweetheart.” Hyunjin pressed, smirking slightly, almost as if he was thriving off her irritation.  

Her face heated at his remark.

“I can’t believe you three are letting him do this.”

“You need the money,” Jisung started, slowly moving from behind Chan, raising his hands in surrender. “And you can’t keep this up.”

She shrugged him off and crossed her arms. “I don’t need you to tell me what to do.”

“It isn’t healthy,” Chan interjected. “And Hyunjin here has money.”

“I don’t care if he has money, I don’t want him living here.”

“You look a mess.”

“Excuse me!” She gasped, turning to face Seungmin, who had appeared next to her. He let out a small cough before continuing.

“What I mean is, you’re exhausted, and you can’t keep pulling extra shifts just to get enough cash. You’re a student and have a lot of responsibilities, so I think it’s only right for us as your friends.” Seungmin spoke, gesturing to surrounding group.

“Hyunjin isn’t my friend.”

“That’s a little harsh don’t you think?” Hyunjin laughed, as he flattened one of the boxes that had previously held his belongings. 

“As your friends,” Seungmin continued, becoming irritated by her stubbornness. “We think it’s only right for us to intervene when we think necessary.” Scoffing, she turned to leave the room, refusing to hear the reality of the situation.

“I’ve already paid 3 months of rent in advance, including your half, so it looks like you’re stuck with me sweetheart.”

She stepped forward, yanking the piece of card out of Hyunjin’s hands, huffing as she did so, but not before saying, “3 months. That’s it. But one slip up, and you’re gone.”

[tsarisfanfiction]

Unexpected

Fandom: Thunderbirds Rating: Gen (brief, family-friendly allusion to the birds and bees) Genre: Family Characters: Scott, John, Gordon, Alan, Virgil, EOS

Yup, another fic for @gumnut-logic‘s #irrelief!  The prompt used here is ““We’re going to be uncles!” A Tracy has reproduced (can be Kayo too)” from @shirubie.  Maybe not quite what the prompt implies, though.

When it came to the next generation, Scott didn’t think it would happen quite like this.

“I can’t believe it!”

Gordon’s sudden exclamation was greeted by silence from his older brothers.  Scott raised an eyebrow before returning to the metaphorical mountain of paperwork on his desk.  EOS had been a thoroughly internal affair, and while none of them intended on letting anyone in the GDF – including Colonel Casey, for all that she was on their side – learn the truth about what exactly had gone down during those disastrous moments on Thunderbird Five, the fact remained that several distress calls had gone unanswered for hours and the GDF wanted answers.

Finding a way to cover it all up without revealing John’s inadvertent creation of a sentient AI several years earlier, or the fact that said sentient AI now resided full time on the most technologically advanced satellite in the world, was tricky.  It was not helped by the fact that she was currently only trusted entirely by John, although Scott suspected the rest of his brothers were being fast won over, and she reminded him more than a little of John when he’d been that age (assuming, of course, that EOS was approximately ten years old – John had not been forthcoming on when, exactly, he’d written the base coding).

Like creator, like… creation?

“What is it, Gordon?”

Unlike the elder brothers – Virgil was steadfastly tickling ivories without pause, and John might not be actively hovering, but Scott knew his line with them was always open (unless a certain AI – nope, not going to go there right now) – Alan had not mastered the art of working out when Gordon needed to be listened to, and when he was simply attention-seeking.  Or maybe he had but had yet to tire of enabling him – or maybe, just maybe, Alan was bored of cleaning.

It was probably the latter. No-one liked cleaning, not even MAX.

“John!” Gordon called out, his tone almost accusatory, instead of directly answering his younger brother.

John, blessed with the patience of a saint but also, more importantly, the ability to tell when Gordon should be listened to, and when he should not, didn’t answer.

He did, however, pop up in miniature in the corner of Scott’s holoprojector, out of Gordon’s line of sight, and rolled his eyes.  Scott appreciated the proof that the line was indeed open, and not being hijacked by EOS. He shook his head slightly in return, amused if a little exasperated at the elder blond’s outburst – whatever inane thing it was he’d thought of.

“Joo-oooohn!” Gordon repeated, in that annoying, grinding way of splitting a brother’s name into two syllables when it clearly only had one that both Scott and John hated.  “Johnny!”  Turquoise eyes hardened in frustration – two syllables in ‘Jo-ohn’ was one thing, but ‘Johnny’ was detested.  Scott couldn’t agree, preferring ‘Scotty’ to ‘Sco-ott’ himself, or even ‘Scooter’, as his brothers occasionally bastardised his name.  ‘Scotty’ was childish, but ‘Sco-ott’ was just whining.

Still, John remained silent.  Patience was a virtue, and one John had far more of than Gordon.  The eventual victor was already clear.

“I know you’re listening!” Gordon continued, and oh dear, there was the end of the patience.  Willing or not, they were all about to be made privy to whatever revelation the aquanaut had come to.  Scott didn’t have a clue what it could be, but knowing Gordon, it was probably going to be nonsense.

From the look he got from John, he wasn’t alone in that opinion.

“Jooohnny.”  Now it was a whine.  Dogs whined, little kids whined.  Fully qualified aquanauts with military training also whined, apparently.  Or maybe it was just ones named Gordon Cooper Tracy.  Scott had never really interacted with WASP during his time in service.  “Why didn’t you say you had a kid?”

John choked, immediately drawing the attention of the two youngest as they whirled around to see his miniature hologram perched on Scott’s – Dad’s – desk.

“Were you hiding?” Alan asked, launching himself away from the broom he was supposed to be sweeping popcorn crumbs off of the den floor with – which clattered to the floor loudly – to cling to the edge of the desk.  Gordon was hot on his heels.

“A kid?” Virgil asked, the quiet melody stopping as the middle child abandoned his sonata and came to join the huddle of brothers around the desk.  “Where did that come from, Gordon?”

“You mean EOS?”  Alan sounded surprised, as though he’d only just drawn the conclusion.  Scott wondered if Gordon had already brought him in on this crazy scheme, but even if he hadn’t, Alan had beaten him to the punch on whatever was going through Gordon’s head, anyway.  Maybe blond-haired teenager brothers had a psychic link.  It might explain a few things, anyway.

“EOS?” John asked, jogging Scott out of suppositions about psychic younger brothers and back to the bizarre conversation at hand.  “My kid?”

“Well she is, isn’t she?” Gordon challenged, arms crossed and eyebrow raised in a manner that looked rather familiar from the mirror.  “You made her.  And now she’s living with you while you teach her how tell right from wrong.”

“I know you know how children happen,” John said bluntly.  “Don’t be ridiculous.”

“You made her,” Gordon repeated, and beside him Alan, who had been looking thoughtful, began to nod.

“Gordon’s right,” he said, and John turned an incredulous look on him.  Scott shared a look of ‘what are we supposed to do about this’ with Virgil.  “You made her base coding, and now she’s growing up.”

“She is growing up?” Gordon interjected, and Scott realised John had been backed into a corner. Saying EOS wasn’t maturing would both be a lie – she was – and also a sure way to upset the AI who was no doubt eavesdropping on the conversation.

“Of course she is,” John defended her.  “She’s learning.”

“Like a child,” Gordon pressed.  “Ergo, your daughter.”

“Those two things aren’t mutually-”

“John?”

EOS cut off the ginger’s argument, her recently installed own hologram projecting into the midst of their discussion.  Scott just started wondering when she was going to appear.

“Yes, EOS?” John asked, his head turning to look at what Scott assumed was the security camera EOS had taken for a ‘body’ up in Thunderbird Five.

“Your brothers are referring to me as your ‘daughter’, but I checked the internet for how ‘daughter’s are created, and I have no recollection of such an act occurring to create my code.”

Alan and Gordon burst out laughing, and even Scott couldn’t resist joining Virgil in a chuckle as John’s face turned redder than his hair.

“EOS, that’s- why were you looking at that?” he demanded, over Gordon’s gasps for air.  Virgil helpfully patted the aquanaut’s shoulder, and got a baleful look for it.

“To understand, John,” the AI said.  “You said I should research facts before reaching conclusions.”

“I did,” John sighed, rubbing his face with one hand.  “I should have known that would come up sooner or later.  So, what conclusion did you come to?”

“That I am your daughter.”

Scott found himself witness to the rare sight of a baffled John.

“But you just said you didn’t understand what Gordon meant,” Alan pointed out, before John could articulate whatever was going through his head.

“Research implies that while intercourse is how a daughter or son is created, it is not the only way one may be obtained,” EOS replied, sounding as smug as a computer-generated voice could – and perhaps more than Scott ever thought one would.  “The act of sheltering a younger being in one’s home and assisting in their growth and understanding is also one of parenthood. Thus, it would not be incorrect to state that John is my father and I am John’s daughter.”

“I don’t think that’s quite how it works,” Virgil muttered, but he was drowned out by Gordon’s triumphant shout.

“I told you so!” he crowed. “EOS is John’s daughter!”

John was shaking his head, but Scott saw the fond smile on his face.

“Okay, fine,” the ginger said.  “Yes, EOS, that makes you my daughter.  But, please, just keep calling me John.”

“Spoilsport,” Gordon sulked. “Hey, EOS.  If you’re John’s daughter that makes you my niece, so feel free to call me ‘Uncle’!”

“And me!” Alan chimed in. Scott shared another look with Virgil, and they silently agreed to stay out of it.

“Don’t encourage them, EOS,” John muttered, and the white ring of lights flared again.

“John does not wish me to,” she said.  “So I shall not.  After all, research suggests that daughters obey their fathers.”

Her hologram vanished, leaving behind a pair of gaping blonds.  John turned his attention to them.

“Thank you,” he said. “Now I have some explaining to do.” His hologram disappeared as well.

Scott shook his head in despair.  John was patient, but one day he’d get revenge on the teenagers.  Scott was quite content to remain a fly on the wall for the eventual payback.

In the meantime, he had the GDF to throw off the scent of his newly-named niece.  Not quite the way he’d imagined the family expanding.

[itslostfocus]

Vocabulary: Korean Exclamations

대박!

amazing! / unbelievable! / cool! / epic!

헐!

what?! / omg!

it’s used to express your mild surprise, shock.

아싸!

yay! / hurray!

아이고!

omg / oh my goodness / oops similar expression: 어머나/ 어머

it’s an interjection used to express mild dismay, chagrin, surprise, etc., as at one’s own mistake, a clumsy act, or social blunder.

말도 안돼요!

unbelievable! / impossible!

진짜? 정말? 

really?

(use 진짜요/정말요 with older people)

아야!

ouch!

우와

wow

에이

used when you don’t believe someone. It’s like saying ‘are you kidding me?’ to someone close

짱 

awesome / cool 

뭐/뭐라고/네?

what? / what did you say?

a feeling of shock or surprise.

‘네?’ is also used where you couldn’t hear something and want the speaker to repeat (like – pardon).

그래요?

is that so?

그렇구나/그렇군요

I see

used as an affirmative response

글쎄/ 글쎄요

Well, I am not sure… (while thinking a response)

야!

it can mean so many things. It’s used to show different types of emotions including affection, frustration, anger etc. 

generally older people will use it with younger people, so make sure not to use it with someone older than you (except if they allow you to) because you can sound disrespectful even without meaning it

source: 90DayKorean and TopikGuide

[novamm66]

Chapter 6 – Shrine of Dumat & Pre Adamant

It’s Friday! Which means it’s time for the next chapter of my Varric/Cass story.

Note: This chapter starts with major character injury. I have steered clear of anything too graphic and it will only hurt for a bit. 😘 There are also some steamy bits at the end.💗💗

—

Nothing felt right. The Shrine was burning before they had even got there. The bulk of the enemy fighters had fled, so the fighting had been relatively easy. The Red Templars had been tipped off and had left almost nothing behind.

The whole situation had Varric on edge. They were standing outside the gates. Cassandra was speaking to Cullen, who was barely staying on his feet while Kiaya was issuing orders.

“Smudges, we need to get away from here,” Varric interjected in a pause in the conversation.

“I know.” Kiaya shot a worried look at Cullen, but before they could make a move, a new scout appeared, and Kiaya was pulled into another conversation.

Varric’s palms itched, and the hairs on his neck rose. Something was here. Varric’s eyes watered as he scanned the rubble, and he moved closer to Kiaya.

It was the smoke that gave the Assassin away. It changed direction when it shouldn’t have, but Varric only noticed out of the corner of his eye when it was almost too late. He barely had time to call out and throw himself against Kiaya before he felt the pressure of the blow meant for her against his back. He felt a searing pain, and Varric’s vision narrowed to Kiaya’s pale face, her eyes filled with horror as she stared at him. He tried to ask if she had been hit, but his voice wasn’t working. All he could hear was a pounding in his ears. Varric realized that it wasn’t his heart he was listening to, but the pulse of the red lyrium. It beat a different cadence from his heart and lungs, forcing his body to synchronize. Varric fought the pull but gasping air against the taint's pulse was agony, and he was losing. It was getting hard for Varric to think. He gasped and forced his eyes open, red fog blurring his vision, but he could see a face close to his. Cassandra. Varric tried to say her name, but he didn’t seem to have enough breath, so he repeated it over and over in his head, focusing on her to fight against the red trying to claim him.

Suddenly the lyrium pulse stopped. Varric felt his heart take a few thumps on its own, and he gasped, pulling air into his lungs. Then the screaming started.

Whatever was happening, Varric would have gladly gone back to pulse, pulling him towards the darkness. He felt like he was being turned inside out while set on fire. The blackness that rushed towards him wasn’t that of peace and rest, but Varric was grateful all the same.

—

Guilt was crushing Cassandra.

She needed Varric to wake up. More than that, she needed him to wake up as the person he was, untainted by the red lyrium. She had been waiting for days. Cassandra had stopped listening to the whispered conversations between the healers. It was a miracle he was still alive at all. Varric was lying on his front, propped up on pillows to protect his stomach and back. His skin was pale and waxy, and without his shallow breaths and the pulse fluttering in his neck, he looked dead. Cassandra hadn’t followed what Kiaya and Dorian had done to remove the spear of lyrium from Varric’s back. Cassandra understood that Kiaya had used the mark to remove the red taint from Varric’s blood, but until he woke up, there was no way to know if it was successful.

Eventually, Cassandra surrendered to her fears, letting them race through her as she knelt by Varric’s cot. Time lost it’s meaning as Cassandra prayed until sleep claimed her and pull her into the fade.

—

The smell of lavender, mint, and steel pulled Varric awake. That and the desire to sneeze, but he couldn’t. He felt like a druffalo was sitting on him, and no part of his body didn’t hurt. He was unable to move if he wanted to and sneezing was out of the question. Whatever was tickling his nose was beyond annoying. Opening his eyes took all his concentration, and it felt like ages before he succeeded. His vision swam in the dim light.

Once his muddled brain was able to process shapes and colours, he no longer cared about the tickle. It was Cassandra’s hair that brushed his face.

She was asleep, resting on her arm on the side of his cot. His lips formed her name, but he didn’t actually make a sound. After a few attempts, he managed a gasping hiss, and her eyelashes fluttered open. She didn’t look at him right away, focusing first on where her fingers rested in his. Varric hadn’t noticed before, but suddenly he could feel her skin against his own. Her touch was gentle as her fingers slid to Varric’s wrist, settling on his pulse, which jumped at the touch. Varric gasped again, and Cassandra’s eyes went wide and snapped to his face.

I want to see her face first thing every time I open my eyes.

This time when Varric tried to speak, it worked, although it sounded nothing like him. “Seeker-“

Cassandra kissed him. Varric no longer cared if he was alive or dead; whichever it was, he would take it. Her lips were soft and gentle against his, better than anything he had imagined. It was over too quickly for his liking; Cassandra pulled back with a look of shock on her face and stared at him.

With a fair amount of effort, Varric managed to tighten his fingers around hers and get enough breath to whisper. “Am I dead? Not that I mind either way at the moment, but it would be nice to know.”

Cassandra blinked, and a sound halfway between a laugh and a sob escaped her lips. “You are alive, Varric. Thank the Marker, you are alive.” she stood and turned away, hiding her face but not before Varric saw tears shimmering in her eyes. “I must tell the healers immediately.” Before Varric could catch up, she was gone.

Varric exhaled. ”Alive is good.”

—

“You should not be coming with us.” Cassandra had tried to wait until they had reached Varric’s room before she spoke, and she almost made it.

“I gathered that from your exclamation in the War Room.” Varric grinned at her over his shoulder as he unlocked and opened the door of his room. “But I have been out of the fun for long enough now, and I will not stay behind while people important to me face a fortress of Wardens.”

Cassandra tried to swallow her irritation and worry. She had stayed by him through his recovery, but the two had settled into a comfortable friendship. By the time they had reached Skyhold, Cassandra had convinced herself that it was enough

Varric crossed the room to his bed. “As much as I appreciate the help, don’t you have to pack yourself?”

Cassandra waved the question off. “I am already packed. Varric, this is a bad idea. You are just now back on your feet. You shouldn’t be rushing into battle so soon.”

“I’m not.” Varric lifted a mostly full saddlebag onto his bed next to the stack of clean laundry. “I’m rushing into a very long, very uncomfortable horse and wagon ride. By the time we reach them, I’ll be one hundred percent.” He topped off the bag then placed what clothes wouldn’t fit into the backpack. He crossed to the table he used as a desk. He quickly sorted papers, add some to his portable writing box, and that too went into his backpack. He added it and his bedroll to the pile on his bed before turning back to where Cassandra was watching him.

“Alright. I’m ready.”

Cassandra glared at him. “You were already packed!”

“Yes, and so are you.” Varric pointed out calmly.

“Varric,” but Cassandra didn’t get any farther before Varric interrupted her.

“There is no way you are running away from me again,” Varric said as he crossed the room in two strides and pulled her into a kiss. With the warm press of his lips, the heat of his hands on her face and neck, Cassandra was burning, and she would gladly burn forever.

Varric pulled back, just enough to meet her eyes. “Do you want me to stop?” Varric whispered.

Cassandra couldn’t answer fast enough. “No.”

“Good.” Varric kissed her again. Cass slipped her hands under his shirt collar and down his back, rasping her nails against his skin. Varric groaned, kissing her jaw and neck, pulling a similar sound from her.

Her hands continued travelling over his skin, down his chest until they were halted by his shirt.” You are wearing too many clothes.” She said.

“Says the woman wearing armour.” Varric laughed against her throat, and the vibrations made Cassandra’s toes curl.

She leaned into him, placing her own kisses against his neck. Varric shuttered, and Cassandra whispered against his ear. “What is your plan, exactly?”  

“I hadn’t actually thought this far ahead.”

Cassandra laughed and nipped his ear before she pressed her lips against his again. There was a knock at the door behind Cassandra’s back, and the two broke apart with a gasp.

Varric’s frustration was evident when he answered. “What?”

“Master Tethras? I have a message for the Seeker. Have you seen her?” A voice called.

“Not as much as I would like to.” Varric murmured against her ear before answering the messenger. “You just missed her. What’s the message? If I see her, I will pass it on.” Cassandra pressed her face into his shoulder as Varric began nipping at her ear and neck again. She barely registered the message from Cullen, requesting assistance, or the departure of the messenger.

“You are horrible.” She gasped when she thought it was safe.

“With horrible timing.” Varric agreed.

“I should go,” Cass said, the reluctance clear in her voice.

Varric nodded, cupped her face in his hands and kissed her tenderly. “To be continued,” he said.

“I will hold you to that.”

—

If you would like to read from the beginning, the master post is here. (bare with me, I am having trouble getting the links to work but we will get there.)

I also post to AO3 if you prefer.