#he also seems genuinely happy with his wife and dogs in the beginning of the last season it does not at all look like an empty life of

[manicpixiefelix]

head, heart, hand. {Felix Catton/Reader/Oliver Quick}

Part 3.

Summary: Your second year at Oxford brings with it Farleigh, much to your delight, and you get to learn about Farleigh's personal nemesis (which he rolls his eyes at every time you call him that) Oliver. It turns out Oliver's actually very lovely, and does Felix quite the favour one unassuming morning. Farleigh's not happy to see him again, but Felix is.

{ masterpost }

Need to Know: They/Them. Explicitly NB Reader. FWB!Reader/Felix. Reader is from a well off family but has pretty much been adopted by the Cattons.

Warnings: heavy drinking by everyone at the pub including the reader, and 'dog' being used to demean the reader once.

A/N: 5101 words. much longer than the last ones, and we finally have oliver!! very excited to FINALLY be able to write their weird little fuckin dynamic at oxford, i love them all very much. im a bit unhappy with the pacing of the beginning but i like how it picks up once oli is introduced, but also the bar scene is SO LONG and i will not apologise i love them your honour. id be mighty grateful for any feedback or if you have any thoughts in general about the story, i stare at so many kind asks in my inbox lovingly, i will answer them very soon i promise!! also this is so unedited, sorry lol.

Taglist: @strangemaximoff @renaissance-mama @tsach @malscorner @xhoneymoonx134 @yelchinweasleylothbrok @tarriea @florencediet @butitsbetterifyoudoittoem @belladonnadarksshade @fandom-multiamory @snazzynacho @jubileexoxo @soocore @be-lla-vie @nightingale2124 @willow-sages @null4ndv0id @gracieluvthemoon @day2dream @marvellover98 @navixfr @bitxhinthecomments @daintylovers @alesunsets @noturningbacknow @d0llysposts @alilcloudy @callsignwidow @moviequotes23 @325575 @bonnieblue0606 @osoqueen125 @hot-dino-nuggies @darkness-falls-xo @mattymurderdocks @flowerecs @weepingwitchofthewest @ilovemydinoboi @marsmallow433 @king0flies @cashtons-wife

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At first you don't notice him for who he is. At first you hear about Farleigh's insufferable tutoring partner. At first, Oliver Quick means absolutely nothing to you.

The most important part of your second year of college is that Farleigh has finally conceded to joining you and Felix at Oxford. Once, during the last Summer break, while Felix had been off confronting his at-the-time good friend Eddie, after Farleigh had told him Eddie and Venetia had been sleeping together, you and Farleigh had gotten high in the maze to avoid the fallout.

Since the Cattons were paying for his education, he'd admitted that he wanted to remove himself as much as possible from his mother's legacy and memory and the guilt Sir James held about his sister. It would be hard to do at a college where he would be a legacy student because of his mother's attendance. You think you partly understood; certain people, usually staff, liked to kiss your ass when they found out about your own legacy status and the people your parents became, you're not so sure they'd treat Farleigh the same, all things considered.

But he's out of options.

Sometimes you're not sure what to make of Farleigh; his strange place in the Catton family was never something they seemed to like to discuss around you, but Farleigh was far more candid about it. So when he pulls these stunts, gets himself kicked out of schools, puts himself in precarious positions despite how you knew he genuinely enjoyed academics, especially literature, you can't help but wonder why.

"Don't try and pathologize it," you could hear him rolling his eyes as he attempted to scale the minotaur statue in the middle of the maze. Looking up at him from where you're laying in the grass, you watch him rise above the walls into the sunshine. Maybe it's dangerous, maybe he should stop, get down, be safe, but he looks far more content up there, on the edge. Maybe he feels freer up there, even if he knows it's not true.

So now he's with you and Felix at Oxford, a first year only academically, he slots perfectly into the group of friends you'd both already managed to collect.

The point is, you have no idea that of everything that happens in those first few weeks of your second year, the parties, the hook ups, the social dances you found yourself doing, that the guy Farleigh likes to complain about from his tutoring sessions - Oliver, Farleigh always says it with an eye roll - would mean so much more to you than you'd ever expect.

Everything about the man you would come to find extraordinary, from the outside, was completely, and charmingly, ordinary. Including how you'd met him.

Felix had overslept again, and threw a pillow at the door when you'd stuck your head into his room to remind him that he had classes. You'd left yourself enough time to walk, but Felix would have to at least run if he didn't get his ass up soon, or would ride his bike instead. Its on your way, so you duck your head in to at least check it there.

What you don't expect is the unassuming man with dark hair to have a gentle, almost caressing hand on the tire of Felix's bike. When you make a confused noise, he about jumps a foot in the air.

"Sorry," he seems to shrink in from himself, recoiling from the bike like he'd been caught red handed, "just admiring." He babbles, but can't meet your eyes. For a moment, you look over him, before turning your attention to the ludicrously expensive mountain bike that Felix has always taken for granted.

"It is a nice bike," you find yourself grinning, stepping towards the bike and giving the tire a squeeze, both as a show of your own appreciation, and to test the pressure, just in case, "didn't mean to spook you..." And you trail off, prompting for his name, holding your hand out.

It hangs in the air for a moment, and the man before you gives you a proper look over. The way he holds himself, as if trying to take up as little space as physically possible, but his eyes, his gaze, oh it longed to swallow whole every detail of everything he cast it upon.

"Oliver," he says after a very long moment. Despite his demure voice, there's something deliberate, unwavering about it, "Quick," he follows it up with, "I'm Oliver Quick." And he ducks his gaze, sparing you from his intensity as you shake his hand.

"Oliver Quick," you turn the name over on your tongue; the same Oliver that Farleigh's been complaining about, you ponder, before giving him a smile, "I'm Y/N." As soon as the handshake drops, Oliver's doing that thing again, shrinking back and looking uncomfortable in the space.

"Yeah, I think I've seen you around," Oliver nods but can't meet your gaze, "around campus, I mean -" Which reminds you -

"Fuck, I'm almost running late," you hissed, spinning on your heel, "sorry to run Ollie, you seem lovely!" You call over your shoulder as you bolt to class, hearing him calling out;

"No trouble," and awkwardly trailing off the further away you get, "you seem... very nice too..."

Bursting through the door to your tutorial with five minutes to spare, your lecture looks up from his desk for a brief moment. Giving him a nod, you try and slip past him to grab a seat by one of your friends, chatting near the back, when he raises his voice.

"No Mister Catton today either, I presume," he says with a sigh, and you again check you watch before plastering on an apologetic smile.

"He'll be here," you assured, "promise." The professor did not seem impressed.

Sitting next to India, she immediately greets you with a hug.

"Felix hung over?" She grins, and you anyway in respond with a smirk.

"After last night? I'd assume so."

"King's Arms tonight?"

"Of course."

When he does eventually show up, it's ten minutes late with an apology about how his bike had gotten a flat tire. The professor, just tells him to take a seat, and Felix does with many placating thanks, sliding into one of the open few open seats in the row in front of yours. Ruffling his hair, he throws a faintly guilty grin over his shoulder at you and India, telling you both not to start.

After the tutorial, you fully intend of having lunch with India, as the two of you don't have any other classes until the afternoon, the two of you walk with Felix to where he'd stashed his bike before his next lecture. Except -

"That's not yours," you look at the bicycle curiously, "I thought you had a flat."

"Had," Felix agrees, wheeling the unfamiliar bike from the rack with a grin, "bloody angel of a man lent me his."

"Of course someone just gave you their bike," India chuckles, reaching out to give Felix's shoulder a squeeze before he mounts the bike with intent to take off.

"Lent," Felix grinned back, "I'm gonna give it back."

"And what about yours?" You asked, eyebrows raised.

"He took it back for me."

"Your hero," you laughed, shaking your head at him.

"My absolute hero," Felix agreed, "I'll tell you about it later, okay? King's Arms tonight?"

And once he's away, and you and India are on your way to the campus cafe, her arm tucked in hers, she gives you a knowing, almost exasperated smile.

"You're already trying to figure out how to fix his tire, aren't you?" Her nails dig a little too much and her smile's a little too sly and her tone almost grates against a thought you don't like to consider, so you push it to the back of your mind and give an embarrassed little smile.

"Was it that obvious?"

"No, but you are," she leans in, lips almost against your ear, smile in her voice, "endearingly predictable," she murmurs against the shell of your ear, "you're always wrapped up in him."

"Right now I seem to be rather wrapped up in you," you rest your free hand on hers, tucked into the crook of her elbow, taking her hint and lowering your voice to something flirty.

"And make darling Felix wait?" She teased in response. Instead of answering her properly, you ask her back to your dorm under the guise of lunch and she happily accepts.

The bike shop is closed and Felix has class and you can't even be sure if this supposed bike saviour has even returned Felix's bike by now; there's no waiting, but India likes feeling prioritised, so you keep all that to your self. India likes to feel important in Felix's life. Anyone who Felix spends even a little of his time and attention on ends up rather addicted to that feeling, to feeling special to Felix Catton, and India is one of the many who have picked up on your own importance to the man himself.

So you're not dating India. You're also not not dating India; you're a placeholder of sorts, which would be cruel to you if you didn't like her well enough or if you weren't satisfied taking your fun with her. It would also probably be cruel to India if she knew the truth, that Felix thought she was hot and wasn't ready to commit to maybe dating her, but that he was getting that way he sometimes got about people, that he wanted them around, wanting to not share them, but without devoting himself to them. That's where you come in. A placeholder. A proxy. An almost. Someone who makes this pretty girl feel important and close to Felix. Someone Felix isn't worried about falling in love with India even while keeping her happy and around.

When you arrive late to the King's Arms with your own around India's shoulders, Felix lights up while Farleigh, from beside him, narrows his eyes with a smirk.

"Cute shade of lipstick," he says slyly, even as he moves over at Felix's insistence to fit both yourself and India in the booth beside him. Farleigh flicks the collar of the shirt you'd thrown on in a rush to get dressed for afternoon classes, "on both of you."

"Are you jealous, Farleigh?" India grins, taking it all in stride as you pull your collar out with your thumb to try and inspect it. India's lipstick was smeared faintly against the collar from where she'd been enthusiastically kissing her way down your jaw a few hours earlier.

"Of course," Farleigh's sly smile widens to a cocky grin, and he winks at her, while she leans over you to plant a kiss on the corner of his mouth with a wicked grin.

"Right in front of her partner?" Annabel, Felix's latest fling was on his other side, reaching over Felix to shove Farleigh's shoulder with a scandalised laugh.

"Not really together," India mused, even as she shifted to lean heavily against you, her arm around you and tucking herself up by your side. You nodded in kind, shrugging as Felix had to hide his laughter in his pint.

"And besides," Farleigh declares in a voice you knew all too well, "if anyone knows how to share it's Y/N," with a cheshire-cat smile and making a show of putting his hand far up your thigh under the table. Surprised by the outright boldness of it all, Felix, who had been trying to take a sip to cover his amusement, ends up snorting beer out of his nose as he laughs, which sets the whole table off.

It's later in the night, several rounds of drinks and plates of chips, when you finally remember to ask Felix about his bike. There's this look in his eyes as he recounts the details, how he'd somehow gotten on the wrong side of something small and sharp when he'd been found by his 'absolute hero'.

"Ollie," he says brightly, "Ollie - Oliver - something, I don't -" he's babbling, and though he doesn't at the time, both yourself and Farleigh react, though in vastly different ways.

"Oliver?" Farleigh draws out the name with disdain, like it's done him some sort of personal affront, or set off a bad smell, judging by his expression.

"Don't make that face," Felix rolls his eyes, giving Farleigh a good-natured shove, but it's all becoming background noise to you as you glance over your shoulder. In your mind, all you can focus on the brief but captivating moments you shared with a blue-eyed Oliver just this morning. As if by fate, when you finally come back to reality, and realise you're staring at the bar, you see those same blue eyes staring back at you, intense and surprised.

"There he is!" Behind you, Felix's voice raises above the din of the pub with barely restrained glee, "Ollie! Oliver! Oliver!" And immediately those blue eyes snap to your attention-grabbing best friend, "come over here, mate!" Felix insists, and you drop your gaze with a faint smile.

As Felix loudly and insistently vies for Oliver's attention and company, you briefly raise your gaze, only to see the disdain on Farleigh's face having grown immensely.

Oliver. Farleigh's classmate Oliver. Insufferable tutoring Oliver. Know-it-all Oliver. 'Thus' Oliver. No regard for style in his academics or his wardrobe Oliver.

Felix's hero, Oliver.

Considering how much joy Farleigh took from ribbing you at every given opportunity, just to see your squirm for his amusement, you supposed you could take some joy from his discomfort in this moment. When he sees your smug smile he scowls at you.

"This guy's my fucking hero," you've heard that warmth in Felix's voice a hundred times over, "just telling everyone how you saved my ass today," you wonder how long it will take Oliver to fall for him too.

Oliver, for his part, plays at being abashed as the rest of the group gives him faint compliments, gaze surprisingly shallow as he takes you all in. Keeping your own eyes down for the moment, you take the cigarette from India that you'd been sharing with her. You quickly reach into Felix's jean pocket beside you for the lighter you know is there, and when you look up to light it, cigarette poised between your lips, you see Oliver's gaze momentarily focused on the lack of space between yourself and Felix, where your hand had disappeared. Felix, you know without even having to look at him, hasn't even looked away from Oliver once.

"Take a seat, I owe you a drink," Felix grins, and is already shoving the few people on his left, before you put a hand on his arm to get him to settle down.

"Could you get the next round, India?" You ask her quietly, and though she hesitates for a moment, she relents, considering it was meant to be her shout after all.

Oliver is hesitating as India stands and smooths out her skirt, heading for the bar, and finally Felix remembers that most people's worlds don't revolve around him.

"Oh, sorry, are you with friends?"

Another moment of deliberation from Oliver, before he finally relents to Felix, and agrees to join them. Looking around, there's a chair next to a table behind Farleigh that was going unused, or -

When you pat the now empty seat at the end of the booth beside yourself, you're not looking at Oliver. Chin in your hand and cigarette poised between your fingers, you're giving Farleigh a grin that's all teeth, while he looks like he's trying to stave off a sudden tension headache.

"Come here, Oliver Quick," you refuse to explain your smug smile, "I don't bite."

"Yes they do," Farleigh huffs in irate response, to which most of the rest of the group cracks up. The leather beside you shifts, and you can feel the heat Oliver radiates before you even look at him.

"Quick, Oliver Quick!" Felix, behind you, is muttering almost to himself, before adding, "wait, how did you know that?" And throwing himself practically over your shoulder as you'd turned to face Oliver properly.

"We met this morning," you say quietly, gaze fixed on Oliver's, on the way he's taking you both in. With Felix's chin on your shoulder, the two of you cheek to cheek and watching him with interest, it could be enough to send anyone else running. But his gaze isn't the shallow one he'd ghosted across the others, he's drinking this moment, and the both of you, in. Smile stretching wide across your face and you tip your head against Felix's, "just as lovely as I thought," and turning your face even slightly towards Felix means your lips against his temple, not that either of you seem to mind, "your hero."

"My fuckin' hero," Felix agrees adamantly, though you and he sit back as India approaches with a tray of pints and an exasperated look.

"And you've given up my seat," she sighs, placing the drinks on the table for everyone else to take their share. Farleigh's already passive-aggressively reached behind himself to grab the extra empty chair, and you promise to make it up to her with a heavy layer of implications that the rest of the table snickers at.

Introductions are made and drinks are had and the night carries on apace until you, at the very least, felt like you could call yourself reasonably wasted. Despite how quiet Oliver is in the general conversation, Felix makes a point of always including him, arm around your shoulders so he can lean across you to talk to him, while Oliver just tried to keep up.

Everything about Oliver shouted that these people weren't his people; his clothes, his accent, his vernacular, his very unfamiliarity with who so many of them were considering their families were often titans of industry. Still, you respected the effort he was making to keep up. Whenever even the hint of a joke at Oliver's expense could be felt in the air, Felix shut it down, and though it started out subtle, it became less so as the night wore on; the grateful look on Oliver's face, even as he tried to duck to hide it, said how much he appreciated the gesture.

It's decided almost unanimously by the time you have to buy a round that it should be the first round of shots for the table. Several more would be to come, but you were getting tequila, and all the fanfare that came with it.

Getting back to the table you find Oliver's slid into your spot by Felix. Though he tries to apologise and get up, you shush him, insisting it's fine as you sit down next to him with the tray of shots topped with lime wedges, and the shot glass half full of salt for the table the bartender had kindly provided.

"You do know this is why I was late to my tutorial this morning," Felix still helped himself to a shot glass with lime as the salt was being passed around the table.

"Salt?" Oliver frowned at the glass in front of him, "lime?"

"You've never done tequila shots before?" Farleigh scoffed, holding India's hand up in front of himself where she'd offered it to him to apply salt.

"No, I haven't," is all Oliver can say awkwardly, watching as Farleigh sprinkled a line of salt across the back of India's aloft hand, licking it up in one swift motion before he took the shot and bit the lime in quick succession.

"Salt, shot, lime," you give Oliver a nudge to bring his attention back to you.

"Salt, shot, lime," Oliver repeats, looking from his glass to the glass full of salt that Felix had reached over and brought to your side of the table, "do I have to lick the salt off of someone else?"

"Not necessarily," Felix says from his other side, while Annabel giggled and allowed him to apply salt to her hand.

"More fun that way," she adds coyly.

"Not unless you want to," your own shot glass sits untouched, salt now sitting between both your glasses.

"Do you- should I-" Oliver's stumbling over his words, fidgeting with the end of the lime.

"Lick it off their neck," Farleigh barked from across the table, and though you tried to tell Oliver that he didn't have to do anything like that, and Felix's disappointed admonishment of his cousin, the entire rest of the table, who had finished their own shots and were now invested in the drama, light up with agreement.

"You're so crass, you're gonna give him the wrong idea," Felix groaned, rolling his eyes with frustration.

"I love Y/N but I don't think there is a wrong idea about them -"

"Watch what the fuck you say about them, Farleigh -"

"Watch what I say about your fucking dog-?"

"I'll lick their neck!" Oliver announces at the top of his lungs, interrupting the vicious barb, and the way Felix had practically leapt across half the table in a sudden fury. For a long moment, tense silence hangs in the air, Farleigh half out of his chair, wearing a sneer, and Felix braced over the table with white-knuckled fists pressed into the woodgrain. Then, as Felix sits back down and things begin to ease, once again all eyes return to Oliver, who's shifting in his seat, looking at you with almost apology in his eyes, "if- if you're okay with that."

After a beat, you break into a self deprecating smile.

"I do like getting my neck licked," you laughed, and immediately angled your head and pulled the collar of your shirt to the side so he could have a better angle and more of your shoulder to apply salt. The tension dropped almost entirely as everyone but Farleigh and Felix burst out in cheers. Chatter arose again as Oliver fumbled with the salt, but you caught Felix's eyes from behind him. Tension in his brow that you longed to smooth away, and discomfort in his gaze, but when you smiled you could see him take a breath, and smile back.

"I won't bite," it comes as a surprise when you hear Oliver say this, so quiet only you can hear as he diligently applies a sprinkle of salt to the soft skin of where your throat meets your shoulder, "promise," you can't see his expression but you think you can hear him smirking. It actually sounds almost like flirting.

India's been glaring at you across the table whenever she hasn't been flirting overtly with Farleigh for the past half an hour. So you flirt back.

"Not even if I ask nicely?" You murmur back, trying to repress the thrill that the whole moment was giving you. You hear the faintest, momentary rumble of a laugh from Oliver before you feel his hand on your thigh as if to steady himself, and his tongue on your neck. It's barely a second of contact, the delicate caress of his mouth as he licked the line of salt clear from your skin. Quickly, he then takes the shot, and swallows before biting down on the lime, making a pained face as the table cheered.

His hand is still on your thigh; his grip is tight.

As he's spluttering and grinning and Felix is clapping him on the back for the effort, he's rather abashedly offering himself to you, if you'd like to repeat the same salt process on him -

"You've done enough for your first shot, Ollie," you told him with a fond nudge, happily applying salt to the back of your own hand, completing the ritual with far less fanfare. Still, when you glance past Oliver to Felix, you see the way he's regarding the newcomer, with a kind of awe and warmth. This too you know well.

Crammed so close in the booth, Felix's arm stays around Oliver's shoulders for most of the rest of the night, and while no-one can see it, Oliver's hand remains on your thigh. Sometimes he taps along to the music of the pub that you've already tuned out, sometimes he's rubbing small circles with his thumb, or give you a squeeze when he's laughing at a joke, but it never waivers.

The more drunk you become, the more you find yourself leaning into him, and you begin to tune out the conversation, focusing only on your drink, the warmth of Oliver and his hand on you, and on the sensation of Felix's hand playing with your hair since his arm was around Oliver's shoulders, and you're leaning your head against him.

Everything's become blurry, your brain is still trying to catch up after you take another shot from muscle memory alone when Farleigh starts insisting on Oliver shout the next round, and for that round to be jaeger bombs.

"We just did shots," you shake your head with a faint frown, but the movement makes you feel all kind of queasy.

"You tapping out?" Farleigh, in much better spirits considering how many he'd consumed, is all wide, challenging smiles full of teeth.

"Nope," you again shake your head, against your better judgement, "never ever ever." Everything is spinning, even with your eyes closed.

"Then you shouldn't be letting Ollie snake his way out of paying for his round," Farleigh sounds all kinds of smug, and despite how you're all kind of done with him for tonight, and Oliver is trying to insist that he's not trying to wiggle out of paying for a round, the rest of the table have apparently taken up Farleigh's crusade. They're booing him, hissing at him, while Farleigh's smugness screams social triumph; you can feel Oliver's fingers twitching on your thigh, like he wants to be fidgeting but can't bring himself to let you go.

"Fine," Oliver relents to the peer pressure, letting you go and throwing his hands in the air, "can you move a sec?" He asks, and you shuffle out to let him past, before scooting back in and back beside a once more frustrated Felix.

Farleigh argues that it's the rules of the pub when Felix asks him to give Oliver a break, but you don't really hear them. You've cleared enough space on the table in front of you to be able to cross your arms on the table, laying your head on your arms to try and see if it would help. Felix is rubbing soothing circles on your back as he argues with Farleigh, probably out of pure habit, so you try and focus on that sensation, and picking a point that you see that you can focus on.

Everything's sideways, the bar, the people, the street outside, but it doesn't matter. In the moments you find yourself focusing on Oliver in the cool light of the bar, everything else falls away. He looks antsy and uncomfortable, watching the bartender pour the shots, wallet in his hand. You'd have paid in a heartbeat if Farleigh hadn't been so insistent on attacking Oliver's pride. Everything else about him was so charmingly ordinary, perhaps that's why Farleigh was infuriated by him, and why he'd attacked Oliver's pride, one of the few things that Farleigh probably believed Oliver had of value to himself.

Tomorrow, you and Farleigh were having words.

Tonight, you wanted to somehow help Oliver without making any kind of big deal about it. Problem was, you weren't sure how. You weren't even sure if you were capable of walking in straight line right now.

"Fi -" when you turn your head to your other side, you see Felix, half finished a cigarette, with a pensive look on his face as he too was watching Oliver. When he looks at you there's a moment that the two of you share, of understanding, of compassion and a shared goal, "can you get me a glass of water?" You asked, knowing he'd take the hint. Thankfully, he smiles at you, the two of you shuffling once more so he could get out of the booth and head towards Oliver and the bar.

Leaning on the end of the booth, you wait for Felix to return before you sit back down, instead focusing on the interaction between the two men at the bar. It's not that you can hear them, but you can see the grateful but anxious look in Oliver's eyes, and the way he can't look away from Felix's smile, and something sharp and bright and intrigued lights up in your chest.

There's a moment as the interaction begins winding down, when Felix takes the tray of drinks, and looks back at your gathered group of friends. His eyes meet yours, faint flicker of familiar affection passing in the next moment as he says something else to Oliver before he's making a beeline back to the group.

"Thank you, Ollie!" He announces brightly, much to the cheer and delight of the rest of the group once the jaeger bombs are set down at the table. Caught up in the sudden influx of joy, you chant Ollie's name, clapping along, not even realising that since you'd let go of the booth you were starting to take on a lean.

"You're fucking legless," Felix crows with laughter, who had already slid back into the booth and was now taking you by the arm and sitting you back down beside himself, "I'm cutting you off, you're on the waters now," he joked, arm around you to steady you, though you weren't inclined to disagree. Thankfully, in the next moment, a water was being placed in front of you, and a cheer was once again rising from the group as Oliver rejoined you all, bashful smile on his face as everyone was lavishing praise on him for following through with buying the round.

The glass was cold and clear and faintly frosted, few ice cubes floating delicately on top of the pint of water before you, looking absolutely perfect in this golden, humid pub. Even just reaching out and holding the cold glass of water in your hands seemed to make everything a little less blurry at the edges.

As you dragged the glass towards you, surprised by your sudden craving for fresh, cold water, praise tumbles from your lips, words half blurring together, and Oliver takes his seat once more beside you.

"Ollie, you're my fucking hero."

[doppelnatur]

CAN I PLS HEAR UR WILL GRAHAM TAKE?? hannibal is one of my favorite shows but GOD DAMN do they fumble the ball w his illness/neurodivergency/mental illness sometimes (often)

Omg ok listen I haven't watched Hannibal in a hot second and my opinions are deeply deeply unpopular, you probably won't agree at all it's ok. but my impression from last watching it was that, esp in the latest seasons, we're told a bunch of stuff about Will Graham by other characters, which is supposed to be "reading him" but which is directly contradicted by his on screen actions.

My take on Will Graham is that he's a kind and gentle autistic person with magical ""empathy"" abilities that make him over identify with and feel guilty for the actions of others. (Hannibal also has magical abilities, idc about their bs psychoanalysis, super sense of smell, empathy whatever shit it's magic and that's FINE. Face blindness also doesn't make you do this shit so like. That's a magical curse also idc).

His (wrong) belief that his empathy magic makes him evil and responsible is reaffirmed by literally every other character in the show in weird and honestly predatory ways. Obviously Jack uses it to get Will to continue way beyond when he himself wants to stop, Hannibal (wrongly) thinks this magical ability makes Will Graham able to understand him, like on an emotional level and becomes obsessed with him, Alana from the beginning patronizes Will and has a distrust of him and his moral (not just mental! That worry is fair lol) stability and abandons him when he would need her. I think Freddie's attitude to him is supposed to be "foreshadowing his inevitable downfall" which is caused by him being a "criminal kind of person" (read: autistic/magical/mentally ill idc). This believe in criminal people and ""mental illness""" (it whatever the fuck this show does to the concept) making people criminal is a core tenant of the world of the show and it is why it expects us all as viewers to take the side of the other characters because of this.

And then one concrete example that sticks out rn in my mind where someone says something about Will Graham that. In my opinion is directly contradicted by what we see on screen is in season three, when he frees the guy that is trapped by that woman because Hannibal said he murdered his sister (i don't get this plot at all btw what the fuck why was she doing this in the first place what was her relation i know they explain this but i didn't get it) and Will puts a bag over his head and brings him away from the house and then let's him go. But when he (somehow???) Finds the house again and attacks the woman, she blames Will and says this outcome was his intention and that he wanted to make her a murderer. Which he doesn't contradict, because will Graham never contradicts what ppl think about him lol but it's framed like she revealed his evil truth to the audience??? When, if that's what they wanted to do. It would have been so easy to not have Will put a bag over his head. Watching it I was like "why is he putting a bag over his head, he's freeing him" but that's the thing you do when you don't want the outcome where he finds the house again. I just. Don't get it.

It's like the show wrote two characters, will Graham in the dialogue of how everyone including himself sees him which is how we seem to be supposed to see him? As this fallen corrupted man who loves Hannibal. And then will Graham who does things who is repeatedly shown to be extremely concerned with saving lives and values even the criminal lives no one else in the show values lol. And who tbh doesn't seem in love with Hannibal to me. At all. He's like gaslit and pretending that's the feeling of the guy to me.

[whumpzone]

I was just wondering how Col would react if some people had to come to the house for some really important/necessary repairs or something. Like plumbers or electricians or construction workers. Imagine Col hearing strange men’s voices from his room, or walking around the corner and seeing a couple of large men who he’s never seen before talking to linden.

okay i absolutely LOVE this and here is a relatively fluffy thing fulfilling this prompt, but i might also write an angstier version because it would be so good!! thanks anon!

-

The plumber was a young man, not much older than Linden. He had dark hair tied back into a messy ponytail, up on the crown of his head. He introduced himself as Dom, his words softened by a Yorkshire accent. Linden directed him to the recently-broken boiler. He was just wondering where Col was, when-

“Oh, you’ve got a Pet!” Dom exclaimed, all attempts to seem professional failing instantly. Col stood, ramrod straight, in the hallway, and Linden pondered that the plumber’s obvious excitement might not translate to positivity in Col’s eyes. He certainly had an air of a deer, frozen, waiting to see whether to run or play dead.

Dom lowered himself onto one knee in front of the boiler, but kept his eyes on Col. He placed a hand on his thigh and raised the other towards Col, who watched it intensely.

“Uh, may I? He’s real cute.”

Col’s eyes flicked to Linden’s. It was only for half a second, but it was enough for Linden to gather what Col was asking him. “Sure, go ahead.”

“Hey, hey boy, come here,” Dom coaxed, and Col obediently approached, sinking to his knees and tilting his head downwards. An invitation.

Dom ruffled his hair and Linden could see the way Col pushed against Dom’s hand, full of gratitude and good behaviour.

“Aren’t you a sweet boy, hm? Yeah, a real nice doggy. My wife was thinking of getting one,” he said, turning to Linden. “To keep our daughter company. We both work long hours and I think a Pet would be nice, for her to come home to after school, you know?”

“Mmm, yeah,” Linden replied stiffly.

“We’d just have to make sure it’s a well behaved one, you know? How is yours?” Dom’s eyes ran over Col’s many scars, lingering on his burnt hand. “Uh, or if that’s too personal, don’t-“

“He’s new,” Linden said, a tad too quickly, but Dom’s features relaxed. Was that selfish? What do I care if this guy thinks I’m a sadist? But I do care, don’t I? “I’ve actually only had- uh, he only came here about a week ago. And so far it’s gone… really well. Yeah.”

“Aww, you’re new!” he said in his too-chipper voice, clearly reserved for Pets only. “You’re gonna be such a good dog, aren’t you? Nice friendly dog.”

Linden tried to hide his grimace as Col smiled under Dom’s hand. It wasn’t lost on him that Dom hadn’t bothered to ask for a name.

. . .

Pet felt like an ice cube, half-frozen in the fear of getting this right, and half-melting under the pure happiness of being petted and called a nice dog.

I can do this, I can do this, he thought, wishing as usual that he could just turn his thoughts off. Master is right there but it’s fine, he said it was fine, he if didn’t like it he’d put a stop to it, right?

Or would he let it happen, for the sake of politeness, then punish me after. Is this a test? Am I doing something wrong? He knows, he knows that this doesn’t change my loyalty to him, right?

The man lavished him in some more words of warm, mindless praise that even he could soak up, and then chuckled with an “all right then, let’s get on with this.”

Pet pulled himself out of his thoughts and took the hint, bowing his head a little in respect and scampering away.

He could see Master’s frown from the corner of his eye, he knew Master hated when he crawled, but Pet couldn’t bring himself to stand overthe human. It was completely wrong, maybe Master would understand and go easy on the punishment. But Pet knew he had disobeyed and that was worse than any feeling of right or wrong. He slunk into the living room, away from sight like a good dog, and let the waiting begin.

. . .

Dom finished up in only thirty minutes, and soon he was shaking Linden’s hand as he left.

“Thank you again, for coming on such short notice,” Linden said as warmly as he could.

“No sweat, maybe just leave me a good review online yeah?” Dom replied with a big smile, which Linden returned. “And, uh, any advice for having a Pet? One like that would be great, you know, a nice calm one.”

Linden pondered this, wondering how to condense years of anti-Pet sentiment and a genuine desire to rehabilitate Colton into something that a future Pet-owner might take on board.

“Just treat them kindly.”

-

tagging

@newbornwhumperfly @whumpadump1939 @firewheeesky @whump-me-all-night-long @captainseconds @grizzlie70 @unicornscotty @lave-whump @princessofonward @cupcakes-and-pain @bumbumbea @whumpfigure @yet-another-heathen @secretwhumplair @whumps-up @as-a-matter-of-whump @getyourwhumphere @itzagoodthing @whumpymirages @soapparentlyilikewhumpnow @zipadeedooda-drabbles @penny-for-your-whump @briars7 @legallylibra @angel-stars @loyds-of-registry @tears-and-lilies @badluck990 @rosesareviolentlyread

@vickytokio @neuro-whump @thingsthatgo-whump-inthenight @whumpsy-daisies @control-whump @theydy-cringeworthy @starnight-whump @cursedandtired @jo-doe-seeking-inspo @justabitofwhump @glamrockgregory @rippedjeansandfadeddreams @genesissane @justbreakonme @addyez @httyd-chocolate

[bonny-kookoo]

Remedy | JJK x Reader | 💜☁️🔞🤖

Pairing: Jeon Jungkook x Reader

Genre: Android!AU, Android!Jungkook, AI!Jungkook

Warnings: mentions of war, PTSD, Panic attack, confused!Koo, soft reader, like my god I just wanna put her in my pocket and keep her safe, aka that’s what Koo wants to do, protective!Koo, praise kink, unprotected sex but izz fine Kookoo can’t knock her up anyways, soft sex, it’s very soft ngl, there’s a bird, some sad Koo, kook cries here and there, comfort and rehabilitation

Summary: JJK, Or J-Jungkook097 was a tactical fighter-type Android, used in modern war as a simple weapon and nothing more. Now retired after serious injuries, he has to adjust to modern life outside the war zone or he’ll get scrapped; and that’s where you come in, a rare human being ready to take on that challenge.

"Ah, what a waste, really." A worker says, looking the body of the Android over. "You sure you don't want him?" He asks, and the older worker shakes his head.

"I can't let him around my kids by himself, and I don't want him to snap around my wife either. He's not suited for my home and family." He says, looking the male robot over, before he pulls out his phone. "I think I know someone who just might take him." He says, hurriedly texting, before he gets a call back.

"Huh. Is he factory reset, or still running?" You ask, as Seokjin connects cords to the back of the android's neck.

"We tried to have him reset himself, but there's been problems." He explains. "He told us he did already, but that can't be true since he'd need a command to do it- his model isn't equipped with those AI options. Maybe his memory overloaded and deleted stuff as a survival protocol, we don't know. He's a military model, after all, they didn't let us see his original save data- they just downloaded it and went their way, leaving him for us to dismantle if he couldn't reset him properly for a new system." He says, as you type in some stuff, before viewing the screen you hold in your hand.

"So he's technically still running on his original warzone-system?" You ask Jin, and he nods, sighing. You furrow your brows, and the older male looks over at your tablet to see what you're looking at. "Are you sure? This is.. his AI settings are all set to.. look at this; companionable, friendly, all his settings are set to a companion-android, not a fighter type." You mumble, confused by this.

"Wait no no no that wasn't like that when I last looked at him." Jin says, taking the tablet from you as he types in some stuff. "Huh. This is weird." He says, showing you something. "Look at the protocol."

You do. "Huh." You say, looking at the last line of code.

Last change made by: JJK_OSADMIN

"He changed his own system." You say, and Jin is standing up now.

"I'm taking him with me, I can't let him-" He starts, but you do as well, placing your hands ontop of the Androids chest as if you're guarding him.

"NO! I already signed, I own him- Jin, I have to look into this- and he's set to friendly, he won't get hostile that easily." You try to reassure him, and he sighs after a while, taking his jacket from the chair close by.

"Keep me updated." He says, as he leaves you be.

The Android still sitting limply on your chair.

"Alright JJK. Time to wake up." You say, closing the small panel before you sit in front of him, waiting for his system to run the commands you had typed in before unplugging him. It takes a moment, but there's movement after that; his body slowly starting to sit properly, muscles moving into place, and system running it's diagnostics to detect any change in hard- or software made. It marks down his eyes, the small patches of skin re-made, and that his body-liquids had been replaced.

He feels good.

His eyes open slowly, iris moving and focusing in Various degrees before they meet your form. "Hello." He simply says. "Are you my new owner?" He asks, and you nod, expecting that question. He's not been factory reset, which means even though his memory was scattered, and his system had been changed, he was still aware of everything vital. He nods, before he looks around. "I'm now supposed to run on the companion protocol, correct?" He asks, and you shrug. He's confused, as you suddenly smile at him.

"I don't know." You tell him. "Companion, Individual- what would you like?" You ask, knowing it will bring his current system to it's limits. He's not made to make decisions like that, and you think it's quite endearing to see him suddenly think like that.

"I.. choose?" He mumbles, before he looks at you seriously. "I'd like to be given a small time frame to properly research before I come to a conclusion." He says, and your eyes widen.

You look at him, still friendly as ever. "So, you want to figure out what you want first?" You ask, and he nods, a bit hesitantly. "Okay. Just tell me when you've made up your mind then." You say, and he nods.

"What are my daily tasks?" He asks, and you shrug again. "This is frustrating." He says, and you laugh at that.

It's weird to hear it. But he notes it down as a positive response from you.

"Just don't burn the house down while trying to cook or something." You joke, and he seems to take it seriously.

"Why would I set your home aflame while attempting to cook? I'm not even capable of either task.." He says, and you get up, grinning.

"Don't worry so much. Just properly charge for now- we'll see what's gonna happen as it happens." You say.

He nods.

Jungkook knows that around 75% of fatal accidents occur in a mere household. He also knows, that a regular home is the safest place to live. Yet there he was, on the floor, holding his ears as an attempt to block out the sound of his nightmares. "Jungkook?" You ask, as you turn off the microwave. He's still shaking as you sit down in front of him, close- but not touching, unknowing if he would react to that negatively or not. "Can you hear me?" You ask, and he hesitantly retracts his hands from his ears, letting the sound in again. The beeping of the microwave is now gone, only the soft ticking of your clock on the wall and the buzzing of your fridge remain. "I'm sorry that scared you." You say, smiling apologetically as he shakes his head, face serious. His eyes move frantically as they glow an orange hue, showing his system status.

"No, I should apologize." He says. "I don't know why I displayed this reaction to a mere household object." He admits, and you open the microwave to take out your meal, before sitting down on the kitchen floor. "You shouldn't do that- the tiles are very cold-" He starts, but you wave him off.

"Its fine. Both." You say. "You're probably still confusing some sounds and things with your past use as a warzone model. So it's normal- your system has to adapt. You have to adapt." You say. "We all need some time to heal after what you've been through." You say.

He sits quietly after those words, watching you as he goes through his research on you. You're a very unusual individual, displaying a lot of behaviors he hasn't seen before. You take care of everything with a sense of care that makes him come to the conclusion that you're probably treating the machines and robots like living beings. Such as the oldschool robot-dog that he's seen under your living room table. It's currently charging, but he's seen you interact with it- genuinely displaying happiness and excitement at the very basic AI of the pet-robot that's missing a leg.

Its broken, just like him. But you're taking care of it, just like you take care of him.

You're very caring with him, too. He's seen you search for skin patches that match his color almost perfectly, even though they were more expensive than the usual models found in stores. You apologize for 'hurting' him, even though it's sometimes nescessary to repair him. You ask him about opinions, and let him roam around freely around the house.

You're a very friendly person.

And he, unknown to you, starts to create new files inside his system.

You're not there when he wakes up the next day.

He scans the house for any movement, but there is none that would lead him to the conclusion that you're there. There's no sign of you, and he becomes frantic, suddenly.

If his system would've worked properly like it should have, he would've remembered that you had told him yesterday that you would make a small trip to the local grocery store around the corner. But his system isn't working properly, already displaying several scenarios of you getting hurt, or vanishing, or leaving him alone.

He’d seen it before, so many times, hell; he’d been the reason of so many deaths in the first place and it never bothered him. So why was his internal system going absolute haywire at the mere idea of something happening to you? It was to be expected really- with how fragile you are, mentally and physically, it was bound to happen at some point. So why, if he knew it deep down already, did it make his pulse race and his skin feel weird?

You’d told him to stay home, but there was no way he’d be able to let you out of his sight. Because no, there were no emotions involved; they’d been restricted for him at the beginning after all, he was simply looking out for you. Probably a bug, maybe his system thought you were someone to be protected, a new mission to keep him occupied, that was probably it. It wasn’t because you had been so sweet with him, it wasn’t because of how gently you were in correcting him whenever he did something bad, it wasn’t because you were an absolute divine being in his eyes.

“Kook?” You said, an almost painful huff of breath escaping you when he crashed into you, holding you, his arms squeezing you a bit and his face burying itself into the crook of your neck, every sense drinking you in, saving the proof that you were okay, you were real, you were completely fine. “I-“ you started, and his eyes ripped open, suddenly realizing that he may be hurting you. As if burned he reacted, hands hovering over your shoulders as he looked you over.

“I apologize, I’m so sorry, does it hurt bad-“ he spoke hurriedly, eyes already glazing over with tears he didn’t even knew he could shed. Why did he suddenly feel so upset? His entire system was overloading, tears finally flowing and disrupting his sight so badly that he didn’t see your face anymore; sending him into panic even more. “I’m sorry- I’m-“ he pressed out, but there was nothing working anymore it seemed.

Only a few minutes later did he slowly come back to his senses, first thing he noticed being the way you held his body close, softly speaking to him while you were petting his head. It was such a weird sensation, yet it somehow soothed his mind back, as he realized that you were both on the ground. He was way too heavy, why were you doing that? But when he tried to get up, you held him tightly. “Take a Moment, Jungkook. You’re okay, I’m okay, just a breathe, yeah?” You said, and he nodded. “Let’s go back inside then yeah?” You softly said, and he nodded.

“But you need to buy groceries. We don’t have sufficient stock of-“ he started, but you giggled, the sound something he knew he liked. He didn’t quite know what to think of his newly found preferences for things, but he simply let it happen for now.

Because liking you could never be a mistake, he decided.

He calls out for you one day, his hands holding something you can't see yet. His eyes are wide open, his optics moving around frantically as he calls again. "Creator, please!" He calls, as you finally spot him, walking over as he looks at you with a worried expression. "Please- I don't know what to do. She flew against our window and probably has a concussion- you can help her, right?" He says, and you don't get curious as to why he immediately knows the birds gender and diagnosis; he can scan the tiny body, after all.

"Ah, come into the kitchen." You say, and he follows quickly, still delicately holding the tiny body in his palm, careful not to drop it. "Lets put her in a box and a nice quiet place, yeah? She'll recover on her own probably." You reassure him as he watches you place her in an old box without a lid. "Put her where you found her, okay? That way she'll know her way back easier." You tell him, and he nods, determined, as he walks back towards where he had found the bird.

Jungkook, in a way, was slowly changing nowadays.

He was a curious being, always eager to learn about the most mundane things. True to his purpose he picked up on things very easily; learning how to draw and paint very quickly. He had recently gotten interested in a video game you used to play before your work took over your time- and you loved seeing him have genuine fun with it.

He wasn't doing things anymore because they were asked of him. Or because they were an order.

He was developing hobbies, you'd noticed.

Of course you kept Jin updated about all of these things, and he had been happy to learn that his reboot was going well- joking around that he was glad he hadn't killed you in your sleep yet. And while, at first, you were quite wary of him walking around the apartment, nowadays, you couldn't imagine Jungkook even hurting a fly.

Just like with that tiny bird.

He was a gentle soul, simply a bit clumsy sometimes- apologizing over and over after breaking your alarm clock once, the alarm setting off another one of his 'episodes'- moments of flashbacks he got from his past purpose in war. You had reassured him and had let him watch as you fixed it again, praising him along when he gave you the right tools.

Praise. That was something he seeked as well.

And it wasn't just that he wanted aknowledgement of his own achievements. It was more your attention that he wanted. He wanted to be around you whenever possible, even sometimes dancing around the topic of maybe sharing a bed one day- but he had also been wary of hurting you in your sleep, by rolling over or something alike.

Always so thoughtful.

But he would be able to hold you that day; when you had complained about being tired, he had suggested a nap to you. Instantly taking on that chance, you laid down, rolling over as he was still on the couch with you, already having laid down prior. He was unsure at first where to put his hands, until he decided to just go for the common human way of affection; holding you close.

And he made a note inside his system, that he truly deeply enjoyed the feeling.

He finds you on the couch, crying, after an argument on the phone. That in itself isn't the issue he's having, however- it's the sudden wave of protectiveness rolling over him, drowning his senses as he walks over to you, his orange glowing eyes now scanning your form. "What did he do?" He asks, knowing that it was a former partner of yours, constantly calling you asking for money. It's a bad habit of yours that you can't seem to say no; and now that you did for once, he had bitten your ear off with bad remarks and names you'd rather not repeat. "I'll hurt him, just say the word. He needs to feel the same pain you do-" He's shaking a little, you can see it now; his hands unsure where to place themselves, his eyes watching over you, his breathing a little faster. He starts again, and you put a hand on his shoulder to stop his words.

“Jungkook no, he didn’t hurt me in like, a physical way.” You tried to explain, tears now forgotten as you try to calm the Android on your couch down- still absolutely terrified by your state. “I’m gonna be fine.” You say, but he doesn’t seem convinced. Or is it something else?

“But why am I hurting?” He asks suddenly, and your eyes widen. Well, why was he? Technically he was capable of understanding emotions, that wasn’t shocking. What was confusing to you however was just how he was able to share your pain. And it was obvious he did; the way his eyes glistened and his body shivered, overwhelmed by whatever was happening. “Why does it hurt to see you hurt?” He almost whispers, lost with the situation.

Jungkook was indeed a very weird android- you’ve noticed that long ago already. He was emotional, sometimes moody, and slowly began to develop an actual personality the more he was living with you.

Something his model shouldn’t be capable of.

And maybe that should scare you- maybe that should worry you, maybe you should call up support for answers, but you don’t. You do what’s best for yourself and what you think is best for him in that moment; you lean forward, and wrap your arms around him. And it doesn’t feel at all like an android you’re hugging in that moment, because an android wouldn’t cry with you. An android wouldn’t hold you like this, wouldn’t tremble in your hold like this. It makes it easy to forget that Jungkook isn’t human.

And that in itself is absolutely dangerous.

Somehow, his system had bypassed the blockade to his emotional capacities.

He had noticed it ever since you had been out to restock groceries by yourself, but he had been a little unsure back then. He now knows, for sure, that something had happened.

It was confusing, to say the least.

So many things were somehow suddenly starting to fall into place for him; his favoritism to being close to you, or his system failing whenever you weren't nearby. It also makes sense that he's standing right in front of your bedroom door that night, knocking as you open it. He feels a weird sense of protectiveness seeing you tired and vulnerable like that, and he sits down on the side of the bed where you join him. "Is everything okay?" You ask, and he shakes his head.

Nothing is okay, everything is confusing, and he's unsure what to quite think of all of this. "I feel.. confused. Scared. There's.. fear, in me, boiling up and interrupting my thoughts." He explains, and you nod.

"Feeling is scary, huh?" You ask, as he looks at you.

"How do you do it?" He asks, and you lean your head a bit to the side in question. "There's.. so much of it. How do you.. separate it, keep it in order? Its all over the place, and it's.. so distracting. Its so overwhelming- I can't seem to calm down." He mumbles, serious face turning frustrated as his fingers play with the fabric of his pants.

"We don't." You say. He looks at you for a moment, before you continue. "We just.. let it run through us, I guess. If you don't, it'll make you sick after a while. " You say, and he looks at you.

"But.." He starts. "I fear I might start to display reactions a male android model isn't supposed to openly display." He almost whispers.

"You don't have to openly do it." You reassure him, placing a hand on his shoulder, before moving a bit, body facing him as you open your arms. "It's just me; and I won't judge. You can be whoever you want with me, Jungkook." You say, and he lays down next to you in your arms, momentarily enjoying the quietness and closeness of the affectionate gesture.

"There are no bad feelings, Jungkook." You tell him, and he listens, as he lets them run through him, just like you told him. The sadness, the comfort of your body against his, the.. adoration he feels towards you. Everything, even though it hurts him, physically, something he only ever thought was a artistic way of describing emotions. "There are only wrong actions." You say. "If you feel the need to cry, cry. If you're angry, scream, shout, or find something to channel that into. But if you bottle it up-" You say, "they will lead to mistakes. They will bring pain, and they will bring remorse."

His voice is strained as he talks. "But how do I know when to act on them, and when not to?" He says, and you chuckle.

"You'll learn, Jungkook." You reassure him. "You'll learn."

And he nods against your shoulder, before you can feel him shake a little less, quiet sobs racking through his body until his exhausted body falls asleep to charge.

"Remarkable." Jin comments, as he watches the lines and lines of codes. "He has started to self-code his own system. He's quite literally learning." He says. "All by himself. This is amazing." He says, before he disconnects Jungkook.

"He's still a bit jumpy sometimes, and the microwave is still his worst enemy-" You say, as Jungkook reboots again, eyes slowly focusing as they start to glow again. "But he really is amazing." You say, and Jungkook beams at that, proudly smiling.

It's rare for an android to display such emotions, and he's still often very much void of any clear visual feedback in terms of facial expressions- but he's learning, and he's evolving, growing, in a way. Seokjin closes the panel on the back of Jungkooks neck, as the android stands up to walk closer to you. "Jungkook." Jin says, and the android turns towards the young man. "Do you look after her well?" He asks, and Jungkook nods. "Make sure she stays hydrated during the day, yeah? I highly doubt she's told you she struggles with that." He says, and you whine, as Jungkooks head whips around, eyes scanning your body as he furrows his brows.

"Creator, you need to drink at least 2.5 Liters of water per day. It's vital for your health, which is already very delicate." He says, and you glare at Jin for telling him anything about that.

"I'm fine- and also, please don't call me creator. I'm not anything like that." You say, picking up the walking puppy-robot as Jungkook nods.

"What should I call you then?" He asks, and Jin perks up.

"Call her baby!"

"Jin NO-!"

"No matter what she tells you-" Jin says, holding Jungkooks shoulders as he looks at him seriously. "She likes it." He says, and Jungkook, serious as ever, nods, noting it down, as you groan.

"I hate you both!" You say, and Jungkooks eyes widen.

"You.." He says, voice almost not heard over the laugh of Jin. "Hate me?" He asks, and you immediately regret your words. Jungkook still hasn't figured out sarcasm yet- the entire concept still a little too complicated for his system to grasp, so you walk closer to him, holding his cheeks in your hands.

"No no no, I don't, I could never-" You promise him, as he nods with already glossy eyes. "I just said it as a joke, okay?" You say, and he nods again, biting his lip a little before Jin clears his throat.

"I'll head off now." He says, already putting on his coat. "Thank you for letting me see him- it's really amazing to see him grow like that." He says, and you nod, giving him a short hug before he leaves.

And for some reason, Jungkook feels jealous, watching you so close to him.

Jungkook is in love with you.

He's come to that conclusion all by himself, and he's proud of it, but he's also very unsure about it. He has done a lot of research, scanned every source he could find and validate; and he has found a new interest in activities humans do in relationships to show their partner love and affection. He's not stupid, he knows what intimacy is, and is also aware that he's capable of doing these things with you; but he's also a little unsure, if you'd want that.

After all, there's nothing he could give you.

So one night, he stands in front of your door again, knocking, as you open it.

"Do you think.." He starts. "I'm capable of love?" He asks, and you look at him. "Because I think.. no, I am very sure I love you." He admits, and you get up, but there's no stopping him. "I don't know what it's like for you, but I have observed my newfound emotions, and there's a pattern I've detected; whenever I'm with you, around you, whenever you give me attention, or when you touch me, theres always the same emotions involved; there's this need to take care of you, to keep you safe, to be close." He rambles, and you listen to him as he talks, walking closer to you as his hands find your shoulders. "There's this.. urge, to partake in human intimacy with you. I want to.. show affection the common way, like kissing you, or holding you, things like that." Your cheeks grow a little red. "But I don't know if you are experiencing the same things. My research shows that.. that we could only do these things, if it's the same for you." He says, and then, almost as if hes whispering. "Is it?" He asks, and you struggle to answer. "Do you.. feel the same.?" He asks again, waiting for you to say anything at all.

You stay silent.

Its a sunday when a letter arrives at your home.

When you open it, there's several papers inside; Jungkooks personality tests, official papers that make it possible for him to leave on his own. When he reads them, he's serious, as he watches you smile at him.

"Jungkook, this is great, isn't it?" You say, trying hard to not let it show that you dread letting go of him. "You can finally get an apartment- maybe make something out of your talents, and earn a living. You're free to go now." You say, biting the inside of your cheek as he looks at you with wide eyes.

"But.." He starts, softly. "I'm yours." He states, and you shake your head, swallowing hard.

"Jungkook no.. you're you. No one owns you anymore." You say, and he suddenly shakes his head, throwing the papers in the kitchen sink as he walks towards you, his hands on your shoulders.

He looks at you, serious, as his optics focus on you. "You were the one who told me that every machine should be treated with respect." He states, as you look away from him, his hands shaking you a little as he tries to get your attention back on him. "You said even we androids have souls." He says.

"I did, but-" You start, but he cuts you off.

"And if we do, if we really do-" He speaks, his hands now holding your head, his face drenched in desperation. "Than it belongs to you." He states, and your eyes widen. "It's yours." He repeats. "If having it for myself means I have to leave you, I don't want it."

"I don't.. want to take advantage of you, Jungkook." You say. "You're.. everything is still new to you, I don't want you to regret this-" You start, and he leans down.

"I won't. I've run every possible scan I could, calculated every possible outcome, you know I can't lie to you. I could never regret this.." He says, as he leans down a little. "Can I..?" He asks, and you smile, jumping over your own shadow in a way, as you give him a nod. "I.. can you.. say it?" He asks. "Just once?"

You take his hands in yours, as you lean closer. "I love you, Jungkook." You say, and he gasps, his systems going absolute haywire in the best ways possible. He's again filled with emotions, but this time, they don't hurt; they make him feel light, as if he weighs nothing, they make him close his eyes because suddenly even the slightest light is too bright for his optics.

"Again." He asks, and you comply.

"I love you."

"Again."

"I love you."

He sighs, as his lips finally meet yours.

There's no magical fireworks or anything like that- but Jungkook decides that he doesn't need these things. The feeling itself, the emotions flooding his body are enough to outshine any beauty of reality itself. There's nothing he could ever compare to this, he decides.

He's unsure if Androids have instincts, but in that moment, for the first time, he doesn't care. This seems to be one of those situations to let his emotions run through him, lead him, show him what to do, he decides. His hands roam over your skin, ears catching every sound you make as he moves on autopilot it seems. He's letting go, he's finally doing something he really wants.

And it's all thanks to you- you've given him the chance to be himself.

You've given him the gift of feeling loved, as he finally comes as close to you as lovers ever could; entering you carefully, senses on high alert as he feels your walls around his length. He had been unsure of why pleasure seemed to be described as fun and intimate, but now he can relate to these claims fully. He's so full of love, so overwhelmed, that he simply rests his forehead on your naked shoulder, eyes closed as he simply lets himself feel. He doesn't care about his whines and groans, only focusing on you and your body, on the feedback every muscle sends to his systems, enjoying the way you make him feel.

Its truly magical, he notices.

He doesn't even notice his nor your orgasm at all, but it doesn't matter.

Because at the end of the night, he finally holds you close. Not like before, but this time, as lovers.

"I've given her exactly 0.26 milliliters of a 1 to 1 water and fruit sugar mixture every day at appropriate times." Jungkook seriously tells the vet, as he looks at the bird on the metal table.

"I see. Good job." He praises, before looking at you. "A warzone-type?" He asks, and you nod. "Barely noticable. I have one too, that's how I knew." He comments, before he turns to Jungkook again. "I'd say the bird simply likes your company, Jungkook. She just want's to stay with you That's why she comes back." He explains.

"Like me and Baby?" He asks, and you giggle at the nickname Jungkook keeps using.

"Yes, like you and her." Namjoon says, utterly entertained by you and Jungkook. "So I'd say let her be around. She's perfectly healthy, otherwise." He says, and Jungkook turns around, box in hand, as he smiles.

It's quiet that evening, sun slowly setting and drenching the walls of your shared apartment in a golden glow. Jungkook watches your sleeping form, leaned against him on the couch, as he simply remembers all of the things he's experienced because of you.

He truly is a machine capable of love.

Because you taught him how.

[more-stuff-of-pi]

I’ll Fight For You

a/n: lmao i swear i’m fine, just needed good ol’ kiri to assist me in a v self-indulgent fic. also, sorry for taking forever to write something yoinks

notes: did i read through this after i wrote it? nope. we’re fucking rolling with the audacity of not even a single ounce of beta-ing. requests are open :) find my masterlist here

pairing: kirishima eijirou x fem!reader | genre: angst (w/happy ending) / hurt/comfort | warnings: abusive mother (mental/verbal), a father who doesn’t intervene | word count: 2,018

Your boyfriend was practically vibrating with nerves as he adjusted his hair in the mirror. It was artfully piled on top of his head, his dark roots making a sharp contrast against the vibrant red.

“Ei,” you smiled, “you’re gonna be fine.”

He worried his sharp teeth against his bottom lip, frowning all the while. “But what if they--?”

“They’re going to love you, Ei. Probably even more than they love me,” you joke, coming up behind Eijirou’s monstrously large form. Hero work had been both kind and harsh on him but he made it look effortlessly good. You gently slid your arms around his waist as you angled yourself so that you could still eye his reflection.

“I’m just… worried, is all.”

You cock your eyebrow. “About what, Ei?”

He incredulously meets your gaze through the mirror. “What do you mean, about what?!”

It dawns on you a little bit. “Oh, well, she’s not going to be mean to you, Ei. She knows how to play nice when it counts. And you, good sir, count.”

“That’s not as reassuring as it is worrying, you know.”

“My mother is just a little intense, babe, it’s nothing I’m not used to. Like I said, she knows how to tone it down in front of others. I’m sure tonight will be fine. I probably just exaggerate everytime I whine about her, so she’s probably not even half as bad as I make her sound,” you shrug, leaning more into Eijirou’s side.

“Baby,” he sighs, twisting a little to look directly at you, no mirror this time. His eyes are sad yet firm as if wishing you to understand that there’s no need to defend yourself with him.

You squeeze him tighter before letting go and walking to the door. “C’mon, we’ll be late if we don’t leave now.”

❁

You always forget that you don’t really ever exaggerate your mother’s behavior towards you until you’re around her again. Everything as far as introducing your boyfriend to your parents has been going incredibly smoothly. Your dad enthusiastically engaged Eijirou in hero stories, talking about Red Riot’s  most recent media appearance where he was dressed in pajamas and carrying tubs of various ice creams you both had wanted to try when he dropped everything to prevent a construction beam from falling on clueless bystanders. Only one tub of ice cream had survived and luck had it that it was your least favorite flavor combination. Your mother praised Eijirou for his success and his coupling good looks at which she winked, making your boyfriend flush both at the phrase and the uncomfortable comments your mother directed at him. You winced at that, having forgotten to prepare him for the habitual talent your mother had of sexualizing anything, especially if it would ‘embarrass’ her child.

Your mother had made off handed comments throughout the whole night that you seemed to be the only one to pick up on. Your dad might have noticed a few but, as usual, he only looked at you apologetically, never interrupting his wife to stand up for you.

As much as you loved both of your parents and as much as they had their good moments, this fucking sucked.

“--not that she’s any good with that quirk of hers, of course,” your mother snickered as she brought the glass to her lips. You had become a good actor over the years in order to avoid your mother’s bullying over your ‘sensitiveness’, but something about her dismissing your hard work always immediately dismantled whatever mask you had thrown on. To cover what you know must be a crestfallen look, you give a laugh, something that could be called half-hearted at best. Your eyes remained trained on your food. “Oh come on, Y/n, that was funny.”

You chuckled again, hoping to force some genuineness into it. “Yeah--”

“No, it wasn’t,” Eijirou immediately cuts you off, voice straining with anger. You felt your face drain of blood as you noticed how tightly he was gripping his chopsticks. He was fuming. You don’t think you’d ever seen him angry before. The thought scared you. “That was just mean.”

Your mother quirked an unimpressed, subtly pissed brow at your boyfriend. “Don’t be sensitive, Eijirou. House rules: if it’s mean but funny, it’s okay.”

“As long as you get a laugh from it, it’s okay to abuse your child?” He spits at her like venom.

Your mother sets her glass down, eyes narrowing. “Excuse me?”

“You heard--”

You slap a hand over Eijirou’s bicep, squeezing so hard you wouldn’t be surprised if he ended up bruising. “It’s fine! Nothing I’m used to! I grew up on the ‘if it’s mean but funny’ rule, so it’s fine.”

The look he gave you was of incredulous anger. “No, it is not--!”

“Please, Ei. Please, just--,” you averted your eyes, ashamed of your own familiar defeat. “Just sit.”

Shamefully, you slide back into your seat, nervously smoothing out a napkin back onto your lap. Eijirou still stood beside you, staring daggers at your mother who effortlessly returned it. His fists were balled, the veins in his hands flexing with the effort of restraining himself. His jaw snapped shut with an audible clamp as he resolved himself to sitting back down.

Your dad clears his throat, more so than necessary as if the harder he did it, the better he could dissipate the tension. “Done, everyone?” No one answers him. He takes that as the go ahead to begin clearing dishes, desperately jumping at the opportunity to escape your mother’s impending tantrum. You loved your dad very much but, god, he was nothing if not a coward, always leaving you to fight your own battles. You don’t think you’ve ever won.

Your mother returns her cold attention to you, the ice starting to thicken and your mother’s hollow kindness starting to retreat along with her patience. “What are you even doing to help train your quirk, sweetie?”

Taken aback, you met her gaze. “W-what do you mean?”

“I mean, I don’t ever see you doing anything at all to help. You do realize that training takes work, right? What does it take? It takes--,” your mother trailed off, flourishing both hands to motion for you to finish the sentence.

“Effort--”

“Effort!” She clapped with your word. “It takes effort! And I only want the best for you, sweetheart, which is why I’m just asking what you’re doing. From where I stand, it doesn’t look like you’re doing anything at all to help improve yourself! As your mother, your concerned mother, I’m just looking out for you, sweetheart.”

Your mind is reeling at her words. You so badly want to defend yourself, assert all of the effort that you have painstakingly put in-- but you are reminded of the precise way your mother is able to leech any ounce of power or confidence from you. You would think that was her quirk if you didn’t know any better. “Mom, I am putting effort in, I train almost everyday--”

“Do you really?” Her voice drips with venomous shock. “It certainly doesn’t look like you do,” she gestures vaguely at you, eyeing your body with a vulture’s gaze. “Maybe you should consider morning and night. Oh! And a diet change, too. You know, since the popular heroes have a specific look to them and I just want to make sure that you can fit that. Since it’s your dream to be a popular hero. Like I said, you have to be willing to put in the effort. Oh, sweetie, don’t look at me like that. You know the difficult position I’m in! Trying to encourage you and help you achieve your dreams while not seeming too enthusiastic. You’re putting that stress on me, sweetie, I’m only trying to help.”

It really was incredible how quickly your mother could erase any confidence you had. Normally, you would stand beaming, more than happy to assert yourself and stand up for yourself and others. All it took was a couple words from your mother, and you turned into a dog with its head down and its tail between its legs, fearful of its master.

Your gut sank and hatred swirled throughout your body for both yourself and her as you once again let her have power over you. “You’re right. Sorry, Mom--”

“Do you know where your daughter ranks as a hero?”

Stunned, you both glanced at Eijirou, having almost completely forgotten that he was there. Throughout her tirade, you had felt a tragically familiar loneliness, used to having to defend yourself when no one, not even your other family members, would. Used to always submitting and used to the shame that always accompanied your forced silence.

“What?” She spat.

“I asked if you knew your daughter’s ranking. I just was wondering, is all. It would make sense if you weren’t aware that she ranks in the top 30 since you were asking about the effort she puts in. I would think that that accomplishment -- at such a young age, too, might I add -- was evidence enough of the countless hours, blood, sweat, and tears that she has poured into this. The effort she’s painstakingly put in. You’re right that being a hero is her dream, and she’s a damn good one, too. Saved my life more than once with ‘that quirk of hers’,” he sneered bitterly. “And, on top of that, she’s so beautiful through and through that sometimes it’s all I can do to stare at her in awe. Your thinly veiled shaming of her appearance is never the result of a mother’s so-called difficult situation, only the result of your own insecurities.”

Eijirou suddenly stands, having finally had more than enough for one night. “The only gratitude I will ever have towards you is for bringing this wonderful woman into this world. I hope one day you’ll actually realize how amazing your daughter is and how proud of her you ought to be. Because I am. I am so incredibly proud of her and her accomplishments and the results of her efforts.”

“And who’s to say that I’m not proud of her, Eijirou?”

He scoffs. Eijirou, the kindest, most patient man you know, scoffs in your mother’s face. “Haven’t you ever heard that actions speak louder than words?”

Your mother gapes up at him, opening and closing her mouth like a fish. In that moment, she resembles a fish and you couldn’t be more pleased with that comparison.

“He’s right, mom.” You rise to join him. “I know you love me. I have no choice but to believe it because I think it would destroy me if I didn’t. But maybe someday I won’t constantly have to defend myself to you and you’ll accept the things I say without dismissing them. You always say you admire me most for my assertiveness but you shut me down anytime I use it to stand up for myself against you. And that makes you nothing but a hypocrite.” You stare her down, reveling in the confidence Eijirou gives you in this thing against your mother. For the first time, you are not alone as you fight this battle. For the first time, you have help. And for the first time, you feel like you’ve won. “Now if you’ll excuse us.”

You take Eijirou’s hand and lead him out of the house, leaving your parents to stare after you in shock. As soon as you make it out, cold air hits you like a slap in the face that harshly wakes you from a daze.

“Holy shit, Ei, did I just stand up to my mom?”

He laughs and squeezes your hand. “It was pretty manly, too.” You laugh breathlessly, still in disbelief as you push your other fist against his arm. “And you know,” he continues, “that I’m the best judge of that.”

“That must mean a lot,” you grin, swinging your linked hands between you as you walk further from your parents’ home, feeling the fullness of a good meal and a battle won.

taglist: @samwrights, @mayaoliviee, @luluwiie​, @gigglyparker​ (i thought i would tag you since you commented on the draft that i posted of this, hope you don’t mind <3)

[littlemissagrafina]

A Man And His Bots

A look into the relationship and care between Tony and his bots and A.I's.

Read on AO3

Tony had people issues. Everyone knew it. He knew it.

People were foreign to him, they had been ever since he was young. He just couldn't understand them.

No, that was wrong, he could understand them, it just wasn't always easy to do and more often than not it was exhausting to even try. Sure, there were some people he understood, his mom, Jarvis, and even Howard. Tony could understand him easily. It didn't take a genius to know that the elder Stark disliked, even hated, his son at times.

The tears and occasional bruises left on Tony's skin were a testament to that fact.

Anyone other than his mother and Jarvis were almost a trial to talk to and to be around. It made the social networking at events that he was pushed into by his parents that much more unbearable for Tony. 

The dinners, gala's, and charity events were some of the most draining nights in Tony's young life that he could remember. They always left him longing to be back in his room with his tools and various pieces of metal and machinery.

Maria and Jarvis understood his need to be alone and in the quiet of his own little world, but Howard hated it. Oh, he hated it. But usually if Tony had behaved well enough through what felt like the hundredth event in the space of a month, the man would turn a reluctant blind eye to the nights that his wife and Jarvis would help Tony sneak out to the quiet solitude of his room.

Tony grew to miss those nights where they would help him escape once he was shipped off to boarding school on his father's command. At least finishing senior year by fifteen had left him without many friends, either due to jealousy, bullying, or his own unwillingness to socialise.

Most of them had been after his money and status anyway, a hard fact Tony had had to face when the rare times of loneliness forced him to attempt a friendship with anyone. Eventually he stopped caring to try, and he spent his lonely nights as he always had, with tools, scraps, and blueprints.

It was thanks to those nights the the rudimentary start of his own A.I and been birthed, the work and escape it provided lasting right into his first year at MIT where, much to his surprise, he seemed to have formed what he thought could be a genuine friendship with his roommate.

James Rhodes. Or Rhodey as Tony had taken to calling him. In the beginning the older teen had come across as a stuck up,  goody two shoes. Over time, he had proven to have a fun and mischievous side that matched perfectly to Tony's own as they grew closer.

Although Tony had grown attached to his Honeybear, it didn't take away from the many, many times he needed his own space and a quiet retreat; a fact that Rhodey understood just as Maria and Jarvis had, something that took Tony by endless surprise.

Rhodey showed Tony an unused room near the campus labs, explaining that it was once meant to be an extension of a separate lab but had never been pulled properly into the plans and curriculum. As such, it had been forgotten in a way.

It was the perfect room for Tony to turn into his own getaway, and one that Rhodey had even helped him set up with a couple spare benches and tables they found in the storage rooms, soon filling it with other things such as a random couch they found in perfect condition outside a frat house, some equipment for Tony’s inventing, and other stray items they collected over time.

It was in this room that Dumm-E whirred fully to life, finally sentient and real.

And Tony loved him.

---

Eventually U would join Dumm-E in the "brotherhood of bots" as Tony called them even though there were only two of them.

He wasn't quite sure how it happened (if at all), sometimes even imagined if he was just reading too much into it, but Tony swore that his little bots seemed to express emotions at times.

There were little whirs that they emitted when he would power them up or if they were on when he entered a room. They almost felt like greetings to Tony.

There was also the panicked beeping at the numerous fires Tony would inevitably cause, or when he injured himself in the lab. Of course, followed by their more often than not misshapen attempts and trying to help him with said fire or injury.

Tony didn't think he'd ever be able to leave a fire extinguisher safely in their keep but he still continued to try.

There were other instances that made him question the emotional range of the little A.I's he'd made, but it was their greetings and "helpful" times that always managed to warm his heart.

They weren't people, but they were his and he could understand them.

And he hoped the bots somehow knew how much he cared for them in turn.

---

It was after Jarvis' death that Tony truly became dependent on his creations. Sure, he'd needed them after his parent's death, just like he'd always needed his tinkering, inventing, and whatever other techy think he was doing at that time.

But Jarvis' death… it broke him in a way that Howard and Maria's hadn't been able to. If he felt like it, Tony could probably wonder the reasoning behind it, if it was because of the clear difference in affection, care, and feeling of responsibility that the man held rather than what Howard or Maria had. But he didn't feel like it.

It was listening to a recording of a voicemail that Jarvis had sent him during college that gave Tony the idea. 

Locking himself in his lab, he hunted down every other voicemail or video he could get his hands on, typed code until his fingers cramped, and downed coffee until his legs were buzzing.

Rhodey knocking on his door in an attempt to curb his friend's self-destructive tendencies was flat out ignored, each call and voicemail not heard.

It continued until his single minded grief and need to create and to fix was softened and his work complete.

The most advanced A.I known to man was created, and Tony's loneliness and grief had someplace to go.

Jarvis was reborn.

---

The familiar safety and retreat of the bodyless British voice stayed with Tony for so many years. It was there through his many tabloid rises and falls, his numerous parties, one night stands and two week girlfriends.

It was there for his breakdowns, his breakdowns, and retreating from the world around him.

He was there before Afghanistan and once again after. Through Iron Man being born, through Obie's betrayal, the palladium, avengers, Killian.

All of it and Jarvis was there. Sure Tony had people to lean on, to love. He had Rhodey, Pepper, and Happy, but Dumm-E, U, and Jarvis were different.

The A.I had slowly become an entity to Tony. He wasn't just an animated voice anymore, he was the legacy of the man who was once practically his father.

And it was only so fitting that he experience the grief and loss of the man twice.

When Ultron happened and Jarvis was destroyed, Tony felt as if he went into a blanket of shock, only feeling and grieving once he was fully alone. And dammit did he grieve.

It manifested in anger first, and when that faded, it moved to sadness. A deep aching sadness reminiscent of his first loss. He hated it, loathed it, and wished he had the same outlet he had had for the first death.

But didn't he?

What was stopping him from creating it again? But not another Jarvis. Tony couldn't do this again, but what if he created another A.I? One separate from Jarvis and his meaning?

So he got to work, alone with his bots and once again spinning his grief into lines of code.

This time, a sister for Dumm-E and U was born. A spunky, Irish A.I with a similar proclivity for sarcasm to what her predecessor held.

"Lights on, baby girl. We've got work to do."

---

Just as Tony had grown to need Dumm-E and U, how he had needed Jarvis, he needed Friday too.

He supposed it sounded strange to regular people, the way he was more comfortable around his creations than around most of the human population, but to him it wasn't unlike the way people would gravitate towards animals, or books, or art.

It was easy for Tony. It was a comfort to him in the same way having a cat on your lap or a dog across your feet was, just in a different, mechanical or technical form.

The constant presence of Friday in his lab and his suits and his home was important to Tony. The strange alliance and comradery they had formed once again boosting the feeling of curiosity and care towards the emotions his creations had developed.

It was something he cherished, something he needed.

She wasn't Jarvis, but she had helped him and been with him in his times of need since she had been born, and Tony knew her and the bots would be there, still, in many times to come.

"Drop my needle, Fri. And show me Peter's patrol feed too, would'a?"

"Right away, boss."

[prettyboy-parker]

favorite fics of 2020 (and a goodbye)

hi all!

first, i wanted to say this is inspired by one of my closest friends my bitch @honeybunstarker . thank u for that 

secondly, i wanted to say a final goodbye. i know that i nearly left a few months ago, but i was still on the fence about writing for marvel then. now, ive lost all interest. thank you all for fueling my love for writing, and making these past two (??? i actually don’t know) years full of excitement and encouragement! from the ups (the blocklist, secret santa) to the downs (my favorite blogs and friends deactivating without a word), ive had the greatest time in this fandom. 

in case you were worried, i am NOT deactivating. my fics will be available for you to read whenever you want.

but, i will not be writing for marvel anymore, nor will i be posting on this blog.

now that the sad part is done, i didn't want to leave you guys without anything to entertain yourselves with. so, here are my favorite fics, including some non-marvel, from this year! 

(all descriptions are from the work itself)

my top fic from this year, which is also one of my favorite fics of all time, is a dog named sunshine.

“Bucky Barnes has issues. Mental health issues, and a whole lot of them, to be precise. Bucky is fucked up, and he knows that. His apartment looks like a dumping ground on most days, he can’t sleep through the night, sometimes he doesn’t shower for six days and doesn’t leave the house except to see his therapist once a week. Mostly, Bucky has no idea how the whole “talking about your problems” thing is supposed to help him, but sometimes his therapist has some really great ideas. Like getting a dog. Which is how Bucky meets Steve. Steve has blond hair and shoulders as broad as Bucky’s future if he wouldn’t suffer from depression and multiple mental disorders, and a waist as small as Bucky’s self-esteem. Steve also has a yellowish dog with floppy ears called Sunshine. And sunshine makes its way into Bucky’s life with a bounce in its step.”

a modern stucky fic which portrays depression in the best way i have seen in a fic so far. unfortunately, it has been orphaned before being finished :(

starker:

hey baby, slip between my beta-pleats and get to know my alpha-helix? By @starkerforlife6969​ and @darker-soft-starker​

“Even though Tony can't tell the difference between Manolo Blahnik and Jimmy Choo, Peter really has no other choice.

His heat is around the corner, so even though he loathes the party-going, booze drinking, smug playboy know-it-all that is Tony Stark-

He'll just have to do.”

if you asked me what my favorite starker fic of all time is, i’d tell you it’s this one

raising hybrid puppies by jaypendragon

“A non-powered Tony/Peter coffee shop AU with billionaire Tony and working-class, teenage Peter. Also, Toomes has a bakery and somehow Last Week Tonight is a genuine plot point.”

underage, slowburn, happy ending 

even though it’s one of the most notorious fics for the ship, i never read it until the summer. 

waiting for marriage by tuesday 

“In which Tony gets married and kidnapped in that order.

—

Tony Stark went to Vegas to cause a scandal.”

just super fun!

push you out (pull you back in) by @lovelystarker​

“So basically, Peter's kind of fucked. And not in the way that he wants to be-preferably by his mother's hot new boyfriend who has beautiful brown eyes and a disposition that's more than put-together. It wouldn't be so hard to ignore the crush, really it wouldn't, but Mr. Stark has practically moved in, so Peter can't avoid him if he wants to, and unlike his mom's past boyfriends, this one actually likes to spend time with him. So yeah, Peter's kind of fucked.”

just,,, wow. important to note that it is unfinished.

stucky:

you go to my head by alby_mangroves and brideofquiet

“Why would you do that for a man you don’t know?” Bucky asks.

Steve raises one slow eyebrow at him, then the other, till his expression turns from skepticism to disbelief. His forefinger and thumb reach into his shirt’s front pocket and draw out a wrinkled dollar bill.

Steve looks him in the eye when he says, very patiently, “For money, Bucky.”

40′s stucky is my favorite stucky

that boy is a problem by 2best friends

“In which a twinky little goth punk named Bucky puts a leash around Steve's dick and he's really into it.

(The leash is a metaphor. For now.)”

just porn

all the angels and the saints by speranza 

“In which Steve Rogers loses God and finds God and loses God, and also: Bucky.”

if it makes you cry, it’s probably good!

sugar sweet by colorcoated 

“College Student Bucky finds himself immediately attracted to Steve. He knows that Steve's a bit older than him, and that Steve himself is put off by the age difference. . . But that doesn't stop Bucky from wanting to climb him like a tree.”

the only slowburn i have tolerated 

my bucky by cleo4u2 and xantissa 

“Bucky finds a feral Alpha in the woods. Rather, the Alpha finds him. Bucky is sure it’s the end of his life as an independant Omega. It turns out to be the beginning of the strangest romance Bucky’s ever known.”

stony:

(i want you to see) the darkest side of me by ann2who

“In Monte Carlo, Steve meets the wealthy widower Anthony Stark. It’s love at first sight—at least for Steve—and he can’t believe his luck when Tony asks him to live at Stark Mansion, his large estate in Malibu. Never in his life had Steve thought something like this was possible… never had he been this happy. However, soon Steve realizes that Tony is still deeply troubled by the death of his first wife and haunted by the many ghosts she left behind. The longer Steve lives in her shadow, the more he understands that… He can never be what Tony’s wife had once been for him. And Tony might never truly love him.”

total mindfuck.

ironstrange:

let it be by lucifersfavoritechild

“While dealing with his son's car accident and a rapidly-dissolving marriage, Tony is drawn to Peter's surgeon, Dr. Stephen Strange.”

where severus snape is hot, not a stalker, and somehow gets the girl by utopiste

“Or: Peter Parker is sick and wants to cut his Neuroscience class. Tony just wants to help (and maybe date his son's hot teacher). Stephen Strange just wants to give his lecture in peace.”

miscellaneous:

geraskier: who needs plans anyways by NTK

“All witchers are alphas or betas by nature, since no omega has ever survived the Trial of the Grasses. Gerald has never had any problems with satisfying his needs on the occasional rut, for the whores from Poviss to Nilfgard were eager to be of service to a sturdy hunk like him. On the other hand, a certain omega/ bard/ occasional witcher tagalong has always made certain to acquire enough suppressants from local healers before setting out on a new adventure. That is, until the travels with his favourite White Wolf led the unlike pair into uncharted territory for longer than expected… life ensues”

philtriss: bound by sapphiresmoke

“Leashing involves a pupil being bound to their master in body, mind, and magic,” Philippa explained, folding her hands on the desk in front of her. “It is not something to undertake lightly, but if you accept, I will be able to share my magic with you, and instruct you in ways that would be otherwise be impossible if I were to only rely on verbal communication. It is intimate, it is at times invasive, but if you consent to this, Triss, it will make you vastlymore powerful, and from the look in your eyes, that seems to be exactly what you are looking for.”

vandermatthews: one more night like this would put me six feet under by jukeboxgraduate

“To be alongside the same person week after week, to share honesty and trust with someone day after day, is a rare treasure in a life that hinges on dishonesty. Hosea holds it close to his heart.”

din/cobb: every wave is a tidal if you hang around by wolfhalls 

“Din comes to Mos Pelgo, and finds a lot more than he was looking for.”

and finally, rough day by @no-droids​, because we all need to be a little indulgent sometimes.

[coke-and-candy]

Fashion Editorial Special: Audrey Bourgeois

Inspired by this post link by @purrincess-chat 

Lila put herself out there in the public domain, and just because Marinette’s class and teachers might be stupid enough to fall for her lies, doesn’t mean that there aren’t adults out there who are...

The question was who? Who is critical and vicious enough to do so and has a HUGE audience to say things to, and who works closely with the modeling and fashion worlds and actually knows what they’re talking about...? 

Why! Madame Audrey Bourgeois! The Queen of Fashion herself. So please put on your best Devil Wears Prada reading hats on and enjoy as Audrey takes no prisoners. 

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

“Gabriel Agreste Losing His Mind and Sense of Taste”

By Audrey Bourgeois

Published: 9/15/20XX

It is no secret in the fashion world that since the mysterious disappearance of Emilie Agreste, famous Parisian actress, model, and wife of Gabriel Agreste—the man who had single handedly built the Gabriel brand from the ground up—the once envied designer had shut himself away from the world. Living the life of a recluse and refusing nearly any physical human interaction.

That is not to say that the man had lost his ability to design and to run his business, he just now does it all from the Agreste Manor in Paris, France. According to sources he now mostly conducts business meetings via videoconference calls and oversees the employees of this fashion empire via his ever-present and faithful assistant, Nathalie Sancoeur.  It was not until a little over a year after the disappearance of his beloved wife that Gabriel Agreste, at last, decided to grace the world with his presence. Appearing, for the first time in public, at the Gabriel Spring Fashion Show, where his own teenage son and Paris heartthrob, Adrien Agreste (age 15), was walking the catwalk modeling one of the newest spring suits and featuring a stylish bowler hat, designed by a talented and young up-in-coming designer, Marinette Dupain-Cheng (age 14).

Despite certain incidents that occurred on that day. Part of which was caused by the gross oversight Gabriel Agreste (a first sign to be sure). The show could still be considered a success and did showcase to the rest of the fashion world that Gabriel Agreste’s talent and designing abilities still reigned supreme and are still a force to be reckoned with, regardless of any personal issues he may be facing in private.

It seemed as if Gabriel was making small steps towards the acceptance in his single life.

Turns out this one moment of public interaction may have been the first cry for help.

His latest decisions in regards to just WHO represents his brand have been nothing but questionable and completely and ridiculous, utterly ridiculous.

This past season Gabriel had introduced a new face to its teen fashion line. One Lila Rossi (age 15).

At first it seemed as if this was simply a pity shoot for one of Adrien Agreste’s little schoolmates, as they both attend the same school and are in the same class.

But, alas, this was tragically not the case.

Despite her clear lack of ascetic taste, especially when it came to her own hair. Really, someone should tell that poor child that hanging two sausages on both sides of her face not onlyfails to come across as ‘trendy’ but it sends an ENTIRELY different message.

I’m both surprised and appalled her mother would leave the house with that style.

I certainly would never allow my own child to been seen like that in public.

Unfortunately, that first shoot was only the beginning as Ms. Rossi has appeared alongside fellow model, Adrien, in three more shoots and a commercial that pathetically tries, and monumentally fails, in portraying them as a young couple in love.

I have worked in fashion long enough to be able to spot what works and what does NOT a merely a glance. But one does not even need to be an INTERN to recognize that the dynamics between Adrien Agreste and Lila Rossi is so utterly ridiculous to the point a shutter of nausea courses through one’s body.

While Adrien continues to hold his own in the modeling world, despite the large shadows that both his parents cast, he is able to shine on his own merit and truly does have the looks and talent to model and act (no doubt traits he inherited from his mother). The same cannot be said for Lila Rossi.

Lila Rossi’s whole look (if you can call it that) is simply not genuine. I have worked in this industry long enough to be able to tell the diamonds apart from the rhinestones. Lila Rossi may want for people to believe that she is a diamond, but she is, without a doubt a rhinestone. Cheap, easy to produce, and a one in a billion find. Oh, sure she may have charm and charisma to carry some solo stock picture photo shoots but in order to make it in the Fashion World one requires to have a certain light and spark that stands on its own.

To put it simply, this girl has no discernable personality. Her expressions are stagnant, as if she had to practice being human, her posing leads me to believe she is merely trying to look good for the camera instead of working to display the clothing and products in their best light, and she has close to no versatility in any of the photo-shoots she has done as all of her pictures can be simply described as her in different outfits but using the exact same four expressions over and over again.

When I say the same expressions, I mean—THE EXACT SAME.

The Sophia robot emotes more human emotion than Rossi.

It is Adrien who carries the shoots and is doing the lion shares of the work while Lila Rossi does her best to APPEAR like a model. To put it simply—she is NOT.

Her hair is just one issue, but it her overall presence that just scream ‘Fake’.

A picture is worth a thousand words, and unfortunately, there are many pictures to choose from.

In the very first photo-shoot that was done with Adrien as her co-model you can easily see the disparity between the two. While Ms. Rossi seems more than happy to be in a loving embrace by one of Paris’ most eligible young bachelors, the same cannot be said for the young Agreste heir. There is an obvious tension in his body language that does not show in any of his other photo-shoots, including ones where he and another model were portraying romantic feelings for those ads. The untrained eye can see the slight curve of his spine, as if he wishes to get away but can’t, the small tension in his smile that screams, “I don’t want to be here but I have a job to do”.

My final verdict to the latest photo-shoot from the Gabriel name, that once more featured Adrien Agreste and Liar Rossi, was that is was ridiculous, completely and utterly ridiculous!

Inside sources on location where the two teens have modeled have also confirmed that there does not seem to be any natural chemistry between them and that Adrien had picked up a habit of making himself scarce until he is needed. Other sources verify that Lila Rossi seems to cling to him as much as possible. Perhaps, in the hopes that someone will confirm her own pathetic delusions of the possibly budding relationship between the two of them?

And my does this girl have a number of delusions.

Not counting the one where she THINKS she can model.

According to several interviews that this girl has given to the sub-par tabloid blog, TheLadyblog, she claims to be the best friend of the Parisian super-heroine, Ladybug. Claims to have connections to multiple high-profile celebrities such as Jagged Stone and Clara Nightingale. Going as far as to claim that Jagged Stone even wrote a song about her. Lets ignore the legal implications of a man in his early thirties writing a song about a child for a second and continue examining more of said child’s claims.

According to another interview she gave on the same trashy blog, she claimed to be involved in multiple charitable organizations and causes, citing different projects that she has ‘supposedly’ helped with and oh so humbly placed most of the successes of those projects on her shoulders.

An official statement from Gabriel has stated that the girl has multiple health issues as well and is an inspiration on her abilities to overcome those obstacles in order to model and her other so-called various charitable actions. Very, well we won’t pry into a minor’s personal health.

Her public life, however, now that she is in the public domain is fair game.

It did not take even twenty minutes of searching to find absolutely NO validity to any of her claims.

Her claims of being a close personal friend of Ladybug: FALSE

-      The timeline does not match her arrival to Paris with her family. Nor does allow for ample time to establish any sort of close friendship.

-      Ladybug herself has the sense to never reveal anything about her personal life, but a little nobody is more than happy to broadcast their ‘supposed’ friendship on a blog that could once claim to be the best source for information on Paris’ two heroes? I think not.

-      Eyewitnesses from when the girl was Akumatized into Chameleon and subsequently defeated on the Eiffel Tower stated that Lila Rossi seemed to hold animosity towards the red clad heroine.

-      Ladybug has made no statements in knowing Lila Rossi and there has been no photo documentation of the two seen together, even though Ladybug can be seen almost daily swinging around and running along Paris’ rooftops with Chat Noir.

Her claims about Jagged Stone writing a song about her because she saved his kitten on airport runway: FALSE

-      Jagged Stone has never owned a kitten according to his personal assistant, Penny Rolling, and his exclusive interview with La Mode three years ago that revealed that the only pet he ever had other than his current pet crocodile, Fang, was a dog as a child in the States.

-      A quick Internet search also reveals that Jagged Stone and Lila Rossi have never even been in the same country together until four months ago. The rock star was still on tour in America while Ms. Rossi was in Paris, France.  The date of the Ladybloginterview is time stamped long before then.

Her claims to helping inspire and help co-write Clara Nightingale’s last album: FALSE

-      Countless interviews with the pop singer, and official statements upon the release of her album, Heart of Gold, will reveal that the inspiration for said album was her grandmother in her native home country of Brazil.

-      This was also the first album that Clara had written completely on her own in order to establish her own unique flair.  

-      I personally reached out to Clara herself and confirmed that she has never, met or even HEARD of a Lila Rossi. Strange? One would think that such collaboration would ensure that one of the parties involved would at least remember the other’s name?

Her claims to travel with Prince Ali of the Kingdom of Achu for environmental charitable work: FALSE

-      Again, a quick Internet search of the Prince’s official website and bio lists all of the organizations he is involved with. All of which focus primarily on children such as the International Coalition for Equal Opportunities, the World Health Organizations vaccinations drive, and the Refugee Children’s Fund to name a few.

-      A quick call to the royal family’s publicity affairs office confirmed that Prince Ali had never been in contact with Lila Rossi and are now looking into the matter for themselves. After all, an unknown person cozying themselves up to the second in line to the throne is matter of GREAT interest to the Royal Head of Security.

Her other claims of travel to international destinations in the middle of the school year: FALSE

-      According to the Italian Embassy’s official website Mademoiselle Maria Rossi had been stationed in Paris since her arrival almost a year ago and has not left the country, other than for a few short trips back to Italy to visit family members.

Her claims in having trained in gymnastics, ballet, and figure skating and even going so far as medal in gold in all three at major competitions in Italy: FALSE

-      Again, a quick Internet search reveals all winners of the top twenty major competitions in Italy for the past fifteen years. Names, age, date, and location of the competitions are easily and readily available to the public. NOTHING about Lila Rossi winning gold in any sort of athletic competition.

Her claims of being invited to have tea with her Royal Majesty, the Queen of England: FALSE

-      Any and all of the Queen o England’s engagements are public records as well as very well documented. Surprise, surprise there is NOTHING about a Lila Rossi mentioned in any credible new source, or even a single tabloid blurb. The only thing to sustain such a claim is the word a child who actually believes that her jacket looks good in light of day.

Honestly, I could go on and on and even be able to write a whole book. This girl has told so many tall tales she makes elected officials seem honest.

So let this be clear to the world of Fashion.

Lila Rossi is nothing more than a liar.

A liar who had only as gotten as far as she did because she was lucky enough to find someone with a decent online following that was both gullible and stupid enough to post those interviews online without ever once providing additional sources to verify them or double checking those claims. It was not that difficult disclaim every single one of those interviews.

I timed myself and it did not even take me my lunch break to do so.

The very fact that this girl is supposed to be the lead female teen face of Gabriel makes me question Gabriel Agreste’s sanity. Does he honestly think that having Rossi represent his brand is the smartest thing to do?

There clearly must be something in the water in Paris if Gabriel Agreste had not even bother to run a simple background check on the girl in order to ensure that there were no skeletons in the closet that would haunt his brand. Turns out she did not have any, but she sure did purposely create them.

I have to congratulate Monsieur Agreste on this achievement though.

Never have I seen the credibility of a designer go from as set in stone, to as questionable as a ‘designer gown’ bought in a Sale-Mart so quickly. What other decisions is he making behind the scenes that will further clue us in to his mental decline. Will the next Gabriel Show feature plaid parachute pants with matching toucan bird print dress shirts?

Yes, it seems as though grief has finally come to claim another once brilliant designer if he is unable to see past the paper-thin façade that Lila Rossi believes will be able to get her through this world. All the signs are there in same hideous orange Rossi insists on wearing.

Clue number one should have been her clear lack of any substance, versatility, and talent after the first photo-shoot she appeared in. The transparent aversion his own son has shown towards a fellow classmate should have been clue number two. And finally, clue number three should have been that this girls climb to fame was all due to a tabloid blog, TheLadyblog, run by the amateur journalist of all amateurs journalists that could not even be bothered to check their sources.

Or Google for that matter…

Gabriel has been known to take certain risks in the past, but the decision to hire Lila Rossi is nothing more than a mistake.

For the sake of all of our ocular senses, both Gabriel Agreste and Lila Rossi are clearly in need of psychiatric help.

The sooner, the better.

-----

Yay, nay? What did you guys think of this little Fashion Editorial by the Queen of Fashion of the Miraculous universe. Any thoughts. This was just so much fun to write I am so doing a follow-up to this. 

[mordoriscalling]

Life (of) Surprise (3/5)

Jaskier lies to his family about being engaged to Geralt for the second time… and there are way too many surprises involved.

Part 4 of the Singer and the Sailor AU that no one asked for but I wrote anyway (again). Warnings: Jaskier and Geralt have a serious argument in this one.

(Part 1) (Part 2) 

III - A Surprise Realisation 

Geralt never thought he’d get married again, much less to a man. Leave alone a man like Jaskier, who is loud, bright, and charismatic; unlike Geralt in so many aspects that by all means, their relationship shouldn’t work as well as it does.  

He’s a divorcee. His previous relationships didn’t last. Rationally, he knows he should’ve been more cautious, yet when Jaskier got down on one knee that April morning, Geralt found himself unable to say no. He was so tired that day, but that wasn’t the reason he said yes. He agreed to marry Jaskier because back then – as he looked into Jaskier’s eyes, blue like the cloudless sky above them – he realised that it seemed right.

Jaskier’s always accepted Geralt the way he is, with all his problems and mistakes. Jaskier is both safety and adventure. He’s trustworthy and unpredictable; a fascinating contradiction that Geralt could see himself exploring for the rest of his life.

Or so he thought.

“Eight months,” Geralt grits out, his emotions balancing at the edge of fury.

Jaskier says nothing, his eyes cast downwards, standing in the middle of the room with the air of a puppy about to be kicked.

“We’ve been engaged for eight fucking months,” Geralt growls, “and you’re only telling me this now?”

“I wanted to come clean,” Jaskier answers weakly. His voice doesn’t waver.

The steadiness of his voice shouldn’t be surprising, though. Jaskier’s a singer. A performer. A very good one. Geralt didn’t have an issue with that before. The only problem with Jaskier that Geralt’s ever truly had it that Jaskier can be extremely inconsiderate at times.

Now, the former and the latter seem to have merged into something that Geralt isn’t sure he can forgive.

“You didn’t think about doing that earlier?” he asks.

It’s New Year’s Eve. They’re in Jaskier’s childhood bedroom, where they’re to sleep for the night. Downstairs, a party is about to begin, with both Jaskier’s and Geralt’s family and closest friends in attendance. Jaskier’s parents, Wanda and Alfred. Rozalia and Silvio, Amelia with Nasir and their daughter. Triss, Essi and Eskel. Aiden and Lambert. Vesemir, Yennefer, Ciri, Dara.

Geralt suspects that everyone is waiting in the dining room already. Yet, this is the moment that Jaskier chose to tell him about the circumstances of their engagement.

“I didn’t have the courage,” Jaskier replies, “I was afraid you’d take it the wrong way.”

“Have the fuck am I supposed to take it any other way?!” Geralt barks, making Jaskier flinch. “You told your family that we’d marry before you asked me to marry you.”

It’s dark outside the tall windows. The only source of light in the room is the chandelier above Jaskier’s head, hanging down from the high ceiling. The lamps cast Jaskier in a warm glow, and to Geralt, it seems as if he saw his fiancé for the first time. There’s a stubborn set to Jaskier’s jaw as he still refuses to look at nowhere but the wooden floor.

“You did that for what?” Geralt demands, “So that you look good in front of your family? Is... us some kind of fucking performance for you? Have you been pretending from the –”

“No,” Jaskier cuts in. His gaze is finally on Geralt, and he appears genuinely aghast at the notion. “The only pretending I’ve ever done is lying to myself that our engagement was for real the whole time! I told everyone that we’d marry because I wished it so badly to be true! I wanted it to happen, so I said something that would force me to make it happen.”

The confession would be heart-warming if not for the last sentence, which makes Geralt’s blood run cold. He walks up to Jaskier slowly, staring him down, trying to see through the (distracting, deceptive) blue of his eyes.

“You would’ve made it happen?” he murmurs, his emotions treading the dangerous line again, “If I’d said no, would you have persisted? Manipulated me, as you did with the spring wedding?”

A broken noise escapes Jaskier’s lips. “That wasn’t my intention! I’m so sorry that I made you feel this way. Please forgive me, I never meant it like that–”

“I’m starting to doubt every word you say,” Geralt interrupts, because now their nearly three years together feel fake.

Jaskier takes a step back, hurt written all over his features. Tears well up in his eyes as he exclaims, “I’m not lying! I’m not lying when I say that you’re the only one that I want to marry.”

Geralt doesn’t want to hear it. He moves to walk away but Jaskier grabs him by the arm. “Dammit Jaskier,” he growls, “don’t–”

“Listen to me,” Jaskier says, insistent.

 Geralt tries not to, looks away to distance himself, but Jaskier’s voice is that of a siren – arresting and irresistible, powerful even when hushed.

“I never thought that I’d settle down. I fell in love too easily. One day a woman from the bar would have my heart, and then next it would be a guy at the bus stop. Commitment wasn’t my thing.”

Geralt scowls, about to ask how that information is supposed to help in the current situation, but Jaskier speaks first.

“But then, then I met someone who’s so deeply fascinating that I can’t stop thinking about him. He’s been through so much and yet he’s nothing but kind and considerate. He has so much presence but he rarely uses it to his advantage. He feels so much and yet he shows nothing. He...” Jaskier chuckles, the sound somehow both warm and sad. “He’s honest with me and calls me out on my mistakes, challenging me to be better. Thanks to him, I don’t stop learning. With him, it seems like... like we’re writing a gripping book. A... a story I want to go on and on.”

A story without an ending may not be a happy one, Geralt muses. He says nothing, though, still looking away, and Jaskier speaks up again.

“From the moment I met you, I’ve wanted you to stay, but perhaps–” he cuts himself off, releasing out a shaky sigh. He lets go of Geralt’s arm at least and then utters, “Perhaps I love you too much. Maybe it’s not healthy, after all.”

Pain seeps through every syllable as Jaskier says this. Geralt has to swallow hard because that, that seems so wrong. How can it not be healthy when the only time they truly breathe – truly relax and let go – is as they are around each other?

Geralt stands frozen, listening to Jaskier’s sniffs, and tries to process all that he’s heard. He has to fight his fervent want to believe Jaskier’s loving words. He wishes it to be true, yet the recent revelation’s stained all they’ve been through with the ugly thought that Geralt’s feelings – his love – have just been a fucking box to tick.

The sheer hurt of it settles somewhere deep within him, clawing a hole in his chest, wrenching, pulling all the air out of his lungs. He can’t stand being next to Jaskier anymore and escapes to the bathroom, which is adjacent to the bedroom.

The water is cool as Geralt splashes it all over his face. He tries to take his emotions under control, especially that anger raises within him once more. He’s a moment away from doing some real damage to the furniture.

He doesn’t know how long it takes him to calm down. He assumes that enough time passes for Jaskier to decide to go downstairs without him, which is the only wish he has right now. Yet, as he emerges from the bathroom, it (unsurprisingly) turns out that he can't have what he wants – Jaskier sits there, at the edge of the large bed, his face hidden in his hands. As he hears Geralt approach, he raises his head revealing his dishevelled hair and red-rimmed eyes.

He’s a picture of misery and Geralt heart lurches in sympathy, in a ridiculous need to comfort his fiancé, despite his anger.

They stay like that, staring at each other for a few unbearable moments of heavy, choking silence, until Geralt finally breaks it.

“Dinner must’ve started by now,” he says, “We should go.”

 A rasped “okay” is all the answer Jaskier gives.

They don’t pretend that everything is all right. Everybody quickly notices the tension between them and the dinner is a painful affair at the beginning. It’s a miracle that everyone’s managed to gather here today, though. The two families seem determined to make the best of it and the initial awkwardness soon passes. Conversations start flowing and after some time, everyone is getting along well enough for the party not to be torturous.

When dinner is finished, Jaskier’s parents invite them to the living room. There, a piano awaits, and Jaskier launches into a short performance that leaves everyone spell-bound, including Geralt, even though it hurts.

It hurts to watch Jaskier’s fingers dance over the keys, knowing the way in which those beautiful hands touch his body. It hurts to see the tempting curve of Jaskier’s neck, knowing how Jaskier always gasps when he kisses it. It hurts to watch Jaskier shine because he believed that he had a part of Jaskier’s light to himself.

And yet. Now, there’s the ugly thought at the back of his head that it wasn’t true. Jaskier did claim it was.

And yet.

The moment the performance ends, Geralt decides to survive by sticking with Silvio. Rozalia’s husband is talkative but what he loves chattering about the most is the cats and dogs he’s fostering with his wife. He shows Geralt pictures and videos, which improves Geralt’s mood slightly.

After Triss and Nasir steal Silvio away, Geralt is left alone, sitting in the corner of the room with his glass of wine. On instinct, his eyes search for his daughter. He finds her talking to Jaskier’s sister and frowns.

He loves Ciri more than life itself but he’s aware that she’s can be a right brat. He’s also familiar with Amelia and Rozalia enough to know that they’re very likely to be charmed by Cirilla’s vicious streak. Jaskier seems to know it too, and he appears genuinely terrified as he watches his sisters chat with Ciri, the three smiling mysteriously.

Then, Yennefer joins them, and Geralt is... apprehensive.

The party goes on. Some people, like his brothers, leave Geralt in peace. Others, such as Jaskier’s parents, insist on speaking to him. He picks his way through the, admittedly polite and pleasant, conversations, until no one wants to talk to him.

All the while, his gaze strays to Jaskier. Geralt watches him joke with Essi and Vesemir, laugh at something Lambert and Eskel are saying, take his niece into his arms and coo at her with Aiden by his side.

As Geralt observes Jaskier hold little Zofia and smile at her lovingly while Aiden makes funny faces at her, he suddenly comes to understand how tightly Jaskier has managed to weave himself in between all the threads that make Geralt’s life. All his family know Jaskier and accept him. Most of them are fond of him, or downright adore him. Geralt’s thoughts and memories of the sea are mingled with Jaskier’s songs. He doesn’t miss being at sea as much as he feared in large part due to Jaskier engaging him in his own life. Jaskier knows him, like a true friend does.

Removing him from the tapestry would leave a jagged hole, and Geralt realises that it’s not something he’d ever want. After all, he doesn’t have a particular place where he belongs. His home is where his loved ones are.

And he loves Jaskier so.

It’s ten minutes to midnight when Jaskier approaches him for the first time since the argument. Geralt still sits on the couch without any company as Jaskier stands before him, clearly putting up a happy face.

“I love the way you just... sit in the corner and brood,” he remarks, his cheerfulness falling flat,

Geralt rolls his eyes, irritated. “I’m here to drink alone,” he grunts.  

Jaskier, of course, refuses to take the hint and sits down beside him. Before Geralt can protest it, though, loud giggles catch his attention. He looks at the source of the sound and sees Ciri and Dara laughing at something on their phones (a meme, Geralt assumes). Joy at seeing his daughter’s happiness fill him but then Jaskier’s voice snaps him back to reality.

“If you say that you don’t believe me,” he says, “what must Dara think?”

Geralt looks at him sharply and immediately understands the sadness in his eyes. He’s aware of how much Jaskier wants Dara to know that all he’s done to help the boy – putting his career on hold to care for him, providing for him, going to therapy with him – are driven by genuine willingness to help, not pity or charity.

“Maybe I’m not good at...” Jaskier goes on, a wry smile twisting his lips, “Well. This whole... guardian thing.”

“You are,” Geralt replies.

It is true. Dara agreed to say with Jaskier eight months ago. The boy is still grieving and struggling but Jaskier has been supporting him through it with surprisingly few missteps.

“Thank you,” Jaskier answers, uncharismatically timid.“I... Geralt,” he begins, his tone sombre.

Geralt tenses and waits. His free hand, the one not holding the wine glass, clenches into a fist.  

“I’m sorry for withholding the truth from you for so long, I was...” Jaskier swallows. “Stupid. It was wrong of me, and I... I promise it won’t happen again.”

He looks away and considers, even though there isn’t much to wonder about. There’s no coming back from how important Jaskier is to him, for better or for worse. His hurt is far from mended but Geralt nods. Jaskier heaves a sigh and lays his hand atop Geralt clenched fist.

“Will you stay?” Jaskier murmurs.

A memory strikes him – of how Jaskier asked him the same thing almost three years ago as they stood outside this very house.

In the background, the countdown begins. Geralt unclenches his fist and takes Jaskier’s hand in his, giving it a squeeze. Jaskier squeezes back and the New Year starts.

***

A/N: the chapter count went up to 5 because I wanted to split ch3 into two smaller parts. Also, you can also read this fic on AO3. 

[earbuds-and-hightops]

An Open Letter to Supernatural

[ Spoiler warning for 15x20, obviously ]

I understand that a well-contemplated complaint about this ending cannot be made without first reading the original, pre-COVID, script of 15x20, but in the long run, the initial plan is not what will be remembered. 

What will be remembered is what this show created. What it became beyond two brothers driving around the country, hunting monsters. Characters were introduced and developed, and in that, Sam and Dean Winchester become so much more than two kids living on the road. In the past 15 years, the cast, and thus the family, grew to something that would be unimaginable to those who started this project back in 2005. Not only did the characters and their stories become meaningful, but the show itself grew into, well, a family. The fans who have kept this show alive since Day 1 have come together to form what I believe is the greatest community in pop culture. 

What hurts the most is that this finale did not do any of that development justice. 

The finale (and consequently the episodes leading up to it) reverts back to the story between only Sam and Dean. While some see this as an ode to who they are--their brotherhood and familial bond being the heart of their values and the root of their characters--I cannot help but see this as a rejection of their experiences this past decade and a half. 

What’s worse, episode 15x18 confirmed one of the most pure and powerful and goddamn beautiful romances that television will ever see. This story of an angel who abandoned his family and the only beings he’s known for thousands of years, all for one person. I knew from the instant the screen faded to black on November 5 that the story of Castiel will always be remembered, even if his feelings were unrequited. Castiel will always be remembered. 

And then there’s Destiel. I was genuinely impressed that this show would even grow to include a queer angel, more importantly, a queer character in a leading role. The queer-baiting and the “bury your gays” trope both make this confession and its lack of acknowledgement that much worse (and is worthy of an entirely separate open letter for another night). It matters less if Dean does or doesn’t reciprocate these feelings and more that it’s wrong that he completely ignores it. Cas’s love confession, this beautifully tragic and tragically beautiful emotion coming from a being who wasn’t supposed to feel emotions at all, is something that, unfortunately, will become a secret that dies with Dean Winchester. 

It’s truly a shame that the writers of this show let that happen. 

We haven’t even touched the fact that Castiel’s death was an act of sacrifice to save Dean. Dean’s limited reaction and lack of mourning* tears apart this phrase that has become pivotal to the entire show and fanbase: “Family don’t end in blood.” While it would be a lot to ask that Dean rescue Cas from the Empty and resume their cycle of rescue and resurrection, I think it’s only fair that Dean take the time to fully accept Castiel’s actions and words for what they mean instead of simply moving forward as if they never happened.

What’s more, Misha Collins is one of the greatest and kindest people in this world, and he’s poured his heart and soul into Supernatural, just like everybody else. He’s spent 12 years on this project, and the final two episodes hardly mentioned his character. He didn’t deserve this. It’s heartbreaking that his last credit on this show will be a prank call from someone trying to impersonate him, and not something that pays tribute to such an important character and important actor**

The most devastating part of this ending is what happened in 15x19. Pardon my French when I say that that episode, the ultimate climax of the season and latter half of the series, was a piece of dog shit. It’s incredibly frustrating to invest in 15 years worth of television and look forward to this ultimate battle between two average boys and God the Almighty Himself and to instead watch a 6-minute long fist fight on the beach with the only dialogue being variations of “seriously guys, stay down.” 

My issues with 15x19 lie less in the storyline that was chosen and more in how they were presented. I am completely on board with Jack taking God’s power and eventually becoming the new God, but the episode was far too quick to have any real meaning, and, as stated before, Castiel’s sacrifice, which allows Sam, Dean, and Jack to do what they do in 15x19, is hardly mentioned.

Most fans agree that 15x19 was far too quickly paced. The plot with Michael and Lucifer was questionable to begin with, but should have been an episode on its own if it were to be perused at all. Michael’s story in particular could have been fleshed out to reiterate this theme of overly loyal sons and their fathers, as well as their relationships with less loyal siblings, but was instead reduced to about 20 minutes of screen time. 

Though this is less important, Lucifer’s plan to make a new Death felt like a cheap cop-out just to close the storyline with Death’s book, but we can finish that discussion another day. 

The general fan reaction to this atrocity of an episode was that this was meta, and according to Becky, the ending was supposed to be dog shit. This, along with the untouched storyline started when Cas died, gave fans so much hope that the finale would be this amazing piece of art that puts Supernatural in the history books. 

While it’s obvious that an hour cannot perfectly tie up every single event and arc with a pretty little bow, it can at least...try. Any finale should, at minimum, pay tribute to what the show started as (which 15x20 did well) and what it became (which 15x20 failed to do miserably). 

In addition, a reference to character back in season 1 is incredibly frustrating when recurring characters with actual, well, character go unnoticed. I mostly reference Eileen here, but this also applies to Jody and Donna. Nobody even mentions the other wonderful friends who have helped Sam and Dean along their journey to Heaven. If family doesn’t end in blood, then why doesn’t it extend to include Castiel, Jack, Mary, Rowena, Charlie, Kevin, Jody and her girls, Donna, and so many others?

Dean’s death was sad, I’ll give them that (and honestly, I was expecting it). However, considering that this man has defeated apocalypses, killed Death, and taken down God, his death via nail in the wall was incredibly anticlimactic, and something that could literally have happened at any point over the 15 seasons. While Dean’s death was obviously not my ideal ending, I think it could have worked if it were done properly, and in this case, it was not. That said, I do appreciate that Sam did not try to bring Dean back, as that would indicate literally no growth at all.

Dean’s funeral was...pathetic, to say the least. Sam being the only person there was depressing considering that Dean had lots of other close friends (and you’d think that Jack would pay his respects, but apparently not), however, this is likely a scene that was impacted by COVID and the availability of some of the cast, so I will not dwell on that scene.

Dean’s time in Heaven complicates matters even more. Firstly, Bobby confirms that Castiel is no longer in the Empty and has been in contact with Jack. I would have loved to see this reunion; Cas is essentially Jack’s father, and I would have loved to see how their upgrading/remodeling of Heaven brought them closer together. I understand that the writers were trying to focus this finale story on the brothers, this goes back to my earlier point that you cannot simply ignore everything that that this show has grown to include. Bobby’s explanation also begs the question of why Dean had no intention of seeing Cas (or Jack, for that matter) again now that he has the opportunity.

Secondly, Dean’s instinct to go directly for the Impala was very in-character, however, the editing implied that driving was all Dean did until Sam died. As we know, Sam dies of old age, likely (completely guessing here) upwards of 40-50 years from Dean’s death, and that is a very, very long time for Dean to simply driving around the mountains. It would have been nice to see Dean reunite with other family and friends who are also in Heaven, however, again, COVID restraints.

Sam’s ending was similar to what I and a lot of other fans imagined (not necessarily wanted, but predicted) it to be: kids and a wife, living a normal, monster-free, life. I hate to believe that he doesn’t end up with Eileen (to my recollection, his wife was a blur in the background, and it is unclear if she was meant to be Eileen) however that might just be my bias and appreciation of Shoshannah Stern. While I’m glad that this storyline gave Sam the room to grow and develop without his brother, it also completely ignores everything that he’s been through this past decade and a half, and that is something that should not happen. Sam grew and changed so much since he left Stanford and leaving that life, the life of a hunter, behind feels very counterintuitive.

Let’s not even discuss the wig that Jared wore. It reminded me of the Cain wig that Rob wore in the Hillywood parody.

What shocked me the most at the beginning of this episode was the lack of a “The Road So Far” compilation. I hoped for the full song with a recap of all 15 seasons, or, at minimum, the typical single-season recap. “Carry On My Wayward Son” is such an important part of the show and the culture of the fan base, that it seems almost sacrilegious that the season finale not begin with this song and a memorial to the events in the past season (or series).*** I’m very happy that it was included at all, but I was shocked when Neoni’s cover took over.

No disrespect to Neoni; those girls are incredibly talented and I love their music, however, a series finale of a 15 season long show does not feel like the place for a cover when they already have the rights to the original, and the original is so iconic.

Lastly, I want to acknowledge Jensen Ackles’s reaction to this conclusion. At a con panel about a year ago, he said that he needed to be talked into agreeing to this script by Erik Kripke himself, because the ending just wasn’t sitting right with him. So many fans took this to believe that he was homophobic and afraid that of Destiel becoming fully canon, and he got so much more hate than he deserved, because ultimately, he was right in his first opinion. This isn’t the way this story should have ended. Jensen explained that he had been “too close” to the story, and that it took a more holistic view from a step backwards (the audience’s perspective, as he puts it) to agree on this ending, but honestly, nobody knows Dean Winchester better than Jensen, and he knows what’s best and what would be the best way to finish this character’s arc. I think fans and Jensen alike agree that this wasn’t it.

I sympathize with all of the cast and crew members who disagree with how this show ended but are bounded by contract to support this show no matter what. Especially Misha and Jensen.

Over all, I believe that Supernatural will go down in history (in internet communities, at least) as one of the greatest shows ever. While I do agree that the writing quality in terms of both dialogue and plot declined as years passed, the community, the family, that this show created cannot be ignored because of a poorly written/planned ending. I think that the fandom will collectively let go of this disaster of an ending that we were given and will, just like Sam and Dean, write our own stories. I have full faith and confidence that Supernatural will not be represented by this finale episode, but by the beautiful stories, amazing characters, and the family that this show created and what the fans have chosen to do with it.

Sincerely,

A Fiercely Frustrated but Fiercely Loyal Fan

* I do not count that last clip of Dean crying on the floor as mourning. In my mind, that was a reaction, not an emotional healing and overcoming, if that makes sense. I argue that if Dean were to fully mourn and process everything (like Sam did in 15x20) we would have seen at least a bit of that on screen. 

** This is where I would have loved to see some of the original scripts. I hope that the writers initial intentions were to have Misha more involved in these last two episodes than what was likely a voice memo created in 10 minutes tops at Misha’s house.

*** The strange montage at the end of 15x19 makes so much more sense. I still would have preferred that montage at the beginning of 15x20. This also shines light on the video that Misha posted. What would we do without him :)

[cordonian-literature]

The Aftermath - Ch. 24

A Picnic and Family Time

Summary: Guests feel unsettled during the picnic. Afterwards, Liam spends time with Riley and the kids

Word Count: ~4.0k

Warnings: mention of character death

*All characters belong to Pixelberry, except those that are unique to my story (I’ve also used some characters and fictional instances from Donna Tartt’s book “The Goldfinch”)*

Catch up here!

Tags: @captain-kingliamsqueen @marshmallowsaremyfavorite @gkittylove99 @lovablegranny @iam-the-kind-and-thoughtful @mom2000aggie @kingliam2019 @queenrileyrose @shanzay44 @cordonianroyalty @hopefulmoonobject @hopelessromanticmonie @cinnamonspongecake @queenjilian @kuladekiwi @twinkle-320 @iaminlovewithtrr @charlotteg234 @amandablink @texaskitten30 @tinkie1973 @louiseingram1208 @queencatherynerhys @pens-girl-87 @missevabean @ladyangel70 @sanchita012 @cordonianprincess @liamandneca @cordonia-gothqueen @pink-diamond13​

I’m not sure if the tags are working or not, but I hope I got everyone down! If you would like to be added/removed, please let me know, I wouldn’t want to annoy anyone with notifications :)

✦✧✦✧✦✧✦✧✦✧✦✧

- Madeleine - 

The Derby went as it had every year. There was nothing new, exciting, or eventful — there was a consistent lack of things that would interest Madeleine or convince her into believing she would enjoy this Social Season or that it would benefit her in any capacity. She didn’t see the King or his son, but she knew that they were together and were in attendance, for the paparazzi lingered around every corner and stared at everyone who walked past. 

Madeleine arrived at the Derby with the son of one of her mother’s old friends: Edward Taylor, but he was disastrously unentertaining — though she had to admit that he was a respectable companion, and the status and reputation of his house would do tremendous good to Madeleine’s own house.

And though his hand was always at her elbow and they were continuously at each other’s side, Edward never engaged himself in a conversation with Madeleine. 

The car ride to the picnic was silent, and Madeleine couldn’t even hear Edward breath. She didn’t really care, and kept her eyes on the scenery outside. 

They walk onto the picnic area, where people of the court had gathered. The fresh air and the dense greenery around them was refreshing to Madeleine.

They had come a little late, as Edward had been engaged in a conversation with another nobleman at the end of the Derby. Madeleine didn’t know how to pull him away without seeming disrespectful, so she waited while the men finished talking. They had missed King Liam’s opening remarks, and Madeleine felt upset at the missed opportunity to show her support for him.

The decor was as luxurious as was expected of royal events, but the colors of the Cordonian flag were more prominent, and there were more symbols of the Cordonian crest compared to usual. 

She knew that this was in honor of the late Queen Mother, but she doubted that King Liam had wanted to have this done for her.

In the middle of her moment of observation, someone familiar catches her eye. 

Katie. The woman who stole Leo away from Cordonia, and away from Madeleine.

She begins to walk in their direction, causing Edward to call out to her in a monotone and exhausted voice — which Madeleine ignores. Two children come into view, and her heart shakes, reconsidering what she was doing. Then, Lady Kiara comes into view, and Madeleine decides to turn away. 

Almost instinctively, she wants to look for Regina, who used to be one of the only people who could entertain Madeleine during such events — but then she remembers, and feels a keen emptiness without the Queen Mother.

The only other person closest to her is a woman with three poodles around her ankles, and even though Madeleine tries to avoid her and walk back to Edward, Lady Penelope still notices and greets Countess Madeleine. 

“Madeleine!” she cries, leaning forward to lightly embrace her and pat her on the shoulder. Madeleine feels the dog leashes itching at her skin, and she pulls away, wondering what gave Penelope the confidence to do such a thing. 

In the rest of Penelope’s group is Lord Ezekiel, Countess Hana, and Lady Riley. 

“Pleasure to see you, Countess,” Ezekiel greets. 

Madeleine nods at him before turning to Hana. In a light voice she says, “I’m glad to see that you’ve decided to join us for the Social Season, Hana.” Madeleine turns away for a moment, looking around at the rest of the guests, trying to find Neville. “The Earl is not in attendance?”

Hana’s face reddens a little, and Madeleine feels genuinely sorry for upsetting her. “He will join us tomorrow in Lythikos,” Hana informs her.

Madeleine gives a genuine smile, hoping that would ease Hana. She slowly turns to look at Lady Riley, who smiles politely at the group. 

She examines Riley for a moment, who, to Madeleine’s surprise, is well put together, and looks like a worthy member of the court — more so than how she looked during her first Social Season ten years ago. 

Lady Riley nods respectfully. “Countess Madeleine.” 

Madeleine thinks before replying. “Are you enjoying the festivities so far?” 

“Yes. It’s nice to see everyone again.” 

“I’m sure it is,” Madeleine responds, slightly annoyed. “Your departure left quite a hole in Cordonia.” She wanted to say, You left a hole in Liam, and because of that Cordonia’s leadership is questioned everyday, but Madeleine smiles and walks away before Riley can say anything else.

She mingles with other guests, purposefully avoiding the King and Queen of Auvernal and their children. Madeleine notices her mother in a group with other ladies of the court, and she walks over. 

“And I heard that they might have to check our luggage,” says a Countess.

“Mon Dieu!” the Duchess of Castelsarreillan cries. “You cannot be serious?”

“It’s only a rumor, but what else can His Majesty do?” another woman comments. “If it ends up happening, I would support it. Priceless artifacts are being stolen all over Europe. We must make sure the thief has no connection to the nobility.”

“His Majesty would be able to solve this crisis,” a Duke states, leaning in towards the group. “If he wasn’t so distracted.” The man leans backwards and pointedly looks in Riley’s direction, who’s in a conversation with Drake and another woman. 

“Oh, don’t be so mean!” Madeleine’s mother exclaims, taking another sip of champagne. 

“But, Adelaide, you must admit.” One of the women put their hand on Adelaide’s arm. “She had her opportunity to win his hand, and even though the scandal with that nobleman was not her fault, she’s lost her chance. It’s time for His Majesty to move on.” 

“And it’s time for some of the other ladies to get a chance,” another woman says. “We all know he swept aside Countess Madeleine to ask for her hand, but clearly she didn’t want it, even though she was pregnant with his child.”

The ladies give cold smiles in the group and turn away from each other as King Liam announces that the croquet matches will begin. 

Madeleine looks around for the little prince, and notices him near another young girl and the two children that had been standing near Katie. She turns again, and notices King Liam beginning a game with Lady Riley against Countess Hana and Duke Rashad. 

Madeleine looks around again, trying to spot out Leo. She sees Katie, talking to a group on one side of the lawn, and then notices Leo on a table eating some sweets. 

“Leo, darling,” Madeleine greets, taking a seat next to him. “I hope you’re enjoying the Social Season so far. I didn’t expect you to participate.” 

“Mhm,” Leo mumbles. 

“How are Katie and the children?” 

He looks up for a moment, then glances back down at his plate. “Well. How are you and your mother holding up?”

“We’re well, thank you.” She wants to say something more to him, but when she takes a moment to process her thoughts, she comes to terms with the fact that she can’t — or rather shouldn’t — say anything to him. He was happy with Katie, with the life he’s living, and though Madeleine wanted that life to be with her, she tells herself that it’s too late for that. She doesn’t have to keep bringing that up to him, or else she’ll look desperate, and she wasn’t going to embarrass herself or sully her reputation.

“You haven’t talked to Liam recently, have you?” he asks her. 

“No. Though there were some issues I wished to discuss with him, he wasn’t available for me to speak with. I’ve heard he spent the majority of the past two weeks at the Beaumont Estate with Riley and her children.” 

“Yeah, I know.”

“You’re here to support him, aren’t you?”

“Yup. And I figured it would also be nice for my kids to meet Riley’s.”

There’s a hint of exhaustion in his voice, but Madeleine doesn’t know where it’s coming from. She wants to console him, to get him to open up to her, but notices Katie on her way over. 

“Madeleine,” Leo’s wife greets. 

“It’s nice to see you again, Katie,” Madeleine responds, doing her best to be polite for Leo’s sake. 

“Oh, I’m sure it is.” There’s a hint of resentment in Katie’s voice, and though Madeleine wants to take that initiative to give the woman a piece of her mind, she decides to walk away and watch Edward complete a croquet match with some other gentlemen.

- Riley -

Ten years hadn’t doused my anger at Madeleine. Sure the scandal wasn’t her fault, but I definitely wasn’t going to forgive her for the crap she gave me (and Hana and Penelope, too!) during the Engagement Tour. I saw her walking around aimlessly after the croquet matches started. She took a seat near Leo, and when Katie started walking up to them, I was surprised to see Madeleine get up and walk away without causing some nonsense. 

Our little conversation left me angry, and I wanted to go back to her and put her in her place, but as Liam and the children came into my view, I was calm. 

Liam was taking a liking to the children, and I was glad that they were taking a liking to him as well. 

There was a small voice telling me that I should still be careful around Liam, but I was learning to ignore it. Not only was I sorry of everything that had happened to him, but I wanted myself to feel at peace, too. Living with Theo had made me believe that I wouldn’t receive pure love from anyone again in my life, but the moments Liam and I shared yesterday on the balcony had done a lot to change my mind.

Liam approached me and asked if I wanted to play croquet with him. I accepted, and we played against Hana and Rashad. 

I remembered that Rashad was one of the gentlemen that Hana’s father had wanted her to marry, and I wanted to keep him away from her, only to give her some more peace before she would have to deal with Neville in the next few days. But I notice a genuine smile on her face, and figure that she’s alright. 

Liam and I won the game, and Gabe and Ella, along with Leo’s two children, came over and cheered for us. 

We led the kids to a table, where there were a variety of sandwiches and sweets laid out for us. Gabe and Ella pick up a variety of breads lined with chocolate. 

“Cronuts?!” Maxwell cries, running up to the table. He grabs a cronut and takes a large bite. “Awf, I miffed thif, if fo good,” Maxwell mumbles through a mouth full of food. Rowan takes a seat next to him as Hana, Drake, and Jessica sit.

“How did you two enjoy the picnic?” Jessica asks the children. 

They finish chewing their food, and Ella comments, “It was fun.” 

“Did you get a chance to play croquet?” Hana questions. 

“Yup!” Ella tells everyone. “Me and Heather won against Gabe and Hunter, and then Gabe and me won against Hunter and Heather!” 

“So clearly you’re the M.V.P.!” Maxwell cries, reaching up to give Ella a high-five. 

Everyone continues eating, then after a moment Jessica says, “These are really good,” while poking at her cronut. 

“You’ve never had one before?” Hana asks. 

“No.” She gives a small laugh. “I don’t really eat sweets.”

“Healthy lifestyle,” Rowan comments, nodding. “I get that.”

Everyone continues eating in silence. Taking a bite of a cronut brings back memories, which are thankfully not painful. 

I look around at the group in front of me, and feel glad that we’re all back together. Liam, Maxwell, and Drake talk with the kids while Hana, Rowan, and Jessica converse with each other. 

After all of the guests finish eating, I half expect Drake to complain that he’s still hungry. But instead he laces his arm through Jessica’s and they make their way back to the palace. Rowan and Maxwell leave hand in hand, and I’m suddenly suspicious of their relationship. 

Liam bade farewell to everyone who was leaving. I was about to follow Hana into her limo, but Liam stops me. 

“Riley, I was wondering,” he tells me. 

“What is it?” 

“I wanted to know if you and the children would like to go see a movie tonight.” The smile on his face is captivating. 

“Really? Are you sure you won’t have to sneak out?” I joke. 

He gives a hearty laugh, and I love the way his eyes sparkle. “As King I can come and go as I please.” 

“In that case, we would love to accompany you.” 

“Wonderful.” He lifts my hand to his lips and kisses my knuckles. I turn away to go look for the kids, and Liam goes to say goodbye to the rest of the guests. 

... 

In the car ride over to the theater, Gabe and Ella are glued to the window, looking out at the lights of the city. 

Liam sits near them, pointing out all the sights and historical monuments. Gabe and Ella ask questions, which Liam answers enthusiastically. 

For some reason I want to cry looking at the three of them. I hadn’t really asked Gabe how he felt about Liam recently, but the fact that Gabe and Ella had been able to adapt to Liam’s presence so quickly makes me hate myself. They’re so happy, and I kept them from this happiness for too long. 

When we reach the theater, Gabe and Ella lead us towards the door while Liam and I walk besides each other. 

“I had them call ahead and reserve a cinema for us,” he tells me. 

Ella gasps. “Really?” 

Liam chuckles, an adoring look on his face. “Yes, and it’s for whatever movie you both want to watch.” 

We walk into the lobby, where the cashier bows his head when he notices Liam. The man smiles nervously at the rest of us. 

There aren’t that many other people around, and no one pays attention to us.

Gabe and Ella lift up their heads to look at the names of movies on the screens above them. I notice Liam look up, too, and then Ella gives her selection. 

I reach for my purse, but Liam’s already taken his wallet out and paid. 

“Oh, you didn’t have to—” I try to say, but Liam already has the tickets and follows Gabe and Ella, ushering me to come along.

Suddenly they turn away from the candy booths and go towards the small arcade. Gabe reads the name of all the different games and Ella peaks at toys that are in a claw machine. 

“Look!” She brings our attention towards a stuffed animal. “A fluffy bee!” 

“Do you want it?” Liam asks her, walking up to the joystick. 

“No, it’s okay. I was just looking at it.”

“Plus,” I jump in. “No one ever wins these things, they’re rigged.” 

Liam reaches into his wallet to take out a coin. “All it takes is some practice.”

He turns back towards the claw machine, focusing on the stuffed bee. Liam takes a few moments to align it, then clicks the button, and grabs it!

“How did you do that?” Gabe asks.

“Magic,” Ella whispers, narrowing her eyes at Liam. 

The three of them share a laugh. Liam hands the bee to Ella, who hugs Liam and says, “Thank you, Daddyo!” 

“It wasn’t magic, unfortunately,” he tells the kids. “My brother convinced my father to get one of these for the palace, and then put all my stuff in the machine. I had to get good at it so I could retrieve my belongings.” 

“Is the claw machine still at the palace?” Gabe asks. 

“I’m not sure, but we can check.” 

“Yay!” Ella cries, then leads us back towards the candy counter.

The kids discuss what candies they want while Liam buys two large popcorns.

As we watch the popcorn pop in the machine, Ella whispers up at me, “Mama, I have three dollars for candy!” She proceeds to take out three U.S. dollars. “Do you want anything?” 

I laugh as quietly as I can. “Baby, you can’t use those here.” 

“Aw, Gabe said that, too,” she exclaims, looking down at her dollars sadly. I remember Theo was the one who told her that she should always keep some money in case she wanted something to eat, and my smile falters. 

“Can we get chocolate?” Gabe asks Liam, who turns around and orders three pouches of chocolate candy. 

Gabe carries one large popcorn, while Liam reaches for the other. He hands Ella all three pouches of candy, and the cashier tell us where our movie is. 

Inside, the lights are still on and the screen is blank. Ella rushes to the front of the screen, then turns around, facing the empty seats. She holds her stuffed bee above her head and cries, “HELLOOOO!” 

Gabe follows her while Liam follows me to a few seats in the back row.

Ella looks out at the empty seats sadly. “There’s no echo.” 

“You only get echoes in caves, Ella,” Gabriel tells her, putting his popcorn down. Ella places her stuffed bee near the popcorn, then they run around the empty theater, Gabe trying to catch Ella. Liam’s eyes follow them. 

Their moment of pure joy makes me want to cry again. Why had I kept them all from it so long? 

The lights begin to dim, and Gabe and Ella are still near the screen. 

“Gabe, did you lose the popcorn?” Ella asks him. “And where’s my bee?!” I can’t see where they are in the dark. 

“Look, I found it!” he says. 

“Do you two want to come sit with us?” Liam calls to them. 

Ella speaks up, “Daddyo, I can’t even see you!” 

“We can sit here,” Gabe says, ushering his sister towards a seat a few rows ahead of us. 

“I think that would be better,” Liam says quietly. “If they tried to come back up they could have fallen.” 

Before I can say anything else, the screen lights up as the movie begins. 

I had forgot to ask the kids about what movie they choose, but I decide that I’ll figure it out eventually. 

It’s a kid’s movie, and I assume that it’s Disney since the first ten minutes are spent detailing a sad backstory.

And yet again I remember Theo. He was the one who always brought the kids to see new Disney movies, he was the one who suggested we go to Disneyland for the kids’ entertainment, and then suggested we go to Disney World the next summer. I hate the amount of times I’ve thought about him today. 

Liam and I watch silently, occasionally hearing the kids laugh or Gabe cough. 

More than halfway through the movie, Liam turns to me. “Did you enjoy your day today?” he asks me softly. 

I turn to him, seeing half of his face illuminated by the light from the screen. “Yeah, I did. And thanks for bringing the kids and I.”

“It’s my pleasure.” We continue to look at each other and don’t look back at the screen. 

Finally, he looks down at his lap for a moment. “Have you spoken to your mother recently?”

“No, actually,” I answer. “She’s been busy.”

“Of course.” He turns back to watch the movie for a few minutes before turning back. “Did you ever work for Theodore’s company?”

“Not really,” I tell him in a low voice. “Sometimes I would help plan events, especially when Theo needed something last minute. Other than that I mostly just stayed home with the kids.”

He smiles. “Did you and Theo travel a lot?”

I lean towards him a little. When I realize how close we are, I almost force myself to move back. But I feel comfortable around him, so I smile and tell him, “We mostly traveled around the states. Sometimes to Amsterdam and Sweden to meet up with Boris. Other than that, we only went on vacation sometimes.” 

A part of me wanted to tell him that I used to go crazy trying to convince Theo that we should take a trip to Cordonia, but I don’t want to force us back into those feelings. 

“I used to travel to the states at least three times a year,” he tells me. 

The air rushes out of my lungs. I feel overwhelmed with pity and guilt. “I’m sorry you had to go through all that for nothing,” I tell him, hoping that he would understand how apologetic I really felt. 

But he turns to me again with that charming smile on his face. “It wasn’t for nothing. Aren’t you here with me now?” 

There’s hope in his eyes. Hope, love, and longing. Part of it was probably sorrow, but nonetheless, my heart swells. 

“I’ve loved you, Riley Brooks,” Liam says lightly, careful not to speak too loud to distract the children from the movie. He reaches for my hand, clasping it tightly within his own. 

Again there’s that small voice in my head telling me to pull away — and I’m slightly shocked that I have the strength to ignore it. 

“...And I will never stop loving you,” he continues, his voice lower this time. 

I want to lean into him, just to show him that I want him back in my heart, but the lights turn back on. 

“That was nice,” Ella comments as her and Gabe walk towards the exit. 

Liam and I stand, still holding each other’s hands, and we follow the kids out the lobby and into the car. 

Gabe and Ella tell Liam what they liked about the movie. I do my best to focus, but sleep pokes at my eyes. I still do my best to watch them talk and listen to little bits of the conversation, and I feel complete. The stress and worry that edged at me these past few days was gone. Liam and the kids had figured out their relationship on their own.

The only thing left was Liam and I. Part of me wanted to leave us as we were. We were civil with each other, especially around the kids, and we were both already doing a good job co-parenting. 

But another part of me knew that co-parenting couldn’t be the only thing between us. Maybe I was trying to convince myself that nothing could happen between us since we had been separated for a decade, but whenever I was remotely near Liam, I felt the same way as I had during my first Social Season. I wanted his attention, his care, his love. And here we were, as he gave it all to me — and the children — voluntarily.

What on Earth had pushed me away from him?

Liam and I follow the kids towards their rooms. I go to tuck in Gabe, while he does the same with Ella. As I go back towards my room and he retreats towards his, we bump into each other again.

“Allow me to walk you to your room?” he asks, holding out his arm. 

I blush, suddenly feeling a bit shy now that we were back in the palace and anyone could see us. But I still say, “I would like that.”

Outside my door, he leans in to kiss my cheek, then brings my hand to his lips to kiss my knuckles. 

I hear footsteps down the hall, so I quickly wish him goodnight before slipping into my room. 

I can’t bring myself to sleep. I was slightly upset that we had to part ways, but excitement builds in me for everything that could happen in Lythikos.

[ziracona]

Friendship headcanons between Anna and Quentin’s dad? Maybe Nacy too.

For sure! Love their weird awkward relationship.

So, it’s weird for Alan. Like, really weird. Like, can you imagine being him and your poor kid comes home traumatized as fuck after 9 years and he’s got a feral Russian bear woman who is his surrogate mom now in tow?

Obviously, Alan is very stressed about the potential of anything happening to Quentin again, so even knowing the situation, Anna is kind of a source of stress at first. It’s important to Quentin though, so he goes with it and tries to be supportive. It isn’t until about a month after Anna is released from the rehabilitation facility that he is truly at peace about it though. But it happens. There’s a night where Quentin falls asleep on the couch watching a movie, and they don’t notice until it ends. Alan decides to let him sleep there in peace for a bit before waking him up to go sleep in his bed, and is putting up dishes from supper, when he sees Anna carefully putting a blanket over Quentin and stroking his head twice before smiling and leaving him to sleep too, warm now, and he just kind of forgets what he was doing becuase he never quite really truly believed Anna was just selflessly and genuinely invested in his kid’s happiness, but there’s no one there to see, no consciousness for Quentin to appreciate the gesture, and he smiles, because it’s such a relief, and it’s sweet, and he wished Quentin’s mom had lived longer, wished he’d found someone else to be a mom for the kid growing up, and he’s deeply happy he’s got one now.

Anna doesn’t really know what to do with Alan at first either. Like, she gets that ‘Dad’ is the man counterpart to ‘Mama,’ but since hers was dead before she was old enough to remember, she doesn’t really know what that looks like, and never thought about it before. At first is kind of tentatively curious if this means they’re rivals, and she should be jealous of him. Alan never once seems to view their relationships to Quentin that way though, so thank god it never turns into a competition. She’s not sure what it is though, when she realizes it’s not that. So mostly she just tries to give him space and not cause confrontation between them out of respect for Quentin. She notices how good he is to Quentin though, and a few weeks before Alan really gets the same read on her, and kind of softens a little and decides he’s okay. Then suddenly a month in, Alan is more open towards her and starts interacting with her intentionally, even when no Quentin is there at present as an ice breaker. It is super awkward for them both, and they haven’t got a clue how to act towards each other, but they’re both slightly interested in trying, and it works. Alan asks her the morning after he realizes she’s okay if she wants to learn how to make muffins, since she’s sitting at the table watching him cook with a look like a cat has when it sees a new small rodent for the first time, and Anna really does. She is fascinated by all the tricks to tastes there are, and the wild variety of foods she had no idea could exist. At first she’s like “Me?” And very confused by this change in attitude, but he’s nice to her and it’s fun and the food is good, so she enjoys it, and accepts without reservation when he offers another lesson at lunch. This is how their relationship begins: Alan asking her if she wants to learn how to cook various things. Sometimes Nancy and or Quentin joins in, or anyone else in the house. And it’s fun. Anna never looked at food prep as anything but a survival necessity, but there’s a day two months in where she’s covered in flour making shortbread cookies with Alan and Nancy and Quentin, listening to music and people laughing and singing along, and she realizes lots of humans make all kinds of mundane acts into fun activities. And she really likes that. : )

Anna tries to reciprocate Alan’s gestures of goodwill by offering to teach him to hunt, which Alan refuses politiely because he has no idea what he’d do with hatchet throwing and animal tracking skills, but he immediately sees how hurt and insulted and wounded to her core that makes Anna and covers it with a “I mean—I would love to, but I’m just not sure I could have the skills at my age. I’m so old I might be hopeless to teach.” And Anna goes from :’-( to : D instantly and is like “No, no! Not too late—I show you. Many skills very easy to learn basics of. I am good teacher. Can teach even you, I am sure.” And is exceedingly enthusiastic teaching him basic tracking skills the next morning. It’s uh. It’s an awkward walk through a nearby park for Alan at 6AM, with Anna kneeling like fkn Aragorn to listen to the ground or touch dog tracks and sniff things while pointing out valuable intel, but he is duly attentive and awed by her skills, and takes his lesson like a champ, and it’s actually pretty fascinating stuff once you get past the “Wtf is happening” looks you’re getting from every early morning dog walker and jogger going past.

Alan picks up pretty fast that since Anna has almost no social experience, she tends to take social cues from those around her (like trading skills to make friends, or trading gifts with Min & Quentin), and is more careful how he approaches stuff. That also makes him like Anna a lot more, because it’s so sincere and she’s so truly giving all of this her best. He starts a tradition of going back and forth on who picks an activity that interests them to try to give her a chance to branch out and see more of the modern world. Greatly enjoys seeing how much she is excited and fascinated by like, everything. Anna is so mind blown the first time Nancy suggests they hit an Aquarium that it takes 4 times as long as normal to get through, becuase she can’t stop getting lost in the sight of every exhibit. Anna meanwhile notices pretty quick how watchful Alan is and how protective whenever he’s out with Quentin, although he tries to keep Quentin from noticing it too much, and she is very happy about this. Important for parents to be good protectors, especially with Quentin’s luck.

It takes Anna a while to quite get Nancy and Quentin’s relationship, but she decides after much deliberation that she approves and it’s cute. She likes how attentive Nancy is, and how quiet she can be. Thinks she would make a good hunter with skills like that. Is also very aware how much happier Quentin is around her. Decides this makes her a daughter too, and happily welcomes her into the fold. After Nancy realizes this, it kind of breaks her for a while, because she still misses her own mom so, so much. The first time Anna gives her a hug to comfort her about something so much more mundane—just a twisted ankle on a hike, she has a breakdown and can’t stop silently crying into her chest, becuase she still has an open wound in her heart where her mom is concerned. Anna isn’t a replacement, but she is a balm, and it helps. It really does, to have a big self-determined second mom hug you even when she doesn’t understand until you’ve cried all the tears you had, and still be waiting there with patience to hold you through more, and whispered comforts and strong arms around your back. Nancy gets her stuff for the next Mother’s Day, and it almost breaks her heart to have someone to shop for again, but she’s happier too, because it’s a comfort to know another one could love her too, and by choice. She’s had so much guilt over her mom’s death, sometimes she’s wondered if she never deserved to have one love her at all, no matter how much she knows her mom would never want her to think like that. It weirdly helps her talk more about her own mom again, especially to Quentin, who, while he barely remembers his mom, has some small idea how it all feels. She’s able to dig out a lot of the memories of Gwen Holbrook she couldn’t bear to look at for a long time, and forgive herself a little more. And able to make some new memories with Anna and Quentin and Alan she thinks her mom will be happy to hear about someday.

It wasn’t like that at first, though. Nancy is one of the few people who weren’t in the realm who has almost no issue adjusting to Anna, but she had some right at the start. She’s super wary the like, first couple days, because she has mountains worth of PTSD specifically centered around pseudo parental figures and people killing Quentin, but she’s observant as hell, and after watching Anna bodyslam Michael Myers through a wall on first meeting becuase she misconstrued his asshole big brother lifestyle choice of picking Quentin up by his collar for no reason other than easy and fun to push him around as an act of war, she realizes she truly has nothing to worry about, and Anna is an ally in arms when it comes to keeping the guy she loves alive.

Anna is extremely impressed with both Alan and Nancy for their roles in killing Freddy, and this is a massive affinity boost. She thinks Nancy is a little wolf of a girl in the best possible way, and approves of her level of dangerous greatly.

While Alan has no romantic feelings for Anna, it’s really nice to have a woman in the house again—it’s kind of nostalgic, jus to hear her singing sometimes and such. He offers to take her shopping for clothes and accessories becuase he remembers some of the places his wife especially loved, and it makes him sad and happy to be able to put that old treasured remnant of someone beloved to him to good use again. Anna really loves a couple of the same spots, especially a tiny handmade jewelry from gemstones shop, and it hurts but in a good way to have a reason to go there again.

Anna is exceedingly jealous of the photo of Quentin’s mom over the fireplace for like, a year and a half after she realizes who she is. It’s kind of funny. I mean, she’s dead. There is no threat. But Anna despises it and it takes all the willpower she has not to go hide it in a drawer somewhere.

That is until almost two years in when she wakes up early to weird noise and comes down to see Alan has the photo with him at the table, and a little setup with flowers and candles and objects she doesn’t recognize, and he’s crying. It isn’t until that night when she asks Quentin that she finds out it’s the anniversary of his mom’s death that day, but as soon as she sees Alan and the setup, she feels bad, and the anger and jealousy goes away, becuase she remembers feeling exactly that way for years and years at the sight of the portrait of her mother, and still now at the thought of it. The jealousy does not come back.

Alan, Nancy, Quentin, and Anna hang out a lot, and with Feng, Nea, and Ace, or Philip and Claudette a lot too. At a point, Alan starts reaching a “Okay you stay here with the kids and I’ll go grab tickets” kind of tag-team responsibility with Anna, and Anna thinks this is fun, and is immensely pleased with this new role of responsibility partnership. She begins doing the same with him, and likes being partner protectors of the group. She’s wanted to find a family again her whole life, and finally found it now after all these years, but she’s found more than that too; she’s found community, and she never had that before, so she didn’t know to miss it or seek it out or even that it was a thing to want, but now that she has it, she’s so much more happy and content and proud than she’s ever been.

[scullysexual]

A Jewel Beneath The Moonlight [Reposted Anniversary]

If you’ve get to read the first chapter, you can read it on Tumblr. Alternatively, you can also find it on AO3 along with this chapter.

@today-in-fic @mypanicface @impulsive-astrophile @enigmaticxbee

- - - 

Chapter Two.

The accommodation is located on B-deck, easy enough to find. Phoebe and Mother get stopped along the way, a conversation proceeds in the middle of the hallway between the two women and some other people Mulder doesn’t care to remember the name of. His father shakes his head leading Mulder away.

“They’ll come when they’re ready,” Bill says as they continue to walk to their rooms.

And the rooms are nice enough; mahogany furniture, floral tapestries covering the couches and chairs. The bedroom is large: a walk-in wardrobe Phoebe should hopefully be happy with. He touches the pillows and his disappointment comes when he finds they are feather. He places it back down.

What’s a bit of lack of sleep for a week?

In the mirror, he catches the reflection of the safe. Spinning around on his heels, he walks over to it, pulling it open. His hand strokes the inside feeling the cold iron. It’s of decent size, enough room to place valuables. He looks to the carry-on he’d brought on with him, an idea in his head. Reaching into the bag, his fingers gripping hold of the old leather book. Pulling it out, he places it inside the safe. With a bit of manoeuvring he manages to fit it in and is still able to lock the safe afterwards.

Few people know about that book, a few more know about his talent that comes with it. Phoebe knew about the talent but not the book. His parents know briefly of his talent but again, not the book. The book is his and while he is in no way ashamed of his drawings- in fact, if one were to turn the first page they would be met with a very innocent drawing of his sister, however a bit further on and they’ll find the not-so-innocent drawings. It was those he wanted to keep secret.

“Fox!” he hears Phoebe’s clear-cut voice break through the air. Sighing, his moment of peace over, he double-checks that the safe is shut and locked and exits the bedroom to see his dearly beloved fiancé and the mutt she holds in a cage.

Mulder groans.

“Did you really have to bring that thing, Phoebe?”

Phoebe looks at him as though he’s just told her she wouldn’t be eating dinner for a month.

“Of course I had to bring her Fox,” she says in utter disgust. “Did you just expect me to leave her behind?” She takes the Maltese out of its cage, giving the cage to one of her maids before she holds the animal up.

“I know you don’t like the cage, sweetie. You can stay out of it from now on.” The dog begins fussing in her arms and Phoebe gasps. “Tuppence needs a potty break,” she hands the dog out to Mulder. “Take her.”

Mulder stares at the hairball currently in his face. “Can’t you take her?” he asks, careful to use the word ‘her’ rather than ‘it’.

“I can’t. I need to unpack.”

“I can do that.”

Phoebe looks at him like he’s grown another head.

“No, you’ll just put things in the wrong place.”

Mulder sighs and accepts his punishment.

“Alright, where’s the leash?”

Maybe it shouldn’t come as a surprise that the doggy pooping area is the third class deck but it does. He had looked for an actual area originally but there didn’t seem to be one that existed, he just followed the crowd in a sense and saw another dog doing its business down there.

He lets the dog get on with it, lets it take its time too, maybe it’ll wander too far to the rail and fall off the ship, but Mulder doubts he’s that lucky.

His attention moves away from the dog to the people. A man and his daughter who sits on the rails, her back against his chest, an arm securing her so she doesn’t fall off. The father points to the islands in the distance. Mulder can’t hear the words but he imagines that she’s telling her the names of them, maybe stories about who those people were. Maybe the man knows who the people were.

A second man, older than the first, sits on a bench with his eyes shut and lets the breeze ruffle what little hair he has.

Mulder’s eyes move to another little girl who kicks a ball over to a red-headed boy. The boy picks the ball up, turning his face to the sky and Mulder watches as he balances the ball on his nose like a sealion in a zoo. The little girl laughs and as does another girl with the same red hair as the boy. Mulder finds himself drawn to it and drawn to the girl, a genuine smile breaking out across his face for what feels like the first time in a long time, his stomach twisting and heart folding in on itself all in a good way as he stares at her. Whatever this feeling is, he likes it.

“How old you do think that boy is?” a voice beside him asks. Mulder startles, never even hearing the man approach. “Fifteen? Sixteen?” Mulder moves his gaze back over to the red haired boy. “When I was fifteen, my father sent me off to boarding school.”

“You envy them?” Mulder asks. Most people he’s met in his life scorn them, question how they could live like that. A change in tune is a nice welcome.

“A little bit. Makes you wonder what experiences he’s had this far.”

The boy turns and Mulder is taken back slightly by the gash on his face.

“He’s experienced a good punch if that cut is anything to go by,” Mulder laughs. He stretches his arm out towards the man. “I’m Mulder,” he says.

The name strikes no recognition with a man for which Mulder is absolutely grateful for.

“John Byers.”

Similarly, the name does strike any recognition for Mulder either. The two shake hands just as the dogs wander over. Mulder opens the gate, attaching the leash back onto Tuppence.

“I’ll see you at dinner, then?” Byers calls as Mulder makes his way back inside.

“Yes, you will.”

Dinner turns out to be a dull affair, minus the bit of drama beforehand: Phoebe’s hissy-fit at not “having anything to wear”. Mulder had got back to the room to find that everything had been packed away. The walk-in wardrobe he thought Phoebe would be fine with only has enough room to fit half her clothes into. She’d cried that she wasn’t prepared to live out of her suitcase for a week. Mulder had compromised, given up the small area he’d reserved for his clothes to fit the rest of Phoebe’s. Now his clothes reside in his father’s room.

All in all, the whole debacle had delayed them by thirty minutes.

Other than that, the dinner itself was a dull affair. Mulder was continuingly zoning out throughout it, his thoughts entirely focused upon the girl on the deck. Who was she? Why couldn’t he think of anything else? Why did he feel what he felt? What did he even feel?

“Fox…Fox…” he swears he hears his Mother saying.

It’s Phoebe’s sigh of annoyance that forces him out of his reverie.

“He’s doing that thing again, Mother.”

“Fox!” his father barks. Mulder looks to his father, dazed for a moment and fully aware he has no idea what conversation is going on. “Mr Skinner is speaking to you.”

Mulder looks towards the bald man, only now realising that he had joined their table.

“I’m sorry, Mr Skinner,” Mulder apologises. “You were saying?”

“I was just congratulating you and Miss Green on your engagement,” Skinner tells him.

Mulder smiles and reaches for Phoebe’s hand on the table, clasping their fingers together. Not showing anything is amiss, Phoebe smiles.

“Thank you, Mr Skinner,” Mulder says. He looks to Phoebe then. “My only wish is for this week to hurry so I can soon make Phoebe my wife officially.”

He brings the hand he holds to his lips then, placing a gentle kiss to the top of it. And Phoebe sincerely smiles at him.

Mulder’s never hated himself more.

Just as they’re finishing their third course does the conversation change once more. Mulder pays no mind to it, he nods when he’s expected to and that is all.

“You’re old friend Bill,” a man from the farther end of the table shouts over. “Spender- is he on the ship, do you know?”

“I saw his son before,” says Phoebe. “He didn’t look too happy.”

“You remember Jeffrey, don’t you, son?” Bill asks Mulder.

“Yes, he was in my Psychology class at Oxford,” Mulder answers simply before going back to his soup.

The man at the end of the table pipes up again. “I never saw the point in educating yourself on those types of subjects. Seems a waste of time.”

“Fox has a special knack for reading people, don’t you?”

Mulder nods. And I can read you people better than you think.

Dessert is on its way when the conversation changes once more. The man at the end of the table telling everyone, once again, that he has an opinion to make.

“Would anyone else sleep better knowing we weren’t sharing a boat with steerage?”

Mulder’s stomach twists.

“Mother and I saw some wandering down our hallway earlier. How they managed to get up there, I have no idea.”

“Maybe they were just lost, Phoebe,” Mulder says as gently as he can, the anger seething beneath.

“Whatever they’re excuse, a crewmember soon shouted at them to leave and off they scurried off.”

“Like rats in the woodwork, back down to the basement were they belong,” the man at the end of the table gruffly laughs.

“I’m sure they won’t be an issue anymore,” says Father.

Done with the conversation and dinner all together, Mulder denies dessert as its served.

“I just feel a bit sick,” Mulder says when questioned.

“You might have caught something off the docks earlier,” says Phoebe reaching up to touch his forehead. She looks to the gathering worriedly, “He is burning up.”

Mulder brings her hand away. “I’ll see you later on,” he says and with that he leaves the table, no kiss, no hug, no form of intimacy at all, he just leaves.

The breeze is welcomed from the hot and stuffy dining room. For all their visitors at the table Mulder hoped the man he met earlier- Byers- would have joined them. It would have been nice to know someone thought the same things as him.

He makes his way to the back of the ship, away from on-lookers and those who would judge him, happy to find the stern empty.

He walks over to the rails, feeling the cold oak between his fingers as he looks out to the darkness around him. His mind drifts back to earlier, to the father and daughter and he finds himself beginning to climb the rails.

His heart is in this throat every step. Mulder never considered himself afraid of much, if he was dared to do something he’d do it but maybe it’s the fact that he’s alone that scares him. Whenever a dare in involved there’s always at least another person, someone to catch you if you fall, someone to pull you back when they get too scared but out here it’s only him- only him, the ship, and the sea and if he falls that’s it.

He thinks about how that little girl must have felt. Was she scared at first? Did she refuse to sit on the rail for fear of falling? Was it only when she felt her father behind her, arms around her chest that she felt safe, that she knew she wasn’t going to fall?

“I hope you’re not considering jumping?”

Mulder startles, almost losing his balance in the process. He grips the rails tighter, wondering if this was such a good idea after all.

A nervous laugh falls from his lips.

“I wasn’t until you nearly made me.”

“Sorry,” the woman says. A woman’s voice. “I just saw you climb up there and got a wee bit nervous, that’s all.”

Mulder twists slightly so he can see the person. As he turns, he almost falls again when he realises who’s standing there.

The red-headed girl from earlier.

“Maybe you should get down,” she says, face a full display of concern. She edges closer slowly. “It’s a long way down if you fall off.”

She leans against the rails just as he’d done earlier.

“Maybe I like the risk,” Mulder says, a façade of a fearless smile appearing across his face. Really, he was shitting bricks.

“You won’t like the fall,” she says, her voice serious, no hint of the playfulness he’s trying to have. “It’ll be like hitting concrete and if you just so happened to survive that, it won’t take long for the cold to get ye.”

Mulder looks down into the water directly below him.

“How long we talking?” he asks.

Her answer is quick, ready like she’d been prepared to answer all along.

“Thirty minutes for the hypothermia to kick in, one to two hours before you die.” The facts all out, she turns sombre and concerned once more. “Not exactly a quick death if that’s what you wanted.”

Gaining her point, he begins to twist on the rails, back to the sea as he jumps down.

“There,” he says, dusting himself off. “No harm done.” He looks down at her, realising just how much he towers over her. Phoebe is tall for a woman, almost his height in heels, but this girl…Mulder estimates she not much taller than 5’4.

He stretches out his hand, curious as to why the universe has thrown her in his path for a second time that day and even more curious to know why she knows so much about cold water.

“I’m Mulder.”

She ignores his hand, an eyebrow shooting up. “Mulder? I’m not entitled to a first name?”

Mulder laughs nervously again, throwing his arm to his side. “You don’t want to know it.”

She regards him, as if wondering whether he is worth an interest in or not.

“In that case…” she draws out. “I’m Scully.”

[gaiapaia]

Kermit And Friends: Tony Ricca WWE

Imagine a church where the reverend is threatened to be locked into a chicken coop by his fiancé at the beginning of service and then threated to be killed Nicole Simpson style by a love interest of said fiancé towards the end of service.

Ladies and gentleman, I welcome you to Kermit and Friends!

The show started off this week with both bad news and good news. The bad news was that Jennifer Lopez’s 6th engagement broke off, but the good news is Elisa’s very 1st engagement is still going strong!

That’s right, despite all the naysayers, Elisa Jordana and Andy Dick’s engagement has survived yet another week. Elisa even has 4 new rings to show for it! But let me tell you... it almost did not survive this show, literally.

First off, Elisa is getting fed up with not being able to reach Andy whenever she wants, so she came up with this brilliant idea of building a chicken coop to keep him locked in. I mean, why not? Andy’s skinny frame combined the long neck sort of does resemble a chicken, so it seems like the perfect fit! Andy doesn’t seem to keen to the idea though so he better just get his act together and start answering every time he’s blessed with a phone call from his gorgeous fiancé Elisa.

This week’s KAF special guest was none other than former WWE Superstar, Tony Ricca. Elisa has a little history in pro wrestling, appearing on WWE Monday Night Raw and starring in a reality show that was hosted by pro wrestling star Chris Jericho. Kermit and Friends also has big wrestling fans on the show such as Socky, Corey, Johnny B, and many more in the chatroom.

Elisa started the interview off by asking Tony about why he wanted to become a pro wrestler. Tony shared it was actually his friends who wanted him to do it, and Andy revealed that’s exactly how he got into acting.

There was more wrestling talk and Tony kindly answered questions from Socky the Sock Puppet, Corey, Eric and other KAF superstars like Trumpster Bob asking Tony to partake in his “Butthole Challenge.” Andy Dick also got Tony to show off his abs so he could gush over his hairy belly. The interview went swimmingly, if you ask me.

During the interview, Andy started facetiming with his handsome friend Lucas. This caught Elisa’s eye and she immediately pounced. “THE Lucas? Aren’t you Andy’s ex, Lucas?”

Lucas denied the claim but Elisa is no fool. She can read Andy like a book and she knows when Andy is really into someone. But Elisa put the claws away and started to have a nice normal chat with Lucas about Andy. As it turns out, Lucas is also a former pro wrestler so he asked Tony a couple of questions too. Maybe we’ll see Lucas back on the show very soon and get to the bottom of him and Andy’s true feelings toward one another.

Kermit’s old friend Kleenex (screenname Christopher Dick) made his return to Kermit and Friends this week. Sitting in his car smoking cigarettes, I could sense Kleenex was in prime form ready to steal the show as the premier Dick on it. After complaining about Elisa’s lack of enthusiasm in her introduction of Kleenex to Tony and Lucas, Kleenex hounded Elisa about the content the show was producing compared to when it first started back in November. Kleenex then set his sights on Elisa’s relationship with Andy Dick, and just as Kleenex’s meter was about to hit red... All. Hell. Broke. Loose.

But not from Kleenex... from ERIC RIGGS! That’s right, Elisa’s friend Eric came flying in like a bat out of Hell and relinquished his fury on Andy Dick.

It was unbelievable. To this point, Eric has perhaps been the sweetest guy on the show. Yeah, he’s out there and his love for Elisa has probably left people baffled, but he’s been consistent in his sweet nature. To see him snap like this was surprising, to say the least.

So what set Eric off? When he talked with Tony Ricca before, he seemed perfectly fine. What I personally believe got Eric’s blood boiling was when Andy bragged to his friend Lucas that Elisa invited Andy to spend the night at her apartment Sunday night.

I did a break down of Elisa’s love history on Kermit and Friends for Valentine’s Day. You can read it here. Eric is featured in the blog. Elisa first met Eric at work, and he became very smitten with Elisa. Hey, who can blame him? He even proposed to Elisa, but Eric had to move to Seattle not long after, so their 'relationship’ became a long distance 'relationship’ following that.

Did they really date? Was Elisa really engaged to Eric?

Elisa is too sensitive towards Eric’s feelings to give a straight answer to these questions, but I know the answers and I will give them to you.

Elisa hung out with Eric many times. His desk was right behind hers at work and naturally as a group they spent many lunches and ‘happy hours’ together with other co-workers. Is that dating? Eh, I’m fine with calling it that if Eric really wants to but you can see where the line is blurred.

As far as Eric’s proposal... there’s an episode of the 90′s sitcom Full House where DJ Tanner’s baby sister Michelle (who is 5 or 6-years-old at the time) falls in love with DJ’s boyfriend, Steve. Michelle asked Steve to marry her and of course Steve said yes to play along and to not hurt Michelle’s feelings. That episode pretty much describes what happened between Elisa and Eric.

Eric proposed in a public setting and Elisa did not want to embarrass Eric by saying no, but she also never led him on by making promises, flirting, doing anything sexual, etc. She genuinely adored Eric as a friend and knew he had a puppy dog crush on her and wanted to never hurt him.

Eric’s move to Seattle was a blessing for Elisa because it meant she never had to break his heart. If you remember the Forgiveness episode of Kermit and Friends, Eric told Susan Shapiro that he was finally over Elisa and looking to move on. Of course, since then Eric has professed his love again with poems, songs, and even a damn book, but still... you just had to think he was somewhat over the idea of truly marrying Elisa.

Boy, is that NOT the case. Not the case at all. Eric full on believes he’s the next Jeff Benzos and that he will help skyrocket Elisa’s career by booking her to perform with him as a duet at Madison Square Garden. And they will do this as husband and wife, despite the mafia, Vice Lords and the people who shot down Kobe Bryant’s plane all being against the idea. In Eric’s mind, the power of he and Elisa’s love can overcome anything. Including and especially Andy Dick, who is a part of the Satanic Cult of Walt Disney, according to Eric.

Eric claims to have super powerful Jewish friends in super powerful places. One phone call from Eric and he can have Andy wacked like OJ Simpson killed his wife Nicole. Or Eric will just do it himself. This would probably be a very scary threat if it wasn’t coming from someone as harmless as Eric Riggs, so it’s just funny. Very funny.

But it’s also a bit sad. Eric obviously has some issues upstairs and has created a fantasy World for himself. Honestly, Kermit and Friends is a wonderful fantasy World as well but most of us are capable of separating our fantasy Worlds from reality. We can tell which is which. Eric doesn’t seem to be able to tell the difference and that’s very unfortunate.

Eric’s rant lasted nearly 30 minutes straight. Non-stop. No one could get a word in edgewise. Elisa didn’t even try for the most part; she was completely silent for well over 10 minutes after it first started. Whenever Andy tried to chime in, Eric was not having it. Thankfully, Andy took it in stride and seemed amused by it all. It was one of the most surreal half hours you will ever witness if you’re lucky enough to watch this incredible show every week.

Elisa abruptly ended this week’s Kermit and Friends after asking Andy if he was ready to go to the Four Seasons during Eric’s tirade. This is one KAF episode that will never be forgotten. If you have not watched it yet, this review is nowhere near giving it justice. Just stop whatever you’re doing right now and click play.

[fericita-s]

Epilogue

The end has arrived for the A Mansion House Murder!

Big thanks to all the writers of this quarantine round-robin: @jomiddlemarch, who had the idea to begin with and wrote so many good chapters, @broadwaybaggins and @sagiow who dragged us all across the finish line, and @mercurygray and @tortoisesshells for their wonderful chapters and effusive comments and @the-spaztic-fantastic for the faithful beta-ing. I think this story probably set a record on AO3 for the comments to kudos ratio.  300 comments and 20 kudos?! We are a chatty bunch.  And I love it.

“Thank you, Belinda.  For so much. Not just today,” Emma said from the doorway.  Belinda hadn’t invited her in and Emma didn’t want to assume.  She’d already assumed too much about Belinda’s desires, or discounted them completely. “I’m going to see Mother and explain about Jimmy.  And Frank.”

Belinda looked to Emma’s arm looped through Henry’s, to the pale circle of white around her ring finger where a wedding ring had been.  “Would you like me to go with you?”

“No, Belinda. I won’t ask that of you. I just wanted to tell you all of that myself before you hear it gossiped about.” 

“Well,” said Belinda, a smile turning one corner of her mouth. “I think I’d like to see her take the news.”

“Even if she asks you for laudanum?” Emma asked, matching her smile. It was a sad thing to tell her mother that her brother was arrested, her husband dead, her sister currently in hysterics that Percival was trying to soothe with one arm while signing away the family hotel to Mrs. Morris with the other.  It was sad. But the lightness and laughter kept rising in her chest and she couldn’t stop smiling over the freedom she felt and the relief that she would be leaving soon.

“I can tell her where to find it if she does,” said Belinda, reaching to the peg by the door for a shawl.

***

“It’s a fair price,” Anne said, though she knew it was a bargain. She also knew how desperate they were to sell and she knew what being desperate felt like, so she didn’t push further. Emma, at least, deserved the money and Anne was eager to send it to her.  Anne had more money than she could spend and Charlotte’s idea for a school was the first thing to excite her about the future since Frederick’s death.  They could scrub the blood out of the walls, purge the secrets from each closet.  The Greens had done it once before.  Anne was determined she and Leah and the Diggs would do it even better. Bridget too, if she could persuade her.  

Percival nodded and might have shaken her hand, but his arms were currently around his wife who was crying.  Anne couldn’t tell if Alice was genuinely grief-stricken and whether it was for the loss of property or the loss of life, and she didn’t much care to find out.  She’d had her fill of mysteries. 

***

    They went to Boston before Williamstown and Mary took her shopping.  In Boston, it was easy to find ready-to-wear, though Mary took her to a favorite tailor and dressmaker and insisted on some pieces made to Emma’s own measurements.  They moved slowly through town, at Mary’s normal pace and Emma’s preferred one for seeing a new city. It wasn’t so different from Alexandria, not really, not until people spoke to her or their eyebrows shot up at her accent. The kid gloves were to guard against the cold more than the sun, and she’d never had nor needed a sealskin toque or fur muff.  But the Yankees weren’t the fearsome lot her mother had promised they would be, practically drowning out the vows she and Henry made to one another in the Green family drawing room with a subdued Dr. Hale doing the honors. 

    After a wool cape and fur-trimmed pelisse that Emma bought with Henry’s money (our money he had said, pressing it into her hands that morning as he kissed her forehead), Mary bought her a silk Paisley shawl with fringe, calling it a wedding present.

“If I was really spoiling you it would be Kashmir.  These are going out of fashion now what with everyone’s desperation to show off their bustles.  But I find them the best way to keep warm at home, at least when Jed’s not there.” Mary pulled the shawl around Emma and fiddled with the fringe. “I hope you’ll be happy here.  I know Henry wishes it too. But I know what it is to lose a husband.”

Emma put her hands in Mary’s and smiled at her friend. “I am happy.  Or, I will be. I’m not sure what I am now, but it’s better than I was.”

***

    He married her in Virginia but, all he had offered since then was a chaste kiss or an arm for hers to loop through as they navigated trains and carriages. Their overnight at the Foster’s home was a late night of reminiscences by the fire, mulled wine, and the steady interruptions of Johnny and Daniel and then even Elias coming to complain about the loud ruckus downstairs.  When Mary finally shooed both the boys and the adults to bed with a meaningful “They’re newlyweds after all, Jed,” Emma and Henry had both hesitated when he shut the door behind them.  

    “You’re weary from the travel; I’ll let you - “

    “Henry,” Emma said, her hands already reaching for the buttons of his waistcoat. “Don’t make me wait any longer.  Don’t you think we’ve waited long enough?”

    Henry closed his eyes and reached for her cheek, remembering his first touch there years ago. When he had wiped away a tear and wished he could kiss her. 

    “Is it that you don’t want me this way? That I’m - “

    “No, Emma not that.” He opened his eyes and stepped back so he could see her clearly, reaching for her hands and squeezing. “I want you very much. So much I hardly know how to start.”

    “Then let me show you, Henry,” Emma said, pushing on him gently until they were at the bed and he sat down heavily, off balance and out of breath. She nudged his knees open with her own and stood between them, her hands on his shoulders and his at her waist, leaning in to kiss him behind the ear and to whisper “I am my beloved’s and he is mine.”

***

Henry and Emma continued west to Williamstown, waving from the carriage that took them from the Foster home and promising to return soon for a visit and to write even sooner.  One week later the Foster boys welcomed their much desired puppy, and one year later, a rather less desired sister.  Jed’s apprehension turned to delight when Mary reached for her daughter with eager arms, bringing her to her breast and leaning back into the pillows with a laugh.  “There’s two of us now.  Three if you count the dog.  We’ll be evenly matched soon, Mr. Foster.”

Jed washed his hands in the basin and looked at the brightness in her cheeks and the sweat on her brow, walking to her to check for fever. He kissed her forehead and then the baby’s.  “Oh, I’m very happily outmatched already.”

***

Frank didn’t haunt her.  But sometimes her own inaction did. Her complicity. 

The cold of Williamstown was nothing to the bone-chilling terror of life in Franklin County, the shiver of fear she felt as she heard horses whinny in the dark and hooves pound the dirt as Frank and his most loyal congregants rode off to wreak whatever hateful havoc they could. 

In Williamstown, Henry knew how to stoke the fire just so, and soon afterwards the Rumford fireplace in the house was replaced by a coal furnace, the intricate ironwork and decorative finials as fancy as any etched crystal her mother had been proud to show.

She did not long for her life in Virginia and it took a while before Henry’s encouragement to write letters to her mother and sister and Belinda yielded missives sent south.  She hardly wrote to Mary because they visited so often - heading east for Boston meetings of the American Woman Suffrage Association with Mary and her friend Josephine Bhaer and then later to meet baby Penelope Foster.

Emma taught Sunday School and led sewing circles and an auxiliary chapter of the AWSA. She waved to Henry’s students as they walked by their house and he brought her flowers that Alice might have called weeds but Emma would not.

When Henry’s hands were on her, she never thought of Frank. The way he loosened her corset and spread his hands over her stomach and chest, pulling her to him before it was dark and he could see her best, it was uniquely Henry. He had started hesitant and unsure, but she showed him with her sighs and fingers spread across his shoulders and legs wrapped around his middle that she wanted this too, so much.

In the end, all of her new fitted dresses and smartly tailored coats that Mary helped her buy were useless by her second winter as it became clear the Reverend and Mrs. Hopkins would welcome a baby with the spring.

***

The first students at The Lou Morris School knew there were ghosts, and they knew Ms. Leah Gordon took care of them.  They knew there had been a war and they knew about loss.  In their beds, under clean cotton sheets, they whispered about the cries they heard in the night, the thuds and thumps and rhythmic banging.  Laughter too, though only when patrons Doctor and Mrs. Hale came on their weekly tours and Mrs. Diggs walked them to an upstairs room.  The children decided the ghosts liked ornate bustles and lacy flounces like Mrs. Hale wore and drew elaborate flourishes on the pictures they drew of the spirits they imagined. 

But after a few years, no one spoke of ghosts, even though Ms. Gordon still sang at night to calm them and Jack and Harriet had been there the whole time and remembered.  The children knew people came in different colors; the grown-ups said black and white, but to them, they were all brown and beige, with a few pink, with freckles all over their faces, like Miss Brannan. They also knew people had different skills; some spoke with words, others with their hands, and some, not at all. Some could run and jump over the fence they weren’t supposed to jump over, earning a scowl from Old Mrs. Green who seemed to always walk by when they were at play in the yard.  Some could walk with some help, and others had special chairs with wheels that needed to be pushed - slowly! the teachers always said, Mrs. Morris most of all, her eyes all seeing, her tone sharp but never mean.

When the cries in the night and the thumps and thuds sounded, it wasn’t with fear that the children strained to listen.  They stilled in their beds to listen for Ms. Gordon’s voice floating down the halls.

Nobody knows the trouble I've seen

Nobody knows but Jesus

Nobody knows the trouble I've seen

Glory, Hallelujah