shalpilot · 6 months ago
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gay-dorito-dust · 6 months ago
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Hi! I hope your doing well while you read this request! May I ask for HSR Men (Jing Yuan, Blade, Dan Heng, Welt and maybe Boothill) their reaction when after 2 weeks of disappearance from their s/o because of a mission, they came back to them all exhausted and slightly injured. If I can be more precise, can you describe how they acted when they had no news of their s/o et their reaction when they came back please?
Thank you for the attention you’ll give to this request ! I hope you’ll have a great day/night!
-🩵✨
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This is a long one, so brace yourselves! And have a great morning/evening/night! 🦦🐿️
Blade
‘Where have you been?’ Blade hissed, anger laced his voice as he drags you to the nearest surface and eased you on it, keen to avoid worsening your wounds.
‘I was on a mission.’ You sassed, not wanting this to be your first conversation back from a near death experience.
‘I know that,’ he barks as he rummaged through the cabinets for a first aid kit, uncaring do the mess he was making in the process, ‘you’ve been on a mission for two fucking weeks and not once did it come to mind to keep in contact during that time?’ He adds, looking at you with a look that wasn’t angry but instead scared.
Blade had spent the past two weeks going utterly insane form the lack of communication on your end. At first he didn’t think much but by day 12, Blade was more or less ready to included himself in your mission. Unfortunately according to Elio, this wasn’t apart of the script and Blade was made to stay on the sidelines and await your return.
It wouldn’t take long before you came home but you came home in the worst of conditions that Blade had ever seen you in recent memory, and that made him extremely upset. Not at you though, more or less at the person or thing that made those wounds on you.
Communications were down, I had no way of telling you anything.’ You replied, having already grown annoyed at his constant pestering and prodding.
‘Well you should’ve.’ Blade muttered gruffly as he gently took your arm into his hand and examined the wound and had to bite his tongue from saying anything else, but found that task to be a bit too difficult for him. ‘Then I could’ve stopped them from hurting you.’ He added.
You groaned and punched your brow with your free hand, all you wanted to do was go to sleep but couldn’t help but feel warm on the inside at the idea of Blade getting revenge on your behalf. ‘That’s not necessary.’ You told him, trying hard not to wince as he cleaned your wound.
‘And why not?’ He asks, noticing your attempts and wordlessly tries a different approach in cleaning your wound.
‘They’re all dead.’ You replied nonchalantly and Blade couldn’t help but smile. ‘That’s my partner.’ He says but the smile soon falls as he finished patching your wound and looks you dead in the eyes. ‘However the next time you’re sent on a long mission I’m coming with, no excuses.’
You groan again, there was no winning with this man.
Jing yuan was trusting in your abilities to keep yourself safe but the longer he went without update of you nor progression of the mission, Jing Yuan grew worried that something had happened.
He already lost a lot, he didn’t need your loss on top of all that. He lost hope on appreciating that he was living once, he knew that if anything happened to you he would relapse into those old ways but with no chance of recovery.
He would try and fail many attempts of making contact with you, only to be met with static as a responses which didn’t exactly help his hope in seeing you that slowly began to dwindle the longer he tried, until he stopped trying all together.
In his mind you were gone a long time ago and he should start his grieving while he could.
However you did come back, but not exactly in the best shape…you were wounded and exhausted but to Jing Yuan you never looked more alive in that moment as he was quick to get you medical attention. Not once did the general think to leave your leave your side as you laid out on the bed, wounds patched up and fast asleep from everything.
He even slept in the chair next to your bed, making sure your sleep went undisturbed and had a familiar face to wake up to as to not feel misplaced somewhere foreign. Jing Yuan didn’t feel entirely comfortable in leaving you alone during this time, especially when you’re vulnerable and susceptible to a plethora of things.
Not when he barely avoided a possibility of never seeing you again. He didn’t care for the reasons why you couldn’t contact him, those can wait for another time, he only cared that you were back by his side and alive.
So he’d fall asleep with his hand laced with yours and his head resting on your lap, acting like your personal guard dog as he kept his body facing towards the door in the instant he had to protect you.
No one would take you from him again, mission or not, you were staying by his side from now on, generals orders.
Dan heng didn’t think much when you didn’t reach out and tell him about the things you’ve found that he might like whilst away, however that didn’t mean he didn’t have a bad feeling about all of it.
He did but he couldn’t prove why as it was too early into the mission to say why he felt that way. Dan Heng always trusted his instincts when it came moments of uncertainty as they’ve always been proven correct. However this was the one time where he really didn’t want that to be the case.
Yet the longer he went without the regular flow of communication between the two of you during missions, Dan Heng felt himself break out into a cold sweat during the night and out of breath from experiencing another nightmare where you didn’t come back from this mission, leaving him utterly heartbroken and lost for the rest of his days.
He couldn’t close his eyes for a single second without the nightmare flooding back to haunt him of a potential future without you, his other half.
He even had nightmares where you were calling out to him for help but he couldn’t hear them and was forced by an higher power to ignore your soundless cries and walk away unbothered. Those were the nightmares Dan Heng hated the most as there would never be a moment in his life where he would ever leave you to such a cruel fate; He’d be more than gladly suffer with you than ever abandon you.
So the moment you came home wounded and exhausted, Dan Heng didn’t waste time in getting you to medical, taking everything the doctor told him to help you heal seriously as your newly appointed caregiver. Some of the time he came across as strict but he meant well as all he wanted was for you to get better and soon, seeing as how you gave him the biggest fright of his life.
He doesn’t let anyone else near you.
You can blame it on his dragon noodle side as it grew overprotective of the fact that you -his mate- were in seemingly left in a vulnerable state. He didn’t care to listen to the reasonings as to why he should let anyone else come near you, not without knowing their intentions in descriptive depth, he could take care of you himself perfectly fine and without any outside help.
He was your partner, you were his responsibility but this was all just an excuse to hide the fact that Dan Heng was genuinely scared of letting you out of his sight, even if it was for five minutes because a lot could happen in five minutes. So now he stays close to you from then on as a precaution, holding your hand in his and squeezing it as thought he was trying to convince himself that you were actually with him weeks afterwards.
Boothill didn’t like the idea of you being so far from him and much preferred for you to stay in contact if you were going to be so far away from him for so long.
However nothing seemed to want to go the way he wanted as soon as he found that he couldn’t contact you. None of his messages were going through and neither were his calls, as he read and reread the message that said you were out of the area for his messages to get through to you.
Boothill grew more and more restless the longer his texts didn’t go through, still claiming you were out of the area, whatever the hell that means and had to actively find ways to de stress because of how often he found himself on the verge of blasting anything and everything that moved.
You were his anchor, his partner in crime and his voice of reason, without you Boothill was teetering on the brink of becoming everyone’s problem should you spend even another hour more away from him.
So when you did come back with wounds scarred across your body and looking as though you were on the brink of collapse, Boothill was made more worried than before. Your wounds weren’t very deep nor life threatening but Boothill didn’t care, you were hurt and he wasn’t made aware of it for the past two weeks.
He wanted to hunt down the bastards who made those wounds on your body and make them pay, regardless if they had a bounty on their heads or not, he’d gladly hunt them down just to set an example as to why you don’t fuck with Boothill’s loved one.
‘Don’t.’ You croaked, grabbing his hand. ‘Just stay with me and make everything okay cowboy.’
Boothill, not one to argue with you, especially not in your current state, obeyed your wish and stayed by your side as you slowly but surely recovered from your wounds with scars left behind as reminders.
Though that didn’t stop him from going off behind your back to hunt the bastards down, he never could let go of a grudge after all.
Welt basically worried himself sick when he didn’t hear anything from you the first couple of days, but was soon talked down from doing anything rash that could potentially put you in even more danger, regardless of his intention of being by your side.
Welt was restless for the remainder of the two weeks, double checking his phone for anything that could push him over the edge and force him into acting.
What happened to you?
Why weren’t you responding?
Were you hurt?
Were you in danger and he didn’t know?
So many thoughts floated in welt’s mind as he was left feeling powerless as he was forced to await your return, hoping that all his thoughts were just that, meaningless thoughts that had no real affect in reality.
He was wrong.
You did come home but you came back with some new wounds and a face that screamed exhaustion. You barely took one step before collapsing into Welt’s arms as he got you medical help.
‘What happened out there?’ He’d calmly ask one day as he held your hand, thumb rubbing the back of it reassuringly.
‘Communications were down,’ you told him as you squeezed his hand, just happy to be back home and with him, ‘then the mission went south as I found myself out of my depth on several occasions, I’m sorry Welt.’ You finish weakly.
‘There’s nothing to be sorry for.’ Welt reassures as he presses a kiss to your forehead. ‘Not all missions go according to plan and all that matters right now is that you’re safe, so please don’t apologise for things beyond your control.’ He adds as he watched you slowly drift to sleep, still feeling a little exhausted from the mission and everything that happened.
Welt stayed awake for a little while longer to commemorate this moment to memory, to treasure it during the moments when you were to be apart from one another again, but until that time Welt would hold you as close as he possibly could and keep you safe to the best of his abilities. Your safety meant a lot to him and he’d rather jeopardise his own safety if it meant that you’d never get hurt again, he’d do it in a heartbeat because that’s just how much you meant to him and todays events only solidified that.
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allmoshnobrain · 1 year ago
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𝐡𝐞𝐚𝐫𝐭𝐛𝐫𝐞𝐚𝐤𝐞𝐫
✧・゚: *✧・゚:* *:・゚✧*:・゚✧
part 21 of ? | masterpost
word count: 4066 | ao3 link | fic's playlist
I blinked, seriously caught off guard. That was too much to take in at once. First thing slamming me was anger—what did she mean by her and my dad being here to pamper me? Weren't they the ones who kicked me out? Cut off all ties? And now, they popped back into my life, not because they missed me or anything, but to wheel and deal for the family name and business—that was their concern. Concern that grandpa's "empire" wouldn't last with me at the wheel. Concern that I wouldn't know the ropes when the time came.
✦ summary: Nore's sense of normalcy unravels as her parents resurface, offering support for her dreams—with strings attached.
✦ on this chapter: dave mustaine x female!oc, oc is cliff's cousin, +18, language, slice of life, angst, complicated/kinda abusive family dynamics
✦ a/n: Hello! This part was a bit longer, and focused more on Nore's relationship with her family. I hope it helped understand her character a little bit better! I haven't included all the "lore" regarding her parents in the chapter directly but I recently made a post here explaining it a bit for anyone who's curious! I haven't been able to write a lot because I had some power/internet outage problems at home, but now that everything's back to normal I hope I can update more quickly! And we'll have some more James x Nore interactions on the next part :) Hope you liked reading, feedback is welcome!
✧ nobody's daughter, she never was, she never will / be beholden to anyone she cannot kill ✧
The next few weeks weren’t exactly easy.
Dave and I usually kept our relationship light; we rarely argued, and if we did, we patched things up quick. We got each other too well and just couldn't stand being apart for too long. We were young. We were in love. At that time, no issue seemed big enough to mess with that.
But this time, it was different . It's not like Dave was giving me the cold shoulder, but I could tell he was still feeling the sting from everything that had happened with the album and his songs. He started isolating himself more and more, hanging out at David's place for long stretches, diving into his new band. When I tried talking to him about what was going on, he'd just smile and steer the conversation elsewhere. It was like all that easy, spontaneous intimacy we had from the beginning was vanishing, slipping through my fingers like water. 
And it freaked me out.
Being away from my cousin and my friends didn't make things any easier. I knew they had my back, but it's not like I could spill my guts to them over the phone about Dave. Since I'd left home, I'd felt sad and angry a bunch of times, but by September, I was more down than I had been since I first moved in with Cliff. Still, I held onto the hope that things would get back to normal soon.
Little did I know what the end of the year had in store for me.
It kicked off with a surprise phone call one evening. It was nighttime, and Dave and I were catching a break, chilling and watching some random movie on TV while sharing a cigarette and a beer when the phone decided to ring.
"I'll grab it," I said, jumping up from the bed. Dave gave a nod, his brow furrowing as he focused on rolling another joint for us to share. I rushed to the living room, picking up the phone. "Hello."
"Ellie?" a voice I knew too well replied, making my heart race and my jaw drop in surprise. "Is it really you?"
"Dad?" I blurted out in shock. In the whirlwind of my new life, getting a call from my father after nine months of radio silence was probably the last thing I expected.
"Hey, Ellie! So, this number is really yours. How've you been?"
"I... I'm okay, but... Dad, what's going on?" The words tumbled out, confusion turning into genuine concern. If he was calling out of the blue, something serious must have been up, right? I couldn't think of any other reason.
"Can't a dad check in on his daughter?" He said it casually, like it was no big deal. I furrowed my brow, annoyance quickly replacing my concern.
"You haven't said a word to me in months," I shot back, my voice shaking a bit, my eyes threatening to fill with tears as a whirlwind of emotions churned in my chest — first of all, anger. But then hurt. Confusion. And pain.
I glanced up at the sound of footsteps, spotting Dave leaning against the bedroom door frame with a lit joint in his hand. He gave me a questioning look, his concerned brown eyes checking out my state. I sighed, motioning for him to hold on. He came over, wrapping an arm around my waist and planting a gentle kiss on my shoulder, which managed to coax a small smile from me.
"So, Ellie, your mom and I..." my father hesitated on the phone, sounding a bit unsure of himself. "We were thinking that maybe we've been too hard on you. We just got back from London..."
"You went to visit grandma?" I snapped, my anger surfacing in the way my voice cranked up. "That's what this call is about, huh? I'm guessing she wasn't thrilled to discover you kicked me out. Bet she and grandpa gave you a reality check!"
"We went to celebrate your mom's birthday. And yes, we saw your grandparents," my father went on, his tone getting a bit sterner. "We were just thinking... It would be nice if you and your boyfriend could join us for dinner sometime. You know, your mom misses you..."
"Oh, bullshit."
"She does. Eleanore, it was her idea to send you that motorcycle as a gift. She thought it might lift your spirits a bit. Maybe you'd swing by..."
"She's always pulling that stunt!" I grumbled, annoyed, cheeks warming with irritation. "I can't be expected to read her mind. And for the record, I didn't ask for whatever gift she sent my way!"
"I get it. Ellie, I get it," my father reassured, clearly trying to ease my frustration. "Look, I think she regrets laying it on you like that. Especially after talking to your grandma... She just wants to fix things."
"Then why didn't she just call me herself?"
"You know how your mom is. She thought maybe you'd be more open to hearing me out. And, hey, it's not like I don't miss you too," he said, explaining. I took a deep breath, still annoyed but conceding that my father had a point. I could have a conversation with him, but if it were my mom on the line, I might've just hung up. "Ellie, she's trying, alright? It's more effort than she usually puts in. Give her a chance..."
"She didn't give me any chances. Why should I be the one handing them out?" I questioned, my voice now getting choked up as my anger gave way to the underlying hurt I was feeling. My father sighed, seeming uncertain about what to say.
"You can come next weekend if you want," he finally replied, straight-up ignoring my question and making me groan in frustration. "I'll ask Marcy to whip up that pumpkin pie you like, what do you think? Mull it over, alright?"
Then, he hung up, leaving me with a heavy heart and an anguish that had been haunting me for months but that I just didn't want to face. I slammed the phone back on the hook, maybe a tad harder than I should have.
"Hey. What was that?" Dave asked, leaning his chin on my shoulder and pulling me closer, his arms around my waist. I sighed. "Was it your dad on the phone?"
"Yeah," I murmured, my voice trembling a bit. He nuzzled into my neck, planting a soft kiss on my smooth skin, his lips moving up to my cheek for another kiss.
"Babe, you know you can talk to me if you need to," he whispered. I sighed, pulling away a little to meet his gaze, a mix of concern and seriousness in his eyes. I managed a faint smile, the hurt in my chest blending with the happiness of having, even if just for a moment, the old intimacy between us. "What happened? What did he say to you?"
"I just... I hate this!" I finally let it out, a tear rolling down the corner of my eye and making its way to my cheek. Dave cupped my face in his hands, wiping it away with the tip of his thumb. "My family’s always doing this. They act like the stuff they do to me, the way they treat me, doesn't matter. Like it doesn't hurt me! It's messed up."
Dave sighed, pulling me closer in a comforting hug. I knew he didn't have all the words, but I could feel him trying to ease my pain. I sniffled, a few more tears streaming down my cheek as I buried my face in his chest.
"My dad invited us for dinner... Both of us, him and my mom," I laughed bitterly. "It's funny, isn't it? They kick me out of the house, and then they think they can invite me to dinner, like everything's normal. Like nothing happened."
"And do you want to go?" he asked, softly, his hand soothingly stroking my back. I shook my head with a sigh.
"I... I don't know. I think that's the worst part," I admitted, pulling away and meeting his gaze. "I'm so angry, but I still miss them. I think that's what hurts the most."
"That you can't help but love them, even though some of the things they do hurt you?" he murmured, and I felt my heart tighten at the bitterness in his voice. "Maybe you should go, Nore. Maybe it's a good chance for you to patch things up with them."
"I don't know if I want to do that," I whispered, and he gave a slight smile.
"Yeah, I get it. Come here," he pulled me close again, his lips meeting mine with an unexpected hunger that sent warmth through my body. I clung onto his arms tightly, my nails leaving small crescent marks on his fair skin, while his lips moved down to my neck, kissing a spot that Dave knew would make me sigh and shiver, forgetting, even if just for a moment, anything but his body against mine. He pulled away, his familiar crooked smile on his lips making my heart race as he lifted my chin with his hand. "You can think about it later... How about coming back to bed with me?"
The car screeched to a stop in front of the big light-yellow house. I sighed, feeling more jittery than I'd like, despite the chill evening and the sun setting, casting warm hues all over the landscape. I knew my decision to visit my parents in Long Beach with Dave's car was a bit of a rebellious move against their expectations, and I hated it. They probably anticipated me rolling up on the motorcycle they gifted me. Instead, there I was, with my boyfriend and his car — two things that could potentially give my mom a nervous breakdown.
Dave raised his eyebrows, whistling softly as he checked out my parents' garden.
"You fancy-ass kid. So, this is where you used to live?" He chuckled and playfully nudged my arm, but I could tell he was a bit surprised. He seemed to catch quickly onto my nervousness; his eyes instantly turned serious when he saw my expression. "Hey," he said, his hand gently holding mine. "We don't have to do this if you don't want to. Okay?"
I nodded. Honestly, I wasn't entirely sure why I agreed to visit my parents or let Dave come along and meet them. Maybe, despite all the drama and hurt, there was still a part of me that missed them. Perhaps deep down, I hoped they'd be proud of me — for standing on my own all this time, for finding someone who cared about me and loved me. For not turning out to be the failure they expected when they kicked me out, assuming I'd come running back at the first sign of trouble.
But deep down, I knew that wasn't happening.
"It's okay," I squeezed Dave's hand, attempting a confident smile. "We're already here, right? Let's do this."
Dave and I stepped out of the car, strolling across the well-kept garden until we reached the front door.I paused for a moment before ringing the doorbell. Then, the door swung open, and my dad appeared, beaming when he saw me, the blue eyes I got from him shining.
"Ellie!" he exclaimed, pulling me into a hug. I blinked, a bit confused, but returned the embrace. He pulled back with a smile, seeming only then to notice that Dave was by my side. "Oh. You must be David?"
"You can call me Dave, sir," Dave smiled, shaking my dad's hand, but I could see he was a bit nervous.
"Pleasure to meet you, Dave. I’m George." my dad smiled, a bit more serious than before. "You've arrived just in time! Marcy is almost done preparing dinner. Let's go inside."
Dad walked in first, and I followed suit. Dave strolled by my side, holding my hand gently. He leaned in, whispering in my ear:
"Ellie? So, is that what your parents call you?"
"Just my dad. And I hate that nickname," I murmured, and he laughed.
As we strolled into the house, Dave scoped the place with raised eyebrows. The living room was cozy and rustic, sofas, armchairs, and rugs thrown together just right. In the corner, a shelf showed off my dad's vinyl collection. From there, you could head to the dining room through the side door or hit the garden through the glass door at the back. Upstairs, you'd find my parents' bedrooms, my old room, and the library where my parents spent most of their time when they were home.
"Ellie, why don't you give Dave a tour of the library? I'll summon your mom for dinner; she was introducing the new gardener to the plants," he said, jokingly. 
"Oh... Sure," I mumbled. After being away for so long, everything felt way larger and unfamiliar than it should — especially after bouncing around from the little room I shared with Cliff to Leanne's house and then my cozy spot with Dave. I watched my dad head out the back door. Dave linked his fingers with mine, sensing my nerves, and stroked the palm of my hand in soothing circular motions with his thumb. I raised my gaze and met his brown eyes, locked onto my face. "So, wanna check out the library?"
"Actually, I had my eye on something else," he grinned slightly, and I blinked, intrigued. "Your room," he clarified, a mischievous smile playing on his lips. "I want to see how you lived, you know? Before I showed up and changed your life forever."
I chuckled, rolling my eyes before tugging him along by his hand, leading the way to the stairs. We climbed up to the first floor, strolling through the lengthy corridor, passing several doors before hitting the last one right at the end. I twisted the knob, relieved to find that the door wasn't locked.
I sighed as I swung the door open, taking in the sight of my old room. The room was spotlessly clean and organized, meaning that my parents at least kept the place tidy. Next to the window, my bed was neatly made with the same sheets I'd left in a mess before heading to San Francisco. Above the headboard, posters of bands and movies adorned the wall. The door in the corner was open, showing my private bathroom.
Below the window, my study desk, with drawing and painting materials meticulously arranged. In the corner, a shelf with my books, records, and tapes, plus a TV and stereo. It stung a bit to look at it, to reminisce about all the time spent there; everything was the same, but I didn't feel anything like the girl who once called it home.
Dave seemed to understand the contemplation in my silence; he rested his chin on my shoulder, giving me a tight hug from behind before planting a kiss on my cheek.
"Nice room you got here," he remarked, and I laughed, a bit shakily, realizing tears were welling up in my eyes. Despite that, it felt good not to be alone. To have him there with me.
We quickly stepped apart when we heard a knock on the door. I turned around and found Alice, my mom's assistant, eyeing us with her serious gaze, her curly blonde hair pulled into a ponytail so tight it made me uncomfortable just to look at it. Of course, she would be here, I thought with a twinge of annoyance. She smiled, a cold and almost robotic smile.
"Welcome back, miss. Your mother is waiting for you in the dining room," she said, then turned and left, seemingly not even acknowledging Dave's presence.
I sighed, annoyed, feeling the anxiety in my chest rise in a wave of panic that subsided as soon as I felt Dave's fingers intertwining with mine again. He smiled at me reassuringly.
"Let's go," he murmured. "I guess it's time for me to meet your mom."
I stepped into the dining room hesitantly. It was funny how being near my mom always kind of intimidated me; she was everything I'd never been able to be, everything they expected me to be. I bit my lip as I spotted her, and she turned in our direction. 
My mother was probably the most beautiful woman I'd ever known, tall and statuesque like a model, with long, wavy black hair that reached her waist, a slim and charming face, and serious dark brown eyes. I was nothing like her — much more like my dad, shorter with brown hair, blue eyes, and a much less glamorous body.
"Eleanore," she murmured, with that familiar distinct accent blending Scottish and French. She walked toward me, holding my face in her hands, a faint hint of affection gleaming in her eyes before being replaced by disapproval. "Oh, God, what happened to your hair? Did you cut it yourself?"
"Leave the girl alone, Clémence," my dad spoke, sitting in one of the armchairs in the corner of the room, casually reading the day’s newspaper. He looked up, adjusting his glasses on the bridge of his nose. "She's old enough to know how to take care of herself."
My mom pursed her lips slightly, then let go of my face. She shifted her attention to Dave.
"You must be David," she spoke resolutely. I could see the disapproval in her eyes shifting from me to him, like he was a pet she didn't really like but had to put up with. If Dave caught onto that, he hid it well. For the first time since we had met, he was completely serious, which probably meant he was a bit on edge. "Well, come along. Dinner is ready. We were waiting for you."
We sat down for dinner, and my nerves were all over the place. I could hardly taste the food, and it seemed like Dave was in the same boat. I reached under the table, giving his knee a reassuring caress. He shot me a smile.
"So, Dave... You're one of Cliff's friends, huh?" my dad asked.
I noticed Dave's jaw tense a bit, but he managed a polite smile.
"Yep, we used to share a place. That's how I got to know Nore."
"And what do you do? Are you a musician too? You know, I have a pretty large vinyl collection here at home. Love music. Always wished I had the time to pick up the drums," my dad kept the conversation rolling with a grin, and I could see some of the tension in Dave fading away.
They chatted about music for the rest of the dinner, and slowly, I started to ease up. Mom stayed pretty quiet, her eyes bouncing between me and Dave like she was trying to figure us out. But Dad seemed genuinely interested in getting to know my boyfriend better. By the time dessert was served, I almost felt like we were a normal family again.
When we finished eating, we cruised back to the living room. Dad and Dave went straight to the vinyl collection, and Dad put on a Led Zeppelin album, the music filling the living room softly. That's when Mom got up, giving my arm a light touch.
"Come with me, Eleanore," she said in a low voice before heading to the garden. I hesitated, glancing at my dad and Dave, still deep in their conversation, then decided to trail after her.
We wandered through the backyard garden, the flower beds and trees soaking up the gentle glow from the property's lamps. Mom sparked a cigarette with a sigh, and we drifted in silence until we hit the pool area. She eased into one of the lounge chairs under the covered spot before looking at me.
"Take a seat," she motioned to the chair right across from hers.
"I'll pass," I muttered, and she raised an eyebrow.
"Why do you always have to complicate things?" she asked, and a surge of anger bubbled in my chest. Classic mom move: the woman who couldn't go an hour without emphasizing how I was a screw-up.
"Does Dad know you picked up smoking again?" I asked, a bit acidly. She looked up at me, a small, cold smile playing on her face. I knew my mom; she could front like she was flawless, but she had her flaws, just like I did. At least I owned up to mine.
"I smoke when I need to focus.You know how insane the end of the year gets at your grandfather's company," she shot back, sidestepping my question. "Or you would know if you cared about the family business instead of living in your love fantasy."
"My relationship is not a fantasy," I frowned, and she scoffed.
"If you say so," she flicked the cigarette butt to the ground, crushing it with the tip of her heel. "So, you know your dad and I just got back from Europe. I talked with your grandfather, and we came up with an idea... Oh, please, Eleanore, spare me that face. You haven't even heard what I have to say!" I tried to hide the displeasure that surfaced on my face. Nothing good ever followed when my mom claimed to have an idea. Never. "Well, as I was saying. Your dad and I think it's time for you to invest a little more in your future."
"Not this again," I grumbled. "Mom, I don't want to go to Law School!"
"I'm not asking you to!" she retorted, her tone sharp and irritated. Then she sighed, as if making an effort to calm down. "Look, we know you love art. You were part of the Theater Club in school, and you enjoyed your drawing classes so much! But I don't want my daughter to just finish high school and call it a day. It wouldn't be suitable ."
"And what's your deal, then?" I asked, getting a bit defensive. Until now, Mom didn't seem to be pushing me into anything specific, but I knew she never dangled anything remotely cool in front of me without expecting something in return.
"Your father and I are willing to pay for any course you want, at any university you want. What do you say?" she asked, a slight grin playing on her lips, but her eyes stayed icy. "You can study wherever you want! You can be close to your cousin, your new friends, your... boyfriend. Pursue the arts career you want. But," she raised an eyebrow. "you have to be aware of your role in the family business. So, you'll get involved in the day-to-day routine, learn the ropes, and be ready to handle everything when your father and I aren't around to pamper you. Fair deal, right?"
I blinked, seriously caught off guard. That was too much to take in at once. First thing slamming me was anger—what did she mean by her and my dad being here to pamper me? Weren't they the ones who kicked me out? Cut off all ties? And now, they popped back into my life, not because they missed me or anything, but to wheel and deal for the family name and business—that was their concern. Concern that grandpa's "empire" wouldn't last with me at the wheel. Concern that I wouldn't know the ropes when the time came.
On the flip side, it was kind of a tempting offer. I mean, having my parents backing my dreams would be awesome, even with a few strings attached. I used to dream about more than just ringing up customers in record stores; I missed the days when I had time to create , to be part of something. But, if I went for it, what would it mean for me and Dave? Would we drift even further apart?
I didn't want to dive into that mess. Too many details, too many what-ifs.
"You don't have to figure it all out now," Mom said, her tone soft, like she was reading my mind. "Whenever you want, Eleanore, you can come back home. We'll work things out then, okay? Just take your time."
With that, she got up and casually walked back inside, leaving me to grapple with my thoughts.
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bloggsbyrara · 1 month ago
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Upon opening her roblox profile, LanaDoesNails you will stumble upon  5 favorited games: Forest, Questionnaire, Sanningens Galleri and The Fortress (And DTI)
Forest
"Forest" is the first game where players can explore clues about Lana's disappearance. It leads to a sunflower maze, with Lana look-alikes influencing the journey.
Along the way, brief sentences hint at Lana's past, revealing a girl diagnosed with a terminal illness that caused financial ruin for her loved ones. At the maze's end, a portal leads to a grave with Lana's name engraved on it.To navigate the maze, players must follow paintings and sunflowers, while avoiding more Lana doppelgangers by hiding in bushes. At the end, a script of code appears that translates to  "You may have finished her trials, but the evil still lurks throughout. This is not the end. There will be chaos.."
Questionnaire
"Questionnaire" is a game where players can interact with Lana and her associates to uncover more details. It's most valuable when Lana is present, but players can still explore the area, discovering gravestones, tables, sunflowers, and more. Outside the main map, players can find various settings, including a playground. On 02/08/24, a group of players reported seeing a body near the stage after resetting next to it. Around the same time, a group calling themselves a "cult," led by Loki (username "ZephyrJPlayz"), formed to uncover the truth about Lana and her associates.
The Fortress 
Alongside the "Dress to Impress" game, the Roblox account also manages a group called Saudade, a Portuguese word that conveys a sense of longing or melancholy. As of April 20th, 2024, the group had opened applications for members interested in collaborating with Lana. The application included a set of questions aimed at potential candidates.
Are you Affiliated with the Awakening?
Are you aware of what will happen to you and your affiliates if you betray us?
Describe why your passion is to be a "nail tech" for us.
How good are you at hiding generational secrets?
You serve to "paint nails" and protect Lana. At all costs.
As of August 20th, 2024, applications to work with Lana in her group Saudade have closed. The group's bio now states:
"To the Patrons:
This marks the beginning of a revolution, a new era where we unite against evil. In Saudade, we create a path of strength and resilience, igniting events that will transform our world. Join our rebellion. Together, we are unstoppable.""
At one point, Lana's avatar wore an eye patch, and she posted in the *Saudade* group, “I do not need an eye patch.” In early May 2024, she changed her avatar to an all-black outfit, hinting at hidden meanings behind these changes, though none have been revealed yet. Currently, the *Lanadoesnails* account's About section reads:
"Trust me. I will be back soon, and my reign will never be over. You've just killed one of me. Just kidding, I'm really nice."
(The following part was in code):
"Something has taken over my account. Spreading lies and their agenda. I don't know if you still trust me, but if you do, please help me."
Her group Saudade is known for cryptic messages, like the shout that once read, “I am real.” In her final questionnaire, Nelly and Nathan confronted Lana, accusing her of taking body parts from group members. This led to anger outbursts from Lana, followed by a vote asking, “Do you trust Lana?” Most voted no, and in response, Lana became furious, threatening Nelly and Nathan, who vowed to stop her. Lana replied, “Try me,” before everything went dark, ending with her saying, “You have only killed one of me,” and everyone was kicked out, marking the end of the last questionnaire.
CHAPTER 2 
After Nelly and Nathan killed Lana, the “Questionnaire” game updated with a portal and the bodies of the executed—Sunny, Michael, Rafael, and Lana—beneath it. Later, it's revealed that Lana was revived with the help of a player named Agamemnon, who leads his own group called “Plague”. Recently, LanaDoesNails launched a new game called “The Fortress”, featuring a hallway of doors, each leading to rooms filled with notes and secrets.
Two new doors have been added to *The Fortress*. Lana revealed she's been dreaming of a man who accused her of exposing secrets, saying, "This isn't your first offense." Though she feels curious, not afraid, she admits she doesn't understand his intentions. Lana also shared that she underwent chemotherapy.
Someone close to her claims this year's Lana isn't truly her, warning that she's in danger and will be killed again.
Sanningens Galleri 
The Sanningens Galleri, or Truth Gallery, is filled with photos of Lana and Agamemnon. Mannequins, mostly torsos, are positioned as if they’re viewing the images, with some circling a mysterious object. One photo shows Lana with a monster behind her, suggesting she was kidnapped and replaced. Another photo features Lana with one missing eye. The gallery has specific rules: leave when the clock stops ticking (what happens if you don't is unknown) and avoid venturing too far inside. If you do, there's a jump scare featuring the monster from behind Lana. There's also a hidden farmhouse photo, likely her home.
One badge in the game is called "Drömde," which means "Dreamed" in Swedish. This may relate to the monster Lana has been seeing in her dreams, as suggested by the poster "Have you dreamed this man?" found in The Fortress. Here are both the translated and original descriptions of the badge: 
Non-Translated: Utal skicklighet men med förmåga lyfter du mig ur ledsnaden Ytterst sakta som visste du att det som rycks upp kan tappa något på vägen
Translated (By a Swedish speaker): Countless skill but with ability you lift me out of sadness Very slowly as if you knew that what is snatched up can lose something on the way
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sunderedazem · 1 month ago
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Hey! It's been a while :D I've been off the Internet for a bit but just know both of your updates have been giving me essential bits of life energy, even though I haven't had time to type something out in appreciation until now. First things first I absolutely love what you wrote for the 'stay?' prompt, it's exactly what I hoped and imagined what could have happened if things hadn't gone so wrong back then. Seriously, it's like you took a look into my brain, I was really imagining scenarios of helios coming back and taking care of an exhausted emet selch 😩 such good food thanks so much for that.
Okay so back to the actual ao3 updates, I couldn't believe that you guys did the tempering cure so early XD ahhhhhh it was so good! The way it was just a slight shift of perception, how emet selch goes off just barely holding it together, the line "I always believed I would see them again" broke me so bad like how dare you 😭 but honestly finally processing his grief now is great cause it'll be so much better when Hyth comes back 😈 iirc that that's happening. One of my favourite bits was emet selch having company while the cure was being administered, idk there's always something about having support while you're healing. Corrain's writing is superb as always, in the tempering fic as well as the Sharlayan one, he comforted emet selch so well and it was very interesting to see his point of view when he snapped at thancred, poor guy needs a long break and so much therapy. I haven't read the most recent lelesu writings yet but ahhhhhh she has such big sister energy? Such a solid anchor, it's so great every time she gives support.
I think that's all my thoughts for now, so that this doesn't get too long. Thanks so much for the new content, and I hope the both of you are doing well!! Many well wishes <3
Okay! Now it's time to sob over this ask so excuse me while i
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And YEAH we couldn't wait to untemper that bastard man and break him even worse. Like imagine waking up and the thing you've been working towards for the last thirteen thousand years is not only principally opposed to what you believe is right, but also now you have to accept that everyone you'd ever loved is dead and gone and will not come back.
(And then they do. Because we are stealing Hyth. And then also stealing Elidibus from Pandaemonium like sorry Athena that man is ours now. And then Hyth is spotting Lahabrea's soul mixed in with Nidhogg and they are Stealing (and helping him put himself back together, and confiscating his wife's evil space rock) him too. And we are stealing the Sundered Ascians as we find them and curing and collecting them, because they all deserve a chance to recover from the literal apocalypse knowing that the star is actually safe. Anyway. I have emotions about the first Final Days and how nobody who lived then deserved what the world and Hydaelyn ended up giving them, no matter if it was necessary or not.)
To be fair it most likely only feels fast because most of what happens in Shadowbringers and the post 5.0 patches happens as it does in canon and tby rewriting all the Same Stuff seems kinda jejune so we skipped it XD. There are a few more pieces from SHB in process though, we just have to finish them.
And YEAH GOD. Corrain can be very cruel on occasion, and him snapping at Thancred for having EXTREMELY JUSTIFIABLE RESERVATIONS (even if he was a jackass about it) wasn't his finest moment. He doesn't even honestly feel so upset about Minfilia, he liked her alright as a person, and she WAS kind to him, but in the moment he's purely reacting in anger, and it dredges up some really nasty parts of him. This is a trait Helios had as well, if uh. You read the Final Days breakup fic XD.
And YEAH I ALSO NEED MORE LELESU ALWAYS. She is so SASSY sometimes. Hey @azems-familiar give us your girl. Grabby hands.
Honestly I know I'm late actually answering but this made my week last week 🥺🥺🥺💙💙💙
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northern-passage · 2 years ago
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everytime youre on my tl, you’re seemingly fighting for your life or ranting
so just wanted to say hoping you take care cause great heavens
i don't really know what to say to this but yeah i am aware of the state of this blog - unfortunately it's all but devolved into a space where im just dealing with constant harassment so it's not very elegant or fun at the moment. i do my best to ignore it and i feel embarrassed every time i have to respond to stuff on here like that but it's about the only interaction i get currently and it's just frustrating and exhausting. despite how it may seem i actually try to avoid directly talking about it or publishing certain asks because again it's extremely embarrassing and this is a game dev blog where i would love to just talk about my game, but i know i struggle with handling it and it can be obvious if/when i'm having a difficult time and i'm overwhelmed. as much as i try to keep this blog more "professional" i know my frustration and anger is still very apparent in some of my posts; sometimes i feel like i want to be transparent about it and that's usually when i do make those posts addressing certain things wanting to bring attention to it and the community. but i also know that it can be just as frustrating seeing it second hand through my blog, especially when you are just here for game content, and i don't blame people for being annoyed about it.
i do think some of the discussions i've had on this blog previously have been interesting and really positive, so i don't necessarily regret it completely. this isn't a personal blog, but neither is it "professional" by any means (it's tumblr lmfao) and i'm not trying to be - i like having it as a way to be more personable and have nice interactions with readers and other authors, it's been invaluable irt receiving good feedback, but i also like having good faith discussions with the community and talking about various things that are important to me. so... i don't know what i'm trying to say here; basically, i am aware of how i come across, and it is something i know i need to be better about, especially on a blog that is meant to be focused on my work. but i also don't feel the need to completely compromise myself or my opinions for this community's approval, either - and to be clear, i'm under no delusion that i am better than anyone else for this; this is just how i've personally chosen to curate my space, for better or worse.
i do appreciate the nice messages i have received recently, i don't publish a lot of those either simply because it makes me feel uncomfortable to respond to them publicly... but i am grateful for them. with an update coming very soon i am hopeful that this blog will see more positive interaction and i'm excited to share it with all of you again. thank you for all the kind words, thank you for supporting me even through these rough patches, and i really do mean it when i say i appreciate it all very much.
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rhazimpulsivelyposts · 21 days ago
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My coworker is giving me anxiety in the way that I feel like he’s mad at me too? But like I don’t feel like I deserve it and maybe he’s just mad in general and my response to him thinking he is going something nice came off hella rude to him?
Like a month+ ago, or it feels like that long, I went down to Hollister to move some IT Equipment and the trip ended up being so bad that I called him into rescue me basically. I left a piece of equipment there that I need, it’s like a tool. I’ve been trying to get it back from him but we like almost never meet up at the same place and when we have I feel like I’ve forgotten to ask about it. I only remember I needed it because I went to work on multiple security camera tickets where cables needed to be landed back in a patch panel, and I didn’t have this tool.
Recently and separately, I had to go back to a store I thought he was going to finish taking care of, and he never did. Out of frustration for the circumstance I had to deal with I had mentioned that I thought he was coming back with an adapter and didn’t. I was going to move a piece of equipment back to the room we had initially moved it to, and unmount and remount a Starlink dish , but he took this ticket from me and said he would just do it. I didn’t really want to do it anyways, but this is the second ticket he’s just kinda overhauled and took.
Part of me feels like he is annoyed that I had called out that it was never actually finished so he wants to just take it and finish it and stop having me in between stepping on his toes about it.
Also today our Supervisor asked for an update on 4 stores, two of which I’m pretty sure my coworker completed already. I mentioned that I got most of it done but that I’m waiting on parts as to not “terminate all the cables male” and to “do it properly” .
When my coworker said he was leaving the tool at a store I knew I wouldn’t be going to for a while I should have just said “thank you” but I didn’t x.x I said something like “darn I won’t be going there for a while it would be cool if it was somewhere closer to where I’ll be at but it’s ok I bought a new one anyways “
My coworker responded with “I’m pretty sure this site is a lot closer than the site you left it at but sure I’ll drive :40 minutes to drop your tool off at the hub”
Like … I’m sure I’m taking this joke wrong, but it gives me anxiety that I feel like I should have just said thank you. Like maybe he is burnt out too and annoyed with work , and maybe he’s upset with me for calling out the unfinished work at the site, and maybe he thinks me saying “doing it proper and not terminating all the cables male” was a dig at him when that’s not what I meant at all I was just saying I could of terminated them all male and got them up yesterday but I wanted to do it right and not have to cut all my male tips off to make them female to put them in a patch panel.
I enjoy my coworker, and I didn’t think we had issues, but sometimes I feel like me wanting to finish the job or do it a specific way, makes him feel like I’m making him look bad, when that is not my intent.
Like my first few on-call weeks I would answer calls as they came in, and complained it was stressful and he said not to do that. But one of his reasons was “then they will expect that” which made me feel weird but that’s what I would want as a customer? Or as a user? And it is stressful to pick up every call as it comes so I get the want and the need not to, but I also hear it from our users when they call on-call and don’t hear back for almost the whole hour we have.
It’s like a weird line in trying to walk between admiring the work life balance, but still having the too strong work ethic that I have.
I’m just trying to remind myself that I haven’t done anything to warrant him actually being upset with me besides I guess not thanking him for picking up a tool for me that I had left at a further site. His anger or attitude may not even be anger or attitude and I just took it wrong over text? Or his anger and attitude is probably due to stress from work or from life.
I do a good job, and I think I’m a pretty easy person to work with as long as you are also doing a good job.
I’m going to stop ranting and go back to putting the giant mountain of laundry in my closet away . My supervisor gave me a free day because I also was starting to burn myself out again, and I’m going to use it to catch up on the chores I’ve been neglecting due to work …again 😅
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cherriipeachcreme · 6 months ago
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!! Please read my Carrd before interacting !!
I decided to update my D.igital C.ircus OC again, and give her an orange + pink color scheme instead of pastel + black. She's still a candy themed mouse, but she's not an NPC. Basically she has white fur, pink hair, green eyes, and an orange + pink outfit. (I thought that color combination would be more unique compared to pink + blue/purple, and also look better with the green in her eyes.) For now her name is Muffie, but idk if I'll choose another name later on.
Normally she's a bit shy, but warms up quickly to those who are friendly to her. She doesn't interact as much with the less social characters, preferring to give them space. But despite this, she often gets angry at J.ax and tries to stop him whenever he torments others or causes trouble, and tries to stand up for G.angle when she doesn't stand up for herself. Muffie also laughs every time J.ax deals with a minor inconvenience or is angered when there's no violence or chaos, but she would still feel bad if he was genuinely saddened and wouldn't want him to be in any danger either. She is a gamer in her human life and initially joined the D.igital C.ircus aware that it's a virtual world, but starts to panic when she finds out that she can't leave or even remember her name.
I have a sort of AU idea for her regarding the recent episode, which I'll put under the cut:
Basically she returns to the C.andy C.anyon Kingdom to try to save all the citizens from The F.udge, and asks why the bandits wanted to steal the maple syrup. After things have been resolved, they return one of the syrup trucks to the kingdom while the bandits keep the other one, and things get patched up between the two groups.
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first-impressions-gaming · 2 years ago
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GAMING RECAP (APRIL 10-15)
Suicide Squad: Kill The Justice League Delayed To February
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Suicide Squad: Kill The Justice League has been delayed to next year following recent rumors that it wasn't going to make its May 26 release date. 
The superhero co-op shooter will now launch on February 2, 2024. Developer Rocksteady posted a short message on Twitter stating it wants to “take the time needed” to ensure the best possible experience.
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Never Alone and Beyond Blue are next week's free Epic Store games
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Epic has revealed the next batch of weekly freebies heading to the Epic Games Store, with developer E-Line Media's BAFTA-winning Never Alone and its acclaimed oceanic follow-up Beyond Blue both set to go free next Thursday, 20th April.
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Ubisoft+ Multi Access comes to Xbox consoles
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Ubisoft+ Multi Access is now available on Xbox consoles.
The subscription service provides access to games from Ubisoft's catalogue. Multi Access allows access across multiple platforms with one subscription, including PC (through Ubisoft Connect), Amazon Luna, and now Xbox consoles. The library includes the latest Ubisoft releases on day one, as well as DLC and classic games.
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Company of Heroes 3 coming to PS5 and Xbox Series X in May
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Publisher Sega, in association with developer Relic Entertainment, has announced that wartime strategy sequel Company of Heroes 3 will be making its debut on PS5 and Xbox Series X on May 30, following on from its initial PC release in February of this year.
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Sega is reportedly set to buy Angry Birds studio Rovio for $1 billion
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According to a report in the Wall Street Journal, which cites people familiar with the situation, Sega Sammy Holdings is in talks to buy Rovio in a deal worth around $1 billion.
The report suggests that as long as the talks don’t break down and aren’t drawn out for any reason, the deal could be done in a matter of days.
Rovio had previously been the target of Playtika, an Israel-based mobile developer best known for its casual slot machine, poker and hidden object games.
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Players voice anger as Warzone 2.0 DMZ introduces pay-to-win bundles
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Last night, Season 3 of Call of Duty Modern Warfare 2 Warzone 2.0 went live. Reception to the added content in Warzone 2.0 DMZ has been negative, with players taking to social media to criticise Activision for including pay-to-win elements.
The patch notes for the Season 3 update state that "certain" bundles have been added to the game's store which have additional Active Duty Operator Slots included.
Players start out with 3 slots by default, and there's no other way to obtain more other than buying the new Bomb Squad bundle, which costs about £8.40. The cosmetic bundle contains other perks which players have pointed out will give those who pay for it an advantage over those who don't.
One skin upgrades the player's backpack, allowing them to carry more items. Dataminers have found reference to a bundle which will let players start with a UAV, which will presumably be put on sale in a future season.
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PC Game Pass has just launched in 40 new countries
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PC Game Pass is coming to 40 new countries as of today, offering a limited-time offer to those who join in the first three months, and rewarding those who were part of the Game Pass insider program with several months of free membership.
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PlayStation Plus Game Catalog lineup for April: Kena: Bridge of Spirits, Doom Eternal, Riders Republic and more 
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Continue reading the full list
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starrysnowdrop · 3 years ago
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Character Profile 🌸
Yume Aino
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Since it is VERY long, it is under a cut. If you do read this, thank you so much for taking the time out to do so!!! 🥰
((Updated as of Patch 6.55, 03/19/2023))
BASICS//
Name: Yume Aino
Name Meaning: Yume = “Dream”, Aino = “Of Love”, both of Hingan (Japanese) origin. "Aino" is also the name of the now dormant volcanic mountain that Aino Castle is built upon, and the clan itself took its name from the volcano. Theoretically, Yume was named as such because she was to be the "Dream of the Aino Clan".
Unsundered Name: Unknown
Age: 24 in ARR, 30 as of Post-6.0
Nameday: 13th Sun of the 3rd Astral Moon (May 13th)
Gender: Female
Race: Au Ra
Tribe: Raen
Nationality: Hingan
Languages: Modern Hingan, Most Far Eastern Dialects, Old Auri Tongue, and Eorzean Common Tongue
Profession: Former samurai and heir of the Aino Clan; Currently a ronin, adventurer, and Scion of the Seventh Dawn
Education Level: Home schooled by private tutors in Hingashi, and is particularly knowledgeable in history, cultures, and languages.
BLOODLINES//
Father: Lord Masanori Aino (48 in ARR)
Mother: Lady Michiko Aino (45 in ARR)
Siblings: 2 younger brothers, Daichi and Kentaro (Ages 8 and 6 in ARR); Numerous half-siblings born of her father and his concubines
Extended Family: Large extended family, but her best friend is her first cousin Rei Tokugawa (25 in ARR)
Children: None, and cannot have any biological children due to her injuries from attempted Seppuku
ROMANCE & SEXUALITY//
Sexual Orientation: Bisexual, attracted to all genders equally
Romantic Orientation: Aromantic
Significant Other: None, with no serious long-term relationships so far.
Past Relationship: Has casual sex, and has had several friends with benefits in the past.
RESIDENCE//
Place of Birth: Born in Aino Castle, in Lord Masanori Aino's territory not too far outside of Kugane, Hingashi
Current Residence: Small apartment in Shirogane
TALENTS AND SKILLS//
Canonical Job: Samurai, though canonically referred to as a Ronin; some of Yume’s abilities are unique and distinctive from the in game job (From early childhood to Present).
Abilities: Kenjutsu, Martial Arts, Marksmanship, Writing Poetry, Dancing, and Polyglot
Bad At: Singing, Magic, Public Speaking, and Controlling her anger at times APPEARANCE//
Hair: Naturally jet black in color with straight bangs and pulled back into a high ponytail most of the time, and medium-long length. After the light corruption of her aether during ShB, her hair turns pure white permanently. Yume dyed her hair black from end of 5.0 till after EW. Post-6.0, Yume stops dyeing it. Her hair is now white, and she still favors ponytails.
Eyes: Large, wide set eyes; Royal Blue in color with lighter blue limbal rings surrounding the iris.
Face: Heart-shaped, with ivory colored scales on cheeks and bridge of her long, thin nose.
Lips: Full, plump lips
Complexion: Fair, can mildly tan with extended sun exposure
Blemishes: None
Scars: Though she has many small scars accumulated over the years, the most prominent one is a large, very deep scar from the right side of her abdomen to her belly button.
Tattoos: One large tattoo of a Phoenix spreading its wings that covers her entire back in all red ink.
Height: 5 fulms 2 ilms (Tallest Height for female Au Ra)
Weight: 120 ponze
Build: Petite and athletic but curvy with a large chest.
Features (Au Ra): Horns are slightly curled and sloping backwards away from her face; tail is long and smooth with a few small spikes near the base. Scales adorn her body and face with a small speckling of scales above the bridge of her nose.
Usual Hairstyles: Usually pulled up into a high ponytail with straight bangs for battle, but she tends to also pull up her hair into a side ponytail with braids while not fighting, and recently she has worn her hair down with a white headband.
Usual Face Look: Light makeup, usually a light reddish-pink eyeshadow, black eyeshadow and eyeliner, and neutral colored lip gloss.
Usual Clothing: Black leather, black colored robes, black or dark colored kimonos, black dresses, and some dark red and dark blue accessories. Basically, Yume asks, “Does this come in black?”
Face Claims: Either one of the Chinese actresses Zhang Ziyi or Fan Bing Bing.
Voice Claim: Marilyn Monroe, but just add a Japanese/Hingan accent to it. Listen to an example HERE. PERSONALITY//
Introverted / Extroverted / Ambiverted (bold what applies)
Positive Traits: Friendly, polite, respectful, reserved, courageous, brave, kind, compassionate, empathetic, open minded, optimistic, intuitive, loyal, faithful.
Negative Traits: Temperamental, prideful, aggressive, cynical, possessive, distant, insecure, reckless.
Fears: Living a life without making her own choices, having regrets, and the death of her loved ones, though not afraid of dying herself.
Aspirations: To live a life that she has chosen for herself and not forced upon her by someone else, to help others and use her powers for good, and to see the entire world for herself.
Traumas: For past traumas before ARR, you can read Yume’s history below. Most of the events of ShB and EW were really traumatic for her, especially the light corruption, and pretty much all of EW.
Hobbies: Writing poetry, travelling, learning about other cultures, learning history, reading, and shopping
Vices: Eating too much junk food, bottling up emotions until she explodes, shutting out others when feeling depressed, feeling insecure about herself outside of being a Warrior of Light.
Faith: Believes in the concept of Karma and that everything happens for a reason, but does not believe in the Kami or any other kind of god, at least ones that aren't primals anyway.
Turn Ons: Loyalty, Compassion, Kindness, Confidence, Bravery, Integrity, Intelligence, Humor, Charm, Unique eyes, A beautiful smile, A muscular physique, and a large chest (of any gender).
Turn Offs: Cowardice, Dishonesty, Disloyalty, Deceitfulness, Cruelty, Superficiality, Greed
Temperament: Phlegmatic/Choleric
MBTI: INFP-A
Soul Type: The Warrior
Tropes: The Chosen Many, Lady of War, Aloof Dark-haired Girl, Dark and Troubled Past, Samurai, Ronin, Warrior Poet, Honor Before Reason, Seppuku, Mystical White Hair, Locked Into Strangeness
Songs: “Paint It Black” by The Rolling Stones (This one is also her OC tag), “Weight of the World” from Nier Automata, “Sayuri’s Theme” from Memoirs of a Geisha, and “Wandering Flame” from FFX
Character Inspirations: Chiyo/Sayuri from Memoirs of a Geisha, Mariko from James Clavell’s Shogun, Auron from FFX, Tifa Lockhart from FFVII, Rei Hino/Sailor Mars from Sailor Moon, Trinity from The Matrix, Daenerys Targaryen from A Song of Ice and Fire, and Jasmine from Disney’s Aladdin
FAVORITES//
Book: Chūshingura, translated as The Treasury of Loyal Retainers, commonly known as The 47 Ronin.
Deity: Nald’thal the Traders
Holidays: Heavensturn and Moonfire Faire
Month: 3rd Astral Moon (May)
Weather: A warm, sunny day with a light breeze and fair to clear skies.
Time of Day: Dawn
Places: Kugane, Eastern Thanalan, Mor Dhona, Lakeland, Old Sharlayan
Sounds: The wind, chimes, Taiko drumming, birds chirping, and crackling wood of a campfire
Scents: Cherry blossoms, tea brewing, incense, and candles burning
Tastes: Anything spicy, strawberries and cream, sushi, curry, ramen, matcha green tea, coffee, chocolate.
Feels: Leather, flower petals, Hingan silk, and a warm fireplace or campfire.
Number: 2
Colors: Jet Black, Dalamud Red, and Gold
SYMBOLISM//
Elements: Fire and Light
Gemstone: Amber
Animal: Birds of all kind
Mythological Creature: Phoenixes
Flowers: Cherry blossoms and sunflowers
Season: Late Spring and Early Summer
Land, Sea, or Sky: Sky
Astronomical Object: The Sun
HISTORY//
History (Pre-ARR): ((Content/Trigger Warnings Ahead!! Ritualistic Suicide/Seppuku, Attempted Suicide, Mental and Emotional Abuse, Slight Depictions of Self-Harm, and Discussion of Potential Incestual Marriage; Feel free to skip over this section to avoid!))
Yume was born the oldest daughter of a Daimyo (feudal lord), Lord Masanori Aino, and was raised from birth to one day become a samurai. She excelled in all her studies and was driven to be the best on the battlefield, yet she always felt like something was missing from her life. As she got older, she travelled often to Kugane, the famed port city where merchants from all walks of life congregated. Yume was exposed to people with vastly different cultures and traditions from the ones she knew. She was fascinated with the travelers from distant lands that she had never seen before, especially the Eorzeans.
When she came of age, Yume’s family began the search for a suitor for her to wed. Many clans were interested in marrying their son to the daughter of Lord Aino, but Lord Aino looked for perfection, and no man around her age was good enough for his daughter; this is considering that she bested every would-be suitor in one-on-one combat. Yume pleaded with her father to allow her to decide for herself who she wants to marry in her own time, but her father forbid her from ever speaking of it again, for she would shame him and bring dishonor to the family name.
Soon after Yume’s 18th nameday, her father announced her betrothal to Lord Nobu Aino, her own uncle. Nobu had lost his wife due to illness, and he never fathered children with her. To ensure that he will have children of his own, he wished to wed a young woman with many years ahead of her so that she can give him many children. Yume was appalled; it was commonplace centuries ago for uncles and nieces to marry in Hingashi, but it is a dying tradition that only the daimyo and the shogunate participate in, as most of Hingashi frowns upon it in modern times.
Yume felt trapped in the station in life that she was born into. Her family never sought her approval of the suitor, nor was there any room for her to decline the betrothal. Though she wished for nothing more than to become a samurai, she did not want to be forced into a marriage with her own uncle, nor to be bound to a fate that she never decided for herself. This led to the biggest decision she ever made: she confronted her father and refused to marry Nobu.
Her father tells her that she has dishonored him and the family, but Yume responds that he has shamed her and she cannot live like this anymore. Lord Aino responds by telling her that if she cannot live with the shame, then she must commit Seppuku, or ritualistic suicide.
The next day, the ceremony commences, and Yume is fully prepared to take her own life. Just as she begins to slit her belly open, her father stops her and tells her she does not have to die but must live in shame. Yume survives the attempted seppuku, but the damage to her organs was extensive, and most of her reproductive organs were removed, so Yume can never have biological children. Soon after she recovers from her wounds, the family disowns her, and she must leave her household, never to return. Yume agrees to this, and never sees her family again.
After she has fully recovered and left her father’s lands, Yume becomes a mercenary in Kugane for a few years until one day she decides that there is nothing left for her in Hingashi, and she leaves for Eorzea, a land that she has always dreamed of seeing.
About them as of current story patch: As of patch 6.55, Yume has just finished dealing with Golbez and the threat from the Void, and she is planning to rest for a while in Kugane before signing up for anymore adventures. (She will likely be going to Tural in Dawntrail, but I am waiting to see how, as she doesn’t travel there with my main WoL Hali, Wuk Lamat, Erenville, and the others.) NOTE: Yume's story follows all of the major events of the MSQ as she is a Warrior of Light. The only major canon diversion is that in her canonverse, there are multiple Warriors of Light (notably my main OC Hali Aloke and my friend's OCs). Yume won’t always be the main focus of certain MSQ events however, as my main WoL is Hali.
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illegal-spiegel · 4 years ago
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No Lying
Pairing: Katsuki Bakugo x gn!reader Genre: fluff Warnings: mention of blood (from a wound), making out  Summary: Bakugo gets hit with a quirk that makes it impossible for him to lie  Updated on 10.19.20
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you’re apart of the Bakusquad 
you’re best friends with Mina, so it was only natural for her to rope you into her friend group 
Bakugo didn’t really ever talk to you at first unless it was an insult or he was yelling at you
you didn’t mind though, seeing as how he always acts like that
eventually though, he gets used to you being around and starts to chill tf out 
you think he treats you like the rest of his friends now and you couldn’t be happier
he doesn’t though
he doesn’t get his other friends their favorite snacks. He doesn’t help patch them up after a rough training session. He doesn’t yell or insult you as much as the others. You’re definitely not just a friend to him but shh we don’t talk about that
you all were a happy friend group for months until the ‘travesty’ happened
someone hit Bakugo with a quirk that makes him tell the truth anytime he tries to talk 
you all found this out after first defeating the villain 
“Hey, Bakugo. Are you okay?” you ask worriedly as he sits on the ground with blood running from his head after being hit with a powerful blast 
“No, my head is aching and throbbing,” he answers honestly before instantly choking up 
normally, he’d brush off everyone’s worries and brag that he’s completely fine and he doesn’t feel a thing 
but why did he just say that? 
that wasn’t at all what he was going to say
you thought it was a little odd too that he was being so honest but you weren’t about to call him out on it when he’s in pain 
“C’mon. Let’s get you to Recovery Girl,” you say as you help him up
he goes to say that he doesn’t need your help standing up and that he doesn’t need to see Recovery Girl 
but instead, he says, “Thanks. I really appreciate it.” 
you almost fall flat onto your face out of surprise 
the Bakugo just thanked you 
Katsuki Bakugo, the hot-headed, headstrong, tempered, anger issues having boy just thanked you 
you stutter out a ‘you’re welcome’ before dropping him off with Recovery Girl
he was red in the face for the next hour. It was mostly embarrassment but he was a little angry too that he didn’t lie 
while he was there, he found it impossible to lie 
he didn’t even tell Recovery Girl this because that would’ve been too embarrassing 
when he got home, he refused to talk unless he knew some nonsense wouldn’t come out of his mouth 
he tried to just be straight up silent but then everyone would start worrying about him and it was really just a bother 
you ended up hanging out around him more though whereas the others gave him his space 
“Why are you following me around so much?” he asks you one day, the question being more so out of curiosity than anger 
he always sounds angry though 
so you took it as you’re annoying him 
“Oh, I’m sorry. I’m just worried about you. After that one fight, you’ve been really quiet. I just thought-”
“Thank you for worrying about me.” 
GOD DAM-
“You’ve also been really nice here recently and it’s honestly freaking everyone out.” 
he can’t believe he slipped up again 
he stayed quiet for a moment, knowing he needs to tread lightly or else he’ll slip up again 
“I don’t mean to,” he admits. That kind of sounds like something he’d say 
“Oh, okay. I just don’t want you thinking you have to change who you are to be friends with us,” you reassure with a warm smile 
he goes to say he knows that
it’s the truth so he can easily say that
so tell him why he says this instead 
“You have a beautiful smile.” 
he instantly slaps his hand over his mouth, absolutely mortified right now 
you both gawk at each other, cheeks as hot as an inferno 
neither of you can believe he just said that 
the Bakugo just complimented you 
Katsuki Bakugo, the hot-headed, headstrong, tempered, anger issues having boy just complimented you 
you both remain silent for at least a minute, not knowing what to do 
is he pranking you or something? He’s not really the pranking type though 
just as he goes to silently leave, you squeak out, “Thank you, Bakugo. That means a lot coming from you.” 
you’re staring at the ground and refuse to look at him 
his heart is honestly beating too fast for his liking and he needs to get out of there 
“Don’t mention it,” he says as fast as Kaminari’s bolts before briskly walking away 
both of you are flustered for the rest of the day and no one can figure out why 
he keeps acting like a love-sick fool and he hates it 
he keeps complimenting you and saying nice things and ugh 
when does this quirk end? 
it’s been five days and he’s still acting like this 
he just wants to call you a stupid brat to wipe that cute dumb smile off your face 
on the fifth day, you come up to him and ask to hangout 
this is nothing new for you two 
what is new, however, is his answer 
instead of brushing you off and letting you beg for him for a while
or agreeing but informing you it’s going to be boring 
he says, “I’d love nothing more.” 
he didn’t even realize that this was the truth until he said it 
you’re shocked that he agreed so easily and even said that he would want nothing more than to do that 
while you two are hanging out, you decide to be upfront with him 
“Bakugo, do you like me or something? You’ve been so nice to me and complimenting me a lot. I-”
“Yes, I do,” he replies casually as if you two are discussing the weather 
he takes a swig of his water before realizing what he just said to you 
the water goes down the wrong pipe and the next thing he knows 
he’s choking 
he hacks out a lung while you pat his back 
you’re kind of glad this happened because you need a moment to process his answer
he just straight up told you how he feels 
oh my god
once he’s breathing normally again, you two are sitting in silence once more 
“I, um, like you too,” you admit quietly, biting your lip afterwards 
“Don’t bite your lip. That’s my job,” he says as he puts his thumb below your lip and forces your bottom lip out of your mouth 
he can’t believe he just said that either 
is that too forward? Did he scare you off? 
“Then why aren’t you doing it?” you whisper back, your eyes meeting his 
your face is the hottest it’s ever felt 
he seems to notice but only pays attention to that for a second before  his eyes are closing as he kisses you 
you two makeout for a while 
and after that, you two makeout a lot 
like, all the time 
you two do it in secret though, per your suggestion 
you just figured that Bakugo would want it that way seeing as how you two will be teased a lot and it’ll just piss him off 
after one specifically spicy sesh, you pull back to pant for air as you look him over 
god, it really is illegal to look this good 
his hair is disheveled from your hands 
his lips are a little swollen from how hard you two were kissing 
he has red marks littered over his neck from your lips and teeth
and you’re sure you’re much worse than him 
“Hey, I’ve been meaning to ask. If you weren’t suddenly being nice to just be nice, why have you been so kind to everyone and whatnot?” 
you watch him press his lips together, your brow raising as you watch him seemingly fight with himself 
“I was hit with a quirk that makes it impossible to lie,” he admits 
now this is interesting 
you don’t even realize you’re smirking until he speaks up 
“Whatever you’re thinking, no.” 
you pout and wrap your arms loosely around his neck 
“I’m not thinking anything,” you feign innocence 
“Yeah, right,” he replies sarcastically 
you pout before deciding to let the innocent facade go 
“When did you start liking me?” 
you watch his lips press together again, a blush rising to his face
“C’mon, just tell me! I’ll tell you how long I’ve liked you if you tell me first!” you compromise 
he huffs and rolls his eyes, doing his best to give you a bored look as he says in a monotone, “The sports festival.”
your jaw drops at this 
that long ago? You weren’t even in the Bakusquad yet!
“Awe, you had a crush on me without me even knowing,” you coo, playfully pinching his cheeks 
“Shut up. Your turn,” he snaps while smacking your hands away 
you giggle and wrap your arms back around him, thinking for a moment 
“Well, I thought you were cute on the first day. But then you’re ego was just so big and you were just so angry—”
“Okay, I get it,” he interrupts, glaring at you 
you laugh at his reaction and lean forward to give him a sweet kiss before continuing 
“Then, Mina had me join your friend group. I got to know you better and I realized how you show your affection for others. It’s all just hidden behind harsh words and actions. I see through it now though,” you finish softly, brushing some of his wild hair back before watching it spring back up 
he stares at you for a long moment, just remaining silent 
“That’s one reason I like you, you know. You’re so observant.”
you blush at his compliment, quickly hiding your face in his neck to hopefully conceal the embarrassed look coming over your face from his eyes 
“Plus, you’re so easy to fluster,” he teases as he playfully pinches your thigh
the sound of your smacks to his chest are covered up by his laughter 
it didn’t take long for Mina to catch on to you two though 
“Bakugo, do you like (Y/n)?” she singsongs when all of you are hanging out in the common room one day 
all of them wait for him to deny it and start to yell at her 
“Yeah. We are dating,” he says calmly 
they all gape at him in shock and surprise 
“Stop gawking at me.” 
after he speaks again, they all go into a frenzy 
“You two are dating?”
“When did this happen?” 
“Why didn’t you tell us?” 
he pulls you into his side protectively as he growls at them before shouting, “Because it’s none of your business, you extras! You all are so annoying! I want to blow out my ear drums just so I don’t have to listen to you all yap!” 
Bakugo then goes quiet 
he, obviously, doesn’t want to blow out his ear drums 
that was a lie 
oh my god, it’s over 
after a grueling week, he can finally be himself again 
thank the heavens 
“Aww, c’mon, Bakubro.”
“You’ve been so nice this past week. What happened?” 
“I hate all of you. Leave me alone,” he snaps. 
all of them smile at his crude words
every time he’d be nice, they’d frown and furrow their brows 
they missed this 
“You’re so cute when you’re mad,” you tease, kissing his cheek 
“Shut up, extra,” he snaps at you next 
you can’t take him seriously though with his face being as pink as it is and his arm tightening around you
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MASTERLIST
More with Bakugo
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whatsthisascianbullshit · 2 years ago
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Blog Info
A little update is in order! As of patch 6.1 I’m up to date with MSQ, role quests, normal raids, and alliance raids. This blog is not spoiler free but I try to tag major patch spoilers with “(expansion name) spoilers” and include patches in that (so patches for 6.X will be covered with “Endwalker spoilers” for example). I also generally tag posts with the relevant expansion “ffxiv: (expansion name)”
This is not an RP blog but I am very attached to my WoLs and the shared canon I’ve made with my friends, plus I love all the different ask and tag posts and talking about my OCs. I’ve started to dip my toes into writing fics but at the moment they are uhhh for my groupchats only.
I have 3 WoLs I’m more actively playing, though Muireann is my main and the one I’ll mostly be talking about!
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About Tag / Screenies and art of My Gorl
Name: Muireann Uais
Title: torn between “of the Seventh Dawn” and “Finder of False Gods” as her in game title. Headcanon title is “Godsbreaker”.
Battle class(es):
Arcane Historian (mashup of SMN and SCH)
Bladesinger (mashup of BRD and DRK)
Aspects of MNK used in both custom classes if enemies get too close
Profession(s):
Goldsmith, primary income is from patented designs sold through Eshtaime’s Aesthetics and she will occasionally take commissions. 
Adventurer, specifically a freelance adventurer who is not employed by the Scions though she is affiliated with them.
Family:
Silvaire Canaux (father)
Illiette Canaux (mother)
Raer Angathril (Muireann adopted him as her big brother, belongs to @azure-dragonsinger)
“Miss Hanna” (adopted maternal figure, Raer’s mother, also belongs to @azure-dragonsinger​)
General Info:
Muireann was born in Proud Creek, North Shroud after her parents fled Werlyt before it came under Garlaen occupation. She grew up in the small, primarily Duskwight community that had reclaimed the ruins there (this community is not based in canon, I just think it’s a neat idea)
She has been fascinated by stories and songs of adventurers since she was a child between that and not being able to play with other children 'normally’ due to her health issues she was something of a lonely child and never bothered to develop a proper sense of self-preservation.
Muireann is not the name given by her parents, she has an awkward relationship with her ‘childhood’ name and has not been called by it since she started journeying around on her own shortly after the Calamity. She keeps that name a secret and only one person outside of her listed family knows it.
She is not the Warrior of Light but does have the Echo. Hers manifests in the ability to convey her emotions and general intentions to animals and understand theirs in return in addition to the regular flashbacks and protection from tempering.
She is incredibly protective of her closest friends and following the events of ARR and HW she develops an intense fear of losing people and not being able to protect them. She has relatively frequent nightmares about it and it was her primary cause for pursuing greater and greater power. That is maybe changing in light of the most recent patch with a return to seeking out adventure and knowledge for the fun of it.
Despite her sometimes debilitating fear of losing others, she still has not developed much of a sense of self preservation, much to Selene’s annoyance.
She is quick to judge, quick to anger, and can be slow to forgive - particularly if her friends/family have been hurt in any way.
I ship Muireann with so many NPCs there are so many fics please send help.
Going to put Wyn under the cut and leave Sami out (for now) because while I love my alt gals, they aren’t nearly as developed ^^;
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About tag / Screenies
Name: Rammthota Sundwilfwyn, or Wyn for short
Title: TBC
Battle Class(es): WAR, NIN. No custom classes as of yet
Profession:
Ship cook, Wyn worked on a ship before trying her hand as an adventurer and is a somewhat decent cook and fisher. Since she switched to the land she’s picked up botany to add to her repertoire.
Freelance guard, Wyn’s first few jobs were ad hoc, guarding shipments and stalls for Faezghim and Iron Thunder before she got referred up to Baderon for more regular work. 
Adventurer, is the newest addition, but it’s been working out well and has formed a small party with some other adventurers she kept running into.
Family: TBC
General Info:
Wyn was born and grew up on a pirate ship and has known how to swing an axe from a young age. Improving her skills was one of the bigger draws of moving to Limsa.
Wyn is largely oblivious to flirting and has very strong himbo energy.
She’s trying to convince the Lalafel she’s been adventuring with to let her throw him into a group of enemies so he can do the neat book-magic explosions.
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salenakingston · 4 years ago
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Mystery March Day 21 - One of Us
(This is by far the most involved prompt I have done for Mystery March, and so I hope it turned out alright. There will be some more detailed author’s notes at the end of the writing, as there’s no possible way I can fit them all here before it. Just let me express how much of an inspiration you all have been! ENJOY!)
I said, even if I told ya
It all started with an idea, as most every work of art does. Concepts were put in place, branching off from that one base idea. From there, others came together to help get this little project off the ground. Characters were fleshed out, just as the world they lived in where. The team worked hard on everything planned, a true passion project.
When the first video dropped, we were all invested. We fell in love with the characters, story, and music. We couldn’t wait to see more, and despite all the time having to wait, it has always been worth it. Great works take time, and even with a team as dedicated as this one is, they fueled our own passions with previews, updates, character and worldbuilding, merch, and as of the most recent video, a branch into another medium to further tell their story. Their group continued to grow, bringing on more talented individuals, including voice actors.
Fours videos under the belt and one more still to come, they pour their heart and soul into this series, though they are not the only ones who do so. There’s a theory in our world known as the ‘multiverse.’ It is said that all these universes living side by side with one another create everything that exists. Can the same not be said for this team and all the fascinating works of art that came out of this one little series of four videos?
They've been looking for you and only you
It’s a tale of three friends and their dog, all stemming from a terrifying incident inside a cave. One lost their life, one lost their memory, and one lost their arm. What of the last member of their group? He lost his identity. Karma for his trickery would come back to haunt him. Guilt came to consume another, and the last to make it out alive was left wondering what was even going on.
Revenge fueled the one that came back, determined to get back at the one ‘friend’ that managed to cut his life short, and reunite with the love of his life. What started with a chase through a mansion led to the appearance of a tree woman searching for the trickster. The ghost refueled hijacks a truck, gunning down for the familiar van he once drove for all of them.
The woman catches up, shattering the glass wall protecting those in the front seat. The ghost blows the back tire that causes the van to crash. Two encounters branch from this point, one shrouded in the past, and another in the pursuit of revenge. Blonde and blue-haired humans nearly falling at the hands of their captors.
But they survive.
The dog’s true form revealed, the battle commences, blood spilling. As one disintegrates, an opening is left over for a familiar evil to take hold. White became black, demonic nature taking over the once noble being. The three friends left being the ones to bring him free of this grip. What are they to do? It’s all left to be seen...
Darkness is my signal
Not too much is known about this blonde, though despite the change to his physical appearance, there are parts of what defined him that have not changed. He’s had to adjust his lifestyle, but seems to have made the most of his new life. He may have even found some comfort in a bit of an unusual source. Anything to keep him from the self-isolation he seemed content to bring upon himself because of his condition.
So what are you to me, what are we to you?
The cave incident plays out like normal, there is one major change in the timeline of events. The blonde is sent tossed over the cliff along with his best friend, the entity that caused all their problems still trapped inside his body. When the ghost reformed, his anger was washed away at the sight of his friend suffering the same fate, or so he believed. Once free, it was nothing but a rough struggle to hold onto sanity, not just for one of them, but both.
One to keep calm, helping his friend to try and stay lucid.
The other fighting the terrifying entity inside him for control, while changing his body to fit the demon’s needs.
The blonde won, but at what a cost? Green skin covering his body, feet and hands sporting yellow-tinted claws. The posture of his own feet changed, causing him to have to learn how to walk all over again. A tail with a tuft of orange hair, and two large wings attached to his back. Last of course, were the horns on his head, and the blacked out eyes with amber pupils. He was in despair over the turn of events.
At least he had his best friend to help him. He wouldn’t have been able to do this without him. Well, this, and the series of events that came to follow. The two were eventually united with their final friend, but their not-dog wasn’t convinced of the blonde’s mind. It didn’t matter that he didn’t act like a demon, as he still looked like one, accepting the pain brought on him.
Drastic measures were taken to ensure freedom of the ghost, no matter how unnecessary it was. Adjustment takes time, and a good talk was what the four of them needed.
But are you one of us?
Are you one of us?
What seemed like a simple task, well maybe not simple, but one that was plausible spiraled into a long drive across the country in search of a cure for the ghost’s condition. All it took was one ingredient: werewolf blood. Seven weeks after the start of their trip, two were starting to lose hope, the last of their trio determined as always. A blur running across the front of their van was enough to bring their hopes back up, chasing down what looked like a big wolf.
To just miss it. It seemed like another dead end for their search.
Until the blonde was all alone.
The wolf jumped out of the shadows, teeth sinking down into flesh. Were it not for the arrival of the kitsune, who knows what would have happened. The injured one was brought back to his friends, patched up, and taken in for proper treatment. A headache marks the night of the full moon, a night when werewolves are said to be forced to transform. What will happen for them? Most left to the whim of try blue ghosts deemed as blueberries. We shall see where their questions and actions take this new werewolf and his friends.
Tell me, are you one of us?
Said, are you one of us?
Tales of legends are passed down, but come from a place of truth. Those that speak of a king gifted a sword with a beautiful, glowing, purple gem just before the silver of the blade. This is a gift from the Lady of the Lake, and one not to be taken lightly. It comes as a surprise when the weapon turns out to be sentient, and the two not always getting along.
Sometimes the king can be a little harsh on his partner.
And sometimes the sword can refuse to work in situations where his help would be greatly appreciated.
They must learn to work with one another if they hope to overcome the obstacles placed in front of them. The question is can this be done, or will they continue to bicker with one another?
I know that this sounds crazy
An unfortunate case of being in the wrong place at the wrong time causes the members of the separate mystery solving groups to be body swapped with one another. A kid stuck with adult hunters that deal with magic, as well as otherworldly dangers, and an adult stuck with a bunch of kids that seem like they may be in way over their heads. The ultimate goal is for the two groups to come together, and find a way to swap the souls in each body back to their original home.
Easier said than done.
One gets to learn the truth of a horrifying incident, something that tore friends apart, and damaged the people of their group beyond some repair. A kind heart is offered to them despite all this, helping to try and ease the burden even if he has nothing to do with them.
The other sees first hand what kind of trouble a group of kids can get themselves in. His own problems arise, and in typical fashion, does not wish to push them onto anyone he’s been stuck with. It’s a little harder to convince some of this new group of the world he has seen, and learned from; but, if there’s one thing he can do, it’s to still help those around him, and lend a hand when a mystery comes along their way.
Two outsider perspectives looking in, and it’s a matter of what adventures they will have before and after they come together again.
Waiting for this moment, can you see me?
A whirlwind of emotions, pushed only further at the hands of abuse, a blonde is left to flee from his own home to try and preserve himself. He fled through the states, ending up at another corner of the US. His mind might have been broken, but that didn’t stop one person from becoming the most important in his life, nor the three that came to follow from their union. The haunts of old were constantly clinging to him, no matter how careful he was so that none could find him, and even when those fears returned, he never let them get in the way of his family. There was an understanding between them.
But all that fear came crashing back when one single letter was hand passed to him by his former friend’s father.
Even terrified out of his wits, he found the courage to pack up some of his family to return to his old home. The past came back in full force, as well as the reveal of a curse that only seemed to have the power to vanquish. The people that treated him the worst came back to him for help. The same blue-haired girl who’s father delivered the father nearly brought the end of three children with her partner in crime. The wraith that made his life a living hell came back trying to act as if there was something he could do to make up for what he had done.
And the demon that caused all this to happen in the first place was now roaming free...
'Cause I know that you're out there
Almost as if the reset button had been hit, the blonde wakes up thrown into the past, a time when his best friend was still alive, but… it wasn’t the same. The blonde was still the same one from the future, and new friends that his past friends would know nothing about showed themselves. How was he meant to be like his old self when anytime he looked at the purple wearing man, all he saw was the vengeful ghost out for his life?
Events aren’t meant to play out the same way, and they don’t. Despite this, some things can not be changed. The demon still found his way to the same host, though what he chose to do was different. Even with all the chaos, at least the one man didn’t lose his life.
And he gets a front row seat to what his blonde friend had to go through in the future he once came from. It hurt. Emotions still rang high, even if the circumstances are not the same.
This darkness is my signal, come and find me
Sometimes the past can be changed and have one new timeline play out, but what if that same man from the future was now thrown into multiple iterations of the same events, each one spent trying to make it a perfect outcome for all four of them? Well… after a few rounds it didn’t matter if he got to be part of their ending. All that mattered was fixing things for the other three. That was his assigned duty.
Death ended each try, waking the man back up in his bed, whether that be at the hands of someone else, or himself. He just needed more time, plan, and make sure he got it right. He could do it, he was determined to do so.
No matter how much it was tearing him apart.
And when enough was finally enough, it was up to the three left to try and convince him that even with pain, they could continue on with their lives. He didn’t have to keep fighting anymore. He could take an ending that hurt, but one they could heal from, rather than spending so many years trying and trying, all to end with a repeat.
As having to remember all of that hurt.
Are you one of us?
Are you one of us?
What started out as just another night of sleepwalking led the blonde to the steps of a very familiar mansion. Fleeing from an unseen threat caused him to swallow his fear, taking the first step inside. There was no greeting this time, save for the slamming of doors behind him. The only light provided was a light purple of three candles, lifted by the only hand he had. A journey up a flight of stairs and down the hall, coming to a plaque with his name on it.
Entrance strangely granted to him with the twist of a knob from a hand that wasn't there.
The night spent in a bed, waking up to find he had become a prisoner. It seemed death was what would come to him, whether it be at the hands of his former best friend, or by his own. After all, there was a reason his room was on the second floor. Revelations come to light with the appearance of a certain green arm… wearing a familiar, black wristband.
Friendships ruined, for another reason than before. Another friend found searching for him. Both started for selfish means, but it was selflessness that sent him back into the house, even though an evil from the past threatened them once more.
Tell me, are you one of us?
Said, are you one of us?
It’s not everyday that some dive into the past of these character’s lives, but what would happen if one young, scared blonde came across an ancient tree? One that was alive in more ways than one. A strange feeling washed between the two of them, a bond made from the day the blond fled into her woods to hide from the one hunting him. He came to her more than once, and yet every time he did, she sought to rest his soul.
And soon, the tables had turned. Now she was the one in need of rest, though she did not realize it yet until she got the same comfort she once gave to the blonde. His pack adopted her, and he took care of her rot. Names of a powerful thing to these beings, and they knew each other by that power word.
This was not the end of their story. The three friends and dog were reunited, of course the blonde being the one to decide to choose the home where his wooden friend resided. There’s no denying that he was still healing, but he found the courage to try and seek it for himself. The bluenette grew curious about the tree in their backyard, and the final finds an outside source to try and round his curious status.
Are you one of us?
Are you one of us?
The once ghost only turned out to be half deceased, but the hatred still remained. Whether he liked it or not, the blond was at fault; but, he had a plan. One that was sure to fix everything. Find the true cause of their misery, proof that he was just as much a victim.
It was a plan that split their group apart. The dog chose to go with the man on his search, while the bluenette stayed with their half dead friend. The hunt is on, but who’s to tell how the story is to go on from here. Will they each succeed with their goals? We shall see.
Are you one of us?
Said, are you one of us?
The ghost finds himself in the company of others like him. Not ghosts, but skeletons from various worlds. The logistics of how this came to pass is a mystery, though he does not seem to find these details too important. Separated from his ‘friends,’ he finds new ones in this strange group of individuals. They seem to naturally bounce off one another, though some still have trouble catching the ghost’s triggers to his anger. Thankfully, most situations involving this aren’t left to fester.
Their local hang out at Manny’s place is full of stories, interactions between these liked characters. Some funny, some more serious. Whatever the case may be, even if he’s not in the same place as most other ghosts like him, he’s found a place where he can fit in.
Are you one of us?
Are you one of us?
A prince and a noble of green came together, an unholy union that was meant to lead to a prosperous life. Perhaps, but only for one half of that pair. Concerns were dismissed, comfort was sought by an evil man from the one he supposedly loved, and the other tried to find what little comfort there was in his constricting hold. It took the support of two outside his kingdom, and two strangers that wormed into his life to stand up to the terror in his life.
And yet… even with their help… and his desire to lend his help in return…
It wasn’t enough.
A life ended, but the king came back. He was not about to give up on the kingdom he always poured his heart and soul into. Years he seemed to be alone, though one by one, four beings came into his company. He still had those that aided him in life, but now he had more to add to his family. A pink rabbit, golem, a purple imp, and a dark girl with a skull marking. Each had their own story, and a place with him.
And he would see to their safety as much as anyone else in his kingdom.
Tell me, are you one of us?
Said, are you one of us?
Some characters are unique to the world, not all always branching off the main four. Of course, that doesn’t mean there aren’t some made with connections to them in mind. Each is special, and built with as much care as anyone else…
Whether it be a cousin to the blonde, gray with orange highlights rather than the way around, a darker aesthetic, but still similar style to his cousin. A tattoo pattern along his left arm.
A green haired ghost, one met when the group of friends were out together. Something seemed about ready to suck her inside, the ghost reaching out to save her. She seemed to stick with them since.
A young woman dressed in red, blue, and brown. Golden pearls hang from her neck, and a black shawl wrapped around one shoulder. A brown cat accompanying her and group at times, and one that seems to have a power of her own hidden just underneath. 
Are you one of us?
Some characters branching off the core four, and even some of those that were created as their own entity for this series chose to build their stories and characters with one another. Their worlds cross over to one another, relationships naturally build, and so too do the special elements and plots to separate them from one another. Each one of them is equally unique.
Whether it be from the multitude of different colored ghosts, each of them centered around their own story and emotions.
A blue-haired girl with one strand that is lighter than the other. A snowflake twinkled in her left eye, and a roller derby team she has been dedicated to for years counting on her.
The same mechanic, though with more visible scars to the incident in the cave. So much love and care to give, even to those in other worlds, even if the gray faes take a little too much pleasure in bringing him grief.
A black robed king, living far beyond the grave, glowing locks of hair flowing through the air. He’s been seen before, but this one on another plane, a chance to interact with others outside his grown family.
Are you one of us?
Are you one of us?
This amazing group of people, as well as many others come together over a series we all love and cherish. We create our own works of art, but not without credit to the original source. From this point and on, we only seem to grow as a collective, continuing to create as we wait, and surely even after the series comes to a close, it will hold a special place in our hearts. So long as we are all here, we shall continue to spread our joy over mystery skulls animated, supporting one another, no matter how small or big someone may be.
We extend our open arms to one another, and to those new to this fandom...
“Said, are you one of us?”
-----
(Author’s Notes: Seriously, this fandom has been an amazing inspiration, and I’m so happy to be able to take part in Mystery March. There was no other good prompt to really do this for, and I thought this would be a clever way to give tribute to the many amazing people and ideas/stories they have come up with. I tried to keep things short and vague for some, as there are some things I don’t want to give away, so you can check them out if you haven’t. I know there’s no possible way I could get everyone, but I tried to get as many as I’ve fallen in love with and not repeat anyone twice (even though I think I broke that rule twice). Again, thank you all so much, and I hope you enjoyed this.
Credits: (In order of appearance)
@mysterybensmysteryblog, @heilos, @artsyfeathersartsyblog, and the rest of the amazing team!
@lottafandoms (Vampire Arthur)
@ectoimp (Demon!Arthur) / @providentially-demonic (The Devil and the Dead Fic)
@askmysteryskullswerewolfarthur (Werewolf Arthur)
@heilos (King Arthur)
@phantoms-lair (Mirror’s Gaze Fic)
@braveskyered (Knights Fic)
@pi-cat000 (Time Travel Idea Fic)
@thefandomcassandra (The Future Fic)
@tyigra (House of Strays Fic)
@hecallsmehischild (Rest Nestling/Explain it like I’m a Tree Fics)
@neversleepagainau 
@atomi-cat (Boneheads)
@ask-twoyearsafter / @kanaiekla (The Cruel Irony of a Prophetic Love Fic)
OC’s: @nerv0usm3chanic (Lucan), @binaconfusa (Frog), @lauritanaomystery (Laurel)
RP Blogs: @splatterlewis, @lamentinglewis, @frenzys-furnace, @bluescarfvivi, @punsandfuturekingsmen, @diviinc​)
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lucrezia-thoughts · 4 years ago
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Every Story is a Love Story
CHAPTER 5: PENNY FOR YOUR THOUGHTS?
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Pairing: Marcus Pike x (F) Reader
Warning(s): angst at the fact that Marcus Pike is just a character (why is this man not real?? 😭), angst, kissing, reference to asshole ex..
Series Summary: You never expected the story of how you met the man of your dreams to start with, ‘He walked in while I was ass up on his desk moaning about how handsome he was…’
Chapter Summary: Sacrificing one love for another was never what you wanted and you honestly weren't sure how much longer you could take this...
Link to Master List
~~~~
Sacrificing one love for another was never what you wanted and you honestly weren't sure how much longer you could take this. Marcus made you so very happy, but at the same time things with Sam were strained. You'd gone through a rough patch in your friendship with Sam once before and you'd sworn it would never happen again, but yet...here you were.
"Penny for your thoughts?" Marcus' voice drew you out of your musings. The two of you were snuggled up on his couch watching old black and white movies a few weeks after your first meeting. It still amazed you how quickly everything was moving for the two of you, but yet...it never felt rushed. You turned to answer him and found he was already facing you with concern etched in his handsome face...that had to change immediately.
You reached up, cupped your hand around the scruff on his jaw, and leaned forward to give him a quick kiss. As soon as your lips touched, though, the fires of passion, that seemed to be always just under the surface recently, roared to life. Before you knew it, you were straddled across his lap and starting to roll your hips into his.
"Baby..." You heard Marcus groan, but captured his lips in another kiss before he could continue. You slid your tongue into his mouth as he gripped your hips, pulling you closer to move against him. That action caused you to moan into his mouth and grind down harder against him. As you made out like horny high schoolers, you let your hand slide down his chest towards his belt. Before you could start opening it; however, he caught your hand in his.
"Honey...honey, stop." Marcus panted as he pulled back from the kiss. You whined when his lips left yours, but you didn't try to stop him again.
"You don't want to..." You started, but Marcus rubbed his hands along your back.
"Oh, I want to, sweetheart. " He bucked his hips up against you so you could feel the rigidity of his desire for you. "But I don't want to have our first time be a form of avoidance for you."
Your breath caught in your throat at his astute read of the situation. "Marcus..."
"Talk to me, baby." He pleaded with you and you felt tears start to pool in your eyes. "Hey...what's this?" He reached up to wipe away the tears that fell.
"I...I" You tried to talk, but the flood gates had opened and you were crying in earnest. Marcus was quick to wrap his arms around you and tuck your head under his chin and against his chest as he started to rock you.
"It's okay, honey. I'm right here." He murmured as he let you cry as long as you needed. When the tears finally dried you stayed curled up against him, listening to the soothing beat of his heart.
"It...it's Sam..." You hiccupped and Marcus just kept rocking you and listening. "H-He's so d-distant."
"Is it because of me?" Marcus asked after it was clear you were done speaking for the moment.
"Y-Yes and no." You tugged at a stray thread on his shirt to avoid looking at him, certain you'd find anger written on his handsome face.
"How can I help fix it?" Marcus asked after a few moments of the only sound being Jack Lemon objecting to a marriage in Some Like it Hot.
Your head snapped up from his chest to look him in the eyes. "You...you want to fix it?" You asked incredulously. That was something your ex, Luke, would never have done...and that was one of the reasons for your rough patch with Sam in the past.
Marcus furrowed his brow at your question. "Of course, honey. He's your best friend." He said it so casually, you couldn't help bursting into tears again.
"No, baby, I'm sorry!" Marcus tried to backtrack quickly, clearly unsure what he did that caused this reaction.
You couldn't speak, but you shook your head until he cupped your face in his hands and started pressing kisses to every part of you he could while murmuring how he was 'so sorry, honey' and 'just tell him what you need and he'll do it.'
When you finally stopped crying again, you tugged on Marcus's shirt and pulled him into the deepest kiss you could muster. You poured every ounce of love, gratitude, and passion you had into the kiss and moaned when his hands slid along your body to pull you closer.
Breaking away from the kiss, you panted and said the three little words that had been on the tip of your tongue for days.
"I love you."
~~~~
CHAPTER 6: WE DON’T HAVE TIME, BABY
~~~~
A/N: I simultaneously regret nothing and everything, but I’m having a blast writing this! As always, comments and feedback are love!! Oh, and please let me know if you want to be tagged on updates!
TAG LIST: @sirowsky @mrschiltoncat @alberta-sunrise @fleurdemiel145 @mrsparknuts @jedi-mando
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All of this stems from me thinking about that time All Might punched Izuku on the beach. Also none of this really expands on how the other students of 1-A and U.A. interact with Izuku.
Hey, y'all ever think about the fact that before U.A. Izuku had never had any good teachers, (that we've seen) all of his teachers were complicit in or encouraging of his bullying. So he probably doesn't have much trust in teacher figures. I mean, sure All Might is the #1 hero and his idol, but during his first ever in person interaction with him he shattered his dreams and then flimsily builds them up again with the 'gift' of a quirk, training Izuku for the power. (Kind of telling him he needs to change himself if he wants to be worthy of having a quirk, even if All Might means in the physical sense). ALSO, All Might (who was quirkless before Nana gave him One For All) is implying to Izuku that the only reason he's worth effort is that when he is given OFA he won't be quirkless. Izuku is gifted the status of human. A quirk is necessary to be treated right, granted human rights, and considered of worth. Ok he gets into U.A. then in his first ever class with All Might as a teacher, he's essentially complicit in Bakugou's treatment of Izuku just like all other teachers he's had. (Also he has no teaching license?) (Bakugou should have been trained in the correct and appropriate usage of his gauntlets). Now Aizawa is another story teacher & trust wise. When he first meets him with the quirk test Aizawa seems to write him off, yes he doesn't have the full story of Izuku's life previously but it should be in Izuku's file that his quirk status was recently changed, Aizawa should have known. Teachers don't normally read all their students files in upper grades (idk about other countries but in the U.S. I mean). Though I know they all at least have important information skimmed. Like IEP's and learning disabilities and special needs. However because this world is different from ours and Aizawa is meant to be training these kids and that's his main focus, taking care of them, he should read all of their files, not just like extreme basics (I'm not even going into my thoughts about treatment of other students in 1-A).
During USJ I think Izuku kind of begins to develop the first dregs of trust in Aizawa, or at least kind of develop the idea that Aizawa won't just outright let him die, because of how hard Aizawa fought for the kids (and Izuku knows his fighting style and abilities so he understands what this fight is for Aizawa) but he wouldn't trust him emotionally what so ever. That brings me to the Sports Festival, All Might tells Izuku to 'show the world he is here' but he gives no Izuku 0 guidelines and no guidance for how to do that or to what extent so Izuku just tries his best to frantically fit what he thinks is All Might's standards for him are to avoid upsetting the person who gave him worth (😒). Then after his fight with Todoroki where he breaks his arms terribly, to the extent of nerve damage and permanent disability, Recovery Girl tells him she won't heal these types of injuries again. So Izuku is back to patching himself up just like he would after Bakugou's beat downs, out of his fear of angering his teachers, without any support. Isolated again. Next is internships, Gran Torino is actually pretty good, if a little harsh. He treats Izuku like he would a perfectly normal teenager but Izuku is anything but, he's got truama all over the place. Gran Torino'a prank is not funny for someone who's been told to off themself and beaten down their whole life. Then all the Stain shit happens where Izuku is literally just trying to save his friend from dying and he actually calls for back up like he should! And gets reprimanded for it (like should he have just let Iida die??? Damn). After internships is final exams. His idol, his teacher, beats him down, using him as a baseball bat to smack another student. (Why are they fighting people who should be taking care of them and guiding them, and does All Might not understand that these are 15 year olds. Like sure villains won't go easy on them but god damn dude). Not only that but while Izuku attempts to work with Bakugou, he gets punched in the face. And no one acknowledges it so he's right back to previous school experiences where Bakugou hurts him for no reason and no teacher does anything. Izuku is perfect at working with others, using his quirk ingeniously, strategizing against a wide range of foes and more, why is he being used to correct Bakugou, to help Bakugou. Why aren't they helping him better himself?? Why aren't they giving him a challenge that's right for him. It's not like he won't work with Bakugou for lack of trying, and Bakugou is his abuser so I don't think it's wrong of Izuku to not want to work with him. They had to have been watching! It's an exam. And after that is training camp, and Bakugou's kidnapping. Not only does Izuku shatter his arms saving a like 7 year old from a sociopathic mass murderer. Izuku then feels it's his fault that Bakugou was kidnapped by the League, thus he feels responsible to rescue him, and none of the teachers even give them the reassurance that they're actually doing anything to save Bakugou so they take it into their own hands. (Also, counseling, excuse me U.A. get these kids some therapy??? So much trauma, from just their time at U.A. alone not counting previous traumas). And then Kirishima basically guilt trips him into going to get Bakugou back while Ixuku is still recovering from shattered arms, yet again. So Izuku goes and then his friend (Someone he saved from becoming a murderer!!! Well, saved him from death via serial killer.), punches him in the face while Izuku is trying to, PEACEFULLY, reason with him.
Then, after they succeed and Izuku watched his idol, his teacher, his mentor, get almost killed. And Izuku meets All Might on the beach probably thinking All Might will try to comfort and reassure him, and most likely wanting to check on All Might. And he walks up to this paragon of safety and peace, and gets punched in the face. WHAT THE HELL. Okay sure All Might then goes on to tell Izuku he's proud of what he did and blah blah blah. But it's never acknowledged that All Might, his teacher and idol, punches him in the face for doing something risky??? No adult should use injury and violence as a punishment against a child. No matter how frustrated, annoyed, upset, and/or angry with the child they are. It's unacceptable.
And that's not even taking into account everything else that happens later. Like dorms happen, Aizawa and All Might come to everyone's house to talk about taking their children and boarding them at U.A together. But when they come to Izuku, Aizawa let's the man with no teaching license talk to the Midoryias alone (😒). I'm with Inko, they've failed Izuku in so many ways already! Why should she let them take him from her completely? But All Might uses his social/political weight as ex-symbol of peace to 'convince' her to let Izuku move into the dorms. So now they all move in and gather on the front lawn with Aizawa. And he basically publicly shames the kids who went to Kamino for going, even though they didn't tell them what was happening or reassure the kids that they were already planning to rescue him. EVEN THOUGH the kids didn't fight, didn't engage, they literally were all released from the hospital and out of school, under the watch and care of their parents, not explicitly told not to go, weren't told not to follow Momo's tracker, and actually acted in a logical manner to save their friend (though Bakugou is not Izuku's friend 😒😒😒). What they did wasn't even technically illegal because even if there was an attempt to charge them with public quirk usage; Todoroki was the only one to use his quirk and they could claim self defense. The school has no control over them being in Kamino, it's a place you can't forbid someone from going to a public place. So they shouldn't be reprimanded. Honestly Aizawa should have been proud of them (I think he's jealous there was nothing he could do for Oboro when they lost him during school). And next is the license exams which is a whole other thing. I should stop here because it's a lot. HAHAHA NOPE. Okay, so they develop their special moves but not really given and guidance or hints on how or anything. Like I get this is something they need to do for themselves but there should be some sort of basis. They're still kids, 15-16 years old. I understand that they're training to be heroes (which I have thoughts on child soldiers man but that's not what this is about) but still! License exam day comes and Aizawa hasn't really given them much on what they'll be doing, how it will work, and who else will be there (😒). This is about as far as my rant will go until I've watched more of the anime and read more of the manga. I'm a little behind but that stems from personal problems so. I'll update this further when I watch/read more of the story.
This was originally posted like 3/24/21 but it's been edited 3/28/21.😘
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Between Bars (Spencer Reid x OC)
Summary: Spencer is wrongfully arrested for murder and placed in Millburn Correctional Facility awaiting trial. While he attempts to survive until his friends can prove his innocence, his cellmate Oscar has an unexpected effect on Spencer during their time inside together.
AN: Thank you to @april-14-blog, @zhuzhubii​, and @imagining-in-the-margins for your unwavering attention and support while writing this. 
I’m writing another post-prison Spencer fic but idk when it’s coming out. I’m still caring for my dad and prepping for my nan’s funeral.
To the anon who asked for an Emily Prentiss x Trans!Male reader smut, it’s in the works I promise!!
Word count: 11k words
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Content warning: Usual criminal minds violence, character death, spoilers for season 12, threats of violence, stabbing, PTSD, mentions of battery, mentions of panic attacks. Let me know if I’ve missed anything.
Masterlist // AO3 Link
“My last roommate got shanked.”
Spencer struggled for a second to keep his composure. The cell door slid shut with a loud buzzer and a clank of hollow metal.
His cellmate, in that identical grey jumpsuit, was tucked up on the bottom bunk with a book in one hand and a green crayon in the other. He was underlining something. Once he was done, his eye lifted off the page. They just as devoid of emotion as his opener was. That scared Spencer more, that this man had clearly spent a long time in here being dehumanised to the point where he held about the emotional range of a mannequin.
But at least he wasn’t violent. Yet.
Spencer approached the foot of his bed. His hands, one of them still sore from the cut on the palm, placed his belongings there. A tremble ran through them when his cellmate moved out of his line of sight; the sudden thought of being stabbed through the underside of his bunk kept him standing for now.
“I’m not gonna shank you.”
Spencer’s shoulders squared, “Ok.”
“Name’s Oscar.”
“Spencer Reid.”
“Welcome to hell, Spencer Reid.”
 ---> ---> ---> ---> ---> 
 His chore was laundry. It was somewhere without sharp objects, which meant inmates brought their own. Spencer was doing his best to walk the balance between standing his ground and not making himself a target. But apparently there was no such line to follow and no help from his cellmate, sifting through his own cart of laundry on the other side of the room.
That was until the inmates began taunting Spencer over his belongings.
“Excuse me.”
The crowd immediately parted to make way for Oscar, whose unflinching gaze pushed them further back.
“Thank you,” he said in the same empty tone. His very deliberate stare landed on Spencer as he passed and collected a pile of towels from the table at the room’s centre. The group around them dispersed and remained so even as Oscar returned to his station.
Oscar’s hands weren’t shaking before then. Now, certainly, as he stuffed bedsheets into the giant machine, a tremble ran through his arms and stuck in his wrists.
Spencer didn’t comment, not even that evening as he climbed onto his bunk, his back pressed hard against the wall. His knees pulled close acted as a desk for his journal. His pen scribbled away long after lights out, putting down his thoughts, his innocence, trapping his worries onto the paper. It was too long until his next evaluation. His notebook was his only confidant now.
A creak beneath him stilled his hand, and he felt himself freeze as the shadow of Oscar rose up from his bunk. One of his hands was behind his back. Spencer’s feet dug into the mattress and forced him hard against the concrete. His eyes flinched shut as Oscar brought his hand out. But they opened as soon as they were closed and they were met with surprise.
In Oscar’s palm sat a red crayon.
“You’ll wanna swap to this,” He said with such a softness that Spencer spent the next ten seconds processing it. His incessant blinking did nothing to clear up what was happening.
Eventually he said an equally quiet voice, “Why?”
Oscar’s shoulders shrugged an inch, the tension he held in them inflexible, “Worst you can get from this is a bruise.”
Slowly, Spencer accepted the crayon with his left hand and rolled the pencil around in the right. “What should I do with this?”
“Hide it.” And Oscar disappeared from view.
Spencer ran his finger over the tip of the crayon before he dragged it across the paper. It would suffice for now. Maybe he could ask one of his friends to send some his way in their next letter. If they weren’t too busy trying to solve his case.
  ---> ---> ---> ---> --->
 JJ’s presence was the most welcomed part of Spencer’s life here. But he almost hated it.
Opposite him, always several inches between them as well as a divider, JJ holding up one of Henry’s drawings but unable to hand it over to him, it drove him insane. The constant reminders on the walls – and often barked by guards – not to touch coated their conversation. JJ didn’t ask about the bruises from his most recent beating. She answered Spencer’s queries, updating him on his case.
Spencer tried very hard not to sound so eager about getting out. His hopes were already dashed to pieces; the fragments were just holding on. He needed that hope to survive but if it grew too strong, it would destroy him.
For half a second, his attention was drawn out of the goodbye to see Oscar nearby. He was standing before another visitor’s table and a young woman who had the same nose as him on the other side.
He missed JJ’s hugs. He longed for one long after she had disappeared from view, shuffling along with the rest of them towards the refectory.
A commotion erupted up ahead. Spencer watched with masked reverence and the rest of the line as Oscar remained unflinching in the volume of the guard’s shouting. Even when he got right up in Oscar’s face, Oscar was stoic as spittle sprayed across his face. Moment after the guard walked away, Oscar wiped his face clean, a terrifyingly neutral expression held together.
Once lunch was done, Spencer re-joined with his new friend Luis in the laundry room, who was still not over Spencer’s injuries. There was something else that Spencer wanted to talk about.
“Do you know much about…” Spencer dropped his voice to barely a whisper, “Oscar?”
Luis looked at Oscar with the subtlety of an elephant seal then back to Spencer to deliver his answer, “He’s gone after people in the prison, but nothing ever gets tied to him.”
And Luis proved his point when Oscar pressed his hands against the stab wound in Luis’ neck, a futile attempt to save his life after Frazier and Duerson’s failed recruiting of Spencer. Oscar fled the scene without consequence, leaving Spencer in the pool of blood, and he never once tripped on his alibi or took off his armour. Not even when Spencer spoke at him about it before lights out.
  ---> ---> ---> ---> --->
 But Spencer found a chink in the armour.
Oscar’s sleeping problems were apparent throughout the night. If his offering of a crayon earlier hadn’t been enough evidence, the yawning and tossing about the bottom bunk. Spencer knew why Oscar was awake too. He wasn’t the type to stay awake to ensure his continued survival. Insomnia was a symptom that Spencer was starting to show too. He had been struggling to rest while he gathered the aforementioned evidence. For some reason, it brought him a slither of comfort, because it made Oscar more human.
Another was the letters he had in his pillow case – the most obvious place to hide something, therefore the least obvious? Reverse psychology aside, some nights featured the rustling of paper
Work in the laundry room continued as if there wasn’t a man murdered in it just days before. Oscar was reinforcing the contrast between yesterday and now with a faint hum. He was clearly a little more comfortable since it was just him and Spencer in the room.
Spencer’s mind pulled up Howl’s Moving Castle which he watched with Penelope. Oh, Penelope. With her bright colours and optimism. It was not a film he pictured Oscar to be a fan of. But he hardly knew him, and he wanted to.
“What song is that?”
Oscar shrugged. A huff forced itself out of his nose. “Don’t remember.”
“It sounds nice.”
He huffed again, clearly closing the conversation. Spencer counted in items he tossed into the machine, flinching still at the marks on the bedsheets. His eye avoided them but landed on the dark patch of concrete where Luis had bled out.
“Oscar, why did you defend me last week?” Spencer asked.
“I don’t know.” The irritable edge in his voice prevailed the more he spoke, “But you owe me so consider this: don’t be a mule for them.”
It was an almost anger that Spencer felt at this request. Surely Oscar would understand, of all people, after being in here that:
“They’ll kill me if I don’t.”
Oscar sighed and turned his back to Spencer, no longer humming. Spencer felt a twang in his gut pluck away at his rage. But he also felt satisfaction in the fact that he had gotten Oscar to crack again. Not in a malevolent way, he felt like he was getting Oscar to open up more and more.
“I’m doing what I need to survive,” Spencer added. For his sake, maybe, but he knew it was a little more reassurance for Oscar.
  ---> ---> ---> ---> --->
 “I am innocent.”
“You’re gonna get killed if you keep saying that so loud.”
Spencer stopped speaking, but he kept moving about the floor space of the cell. The worst part was the walk up to the bars. But, with his notebook confiscated, he had no other outlet and he made sure that Oscar knew this as well.
“It keeps me grounded, reminds me of who I am.”
Oscar didn’t say anything about Spencer’s incessant pacing, simply turning a page in his new book, “That must be nice.”
With a deep breath of stale prison air, Spencer’s speed grew erratic until he very nearly kicked at the bars in frustration. He stopped himself just as the instruction reached the surgery scars on his knee. It stung as he jumped up into his bunk and squeezed his knees to his chest, his arms shaking with the pressure he put on them.
“How many years do you have to go?” He said quietly.
“Half a year until an appeal, six years if I serve the rest of my sentence. You?”
“My trial has been postponed. I was offered a plea deal. But-” Spencer stopped to swallow, a pitiful attempt against the absolute Sahara that was his mouth “- But I didn’t do it.”
His hand pushed the heel of his palm into his eye. The other screwed itself shut as his mind zeroed in on his actions. When Spencer’s hand lifted away, Oscar was standing up in front of him. His white shirt was on show, the top half of his jumpsuit rolled down with the arms tied around his waist. He was stretching his arms up, and his head was tilted a few inches to the left as he watched Spencer with a blank face.
No, not blank.
Open.
Then his stoicism clouded over and Oscar dropped his arms. “Nice rehearsal for the jury.”
Spencer’s irritation became inflamed, “That kind of attitude might get you a badge of honour here-”
“This kind of attitude,” Oscar interrupted, and immediately Spencer regretted his words, “Has helped me survive here. I suggest you stop running your mouth if you wanna do the same.”
The burst of anger fizzled out fast like a firework, and Spencer watched Oscar disappear out of sight with a dull thud on his mattress. But before he could, Spencer had noticed that Oscar’s hands were shaking again, just like he hadn’t seen since the fight in the laundry room – the first one.
Spencer’s hands gripping his shins, he worried that he had lost another… friend? Ally? He didn’t really know what to use as a description for their relationship but Spencer knew what he wanted. Least of all, he wanted Oscar to be upset with him.
“Oscar?”
Nothing. Spencer slipped off the bed and pressed his back against the wall, sinking down until he was on the ground. His eyes were on Oscar, who was staring without seeing Spencer opposite him. Nevertheless, Spencer stayed in his sight and asked a tentative question.
“What’s the first thing you want to do when you get out?”
Oscar blinked and his gaze shifted a millimetre to Spencer and his peace offering. Then Spencer saw it. A quiver of Oscar’s bottom lip, then it shifted and Spencer noticed that Oscar was biting the inside to stop his reaction taking over any more of himself.
When his mouth opened, it released a sigh before he spoke. “Hug my mom.”
Spencer nodded, the stuffiness of his throat returning as he fought to keep back tears, “Me too.”
  ---> ---> ---> ---> --->
 It was an attempt to get Frazier and Duerson off Spencer’s back. Maybe to stop him from taking the drugs himself. The temptation was certainly lingering stronger, with the promise of a temporary respite.
But now the prison was locked down. Shaw, along with four other inmates, were isolated in the infirmary. These were far from innocent men but God that didn’t mean what he had done was right.
He’d done it to survive, but it was still all his fault.
“What’s up with you?”
The gate to their cell sliding shut behind Oscar. He stared at Spencer sat in the bottom bunk, his head in his hands. Footsteps echoed down the corridor before another buzzer and another gate opened then shut again. They were far from alone, the concrete providing an illusion that there wasn’t an endless tunnel with two men per cage.
“Spencer.”
He stood up, dropping the grip from his hair. His ears tuned into the noise from other prisoners. What he wouldn’t give for some silence right now.
“The poisonings were my fault.”
All air sucked from Spencer’s lungs as Oscar was suddenly upon him. He was smacked against the wall, Oscar’s hand over his mouth, his forearm pinning him into place. Spencer let out a cross between a gulp and a sob, caught into his throat as Oscar harshly shushed him. Spencer’s eyes looked around Oscar terrified, he struggled against him.
Oscar’s voice rasped with a spitting disgust, “You’re really fucking stupid!”
And he slammed his weight against Spencer again, his breathing heavy, his pupils dilated, “Don’t you fucking dare repeat that to anyone.”
Spencer’s head knocked against the resolute wall when Oscar shoved him once more, stepping back and creating distance between them. With the ache at the back of his skull, Spencer stared dazedly at his cellmate.
Oscar’s voice matched his haggard appearance when he said, “You’re a dead man, Spencer.”
The intimacy of his name striking right at his heart, Spencer worried that he would join Oscar in tears. But there was no time; a guard rattled his baton against the bars.
“What’s going on in there?” He bellowed into the cell.
Oscar clenched his jaw, “Nothing.”
Then he reclaimed his bunk and faced the wall.
“Into bed, inmate!”
Sparing a glance to the vulnerable position Oscar was laying in, unable to receive the look of gratitude, Spencer got into his bunk. The silence he wished for enveloped him and he longed for it to vanish.
He pressed his palm against his lips. It wasn’t the same as when Oscar did it.
  ---> ---> ---> ---> --->
 His second meeting with Dr. Tara Lewis revealed that Spencer had manufactured his own memory and that he had been coerced. But the BAU needed proof of his innocence, and Spencer resumed his waiting game in the yard.
Oscar was taking a new route around the edge of the wire fencing as opposed to spending his free time in the gym. His shoes scuffed in the dirt, no doubt rubbing a blister into his heel (based on his gait), and his step weaved around the groups to avoid interacting with anyone. Wordlessly, Spencer joined him. Oscar looked at him but didn’t speak.
Spencer’s session with Tara had brought forward a question he had considered asking before. Tara had spoken about his mother, how life was before prison. Spencer missed being known, knowing someone. The rawness of that need hung off his frame with his jumpsuit. Oscar was probably still pissed off with him. But God, Spencer needed to cease this withdrawal from human contact more than anything.
“What did you do, Oscar?” He asked under his breath, “To get into prison?”
“I knew a guy; he was the worst kind of person to get caught up with. He did some things to me. So I beat him up, and I cut his pecker off.”
It all sounded so very rehearsed, and Spencer wondered if Oscar had been planning what to say since they first met. The two men continued to walk in step until eventually Oscar broke the silence.
“Yours isn’t on my to-do list.” The left corner of his mouth twitched as he spoke
Spencer lifted his stare from Oscar’s mouth, hoping the heat around them would mask his blush, “Did he die?”
“No,” Oscar ironed his lips back into a straight line, “Unfortunately.”
“You don’t regret it.”
“No.”
“Thank you for not telling the guard what I did.”
“What did I say about repeating it?”
Spencer pressed his chin into his chest, forcing his mouth shut. It naturally deflected the glares that were aimed in his direction from other prisoners as he and Oscar sat down at an empty table.
“It seems I only give you grief.”
But Spencer’s pity was cut short by that touch of a smile on Oscar’s face returning, “Your company somewhat makes up for it.”
The distractions ended. Spencer was once again aware that there was very little he could do in this place. He restrained his yearning to hold Oscar’s hand across the table, to feel his tender palm again, until he was back in his bunk with an entire night to think about what it might be like in a situation where Oscar wasn’t threatening him into silence.
  ---> ---> ---> ---> --->
 It was going to be another sleepless night.
Spencer reached his arm out of his foetal position and over the edge of his bunk. Oscar was likely still awake; Spencer was hoping that Oscar would ask him about what was up, like he usually did. Like he already had after Spencer’s mother had visited with her new care assistant.
As he waited, Spencer sniffed back his tears. He didn’t want anyone to see him cry, even if tears were supposed to be good for the skin – God knows his skin needed it after all that Dial soap. The red eyes were already hard enough to hide without the addition of damp cheeks. Grief weighed down his eyelids, but fear kept opening them – just in case.
Then five calloused fingertips touched the back of his hand. Spencer gripped the air, his wrist bringing his hand an inch in. But as the fingertips spread across his skin, he allowed them to continue. Oscar’s mattress groaned below him and his fingers linked with Spencer’s. The thumb wrapped around to press into Spencer’s palm.
Spencer almost whined when Oscar snatched his hand away, but a split second later his stomach dropped at the sound of a clatter down the hall.
Minutes passed like hours before the bottom bunk let out a familiar creak of Oscar rising from it. He rested his forearms against Spencer’s mattress, right beside Spencer’s outstretched arm. Goosebumps rose and the hairs stood on end, coaxing Oscar closer.
With a quick glance at the bars, Oscar whispered, “Your friends will get you out. They’ll help your mom.”
Spencer sniffed, “What happened to being a dead man?”
“I don’t think you – or your friends - are going to let that happen.”
“What about you?”
“I guess I could fall under ‘ally’ for once.”
“What if I wanted you to be something else?” Spencer’s arm shifted and his hand brushed their knuckles against Oscar’s stubbly cheek.
Oscar hinted at tilting his head against him, and Spencer couldn’t help but press a little firmer as Oscar said, “You should sleep.”
“I can’t.”
Oscar’s finger stretching out to brush the crook of Spencer’s elbow, “Me neither.”
Nevertheless, Oscar let Spencer go and got back down into his bunk just moments later.
Both men pretended to sleep until the fantasy became real. The whole time, Spencer was thinking about how hearing faith in his team from someone who had never met them – or even displayed an ounce of hope within his entire relationship with him – meant so much.
  ---> ---> ---> ---> --->
 Spencer had a new wall to force his back against. His left leg was not in a state to keep him taut against it, the throbbing ache a poor disturbance from his thoughts. Time, time, all he had was time to think and do nothing else.
About how his occupation in the government was leaked to what felt like the entire prison population.
How the note with the promise of invading solitary confinement lay screwed up by the door.
How Shaw had threatened him before bawling like a baby when the guards tackled him for stabbing Spencer.
How Oscar, with his jaw slack and eyes glassy, was outlined in Spencer’s blurring vision.
Oh, Oscar. Shoved back by inmates in the scuffle before he disappeared from view. He was only there because Shaw had made the first move. Spencer had seen Oscar reach into his pocket as he crept behind Shaw. No regard for his own safety. That was when Spencer grabbed Shaw’s hand and manipulated it into plunging his shiv into his leg and arm.
The night before, Oscar had been quiet, and Spencer figured that he had learnt that Spencer was an FBI agent. No chat before bed, Oscar just curled up under his blanket and read until lights out.
Spencer was patient. He waited long into the night before bringing out his toothbrush. There was no time for resting now; he scrapped the end of the brush against the edge of the bunk frame. Flakes of plastic snowed down onto the concrete floor, but he didn’t get out to sweep them beneath the beds just yet. That was a job for the morning – if it came.
Suddenly Oscar popped into his field of view.
“It’s better if you do it like this,” He said, taking Spencer’s hand in his and demonstrating the direction with which to carve his shiv, “And make sure you – never mind.”
“What?”
“Forget it. You’re a fed. They probably trained you with this shit.”
He took himself away and Spencer swallowed hard, “I’m sorry I didn’t tell you.”
“I’m not. Means you’re learning to protect yourself. I’m more grateful for that.”
Spencer’s hand still tingled from the way Oscar held it. The simplest of touches grounded him, and it was almost as if Oscar knew that. When they were called to lunch by the alarm, filing out of the laundry room, Oscar had gone out of his way to walk by Spencer and brush their hands together. Not a single break in his stride, the touch was brief but it breathed a sigh of courage into Spencer’s lungs and he went into the refectory calmer.
He bit the inside of his cheek, willing away the stinging of tears with his head leaning back against the wall.
His palms flattened against his legs as he heard the key turn in the door. His eyes watched it creak open, revealing a guard
“Get up.”
Wincing, Spencer moved off the pathetic excuse for a bed, “Where am I going?”
No answer.
Spencer shuffled through the hallway with dread weighing each step down. The last fragment of hope was waning, but he clung to it as he was shoved into an empty room. Even as the guard closed the door behind him and his ever-vigilant eye was stuck on the glass of the window, Spencer held that hope close as he waited for someone to come in.  While not necessarily a believer, he called to anyone - who might hear a sinner’s prayer - that he could touch Oscar once more before he was killed.
  ---> ---> ---> ---> --->
 It had been a long time since Spencer had sat on this side of the table. On the job, visiting a suspect or informant in a case, but now his entire perspective had shifted.
He wondered if any of the guards recognised him now that he had a suit, a visitor’s badge, and a few extra pounds around his middle.
An instinct, he flinched at the buzzer. The memory had tormented him for weeks and hearing it fresh and raw against his eardrums was worse. Steps sloped into the room in a dull out-of-sync march. The prisoners found their allotted tables one by one, some with enthusiasm and others without.
Oscar dragged the chair across the floor before taking his place opposite Spencer.
“Hello.”
Spencer was completely torn between smiling at his presence – his voice – and keeping a composure so as not to draw attention from other prisoners. “Hello.”
Oscar wrapped his arms in each other, elbows pointed on the table, “Did you get to hug your mom?”
It was hard to forget the grip on Diana’s frail body, the relief seeping through Spencer’s body at her safe recovery.
“Yeah, I did.”
“Good. I’m glad she’s ok.”
“She’s in a facility now, being taken care of full time. Did you get my letters?”
“I did, thank you. And did you get mine?”
“Yes. How is your new cellmate?”
“Some dipshit in for possession. Nothing to worry about.”
Oscar’s fingers tapped on the table, and Spencer could see them trembling still. He nodded; his mouth pressed into a line. He couldn’t think of what else to say despite his many rehearsals beforehand. It felt wrong to talk about being out of prison, like dangling a bit of bacon in front of a dog before popping it into one’s mouth.
So he went straight for the jugular, “I’m getting you out, Oscar.”
Oscar frowned, looking almost offended. “Don’t say that.”
But Spencer continued, “I’ve spoken with your lawyer, Zoe; she’s got all this stuff ready for your appeal.”
“Spencer.”
“Your family completely support what we’re doing. I’ve spoken to them over the phone.”
“They wanna meet with me and your lawyer, properly coordinate. We can do this!”
“Spencer, stop!”
Said person stopped relaying his grand plans for the future. Oscar had barely raised his voice but he caught the attention of the nearby guards, already reaching for their belts. Oscar’s nostrils flared as he exhaled, his eyes not even crossing the threshold that separated him from Spencer.
His voice caught in his throat, “Stop it now. Don’t give me hope.”
Spencer blinked. A second time, a third, then he frowned right back at Oscar bewildered.
“Why won’t you let me fight for you?”
He didn’t get an answer immediately, so he kept talking.
“You fought for me, Oscar. You kept me alive in here. Let me do the same, get you out. You can’t stay here!”
It started subtle. But Spencer saw Oscar shaking his head at his words. He refused Spencer any more eye contact, not even when Spencer begged Oscar to look at him so that they could talk more about the upcoming appeal.
The buzzer sounded again and Spencer began to panic as Oscar rose from his seat. No way was their time up already. An urge to reach across, grab Oscar’s hand, make him stay, shot through him. It only stopped because he didn’t want some desperate grab to be the last touch between them. He tried to call after him, but his voice stuck in his throat at the sight of a baton being used to force Oscar into the queue.
  ---> ---> ---> ---> --->
 Spencer had walked the paths of the bullpen thrice now: once to get coffee, second to “get the right form”, and the last time he didn’t say why to his curious colleagues. Clearly none of those were the true reason but they left him alone. That was their problem. They never spoke to each other about what was wrong until it was too late.
The second his phone rang, he lunged for it. His slim fingers scrabbled to slide across the answer button and bring it up to his ear.
“Hello!” Instantaneously, his shoulders slumped and he pinched the bridge of his nose, “Sorry for shouting. Look, I’m waiting on an important call, can I ring you back?”
Before the caller had time to respond, Spencer slammed the phone face down and began his route again, leaving it on the desk so that he wasn’t constantly checking the screen.
“Have you ever seen him so attached to a piece of technology?” Luke grinned at JJ.
“Never.”
“This con must be something.”
The phone went off again when Spencer was getting another mug of coffee. Its ringtone was loud but not loud enough to reach the break room.
Simmons raised his voice ever so slightly, “Spencer! Phone!”
A ceramic clashed with a sideboard, and Spencer appeared, his hip clipping Luke’s desk on the way over. In his frenzy, he found the wherewithal to check the caller ID before he answered, “Tony?”
Spencer had already begun powerwalking out of the bullpen, but he stopped when he heard a cry from Eliza in the background.
His friends and co-workers watched his expression falter from focus to frustration.
“I’m sorry.” His voice failed him, clearing it, “I’m sorry, Tony, for you and your family. Can I call you back?”
This time, he waited for confirmation and he stayed on the phone for half a minute longer to reassure the Dunnagan family on the other end that he would not give up. Once the call dropped, the phone did too – against the desk. Spencer folded his arms in on himself. His fingers were bent into claws, digging into the creases of his elbows. Upon realising what they were doing, he covered his face as if to weep, but there were no tears.
“Spencer.” JJ touched his shoulder
“The appeal didn’t even have the chance to be unsuccessful,” He dragged his hands across his face into prayer, “Oscar cancelled the hearing this morning without telling us.”
He swallowed back the lump in his throat, “I don’t think I can be alone right now. Can I stay at yours and Will’s tonight?”
“Of course,” JJ’s hand smoothed out a wrinkle on his suit jacket.
  ---> ---> ---> ---> --->
 Upon entering the attorney’s office, Spencer was embraced by Dakota. Eliza kissed both his cheeks, Tony shook his hand, and Zoe gestured for him to sit in the final empty chair.
Together, they discussed the plan for the appeal. It was to be fool proof. There was the added benefit of a recent sessions with a therapist; Spencer was still willing to go and talk about how Oscar had saved his life in prison. But Spencer was also fighting this disgusting urge to say that “none of that matters because an appeal panel won’t see him at all if Oscar keeps withdrawing”. He kept pushing it down to simmer in his stomach, away from his vocal chords.
He was almost glad when his phone began ringing, “Excuse me, it’s my boss.” Stepping out of the office, Spencer narrowly avoided another lawyer walking along the stripes of the carpet. “Hey Emily.”
“Hey. I know it’s one of your days off. I just wanted to see how you’re doing?”
“We’re just going over Oscar’s appeal.”
“That doesn’t answer my question.”
Wow, he really walked into that one.
“I just keep thinking about how he sabotaged himself. I mean, doesn’t he want to get out? Why doesn’t he want to get out and be with me?!” Spencer swallowed back the lump in his throat, “And I know none of the team approve of him.”
“Spencer,” Emily had her parent voice on. An expert voice for someone who didn’t even have kids yet.
But Spencer just carried on in spite of it, “He’s a convicted batterer, not exactly the best option for a boyfriend and especially for an FBI agent, but do any of you know why he did it?”
His agitation was muzzled when Zoe poked her head around the door and Spencer softened his tone to apologise, to assure he would be back inside shortly. He waited until the door closed before he spoke again.
“Emily, Oscar is the only person who knows what I’m going through right now. He’s a good man, I truly believe that, or else he wouldn’t have helped me. And I need him to get out. I can’t stand knowing he’s in there for why he did what he did. Knowing he’s not getting the help he needs.”
It was then that Spencer realised, even as they were interrupted, that Emily had been waiting patiently for him to finish. She was now letting his words sit between the phone lines, likely mulling over what to say next. Spencer really fucking hated waiting.
Thankfully his patience did not need to wear itself thin, this one time:
“I do know why he did it. I had Garcia pull up his file when you went to visit him for the first time. Spencer, I’m glad this man has you on his side. Let me know how the meeting goes.”
“Thanks, Emily.”
  ---> ---> ---> ---> --->
 As Oscar placed himself down opposite Spencer, he flinched in the plastic chair. Spencer fought his own wince at the sight of so much swelling, so many bruises, so many cuts, littering his face.
But he gave the tiniest of smiles in spite of the state of his face, “How did you know, Spencer?”
“Your mom told me. She’s a lovely woman.” Spencer flexed his fingers before linking them again, “I wish I had a proper gift to give you, but I was scared the guards would just confiscate it.”
“The card was more than enough.”
A bright blue card with balloons on it was tucked into Oscar’s pillowcase. Inside were as many notes on what he needed to say for the appeal as Spencer could fit around the “HAPPY BIRTHDAY” already printed into the card.
“I forwarded them and the rest onto your lawyer. She should go through it with you.”
Oscar’s smile tainted by hesitation as it crawled off his face, “I don’t know.”
Spencer could see him withdrawing, hiding in his jumpsuit. But even then, Oscar’s expression wore his melancholy like a veil. It blocked out any semblance of neutrality from when he had first met Spencer. The state his protection was in, he wouldn’t last long at all.
“Before prison, I was really sensitive to touch, germs. But now-” Spencer stopped, his voice so quiet he nearly couldn’t hear himself as he finished, “I can’t wait to touch you again.”
Oscar shivered. His eyes screwed shut as if to protect him from what was being said. But Spencer persisted.
“What would you like to do for your birthday? If you could do anything.”
“Picnic in the park,” said Oscar after some thought, “Uh, a real big Cuban sandwich, with roast pork, Swiss cheese, lettuce, pickles, and ham. And chocolate covered strawberries.”
“What, in the sandwich as well?”
“Yes.” Oscar rolled his eyes, misty and threatening to spill, and Spencer felt a rush of panic. More emotion was only good for him. Oscar, left behind in his cell, this could be disastrous. But he couldn’t get enough of it, and he selfishly persevered.
“When you get out, would you let me hold you?” The buzzer went off, but Spencer spoke over it as he stood, “Please, Oscar, consider this appeal.”
“Ok, Spencer.”
From his place at the table, Spencer watched Oscar try to cover his emotions, but there was still a glimmer of a tear retreating as he joined the queue of prisoners heading back to their cells.
Before he stepped out the prison, Spencer slipped his sunglasses back over his eyes to hide how red they were from the guards.
  ---> ---> ---> ---> --->
 Stood in the shallow shade of Eliza’s range rover, Spencer switched the bouquet of sage flowers from one hand to the other. Dakota had suggested them; she said her brother liked the colour most. Spencer wiped his free hand down his trousers before checking the time. He’d done that four times already. He hoped no one was giving him odd looks from the other side of the fence.
Utter relief was not usually how he would describe hearing that buzzer. But for the first and last time, he did feel a sense of respite knowing he would likely never be coming back here for such a taxing visit.
Then he remembered what that sound actually meant. His back straightened right up; his hand brushed through his hair and checked his breath once more.
Tony led the way out of the prison. He was clearly trying to remain casual but the glee seeping out of his body was just palpable. He had an arm around Dakota, kissing his daughter’s head so vigorously that her half-up hair was messed up. Clearly Dakota didn’t care though. Her hand was behind her and she turned to see the person holding it.
It was Oscar, arm looped with Eliza who clung to him like a crutch. Their eyes matched each other, shining brown like horse chestnuts.
Spencer found that he could no longer look away from Oscar. A breeze rustled through his hair. His face was alive with tear tracks and a grin that ached on his rosy cheeks. An old suit, one clearly meant for court and court alone, slouched on his shoulders. But for that short moment where he breathed fresh air and leaned his head on his mother’s, there was no weight to him.
Then Oscar found Spencer, fidgeting with his tie and his grip slacking on the bouquet, and all the emotion he had repressed for five years in prison custody were exploding into a supernova.
Oscar forgot Eliza’s arm, dashing around his family to run for Spencer. Spencer found himself matching the pace and the destination. His feet carried him quick until he and Oscar collided. A fierce hug crushed them. Oscar’s hand was constantly adjusting its grip on the back of Spencer’s head, and Spencer’s free one fisted at Oscar’s suit jacket, trying to bury themselves in his ribcage. Neither missed Oscar’s shaking, his sobbing. Spencer curled into Oscar, wrestling with his instinct to pull away. Lindsey and Cat, they ruined so much for him already; they couldn’t take Oscar too.
When they heard the footsteps of the Dunnagan family stop nearby, the men drew apart – only about a foot or so. Oscar’s cheeks were wet behind his wide smile and Spencer saw that one of his front two teeth was a little crooked.
Spencer then presented his gift in the small space between them, “For you.”
Oscar gently clasped the bouquet on the white ribbon that wrapped around the stalks, “No one’s got me flowers before.”
Spencer then vowed to buy flowers as often as he could for Oscar, and especially sage. He looked so good with purple.
The ride to Danny’s Food Truck had Oscar sat in the little middle seat, his sister on one side, Spencer on the other, and he held both their hands. His bouquet was cradled in his lap. The wet ends of the stalks dripped twice onto his suit trousers, just before his bouncing knee.
  ---> ---> ---> ---> --->
 Once again, Spencer had lost himself in his work. When he was interrupted just an hour before, Oscar was there. He had waved a hand into Spencer’s peripherals but Spencer still jumped at it. He hated that his skittish behaviour was still prevalent, returning just as Oscar had started appearing in his personal life. In his apartment.
“Sorry, Spencer,” Oscar had said in a gravelly voice, “I just wanted to ask if you were ok with Randy’s for dinner tonight.”
It was two hours before they were due to have dinner.
“Of course, it’s your turn.”
“How’s the work going?”
“It’s good,” and Spencer showed him the notes he’d written so far.
Oscar had taken them into his hands and read over them. Meanwhile Spencer watched his micro expressions. The huff of air through his nose, the corners of his mouth wriggling about as if to smile before flattening themselves out, all seemed positive as Oscar offered the papers back.
“Nice joke!”
“Right, joke…” Spencer accepted his notes back, “Where?”
“There,” Oscar leant over Spencer’s shoulder and tapped the second line of the first paragraph. Spencer noted that he smelt nice. So much better now the Dial soap was out of their care routine.  
And it was now that Spencer found himself missing that smell. It was a nice distraction. Burying himself in his work was not a good distraction anymore.
He stood away from his desk and took his mug out to the kitchen sink. Despite trying not to look at the pieces of a vase half-wrapped in newspaper, Oscar’s wailing at the very start of their day together punctured its way into Spencer’s head. One particular thought posited that Spencer should keep one of those jagged pieces – just in case. Just in case of what?
Shaking his head, Spencer went and found the source of his chills: his living room windows were wide open, the curtains lifting gracefully in the breeze. Rain pattered against the world outside, some of its drops reaching the carpet. The smell of the rain was light in the room. It was almost drowned out by the sound.
He found Oscar passed out on the couch, his bare feet poking out from under the throw. His head was resting between his folded arms, one hand under the pillow. His headphones askew and playing “The Flower Garden (Extended Version)” by Joe Hisaishi.
Kneeling next to Oscar, Spencer touched his arm, “Do you want me to order for you?”
Oscar nodded, stretched out, then promptly fell back asleep. He would have trouble later tonight. But Spencer was glad that he finally found some respite. His seemingly endless apologies for breaking the bowl were over.
That was where the good news ended though. Spencer looked closer at Oscar’s hand, now unmasked. A medium piece from the broken vase rested in his loose grip. After some moments deliberating, Spencer eased it out and placed it with the rest of the vase. Then he went to his phone and dialled.
“Hey JJ. I hope it’s not too late, but,” Spencer tapped his nails against the plastic handset, “Would you mind coming over? Oscar is here, but I don’t know if he’s ready to help me through this.”
He smiled at the flowers he’d bought that day standing awkwardly in a jug before hanging up. He and Oscar really should move in together. Or at least he should invest in a sofa bed.
Twenty minutes later, there was a knock at the front door, and Oscar was up on his feet. The sofa’s throw clung to him.  
“I invited someone over,” Spencer said quickly, “Sorry I should have told you, but I didn’t want to wake you again. Do you want to wait in my room?”
Oscar stayed in place and shook his head, so Spencer went ahead to open his front door.
Two days apart was far too long. JJ embraced Spencer tight, rubbing his back as she rested her chin on his shoulder. She gave the best hugs. Maybe rivalled by Oscar, but Spencer would never tell her that.
“Can I get you anything to drink?”
“A coffee would be great,” JJ shrugged off her jacket
He pivoted in a half circle, “Oscar?”
“No, I’m good, thank you.”
Spencer wasn’t really sure what happened in his absence – besides his stomach turning itself over and over. When he returned with two mugs, the only information he could garner was that Oscar had dropped the throw back onto the sofa that stood between them and JJ had inched a little closer
“Here!”
Oscar twitched at Spencer’s loud entrance, visibly relaxing by the time JJ had her mug of coffee in her hands. He adjusted the throw until it was back to its original position then crept towards the door.
Spencer frowned, ruining the quiet exit as he said, “Where are you going?”
Oscar thumbed in his direction of travel. “Bathroom.”
“Oh,” Spencer felt his cheeks heat up, “Good luck.”
He saw Oscar rolling his eyes but there was a flash of a grin and a tiny wave to JJ before he disappeared from view. Spencer’s stomach steadied itself, busying itself with sloshing his coffee about instead. His grip around his mug adjusted as he turned to JJ.
“He’s not what I was expecting,” JJ said. There was nothing malicious in her tone. In fact, if there was anything, she seemed pleased that Oscar had subverted her anticipations.
Spencer nodded, his mouth turning up a little smile, “That’s what I thought too. Thank you for coming so quickly.”
“It’s ok, anytime.”
They sat together on the sofa, leaving the armchair free just in case Oscar wanted to join them again.
  ---> ---> ---> ---> --->
 Moving in together was supposed to solve everything.
Neither Spencer nor Oscar explicitly said or thought that. But when their triggers persisted and their behaviour shifted dramatically still, they couldn’t help but be a little disappointed.
Spencer had another nightmare last night and woke Oscar up at around half past three. They couldn’t cuddle each other, but their hands would brush and the two men would avoid looking at the matching scars on their thighs – and Oscar’s on his stomach, Spencer’s on his arm.
“Would you have killed Shaw, if I hadn’t done anything?”
“Yes.” “Does that scare you?”
In the dark, he could hear the fear in Oscar’s voice
“No, because I think I would have done the same.”
Carried on as if he hadn’t heard, still scared of himself, “I wouldn’t do something like that now.”
Oscar spent the rest of the night on the couch, so he wouldn’t touch Spencer in his sleep. Words of his therapist spun around his head: “Prison twists and warps people until they’re worse than they were before. We can’t speak now for what we would have done then.”
It was a quiet day as a result of the restless night. Quiet was nice sometimes; it was something new for them to experience together. Spencer and Oscar had breakfast together, washed and dressed, before they went down to the communal laundrette together. Washing and drying clothes was too big a task to do alone, even now, and Oscar needed his shirt to be clean for his job interview in a few days. The nightmare Spencer had faded into the background as he tried to focus on something else.
Without realising, he said aloud to Oscar, “I wanted to kiss you in the laundry room.”
Oscar stopped stretching his damp pyjama shirt out, and it was clear that he had joined Spencer in reminiscing about their job in prison.
“Which time?”
“Every time.”
Spencer watched as Oscar let out a quiet “heh”, a shy smile playing on his lips. But Oscar cut it off quick before either of them could enjoy it, and he reset his expression to blank. The silence that followed swallowed them both whole.
“Oscar,” Spencer moved next to Oscar and, in clear view, touched him on the arm, “It’s ok. You can laugh.”
“I know.”
“You can smile if you want to,”
“I can smile,” Oscar repeated, his words grounding him next to Spencer, his hands flattened atop the dryer as it rumbled into life. His lungs took in a few more breaths to spread a thin layer of calm over him and he looked back at Spencer, “I can also kiss you if I want to, if you want.”
Checking the laundrette door, Spencer’s hand moved from Oscar’s arm to Oscar’s cheek, guiding him home. Their lips met in messy perfection. Short and sweet, with a sigh shared between them, Spencer was pleased to see the smile returned to Oscar by the time they separated. As tense as Oscar felt in his arms, even with the smile soon fading, Spencer could feel the tiniest slack in his shoulders now.
With the most burdensome chore out of the way, the two men returned to the flat. Spencer helped Oscar compose another covering letter to ship off to another job opening before they called Oscar’s family for lunch.
Facetiming was always a trip when they were calling the Dunnagans. Tony had a similar understanding of “technology” as Spencer, so when he answered the call, it was a close up of a nostril or a frowning muted face that greeted Oscar and Spencer on the laptop screen. Eventually Eliza saved them from an eternal farce. She brought them into her kitchen, bringing Dakota and her partner Ellis in on the call when it was time to prep for lunch.
Dakota led the way with a recipe from her restaurant, “If any of you dare share this with anyone, I’ll knock you out.”
Her laugh only sang one note before she slapped her hand over it and looked down at her screen with a face full of guilt. Oscar laughed it off, maybe a little forced, then he swiped at the nearest conversation topic – the world’s hottest pepper.
“Maybe you could stick in in your next recipe. Do a competition where if you eat all the spicy stuff, you get your name on the wall and get half off or something.”
And the call continued for a little longer.
Spencer was just testing out the new spices acquired in their online shop – because according to Dakota there was nothing is worse than being able to actually taste the chicken – when the screen froze. A tiny widget popped up to inform the men that the signal was too poor to continue the call.
Oscar wiggled the mouse, “Oh, God, your connection’s gone again. You mind if I try and find us a better provider?”
“Go for it.”
They clinked their wine glasses together, sipping with questionable responses to it. Oscar dared another sip while Spencer was satisfied with just the one, deciding instead to check on the chicken.
“Spencer?”
“Yeah?”
Oscar placed his wine down. “Are we boyfriends?”
In all their time together, Spencer realised they never once spoke about their relationship status. They just sort of… moved in together, shared a bed, held hands and kissed occasionally – without discussing what was going on.
He said with relative boldness, “I’d like to be.”
“I’d like to be too,” Oscar bit his lip, the smile distorting but still charming as ever. His arms swayed a little. “Can I hug you please?”
With a renewed sense of vigour, Spencer said, “Yes please.”
  ---> ---> ---> ---> --->
 Spencer’s mind needed a rest; perhaps returning to the geographic profile after some time apart would garner a new connection. This case was driving everyone nuts, not just him, and it was only the third day in. he plucked his mug and headed over to the coffee pot for a top-up.
Whilst pouring his third cup of the morning, Spencer took note of his phone’s weight in his trouser pocket. He decided to lessen it, his hand reaching in and dialling for Oscar.
The call clicked after three rings then a boisterous laugh erupted from the speaker.
“Sorry, Spencer! This little one keeps jumping up at me! She barely reaches my knees!” Oscar’s voice was playful. Little claws clicked on a hard floor followed by a tiny yet indignant yip that was echoed by several much deeper barks. Spencer assumed this little one was a ring leader at the dog kennel, the one Oscar was trying to sweet talk.
“That’s ok. You sound like you’re having a good time.”
“It’s brilliant! They let me take four dogs out on a walk at a time!”
The ache in Spencer’s left shoulder from sleeping in an odd position alleviated just a touch. “Yeah?”
“I think I might try to get my licence back, so I can maybe drive them out to the countryside.”
“That’s brilliant news.”
“How’s the case?”
“I’m just taking a break.” Spencer sipped his coffee, burning the back of his throat. As he flinched, he caught sight of Luke’s hand, waving him back over to the conference room. “Sorry, Oscar, I have to get back to the profile.”
“I really like how you say ‘Oscar’.”
“I’m just saying your name.”
“I know,” and Spencer could very clearly hear Oscar’s smile in his voice – even over the constant din from the dogs he was caring for.
“I like how you say my name. See you later?”
“Hopefully. Take care of yourself.”
What a delight to see Oscar, after a rush of evidence flooding in and the pieces slotting together in a now-obvious profile. That evening in fact, Spencer made it back to his apartment at the same time as Oscar. He was carrying a plastic bag to mirror Spencer’s satchel. He didn’t feel like cooking and knew that Spencer wouldn’t be in the mood either; it was a few microwaved meals from the local store in his bag.
They ate dinner in the sitting room on trays - as a treat – and they partook in a very one-sided conversation about Star Trek. Oscar didn’t seem to mind, and honestly Spencer liked the freedom that came with talking here. It was like a hint of who he was before was bleeding through. Every so often though, Oscar would remind him that his food was going to get cold. Spencer would take a moment to eat before the next interesting factoid was inspired from the episode on the TV.
At the start of the next episode, his plate empty, Spencer noticed that Oscar’s gaze was a little restless as he finished his dinner.
“Is something bothering you?” He asked, adjusting his position on the sofa.
Oscar shrugged as he put his cushioned lap tray onto the carpet, “Not bothering me. I’m just curious about something.”
Naturally, Spencer said, “Ask me.” Maybe it was the difference between Vulcans and Romulans again.
“When you stabbed yourself while looking at me, before you got out, was that a substitution for sex?”
Spencer blinked several times. He could feel pinstripes forming on his forehead. He cleared his throat, took a sip of his water, cleared his throat again.
“No, no. I… um.”
Then he stopped because he realised he didn’t quite have an answer yet. His mind was busy straying back to that moment: the flare of pain in his leg and arm, the roaring of inmates around his head, and Oscar - an island of frozen calm amidst the chaos of Spencer’s actions. Eventually, Spencer found a semblance of a reply and he delivered it.
“I was just looking around, and I found you. I think I was looking for comfort.”
Seemingly accepting of this, Oscar’s attention moved back to the TV. His hands occupied themselves with each other. However, Spencer was not quite ready to let the subject go; he’d been thinking about this a lot lately.
“I’m sorry we haven’t…”
Oscar picked up what he was putting down, “Don’t be sorry, Spencer. Don’t ever, ever be sorry for that. I didn’t ask to guilt you. It was in the lesson you taught last week. I listened to it on my break today.”
The image of his Dictaphone on the desk at college - and another of it hanging out of Oscar’s rucksack’s front pocket – recalled itself in Spencer’s head.
“I probably could have asked you a bit nicer,” Oscar altered his position on the couch to bring his knees up to his chest.
“Probably.”
“I’m sorry, Spencer.”
“You’re forgiven.”
“Could you tell me more about the Romulans please?”
As Spencer restarted his speech, albeit with less enthusiasm than before, Oscar brought out his notepad from his backpack. His fingers pinched around the blue crayon as he scrawled Spencer’s facts, putting the differences into a roughly drawn table.  
  ---> ---> ---> ---> --->
 Seeing Oscar standing in the bullpen with a visitor’s badge was not what Spencer expected to see today. He certainly didn’t expect to see him sipping tea with Penelope and chatting away at Spencer’s empty desk. Oscar had clearly just arrived, still bundled up in his coat. The flowers Oscar had sent to the office that morning stood gorgeously arranged beside his oft-neglected computer desktop.
“Hi!” Spencer power-walked up to them, almost reaching a jog. Oscar met him halfway, but his pace decreased the closer he got to Spencer. It was the sound of the team drawing through the glass double doors that told Spencer what was going through his head.
He turned to his family, already gesturing behind him where Oscar stood, “Everyone, this is my boyfriend Oscar.”
Waving, Oscar had his other hand stuck deep in his pocket as he spoke, “Penelope gave me the rundown of your names. Nice to meet you.”
The team was rather tired from the case and obviously a little caught off guard by the fact that the felon Spencer had fallen for was just hanging around in their bullpen. But Spencer was relieved when they all greeted Oscar with a fairly warm manner, wished Spencer "happy birthday" again, before they shuffled off to their respective desks and offices. Penelope bid her farewell to Oscar with the promise of a movie night some time in the future. Then she hugged her Boy Wonder and returned to her batcave.
“Sorry,” Oscar said quietly, “I wanted to travel home with you. Kinda forgot that I would be running into your whole team.”
“I don’t mind. In fact, I wanted you to meet them.”
Spencer’s hand stayed in Oscar’s for the entire walk back to Oscar’s new car in the lot. While they parted momentarily en route, they found each other again when Oscar had to pull over during the drive home. The car that had swerved and cut in front of them became two red lights in the far distance, the sound of its engine and screeching tires muted by Oscar’s heavy breathing.
Oscar released the steering wheel and clung to Spencer’s hand, but Spencer could feel that Oscar was holding back, trying not to crush his fingers. He rubbed over Oscar’s knuckles.
“In, two, three, four,” Spencer counted, “Hold, two, three, four. Out, two, three, four, five, six, seven, eight.”
He repeated this five times and Oscar leant back in his seat.
“I was doing so well,” He said, his voice cracking in its quietness.
“You still are. We both are.” Spencer kissed the back of Oscar’s hand, “Come on, I’ll drive us the rest of the way.”
Two blocks later and they were about to enter their apartment.
Oscar stopped them though, just before Spencer’s key met the lock, “Could you wait out here? Just for a minute, please?”
Spencer complied, a countdown in his head clicking off the seconds as soon as his front door was closed to him. A smile crept onto his face as he heard Oscar clattering about the apartment. He wasn’t exactly being subtle; Spencer wouldn’t have it any other way.
Once Spencer was finally allowed in, he was greeted by a low-lit scene. Oscar was holding a match to the last candle at the table. He’d taken off his long coat to revealing a freshly ironed floral pattern. The stereo speakers were already humming Mozart. The crumpled takeaway paper bag by the pedal bin didn’t go unnoticed, but Spencer decided to focus instead on how the food was arranged on the plates - either side of a delightful floral arrangement.
“Oh Oscar, you already got me so much this morning,” Spencer said sheepishly, with the knowledge that he had avoided looking up the prices of his gifts so he could calculate just how much of Oscar’s third paycheque went into his birthday.
“I know, but I wanted your birthday to be perfect,” Oscar opened up one of the tubs, a wave of steam lifting gently with the lid, “It’s from the new Thai place down the road.”
Spencer hung up his satchel on his its hook, “I suppose I have been wanting to try their green curry for a while now.”
Once he had changed into something more comfortable (plus a hint of smartness), Spencer sat down with Oscar for dinner. Both men found that he was not immune to the romanticism of a candlelit dinner with his boyfriend, and Spencer more so. The effort behind it, the aroma of the lavender candle with the spiced food, the glow around his Oscar’s face as he went over the day behind them, it was all getting to him.
Of course, Oscar offered to clean up once they were done eating and talking – for now at least. Spencer still helped though. Any time with Oscar was time well spent. Even loading the dishwasher. Except now Oscar was staring at Spencer’s face, gaze fidgeting between his eyes and his mouth, and Spencer was worrying about it.
Christ, what was he meant to do to let Oscar know he wanted to kiss him without saying so? Pout?
“Are you ok?” Oscar’s brow creased.
Fuck.
“Yes,” Spencer said, quickly removing the pout from his lips, “I’m good.”
“Good.” Oscar swung their linked hands between them thrice. Then he let go of one to thumb across the corner of Spencer’s jaw and he closed the gap between them. Spencer felt Oscar’s recently applied lip balm on his chapped lips, those stupid lips that Spencer spent too much time thinking about. They felt so much better against Spencer’s and smiling with reckless abandon. So reckless, in fact, that the smile grew into a laugh, buzzing against Spencer and tickling him more than his facial hair.
Oscar pulled away, still giggling and apologising, “Sorry, sorry, I’m not laughing at you.”
“I know you’re not. You’d never laugh at me.”
  ---> ---> ---> ---> --->
 A chorus of “hello!” harmonised in the doorway as the Dunnagans’ entered Spencer and Oscar’s apartment. Laden with gifts and food offerings, Tony, Eliza, and Dakota kissed and hugged their way into the sitting room.
Oscar and Dakota were the ones in charge, everyone else on some kind of prep duty while they ordered them about in the politest manner. Spencer was trying to be a good prep boy but Eliza was just better and faster, so he stuck to cleaning as they went. Oscar kissed his cheek while passing by; Tony had hung up a sprig of mistletoe just over their heads. Ducking away to avoid kissing his potential father-in-law, Spencer chased the sound of his phone ringing. He even ducked under it as if lowering his torso would avoid the mistletoe above him.
All five swayed ever so slightly out of sync as they bellowed the classics and groaned over the pop renditions. Spencer’s new watch hugged his wrist and ticked away each pleasant second.
“No, don’t hide your hair!” Eliza ripped off the Santa hat Spencer’s head and pulled up flattened tufts of his hair until it resumed its usual messy state.
“There! Never get a haircut, you’re too handsome for that.” She patted his cheek before taking another swig of her red wine – the same shade as her Christmas jumper and Spencer’s cheeks. Spencer looked to Oscar, not to protest but to see if he had Oscar witnessed this.
Oscar merely shrugged, “I mean she’s not wrong.” He finished off peeling the sprouts, handing them over to Tony for chopping, “I have to admit, it was one of the things that drew me to you when we met.”
“Really?”
Another nod in response, Oscar drew nearer, closing the conversation to everyone but Spencer, “You and your Bambi eyes and your hair and your perfect mouth.”
Spencer suddenly found himself unable to look directly at Oscar, as if he were the sun. An outsider looking in might infer that it was the gaudy red of his horrendous Christmas jumper that made his cheeks seem so pink. They would be wrong.
Spencer burst out, “It was Rossi on the phone. He wants to know if you’re still coming tomorrow?”
“Yeah, I’m not backing out. If I start to, I need you behind me and pushing me through the door.” Oscar’s shoulders twitched with his laugh.
“I don’t know, feels like you could toss me over your shoulder if you wanted.”
“I could. Technically.”
Spencer’s cheeks went scarlet at the thought of Oscar carrying him down Rossi’s driveway in such a way. But before he could ask Oscar to slow the flow of compliments, Dakota called to them across the room: “Aw, Oscar, you’ve got your own stocking?”
“Yeah, Spencer bought it for me, early gift!” It hung proudly on the bookshelf beside Spencer’s.
The table had already been set for the family. Dakota brought her own crackers, informing them that the snap had been removed. Terrible paper crown and horrendous jokes were passed around the five people before they dished up their Christmas dinner. Comically small in his hands, Oscar cradled the box of the primary coloured crayons in his palm and frisbeed the ruler with the shapes cut out over to Eliza.
The pigs in blankets were a little burnt, the nut roast barely touched, and there was so much left over that they would be eating ham and turkey sandwiches for days to come.
Spencer was so full of food and joy that it would be impossible to be carried on his boyfriend’s shoulder. He settled instead for being held in Oscar’s lap as they squished into the armchair, the rest of the family on the couch to watch the garbage Christmas specials. Dozing on his shoulder with a close-lipped smile, Oscar looked content. His yellow paper crown was crushed near the front, slipping down his left temple.
Oh, Spencer was grateful for his dedicated memory. He could match and topple all those memories of them in prison with times like these forever – and he planned on doing just that.
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