#but it tells us So Much about how Beckett expresses her feelings and what she finds attractive and what she values in a partner

[glimblshanks]

Every day I think about the fantasy rock episode and the fact that Mariner's fantasy was not just Jen in a bikini, but specifically Jen in a bikini offering to yell at Ransom. Like girl, why is he even a part of your fantasy if you don't like him?

[metabolizemotions]

The creative choices on the show are as subjective as each of the viewer's interpretations.

I think a lot of why I personally feel deeply uncomfortable n resistant is the asymmetry.

I get the need for variety. The same thing may be expressed differently for different characters. A healing journey will differ from person to person. Each step is also taken on a personalized timeline.

But I can't help but think of the asymmetry of how the show dealt with Mason vs Beckett n even Dixon. They condemned Mason immediately at his worst but dug deep to show the sides of Beckett n Dixon that were still human despite it all.

The trigger shot scene with Beckett felt like 0 to 100 in his reconciliation with Maya. It felt like a 12-step program of which he skipped many steps when it came to Maya. From the get-go, we saw a sexist, incompetent captain who was demeaning to his team n constantly put them under stress n in danger, on top of endangering civilians n even equipment. For months, we saw this middle-aged man in a position of power, take perverse joy in bullying a younger female subordinate to appease his ego. That was workplace harassment. He also took out his unresolved trauma on the people around him, in this case, people he had authority over. Alcoholism was not the sole reason for all his bad behavior. Even if it was, it should not be used to excuse it.

The team, esp Maya, was trapped in this hostile work environment sanctioned by the female chief. This was a more common n insidious manifestation of toxic masculinity, one that was amplified by his position of power, n sometimes even supported by women, when their goals aligned in the power struggle.

Yet the show gave so much more grace n compassion to the bullies than the bullied. The team treated Beckett n Ross with more kindness n respect than they earned, n less kindness n more apathy towards Maya than she deserved.

Then he was given a long, carefully constructed redemption arc, while Mason, a rushed condemnation arc.

It felt like 100 to 0 with Mason. We saw Mason briefly in earlier seasons, mainly thru the eyes of Maya. We missed a lot of the in b/w. We caught him again at his worst. We only saw the side that was full of hate ideology, but not his side that was also human. We knew about his addiction n homelessness. But we didn’t see how as a young abused person w/o positive role models n a support system, he was vulnerable to these hate groups, which he clung to, when offered him just a semblance of belonging or respect. He had not learned to let go of his resentment of their parents n Maya but taught to transfer this unresolved hate to fill a meaning void.

The scene itself b/w Maya n Mason was great. It was an urgent n imperative story to tell. Maya's actions were right n necessary. But in the bigger scheme of things, it felt like a quick tie-up of loose ends, of a once-beloved brother, who came n went abruptly. Despite it being a logical narrative choice to wrap up the nature/nurture discussions of Marina n discovery that Maya's deepest fears about herself manifested in her bro instead. It's heartbreaking n yet disheartening that it was again about queer hate when it came to another main queer character on the show.

It is just jarring to juxtapose Mason with Beckett in 703 then 707. Also juxtaposing his empathy towards Maya with the lack thereof from the others, despite everyone having just been thru 706 n having witnessed Maya's breakdown. So, in a way, I see the actions of these characters as being designed with the goal to emphasize Beckett's empathetic side, in support of his arc.

When looking at a scene with 2 scene partners, what it is really about? Who it is really for? Would the scene be the same if one is replaced?

There are many different takes on this. For me, it was really about Maya, but choosing Beckett as the scene partner made the scene more for him. If it were for Maya, other scene partners would be more meaningful n realistic. Esp those who earned their right for her to be vulnerable with. Maya, who bottled her feelings, let alone spill her deeper emotions, to someone whom she never had a proper conversation with, not to mention a fraught shared history. To add, alone in a small enclosed space, while administering a shot that made her even more vulnerable.

For the realism argument, this was not more realistic to me than having Carina, for a show which took a lot of liberties. It was a choice to design the circumstances to make Carina n the others unavailable n combine 2 scenes together. Carina's also Maya's life partner n best friend. A more realistic choice for Maya to share this devastating heartbreak n grieving process with. It was a big aspect of their marriage. We saw many discussions b/w them yet when it finally came to the conclusion, it was with the least likely person, an almost stranger.

I see the trigger shot as part of Marina's baby journey I wish we get to see them undergoing together. It reminded me of 5b in that Marina's story about their own baby journey - again with someone of a fraught shared history, of a different nature - was more about him n to lead to his own bio family story. Marina's story was messy n got nowhere. And here we r, seasons later, rushing thru it.

It's not that Maya/ Carina or Marina should not have scenes with others. It's that it's usually more about the others even if it's their storyline. Or they r the backdrop for others' drama. They either isolate Marina or suddenly include them or one of them in an in-depth discussion of their private matters with others, usually something we hear about for the first time. I just don't remember something like that happening with other characters. Is it too much to ask to see a married w|w couple, with little screentime, share a meaningful conversation or moment first, also or exclusively? We so rarely see such a rep on TV. The show is not about Marina, but shouldn't their own story reasonably prioritize them?

[do-it-for-the-fandom]

For the shipper prompts and games, caskett of course 😝

Who ever would have expected me to be asked about Caskett?

Who would win tickle wars?

Castle just doesn't have it in him to win a tickle war. Either through an icy-cold glare, the threat of bodily harm or by not-so-subtly reminding him of the much better uses for his hands, I am 100% sure Beckett would have him reconsidering his actions very quickly.

Who would draw pictures of the other in their sketchbook?

Castle 100%. Beckett might have little hearts scribbled down somewhere that make her think of Castle, but I don't see her drawing portraits of him at all.

Who would hold hands while walking?

Usually Castle would initiate the hand-holding in more crowded places (like walking down the streets around the city, whole they're shopping, etc.) but in quieter places (like strolling along the beach at the Hamptons, or maybe if they visit th4e Beckett's cabin) I feel like Beckett would take the opportunity to be the one to initiate.

Who would give cheek kisses?

Both of them. All the time. Hello, goodbye, nice shoes. They just like to kiss.

Who would start a snowball fight?

Castle. You just know he cannot be outside in the snow for more than five minutes without pelting a snowball at someone. Like, come on, tell me I'm wrong! haha.

Who would slip the most on a date to go ice skating?

Beckett. She confessed to not being a very good ice-skater, right? Or did I imagine that?

Who leaves letters in the other's locker?

I feel like this would obviously be Castle, right? He is, after all, the writer.

Who would bring lunch to work for the other?

I was thinking this question wouldn't really apply because usually they're together so they'd just 'get lunch' rather than one bringing the other lunch, you know? But then I thought about present-day Castle bringing Beckett lunch because Lily is at school and the twins are at daycare (or equivalent) and he should be writing but the loft is just so... quiet. And he misses her. And he is procrastinating but he won't openly admit to that.

Who would want to cuddle at the movie theatre?

Castle. But Beckett wouldn't object.

Who would buy a cheezy cliche holiday gift?

Both. In fact, they've started a competition to see who can out-cheese the other. Alexis is the judge.

Who would start and argument about what colour curtains they would have at home?

Beckett doesn't care about the curtains, she just wants somewhere she can hang her great big artwork (and Castle happily provides her with somewhere).

Who would remember their anniversary?

They both do.

Bonus: Beckett has it saved in her calendar on her phone because she doesn't want to forget (but she never does).

Who would blurt out how much they love the other in front of people?

Beckett is just always so aware of who is around her and not wanting to express too much around others, I don't really see her blurting anything in front of anyone. Like, maybe in front of the main group of people (The boys, Lanie, Castle's family, maybe her dad?) but I really can't see her talking about her love for Castle in front of anyone else. Castle, on the other hand, I feel would happily shout his love for her from the rooftop. He's pretty respectful of the fact that she is very private, so I don't think he would go blurting anything either, but I think he is more likely to do so.

If Beckett were to 'blurt' anything, it would be a very strategic and well thought out blurting, I am sure haha.

Who would offer to wash the other's back in the shower?

Castle would offer to wash Beckett from head to toe, I think. And if she were to let him, I think he would take great care in doing so. Castle is definitely an 'acts of service' kind of guy - he cooks for her, etc. - so I can definitely see him doing this kind of thing often, especially if work has been a bit rough for Beckett. But the thing about Beckett is she gives just as much as she gets so, unless Castle specifically is like "No, this is just for you" I think that she would always return the favour without question.

Who would post statuses about the other on Facebook?

Castle's twitter feed would be 95% promoting his novels and 5% gushing about Beckett and their family.

Who would have the other's picture as their phone background?

Beckett.

I'm trying to think back to if I've ever paid attention to her phone background... nothing is coming to mind. But I do recall Castle's being his book cover at one point. So I don't see him as a 'personal photo as my background' kind of guy.

Who would take pictures of the other while they're sleeping?

Castle, 100%.

Who says I love you?

I mean, do I even need to answer this one?

Although, I feel like post season 8 Beckett just tries to say it as often as possible. Like, all day every day to the point where even Castle is like "Yeah, you can chill a little bit now"

[zorkaya-moved]

⠀⠀ “ is he treating you well ? ” ⠀ milou doesn't raise her head when she directs the question at her sister, almost as if she's ashamed to ask. both her tone and expression stay carefully neutral, gaze directed in front of her & staring off into the night as they both sit on the b&b's front porch.

what a useless question — of course, he is. it doesn't take a genius to tell how much beckett cares for zarina, but milou can also see the effect he has on zarina. ⠀ “ i can tell by the way you look at him, don't even try. ” ⠀ it has been years since they had properly spoken with each other, but milou is not afraid to gently shut down any attempts of denial before zarina could start them, a small smirk lingering on her lips.

practically being kicked out of their home as teenagers had not only put a stop to life as they both knew it, but also to the sisters' relationship — effectively leaving each of them to grief & cope in their own ways.

despite that, milou still knew how to read her sister well & the same could no doubt be said in return. they have both grown & adapted to life individually, yet there are little things one simply can't unsee — not when they once used to be attached by the hip, their blood be damned.

milou won't say it outright, but also won't lie when asked. her only hope is that zarina had at least weathered better & milou could tell her older sister had found luck at least somewhere. ⠀ “ he seems to be a nice guy... i dare say an amazing ' friend ' for willingly travelling with you to this shithole. ” ⠀

@todestochter

Years passed and Milou Mingate remains the same... an adorable pain in the fucking ass. Good naturedly, of course, the older sibling thinks fondly of the memories connected to Milou. Unlike others, she knew her younger sister did not contact her because they were sent out to different places without having any ability to stay in touch. It was a 'perfect' split, Milou remained 'in the family' while she was sent out to another foster family not connected to her by blood... as if Mingate family was also connected to her by blood, but they were her family. They were her home and her place. Milou will never lose the status of her sibling, even with years passed. It was bittersweet to meet her again, but it hurt more to see how the time withered her and how seemingly being 'within' Mingate family didn't do any well for her.

Even with her last name changed to Hawke to fit her foster family, Zarina does keep the surname Mingate close to her. It's a shame all of her documents burned with the house, severing ties between her and Milou Mingate. Not the soul sister bond, but the bond that could've kept them together for a while longer. At this point, the silverette doesn't know if it was worth coming to Fernweh when Arthur - their grandfather - didn't seem to want them here in the first place. If he rejected Milou, his flesh and blood, then what did that make her? An outsider. Even if she were born and raised in Fernweh as Milou, there was always a wish to make Arthur see her as his own granddaughter as well... Best grades, best feedbacks, best pursuit of knowledge. She wanted to deserve and be worthy of the Mingate family, she wanted to be a good role model for her younger sister too.

But, everything changed with the fire. Everything burned and turned to ashes. But her anger still ached, it turned so cold it started to burn anyone who tried to touch it.

"He does, doesn't he?" [Hawke] responds honestly, not wishing to hide anything from Milou. Her amber eyes glance at her sister, studying her profile. She does not close away from those whose memories did not hurt her, who did not make her feel abandoned. It makes her almost laugh when Mingate speaks about Warrick in such ways, she's always been an observant girl and it makes the older happy. There are things where they both didn't change, which leaves her to believe there is still something lovable in her, too. In both of them. If not for Beckett, she's sure she would've abandoned the idea of coming here altogether, but it would've never given her the closure required. Not only that, if she refused to go, she would've missed Milou. "Yes, Beckett is... special. I don't need to hide it from you."

They all can joke how Warrick remains her emotional support Bee, but it won't be incorrect. He's been the golden thread to bring her out of the labyrinth she created to keep herself away from the pain, drowning herself in nightlife, fame and flattery to get her pretty face to appear on magazines or on shows. Her foster family was mesmerized by her appearance, not exactly loving her but wishing to have her to be successful and bear their name in that success. A tool, a doll, an actor. It's hilarious how she dropped them after meeting Beckett, understanding exactly what she was missing and what needed.

"He... helped me not fuck up before," she says, eyes looking away from Mingate to look forward. "I lost my love for singing before others, I dug myself so deeply into reaching perfection that I forgot how genuine connection feels like." At least, she understand what certain people felt like. "And Beckett... He can be stubborn, you know. I told him he didn't need to come but before I could tell him no, he already packed everything. He's sweet."

But it begets the question: How was Milou? What did she have after their separation? Thus, she gets quiet for a moment, instead deciding to start asking questions herself.

[imaginepirates]

Drawing Reaction

For the anon who wanted preferences on how James, Jack, Elizabeth, and Beckett would react to finding your sketches/drawings of them.

@emdrabbles​ @tesserphantom​ @paljonkaikenlaista​ @viper-official​ @wordsinwinters​ @groovyfluxie​ @hellspawn-brownies​ @kittenlittle24​

James:

James would be shocked to find your drawings of him. If you aren’t in a relationship already, he’s surprised that you’re even thinking of him, let alone spending the time to draw him. He doesn’t know what to do with the knowledge; he can’t confront you about it, of course, so he keeps it to himself, his feelings for you only growing as he realizes how much you must like him to draw him. It embarrasses him, and gives him a little fluttery feeling. Even if you were in a relationship, he would still be surprised. He doesn’t realize that you would use him as a muse, despite the fact that you can openly show your love for him. He still wouldn’t bring it up, but would probably show you a little more affection than usual, just to make sure you know how much he loves you.

Jack:

Jack would be amused. He’s secretly flattered that you would think to draw him, especially in such detail, and would take it as a confidence boost. If you weren’t in a relationship, he wouldn’t bring it up, not wanting to make you feel like he’s invading your privacy by looking at your drawings, but he teases you by asking why you won’t show him the art you make, knowing full-well what you’re creating. If you were in a relationship, he would tell you just how flattered he is that you pay so much attention to him. I think it would probably touch him more than he’s willing to admit, to know that you love him enough to immortalize him in art. He knows how much work art takes, and is secretly a little emotional over it.

Elizabeth:

Elizabeth revels in your art, glad to be the center of your attention. It catches her by surprise, of course, but it excites her. She wants you to think about her, even when you’re apart, and it makes her heart flutter to know that you do. She’s a little embarrassed, but also a little smug. If you weren’t in a relationship, she would only hint to the fact that she knew about your drawings, never admitting to it outright. Instead, she gauges your reaction, seeing whether she’s supposed to know or not. If not, she feels even more special. When you’re in a relationship, she’d admit that she’s seen it, casually mentioning it in conversation to see how flushed she can get you. She loves it, and could probably stare at the sketches for hours, admiring your skill and basking in the love she knows you have for her.

Beckett:

Beckett is absolutely smug to see your art of him. Or he appears to be, at least. Internally, he’s melting over the idea that you would use him as a muse. He doesn’t think himself to be particularly attractive, and he’s never thought that anyone could hold such love for him. He’s always loved art, and to see a rendition of himself takes his breath away. Externally, of course, he’s an absolute ass about it, teasing you relentlessly about how much time you must spend thinking about him, whether you’re in a relationship or not. He wants to make you squirm, and would probably have kept a drawing to show to you, talking about your use of various things like shading and linework as if the picture itself doesn’t have anything to do with him. He can’t possibly appreciate you more, and he hopes you know it, even if he’s poor at expressing it himself.

[choicesficwriterscreations]

500 Followers: Meet The Writer

Hello there! Look at us reaching 500 followers just in time for CFWC One Year celebration! We’re grateful to all of you who continue to share your work with us and support the fanfic authors of the fandom.Anyway, let’s get to the good stuff!

For some reason that only the forces of the random picker website we use can explain (lol), the tenth fanfic author interviewed is extra special to us. It’s our pleasure to introduce you to our dearest @mod-queen​’s fanfic blog:

Blog: @thequeenofpixels

Name (or petname): Tamires, but you can call me Tammy

Birthday: March 12

Nationality: Brazilian

Current residency: Brazil (somebody save me)

Languages you speak: Portuguese, English (or at least I try 😂)

Masterlist/AO3: Tammy’s fanfiction masterlist / thequeenstories

 1. Is there a meaning behind your url name?

Well, not much of a meaning, but more of a part of a user I already use for all my social media (thequeen) and the 'ofpixels' part is just because this blog is now for all games I play, and all of them are made of pixels... so.... yeah, not much creative but that's it.

2. When did you start playing Choices? What's the first book you played? 

Back in 2017, The Freshman (When we had the option to choose between Romance and Adventure at the beginning.)

3. When did you decide to join Choices fandom? 

Dec. 2017. At first I created a sideblog in another tumblr of mine, but it really annoyed me how we can’t follow/comment/send asks from the sideblog, so I decided to create a new one exclusively for choices and here we are.

4. Go back to your archive and tell us what your first post on your Choices blog was about.

It was a screenshot from HSS. Oh man, this made me miss the good old days, the magic...

5. How long have you been writing fanfiction?

Since 2015.

6. Share the first fanfic you wrote with us. Do you still like it or would you change anything about it?

The tour after the tour. Yeah I still like it. I wrote after getting really frustrated with TRR, I had to write how I wanted the scene to go  since book 2. Maybe now I’d change a few words here and there, but not what happened in it.

7. What are your favorite Choices books to write about?

Perfect Match and The Royal Romance, but I think it’s more about a few characters than the whole book.

8. What is your specialty as a fanfic writer?

I don’t think I have one…? But I enjoy writing smut and I’m enjoying writing fluff lately.

9. If you could write only angst, fluff or smut for the rest of your writing life, which would it be and why?

OMG this is one is difficult, and even though I'm getting in the fluff scene I'd choose smut 🤭🤭

10. Do you ever recognise yourself in what you write?

Always. I always put something of mine in my main characters, be it the way they act, speak, the way they feel or express their feelings... Or the way I can’t extend a plot, I tend to solve everything as fast as I can or I lose patience  🤭

11. Are there any writers (published authors and/or fanfic writers) who influenced your writing?

Of course! I couldn’t not mention my dear friend Maria ( @marijo37​ ), who’s the one who gave me the biggest push to start writing. She always inspired me with her writing. And later on J. R. Ward with the Black Dagger Brotherhood helped me discover my liking for the erotica genre and inspired me starting writing it and a few years later Sparrow Beckett did the same with BDSM for me.

12. What element of writing do you struggle with most?

Definitely describing places, I don’t know why but for me is really difficult (and boring) to do it, I mention which place the scene is happening and that’s enough for me, but I know it is not enough for some people, so I’ve tried to do it twice, but it didn’t work really well…

13. Is there any neglected work yours you wished you would finish?

A Drake x MC unfinished story that is resting in my archive… I never finished it because the thing I mentioned before: it was being too much prolonged, I lost my patience because it had a plot it couldn’t be solved as fast as I wanted, and so I gave up a while ago… But I never forget about it, if I can change something in it and finish I’ll post, I promise.

14. Which one of your stories would you most like to see as a movie/series?

Oh man, definitely The truth in the burn. All the drama of Eros using humans instead of robots in their mind experiments… (Ngl I did imagine a follow up for this one, but I didn’t want to go on there after all, because of all the possibilities it can lead so I’d rather let to the reader imagination.)

15. Do you write original stories?

Yes! I have one already finished (https://www.wattpad.com/story/44646174-rebeca but it’s in Portuguese) and I’m writing a new one that I haven’t post anywhere yet, I didn’t even gave it a title yet to be honest 

  Thanks for reading! Reblog to share your appreciation for @thequeenofpixels​ ❤️

[theclassycandy]

Hello hello hello!! I have a request for Beckett and a female s/o when they contact each other while one is on a trip? Like their texts, calls, etc.

(I'm experiencing something like this irl, he's on a trip and I'm at home haha)

Hope you're doing well! <3

Thank you so much for writing to me! At the time of writing this, I'm on a little vacation myself hehe. I'm doing well and I hope you enjoy these headcanons!

fem!mc on a business trip and Beckett communicating  

Beckett's fem!s/o is on a business trip to gain international partners for her brand and to understand the culture if the meetings go well!

He demands for her to video chat with him at least twice a day; when she wakes up and right before she goes to bed

He's honestly immensely proud of her that she's expanding her travels and he wishes that he could've gone there with her

Her texts and calls make his day too

You absolutely see how much this boi's face lights up when they're communicating with each other online

He had such a big smile on his face when she’s showing him a tour of her hotel room 

“Oh my god Beckett! Look at how big the bed is! It’s my first time in a penthouse suite- wait! Oh god, look at the massive bathtub! I know you’ve probably been in fancy hotels like your entire life but it’s so new for me!”

She’s so fucking adorable with a huge smile on her face with the expression of genuine excitement

And he can only smile at how pretty his girlfriend is, even with blurry camera work

They also text each other right before the meeting and it’s like 1 am for Beckett 

fem!s/o: I’m legit scared shitless, what if I fuck it up? Or somehow insult them?

Beckett <3: You’ll do amazing, I’m sure of it. Your charisma, wit and intelligence are unmatched. You got this, I only wish I could see do ace it in person.

fem!s/o: That’s the pep talk i needed, thanks babe! I love you and wish me luck!

Beckett <3: I love you too, more than anything. But I won’t wish you luck because you don’t need it, you’ll get it.

fem!s/o: You stroke my ego too much and I love it. Wait I have to go now, bye!

Beckett <3: Bye! You’ll do amazing, my love

With no surprise to Beckett, his girlfriend does incredible with her designs and business strategies and she gained a new partner for her company!

*On a laptop video call* “Holy shit, I did it! I can’t believe I actually now have an international partner! Do you know how much this could expand the brand?” his gf says excitedly

Beckett himself is grinning widely and excitedly talking back and even when she’s all the way on the other side of the globe, he’s extremely proud of her

Especially when he thinks of how big her smile is when she’s talking about her meetings, her works and her ambitions for her career in the coming future

On her last day there, as the day starts he tells her to relax and do whatever she wants. She’s more than earned it. Besides, she’s going to be very busy once she gets home, with her new, worldwide associates.

That night she describes all the spa treatments and facials she did and how it was the perfect end to a successful business trip 

She also showed him the luxury jewelry and designer professional wear that she bought from the designers and curators themselves!

She does this by modeling and trying on the clothes and accessories in front of him

(He blushes when she undresses in front of him, even during their video calls when she tries on the clothes) *cough cough*

She looks amazing and is the embodiment of opulence and beauty with all of it on. She has astounding fashion sense.

“Is this what it’s like to be part of the elite in the magickal world, Beckett? People eager to work with you, become associated with you?” she asks, new to what it’s like being increasingly wealthy. 

“Yeah, but you’ll get used to it. I have a feeling you were always destined to be spectacular. You deserve this.” he says genuinely

She laughs it off but Beckett really does believe everything he says.

When she arrives home from the airport, she runs to him, he picks her up and spins her around; the young couple overjoyed to be reunited!

Tags- @itsjustwinter @bri1234 @zombipickachu @miss-smrxtiee @herarmoredheart @adam-dumortains  @mortemersgf @holystxne  @callmehopeless  @mm2305  @ilikeyellingatmyscreen

[mnemo-li]

Calebros: A Rant About My Favorite VTM NPC

I do love the newer Vampire: the Masquerade content, but sometimes the writing leaves a lot to be desired. A prominent example is - what in my opinion is - the butchery of Calebros’ character in Beckett's Jyhad Diary.

While I do love seeing the more brusque side of Calebros’ personality, I don’t think I’ve ever recalled him being this vulgar in the original Clan Novels. He was definitely not dropping the f-bombs left and right, and even his gruff manner had more to do with dry humor, sarcasm, and keeping up the dignified image fit for a clan leader. I do realize that this series of chat is set much after his whole ordeal as Prince of New York is over, so maybe the experience really changed him. However, the in-universe explanation of his drastic shift in personality is lacking– it is most likely the result of a change in writers which led to inconsistent writing and characterization.

Here are some examples of scenes that presents his characterization in a more nuanced light.

Scene 1: The Nictuku Accusation

“They would have eaten me, I tell you!” “I believe you, Jeremiah,” Calebros said in a forced, calm tone. He was tired of nodding politely, of reassuring his clanmate. Jeremiah could be a difficult person to like at times. This was rapidly becoming one of those times. “Don’t you humor me!” Jeremiah snapped. “I’ve been coming to you about this for weeks now.” Seems more like years, Calebros thought. “And still you’ve done nothing. Nothing!” Jeremiah paced around, gesticulating wildly. There was no second chair by Calebros’s desk, and for this very reason. He mostly didn’t like guests, didn’t want guests, didn’t want to encourage them to sit down, to take a load off and stay for a while. Most anyone who had reason or inclination to visit Calebros was irate, complaining, or tiresome. Jeremiah happened to be all three presently. “That is not true,” Calebros assured him. Jeremiah snorted in disgusted. “What, then? Tell me. What have you done?” “I have considered quite carefully your report.” “Ha! Like I said, nothing. ‘Considered my report…’” Jeremiah repeated contemptuously. “This is what I think of you and your reports—” he said, grabbing a handful of papers from the nearest stack on Calebros’s desk. Jeremiah made to fling them into the air— Instantly, Calebros’s hand shot out and latched around his visitor’s wrist. Talons pricked undead flesh ever so slightly. “Believe me,” said Calebros evenly. “You do not want to do that.” They faced each other for a moment, one monstrous creature restraining the hand of another. Jeremiah’s fingers, biting into the papers, were long and grotesquely thin, little more than needles of bone. His entire body was thin and hard and covered with knots, bulging masses of hardened tissue, like an old, gnarled swamp tree. Finally he stopped resisting Calebros and returned the reports to the desk. “I’m sorry,” Jeremiah said and resumed his pacing, just as intently if less frenetically.

This is from the Nosferatu clan novel. Here, Jeremiah is trying to get Calebros to believe that there truly are Nictukus dwelling in the sewers. Calebros is, frankly, tired of hearing the folk tale especially when he has other pressing matters to deal with. Yet, even with his patience paper thin, he does not lash out at his broodmate. He is shown to be deeply introverted, anti-social perhaps, but he does not let his own nature affect his duties. As the Nosferatu primogen - as the leader of the clan - he has to listen to the concerns of his family, no matter how absurd. He knows when to express his authority, and he never abuses it. Again, no f-bombs dropped.

Scene 2: The Salt Lake

“Geez, what am I, your mother?” Emmett asked. “No,” Calebros said. “You are my brother, my broodmate.” “Brood, litter, whatever. We were both chosen to suck the old blood tit, so who am I to ask questions?” Calebros sighed. Blood tit, indeed. “That’s not how you remember it.” Now it was Emmett’s turn to sigh. “Don’t do this. Don’t get all… You always do this, get all touchy-feely we’re-all-brothers-in-the-blood, when you soak your head, blah, blah, blah…” “Make light of it if you will—” “I will. Thank you very much. Got enough salt here?” Emmett flicked some at Calebros.

This is from the Nosferatu clan novel. Here, Calebros has just came up from his meditation within the mud hole / salt lake. He is shown to be introspective and even sentimental. In terms of character voice, his more poised speaking style and inner monologue is contrasted against Emmett’s rough, colloquial style.

Other Sources

In the Calebros graphic novel, a similar scene is shown where Calebros is depicted to be trying and failing to remember his past before he became a vampire, losing his mind as he mixes up imagination with false memories. His inner dialogue in the graphic novel shows him saying:

“Do I tell him that his prince, his... compatriot?, is losing his mind? Never.”

This very much reflects his true nature. In Vampire: the Masquerade, there is a system of nature vs demeanor. According to his character sheet, his demeanor is that of a “director” while his nature is a “martyr (penitent)”.

Director: To the Director, nothing is worse than chaos and disorder. The Director seeks to be in charge, adopting a "my way or the highway" attitude on matters of decision-making. The Director is more concerned with bringing order out of strife, however, and need not be truly "in control" of a group to guide it. Coaches, teachers, and many political figures exemplify the Director Archetype.

Martyr: The Martyr suffers for his cause, enduring his trials out of the belief that his discomfort will ultimately improve others' lot. Some Martyr simply want the attention or sympathy their ordeals engender, while others are sincere in their cause, greeting their opposition with unfaltering faith in their own beliefs. Many Inquisitors, staunch idealists, and outcasts are Martyr Archetypes.

Penitent: The Penitent exists to atone for the grave sin she commits simply by being who she is. Penitents have either low self-esteem or legitimate, traumatic past experiences, and feel compelled to "make up" for inflicting themselves upon the world. Penitent Archetypes aren't always religious in outlook; some truly want to scourge the world of the grief they bring to it. Repentant sinners, persons with low self-esteem, and remorseful criminals are examples of the Penitent Archetype.

All of these quotes, if feel, matches very much with the Calebros I knew from the clan novel saga. Below are also a set quotes detailing Calebros’ inner dialogue in his graphic novel.

“As prince, only I can save them, only I can keep them from looking where they shouldn’t. A force exists underneath this city, sleeping, and it must remain so, lest we all perish.

“Augustin, my sire, left us to investigate the Nictuku, and came back to me with this information. Could this be Gehenna? The Final Nights? When the Ancients awake to devour their errant children? Can it be stopped? Should it be stopped? Everything that is done is a hope of staving off the inevitable. Why?”

“My embrace into this world was a foregone conclusion, made for me by Augustin. It is no different for anyone else. Why then do we not welcome the coming Armageddon? Exchange one world for another. It sounds almost painless, except I would never accept such a course, neither would my fellow Nosferatu. Neither would my fellow Kindred, for that matter.”

He is incredibly contemplative, and determined too, willing to fight against the inevitable apocalypse of the vampires. As long as his clan and the Kindred as a whole does not give up, does not give in the the despair of Gehenna, he too will be willing to fight for the survival of others.

Scene 3: Against a Master Manipulator

The character of Hesha is... complex. I see him as sort of a sweet-talking, cunning, charismatic cult leader. Here is a dialogue between him and Calebros.

“No harm was done,” Hesha said softly, his voice still the slightest bit scratchy from the ordeal he’d undergone. “As you say,” said Calebros, not looking up and continuing to write furiously. “You concede without agreeing.” Hesha laughed quietly. Calebros’s head whipped up. Angry words were ready on his lips, but the Egyptian’s smile was not mocking. The Setite obviously realized the weakness of his position, physically and strategically, as well as the fragility of their alliance. “Candor is important between friends,” Hesha said. “Otherwise, perceived insults take hold and fester.” “I am quite accustomed to festering,” Calebros said curtly. “I fear that I’m growing so as well,” Hesha said, squeezing one of the boils that stood raised about one of his many open wounds until the canker popped, and frothy pus ran down his arm. He laughed quietly again. Calebros punctuated a written sentence with a particularly violent period. “Your woman willfully disobeyed her instructions.” “She exercised discretion,” Hesha countered. “She blatantly disregarded the safety of my people.” “If anything had gone wrong,” Hesha said, “it would be Pauline lying torn on the ground. Your people would have faded into the night, none the worse for wear.” Calebros fumed. Probably Hesha was correct—but the Nosferatu was not about to admit as much. “I will speak with her,” Hesha said reasonably. “She has not encountered those of your clan before. She’s not aware of how strongly your predilection for…” “Cowardice?” Calebros suggested accusingly. “Prudence, I was going to say. She’s not aware of how strongly your predilection for prudence runs.” Good choice of words, Calebros thought. But, then, Hesha always chose his words carefully, always seemed to know just the right thing to say. It was discomforting in a way, how easily the Setite could alleviate tension with just a few words. Go ahead, Eve. Take a bite of the apple. Adam might like some too. But it seemed that they needed one another—and that outweighed their natural and mutual tendencies to distrust one another. Just barely.

Hesha’s actions managed to get under Calebros’ nerves, as seen in his curt speech, his furious writing, his accusatory reply to Hesha. He is angry for the safety of his clan (which, as seen from all the other sources, is something very dear to him). He is even shown to be stubborn, refusing to admit that Hesha was correct. Even still, he keeps his head rather than loose his cool completely. He also realises Hesha’s smooth words for what they are- manipulation. He is willing to compromise and form a sort of alliance with Hesha too, despite of his distrust and personal feelings.

Calebros and Ramona

I found the strange friendship Calebros had with the Gangrel Ramona to be incredibly touching, and tragic due to the turns it took towards the end (which I won’t spoil). Below are some excerpts from the Nosferatu clan novel showing Ramona’s initial meeting with Calebros and his later assessments of her character.

Neither Pauline nor the other girl, Ramona, had been subjected to the full brunt of facing a Nosferatu. Not until now, that is, when they were brought into Calebros’s presence. He did not hide his true appearance from them. And he could read the dismay, the fear and disgust, on their faces. Of the two, Pauline made the worthier attempt, attempt, to maintain her demeanor of professional detachment—perhaps Ruhadze had taught her well. The Gangrel, unsurprisingly, was not so couth. She gawked, both at Calebros and at Hesha in his current condition, and she hid her revulsion quite poorly, if she tried at all. […] Ramona looked at Calebros again, a more measured look this time, trying to see through the deformities. Good girl, Calebros thought. Young and brash, but not stupid.

Ramona reached for a calendar on Calebros’s desk, but tossed it back when she realized it was from 1972. “That’s still a whole month, and nobody knows where Leopold was that whole time. He could have gone back to the cave.” Smart girl, Calebros thought. He was leading her along the same path of reconstructing events that he had followed.

He compliments her intelligence again and again, and seems genuinely fond of her. Which I believe is why, after he became Prince of New York, he allows her a private audience with him to which he offered her a safe passage out of town which she rejects, viewing his actions as a betrayal. Below is an excerpt from what I think is the Clan Brujah novel.

The hunched form stepped forward, leaning heavily against the seatbacks as he came. Ramona kept straining to pick out the sound of broken gasps that must accompany such labored progress, but the air did not stir. "You had requested an audience, my dear. A private audience. I have gone to some pains to secure a place where we might be alone. Privacy is such an indulgence here. All too often, I find myself unable to justify the expense of importing it. And there is always someone else jealous of such decadence. But you have not come to hear of my distractions. Sit here, next to me, and tell me why you have come.”

[…]

“Calebros chuckled low, a sound like an engine turning. "No, I don't imagine you would. I will miss your straightforward style, Ramona. I find it refreshing. But already you know that there is no longer any place for you here. In the midst of battle—against the Sabbat and later, against Leopold and the Eye—we could afford certain marriages of convenience. But these partnerships will not survive the challenges of peacetime. Your associates, Mr. Ruhadze and Mr. Ravana, they found themselves in much the same position. Each has already left New York.”

[…]

“Calebros was silent for a time, letting her wind down. "I'm sorry I couldn't help you with the Eye, Ramona. And I'm sorry you will have to leave us. Believe me, I would like nothing better than to find a place for you here. I will have sore need of people who can be relied upon in the nights ahead. But you know what you would be up against if you remained here— the posturing, the none-too-subtle snubbing, the outright backstabbing. You are a rarity among our kind, Ramona. But because you are different, you will be hated and eventually destroyed if you stay among the society of the damned. Know that I will remember our time together fondly. If I can be of any assistance to you in relocating..." "No, I understand. It's 'thanks for your help; here's your bus ticket.' Well, I don't need any of your favors. I don't like the strings attached to them. And I resent the fact that you think I'm so stupid that I'll let you screw me over and then thank you for it." "Ramona...”

Again, even during his tenure as Prince of New York he is so damn eloquent, I definitely can’t fathom the word fuck ever slipping out of his mouth. He is compassionate, helping Ramona perhaps for future gains too, but mainly I believe he genuinely wants to do something right, give her the happy ending she deserves for once.

Moreover, I have a soft spot for this quote of Calebros pondering about Ramona’s nature, why she’s always so angry at the world, why every word out of her mouth sounds like an accusation. It showcases well his world-weariness, a cynical attitude that hides his concerns for others.

What have you seen that makes you so angry, so bitter, little one? Calebros wondered. Family killed? Have you been betrayed? How many times, I wonder. You’d best get over it, if you hope to survive.

So... yeah. I’d pay money to see an accurate portrayal of Calebros in a newer media otherwise I might have to write my own fanfic pairing my OC with him

[ashdoesfandomarchieved]

oh my god they were drift compatible

ao3

Beckett likes fighting.

She likes the rhythm, the burn of the bo staff in her palms, the sound of wind rushing in her ears. Every thrust, every block; her heart rate climbs imperceptibly until it’s pounding in her skull. A pulse of blood drowning out everything but the sound of her own heavy breathing and her opponent’s gasps.

Beckett loves fighting. But this isn’t supposed to be a fight.

Ransom grunts as his back hits the floor. The fall is softer than it would have been in an actual situation—broken by the practice mats and Beckett catching his head with her ankle right before it impacts with the ground. He blinks up at her, heaving slightly, sweat soaking his brow and the front of his gray shirt.

“Four points to three,” Bradward Boimler’s monotone voice rises across the loud applause. She risks a glance at him. His eyebrows are pulled together slightly, lips puckered into something like disappointment.

With a scowl, Beckett stomps toward where he’s standing, just slightly behind her mother, staring impassively down at his clipboard. He looks the picture of a perfect officer: uniform neatly pressed, back straight, shoulders back, expression unreadable. Even his hair still somehow manages to be professional despite his obnoxious color and the way it’s swept to the side, revealing the undercut beneath.

The only thing that gives him away is the slight uptick in his voice.

“What the fuck?” Beckett slams the butt of her staff into the ground and leans on it with both hands. Boimler flinches slightly at the sound, shoulders coming up to his ears.

Marshal Freeman’s face is impassive, but Beckett can tell she’s inwardly smirking.

“Is there a problem?” Boimler finally asks, when he realizes his Marshal isn’t going to.

“If you don’t think Ransom is a good fit for me, why did you personally select him?” she demands, trying to keep from snarling at him.

Boimler’s lips thin.

“I’m not entirely sure what you’re talking about,” he replies, measuredly. He risks a glance at Freeman, whose face is as immobile as concrete.

“Every time I get him on his back—”

Ransom makes a choking noise in tandem with Brad’s face turning red.

“—you get pissy,” she says. “Like we’re not doing good enough or some shit.”

“ He’s doing fine,” his voice raises a couple of notches—probably out of nervousness. A couple of oohs come from the crowd at that. “My problem is with you.”

Beckett lets out a surprised snort, leaning back on her heels. “Me?”

Boimler risks one more glance at Freeman. She’s still standing, feet two shoulder widths apart, hands clasped behind her back. Utterly impassive and watching Beckett with a hawk-like gaze. If Brad hadn’t already pissed her off, that would have done it. Beckett is reminded of a thousand moments in her childhood where she wasn’t good enough to be privy to what was going on in her own mother’s head.

So she turns her ire on Boimler, who has finally come to the realization that Freeman was just going to let this happen. He takes a step out of the woman’s shadow, hands gripping his clipboard tightly.

“You’re good,” he says, voice reluctant. “You could’ve had him incapacitated two moves ago, but you waited until the last one.”

“So? I still won.”

“That’s the problem. Compatibility isn’t supposed to be about a fight.”

Beckett smiles. “You know how to use one of these?” she asks, throwing the bo staff up in the air slightly and catching it.

Something in Boimler’s expression stiffens. “I’m not—”

“Come on, Bradward,” she cajoles. “Just one fight.”

He glares. “It’s not a fight .”

Beckett switches her gaze toward her mother, who has finally let the corners of her mouth twitch into something of a smile. “Officer Boimler, if you would indulge Ranger Mariner,” she says. It’s not a suggestion.

With something of a sigh, Boimler allows his superior to take his clipboard and begins to strip down to his undershirt and pants. She eyes him up as he unties his boots, setting them just off the mats. He’s lanky and quite a bit skinnier than she is. That’s not to say that he hasn’t built on some muscle—you really can’t be in this business without undergoing some form of physical activity—but it’s tightly packed and in only a few places.

In other words, he’s not a hunk like Ransom.

He picks a black bo staff, leaning against the wall, and cautiously steps onto the mats.

Beckett cracks her neck and walks toward him slowly, but assuredly. “Alright, Officer Doucherocket,” she says. “If it’s not a fight, then what is it?”

His eyebrows furrow. “Aren’t you the jaeger pilot?” He does something clever with his fingers that spins the bo staff in his hands in tandem with the fighting stance he drops into. That tight feeling in Beckett’s chest that had squeezed tightly when she first saw Boimler standing there, in the rain, skyrockets at that. “You tell me.”

The first hit is expected and she blocks it with a quick tap, sliding to the side so that she can get her own jab in at his side. Surprisingly, he seems to have accounted for that. He spins, managing to catch her staff before she can land it.

Ten seconds in and they’re both zero to zero.

Beckett draws back, breath already a little too fast for how early the match is. “Alright,” she says, circling him slowly. He stays grounded, moving just enough to accommodate her movements. “Not bad, for a farm boy.”

One eyebrow ticks upward. “Not bad for an army brat,” he tosses back.

Beckett has a reply for that and it involves poking him in the ribs. He lets out huff as she cheekily says, “One to zero.”

Boimler’s eyes narrow.

It’s on.

Boimler goes for the ankles, ensuring that Beckett won’t be able to attack while defending. She manages to hop over the swipe, but isn’t fast enough to block when he brings up his staff to tap her on the shoulder.

One to one .

Beckett goes for a couple of cross strikes and pokes in rapid enough succession that all Boimler can do is block. He moves backwards with each move, quickly losing ground as she lays into him a barrage of swift techniques. She finally manages to strike faster than he can parry, getting a faux blow to the head.

“Two to one,” she sing-songs. She twirls her staff in one hand, backing up a bit. Maybe she’s going a little too hard on him.

Brad flips his staff so that the short end of it is pointed toward her with the long length of it against his side. “You’re still thinking wrong” he says, before diving back in.

An upward strike and a few spin-assisted moves has her giving up ground to accommodate the sudden onslaught. He manages to tap her knee, much to her annoyance. Two-to-fucking-two. He doesn’t give up ground like they’ve been doing after getting a point in. He stays still, waiting for her next moves.

“And you still haven’t explained what you mean by that,” she snaps, right before she engages in a swarmer style. It involves throwing in so many moves—no matter how badly executed or landed—that your opponent has no choice but to concede.

Concede Boimler does, allowing himself to be backed up so far that when she finally delivers the finishing move—hooking an ankle behind his and delivering an elbow to his bicep—he almost falls off the mats when he rolls on his shoulder back into an upright position. As cool as the move is, she still gets a point when she tips the side of his head gently with her staff.

There’s a smattering of applause that is drowned out by the sound of her heart pounding in her ears when Boimler suddenly sweeps his staff in a wide motion that would have hit her head had she not quickly ducked. She blocks the move, side-stepping as to get in a strike of her own that is blocked just as quickly. Boimler spins on the balls of his feet, almost getting in a strike to her ribs that she parries with a downward block. This, unfortunately puts her in a precarious position with his staff under hers that allows her zero leverage when he twists own staff just so, making her flip onto her back.

She makes impact, air rushing out of her lungs, but rolls back onto her feet before he can get a point in.

“It’s a conversation,” Boimler says, as she slides from a graceful half split into a fighting stance. “But you know that already.”

The sound of the bo staff cutting through the air reminds Beckett of how it sounds to fly-the rushing of wind in her ears, the loud sound drowning out her thoughts. She catches Boimler’s strike and throws in a few of her own, delighted at how gracefully he parries them.

“Drift compatibility-” he says, between interchanging blocks, parries and strikes, “-is about connection.”

She spins, almost getting a strike to the collarbone in. “If you fight the person-”

“You fight the connection,” Boimler finishes, parrying a strike to the groin with a rueful grin. “It’s about trust.”

He pulls back out of hitting range, signaling a reprieve. “So, why aren’t you trusting your partner?” His eyes shift over her shoulder, most likely finding Ransom’s in the crowd.

She takes in a few breaths, trying not to heave. Sweat runs down her back and thighs and palms, making her skin burn with discomfort. Brad stands a few feet away, looking equally sweaty and exhausted. His eyes find hers again, questioningly.

“Maybe you’re shit a judging compatibility,” she says breathily, tilting her head. “You really found the first hunk with daddy issues and a savior complex and thought yeah nothing will ever go wrong with this -”

“Hey!” Ransom’s voice is easily ignorable, so she does just that.

“-and called it a fucking day?” She snorts, shaking her head. “Do you think I’m really that predictable? Tell me,” she jerks her chin toward her mother, toward that damn clipboard with all of Boimler’s stupid notes, “what’s your professional analysis on me, Officer Boimler.”

“Marin-”

She takes a step forward, well within range for him to take a point. “What has you so tied up in knots that you can’t even do your goddamn job and correctly pair-”

“You’re reckless ,” he hisses, getting up in her face. They’re almost the same height, but she still has to tilt her head upwards to maintain eye contact. “You put others in danger out in the field and you wait too long to finish the fight you could have ended three moves ago and there’s absolutely no way to find a compatible partner for you because no one is!”

His breath mingles with hers as they both heave. His eyes are wide, pupils dilated, and there’s a flush-from the heat and the anger—crawling up his neck and into his face—that stupid face that she wants to punch or slap or ki-

“That’s enough.” Her mother’s voice rings out through the silent room.

Boimler blinks in surprise, as if only just realizing that there are other people in the room. People that include an entire crowd of spectators and his commanding officer, who have been watching this strange back-and-forth the entire time.

He takes a step back, face going from a light pink flush to a deep red one, and runs a hand through his hair. “Marshal Freeman?” His posture has stiffened.

Beckett turns to face her mother, reluctance and exhaustion vying for dominance. “Ransom is a fine officer and a decent sparring partner, but if you’re going to pair me with him than you can forget it. I’m not even asking for vulnerability, but if my partner can’t drop the cocky attitude, there’s no way this is going to work.”

Freeman raises her eyebrows. “Vulnerability? I wasn’t aware that was a requirement for drifting.”

“Drifting is about connection,” Beckett says, tossing Boimler a smug look. “I can’t trust someone unwilling to be honest with me. I would rather someone look me in the eye and tell me what they think of me than put up a cocky front and a flirty attitude.”

Something in Freeman’s face sharpens. It’s an expression that Beckett knows well—that pleased feeling of having won. “Well then,” she says. “If that is the case. Officer Boimler, Ranger Beckett, you’re both expected to report to at 0500 to prep for the maiden flight of Cerritos -”

“Wait what—”

“Marshal you have to be joking—”

“Don’t interrupt me,” Freeman snaps. “We are on a time limit here. Every moment spent wasting time is another potential loss for millions and I cannot afford my team messing around.” She moves forward, coming to a stop just in front of the practice mats. “Ransom is a fine officer,” she nods at him respectfully, “but you’re right. He’s not a good fit. You need someone who challenges you, yes, but you also need someone who’s going to ground you.”

“And you think that—that he is going to-” Beckett sputters, waving a hand in Boimler’s direction.

“Usually I would be offended by that, but I’m on her side,” Boimler blurts out. Beckett gives him an almost grateful nod. “Marshal, you cannot be serious about-”

She cuts them both off with a glare. “This isn’t up for discussion. Billups, get them together before tomorrow, Shaxs I want Cerritos ready for launch in six hours, and you two-” she points at the two gaping new drift partners. “Take a shower, you both stink.”

As she power walks away, crowd dispersing in her wake and officers rushing off to comply with orders, Beckett turns back to Boimler.

He’s still staring after her mom, face ashen.

“Well don’t look too excited.”

He shifts his gaze toward her. “What.”

“Nevermind. Shit.” She drops her staff pressing her palms into her eyes. “I really have to drift with a bonehead farm boy.”

The noise Boimler makes in the back of his throat is unintelligible. “How do you think I feel? I have to drift with a cocky egomaniac who just tried to prove a point through the power of violence.”

Beckett can’t help it. She grins, dropping her hands. “Could be worse.” She picks up the staff and grabs Boimler’s out of his hand, walking them back to their resting place. “You could be drifting with Ransom.”

“Ugh.”

“See,” she points at him, scowling. “My exact point. Why the fuck would anyone want to be his copilot? I don’t want that man in my head.”

“You don’t want me in your head either,” Boimler points out.

“You're a damn sight better than him,” she grudgingly admits. “Even if you are scrawny as shit.”

His mouth twists into something between a smile and a grimace. “I’m not sure whether or not that was supposed to be a compliment, but I’ll take it.”

There’s a pause. A little awkward, although Boimler is still smiling at her. Something behind his eyes is searching, curious. As if he has a million questions that he’s not allowed to ask or that she won’t answer.

If the drift goes well, there’ll be no need for curiosity or questions.

“So,” Beckett sighs, resigning herself to the fact that this dweeb is going to fucking mind meld with her at 5 fucking am tomorrow. “Showers?”

His face turns red—again—and it’s almost endearing. “I-”

“Separate showers,” she clarifies, although for some stupid reason the back of her neck is heating up. “Duh.”

“Right. Right, separate-right.” He’s back to being flustered again, which is cute but-

Wait. Cute?

Oh no. Oh fuck. Oh sweet mother of aliens that rose from the ocean and ate San Francisco, Beckett Mariner thinks this lanky, purple haired, nerd is cute.

This cannot be happening.

“Shower!” she squeaks out, backing up as quickly toward the exit that she can while being exhausted as shit . “I’m just gonna-yeah. Shower. Bye.” She all but runs from the room, face steadily going warmer and warmer, heart pounding like she’s about to have a fucking attack or something.

Brad Boimler is about to be in her head and she thinks he’s cute.

She slides to a stop, back resting against the wall as she heaves in gasping breaths.

“Fuck.”

[cosmic-conundrums]

☺️ for Atlas?

'soft words of reassurance' excellent

"Captain?" someone's knocking on the door to his quarters. Again. Atlas groans, picking himself up off the floor and stomping to the door, shoving it open just a crack. "I'm busy."

He is met with a raised eyebrow from his partner, who stands on the other side with a plate of food in hand. "Good for you. Can I come in?"

Atlas glances back into his quarters, at the papers strewn haphazardly across his desk, the mess of his unmade bed, the hole he punched through the wall. He rubs at his eyes, trying to disperse the tear tracks, fully aware that he's probably making it look much worse.

"Fin made you food," Riggs presses, when Atlas doesn't say anything. "Said you hadn't eaten anything today."

Hadn't he? Atlas was sure he'd eaten something. Or.. wait. No. No, that had been yesterday. With a wordless shrug, he opens the door wider and lets Riggs (and the food) enter.

Riggs takes one look at the room, sets the plate down on the desk, and turns to Atlas, folding his arms over his chest. "Eat. Then tell me what's going on with you."

Atlas doesn't protest. He sits down, and he eats, ignoring Riggs' softly concerned gaze fixed on him. When he's done, he sits back in his chair and looks up at his partner, letting part of the steadfast captain's mask slip. "My parents sent a letter," he says after a moment, the words feeling heavy and damning. "Telling me all about what Alya's up to, all the wonderful time she's having without me. Reminding me how she's better off. Reminding me what a fucking failure I am."

"And they're right," he says, before Riggs can say anything. "They're right, Adrian. I have let everyone I've had in my life down. I let my parents down, when I chose to explore the world instead of staying in hiding. I let Tash down when I let them be captured, and I let them down further every day that I don't get them out of there. I let Tal down, when I cut his tether. When I killed him. And I let Alya down. I let my daughter down, and I can't even get them to give me a chance to make it up to her. I'm letting the crew down. I've failed each and every one of them in every way and I just have to live with that fact."

In a second, Riggs is on his knees before Atlas, taking both of the captain's hands in his rough scarred ones. Atlas startles at the touch, as Riggs' openly expressed affection is rare and fleeting. But the surgeon is looking at him with fire in his eyes, gripping his hands like a lifeline.

"Don't you fucking say that," he growls, the words low and intense. Everything about Adrian Riggs is intense, but it's taken to a much higher level in this moment. "Don't you dare. You are not. You have not. I can't- I don't- I'm not- fuck."

With a noise of frustration, Riggs rises to his feet, pulling Atlas with him. He drags him to the door and flings it open, marching them both out onto the deck. "Mandatory crew activity," he snaps to everyone in range. "Tell Atlas he isn't a failure and hasn't let down everyone in his life."

"You think you've let us down?" this is Harley, looking up from where the rest of the crew is sat on the deck playing a card game. "Cap..."

"If anything, you've done the opposite," Beckett pipes up instantly, hopping to xyr feet. "You've done so much for us. You continue to do so much for us."

"You gave us a home," says Lily, setting down her cards to fix her captain with a fierce stare. "You made us a family. We're all better because of you. You try so hard. You do so much. You care so much. And that is not letting anyone down."

Atlas blinks, staring at his crew, at each of their determined faces. They mean it, he knows. They mean every word. And he loves them. He loves them so so much.

"See?" Riggs says quietly in his ear. "You've made mistakes. We all have. But you've never let us down. You never will. You spend every day trying to make up for bad choices you've made, and if you think I don't notice that, now you know. I see you. We see you. So don't say that you've failed, because that would mean calling what you've created here a failure. And anyone can see that it's far from that."

That's the final straw. Atlas breaks, letting the burden drop from his shoulders as he throws his arms around his partner, tucking his face into the surgeon's neck. "Thank you," he mumbles against Riggs' skin, and Riggs startles, before patting his back awkwardly and pressing a brief kiss to the top of his head.

Atlas huffs as he feels another body slam into him, wrapping long limbs around both him and Riggs. Beckett. The boatswain is followed by Lily and Harley, who squeeze their way into the huddle. And then finally Finlay, who joins but remains still a little on the outside, their hand resting on Atlas' shoulder.

His family is not a failure. His family is perfect. And if he made them, well, he can't be all that bad himself.

:)

[pollylynn]

Title: Transposition WC: 1000

“Beckett, how did you get in there?” — Richard Castle, In Plane Sight (7 x 21) 

“I’m striking it off the list,” he announces dramatically the minute they are alone, the minute the he closes the pointless double doors to the bedroom behind the two of them and listens for the sound of two pairs of feet retreating up the stairs. He collapses in a picturesque heap on  to the bed, complete with the back of his hand draped over his eyes. “You know it’s a tactic of last resort, Beckett, but it is forever more out of the question.”

“Out of the question?” She’ll play along. She is so glad to have him back, safely and on the right side of the ocean, that she’d do just about anything right now if it means that she gets to keep feasting her eyes on him, reaching out to touch him, leaning in to inhale his scent. “I though you’d accepted the fact that only one of us gets to decide what is and is not out of the question, Castle.” 

She drops on to the bed and plants a hand on either side of his shoulders. She looms to emphasize her point, but he spoils it by wrapping her in an awkward bear hug. He pulls her into a tight—tight—embrace and she feels the tension exiting his body in short, shuddering breaths. There’s desperation enough in it to rival her own, despite the light tone he’s trying to strike and it’s a strange kind of relief to know that it’s not just her. 

For all that she urged him to go—to take Alexis on the trip she was originally supposed to accompany him on—she’s been desperate to have him back, and she’s not sure how much of that is near-death experience at thirty-nine thousand feet. She’s not sure how much of that is the lingering fear that he’ll disappear again if she lets him out of her sight. She’s not sure how much of it is just the fact that this is life from now until the end, because she loves him and things will always get a bit desperate when they’re apart. 

“That’s my point, though,” he says suddenly, as though they haven’t just been clinging to one another like Penelope and Odysseus. He hoists her body all the way over his, pinning her to her own side of the bed. The expression on his face as he gazes down at her is mixture of jet lag, lust, and merriment over whatever it is he’s talking about. “I’m upsetting the balance of power—possibly the balance of the universe. I am not to be trusted!” 

“No one trusts you,” she teases, even as she tangles her fingers in his hair and pulls his face close to her own. “You are the least trustworthy person I’ve ever met.”

He gasps as though she has cut him to the quick. He presses one palm to his heart as though he might actually die from the wound. The fact that his other palm is roaming freely over the hills and valleys of her body undermines the performance to a certain extent. She’s not exactly concerned with reviewing his Oscar reel at the moment, though, and his freely roaming palm has a lot to do with that. She is, instead, concerned with letting her eyelids flutter shut. She is concerned with arching her spine, rolling her hips, and pressing as much of herself as possible closer to his touch. 

“What am I not trusting you about now?” she wonders lazily aloud. It’s less a question than a passing thought. It’s less a pressing concern than evidence of the fact that she is utterly and gloriously without a filter right now. “What’s out of the question?” 

“Me role-playing as you,” he murmurs against her neck. The edges of the words are soft 

enough, and frankly her focus is nonexistent enough, that she’s drifting along in their wake. 

“You as me?” She rearranges them, but they’re no easier to understand in that order. “You role-played me?” 

“I had to. I didn’t know what else to do.” He pulls away, leaving a sudden and unwelcome void of warmth and scent and pleasantly roaming palm. He half sits up, gesticulating with animation. “You’d think it would be fun. Role reversal is fun, right? But no. It was hard. And terrifying. And why is it never the first person you interrogate? Why can’t it ever be that first person—just boom! Confession. Case closed.”

She catches up at last. She realizes he’s backpedaled through days and days, all the way back to the ordeal on the plane, which she’ll be ready to talk about roughly never. But here he is, chattering about role-playing as her. Here he is with anxiety tingling its way out into to the world from every cell in his body and she wants to cling to him. She wants to hold him fiercely tight and tell him how scared she was—how scared she still is, because he was there and she was here and she doesn’t know how to go through something like that alone. 

But she doesn’t cling. She doesn’t cower. She rises up instead. She snakes her ankle around his calf and flips his body so it’s entirely underneath hers. She pins his hips in place with a knee planted on either side. 

“First of all,” she says, looming once again, “You have done nothing but complain about Case closed for going on seven years.” She breaks character long enough to tweak his ear, old school. “Second of all—“ She leans in close. She bares her teeth. She waits until the quiver of anticipation makes it all the way down to his toes before she flops on to her back with her arms flung wide, the very picture of docility—the very picture of role reversal. “Nothing gets struck from the list without my approval.” 

“Nothing,” he echoes, leaning into the electricity crackling between them. “Nothing at all.” 

A/N: Beckett’s interrogation stylings coming out of Castle’s mouth—a thing.  An ODD thing. But there are no things here. 

images via homeofthenutty

[wonderlander-i]

How to nail a study date when you’re not even dating

Pairing : Beckett Harrington x f! MC (Eli Russell)

Warnings : none, it's pure fluff (if you exclude one bad word... Or maybe two 😂)

Words count : 2,5k

Author's Note : The world needs a little bit of domestic love and well... I'm an emotional ball of drama who'd rather spend a week working on this than read my school books.

*sends virtual hugs to everyone*

On the afternoon of a rainy autumn day, Eli stood by the closed window of her dorm room, watching the clear water droplets hit the glass then race down to the wooden frame. She smiled to herself. Being a sun att and all, she loved the summer. But there was something about the rain that calmed her buzzing mind. This whole season brought her soul to an unusual peace. The mixture of the earthy sweet smell rising from the ground, the unanticipated flashes of the lightning followed by the roaring thunder in the darkening sky, the steady beats of the drizzle when it meets the window. She hugged her arms tight, humming to herself a song. She barely noticed when the door opened, and Becket stepped in with a pile of books in a hand and a dripping umbrella in the other. He set the books carefully on her desk and looked around. She already had her hanging lights on the wall next to her bed, and they were casting a soft glow across the room. It smelled the gentle spice and freshly baked cookies. That was no mystery to him; she had something baked for him each time he visited.

Finally, his eyes landed on her. And he chuckled when he noticed that she was wearing a pink cotton onesie. He walked to join her by the window, where she was deep in her thoughts.

“It’s beautiful” He mumbled, looking at the rain pouring from the grey clouds.

“Yes” she sighed wistfully “And you’re late” She turned to face him, poking his chest.

“I had to fetch my umbrella”

She shrugged “Still not an excuse”

“I brought us some hot chocolate”

“That’s a damn good excuse”

He clicked his fingers, and two mugs appeared on the desk next to his books.

“I couldn’t carry them all the way to your room, it’s too cold outside”

“And you wouldn’t miss a chance to show off your powers” She rolled her eyes, amused.

“That’s nonsense” he objected, swishing his fingers to channel an air current around her. She crossed her arms over her chest as the air pushed her straight to her bed, making her fall on top of the mattress.

“you pretentious little–” She got up, but he was already sitting down next to her. He handed her one of the mugs, and the rich smell of chocolate persuaded her to let this one slip through. He opened one of the books on his lap.

“I found this one is the hidden aisle in the library, I thought you’d find it interesting”

“Pendragon: a history of mythical fire breathers” She read out loud “You mean to tell me that dragons are real?” her eyes lit up as she flipped the pages, stopping at the drawn image of a burgundy creature with fire bursting from its mouth. “The Morelth Nighthowler” She ran her index finger under the name “Burns his victims alive after trapping them in…”

“Slow down” He interrupted her laughing “You didn’t know?”

“How am I supposed to know?” She furrowed her eyebrows. “It’s not like I walk around asking people if leprechauns exist. Or how the dwarfs keep their beards perfectly trimmed”

“To answer your questions, yes and dwarfs go to barbers like anyone else would do”

“That was sarcasm!” She exclaimed “Wait are they really that short? do they really have a hidden pot of gold at the end of the rainbow?”

A strange warmth invaded his chest when he looked at her excited expressions. Born to a magical family, nothing was unusual or unbelievable to him. All the things that made Eli’s eyes go wide were mere facts to him. To be the one who introduces her to these small fragment of their world, of the world she lived far away from for most of her life, was an honour he didn’t believe he deserved. He shared all his knowledge with her, not holding back anything. And it made him... Proud ? No... Happy. Happy that she’d listen to everything he teaches her. Happy that she was passionate about those things the same way he was. Happy that she understood him.

“Eliana, your curiosity is a breath of fresh air” He chuckled “Let’s start from the beginning now shall we?”

She nodded, scooping closer to him so she’d get a better view as he flipped to the first page and started reading to her “Chapter one... “

Many hours later, he was halfway through the book when something clicked inside her head. She picked up a sharpie and looked at him with a strange glow in her eyes.

“It has been proven that his scales could be useful to treat battle wounds if they’re properly smashed and mixed with Hooded Skullcaps at high temperature to make a salve–”

He stopped reading when Eli leaned forward and started drawing lines from his cheekbones to his nose.

“What are you doing?” He asked her, crinkling his nose as he felt the ink running across his face.

“Playing ‘connect the dots’ ” she replied, her eyebrows furrowed in concentration.

“On my face?” he arched an eyebrow, still confused

“Yes”

“With a sharpie?”

“Yes” she huffed; blowing away a strand of hair that slipped from her bun and fell on her forehead

“May I ask why?” He shook his head, waiting for her answer.

She didn’t reply, biting her lips instead as she studied his face, contemplating her work. After few moments of silence, she mumbled.

“Orion”

“Excuse me?”

“Orion, the hunter” A grin broke into her face. “Your freckles match the constellation”

He was speechless. He looked at her, his jaw dropping. How does she manage to make everything poetic? Moreover, for how long did she need to gaze at his freckles before she could join them up into a constellation? Did the Eli Russell really pay him that much attention?

“Right” He cleared his throat, looking away blushing. He took a sip of his drink “Maybe you can focus back on your lesson now?”

“You’re so bossy” she rolled her eyes, shifting her gaze back to the page he was reading.

“The Cordonian Gronkaloth dragon” He carried on “Though it was thought to be a descendant of the latter, was nothing compared to the Corpsebreath Pelagius, which was last spotted in the Irish highlands in 1783. With its ability to change the colour of its scales to fade in the surrounding environment, this beast represented a major threat to the kingdom…”

Eli smiled to herself, looking at him recite the history passages as if they were poetry. She loved the way he was passionate about it, as if he was lost in the words that ran from his lips like a sweet melody. Everything makes sense when it comes out of his mouth. It was his secret talent perhaps. His eyes twinkle with every name of a forgotten king he reads. The corners of his lips lift up to a discreet smile whenever he stumbles upon a reference from an ancient historian. Sitting there beside him, with a cup of hot chocolate in her hands and a blanket around their shoulders, was her favourite getaway spot. Just seeing him all relaxed in his world made her heart flutter. And she felt grateful that he never rejects her when she asks him to come over. Little did she know that he’d throw away any plans he had scheduled for the day each time she’d call him, that their study sessions meant more to him than to her. She was roughly the only person he’d be willing to read to.

“The prohibition law came afterward on January 1863” His voice ran through the room “banishing every act of… Eli, are you following?” He paused, looking at her from the corners of his eyes.

“You aren’t wearing a blazer” She ran her fingers across his arm, caressing the fabric of the dark green wool sweater that replaced his usual button-ups and blazers.

“I’m not” This came out more like a question than a statement, looking down at his sweater. “This is more suitable for the season isn’t it?”

“Well” she chuckled “It’s refreshing to see the ‘Always-put-up-together-Beckett’ cozy up”

“Excuse me?” He raised an eyebrow “Are you saying that I’m uptight?”

“Of course not!” She exclaimed “More like…constipated” She giggled, covering her mouth with her fist.

He glared daggers at her, but the smile that he was fighting to hide gave him away eventually.

“Very funny, miss ‘I wear pink more than I wear my own skin’” He smirked.

“That’s not true!” She grabbed a pillow and threw it at him, which he easily caught before it made contact with his face.

“And you’re not wearing a pink onesie” He pointed out “With this... unicorns and rainbows pattern”

“But... It’s cute” She pouted, giving him the biggest puppy eyes she could manage.

Don’t say it Beckett.

Don’t give her the satisfaction of hearing it from you.

Her eyes grew more insistent, and he sighed defeatedly .

“Yes, it is cute”

Her face light up, mischief gleaming her eyes. “Hum...” She tilted her head to the side, looking at him thoughtfully.

“Eli, why do I feel like you’re going to make me regret saying that?”

“No reason”

Three minutes later, he was standing in a pair of pyjama pants that were identical to her onesie.

“Don’t say a word.” He said through his gritted teeth.

She was in the middle of forming a snarky comment, when loud music blasted from the room next door.

“Shreya!” Beckett groaned and walked to the wall, knocking on it furiously “We’re trying to study here”

“Can’t hear you over the sound of my one person party, you loner nerd” Shreya’s voice echoed over the song.

Eli exploded laughing and he turned back to face her.

“What’s funny?”

“Dance with me, Beckett” She smiled, offering him her hand.

Eli wasn’t the dancer, and he knew it. He pursed his lips, studying her facial expression to detect any ulterior motive behind her request. And when he found none, that she genuinely just wanted to dance, he gladly took her hand, joining her in the centre of the room.

“Don’t step on my toes” he warned her as he moved them both, guiding her around in swift movements.

“I make no promises” She twirled, her hair completely breaking loose from the bun, flying around her with each turn, then landing back to her shoulders. She looked up to him, biting her lips to cover a giggle as he missed a step while looking at her.

The song came to an end too quickly; the upbeat vibes were replaced by a softer serenade. They slowed their pace, and suddenly aware of how close they were, they stopped dead on their tracks. Eli looked down, a million thoughts rushing through her mind and each time she’d try to grasp them they’d fly away, leaving her heart in utter confuse.

Beckett Harrington was a handsome man indeed. Even if it took her a lot of time to realise it. He wasn’t just a pair of beautiful eyes, a strong jawline and the body of a Greek god in tight jeans. He wasn’t just the sum of perfectly crafted parts. He was more than that. He was the smartest man she’d ever met, with the heart of a lion and the good manners of a prince. And for the flicker of a second, she saw the heaven in his eyes.

He brushed his knuckles under her chin, and then lifted her head up to meet his gaze. She blinked, then looked up, her mouth gapping. She wrapped her arms around his neck, her fingers running through the strands of his soft hair.

“Hello” She smiled shyly.

“Hi there” He breathed out. He clutched her hips gently, his eyes widening at how perfectly she fit between his hands.

He swayed her slowly from side to side, the soft light of her pink lamps reflecting on her eyes, turning the whole room into some sort of pink/purple-ish wonderland. She smelled like wild lavender and white honey, and he inhaled deeply, letting the scent flood his senses, making it even harder to focus.

It was like a snow globe. He wished he could be stuck in a glowing snow globe, dancing with her to the endless song his heart was beating to.

But why was he thinking this way? What has gotten into him? She’s just Eli... The same Eli he shares all his secrets with. The same Eli he’d give the last slice of his blueberry pie. The same Eli he knows like the back of his hand. The one who makes him feel ever so... Alive?

She was always something else, something extraordinary. With the way her face lights up when she walks by an ice-cream shop. How her eyebrows crease when she’s so focused. When she tears up after laughing too hard. The way she blushes when he pokes her little nose.

She lived with her head over the clouds, just like the golden sun. Always so warm, so dreamy. Nothing was so far beyond her reach. She believed that everything was possible. What was impossible is the way his heart raced with her in his embrace. It’s like a wave of sunlight was rushing through his veins. This newfound idea thrilled him in the most delicious way. His shoulders relaxed, his mouth curved into a euphoric smile. He gazed at her eyes, at the dilated pupils which starred right into his soul through her batting eyelashes. And he knew. He knew that these were the eyes he wanted to be lost in forever.

He blushed, muttering the first question that popped in his hazy mind.

“Did you put something in my drink?”

“No I didn’t”

“Then why am I feeling so... light headed?”

“I may have bewitched you” She whispered, her cheeks burning to match the shade of his.

Too shy, he stutters after planting a gentle kiss on her forehead.

“That, you did”

The next morning, Atlas walked into Eli’s room to wake her up for their usual training. And she was greeted by the sight of her sister and Beckett in a deep slumber. They were curled up together on the blanket fort they made last night with a lot of bed sheets and pillows. With her head resting on his shoulder and his arms wrapped around her smaller body, they were holding into each other like nothing else mattered. It was only them, snuggled up in their little world, surrounded by the open books of last night, the papers they scrabbled together, and Eli’s million sharpies.

Atlas groaned, slamming the door shut.

“Fucking teenagers”

[megalony]

My bad side

This is a murderer! Ben imagine that is a little different from my other imagines and involves Ben with a family. I hope you all like it.

Taglist: @lunaticspoem @butlegendsneverdie @langdonzvoid @jennyggggrrr @rogmeddows @radiob-l-a-hblah @rogertaylorsbitontheside @chlobo6 @rogertaylors-lipgloss @sj-thefan @omgitsearly @luckytrashgooprebel @scarsout @deaky-with-a-c @killer-queen-ofrhye @bluutac @vousmemanqueez @jonesyaddiction @rogahs-drowse @milanosaurus @httpfandxms @saint-hardy @7-seas-of-fat-bottomed-girls @mrsalwayswritex @rogerina-owns-me

Series masterlist

Summary: Ben and (Y/n) have four boys together who love and dote on him, despite his antics and ruthless ways. But no one wants to get on Ben’s bad side, especially not the neighbours.

Enjoy.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

"Fine, when your dad gets back you can tell him what you did." (Y/n) snapped the words at her eldest son, knowing the kind of look she was going to receive and the answer she would get in response. Her eyes narrowed as she watched Theo look over his shoulder at (Y/n) in such a way that reminded her of Ben when he was angry or giving her some kind of silent message. The eight-year-old's eyes were an image of Ben's matching emerald orbs and his hair was roughly the same colour as Ben's if a little bit lighter and he had the same nose too.

Theo didn't give her an answer, much to (Y/n)'s surprise but the expression on his face was enough to tell her that he didn't want to be the one to tell Ben what had happened when he was at school.

Kids were a funny subject when it came to Ben because when (Y/n) first met him, she was so sure she didn't want kids with him and that he wouldn't want any in the first place. With the kind of job Ben had, running a boxing club with dodgy dealings happening on the side, it didn't seem like a good combination. Ben wasn't the kindest of people and he had a liking and tendency to hurt others, him having kids wasn't what would be associated with him.

But Ben had surprised (Y/n) because he wanted kids and they made him a totally different person that (Y/n) had never seen before. She was used to seeing Ben's different attitudes and sides, she saw how loving he could be, how cruel and careless he could be towards her and she saw how much he liked to hurt people. But when they had Theo, Ben seemed almost like any other person in the world, he didn't seem like the ruthless, careless person she had married.

None of the boys knew what Ben actually did for a living, they knew he was a boxer and he owned a club and that was the extent of their knowledge. They had no clue what really went on behind the doors of the club and (Y/n) wanted to keep it that way, but that didn't mean the boys were clueless. They knew that Ben could be mean, they had witnessed him shouting and they were brought up in a loving but strict environment because that was how Ben was. He loved all his boys more than he could comprehend, but he had rules at home just like at work.

If the boys really messed around at home or at school, they never wanted Ben to know about it because they knew he would tell them off and not feel bad about it. Theo had had to be picked up early today from school and he didn't want Ben to know, but he knew (Y/n) would tell him.

(Y/n) watched Rowan and Finn hang up their coats before they wandered into the living room presumably to go and watch tv.

"Shall we go get you changed?" (Y/n) questioned to the toddler sitting on her hip who was almost fast asleep.

Beckett's tired eyes managed to flutter open halfway, his pupils looking up at (Y/n) as he nodded before he settled his cheek on her shoulder and closed his eyes. (Y/n) rubbed her hand up and down his back as she walked down the rather narrow hallway to reach the stairs so she could go and get Beckett settled down for a nap.

With Ben working at the club today, (Y/n) was doing the school run this afternoon since he dropped the kids off this morning. Theo and the twins needed picking up from school and Beckett needed picking up from nursery which seemed to have tired Beckett out today to the point he wasn't even asking where Ben was. The two-year-old was attached to Ben at the hip, he always wanted Ben around and wanted to know where he was if he wasn't home.

"Mum..."

(Y/n) got halfway up the stairs before she heard Theo's rather worried voice calling out for her causing her to sigh and turn around to head back down the stairs that were very narrow and steep. (Y/n) hated these stairs, they were the kind of stairs that curved up to the right around the corner near to the top and they were big enough to make them hard to walk up when carrying anything. They were also a hazard with the boys when they were running around the house and messing about because they had all fallen down them at one time or another.

"What's up?" (Y/n) walked down the hall and headed into the kitchen, her eyes narrowing as she looked at Theo who was stood in front of the sink on his tiptoes so he could look out of the window into the back garden.

"There's someone in the garden."

A bolt of fear rushed through (Y/n) like she had been struck by lightning as she forgot how to breathe for a few seconds. Whenever there was a stranger at the door or someone hanging around the street, all (Y/n) could think of was that the police had caught wind of even half of the dodgy shit that Ben got up to at the club and they were coming for him. Ben promised when they had Theo that none of his business would be brought home, (Y/n) didn't want anything from the club even being talked about in front of the boys. But (Y/n) could never shake the fear that something would happen.

Resting her free hand to the back of Beckett's head, (Y/n) hurried over to where Theo was stood, leaning over him to look out of the window onto the garden. Her mind started to race as she wondered what on Earth she was going to do. She couldn't very well hurry out into the garden with Beckett asleep in her arms if this was a burglar or some idiot from the club who was now on Ben's bad side. But she couldn't just stay locked up in the house and hope whoever it was would leave.

She would have to call Ben at the club and get him to come home.

A mixture of emotions rattled through (Y/n) when she narrowed her eyes and realised who it was in the back garden. It was their neighbour, Nigel.

Turning to her right, (Y/n) quickly settled Beckett down into his highchair at the kitchen table before she unlocked the backdoor and headed out into the garden. He had to of used the back gate to get into the garden meaning he would have needed to reach over the top of the gate and undo the bolt on the other side.

Both (Y/n) and Ben didn't get along with Nigel at all. He was a bit older than they were but he was just someone that irritated both of them. He thought he had the right to do whatever he wanted, whenever he wanted and he had no problem with being rude and arguing with (Y/n), as long as he knew or thought that Ben wasn't around. Ben had the ability to frighten anyone with just one scowl which came in handy where Nigel was concerned.

"What are you doing?" (Y/n) folded her arms over her chest as she rose her brows at the older man who was stood on the right next to the fence that separated his garden from hers.

"Adding something to the fence." The way he spoke made him sound so ignorant and the way that he cast his eyes over to (Y/n) made her feel like she was trespassing on his garden instead of the other way around. He looked and sounded like he thought he had the right to walk into her garden whenever he pleased.

(Y/n) took a moment to look over him, taking a deep breath as she tried to wrap her head around the fact that he had just waltzed into her garden to do whatever he wanted without even having the decency to ask.

"Right, so you've unlocked my gate and walked into my garden without asking me and just started to do whatever you want to my side of the fence?" (Y/n)'s tone was condescending and the look she gave him was one he clearly didn't like from the way he scowled at her and seemed to almost snarl like a dog. He didn't have the right to just walk right onto her property and do what he pleased.

"It's my fence." He looked at her as if it was an obvious reason why he was in her garden before he continued with trying to hammer a nail into the fence. "I can add what I want, and I don't like your kids breaking it with their football either."

With a deep breath, (Y/n) reached over and snatched the hammer from his hand to prevent him from continuing with whatever he was trying to do to the fence that wasn't broken and didn't need any fixtures on (Y/n) and Ben's side. "I don't care if you own the fence, me and my husband own this house and I don't want you just walking in whenever you want. In case you're blind, the goalposts for football are over there and this fence is nowhere near broken, now please leave."

(Y/n) used the hammer to point in the direction of the gate to tell him to leave. She knew he owned the fence but that didn't give him the right to come round to her property and start doing whatever he wanted like this. He had trespassed and didn't even think to ask or think he should ask. And (Y/n) didn't like the way he was referring to the boys as if they were some kind of nuisance. The boys played a lot of football and games outside but they had proper goalposts, they didn't kick the ball against the fence like he thought and it was in perfect condition, it wasn't breaking.

When Nigel went to grab the hammer back, (Y/n) took a step away from him and continued to point with it. If he kept this up she would tell Ben and then he really would have an argument on his hands.

"Leave." She repeated in a stern tone, locking eyes with him for what felt like the longest time until he finally relented and roughly snatched the hammer from her. He snarled as he passed her, roughly pushing his shoulder into hers as he passed.

(Y/n)'s eyes widened when she heard him muttering 'fucking bitch' under his breath along with a few other words she could just about hear as he walked over to the gate. Her body jumped in fear when he whacked the hammer against the fence before he slammed it shut so hard the hinges could be heard squeaking from the force.

"Inside boys, I'm coming." (Y/n)'s voice shook as she headed over to the house, noticing the twins and Theo were stood in the doorway, unsure whether to be afraid or not. Reaching her hands out, (Y/n) ruffled the twin's hair to silently let them know it was okay before she went to get Beckett so she could settle him for a nap.

"When's daddy coming home?" Finn tugged on (Y/n)'s hand when she came down the stairs after settling Beckett in his room. The six-year-old watched as she looked at her watch before looking back at him as he pulled her into the living room.

"About an hour, sweetheart. You two carry on playing your game, I'm gonna go and make dinner."

She watched Finn head over and sit down in front of the tv with Rowan, the twins both settling to play a video game as Theo was laid out on the sofa reading a book. (Y/n) smiled at the way that it looked like one boy was sitting next to a mirror with how they were mimicking one another's actions. Their curly blond hair was also cut the same way and shaved short at the sides, making it almost impossible to tell them apart, except for a few freckles and characteristics here and there.

Making her way into the kitchen, (Y/n) busied herself getting out a few pans and some veg from the fridge before something caught her eye in the back garden. Nigel had left some metal brackets on the floor that he must have been trying to hammer into the fence post. Shaking her head, (Y/n) wandered over to the back door and headed out into the garden.

Grabbing the few metal brackets and the few nails already placed into them, (Y/n) didn't think twice before she threw them over the fence into Nigel's garden. If he wanted to walk right into her garden without asking when he clearly thought she was out, then she was going to throw his stuff back into his garden without asking or caring where they landed.

(Y/n) couldn't wait for Ben to get back home so she could tell him what Nigel had done. Ben had been wanting an excuse to go round and put the frighteners on Nigel for a while now, he seemed to get on the wrong side of Ben without even doing anything, now he would have a reason.

Heading back into the kitchen, (Y/n) thought nothing more about it as she put the radio on and started to make dinner.

It felt like a shockwave rattled through (Y/n)'s body about twenty minutes later when a sudden and very persistent banging startled her and caused the knife in her hand to scratch against the chopping board. (Y/n) could feel her heart trying to break out of her chest as she quickly set the knife down before walking past the stairs and down the hall to reach the front door. She wasn't very surprised when she opened the door to find Nigel on the other side, his face red and his eyes blazing with anger.

"What do you want?" (Y/n) kept the door open only a small crack so she could look out but he couldn't look in, she didn't trust him at all.

"You stupid bloody woman, you've broken them."

His words washed over (Y/n) and confused her until he held up the brackets that were bent and covered in soil, but they were nowhere near broken. She rose her brows at him and scoffed, ready to close the door on her rude neighbour.

"Then you shouldn't have wandered into my garden and left them there, now go away." (Y/n) attempted to close the door in his face but he stuck his foot in the way which she knew must have hurt when she tried to slam the door closed. She could feel her heartbeat rocketing in her chest as her stomach sucked inwards. If Ben was home this wouldn't be a problem, their other neighbours on the left didn't even speak to them because they had seen how rude Ben could be if he was provoked.

Turning her head, (Y/n) looked over at Rowan who was hovering beside her wondering what was happening. He clung to her leg causing (Y/n) to let go of the door with one hand so she could hold onto him and reassure him, her eyes casting over to the living room to see both Finn and Theo stood in the doorway watching.

"I own the fence I can do what I fucking well like. Bloody bitch-"

"Move that foot before I break it. If my husband sees you harassing me and my boys, you'll have a bigger problem to deal with than me." (Y/n) kicked his foot to get it out of the way before she slammed the door shut, quickly turning the key to lock it so he couldn't try and force his way inside if he would even go that far.

(Y/n) tried to stop herself from shaking when he rammed his fist against the door, his word and profanities echoing through into the house causing Rowan to cling to her leg tighter.

"Alright baby, it's alright." (Y/n) hushed, leaning down to kiss Rowan's forehead before she took her phone from her pocket and handed it to Theo. "Call your dad and see if he's on his way back yet." (Y/n) knew that if Ben wasn't on his way home yet he would soon hurry home once Theo told him what was happening. She didn't care if Nigel went back to his own house in a second or in five minutes, she wanted Ben to come home now because he was scaring the boys and that wasn't fair.

Unhooking Rowan from her leg, (Y/n) speed-walked back down the hall and hurried out the back door so she could go to the gate connecting the front-drive with the back garden. Reaching the gate, (Y/n) pushed the top bolt across even though it was clear Nigel had reached over it earlier and unlocked it. She then moved the dustbins over so they were propped in front of the gate, (Y/n) didn't want to take any chances of him trying to get into the garden.

Nigel had been warned by Ben before to stay away from all of them because he had shouted abuse at (Y/n) a while back and Ben wouldn't stand for it. But they had only just moved into the house so Ben hadn't been as ruthless or as menacing as he would be this time around.

The moment (Y/n) stepped back inside she winced at hearing Beckett crying, the shouting must have woken him up. When she walked through into the hall, the twins and Theo were still stood relatively close to the door, watching through the frosted glass as Nigel continued to shout profanities but he wasn't hitting the door anymore.

"All of you in the front room now please." (Y/n) pointed to the room before she hurried up the stairs to go and see to Beckett. "I'm here baby, it's okay, daddy's on his way home now."

Reaching over, (Y/n) picked up the sobbing toddler who was rubbing at his tired eyes, unsure what was happening or why people were shouting. Settling Beckett against her chest, (Y/n) pressed her lips to the top of his head as she gently bounced him up and down in her arms, swaying him to try and settle him down again but she knew he wouldn't be going back to sleep anytime soon.

As she bounced Beckett in her arms, (Y/n) slowly walked over to the window and looked out, a relieved expression pulling at her lips as she felt her chest filling with butterflies when she spotted Ben's car pulling up in the drive.

The moment Ben stepped out of his car and shut the door with a bang, he noticed that Nigel's voice disappeared when Ben had heard him shouting from down the street. He could feel his hands twitching, desperate to curl up into fists and punch the lights out of the slightly older man who was now stood like a statue, watching Ben intently.

"What the fuck do you think you're doing?" Ben's voice bellowed and his eyes narrowed as he stormed over to Nigel who turned like he was about to walk away and go back to his own house which is what (Y/n) had asked him to do many times over. Ben paid no mind to the fact that he could see Theo and the twins peeking out the living room window, there was a storm raging inside of him and he wasn't relenting yet.

Ben had been on his way home when Theo called him and it both pained and angered Ben to have his son call him up, frightened and saying that their neighbour was banging on the door harassing their mum. He shouldn't have to try and calm down his kids on the phone and tell them he was coming back to sort out a neighbour with a screw loose.

"Where are you going? I haven't even started with you yet." Ben reached his hand out and grabbed Nigel by the shoulder, pulling him towards him with so much force Nigel stumbled. He was shorter than Ben and he didn't have nearly the same kind of build Ben did since he was a boxer by nature, this gave him a very big advantage.

"Get off me-"

"I've just had a phone call from my son saying that there's a man outside my house shouting swear words at my wife and trying to barge his way into my home. Now it's very clear that you're the fucker scaring my family so don't even try and walk away from me." Ben pushed Nigel up against the side of the house, scuffing his back and arms against the bricks as he pinned him there with his arm across Nigel's shoulders and neck to keep him in place.

Normally Ben loved to inflict fear onto anyone crossing his path but he felt it shouldn't be necessary to scare his own neighbour away from trying to terrorise his family. This almost felt like a waste of time, a lesson that he shouldn't have to be teaching but it was a lesson that he was going to make sure that Nigel understood.

"I don't know why you thought you had the right to start shouting abuse at my wife or calling her a bitch but let me tell you now that if you do that shit again, I will kill you and that is not a joke. You go anywhere near my wife, I will know about it. You dare frighten any of my kids like that again, you won't live the next day. Now stay the fuck away from my house because you haven't seen my bad side yet and trust me, you don't want to."

Ben felt the urge to grab his gun from where it was tucked into the back of his trousers but he refrained, he didn't want nor need the police crawling around the house if anyone saw or told them that Ben had the gun. He knew his words were more than enough to ward Nigel away because he had gone as white as a sheet and he was beginning to sweat. He was frightened beyond belief and when Ben forced his fist into Nigel's stomach, he almost fainted on the spot.

Pulling back, Ben let him fall to his knees and watched with a look of pleasure and a glint of evil in his eyes as Nigel didn't waste any time trying to recover. He started to crawl away before managing to straighten up and stumble over to his house.

The moment Ben walked inside he was bombarded by the boys wrapping themselves around him like vines. He crouched down so he could hold the three of them in his arms, closing his eyes to relish in the hug but he could still feel the anger bubbling away inside of him when he noticed they were all lightly shaking. He kissed their heads longingly before he pulled back and slowly rose to his feet, his eyes instantly locking on (Y/n) who was stood at the bottom of the stairs.

"You boys go into the front room, I'll be there in a sec." Ben ruffled Finn's hair when he was reluctant to move away from him, managing a smile at the younger twin before he followed his brothers into the living room.

Advancing over to (Y/n), Ben gently took her face in his hands and she knew he was inspecting for any cuts or bruises or any small signs that Nigel had done anything other than simply shout at her. If he had hurt her and Ben found out he would be straight round there and (Y/n) knew Nigel would be lucky to be alive.

"Are you okay? What the hell was he doing?"

"I'm fine I promise, we're all fine... I'll tell you later." (Y/n) brushed her thumb over the back of Ben's hand before she pushed herself forward so she was burrowed into his arms. Smiling when she felt his arms tightly enveloping around her and his hand tangling into her hair at the back of her head. She felt his lips pressing to the top of her head but she could feel how heavy his breathing was and how fast his heart was beating, they were small telltale signs that Ben wanted a fight. He loved fighting, he craved to fight because he craved winning and seeing his opponent defeated.

"Alright, anything else I need to know?" Those words were said in a much different sense than (Y/n) had heard them before. Those words were ones she had heard when she had done something and tried not to let Ben find out, they were words that had once frightened her but were now only meant in a kind and informing way. He was only pondering if there was anything else that had happened.

"Theo got sent home early today... he's been fighting." (Y/n) wrapped her arms tighter around Ben's waist when she felt his muscles tense.

Ben was a boxer, fighting was what he did for a living, alongside his other dealings that the boys didn't know about. But he didn't want the boys trying to fight or copy him because they were young, Ben especially didn't want Theo trying to pick fights at school. Theo looked like Ben and he wanted to be like him but Ben didn't want him doing that, he didn't want any of his boys finding out what he did or wanting to box like him because it wasn't something that would suit any of the boys in the way it suited Ben.

"Theo!"

[retvenkos]

“you set my world on fire.”

OKAY, SO BEING MARRIED TO THE ONE AND ONLY SHREYA MISTRY HAS TO BE A WHIRLWIND THAT GOES SORT OF LIKE THIS...

so my first thought is that serene and sublime is vvv popular

she promotes it through her instattuned, so i hope you know she is trying out products on you all the time, and you are on her story 24/7

it’s vvv cute, though, because you will do q&a’s together and you just get to be that married couple™

zeph will always comment, saying that the two of you make him want to gag

i also believe full heartedly that shreya is the big on pda

and that definitely does not change when the two of you are married

she will kiss you wherever you go, whenever, for whatever reason

she’s very big on linking your arm in hers, too.

the two of you constantly have a hand on the other - it’s a silent way of letting each other know that you are still there, no matter what

i hope you know you definitely become that person who is vvv proud of your wife

“well, mY wIFe owns her own company....”

“My WifE was voted most influential person...”

“mY wiFe is giving a speech today...”

“tHaT’s mY WiFe!”

she loves it a whole lot, and the way she smiles when she hears you say that...

shreya is also vvv proud of you

she is constantly talking about whatever you are doing on her instattuned

and she also talks about you a lot with her parents

you definitely tease her about her “gushing” and she has some sassy comeback but you just shake your head and kiss her

and shreya is constantly complimenting you, as we all know, but when it comes to really tender things, she’s not the greatest with her words

so she’s grown really accustomed to kissing your wedding ring when she wants to express those really sweet, intimate thoughts

it’s so sweet ohmygod

also, i am very firm in my belief that shreya proposed to you

she made a vvv big deal about it and you felt very loved

she also may have given you a stack of like,,, 15 different outfits that you would look perfect in for the wedding,,, she really wants you to look your best

and she is  g o r g e o u s  in her dress, thank you very much

and shreya is the best at making you feel loved??

she’s definitely into big shows of affection - the kind that are over the top and picture worthy - the kind people gush over 

she has done literally anything you can find of the attuned version of pinterest

but uhhh,,,, please don’t allow this woman to cook. she will burn everything. she tried to do breakfast in bed once, and it was a disaster

but it’s okay because you took her out to get donuts instead and it was vvv cute.

and i think that, to even this out, you are great at showing affection through the every day things

you probably leave her cute messages on post-it notes

or you send her flowers at her work

or you bring her lunch

or you bring home hot chocolate and her favorite comfort foods when she’s had a bad day

she says it’s very “quaint” but really, she loves it

okay,,, but cuddling with shreya on saturday mornings

we all know she sleeps in, so if you wake up before her and try to leave, she knows and will pull you back into bed, mumbling about how she needs you

her hair gets very messy when she sleeps, so in the mornings you can braid it for her while she holds you in her arms

oh, and you have a lot of moments where the two of you will just relax in each others arms

when you read

or watch tv

or are on your phones

she just really loves to hold you.

you are definitely getting dragged to fashion week

you are going to get a better fashion taste by sheer osmosis and honestly, good for you

also, the two of you watch the attuned equivalent of america’s next top model and rate the contestants, making predictions on who’s going to get voted off

shreya is really good at predicting the different fights they will get in??? it’s a weird superpower, ngl

also!!!! shreya loves smoothies!!!!

please take her out to get some

the two of you will walk through penn square afterward and you will take really great candid photos of her

she says your the only one who is allowed to take ‘bad’ photos of her and you have an entire album of ‘cursed photos’ of her on your phone

you definitely send some to beckett and he uses them like blackmail against her

okay, but shreya is living in the city, no contest

she is not cut out for that suburban life - she needs her high end clothing stores, overpriced coffee shops, and busy streets

you guys probably get an overpriced town house but it’s okay because shreya makes a small fortune off of serene and sublime

nehal definitely lives with you guys on the weekends or summers while she goes to penderghast

you are probably super close to her, ngl, and she tells you all the embarrassing stories about shreya

and there are  p l e n t y  to go around

oh! and shreya definitely wants kids

she may claim that she doesn’t,,, but she will always go to hold someone’s baby and is honestly so good with kids?

pls have or adopt a little one. it would make shreya’s whole world

AND FLUFF ENSUES.

[theclassycandy]

Drunk Nights - The Elementalists

Summary: Anna is with the Harrington fam for a sleepover and when the alcohol comes out, she gets excited. Beckett is really a sloppy/cutesy drunk and she can’t wait for that version of Beckett to come out! But when a sudden change of attitude occurs in Beckett, Anna and Katrina gets especially worried. Katrina realizes what Beckett thinks of her and how much Anna truly means to her brother. 

Ships: Beckett x Anna

Rating: R

Word Count: 2825

A/N: Alright, so this fic takes place about a few months after Beckett, Anna and the rest of the Pend Pals graduate! Beckett and Anna have moved in together during this fic, but at the Harrington’s manor for this fic. They’re still boyfriend and girlfriend during this time. I truly hope you enjoyed this fic! Please like, reblog or throw me a follow if you can!

Tags: @miss-smrxtiee , @holystxne , @adam-dumortains , @herarmoredheart , @ilikeyellingatmyscreen

“Anna! My dear! So lovely you could grace us with your presence! How was the drive here? Traffic not too dreadful huh?” welcomed Mrs. Harrington, kissing Anna on both cheeks. 

“It actually wasn’t that bad! Wonderful gardens you have out there don’t you? Did you get it redone recently?” asked Anna, pleased with Mrs. Harrington’s friendly question. 

“Oh yes, we had it done a few days after your graduation night! So wonderful of you to have noticed!”

Contrast to Mrs. Harrington’s positive demeanor, Mr. Harrington was a lot more reserved. Anna knew that she has his respect and satisfaction from her reputation and prestige in the tech industry and that it is very apparent that she makes his son very happy. He had never seen Beckett so happy, even just when her name was brought up at family events. 

“Anna, lovely to see you, as usual.” said Mr. Harrington giving Anna a strong handshake. 

Anna returns the handshake, putting on a bright smile and nodding respectfully. She then turns to head to Beckett, where he’s being bulldozed by his sister. 

“I missed you guys so much! It’s hard for me to think that my baby brother is living on his own with his wif- I mean, girlfriend!” expressed Katrina, pulling Beckett in a hug leaving him spluttering. Katrina then lets go and turns around to Anna, arms open. 

“My awesome, beautiful, future sister-in-law! I’ve missed you so much too!” exclaimed Katrina giving Anna a hug, at the same fervor that she did for Beckett. 

Over Katrina’s shoulder, Anna could see the blush form across Beckett’s cheeks at the implication of Katrina wanting to see them getting married. 

The 5 of them walked over to the Harrington’s dinning table, their personal chef giving them some rare kind of magickal lobster and placing a wine in the middle of the table called Krug Clos d'Ambonnay Blanc de Noirs. Mrs. Harrington poured some wine in her glass, swirling it right underneath her nose. Mr. Harrington takes the bottle, doing that same thing. He stretches his arm, bottle towards Anna. 

“Would you like some Anna? It’s a new bottle, it would be great for you to expand you alcohol palette.” said Mr. Harrington. It’s not like Anna doesn’t like alcohol or against drinking/getting drunk in public but she knows this wine. And it’s rare. She’s still getting used to being able to experience such luxuries. She’s only ever had soju. She gives him a polite smile but gulps. But then she turns her head to Beckett. 

“What do you say? Will we see drunk Beckett tonight?” she says with a cheeky grin and teasing tone. When Beckett had gotten drunk with her and the rest of the Pend Pals... let’s just say that he can’t handle more than 2 drinks without being a sloppy drunk. 

“I- I- suppose that I’m not opposed to drinking with the people here. Uhh, sure” he says, blushing taking the bottle from his father, pouring some into his crystal wine glass. Anna then smirks and pours some into hers too. Copying Mrs. Harrington; swirling the wine right beneath her nose. Anna keeps her eye on Beckett, after his first glass he stares at her with a light in his eyes and a pink tint on his cheeks. But after his second drink, he’s right in her face and smirking at her. His chin is propped up on his fist and elbow on the table.

“So Anna,” Beckett places his hand flirtatiously on her arm while he lightly whispers to her, “what’s going through that pretty head of yours?” For a spilt second, Anna’s jaw drops, shocked that Beckett would speak like that to her in front of other people, let alone in front of his own parents. She quickly gathers her composure, leaning in and whispering in his ear in the sexiest tone that she can muster. 

“Not much, just thinking of my incredibly intelligent, handsome and sexy boyfriend. And how much I love him.” she whispers back. She expected him to smirk, or smile bashfully, or at least blush, but the way he did react was took her off guard. His expression changed from sheer confidence to the face of misery in a split second. His eyebrow furrowed, his smirk dropped into a frown and his eyes became lost it’s glimmer. Confused, Anna was about to ask what she did wrong when Mr. Harington asks her something. 

“Anna, how’s the company doing? Living up to your title of most promising up-and-coming company in the last decade, I hope?” questions Mr. Harrington, exceptionally impress with her. 

“Yes, sales in the last quarter are at an all time high!” expressed Anna excitedly. She absolutely loves her job and that it’s impressing everyone especially Beckett’s parents. She knew that they would be okay with her being in a relationship with Beckett but in order to truly earn their respect, she would need to prove her worth. “Live up to the Harrington name” as Beckett would put it. If she even wants a chance to one day be a part of his family, she’s gotta prove that she can bring some sort of prestige in the family. 

A few minutes go by and Anna is talking with Katrina about her plans for the company. And Mrs. Harrington calls out Beckett. 

“Beckett? Sweetheart are you okay? You’re so quiet and looking so sad. Is something the matter?” asks Mrs. Harrington asks Beckett and everyone turns to Beckett in concern, stopping their conversation. Anna reaches out and places her hand on Beckett’s shoulder in concern. Beckett looks Anna in the eye for a second... and then forcefully tears off her hand and runs off upstairs! 

Anna and the other Harringtons all stare after him in shock and concern. Anna rubs her hand that was on his shoulder. Beckett looked so sad but even when he forcefully took off her hand, the touch itself was gentle; almost weak, as if in defeat. Katrina is the first one to go after him, with Anna in tow. The parents look at each other worriedly but decides that they’ll come up if one of them asks them to.  

When the 2 girls, Anna and Katrina hear Beckett getting in his room and shuts the door behind him. They pause in front of the door and Katrina turns to Anna. 

“Before you ask, I genuinely don’t know what I said that made him this upset.” explained Anna. 

“And I one-thousand percent believe you, but something did make him upset so I think it’s best if you wait out here, I’ll tell you when you can come in.” before Anna could form a counter-argument, Katrina opens the door and slowly walks in Beckett’s room. 

Beckett’s sitting in the farthest corner of his bedroom floor. Katrina takes in his appearance, he looks defeated, disheveled and dejected. His face is paler than usual except with the noticeable redness around his eyes as if he’s about to cry. Katrina, tiptoes to Beckett and sits right beside him shoulder-to-shoulder. They sit in silence for a minute.

“Do you want to tell me what’s wrong?” cautiously asks Katrina, looking at her brother.  

“It’s Anna. Wait no- I mean-” he starts “It’s me. I was too late, I did this to myself and now she’s happy all on her own without me.” Beckett’s voice gets even more shakier as he goes on. 

“Wait wha- why- what makes you say that? What do you mean ‘I was too late’?” asked Katrina, very much confused. 

“I tried flirting with her by asking what was on her mind and she said her boyfriend that she’s in love with. Oh god, I’m not surprised though; it’s impossible to not fall for her.” Beckett said miserably. 

If Karina wasn’t confused before, she sure is now. Anna’s clearly in love with Beckett and he reciprocates her feeling. Why is he upset with that? 

Beckett continues. “She’s my best friend and I’ve fell in love with her but now she’s dating already and I feel... so- heartbroken.”

Katrina’s confusion is now very visible with her nose and eyebrows scrunched together. “Beckett, what do you mean? Do you think she’s cheating on you or something? Anna doesn’t seem like the type to do that.” 

This time it’s Beckett’s turn to be confused, expression mirroring Katrina’s. 

“What? She’s dating someone! She described him as ‘ incredibly intelligent, handsome and sexy’ who the fuck matches that description?” says Beckett. Katrina can see his discomfort when he says the description. 

“Wait... Beckett, who exactly do you think she’s dating?” asked Katrina, think she knows where this is going. 

“I don’t even know! And quite frankly I don’t want to know. Her being happy with someone else will just remind me of everything I don’t have.” exasperated, a few tears start to flow down his face but he wipes it off quickly. 

Katrina stares at him in shock, finally seeing what happened. “Ohhh... so he asked Anna about what was on her mind, she said ‘her boyfriend’ so she was obviously referring to him. But since he’s drunk he forgot... that they were dating in the first place...? And now he’s crying because he thinks that Anna is in love with someone and now he’s miserable, thinking that he’s not the one dating Anna. Awwwww that’s the cutest! He truly loves her so much.” thinks Katrina, putting the pieces together. She wants to tell him that Anna was talking about him but she decides against it wanting to see how he talks about Anna. 

“Well I see, what made you fall in love with her in the first place?” asked Katrina. 

“Oh where to begin? She’s the smartest person I’ve ever known. You know she runs an extremely successful company that she built from the ground up?” Beckett asks. Katrina smiles and nods at him to continue. “And when I say smart I don’t just mean logical smart I mean socially and emotionally smart too! During our sophomore year, she was able to sweet talk investors for Shreya for her business! She’s beautiful too! You saw her on the cover on that magazine right? She’s done so much and most off all, she- she-...” Beckett trails off. 

“She...?” Katrina goes one, clueing him to continue. 

“She just makes me really, really happy. Happiness that- that I didn’t even know that’s possible! Even when she’s just beside me I can feel just so calm and.. loved.” 

“Oh okay so...” Katrina started but then Beckett cuts her off. 

“And her smile and her laugh! Oh my god, her smile. It’s just make so feel so good inside like, I finally know why I’m here. She’s helped me with so much stuff when it comes to my studies, my parents, you...”

At the mention of ‘you’ she turns her head to face him. Curious what he has to say about her. 

“I mean no offence Katrina but-” he cuts himself off for a second then resumes talking. “but almost everything about our family stresses me out. I love you but being constantly compared to my own sister all the time, whose 10 years older than me is so... so tiring and embarrassing. That’s not your fault at but it’s why I hate it when you’re overbearing. Because not only does it feel like you babying me but also it feels like the only reason why I’ll ever be successful is because of my family and not my own skills. 

Katrina stares off, taking in how Beckett truly feels around her. She couldn’t imagine being compared to someone 10 years older than her during her entire childhood and then thinking that her own family wouldn’t love her unless she could live up to their expectations. 

“Did you know that in high school there would be times that I wouldn’t eat or sleep because I was so stressed out? I didn’t tell you guys because I just couldn’t. I managed to fool myself it was because I didn’t want you guys to worry but looking back? It was because I didn’t actually know if I would be helped or if mom and dad would just pressure me even more, saying ‘your sister didn’t have this much trouble.’ But with Anna it’s different she still encourages me to not just be smarter in terms of school and my career but to be a better man overall. It’s not her herself telling me this, but I just want to make her happy as she makes me.” 

He leans his head back, letting the tears flowing freely at his words. 

“But now she’s with somebody else. I just hope the person she’s with makes her unbelievably happy and they know how lucky they are to be dating her.” Beckett says sorrowfully. Katrina turns her head to him. 

“Maybe you can tell her how you feel. I’m sure she’d love to know.” 

“WHAT? But I can’! I-” he starts and Katrina internally laughs that Beckett still doesn’t know that Anna was referring to him. 

She stands up; “I’ll go get her. You just stay there.” Katrina walks to the door, excited to see how Anna will react. She sees Anna pacing in the hallway, the worry obvious on her face and her face lights up when she sees Katrina coming out. 

“Is Beckett okay? It is sick? Did I really say something wrong at the dinner?” asked Anna, frantic. 

Katrina just smiles at her. 

“What? Katrina, what’s so funny?” asked Anna taken aback by Katrina’s lack of seriousness. 

“Beckett is upset because you said that you’re in love with your boyfriend,” Anna makes a face and Katrina continues on. “However since Beckett is drunk he somehow forgot that he’s your boyfriend, and that you’re in love and dating somebody else so now he’s kind of crying that he thinks that you’re not his.” 

Anna’s jaw drops, her hand coming to her mouth but Katrina can tell that she’s smiling. 

“Awwwwww! But he’s taking it okay right? No throwing up from the alcohol?” she asked. 

“He didn’t. But it looks like he may throw up. Not because of the alcohol but because he thinks you’re in love with someone else.” 

Anna mouth breaks out into a huge, loving smile and walks through the door to see Beckett sitting down on the ground with his wrinkled clothes and tear-stained face. 

“Hey baby, what’s wrong?” Anna coos as she walks over, sits next to him and cups his face with her hands. 

“Look Anna, you don’t need to spare my feelings. I know you’re dating someone.” Beckett says dejectedly, not meeting her eyes. Anna sees how truly sad he is that he thinks she’s in love with someone else so she goes along with it for a little while. 

“I know but I want to know how you feel about me regardless.” Anna says tilting her head so that he has to look her in the eye. 

He just stares into her eyes and Anna can tell that Beckett is being 100% serious. 

“Anna, I- I-... I’ve fallen in love with you. I’ve fallen and I don’t think I’ll be able to stop. You make me feel loved and cared for and you’re just.. amazing. I know you end up going back to your boyfriend but I desperately wanted to let you know how I feel.” Beckett blurts out, pouring his heart out for her. 

“Beckett... I already know! And I feel the exact same way!” exclaimed Anna, feeling like she’s in heaven.

“Wait really? What about your boyfriend?” asked Beckett amazed.

“Beckett, who do you think I was referring to when you asked me the question about who’s my boyfriend?” asks Anna. 

“Who?” asks Beckett bewildered.

“You, Beckett! Did you forget we were dating? That we literally live together?” says Anna, watching in amusement as Beckett face turns form sentimental to shock and realization. 

“Ohhhhhh yeah!!” Anna bursts into laugher that was so hard that she couldn’t breathe. Beckett’s jaw popped open as he laughed with her, remembering everything and he he went wrong. 

“So we really are together now huh?” asked Beckett happiness flooding him. 

Anna nods enthusiastically. “Yep! We have need for 2 years, Beckett!” As she laughs even harder, Beckett crashes his mouth to hers. So forcefully that Anna is taken off guard. Beckett lifts her off the ground with their mouths still connected. He then steps over and places her on the bed, his hands exploring her body. Chills that Beckett is giving her are addicting but Anna knows she needs to pull away. 

“Don’t get me wrong; I’d love you to rearrange my guts in your bed but Katrina is right outside your door and your parents are worried about you still.” Tells Anna and Beckett and her get off the bed fixing the wrinkles on their clothes. They make out once more. They then walk downstairs, memories intact.      

[ashdoesfandomarchieved]

Prompt, Angst, The titan gets badly damaged and a lot of the crew are dead or injured, mariner goes AWOL from the cerritos to find out if boimler is okay and there's a scene with boimler unconscious on a biobed and Mariner is like "you have to live so I can feed you to an armus for leaving the cerritos!"

A/N: you sent this prompt ages ago, but the words just wouldn't happen lmao. So six months late and a few thousand words short, here you go:

ao3

Okay, so here’s the thing.

Beckett keeps files on everyone. Not physical files of course--too insecure and hackable (she should know). But a mental file. Still hackable if she runs into a telepath, but still slightly more secure from the rest of her coworkers.

It’s not as if they’re particularly like. Creepy files. She isn’t snooping into anyone’s actual physical file onboard or obtaining any info illegally. She just observes things and passively marks them for later. Tendi likes peanut-butter sandwiches. Janice gets her neck tattoos re-inked every few months. Captain Mom has a stick up her ass. That kind of thing.

It’s a fine tuned compartmentalization that’s useful in a variety of situations, whether it’s knowing what to say in a social situation or who to trust during a red alert (tip: always go with Rutherford, he’s anxious but the least likely to betray you and throw you out of an airlock. Bonus: he’s the most likely crew member on this trashcan to actually have a working idea).

Some mental files are incredibly detailed. For instance, the one on her mom is about as thick as a handbound copy of War & Peace and just as boring. Everything from her favorite flavor of ice cream to her first response to an emergency situation is in there-incredibly accurate and incredibly detailed. She’s sure her mom has a similar mental file on her as well, but resolutely does Not think about it.

Some mental files are almost empty. Ensign Gent’s toothbrush is pink. First Officer Ransom has nice abs I guess. That dude who’s name I can’t remember opened his third eye and ascended into the afterlife or something I wasn’t actually there Tendi told me and I was on my fourth drink.

And then some are medium sized but entirely unremarkable.

Like Bradward Boimler’s, for instance.

Loves classic rock. Dyes his hair purple. Stickler for rules. Needs to loosen up a bit. A lot. Probably needs to get laid. Definitely needs to get laid.

That’s it, that’s the entire file. Beckett doesn’t really concern herself with whatever’s going on with Boimler beyond the occasional ribbing or co-assignment. It’s not because she doesn’t like the dork. She would tentatively (but never to his face) call him her friend if cornered. And she enjoyed riling him up.

She updates the file about a year (almost two) into her acquaintance with him. FUCKING BACKSTABBING TRAITOR. (That’s it now, that's the entire file.) She doesn’t revisit it again, not for almost eight months, despite Tendi’s cheerful updates on how he’s doing--they’re still in constant contact, despite his ghosting Beckett--and Rutherford’s worried comments on his well-being.

“It’s not our job to babysit him,” she snapped one day. “Hell, it wasn’t our job when he was here. Just let it go.”

And that was the end of that.

______

Okay, that was very much not the end of that.

It starts like this:

“Something’s going on, on the Titan,” Tendi hisses, dropping down into Beckett’s bunk at like 2am. Time doesn’t work the same out here as it does on Beckett’s home planet, but it feels like 2am so she’s calling it 2am. Everyone who’d been on the Alpha shift were pretty much dead to the world anyway, so it might as well have been. The point was, Beckett was sleeping, Tendi should have been sleeping, but instead the two of them are having an anxious stare off in the dark.

And Beckett’s currently having cardiac arrest from being startled so soundly. After her heart starts working again like a human heart is supposed to, the words begin to register. Sort of. “What?”

Tendi flips her padd around. Beckett blinks at the bright light from the screen, squinting to see what’s there.

“Is that morse code? Why the fuck is the Titian using morse code.”

Tendi stares at her unblinkingly, face flat.

Then,

“Oh. Oh shit. Shit!” Beckett sits straight up, throwing the covers off. There’s a few protesting noises and shushes that ensue around the room, but Beckett is already making a blind grab for her pants and shoes. “The fuck didn’t you lead with that?”

“Because people are sleeping,” Tendi whispers. Loudly. She rolls off the bunk and onto the floor, shoes already on. “So we’re going, right?”

“Of course we’re fucking going,” Beckett hisses. “Why wouldn’t-”

“Because you’ve been all hung up over him for the past eight months.”

“He ghosted me!”

“Okay yeah-”

“After accepting a promotion that he promised he wouldn’t-”

“Mariner-”

“He’s a backstabbing, little weasel who climbs over his friends-”

“Is this about that or the fact that you miss him?”

Beckett finishes pulling her shoes on and stands up, scowling. “I don’t miss him. Why are you defending him?”

“I’m pissed too. Don’t get me wrong, when we see him I’m gonna kill him. But I think this is more than that.”

“Whatever.” Beckett turns on her heel. “Are we stealing a shuttle or what?”

“Rutherford’s already on it.” Tendi taps rapidly on her data padd, keeping pace with Beckett’s light job easily. “We were hoping you could like. Let your mom know-”

“Oh for fuck’s sake.” Beckett pulls out her comm, quickly typing out a quick message to her mother. “This is gonna be a shitshow.” The two of them enter the shuttle bay, which is pretty much deserted due to it being beta-shift.

“I have no idea how we’re even going to sneak onto the planet. It’s been on lockdown since the Titian crashed there.” Tendi’s shoulders slump.

“Leave it to me, I know a guy.”

“Of course you do,” Rutherford says, popping head out the shuttle door. “Good to go?”

Tendi gives him a thumbs up.

Beckett straps herself into a chair, stomach churning. “He’s fine though, right? Like, we would have gotten a call. Who’s his emergency contact anyway?”

Tendi worries her lip between her teeth. “His mom? I don’t know, it never came up and I don’t have access to his file.”

“He wasn’t on the list of deceased. Just the missing persons list,” Rutherford offers helpfully, punching in some coordinates.

“Well that’s reassuring,” Beckett mutters under her breath. She stares down at her comm, stomach churning.

_______

“Seriously, what are the odds of this even happening?” Tendi asks, dragging Rutherford by the arm behind them. A severely concussed, disgruntled Rutherford makes a grunt of what Beckett assumes is agreement.

“Do you really want to be arguing about the odds right now?” Boimler shrieks, sliding to an uncoordinated stop as the four of them run directly into the maze wall.

“Fuck,” Beckett says, eloquently.

“I thought you said you knew which way we were going!” Boimler runs a hand through his wet hair, face going through a series of complicated expressions before settling on frustration.

Beckett crosses her arms. “I did know where we were going. When I had the fucking map!”

“Why are you yelling at me about that? I didn’t even have it!”

“I don’t see anyone else here dumb enough to have lost it.”

“Guys-”

“You were the last person with the map, Mariner.”

“Unless some idiot took it out of my pack when I wasn’t looking.”

“Guys.”

“I didn’t touch your stupid map! Why are you so fixated on this!”

“Because if we had the map, maybe we wouldn’t be about to die via giant space spider!”

“Guys!” Rutherford shouts.

Beckett jumps at the unexpected shout from the usually quiet ensign. She turns on her heel, meeting Tendi and Rutherford’s unimpressed stares.

“Lookie, secret passage.” Rutherford waves a hand to a hole in the wall that hadn’t been there like two seconds ago. “You two good? Can we go?”

Beckett pushes past Boimler, lightly shoulder checking him and jumps through the doorway after her two annoyed friends. She doesn’t listen worriedly to see if Boimler follows her (she doesn’t) and she doesn’t resist the urge to turn around and make sure he’s close.

She balls her hands into tight fists and stomps past Tendi and Rutherford, ignoring the exchanged glances. “Please tell me this is a way out.” Her flat voice has the barest hint of a tremble in it.

You’re losing your touch, Mariner, get it together, she tells herself.

Tendi pulls a lighter out of her back pocket. (Because of course D’Vana Tendi has an old timey lighter on hand. There was a reason Beckett liked her after all.) It takes a couple of flicks, but she manages to get it to catch. The small source of light barely lights up their passageway, but it’s enough to see that it leads deeper into the planet.

“Well, here goes nothing,” Tendi sighs. “I’ll take the lead, I guess. You good, Sam?”

Rutherford grimaces, but nods. “Nothing I can’t handle. Let’s just get out of here.”

_______

It would be Beckett’s luck that she and Bomlier get separated from the other two. And it would just be their luck that there’s a cave in just before they reach the end of the catacombs. And of course, of fucking course, the Cerritos’ ETA on getting them out is anywhere from 2-6 hours, depending on how fast they can get the ship up and running again.

If anyone is using buffer time, Beckett is going to put spiders in their pillowcase.

“This is bullshit,” she mutters, dropping into a seated lotus position. She plays with Tendi’s lighter, flickering it on and off again.

Boimler grimaces from across her. “Can you stop that? It’s giving me a headache.”

Beckett makes steady eye contact again and flicks it off again.

“Fuck you.”

“Fuck yourself. Or whatever,” Beckett mutters. She flicks the lighter back on.

Boimler makes a face like he’s swallowing back a retort. Instead of snapping back, he jams his hands into his pockets. “Can we- can we just talk about it? Like actually talk about it, not passive aggressively pretend like-”

“Like passive aggressively avoiding your best friend’s calls is okay?” Lighter flicks off again. “Yeah, that seems like bitch move, for sure. Glad I don’t know anyone who does that.”

“I’m sorry,” Boimler says into the dark, voice cracking.

“Fuck you.” Beckett flicks the lighter back on. Boimler’s eyes follow it, eyes dilating slightly as the light hits them. She flicks it off again, plunging the cave into darkness again. She flicks it back on. Boimler leans heavily against the cave wall, not looking at her or the light. He starting to look very pale. Paler than usual.

Beckett wonders about that headache.

“How long were you out here before we got your distress signal?” she asks, keeping her eyes glued to the lighter. She sees him shrug in her peripheral.

“Dunno. A while.”

Her stomach tightens. “You didn’t like. See anything weird?”

“You mean besides you and Tendi hauling ass? Not really.” He pinches the bridge of his nose. “Why?”

“What about strange smells-”

“Mariner.”

“You look pale,” she snaps. “And like super clammy. And I’m not talking about your stressed out will Mariner stop talking clammy, I’m talking like I think you inhaled a deadly neurotoxin kind of clammy.”

“I feel fine! Just the headache. Aaand maybe a slight stomach ache,” he adds at her flat expression. “I always have a stomach ache though-”

“-yeah, yeah, it’s the ulcer you’ve had since you were, like, two, you’re a goddamn medical marvel Boims. Budge over.” She shoves the lighter into his hands and grabs his face. “Are you dizzy,” she asks, peering in closely at his pupils.

Boimler tries to shove her away, but she’s stronger and more stubborn. “A little. Look, it’s just the headache and str-”

“Yeah, do you usually get pink eye from stress?” she asks dryly, pulling back to giving him some breathing room.

“I-what.”

“Your white are like. Super inflamed or whatever. Boimler, I think something’s wrong.”

“Shit.” He rubs his temples. “What’s that ETA again?”

“Six hours. Give or take some buffer time.” Mariner stands up. She’s not worried, she’s not. “Maybe you should lie down.”

Boimler glowers at her in the dim light, hands tightly wrapped around her lighter. “I’m fine.”

______

“Good thing you pulled him out when you did,” Dr T’Ana tells Ransom. “Any longer-” she pauses, seeing Beckett’s expression. “Do you want to know what it was?” she asks her.

Beckett, who’s currently white knuckling the back of the plastic chair by the biobed, shakes her head. “Not really,” she replies, stiffly. “Long-term effects?”

“None,” T’Ana replies, scratchy voice almost gentle. Almost. “So feel free to be as hard on him as you want when he wakes up.”

Ransom barks a laugh, clapping Beckett’s shoulder. “Oh, Mariner knows how to be-”

“If you make a single hard joke in my presence, I’m tossing you back onto that planet,” Beckett replies flatly.

Ransom removes his hand. “Right! Right, I’ll just be on my-”

“Out,” T’Ana and Beckett snap.

There’s a pause after the turbolift doors close after Ransom. Dr. T’Ana eyes Beckett warily for a moment. Then, “Call me if he wakes up with any symptoms.”

“You said-”

“Yeah, well. He has a lot of surprises in him, doesn’t he?” She gives Beckett a pointed look before leaving, grumbling down at her clipboard.

Beckett glares down at the unconscious Boimler. “The shit I go through for your dumb ass.” She flops into the uncomfortable chair. “Wake up already. It’s no fun yelling at you like this.”

____

Surprisingly, Beckett does not yell at Boimler when he wakes up. It’s a near thing, though.

“Well, thanks for not letting me die, I guess,” he says, watching her warily after she’s done ranting. Not yelling, ranting.

“I wouldn’t have let you die,” she scoffs. “You’re still my friend, dumbass.”

Boimler perks up in surprise. “What?”

“Look, just because you pulled the ultimate shitty move, doesn’t stop us from being friends. You’re still on notice, though.”

“Right! Right.” He pauses, blinking up at her. “Does it help that I submitted a transfer back to the Cerritos before any of this went down?”

Beckett freezes. “Wait, what?”

“Yeah. I mean, don’t get me wrong that was my actual dream job, buuuut-”

“Riker is crazy?” Beckett dryly supplies.

“I thought you were crazy,” Boimler lets out a whooshing breath. “Like I seriously thought you were the most batshit, insane person I’d ever met, hands down. But Riker is certifiable.”

Beckett grins. She can’t suppress it and she’s too tired to try. “So you’re saying I’m preferable.”

“I will take you any day of the week over that.”

“Sounds like a compliment.”

“It is.”

“Hmm.” She eyes him critically.

“Soooo,” he draws out the word. “Am I forgiven?”

Beckett picks his shirt up off the end of the biobed and throws it at his face. “Maybe.”

“Maybe?” He pulls it over his head, causing his hair to stick up in the back. Beckett suppresses the urge to smooth it down.

“I like watching you squirm,” she replies. “It soothes my massively inflated ego.”

Boimler barks out a laugh, easing himself out of the biobed carefully. Beckett turns to go--he still has to talk with Dr. T’Ana and possibly her mom over the transfer, and give his full report to Riker--but stops as he catches her wrist in one hand.

“Hey. Thanks.”

Beckett’s heartbeat rackets up a few notches. Stop that, she thinks at it and then stops because thinking at your own organs is weird. “Don’t worry about it,” she says, voice even. “You would have done the same for me.”

It’s true. Boimler may be a bit of a bastard and sometimes a shitty friend, but she has no doubt he’d have come running if it’d been the Cerritos accosted.

“Yeah,” he replies. “Sometimes I feel like that’s all I do with you.”

“What?”

He drops his gentle grip on her wrist. “Nothing. Just.” He shrugs, looking cagey. “I know I’ve been a bit of a-”

“Bitch?”

“--yeah, that lately. But. There’s not much I wouldn’t do for you. And that’s why I’m coming back. Because-because you deserve to know that. That you're my best friend, too.”

Her face heats up. “Yeah, well,” she mumbles. “Whatever.” Jams her hands into her pockets. “Don’t think I’m just gonna forget everything because you-”

“Yeah, I know. It’s fine.” He gives her a lopsided smile. “I just thought you should know.”

____

Beckett can feel the blush on her cheekbones until she reaches her bunk. Fuck, she thinks. Fuuuuuck.

She opens up her mental file on Boimler, crossing out whatever she had in there before. Best friend, she replaces it with. Stares at it for a long moment. Erases it. Puts it back.

Bradward “Brad” Boimler. Best friend. Loves classic rock. Dyes his hair purple. Has made some improvements, but still needs to loosen up a bit. Probably needs to get laid. Definitely needs to get laid.

You could help with that.

Best friend. She underlines in the file. You don’t have feelings like that for your friends.

Beckett throws herself into her bunk. She had the horrible, sneaking suspicion that Brad Boimler’s file was about to get a lot longer.

_______