#it also made me laugh several times even though i don’t often react that strongly to fics

[simcardiac-arrested]

Go go go cutscene cutscene cutscene!!!

been thinking about one of my favorite undertale fics lately, it’s like. the best undertale fic to me if not the best fic on ao3 period. i liek it so much. it’s the scientist series by talkingsoup and i will Never stop talking about like i Know i have mentioned it before but i am physically incapable of shutting up about it. it’s so good. i once tried to get my best friend to read it even though she doesn’t know english but i tried to convince her to read it with google translate (it didn’t last long but it was worth the effort). it’s So Good. i discovered it in like 2018 or 2019 and have reread it at least two times since it’s just like AUEHGGHHH. gaster’s downfall and then him haunting the narrative … the exploration of sans’ backstory …… the characterizations ………. it’s all very well written and also very dark and traumatic. They make Shit happen to these characters. but it gets better. i think ? i have never finished the series because iirc it only finished around a year ago and i haven’t reread it since. but i am Thinking about it. it’ll probably take me months because 1. i have to come to terms with the fact that one of my favorite stories will be Finished(tm) 2. i have to hype myself up to reread it because it’s a very long series with like 400k words or something AND the second installment is verrrry dark and heavy considering it explores the whole reset bullshit and flowey is putting sans through 29263937 meatgrinders

[honeyandbloodpoetry]

Gender Thoughts Pt 1 and 2

The first time I put a binder on, a little under a week ago, I felt euphoric. Ever since I hit puberty very early on, I felt uncomfortable with my breasts. They never felt right on me, and even though I’ve come to love them sometimes, they still don’t always feel like they match up. I hated how people always looked at them, pointed out how much they showed in low cut shirts when I never even noticed they were--or even wanted them to. They were just there. I liked the way low cut shirts feel and look on me, I just can’t help these giant sacks of flesh that sit on my chest. 

Except...now I can! I ran my hands over my smooth chest, feeling bright. I looked into the mirror, and felt something warm wash over me. I put on my new masculine clothes, letting my partner clip on my new suspenders. I realized that I was shaking as I looked at myself again… I looked like a boy. I felt like a boy. Like a man. And I liked it. I wanted it. Admitting that to myself was like coming home. 

I remember being in sixth grade, walking around the track for my civil air patrol class. I had been slotted in with the rest of the girls, the boys walking ahead of us. I remember feeling uncomfortable being shoved in with only girls, and looking at the gaggle of boys ahead. The exact thought that whispered in my brain was “I wish I was a boy. I want to be like them, with them.” I never forgot that moment, and how strange it made me feel. How it was easier to shake that thought away, and dismiss those feelings. Except they never really left, did they? 

I remember sitting on my bed, crying with my best friend kneeling in front of me. I remember telling her how I didn’t like feeling like a woman all the time. That I wished I could be a black shadow, monstrous, androdynous. Specifically like Venom. She took my hand, did my makeup all in black and helped me pick out the perfect black outfit to achieve that dark, gothic look. I was so incredibly happy and validated. But I still felt like something was missing. 

I remember going into an Adam and Eve for laugh, not expecting much since I am an asexual with a low libido. I remember seeing packers and feeling my chest tighten. I never liked my genitalia--I had wished for a cloaca or something akin to that, but since that was biologically impossible for a human… I sometimes wished I had the opposite of a vagina. I frequently imagined what it would be like to have a penis. I frequently lamented the fact that I didn’t have one. I took the box up to the counter to ask some questions, my dress swishing as I went. The cashier told me it was for trans people only, and a girl like me couldn’t have it. She didn’t know what asexuality was, and had tried polyamory once but decided it was bad when her girlfriend kissed her boyfriend. I was upset, disheartened, and left the store empty handed feeling frustrated and lost.

I remember finally cutting the long, curly locks that had frustrated and imprisoned me for so long. Seeing all of my hair fall to the floor, staring into the mirror as the barber buzzed the back of my head… It made me want to cry tears of joy. It was the first time in my entire life that I had looked at my hair and was happy. The first time I could look in the mirror and feel like myself. Then I remember wanting to go shorter, and my barber encouraging me to keep it a little longer so I didn’t look manly, so I could still be soft and feminine. The way my stomach dropped and the sick feeling in my chest only increased when he began to make fun of the gay men who came down the street near his favorite restaurant. I never saw that barber again. I instead found a nice local place down the road from my apartment, where the kind lady cut it all off without question, other than “Why?” and accepted my warm “It makes me happy. It makes me feel beautiful.” 

But wearing that binder for the first time? It was as if a beam of light had funneled its way directly into my heart. I felt like a handsome man, with just a little bit of striking man boob, and it felt so right. My partner called me a dashing boy and my heart began to race. I still feel his hand tracing my jawline as he called me handsome, and the butterflies it sent up through my belly, even after more than eleven years. 

I love my partner--he identifies as agender and primarily masculine, and has been on the lookout for a good pair of size thirteen shoes to wear with a dress. They also wear joggers and flip flops and graphic tees and can’t seem to stop talking about the ocean and outer space. They’re probably one of my biggest inspirations for finding myself, and being authentically me. 

I’m not super sure who or what I am right now. I’m still figuring that out, but I’m pretty sure I’m somewhere between agender and genderfluid. I feel like me more than anything else, but all pronouns make me feel good. I feel like all of them and none of them at once, but I swing between wanting to be feminine and masculine pretty strongly, though I enjoy being masculine most of all--even when I’m wearing dresses and pink. I feel like a beautiful person in a dress or a button down, no matter what gender I feel like today or tomorrow. 

I am me. And I am one dashing boy, and one beautiful girl. 

4 July 2021

XXX

Since first writing this little essay, I’ve been doing a lot more examination of my gender. I have come to the conclusion that I am transmasc and nonbinary, and am shaky on the title of genderfluid. I am feeling less and less like a woman--if anything, occasionally adjacent to a woman rather than actually being one. I love feeling like and presenting as a man. I have my first appointment with a gender services doctor at my local community clinic for consultation on starting hrt testosterone. I am planning to start with low dose first, and see how I feel. 

I am still unsure of my exact identity, but I have found great euphoria with being and presenting as a man. I love being a man and everything that entails. I have loved myself like never before. Being with my partner is amazing, and he has been endlessly supportive--even recounting little things they had noticed throughout the years. One of the funniest being that I only ever referred to my body parts--my belly, hands, hair, genitalia--with masculine pronouns. I always seemed to see my body as male even if I had a certain sort of dissonance from it. 

Coming out has been difficult. I have had both positive and negative experiences from it. I have been told going on testosterone would be self harm, and that I can’t be something I’m not. I’ve had coworkers I trusted out me without my permission. But I have also had positive affirmation, polite questions, and discussions. I am terrified to tell my mother and her boyfriend--I have no idea how they will react and am terrified that I will be disrespected and disowned. 

But I am prepared to do whatever it takes to be my happiest and most authentic self. 

I have been binding a lot more often, wearing sports bras for long shifts at work, and occasionally going without either when I feel like letting my man boobs hang free. I’ve had the delightful experience of going to a men’s big and tall store and finally wearing pants. I grew up as a fat girl and felt as if I had to perform high femininity to be taken seriously and be treated well--and had been told by someone I trusted that I was too fat to wear pants, which I heavily internalized. So I had completely cast them away in favor of dresses and skirts, bows and gaudy jewelry. Realizing that I could wear pants was...totally wild. That I could be comfortable and look good in pants and shorts, and that it didn’t matter what people did or thought of me was life changing. Maybe I’ll feel like being feminine again someday, but right now this masculinity and masculine clothing, with perhaps the added spice of funky earrings, feels like home. 

I also grew up autistic and with PCOS, both which I think have affected my gender identity. Being autistic, I truly struggled to connect to others socially, and especially to understand societal norms. Being a proper woman felt like I was making up for everything else I was lacking--I may have been awkward, semi-verbal and weird with no friends, but at least I was cute and girlish. I never connected to womanhood though, and always felt out of place no matter how hard I tried. With PCOS, I had heightened testosterone, which meant wider breasts and shoulders, a lack of periods, and excessive body hair. I recall the endocrinologist asking high school age me if I had excessive body hair around my stomach, breasts, etc. and my mother jumping to say no I didn’t...even though I did. I remember suddenly feeling very self aware and ashamed of something completely natural, and even something I started to enjoy. I started shaving my entire body then. 

I even remember being in middle school, and thinking nothing of my hairy legs. In fact, I loved my body hair and how it felt. A rude girl began making fun of me though, tutting her tongue as she cooed, “Aw, does your mommy not let you shave?” Among other things, all throughout many years of severe bullying and abuse. I remember feeling ashamed, but not knowing why, and immediately shaving my legs, covering them in nicks from my shaky and unsteady hands, that same night. 

So many things set me back in my gender expression. So many things contributed to me willful ignorance and denial. I remember wanting to be butch, and everyone in my life laughing at me and saying I was too soft for that. That sweet, sharp ache in my chest. I remember going to a salad bar with my mother, wearing a button up and telling her I wanted to wear some more boyish clothes around that same time--I had already told her that I was bi sometime earlier. I remember her lip curling, looking uncomfortable, and telling me that I better not become one of those boy girls. My late father was very vocal in denouncing homosexuality and specifically men loving men--something which always sat horribly wrong with me on a deeper level. 

I think I might ending up being a trans man. I am still unsure and figuring myself out, but I struggle greatly with the autistic need for sameness vs. the trans need for change. My sapphic love of women has always been very important to me, and fully becoming a man rather than genderfluid is scary for that very reason. I am still navigating my identity and what it means to me and my reality--but no matter what, being a man, being masculine is integral to who I am. 

I was called a “sir” at a job interview for the first time the other day, and nearly began to bawl from sheer joy. The gender euphoria from that and so many moments is worth so much more to me than the years of suffering and ignorance and my ongoing struggles with dysphoria. I finally got a packer and have had help from my partner in learning to position it properly--I am thinking of cutting my hair even shorter. I have almost perfected a pretty basic tie tying skill. Okay, not really, but I’m getting there. I feel deep inside that even though my father loved me, he would not like who and what I am. Still, I wear the last watch he ever wore, and hope to be a good man like him--and to learn from the toxic parts of him to be an even better man. 

I am very excited to start hrt. I am terrified of hair loss and vaginal atrophy, but I look forward to so much more. I cannot wait for bottom growth and body hair, for the voice drop that will hopefully get me misgendered less. I have always felt disconnected from my voice and look forward to getting to know it better as it changes with me. I look forward to meeting with new facial hair. Working out and growing muscle. I just look forward to my second puberty and becoming more like myself. I look forward to navigating and exploring my gender even further, both with loved ones, support groups, and myself. 

More than anything, I am just happy to be me. 

25 August 2021

[bunivys]

87

—87: “I’m pregnant and the baby…it’s yours.”

Thanks for sending this in! Sorry I’ve been very slow with posting these.

This one is set in the far, far future of Lessons in the Unseen! Hope you enjoy!

Sabrina looked between Shava and Salem, both familiars laying sprawled out on the hallway floor outside of the bathroom. Salem stopped bopping the wolf’s ear to look over at her, wearing a bored expression that didn’t look like it would be going anywhere any time soon. Shava, however, looked entirely intrigued, gray eyes snapping up to meet Sabrina’s soon as she looked at him.

“I’m trying this the mortal way,” she decided, digging through the paper bag she had tossed against the wall and pulling out several boxes. Salem meowed lazily, which made her glare. “Yeah, and?” she asked. “I’ve tried aunt Hilda’s tea divination—” Several teacups brimming with liquid currently sat all along the kitchen counters downstairs. “—and I’ve tried aunt Zelda’s blood spell.” There were certainly enough pricks and bruises on her palms to prove it. 

This time, Shava huffed and lifted his head, bumping Salem out of the way accidentally who then proceeded to climb up the wolf’s back and perch on his neck.

“Well, yes,” Sabrina answered. “All of the answers I got were the same…”

The familiar whined.

She sighed. “The spoon dropping in the kitchen last week is exactly what prompted this. But it just doesn’t make sense—Nick and I are careful. ” Or careful enough, at least.  There might have been a few occasions where they’d forgotten a contraception spell during their more desperate times, but it didn’t happen often. “Be right back.”

She dashed back into the bathroom, tore open the boxes she’d acquired from the nearby store, and stared at the pregnancy tests, pressing her lips together as she did. Sabrina stood there for a while, frozen, knowing this was the last step between finding out whether or not she would be expecting. Part of her had considered calling her cousin or Prudence for the added support, but ultimately, she’d decided it was best done alone. Nick would home from the Academy any moment anyway.

She went on with it, and after the necessary waiting time, she came back and sat down on the floor with both familiars—hers and the one that had belonged to Nick’s father before he’d passed. The wolf had bonded with Nick over the last few centuries and was as good as his now. “Okay,” she said, the anticipation welling in her gut feeling like it would choke her any moment. She needed to look, and she needed to do it now. Sabrina flipped the tests over, one by one, and stared.

“I’m pregnant,” she exhaled.

Salem grumbled. He didn’t sound happy at the prospect of having to split the attention that so rightly belonged to him.

Shava, however, perked right up, clearly enthused by the idea.

“Sabrina?” Nick’s voice rang through the lower portion of the house they’d made their own—the one that had once belonged to Nathaniel and Lasanda Scratch. “I’m home!”

“Upstairs!” she called back. Footsteps rumbled up the stairway and then he was rounding the corner beside her, nearly tripping over her in the process.

“Hey, babe, any reason why you’re all over the floor?” he asked before glancing at the familiars. “Why you all are? Also, why is our kitchen covered in mugs of cold tea?” He sat down beside her, still confused, and kissed her, growing even more perplexed when she seemed hesitant to kiss him back. 

“Nick,” Sabrina said, the anticipation having shifted to sudden panic now that she had her answer. He looked back at her, his attention on her even as Shava dropped his head into Nick’s lap and he began scratching behind his ear. “I—”

“Are you okay?” he asked through a furrowed brow. “You look a little pale…” His eyes dropped to her hands next and they widened at the sight of blood smudged along her palm. Very carefully, he took one of her hands and smoothed his fingers gently over the pricks she’d made earlier, using the simple healing spells Hilda had taught him over the years to help soothe them away.  “Spellman, what the Heaven—what sort of blood magic have you been up to?”

“I’m pregnant,” she blurted out. 

Nick’s eyes snapped up to meet hers. “Oh—”

He had but a moment to react before she went on.  “And the baby? It’s yours.”

“I—uh—” He appeared visibly shocked, dark brows lifted, his mouth parted. “Well, I really hope so,” he said after a moment, once he’d gathered his mind enough to form a proper sentence.  “We hadn’t really talked about doing this with anyone else.”

Sabrina scrunched up her nose and smacked him lightly on the shoulder when she caught the joking tone in his voice. “I just told you I’m pregnant,” she repeated. “Like—with a baby.”

 “As opposed to what?” he asked, a clever smirk blooming over his lips. “An adult?”

Sabrina narrowed her eyes at him. “Nick, I swear—”

“I’m kidding, Spellman,” Nick soothed, cupping her cheek, the smirk shifting into a smile he couldn’t quite work off his face. He nodded and simply said, “Okay.”

“Okay?” she asked. “Just...okay?”

“I mean…” He paused. “Is it not okay?”

“Well...I guess it’s not not okay,” she said, pursing her lips. “It’s just that...Are we ready? You’re really busy with your research and I’ve just stepped into the role of High Priestess following auntie Zelda and...This could mess things up.”

Nick leaned back against the wall beside her, drawing her against his side. His arm went around her shoulders and he pressed a tender kiss to her temple. “It’ll be your choice to decide if we’re ready in the end, since it’ll be your body going through the changes,” he said. “But me? I think...I feel like we’re ready. I mean, we’ve lived a few centuries. I’m 330, though if I’m being honest, I look impeccably good for my age and you—you look fantastic for 326—”

“Get to the point, Scratch,” Sabrina teased, poking him in the side when he started to laugh. She smiled though, her heartbeat having slowed to a normal pace, no longer drumming in her ears the way it had when the discovery was still fresh. 

“I’m saying,” he continued, jostling her playfully against his side. “I don’t think it would mess anything up...might slow us down for a couple of months but that’s it. Your aunt hangs around the Academy enough anyway, I’m sure she wouldn’t mind helping with your new duties.” He was right, though Zelda had passed her role onto Sabrina, she hadn’t made much effort to slow down her visits to the Academy, always with her nose over Sabrina’s shoulder. “And my research is always going to be around. I can work on it whenever.”

“You make very valid points…” Sabrina mused.

He smiled at her. “So what do you say? Do you think we’re ready to add to our little family?”

They both had known early on they would one day want children—that had never been the issue. It had always been the time and sorting out when would be best that kept them from deciding, but the more she considered it, the more she realized there wasn’t anything holding them back from being parents—from expanding their family the way they had both wanted, Nick maybe a little more than her. While the Spellmans had welcomed him with open arms and were quick to consider him family, she knew he wanted to be a dad more than anything one day.

“I think,” she began, moving her head off his shoulder to look up at him, fingers lacing through his. “I think I want us to be parents. It’s a journey I want to take with you.”

The smile on his face only grew, shifting into one so vivid it drew out a smile of her own. “I want that too,” he said, and it was then that she noticed the slight tremble in his voice, the quiet sheen in his eyes.

“Nick...are you…” she started quietly, “are you crying?”

“I’m really happy, Spellman,” he answered, running the back of his hand along his eye. “This was a really good surprise to come home to.”

She felt her heart tug in her chest and she sat up, rolling onto her knees. Sabrina took his face in her hands and kissed him, once strongly, and then over and over, until she had him slipping back and landing on his back on the floor with a gentle thud, both of them smiling so hard it became difficult to keep kissing. She had no idea where Shava and Salem had wandered off to, but by the time she opened her eyes, they were gone and it was just Nick looking back at her.

And Hell, was she certain he would make for a great father. 

“I’m happy, too,” she said. “I’m kinda gonna kill it as a mom and aunt Zelda might finally get off our backs with her passive comments.” The woman had made hundreds of sly remarks about ‘not getting any younger’ anytime the mention of babies was brought up at the dinner table. And given that Ambrose had determined long ago that he and Prudence were fine raising the twins and that was it, Nick and Sabrina had become the sole targets of all her comments.

“I love you, Spellman,” Nick told her. “No matter what we would have decided—I love you always.”

She smiled, whispering the words right back at him before she sealed her lips over his once more.

Between her and Nick and the remainder of the Spellmans, their baby would never be short of any love.

[sapphicscullyy]

With You

100. “We could... you know, go together, if you wanted.”

Thank you so much for the prompt @bitshortforastormtrooper. I’m sorry it took agessss to get around to but please enjoy. This can also be read for your convenience on ao3. Tagging @today-in-fic

+++

8:29 am 27th August J. Edgar Hoover Building

Scully blustered her way into the office and shut the door behind her, slumping back against it with her eyes closed. She took several deep breaths before opening them again, attempting to cool the flush in her cheeks, only to find Mulder staring at her, concern in his eyes. The bastard. He didn’t say anything, just waited to see if she would explain her strange behaviour. Scully sighed.

“I just spoke to Skinner in the elevator,” she began slowly.

“If it was about the late case report, don’t worry,” he said quickly, “I was just about to head up there now to hand it in.”

“No, it wasn’t that.” She cleared her throat and took a deep breath. “He asked me if I was attending the Director’s Ball on Friday evening. Of which Skinner informed me that he had given you both of our invitations several weeks ago.” Her tone implied that this was more of an interrogation than a statement.

At least he was smart enough to look slightly guilty. “He may have mentioned it.”

“Mulder…” she groaned in exasperation. “It’s in three days,” she stuttered, “and I don’t have anything to wear.”

“Scully, you could wear anything, even one of your old pantsuits with the massive shoulder pads, and you would still look amazing.” 

She glared at him even as the blush returned to her cheeks. “I am not wearing a suit.”

“Why don’t you take the afternoon off?” Mulder suggested lightly. “We only have paperwork to do today. I can deal with it.”

“Are you sure?”

“What’s the worst that could happen?”

She huffed a laugh, deciding not to think about the answers to his question. “Thank you,” she said.

Silence filled the office for a moment, then the rustling of paperwork as Mulder collected some files from the desk.

“Are we-” Scully faltered, then continued tentatively. “Do we have to bring dates?”

“I think everyone has a plus-one invitation; I’m not taking anyone, though.” He stood, not meeting her gaze as he shuffled the papers in his hands.

“Why not?” 

“I’m not sure anyone would want to go with Spooky Mulder.” He laughed as though he had told a joke. 

“We could… you know, go together, if you wanted.” Scully swallowed, suddenly overly conscious of the lump in her throat, barely daring to breathe in wait of his response.

“It’s alright, Scully. You don’t have to stick with me. You could have any man you wanted.” He stood from behind the desk, file in hand, and walked over to where she was still standing by the door. He gently moved her aside as he opened it. “I’ll be back in a bit,” he said, flashing her a grin, the one that made her go weak at the knees every time, and shut the door behind him.

“What if I want you?” she whispered to the closed door, her words too loud in the empty office.

+++

2:43 pm 

That afternoon, Scully pulled into a parking space in front of a small boutique shop that she often eyed as she drove past on the way to work each day. She had only been inside once before, and it had been a few years ago when she had treated herself to a day of therapeutic shopping after a particularly gruelling case. She had bought a new pair of heels, which she had only worn two or three times since, but the feeling of buying them had been worth it. 

A small bell above the door chimed as she entered. A woman popped her head out from behind a rack of clothes, greeted Scully, and told her to yell out if she needed any help. Scully smiled at her in thanks and wandered along the rows of dresses, running her fingertips lightly across the fabric. 

She wasn’t quite sure what she wanted to wear to the event, so she chose a few dresses at random to try on, hoping to find something that would work, or at least narrow down her choices. 

“Would you like to try those on?” the voice of the saleswoman behind her made her jump. She had a hand outstretched for the dresses draped over Scully’s arm. “Let me take them to the changeroom for you while you keep looking.” 

“Actually, I’m ready to try them on now.” 

“Of course, come this way.” She led Scully to the changeroom, drawing aside the large curtain for her, but she paused before closing it. “May I make a recommendation?” She didn’t wait for a response. “There’s a dress that’s out the back and I think that it would look perfect on you. I’ll go grab it while you try these ones on.” With that, she closed the curtain, leaving Scully by herself. 

The first dress was a red, strapless number that came to just below her knees. The fabric pooled nicely around her figure, and she had a pair of heels and a clutch at home that would go quite nicely with it, but she was concerned that there was too much skin being shown to be considered ‘proper’ for a work event, though she knew Mulder would most likely appreciate it. 

As would every other straight male in the room. She silently chastised herself for letting her mind wander to such a dangerous topic. 

The second dress she had picked up was a shade of green that she knew immediately would not suit her as she held the dress up to her body in the small changing room mirror. She replaced the dress on its hanger without even bothering to try it on. 

As she slid on the third dress, she thought it might be the one. The black fabric was smooth against her skin and the neckline and figure were modest yet flattering. But as she stepped out from behind the curtain to admire herself in the larger mirror, she noticed the slit along her left leg, nearly going up to her hip. She sighed at her reflection. She didn’t particularly want to be that exposed in front of her male colleagues, especially since she knew Skinner would be amongst them. She wouldn’t be able to meet her boss’s eye for days afterwards. 

At that moment, the saleswoman walked back in, another dress draped over her arm. She stopped when she saw Scully.

“Oh honey, you look absolutely stunning,” she exclaimed.

“Thank you,” Scully dipped her head at the compliment, “but I’m attending a work function and I’m not entirely convinced by this.” She gestured to her exposed leg.

“Of course,” she shook her head knowingly. “Here, give this one a try. I think it will suit you perfectly.” She handed Scully the dress from her arm.

Ducking back into the change room, she removed her current dress and slipped on the one the saleswoman had given her. Black, silky fabric that clung to her skin but almost appeared to be cascading down her body and onto the floor. The straps were thin and the neckline was low, although not dangerously so. The back dipped just low enough that she wouldn’t be able to wear a bra, but so that her ouroboros remained hidden.

The woman gasped quietly as she emerged from behind the curtain. “That dress looks like it was made just for you.”

Scully examined herself in the large mirror and felt her own breath catch in her throat. She did look amazing. Even with her hair and make-up having deteriorated throughout the day, she felt as though she could walk into any ballroom and fit right in. 

She couldn’t even begin to imagine how Mulder would react upon seeing her in this dress. Would he stop short at the sight of her? Or perhaps he would only give her a quick once over before he swept her into his arms, unable to keep away for any longer than necessary. 

The shrill ringing of her cell phone pierced through the fog of dangerous thoughts that had filled her mind. 

“Excuse me,” she said, stepping back into the changing room. She rifled through her belongings and found her phone. “Scully,” she answered.

“Scully, it’s me,” he said, as a loud crash came through the tiny speaker.

“Mulder? Is everything alright?”

“Just fine,” he replied unconvincingly. She heard the crackling rustle of papers being shuffled. “Do you know where you put the file on Cordelia Knox?”

“Mulder, you put that file on the massive pile on your desk, which I strongly suggested that you sort out before you lose something.”

She heard more rustling. Then a muffled bang. “I found it.” She laughed quietly even as her head fell into her hand. 

“Are you sure you don’t need my help?”

There was a pause. “Have you finished shopping?” he asked tentatively.

“Not quite.” She may have found her dress, but she wanted to buy a nice pair of heels to go with it.

“Then I have everything under control.” Another crash sounded through the phone. “Go enjoy yourself, Scully. You deserve it.”

+++

8:29 am 29th August FBI Director’s Ball

Scully was bored, tired, slightly drunk and extremely sick of the hot and clammy hands of the men who, because she had agreed to dance with them, believed that it was in their right to put said hands wherever they pleased on her body. She had been passed between the arms of the FBI’s worst perverts and creeps for the past hour and the only thing she wished for was a warm bath to wash away the lingering feeling of the many hands off her body. The man she was currently dancing with was no different from the others, in fact, they were all beginning to blend together. His hands sat hot and heavy on her lower back, making the skin itch and boil beneath the fabric. 

There was a small, fickle part of herself that thought of that spot on the small of her back as Mulder’s. It was the same part of her that made her continuously scan the crowds over the shoulder of her dancing partner in the frail hope of seeing him. The same part of her that desperately hoped that he would see her despondence and sweep her far away from this place and all the people in it.

There was a high chance that he wouldn’t turn up at all; perhaps struck by a sudden ailment in the hours between leaving the office and the expected arrival time of the event. She usually didn’t mind his near-perfect streak of missing work events, as usually, he dragged her along with him to wherever he thought was a better place to be, which was anywhere else, really. All she wanted now was to be with him wherever that may be.

She snapped out of her thoughts as she felt the hands of her dance partner slip dangerously low on her back and she was so focused on attempting to keep them in a more respectable place that she did not notice Mulder step forward from the crowd at the edge of the dance floor, his eyes flying from face to face. She did not see the way he stopped dead at the sight of her in the wandering arms of another man. How his eyes sparked first with wonderment, then with indignation. 

But then he was there, standing at her shoulder, politely asking for a dance and sweeping her away without waiting for an answer from the other man. He was inconsequential now that Mulder was there.

In the instant that he pulled her towards him, there was not a single soul present in the room that they were aware of, besides each other. He held her close, but his touch on her back was light and innocent, his fingertips deliciously burning the skin where her tattoo resided. 

“Hi,” she whispered, tilting her head back so that their faces were aligned, noses only inches apart. 

“Hi,” he responded, and she heard everything that he wanted to tell her at that moment. In the way he breathed that single word. She heard his wonder and his passion, and she heard his apology. She could see it reflected in his eyes, swimming there and exposed for her to see. An apology for letting her go alone, for being an idiot, and for all the arms that have held her tonight that weren’t his.

And she forgave him. 

The music was slow and steady, a heartbeat thrumming in the air. She slid the hands which had been resting on his shoulders further up and looped them around his neck. They remained completely oblivious to the world around them as they swayed in place together, unaware of the stare and murmurs of their coworkers, not noticing how they diverted their attention to something else with a quick glare from AD Skinner. Men came up to them to ask Scully to dance, but they went unheard and ignored, skulking away after it became obvious they had no chance of interrupting.

He pulled her closer to him, and she turned to rest her head against his chest, listening to his heart beating out of sync with the music, so she danced to his rhythm instead. Both of them shifted slowly from side to side in synchrony, creating their own metronome. 

She was pulled out of her trance-like state as the music changed to an upbeat song which she was no longer able to drown out with the sound of his heart beating in her ear. She extracted herself slightly from his arms and looked up at him, meeting his eyes. His face was clouded in an indecipherable storm of emotion, but when she smiled softly up at him, it cleared and he returned her small grin.

“Let’s get out of here,” she said, and his smile grew even wider. He moved the hands that had rested on her back and took her hand in his own, holding it tight as though he might lose her in the crowd, and led them off the dancefloor. They wove through the tables and people surrounding it, ignoring the people who looked their way in curiosity. 

The heavy doors to the event hall closed firmly behind them and an instant deafening silence filled the foyer. But it was quickly broken by the echoing sound of her heels clicking on the tiles as Mulder tugged her towards the revolving door at the entrance. A tiny laugh, one that could almost be described as a giggle, escaped her lips. They tumbled out of the door onto the street, both attempting and failing to hide their grins.

He hadn’t let go of her hand.

A cool evening breeze drifted down the street, curling around her bare arms and shoulders, so she stepped closer into him, stealing his warmth by proximity. But, for the second time that night, he pulled her closer, an arm wrapping around her waist, hands still entwined.

She tilted her head up and he tilted his down so that their noses were only an inch apart. 

“Where are we going?” he whispered, his breath tickling her lips.

“Does it matter?” she breathed.

“No.” 

There were words that remained unspoken, but she heard them all the same. 

As long as I’m with you.

[angeltrapz]

ALSO your takes on this lil Strahm/Adam thing we’ve been discussing?? hi???? tht dynamic makes me insane i love it sm + am very excited 2 hear more of ur thoughts 💗

I'm answering this one first bc!!!!!! It makes me insane too like I cannot stop thinking abt it. I am Trying 2 put together a fic abt it!!!

Okay so. I think that Adam and Strahm are similar in several ways, and yet not at the same time. Adam is accused of being apathetic by Jigsaw, right? But we're obviously shown that it's not exactly the case; if anything, Adam's supposed apathy is a shield to protect who he really is: someone who cares deeply, maybe more than he should; someone intensely thoughtful, someone willing to keep things from people if he knows it'll hurt them while also functioning as self-preservation (not showing the polaroid to Lawrence, hiding the fact that the trash bag contained both the hacksaws AND the pictures he took), someone who altogether simply cannot truly be defined as apathetic at his core. His projected persona, however, is a completely different story - Adam is angry, bitter, jaded. And yes, he is angry, bitter in regards to his circumstances, jaded in a way that comes from a life spent living paycheck to paycheck if he could even manage that regularly. We've seen his apartment. This dude struggles. Apathetic, no, but angry? Oh, absolutely.

Strahm is... slightly more complicated. HIS projected persona is one of cool indifference, no nonsense, someone purely analytical and maybe a bit of an asshole about it. The thing is, though, is that deep down, Strahm also cares deeply - just look at how he reacted to Perez being injured + having to call her mom, when he destroyed that office room - it's just harder to get out of him. His projected persona hides someone whose emotions run just as hotly and strongly; his are just more well-hidden. He is impulsive, intelligent, result-seeking. Strahm doesn't seem like someone who allows himself to just feel things very often, and when he does, the blowout can be a fucking mess (for example, showing up to the packing plant BY HIMSELF, operating on adrenaline and rage alone).

I think, other than Perez perhaps, Adam just may be the first person to understand Strahm in a way that no one else has even attempted. Adam might be the first person who manages to see past that indifference, who embraces the writhing emotions underneath it because he gets it. And Adam is absolutely one of the very first people to look at Hoffman the way he and Perez did - after all, Adam is present in Strahm's hospital room when Hoffman pays him a visit and tells him to back the fuck off, and after the man leaves, the first thing he says to Strahm is "It's him, isn't it?"

Because he sees it too. He'd been in Hoffman's presence for all of around five minutes and he'd seen it too.

And just how world-shattering can that simple revelation be? For the first time, Strahm has someone other than Perez on his side. She's gone, there's nothing he can do to bring her back, but here is someone else who sees what he sees, feels what he feels, in a strange echo of the test that brought Strahm and Perez into this whole fucking mess. Here is someone who has no reason to agree with him, no prior pressure put upon him and someone who Strahm feels wouldn't simply agree with him on that basis anyway (as you've touched on before), and yet Adam sees it too.

I feel like, in the tensely energized space the two of them share in that room after Hoffman leaves, that is one of the very first times Strahm feels seen. He doesn't feel the need to keep his shields up, and it's liberating, in a way. He feels like he can breathe around Adam. For reasons even he isn't entirely sure of, Strahm feels safe here. He can be himself, even if that self is angry, bitter, jaded. Who better to understand that than Adam Faulkner-Stanheight?

It's a feeling that only increases after they're discharged from the hospital. There's no real reason for the two of them to stay together, no obligations (except the fact that Strahm saved Adam's life, but Strahm doesn't hold that over him & Adam doesn't stick around purely because of it), and yet they do. It's two weeks after they're sent home that Adam shows up at Strahm's apartment, shaking softly and looking so fucking miserable that Strahm couldn't even dream of turning him away - after all, he gave him the address. An unspoken agreement, an offering of companionship.

Adam has been thinking. He and Strahm, they're tied together in more than one way, aren't they? Not just their shields and safeguards, not just the similarities in their true, deep-down emotions, not even having been targeted by Jigsaw and surviving things they shouldn't have - they've both lost people. Strahm is never getting Perez back, and Adam? Adam bonded with a man in that bathroom who shot him and told him he'd come back, but never did. He never looked back. His other potential saviour, Amanda Young? Her idea of rescue was a plastic bag over his head, but even she couldn't commit to the idea. She left him there, too. He's not getting Lawrence back, he knows that. Jigsaw took something, someone, from both of them. So, he proposes, what if we did something about it?

(Strahm still thinks about when they first met, when Adam told him he loved him. He can't help it, of course he thinks about it; knowing Adam was delirious with blood loss and a dizzying combo of dehydration and starvation and infection didn't cut into the feeling the earnest declaration gave him, even if it should've. Adam stuck around when he didn't have to. He wants him here.)

They've lost everything. Adam, his peace of mind, the uncertain semi-stability of his life, functionality in his arm, one of the first people he'd made a genuine connection with. Strahm, his best friend, his colleagues' trust, the safety that came with observing the case from a distance. They have nothing and yet they have each other. They both want Jigsaw to pay for what he's done to them and the people they care about, and the innocent people they never even knew. Why shouldn't they?

Like you said, I don't think they get in the coffin. I agree with you and I think that Adam is the catalyst there, the one voice of reason that drags Strahm away from certain death before he even has the chance to get ensnared permanently in Hoffman's web. They don't even listen to the tape. They just hightail it. And it's outside of that building, chests heaving and hands shaking, that it all kind of sets in for Strahm: he could've died. Hoffman could have killed him like he wanted and he would've walked right into it had he been alone. Adam, completely unconscious of the gravity of Strahm's revelation, had turned around and saved his life, repaid a favour he didn't really owe but wanted to fulfill.

And again, like you said, it's not really a favour, is it? Not when instead of laughing in an expelling of nervous energy Adam leans up and drags Strahm down by the lapels of his jacket and kisses him hard, grip white-knuckled and short breaths huffed through his nose. No, there is the same kind of reverence to be found in the way that Adam cradles his face in his trembling hands and breathes out "You're alive," as the kind that could be heard in that first I love you. There's nothing else that Adam has to say for Strahm to understand. He just pulls him close because he needs this, too. He has spent so long living his life as someone who doesn't need tenderness, doesn't need people to care about him, feels safer in isolation than anything else, and now he doesn't feel the need anymore. He is changed, in this way, but Adam accepts it readily, and though Strahm can't say it back when Adam finally slumps against him and breathes out "I love you" against his shoulder, no fever or delirium to compromise the meaning, he feels it all the same.

They understand each other, hold each other. They have work to do, and lots of it - Hoffman's going to be rampaging in a blaze of enraged glory soon enough, knowing that Strahm (and, by extension, Adam) got away, and they're going to need a plan - but right now, they can breathe. Right now, all either of them needs is knowing the other is alive, that they'd made it through something that for all intents and purposes was meant to kill them. Strahm can't just walk away. Adam knows this; he doesn't think he can, either. Two people who are more similar than they could've ever dreamed, brought together in one of the worst ways imaginable and yet in a way that has served as a lifesaver - not Jigsaw, fuck that. They want to live. For themselves, for each other, for everyone who didn't make it out. For the people they can't get back.

It's a kind of understanding that's entirely foreign to both of them, but as they hole up in Strahm's apartment after, huddled close on the couch because neither of them can sleep and they're trembling for reasons other than just the caffeine buzz of coffee, it's one that they can learn to adapt to. They can do this. They're going to save lives. They're going to do this hand-in-hand. They have each other's backs, without the shadow of a doubt.

And, really, is that not love?

[the-wlw-cafe]

Supercorptober 2020 - Day 3: Dancing

Read it on ao3 here!

“May I have this dance?” For several moments, Lena was sure she must have misheard. The voice clearly belonged to a woman, a woman asking her to dance, in front of the entire assembled bourgeoisie of National City. A madwoman, clearly – such things were unheard of, and if the involved parties wanted to be able to show their face again among the nobility, they were to be kept that way.

OR

Lena gets whisked away by a dashing stranger who asks too many questions. But it takes two to tango, and Lena is determined to show this stranger that she knows the steps just as well as her.

The masks truly afforded nothing but the barest pretence of anonymity. Lena could easily make out her brother, donning the mask of a snarling golden dragon in his incomparable ego, surrounding himself with the easily impressed and delighting in their awe and gawking as he presented them with tales of his daring conquest of Krypton, and all the treasure and wondrous inventions found in the ransacked cities. Even more apparent was Morgan Edge, whom she identified in a matter of minutes by the way he couldn’t wrench his eyes away from her cleavage for three consecutive seconds. Still, the invited to the annual masquerade ball conducted themselves with the self-assured gracelessness of men and women absolutely convinced none of their behaviour could ever be traced back to them.

Lex, their gracious host for the evening, had often told her she would learn to enjoy these balls soon enough, but while it was entertaining to watch the National City nobility make fools of themselves as wine flowed in biblical quantities, Lena quickly found herself bored of trading empty platitudes and trying to dodge the wandering hands of rich old men emboldened by alcohol or her brother’s sycophants tripping over themselves to praise his warmongering and genocidal exploits beyond the border in hopes of ingratiating themselves with the Luthors. With the years she’d developed a strategy in avoiding such situations, and it consisted mostly of always making herself seem as inapproachable as humanly possible, adding an aggressive snap to her steps as if she was continuously running late for something, venom to her words and disdain to her voice. It was not a mask she enjoyed wearing, but one necessary nonetheless.

Unfortunately Edge was not so easy to deter. She could see him stalking towards her, palms open in what he must have believed was an appeasing gesture. She began scanning the room for a quick route of egress, but found every way blocked by chattering groups of drunks, when suddenly -

“May I have this dance?”

For several moments, Lena was sure she must have misheard. The voice clearly belonged to a woman, a woman asking her to dance, in front of the entire assembled bourgeoisie of National City. A madwoman, clearly – such things were unheard of, and if the involved parties wanted to be able to show their face again among the nobility, they were to be kept that way. Still, she had to admire the woman’s bravery. It’s not like she hadn’t dreamt about it when she was younger and more naive, in the contrary, she’d spent many nights wishing herself away from a family, imagining a dashing girl to whisk her away into an adventure. But those idle dreams were for children, and Lena had long since accepted that the closest thing to love she could attain were quick fumblings in backrooms and dark hallways. It was a reality of life – a reality that the stranger apparently couldn’t yet accept.

Though she doubted he’d heard a word of what she said, the madwoman’s arrival had given Edge pause, but out of the corner of her eye she could see him pick up the pace towards her again, and in this moment, Lena was ready for any excuse to be out of his reach.

“Absolutely, I insist”, she answered, and let herself be lead to the dance floor. The music was barely audible over the laughter and conversations, most couples long since having abandoned dancing for a walk in the gardens, and the almost inevitably following roll in the hay. The woman started softly swaying them to the rhythm of the music, not especially gracefully, but Lena had seen far worse from her peers.

Now that the immediate danger of Edge accosting her had been staved off, Lena allowed herself her first look at her saviour. She immediately knew she’d never seen her before – masked or not, she was sure she would never forget a personality such as hers. Fittingly for someone as foolishly courageous, she had chosen the mask of a lion, long blond hair framing it perfectly like a mane. Even more perplexing (and, if Lena was honest with herself, alluring) was the fact that she had forgone a dress in favour of a simple, yet elegant frock coat with red and golden accents. Lena bit back a smile as she felt the lioness preen under Lena’s slow appraisal.

“My, my, aren’t you quite the scandal?”, she purred.

“I thought embracing scandal under the guise of anonymity was the whole point of a masquerade ball.”

Lena couldn’t hold back an airy laugh. “That much is true. Though I do greatly prefer your interpretation of scandal over the interpretations of the rest of the guests. So far, you haven’t even tried to touch my arse.”

The calm and collected veneer of her partner was immediately ruined as she reflexively dragged her hand a few inches higher from the perfectly tame spot on her back where it had been resting, leading Lena through the dance with nothing but the gentlest of pressure.

“I would never!” the lioness sputtered, honest affront at the mere notion tinting every syllable.

Lena cocked her head to the side, lost in thought.

“You truly wouldn’t”, she murmured, more to herself than to the blonde. Watching over her shoulder, she could see Lex, staring at her from across the room with barely concealed rage. Lena knew he could recognize her just as well as she could recognize him, and she hoped he could also sense her smirk under her black raven mask as she pulled her partner closer and quickened their steps, her lioness matching her tempo after just a moment of stumbling. After all the times her family had made sure she knew what a disgrace she was to the Luthor name, it was high time she, as the blonde had so precisely put it, embraced a little scandal.

The lioness spun them around once, and too late Lena noticed her partner surreptitiously following the direction of her gaze to where Lex was still watching them, the wine glass in his hand now shaking with fury.

“It seems that Lord Luthor has taken quite an interest in you”, she stated.

Lena could feel herself tense at these words, suspicion worming its way through the sense of safety she’d felt with the stranger.

“How did you know it was him?”

“Who else would move with such self-importance and display his wealth so publicly than our gracious host? And”, she added, a smug smile evident in her voice, “if it wasn’t him, why would you have reacted so strongly?”

Lena could kick herself for giving herself away so easily. She didn’t give the stranger the satisfaction of an answer, partly out of pride, and partly to choose her next words carefully as to not repeat her mistake.

“All of which makes me wonder”, the blonde concluded, “who you are to have vexed him so?”

She punctuated her statement by dropping Lena into a dip that had her heart stutter and breath hitch, held up only by one single, strong, secure hand between her shoulder blades. She swallowed, as her throat had suddenly gone very dry.

“Only moments ago it was you who was lecturing me on the advantages of anonymity”, she replied, clasping the other woman’s upper arm to regain some sense of stability. As her fingers brushed the fabric of her frock coat, she came upon something strange: She noticed a seam at the shoulder coming apart. No true noblewoman would wear clothes old or shoddily crafted enough to rip during a social gathering. Now that she was paying attention to it, there were more and more irregularities that caught her eye. The coat was slightly ill-fitting, the buttons straining just the tiniest bit against the lioness’ broad chest, and the rim of her mask was chipped just below the jaw.

“It seems we both have something to gain from it”, Lena teased, wrapping the loose thread around her finger and ripping it off with one abrupt motion, making sure her partner knew she knew.

“It seems we both have something to hide”, the woman acquiesced. Lena snorted.

“I’m a woman who enjoys dancing with other women, what don’t I have to hide?”

“You enjoy dancing with me?”

That much was obvious. It was no use beating around the bush, and while she wasn’t certain whether the racing of her pulse was owed more to the company she found herself in or the fact that her partner seemed entirely to perceptive for comfort, or, as was most likely the case, a mixture of the two, she liked it. She liked their little cat and mouse game, she wanted to see how far it could go, where it could lead them.

“If I didn’t, I wouldn’t have given you the time of the day”, she whispered, making sure to brush her hand over the slight swell of the lioness’ biceps and delighting in the way she audibly swallowed and missed a step in their dance.

“I’m honoured”, her partner murmured, unmistakable arousal adding a deep timbre to her voice.

“As you should be”, Lena smirked, wrapping a leg around her waist and trusting that the lioness’ strong arms would keep her balanced. In their next breakneck spin she caught another quick glance at Lex, but this time he wasn’t alone. He was bent over to none other than Edge, who was very obviously pointing at them while ranting about something. As soon as they noticed her watching them they got up, moving quickly toward her. Shit. She needed to get out of here, fast. She leaned in close to her partner.

“Would you like me to show you the gardens?”

It was an obvious code phrase. Being shown the gardens might have been the express goal in attending the ball for a lot of the attendees, but Lena was willing to bet none of them were botanical enthusiasts. She had no intention of following through with her bold promise, while she enjoyed the chase, she didn’t like the thought of baring herself to this total stranger with a knack for asking too many questions, in every sense of the word. She didn’t fear the lioness wouldn’t take no for an answer, despite her obvious interest. But to her surprise, her partner took a step back, a few hand widths of distance between their chests that previously had almost been touching.

“I...I don’t think that would be a good idea”, she said, adamantly refusing to meet her gaze.

Objectively, Lena knew that her refusal didn’t really matter, not when the offer she made wasn’t even genuine, but the obvious rejection still felt like someone had doused her with a bucket of icy water.

“Thank you for the dance”, the lioness added, her voice strangely hoarse, bowed stiffly and turned to leave.

“Wait!”

Lena hadn’t meant to exclaim so loudly, several people turning their heads towards her made her insides churn with embarrassment. She took the lioness by the hand and pulling her close, making a show of caressing her cheek for the onlookers before leaning in once more and whispering in her ear: “Our gracious host after me.” She swallowed her pride like a bitter pill and added: “Please.”

The lioness stood there for a second, frozen, before a steady hand found the small of Lena’s back.

“Lead the way.”

She took the lioness by the hand and together they dodged and weaved through the masses, most of them readily making space after the scene they’d made. It was dark outside, here and there the muffled noises of amorous couples were audible through the song of the cicadas. She tugged her onwards, into the bushes that framed the pebble paths where they ducked down into the shadows, waiting. They saw Lex emerge, stalking along the paths like a featherless vulture, but Lena was sure he would not venture too deep into the gardens. Sure, there was no telling what retribution awaited Lena tomorrow, for potentially bringing dishonour on the entire Luthor family for her public dalliance with this stranger that defied all notions of etiquette and morality, but in this moment, huddled together with her lioness, painfully aware of the fact that she had not yet let go of her hand, she found that she only regret she had was not being able to see her brother’s face.

“Well”, she giggled (giggled! She couldn’t remember the last time she’d done that), once she was sure Lex was gone, “Look at you, a perfect stranger whisking me away to an adventure. I must say, I’ve never had this much excitement at one of these odious balls.”

Her lioness was quiet for a while, and anxiety began to rear its ugly head in Lena’s mind as she began fretting over whether she’d been too familiar. Then, the other woman heaved a sigh so great Lena could see her deflate.

“Lena…”

It didn’t come as a shock to her, not really. She knew the lioness was perceptive and intelligent, on some level she’d suspected she knew of her identity. The thought of a stranger knowing her name while she knew nothing, nothing at all about her in return still made her queasy with unease.

“You know my name.” It wasn’t a question.

“You know I don’t belong here.”

“So I suppose we are at an impassé?”

The lioness was silent for a few more seconds, then she spoke again:

“Lena, my intentions with you haven’t been...honest. My sister will have my head for telling you this, but, the truth is that I infiltrated the ball with one goal in mind: I wanted to confront your brother, and…”

Her fingers slipped out of Lena’s, and instead she took hold of her shoulders, as if she was imploring her, begging for something – mercy, forgiveness, anything that had never been Lena’s to give.

“Lena, I wanted to kill him.”

So she was a madwoman after all.

“Have you lost your mind?” she hissed, still mindful of whoever might be out there overhearing this conversation they’d both be executed for. Lena doubted Lex would shed a tear, after tonight, he might in fact be glad for the excuse.

The reaction of the lioness was instantaneous, recoiling as if Lena’s skin had burned her, hands that had been clawing at her gown dropping limply at her sides.

“In front of National City’s entire upper class? You’d be dragged off to jail before you’d even cleaned the blade of his blood! Don’t think you’d be seeing any mercy from them, they all profiteer off of his warmongering! You’d be lucky if you’d even get as much as a mock trial, instead of being murdered before you’d get the chance to see the light of day again -”

“I don’t care!”

Stunned silence was her answer. She’d shouted the words with such conviction, with such disregard to her own fate. Even in her darkest moments there’d always been a voice inside Lena that had forced her to carry on, if not for her own sake or for the dwindling hope of better days, then just out of pure spite.

“I don’t care”, the lioness said again, all the fire having left her voice, looking so incredibly small now. “He took everything from me. I don’t care what it takes, I need to make sure he can’t hurt anyone else. When I asked you to dance tonight, it was for the sole purpose of getting closer to him, closer to my goal, but when you accepted...I forgot everything else for just a few minutes.”

Muffled sniffles were audible under the blonde’s mask now, and Lena felt the sudden urge to reach out to her, to comfort her.

“And a part of me resents you for it because this, us, is something I desperately want but I know I can never truly have. As long as he is still alive I know I can never be at peace.”

“It sounds like we have a common enemy then”, Lena said, with as secure a voice as she could muster.

“Lena, you can’t possibly -”

“Mean that? The Luthors have tormented me since my father forced them to take me in. But that hardly matters. Don’t you see this is bigger than just Lex? Every single person you’ve seen donning a mask today have a vested interest in continuing his conquest, even if he isn’t their figurehead anymore. You could – we could change everything, together, if you don’t throw away your shot with one rash decision tonight.”

“You’d be hunted. Your life would never return back to normal.”

“Good. I hope so. This entire time I’ve waited for some opportunity, for someone to take my hand and lead me, when in reality all I needed to do was take the plunge.”

Another silence stretched on, and Lena’s competitive side couldn’t help but feel a little pride at the fact that this time it was her who had stunned the other woman. Then, quietly at first, she started to laugh, until her entire frame was shaking.

“My sister is definitely going to kill me”, she managed between sobs of laughter. Then, in one fluid movement, she pulled the mask from her face, a cascade of blonde hair framing a face more beautiful than any other Lena had seen, blue eyes glimmering with tears of both sorrow and laughter holding her stare.

“My name is Kara Zor-El, and I am the last daughter of Krypton.”

[onebadwinter]

The Joker Tropes

Taken from Here

0% Approval Rating: Apart from Harley (and even then, only when their on-off relationship is "on"), Gaggy and Punchline, no one likes or supports the Joker. In any way, whatsoever. Damn near every other member of Batman's Rogues Gallery hates his guts, mostly because not only is he completely sociopathic and unpredictable, but also they are all scared shitless by him. The only reason why he's even allowed in teams such as the Legion of Doom is because of that fear: if they exclude him from the lineup, then chances are that dead bodies will be lining the streets in their name. Trickster spells it out in "Underworld Unleashed." Trickster: Great going, Neron, bring in the one guy no one wants to be in the same room with. When super-villains want to scare each other, they tell Joker stories.

Abusive Parents: One common tactic for the Joker to garner sympathy is claiming he was ill-treated by his parents. Given his propensity to spew out different and sometimes contradictory backstories, nobody knows if they're true.Harley Quinn: Joker told me things, secret things he never told anyone... Batman: What did he tell you, Harley? Was it the line about the abusive father, or the one about the alcoholic mom? Of course, the runaway orphan story is particularly moving, too. He's gained a lot of sympathy with that one. What was it he told that one parole officer? Oh, yes... 'There was only one time I ever saw dad really happy. He took me to the ice show when I was seven...' Harley: (crying) Circus... He told me it was the circus. Batman: He's got a million of them, Harley.

Acquired Poison Immunity: In many continuities, he's immune to his trademark Joker Venom/Smilex. In a crossover comic with Captain America, he also proves to be immune to Red Skull's "Dust of Death", as their trademark poisons are too similar to each other.

Ambiguous Disorder: He's undeniably insane and Ax-Crazy, but has no official diagnosis. If anything, he can just be diagnosed with "Being the Joker". However, it’s possible he’s perfectly sane and just The Sociopath, and is using his manipulation abilities to continue his reign of terror.

Ambiguous Start of Darkness: Related to his Multiple-Choice Past; the only thing consistent is that he was a low-level crook who got dunked in chemicals to become the Joker. C While some origins (most notably The Killing Joke) have him being forced into crime, others have him as already a sinister criminal beforehand. Batman (1989) and Batman: The Animated Series choose the Evil All Along interpretation.

Appropriated Appellation:

Arch-Enemy: A classic example to the Batman, and not just in the comics - they are pretty much the iconic gold standard when it comes to this trope. The two of them are the page image for a reason.

Attention Whore: A big part of his motivation in various continuities. He even admits as such at one point, while denying he's not behind one particular crime.Joker: Do you really think I would stir up so much trouble and not make sure you knew it was me?

Ax-Crazy: One of his main characteristics is his willingness to psycho on anyone, including his own henchmen.

Bad Boss: Willing to casually kill his own henchmen for any reason, be it part of a plan, for amusement, or simply on a whim.

Bad People Abuse Animals: Defied by The Joker in at least one story (Emperor Joker). Evil Jimmy Olson kills Superman, who has been turned into a dog, by crushing him underneath a fire hydrant. The Joker is simply annoyed, because he doesn't know how to make something as pointless as beating a dumb animal funny. Jimmy Olson is then beaten to death by two giant robots who appear out of nowhere.

Believing Their Own Lies: He sometimes believes his Multiple-Choice Past, Depending on the Writer of course. One issue of the Robin Series had the Joker actually in tears as he told the psychiatrist of his abusive childhood, only for the psychiatrist to coldly point out that it's the seventh story he's told now.

Berserk Button:

Black Comedy: This is one of Joker’s specialties. To normal people, killing would be a terrible thing, but to Joker, it’s hilarious, especially if he does it in a way that amuses him.

Bond Villain Stupidity: In a "Detective Comics" story written by Paul Dini, the Joker (while impersonating a stage magician he had previously murdered) shot Zatanna in the throat so she couldn't recite a spell to save herself, then locked her in a tank of water while strapping Batman in an electric chair. He didn't shoot her in the head because he wanted Batman to watch helplessly as she died. This didn't go so well because first, he's BATMAN! and second, Zatanna was able to write a healing incantation on the lid of the tank using her own blood, which made the spell even more powerful.

Boring Insult: While the Joker has used it a few times on others, he mostly does it to hear the sound of his own voice as the people he usually slings this insult at don't really care whether or not they're boring. On the other hand, this is Joker's Berserk Button when others use it against him. Most notably, he reacts poorly when Terry deliberately exploits this flaw with glee and even rubs it in his face in Batman Beyond: Return of the Joker. After all, the natural enemy of a comedian is The Heckler.

Breakout Villain: The Trope Codifier for comics. DC's initial intention was to kill him off in his second appearance. Fortunately, editor Whitney Ellsworth convinced DC to spare him, a panel was hastily added to show that he'd survived, and the Joker rapidly became not only Batman's Arch-Enemy, but arguably the most iconic example of an Arch-Enemy in all of fiction.

Break the Comedian: A sure way to determined if things have gotten real, even for the Joker, is if he isn't laughing or joking. A famous example involved the Joker being frightened during the events of Alan Moore's Swamp Thing run, when he was horrified by Arcane's actions.

Clear My Name: The Brave and the Bold has him framed for several murders and he must use Batman's help.

Collective Identity: As revealed in Darkseid War and DC Rebirth, the Joker has been used by three people, though Batman: Three Jokers clarified it as this: The Criminal (the original "Golden Age" Joker from the character's debut in Batman #1), The Clown (the "Silver Age" Joker, strongly implied to be the one who killed Jason Todd), and The Comedian (the current "Modern Age" Joker, who kidnapped and tormented Jim Gordon).

Combat Pragmatist : While his fighting prowess varies from remarkably proficient to extremely weak Depending on the Writer, the Joker is a consistently dirty fighter, striking enemies when and where they are most vulnerable. Besides his myriad of gag gadgets, he often carries concealed weapons, gases and acids on his person, and won't hesitate to brandish a wrench or smash a chair over your head in a pinch. He is usually adept with knives and, unlike Batman, rarely has any reservations about firearms. He has no qualms kicking an opponent when they're down, and will employ deception, feigning surrender or defeat to get Batman to lower his guard.

Comic-Book Fantasy Casting:

Confusion Fu: This is often his last line of defense when Batman corners him, especially in the animated television shows. Effectiveness varies.

Cop Killer: Sometimes police officers are among the Joker's victims:

Create Your Own Villain: Most stories posit he was chased by Batman through a factory with No OSHA Compliance, which caused him to be exposed to acid, discoloring his skin and hair and driving him insane when he sees his reflection. Often he claims Batman is responsible for turning him into The Joker.

Creepy High-Pitched Voice: In voiced roles, he usually has a high-pitched voice to contrast Batman's Badass Baritone.

Crossover Villain-in-Chief: In DC's Crisis Crossover events that involve a lot of villains, like Salvation Run and Forever Evil, The Joker usually fills this role along with Lex Luthor.

Crouching Moron, Hidden Badass: Insanity aside, sometimes the Joker's plans and methods are so out there they just seem stupid. Despite appearances, he's usually very cunning, and always very dangerous. In fact, part and parcel of what makes the Joker's plans devastating is that he knows how to hide the punchline for lack of a better word. The plans are so innocuous, so disheveled and so utterly random that they usually have no sane MO, which makes it hard to see the bigger picture of the plan unless Batman pieces it together quickly.

Critical Psychoanalysis Failure: Happens frequently, though this may be an indication of the competence of the staff at Arkham. One such time was with Dr. Harleen Quinzel, who bought his story hook, line and sinker and declared him sane, then broke him out of Arkham and started dating him (of course, her exact analysis was that he was utilizing Obfuscating Insanity and it's implied that she was actually right, so perhaps she was the only good doctor at Arkham after all...)

Deadly Prank: He generally considers murdering someone for a joke to be morally no different than putting a whoopie cushion on their chair.

Depending on the Artist: His depiction varies a lot between eras and between different artists in the same period. Major differences are whether he can form facial expressions other than a grin, and whether he is average-sized or freakishly tall and thin.

Depending on the Writer: There are many huge variations, the most common and glaring being:

Depraved Homosexual: Not above invoking this deliberately to get under Batman's skin. Whether he means all his flirting and feel-copping varies slightly Depending on the Writer and heavily depending on one's own interpretation.

Diplomatic Impunity: In A Death in the Family, Ayatollah Khomeini appoints him the UN ambassador to Iran, giving him diplomatic immunity. This was later retconned to the fictional Syraq due to reasons of taste.

Dirty Coward: There is a common misconception that Joker has no regard for his own life and doesn't care if he dies or not. In actuality he does care, and the reason he keeps taunting morally good characters into killing him is because he's confident that they don't have the guts to off him. When he comes across someone who is willing to kill him, he shows his true colors as a sniveling little coward where he starts pleading for his life.The Punisher: I got all the therapy you need right here, comedian.The Joker: You're really going to do it.

Disproportionate Retribution: Has been known to try to kill people for minor slights, such as welshing on a bet on a sporting event for trivial stakes.

Domestic Abuse: This characterizes his relationship with his "henchwench" Harley Quinn to a T. Joker frequently yells at her, puts her down, humiliates her, and exposes her to all manner of violence ranging from "merely" slapping or punching her to outright trying to murder her. Such is her Mad Love that she ignored his abuse for most of her existence in comic history, with the two only separating in the late 2010s.

The Dreaded: Easily one of the most feared villains in the entire DC universe. Other villains are afraid of him; it's been said that when criminals want to scare each other, they tell Joker stories.

Driven to Madness: Doing this to others has become part of his MO. What triggered his own insanity and belief in nihilism remains unknown.

Early Installment Weirdness: Just take a gander at his earliest appearances:

Electric Joybuzzer: One of his signature weapons, a lethal variation, most memorably used in Batman (1989). He ended up Hoist by His Own Petard when trying to use it on Static.Static: That was fun. Let me try! (BZZZZT!) (Batman approves.)

Enemy Mine:

Even Evil Has Standards: Oddly enough, this trope does occasionally apply to him.

Even Evil Has Loved Ones: Completely averted with Harley. He physically and emotionally abuses her and tried to kill her on numerous occasions. They eventually break up in the New 52 continuity.

Evil All Along: Some versions, such as the DC Animated Universe and Batman (1989), go with the interpretation that the Joker was evil, if not outright Ax-Crazy, even before his fateful transformation, with the chemicals just making him worse.

Evil Cannot Comprehend Good: The Joker is Nihilism Incarnate: he believes that life is pointless and insane, and the only thing anyone can do is give into the madness. Life is a joke, and once he got the joke he never stopped laughing at it. One of the reasons he's obsessed with Batman is because Batman is The Anti-Nihilist: Batman also thinks, to some degree at least, that life is meaningless. But rather than embrace the madness, Batman fights against it, trying to bring order to chaos through his heroic actions. So Batman got the joke too, but he's not laughing, and the Joker doesn't understand why.

Evil Genius: Though rarely the focus of his character, Joker is usually an extremely gifted chemist, constantly creating new and better versions of his signature laughing gas. He's also (unsurprisingly) a skilled planner on par with Batman himself, in addition to being extremely charismatic and manipulative when he wants to be.

Evil Is Petty: Joker truly sees no difference between throwing cream pies, robbing a museum, and brutal, torturous mass-murder. To him, it's all just part of the joke.

Evil Sounds Deep: Jack Nicholson in Batman (1989) and Kevin Michael Richardson in The Batman both give the Joker a deep, sinister voice, contrasting his usual higher-pitched depictions in other works.

Facial Horror: His iconic "perma-clown" appearance (the green hair, chalk-white skin, and most of the time, red lips) is the result of being submerged in a tank of chemicals. However, there was times this has gotten worse.

Fame Through Infamy: He's practically built a career on crimes designed more to spread his infamy than anything else. Perhaps his true illness is that he is an Attention Whore through and through...

Faux Affably Evil: Often addresses others in a polite and friendly way before he unleashes merry hell on them.

Flanderization: Over the years, his actions have become almost exclusively focused on causing as much carnage and chaos as possible or harassing Batman and his allies rather than performing any non-lethal mischief or practical crime.

Foe Romance Subtext: Sometimes will mess with Batman's mind by calling him by pet names or using innuendo. Or outright groping him. According to later writers, Joker regards their hero/villain dynamic as a very special relationship, and resents anyone or thing that gets in the way of it (like all those family members Bruce enjoys hanging out with), which is disturbingly like a jealous lover.

Foil: To Batman in several ways. If the origin offered in Killing Joke is to be believed, both Batman and Joker had one bad day that put them on very different paths.

For the Evulz: The usual motives of the Joker. Many of his crimes always involve sowing chaos and the schadenfreude of other people's misery.

Freudian Excuse: Even he isn't sure of his own history and will crop up multiple reasons for his insanity. The most accepted version is that he was a thug named the Red Hood who gets disfigured falling into a vat while trying to escape Batman. His backstory still remains a mystery.

Freudian Excuse Is No Excuse: Best displayed in The Killing Joke: Joker's "one bad day" is just an excuse, as he neither knows nor cares if it actually happened that way, and Batman confronts him on how his attempt to similarly break Commissioner Gordon failed.Batman: Despite all your sick, vicious little games, he's as sane as he ever was! So maybe ordinary people don't always crack. Maybe there isn't any need to crawl under a rock with all the other slimey things when trouble hits. Maybe it was just you, all the time!

The Friend Nobody Likes: Often plays this role among villain team-ups. It's implied that the only reason the other DC villains ever invite him to things is because they're terrified of what he'll do to them if he's not. Alexander Luthor Jr.'s death at the end of Infinite Crisis is brought about because, as Lex Luthor puts it:Luthor: You made one big mistake. You didn't let the Joker play.

From Nobody to Nightmare: The key thing about his Multiple-Choice Past is that nobody really knows who he was before he put on the Red Hood and fell into a vat of acid. As such, Joker was literally a nobody... who turned into the DC Universe's scariest villain, and who at times has upstaged even Brainiac or Darkseid.

Frozen Face: Most depictions have his face as such, with his massive rictus grin being something he can't really stop doing.

Gadgeteer Genius: While he seems to be a chemist first and foremost, the Joker has no trouble coming up with a range of tools and weapons of his own design and is easily as smart as Batman in this area. Other stories show that he has a solid enough understanding of such varied fields as engineering, computers and even robotics that he can at least hijack the sophisticated inventions of others and use them for his own ends with no difficulty whatsoever, and he is generally implied (though rarely outright stated) to have had a scientific background prior to becoming the Clown Prince of Crime.

Glasgow Grin: Heath Ledger's portrayal features very noticeable scarring from such wounds and tells two conflicting stories of how he got them. Sometimes, Depending on the Artist, the Joker has one in the comics, usually in out-of-continuity stories.

Gonk: Depending on the Artist, he varies from "disfigured, but still fairly handsome" to "barely passes for human", the latter cases usually feature him with a really long and narrow nose and a huge, exaggerated mouth with a permanent Slasher Smile.

Guest Fighter: After making appearances in the previous crossover and being a major player in NetherRealm's other big series, Joker shows up in Mortal Kombat 11 all on his own, freed from the restrictions of a Teen rating and able to showcase the true depths of his depraved bloodlust.

Handshake of Doom: Often kills unsuspecting victims by offering a handshake. When the other person grabs his hand, their palm is pricked by a device that resembles a joy buzzer, which injects deadly venom into their blood stream.

Hate Sink: Posthumously, his Injustice-verse incarnation is the primary target for audience scorn and gets saddled with this role by everyone in the game, its sequel, and the tie-in comics — the version from the Injustice-verse itself, at least. This is because he tricked Superman into killing his own wife Lois Lane and nuking Metropolis, then pulling a Strike Me Down with All of Your Hatred on the poor guy who that set him on the path to becoming a tyrant, all for the sake of doing it, and because he was tired of losing to Batman, so he decided to go after an easier target. His role as The Corrupter to Harley is explained to make her redemption feel more plausible, as even she has come to despise him for his actions. In particular, while Superman does terrible things, he is portrayed as a Tragic Villain due to the losses he suffered before becoming a bad guy, and as such, his killing of the Joker is always played for maximum pathos. Even villains as despicable as Brainiac, Darkseid and Gorilla Grodd openly despise him. This even continues into his Guest Fighter appearance in Mortal Kombat 11note , where even the likes of Kano, Shang Tsung and Shao Kahn can't stand him.

Human Head on the Wall: There's a rather famous piece of comic book artwork◊ drawn by Brian Bolland featuring The Joker lounging in a chair in front of a trophy wall mounted with the decapitated heads of various DC heroes and villains, all of them painted white and their faces distorted into a smile like the Joker himself. It's even been parodied a bunch of times with other comic supervillains sitting in Joker's place.

Iconic Outfit:

I'm a Humanitarian: There have been a few times when the Joker engaged in cannibalism, such as an issue of Grant Morrison's JLAnote after Day Of Judgment, where upon the reveal that the Martian Manhunter took the League and the now Hal Jordan hosted-Spectre into the Joker's head, the Joker lamented eating a man's tongue raw. Additionally, an infamous bit in Emperor Joker has the Joker eat all of China while he had Mr. Mxyzptlk's powers.

Insane No More: Is cured by Batman forcing unknown pills down his throat in the non-canon Batman: White Knight, causing him go back to his real name, Jack Napier, make a Heel–Face Turn and accuse Batman of being part of the problem (he's also considerably better than the usual Joker, being closer to the earlier trickster personality).

I've Come Too Far: At the end of The Killing Joke, Batman tries to reason with the Joker, insisting that they've got to stop before one of them kills the other and offering to help rehabilitate him. Joker briefly considers the offer before solemnly turning it down.Joker: No. I'm sorry, but... no. It's too late for that. Far too late.

It Amused Me: His raison d'etre. Why kill people in horrific ways, ruin their lives, and generally make the entire universe a worse place than he left it? Because it's funny.

Jekyll & Hyde: Inverted in the case of Batman: White Knight, where taking pills cures Joker of his insanity and brings back his original Jack Napier persona. However, if he fails to take the pills, the Joker resurfaces, which is exactly what happens in Batman: Curse of the White Knight, and he's much worse than before.

Jerkass: Though that is a total understatement, Joker still more or less counts as one. When he isn't killing or torturing people for his own amusement, he's taunting them and trying get under other people's skin.

Joker Immunity: The trope namer. He was originally conceived as a one-off villain but proved too interesting a character to be killed off so quickly, and a last-minute edit had him survive instead. He's so famous for this that most works that kill him off, the audience doesn't buy it, and it serves as an effective twist the rare times when he is Killed Off for Real. But even those rare occasions may continue to feature him in flashbacks or hallucinations as a Posthumous Character.

Knife Nut: In many appearances, knives are his Weapon of Choice, either to disfigure his victims or kill his foes. Often both.The Joker: Do you want to know why I use a knife? Guns are too... quick. You can't savor all the little emotions. You see, in their last moments, people show you who you really are.

Large Ham: Holy shit, yes. He has an enormous sense of showmanship and is seen cracking Black Comedy jokes every minute, and it's a nigh-guarantee that whoever is portraying him will be munching the scenery to the very structure. Most especially the case if it happens to be Mark Hamill.

Laser-Guided Broadcast: In comic books as well in most of the media, when The Joker takes the control of TV and makes one of his menaces to threat and/or destroy Gotham City, good part of his message goes directly to Batman by tempting him to stop his plans, where usually destroy the city is just a secondary plan, getting/trapping/killing Batman as his real main plan.

Legacy Character: The idea of multiple Jokers is used in Gotham. There are two Jokers - Jerome Valeska, and his twin brother Jeremiah Valeska. The former is a deranged mass murderer who spread madness through Gotham. The latter is the actual Joker who becomes Batman's Arch-Enemy, and is even more dangerous than his predecessor.

Lethal Joke Character: In-Universe. Those unfamiliar with him tend to write him off as just some fool dressed as a clown, only to realize very quickly why they should keep their guard up around him. He's still one of the most dangerous characters in the DC Universe, despite existing in a world filled with super-humans and gods.

Master of Disguise: A talent he possesses even in his earliest stories. Joker is an expert with make-up, costumes and impersonations and has posed as everything from police officers to doctors to even Batman himself. He can go to extremely elaborate lengths to pull off his deceptions too, fabricating entire backstories and staying in-character for months at a time to see his plans through.

Mirthless Laughter: The Joker's constantly laughing, either at the pain and misery of others, the pain and misery he inflicts on others, or even his own pain. However, as describe by many and offered by the reader based on his scenes and what he does, there is NEVER any joy in his laughter. Never any real happiness. Just cruelty and mockery of pain and sorrow. If he does indeed have a tragic backstory that caused his madness, then this makes sense as he has chosen to laugh instead of cry. His statement about how the universe should end "so there won't be anymore people like me" during the Emperor Joker storyline lends weight to him being a Sad Clown.

Misanthrope Supreme: While it's not evident given Joker's Laughing Mad demeanor and his penchant for macabre jokes usually at the life and limb expense of someone else, Joker is actually absolutely full of hatred and spite towards basically everyone and the entire world. Several stories have gone into this and it's implied that the Joker finds it so easy to kill everyone around him, not because he feels nothing for them, but in fact because he loathes everyone aside from his twisted relationship with Batman.

Moment of Lucidity: There've been a few times when outside forces have sent him into a fit of temporary sanity over the years.

Monster Clown: One of the classic examples.

Multiple-Choice Past: Practically the poster child and possible trope namer. Even he isn't sure of his own history. The most accepted version introduced in Detective Comic #168 (1951) has him as a thug named the Red Hood who jumps into a vat of chemicals to escape Batman, disfiguring him and inspiring him to adopt the name Joker. Why he went by the name the Red Hood has changed over the years: The Killing Joke claims he was a failed comedian pressured into becoming a criminal to support his pregnant wife. The trauma of his disfigurement from jumping in the acid and his wife's earlier accidental death drove him insane. However, even this backstory is questionable, as the Joker himself calls it "multiple choice".

My God, What Have I Done?: Whenever he is made temporarily sane, most notably by a Lazarus pit after Ra's Al Ghul killed him after a Villain Team-Up and in JLA #15 during the Rock of Ages storyline, Joker usually expresses deep remorse for his crimes. Unfortunately it never lasts.

The Nicknamer: He's prone to giving nicknames to allies and enemies alike. Sometimes affectionate, sometimes snarky, but always undesired. Calling Batman "Batsy" or "Bats" and Robin "boy blunder" are probably his most iconic.

No Celebrities Were Harmed: Some of the Joker's victims fall into this.

No Name Given: The Joker is the only Batman villain who doesn't have an official real identity. However, there are three occasions where names have been used. The Jack Nicholson version used the name "Jack Napier", which was briefly mentioned in the Animated Series episode "Dreams In Darkness" since the series was partially based on the movie, albeit the doctors list it as one of his aliases. The Gotham version played by Cameron Monaghan gives him the name Jeremiah Valeska. The Joaquin Phoenix version used the name "Arthur Fleck", though the movie raises the question that he doesn't know who his father is, so 'Fleck' might not even be his surname. The Telltale series plays with this by 'naming' him 'John Doe' - which is just a stand-in name police/hospitals use when they don't know someone's identity. While he still has no official name to this day, it's general fan consensus that it's either Jack Napier or just Jack.

Not a Mask: Sometimes he pretends to wear makeup, but it ain't makeup. Jack Nicholson's version wore flesh-tone makeup over his pale skin several times after his transformation. Though, this is Depending on the Writer, as Heath Ledger's depiction does wear makeup. It's unclear if this is the case for Caesar Romero's depiction, as Romero's mustache is visible at times (he refused to shave for the part).

Not Me This Time: Though he certainly wouldn't mind committing them, he's been framed for murders he didn't commit several times, such as by James Gordon Jr.

Obfuscating Insanity: Zig Zagged Trope / Depending on the Writer. Some stories claims The Joker is actually sane, but pretends to be otherwise to avoid the death penalty. Others says he is genuinely crazy. It must be noted that Joker, like other Batman villains, was only identified as insane from the 70s onwards by various writers.note

Offscreen Villain Dark Matter: Despite the Joker's infamous reputation and violent instability he never has any issues finding new henchmen for his schemes nor does he ever has any issues finding the resources needed to pull off his often convoluted plans and he's often able to do it all without attracting the attention of Batman or the authorities until he's ready for them.

OOC Is Serious Business: A general rule of thumb: If the Joker isn't smiling, something very bad is about to happen.

The Only One Allowed to Defeat You: Pretty much sums up his feelings towards Batman. He often flies into a rage whenever someone else attempts to kill Batman when in his company, and whenever Batman (seemingly) dies he has a tendency to completely snap and turn sane. This actually goes the other direction as well: the Joker feels that Batman is the only one allowed to defeat him, and it's shown he's terrified of someone else doing him in in some continuities.

Outside-Context Problem: A recurring theme of Joker's "first appearance" stories in various adaptations is that nobody in Gotham is prepared for a guy who's only in it For the Evulz. Also, the Joker himself likes to find these, and exploit them.

Phrase Catcher: Back in his prankster phase during the Silver Age, whenever one of Joker's capers got foiled, someone would inevitably trot out the line "The joke's on you, Joker!" For obvious reasons, his current Monster Clown incarnation doesn't get this nearly as often.

Pimp Duds: He sometimes accessorizes his purple suit with a very wide-brimmed hat, which makes the ensemble look like a stereotypical pimp costume. Jared Leto's turn in Suicide Squad (2016) runs with this in his dynamic with Harley Quinn.

Pre-Insanity Reveal: The Joker, depending on the version, may have been an ordinary comedian before he went crazy and became a super-villain.

Purple Is Powerful: Purple is one of Joker's three colors (along with white and green) and he is powerful.

Psychopathic Manchild: For starters, when Batman is telling Joker to stay away from the Gordons after he apparently hurt Gordon's wife (it was actually his son, Gordon Jr. who did the deed), Joker commented that he didn't do anything to "the old bitch", and starts commenting to Batman that he misses the old Batman, and commented that he "doesn't want to go to bed yet" and that he "wants to play."

Redemption Rejection: In The Killing Joke, Batman defeats the Joker once again and then desparately pleads with him to accept help recovering from his madness before they eventually kill each other. In one of his rare, completely serious moments, the Joker sincerely apologizes and tells Batman that it's far too late for that.

The Resenter: Joker has often shown resentment towards people in many ways in different stories. The best example is him being resentful of anyone who garners more attention from Batman than him and anyone he sees as "stealing his act", i.e. being a laughing mad, jokey maniac cramping his style (The Creeper in Batman TAS). Regardless, many of his crimes and attitudes often carry an undercurrent or resentment be it towards to Bat-family because he resents sharing Batman with anyone or normal people for living their mundane lives free of care. Given how much spite seems to fuel his rampages, Joker's probably got a mountain of resentment inside of him.

Restoration of Sanity: On occasion, Joker's sanity will suddenly return to him, usually in stories where Batman retires or is believed to have died. His reactions tend to vary - sometimes we don't see how he reacts to what he did, but other times he actually shows genuine regret for his actions. Of course, these never tend to stick.

The Reveal: When Batman sat in Metron's chair in Darkseid War, one of the questions he asked was who the Joker was and the answer freaked him out. In DC Rebirth, it's revealed why:  The Joker is a Legacy Character: the Joker responsible for Death of the Family and Batman: Endgame is not the same man who crippled Barbara Gordon—and neither of them are the original Joker.

Riddle for the Ages: Being the Trope Namer for Multiple-Choice Past, it's unknown who he was before falling into an acid tank and whether he was nuts even before being dunked. He even believes his origins, Depending on the Writer of course.Joker: They throw me out, and I had a wife and an unborn child… or it was two cows and a goat? Sometimes it's so confusing…

Rule of Funny: One of his primary themes (alongside insanity), as explained in Whatever Happened to the Caped Crusader?: "Kid. I'm the Joker. I don't just randomly kill people. I kill people when it's funny. What would conceivably be funny about killing you?"

Secret Identity Apathy: In most continuities, he simply doesn't care about Batman's Secret Identity, understanding that Batman is the true face and not the man behind the mask. It's shown sometimes that the Joker will actually be upset if someone outs Batman's identity to him, usually because it spoils their dynamic in some way. When Scarecrow pulls off Bruce's mask in Harley Quinn, it practically triggers a Villainous Breakdown.Joker: Half the fun of our relationship was the mystery! Now I know Batman is just some boring, rich asshole with parental issues!

Self-Made Orphan: In The Brave and the Bold #31, Atom reads his mind and sees The Joker burning his parents alive after they catch him killing animals.

Slasher Smile: He wears one almost by default. Reportedly, it was inspired by this photo◊ of Conrad Veidt in character as Gwynplaine (a man with a disfigured face, causing him to have a perpetual grin) in The Man Who Laughs by Victor Hugo.

The Sociopath: A skilled and gleeful manipulator, a vicious butcher who brutally tortures and murders others simply because he thinks it’s funny, extraordinarily impulsive given that he’s prone to turning his murderous urges on his own men on a whim or because one upset him in some way, shape or form, and has not even the vaguest notion of empathy, neither for his men or his victims.

The Spook: His backstory is an eternal Riddle for the Ages. DC Comics refuses to take an official stance on this.

Start of Darkness: Detective Comics #168 posits he was a laboratory worker who becomes the Red Hood in order to steal a million dollars from his employers and retire. In The Killing Joke he quits his job to become a comedian, but fails and is coerced by mobsters to commit a robbery, becoming the Red Hood. His disfigurement and (in The Killing Joke) his wife's death earlier in the story destroy what little was left of his sanity and he becomes The Joker. Maybe.

Stealing the Handicapped Spot: He doesn't do this. Rather, he hates it when other people do it and finds it hilarious to horrifically cripple them so they can legitimately park in handicapped spots.

Straw Nihilist: Provides the trope image and is the poster child for this. He claims that everything in life is just "one big joke" and death is the ultimate punchline. Joker also believes that "a bad day" is more than enough for anyone to turn out like him. This is shown notably in Injustice: Gods Among Us, The Killing Joke, and The Dark Knight. The Red Lantern Atrocitus even wonders what drove Joker to nihilism during an intro banter with the clown in Injustice 2.

Strong as They Need to Be: His fighting skills fluctuate wildly. Sometimes, Joker is an excellent fighter who can actually defeat Batman in a straight-up fight, whereas most writers prefer to present him as so weak that he can be knocked out cold with one punch.

Stupid Evil: Depending on the writer, The Joker can sometimes fall under this, where his cruelty and sadism tend to lead to his own death at the hands of all the people he's wronged.

To Create a Playground for Evil: His motivation in stories like Emperor Joker.

Too Kinky to Torture: The Joker has shown a proclivity for this over the years. At one point, the Joker berated a man who'd captured him for only hitting him in the face and The Dark Knight similarly sees the Joker berate Batman during the the latter's beating of him. He also enjoyed his and Bruce's final fight in The Dark Knight Returns. Salvation Run had established the Joker's been in constant pain since he took his fateful dive into the vat of chemicals that altered his appearance and not only had gotten used to it, but grew to enjoy it. This quote from The Dark Knight sums it up perfectly: Stephens: I can tell the difference between punks who need a little lesson in manners, and the freaks like you who would just enjoy it.

Tombstone Teeth: He is often drawn with too many too-long teeth as part of his trademark rictus grin, highlighting his nature as a psychotic and sadistic killer.

Troll: Most incarnations of the Joker dress themselves as being a lethal one of these. The best example is his DC Animated Universe version, who tailored each of his schemes as a joke or a prank, and sometimes even lectured his underlings on the importance of proper buildup and delivery when telling a joke. Batman in particular is the Joker's preferred victim, and many a Joker has refused to kill or unmask a Batman dead to rights, simply because it would spoil the fun of trolling him. But when others upstage or taunt him, he really goes nuts, as it's one of his Berserk Buttons.

Unreliable Narrator: Even he isn't sure of his own history, so anything he claims is suspect at best.

Villain Has a Point: Given his devotion to Rule of Funny, he's quite knowledgeable on what makes successful comedy, as seen with the featured image on Don't Explain the Joke.

Villain Song: There's no other villain who has belted out as many memorable music moments, not even the Music Meister. Three of them incidentally were sung by Mark Hamill behind the mic:

Villainous Aromantic Asexual: He is shown to be more interested in his schemes and mayhem rather than sex. He has had sex with Harley, but it is implied that it's more for her rather than his own enjoyment. He has actively ignored her when he simply wants to work on his schemes, even when she's in the translucent red night dress.

Villainous Friendship: No matter how bad things turned out last time, Lex Luthor and Joker will always work together again. Played With, as it isn’t just because of friendship. As Luthor himself notes in the ending of Infinite Crisis, you always "let the Joker play," lest he come after you for revenge later on for leaving him out.

Villainous Harlequin: He was this during the Silver Age. He is also this in Batman (1966) and Batman: The Brave and the Bold.

Villainous Rescue: In Dark Nights: Metal, The Joker pulls this off by teaming up with Batman to defeat the Batman Who Laughs, Batman knowing that a jokerized Batman would have the upper hand teams up with the Joker. It is so unexpected that the Batman Who Laughs, who is still prepared for anything Batman would conceivably think of, is unable to counter it let alone even consider it a possibility.

Villain Protagonist: He was the star of his own nine issue self-titled series from 1975 to 1976. In order to adhere to the Comics Code Authority, The Bad Guy Wins was never in effect - while he usually managed to get one over on other villains, each issue would end the Joker being apprehended for his crimes. He also got his own movie in which Batman didn't even exist yet, delving deep into what someone would have to go through to become the Joker.

Weapon of Choice: The acid-spitting flower, Smilex/Joker Venom... and simple crowbars, established by how he killed Jason Todd.

You Gotta Have Blue Hair: He has neon green hair caused by the chemicals he fell into.

[grandtheftstarship]

I Will Spend My Whole Life Loving You (Spock x Fem!Reader) [Request!]

“Fic Request: Spock x Fem!Reader (Vulcan/Human hybrid) go on a romantic date!”

”Headcanon or Fic Request: fem!Reader being married to Spock!”

“Request: Spock x Human-Vulcan Fem!Reader get married on the Enterprise. Preferably TOS Spock please.”

- @sovereignoblivious

Hi there! Thank you for requesting :) I decided to mash these all into one since they are all kind of similar. I hope you don’t mind! Also, I write for mainly AOS but nothing really distinguishes it from TOS so you can imagine it taking place in TOS if you would like! I also totally forgot about the vulcan/human hybrid until I was about 1k words in, so if it’s not as well represented I’m so sorry!! I tried to fit it in as best I could :(

I wrote this like a recap of your relationship with Spock, so there’s not much dialogue. I tried to be as detailed as possible!

Also, sorry for the lack of updates... the school year just ended and I went on vacation for two weeks to visit my family in Hawai’i! I had no wifi for nearly 10 days and let me tell you it was AWFUL. Haha. I’m so glad to be home. The rest of this summer will hopefully be full of updates! Keep the requests coming!

ALSO, THANK YOU GUYS FOR THE FOLLOWS!!!!! I gained 20 more followers while I was away! I love you all so much :D!!!

Word Count: 2377 Warnings: fluff, swearing, mentions of self-harm/self-loathing

Send a request!

You had absolutely hated Spock at first. Boiling, raw, pure hatred for him, even though your reasons were unfair and you knew it. 

Your initial thought was to just avoid him as much as possible, but that plan was eventually foiled when you realized how difficult that was going to be when he was in almost all of your classes, his dorm was literally directly across the street (like you could look out your window and see right through his window, how you both happened to be on the 17th floor in separate buildings and the same room number was beyond you) and you saw him probably more than ten times a day. 

He was there on the walk to class in the morning, there during class, there during lunch hour, even there sometimes on the walk home after class. Once you thought it couldn’t get any worse, your professors started pairing the two of you for group projects. When you asked why, all of their answers ran along the same lines: ‘You both need to learn to get along’ or ‘You could learn a lot from each other’ and other shit like that. You started getting suspicious when you suddenly had four projects assigned with him as your partner. You asked your friends about it when you were getting frustrated and all they did was share a look between each other and shrug. When you and Spock set a date to finally start working on all of your projects, you started dreading it. You found yourself lingering around, whether it be to ask a professor a question that you already knew the answer to after class was over or staying late at the library so that you wouldn't have to go to bed and wake up the next morning, a whole day closer to doomsday. You tried to tell yourself that the reason you were doing that was because you hated him and didn’t want to be around him for any amount of time, but when the familiar burning sensation you always felt when thinking of him started morphing into something else you got scared. The change startled you, suddenly feeling self-conscious and unsure as opposed to your typically confident nature. It was all so new and it was especially frightening when you didn’t have enough time to unpack it before your workday with Spock, so, instead of dealing with it, you tried to push it all down.  

When the day finally came, it took every ounce of willpower you had to roll out of bed and get dressed. It was a Saturday so you didn’t need to be dressed in uniform, so you went with some black sweats that had ‘STARFLEET’ written down one side and a  [f/c] tank top. It was a little chilly outside, so you threw your favorite hoodie on as you walked out the door. You tied your hair back in the elevator, careful to leave enough down to cover your ears, put your keycard into the side pocket of your backpack and you started the walk to the campus library. 

If there was one thing you were most self-conscious about it was your Vulcan ears. You didn’t like your Vulcan side as much because of your father. He was half-Vulcan half-human, while you were three-quarters human and only one-fourth Vulcan. You were glad you only inherited the ears, not the eyebrows. You and your father didn’t have the best relationship, or any relationship at all, really, and you never knew why. He was often strict and unfeeling, never exercising his human side in front of you. He left when you were eight years old for a Vulcan science mission and never came back. Your mother still loved him, though you never saw him show any sign of affection back. You always believed your mother deserved better, and that was when your hatred for Vulcans started to manifest. Starting with yourself. 

A few years after he left you fell into a dark place, although you were exceptional at hiding it. You would often stare at your sharply pointed ears in the mirror and pull on them, hoping that if you pulled hard enough from the bottom they would even out. You would wear earmuffs year-round so that nobody would see. When you were fifteen, you snuck out and got them pierced several times so that they would appear more human. They also compelled you to become more emotional to appear less like your father. 

You shook yourself out of your reverie as you walked out of the front entrance of your building. 

Luckily for you, Spock was not walking down the opposite sidewalk so you slid your headphones under your hood over your ears and shuffled your playlist. The walk was much shorter than you would’ve preferred and you sauntered up the steps into the vast hall. Since everybody was off, the library was used more as a hangout area than a quiet study hall, save for the actual study hall in the back, so it was a bit louder than usual. 

You spotted Spock sitting at one of the smaller open tables next to one of the windows overlooking the grounds. The fluttery-anxious feeling was back again, causing you to swallow hard as you approached him. 

“Hey,” you called as he looked up from the window. 

“Hey,” he greeted, somewhat awkwardly. Setting your backpack down, you sat down across from him. He was wearing casual clothes too; a plain green sweater and some jeans, though you thought it was cute how he still wore his badge. You shut your eyes tightly and cursed yourself. 

I don’t think he looks cute, I don’t think he looks cute, I don’t think he looks cute-

“[y/n], are you feeling alright?” he asked. 

You opened your eyes and glared at him. 

“Fine, just mentally preparing,” you snapped. 

He did what you could only assume was his version of an eye roll, but what surprised you was the flicker of a smile that passed over his features. It was only there for a fraction of a second, but your cheeks reddened as your heart raced.

What is happening to me?

“Would you like to begin?” he started pulling out papers and you gulped.

This was going to be a long day.

Surprisingly, that wasn’t the case. You had never really sat down and talked with Spock before, and to your astonishment, he was a really cool person. You both talked for hours, barely getting any work done, and before you knew it the library was empty and it was almost nine pm. You packed up your things and headed back towards your dorms you continued to talk and he continued to make you laugh and once you made it to the front entrance of your building you couldn’t even remember why you had hated him in the first place. 

You smiled and told him goodnight, feeling the heat creep up on your cheeks. You swore that you saw his own cheeks tint green. You both stared back at each other for a moment, feeling yourself gravitate towards each other for a brief second before you realized what you were doing and leaned back a little. He bid you goodnight and with the tiniest little smile you had ever seen, he turned away and crossed the street. You shook yourself out of your daze and hurried inside, texting your friends to meet you asap in your dorm. Even though it was late, you knew your friends and their Saturday night habits. 

You asked them about Spock again, this time a little less aggressively. They looked shocked at your calm, almost lovestruck expression settled over your features, glancing worriedly between themselves. 

Your friends were there for hours talking with you about your feelings and how you were to deal with them until you all fell asleep. They told you that this was just a case of misinterpretation of feelings, so when you felt so strongly towards Spock you mistook it for hatred when it was really admiration and infatuation. The confirmed that the same thing had happened to Spock, though he had realized much sooner. When you asked them what that meant, they dropped the bombshell on you.

“[y/n],” [friend’s name] said gently. “Spock has been smitten with you since midterms. Almost everyone knows, except for you apparently.”

You sat and stared for a minute, unsure how to react. Giddiness rose above all the other emotions you were feeling, forcing a smile to form on your lips. You felt all choked up, excitement raising your heartrate and slowly taking away your ability to breathe.

“So, even the teachers know?” you managed to force out. Your friends chuckled. 

The teachers assumed something was going on, but didn’t know for sure since you acted so hostile towards him all the time so they went out of their way to pair you and Spock together. 

You thanked your friends and invited them to stay the night. 

The next day you had planned to work with Spock again, so you left your friends a note and told them they could stay as long as they liked as long as they locked the door before they left. 

You met Spock at the library again but this time you actually did get some work done, and quickly. When you both finished, you packed your things and took a walk around the grounds. You talked all day about random things, interests, favorites, childhood (you tried your best to leave out the part about your father) and a little bit about your hopes for the future. You did most of the talking, though Spock did contribute on occasion, like he talked a bit about his love (or as he put it, ‘subtle interest’ but you knew better) for music and his passion for science.  

Hours passed quickly and the sunset came quickly. You and Spock were sat on a grassy slope overlooking the San Fransisco Bay, watching the sunset. 

“[y/n], I have something to confess,” he broke the silence. You turned to him.

“Go ahead.”

“The truth of the matter is that I harbor no malice or hatred towards you,” he started, looking away from you. Even in the dim golden light from the descending sun, you could tell he was uncomfortable. “My... feelings towards you are quite the opposite.”

You stared blankly at him for a moment. Even though you had already known, hearing it come from his was a totally different story. You scooted a little closer to him and placed your head down on his shoulder. He relaxed beneath you, accepting the action as one of reciprocation. You felt his hand brush over yours and the spark that followed after confirmed a Vulcan kiss. You raised your head up to meet his eyes, which flickered between your lips and back up. You leaned in slowly to give him time to back out if he wasn’t comfortable, but to your surprise, he was the one to close the distance. 

This kiss was sweet and only lasted a few seconds. When you pulled away, you could see the tiniest hint of a smile on his lips. Your smile faded, though, when you remembered your lie. 

“I have to tell you something,” you said softly. He nodded slowly, letting you remove your hand from his light hold.

You pulled your hood back and tucked your hair behind your now exposed ear. You couldn’t look him in the eye as he stared at your earring-ridden ear that mirrored his. 

“You’re... Vulcan?” 

“A quarter,” you replied softly, wringing your hands in your lap. Spock reached out to grasp them in his own, forcing you to look back up into his eyes. 

“Why did you feel the need to hide this from me?” he asked you gently. “It would not and does not change the effect that you have on me.”

So, you explained in the waning sunlight what actually happened in your childhood and the issues with your father, why you ended up hating all Vulcans and that’s why you hated him too in the beginning. 

“You don’t need to be ashamed of your heritage because of him,” he told you when you finished. “You don’t need to hide part of who you are because of his mistakes. I can assist you in exploring our culture to help change your views if you would like.”

You threw your arms around his neck in a tight hug. 

“Thank you,” you murmured.

                                                      _____________

You and Spock stayed together for the remaining years at the academy. You brought him home to meet your mother (who instantly approved) and you did almost everything together. Date night was your favorite time of the week, which ranged from movie nights or fancy dinners. Your favorite one was when he took you out of the city to go stargazing and set up the cutest little picnic complete with lanterns and fairy lights. It was romantic and beautiful being there with him and listening to the wildlife as the stars made themselves known. He showed you all the constellations he knew of. 

Before you knew it you were both assigned on missions. At first, you were separated; you on the USS Bradbury and him on the USS Enterprise, but with some convincing, you were reassigned to the Enterprise. 

After your first run-in with danger when Nero attacked and your near-death experience, Spock decided it was time to pop the question. You were married not long after by Jim, who you had gotten very close to because of Spock. You had asked Nyota to be your maid of honor and Spock chose Leonard (who agreed despite his recurring annoyance with the Vulcan). You were awarded a larger, shared quarters and time off duty to spend time together. 

Married life was much more normal than you had originally thought it was going to be. Everything just started to slow down around you, and you always had a sense of calm whenever Spock was near you. The butterflies you always felt when he was around died down and instead you felt an overwhelming amount of safety and comfort. 

He was all you had ever wanted, and he was forever yours.

[alittletournesol]

Kingdom Of Jinju {MinKey} 32/33

Chapter 32 : In your arms [M]

“The Princess won’t go to sleep if it’s not you who put her to bed, your Grace.”

Kibum stood at his quarters’ door, alone as his husband was having a talk with his mother and the General at the moment, and his expression lit up with pride. He was just about to lie comfortably in his bed, welcoming the blankets that had just been changed to fit autumn’s cool nights, but the coming of his former nanny had made all his tiredness vanish with these few words. The relationship he was developing with his daughter since they had come back to Jinju was making his days and nights warmer, and he couldn’t get enough of it.

“She’s already rebelling, isn’t she ?” He giggled, remembering how the woman would often cursing his sister and him as children when they wouldn’t want to go to bed either. “It’s like you will never really get rid of us, in a way.”

“You were still more obedient than your sister when it came to bedtime.” The nanny smiled. “I will wait for you in her chamber, if that’s alright ?”

“Tell her I’m coming, and please don’t use it as a threat like I’m going to scold her when I arrive.”

“Remembering my old tactics, I see…”

With a knowing look, the Prince closed his door and went to withdrew one of his dressing gowns from the wardrobe. He was already wearing his night shirt but if he had to walk in the corridors by night, he might as well prevent himself from catching a cold. Once he tied the silk, emerald green belt around his waist, and adjusted his long hair in his back, he put his slippers on and took the oil lamp from his bedside table. Making sure the glass globe was fixed, he left his room and made his way to the little girl’s own bedroom.

The corridors were quiet, almost all employees had joined their apartments by now. Only remained the few butlers who would turn all lights out once everyone would have gone to bed. In no time, Kibum was knocking at a wooden door and entering, smiling when he saw the smile on Sooyun’s lips. She was standing in her crib, grabbing hold of the bars to keep her balance, and her pouty face lit up when she noticed the man coming her way.

“You can go to bed, nanny.” The Prince gently dismissed the old woman, who pinched the baby’s cheek before bowing and leaving. “And what do you think you’re doing, little one ?”

Putting the lamp aside, he approached the crib and instantly lifted his daughter, placing a kiss on her cheek. Despite her enjoyment of having him around, it was noticeable how tired she was, her sleepy eyes looking smaller than usual. With a few caring words, Kibum held her against his chest, keeping her warm in his arms as he started walking in the room. Setting a slow pace, he took his time rocking her to sleep while caressing her dark hair. It was getting long for her age, black strands growing faster than one would have thought… but she was beautiful like this, especially when her grandmother would braid her.

With her small arms attached to her father’s neck, and her head resting on his shoulder, Sooyun was slowly letting herself dive into a well deserved sleep. Though, her eyes opened a bit when she noticed the door slightly opening, light piercing through the frame. Kibum turned around to see who was coming to them, also to protect the princess’ eyes and allow her to fall asleep despite everything. 

“Can we come in ?” Jonghyun’s blond head was peeking out and his eyes shined with goodwill. “I’m with Jinki.”

“Sure, she’s about to sleep.” The Prince whispered, intimating the proper tone to use if they were to join him.

The teacher nodded and slipped inside, immediately followed by his partner. The General had removed the metallic parts of his outfit to make his steps quieter, and this simple but considerate gesture moved the raven haired man. Both newcomers approached him, casting a look at the baby and smiling ; they were fond of Sooyun, particularly when she was so calm — her babbling could last very long during the day, and as cute as it was, it quickly trying their patience. 

“Is the meeting over ?” Kibum asked, still rocking his daughter but his hand caressing her back now.

“It is, and it was surprising, to say the least.” Jinki replied, his cheeks still tinted with pink. “I wasn’t expecting to hear such news.”

“Your father and the Queen had been obvious for some months, though… I was certain your perspicacity had made you notice them a while ago.”

“When it comes to the matters of the heart…” Jonghyun started, holding back a laughter, “he’s rather oblivious.” 

“Don’t make me curse in front of the princess.”

The General’s sulky expression made the two other men quietly giggle, his uneasiness tangible in the room. For sure, he couldn’t have expected this late meeting with his father, the King and his mother, to be about a love confession… and he was still feeling dumbfounded, deep inside. It had all been on Minho’s initiative, the latter having enough of these lovebirds trying to hide their mutual feelings for the sake of who knew what. 

But the parents’ worries were understandable ; they were both widowed for years now, yet they struggled to see their blooming relationship as appropriate. It wasn’t only about their late husband and wife, but about their respective children : although the latter were grown adults, they still feared their reaction and thus, had hid everything for a bit more than three years. However, admitting to everything had been such a relief, especially in front of their sons who — despite Jinki’s shock — fully supported them.

“Jinju’s rules forbid a widowed ruler to remarry.” The General explained. “I didn’t even know about it but Minho did, and he proposed them to leave the palace for a while. To take time for themselves, and to travel to Pugye.”

“Pugye ?” Kibum asked. “Why this kingdom in particular ?”

“It’s the only one that allows remarriage in itself, so… I guess they will make it official and come back as husband and wife.”

“Does it mean anything in terms of status, once they’ll return ?”

“The Queen Mother will lose her power as a member of the royal family, and as potential regent.” Jonghyun recited. “If anything should happen to the King before Sooyun is old enough to succeed him, you would take the throne, but if you were to disappear as well… the Royal Council would handle the regency.”

“And that is when the Queen tried to refuse, right ?”

“Your perspicacity will always impress me, your Grace.” Jinki quietly laughed. “It startled everyone, however, Minho assured that he’s planning a massive change for the Royal Council. So it was better accepted.”

“I understand that we will soon have a newly wed couple in the palace ?”

“Yes, your Grace.”

“I will make sure to congratulate them before they leave then. And, well… congratulations to you, my dear General.”

“Me ? Why so ?”

“You just earned a Queen as your stepmother, and a King as your stepbrother.”

“Oh fuck.”

Jonghyun nudged his partner so hard the latter realized his words and covered his mouth with his hands, blushing to the point even his ears turned red. He bowed several times to apologize, making the Prince softly laugh before he showed his daughter ; she had fallen asleep. 

*****************

Minho was alone in his quarters, his wet head above the small tub he had just used to wash his face. He had just come back from his small meeting, only to find the room empty though his husband’s clothes were resting on the bench at the foot of their bed. Where would have the latter gone, wearing only his night shirt, at that hour ? But that wasn’t the main thought running in the King’s mind at the moment. No, he was trying to cool his own body’s temperature with the fresh water.

It had been really hard to focus on all of this evening’s matters, to pretend he was fully listening to whoever was talking to him, when the only image he had been having in mind for hours… was the silhouette of the Prince, standing above him and threatening his chin with a sword. He had never felt so turned on by a scene that had merely last a few seconds, and now that he was alone in a private place… he could embrace this feeling.

But Kibum wasn’t there yet.

It only tried his patience, and Minho had already proven many times that he was no patient man. On the opposite, waiting for the door to open on the man he loved was only adding fuel to the fire his body had become. He was standing there, all his clothes scattered on the floor and his hair untied, the strands around his face wet as drops of water were still running down his cheeks and chin.

Would he come soon ?

The King splashed his face once again, relishing the short, cold sensation on his skin. He felt embarrassed by himself, as he realized he was aroused though he was all alone in the room. Straightening up, he turned around to grab a towel and wiped the water, rubbing his hair as well. He was almost tempted to open the window, perhaps the fresh air of the night would cool his body more than just water. He contemplated the idea long enough…

The door suddenly opened and his ears twitched when he recognized the humming voice. It even felt like he could smell his husband’s scent now, and that was when he wondered if he wasn’t going a bit too crazy about it. He turned over once more, finally seeing the Prince who was offering him his back at the moment, closing the door and making sure not to make too much noise. But when the latter eventually moved, their eyes met.

“My godfathers !” Kibum cursed as he got startled, curiously not expecting the other man to be there and staring at him. “You scared me, I thought you were still…”

It was at this instant he realized what he had in front of him. Though he hadn’t any time to react, because his husband had already crossed the room to reach him and captured his face between his big, warm hands.

“Minho, what—”

He got shut up by fleshy lips strongly pressing against his, drawing him into a feverish kiss he hadn’t quite expected — or maybe he had, from the moment he had seen his naked lover staring at him. He still gasped and let a whiny noise escape his mouth when his back collided with the door as a result of the strength Minho grabbed him with. But the latter didn’t pay attention to it, as he opened the other man’s lips with his tongue, one of his hand leaving his cheek to circle the thin waist. 

Kibum found himself pressed against the wooden panel, trapped by the King’s strong, naked body against him. His senses went numb as he returned the kiss, tongues meeting and messily intertwining as if it was their last kiss — he didn’t understand what had suddenly gone into the other man, though he wasn’t complaining. Before he could even adjust himself to the kiss, his mouth was freed and hungry lips went to his neck, the touch making him weak in the knees.

He was at Minho’s mercy, the latter pushing his dressing gown open and uncovering his shoulders. The Prince shivered and tried removing it all, but his wrists were caught and pinned above his head by a strong hand. His lips got claimed once more, as he felt a second hand grabbing his thigh and stroking it under his shirt. That felt delicious. He couldn’t say anything, for his husband didn’t allow him any form of time to even pronounce a word. 

The hand on his thigh went up, and Kibum gasped in the kiss when it grazed his crotch, his hips jolting forwards as the most instinctive reaction to this touch. The King broke their kiss at the same time he closed his fingers on the other man’s arousal, the Prince opening his eyes and diving into the depths of Minho’s dark irises. Their faces were flushed, their lips wet and swollen from the passionate kisses, but they stared into each other’s eyes as the older man was being stroked against the door, unable to move, stuck in the most pleasant trap.

Kibum had known many feelings when it came to sex, but it was the first time he felt so powerless yet holding Minho in the palm of his hand at the same time. His instincts were telling him to take control, but he had that strange, new sensation that craved the opposite ; the King had rarely showed himself so eager, so aroused before… and his elder wanted to see where he could bring them both. 

As a sigh escaped his lips and he bit his lower one, heat growing in his lower abdomen by seconds passing, the Prince noticed a quick glint in his lover’s eyes. The second after, the latter had disappeared from before his face, letting go of his wrists and falling down to his knees. His night shirt was raised by two impatient hands, uncovering the skin of his thighs until his chest. But the fabric was light and kept falling, Kibum repressed a laughter as he made one of his arms slip out of his gown to hold his shirt on his torso himself.

The picture that followed would have had its place in these ancient, secret and so forbidden books whose pages were painted with many forms of erotic sceneries.

His back still pressed against the closed door of the royal quarters, the older man had his emerald green dressing gown half dangling from his body, for only his left forearm was still covered at the moment. His nightshirt wasn’t covering much skin anymore, but he gripped the fabric and messily made it pass above his head to get rid of it, the whole thing now hanging from his still clothed arm. Only his long, dark hair could now metaphorically serve as clothes, black cascades falling on his skin and sticking there with his forming sweat.

He was beautiful without being asked, but his husband for sure added life to the erotism of this royal painting. In all his naked glory, tanned skin gleaming with sweat from this arousal he had kept to himself for too long, his knees were growing red from the friction with the carpet. But he couldn’t care less, as the only thing that mattered at the moment was his Prince’s pleasure ; he only lived to please him that night, and he shall fulfill this duty with the deserved passion. 

Everything had gone so fast to Kibum that he hadn’t quite realized when Minho had taken him in his mouth, his swollen lips around him sending him in cloud nine. His legs threatened to abandon him, but his husband’s hand was firmly gripping his thigh and maintained him on spot. It was like the latter was making sure he would have nothing to care about except for what he would feel… and feel, that, he was.

Slightly arching his back, the Prince let a soft moan escape his throat and this sound alone served as the most sensual pleasure for the King. The younger man soon felt slender fingers approach his face, grazing his cheeks and pushing a few strands of dark brown hair behind his ear. This gentle gesture contrasted so much with his own abrupt actions that a shiver shook his whole body and he looked up. His darkened eyes met with his husband’s sweet irises, the latter’s stare conveying such a warmth that Minho’s heart missed a beat.

The thin hand went from his ear to his cheek, until a gracious finger lifted his chin to make him come back to his senses, getting back on his feet. The King obeyed the gesture and pressed a hand against the wood to keep his balance, his strong body overhanging the thiner one and their skin grazing each other as their chests rose with each synchronized breath they took. 

Kibum slowly freed his arm from its last piece of clothing, both the gown and shirt falling on the floor and leaving him as naked as Minho. His waist was circled by the latter’s arm and brought closer, and the older man couldn’t help but laugh ; such impatience, tonight. With a torturous slowness, he raised his hand to his husband’s cheek and caressed it, while the other one wandered on his back.

“You’re different, tonight.” The Prince whispered, his eyes searching for any kind of explanation on the King’s features. “Is there anything you want to tell me ?”

“Is my body not telling enough of what I want ?” The other man said, a smile on his lips as he turned his head to kiss the palm near his face.

“You surely know how to talk with your body, and this will never not seduce me… but this time, I want to hear you.”

“I’ve been waiting for this moment all evening long… do you think I’m able to talk right now, when all I want is you to take me to bed ?”

“Now that’s interesting, my King… tell me more.”

Saying this, Kibum pressed his palm against Minho’s chest, softly pushing him backwards while staying as close to him as possible. The younger man let him do, his steps soon finding the bed and his body falling on the mattress as he pulled his husband with him. Both of them quietly laughed, and the Prince held himself on his stretched arms to overhang the King, their eyes never leaving each other. There clearly was something new in those dark irises that looked up towards him, as if he was the only one in the world.

“You beat me, earlier.” Minho eventually said, his hoarse voice coming more like a whisper than he would have wanted it to. “You were impressive.”

“A very good teacher made me the swordsman I am.” Kibum replied. “Did it please you, you who can’t tolerate to lose ?”

“More than you can imagine… I would let you win a thousand times more if it meant to see you look at me like that again, looking so beautiful and strong.”

“What have I done with you, Minho…”

“Everything. Almost… everything.”

“Almost ?”

“Y-Yes… there is something you’ve never done with me and… I can’t think of anything else tonight. Do you… do you get me ?”

“Who wouldn’t, love… tonight ? Are you sure ?”

“With you, I’m always sure.”

With a tender smile, the Prince lowered himself to press their lips together, erasing all the roughness from earlier. The King closed his arms around the warm body above him, hugging his lover close while he returned a soft kiss, this softness conveying everything he could think about. As strange as it was, his arousal was still the same as a few minutes before, but his body now expressed it with less strength, less haste. 

That was Kibum’s power on him, a single word, a single touch could soothe him, pacifying his ardent emotions. As to appease the burning fire of his body, his elder left his lips to press gentle, slow kisses on his face, going from his forehead to his cheeks, drawing a line along his jaw until he had his own face buried in his neck. Minho let him do, willing to feel. The lips attached to his skin were deliciously wet, but it was their softness that felt the best ; he couldn’t get tired of them, since the very first time they had kissed him.

Before he could even think, his own lips were captured again into a kiss he couldn’t describe with words. He lacked words at that exact moment, as he was being kissed at the same time long fingers were caressing his thigh. 

“Are you okay ?” The Prince eventually asked, breaking their kiss and looking at him in the eyes while he placed a hand on his neck. “It’s beating fast in there…”

“I’m fine, promise.” The King smiled, stealing a kiss from his husband. “I’m not scared. Were you ?”

“The first time ? A bit, but it’s all about trust. Do you trust me ?”

“I always trust you.”

“Then, promise me to stop me if there is anything I do that disturbs you. Anything.”

“I promise you.”

“Alright…” Kibum kissed him gently, for some long seconds, until he withdrew again. “It will be better if you… if you’re showing me your back, for now.”

“Like this ?”

Without thinking much, Minho slid on the mattress to have more space for his long legs, and lied on his stomach. He didn’t know what to do with his arms and the situation made his lover laugh a bit, before the latter approached and placed the pillow under his head. The younger man immediately hugged it, just like he often did when sleeping, and he waited. He didn’t really know what he was waiting for, because everything was always going smoothly when it was him preparing his husband. The habit, perhaps ?

Would he do well ? What if he wasn’t feeling at ease and ruined everything ? What if he couldn’t do it ? What it—

“You’re tensing up…” His husband’s soothing voice came to his ears, making the King realise that he was kneeling above him, his face just near his. “You’re worried.”

“I don’t want to disappoint you.” Minho confessed, his voice coming out as a shy whisper. 

“You won’t, clear your head of that worry. Even if we were to stop everything, you will never disappoint me, alright ? We’re not doing anything you don’t want to, I promise you.”

“I trust you.”

With a smile, Kibum gently moved the thick brown hair away from the younger man’s nape and lowered himself to press his lips against the warm skin. His hands were on Minho’s sides, caressing here and there in order to appease his tensed muscles. The King understood what his husband was doing and he closed his eyes, relishing the sensations and clearing his mind to only focus on them. There was no other sound in the room than the kisses and caresses on his skin, and he found himself relaxing from them alone.

He was extremely sensible when it came to sounds, and he knew the Prince had found out since the day he had fallen asleep in bright day, with his head on the other man’s lap, while the latter was softly turning the pages of his book. He felt the warmth of lips slowly going down his nape to pursue their treasure hunt on his shoulder blade. As he could imagine the path Kibum’s mouth was drawing on his back, he remembered his scar, that scar he never really talked about but secretly found ugly.

He reminisced the bathes together, the moments of afterglow when his husband would let his fingers wander around the old wound, tracing its edges… Minho had felt ashamed at first, since it was a constant reminder of how stupid he had been for disobeying his father, and how he had put his childhood friend in trouble. But more than that, it was like a stain that broke the harmony of his skin, of his shape, this long line… nothing like the pretty scar on Kibum’s eyebrow. 

He didn’t have many complexes but this ugly scar certainly was the worst one… but when lips fell on the top of the pink, in relief flesh, he opened his eyes. 

“My silly warrior…” The Prince whispered, his voice colored with amusement. “I love this one, who could guess it was caused by a clumsy sword… when it’s so beautiful and looks like the stem of the highest flowers in our garden…”

As if proving his words, the older man covered the scar with kisses, letting his lips trace it as if it was the softest thing in the world. The King found himself smiling, while his heartbeat grew a bit stronger when pondering this innocent statement. So it wasn’t repulsive ? It was beautiful enough for his husband to cover it with kisses the way he does on every part of his body ?

“Your back might be my favourite part of your body…”

Kibum’s muttered words, added to even more kisses and caresses, managed to erase all Minho’s ugly thoughts about himself, and he sighed with relief and comfort at the same time. Lips kept going down his back, and he shivered when they lingered over its hollow, the sensation overwhelming him. He didn’t even tense up again when he felt a hand caressing his butt, for it felt like following on from everything before. On the opposite, his shivers intensified and he let a soft sigh out, his toes curling on the mattress with a rather pleasant apprehension. 

“Will you kneel a bit for me…?” The Prince asked while his hands gently stroked the back of the other man’s thighs to encourage him. 

“Like this…?” The King asked in return as he bent his legs to have his hips raised. “More…?”

“No, it’s perfect like this. Remember your promise ?”

Minho nodded but the smile on his lips showed everything but fear or worry. His flushed cheeks made his husband giggle ; he himself knew how this position could be a bit embarrassing, even after many times. The King waited for a few seconds, wondering what his elder was doing until he heard the familiar unscrewing of the small oil jar. He could have asked himself many things at that exact moment : will it hurt ? Will he jerk away at the last moment ? 

But the only wonder he had when hearing slender fingers gather a knob of oil was… will it be very cold ?

He hadn’t time to reflect on this question, because he felt a hand closing around his shaft and gasped with surprise. He didn’t turn his head, but he felt Kibum’s warmth enough to guess he was kneeling beside him, gently stroking him with one hand while the other one was resting on his buttock. After a few seconds of just touching him between his thighs, drawing muffled sighs out of his mouth, Minho couldn’t repress another gasp when he felt a texture he knew very well, sliding between his buttocks.

It felt so weird, but he was glad he had got it wrong earlier ; it wasn’t cold at all, for the Prince had warmed the mixture with his fingers before approaching him. He was now slowly massaging his rim, coating it and making sure the strange sensation was balanced with the pleasure his stroking would make his husband feel. He knew exactly what to do, and this only made the King’s trust in him grow stronger. 

“Is this fine ?” The older man asked as his fingers were still gently rubbing around the hole, the sensation changing a bit whenever he would come there. “I know, it might feel a bit weird…”

“Yeah, a bit…” Minho replied before he got startled by the sound he made without any warning, when a stroke combined to his entrance being aroused sent a sort of wave through his body. “G-Gods…”

“I’ll go inside, alright ? Slowly, just like you do with me. Remember your promise.”

No sooner said than done, Kibum withdrew his hands to grab more oil with one, the other one holding his lover’s buttock spread. With his thumb, he rubbed again around that sensitive area and when he heard a sigh coming from the pillow, he smiled and softly, gently, pressed a finger against the entrance. As expected for a first time, Minho had a natural reflex but he managed to relax as much as possible, allowing the phalanx to push deeper.

The pace was slow and though it felt rather weird, the King got surprised ; weird, but not unpleasant. Closing his eyes, he let sensations overpowering his emotions, listening to his body. He could clearly feel the oil massaging his insides, as his husband’s finger was moving until it wasn’t strange anymore. It even felt… not enough ? Yes, that’s what the knot in his lower abdomen was asking fore : more. 

As if reading his mind, Kibum pressed a second finger. Despite his gentleness, Minho had to shut his eyes open because it didn’t feel as weirdly good as the first one. But he didn’t complain, because he could finally feel what his husband felt, and his sensitive side found that wonderful. He had lost track of time, but he soon felt the burning sensation being replaced by what he had felt just a few seconds before ; it felt good.

“Don’t forget to breathe, love…” The Prince smiled, making the other man notice that he had indeed stopped breathing. “I’m going with a third, alright…?”

When the third finger pushed inside, the King gasped ; that one hurt more than the previous ones. But he remembered every other night, he remembered of the pain would quickly vanish from his lover’s face to make space for this expression he found heavenly beautiful. But he also knew this one took a bit longer to adjust to, and so, he grunted a bit. But his patience was rewarded, when his gritted teeth slowly relaxed, and a moan escaped his throat. 

The slicking sounds were rather strange to hear, but they were familiar in a pleasant way. The pain had disappeared, and the oil’s warmth was deliciously pleasurable. Kibum kept moving his fingers, allowing them deeper with each second passing until his husband was starting to pant under him. There, now he would feel good. But the Prince didn’t want to immediately replace this foreplay, so he kept going. 

He had something in mind, but it had been quite long since he had last done this so it took him a minute…

“O-Oh…!” He heard Minho choke in the pillow and smiled, as he pushed again. “F-For fuck’s sake…!”

Kibum found himself feeling deeply aroused by the noises his husband made, all thanks to him, but he couldn’t take his eyes off Minho’s face ; flushed, covered with sweat already, with lips parted and his hand firmly holding the pillow. He was beautiful, there was no other word. His panting grew faster as the Prince was still pushing his fingers against a spot that definitely sent him on cloud nine. 

He couldn't open his eyes anymore, he felt like if he did, he would pass out. 

What he hadn’t expected, however, was to be hit in his stomach by this familiar sensation. That tight knot that seemed to travel lower and could only mean one thing. Before he could even realise and try preventing it, the King let out a hoarse moan and his body tensed, his hole puckering around his lover’s fingers despite him. Panting, he came on the mattress without being able to warn himself nor his husband, but it didn’t seem to bother the latter, who kept pressing inside, yet more gently.

With his hands clenched into fists near his face and his legs shaking, Minho breathed loudly, feeling his release and immediately wondering why it had to go wrong. After a few seconds, he felt Kibum’s fingers leaving him and he seemed to realise ; he was out of breath, but he didn’t understand. He kept his face pressed against the pillow, unable to look up… and that caused the Prince to caresse his lower back and frown.

“Minho ?” He called, his voice still so sweet as if he hadn’t just ruined everything. “Minho, what is it ?”

“I’m so sorry…” The younger man panted, unable to catch his breath for the moment as his orgasm was still shaking him from inside. “I fucked up…”

“What ?”

Kibum frowned even more and came closer, catching his husband’s arms and slowly turning him over. He couldn’t help but smile when he noticed how red the King’s face was, just before the latter hid it with his arms. With an incredible gentleness, the Prince put his hands on them and delicately forced them open to reveal Minho’s head. But the latter kept his eyes closed like he didn’t want to look at his lover.

“You didn’t fuck anything up, Minho.” The older man said, unable not to smile. “Come on, open those eyes of yours, you did nothing wrong.”

“But I came too soon…” The King eventually looked at his husband, and there was pure frustration dancing in them. “You didn’t even… you didn’t…”

“And what is so wrong about it ? You felt good and you came, that’s the goal of all of this.”

“But it was just…”

“Foreplay, yes, but it’s a whole new sensation to you so your body is receptive and really sensitive. It’s normal. Hey, don’t look away.”

Kibum cupped his lover’s face and made him look at him. For a second, he pressed their lips together and caressed his cheeks with his thumbs.

“It’s all right, love.” He smiled. “You just felt good, and there is nothing wrong with it, you didn’t come too soon, you came at the moment that felt right for you. It happens to everyone, especially for a first time. Did it feel good ?”

“It did, but…”

“No but needed then. Don’t feel sorry for me because you felt pleasure, never feel sorry for that, alright ? I’m pleased if you’re please, and… I did say it was foreplay, so if you still want to… we can resume…?”

“We can…?”

“You’re so adorable, of course we can. Do you still want to have me…?”

Unable to say a word, Minho vigorously nodded and his cheeks flushed again, making the Prince laugh and peck his lips. It quickly turned into a long, lascivious kiss that managed to bring the King back to his arousal and make him forget this unusual frustration. When they broke the kiss, the younger man was about to turn over but his husband stopped him, earning a questioning look.

Kibum just shook his head.

“I want to see you when we make love.”

The way his almond-shapes eyes seemed to sparkle when he pronounced his words made Minho feel loved beyond compare, and his heart missed a beat to resume with greater intensity. He held himself up on his elbows to watch his husband kneel back between his legs, generously coating himself with the oil before looking at him. The King immediately blushed, what made the other man laugh before he approached, pushing him back on the mattress.

With careful hands, he raised his strong thighs and pressed against their inside to push them, almost bending Minho in a half as he placed himself above him, their faces close and their eyes diving into each other. The younger man felt movements and brushes against his lower half, as his husband was blindly guiding himself forwards. When he felt something pressing against his entrance, he took a deep breath.

“Are you ready ?” Kibum asked, his care never reducing as placed a chaste kiss on the knee that was at his face’s level.

“Yeah…” His lover replied, nodding to support his words. “Yeah, take me…”

“Your wish is my command, my King…”

Saying this, the Prince leaned on even more to kiss his husband, the latter seeming to lift himself up from the pillow to meet him halfway. Minho’s breath got taken away when he felt his elder pushing inside of him ; as slowly as he was going and despite the long preparation, the pain was still quite perceptible and the younger man had to break their kiss to sharply inhale. 

It only took a few seconds for Kibum to be fully inside, but it felt way longer. When he realized, the King raised his eyebrows ; already ? he thought, and that made his lover giggle — his thoughts were way too noticeable on his features, his face couldn’t lie. To confirm what he was thinking, the Prince lowered himself and pressed their lips together once more, softly, as if careful not to break them. 

Minho smiled and returned the kiss, cupping his husband’s cheeks and keeping him close. He slightly gasped when he felt the other man move inside him, with care and gentleness, not rushing everything. It could take hours, he didn’t give a damn. It means the world to be in his King’s arms for a mere second. After a few seconds, his hips steady a slow pace to allow the younger man to adjust himself to this whole new feeling, and pleasure started painting his face with the warmest colours.

It took a minute or two for Minho to start panting, quietly asking for more, and Kibum fulfilled this request by gradually speeding his thrusts up. He was sighing himself, his voice sounding lower when he moaned and adding to his husband’s hearing pleasure. The latter let an expressive sound out when he felt the same astonishing sensation than earlier, a noise that combined a surprised gasp and a pleasured moan. The Prince captured his lips to breathe his moans and sighs, possessive for all these short, sharp sounds that let him know how good he was making his lover feel.

The King’s legs were trembling and his chest abruptly rose with each breath in, and he slid his hand between their bodies to grab his own arousal and amplify this delicious feeling. This time, he didn’t care if he came soon, because when he did, he was taken to seventh heaven and he knew he was bringing Kibum with him. The latter’s moans grew sharper in his ear and he held him close, his release staining their chests and already making feel so good…

But the best feeling came when he felt his husband reach his own orgasm. As strange as it felt, Minho was happy and didn’t let go of the other man, even when the Prince slowed his pace until his thighs were too painful to keep moving. The King kept his eyes closed, because he didn’t want to see the wooden ceiling ; no, he was pleased with what he saw behind his closed eyelids. Stars on a dark sky, nebulas forming because he had kept his eyes shut for too long… but at that moment, it was the best illustration of what he was feeling.

“I love you…” He heard Kibum breathe in his ear, and he relaxed his body to welcome him in his arms.

“I love you too.” The younger man replied with the same tone, hugging his husband tight. “I love you so much I could marry you again.”

“Silly…”

Minho smiled and buried his face in the other man’s neck. He wanted to stay like this forever, and he definitely wasn’t silly.

*****************

“He did what ?”

Jonghyun stood gaping for a moment before he realized his friend definitely wasn’t waiting for him. It was still early in the morning, perhaps too early considering he had fallen asleep only four hours before, but he didn’t think he was tired to the point of turning deaf. Though he could, since his beloved partner was snoring quite loudly lately, with his stuffed up nose… perhaps he should prepare some beverages for cold as soon as possible.

The blond man shook his head to snap out of it and ran after the Prince, who was heading back to his daughter’s room with clean laundry and towels in hands. On their way, they ran into the nanny and two house girls who let them know that the small tub was ready to be filled, though the water was still a bit hot. The presence of the old woman in the corridor instead of the baby’s bedroom didn’t seem to surprise Kibum… much to the teacher’s surprise.

“Thank you, I will take care of what is left.” The black haired man told the women. “You may go and make sure everything is getting prepared safely for her Majesty’s journey abroad.”

The employees agreed and bowed before they escaped quite fast, making Jonghyun aware that he definitely was in a better environment when alone at his home… not in this never-ending tumult of people running here and there to attend to their duties. It was rather impressive that a free spirit like his friend could remain completely calm and immune to panic in such a constant atmosphere. 

Speaking of him, the Prince had resumed his walking, almost leaving his friend behind once more. 

“By the Gods, will you stop !” The teacher eventually snapped. “Stop right there ! It’s barely seven in the morning, you can’t just drop a bomb and leave with no explanation.”

“You’re overreacting, hyung.” Kibum laughed but acknowledged the comment and stopped walking for a moment. “I can’t make it clearer, though !”

“Fine, but you’ll have to repeat it so I can assimilate that.”

His bright smile never left the raven haired man’s lips and his eyes were sparkling, making his friend’s heart beat with a good dose of happiness for at least a month. 

“Minho proposed to me again.” The Prince eventually repeated, his irises shining even more. “This morning, it was the first thing he said.”

“Details, details.” Jonghyun requested, growing impatient.

“Well, we woke up together as usual and we stayed quiet for a moment, to allow us some time to emerge. And when I wished him a good morning, he just asked me to marry him again.”

“What kind of night did you two spend for him to be like this right in the morning…”

“That has nothing to do with that ! I thought he was joking because… well he already said something like that yesterday but it was more an hypothetical thing, you see ? I laughed but he didn’t. He was just… looking at me, and he asked again. He said he was serious, that our wedding was no political arrangement anymore and that we should renew our vows for our first anniversary.”

“Have a real wedding, consensual and deprived of any bad feelings… That is utterly disgusting.”

“Liar.”

“Yeah, I’m so lying. This is wonderful, I presume you said yes ?”

“Of course I said yes ! But you’re the only one to know for the time being, so please don’t shout it from the rooftops.”

Smiling, the blond man pretended to zip his lips and throw the key away, but he couldn’t help hugging his friend to show his happiness. Kibum laughed and returned the embrace as much as he could, since his arms were busy, and he eventually dismissed the teacher to run to his daughter’s bedroom. He was awaited, and he had taken a bit too long already. When he arrived, his already large smile grew wider as he found Sooyun sitting on Minho’s shoulders, her tiny hands secured in her father’s large ones as he was spinning round and round.

Her laughter echoed in the room as the most pleasant sound ever, and the Prince left these two have fun together while he prepared the little girl’s bath. The water was indeed a bit hot, but the nanny had made sure to bring a bucket of cold water, to balance the temperature. Once it seemed perfect, the King stopped playing and approached the tub, removing Sooyun’s night clothes and slowly sitting her in the water.

Immediately, she started waving her arms and hitting the liquid, enjoying herself like for every single bath. Minho’s hand was placed behind her back to prevent her from falling backwards, while Kibum filled a little jug to wet their daughter’s hair. They couldn’t always be there for her bath or her meals, their respective duties often keeping them busy, but whenever they could take care of the little girl, they would dismiss absolutely everyone else and enjoy a moment with just the three of them.

“I told Jonghyun.” The older man eventually confessed. “I couldn’t hold myself back.”

“Should I be mad at you for this ?” The King smiled, looking at his husband. “I take it as a compliment. What did he say ?”

“Pretended to be disgusted by such a big amount of love, but he’s really glad. I thought it was for the best to keep the biggest announcement to ourselves for the time being.”

“So you agree with what I proposed ? You don’t say yes just because you love me, right ?”

“No, I promise you I’m not. The more I think about it, the more I enjoy the idea… I mean, we’ve been to every kingdom and met every ruler, they renewed their allegiance and we spent really nice moments with each of them. Or almost.”

“That was for Prince Siwon.”

“But he’ll be invited as well, it could be… entertaining.”

“So we’re doing it. We’re getting married once more and this time, we invite the Four Kingdom’s rulers.”

“Yes, we’re doing it.”

Both men smiled at each other and stopped talking, only exchanging with their eyes as they were both realizing what they had just decided. After all, they had defied all laws to keep their marriage, and nothing could force them to annul it now. It just didn’t seem official considering the first circumstances, and they wanted to renew their vows while meaning them. Kibum wanted to bow to his King without being forced to do so, and Minho wanted to drink from the same glass with his Prince, this time placing his lips where his would have drunk.

Unfortunately, their contemplation of their future wedding was savagely interrupted by water splashed straight to their face. Sooyun had enough of not getting any attention.

_____________

Epilogue

[lovemesomerafael]

EL AMOR TODO LO PUEDE Chapter 26:  Find Me A Find

Chapters 1-25

Occasional strains of music and tantalizing aromas wafted up to Laura’s apartment, spurring her to hurry. Amazingly, on a Saturday when she wasn’t working, the early fall weather was perfect and there was a Latino street fair happening just a block from her apartment.  She tossed a faded jean jacket over a sleeveless dress of soft white cotton, tied on tattered Keds that had been red at one time, and headed out. Her hair was still damp from the shower, since she’d gone to an early class at the gym.  Feeling virtuous for getting up early and doing what she needed to do, she was ready for a sunny day of doing nothing but enjoying the sights, sounds, smells, and tastes of the street fair.  

She took the stairs to the street and followed the music.  The city had blocked off ten blocks of the street, and vendors and fairgoers had pushed the boundaries into some of the side streets.  There was a grassy park at one end with a bandstand on each side, the lawn full of blankets with couples and families relaxing and enjoying the music and sunshine.  Even in the happy crowd, Laura was vigilant, and felt a little naked not being armed.  She thought that was probably permanent now.  She did have her shield.  You never knew.

As she stood admiring handmade copper jewelry in a booth and chatting casually with the wizened abuela whose daughter was the artist, Laura heard her name called.  She turned toward the voice to see Lucia Barba rushing toward her, arms out, an elated smile on her face.  Señora Barba grabbed her into a bear hug, excitedly greeting her.

“Laura, it’s so good to see you!  I didn’t get a chance to thank you for what you did for Rafael, and I’m so grateful. I knew something was wrong.  Thank you for keeping my son safe.”

Laura laughingly hugged her back, thinking again how much she liked Señora Barba.  

“El gusto es mio, Señora.  Gracias por dejarme ayudar.”[1]

“And I was right, wasn’t I? He complained, but he let you help him.”

Laura smiled, looking past Lucia to see Rafael standing, trying to look annoyed behind his Ray-Bans.  

“You called it,” she said to Lucia.  “And it was a brilliant move to call Ramón.  He was the one who pulled it all together.  Which means it was you who really saved Rafael.  All I did was hide him.”

“And pull a gun before that matón[2] could pull his.  I wish I could have seen that.”

“Yeah, well.  That’s what friends are for.”  

Laura smiled at Rafael, who grinned back uncomfortably.  He preferred not to be the topic of his mami’s conversation.  You never knew what she might say.

“Well, we’re both grateful, aren’t we, Rafi?”

“We are,” he answered. “Thank you again, Detective.”

Laura tilted her head.

“Laura.”

Her smile brightened. She got a little thrill hearing him say her name, and was somewhat dazzled by how good he looked there in the sunshine, relaxed and casual in jeans and a white polo shirt.  He hadn’t shaved.  She wondered whether he knew how good that slight scruff looked on him.

“How are your bruises?” She asked.

“All but gone.  Can we talk about something else?”

“What are you doing in Manhattan, Lucia?”

“If I want to see Rafi more than once a year, I have to come to him.  Anyway, we love this fair.  We come every year.  You should let me introduce you to my friend Inez.  Her daughter in law has a booth just down there and she makes the most beautiful Colombian polleras coloras.[3]  I don’t know where you’d wear them, but they’re gorgeous.  It’s just down here…”

Laura looked back at Rafael for help as she was enveloped in Lucia’s arm, and voice, and persona.  Much more comfortable now that he had recovered from the initial shock of seeing Laura here, and that he was no longer the subject of conversation, he was perfectly happy to simply follow, smiling broadly, as Laura experienced the force of nature that was his mother.  And though he would never say it, he was ecstatic that his mother appeared to have conscripted Laura to experience the fair with them.  This way, he could enjoy her company, without having to be the one to risk proposing that himself.

A few booths further down the street, they reached one that was a riot of brilliant colors and flowing fabrics, trimmed ruffled skirts moving gracefully in the breeze.  Lucia saw her friend, a short, squat Colombian woman with a brilliant smile, and introduced Laura to her.  Soon several women were crowding in to greet Lucia.  Aside from a few that had no translation, every word was in Spanish.  Laura had all she could do to follow the discussion.  Between the different accents and overlapping conversations, she was too busy listening to offer much comment herself.  

After several minutes of animated conversation, she felt Rafael move up just behind her, close enough to quietly murmur into her ear in English, “Let me know if you need rescuing.”

She leaned into him as much as she dared.  “I may take you up on that.”

“It’s my turn.”  

Something about the tone of his voice bothered her.  She turned a bit to look up into his face.  “You OK?”

When he put an arm lightly around her shoulder, she felt it throughout her entire body.  A shadow over his face told her he was not entirely over the experience he’d just come through.  “Just glad it’s over.”

“If you need to talk…”

He squeezed her shoulder, turning her back toward the group of women, all of whom were watching their quiet exchange with great interest.  “Later.”

The older women began to cluck and fuss over “Rafi”, the way they spoke to (and about) him making clear they had known him from childhood.  It was also obvious they were intensely curious about Laura’s relationship to him.

Lucia Barba was nothing if not savvy.  As the three wandered down the crowded street, they eventually came to a very busy booth selling empanadas, owned by a family Rafael had known his entire life.  Lucia quite calculatedly got herself “talked into” helping the family tend the booth, leaving Rafael and Laura on their own.

“Vaya[4], Rafael…  Show Laura a good time.  Enjoy the day together,” she called cheerfully, tying on an apron.

Laura strongly suspected she was matchmaking, and Rafael knew for sure that’s what she was doing. He pretended to be annoyed with her, but Lucia wasn’t fooled for a second.  

“Mami, usted es un entrometido,”[5] he whispered to her as he kissed her cheek before leaving the booth.

She pulled him into a hug to cover her reply.  “Solo te estoy cuidando, mijo. Ella es linda. Ella te gusta. Y ella está loca por ti.”[6]

“Puedo encontrar mis propias citas.”[7]

“Pero no lo harás. Entonces lo haré por ti.”[8]

Rafael and Laura stepped out into the sunshine, joining the busy throng of fairgoers.  This was the part Laura was absolutely useless at.  She wanted nothing more than to spend time – the whole day, if she could – just walking around with Rafael enjoying the street fair.  But precisely because it was so important to her, she had no idea how to let him know that without embarrassing herself.  She stood, completely unable to think of a thing to say.

Rafael was too consumed with his own thoughts to notice. He was thinking that, since his mother had gone to so much trouble to arrange this golden opportunity, he wasn’t about to waste it.  At the same time, his internal alarms were in overdrive.  His mami had done this to him more than once, but never with a woman he was in any danger of truly caring about.  He felt suspended, perfectly balanced between wanting to make an excuse to leave the fair and wanting to take Laura’s hand and show her everything.

They might have stood there forever, never making a move, had a stray breeze not blown a streamer from a neighboring booth.  Its motion caught Rafael’s eye.  He turned to see Laura, a lock of her hair caught by the same breeze, pushing it behind her ear.  She looked at him as he looked at her, and gave him a smile that made his decision for him.  

“Come with me,” he said, putting a hand on her lower back to steer her into the flow of the crowd.  “I want to show you something.”  

Laura shivered, feeling him touch her in such a proprietary way.  Rafael wondered how she would react if he kept his hand on her, or even put an arm around her.  He talked himself out of doing either.

As they made their way through the crowd, Rafael asked as casually as he could, “How was your date with Ramón?”

“Short.”

“Oh?  What did he do?”  For a man who had no intention of getting involved, Rafael was surprisingly relieved to hear that Laura’s date with his cousin hadn’t gone well.

“He was fine.  There’s just… nothing there.”  Her nonchalance seemed genuine to him.  “We ran out of things to say by the end of the first drink.”

“Too bad.” 

She shrugged.  “It’s O.K.  So what are you going to show me?”

“Something I know Ramón didn’t tell you.”

They walked about a block, not hurrying, just seeing the sights, watching the crowd and trying to get used to the lovely surprise gift Lucia had given them: an entire day to enjoy together.  They pointed out interesting booths or people to one another and tried to make each other laugh.  Spanish being by far the most prevalent language around them, and as much Rafael’s first language as English, they naturally fell into speaking Spanish. Although she clearly tried, Laura would always have a fairly heavy American accent.  She had trouble with verb tenses, like everyone who learns a new language as an adult, and once or twice he had to stifle a laugh at the way she expressed something.  Not that the words were wrong, exactly, just in an odd order and sometimes descriptive of something that she didn’t know the Spanish word for.  He found it endearing.  

Often, they would be jostled or separated by the milling crowd, and Rafael wondered whether he should, or could, take Laura’s hand.  He wanted to – very much wanted to – but wasn’t sure he could pass it off as mere logistical necessity rather than the affectionate gesture it would actually have been.  Wrestling with the decision, he hadn’t done it by the time they reached his destination.  

A stage had been set up at the back of a vacant lot at the end of the block they’d walked, with a fair number of people standing before it watching a group of dancers.  The men wore close-fitting black pants and chest-baring shirts in white, and the women wore brightly colored, very sexy dresses with short, ruffled skirts that bared their legs with every move and twirl.  

“I’m related to about half the people on that stage,” Rafael told her.

“Seriously?  What’s that dance?”

“It’s the cha-cha-chá in Cuba, but here we just call it the cha-cha.  And the third guy from the left is Ramón.  With the girl in the red dress?”

Laura squinted and watched Ramón for a moment. “Wow!  He’s amazing!  Why would he not tell me he’s such a great dancer?  That seems like a pretty good pick-up line.”

“He’s private about it.  He’s proud of it, but a lot of the guys on his squad don’t even know he dances.”

“Who’s the girl?”

“Well, that’s another reason he doesn’t talk about it much. That’s his sister, Selena.”

Rafael and Laura watched the dancers for about half an hour, as they performed a number of different dances, all beautiful and fascinating to Laura.  He pointed out which of the dancers were relatives and it was, in fact, about half of them.

“So, do you dance?”

“Oh, hell no.  My father wouldn’t hear of it.  My ex-wife did, though.”  

Laura was glad they were focusing on the stage when he said that.  It had never occurred to her that Rafael might have been married, although it probably should have.  The distraction of the dancers gave her the chance to react without him watching her while she did.

“Oh, you were married?”  She tried to sound merely casually interested.

“Single worst experience of my life, and that includes two root canals and the New York State bar exam.”

“Ouch.  How long were you married?”

“Interesting question.  I was married for seven years.  She was married for a somewhat shorter period of time.”

“Oh, man.  I’m sorry.”

“Yeah.  Have you had about enough of the dancing Barbas?  I’m getting hungry.”

“I could watch this all day.  But food sounds good.”

As they made their way through the crowd that had piled up behind them watching the dancers, he reached back and took her hand.  He didn’t intertwine his fingers with hers, but held her hand in his as they snaked through the knots of onlookers.  His hand felt strong and warm, and Laura allowed herself an inner shriek of glee.  So what if she had a dorky grin on her face?  He was leading her through the crowd; he couldn’t see it.

When they reached the street again, he let her hand fall.  She was disappointed, but tried to play it cool.

“And you?”  He continued the conversation when they were again side by side, walking down the street, shoulders barely touching.  “Ever been married?”

“I was engaged once.  God and José Cuervo had other ideas.  We’re still good friends, but… some things you just don’t come back from.” 

“I’m sorry.  Would I be right in guessing that the groom-that-wasn’t is Peter Stone?”

“Got it in one.” 

“I have another very important question that will determine the future of our friendship.  What is your political position on churros?”

“Pro.  I am firmly pro-churro.”

“Good, I don’t have to shun you.  C’mon, let me buy you some.”

They found a small patch of grass in front of one of the stages in the park, where a group of musicians were doing their best to play salsa music.  A number of people danced in front of the stage, apparently determined to enjoy the music, however bad.

Sitting down next to Rafael and accepting the churro he offered her, Laura gestured toward the stage.  “Should I try to guess how many of those guys you’re related to?”

“You think all Hispanics are related?  That’s racist.”

“Mmm-hmm.  How many?”

Rafael looked carefully at the stage.  “Two.”

Laura whooped with laughter.  It had been a lucky guess.  She had heard Rafael’s mother and her friends discussing one woman’s daughters who played percussion instruments in a salsa band.  

For a long time after that, they sat companionably and people-watched, talking casually about Rafael’s huge extended family, people they both knew, and the differences between New York and Chicago.  At some point, Rafael laid down on his side, his head on his hand, looking up at Laura.  He looked suave yet casual, all sunglasses and stubble and thick, dark hair blowing slightly in the breeze.  She wanted nothing more than to stretch out beside him and pull him on top of her.  She realized just a moment too late that she was staring.

“Something wrong, Detective?”

“N- no, I’m just… wondering whether you want to talk about what happened with Judge Renseau.  I don’t want to ruin a nice day, but I do want to, you know, be supportive.”  Whew. Nice save.

To her surprise, he told her candidly how frightened he’d been, how helpless he’d felt, and how comforted he’d been by her visit to his office.  

“I know I didn’t say it, but I really appreciated that.  I felt pretty alone.”

“You weren’t.”

“I know that now.” His mischievous grin told her he was about to make fun of her.  “I wish you could have seen your face.  You expected me to read you the riot act and throw you out of my office.”

“Pretty much.  But I had no choice.  I get the feeling nobody says no to your mother.”

“You would be right about that.”  He looked down at the grass, pulling a blade and staring at it in apparent fascination. “It must’ve taken some guts for you to come to my office.”

She smirked at him.  “I’m not afraid of you.  Unfortunately for you.”

“Desafortunadamente.”[9]  

“What?”

“It’s a tongue twister, I know.  Try it again. Desafortunadamente.”  He wondered how she would take him correcting her Spanish, half expecting her to take offense.  That would have been uncomfortable, but what she did instead made him even more uncomfortable.

She became very serious as she asked him to say it again, looking at his mouth and trying very hard to imitate his pronunciation.  It was so cute and inexplicably hot he found himself repositioning his legs to hide his reaction.  She had no ego about it.  She understood that she would always speak Spanish with an American accent and probably always make mistakes.  Despite that, or maybe because of that, she really wanted to improve.  She was willing to be entirely instructed by him and repeat the syllables, and the word, as many times as she had to until he was satisfied.  He imagined her looking like that, so intent and serious, eager to get it right and win his approval, when he asked her to do other things with her mouth. 

“That’s it.  You got it.  Let’s walk.” He popped up from his position on the grass so fast she wondered if she’d done something wrong.  Angling his body away from her, he held a hand out to her and helped her up from the ground.    

As they walked the street, going back in the direction of their apartment building, their conversation seemed to stay on more serious topics.  Not deeply philosophical, just subjects more personal than observations about people around them or the booths they passed.  As Rafael was explaining the reasons he had become a Prosecutor, he turned toward her to say something, and found that she wasn’t there.

Turning back the way they had come, he saw her about 5 steps behind him, in the act of twisting a greasy young man’s arm behind his back.  

“NYPD!  On your knees, Sparky,” she told him in a commanding voice. He had no choice; with the angle at which she held his fingers, it was the only way to release the pressure.  As he hit the ground, she used her free hand to pull her shield from an inside pocket of her jacket and show it to him.

“Look, man, I’ll give it back!  Just take it, man!”  He held up a wallet in a creamy, fine black leather.  Rafael’s wallet.

Laura plucked it out of his hand and, seeing Rafael step up next to her, handed it to him.  “So, Harvard?  You’re the boss.  What do you want to do?”  

Rafael couldn’t have hidden his smile if he’d wanted to.  He actually laughed.  “It’s a party.  Let him go.”

“You sure?”  She asked, not releasing the pickpocket.

“Hey, listen to him, Lady, he’s the boss.”

“Shut up,” she bawled, shooting a disgusted look at the kid on his knees at her feet and, had she known it, sounding exactly like Fin.

“Let him go, Detective. I don’t want to spoil our day doing paperwork.”

Laura helped the kid to his feet, but didn’t release his arm immediately.  She looked up at him as he towered over her.  “Get out of here.  And I mean all the way out.  I see you again today and we are gonna be doing that paperwork, you got that?  Do you realize you just pickpocketed a D.A?”

The kid lost it.  His eyes went huge and he bolted to the side, between two booths and into a side street.  

For what had to be the twentieth time that day, Rafael was enchanted.  As they both laughed uncontrollably, he unconsciously put an arm around her shoulder and they started back down the street.  

“How did that happen?”

“I saw him pick your pocket.”

“You saw… my wallet was in my back pocket.  What, exactly, were you looking at?”

Laura blushed furiously, causing Rafael to laugh even harder and squeeze her to him.  He couldn’t help it.  The look on her face was so adorable he simply had to hug her as he shook with laughter.  

“I wasn’t… I saw movement behind you.”

“You saw movement? Please.  You better hope for a particularly impressionable jury.”  

Holy shit, how am I even walking right now?  If he hugs me again, or smiles like that, I’m just going to throw him to the ground and do him right here.  And then I’ll be the one being arrested.

“You know, you could try being a little grateful.  I did you a favor.”

“You did, and I am grateful. I’m not sure whether I’m happier that I still have my wallet or that you were checking out my ass.”

“I was so not checking – forget it.  Next time, Sparky gets to keep your wallet.” All I have to do is look up, just put my face somewhere in the kissing zone…  Laura was completely frustrated by her inability to make smooth passes at men she really liked.  This was about the fifth time she’d felt like, if she just leaned a bit more toward him, or stepped a little closer…  But the moment would pass without either of them making a move.  She was sure she was the only one feeling those moments.  She was wrong.

They found a small stage in a side street where a scruffy band of people played a Peruvian-flavored music heavy on charangos, bandurrias, and pan flutes, with several different hand-held drums and other percussion instruments.   There was a core of players, but others appeared simply to be joining from time to time, just jamming.  The music was great.  Both Laura and Rafael wanted to stay and listen, so they found a spot on the grass to sit.  Once Laura was settled, Rafael went in search of something to eat for dinner while they listened.  

As he walked back to the street and tried to choose among all the delicious foods available, Rafael thought back over the day.  He knew he was in trouble.  He could not remember spending a more enjoyable day.  He tried to think of a word to describe how he was feeling about Laura, even aside from his serious sexual attraction to her.  He felt extremely… fond of her.  He liked her immensely, looked forward to what she was going to say or do next, and just generally wanted to be around her. Fond.  Yes, that was the word.  Extremely fond.

He decided that, since they’d been sampling foods from assorted Latin American countries throughout the day, he wanted to bring her something Cuban.  He chose a booth from which a mouthwatering aroma was permeating the air, bring back boxes of ropa vieja with black beans, yellow rice, and plantains, with big cups of lemonade.  It wasn’t easy to eat sitting on the grass and, since both of them were wearing white, they laughed through the challenge of trying to spill as little as possible.  The music was so good, they stayed listening and talking for a long time after they finished eating.  

They were both sorry to see the light fading.  Vendors were beginning to pack up their wares, and the crowd was thinning.  When the band announced that they were playing their last song, Rafael and Laura looked regretfully at one another and gathered up the debris of their dinner.  

Laura never thought about what she was doing until she had already reached out and taken Rafael’s hand as they walked.  If she had, she would never have had the courage to do it.  The action was simply an extension of her happiness at being with him, and her deep attraction to him. His heart gave a lurch as he felt her put her small hand in his and, this time, he entwined his fingers with hers.  Neither gave any indication that they noticed anything unusual, although they were both thinking of nothing else.  

“Rafael, this has been the best day.  I really had fun.  Thanks for everything,” she said as they approached their building.  “Can I ask you a question?”

“Yes, she was matchmaking.”

Laura laughed.  She wondered if he would say anything else, and was vaguely disappointed when he didn’t.  She’d given him an opening big enough to drive a truck through.

He wished she hadn’t.  Her delicate but hard to miss hint was so inviting he could hardly keep from abandoning all his stupid rules and asking her to marry him.   Like he had been the night he’d built her cabinet, he was actually looking forward to getting away from her.  It was too hard to be around her, with her ratty Keds and her adorably bad accent and her musical laugh, and remember his promise to himself.  

“I’m going to hate going to the office tomorrow, especially if it’s another beautiful day,” he offered, hoping like hell to get the conversation to safer territory.

“It’s Sunday.  Do you have to go in?”  The weather?  Really? That’s what you want to talk about?

“Unfortunately, I do. I have no wifi, and I’ve got a lot to get done for Monday.”

“What’s wrong with your wifi?”

“Above my pay grade. All I know is it’s out and my guy can’t get here until Wednesday.”

He opened the door for her, and she stepped past him.  

“My wifi works fine. Use mine.”

“Your wifi isn’t going to reach up to my apartment.”

“Then come to mine.  I actually have a table now, so you’ll have a surface to work on.  I’m on duty, so I’m afraid you’ll be on your own, but you’re welcome to work at my place.  I’ll give you a key.”

They walked across the lobby toward the elevators.  “Laura, this is New York.  You can’t just give your keys to anyone and say, ‘hey, come hang out in my apartment while I’m not there’.”

“I just did.”

“I could be a serial killer.”

“Are you?”

“Of course not.”

“Then we’re good.  Stop off with me.  I’ll give you a key.”

The elevator doors opened and they stepped in as he smiled and shook his head.  This woman…

He followed her into her dark apartment and stood while she went into her kitchen, flipped on the light and took a key from a drawer.  She stepped back around the counter and handed it to him.  

“Use it, or don’t.  But you really are welcome to, so you don’t have to go in to the office.”

“Thank you.  I might do that.”

With that, they’d reached the moment that had been on both their minds for at least the last half hour.  Rafael wanted to be as kind and natural as possible as he made his escape.  The last thing he wanted to do was hurt Laura’s feelings, especially after such a magical day.  Laura’s thoughts were entirely different.  I know I’m gonna jack this up.  But as God is my witness, that man is not walking out of here unkissed. 

“Listen, Laura…  There’s something I’ve been meaning to tell you,” he said, quiet in the half light from the kitchen.  “You know, the night with your Ikea cabinet…  That was fun.  And I’m sure you got whiplash from the way I’ve treated you since then.” 

“You don’t have to say anything.  You don’t owe me any explanations.” 

“That’s good, because I don’t have any.  But I do want to apologize.  I treated you badly, and still when you heard I was in trouble, there you were, ready to do battle for me.  So… I enjoyed that night we built that cabinet.  I really did.”

“So did I.”

“And I’m sorry that I went right back to being a dick.”

“I didn’t say – “

“Detective, I’m apologizing.  Doesn’t happen often.  Try to keep up.”

They chuckled in their mutual discomfort.  

“Apology accepted.  And for the record?  I do not think you’re a dick, and anytime a friend of mine is in trouble, I’m gonna be there.  It’s kind of my thing.”

“So we’re friends then?”

“Try to keep up.”

With another of his sexy half-smiles, Rafael said, “It was a great day.  I really enjoyed spending it with you.  Thanks.”

Awkwardly, hesitantly, they fumbled their way into a hug that wasn’t what either of them wanted, but it was warm and affectionate, and it was enough.  

[1] My pleasure.  Thank you for letting me help.

[2] Thug, goon

[3] Traditional Colombian skirt that is long and made of a lot of fabric so it flows when the wearer dances

[4] Go

[5] Mami, you’re a busybody.

[6] I'm just looking out for you, my son.  She's cute.  You like her.  And she's crazy about you.

[7] I can find my own dates.

[8] But you won’t.  So I’ll do it for you.

[9] Unfortunately

[iamveergill-blog]

The Algorithm

Most of his chores for the morning are done; clearing the snow, putting away dishes, checking emails. But Ray is late getting out of home, as he usually is. Professionally, he is at a position where he can flexibly manage his time, but he is conscious of the fact that he usually reaches work at around quarter past 9 when he aims to start at 8:30.

Today is a similar day, with a similar feeling. He finds himself deliberately slowing down his morning tasks. Although this feeling is familiar, the exact reason for it is not clear. He doesn’t try to bother too much as it is uncomfortable thinking about it. By now, he’s grown accustomed to it, so it’s easy to sweep it aside.

As he’s waiting at the bus stop, Rex notices someone approaching with a cup of coffee in each hand. As the person sits beside him, Rex looks at him amusedly.

Stranger: I know, I know; these are just to keep my hands warm. Don’t think I’ll ever get used to this cold!

Rex: Hahaha… I take it you’re not from here.

Stranger: Hell no! And hopefully, I won’t be here for long. I couldn’t survive here for too long.

Rex: Don’t worry, I’ve lived here my entire life and I’m still not used to this weather.

What brings you to this part of the world?

Stranger: Ah (looking down, smiling & shaking his head)… Chaos!

Rex: Pardon me?

Stranger: (Chuckles) Chaos theory! Every action or movement in the world being a result of an infinite number of events that have happened in the past and directly or indirectly led to it.

Something like your brother’s best friend recommending a sports academy to you, where you meet a girl that you develop a crush on, only to later get together with her friend, who then becomes your wife and the mother of your children. Her trajectory infuses with yours along with an infinite number of others and this can ultimately lead to you move to another country, win the lottery, die in a crash or even kill someone.

Rex: Oh jeez (laughing), the old free will debate?

What you’re saying is not incorrect, but I feel that it’s incomplete when it comes to explaining reality. You’re not considering that at any point in time I can choose to do something different, counter-intuitive. It’s highly unlikely, most people would never do that because we’re all a certain type of person reacting to circumstances in our own, but predictable ways. But even though I don’t exercise it, I have that free will. I can walk into work today and hand in my resignation. I won’t do it because it simply suits me to remain employed.

Basically, you go about life instinctively, but at any time you can prove you have free will by not doing what you would normally do in a situation … and do anything else!

Stranger: I can do you one better. I have a theory that helps prove that humans don’t have an ounce of free will. And it has nothing to do with religion or God!

Rex: (thinking for a few seconds) Hmm… Interesting…

Stranger: (putting down his coffee to shake Rex’s hand). I’m Joel by the way.

Rex: Rex (smiling, shaking his hand)

Joel: Okay, let me go back and start from what you were just saying about always having a choice in any situation.

You’re saying is that it’s obvious that our life and decisions are steered by our environment… by our culture, ethnicity, upbringing, family & friends, social status, incidents in our past, even our genetics… but we still have free will. We still have this power that can override all these other factors, and steer our life, if and when we choose.

Rex: Yes…

Joel: What about cases where the impact of your environment is extreme? You can actually turn to science to look into this. Phenomenon such as PTSD help us understand that events which we might not have any control over, can very strongly dictate our entire perspective on life, and sometimes even our decision whether it’s worth living or not.

Do you think when people who are suffering from severe mental health issues commit suicide, they still have that choice?

Rex: Well… I don’t know about that. But I’m sure you’d agree that in most cases, if not all, we can alter our decision based on our inner voice.

I…uh… I mean for example, even when all conditions point you to keep working at a job as it provides you anything material that you think you need, you can still possibly convince yourself to take that radical decision which goes against all your experience and predispositions.

Joel: My theory builds upon this understanding and takes it a step further!

What if your brain’s workings, your inner voice, all your thoughts, and actions are the result of a fundamental law of the universe? It works kind of like an algorithm… or an equation. A highly complex code that’s processed in your brain and drives your mental function.

Rex: …? (confused)

Joel: Hear me out now…

Just like a piece of software, “I” am the result of a string of commands that link together in an action-to-reaction chain. This string is presumably infinitely complex. And by “I”, I mean all my actions, inactions, feelings, emotions – any sort-of impact that I have on existence.

Every thought is a result of other stimuli in my life, rather than a consciously decided thing. This continuously evolves my outlook towards life and in turn, affects my next thought or action. When you really think about it, you realize the possibility that every thought you’ve had, every outburst, every instance where you backed down instead of standing your ground, everything left unsaid between important people, every decision made and not made, has reasons. And I say reasons because it’s a long chain and not one simple, easy to explain incident. The point is that nothing about your behavior or your existence is just random.

This theory is based on the notion that people are affected by their environment, but make no mistake it goes far ahead. According to this, both of your thoughts of quitting and not quitting your job, as well as the ultimate decision you take, are not under your control, but a result of this “code”.

In short, you’re not making independent decisions in the chaos of the universe. You are part of this system going from cause to effect, with just having an illusion of control.

Rex: But a computer program is predictable. We all react differently in different situations!

Joel: What if the algorithm takes into account all of your past experiences & predispositions and generates the thought that you have, and even dictates the decision that you take, without you knowing. My point is, we all react differently because we have had different histories.

Your brain has billions of neurons, which form links and pathways depending upon how it’s used. The links for things you do more often become stronger. It’s not too different in structure from a computer processor. Even machine learning follows a similar model, with A.I. using a kind of neural network of processors to develop more effective and efficient ways to reach a goal.

What if all the thoughts you’ve ever had, from the weirdest taboos to the seemingly life-defining epiphanies were the result this code. I think it’s not inconceivable; it doesn’t even point toward a God. In fact, it lends credence to the theory that there is no God, because it simply establishes a cause and effect relationship between everything and doesn’t leave the human experience to something divine.

Rex: Hmmm… interesting, but…

Joel: Just consider this as a thought experiment…

There is another universe, which has the same initial conditions as ours, the same matter and physical laws. Is it conceivable to you that there would be a planet earth and you would be born over there too? Who do you think you would be in that universe – a professional living the same life you’re living now or a billionaire living in New York, or maybe a homeless person living on the streets somewhere?

You’d have the exact same life! You and I would be sitting here talking about this in that reality too, because all your external conditions and your reactions towards them would’ve been the same.

The algorithm takes randomness out of the equation and replaces it with chaos. In that respect, every outcome in the world is theoretically predictable; just practically impossible to do so.

Scientists say that the universe by default moves towards disorder, toward complexity, something they call entropy. I’m just saying that maybe our lives are also dictated by the same physical laws. Our lives also become more complex with time as we continue to react based on the algorithm. Our brains, being a massive network of neurons with trillions of connections, sounds like the perfect processor for such a code. I mean maybe that’s what our brain works on with the other “90% of its capacity” (chuckles).

Rex: Well… our lives could also become more complex with time just because there’s that much more in them, in terms of relationships, memories, dreams, …baggage.

But what you’re saying does make sense to me on some level. Sometimes I feel more of a machine than a man myself (smiling). In my honest opinion, people can be captivated by an interesting and logical idea but that’s temporary. For it to truly sink in and be accepted, people will inevitably look for scientific proof. I mean if true, this idea can fundamentally change the way we see the world around us, and our place in it.

Joel: (Sigh)… you’re absolutely right. I don’t know how this concept can be proven in a lab; I mean it deals with your consciousness which is grossly misunderstood in and of itself. It’s all intangible.

There have been some studies performed at Cornell. They don’t prove this hypothesis but sort of point in the direction that we are not merely observers or independent entities just existing in the universe, but our mind or brain is directly connected to its fundamental properties like space and time. You should definitely look into them; I think they’re called “feeling the future”.

Rex: …

Joel: I think the so-called enlightened people of the world, the Buddhists, etc., realize all this and that’s why they just observe the passage of existence, without trying to control anything. That’s it, because that’s all they can do. They don’t escape the algorithm. Even this realization of theirs is a result of it. They just have a concrete reason now to stop giving a shit about every little thing that we do.

Rex: …

Joel: I think it makes it easier for us to put ourselves in others’ shoes and understand that everyone has a long chain of reasons for their behavior.

…

So… what do you think?

..About my theory? Sorry if it came off as a bit of a rant by the way (smiling).

Rex: Yeah, it’s interesting, sure. But I don’t know… if a person accepts it, I’m not sure how it would impact them. Would it liberate them, or increase the already crippling feeling of not being in control of their life?

Joel: But that’s not what the implica…

Rex: My bus is here. I gotta get going… can’t be late for work!

…

…

Take care (walking off).

Joel: … (confused) Sigh.

[izumitate]

in every iteration

I forgot to post this here!! But here’s an immortality/reincarnation AU! Possibly to be continued later?

They never remember, Keishin had warned him so many centuries ago. As much as you want to hope that your love will transcend the limits of mortality, it never will.

I know, Daichi had said, but he hadn’t really known. Not yet.

The first time was an open wound right above his still-beating heart, the pain so acute and bloody that the next twenty-nine years before he could meet his beloved again dragged on jagged and endless. The harvests from the first decade after losing him were spare and sickly. Daichi feels bad about it now, but he’d never been truly despondent until then. Not even Koutarou or Shouyou had been able to raise his spirits.

The second time was even harder. It took three years for Daichi to woo his beloved - this time, a stocky woman working in the stables of her village instead of the young blacksmith that Daichi had fallen for faster than the reddened leaves of a maple in November. Three years in her company, then three years her companion, and then she was gone before the last frost had lifted, along with half her village as the illness spread.

It took a quarter of a century to find her this time, reborn halfway across the world as the best sharpshooter in his village. Daichi dressed the leaves in ruby and flame, and brought with him harvest after bountiful harvest of golden corn and jeweled squash. They kissed for the first time beneath the bone-bare trees and the half-filled moon. They were happy. They made a life together.

But as the years passed, Shigeru and Kentarou began yet another sky-shaking argument, and when the rain meets the surge of the river, there’s nothing mortals can do but try to survive the resulting floods. Daichi’s beloved lost his life while carrying a child to safety, and for the better part of a decade, Daichi spoke to neither of his now-contrite siblings until the storm in his heart could subside, and he could feel his beloved’s soul return to the living plane once again.

The ninth time, he was a court scholar in the confidence of an emperor, and Daichi had to use all his godly tricks to create the chance to get close to him. The twelfth time, Daichi found him on the warm sands of a tiny island, the call of the ocean in his blood. But it had been too long; Daichi could feel the strain of half a century wearing on his darling, and as expected, he passed soon after their long-overdue meeting. The fifteenth time, she was a weaver under the apprenticeship of a master in her beautiful seaside town.

That life, Daichi had time on his side. They met young, and she was healthy and lived well. They should have had years together.

And then she was gone, because if there’s anything mortals know as well as they know love, it’s war.

So it would go, over and over again. Death, rebirth, the tireless search, and the heartbreak when, yet again, they would look upon Daichi with no recognition in their eyes. Every single time. Daichi would know that dedication, that cleverness, that loyalty and humor and gratitude and impossible grace, no matter the body they inhabit. But even if he remains completely constant, in both appearance and temperament, no human memory can carry his love across lifetimes.

By now, Daichi finally understands.

Keishin had tried to tell him, that even more than the pain of losing them stings the pain of knowing they have forgotten every shared moment, every secret told, every precious kiss. But every piece of suffering is worth it, for the moment that Daichi realizes, yet again, that his darling, the other half of his heart, loves him.

There will never be anyone else. And so it continues.

--

He buries her on a Thursday. Koushi has left his clouds behind to take his favored human form, and he stands close to offer comfort the best he can as Daichi receives the condolences of the other mourners. The sky is gray but clear, as it so often is in this country, and after the rest of the funeral procession has dispersed, he crouches to pat flat the dirt himself, feeling the lifeforce of every plant in the vicinity react to his touch. Overhead, the sun isn’t visible, but he can feel Shouyou’s power coursing through him anyway, the sympathy soaking into his skin.

“Why don’t you come home for a little while?” Koushi asks gently after a moment of silence. He helps Daichi back to his feet, and traces the wrinkles that have set into Daichi’s face after the last sixty or so years. “You’ve been living among humans for so long now, it might be good for you to let go of all this until it’s time to meet again.”

Daichi takes a last look at the cemetery, the stretch of gravestones along the grass, and feels a deep, inhuman tiredness sink into his bones. Koushi is right. He’s been playing mortal for too long. It’s time to return home.

He bends down to leave a final kiss on his spouse’s gravestone before he stands straight and takes Koushi’s hand. The wind thickens, whistling through the cemetery trees as their mortal forms dissolve. When the breeze fades, there’s no sign of them left behind, save for Daichi’s current name etched into marble alongside his beloved’s.

--

For the next couple of decades, Daichi remains earthbound. He travels around the world, trailing autumn with every step, and when he’s off season, he spends time with his siblings. There’s years and years of news and gossip to catch up on, and even more reminiscing to be done. He walks along crowded beaches with Tooru, and soaks up the moonlight under the star threaded sky with Kei and Keiji. He visits the mountaintops with Shinsuke, and the cliffsides with Aran. Daichi walks through his brother’s rolling fields, laughing when Wakatoshi frowns as he blooms a patch of his flowers too early. He sits high up in the trees next to Asahi as they watch the wildfires eat through another acre of dying forest. He drinks in the sensation of Kiyoko’s snow swirling into flurries around him, and he revels in the sound of Takanobu’s crystalline hail shattering against the frozen pane of ice on one of Kaname’s lakes.

It’s a time for healing, and reconnection. And he enjoys it, he really does, but one day he wakes, and he can feel it again. The call of his beloved’s soul.

He’s realized by now that it takes at least a decade after his beloved’s reincarnation before he can sense their soul again, and then usually several years before he can locate them among the ever growing number of people on the planet. On the rare occasions that he finds them before they’ve matured, he returns to the earth until some years on, when they’re adult enough to be making their own life decisions.

There are some lifetimes that his beloved does not choose him, or has already found someone else to share their heart with, and in those cases, Daichi goes graciously on his way, knowing that there’ll be time again for them to find one another.

It’s been past twenty years since his spouse passed on, and Daichi thinks it might be time to go searching again.

He’s told his sweetheart the secret of his identity exactly twice. It’s not so easy for mortals to believe in gods that walk among them anymore, and even harder to believe that they could share a love so enduring that they would return to one another time and again, so he keeps the truth hidden away. It’s difficult sometimes, to know more about his partner than they know about him, but each lifetime is different, and in the end, there’s always more to learn. Every lifetime is special; every lifetime is treasured.

This time, Daichi has a good feeling about his search. He decides to head out, putting himself in his early twenties to hopefully match his beloved’s approximate age once they meet.

Koutarou catches Daichi before he insinuates himself back into mortal life, tackling him to the ground in excitement.

“Hey, I wanna come along too! It’s been a while since I’ve hung out with humans, and this decade seems pretty fun.” He smiles down at Daichi, and Daichi can feel the crackle of electricity that runs constant in his veins.

“You want to tag along?”

“Yeah, we can say we’re brothers or something! You can show me all the awesome sports mortals play, and I can finally try cold cream!”

“Ice cream, Kou. It’s called ice cream,” Daichi says fondly. “And sure, you can come with, but we better pretend we’re just friends, so it’ll be easier to explain in case you decide you’ve had enough and run off again. I don’t like messing around with their memories if I don’t have to.”

“Alright, that works. Can we go to Japan first? I heard there were lots of great games there!”

“There’s video games everywhere, you know,” Daichi says, but he decides to just go with the flow. He has to start somewhere.

--

Koutarou loves Japan, though Daichi is fairly certain he loves every place he’s ever taken the time to visit. Given his nature, most of what he sees comes in quickfire flashes, and though he touches down on certain regions much more often than others, it’s rarely long enough to get a feel for mortal life there.

They settle into life in Tokyo, living in a small apartment together near a university that Koutarou decides he wants to try attending. Daichi thinks he’ll get sick of it soon enough, but gets them both enrolled anyway, hoping it’ll help bring him closer to his beloved.

He feels the pull of their soul so strongly that he thinks he must have lucked out and accidentally chose the correct country at the very outset. He should really thank Koutarou for the help if it turns out to be true. It’s been four months since they’ve begun their life in Tokyo, and Daichi still hasn’t made much progress yet, but he also feels so close that it doesn’t bother him. He’s waited much, much longer than this.

Koushi is visiting for a short time, and he and Kou exhausted themselves on karaoke last night, so Daichi sets out early this morning to get some food for them from the nearby konbini before they wake up. They’re not as used to their human forms as Daichi is, and sometimes they surpass the natural limits of their bodies, so out of pity, Daichi will play room service today.

He’s so busy grabbing handfuls of snacks and every kind of onigiri on the shelves that he doesn’t notice the surge in his connection to his beloved until he’s already paid and out the door. His bag is almost overladen with junk food, and he takes a moment to adjust the handles so he doesn’t drop anything, which is when someone comes stumbling right into him.

The impact isn’t very hard, but Daichi finds his chest suddenly wet with what smells like coffee, and then there’s someone else’s face right in front of his, looking embarrassed and apologetic.

“Oh shit, I’m so sorry, I didn’t realize the cap wasn’t on all the way,” says the love of Daichi’s life when they meet for the thirty-second first time.

Daichi is covered in vending machine iced coffee, and his sweater is a size too big, because he forgot how he looks at the crisp age of twenty-two, and he’s probably making the stupidest face because his beloved has the same smile he did about nine centuries ago, but none of this matters because they’re together again, in the same time and place, and his suddenly too-human heart has forgotten how to beat.

“God, I’m not usually such a klutz, I swear. Here, let me help you,” Daichi’s sweetheart says, pulling a whole wad of napkins out of his convenience store bag and walking forward to begin dabbing at Daichi’s sweater.

“Oh,” Daichi says a beat too late, as the other man tries to mop the coffee off him. “Wait, it’s okay, I can take care of that later.”

“No, man, it’s completely my fault. At least let me pay for the cleaning fees.” He’s so earnest and responsible that it makes Daichi’s chest ache. Some things never change.

“No, it’s seriously fine. I’m just going to put it in the wash. But your coffee- it’s half gone now. I’ll buy you another one.”

“What? No, I’m the one who spilled on you! I’m not making you pay for anything.”

“Okay, well, let’s just call it even then,” Daichi suggests, trying not to be obvious about studying everything about him. Bright, knowing eyes, ridiculous hair, and a good ten centimeters taller than Daichi. Daichi would have loved him regardless of what he looked like, but he definitely can’t complain about this incarnation’s appearance.

“If you’re sure,” he says dubiously. “I still feel bad, though.”

Perhaps this is moving too quickly, but it’s a new generation, much different from when Daichi last dated anyone, so he decides he’s going to take a page from their book and just go for it. “Look, if you really want to make it up for me, I guess you can buy me a coffee when you get yourself another one?” Daichi says, hoping it doesn’t come across as too forward.

But his beloved’s expression brightens, and he gives a little grin, asking, “Really? Yeah, I could do that! Right now?” He gestures toward the vending machine behind him, looking so sweetly excited that Daichi already falls half in love with him even though it’s only been about five minutes.

“Sure,” Daichi laughs.

They walk back toward the vending machine, and his beloved stuffs his damp napkin ball back in his bag. “I’m Kuroo Tetsurou. Y’know, in case you wanted to call me something instead of ‘clumsy loser’ in your head.” He grins kind of sheepishly, then fumbles some change out of his wallet, hastily saying, “Or not. Feel free to forget that. And me.”

Daichi fights the urge to bury his face in his hands. His beloved is already so cute, he can’t stand it. As if he could ever forget that name now.

“Sawamura Daichi,” he finally says, letting a hint of his smile show as he sticks his hand out. “If you wanted to call me by my name. Because it is. My name, I mean. Yeah.” Fuck, this is a disaster. Why hasn’t a millenium of experience made Daichi any better at flirting?

“It sure is, dude,” Kuroo says as he gives Daichi a firm handshake. “So, coffee? Um, do you like hot or cold?”

“Hot for me, please.”

Kuroo buys them their drinks, and then they stand there together outside the konbini, sipping at their coffees while stealing glances at each other.

“So!” Kuroo finally says after a moment. “Do you go to uni nearby? I’ve never seen you around, but you look like a college student.”

“Yeah, I was living abroad for two years, so I only just started this year,” Daichi says, happy to have some point of conversation, and then they’re discussing schools and classes easily, like any two college kids might. Daichi feels so rusty at this, but he also feels completely at ease with Kuroo, especially when their conversation segues naturally into other topics, like clubs and hobbies and their lives. Daichi talks about Koutarou and Koushi, and his other siblings in vague terms, and learns that Kuroo is an only child this time around, but he grew up alongside a best friend whose parents are basically a second family to him. He played volleyball in high school, and he loves chemistry and biology, and when he graduates he’ll be attending medical school.

Daichi takes all this in, fitting in the new pieces with the familiar ones, knowing that he can already see himself living a full life alongside Tetsurou if he’ll allow it.

Their chit-chat comes to a natural lull, and Kuroo takes a second to look at Daichi’s face before he flushes slightly and scratches at his nest of hair, looking kind of nervous.

“Hey, I know this sounds completely crazy, but I feel like there’s something kind of familiar about you, if that makes sense. Like we’ve met before, even though I know I would’ve remembered you. Sorry- I’m just being weird,” he says with a laugh, when he notices Daichi staring.

“No,” Daichi chokes out. This has never happened before. Thirty times he’s gone through this, and never has his beloved shown any sign of recognition, until now. Is it a fluke? Is Kuroo just confused? Has something changed? “I- I, um, I totally understand what you mean. It feels like we could’ve already known each other? Maybe?” he stutters, and Kuroo nods.

“Yeah, like in another life or something,” he says thoughtfully, and Daichi just nods numbly back.

A sudden vibration on Daichi’s leg knocks him out of his daze, and he pulls out his cell phone to see that he’s been sent several whiny texts from the loafers back at his apartment who are wondering where their snacks are.

“Oh, I interrupted your snack run, didn’t I?”

“They can handle a few more minutes without food.”

“Yeah, but I should let you go; I’ve wasted enough of your time today already.”

Daichi nods, because he’s used to this taking time, and he’ll wait forever for Kuroo if he has to. “Thanks for the free coffee,” he says, lifting his can. “And...the free coffee.” He gestures at his shirt, and Kuroo gives him the dumbest, cutest laugh in response.

“You’re welcome for one of those things. Um, this is gonna sound so pushy, but.” And he pauses, ducking his head before looking back at Daichi. “I really feel like maybe we were meant to meet today? Ugh, that’s so cheesy- but- I guess I’m trying to say that it’d be cool if you wanted to hang out again sometime. Preferably without either of us throwing liquids at each other.”

Even if he weren’t already inextricably tied to Kuroo, those eyes would have won him over, Daichi is certain. As it is, his heart is in his throat at the thought of Kuroo somehow remembering one of their past lives together.

“That sounds great,” Daichi says, almost tripping over his words like he’s a teenager being asked on his first date, even though he’s the farthest thing from it. “I’d like that.”

Kuroo holds out his hand, and Daichi, confused, takes hold of it. Maybe casual handholding is what young people do now. It’s nice, to be able to feel Kuroo’s skin against his. It’s both new and familiar.

“Oh,” Kuroo says, his face turning pink. “Sorry, I was- I wanted to put my number in your phone. Not that this isn’t nice too.” Daichi blushes as well, snatching his hand away and dropping his cellphone into Kuroo’s waiting palm.

They trade numbers, both of their faces still stinging pink, and then hover awkwardly for a few seconds, unsure of how to proceed.

“So, I’m sorry if the first thing I text you is a horrible picture of my roommate stuffing eighty pocky into his mouth at once,” Daichi blurts out to fill the distance between them, and Kuroo nods blankly back, before giving him a thumbs up.

“I’ll look forward to it. See you around, Sawamura.” He flashes Daichi a smile, the one he’s come to love time and time again, and Daichi lifts his hand to say goodbye.

“ ‘til next time.” Kuroo jogs off, but glances back once, perhaps just to see if Daichi is still there, and he gives a little wave. Daichi watches him go, until he’s gone from sight, and then he collapses against the wall of the store, looking up to the sky for answers in the clouds.

Kuroo Tetsurou. Daichi’s true love, here again. Reunited again, maybe in more ways than Daichi could have ever expected.

A soft breeze brushes around him, and Daichi takes it as Koushi’s reminder to get back to the apartment, so he hurries home with their food, even though the only thing on his mind is when he’s going to next see Kuroo again. It can’t come soon enough.

This is going to be a good lifetime. He’s going to make certain of it.

[screambirdscreaming]

I think a lot about how kids interact with gender, and how I would deal with gender if I were ever to raise a kid. I don’t talk about it a lot, in part because it’s very hard for me to express, and it part because i’ve learned the hard way that it’s something I get really easily upset about, and easily hurt by.

But I also see a lot of writing about trans kids, and almost all of it upsets me deeply. I feel very strongly that this is something that needs to be talked about in queer circles, even if I’m not always capable of talking about it myself. So.. I’m gonna try, because I just read something well-meaning that bothered me a lot, and I haven’t really seen anything remotely like my own thoughts out there.

I’m coming at this from the perspective of someone who is agender, informed by what I understand of the experiences of my trans and nonbinary friends. I have a hard time understanding and perceiving gender, it’s so alien to my personal experiences. And I find myself being hurt not just by being misgendered directly, but by being reminded that I live in a strongly gendered culture. Going clothes shopping, discarding almost everything because it would force a gender on me, or because it is cut in such a way that I couldn’t raise my arms without first getting top surgery, or in such a way as to make my chest ostentatiously obvious. “Boys vs Girls.” “Oh, you know, women are like that...” “Boys will be Boys.” Choose a bathroom. Watch the changes in how people react to you, defer to you, flatter you, expect something from you, based on how they perceive your gender. And if you work in a classroom full of children, even for just a day, you see how much more intensely this is pressed into children.

Why? Literally why do we expect children to behave differently based on latent traits in their genetics that have not even started to express? There is no average difference in height, in build, in muscle mass, in hormone levels. Kids, biologically speaking, have no difference in gender or sex traits. But very quickly differences emerge in confidence, experience in physical skills, expression of anger, and so on and so on. Because different things are tolerated - a girl is punished for an angry outburst very different than a boy is. Because different things are rewarded - little boys are not complimented for their kindness or pretty handwriting. Because different things are asked for and expected and encouraged - I have seen people, with no apparent irony, ask in a room full of 10 year olds for some boys to come help them carry things. Literally any difference in physical strength before puberty (and the vast majority of difference after) is based on who has been taught how to use their body. And boys get taught. Girls, unless they outright insist, usually don’t.

Give me literally any gendered trait you’ve ever seen in a child, and I will tell you a dozen ways adults around them have taught and encouraged that behavior because of the gender the adults believe they should be.

And it’s hard, as a parent, to fight this. Because it comes from almost everywhere, from teachers and family friends and strangers in the store and the marketing of their clothes and toys and toothbrushes, and in a secondhand way from all the other kids who suck these rules up like a sponge and use them against each other with the particular cruelty only kids can manage. I love kids, but they can be brutal. My aunt and uncle actively tried not to force gender roles on their three kids, to encourage them equally in everything they tried. To some extent it worked: their son took up singing and violin, and their middle daughter took up several sports. But my aunt recounts the upsetting epiphany she had when cleaning up their toys, that the two girls had dolls and plastic horses while their brother and cars and fighter planes. Because that was what their friends had, and the packaging had pictures of kids like them, and that was what everyone expected them to want so that was what they wanted.

I think very few of us choose our genders, really. I see often in queer theory the question, “why are so many more people cis than trans?” I can’t claim to know for sure, but to me it seems like most people don’t really have strong gender feelings, and they internalize the gender they are taught to be without thinking too much about it. Some people feel a strong enough conflict between that gender and who they are as a person that they identify as trans, or nonbinary, or third-gender, or some other form of not-cis. Some people feel strongly that the gender they were assigned synergizes with who they are, and is part of their identity. Everyone else just... kinda goes along with it. One of the most persistent challenges I’ve faced in explaining to cis people why being trans is a thing is getting them to understand that gender could possibly be a thing someone feels strong attachment to - that it’s not just this trait you go along with but don’t care about much and don’t think to change, like your hair color but with more social impact. A fair number of these adults, when I explain that I decided to just opt out of gender entirely because it’s exhausting and doesn’t feel like part of me, express that the option appeals to them - “maybe if I knew about that when I was younger,” they say, or “it seems like so much work to explain all the time, but if it was easier it would be nice...”

So when I see people advocating that you should tell a child who says they want to be a girl that “boys can wear dresses and paint their nails too,” because you think they’re too young to understand gender or what being trans means, I’m just overwhelmed with - which of us ever understood gender or the choices we were forced to make? Why no one trusted us to lift things but our classmates could?Why we got laughed at for wearing certain things or for not wearing other things? Why suddenly in third grade we couldn’t be friends with certain other kids without being teased maliciously? Which of us actually chose to go through puberty the way we did? Or to take part in sports or princess games or cooties or cliques or kid-crushes we faked because we didn’t actually like boys and didn’t know how to tell yet? Or maybe the crushes were real and we just didn’t talk or think too much about the fact that we felt that way for some girls, too. Or maybe we didn’t feel that way about anyone, but we though maybe the boys we wanted to be friends with but couldn’t, because cooties, must be crushes - because we didn’t know better. I’m just saying, who actually explained to kids why clothes and toys and what people expected you to be good at had all these hidden rules? Who taught you to notice when someone was being unfair to you, assuming you couldn’t lift that, ignoring your raised hand? Who taught to notice when boys got away with things girls didn’t, but also that boys didn’t get to cry when they were hurt?

I’m just saying it’s absurd that people claim kids are too young to understand gender, when gender is being forced on them from all sides and the least you could do to shield their hearts from it is to explain it.

I’m just saying that to an eight year old, long hair and pretty dresses are what being a girl *is*, and if you tell a little amab kid that “he’s probably just a boy who likes dresses,” and toss them to the mercy of their peers as a boy in a dress, there’s good chances the kid’s gonna get hurt. You owe it to them to sit down and explain that being a boy or being a girl are these things people made up but care about a lot. That everyone is expected to be one or the other, based on some things about their bodies when they were born. That you can chose, and you don’t have to pick just one, or either of them, but that sometimes this is hard to explain to people. That some people are mean about it for no reason. That if they pick a different one than the one people decided when they were born, some people will be mean about that too. That they can explore, and change their mind, and they don’t have to choose yet. They don’t have to choose ever. That when they get to puberty, a lot of things will change about their bodies, and they can choose which way they want to change when they get there - but they don’t have to know yet. That even when it starts to happen, there’s medicine they can take to put it off for a while and have more time to decide.

I’m saying every kid deserves at some point for you to sit down and explain that people have all these ideas and opinions about what sort of person they’re gonna be, based on a few small details of how they look and how they dress. That these things don’t have to be true, that you get to choose who you are. That people keep trying to split them into one category or another, but if you want you can mix and match. Or do something totally different. And sometimes it gets hard and exhausting to keep proving them wrong all the time, but you always can. You always have the choice. And also, if they want, they can pick one gender to dress up as even if they don’t feel like it’s who they are. Gender can be like a disguise, or like make-pretend, or whatever makes them comfortable. They can be a girl at school all day and come home and change clothes and do boy things. Or vice versa.

And all kids deserve to be taught how to be strong if they want to be strong, and artistic if they want to be artistic, and to chose their clothes and toys and hobbies in any sort of mish-mash they want. And they all deserve to be taught to be thoughtful and kind, and to express their emotions, and deal with their anger, and be allowed to cry, but also to not shut themselves down or put other’s emotions above their own. That kind of thing shouldn’t have anything to do with gender at all.

And of course, they deserve to be told that if anyone is being mean to them or making them feel bad because of their gender, be it teacher or classmate or strangers in the store or anyone, that you will do everything you can to defend them and make them feel safe. Because that’s what parents are for.

[milquetoast-on-acid]

Conspiracy Theory pt.2, A Reactionary Post

I pledge my faithfulness to you in sickness and in health. Receive this ring as a sign of my love and fidelity.

Major Crimes | S6xE7: Episode Review I loved this episode so much more than last weeks. The tone of this case fits the tone of the personal stories. Unlike last weeks when the tone was so widely different and was kind of jarring. And with everything that is going on this season the personal storylines completely outshine the cases.

What this episode is about: The Psychological Effects of Rape and Sexual Harassment Vanessa Gus (& Rusty): Was it Consensual or Non-Consensual? Love your life, Sharon Raydor Flynn The Misunderstood Feminist Bonnie Pearl Sharon Raydor Working Families The Landon's The Raydor/Flynn/Beck Family Fidelity & Support: Those that have it & Those that don't | Maternal Love   Andrea & Rusty   Bonnie & Vanessa   Sharon & Rusty | Romantic Love   Rusty & Gus   Sharon & Andy

"There is no reason to say it is there." Even Provenza is getting annoyed with Cami.

"The last person I wanted notified is her Lawyer. No more impromptu press conferences." This is exactly what I was saying last time!

"She had trouble sleeping." "So she texted her attorney?" Andy finishing Sharon's sentence like this gives me life and makes me laugh.

"Your not my type. Your too far over 30." I love how Cami uses Curtis' words and throws them back in his face.

"Oh my god. You guys lie to people even when you don't have to." Nice throw back to the first few seasons when all Rusty said was all the Police do is lie to everyone. And I am never going to be a cop.

"We just can't let this asshole walk out of here." There is one crime that Andy hates above all else and that seems to be rape. He always reacts very strongly to rape cases. Remember what he did to Crolick, who got away after he raped a woman and then set fire to her? He sent Crolick flowers every year on her death saying "Happy Death Day." to remind him that there is someone out there that wont ever forget what he did. It even gave Brenda the idea to send Stroh flowers.

Sharon's shoes I feel like this is another case of Mary wanting to wear her own personal footwear in the show. I get that she's not working right now but man those are some ugly shoes. 

Not to mention these shoes here. I get that Sharon's probably supposed to have swollen legs at this point due to her Cardiomyopathy. But they didn't have to pick some butt ass ugly shoes for her to wear.

The Psychological Effects of Rape and Sexual Harassment

Vanessa

Don't really know much about Vanessa's behavior before she was raped but it had a very serious effect on her. She became rather antisocial. She didn't want any kind of attention directed to her and several of her coworkers knew that she was suicidal. To the point that they thought she'd killed herself and wasn't surprised to hear about her death. 

Gus (& Rusty) Rusty & Gus: Was a Consensual or Non-Consensual? TVfanatic's review of this weeks episode makes a rather interesting theory about what's going on with Gus. IF Gus was raped by Aiden. It might explain some of his behavior. Gus completely taking the blame and telling Rusty not to blame Aiden at all. Often times a victim of rape will take all of the blame of their rape, sometimes thinking that they deserved it. Gus avoiding Rusty. At the beginning of the season, Gus was deliberately avoiding Rusty. This could be because of him trying to deal with the rape.

If it was non-consensual why would Gus tell Rusty that he slept with Aiden? Maybe he's just too embarrassed to admit that it was rape. If it was Rape this changes things completely.

On the other hand... If it was consensual as Gus said to Rusty. Gus' behavior in this could also be explained as guilt over what he had done. Gus wanting to take the blame, because he is the cause of hurting both of them. Gus avoiding Rusty in the beginning of the season could be guilt about what he had done and not knowing how to fix it. 

If Gus did sleep with Aiden. Like he said he did. Then I urge Rusty to not take Gus back. Even if Gus will never look at another man while their together. Trust is something that is completely lost between them. And even if Rusty could forgive Gus one day, he will never forget. On a personal note this is something that destroyed my friend's marriage. My friend's husband swore he'd never cheat again but he did over and over again. And my friend could never completely trust him again. 

"I feel like I'm being bought out for sex it's gross." "And just so you know when I was being bought for sex, I made ten grand. Ever." DAMN there is so much being flung at the other here. Both of them flinging words of bitterness. It's interesting that he would bring up something so closely connected to Rusty's past. Considering that Rusty found out that Gus told Aiden about Rusty having been a prostitute. Which makes me think he never understood that part of Rusty's past.

"I'm sorry if I upset you. I was never very good at making you happy." A nice bit of Rusty being self aware. My how you have grown. Rusty ignoring Gus the way Gus was ignoring Rusty.

Love your life, Sharon Raydor Flynn

Sharon showing up at crime scenes this season is great but it also highlights a part of what Sharon is going through with her illness. Sharon has never shown up this much to crime scenes. Sharon is very dedicated to her work but is not the workaholic that Brenda was. She lets her team do their jobs and doesn't feel the need to stick her fingers in every pie. But I think with this illness creeping up on her, it is really throwing her for a loop.

Andy really is not the only one that's in denial about her illness. She's going to have to take a step back, probaby retirement. And for her to lose her career, something she's fought so hard for, one she loves so very much. A career that is so very much a part of her identity is enormisly hard for her to face.  And so she's pushing herself to be everywhere because of that. As soon as Sharon starts to go down everyone rushes to her side. Amy making it the fastest to her, and is ready to catch her if she faints again. Provenza looks like he's about to have a heart attack.

"I don't need anyone to come pick me up." "Oh no, no no no. I am the incident Commander and I will not have you collapsing in my crime scene. Now, you are over doing it. I will call paramedics. They can be here in ten minutes." Provenza reacts so fast in having Wes call Andy and having Buzz grab her a drink. Considering his reaction to her collapse the last time, for the very reason that he cares so deeply for her he does not want her collapsing on him, again. He's fighting with her here to get her to slow down and rest and is losing the battle. Fortunetly though Wes did follow through on Provenza's order and did call Andy. Who we assume picked her up and droped her off back at home to rest. I love his and Julio's reaction to Cami picking up Sharon's train of thought. Like WTF Cami!? The woman is about to collapse again we don't want her pushing herself the way she seems determined to do. And we don't want to encourage it.

"Sharon Raydor slept in and the world didn't implode." Why do I feel this is as much a knock on us as it is about the characters? About how we won’t explode if Sharon is not in every scene. IMO, that was never the complaint. Much more about quality of scenes instead of quantity. Which we are finally getting. 

The Misunderstood Feminist

Bonnie Pearl "I think Bonnie Pearl was more of a Maternal Figure."

I kind of had a feeling that they were going to go this route with Bonnie. And that she would eventually parallel with Sharon and boy do they ever. Especially with the whole Bonnie & Jerry, Sharon & Jack parallels. Bonnie is a tough go getter, a woman in a male dominated career and it seems misunderstood. Much in the way that Sharon Raydor is. Turns out the woman was very motherly towards Vanessa. Bonnie building a case against Vanessa's rapist really reminds me of that time that Sharon was very deliberate about how she dealt with Daniel Dunn after he beat Rusty. 

My question here is why was Bonnie so close to Vanessa when she wasn't close to her son? What happened there? 

Sharon "Your stronger than you think." Much like with Bonnie Pearl, Sharon was very misunderstood. Introduced into the show as the antagonist, who was not necessarily wrong. And the more that we got to know her, the more we realized we were very wrong about who she was. Both woman project an image of a tough feminist who seems rather uninterested in other's feelings. Sharon's seemingly emotionally aloofness is (in part ) a defense mechanism to protect her rather soft inner core. One that gets attached to people that seem to be emotionally damaged. Because she sees things in them that many others don't. Bonnie and Vanessa are the parallel to Sharon and Rusty.

Working Families

"It's wonderful don't you think, working with your family?" The Landon's

So it seems like Dr Peppy works with his family. I personally wouldn't let Disgusting Jr anywhere near my job. He seems like a spoiled brat who would rather be raging around with his hormones. Dr Peppy seems to be the showmen (and loves it) and Mrs Peppy seems to be the one to manage his time. Mrs Peppy definitely has the gumption to kill.

The Raydor/Flynn/Beck Family

Rusty & Gus "What's going on there?"

Rusty is really taking on some of Sharon's personality. When Sharon asks Rusty about his phone going off and why he keeps declining the calls. He knowingly deflects. And Sharon being Sharon who has to know everything that's going on with her children's emotional well being. Won't drop it. 

"I'm sure that Gus will come around." One thing that I find odd (but also not) is Sharon's reaction to Gus sleeping with Aiden. Sharon has this ability to see the good in people, when no one else can. It is her greatest strength as a person and her greatest weakness. I would think that Sharon would be more pissed off at Gus for sleeping with Aiden and hurting Rusty so badly. But Sharon still seems very Team Gus. I get the feeling that Sharon thinks there is more to the story than what Rusty is being told. 

As odd as this may seem it is very Sharon. This is the woman that didn't divorce Jack Raydor until 25 years after first separating from him. The woman that took in a boy no one else wanted and fought her almost every step of the way until he fell in love with her. The woman that saw a loving father who desperately wanted to fix his relationships with them, when everyone else saw a bitter angry man. 

Rusty Graduates and Sharon laments

Sharon's emotional outburst is interesting for a number of reasons. It was heartwarming, emotional, sad, and with a nice light humorous touch. Rarely do we see Sharon this emotional. Her emotional outburst is a mixture of her happiness of having Rusty graduate college. Happiness of having a partner that she can truly lean on. And fear of losing all of that with her illness. Rusty seemed to be taken aback at how emotional she was over his diploma. I'm not sure he's ever seen her this emotional. 

I also feel like that Sharon and Andy's behavior during this scene was interesting. Sharon putting her used tissue in his hand and him hold out his handkerchief to her was very fluid behavior. Like this is something they have done before and many times. Particularly when the two of them go out to the movies. Andy has to fill his pockets up with tissue for whenever Sharon bursts into tears. He always makes sure to keep one of his pockets empty because she always hands her used tissues to him. 

What I love is that Sharon is so comfortable giving him her used tissue. And that he's so comfortable taking it. And that he's waiting right there holding out his hankerchief, knowing that she's not done and that she's going to need it. Sharon apologizes for her outburst. Sharon you don't need to apologize for being emotional. Both of them understand. I love how Rusty is all, I almost cried myself. And Andy was like you are going through a lot of emotions right now with your illness. You being emotional is completely expected. 

"We'll keep him safe. As safe as a future attorney." "Oh my son, the Lawyer." OMG! We've got two very proud parents of their son! 

"This is the happiest I have ever been in my entire life." First she tells Ricky how her heart is full. And now she tells Andy and Rusty that she's never been happier in her whole life. Season 5b, we got Sharon telling us she's the happiest she's ever been in her professional life. Now we get Sharon telling us how happy she is in her personal life. Once upon a time ago, she never sought out another romantic relationship. Or another child. But both men fell into her lap so unexpectedly. She didn't need them or had any need for them in her life. She was doing just fine on her own. But like in life, people come into your life when they are supposed to. 

She didn't need Rusty but he needed someone to love and care for him. Would anyone ever thought he would have aspired to become a lawyer? She certainly didn't need another romantic relationship. There was already enough drama from her first marriage and life was good as a separated independent woman. While she would have been perfectly fine without Andy. The thing about their relationship is that they have both managed to heal the other. And for both of them to have someone they can lean on for emotional support. Which is a HUGE thing for both of them. 

Sharon's perfect husband loves kissing her hands. We get two of them in this episode!

Love how this scene here ends with the three of them as their little modge podge family.

Fidelity & Support: Those that have it & Those that don't

Maternal Love

Andrea & Rusty

That look that Andrea gives Gus gives me life. She doesn’t even address him. She only speaks to Rusty. Andrea is like Rusty's Aunt who loves and wants to protect him. As soon as she found out they broke up Gus was in the gutter. And I would bet that from that look she knows why they broke up. What I find interesting is that Rusty told Andrea that he broke up with Gus. Once upon a time ago, Rusty wouldn't talk to Sharon about what was going on with him emotionally. Now he's telling stuff to Andrea! I love it. Rusty is growing up and becoming so much more comfortable in his skin and with the people he considers family.  What I also find interesting is that Andrea was telling Rusty that she doesn't want him spending more his time with this guy who hurt him by telling him to hurry up that he's on the clock. 

I am 100% here for Andrea & Rusty Auntship/Mentorship. I love how this season is lowkey showing how much the two of them care about the other. It's usually Sharon that is very sentive about Rusty's feelings. But with the two working so closely now, Andrea and Rusty have really gotten to know each other. Andrea has gotten very protective of Rusty in her own way.

Bonnie & Vanessa It really seems that Bonnie has taken Vanessa under her wing. And was very maternal towards her. Encouraging her to go to see a psychologist and to keep seeing her. Which really makes sense just how emotional Vanessa was after Bonnie's murder. I had thought that Vanessa had something to do with her death (such as her having killed her) turns out that her connection (to her death) was much different. 

I think that a lot of Vanessa's coworkers and fellow members in the lawsuit againest Tackles. Knew how close the two of them were and Bonnie's death could have fueled a suicidal spiral for Vanessa. Vanessa was already suicidal and having someone who was a huge fountain of support just gone. Could have eventually lead her to suicide.

Sharon & Rusty Much like with Bonnie and Vanessa. Sharon and Rusty's relationship is also very similar. Both Sharon and Bonnie 'adopted' a child that was not their flesh and blood. And became a huge support system for them. Both Vanessa and Rusty have suffered sexual trauma's. Rusty for many years, did not deal with his past as a prostitute and his issues of abandonment. Like Bonnie, Sharon encouraged Rusty to talk to a psychiatrist. When Rusty thought that only crazy people talk to psychiatrists. And Sharon finally had to sit him down and stress that a psychiatrist isn't just for mental illness. It is also for dealing with trauma. 

Sharon was a huge source of love, fidelity and support for Rusty. That he was able to adjust and deal with his trauma. And he's turned out into a mature adult.

Romantic Love

Rusty & Gus

Even broken up Rusty is still supportive of Gus. Rusty went as far as fixing Gus' terrible harassment issue by strong-arming Aiden into signing a recommendation letter and giving Gus two months of pay. Gus on the other hand is pissed about it. I get it. It can be shameful and embarrassing. And Rusty has a tendency to stick his nose in where it doesn't belong. But, Rusty however has his heart in the right place. And Gus' first reaction to this is anger and to lash out at Rusty. But he should be thankful that Rusty was able to get that for him. 

Later on he seems to mellow out and he seems to swing from one extreme to other other. Anger at Rusty for sticking his nose in it. And later guilt and sadness and urging at wanting to get back together with Rusty. The thing is Gus was not faithful (as far as we know) nor does he seem very supportive of Rusty these days. 

"What other people?" "Oh do you think your the only guy that Aiden ever hired or promoted for reasons not related to job performance?" From Gus' reaction to this it really sounds like he's got feelings for Aiden. Even back in part 1, when Gus told Rusty 'blame me don't blame Aiden'. Certainly sounds like he's got feelings for the guy (not to mention being completely blind to who he is), like he's trying to protect him from Rusty. Rusty asked Gus if he was in love with Aiden. And Gus never answered him.

Sharon & Andy "Part of loving my life is keeping my spouse happy right now." Andy doing his best to take care of Sharon and keep her happy as well. Slipping her a bottle of water to remind her to take her pills. In a very discriet way in front of Mason, who apparently has no idea the sevritity of Sharon's illness. Mason seems to notice it though. Love the way Sharon takes her pills so very fast. Much like with their romance their totally odvious.

Doctor's visit

I love how this scene starts! Sharon's got her head on Andy's shoulder. Clutching his arm and stroking it with her thumb. She looks so scared about what the specialist is going to reveal about her illness. It is a great scene of vulnerability. Once the doors open however she straightens up and puts on her mask. I really love this because of how much she is physically and emotionally leaning on Andy for support. This is what being married is supposed to be about. Having a partner who will be there for you for the rest of your life. Who will support and love you in whatever you do. And I really feel like this is the first time we are seeing Sharon lean on him like this. It is also a hint of the things that we don't see. In that Sharon is only vulnerable like that with Andy. 

While Sharon does look more put together emotionally after they walk out of the elevator. She does still seem so very uncertain and scared. Andy of course notices this and calls her out on it, thinking it's her illness. He's afraid she may collapse on him. Especially with her scare earlier in the episode. 

It's really interesting that it's Andy that leads them out of the elevator and to the door. Sharon is always the one to walk ahead, she's always confident about what she's doing. She is always the leader carring the rest of the pack. In this instance, Sharon needs him to be strong for her. And he certainly doesn't let her down.

"But if anything were to happen." "Sharon, nothing is going to happen." "No I know but I need to say this. If anything were to happen, please, and please look after my children." "Of course." A few things to note from this conversation. The Laura Roslin illusions are strong and I don’t like it. Parallels to conversation that Laura had with Bill about what kind of funeral service she would want. Another thing is Andy's is still very much in denial. One thing is for sure is that Sharon's life will have to change. Another thing is Sharon's trust in Andy. Sharon could never trust Jack to ever be there for Emily and Ricky. Not when they were married. She can breathe a little easier knowing that there is someone she can rely on to help her children deal with her death. 

Another thing that I just love about their relationship. Or Andy's behavior in their relationship. Is how much of a gentleman he is to her. Always. They say it's the little things that count in a relationship. And Andy is always opening doors for her. Always letting her have the more comfortable seat and in some cases letting her have the only seat. It is such a sweet and loving touch. That has always said to me "I love you so very much, so I will put you first." I love how he still does this and that it didn't stop once they got together. 

"We'll be two injured hearts beating together as one." "Oh my god, that sounds like a bad country western song." I love this. It's so corny but the thing about it is. It gets Sharon to laugh. Which is ALWAYS his goal when his lady is down. I also love how this whole entire conversation changes tones on a dime. First Sharon is talking about her last wishes. Then Andy is trying to lighten the mood and their is so much mirth. And it makes me so happy that both of them are so happy. Just makes me think that the two of them are laying in their bedroom cuddling and giggling about the dumbest stuff. 

“I've been so happy in my life but walking through that door to see yet another Doctor could change everything." "Not everything, never everything." Throughout all of this Sharon is so uncertain about what is going to happen. She's scared and frightened. But she is not alone. And I love how Andy reassures her that their is one certainty in her life and that is that Andy will always be there for her. He will always love her. And that will never change. She will have him for support for the rest of their lives. And that makes it that much easier for her to face whatever is going to happen beyond that door.  

The way that he looks at her when he says "Not Everything, Never Everything." with so much damned love! Andy loves you so freaking much. He will be strong for you when you aren't. He will be here when you need him. He will help you find your way when you are lost. I love all of this so much because Sharon is always strong. She is always the one to guide others. Care and carry them and help them through emotional issues. It is really wonderful to see someone else being strong for her. And who better than her perfect husband. 

Plus there's that whole doors thing again. And this time both of them are walking through the doors. Together.

Speculation: Does anyone else think that Aiden will be back wrecking havit for Rusty?

Vanessa's missing books could be Dr Landon's books but....if Dr Landon is her rapist, why would she keep her rapist's books? 

Vanessa was stunned to keep her from attacking her killer. That certainly makes it easy for a small person or a woman who's not very strong to kill her. Much like there has been a lot of speculation that Dr Landon's wife is the killer.

What I don't like: I don't think I can really think of anything. Well maybe Rusty and Gusty angst is a little too much in this episode. Also Sharon’s casual shoes are butt ugly in this episode. You can have casual wear and still not look like a grandma. 

What I do like: 

This episode was EMOTIONAL AF. Angsty AF, heartwarming and loving. Lots of personal stuff. Just the type of stuff we have all been waiting for. Another amazing Family scene, Another amazing Shandy scene! 

Sharon and Andy’s casual wear to the doctors. Loved Sharon’s dress and Andy looked so much more handsome in that jacket than that grandpa sweater he wore in Sanctuary City pt5.

So much of this episode is about Fidelity. I never realized just how much until I started piecing it together. It's a nice thing to explore after Sharon and Andy just got married. How much Sharon is relying on Andy to be strong for her. And how much Andy is being a great source of strength for her! Mary who once again knocked it out of the park with her performance.

[71tenseventeen]

For those of you who asked for more than one thing-I’ll try to make sure I post your ask again when I hit that topic. 

Flower love, team love and family skate below the cut!

It doesn’t surprise Geno in the slightest how often Flower shows up after that first day, although now he rings the doorbell every time and that does surprise Geno.

He’s also pleasantly surprised at how quickly Sidney seems to, not just get used to Flower’s presence, but to also genuinely enjoy it.  He shouldn’t be surprised—Flower is not hard to like.  There’s an easiness to knowing him and his kind nature tends to draw people in.  Sidney is no exception and it makes Geno happy that he’s getting so comfortable around Flower and Gonch, as well.  

Taylor seems to like Flower a lot, too, but she loves Gonch.  That first week she only meets a handful of people—Flower, his girlfriend Vero, Gonch, Gonch’s wife Ksenia and their daughter, Natalie, who is just a couple of months older than Taylor. If there’s a hierarchy, Gonch is third, only after Sidney and Geno and, sometimes, if Gonch stops by, she squeals and abandons both of them for him.  

Gonch had been the only other person he’d told about Sidney—the same time he’d told Flower. It was when they were in Vegas for the awards and Geno was still reeling from the breakup.  Flower and Gonch had finally cornered him in his hotel room and he broke down and told them everything.

So they know and they had been unbelievably supportive and still are and it makes Geno so happy that that support extends to Sidney now.  

But the rest of the team—that’s another story.  He hasn’t told anyone else and he’s not sure how to handle it now that Sidney’s actually here.

He keeps quiet about it through the first couple of weeks back and that’s fine except—except he wants Sidney to come to games.  And family skate is coming up and Flower is throwing a Valentine’s Day party and he can bring Sidney to all of those things but he’s pretty sure if he does it’s going to be very clear that they are far more than just friends.  He’s not ashamed of that but he also doesn’t want to make things difficult in the locker room or on the ice and he has no idea how everyone would react. He’d like to think it wouldn’t be an issue—they’re all good guys—but he’s still a little bit afraid to risk it.

He has to think about it now, though.  And not just because Sidney is here and he wants to give Sidney the happy life he deserves.  He’s leaving Sidney the car today so he can take Taylor to the park and the library so Flower is driving him to practice.

“Are you bringing Sidney and Taylor to family skate?”

Geno’s honestly not sure what to say. He wants to, badly, but he’s not sure if it’s a smart idea so he shrugs.  “Not sure.  Little worried about it, you know?”

“What are you worried about, G?”

“If they think…”  Geno sighs. “Is not easy, Flower.  If they find out maybe they not so happy to share locker room with me.  Not sure is good idea in case they figure out.  Right now, only you and Gonch know.”

Flower gives him an incredulous side eye.

“What?”

“It’s just funny that you think me and Gonch are the only ones that know.”

Geno’s eyes pop open wide. “What you mean?  You tell?!”

“What? No I didn’t tell!  Fuck, what kind of an asshole do you think I am you dick!”

“Then why you say people know.”

Flower sighs. “Geno, I hate to burst your bubble but most of the guys on the team have suspected that Sidney was a lot more than just your friend since approximately November of your rookie year.”

“What? How?!”

Flower rolls his eyes.  “Because you are about as subtle as a puck to the balls. You might say friend but I’ve never heard you talk about any other friend the way you talk about Sidney.  It was kind of obvious.”

“That not true!” But Geno’s ears are turning pink.

Flower puts his wrist to his head and fakes a bad russian accent. “Oh I miss Sid so much.  Oh Sid so perfect.  Did you know sun shine out of Sidney’s every orifice?  Sidney so thoughtful he buy me scraper!  Sidney has best curls!  Sidney best at puck handling!  Did I tell you about time Sidney said very funny thing? Oh and-”

Geno cuts him off with a punch to the arm.

“Ow!” But Flower is laughing at Geno who is slumped down in his seat, face as red as if he’s been running drills.

“Not funny.”

“I disagree.  It’s a little funny.”

“You really think they all know?”  Geno bites his lip.  

“Yeah, I do.  Or at least….strongly suspect.”

“Fuck.”

“You’re missing the point, G.  They know or at least they think they know and they don’t care. It doesn’t bother them.  They all love the shit out of you.  Has any one of them been weird to you?”

“No.  Never.”

“Think about that!”

Geno lets out a deep breath. “It’s…okay but is still scary, Flower, you know? You think is all a joke but this our life we talking about.”

“Hey, I don’t think it’s a joke.  Honestly.  I just, I think you wanted Sidney to be here with you for so long, it seems like a shame to have to hide what he is to you and I know that’s not what you want.”

“Is not what I want but also want to be sure career secure, Sidney and Taylor safe.  Lot to lose.”

Flower nods. “Okay. Okay I get that. Maybe…maybe if you do it a little at a time.  With people you know for sure you can trust.  And, I know you won’t want to hear this but I think you should tell management.  Coach, Mario.  They’ll probably want you to talk to Jen.”

Geno runs a hand through his hair. “You really think no one car?”  He sounds so hopeful.

“G, I would never say it if I didn’t believe it.  Tell you what, think about talking to management, okay?  And in the meantime, maybe you can Sid and Taylor can come over for dinner tonight or tomorrow night.  I’ll invite Tanger, Duper, couple of other guys.  Guys who already pretty much know, you know?”

“Need to talk to Sid.  And maybe…maybe see if Gonch watch Taylor.”

“Sure, whatever works.”

As they pull into the lot Geno, in a wildly uncharacteristic move, gives Flower’s shoulder a brief squeeze. “Thanks.”

Geno is quiet and focused through practice but it’s always there in his mind. What Flower is saying makes a lot of sense and the more he thinks about keeping Sidney hidden away or pretending they’re not more than friends the more he hates the idea.

As they’re leaving the ice he asks Flower if they can stay a bit after showering.

“Yeah, sure. What’s up?”

“Gonna talk to coach, maybe Mario if he can.”

Flower lights up with a smile. “Absolutely.”

It turns out Mario is available so Geno meets with him and coach.  It goes a lot differently than he expects but the gist of it is along the lines of, “I’m in a relationship. With a man and I want to bring him to family skate.”

“Oh?  Your friend Sidney from home? Are we finally going to get to meet him?”

Neither of them looks surprised as Geno sits there dumbfounded while his cheeks turn what must be at least six shades of red.

As it turns out, they do want him to talk to Jen, as well and her response is pretty much the same. “Oh!  Is Sidney finally here?”

Flower laughs himself to tears when Geno tells him about it on the way home.

Geno punches him in the arm again for good measure.

–

Gonch hesitates approximately zero seconds before agreeing to watch Taylor the next night so Geno and Sidney head to Flower’s without her.

True to his word there are only three other people there—Tanger, Duper and, to Geno’s surprise, Dana.  He shouldn’t be surprised.  Dana has been beyond welcoming to Geno.  From the very beginning, he’s been there, working Geno through any equipment issues, chatting and just generally being someone who made Geno feel more like part of the team. More and more Geno is realizing the support he has and is so grateful for it all.

There’s about a three second pause when Geno and Sidney nervously walk into the kitchen hand in hand and then the guys are crowding around Sidney, introducing themselves, calling Geno several unflattering names for not introducing them sooner and just generally being cool.

Geno makes eye contact with Flower who mouths, “Told you,” and smiles.  Geno smiles back because Flower was right.  He really was right.

Later, as they sit around the dining room table playing cards and talking, Flower leans forward.  “So, what you gonna do about family skate?”

Geno thinks about it for a moment and then reaches over to hold Sidney’s hand.  “I think, if Sid want, we just go.  Be normal.  Not hide.”

He looks over at Sidney who is already turning pink but flashes him a shy smile before he nods.  “Yeah. I think…I’m okay with that.”

Tanger smiles broadly and pats the table.  “It’s settled then.”

Sidney glances up at them all, smiling and beyond grateful for the support they’ve shown tonight.  “You really think everyone will be okay about it?”

There’s a chorus of nods and a firm “yes” before Flower says, “And on the off chance anyone a little weird about it? We take care of it.”  

There’s another chorus of agreement and Duper deals the next round.

–

On the morning of family skate, Geno gets up with Taylor while Sidney showers.  It took her a week or so to really get familiar enough with him but now she goes right to him almost any time he reaches for her.  She trusts him and Geno knows that no small gift.

Two days ago, Geno had Taylor over at Gonch’s while Sidney ran to the library.  When Taylor fell and bruised her cheek she, understandably, started wailing.  Gonch reached her first but despite her immense love for Gonch, she pulled away from him and reached for Geno and that—Geno had had to swallow thickly a few times as he took her into his arms to try and comfort her.  She nestled right in under his chin and sucked on her thumb, calming almost immediately.  

It meant a lot to Geno.

This morning Taylor is all smiles and keeps saying “G!” as he gets her diaper changed and settles her into the new high chair they bought for her. That’s also new, something she started saying a few days ago and Geno doesn’t think he’ll ever get tired of it.  He’d even called Mama to tell her all about it.

They eat breakfast together and Sidney tidies up the kitchen while Geno scoops up Taylor and goes to get her ready for the skate.  It’s indoors but he still bundles her up in black leggings and a black and yellow tutu.  He layers a tiny Malkin Jersey over a long sleeved black undershirt and finishes with little ruffly white socks and tiny yellow Converse that he bought her a few days ago.

He knows the black and yellow bow he puts into her hair will be pointless once he puts on her striped Penguins stocking cap but he leaves it in anyhow and snaps a picture to send to Mama and Papa.  

When he carries her into the bedroom, Sidney is pulling on his shoes and looking more than a little nervous.  He stands up straight and holds out his arms.  “Is this okay? I know it says Crosby—it’s the one Mom had made for me.  I didn’t know if…well I can switch to a Malkin one if you want?”

Geno smiles and moves closer to Sidney, kissing him softly before Taylor whacks at their faces with a squeal.  “Is perfect, Sid.  Best.  Please don’t change.”

Sidney takes a deep breath. “Okay.  Yeah.  Okay.”   He glances at Taylor. “Oh my god, G, it looks like the Pens Store threw up on her!”   

“She look amazing!”

Sidney’s laughing.  A lot.  But he nods.  “Yeah. Yeah, she does.”

Once they get to the rink, Sidney only hesitates once, just before they head in. “Geno are you sure? Because if you’re not ready for this or if we just need to lay low I can do that.”

Geno shakes his head. “No. Don’t want to do that, Sid.  This important.  You, Taylor, you my family and don’t want to hide that.”  He reaches out and grabs Sidney’s hand.

“Okay,” Sidney nods.  “Let’s go to family skate.”

They walk in together hand in hand.

Once they’re in the room, they settle on the benches between Duper and Flower as they strip Taylor out of her coat and get skates on.  Geno think they get a few looks when he helps Sidney to his feet and kisses his temple but he just scoops up Taylor, takes Sidney’s hand and leads them to the ice,  Flower and Vero trailing behind.

It’s Taylor’s first time on the ice and the first lap is in Geno’s arms, the second in Sidney’s and the third is in Gonch’s. While Gonch and Ksenia wrangle Taylor, Geno takes Sidney’s hand and together they take a couple laps, joined here and there with random teammates and some of their family members.

Every single person who talks with them is exceptionally nice.  They all also seem to be completely unsurprised at Sidney’s existence, let alone presence.  Sidney loses track of the number of times he hears, “You must be Sidney.”  

He looks up a Geno after the fourth time he hears and all Geno can do is give a sheepish smile and shrug.  “I used to talk about you maybe a lot.”

Sidney beams and leans in, letting Geno wrap an arm around his shoulders.

By the end of the day Sidney’s been introduced to everyone at the skate, Taylor’s been invited to no less than five play dates and at least seven teammates have quietly congratulated Geno and told them how happy they are for him.

It’s a very good day.

[positron-weapon-d]

In Her Father's Own Words

Summary: Marie experiences a shock one evening when her polite and well-behaved five-year-old daughter lets a four-letter word slip. She and Darwin are then tasked with explaining to their darling little Lessica the concept of bad words, as well as discovering where she might have learned this one.

Rated: T (for swearing and implied sexual content)

Pairing(s): Darwin x Marie

If you’d like, feel free to read on AO3!

It happened so suddenly one evening that Marie almost couldn't believe it had happened. She wasn't sure if she had heard correctly, at first...but as it sunk in, she found that she couldn't deny it. Darwin was making dinner that night, so Marie was helping Lessica tidy up the usual mess of books on her bedroom floor. "You sure do love to look at books, don't you, Lessica?" Marie asked, picking several up off the floor. "Yes, I do," Lessica replied, in her typical, formal way...a way that was atypical for children her age, though. She gathered some up in her little arms, and Marie watched her carefully. "Sweetie, that might be a few too many," she said. However, her words came too late. Lessica was unable to see her feet as she carried the stack of books, and thus, she was unable to see that one was right in her way. It happened so quickly that Marie couldn't stop it...Lessica tripped and started to fall forward. In the process, she let go of the stack of books that she was carrying so that she could catch herself. She didn't cry when she landed...a few years ago, she might have, but Lessica was a strong child. Even so, Marie needed to ask if she was okay. Before she could do so, though, Lessica said something shocking. The word itself was brief, only four letters long, and Marie wasn't sure if she'd heard correctly. As she realized that she had, in fact, heard correctly, her jaw dropped and her eyes widened. Her sweet, angelic daughter, her gentle and polite little girl, had just uttered her first profanity...and it was a bad one. The fact that Lessica didn't look up at her mother with a guilty expression indicated that she probably didn't understand the gravity of what she'd just said. From everything Marie had read, reacting strongly to a child's first use of adult language could often result in repeat offenses...so she kept calm. At the same time, though, she needed to speak to Darwin immediately. The only time Marie engaged in the use of such language was when she was bringing her beloved daughter into the world, but Darwin wasn't quite as squeaky clean. Not only that, but he might also have an idea as to how to handle this situation. "Lessica, sweetie?" Marie said, continuing to look and sound perfectly calm. "I just remembered I need to talk to Daddy about something...do you think you can finish picking up on your own?" Lessica nodded. "Yes, Mommy. I will do my best." "That's great..." Marie bent down to give her a kiss on the head. "Thank you...and dinner should be ready soon, too." With that, she hurried down the stairs to the kitchen, where Darwin was putting the finishing touches on dinner. He noticed her there right away. "Hey, did you and Lessica finish up?" He paused as he took a better look at her. "Uh...you look upset. Did something happen?" "You'll never guess what our sweet little girl just said, Darwin," Marie replied simply. "Um...I don't know..." He thought it over then after a moment, he looked at her with shock and concern. "Did she say she isn't hungry or something?!" "Darwin, I'm being serious!" "Well, so am I...but it's hard to imagine Lessica saying anything bad. She's such a good kid!" He went back to sautéing some vegetables in a pan on the stove. "She is..." Marie sighed. "Darwin, she...said a very bad word. A four-letter one...that starts with F." Darwin nearly dropped the cooking implement in his hand. "W-What?! Are you sure you heard right?!" Marie nodded. "I'm positive, Darwin. She tripped and dropped a bunch of books, and that word came out of her mouth." "Huh...well, at least she's using it correctly..." Marie glared at him, and he very quickly changed his tune. "I'm kidding, Marie! She shouldn't be saying it at all. She's five years old, for crying out loud..." "Precisely. Now, where do you think she learned a word like that?" "Not from me. I'm always really careful with what I say around her. I wouldn't let one like that slip." "I figured as much..." Marie sighed once again. "And I know she didn't learn it from you. Unless...she was somehow able to remember a few of the things you said to me while she was making her way into the world." Marie couldn't help but laugh a little. "I still feel terrible about that, you know!" "Water under the bridge...my feelings weren't hurt." Darwin smiled. "Besides, I believe there were a few instances where you said it felt like your body was going to tear in half, and I think that sort of agony probably deserves a few expletives." "Ugh...I suppose it does..." She laughed again, thinking back to that day, before looking back up at Darwin again. "Though it was hardly fair...you didn't leave my side even once, and you held my hand for almost the entire thing." That time, Darwin laughed, his cheeks turning slightly pink as they gazed at each other. However, he awkwardly cleared his throat after a moment and went back to cooking. Marie also realized she ought to return to the topic at hand. "So what should we do?" she asked him. "I'm reluctant to tell her it's a bad word and that she shouldn't repeat it ever again. They say that when kids get told that, they're more likely to develop a habit of swearing." "Yeah, but this is Lessica we're talking about," Darwin said. "The only child on the entire planet who, at three years old, threatened to throw a fit and didn't - or maybe couldn't - actually have one." Marie smiled. "I remember that! It was so strange...she just kept pacing around looking angry. It was like she didn't know how!" "You would think that being told she couldn't have dessert before dinner would be the perfect catalyst for that," Darwin said. "But anyway, I don't think she'd be inclined to start swearing more simply because we told her not to." "You're probably right about that," Marie said. "Not to mention she'll be starting school soon enough...if she doesn't know that she shouldn't be using that kind of language at school, she could very well use it, but still get in trouble! And if other kids overhear, they could tell their parents and their classmates, and-" "Our daughter won't be invited anywhere, ever," Darwin finished. "Parents will say, 'Now you stay away from that Lessica Allecker, she has a mouth like a sailor! Her mother is trained in the dark arts, and her father is a cold blooded professional murderer who will kill anyone if you pay him enough!'" "The dark arts?!" Marie protested. "My studies mostly involved powerful healing magic, and even the attack spells I've mastered hardly went into anything dark in nature! And who in their right mind would say that about you?!" "I don't know, a paranoid mom whose favorite hobby is spreading rumors?" Darwin replied. "Anyway, I think it's obvious what we have to do now." "Yeah...we have to tell her that what she said was a bad word." "I agree. And let's ask her where she learned it, too. That way, we can figure out the source of it." "Good idea," Marie said. "Though I still can't imagine where she learned it." "Well, we can find out soon enough. Dinner's ready." "Oh! Perfect timing!" Marie laughed. "I'll call her downstairs, and..." She smiled, looking in the doorway to see their enormous family dog, Bartholomew, standing there and drooling on the floor. He knew he wasn't allowed to pester anyone while they were making dinner, but he was clearly ready for his. "Aww, is mama's baby hungry? Barty wants his dindins, doesn't he?" She walked over and kissed him on the muzzle, and Darwin sighed. "Lessica, dinner's ready!" he called up the stairs. Once Marie had given Barty his dinner, and Darwin had distributed the humans' dinner onto plates, Lessica arrived at the table...though her behavior was certainly odd, at least more so than usual. She was holding her mouth wide open with both of her hands. Her right arm curled up and around her head and held her front teeth, while her left arm wasn't stretched quite as much in order to hold her bottom jaw. Both Darwin and Marie stared for a moment before either one of them said anything. "Uh...Lessica..." Darwin started out. "What exactly are you...trying to do...?" "I'h hahihing heing a hahe," Lessica replied, still not letting go of her jaws. Marie smiled. "Lessica, it isn't polite to have your hands in your mouth at the table. We also can't understand what you're saying when you talk like that." Immediately, Lessica let go. "I said I am practicing being a snake." Well, that was a new one. Marie wasn't entirely sure of how to respond, but it was obvious that Darwin was even less sure. "Practicing...being a snake...?" he repeated. "Yes," Lessica said with a nod. "I read in a book that snakes can open their mouths soooo wide..." She gestured with her arms to indicate just how wide a snake could open its mouth. "So that they can eat bigger things. And then the thing they ate stays in their tummy and makes a shape there. If I practice being a snake, I think I might be able to eat all of my dinner in one bite, but I do not think it is big enough to make a shape in my tummy." Darwin and Marie looked at each other for a moment, and then back at Lessica. She sure did come up with some strange ideas...but her bizarre creativity was just one part of what made her so special to them. Marie tried to think of how to best handle this new idea of hers. "Well, sweetie...just because you hold your mouth open for as long as you can...that won't make it stay that way." Lessica looked disappointed. "It won't?" Marie offered her an apologetic smile and shook her head. "No...the thing is, snakes and humans are different creatures, and different creatures have to change in different ways in order to survive. So at some point, a very long time ago, snakes figured out that in order to survive, they needed to be able to make their mouths open really wide in order to eat certain animals." She looked at Lessica to determine whether or not she was still listening. Surprisingly, she was. "So for a long time...probably thousands of years...snakes developed the ability to actually detach their jawbones from the rest of their heads and then put them back later, so that they could eat animals even bigger than their heads! Scientists call that adaptation." "Adaptation..." Lessica repeated. "So if I practice making my mouth stay open for a very long time, could I also get an adaptation?" Once again, Marie was the bearer of bad news. "No...it doesn't work that way. Adaptation like that only happens when a living thing needs to change something in order to survive." She thought of something to better help Lessica understand. "Think about some of your favorite foods. How do you eat them?" "How?" Lessica asked. "Well...for a plum..." She replicated the actions of picking up a plum, bringing it up to her mouth, and taking a bite. Her face lit up in understanding shortly after. "I see now! Snakes do not have hands, and I do!" Marie smiled. "That's right! So as long as you have hands, you don't need to open your mouth like a snake!" Darwin chimed in at long last. "Also, snakes don't get to eat things like plums and chocolate cake. Lots of rats and mice. I don't know about you, but I'd take plums and chocolate cake over rodents any day." Lessica wrinkled her nose. "Eating rats and mice sounds terrible. I prefer food meant for people." "I think we can all agree on that," Marie said. "Now, would you mind washing your hands again, Lessica? They were in your mouth, if you recall." "Okay, Mommy," Lessica said. Almost immediately, she went off to go do what she was told. "That was quite a lesson, there," Darwin said. "You didn't forget about the other thing, did you?" Marie sighed. "Of course I didn't forget. I just saw an opportunity for her to learn something, and I made use of it!" "She'll be ahead of her classmates soon enough," Darwin said. "Let's just hope we can get the language situation cleared up so she's not teaching the other kids at school anything they shouldn't be learning." After a while, Lessica returned to the table and sat down. She thanked her father for cooking, and she started to eat. At the same time, Marie was running through ways to breach the topic of Lessica's colorful language in her head. "Lessica..." she said finally. "You know that Daddy and I love you, and that we always will love you no matter what, right?" Lessica smiled and nodded, only speaking after she was finished chewing her food. "Yes, I do know that. It makes me happy!" "That's good to hear!" Marie told her. "So, earlier, do you remember how we were picking up things in your room?" Lessica nodded. "I heard about it from Mommy," Darwin said. "You fell down while carrying some books, didn't you?" Lessica nodded again. "I did. But I wasn't hurt. I was angry with myself for falling because I had to pick them up again. I should have listened to Mommy...she said I was carrying too many." "It's all right, Lessica," Marie said. "As long as you learned from it. That's part of a mommy or a daddy's job...to teach their child. That reminds me, though..." She took a deep breath. "You...said something when you fell down, isn't that right?" "Something?" Lessica repeated. "Yes, it was just one word," Marie said. "I don't think I'd ever heard you say it before. What was it again?" "Hmm..." Lessica thought it over for a moment. "It was..." Marie braced herself to hear it again, trying not to let her distress show as the word in question came out of her daughter's mouth. "It was, 'fuck.'" Clearly, Marie ought to have been watching Darwin instead, as he had chosen a rather inopportune moment to take a bite of his food, and he was now coughing. Lessica's expression immediately showed concern. "Daddy? Are you all right?" Darwin nodded as he attempted to recover. "...Uh, y-yeah Lessica, I'm fine...I just...wow..." Darwin's coughing eventually subsided, and Lessica resumed eating again. Marie decided to continue the language discussion. "So, Lessica, about that..." she said. "You know how there are nice words and not-so-nice words, right?" Lessica nodded. "'Chocolate' is a nice word, and 'mommy' and 'daddy' are nice words. Not nice words are things like 'stupid,' 'sour,' and 'I hate you.'" "Um...yes, that's right," Marie said. "But...there are some words that are just...bad words. They're words that nice little girls and boys shouldn't say. Adults really shouldn't say them either! And...that word you said when you dropped your books...that's one of those bad words." Lessica's eyes widened, and her expression turned to one of utter shock. "So I...?" Her gray-green eyes started to fill with tears. "I-I didn't mean to say a bad word...I'm so sorry...! Does this mean...I'm not a nice little girl anymore?" Before Marie could even think to get some reassuring words out, Darwin spoke up. "It doesn't mean that at all, Lessica," he said. "You didn't know that it was a bad word, because nobody ever told you that it was. But now you know, so you won't say it anymore, right?" Lessica nodded and rubbed at her eyes. "Good. That's all we wanted to make sure of." "Okay..." Lessica said. "I won't say that bad word anymore." "We did have one other question, sweetie," Marie said quickly. "Where on earth did you hear it in the first place?" At that moment, Lessica fell silent and looked away. "What's wrong, Lessica?" "The person I learned it from won't be in trouble if I tell, will they?" Marie blinked, and she thought it over for a bit. But then, she smiled and shook her head. "Of course not...nobody's in trouble here, nor will they be." For a moment, Lessica hesitated, but then, she spoke up again. Her words were shocking to Marie...but at the same time, she didn't quite know why she didn't suspect it in the first place. "Daddy and Orlando were practicing with swords..." Almost immediately after, Darwin stood up, muttering something about dishes, but Marie grabbed him by the wrist and stared right into his eyes. "Oh no, my sweet husband. We both wanted to hear about this, remember?" He very slowly sat back down, but Marie still didn't let go of him. She eventually turned back to Lessica. "Lessica, Daddy and Orlando must have said a lot of things when they were practicing with swords, right?" "Right," she said. "They said a lot of words I didn't know, especially when they hit each other." "I thought so," Marie said. "Why don't you tell me everything that you remember hearing? That way, I can go through and make sure they didn't say any other bad words!" Lessica smiled. "Okay, then I will...it was during a time where I was supposed to be sleeping, and I was, but they yell a lot when they use even pretend swords." "Yes, I believe it," Marie said, sighing heavily. "Those two have always been quite loud while they're training!" "Orlando said that F word first," Lessica told her. "That was when Daddy hit him in the ribs with his sword. He said, 'F word, Darwin, that hurt like a son of a bitch!' Except he said the actual word." At first, Marie wanted to laugh at Lessica's impression of her uncle, but then another profanity left her daughter's mouth. "R-Right, I did understand that..." Marie said. "The last word, though, that started with the letter B, that's another bad word." "I see," Lessica said. "So Daddy started laughing when Orlando got mad, then Orlando used that chance to get him back. He ran at him and made a slash with both hands, so then Daddy got mad. He said, 'Ow, Orlando, damn it! That stung like a motherfucker!'" Marie turned her attention to Darwin, her mouth hanging open in surprise. In response, he scowled. "Clearly you've never taken a hit like that," he said. "Because then, you'd know that it stings like...what I said!" Marie turned back to Lessica. "All right, Daddy said two bad words that time! The D word he said is bad, and then the last thing, what he said it stung like?" Lessica nodded attentively. "Did you notice how that one had the bad F word in it? That means the whole thing is a bad word. Once you combine a normal word with a bad word, the whole thing becomes a bad word." "So is 'mother' a bad word?" Lessica asked. "Not by itself," Marie assured her. "Only when you combine it with that bad F word." Lessica furrowed her brow. "This is confusing..." "Yes, in more ways than just one..." Marie said, glancing over at Darwin again. "Now, what happened next?" "Um..." She thought it over, taking a bite of her dinner. "Oh! And then Orlando told Daddy, 'Don't be such a whiny little pissbaby!' And Daddy said, 'Sorry, asshole, it kind of hurt!'" She paused. "It did not sound like he was sorry." "I don't think he was," Marie told her. "But the last thing Orlando said there, and then that A word Daddy used...those are more examples of how combining a normal word with a bad word makes the whole thing into a bad word." "So there could be endless ways to make bad words..." Lessica said. "I had no idea..." She looked at Marie again. "Oh, but for a while, they mostly didn't talk. There was one time, though..." "Yes, what happened?" Marie asked. "Daddy was dodging many of Orlando's attacks," Lessica said. "So Orlando said, 'What, afraid you might get hit? Quit being such a pussy!'" Marie clasped her hands over her mouth, her face turning red and her eyes widening. She had certainly heard that word out of Orlando's mouth on a few occasions, but hearing it from her five-year-old? That was a bit more than she could handle. "That...that word that Orlando told Daddy to quit being..." Marie said quietly, once she'd recovered from the shock of it. "That is a...really not nice word." "I am sorry," Lessica told her. "It's all right," Marie assured her. "Now, what sort of brilliant response did Daddy come up with?" "I did not really understand it," Lessica said. "But it made Orlando really angry. He said, 'Well, you know what they say: you are what you eat!'" Marie's face heated up and reddened even more than it did before, and her jaw dropped. She looked over at Darwin, who seemed to be having the same problem, though it was hard to say for certain. His hands were covering his face, but he only did that when he was beyond mortified. "Did that part have a bad word too?" Lessica asked. "Not...exactly..." Marie said. She wasn't sure how to go about explaining why she was so astonished to hear that. Luckily, she did have another way to deal with that, even if it was a little bit mean. "Darwin, why don't you explain? Since you were the one who said it, after all." Darwin looked as though he wanted to protest, but that lasted only a second. He obviously knew that this whole mess was at least partially his fault. "Well, um...Lessica, I don't do anything that Mommy doesn't like, but for an older brother to hear that his little sister is-" "Darwin!" Marie quickly cut him off before he could say anything else. Maybe leaving that bit of explanation to him had been a mistake after all... "R-Right! Um..." He took a deep breath. "S-So that word Orlando said...when someone talks about eating...that...they're referring to the sort of thing that, uh...that one doesn't usually talk about in civilized conversation." "Oh..." Lessica said. "But then why did you talk about it, Daddy? Are you uncivilized?" "I..." He trailed off, obviously searching his mind for an answer. "I-I was only saying it to make Orlando angry! When he gets mad enough, his swordsmanship can get sloppy. It's always good to know your opponent's weakness." Marie was relieved...that was a pretty good answer, especially considering Darwin did have a tendency to panic when forced to make up an excuse on the spot. However, it became apparent that her relief was premature. "I see," Lessica told him. "But Daddy, do you ever actually eat that thing he called you?" "Uh...often enough, I guess..." "Darwin!!" Marie couldn't believe what she was hearing. Even though Lessica didn't know what it meant, he still didn't need to be saying it! "Have I ever seen you eat it, Daddy?" Lessica asked. "No, you haven't," he said. "Because it usually only happens well after your bedtime, and behind closed doors. Although back before you were born, it happened anywhere in the house your Mommy wanted it to, and there were definitely a handful of times where I did it outs- ow, Marie!!!" She had been trying to get him to stop talking for several seconds before she resorted to stepping on his foot under the table so Lessica couldn't see, and that obviously had managed to get his attention. She glared over at him again. "That was entirely too much information, Darwin!" "Right. Sorry...I-I kind of freaked out for a second there..." "Daddy is not in trouble, is he?" Lessica asked, the concern in her eyes very apparent. Marie was annoyed, of course, but she wasn't truly angry with Darwin...so she smiled at Lessica and told her as much. "No, my sweet girl. Daddy's not in trouble. But...go ahead and tell me the rest of what happened." Lessica obliged, and the need for damage control became more and more apparent the more she talked, and Darwin was clearly quite uncomfortable. Marie was embarrassed to find that there were variations on certain profanities that she'd never even heard before. Much later that evening, Marie used the time while Darwin was putting Lessica to bed to get some reading done in the master bedroom. She was still in shock...how did Darwin have such a filthy mouth without her knowing? As the bedroom door opened, she scowled, holding the book a bit closer to her face. When he sat down on the bed next to her, though, she couldn't help but pay attention to him. "I promise," he started off. "I really, really had no idea she was listening in..." Marie closed the book and set it down on her nightstand. "You are...what you eat..." "Uh...w-what about it?" "You told my brother that you eat-" "I-It really was just to make him mad!" Darwin told her. "And you have to admit, that was a pretty good response, especially when you think about the fact that I was dodging two blades at a time!" "Fine, it was clever, but Darwin..." She frowned. "How did you get such an...extensive vocabulary, anyway?!" He blinked. "That's what you want to know...?" "Well...yes, kind of!" He smiled. "I guess...mercenaries just tend to be rough around the edges, and that goes for their language, too..." "Ugh..." "Hey, come on, Marie...I really am sorry!" She turned to look at him again. He certainly looked sorry...and Darwin's expressions were almost always a dead giveaway as to his true intentions. And even though she didn't want to admit it...she did have a rather enjoyable idea. So, she leaned forward and kissed him gently. "Fine, I forgive you...but only because Lessica said not to be angry with Daddy..." She pressed another kiss against his lips. "And how could I be angry with someone so sweet and honest, and so good-looking...?"

His cheeks turned pink, and she smirked. "M-Marie?" "Quiet, now. Lessica's only just gone to bed. But, I wonder...?" She climbed into his lap and caressed his cheek. "I wonder what other sorts of filthy things you can do with that mouth of yours?" He raised his eyebrows, looping his arms around her waist. "Well...I have been known to eat-" She quickly placed her index finger over his lips and looked directly into his eyes. Though there was a playful smile on her lips, she wanted him to be quite certain that she was serious about what she was about to say. "I've given you a nice chance here, Darwin. Don't ruin it for yourself."

A/N: Ooh, looks like Daddy's dirty mouth is gonna get put to good use on Mommy~

Haha, but I've always had this headcanon that Marie doesn't use profanity, the only exception to this occurring when she was in labor, but hey, can you really blame her? She never did try to monitor what the boys were saying, but I'd imagine that once Orlando (because you KNOW it was Orlando) busted out the anatomical slang, she did attempt to put a stop to it. After this, though...I get the feeling she was maybe a bit more diligent as far as regulating what the boys could say around her daughter!

Let me know what you think if you're so inclined, and feel free to like, reblog, reply, or leave kudos or a review on AO3!