#except to avoid detection. use your fucking brain

[owlbelly]

i keep seeing folks passing around that post that's like "i'd rather my money go to a couple of scammers sometimes than not help people in Gaza" & it's driving me up the fucking wall. it should be obvious that any money you send to a scam does not go to Palestinians. do you have infinite money to throw at every ask you see? because i don't. i want my limited money to go where it's needed & i do NOT want it lining the pockets of someone heartless enough to try to profit off a genocide

& the heartbreaking thing is you literally do not need to guess, or take the word of one or two users on this website who i'm sure are doing their best but literally cannot accurately vet hundreds of accounts. there are so many families in need, just go to Operation Olive Branch & pick a campaign there. those families have all been vetted by an entire team of international volunteers who are also organizing larger direct aid projects you can support! if you feel strongly that the ask in your inbox is a real person in Gaza, direct them to OOB - they have a family self-report form to get on the list

reblogs are off for this because i really do not have the time or energy to be called racist for wanting to do my due diligence & support actual Gazans. i just want people following me to know about OOB. the choice is not "give to this copy-pasted campaign in my inbox or do nothing" - go support any one of the hundreds of families on OOB's list

[hanihazeljade]

Three Settings

Christmas is around the corner and the manor is exceedingly overflowing of it's spirit, except Tim.

Part Five of Three Weeks

Prev - Three Events

Next - Three Videos

(CW: namecalling, explicit sexual intercourse, hatred of christmas, liquor)

Tim hates Christmas. 

It is a holiday that the Drake household never celebrates. Jack and Janet’s belief is that why do you need a holiday to spend with your family when you can do it whenever you can. Maybe it's because of the fact that their family cannot be together every Christmas as his parents are in their digs. 

So, Tim never really likes Christmas that well.  He never liked the idea of celebrating Christmas, he never did it with his parents and never in the house of Wayne's, and he basically used Christmas in Japan as a way to have a new guy in his bed, fucking his brains out.

So, seeing the Waynes to get some Christmas spirit in him. He wanted to roll his eyes at them but he, unfortunately, was trying to be civil with them. However, one more offer of decorating another tree, he has half his mind of jumping to the nearest window and breaking his leg so he won't be able to celebrate it. But he wanted to dance at Cass’ wedding, so that is a no.

It seems like the world's greatest detective family is a fucking idiot. Intellectually intelligent but emotionally unavailable. A fucking hypocrite he is. They can’t seem to comprehend that Timothy hates being around Christmas things  or just being around the vibe of Christmas.

Timothy is an amazing human being who practised patience and meditation but he once again has his limits. So, he escaped to the comfort of his room, as the Christmas jingles echoing throughout the hallway of the manor. This is the worst. He wished that he could just sneaked out and go to the clubs in the Diamond District and have someone to fuck his worries for a while, after all it’s been a while since he got laid back in Japan.

But then again, why can't he do it here? He is a well functioning adult, has a good income and anyone can’t say shit about him bedding anyone. After all Bruce had bed women as the same number of the days of the year, Richard has also had his fair share of laying some women in his bed to please. Jason may have died virgin but definitely likes to have a taste of Richard’s leftovers and maybe some original taste to himself. Damian may look rigid but Gazette saw him going home with some models. And Tim is a healthy man, he has needs. He was not the same stuck-up Robin that they know.

So he gets up from laying down and starts cleaning himself well. He has guys to woo to satiate his needs. 

He has some worries that he will get caught but he remembered that it is near Christmas Eve, the Christmas related crimes are on the top, so therefore all hands on the deck, even Alfred. So he just whooshed to the front door, and he was gone to the Diamond District.

He turned on the radio on his phone to listen to some news as to who is the main rogue for the night and it looks like Ivy and Harley are having a date and Mr. Freeze is doing a scene from Frozen. With that he knew to avoid Robinson Park and the Cherry Hills. He took a cab to take him to some club in Diamond District,  after all, Richard will probably patrol around the Robinson Park, Jason will continue his route to the Crime Alley, Cass and Steph will be trying to find where the two love birds to stop their date, the only vigilantes he could meet is Batman and Grackle, Damian new mantle for now.

But it is not like they would stop by the rich ass bar when there are major rogues out loose. Tim would rather not risk it to choose a run down bar. After all, he is a delicate maiden.

The bar he chooses is filled with different men, as it is a gay bar. Some are ogling him not so subtly and he knows, after all he wore one of Steph’s see through blouse and the tightest jeans that he had. His hair was styled to a calculated messy bun and his body was adorned in different accessories. And his makeup that makes his blue eyes popped so much more and the lip oil he applied to make his lips so juicy.

He is getting drinks left and right but he the one that he fancies are some stuck up assholes, so much for his type, that probably doesn’t do shit in bed. But of course, he got one. There is a tall, buff man with tattoos lingering on his skin. The man’s gaze is as sharp as a viper waiting to plunge on its prey and Tim is feeling things for himself.

Not wasting any more time, Tim strikes up a conversation to the guy, “Hey handsome, nice tats.” he said as he walked closer to the man.

The man eagerly put his hands on Tim’s waist and put Tim on his lap as Tim squealed flirtingly, “Would you want to explore more of my ink?” He said as he tightened the grip on his waist and Tim was loving the grip.

Tim giggled, “Then may I know the name, first?” he asked cheekily.

The man smirked at Tim’s coy display of naiveness, “Name’s Nathan, baby. How ‘bout you, angel?”

“Mine is Timothy, but angel works just fine too.” Timothy said as he closed their distance and kissed the guy, passionately and hard. They were going with it like a man discovering an oasis in the middle of dessert. Both of them groped each other until they separated to catch some breath.

“My place or yours?” Nathan asked, as he grinds his hard on to Tim’s ass.

Tim giggled as he rocked back, “Yours, just visiting here.” He said as he can feel the package beneath him.

Nathan chuckled, “Poor little angel, visiting a family in this wicked city.” Having a family in this godforsaken city when you already escaped is such a pain.

Tim rolled his eyes at such remarks, “Let’s not talk about them when we could be going to your place right now.” he said as he pouted as if upset that someone is talking about his ‘family’.

Nathan just quirk his brow, Gotham has a lot of kids that don't have a good relationship with their family, and he was just here for some pretty boys, not to settle with someone. “Eager little vixen you are, angel.” he redirects the topic to the beautiful man in front of him, after all, he doesn’t want to let this angel go just because he is curious about things that he doesn’t care about.

It seems like the pretty angel took it, as he caressed his biceps, “Well, I need to be if I want a strong man to handle me.”

“Then shall we get out of here, huh?” 

++++++

Tim left Nathan’s apartment at 10 in the morning. Nathan is a beast in bed, one of his best sex in his life. The morning sex is a plus and he will never complain about the surprises staying over. His horny self is now satiated.

However, his good mood was once thrown outside of the window as he went back to Wayne Manor. He was not expecting such commotion in this early morning. He was about to leave them to argue some more but Damian saw him.

“Timothy! You are finally home.” With Damian’s declaration of his presence, everyone went to him and they definitely all can see the bruises and bites of Nathan through the see through blouse. Honestly he likes those marks of possession.

Steph reacts first after seeing her blouse that was gifted by Cass, “Is that my blouse?”

Jason saw all the dark marks behind the see through blouse, “What is that?!” he reacted. 

“Why do you smell like sex?” Richard asks as he wants to hug Tim but he rather not as he smells the strong smell of intercourse. “Tim you did not hook up, right?!”

“It’s hickeys, Jason.” Tim rolled his eyes, everyone was acting like a virgin. “And I did hook up with someone, they are very good at bed.” he smirked at them, and he saw each of them have a shocked expression, especially Grayson. But he never expected the words coming out of Richard’s mouth.

“Stop whoring around Tim, this isn’t like you!”

A slap cracked in the atmosphere. Tim was also shocked that he slapped Dick Grayson across his face, but his anger was far more superior than his shock.

“So what? I changed, Richard, just in case you still haven’t noticed. I am not like who I was seven years ago, because now? I love myself, I know my value without pleasing anybody. I know who I am. So what, if I am sleeping around with different guys each week? You never heard jackshit about me when you are preening with your gaggle of redheads.” He said as he went back to the front door, but got held back by Damian.

“Where do you think you’re going?”

Tim pulls his arm away from the tight grip of Damian, “Away from you, if your feeble detective brain couldn’t recognise what I am gonna do, Damian.” 

“Where?”

“That, I believe, is none of your business.” And the door was slammed shut.

++++++

A knock in the middle of the supposedly peaceful Saturday in her apartment woke her up. She doesn’t know who in their right mind knocks on her door, on the weekend, that she knew, to wake her up before the sun starts setting down?

She opened the door and was surprised to see Timothy Drake, the man that she knew to rather sleep until the sun was halfway down if he had a choice, standing outside of her apartment, and asked, “Hey Tam. Mind if I stay over?” with a miserable face and anger was still lingering in his eyes. But Tam just let Tim in, by opening her door wider.

Tim plopped down the couch and wanted to scream as Tam went to her bathroom to freshen up and have a mind to look after Tim. 

When she finished, she finally looked at Tim properly. Tim’s hair that was normally was in such perfection but now there strays. The smell of sex and the hickeys were also a dead give away that Tim had a nice night. And honestly, Tam was jealous. She could also have the best night of her life if just a certain baldie just stops pushing her. But enough of Prudence, she has a Timothy to babysit. 

Tam sat beside him and asked, “What happened?” because Tim is obviously not fine and would not ask any unnecessary questions regarding his feelings when it was so obvious.

Tim just sighed loudly, and screamed in the pillow he had on his lap. And once he was done, he raised his head and finally responded, “Just got called a whore, nothing more.” His answer was muffled by the pillow as his head was still buried on it. 

‘Whore?’ Tam thought to herself as she thought of all the people around Tim,“By who?” It cannot be within the family of Waynes as each of the Waynes have a notorious long notch to their bedpost.

But alas, Tim destroyed her thoughts, “The second whore himself, Dick Grayson.”

Tam was taken aback, after all, Richie Wayne is next to Brucie Wayne in the most notches. He was like Brucie but in moderation. “Wow. Didn’t he have like a harem of ginger fuckers?” She told Tim as she had been so active in the capes scene.

And with that Tim explodes, as he finally has someone to know how he actually feels! “He told me to stop whoring around! Like I am making money by getting fucked by those guys, well maybe I should. Just to pissed him off more.” Tim said as if he was thinking of going back with a bunch of dollars in his hand as if he just finished a night being a stripper. That was a nice thought, maybe he would do that.

Tam pat Tim’s shoulder, “Petty, but how about let’s drink our asses tonight? It’s Sunday tomorrow.” she proposed to Tim as she knows Tim just went to the bar to hook up but not to drink and she has some strong beer and no one can blame her. She is a hardworking woman under the Wayne Enterprise, with scandals far deeper than the Mariana Trench.

Tim had a thought for a while and he didn't have any to lose, so he agreed. “Sure.” Maybe he can use the hangover as an excuse not to celebrate Christmas.

Tam stood up, “I’ll order some chicken and pizza, and some fries too.” and went back to her room to get her phone. But she quickly came back throwing clothes at Tim, “Wear this, I don’t want to have a reminder that you got laid before me.”

[tulipsforyourlips]

✧˖°. i found you ✧˖°. (6)

|| the sandman x dead boy detectives ||

SUMMARY: You run the dead boys detective agency along with your two best friends. And somehow two ghosts and a living girl make it work. Until you dream one night, of dream himself.

PAIRING: dream of the endless x fem!reader

WC: 4K

WARNINGS: slight angst

A/N: okay brace yourselves ladies it's a long chapter. and slow paced too but i genuinely loved writing this chapter and showing intimate conversations between dream and her. its a slow burn after all the chemistry has to be right.

PART 6 ✧˖°.

"Morning lads," you greeted the pair sorting through the daily mail.

"Mornin- woah what happened?" Charles' eyes motioned to your hand.

What? How were your injuries from your dreams transferring into real life? Well, technically that happened outside your dream. Whatever, you had no energy to mull over the technicalities of the realm differences, that was better left to the Endless.

"Eh nothing. Just slightly cut my hand open on the bed railing."

"How did that even- you know what nevermind."

"How's Jesse doing?" You changed the subject.

The boys had been monitoring her full night.

"The demon did peek through but for like half a second. Too brief for us to use our incantations and extract him out," Charles answered. "Poor kid. Must be suffering."

You gulped down some water and nodded.

"So? I was in-"

"Hell for seventy years." Charles and you finished his sentence.

"Oi turn up the volume a bit," you said as the television screen displayed some news in the background.

"As you can see around us ladies and gentlemen, the sleepy sickness has indeed made a comeback. We have Shiara's parents with us right now who has been diagnosed with the same, just one victim out of the thousands being affected," the lady reported from a hospital.

Shit shit shit. This was bad.

"Will the number soon soar to millions like it did around a century back?" The reporter continued.

You had obviously read about it. And Morpheus himself had told you how his imprisonment had befallen this plague on the waking world.

"That's..intense," Edwin said.

You never heard Charles' reply because your brain was busy trying to comprehend what you had just heard. You needed to see Dream. In response to your plea, Matthew pecked against the window.

"I will be right back," you told the guys. "Need some fresh air." You grabbed your coat and hurried out.

Dream was waiting for you in the alley behind the building.

"The sleepy sickness is back," you said as you approached him.

"I know."

"But-I-," you stuttered, "I don't understand. I thought things were supposed to move in the healing direction after last night. Atleast not worsen."

"You are coming to the Dreaming with me."

"Right now?"

In answer, Morpheus fetched his sand pouch from his cloak. You knew he could easily transport you through his cloak disappearing trick. But he seemed determined to avoid any direct contact between you two. Except when he had bandaged your hand. Ugh not the time to be a hopeless romantic. Sand enveloped you in a tornado and took you to the Dreaming. Your heart shuddered when you took in the scene awaiting you. Ruins littered the ground everywhere which in turn bore fresh cracks. You revolved your head around, assessing the damage. You took a step back, bad idea. Your feet connected with nothing and you fell, would have if not for the sturdy arm wrapped around you. Something in your guts uncoiled, partially from the apparent death, and partially from the proximity of him. This close you could see the crystal blue of his sapphires for eyes. Loose rocks fell into the crevice, showing you your alternate fate. He uprighted you on secure ground before withdrawing his hand from your waist. That was the third time he had contacted you, willingly or not. Were you keeping track? For fuck's sake you almost fell to your death and that's the part you want to fixate upon?

Shoving your flustered state deep down, you asked, "How did this happen?"

"Honestly, I dont know," Dream spoke, "What I know is we need to take another approach, a more direct and dangerous one. It is our only shot at saving humanity." He looked down at you, his eyes imploring you to trust him and validate his decision.

Had he so little faith in you? "When do we start?"

"Tonight."

You were flopped on the couch alongside Jesse watching some lame ass family movie. The boys were on some haunted house case according to the note scribbled in Charles' ugly handwriting. On the screen, a daughter hugged her mom and you tasted a palette of emotions- jealousy for being denied what others had for granted, lonely for having no one to call your own, frustration for not remembering anything. Even though you had accepted the erasure of your past, you couldn't help but grieve who you were. Who were you? Someone who mattered so little that her family and friends didn't even bother looking for her? Didn't deem her worthy of putting themselves through the trouble.

The door busted open and Charles stormed through.

"Where's Edwin?"

"Fuck knows." Was all he said before shutting himself in his room.

Okay something was seriously wrong. The door creaked on its hinges as you opened it.

"Charles?"

He was sat on his bed, whimpering softly.

"Hey? What happened?" You asked in a whisper and sat down beside him.

He shook his head. You gave him time to gather his thoughts. "He just doesn't understand."

"Edwin?"

Charles sniffed, wiping his tears away. He took a deep breath and started, "There was this family. The husband murdered the wife and children."

You inhaled a bountiful. You were aware of his traumatizing past starring his abusive dad. That fucker. The first time he had told you about him, a rage you had never been familiar with before had tightened around your veins. If that sick brute hadn't already had departed the waking world, you would have hunted him down and done that.

"I am so sorry." You intertwined your fingers in his.

"I tried to intervene but apparently had some strong emotional response to it and got sucked into the situation itself. I am aces now-"

"Clearly."

He continued on, "but that didn't stop Edwin from yelling at me for getting involved in the first place." He sucked a breath. "I couldn't help it Hazel, I just couldn't. When I saw his ghost murder-" he choked on his words. New tears escaped his eyes and burned at the back of yours.

You cupped his face in your hands and swiped your thumbs across his cheekbones, dampening his tears. "Look at me Charles." 

He reluctantly met your gaze. "I am so sorry you had to go through that. I can't even begin to grasp what that might have felt like. That's simply fucked up. But you have to know, if there is one person who understands you, it is Edwin. He cares for you more than any other person or ghost on this Earth. The only reason he yelled at you was because he was scared Charles." You didn't release your hold on his face. "Of losing you."

Charles' eyes softened.

"He loves you. We both do."

"I know." A hint of a smile graced his lips.

You kept tossing and turning in your bed. Charles' tearstained face kept flashing in your mind. You had found Edwin at the bottom of the stairs, equally devastated at his outlash. He had explained to you what you already knew, that he was worried for Charles, of losing him. Oh these boys were going to be the death of you,  provided you survived long enough.

"You are late," Dream declared when you appeared in his realm.

"Sorry, trouble at home."

"Nothing serious," you added to erase the crease in his brows.

"I want to show you something."

"Lead the way your Highness!"

You followed him to Holy shit. You'd thought you'd toured through every phenomenon in the Dreaming, been fascinated by every miracle it had to offer. You were proved wrong as you titled your head backwards to witness the dazzling fabric of sky warping around you. When you propelled it downwards the same enchanting sight glimmered. The water was coated in the sheen of the starry night. An admiration blossomed deep in your core for the Endless standing at your side, the creator of the spectacles you had witnessed in the realm, the cause behind all your fascination. These docks just being one example, perhaps your favourite yet. After your very own dream of course.

"And this, mortal, is where the magic happens."

He extended his arms and the sea waters responded to their master's call. It roared to life from its dormant state and danced to the tunes of the Endless' hands. Spiral of waves loomed from the sea, stray droplets settling on your skin as you watched the Dream lord at work. Globes of water bounced on the ocean's surface. An assortment of objects and beings went about in their respective bubbles. In one such bubble, through its foggy exterior you recognised a dream you had gotten to trust mere days ago. And then it dawned on you, you were watching people's dreams. You were staring at the collective unconscious of the living world. There was no horizon visible as far as sight took you, the sea and the sky effortlessly blended into one entity. You were in infinity itself. Where you stood was sacred ground. And Morpheus had brought you here, to a special rendition of his soul. He trusted you. No, he had no other option but to, with the waking world now in turmoil too. Unknown to your captivated self, Dream was taking in each and every shift in your expression.

He came up just beside you. "Dip your hand in it."

You peered through the mist swathing the globules of dreams floating in front of you. Seeing your apprehension, he went first. His skin immersed the film and once he was halfway through, he rotated his head back. An invitation.

"You will be fine," he said.

"You promise?"

A thousand emotions collided in his eyes all in a fraction of a second. "I promise." And he disappeared into the globule. You followed suit and landed on your butts on solid ground. The Endless at your side who was standing on both his feet having failed to make a clown of himself unlike you, paid no heed to your graceful landing. You were on your feet in a quick motion. Butterflies fluttered their wings around you and you extended your arms for them to rest upon. A giggle left you as one plopped itself on your nose.

"What is this place?" You couldn't keep the wonder out of your voice.

"This is Fiddler's green. One of my proudest creations, I confess."

"I don't blame you." Your eyes raked past the waterfall and the pure greenery of the place.

A boy, just a child, hopped a few feet away from you.

"Why are we here?" You asked finally.

"To try our new approach."

"Dream you really have to start being elaborate."

"We need him to wake up. He has been here for a while."

"Wouldn't really hold it against him. Have you looked at this place?"

Dream looked at you. Of course he had. What kind of stupid rhetorical question was that to ask the person who had made the effing place.

"I mean it's beautiful."

He brushed past your compliment and said, "Hazel he has the sleepy sickness."

"Oh. But how am I supposed to get him to wake up?"

Nightmares weren't the only ones running wild. Dreams even as pleasant as the one you were currently in, were drifting from their original purpose to serve humankind. They used their beauty and kindness as an added advantage to lure humans into staying in a fragment of their mind forever. You'd known humans' resolve was fickle, being one of them. And provided with an opportunity to escape, no one would ever turn it down. Even the strongest wills would shatter with the passage of time. And that was why you listened intently to what Morpheus had to say.

"Invoke trust in the Fiddler's green as you did with others. Without hope, their sense of their purpose is growing corrupt. They are feeding on humanity's innate desire to run away from reality. Your trust has to fill in the void left by the absence of hope."

"What if I can't?"

"You don't have a choice."

"Dream but I- what if I am not the person for this? This was Hope's job. It was never meant to be mine."

"Will you tell his parents that they can stop visiting his bed every second of the day, quell their prayers, and say goodbye to their son because you were afraid to try?"

Brutal. But the impact was necessary. "No."

"Then the fate of the world is in your hands mortal."

No pressure then.

"Oi where are you going?" You asked Dream's retreating figure.

"This is your fight Hazel. I will see you when he wakes up."

"If you think you can just leave me here- " He definitely thought so because you were standing alone on the grassy landscape, except the jovial boy chasing butterflies.

You looked at him, airy giggles erupted from his throat. You sat down, feeling the grass beneath your palms. And closed your eyes until the beating of your heart was all you were aware of.

The dream collapsed as back in the waking world, the boy began to stir, accompanied by exuberant cries of his parents. You found yourself back on the docks, completely drenched. Beads of water dripped down from the hair sticking to your face.

"You look pathetic."

You swirled around to face the Endless who had spoken those words.

"A thankyou, you did remarkably well. Yoo hoo you are saving the world and I am indebted to you. And I apologise from the bottom of my heart which I am not even sure if I possess one, for abandoning you back there, would be nice but you know whatever," you rambled. "Wouldn't want to disrupt this whole emo vibe you have going on," you vaguely gestured to his hair and robes.

Your sour mood immediately dissolved as a smile graced his lips, his perfect cherry lips, you didn't deny it this time. An actual smile, fleeting but it was there. As real as the wind blowing through his hair, bestowing an air of ethereality upon him. A god, an Endless, who had just smiled at you.

"It's time for you to wake up mortal. The sun has already risen in your land. We have a lengthy path to walk, Fiddler's green was just one on it."

"Has anyone ever told you that you're one massive buzzkill?"

You didn't think so with the authority he owned and his general 'you dare say anything to me?' demeanour but the reminiscent twinkle in his eye made you doubt otherwise.

"Goodnight Hazel."

You were lying in your bed since you had woken up, which was seconds or minutes ago, brooding over stuff, enjoying the quiet laziness before one of the guys would barge into your room and drag you out of bed. They were late today. The faint ticking of the clock was the only sound in the room when a sudden scream interrupted the monotonous ticking followed by a loud thud. You dashed through your room to the living room where an unconscious Jesse was slumped on the carpet. Charles and Edwin were both lying on the floor next to a book on incantation and Charles' pandora's box, as you liked to call his bag of tricks.

"Oh you are alive," Charles addresses you.

"What the fuck happened?"

"The demon happened," Edwin exhaled in a breath.

"Don't worry we had it contained, like forever." Charles jiggled an opaque jar in his hands. "No thanks to you," he quipped.

"I-" You were dumbfounded. "You could have woken me up."

"Oh we tried mate, but you were sleeping 'like a log' won't do it justice. We thought you were dead for a moment."

"Or worse, that you had the sleepy sickness. But before we could assess that for certain, Charles had to pee and then Jesse got possessed so we kind of had our hands full."

It was because I was in someone else's dream you gits. But it isn't like you could explain that to them. And you did have a history of sleeping like someone who had just been introduced to the concept, so you let it pass.

"But we are obviously super relieved to see you fit and aces."

"I can see that. Charles you chose pee over me!" You cried.

"Mate it was nothing personal. It was really urgent."

Okay that was the last straw. Your hands were around his neck in a second, your knees pinning him down as he tried to wiggle free from your grasp.

"Careful with the jar, you two." Edwin said flatly, unconcerned if you would strangle the ghost.

What would happen if you did? Could ghosts die again? A part of you wanted to find out badly, but a sympathetic loser  part of you took pity on his reddening face and let go. You fell down on the space next to him, both of you heaving air into your lungs.

"I hate you," Charles huffed, his earring still dangling from the aftermath of your force.

You patted his shoulder. "Don't fret it son. I hate you more."

You were headed back to the agency with arms full from your grocery trip. A yapping Charles trailed on in front of you. Jesse had moved out, to your ghost friend's dismal and ranting about it was his way of dealing with it, unfortunately.

"And she said Edwin-that Edwin had a better fashion sense than me! Can you believe it?"

"I can."

He stopped and you took the lead. "What?" He blinked.

"Come on Charles you can't be serious. His taste is impeccable. I would have stolen his wardrobe a long time ago if he wasn't a ghost."

Passers by gave you judgmental glances, but you were used to it.

He caught up to you. "Hazel, this." He gestured to his baggy jacket. "And this." He flicked his earring.

"Yes even after this and this."

"I can't believe girls sometimes, scratch that, all the times." He fastened his pace, muttering to himself.

You brought your wrist to your hand to see the time when you got knocked off balance as someone bumped against you. Your groceries spilled out of the paper bag onto the road.

"Oh I am so sorry," a stranger's voice apologised.

You both were on your knees, gathering your escaped items.

"No it's okay my fault. I wasn't lookin-" You looked up and golden eyes met you. Wow. That was one rare iris.

"Oh shush now darling. Mistakes happen," they cooed.

You both scrambled to your feet as they handed you your bag. "Thankyou."

"You're welcome Hazel."

"How do you know my name?"

"Oh I overheard you and the boy talking," they said with an unnerving smile.

They could see him? Well quite a many people could, guaranteed that they'd had a similar bump in with death, not the Endless. You watched Charles distant profile walk on far ahead still seemingly mumbling to himself. You turned your head back to ask them if they had been in a near death incident, but they were already gone. Weird.

"Haz are you coming?" Charles shouted, realising you weren't with him.

You forsake the encounter with the golden eyed person and made your way towards your impatient friend.

Cool water lapped around your ankles where you had dipped your feet in them. The past week you'd fallen into a routine, a tedious and rewarding one, as you helped more and more people get rid of their eternal sleep. You had learned to manoeuvre the waters on your own, invading people's dreams while Dream devoted his time in mending his realm. Some days he'd join you after your daily targets and you'd both sit together, relishing each other's company. Today was one such day.

"When do we begin with the nightmares?" You had only focused on the sweet dreams till yet. Dream was insistent on it, forbidding you from trespassing through any others.

"Not yet," he said.

"Don't you ever get tired?" You asked after some time.

"Of what Hazel?"

"Of being immortal."

He raised his eyebrows at you, "Would you?"

"Fuck no!" You bit your lip. "Sorry. I mean knowing your time is always running out, does generate a new appreciation for life. But that life seems to be gone in a blink of an eye. Too brief, to leave a mark, to have your existence mean something. Time becomes the most precious and most despised instrument at play," you spoke. "But being immortal, it's-it's something else. Imagine the wonders you could witness, could be a part of. An eternity of just living, carrying the past of the world with you into the future. I like having a particular destination to swim to, but I would rather be lost in the infinite ocean, you know?"

Dream listened to your words intently. "I have a friend back in the waking world. Hob Gadling."

"I didn't strike you as that."

"As what?"

"As someone having friends. But go on."

"We met in the fourteenth century. Death and I visited this pub together and there he was, proclaiming humans could cheat death."

"What did you do?"

"Death granted him his wish."

"What?" What?  "So does that mean he is still alive?"

"Yes. In fact we meet up every century."

"Hold up hold up. The devil meeting with an immortal man in the pub, that has nothing to do with this right?"

Dream's lips twitched imperceptibly.

"Will you ever cease surprising me?"

Quiet ensued you both.

"So this Hob Gadling, does he enjoy his immortality?"

"To my initial surprise, yes. I had thought after a hundred years, he would surely be begging me to take the curse back but he seemed to consider it a boon. Even after centuries had gone by, his zest to live never died, hasn't died. He reminds me of you. Or, you remind me of him."

"Oh careful Dream lord, are you implying I am your friend?" You nudged his shoulder lightly.

"Now let's not get too ahead of ourselves."

You let out a half suppressed laugh.

"Perhaps," he said.

You titled your head towards him, "Eh. I don't think I'm ready to promote you from acquaintance just yet."

"Is that how it is?"

"Absolutely."

A shooting star dived through the sky, cutting a blaze of fire through it.

"What do you wish for Dream?"

He glanced at you.

"Come on. It appears every day without fail, in the abode of your creations. You made it. What do you wish for everyday?"

He was silent.

"And here I thought we were friends."

"I created it in memory of Hope."

That was the first time he had willingly mentioned her. 

"Do you miss her?"

He took his time to answer. "Sometimes."

You drew your feet out of the water and hugged your knees. "Well. Tragedy does birth-"

"The most beautiful things."

You looked at him to find his eyes already on you, a quiet yearning displayed in them.

"Ok mind reader," you scoffed.

"I do not posses those powers, unfortunately."

"Oh a creep then?"

When you looked at him again, his lips imitated the crescent moon in the sky on his perfect face. It wasn't like any of the fleeting twitches, no matter how treasured, he had given you before. The smile reached his cheeks. His teeth glittered under the moonlight, his skin washed in it. A weak crinkle formed at the end of his eyes. Your heart lurched in its rib cage, wanting to join another. No. You won't fall for him. You won't fall for an Endless. You won't fall for the pompous goth guy. You won't fall for him. You weren't falling for him. You weren't falling for him. You weren't falling for him. You were not falling for him. Shit. You were falling for him. 

SERIES MASTERLIST

[that-ineffable-devil]

I don't know what it is about Neil Gaiman's stories and characters that bring up so many visceral emotions and realizations but Dead Boy Detectives has gripped me in it's skeletal claws.

I'll admit I haven't read the comics--one more thing on my neverending tbr pile--so I came into this show without any preconceptions or foreknowledge of the characters or their histories. And I didn't do any research on the show beforehand a) to avoid spoilers and b) it's Neil Fucking Gaiman what am I gonna do NOT watch!?

Basically, I had no idea what to expect from it. Except that it'd be queer (praise be).

And I gotta tell you, Charles is getting to me. In ways and at depths I never could have expected. And, fuck, it's making me confront some things I didn't realize were affecting me...and some that maybe I did...

Like the anger. Gods, the deep-rooted anger at the injustice and cruelty of the world and the hands you're dealt. The fury of feeling helpless and alone and terrified during the worst experiences of your life. And the self-loathing you feel as you bury that rage for fear of becoming the very monsters that tormented you--unable to express it in even a healthy manner because you can only associate anger with violence. So you bottle it and bury it and hope against hope you can keep it down, but you fear the day you run out of burial ground.

Like the compulsion to act like everything's fine. To mask any negative emotions with a smile and a kind word or a laugh. To never be the reason someone else is in pain. To try so hard to undo the pain done by others. To be the person you needed most who was never there. Maybe you're trying to convince yourself that you're not a monster. Living in constant fear that you really are that monster, and all your goodness and light is a smokescreen to trick truly good people into allowing you to walk amongst them--and that one very bad day they'll all see the truth and your worst fears will be confirmed in their eyes.

Like the almost desperate need to cling to anything or anyone good that comes into your life, because it has happened so rarely and so fleetingly. The fear of taking certain risks with those things and people because any change can be the one that results in losing them. Yet constantly taking risks with yourself and your life (death?), likely boiling down to "If I go first, I don't have to lose them." Because, deep down, you think they could never miss you as much as you'd miss them.

And even specific moments...

Like using the word "rough" to describe abuse, because how else do you reference decades...or in his case, likely at least a decade...of trauma and abuse without upsetting someone? Without letting them know it's still affecting you?

Like equal parts fear and fury welling inside you as you watch something truly horrific happen. Memories wrapping your senses so tightly as that man brutalized his family for no reason. Being both unable to stop it and unable to look away. Desperate to do something about it but completely helpless. Again.

And reliving his trauma, forced to by someone else? Feeling that pain and misery all over again. The heartbreak as friends choose to hurt you for reasons you don't understand. The anguish as your brain tries to protect itself while a parent who's supposed to love you makes you wonder why you exist at all. The terror of being hunted. Not knowing why. Not knowing what you've done to deserve it. Wondering if somehow you do.

And confessing his fear that he's a "bad guy." Wondering if you're really the villain in your story. Fearing that the reason people treated you so cruelly is because they saw the monster within, and thought they could keep it contained and afraid. Fearing that you won't be able to.

And not every day is like this. Not every day has you feeling like you're at the edge of a precipice. Some days are quite good actually, especially if you have even one good person around. But any day could turn out like this.

But you keep on with the smiles and the positive attitude because the monsters can't win. Your monster can't win. And frankly, you don't know how else to deal with it, because no one ever taught you how to. Or maybe you never had the chance to learn. All you know is that it's all you know.

[abrthephantomq]

All of this. ALL of this.

As a System, this is how it works (or has worked, in the past, when we didn't have the knowledge that we were a System). There's one version of you who deals with this particular thing. Another who does the day to day. A third who deals with a completely, separate thing, etc. And at first you don't know about it, because to be a System is to want to Avoid Detection.

So you learn to blend in. Assess your surroundings. I wasn't here before but now I am and what happened in between, what time is it, who am I? They called me Alex, so I must be Alex, etc.

And you do that as a kid. One of you is "chosen" to be present during some horrific, repeated event so that no one else in your System - even if it's just you and a twin version of you - will know. The brain does this as a natural defense mechanism. It's an innate thing. It's a means of protection. Of ensuring human survival.

Everyone experiences dissociation. Everyone has parts, if you follow the theory of Structural Dissociation. We start out as Multiple Parts and somewhere along our Developmental Timeline, typically around the ages of like, 7-9, those parts merge and share an Identity and Name and they're All You and none of them are Separate.

Except for those of us who get smacked repeatedly with the trauma button - to their body's definition of trauma, to their mind's definition of trauma, as defined by their genetics bc trauma is carried through our genetics lines, too - as children, those parts, become Parts; they become Identities. They gain names. Separate from your own.

The thing that horrifies me about Severance is not that it's a concept at all. It's that Severance essentially happens to children as a SURVIVAL MECHANISM to children. That it's an innate, biological process that happens because the brain is still a part of our body.

I could go into how Neurodivergent kids (as in ADHD or autistic) are also more likely to develop DID - and likely also have more time before the supposed Merging and Shared Identity solidifies. So there's a longer window for the right amount of trauma to happen. But honestly that's not the point.

The point is that Severance is by far the best representation of what dissociation is like, as an adult, when you're aware you have DID but not of what you don't know. Because you don't know what your brain willingly files away into subsections of its memory centers that you aren't allowed access to.

That's all the chip does. Or at least, that's how I've taken to interpreting the chip. It's an intentionally built barrier. A human made one that mimics the brain of a child exposed to a severe enough and consistent enough level of trauma.

The thing is, IRL Systems don't need medical intervention to undo the barrier and permeate it. IRL Systems learn to share information across parts and barriers without even acknowledging each other in the process, if they don't have to. Integration of knowledge happens as needed, dictated by whatever internal sets of rules created by the brain prior to you gaining full awareness you're even a System in the first place.

But even the process of re-integration is fucking. Spot on. I hate this show. I love it so much. I have never experienced a piece of media that encapsulates so much of our personal, shared experience as a System who's now well into their 30s. We've spent the better part of 5 years going through this process that Mark is SPEED RUNNING in S2 - but we also are a much larger system (of 30, with intention of fusing down to 22) than just Mark's known system of 2.

It really is incredible to experience seeing how others who also love this show respond to it. How they poke at it and ask questions and make statements like the above. How they consider the ethical implications of shit. How they point out that Helena's cruelty in, "I am a person, you are not," is still a shock to so, so many viewers. Because the innate human response would be to acknowledge your Innie's humanity - they may not be you, but they are you. A version of you. A you without the baggage you already carry - a version of you that, as a by product of their existence, will end up carrying their own.

To say that I find this show incredibly healing and cathartic even when we get episode's like last night's (i'm so MAD at last night's episode but as a writer I understand WHY last night's episode was the way it was - but that's neither here nor there) would be an understatement. But it's also so fucking triggering at times - but honestly? That just means the writers are nailing it. The actors are nailing it.

I've missed experiencing media in this way. So, so much.

and obviously you find yourself thinking oh i do wish i could get severed to do this one thing. would you actually maybe not. but you do wish you didn't have to undergo medical procedures you do wish you didn't have to do the things that give you anxiety you do wish you didn't have to do tedious tasks that barely even require you to be present for them. it's tempting. that's why the premise works. but the premise is also that somebody has to do it. somebody has to go to the dentist and somebody has to get on that plane and somebody has to write those thank you notes. just like somebody has to clean the house and somebody has to harvest the food you eat and somebody has to make the clothes you wear. you can't eliminate inconvenience you can only delegate it. you can't eliminate suffering you can only delegate it. and always the easiest way to live with this is to see that somebody as less than. less than you less than people. and if that somebody has to wear your body to do it well maybe it's not all that different. they're not a person. you are. it's capitalism all the way down baby

[satuguro]

*ೃ࿐ BLUE MONDAY

[ ACT II: UNWILLINGLY BOUND ]

ethan landry x reader

#SYNOPSIS— you fake moan to avoid suspicion, richie wants to be chivalrous, and you and ethan make a plan in a coffe shop

#CONTAINS— murder!, gore!!!!, satire (!!), familial issues, mentions of anxiety/ptsd, richie x reader (one sided), stalker behavior (later on), fake dating, richie (yes, he needs his own warning), suggestive content (will be in this part but it's not serious at all lmao)

#AUTHORSNOTE— tumblr pls be kind and let this show up in the tags! thanks

ACT I, ACT II, ACT III

your ring flashed as it flew over your knuckles. back and forth, increasing in speed with every passing minute.

his feet stepped over the hardwood floor of his room, socks shuffling across the wood.

back and forth. back and forth. just like your ring.

"we have to call the police," you told ethan.

back and forth. back and forth.

"we can't."

"are you fucking kidding me?" you hissed, narrowing your eyes at him as you gripped his comforters. but as he looked at you, you saw just how serious he was, just how frantic ethan was, almost restless as he stared at you. and yet, he was still pacing.

back and forth. back and forth.

"this happened before." ethan couldn't shake the feeling off of him, the evidence from the past all making sense, all connecting with bright red lines in his brain as he finally, finally put it all together.

their car moved slowly as they passed by the house just down the street from theirs, the once peaceful and dainty home now tainted by bright yellow crime scene tapes and flashing red and blue lights. the lawn, once taken care of so neatly, was trampled as policemen and their dogs walked all across the lawn; pushing away reporters, setting up a boundary between the hungry public and the grief stricken family.

"what happened?" ethan asked his sister, who could only stare as she drove slowly by their neighbor's house. "isn't that evelyn's house?"

quinn nodded wordlessly, watching numbly as she watched evelyn's mother sob hysterically as a detective spoke to her, her hands gripping her sides hard as she collapsed to her knees.

"this girl disappeared in our neighborhood. she was in quinn's grade," ethan breathed, eyes set on the floor as he walked. back and forth. back and forth. consistent enough to burn a line in the dark wood floor. "all they found was her body. no weapons, nothing."

three detectives stood in their doorway, and ethan could only stare blankly as he watched his father try and reason with his coworkers, talking to them as if his position as one of the detectives just mattered so much in this moment.

"you weren't on this case for a reason, wayne," the primary detective hissed, anger already evident on her face as her patience wore thin. "we have to question him. based off of our witnesses, he was the last one who saw her."

"her fingers," ethan seethed, jaw clenching hard as he dug his thumb's nail into his skin, "her fingers were sliced. the news used the word 'flayed off'. pointless, because they ended up finding her, but," he exhaled shakily, his pacing slowing ever so slightly, "what we saw in richie's room was exactly what happened 2 years ago. all the way down to the flayed fingernails."

"i don't see how this stops us from telling the police," you said, leaning forward and putting your elbows on your knees. eyes flashing quickly to the door and ears quickly listening for any other sign of life within the apartment except for you, ethan, and a passed out quinn, you made sure richie hadn't entered before looking back at ethan.

fingernails picked at his own skin repeatedly as ethan watched his father reluctantly stand aside, his mother's hand coming up to squeeze his shoulder gently. the policemen made themselves comfortable; some sat in the living room, others nodded at ethan and quinn in acknowledgement, and the primary detective stared at the family photos on the walls.

"you two his siblings?" the detective asked, already knowing their answer. the both of them nodded, making her hum as she peered at them in interest. "did any of you know evelyn campo?"

"well, she lived in that pretty house down the steret. and she was in my grade," quinn managed, her nervousness hidden well as she answered truthfully. "is she, uh," she began, swallowing thickly as she brushed some red hair away from her face hastily. "dead?"

your words made him stop pacing to look at you, worry ghosting over his face as he looked you up and down. the fact that he was still only a bit high from earlier didn't help ethan's pounding heart.

but seeing decapitated hands in a ziplock in his brothers room sobered him up considerably.

he was staring at you as though he had made a connection, and you only stared blankly back at him. ethan's hazel eyes had turned muddy from his turmoil, but regardless, you could see that he had a realization; one he wasn't telling you.

"hello? i asked how any of this information is stopping us from just telling the police?" you said, impatience laced in your tone. "he did the murder back then and he did the one now."

the door slammed shut behind the detectives as they left. evening had already fallen over the sky; they had been questioning him for nearly an hour now. and they were planning on bringing him into the station for more.

ethan and quinn made their way downstairs the second the police left, quinn making a beeline to their parents to try and get some type of information out of them, something that would just explain what was going on. but ethan didn't follow her. instead, he focused his attention too his older brother, who was relaxed as he sat at the dining table, sipping a glass as though he hadn't been questioned by the police.

"did you do it?" ethan found himself asking, his voice as accusatory as it was quiet.

"ethan," wayne scolded him, tone warning him to just back off, but ethan prevailed.

"did you, richie? did you kill her?"

richie turned to ethan with his usual charismatic smile, his head tilting slightly as he looked him up and down as though ethan was so beneath him that he couldn't believe he was speaking to him. "do you think i did?"

"it's because richie was questioned by the police for that murder," ethan hissed, eyes frantic as he walked closer to you. he needed you to understand just how dire of a situation you were both in. he needed you to understand just how dangerously intelligent his brother was, and how his charisma could easily make it seem as though the universe was constantly on his side.

ethan searched your face for any sign of worry, any sign of panic, only to find nothing of the sort. you'd think that after seeing everything you had both seen, you'd be more freaked out. but truthfully, you were compartmentalizing your feelings and disassociating to the point where you could only stare back at ethan's panicked face.

"y/n, richie was their number one suspect and they let him go. he got away."

the entrance door to the apartment slammed shut, which was quickly followed by richie's call of, "i'm home!" your eyes widened just as ethan's breath hitched, fear and panic running through his body as his heart beat loudly in his ears.

to have richie find out that you both had been in his room would be like having a serial killer dead set on killing the both of you. you made quick word of cleaning up after yourself after finding the hands; you hid your socks inside your small bag and wiped off the blood smears on the floor before leaving the hands and his bedroom door exactly how you found them. if you were lucky, then richie would assume his collection of body parts had fallen without anyone noticing.

but if he saw the both of you very much awake and a lot more sober than you once were, then he would suspect something.

maybe it was a good thing you were a quick thinker.

you grabbed ethan by the collar of his shirt, face close to his before you pushed him down onto his bed. "mm, fuck," you faux moaned, eyes wide and silently begging for ethan to follow your lead as you began to bounce on his bed, making it creak steadily.

richie's footsteps walked closer to the door, the floorboards creaking with every step.

"what the fuck are you doing?!" ethan whispered to you harshly as he tried to sit up, only for you to shove his shoulders back down onto the bed.

"more," you feigned a whine, making ethan's face burn red as he only stared at you, mouth slightly open as you moaned, "shit— need you t'fuck me, ethan."

you'd think that he'd get a hint by now. you fought the urge to groan as you motioned for him to add onto your moans, your hand coming down to pat his bed to signal for him to add onto your creaking.

cheeks still burning with the embarrassment of it all, ethan managed to feign a low groan that was loud enough for richie to hear from the doorway. "that's it," ethan managed out with a faux moan, making you send him a reassuring thumbs up (which paired great with the slight panic on your face). "ride me harder," he added, eyes turning to the door.

ethan could see him.

richie's feet were stopped right outside his bedroom, casting shadows on the thin slit of light at the bottom of his closed bedroom door. and he was shamelessly listening, unmoving, which made ethan send you a frantic look.

you forced out a loud moan, still steadily making the bed creak with ethan as you stared at the shadow richie's feet cast. managing whimpers while ethan forced out a fake groan of pleasure, your eyes narrowed as you noticed that richie wasn't planning on moving. richie wanted to hear you.

a sick feeling broiled in your stomach at the thought, and you turned to ethan, whose bottom lip was between his teeth as he managed a loud whimper. he seemed completely panicked, the fact that his brother was refusing to move from the door making him almost fear for his life as he stared at you.

"gonna cum— i wanna cum," you moaned out, making your voice an octave higher as you made yourself sound as though you were chasing your orgasm. you couldn't even look at ethan for more than a couple seconds, the awkwardness of it all making your cheeks heat up.

never in your life did you think you would be faking a sex scene with a boy you just met.

"that's right, baby. cum all over my cock." ethan felt the horrible urge to laugh out loud in the middle of everything, the desperation for richie to just fuck off evident in his voice (though, it made it sound like ethan was desperate for you instead). "oh, fuck," he moaned, just as you let out a fake whine of need.

this was a horrible situation. you had seen ethan's brother's bag of body parts in his room and now you were pretending to have sex with ethan while his brother was outside the door.

it was a horrible and dangerous situation. and yet, you found your lips tilting upwards as you looked at ethan's red face for only a few seconds.

and then he started smiling just like you did. the horror and terror of it all still very much prevalent in his brain, but all of that only contributed to the humor of it all.

"cumming— 'm cumming—" you cried out, voice high pitched as you reached your fake orgasm, following your babbles of pleasure with more fake moans. and just like you, ethan groaned as he pretended to reach his climax too.

the worst part? you were both looking directly at each other as you reached your shared fake orgasms, wild smiles on your face as you both fought the urge to laugh.

you had to cover your mouth as the creaking came to a slow halt, the urge to burst out in laughter far too strong as you fell down on the bed next to ethan, burying your face into his pillow. ethan followed you, biting back stifled laughs as he only prayed his brother didn't hear your shared laughter.

you both moved under ethan's comforter, backs to the door as you laid next to each other. and ever so slowly, richie's footsteps walked past the bedroom door.

"holy shit," you breathed, turning to ethan, whose smile was so contagious that you found yourself smiling back. "that was horrible."

ethan nodded quickly. "oh, yeah— by far the worst experience of my life."

"it sounded like i fucked you pretty good, though."

"the fact that it was fake was the part that was the worst part," ethan said with a nod, face reddening further at the realization of what he just said. "oh shit— i mean—"

"it's okay. i, uh," you cleared your throat quietly, "i agree." you stated, staring into his eyes and managing a small smile. a beat of silence passed. "does that mean i'm staying for breakfast?"

"you probably should," ethan murmured, "just to keep the act going." he watched you pull out your phone to text mindy of your whereabouts.

you: sleeping over at ethan's. made it home safe, be back tomorrow.

min: WHAT DO YOU MEAN SLEPT OVER AT ETHANS??? min: LIKE SLEPT WITH ETHAN OR SLEPT AT HIS APARTMENT OR IN HIS ROOM AFTER SLEEPING WITH HIM? min: HELLO??

you quickly silenced your phone.

"can i borrow your clothes? and uh, your bathroom," you murmured softly, standing up with your dried faux blood all over you and your pink dress. your crown was lopsided on your head as you stood up, making ethan's eyes widen as he nodded, sitting up on his bed.

"right," he said, making careful steps to his dresser and pulling out a spider-man shirt and some red plaid shorts (color coordinated, because he wasn't a monster). ethan turned to look at you, a hint of a smile on his face as he carefully gave you his clothes. "may i?" he asked softly, motioning to the crown on your head.

swallowing thickly, you nodded. "be my guest."

ever so carefully, ethan detangled the bloodied faux crown from your head before carefully placing it aside. breath gently fanning over your face, ethan went to remove all the bobby pins in your hair that had once served a purpose, removing them from your tresses.

all the while, your eyes were set on him, face still covered in faux blood, but eyes looking past heavy lashes to see just how focused ethan was in not hurting you. his tongue poked at the side of his cheek, his brows were slightly furrowed, and his hands were so light that it barely felt like they were atop your head in the first place. and when he was finally done, the tension rising so much that even he noticed, ethan sent you a sheepish smile before pulling away quickly.

"all done."

you blinked, face as unreadable as ever. "thanks," you said blankly, hands holding the clothes he offered you before turning around and heading to his bathroom.

a sudden wave of protectiveness fell over ethan as he watched you walk into the bathroom, a breath leaving his lips as turned away right as you shut and locked the door behind you. heart thumping in his ears, he let out a shaky breath as he listened to the water start running.

reaching into his dresser, ethan got dressed himself. he had discarded his costume a while ago in exchange for his regular long sleeve and jeans, but he wanted something comfier. he dressed himself in an old white shirt and some blue polar bear pajama pants (his favorite, but no one had to know that) before situating himself into his bed.

he was exhausted. ethan didn't realize that until he finally pulled the blanket over half of his body.

hand reaching for his phone, he looked over his notifications briefly, barely reading them until he noticed a text from his brother.

richie: are you done with her yet?

the text made ethan sick, and he found himself putting his phone on 'do not disturb.'

you walked out of his shower a few minutes later, hair only towel dry and dripping onto the clothes he offered you to wear. ethan found himself staring a little bit more than he wanted to, but he quickly averted his gaze before you noticed.

"thanks." you climbed into bed next to him, bringing your legs under his blanket and sighing at the warmth.

"y/n, you have to be careful," ethan said softly as you made yourself comfortable, laying down completely on his bed.

"i know."

"no, i mean," ethan breathed out steadily, trying to find his words, "with everything with richie.. he likes you, you know." he laid down on his bed as he spoke, relishing in the warmth of his comforter. you were both facing each other, hands under your cheeks as you laid face to face.

"i know that too." you frowned slightly at the mildly impressed look on ethan's face. "did you think he was being discreet? are you kidding?"

"i don't know!" ethan groaned, hiding his face in his pillow and mussing up his curls even more. "this is gonna sound mean—"

"now you have to say it," you said, amusement laced in your tone as you shifted on his bed. "i'm spending the night, so you won't be able to run away from the topic."

ethan peeked at you from the safety of his pillow before sighing reluctantly. "i thought you were too socially awkward to notice," he said quickly, stringing his words together. ethan expected you to be annoyed or to turn away from him and be silently offended.

but instead, you laughed softly.

and ethan realized that he liked that sound.

"i may not be great at the whole talking thing," you said, your smile still on your face, "but i'm not stupid."

ethan hid his face in his pillow again out of embarrassment, letting out a muffled, "i'm sorry i underestimated you," that made you snort in amusement.

"you better be. don't even worry about it." you turned away from ethan, closing your eyes as you murmured a small, "good night, e."

heart warming at the nickname, ethan turned away from you, his back to your back as he replied, "good night, y/n."

ethan woke up before you did.

at some point during your slumber, you had both turned around and faced each other in the bed, making ethan wake up with your sleeping face right in front of him. and rather than turn away or be mildly embarrassed that you were probably smelling his morning breath, he found himself staring.

your face was relaxed; far more relaxed than the usual indifferent that seemed to constantly be on your features. lips parted gently as little snores left your lips, your once wet hair now a mess on his pillow, ethan found himself admiring you.

until he remembered his brother most likely had a dismembered body underneath his bed. then his little movie daydream fell apart.

standing up slowly, careful not to wake you, ethan made his way out his door and to his bathroom. shutting and locking the door behind him, he stared at how he looked in the mirror; groggy, more pale than usual, and honestly kind of disgusting with the obvious stress that was written all over his face.

shedding his clothes, ethan turned on his shower and walked in, shutting his eyes as he simply let the hot water fall on him.

"you can't possibly believe he's innocent."

"ethan, he's our brother," quinn groaned, falling back on his bed and letting her red hair scatter on his white comforter. "it's like, basically our job to believe that he's innocent."

richie had been questioned for months now. virtually no suspects have been showing up besides him; evelyn was too good to people, too kind, and there seemed to be no one who seemed to have an out with her. none strong enough that would constitute murder, because honestly, evelyn was a wallflower. she knew people, and people knew her, but there was no one besides her best friend who was horribly close to her.

ethan shook his head, fingers flying over his keyboard as he typed out his essay furiously, simply blurting words onto the empty google doc just to have something to turn in. "there's something wrong with him."

quinn rolled her eyes. "well, obviously."

"no, i mean," ethan huffed in frustration, still focused on his screen, "there's something messed up about him. he's hiding something, quinn."

flashed of all the shit that had happened only a few years prior were projecting behind his closed eyes, and ethan found himself forcing his eyes open just to keep them away.

he washed himself up before stepping out and brushing his teeth, before doing his skin care routine (he had acne before and he was not going to have acne again) before stepping out of his bathroom with his towel around his waist.

you were still sound asleep on his bed, which made him sigh in relief as he grabbed some underwear and some new clothes before walking back into his bathroom to change.

hair only towel dry and dripping onto his black shirt, ethan walked out of his room, heart thrumming steadily as he carefully shut his bedroom door behind him. sock-clad feet shuffling across the floor, he carefully made his way to the kitchen.

his heart just about dropped to his ass when he saw richie leaning by the counter, a cup of tea (of course the arrogant asshole drank tea in the morning) in his hand as he sipped it. looking up at ethan, he did nothing to hide his sly smirk as he looked him up and down.

"morning," ethan managed out past the sudden urge to throw up, walking past richie to grab his usual mug before starting a pot of coffee. he refused to look his brother in the eyes, but he could feel richie's steely stare stabbing into the side of his head as he waited for his coffee to brew.

"good morning for you, huh?" richie chuckled, making ethan swallow thickly, ignoring the panic arising in his stomach as he only stared at the dripping coffee falling into the pot.

"how much did you hear?" ethan said, trying to play the light hearted card.

"just a bit," richie said, unaware that ethan knew he was completely lying, because richie stood right outside his door and listened to you fake fuck his brother. "sounded fun."

"fuck off."

"am i wrong?" richie rolled his eyes. "it's about time you got laid. always actin' like you have a stick up your ass," he snorted, sipping his tea again.

ethan's jaw clenched at his words, resisting the urge to punch his murdering brother in the face with the mug he had thrifted only a month ago. "where'd you go last night?" he forced out, trying to keep up the lie as he finally turned to him. "y/n and i had to bring quinn home without you."

"where do you think?" richie said with a wicked grin, placing his cup down next to him as he crossed his arms over his chest. "ended up fucking some girl upstairs."

"oh. congrats," ethan said dryly, unable to care any less than he did. but when richie's words fully sank in, a thought popped up into his mind.

was that girl still alive?

"thanks." richie didn't even ask about quinn, his carelessness for the whole situation evident as he watched his young brother intently, eyes snapping to his neck. "she didn't leave any marks on you."

ethan's breath hitched at that. "i told her not to."

"'course you didn't." richie clicked his tongue. silence followed, the only sound coming from the passing cars and the bubbling coffee that was falling into the pot. "are you done with her, though?"

"what the hell is that supposed to mean?" ethan snapped at him, unable to hide his annoyance as he poured his coffee into his mug. done with you? what were you, a toy?

"i mean," richie sighed, as though he had to spell it out for him, "if you're done messing around with her, i wanted to ask her out on an actual date." he smirked. "instead of just fucking her after a party."

ethan's hand clenched harder around his mug, the fact that richie was painting himself to be so chivalrous making even more sick than he already was. "i thought you weren't dating anymore after sam."

"changed my mind after i saw her," richie said casually, taking his mug and sipping from it again. his eyes followed ethan's like a hawk as he reached into their fridge and pulled out his hazelnut creamer, just to add a bunch to his coffee. "is that bothering you, ethan?"

richie wanted it to bother him. and the worst part was that it was, it really was bothering ethan.

"ah," richie tsked, forcing a charming smile as he saw you walk out of ethan's room, wiping the sleep from your eyes as you trudged into the kitchen. "speak of the devil."

you refused to look richie in the eye, instead walking up next to ethan and watching him stir his coffee. "morning," you murmured to him, making the brunette boy hum in response. "can you pour me some?" you asked him, voice rough due to the morning. ethan could only nod.

"g'morning, y/n," richie hummed, making you mumble a half-hearted 'morning' right back. "d'you want breakfast?" he asked, voice suddenly warm and demeanor suddenly caring, as though he wasn't talking about how ethan "fucked" you last night only minutes ago.

"sure," you replied, feigning interest as you stared into his eyes. there was truly nothing behind them, nothing but an eternal black abyss that stared back at you, and a chill went down your spine at the thought of richie's victims only seeing that before they died.

but you had woken up that morning with a plan. a plan you hadn't told ethan yet, but you were going to.

"what're you feeling? eggs, bacon, toast, bagel, cereal?" richie asked you, making you hum in thought as you sat down on the dining table.

"a bagel with some cream cheese would be great," you said, ignoring the confused look ethan sent to you. you had barely uttered more than a few words to richie before, and now you were willing to let him make you breakfast? what the fuck?

the tension was running high, though richie seemed to be oblivious (or just straight up indifferent) to it, as he nodded at you, getting the bagels and letting himself make your breakfast.

ethan sat next to you, two coffees in hand. he set one down in front of you, hazel eyes looking over your face for any kind of explanation as to why you were suddenly so kind to his murderous brother. but you only looked into his eyes calmly as you took the mug and brought it closer to you.

if only he knew that inside, you were practically panicking at your idea. but if ethan was so sure that richie would only get away from the police if you both told them, that meant that you had to bring matters into your own hands. you were somewhat qualified; a few college psychology and criminology lectures would help down the road. hopefully.

"quinn's still asleep?" you asked ethan, raising your mug to your lips and sipping the coffee.

"yeah. i'll make her breakfast when she gets up," ethan murmured, still looking at you as though you had subtly grown another limb. he needed an explanation. you were planning something. you had to be.

"how 'bout you go check on her?" richie said, his question sounding more like a statement rather than an option. "just to make sure she's okay," he added with a smile that was rottingly sweet, eyes practically ordering ethan to go.

"i'll follow after you, e," you said, eyes unreadable as you stared at ethan.

you had a plan. you had a plan.

ethan sent the both of you a glare as he nodded reluctantly, towel dried hair moving with him as he stood up. "fine." taking his coffee mug with him, he went to grab a glass of water for quinn before walking out of the kitchen.

only when richie heard quinn's door close did he start talking again.

"so," richie began, his back to you as he took out your bagels from the toaster. "are you both together?" he was completely unaware of the wide eyed look you had towards the back of his head.

your eyes were clouded over with rage as you stared at the back of your father's head. you felt like you were floating, as though you were just some puppet to be controlled by your consciousness flying high above the clouds. and as you watched his body move through the haze in your eyes, you began to move just as your consciousness told you to.

you grabbed the marble white statue next to you.

"no," you murmured, eyes glinting with something dangerous as you watched richie smear cream cheese over your toasted bagel. "just messing around." your eyes were still set on the back of richie's head, staring at the untouched skin, the mussed golden brown hair.

"right," richie said with a small laugh, shaking his head to himself. of course, he believed he was right. "so does that mean i still have a chance?"

he was so oblivious to your existence. as though you weren't his flesh and blood, as though you were nothing but a burden forced upon him and his wife, as though they hadn't forced your creation in the first place.

you were nothing to your father. nothing but a parasite living under his roof.

your chest was heaving steadily as you stared at the back of your father's head and at neck. untouched. unburdened by the pressure and horror he put you and your mother through every day. and you gripped the statue so hard that your knuckles hardened.

"are you flirting with me?" you asked, the question coming out monotone as you continued to stare at the back of his head. and just like all those years ago, you gripped the mug hard. hard enough that your knuckles pales. hard enough that the heat burned against the skin of your palm.

legs moved on their own as you finally broke away form the corner your father always forced you into. the statue felt like nothing in your hands— no longer was it a statue of ophelia, one that guests to your home gawked at and praised for how beautiful it was, for how untouchable and pure it was. it was only a weapon.

"maybe i am," richie said with a chuckle, carefully putting down the bagel onto your sage green plate. "would you be complaining if i was?"

you walked up behind your father, ignoring the yelling, ignoring the raw abuse that was happening right at that moment, and you swung the statue down upon the back of his head. and finally, finally, his unbruised skin bloomed red.

as he turned to you, you managed a smile, placing your chin in your hand as you leaned forward on the table. "no," you said softly, cunning eyes staring at richie as he finally turned around. "i wouldn't mind it," you lied, ignoring the harsh pounding of your heart, and blood rushing through your ears, the horrible sinking feeling in your stomach as you stared right into the eyes of a killer.

the red that decorated his skin matched him, you thought. it matched the red knuckles he always carried.

and so you did it again with a sickening splat. and oh, the satisfaction was so fucking good that you raised the statue as though it was nothing and slammed it down on to the back of your father's head again. relishing in the blood splattering on your cheek. watching as he twitched like a freshly caught salmon.

so you did it again.

"really?" richie sat down in front of you, pushing the plate towards you as he looked at you amusedly. it was almost offensive how much he was underestimating you, looking at you as though you were just some girl falling for his little tricks.

but you truthfully didn't mind being underestimated. not if you could use it to your advantage.

"thanks," you said with a small smile, taking one of the bagels and biting into it. you allowed yourself to chew and swallow it before sipping your coffee. the coffee ethan made you.

richie leaned forward, eyes traveling down your face, landing on your lips before looking back into your eyes. "so you wouldn't mind it," he said lowly, making you raise a brow at him in faux confusion (as though this wasn't part of your plan in the first place). "if i asked you out on a date? this saturday?"

ignoring the rushing blood in your ears and the sinking feeling in your stomach and the fact that all your thoughts were telling you to just punch him and leave, you merely smiled a tight-lipped smile form behind your mug. "i wouldn't mind that either."

"you said what?"

"i said yes." your ring ran over your knuckles yet again as you sat in front of ethan in a cafe. it was later in the day now, and after explaining to mindy that your fake fling with ethan was a one time thing, you had both agreed to meet up at a cafe to talk about it more.

ethan stammered at that, mixing his coffee with a soft clink clink sound as he stared at you, baffled out of his mind. "why would you do that? you know that saying yes is like walking— willingly, may i add —to your death?!"

you caught your ring before it could fly off of your hand, pulling it back onto your finger again. "this is the plan," you began, leaning forward in your chair and putting your arms on the coffee table. "i'm the bait—"

"you're the bait?" ethan echoed in disbelief, making you send him a glare.

"you said it yourself that he knows how to get away from police. so that means that we have to do things ourselves." you looked into his eyes intently. "i'm the bait. i date richie, get him close to me, and we," you swallowed thickly, jaw clenching out of slight nervousness, "we gather clues to get him caught. all the evidence we need."

ethan stayed quiet, clenching his jaw as he listened to you. "i had a thought last night, you know," he said, "if richie's attracted to you.. that means you," he exhaled shakily, worry flashing over his face as he grimaced in his chair, "you might be the next one he kills."

you managed a wicked smile. "perfect."

"perfect?" ethan gaped at you, lips slightly parted when he saw just how sure you were at the idea of putting yourself in danger. "jesus christ, maybe you are crazy," he muttered under your breath, making you roll your eyes."

"if what you're saying is true, then it'll be easier for us to gather evidence. a lot easier."

ethan's eyes were furrowed as he looked at you, his arms crossed over his chest as he turned the plan over and over in his head. "and if he finds us out?"

"he won't."

"if he does," ethan narrowed his eyes at you, "what'll we do then?"

you blinked.

"we kill him."

ACT III

#AUTHORSNOTE— i'm soso excited for this series i'm ngl. remember, feel free to ask to be on the taglist!

#TAGLIST— @cham9ions , @netey6m , @mskitkatbubbles , @onlyangel-444 , @cyueksims

[vinbass]

Snow on the beach is MOSHANG

"And it's like snow at the beach

Weird but fucking beautiful”

Shang qinghua being so upbeat and lively in the northern dessert where its freezing and cool that it just doesn’t make sense but its beautifu-

I will now explain how snow on the beach was made for moshang-

This doesn’t make sense and was concocted by my lightheaded brain.

------------ O ------------ O ------------ O ------------

“One night a few moons ago I

Saw flecks of what could've been lights

But it might just have been you

Passing by unbeknownst to me”

Is about how SQH sees MBJ, like how when you look at somebody you love, adore etc. OR JUST SO FREAKING BEAUTIFUL THAT FLOWER ARE EVERYWHERE OR LIKE EVERYTHING IS FILTERED OUT OF YOUR BRAIN EXCEPT THEIR FACE. In this case, the snowflakes in the bg while sqh was looking at mbj turned into lights o reflected it to like light in his vision which made mbj stand out more in sqh eyes.

 “Life is emotionally abusive

And time can't stop me quite like you did

And my flight was awful, thanks for asking

I'm unglued - thanks to you”

 “Life is emotionally abusive

The line about life being abusive reflects his 1st and 2nd life like how life didn’t treat him that well in the 1st and now in the 2nd he’s stuck in his own novel as a cannon fodder and on top of that as the traitor that would betray his ideal lover.

And time can't stop me quite like you did

The line about how time can’t stop me quite like you did is how even though I his 2nd life the system was making all kinds of demands and in my opinion, I think sqh just didn’t hesitate to do it cause his life was on the line or do/find a way that can help him skip a mission or future hurdles or something.

This line resonates with the scene where all sqh needed to do is bash this rock and kill mbj to avoid his future death and betrayals etc. But unlike the past things or missions where he didn’t even hesitate to do it, he stopped. He stopped because this was the sole character he created that was for him. That was not influenced by his fans or the urge to please the audience. This was the only character he didn’t change from beginning to end. The character he made as his ideal lover.

And my flight was awful, thanks for asking

It can refer to how his life as an author was awful like deadlines and writing stuff, he didn’t want to please the readers. It can also refer to his flight from his 1st life to the 2nd like how he was just a broke tired author trying to make a living to a canon fodder in his sect where he has to follow the system or die. And the word flight is used because Airplane shooting towards the sky-

I'm unglued - thanks to you

Is how mbj’s influence on sqh which led to him not being glued 100% to the system anymore. Like how he learned to defy the system or don’t follow its orders entirely because of mbj. He has someone he can depend on now and he isn’t alone anymore.

Stars by the pocketful

You wanting me

Tonight

Feels impossible

But it's comin' down, no sound, it's all around

How sqh feel about mbj and him thinking mbj will never reciprocate his feelings.

This scene feels like what I once saw on a screen

I searched 'aurora borealis green'

I've never seen

Someone lit from within

Blurring out my periphery

When sqh was researching about how the northern dessert will turn out like he saw a pic of the aurora borealis green and just unconsciously wrote about how mbj is just as beautiful or a figure that you just can’t take your eyes off due to being mesmerized or amazement- headcanons are accidentally slipping in-

Sqh being with mbj for most of his life, he can detect or at least know when mbj’s happy or really really happy and it’s not because of his look cause in other people’s eyes mbj wears the same face everyday with a frown. So like sqh can feel it when mbj’s happy. Like a gut feeling, a feeling that mbj is happy within that icy façade of his, like someone lit from within.

My smile is like I won a contest

And to hide that would be so dishonest

Sqh’s genuine smile. A smile he often wears when he sees mbj in settings where no work was needed, nothing to be afraid of, just him and mbj having a conversation or anything that mbj does that make sqh smile. For example, mbj giving him a coat or an accessory. Mbj asking him about his day or smt.

And it's fine to fake it 'til you make it

Til you do

Til it's true

How sqh often acts out in a way to please everyone of make it easily to excuse his behavior. Like how sqh might deny him caring about mbj then by the time he realizes he does care about him he has already grabbed a sword and jumped to save his king.

I can't speak, afraid to jinx it

I don't even dare to wish it

Mbj treating sqh very well and a time where it seems it’s the right time to tell mbj his feelings, but he doesn’t because he’s afraid he’s going to jinx it. And how he dares not to even wish for a thing cause just being beside his king is already a blessing.

But your eyes are flying saucers

From another planet

Now I'm all for you like Janet

Can this be a real thing, can it?

How mbj looks at sqh and it just radiates so much love for him and he feels like they’re both so in love with each other that sqh starts to question whether this love of their can be real. Him and mbj being together can be a real thing.

Are we falling like

Snow at the beach

How they’re falling for each other and how’s its weird cause of their power dynamics and statuses but its beautiful at the same time.

[whythinktoomuch]

ii. apocalypse now & again

(pt. i)

Kara woke up and realized that she was going to die.

Too many of the drones had survived the explosions and were still closing in on her. What little strength she had left after quite literally digging her own grave was presently and painstakingly strained just from her efforts to climb onto her knees. And on top of all that—of everything that possibly could have gone wrong for her in this moment—her helmet was cracked.

The abstract red numbers warning Kara of the kryptonite levels in the area seemed redundant now, what with that unmistakable chill already flooding her bloodstream.

“… Alex,” Kara gasped out, barely able to hear herself over the ringing in her ears. “Hey, Alex… Are you there?”

Her words were met with not one whisper or even a crackle of static, and for once, Kara was inconsolably disappointed to hear no one yelling back at her. With her teeth gritted, she shoved herself off the ground as hard as she could, drifting barely a foot into the air before the first drone crashed into the back of her head.

Kara toppled back onto the ground, knees skidding across the rubble in a shower of hot sparks. The impact had her head reeling, her mouth filling with a taste that she was now idly recognizing as blood. But there was no time to consider any of that as the drone doubled back. Kara scrambled out of the way, narrowly avoiding another collision, only to be struck by a second drone smashing right against her ear.

Out of breath but swearing, Kara whirled around and snagged the fast approaching drone into a bear hug, squeezing and squeezing until it crunched in her arms with a frantic whir. Then with a burst of heat vision, she shattered the other as it came straight for her face.

Kara used her heat vision to pick off several more drones from a distance, but of course, more and more just showed up to take their place, never wavering, never slowing… and eventually, Kara just had to laugh. Because her exhaustion was catching up to her. And Alex was hundreds of miles away. And to get out of here alive, Kara would have to somehow defeat the entire horde of drones, while all they had to do was wreck her suit a little more.

Though admittedly, it’d be overkill at this point, given the crack now spiderwebbing across the glass visor of Kara’s helmet.

Either way, it was over.

--

So, Kara laughed, grabbed at her chest in a reflexive gesture only to meet the unforgiving metal of her suit, then dropped to her knees. “Alex!” she shouted herself hoarse, because maybe if said loudly enough, the words would still be lingering in the air by the time her sister arrived. “Alex, I’m sorry, okay? You were right, and I’m sorry!”

Then she just waited—chest heaving, eyes narrowed but never blinking despite the heat pricking at the corners—because she definitely had to see this through to the bitter fucking end. That much, she owed everyone, including herself.

Except the end didn’t come.

Not this time anyway.

No, instead came a silver sphere, emerging seemingly out of thin air to hover right before Kara’s face. It flashed a blinding white just once, and everything fell absolutely silent and still. Kara’s suit powered down completely, the drones collectively dropped from the air like marionettes with cut strings, and all the lights in the immediate vicinity blinked out.

Laughter welling up all over again, Kara could only collapse onto her side in something akin to sheer relief.

The first person to occur to her, of course, was Alex, who had already saved her ass from similar scrapes on many occasions. But that couldn’t be it. Alex was too far away. It’s why Kara had to take on this mission on her own in the first place.

Then she considered maybe Winn or James, which made even less sense, given how the deceased hardly ever came back to do things like save people’s lives. Not even hers. Not even in the most dire of situations. That’s, unfortunately, just not how life worked these days.

Then she considered Alex again because the kryptonite was clearly bleeding into her brain now, and it was getting rather difficult to remember why it couldn’t have been Alex who’d just saved her. Maybe Kara did shout loud enough after all…

But then, a set of footfalls drew near, metal scraping against metal at a steady pace until a heavy boot struck Kara firmly in the chest, flipping her onto her back where she settled with a grunt.

“So glad I got to you first,” came a self-assured drawl, and Kara promptly found herself face to face with a handheld cannon of sorts. “Would be a pity to come all this way and not get to kill you myself.”

And… Kara’s jaw just dropped.

Not because of the words, nor the intentions behind them—though perhaps they both merited some attention as well—but that voice.

Kara gaped up at her supposed knight in shining, lead-lined armor because her voice—that low, husky tone paired with that very specific lilting cadence—was making her reconsider some very fundamental things about how the world might work.

Namely, that people wouldn’t come back from the dead just to save her life.

Mind still reeling away, Kara tried to sit up, only to be slammed back into the ground, hard.

“Down, girl,” Lena said, grinding her boot into Kara’s chest, the weight of her entire body behind the gesture. But that was fine.

It was fine because Kara could still draw some breath into her lungs, could still use some of that breath to talk, and she could certainly still say some things that she hadn’t uttered aloud in many a year. Like her late wife’s name, for instance.

The cannon in Kara’s face wavered, but didn’t lower. “Shut up,” Lena hissed down at her. “Don’t talk. Don’t even think.”

“So… it is you…” Kara said, and she gently wrapped her fingers around Lena’s ankle—the only part of her that she could still reach from her position—and just cried.

With a startled gasp, Lena stumbled away, wrenching herself out of Kara’s grip. “What the fuck…? What is wrong with you?”

“Nothing, nothing,” Kara sobbed out, trying not to choke on her own tears and snot and the slight taste of blood still lingering on her tongue. She suddenly, irrationally, wished that she could just take off her clunky suit. Just to eliminate some of that distance between her and Lena. Just so she could touch the chain hanging around her neck without any hindrance. “Just… just wanted to say, hi.”

Lena kept her distance, studying Kara in a stony silence, and Kara started to see things that she should probably would have noticed sooner if her body weren’t actively shutting down on her. Like the green glow of Lena’s weapon and the kryptonite cartridges strapped to her belt. Or that she was clearly wearing a lexo-suit. Or how the swirly edges of her own vision were starting to darken, and how the chill of kryptonite was currently all she could feel.

“Hey,” Kara called out, sniffling only slightly now. “Am I dreaming?”

“… No.”

Kara nodded thoughtfully to herself. “Okay, cool, cool… So, I think I might be dying then.”

“Yeah,” Lena said, after a brief pause. “Probably.”

“Cool.” Kara tried to flash a thumbs up, but no part of her body wanted to cooperate anymore. Her exhaustion had eaten up all her drive. “Hey, can you tell Alex something for me?”

Lena sighed, but she finally stepped closer, practically in reach. “Okay, sure.”

Kara fumbled for some words and the correct order that one might put them in, but then Lena took off her helmet, and nothing else mattered anymore. Because Kara was perfectly content to just watch that ripple of dark hair, streaked with a light gray that was just… nice to look at.

She never got to see her Lena’s hair do that.

//

Kara’s shoulder was being shaken so violently that she had no choice but to open her eyes and see Alex’s worry-creased face peering down at her.

“Dumbass…” Alex grumbled, releasing Kara’s shoulder with a dirty scowl. “That’s the last time I let you go anywhere without me.”

“Whatever you say, director.” Kara laughed, but it hurt. She then tried to do a salute, but her everything was still too weak to move apparently. But at least she was still alive.

… Wait.

Kara repeatedly tried to sit up on her bed, and Alex repeatedly shoved her right back down until she gave up. But still, she had to check, had to know that it wasn’t all just a dream.

“Where’s Lena?” she demanded, and the look that Alex gave her in response was so deeply pained that Kara almost felt pathetic for asking.

“… Kara.”

“No, I saw her, Alex,” Kara said, shaking her head, then immediately stopping when her entire body somehow got dizzy from it. “Shit. Ow, ow… But wait, no—But seriously, I saw her, okay?”

“I’m not surprised that you did. You almost died, Kara. Actually, I’m pretty sure that you were dead for a few minutes back there. Again, I say, you fucking dumbass.”

“But I didn’t die. Because she saved me,” Kara insisted. “No, seriously! She took out all the drones with some sort of EMP device, and, and… we talked! And she had gray hair, and I think maybe laugh lines? And yeah, I almost died because my helmet got cracked and stuff. But now, I’m here and I’m fine, so… everything’s fine, right?”

Alex frowned, then somehow settled on the least important part of Kara’s briefing, “You cracked your helmet?”

“Ugh, yeah. The glass visor part. When I fell,” Kara said, waving her hand dismissively. “So sorry about that, by the way.”

“Suit looked fine when we got to you,” Alex said with a shrug, before irritably exclaiming, “Jesus christ, Kara, enough! I’ll just have a guy get the helmet for you, okay? So, just stop trying to get up already.”

Huffing, Kara fell back onto her bed with her arms folded and waited. But when someone eventually showed up with her helmet in tow, she was surprised to see that it was somewhat worse for the wear but perfectly intact. Even up close, with the helmet out the tech’s hands and in her own, Kara couldn’t detect even the slightest blemish in the glass.

Pouting ever so slightly, Kara shoved the helmet back into the tech’s arms.

“… Satisfied?” Alex asked, rolling her eyes when Kara just shrugged one shoulder. “Great. Listen… You just need to get some rest, okay? Once you’re back to full strength, we can work through your… you know, memories together. And hopefully, it’ll make more sense by then. Sound good?”

Kara just nodded, suddenly all too willing to be left to her own devices in the relative quiet and darkness. She accepted a gentle shoulder squeeze and the promise of another session with the sun lamps within the hour, and just curled up under the sheets.

It’s not like she hadn’t conjured up images of Lena before. Kara had been close to death enough times that it was only inevitable that she’d fall back onto memories of her dead wife at some point or another. But this was different. Whenever her brain was just playing tricks on her, Lena appeared to her the way Kara remembered her: warm and loving, bright green eyes, long dark hair smelling of lavender, and alive and young.

Never before had Kara encountered an appropriately aged version of Lena, with creases gathered around her eyes and forehead, hair gloriously faded into the most lovely blend of light grays and white amongst all that black… The Lena that could have been if only she had lived out all these past years alongside Kara.

And she was never in a lexo-suit, of all things. Lena was always wearing one of her classic pencil skirts or Kara’s NCU sweatshirt, or something. Oh, and of course, her wedding band.

Instinctively, the same way she always did when it occurred to her, Kara reached for the chain around her neck, seeking out the familiar weight of the rings that hung from there… only to jolt upright with a gasp that dried up her entire throat.

She ripped the necklace off her head, almost snapping the chain, which in and of itself was telling. Because her chain had been forged out of an extraterrestrial metal amalgamation that not even the Girl of Steel would have been able to break. The one now clutched in her hand, however, was just plain white gold.

Heart pounding in her ears, Kara stared down at an engagement ring fitted with a modest cut of diamond, somehow occupying the very spot where two simple wedding bands—hers and her Lena’s—should have been. Then something drove her to check for an inscription, and sure enough, engraved on the inside of the ring was a series of kryptonian characters, denoting a term of endearment that Kara had never used, but apparently could have in another world altogether: my dearest heart.

[samwinchesterism]

lol you guys are all so stupid god bless. "he thinks going to college makes you smarter and better and having an apple pie life is more Worthy and so therefore the chronically homeless scholarship college dropout serial killer who's lived the majority of his life except for two years on the fringes of society is the epitome of the bourgeoisie" is nonsensical enough as is but the funniest part is that he DOESN'T hold any of those attitudes lmao the only problematic (but not even strictly classist) thing is the prison one i will give you that (one offhand comment at age 23) the rest is all just your weird projections with no basis in the text.

sam's entire thing w/ college and the apple pie life has been (1) wanting to be safe after a traumatizing childhood, and (2) textually, subconsciously trying to escape a pre-ordained destiny of evil that he could detect in himself before he even know how to read. literally from episode ONE of the whole sorry affair like you cant even be trying at this point:

DEAN: So what are you gonna do? You're just gonna live some normal, apple pie life? Is that it?

SAM: No. Not normal. Safe.

it's also evident at multiple points in the show that he never actually fully bought in to the idea of it. very very early on actually:

1.06: DEAN: I really wish things could be different, you know? I wish you could just be….Joe College. SAM: No, that’s okay. You know, the truth is, even at Stanford, deep down, I never really fit in.

also e.g. in s2 and s4 he literally says the opposite of what people think his whole thing is on this post lol

2.02: MR. COOPER. You see, this place, it's a refuge for outcasts. Always has been. For folks that don't fit in nowhere else. But you two? You should go to school. Find a couple of girls. Have two point five kids. Live regular. SAM: Sir? We don't want to go to school. And we don't want regular. We want this.

4.19: SAM. So we didn't have a dog and a white picket fence. So what? Dad did right by us. He taught us how to protect ourselves. Adam deserves the same.

it's explicitly revealed that sam also had very little agency in general, due to supernatural forces pulling at his life. lucifer in 5.22 suggested that even sam's desire to run away from his family was related to his destiny as lucifer's vessel, and more concretely, he was surrounded by "Azazel's gang – watching you since you were a rugrat, jerking you around like a dog on a leash. " to ignore the MASSIVE theme of agency and more importantly lack thereof in sam's life - leading to desperate grabs at agency and making his own choices being a consistent motivation for him throughout all of it - will mean always, always, always spectacularly failing at understanding his character or analyzing it in any meaningful way, leading to whatever the fuck is going on here

there are different points in the story where he's obviously less certain about it (e.g. s8) but the idea that he consistently thinks that the bourgeois upper middle class life is the ideal and everything else is lesser than is something you made up in your heads. it's a deeply personal issue for him that he often wrestles with - safety vs. duty vs. destiny vs family vs. fulfillment etc. it's never indicated meaningfully in the text that sam is concerned with gaining wealth or status or social capital through education or through his other desires for his life

there's also no evidence for what someone said in the tags about him looking down on stealing for money because it's just not true lol like the MOST negative thing he ever said was "It's not the most honest thing in the world, Dean" (1.08) lmao. he was just like maybe we could get jobs for a bit (he literally says "once in a while" lol). "maybe we could get jobs instead of stealing ALL the time, but sometimes is fine" = "classist" is rocks for brains analysis. like it's just very very very dumb. also like it's not necessarily classist to try to avoid stealing from other people when you think you can make a living without doing that. which is what sam's thing was. textually:

5.22: CHUCK. They'd pass the time lining their pockets. Sam used to insist on honest work, but now he hustles pool, like his brother.

in swan song when he asks dean to live a "normal, apple-pie life", it's very clear in the text that he's trying to make sure dean finds some semblance of non-hunting contentment after he dies, so that he doesn't try to bring sam back to life which in sam's mind at the time would re-start the apocalypse like you guys have to keep these things in their proper context lmao you can't just lift random lines of dialogue and be like SEEEEE he's homophobic and classist

in a similar vein him teasing dean about reading or whatever is literally just him being a little shit. there is not a single textual example of him sincerely thinking dean is less intelligent than him because he's not as into the book learning. the funny thing is that the most realistic interpretation is that it's just a reaction from dean making fun of him for being a geek/nerd/etc. lol like oh you're gonna make fun of me for being a nerd well do you even know how to read like lol. because siblings. when push comes to shove he sits dean down and monologues at him about how he is a genius (8.14)

also wanting to go to college doesn't make him a classist. it's not once indicated that he wanted to go to be rich and because higher education makes you better than others like that doesn't even have a nexus to his motivations. he has only ever said he wanted to go to school to go to school, and to do something he wanted with his life while escaping his traumatic and abusive childhood (see AGENCY point above). it's simply not classism unless you decide to filter it through seven layers of pseudo-intellectual fake analysis which doesn't make it right. in 1.08 when he encourages a kid to go to college, note what his reasoning is and feel ashamed for ever saying a bad word about him:

SAM. Well, don't sweat it, because in two years, something great's gonna happen. [...] College. You'll be able to get out of that house and away from your dad.

like TEXTUAL EXAMPLES or shut up which with this group always means shut up because there are never textual examples that aren't divorced so completely from their context as to be meaningless

Please don't fight with each other in the tags.

[oitommothetease]

Invisible String (4/?)

Pairing:  Bucky Barnes x Female reader (Modern AU)

Description: James Buchanan Barnes, the owner of the most expensive-looking club in town and your new apartment. He was a dick and you hated him. What could possibly go wrong when you, the new girl in town, start bartending at his club to pursue your dreams?

Word Count: 2.6k words

Warning: 18+ (discussion of assault, nervous breakdown, anxiety attack, just don’t read this whole series if you are a kid)

You woke up to a night of dreamless sleep like you always did, but then the events of the previous night hit you. You wished it was a dream, but one look in the mirror and a bruise running along your cheek was enough to confirm. Not only that, but you remembered asking your boss to stay over, but you didn't expect him to. The blanket on your living room’s couch and the bowl of fruits and a glass of juice situated out for you on the kitchen counter proved that he did stay.

And then the reality sunk in, you have a decision to make. You can either go to the cops or let that guy get away. The latter sounded not so great, but you knew going to the cops isn't going to be great either. You've seen enough detective shows to know that. You've had enough, and you just wanted to forget it. 

What did Mr. Barnes mean when he said you were going to talk about this? Are you supposed to visit him before work? Is he going to come to your place?

You decided to work on your book but ended up not being able to concentrate, so you started watching a show and fell asleep while watching it. Maybe some Chinese take-out could make you feel better. It didn't. Nothing made you feel better. You wished you had some friends in this new town because you didn't want to burden your work friends. 

After a horrible day of trying to cope, when you finally made your way to the club, you noticed the security was increased. Usually, security guards weren't present inside the club, but today it was different. Everyone was so vigilant and you felt a little safer. If you didn't know any better, you'd think Mr. Barnes did it for you, but again he would have done the same thing for any other employee. 

"Boss wants to see you," Pietro told you. You were about to head for Clint's office when the blond twin spoke again and pointed his finger towards the stairs." The boss."

Okay, well maybe playing naïve couldn't avoid this meeting, so you slowly walked upstairs. How bad could this go, it's not like he saw you in your most vulnerable state? Oh, wait, he did. 

You knocked on his office door, wanting to rip the band-aid and get over with it. 

"Hey," you said, faking a smile. "Thanks for getting me home last night and for breakfast today. I didn't even know I had fruits and juice at home because let's be honest, I'm a toast and coffee kinda gal."

Mr. Barnes didn't say anything, he just looked at you as if you were a confusing puzzle that he couldn't solve. He raised a hand towards the seat in front of him and you took it, nervously fiddling with your fingers under the table.

“You do that a lot, you know?” he asked, it wasn't a question, it was merely an observation.

“What?”

“Deflecting a serious issue by using a joke.” Mr. Barnes observed as if it was the most obvious thing in the world.

“What are you? My therapist?”

He arched an eyebrow, indicating that you were literally doing the thing he pointed out. 

"Yeah, well, it's called having a healthy coping mechanism. You should try getting one, brooding is only gonna help you this far."

 "It's not healthy if you're not dealing with it," Mr. Barnes pointed out. 

You scoffed in incredulity and you felt very, very attacked. 

What is it? Attacking y/n day?, you thought. 

"Anyway, I think I want to press charges," You changed the subject to a more serious conversation to avoid him calling you out on your bullshit. 

"Okay, I understand.” 

“You do?” You asked, bewilderment clearly written all over your face. “I mean, letting an employee go to the cops is not gonna be great for your club's reputation and yours too. And, you know, considering the shady business, you do-” 

"What exactly do you think we do?" He asked.

And that's when it hit you, you didn't know what he did or mob bosses do in general. All your knowledge about it came from movies and Wattpad, both of them are not a great place to gain knowledge.

“What exactly do you do?” you pondered.

 He obviously wasn't expecting you to directly ask him, nobody has directly asked him or even made it known that they are aware of his work. It was kind of like a silent pact that everybody signed for, everybody except you, apparently. 

“Um, you know, I've been working for almost 2 weeks here now, and I haven't seen any drugs around here, so it's obviously not drugs. You don't look like the sex trafficking types-”

 "Jesus, woman!" He exclaimed, offended by your assumptions. 

"Then just tell me what you do."

You expected him to tell you something, but he just kept looking at you with a face void of emotions.

 "Fine, don't tell me," you mumbled, raising your hands dramatically in defeat. 

“So you don't mind me ruining your reputation by going to the cops?” 

“I told you I don't care. Your safety is my utmost priority,” your face might have given away the surprise you felt because he quickly backpedaled. ”I mean, the safety of my employees.”

“The safety of my employees is my utmost priority,” he told you, providing an extra emphasis on the word employees. “Anyway, one of my people would take you to the police station near-"

You cut him off immediately. 

"No, you can't tell anyone else. I don't want everyone hopping on the pity train. I'm already ashamed that you know about it," you pleaded but your voice was firm, telling him that this was not up for a discussion.

At this, his eyes and features softened. Bucky didn't want you to feel guilty or ashamed for somebody else's actions, but clearly, you did. 

"Okay, then I can take you. You just had to explain to the officer last night’s events, and they'll ask you to recognize Rumlow and then we can-"

Mr. Barnes’s voice faded into the background when it finally hit you.

"You know what, I changed my mind. It's too much. I don't want to press charges anymore. I didn't think this through," you backtracked. You did think this through, but now all the factors were adding up in your brain. You'd have to explain the details to a cop who is probably going to be another man and a stranger, and then they'd ask you to identify the guy. You didn't think you had it in you to face him. At least not now. 

He interpreted your thought process and promptly changed the topic. "Okay, we can work with whatever you want, and at least let Peter escort you home after work."

"What? No!” You quickly declined.

“It's for your own safety,” Bucky tried to reason. He wasn't letting you get off this easily.

 “I'm a strong, independent woman and I'm not scared of anything.” 

That was a lie. You were scared of many things like heights, dark, spiders, confrontation and the list goes on and on. 

You remembered all the lectures your mom gave you telling you that women should be scared because men are monsters, and you'd lose your honor if you are reckless and some other patriarchal crap that you didn't pay attention to. But you weren't scared, you were just always careful. You'd always put the keys between your knuckles when you went home alone. In your previous job, you used to laugh it off whenever your coworkers made a sexist joke. You'd ignore the subtle shoulder touch that your previous boss did. You told yourself that this is what it takes to make it. If you were to run away every time someone eyed you in a wrong way, then you'd spend your whole life running. 

Women usually shrug this behavior off as it is what is, but the truth is it shouldn't be like this.

“Please, I insist.” 

“I'm very capable of taking care of myself. Just because one bad incident happened doesn't mean I'll fucking break!” You stated, your voice louder than your regular voice to get across your point.

That was also a lie. You were walking on a thin line and you were ignoring your emotions. You were one outburst away from a breakdown, and you just couldn't bring yourself to feel anything. 

Mr. Barnes tried to call your name, but you were already bolting out of his office. 

You needed a drink. No, fuck that. You needed multiple drinks. It wasn't exactly wise to get drunk during work, but it couldn't get any shittier than this, right?, you thought.

Right?

 Wrong. It could get way shittier than this. Now it was almost midnight, you were kind of tipsy, and you could see two Mr. Stark, your regular customer, in front of you. 

Did he have a twin? Is he and his twin brother one of those identical twins that dress up the same? Because that's what it looked like.

 “Earth to y/n," Mr. Stark said, or was it his twin? It was getting hard to keep track anymore.

 And that's when you noticed. 

“Holy, Shit. You're triplets, Mr. Stark," you announced. 

"Okay, kid, close my tab.”

“Hey, y/n. Are you okay?” Peter asked, noticing the concerned look Mr. Stark gave him before leaving.

“Yes, I'm fine. Absolutely fine.”

***

Turns out you were not fine. You've been pretty much hammered for the past week, and you could barely get a sentence out without giggling or slurring. Your colleagues took notice of your state and whenever someone pointed it out, you'd just shrug it off as a bad day or a bad week. There was no concept of time in your drunk state.

You couldn't concentrate on your book, you could barely look at someone without squinting, and you've been eating takeout and leftovers for the past few days. 

James would have fired if someone working under him was this irresponsible, but he knew your reasons. He knew you clearly weren't coping with the trauma well. Your work ethics were shoved down the trash that even Clint asked why you weren't fired yet.

Bucky didn't want to talk to you, he thought that maybe giving you some space would do you good, but clearly it wasn't working. Usually, the mob boss didn't interfere in the affairs of his employees, it was Clint's job, but when you smashed a bottle on the head of a customer, he had to interject.

“I TOLD THIS FUCKER NO!” you yelled, Peter’s hand around your middle from behind. Another empty beer bottle was in your hand, ready to be smashed across the face of the drunk dude in front of you.

Pietro and Wanda were enjoying the show. Peter, being the peace lover he is, held you back when you smashed a bottle across a drunk customer's face. Even though Peter was younger than you, he was stronger, and he was not only holding you back but also himself. He didn't want to cause a scene and that is why he was mulling comforting words in your ear like, he's not worth it, you're gonna kill this guy.

Damn right I am, you thought.

It was ironic because everyone in that club had killed someone except you.

When Bucky walked into the room, the drunk guy turned towards him and pointed at you. ”You are hiring crazy bitches now? Just called her baby girl and she went psycho!!!”

Bucky didn't understand what was happening. He told the security guards to take that man outside his club and he walked towards you. He firmly yet gently took a hold of your left arm, signaling Peter to let go of you. Without a word, he started walking in the direction of his office, dragging you along with him.

Once near his office, he lightly yanked your hand and shoved you inside, making you stand in front of him.

"What the fuck is wrong with you?" he inquired, having had enough of your incompetence.

You were seething with rage. "Wrong with me? I told him no, but he didn't listen."

Bucky stepped forward, his anger dissipating into sympathy. " I know, he mumbled, "and I'm so-"

 "No, you don't know!" you yelled, body trembling and tears welling up in your eyes. "I told him no multiple times, I even tried to push him off me, but he just kept coming back."

Bucky's eyes furrowed in confusion. He didn't understand your words, the drunk customer didn't touch you. And that's when he realized, you weren't talking about the drunk customer. He cognized that the drunk guy purely triggered something that you've been suppressing for days now. Bucky was aware that you needed to get it out of your system to cope healthily.

“I told him no, you know? But he just wouldn't listen,” you stated, trying to convince yourself that you didn't lead him on. ”And he was so…. so strong and… and then he hit me and everything just went blur, I couldn't see but... but I could still feel him with me.”

Not realizing that you were not in that place anymore, you wrapped your hand around yourself to seek some sort of protection and comfort, bottom lip quivering, the welled up traitorous tears were streaming down your face and all you could think about was that night. 

“I… I can't get his touch out,” you stammered. ” I shower, multiple times a day, but I still can't get his touch out.”

With that, you broke down completely and shattered on the floor, sobbing ferociously. Your knees ached because of the position you were situated in, but the emotional pain was enough to overshadow the physical one.

For once in his lifetime, Bucky did not know what to do. Cautiously, he made his way towards you and knelt down in front of you. He did not know what to say or do to make you feel better.

You launched your body towards him, snaking your arms around his shoulder to settle on his neck as if he was the only thing grounding you. You lurched onto him like he was your anchor, and maybe he was. It took a minute for Bucky to register your actions, and when he did, he wrapped his arms around your middle and closed the minuscule distance separating you.

He surprised himself with the way one of his hands automatically reached for your hair and whispered words of comfort in your ear. He caught you as you crumpled physically and emotionally. 

”You're going to be okay, doll,” he whispered and kissed your temple with sincerity. ”I will make sure of that.”

The second part was barely audible, it wasn't meant for you, it was a promise he made to himself.

Bucky held you tightly yet gently while you sobbed on his shoulder.

 He didn't know how long he held you, it felt like an eternity to him with the way he could feel the guilt and rage inside him. When you passed out in his arms, he gently placed you on one of the comfortable couches in his office and draped a blanket around you that he had for when he would work late at night.

An office chair might not be the most ideal place to spend the night in, but it didn't matter to Bucky. All that mattered was you.

TAGS: @bananapipedreams​ @akkinda10​  @rivers-rambles21​  @emmabarnes​@goodcleanfunsis​ @valsworldofcreativity​

[hood-ex]

This is a fic written for @stxleslyds! The prompt was: a fic with Dick, Roy and Lian spending time together in the Outsiders era. Thanks for the donation, Tati 💙.

Important: This fic takes place a week after the events of Outsiders (2003) #19.

“We could use you here,” Roy says. Even with his voice coming directly through the comm, Dick almost doesn’t hear him say, “I need you here.”

A soft wind blows through Blüdhaven, ruffling through Dick’s sweat-matted hair. What a filthy night it is for a Friday. Thunder rumbling in the distance with hot, humid air filling Dick’s lungs. It’s the kind of air that isn’t natural for a place like the ‘Haven. It’s here for whatever reason, and it’s no better now that the sun has been replaced by pink and purple neon lights flashing across the strip. It’s nights like these that Dick can admit to missing his red tunic and green shorts. It was shit to wear them in the winter but an absolute godsend in the summer.

Dick sighs deeply, moving away from the ledge of the building and away from his view of the herds of drunk people whose laughter echoes between the bars and casinos. There’s a tall HVAC unit in the middle of the building that he walks over to and sits against. The fabric of his suit rubs against it, and he squirms a little at the uncomfortable position. He bears it because this is a conversation that requires a little support.

“Dick.”

“I know,” Dick mutters.

He should be under the streets of Brooklyn the same as all the other Outsiders should be. Considering the circumstances, it’s no surprise that some of them have deserted the ship for the time being. Licking their wounds in private so to speak. Dick’s not proud of it. He tacks it onto his mental bulletin board of shame where it sits up there all torn and ugly like the rest of his deplorable moments.

“I’d feel better if you were here to watch Lian when I step out of the room,” Roy says in Japanese. Dick’s brow furrows. Either Lian is in the same room as Roy and he doesn’t want her to know they’re talking about her or there’s an Outsider nearby that he doesn’t want listening in on his personal issues. “She hasn’t started therapy yet and her separation anxiety is still high.”

“High for both of you,” Dick points out. He thinks back to a few days ago when Roy had called him in a panic because he’d left all of his groceries in the middle of the store after his paranoia got the best of him and had him running back to the base to check on Lian.

“Tell me about it,” Roy laughs dryly. “I feel like I’m going fuckin’ nuts, dude.” The strain in his voice sends a full body shiver down Dick’s spine. “All I can think about is whether she’s okay and if the base is protected enough, and if I can really trust everyone here. You and Kory are the only ones I feel okay leaving her with.”

You shouldn’t trust me like that, Dick thinks bitterly. Lilith and Donna trusted me with their lives and look where they are now.

“Everyone else is… I trust them as teammates. I trust them with my life. But I can’t—"

“Trust them with Lian’s,” Dick says, knowing how much this whole situation has fucked with Roy's ability to trust anyone and everyone. Except him and Kory, apparently. Probably Ollie and the rest of Roy's family too.

He thunks his head against the HVAC unit and stares up at the dark sky. Not a single star up there, he thinks, and something like guilt burns in his chest. You took them all with you, didn’t you, Donna? Put them in your pockets and faded away. “She might not be comfortable with me there,” he says after a moment.

It pains him to think that Lian could be scared of him. Scared of him because he looks similar to one of the blue-eyed, dark-haired kidnappers who murdered her babysitter and then branded her like cattle. That type of trauma association doesn’t go away after a week.

“Kory told Lian you might stop by, and you know what Lian asked her?”

Terrible things flash through Dick’s head. Things like words born of fear or disgust. He hugs his arms around his knees and squeezes them tight.

“No, what did she say?”

“She asked, ‘Is Uncle Nightwing gonna bring Blue’s Clues with him?’”

A smile tugs at the corner of Dick’s lips and his eyes start to sting. He can’t believe that’s the first thing she thought of. It only seems like yesterday that he was watching Blue’s Clues with her in Titans Tower. Sometimes he would pause the show and ask Lian questions about each of the clues just to hear what kind of outlandish answers her kid brain could come up with. Other times the detective in him couldn’t help but steer her towards a logical answer. Roy used to always roll his eyes and tell him to stop trying to turn her into a mini Nightwing.

“That doesn’t mean she’ll be okay seeing me in person and you know it,” Dick reminds him.

Roy’s sigh is soft and muffled in his ear. “We’ll cross that bridge when we get to it.”

Dick’s not one to wait around.

“Let’s cross it now.”

“You’re coming over?” Roy asks, and even though he mostly sounds neutral, Dick can hear the disbelief hidden under it all.

If there was an award for the world's most shitty friend, Dick would probably be in the lead to receive it. Here Roy is dealing with the fact that his daughter was abducted and almost trafficked, and what’s Dick been doing for the last few days instead of sticking by his side? Working himself to the bone in Blüdhaven, that’s what. Hiding away from the fact that he almost lost another important person to him. Trying to avoid the crushing weight of failure that clings to him like a second skin.

Pathetic. Some safety net he is.

“Yeah, give me an hour,” Dick says.

The commute from Blüdhaven to Brooklyn isn’t bad at this time of night. Most of the traffic is packed downtown where all the bars are lined up. Dick takes the highway to avoid the worst of it.

The roar of the city dies off once he goes underground. Down here the HQ looms over him in all its steel glory. Dick’s always thought of it like one giant elevator. It’s all hard angles and sleek, silver walls. Hardly a place one would describe as homey, but it was home to a few people nevertheless.

Dick goes inside after getting his eye and hand scanned by the computer. He heads down the hallway, keeping his footsteps light and quiet out of habit. So far there’s no sign of Jade, Indigo, or Rex in any of the rooms he passes. They’re the most likely to be here around this time. From what Kory told him the other day, Grace has been spending most of her time clubbing, and Anissa has been staying with her dad. He hates to admit it but it’s almost a relief that he doesn’t have to worry about running into either of them.

He ends up finding Roy and Lian in the rec room. Lian is sitting on the leather couch in the middle of the room. She must have had a shower not too long ago because her hair is a little damp and she’s wearing a pair of purple pajamas with unicorns on them. A Cinderella blanket is strewn across her lap and a stuffed rabbit sits discarded on the floor by her feet.

Roy looks small squatting in front of her. His pants are the only sign of his Arsenal gear, and it makes Dick feel slightly out of place since he’s still decked out in full mask and suit. It’s the first time Dick’s seen Roy in person since they brought down Tanner’s operations a week ago. He looks how Dick would expect any parent to look after being targeted by a major sex trafficker: stressed and exhausted.

Those tired eyes of his shift to the doorway where Dick stands, and Dick can see the way Roy looks him over from head to toe, assessing Dick’s condition. He can look as hard as he wants, but he won’t find anything. Dick keeps his face blank and unreadable.

“It still hurts,” Lian whimpers, and both Dick and Roy's attention immediately snaps back to her.

She wraps her arms around her stomach and bends over her lap like she’s going to throw up all over the floor. Roy doesn’t move to try and avoid any possible bouts of vomit. Nothing happens as the seconds tick by. No retching or anything. There’s only the sound of Roy’s hand rubbing up and down Lian’s arm.

“Me and your Uncle Nightwing are gonna get you feeling better soon,” Roy assures her in a gentle voice. “And guess what?”

Lian makes a questioning sound in the back of her throat.

The look Roy shoots Dick is somewhere between caution and amusement. “He’s been playing quiet mouse behind you this whole time.”

Dick braces himself as Lian shoots back up like a rocket. “He’s behind me?” she asks, twisting around in her seat. Dick’s heart starts jackrabbiting because what if she’s scared of him? What if he accidentally triggers her PTSD? What if— ���Uncle Nightwing!” Lian shrieks.

Relief shudders through him because she sounds happy to see him. Not scared or angry or disgusted like he feared. She’s looking at him like he just told her he brought her a bag of candy, and that revelation is enough to make him take a breath and finally enter the room.

“Hey, kiddo,” Dick says, hurrying over to the couch so that she doesn’t have to get up. “I missed you.”

Lian reaches for his hand and holds on to it. It’s not like the hug Dick usually gets from her and maybe that’s because she doesn’t want anyone touching her back after the incident. Dick will take anything he can get. His much larger hand closes over her own and he swings them back and forth lightly.

“Me too,” Lian says. She squeezes his hand three times. “Why do you still have your gloves on?”

“My hands are cold,” Dick lies. “Why were you bent over like an accordion just a minute ago?”

“Her tummy’s been hurting,” Roy says with a frown.

“It’s because tigers used to try and eat people,” Lian tells him matter-of-factly. Roy looks like he’s about to correct her but she quickly hurries on. “My brain says there’s danger and it makes my tummy stop working.”

A lightbulb goes off in Dick’s head as he realizes that she’s describing anxiety. A simplified explanation of how the digestive system shuts down and sends blood to other parts of the body when there’s danger.

“My tummy does that too,” Dick says after a pause. “I get a lot of anxiety sometimes. Do you want me to show you how I try to make it go away?”

Lian scrunches her nose. “Do we have to take medicine?”

“Nope. All we need to do is sit up straight and breathe. Breathing really deep helps our brains calm down and makes our tummies feel more relaxed,” Dick explains. He sinks down on the plush couch and demonstrates how she should be sitting. “Now move back until you’re sitting like me.”

Lian does as she’s told and scoots back until she’s resting against the back of the couch. Dick only remembers how short she is when he notices how her feet stick out straight in front of her instead of dangling over the edge of the couch.

“Now tell your daddy to get in position.”

“Daddy,” Lian slaps the free cushion beside her, “sit next to me.”

“Magic word?” Roy prompts.

“Please,” Lian pouts.

“That’s better.” Roy’s knees pop when he shifts out of his crouched position. The whole couch rocks when he falls back against it. “What’s the strat here, Wing? We need to close our eyes or what?”

Dick wants to ask him why he’s acting like he’s never done this before but the playful words stick in his mouth like glue.

“We’ll close our eyes in a second. Lian, I want you to watch how your daddy and I take really deep breaths, okay? Then we’re all going to do it together.”

“I can take really big breaths!” Lian insists. She scrambles out of her pose and gets on her knees. Her little fingers wrap around Dick’s bicep as she leans in close to him. “I can take one million breaths as big as an elephant!”

The tired and apathetic part of him tells him to ignore her kid logic and to get back on track. The uncle part of him is another story. It wants him to be fun and helpful. To distract Lian from the worries and fears she has.

In the end, he does what he always does best: puts on a performance.

“Oh yeah?” Dick challenges with a grin that hopefully doesn’t look as strained as it feels. “I can take five billion breaths as big as a planet.”

“Elephants are bigger than planets,” she says.

“I think maybe the elephants are only bigger in your dreams.”

“Yeah, they are,” Lian agrees because she’s a typical kid who will support anything that proves she’s right in some capacity.

Roy looks amused when he puts his hands on Lian’s shoulders and steers her to sit back on her bottom. “Alright little missy, no more talking. We’re gonna do what Uncle Nightwing says now, okay?”

“Okay,” Lian agrees, looking over at Dick expectantly.

Coaching Lian through the exercise is easy. The most important part is making sure she’s taking breaths that are deep enough to make her stomach expand like a balloon. Dick has her place her hands on top of her stomach so he can see them rise when she inhales.

Roy follows along and Dick can tell that he’s taking advantage of the exercises for his own benefit. His face looks peaceful and relaxed as he follows along with Dick’s instructions to suck in a breath on the count of one and exhale up until the count of ten.

“Keep focusing on counting,” Dick tells them while they exhale. “We don’t want any other thoughts in our heads. No bad thoughts or funny thoughts. Only think about counting to ten.”

They run through a few more cycles. Dick’s pleased when he hears both Lian and Roy’s stomachs grumbling as they exhale. It’s a good sign that the deep breaths are massaging their organs and decreasing any kind of stomach pain.

“That’s it,” Dick says. “We’re all done.” He opens his eyes and sees Lian slumped against the back of the couch. Her hands are still resting on her stomach, but she looks languid instead of tense like she was when he first saw her.

“I’m tired now,” Roy says. His movements are slow as molasses when he slides forward to the edge of the couch and bends over to rest his arms on his thighs. He looks at Lian. “How about you, princess? You feeling any better?”

“Mhmm. My tummy doesn’t feel really uh…”

“Tight?” Dick offers.

“Yeah, it’s not so tight anymore.”

Roy pushes a strand of hair behind her ear. “Good. Mine feels a little better too.”

“Can we do Uncle Nightwing’s breathing thing again tomorrow?” she asks through a yawn.

“Sure thing,” Roy nods. His attention shifts to Dick. “Are you gonna still be here to lead us through it?”

This isn’t some kind of test but it feels like one. It feels like if he says no then he’s only proving that he’s a bad friend. That he can’t be relied on. He doesn’t want to give Roy that impression because it’s not true. Roy can rely on him the same way Dick relies on Roy. He hopes showing up here tonight is proof of that.

“That’s the plan,” he says, voice soft.

Roy leans over the couch and squeezes Dick’s knee gently. “You sure?” he asks, and his eyes roam over Dick’s face like he’s trying to find evidence that Dick is lying.

“Yeah, I’m sure.” He pats Roy’s hand reassuringly in the same way Alfred's done for him and Bruce a hundred times. It's only now that he realizes it's a habit he's picked up.

Lian suddenly leans into Dick’s side and presses her weight against his arm. She pats both his and Roy’s hands.

“I’m sure too,” she says, and this time Dick can’t help but smile.

[bookishofalder]

Pretty Girl - Blurb

A/N- Surprise! This idea came to me last night and I decided to run with it. Companion blurb to Chapter 3 of my Pretty Girl Series.

Summary: An insight into Pretty Girl’s mind on a bad day. 

Warnings: Swearing, sexual harassment description, self blame, sexism, burns, reader is a thirsty bitch. WC-2,175

You were chewing your lip again. You had been working hard to break the habit, but you gave yourself a pass for today, considering the circumstances. While Ron had promised you that he wouldn’t mention any details to Flip whenever the tall detective returned to the station, but you knew him too well. Flip was going to know something was wrong, he was too damn perceptive.

Especially when it came to you.

And actually, you adored how he always seemed to read you like a book. But when it came to how you felt about your best friend? Yeah, he hadn’t seemed to figure that out. A fact that allowed you to breathe more easily. The older, gruff man gave you more attention and kindness than you deserved, you knew that. You had no intention of ruining a perfectly wonderful friendship by admitting that...well, you loved him. You could just imagine how he’d turn inward, his mouth dropping into a frown before he said, ‘Darling, you’re too young for me.’ Or something equally as mortifying.

It was selfish of you, in many ways, not to tell him. You enjoyed time alone with him more than you could even admit to yourself and you loved how protective he was of you. Something about the different ways he showed this-like when he slammed that rude man onto the counter, right in front of you, with a wild look in his eyes that disappeared the moment he had met yours. That moment had shot straight to your core, delighted you entirely, but you worried he might have caught the brief-expression on your face that gave away how turned on you had been.

His protectiveness was the reason you were so stressed at the moment; he was, inevitably, going to find out you had burnt your fucking arm with coffee. And when he did, you knew you needed to try to avoid telling him how it happened. But whenever he fixed you with that damn stare, eyes dark-fuck, you couldn’t help it. You always seemed to cave.

You contented yourself as you waited for the nurse now by imagining the conversation in different ways, practicing what you’d say, how you would explain. Flip had been especially moody lately, which didn’t bother you as you were as laid back as he was passionate, but it did worry you. The last thing he needed right now was a reason to get angry, and if you told him what David Cole had whispered into your ear before his cold hand slid over your bottom and pinched? Well, let’s say you would probably be giving testimony at the murder trial.

The curtains around you swung open as the nurse returned with her tray of supplies. You swung your legs, starting to feel antsy to leave, and smiled at her. You wanted to try and get back to the station before Flip, maybe meet him outside and explain-

Movement caught your eye, and your head spun around as the fucking all too familiar Detective stormed towards you. How, how had he already found out you were here? You knew he was good, but this was insane. You had been here twenty minutes.

And oh, the look on his face. He hadn’t even seen the burn yet and you could already tell he was devastated to see you sitting in a hospital. Your heart tugged at the sight, despite the panic bursting through your veins-you hadn’t thought of how to explain-oh, fuck, he’s seen the burn.

You tried to smile up at him, but you knew he could see the tears on your face from the way his entire body stiffened when he was right next to you. You wondered if he was going to knock the nurse away and start treating you himself. You wouldn’t have been surprised.

What did take you off guard, however, was what he said.

“Pretty girl,” Oh. Okay, where did that new nickname come from? It shot straight to your core, almost numbing the pain in your arm. He’d never called you that before, but you never wanted him to stop. “What the hell happened?” His large hand was on your shoulder, warm and welcome.

“I’m okay, Flip, I just spilled some coffee-it’s mostly on the back of my hand and arm.” You tried to keep your voice calm but flinched when pain shot up your arm as the nurse placed your bandages. You could tell your words had no soothing effect whatsoever, his expression entirely too distressed.

Whoever told him you were here was going to have raisins in their cookies for the next year.

“You were lucky the coffee wasn’t fresher, dear. These would be much worse. As it is, you’ve scalded yourself fairly well so you’ll need to repeat this treatment for a few days, I’ll send you home with the supplies and instructions.” You stared at your nurse, silently trying to convey that she had just utterly betrayed you by announcing that. Could she not see the man standing next to you was coming undone?

The hand on your shoulder squeezed tighter and his thumb began to rub gentle circles, something that should not have distracted you as much as it was. Hell, Flip’s hands were big. You lost track of their conversation, focusing solely on the feelings his touch was inspiring within you. You only pulled from your thoughts when his hand was gone and he was taking a seat next to you on the bed, heaving one of his great sighs. You always wanted to hug him whenever he made that noise. Like he had the whole damn world on his shoulders.

“How did you get here?”

That surprised you-he hadn’t spoken to Ron? Who else would have been brave enough to tell Flip Zimmerman that you were at the hospital?

“Ron was kind enough to drop me off-I insisted I was fine on my own,” You frowned and met his eyes, “How did you know I was here if you didn’t speak to Ron?”

He jerked a thumb over his shoulder, “I brought in a gunshot victim, few beds over. Saw you when the nurse opened the curtain.”

Okay, so apparently the universe was just as against you as ever.

Now it was your turn to sigh. You glanced away, not wanting him to read your expressions, “I’m really okay, Flip. You don’t need to stick arou-“

“I’ll take you home.”

It was an order, as much as it was a plea; he couldn’t leave you. But the tone he used, that one that left no room for you to argue? You could only smile because you were afraid if you opened your mouth to respond, you’d say something that gave away that it turned you on whenever he used it. Or you’d moan. So you stayed silent.

You could sense him beginning to calm down; now that he knew you were okay, had seen that you received exceptional care, and was now leading you to his work car. He was especially content that he could drive you home, you could see the slightly smug smile on his lips. You were still considering what to say to him when he inevitably inquired again on how you’d managed to burn yourself, and so far your mind was blank.

He didn’t speak until you were both settled in the car. He had pulled out of the lot, the silence heavy. As if he wanted to give you a false sense of security, catch you off guard. But with his eyes on the road, he didn’t seem to notice how tense you were, already waiting for the question.

“You gonna tell me how you managed that?” He nodded at the burn, eyes scanning your face curiously when you made no reply. Damn, you had to say something or he was going to read it in your face and guess the worst.

“Just pouring coffees and spilled, that’s all.” No big deal, Flip, just leave it, for the love of-oh, now his hands were gripping the steering wheel and you could see the disbelief on his face, the surprise that you actually thought you could lie to him. Fuck.

“Okay,” He drew out the word, conveying his downright distrust. And then that damn tone of authority followed, the one he seemed to have reserved just for you. “What really happened?”

This. This was why you needed time to come up with a good excuse-you simply could not think on your feet around this man, and now he was glancing at you from the driver's seat like he just knew you were about to piss him off. Why did you get out of bed this morning?

Your voice came out in a breathy mumble, “Someone walked by me when I was pouring coffees and pinched...well.” You gestured vaguely at your lower body. He got the point.

The fact that he didn’t crash the car didn’t surprise you, you’d seen the way he had control over himself despite the anger many times. It always impressed you. And it made sense, as he was such a skilled detective.

He pumped the brakes as he looked around at you, meeting your eyes with the most searing expression you’d ever seen-okay, you knew he’d be mad, but he looked completely wreaked. You quickly grabbed his arm as he barked out, “What?”

“Flip, do not get so upset, happens more than-“

“Please don’t tell me that more than one person at work has put their hands on you-”

Yeah, you probably didn’t help yourself by saying it like that. But he was so upset it was flustering you. Alright, you’d have to stick with this, “It happens. I shouldn’t have to explain what it’s like being a woman working in a place full of men. Sometimes they forget themselves and-“

Flip threw the car into park, and you groaned internally. He was going to get out of the car, you just knew it. “And they grab your ass? And in this case, make you burn yourself?” He said the word burn as if it caused him physical pain to say aloud.

Before you could respond, he was out of the car, the door of which creaked with displeasure at how forcefully he’d opened it. You waited patiently, knowing he just needed to calm himself a little bit. But now you could feel your emotions bubbling up in the silence of the car, the days' events replaying in your head.

The smarter part of you understood that Flip wasn’t angry with you; though that section of your brain seemed to be down for maintenance. Being friendly, baking, you knew sent the message to some types of men that it was okay to cop a feel. To physically express their gratitude, your personal space be damned. You hated it, but it had been so much worse when you worked at that awful law firm. And really, it had only happened a couple of times since you began working at the CSPD. David Cole was just on another level, but you could handle him.

Flip came around the car and, more gently now, opened your door. You turned in the seat to face him as he crouched on the ground, and blurted out, “Flip, please don’t be mad at me.”

Flip took your uninjured hand into his own and rubbed his thumb across the back, his expression softening entirely. He met your eyes and seemed to steel himself to speak, “Pretty girl, I could never be mad at you,” Fuck, there was that nickname again. So it wasn’t an accident earlier, this was sticking around. You had no complaints, though you were sure he could see that in the way you gazed back at him like a dumb ass. “I’m mad for you-what happened ain’t right. Tell me who did it, each time.”

Absolutely not, you thought immediately. Shaking your head, you quickly replied, “Thanks, but I’d rather not get arrested for aiding a murder,” You squeezed his hand reassuringly and held his gaze, trying to convey just how okay you were, “It means a lot, how protective you are. But I’m alright, okay? I promise.” Relief swept through you when your words seemed to make a difference. First fucking time today, you thought. He visibly relaxed, though his eyes did scan your face for a few more moments.

You wanted to kiss him right there, for being so perfect. How lucky were you to have a man like him in your corner? Of all the dirtbags and assholes you’d encountered, he made up for them by simply existing in your life. For being so protective and caring for you in ways you didn’t even realize you needed. You also secretly loved how you seemed to always be able to calm him down, even if it took some time.

“Let me take you home.” He said after a pause, and you gave him your best smile, hoping he couldn’t see the blush on your cheeks.

[ladykissingfish]

Under the Mistletoe with the Akatsuki // Part Six // Hidan

Hidan

“Ah; you fucking lucky bastards! I should charge you all for this; to kiss an elite follower of the mighty Jashin is a privilege you assholes don’t deserve. Except you, Konan. In fact if you want to move the mistletoe to my bedroom then — ow! OW!! Kakuzu let go!! I was only kidding; can none of you take a fucking joke?!”

Konan

She sighs before she goes to him. He’s made a big deal all day about kissing her in particular, although she doesn’t get why. She feels nothing other than friendship for him, and, despite his ramblings, she doesn’t think he feels anything stronger either. Nevertheless, it’s her turn. She steps up to him and he reaches out and takes her small hands, giving them a surprisingly gentle squeeze. “You ready for this, gorgeous?” But something about that, about the word “gorgeous”, sets off the normally calm Konan. She yanks her hands out of his and plants them on her hips. “Gorgeous, beautiful, sexy — that’s literally all you ever say to me. I’m more than a pair of tits; I have a fucking brain in this head!” Hidan blinks, startled. “That’s - the first time I ever heard ya curse, Konan.” He grabs her hands again. He speaks in a soft voice and apologizes, and tells her that he has nothing but respect for her. “I only wanna kiss you so bad ‘cuz you’re beautiful INSIDE and out, and you bring lots of light to my shitty darkness.” She blushes and thanks him, and he takes the opportunity to lean in and kiss her lips. Just a soft touch, but both of them are smiling afterwards.

Deidara

Both of them are hesitant to do this, to say the least. Hidan won’t ever admit this, but he’s held a small physical attraction to Deidara since the day they met. Very small, and *purely* physical, but still. He doesn’t like thinking about it, because to do so would be him admitting to himself that his own sexuality isn’t as black and white as he’d thought it to be. He tells himself that if he likes Deidara at all, it’s simply because the guy looks ridiculously similar to a woman. Deidara doesn’t wish to kiss Hidan because, although HE will never admit to it, Hidan scares him. The man’s proven immortality throws a wrench into Deidara’s long-held ideals of what life (and art) are ultimately about: beauty made greater by virtue of being fleeting. But Hidan being able to live forever — could it be that Deidara’s partner Sasori has been right this whole time? That art really is eternal? Still, everyone is watching, so the two shake off their feelings, and Deidara approaches him. “Keep your tongue in your mouth, okay?” “Same goes for you, blondie.” Hidan gives himself very quick peck to the lips, but both men are blushing quite hard regardless. And even as brief as that was — Hidan makes note to ask Deidara what kind of shampoo he used later, because he smelled absolutely incredible.

Kisame

After the last kiss between them, when it was Kisame’s turn, Hidan is hesitant to get close to this guy again. But Kisame is grinning, and appears to be in a good mood. “Ah, come now, Hidan; surely we can let bygones be bygones?” Hidan starts to curse at him, but catches himself just in time: after all, his mouth was what got him into trouble last time. So he merely nods and stands still, while Kisame approaches him. “Are you afraid, Hidan?” “Ah? Why would I be —“ “I can smell the fear coming from you.” Hidan folds his arms in front of his chest and demands to know who wouldn’t be afraid at the thought of possible dismemberment. Kisame just laughs and promises he’ll behave himself. He leans in, locks eyes with Hidan, and flashes his teeth — before giving Hidan a closed-mouth kiss on the forehead. Hidan let’s out a shaky sigh of relief, and Kisame walks away, laughing.

Itachi

Like Deidara, Hidan has a bit of a grudge against the raven-haired Uchiha. He’s fallen victim before to the power of Itachi’s sharingan, and the calm, quiet way that Itachi reacts to Hidan’s jabs and wheedles always serve to irritate. But even so — Hidan has to admit that the guy isn’t all THAT bad (certainly not the hell-spawn that Deidara makes him out to be, anyway). There was a time once when Hidan caught a cold, and Itachi braved going into his room to bring him a cup of sinus-clearing tea. Itachi steps up to him and nods, and Hidan leans forward and kisses him on the cheek. An oddly sweet gesture, and one that Itachi seems to like, as he actually smiles before he leaves. Hidan watches him go, thinking (and not for the first time) that having a talent like the sharingan is completely wasted in someone who isn’t immortal. Maybe he should talk to him later about joining the Jashinist movement ...

Pein (Nagato)

If the Akatsuki is a family, and everybody (save Konan) are Pein’s children, then Hidan is undoubtedly the problem child of the group. The loudest, the most foul-mouthed, definitely the most violent ... but still. When Hidan could find an ounce of maturity, and focus, he was one of the best members of the team. And Nagato finds his regenerative abilities to be amazing, and, if there was ever the time and opportunity for it, would love to study Hidan in-depth. Pein approaches him and Hidan bows his head, an act of respect he gives to the Leader ... and ONLY the Leader. Pein delivers a light kiss to the forehead and walks away. He can hear Hidan mumbling behind him about “those damn piercings could kill somebody” but chooses to ignore it.

Zetsu

Oh, God. Hidan smells like human blood most of the time (thanks to his many gory sacrifices), and Zetsu is attracted to this scent like a bee is to a flower. He’d hang around this guy all day if he could, if not for the smell then to act as clean-up for the bits and pieces of his victims that he leaves behind. But Hidan doesn’t quite care for the plant man, to say the least. He didn’t sign up for the Akatsuki to be made to work alongside non-human freaks of nature. When Zetsu walks up to Hidan, the gray-haired jashin lover is nervous, to say the least. Zetsu puts his hand on Hidan’s face, leans in, and kisses his nose. It should only take a second, but Zetsu lingers over the spot for an abnormal amount of time ... and Hidan realizes it’s because he’s sniffing him, like an animal. “Okay, freak; get the hell away from me!” But Zetsu doesn’t move, in fact tightening his grip on Hidan’s face. Hidan is surprised; Zetsu is quite a bit stronger than he’d realized. His surprise turns to fear when the expression in Zetsu’s eyes shifts, and Hidan hears a very noticeable stomach-growl come from him. Hidan is seconds away from fight or flight (he hasn’t quite decided yet) when Tobi comes into the room, seemingly breaking the trance Zetsu had been in. Hidan breathes out a sigh of relief as zetsu keaves, giving silent thanks to the moron in the mask.

Tobi

After “scaring” Zetsu away, Tobi gleefully announces that its his turn with Hidan. “Ohh boy, Hidan-san! You and Tobi are gonna have fun!” Hidan is actually quite eager for this; not so much for the kiss itself, but for his chance to see this freak up close and unmasked. Tobi looks behind him; nobody else is around. He turns back to Hidan and slides his mash halfway off his face, revealing his pale skin, dark, long-lashed eyes, and full lips, pursed into a grin. Getting closer, Hidan can detect faded, jagged lines extending from the right side of his forehead to the bottom of his mouth. Still, even with them — “Fucking hot”, Hidan mutters, the words slipping out before he can stop them. Tobi grins and cups Hidan’s face, staring into his eyes. “So are you,” he murmurs, and is it Hidan’s imagination or is his voice ... different, somehow? Well, no time to think about it; suddenly Tobi’s (unbelievably soft) lips are on his own, and for the first time since this encounter started, Hidan feels a feather-touch of unease. The way Tobi’s kissing him ... this isn’t how an idiot kisses. What in the name of Jashin — and then just as quickly as it began, it ends. Tobi slides his mask back into place, and skips off to the kitchen. Hidan has to take a few moments to collect himself, and in the way-back of his mind is a small voice urging him to warn Deidara to watch himself around Tobi. About what? Hidan doesn’t know the specifics. All he knows is those two are alone a LOT for missions, and if Tobi really is more than he seems, then — But then again, why should he care what happens with the blonde jerk, anyway?

Sasori

Another person that annoys Hidan. He was in the Akatsuki for almost an entire year before he’d realized that the ugly body that he was in, wasn’t even his own. His surprise when he witnessed a hatch open and a childlike-looking redhead step out was unprecedented. Learning that he was in his 30’s meant that Hidan should have shown him the proper respect, but Hidan just couldn’t take orders from somebody with the face of a young boy. Sasori seems to know this, and therefore avoids interactions with him as much as possible. Now, however, contact is unavoidable. “Can you even reach my face, shorty?” Sasori tilts his head and seems to really be considering Hidan’s question. Suddenly, without warning, Sasori’s wooden arm detaches itself from Sasori’s body, and hits Hidan full-force in the center of his stomach. Hidan curses and doubles over, and while he’s bent Sasori takes the opportunity to go to Hidan and kiss his forehead. “I can reach you just fine, brat,” he murmurs, before leaving. Hidan has a quick recovery time to all forms of pain, and he’s quickly back on his feet, staring after Sasori with anger — and a tiny bit of admiration.

Kakuzu

“Hey old fucker; you’ve been waiting all day to get a taste of this, eh?” Kakuzu just rolls his eyes at Hidan’s comment. He’s not sure what he did, either in this life or another one, to be partnered with a creature as odious as Hidan. Normally with people that Kakuzu finds no value in, he kills, plain and simple. But Hidan is neither plain nor simple; no matter what Kakuzu hits him with, he keeps getting back up, just as loud and irritating as ever. But ... even someone as gruff as Kakuzu has to admit that Hidan isn’t all that bad. It’s actually a bit lovely, to have found another person (besides Sasori, who has made it clear that when everyone else expires, his complete solitude is something he’s looking forward to) to be with to share the blessing (and curse) of immortality. He walks up to Hidan and grabs him by the forearms, forcing him into stillness. “What the hell, old man?! Let go of me before —“ but Kakuzu interrupts him by inclining his neck and kissing his lips. Hidan’s mouth is soft, and he has a taste to him, something akin to cinnamon or pumpkin. Kakuzu let’s go of him and starts to walk away, when suddenly Hidan reaches out grabs him, pulling him into another kiss. Kakuzu is surprised, but he makes no attempt to break Hidan’s hold on him because ... this is nice. This feels good, this feels natural. Almost like — and then a sudden explosion makes them both jump; Tobi comes running past them, with Deidara (and his bombs) on his heels. “Get back here you little shit!!” Kakuzu sighs, and this time when he turns to go, Hidan doesn’t stop him. But Kakuzu can feels Hidan’s eyes on him, following him all the way to his room.

[radramblog]

What happened to Dirk in Homestuck^2?

Why am I doing this to myself.

I memed a little yesterday when I was posting that article around social medias about Homestuck jokes, because once again we are in lockdown and I am therefore Stuck at Home. Canned laughter goes here. But there’s a topic related to the comic- or more specifically, its aborted sequel, Homestuck^2, that I’m interested in delving into a little bit. I’m going to avoid talking about spoilers as much as possible, but considering said comic takes place not only after the events of the massive sprawl that is Homestuck but also the more linear but still messy Epilogues, some amount of sus shit is inevitable.

Anyway. Much maligned is what the Epilogues and 2 did to everyone’s favourite decapitation target, Dirk Strider, and I have a theory as to why it happened this way.

To begin with, let’s summarise what and who Dirk is through the course of the comics. Fair warning from me, though, it’s been a while since I read through this.

Dirk Strider is a teenager who grew up in a post-apocalyptic future Earth, completely devoid of physical contact with other people and only really ever gets to talk to 3 other people, only one of whom is in anything remotely resembling a relatable situation. He struggles with self-identity, having created numerous robots including an artificial intelligence based on his own brain, aka Lil’ Hal. He’s somewhat of a control freak, and a bit of a cold aloof asshole, but means well, and is pretty gay. NBD. The kinda guy to set up a plan meticulously and thoroughly, not informing any of the moving parts even if said parts are his friends, and often involving some form of self-sacrifice.

Throughout the comic he further reckons with self-identity problems and his own self-loathing including entering a relationship with Jake which doesn’t go well and he eventually breaks off since he knows his overbearing and manipulative behaviour is Not Cool and Pretty Toxic but doesn’t know how to shut it off. Eventually he reaches the God Tier as a Prince of Heart, gaining the power to literally annihilate souls, which he never actually uses since he gets yeeted into deep (Paradox) space and then everything goes to shit. Except none of that happens because of the Retcon (aside from the God Tier bit) and we don’t actually see how that shit progressed in the canon timeline. I think. Dirk’s arc, as it were, doesn’t really come full circle- while he does assist in Dave’s character…growth? he really isn’t the focus of that conversation. This immediately precedes the action climax and there isn’t literally any dialogue after that so that’s what we’re left with.

I like Dirk in Homestuck a lot. It’s hard not to, considering the flashes heavily featuring him (Unite/Synchronise and Prince of Heart: Rise Up) are genuinely excellent, along with many of his music themes being absolute bangers. He gets to interact with Caliborn a lot, with a pretty great banter, there, and the whole splintered personality thing is a really interesting hook for a character. I think he’s my favourite of the Alpha kids, a controversial pick considering I know everyone loves Roxy so much. I think, I’m not as in tune with the fandom as that statement implies I am.

And then the Epilogues/Homestuck 2 came.

Now I read the Meat half of the epilogues first, but that’s more interesting, so we’ll tackle Candy first (this is going to get real confusing for those who haven’t read this comic, huh).

In Candy, Dirk almost immediately kills himself, citing the irrelevance of the timeline as cause, an act considered by whatever mechanism governs God Tier deaths to be Just because he hates himself (and also bc of things we’ll get into), so it actually sticks. This isn’t super relevant for the discussion, but that’s just kinda so unbelievably fucked up? Entirely? I’d imagine if you read Candy first you might get entirely turned off by this, which I’m sure a lot of people did.

Meat is where the, well, meat of post-canon Dirk is. You see, a concept very quickly introduced in the tail end of the original comic is the Ultimate Self, an idea where you somehow encompass every different timeline iteration or alternate version of yourself. This was pretty clearly tacked on to make it so characters whose arcs all happened in the retcon timeline could have their not getting an actual arc explained away, but it didn’t land then and it sure doesn’t land for me now. Anyway, in Meat, Dirk becomes his ultimate self, making him near-omniscient and able to control the fabric of the story himself- for much of this story, he is the narrator. And he uses this power to fuck with all his friends really distressingly without their knowledge (or consent), including breaking up a marriage, in order to further his own goals which largely appear to be just keep the story going so to not fade out of relevance. It’s a plot that makes no sense with his previous characterisation, but I guess now that he’s the Ultimate Self he’s a different person? But I liked old Dirk, and I don’t like New Dirk. He’s a villain now, but he made a much better anti-hero.

But this would be fine if he (or the epilogues, or Homestuck^2) were written well. But they aren’t. Dirk’s dialogue is long, painfully drawn out, with tangents that tend to amount to pure wank, misused literary references and pointless metaphors that go on and on, filling the screen with a bright orange screed that hurts to look at as much as it does to comprehend. It’s not fun. And we’ve seen Dirk communicate before, obviously, the story of Homestuck is built around chatlogs, but it wasn’t like this. He was sarcastic, dryly witty, blunt at times. Even when he was literally talking to a different version of himself it didn’t get that masturbatory.

I was so confused about what the hell happened to Dirk, because I had no idea what the hell someone writing this character was thinking when they turned him into this. And then, the 21st page of Homestuck^2 dropped.

And it all came together.

What Ultimate Dirk and Terezi are referring to is Pony Pals: Detective Pony, a children’s book about some girls who hang out with ponies and solve a mystery. It’s a real book, buy it for your 5-year-old.

Except they’re not referring to that, they’re referring to the Homestuck Canon version of Detective Pony- a birthday gift from Dirk to Jane, heavily edited and to be much more obscene and eventually developing into it’s own story, stated to be “tough, emotionally draining, but cathartic in all the worst ways possible”.

Except the quote “Remember Longcat, Jane?” and references to philosophy, dead languages, and ancient earth culture aren’t referring to the three pages of the Dirk-edited Detective Pony we see in the actual comic itself. That quote doesn’t appear there.

That image is from Detective Pony, by Sonnetstuck- the 40,000 word fanfiction from 2014 that serves as a completed version of Jane’s copy of the book. An expansion of what we see in canon. And it’s a tough, emotionally draining read, but cathartic in all the worst ways possible.

It’s a very good fanfiction.

In the later bits of Detective Pony, we can start to see the origins of what would become Ultimate Dirk’s signature style of writing. Long blocks of rambling text, orange dripping down the page, references to philosophy and history and language that go on and on. And it probably does look familiar to those who read the Epilogues and ^2. 

But there are a couple of key differences here. First of all, it’s just better written? The way these rambles circle back on themselves is so excellent, the absolute absurdity of this being written on top of a pony book for little girls, the humour (beyond some of the more immature stuff), it’s just a really well-written piece of fiction. Hell, you don’t even need to be familiar with the character of Dirk to enjoy it. It’s a harrowing piece, but it’s also self-aware- because it’s not supposed to be tough, draining, cathartic etc. just for Jane- it’s clearly that for Dirk himself.

The second part is, of course, that this is a fanfiction. It’s not canon, it’s not official, this is by someone who really likes Dirk for people who really like Dirk. It doesn’t matter in the grand scheme of things, so if you bounce off it (and I’m sure a lot did), then you don’t have to keep reading it, it’s fine, thanks for playing. As much as Homestuck^2 tried to doll itself up as “dubiously canon” it’s still the official continuation of the story, and that means if it’s as difficult to get into as Detective Pony, that’s going to be a problem for a lot of people.

The other part of it is that Detective Pony’s exploration of Dirk’s character is, well, in character. When the man himself steps in as a character in his own book, the explorations of what he is as an author, who he is as a person, make perfect sense for what we see of him at the start of the comic. He is that manipulative, blunt person, and he is aware of his faults. He’s the kind of person to hide a lamentation on his own failings inside an impenetrable maze of a story layered on top of a book about fucking ponies. Ultimate Dirk does not act like Dirk, outside of the “manipulator” angle, something that Dirk was aware of and trying to improve in the comic. But I guess people don’t have arcs, right?

It’s so interesting to see the seeds of Homestuck^2 laden within Detective Pony- because the meta angle that and the epilogues take is also represented in said fanfiction. While the nature of canon is a facet of the work, the idea of authors and narrators fighting for control of a story, different ideas in mind for the characters, one being more personally connected to them than the other, it’s all there. When I wrote about Fallout 4 in the past, I mentioned being worried that Bethesda took the wrong lessons from Skyrim- seeing something successful and trying to recapture that lightning in a bottle. I think Homestuck^2 is an extreme example of this- the writers of the comic saw Sonnetstuck’s masterwork and thought, yeah that’s great, we can do that. But they just can’t. And with the comic crashed and burning, the probably won’t ever get a chance to. Dirk is forever stuck as this amalgamation of himself that looks nothing like any individual version of him ever did.

At least we will still have Detective Pony, and many other excellent fanworks, for actually good Dirk content. I admittedly haven’t looked into much fanfic written during/post-epilogues, and I’m kind of afraid of what I’ll see- I can only hope the fanbase didn’t take the same wrong lessons as the official team did.

[sometimesiwritebadly]

No Thoughts (Spencer Reid x BAU!Reader)

Summary: After you run into your ex on a case, Spencer’s jealousy causes him to cut you out from his mind. (Soulmate AU)

Warnings: Language. Mentions kidnapping. Also a stupid ex-boyfriend.

Notes: Y’know, i really wish i hadn’t hitched my wagon to the whole “ ____ Thoughts” title scheme. if i had known this was gonna be my most successful series on this website i would’ve done something better. but it’s too late now so. anyways this takes place after Overwhelming and before Life-Saving. It’s angsty but don’t worry there’s some fluff at the end. Also i kinda wanted to yell at spencer for how annoying he’s being in this one but then i remembered that i made him act that way so don’t be too mad at me 

Word Count: 1.7k

Soulmate Series Masterlist

Masterlist

You’re 3 months into a relationship with Spencer Reid, your soulmate, and you couldn’t be happier. It hasn't been the easiest getting used to having another person in your head, but both you and Spencer have gotten a pretty good handle on controlling your rogue thoughts. It definitely wasn’t perfect, but even the worst days with Spencer were still miles ahead of any day you’d had without him.

You and Spencer were at his apartment, enjoying a rare day off. You were rewatching Doctor Who and cuddling on his couch, arguing over the best and worst companions.

“Don’t get me wrong, I love Martha! I just think her being in love with the Doctor was stupid!” You said, laughing at Spencer’s shocked face.

“Stupid? That was brilliant! It showed how the Doctor isn’t this perfect guy like the show made him out to be with Rose!”

“No, it just made it seem like the Doctor was irresistible! It made him seem even more perfect, which is why Donna-” Spencer, scoffed, knowing where your argument was heading, “Is the best companion! She’s the only one who doesn’t want to fuck him!”

Spencer opened his mouth to protest, but was interrupted by his phone ringing. He grabbed it, and once he saw who was on the other side, put it on speaker. “Hey JJ, what’s up?”

“We have a case. Hotch wants everyone here in 30 so we can brief on the plane. Is Y/N with you?”

“Always. We’ll see you soon, JJ.” You responded. Spence hung up the phone and stoof from the couch, before turning back to you and holding out a hand to help you off the couch. “I guess I’ll have to prove you wrong later.”

~~~

After a 6 hour flight, the BAU landed in Seattle. On the plane, Hotch had explained that there had been 3 children taken, all within an hour of each other, from 3 different homes in the area. It’s their job to determine if it’s one unsub, a group, or isolated incidents. After dropping off all their things at the hotel, they made their way to the police station. When they walked in, however, they were greeted by the last person Y/N wanted to see. “Oh fuck me.” She thought.

“What’s wrong?” Spencer had heard her, and was immediately concerned. So much for having control over her thoughts. Before she could answer, the reason for her worry began speaking.

“Nice to meet you all, I’m Detective Rothschild. If you guys need anything, I’ll be the one to help-” He cut himself off when his eyes landed on you. “Y/N? I didn’t know you were in the BAU now, How’ve you been?” The whole team had their gaze turned to you now. You could hear Spencer’s questions about the detective flying through your head, but you ignored them all. 

“I’m good James. We can catch up after we find the kids.” And just like that, the topic was dropped. Finding those kids within the first 24 hours was the most important thing right now, but that didn’t stop Spencer’s thoughts. No matter what was going on, Spencer was in your mind, asking you about James. 

“C’mon just tell me how you know each other! I promise I’ll focus on the case.” His question entered your mind as the two got ready to head to one of the crime scenes.

“Spence, I told you earlier, we went to college together.”

“Ok, but that’s not all. Why won’t you tell me?”

“I just don’t like talking about it! Please, can we discuss this some other time?” You answered him out loud this time, just to get your point across. You knew you’d have to tell him about your relationship with James, but you would much rather do it when the two of you are alone and not in a police precinct in the middle of a case. Before you could walk out the door and head to the crime scene, you heard someone calling your name. When you turned around, you found James walking towards you. “Great,” You thought.

“Hey, I’ll come with you guys to the crime scene, I haven’t been to this one yet. Plus, I’ll finally get the chance to catch up with Y/N here!” As he spoke, James’ arm found its way over your shoulder. You could practically feel Spencer’s anger. 

“Right, well, uh, let’s get going then. I’ll drive.” You subtly pushed James’ hand off your shoulder before speed-walking over to the car.

~~~

The drive to the crime scene was tense, to say the least. James had no problem filling the silence with anecdotes from your college days, which all suggested that the two of you were slightly more than friends. Sure, you and Spencer had talked about your respective previous relationships before, but it was a whole different ball game to be sitting next to your ex-boyfriend and your soulmate.

“Babydoll, you remember when we went to that frat party? We played strip beer pong, and let’s just say she was not very good at the game…” James went on and on, not stopping to let anyone else speak. All you could do was reassure Spencer with your thoughts, but he wasn’t responding. In fact, Spencer hadn’t let a single thought slip throughout the whole ride, and you were more than a little worried. A couple months ago you and Spencer had promised to not shut each other out, and this was the longest you’d gone without hearing any of his thoughts since then. Sure, it was only a 20 minutes drive, but you missed him. By the time you were pulling up to the crime scene, it was clear he’d had enough. The second the car stopped, Spencer practically jumped out and made his way to the crime scene, not waiting for you and James to follow. James took no notice, and continued telling his version of the story.

“And then you just jumped on the table and started dancing! I’ve never seen someone that drunk even be able to stand on a table without falling, let alone dance!” He laughed as the two of you made your way towards the police tape. “I could barely get you home that night!”

His last sentence made you stop walking. Unlike with Spencer, he noticed your movements, and stopped as well. “What?”

“That’s not what happened.”

“Of course that’s what happened, Y/N. You were drunk, you’re probably just-”

“No, that’s not what happened James. Yes, I danced on the table, but you didn’t take me home that night, remember? You met Joslyn at that party, and you broke up with me. I walked home alone.” The crime scene was the furthest thing from your mind at this point. How could he forget the night he met his own soulmate?

“Oh. Right. Joslyn.” It didn’t take a profiler to see how uncomfortable he was. He was acting like he didn’t even remember her. “About that…” He scratched the back of his neck, avoiding eye contact. He didn’t even need to finish the sentence for you to put the pieces together.

“Oh my god, she wasn’t your soulmate, was she?” The guilty look in his eyes was all you needed as an answer. “You just pretended she was so you had an easy out with me, right?”

“Look, Y/N-”

“James, it’s been a long time, I don’t need an apology from you. Let’s just solve this damn case and never see each other again.” And with that, you walked away.

~~~

13 hours of non-stop work and 3 kids safely home with their families later, you were back on the jet and headed towards DC. Everyone, even Hotch, was asleep, except for you and Spencer. You hadn’t had time to discuss everything that had happened with James, and he still wasn’t sending you any thoughts. So instead of going to sleep like you both desperately wanted, you pulled him to the back of the jet and away from the rest of the sleeping team.

“Seriously, Spence, I miss you. Will you please let me explain now?” You thought, hoping he’d respond similarly. Unfortunately, he just nodded, still refusing to let you into his thoughts.

“Yes, James and I dated back in college, but it was a long time ago, Spencer. He was an asshole. We were never even official, he’d just call me, fuck me, and then not talk to me until he felt like hooking up again.” Spencer was fiddling with his hands as your thoughts made his way to his brain. “Everything about that relationship was a mistake, ok? You know how he dumped me? He pretended to find his soulmate at some party just to get rid of me. I didn’t love him.” When Spencer still didn’t respond, you couldn’t help but feel a little angry. Was he really going to let some random ex get in the way of your relationship? 

“I can’t help it, Y/N.” When you finally heard his thoughts, you sighed in relief. That was the longest you’d ever gone without feeling his presence, and even though this wasn’t over yet, you knew you’d get through it. “I know you didn’t love him, but hearing the way he spoke about you, hearing about how you were with him…”

“I know, Spence. I’d be the same way if you had an ex pop out of nowhere during one of our cases. But please, we gotta be able to deal with this. We both had relationships outside of us, this could happen again.”

“Y/N…” He paused for a moment, then continued out loud, “I promise I won’t cut you out like that again. I know you didn’t love him, and I made a big deal out of nothing, but I love you.” Your eyes immediately found his when he spoke. He’d never said that before. He had a light smile on his face when you looked at him. “I love you, and I’m never going to stop.”

“I love you too.” You whispered, before pulling him into a kiss.

“I love you more.” He thought as your lips touched his.

“Not possible.”

~~~

Tags: @dr-reid-ismyspiritanimal @la-vie-en-amour1 @random-thoughts-003 @peculiarinsomniac @hereforbeebo @someone-you-dontknow

(I went through all the replies/asks that asked about being tagged for this series but if I missed you lmk!!)

[homeformyheart]

worth it - mason x f!detective (twc)

author’s note: i was inspired by the book 2 moments as well as the book 3 demo (no spoilers though) and of course, my love of pride & prejudice – for context, this detective has not done anything physical with M. i hope you enjoy!

copyright: all characters, except the oc detective, are owned by mishka jenkins @seraphinitegames. series/pairing: the wayhaven chronicles – mason x nb!detective (brooklyn kingston) rating/warnings: 13+; swearing word count: 1.9k summary: mason finally figures things out after a particularly insightful movie night at the warehouse.

worth it

mason twirled an unlit cigarette between his fingers, his other hand shoved deep in his pocket, fingers wrapped around his lighter. he didn’t even have the urge to smoke anymore, which was odd, because he still felt everything around him a little too much. he didn’t understand why it was so easy to quit but chalked it up to wanting to treat the detective with respect as a member of the team.

it didn’t occur to him until after brooks had walked out of the bakery that there might be more to it. that maybe it wasn’t just about respect or trying to get into her pants. he wasn’t sure what else there could be – it’s not like they had done anything physically that would be enough to replace his coping mechanism.

now when he felt the urge to smoke, he saw her face instead. heard her voice telling him that the smoke would eventually kill her. pictured that gentle, hopeful look on her face accentuated by a soft smile. saw her sitting behind her desk, head tilted and resting on her hand while pointing to the “no smoking” sign in her office with the other.

and it helped. the uncomfortable and often borderline painful sensations on his body and in his mind receded when he let himself think of her.

maybe when the world was too loud and too bright, she was what he needed.

he had to give her credit. brooklyn was a damn professional. in the weeks since that conversation in the bakery, there wasn’t a moment where she didn’t seem like her normal self around the team. she bantered with felix, discussed research and theories with nat, and planned out investigative tactics with ava. they continued to work on the kidnapping case as a team, with her taking the lead and only occasionally butting heads with ava. with him, she rolled her eyes at his remarks and remained indifferent when he sat near her at their bi-weekly meetings.

even though everything seemed normal on the outside, mason could sense something had changed for them both. brooklyn had withdrawn into herself, avoiding holding his gaze beyond a passing glance, and ignoring his suggestive remarks when they were alone. it created an unfamiliar ache in his chest, to the point where he wasn’t enjoying flirting with her as much. it was a odd sense of discomfort to feel, seeing as how he was no stranger to uncomfortable sensations.

at least ava and nat had the decency to play along as though nothing was amiss, even though every once in a while, nat would throw a worried glance their way. felix, however, had no such qualms about pointing out the obvious awkwardness between them.

“so… brooklyn, you haven’t hung out with us in a while outside of these meetings,” felix said with a grin that mason was starting to really hate. he let out a low growl, which felix pointedly ignored. “and i know mason would loooove your company. he just broods in the dark when you’re not here.”

brooklyn had to suppress the chuckle that wanted to emerge at the image of mason hiding in a corner of the room and arched one of her eyebrows at felix instead. “i don’t see how his brooding has anything to do with me.”

“because the man is clearly –”

“felix!” nat’s exasperated tone cut him off before he could finish his sentence, but the knowing look in his eyes and sympathetic smile made brooklyn’s heart thud a little louder than usual.

“um, i guess it has been a while since we’ve done something not work-related. why don’t we watch a movie or something?” she suggested, trying to divert everyone’s attention away from whatever it was that felix was about to say.

“yes! you pick the movie and i’ll get the popcorn and we’ll watch it right here!” felix’s eyes shined with excitement and brooklyn couldn’t help but chuckle.

and that’s how mason found himself watching pride and prejudice in the warehouse living room later that week.

brooklyn wiped a stray tear from her eye as mason leaned toward her. “seriously? this makes you cry?” he was genuinely sort of surprised. brooklyn could be just as, if not more, stoic than rebecca and he found her difficult to read sometimes, especially if she refused to make eye contact with him and if her body didn’t react to his advances.

“he’s got too much pride, she has too much prejudice. he says he’s not good with words, so he shows her how much he loves her by overcoming the issues his pride caused and when she finally sees all that he does and understands his true nature, of course she falls in love with him. it just works, okay!” brooklyn sniffled, putting a hand on her heart. “it’s one of my favorite movies.”

“mine too! i mean, it is now anyway,” felix said, wrapping his arm around her shoulders. “are you going to stay tonight, brooks?”

brooklyn covered her mouth to stifle her yawn. “i shouldn’t. i have to be up early tomorrow and i didn’t bring my car since it was so nice out.”

nat frowned. “it’s dark, one of us should—”

“i’ll walk you home,” mason interrupted, standing from where he had been sitting on the armrest of the couch during the entire movie.

brooklyn hesitated. it had been easy to forget what happened at the bakery and pretend as though nothing was wrong when she avoided being alone with mason. but she also didn’t want to draw attention to the fact that she was avoiding him, even though she knew the team had probably figured it out and were just being nice about it.

she looked up at the expectant looks from the others and realized she had fallen silent. “oh, um, alright, i’ll see you all tomorrow,” she said quickly, picking up her purse and following mason out.

“i really wish those two would work things out,” felix said softly once the door had closed.

“i’m sure they will. brooklyn’s just going to have to be a little patient with him while he figures things out,” nat said, picking up the first edition pride and prejudice book she decided to read while everyone else watched the movie.

the walk back to brooklyn’s apartment was quiet but to her surprise, not wholly unpleasant. for the first time in a while, her chest wasn’t constricting from actively trying to suppress her feelings and reactions around mason. for some reason, they were able to walk side-by-side, his warm presence washing over her and easing whatever tension she had been holding that day and letting her body relax.

by the time they made it back to her apartment, her arms swayed casually at her sides and she smiled contentedly to herself. she hoped they could end the night on a high note and moved to unlock her door.

“hey, brooklyn.”

she tensed before looking up at mason, one hand holding her keys near the doorknob. he was leaning against the wall, hands tucked deep into his pockets.

“yes?”

he looked at her with something brooklyn hadn’t ever seen before swirling in his grey eyes. his mouth opened and then closed as if he wasn’t sure what he wanted to say before frowning and looking away.

she tilted her head sideways. “isn’t this where you make some suggestive comment to try to get into my pants?”

mason’s head snapped back to look at her so fast she almost missed it. “think that's all i’m good for, huh, sweetheart? did it ever occur to you that i might not be in the mood?”

“okay…” she squinted at him in confusion. “wait, why are you upset?”

“i don’t know!” mason threw his hands up in the air before rubbing his face. “i don’t like this feeling right now.”

she raised an eyebrow at him. “what feeling, exactly?” she prodded gently.

his shoulders sagged and if brooklyn didn’t know better, she’d say he almost looked… dejected.

“like i’ve lost my chance with you before we’ve even seen how we could be together,” he said quietly, sending a sideways glance in her direction. “and for the record, i think we’d be fucking phenomenal.”

brooklyn’s heart was beating so fast she thought it would leap out of her chest. she swallowed thickly and willed her body to calm down so she could avoid being disappointed by mason yet again. “i’m not a game for someone to just have fun with for a time and throw away when they start getting bored. i want someone to think i’m worth waiting for,” she said, afraid to say it any louder than a whisper even though she knew mason would hear her anyway.

“oh sweetheart, i wouldn’t be here right now if i didn’t think you’d be worth it,” mason said, his eyes full of sincerity and a gentle smile that caught her off guard. she was so used to his flirty remarks being accompanied by a smirk that the absence of it was almost dizzying.

brooklyn frowned in confusion. her brain was used to making sense of things logically and she had barely had a full conversation with mason since that moment in the bakery when she felt something more between them, something deeper, swirling underneath the tension. it was dangerous to let herself hope, but maybe, just maybe, he felt it too.

“i know what you want and as soon as you get it, you’ll be done with me. well, i’m not interested in playing your game, mason, so feel free to find someone else,” she said, the quiver in her voice contradicting the gravity of her words as she opened the door to her apartment and stepped inside.

mason’s hand shot out to keep the door open and brooklyn looked up at him, eyes widening slightly in surprise.

“i could never be done with you,” he said softly. there was no hint of snark or teasing in his voice.

he stepped into the doorway, casting a shadow over her small frame even in the dark of the apartment.

“what do you want, mason?” she asked, something akin to hope starting to bloom in her chest.

mason gently stroked her cheek with his thumb, pausing briefly at the corner of her lips. “you,” he answered with such confidence and honesty that brooklyn knew she believed him wholeheartedly.

he slowly lowered his forehead to hers. “just you. we don’t have to do anything physical. i just can’t help but want to be near you all the time. that damn movie’s in my head now.”

she looked up at him shyly through her eyelashes and smiled, walked backwards into the apartment so he could close the door behind him. even in the dark, mason could see the vibrant blush on her cheeks that was slowly becoming his favorite feature of hers.

“that’s all i wanted to know. does this mean i should expect an impromptu confession in the rain?” she teased, moving to turn on the light and make herself comfortable on the couch.

to her surprise yet again, mason chuckled. “you should know me well enough by now, sweetheart, to know that i’m not really into that,” he said. his eyes softened as he took a seat next to her. “but for you, maybe i’ll make an exception.”

her face beamed in a way he didn’t know was possible and he knew he wanted to figure out what it would take for her to look at him like that always.

* * * * * permatag: @kelseaaa; @kat-tia801; @anotherbeingsworld; @crackerdumortain; @pearlsandsteel; @gloynporslen; @sosolenoo; @alyssalauren;  @wayhavenots; @gingerbreton; @takemyopenheart; @writer-ish; @fhauvilles;