#to actually express this in any open way without repression or shame. they both just cling to what they have and carry on.

[anghraine]

Just thinking about Spock's obvious annoyance and jealousy upon finding Kirk kissing Helen in "The Dagger of the Mind"—which only happens as a result of Helen and Dr. Adams implanting false memories and feelings in Kirk's mind. And Spock actually knows all about the mindfuck machine at that point, and saving Kirk from it/Adams is why he's there in the first place, and his look of annoyed judgment happens after Helen says, "This isn't right! Dr. Adams did this to you!"

The episode ends with a visibly shaken Kirk returning to the bridge, talking about how he can actually believe in death from loneliness, and staring blankly into the distance with McCoy right behind him. Then Kirk looks at Spock (who is physically further away) and smiles, visibly brightening after Spock smiles faintly back.

I'm also thinking about how upset Kirk is by Spock's spore-addled interest in Leila in "This Side of Paradise," and even more by Spock's disinterest in him. Leila herself will eventually admit that she knows Spock would never enter into a relationship with her except via the sex pollen/docility spores, and previous to all this, she said Spock would be given no choice in all this. Spore-influenced Spock also begs Kirk to join them ("It's a true Eden, Jim. There's belonging and love [...] you'll come around sooner or later. Join us. Please"), and Kirk instead hatches a plan to force him out of the effects of the spores.

Afterwards, Spock bleakly tells Leila, "I have a responsibility to this ship, to that man on the bridge. I am what I am, Leila, and if there are self-made purgatories, then we all have to live in them." He admits to Kirk that falling under the artificial tranquillity of the spores is the closest thing to happiness he's ever experienced.

Kirk is more outwardly cheerful, expressive, and easy-going than Spock, occasionally admitting that he's lonely, but not much more, apart from the implications of how he explains romantic love in "Metamorphosis" ("Is he important to you, more important than anything? Is he as though he were a part of you? [...] By your feeling for him, you are condemning him to an existence he will find unbearable. [...] You may keep him here forever, but you will always be separate, apart from him"). It's only when he gets literal amnesia that he can admit that he's pretty sure he's never experienced happiness before.

The seething jealousy even in obvious dub-con circumstances and quiet, restrained unhappiness pervading their lives just feels like—well, so much. There are so many other cases, too, like when McCoy jokes about Spock falling for a computer (not an android, a literal computer) and Kirk gets visibly upset and jealous until Spock tells him in front of everyone that Kirk is irreplaceable, obviously. Spock spends an entire episode miserably jealous of an actual android love interest of Kirk's, and after McCoy tells him he fundamentally can't understand the agonies and triumphs of love Kirk experienced with the android, Spock waits for McCoy to leave then deletes his rival from Kirk's mind while he sleeps.

They aren't well, but they sure are something!

[asherlockstudy]

I had some thoughts about the things you discussed in your amazing, as always, analysis of the first Wonderhole episode. Firstly about the interpretation of "We like closing one eye, because it immerses us in something that's not really happening". I think it refers to both of the things you've said, i.e., when we close one eye we see something different from when both eyes are open, and it might refer to the entirety of the episode, or even their whole intention with the Wonderhole series. So if you look at it with both eyes open and take it at face value, it's a creative surrealist comedy skit with clever, unexpected and often profound plot twists, but if you close one eye and immerse yourself to the experience, it's something else as well. And that something else I think it's your One Story hypothesis, their other life with each other that we don't really see, except in these moments.

A second thought was about the part of the video where they discovered the peanut butter, and they are dancing on beach, oblivious to the passing plane, and missing their chance of a rescue. This scene happens to the beat of "sharing peanut butter because we are peanut butter lovers", and at first it seems like the comical tragedy of two simpletons being so excited about a jar of peanut butter that they missed their ticket out of there. But then if you see it under the lens of the island segment being their post coming out lives, it could mean that once they discovered the peanut butter (as in, how to be intimate with each other), they are so happy that they don't really care about any chances of returning to their previous lives, or even being 'uncancelled' (if that's indeed what caused the isolation after the coming out). And if that was their intention with that scene, I think it was really cute and speaks volumes about their steadfast devotion to each other.

The final thought was about the sex bush. I think part of it was that they like playing with the audiences' expectations (or apprehensions, depending on the viewer) about their personal relationship. The lyric "lovers as in we are loving peanut butter, not that we are making love with one another" gave me a flashback to their song in the 'We spent a day in 1984' video that went "I won't tell you I love 'cause that might make it weird", because both lyrics have that disclaimer element, like an insurance policy or plausible deniability, so that if a viewer sees it one way, great, but if another viewer sees it a different way, great again, they are both right and valid. Schrodinger's gays :D Another part of it goes to some darker places. And fair warning that it might not be a pleasant read, so stop here, if you like.

It has to do with an inkling I have about them actually being still extremely repressed, and all this is just a way for them to express what they want from each other, without actually having to go all the way there (with all the problems that would follow as well about identity crisis, infidelity, home wrecking, public cancelling, and so on). They grew up repressed about sexuality and intimacy. There was a lot of shame and built up about it, as well as a ritualistic aspect (like their dorm schedule). The way they talk about sex to this day sounds sometimes juvenile, like how teenagers talk about it. I can easily imagine the concept of being gay, let alone gay sex, being difficult for them to come to grips with. And sometimes they give me the impression of people who come up with weird rituals around the thing they are tiptoeing, so that they can justify it to themselves. What if they haven't gone there, like we think, and they are making content that allows them to go there, like in a simulation. They can experiment before the real deal. Because a sex bush, like you said, is indeed like a circle jerk thing, which in turn, is a way of being intimate with someone without actually being intimate. It would be very much like them to try an find a loop-hole so that they could both have their cake and eat it, i.e. being faithful straight family men, but tasting the forbidden fruit, so to speak, as well. I said it was dark, and I wouldn't bet on this scenario if I had to guess what's really going on, but sometimes the things they say or do, make me think there might still be some disfunctional thinking about male physical intimacy.

Anyway, sorry about the massive ask, and if you made it to the end thanks again for your wonderful analysis! :)

First of all, thank you so much for your beautiful words! I am glad you enjoyed the first Wonderhole analysis :)))

RE: The eye immersion

There are truly so many different ways to interpret this comment but whichever is the case, the conclusion is the same: the perception of one image is different when you observe it with one versus both eyes open. I have to say, I found it very funny that in the end they gently imply they want to cut out our cataracts though (clear our blurred vision) XD

RE: The plane passing by

grfuehfiehargh I wanted to write this but I wrote so much I forgot about it! It's exactly that, at this point they are so invested to this new state of life with each other, they do not care to go back to their previous lives or back to "safety".

RE: Sex bush and the lyric

That's an interesting take, totally compatible with the One Story. The lyric is indeed a flashback to the 1984 video and instead of it being something we need to interpret in a certain way, maybe it is just a commentary on their insurance policy / plausible deniability, like you said and like it was the case with the 1984 video. I think this really works.

RE: The dark thought

I don't shy away from unpleasant thoughts and I agree a lot with your theory. They do still look and act repressed and in my opinion they still look like they are coming to terms with queer people, what it means to be gay, no matter how cool they act, how many queer employees they have and how many Pride t-shirts they sell. I consider this human, childhood and puberty teachings are the hardest to get rid of and you almost never get 100% rid of them. A tiny voice will always remain in the back of your mind. It's how the human brain works. It is evident in how much Rhett still tries to find answers in religion, it seems like he tries to find ways to reconcile his old beliefs with who he is, despite in the meantime professing himself as "definitely not a Christian". I dare say he spends too much time examining new, alternative doctrine interpetations compared to the average atheist / irreligious person. And I think this is totally okay by the way. He has every right to try to find the answers he seeks for. But like I said in the meantime they are not entirely mentally free. Look how much the concept of hell creeps in their conversations, even as a joke. There is a box inside their mind where they have squeezed all their guilt and the concern and the inhibitions and that box bursts from time to time, if not frequently. However, I don't think this means they haven't acted on anything yet because of these negative emotions. Both in the scripted content and in certain interactions it is evident that this is a point of state long gone. Whatever physical intimacy they were meant to reach, it has already happened. This somehow makes me the heretic of Rhinkdom but by using the same reasoning I used for example in the Wonderhole analysis to draw conclusions, I land on the same conclusion again and again. Whatever was to happen has happened long ago. This does not mean the repression and the fear cannot be explained - in fact this is how they are explained even better, because when things are done and cannot be undone, this is how they double down on the guilt and the fear of disastrous repercussions and the constant anxiety of "but what if we are wrong"?

Besides, it is also not realistic. We see parallels and metaphors for the first chaotic intercourse in the Puzzle, shot in mid to late 2015. And Rhett is the guy you can absolutely not rile up in 2014-2015 and expect that by 2024 he is still "examining" the idea and channeling it through his art, with the flag at hand for 10 years now. It's just not how the vast majority of men, heck, humans function, let alone Rhett who has established himself as a very sexual person and it is indeed the case. Like imagine all those deep, private conversations about their feelings and their repressed guilty desires that are apparently happening ever since they left the faith. Are we to believe that Rhett could have ever managed to make it through them unscathed? Even Link would not be able to do this!

[ober-affen-geil]

Apparently Legends of Tomorrow is destined to Rise Up and Eat My Brain every once in a while so y’all are gonna suffer because of it. Who me becoming randomly Obsessed with cheesy CW shows what no never happened before.

Anyway I’m just like everyone else who watched season 7 and as SOON as I saw Dr. Gwyn Davies on my screen I adopted him because I am a HUGE sucker for 20th century repressed gays (no this is NOT the meta where we talk about how he immediately knew Alun wasn’t real because he got what he wanted and it was easy for once in his life but also HNGGGG) and Dr. Gwyn Davies is nothing if not a 20th century repressed gay so we’re gonna talk about that.

Specifically we’re gonna talk about the scene in 7x06 when he actually confirms to Zari that he loved his childhood best friend *in a gay way* and why it was perfectly written (and perfectly acted).

Gwyn is a man who is, without question, odd. In a lot of ways and in every sense of the word, but that will not stop him because he is on a Divine Mission goddammit. So honestly…meeting Sara Lance is a shock, but not for the “normal” reasons it would be?

It is not necessarily surprising to him that she professes to be a time traveler, that is after all his goal. Her strength of personality, physicality, and actions do not shock him (other than the quite understandable surprise of her pulling a knife on him) because frankly, he’s Welsh and he lived through WWI. He has unquestionably seen women of equal strength and desperation in his lifetime.

No, what’s shocking about Sara Lance to him is two things: 1) she did not view him as weak or insane for having a panic attack, and in fact helped calm him down and apologized for causing it. I seriously doubt that anyone in this man’s life had ever done that for him before. And 2) she candidly confesses to being married to a woman when she barely knows him. Shocking to him both in how easily she comes out to him, and the fact that “wife” implies a legal “marriage” recognized in a court of law.

This is. Something he needs to process. So while we do get the hint at that moment that Gwyn has Someone he loved that he is inventing time travel to save, he doesn’t actually say anything to Sara about who it was.

The thing is. The thing is, see, Gwyn lives with, and deals with, a lot. Has for most of if not all his life. He lived with quietly loving a friend that he never, NEVER expected to love him back the same way, he lives with his queerness, he lives with the fact that his own faith condemns him for it, he lives with his trauma of losing both his unit and the man he loved in the same battle, and he lives with his PTSD symptoms. And he lives with all of that alone. This man is just not able to compute having ANYONE who might understand or sympathize with any of the things he’s been living with, alone, for about a decade.

(Side note, yes, A Decade as in 10 years because we meet him in 1925 and the battle that killed Alun was in 1916 so my man got a doctorate and invented time travel and built a working machine in 10 years. Helluva Divine Mission imo.)

Ok so. He needs to process all this for a minute. Where I’m going with this is, the conversation with Zari, where he effectively comes out, is AFTER he’s absorbed this information from Sara. After he’s seen her and Ava together, expressing open romantic and physical affection without any shame. After he’s seen the team “react” as if it were a non-issue. And most importantly, after Zari has shown the same kindness and understanding to him about his PTSD that Sara did.

This was not a random one-off occasion of Sara putting up with him because she needed something from him; these people actually seem to MEAN it. By the time Zari asks him “you loved him, didn’t you”, he has had time to process and accept that by god these people really care and he might actually really be safe with them.

So that’s the perfection of the timing. The perfection of the acting in the moment is just as *chef’s kiss*. (Here is a link to a gifset of the part I’m talking about if you want a visual reference.)

Zari asks him directly and he KNOWS, he KNOWS what she’s asking. He knows the meaning of what she’s questioning him about and even though he’s seen these people with Sara and Ava by god he has been hiding this all his life. This is not easy for him. It’s not until she says “hey, it’s ok” with a gentle hand on his shoulder and a sincere look of understanding written all over her face that he can let go.

And not to go all “Love, Simon” over here but he LITERALLY exhales his answer. The first “yeah” is more breath than word, and his shoulders drop minutely as he just. Physically lets go of this weight that he’s been carrying all his life and lets someone share it with him. And he’s still tense, he’s recovering from a panic attack of course he’s tense, and he has to kind of work his jaw around the words he’s saying because I seriously doubt he’s ever said them out loud before, ever.

But they come easier the more he talks, and he calms the more he talks, and the tragedy here is that he settles from the anxiety of a panic attack and coming out into the well-worn grief of knowing Alun is dead and even if he wasn’t he was never something that Gwyn would get to HAVE.

I just. This is such a gorgeous moment of Antique Repressed Gay and it frankly makes me want to fling myself into the sun I love it *so much*.

[beneathstarryskies]

Hey hey, if your requests are open could I request a Tobirama Senju alphabet?? 💕💕

A = Aftercare (what they’re like after sex)

Tobirama is very good with aftercare. He will help you get cleaned up and pick out your favorite comfy clothes. If you feel up to taking a bath, he loves to take baths together. He’ll wash your body carefully and massage your muscles.

B = Body part (their favorite body part of theirs and also their partner’s)

Tobirama isn’t exactly someone with a favorite body part. He’s confident with his entire body. He’s a very intelligent and strong man, so he doesn’t feel the need to emphasize one part over another.

His favorite part of his partner’s body would be their thighs. He loves how warm they are wrapped around him, and the way they squeeze him when he makes you cum. He will spend so much time with his head between your thighs just kissing them and biting them before he actually begins going down on you.

He also really loves laying his head on your thighs while you play with his hair and he talks through whatever is on his mind.

C = Cum (anything to do with cum, basically)

Tobirama is super sexually repressed. So, when he cums it tends to be a lot and rather quickly. He tries to warn you, but sometimes he just can’t form words. You really need to learn to read the signs.

As far as where he’s not super picky. He likes filling your pussy with his cum, but he’s also really weak for you swallowing.

D = Dirty secret (pretty self explanatory, a dirty secret of theirs)

When he misses you, he’ll jack off with a pair of your panties in his fist. It’s one of those things he feels a little guilty about afterwards, but he just misses you so much and he’s bad at expressing that.

E = Experience (how experienced are they? do they know what they’re doing?)

He’s not super experienced. There might have been a few sordid one night stands, but he really doesn’t like the casualness of that. He’d rather be with someone he cares about and he knows cares for him as well.

He has a pretty good idea of what to do, and he’s a fast learner so he’ll be able to fill in the blanks rather quickly.

F = Favorite position (this goes without saying)

Probably when you’re riding him, especially if he’s kind of feeling grumpy and you’re trying to cheer him up. He might even pretend to be more disgruntled than he actually feels just so you’ll try harder.

G = Goofy (are they more serious in the moment? are they humorous? etc.)

Tobirama is never really humorous in general, and that extends to the bedroom. He will loosen up quite a bit with you than he would usually be, and he will definitely let a smile or smirk tug on his lips if you do something cute.

He just cares about you a lot and sex is one of the main ways he expresses it. So he takes it pretty seriously.

H = Hair (how well groomed are they? does the carpet match the drapes? etc.)

He keeps everything trimmed nicely even when he’s not sexually active. He just prefers to keep a tidy appearance.

I = Intimacy (how are they during the moment? the romantic aspect)

Tobirama is very needy and clingy during sex, which don’t you dare tease him about. He knows it goes against his usual personality. This is a very strong, logical man but you can make him so weak. He’ll hold you close as he thrusts into you, and he’ll just start babbling sweet words to you like, “You feel so good around my cock baby.” He’ll start begging but neither of you even know what he’s begging for.

J = Jack off (masturbation headcanon)

Tobirama is ashamed to admit how often he jacks off, but it is pretty often. Especially if you’re away for a while and he can’t have you. As stated, he really likes to jack off with your panties.

K = Kink (one or more of their kinks)

Spanking, edging, lingerie, bondage, praise, and cockwarming. He would also like dom/sub dynamics, and he’d be a switch. Sometimes he wants to boss you around and fuck you however he sees fit. Other times you have him wrapped around your finger.

L = Location (favorite places to do the do)

The bedroom is probably his favorite place because he likes to feel comfy and safe. Being with you is his safe place, and he doesn’t want to risk that time being interrupted. He loves for you to make him beg to be inside of you.

He is also fond of shower/bathtub sex. He would love for you to slip into the bath with him and stroke his cock slowly, and edge him until he’s panting and pleading with you to let him cum. He will turn the tables on you though, so don't’ dish it out if you can’t take it.

M = Motivation (what turns them on, gets them going)

It’s kind of hard to distract Tobirama from his work, but there’s some things he just can’t resist. If you were to come to his office with a skirt on and sit in his lap, he would resist at first. But if you guide his hand between your thighs he’d have a hard time keeping his hard exterior going. He’d play with your clit and finger you while still going over his work.

N = No (something they wouldn’t do, turn offs)

Tobirama wouldn’t want to do anything to hurt you. Pain is not something he’s turned on by at all.

O = Oral (preference in giving or receiving, skill, etc.)

He fucking loves getting his cock sucked, and will never turn it down. He has such a hard time not cumming as soon as you have your lips wrapped around him.

Tobirama was a little intimidated to give oral at first because it’s something he wasn’t super experienced with. So he takes it really slowly at first and tries a few different tactics to find what gets the best reaction. Once he gets the hang of it, he will absolutely love it. He’ll stay between your thighs until you’re overstimulated and tugging on his hair.

P = Pace (are they fast and rough? slow and sensual? etc.)

He tends to like to take his time because if you go too fast he won’t last long, and he really wants to drag it out for the full experience. Being with you is just the best thing, and he wants to just enjoy it.

That being said, there will be times when he is just so needy and frustrated he’ll fuck you hard and fast for some relief.

Q = Quickie (their opinions on quickies, how often, etc.)

Not really his thing. Every once in a while they’re fun, but he prefers taking his time to explore your body.

R = Risk (are they game to experiment? do they take risks? etc.)

Tobirama rarely takes risks with sex. He’s down to experiment 100% but he doesn’t like doing things that are too risky.

S = Stamina (how many rounds can they go for? how long do they last?)

He doesn’t always last the longest. It really depends on his mood and how horny he is. But he can and will go for multiple rounds.

T = Toys (do they own toys? do they use them? on a partner or themselves?)

He doesn’t own any toys really except for silk scarves for bondage. If you bring something to try out he’ll be okay with it, and he’s open to having things used on him as well.

U = Unfair (how much they like to tease)

He teases a little bit, but he has a hard time resisting when you start begging him to fuck you so he doesn’t even usually tease as much as he wants to.

V = Volume (how loud they are, what sounds they make, etc.)

Tobirama really lets loose with sex so he’s gonna be pretty vocal. It’s not even something he means to do. He talks a lot and is very good at dirty talk. He will also groan and grunt (and possibly even growl) without any shame.  

W = Wild card (a random headcanon for the character)

Tobirama loves it when you blow him underneath the Hokage desk. However, at least once someone has walked in and you didn’t stop. His hand was tangled in your hair trying to keep you still while he tried so hard to have a composed conversation without the person realizing something was going on. You kept sucking until he came down your throat, and he had to stop himself from letting out a string of curses. You definitely got bent over the desk and spanked for that.

X = X-ray (let’s see what’s going on under those clothes)

Tobirama is a little bit bigger than average, about 7 ½ inches. He is thick though, enough that there���s always a bit of a stretch when he fucks you. His cock has a few nice veins running through it, and there’s a nice curve that helps him hit your walls at the perfect angle.

Y = Yearning (how high is their sex drive?)

Tobirama is needy, but he’s also pragmatic. So even if he yearns, he knows other things might have to take priority so he can go without for a while if he needs to.

Z = Zzz (how quickly they fall asleep afterwards)

He falls asleep pretty easily afterwards, mostly because he is a firm believer in tender aftercare to help you both unwind. However, he always stays awake until you fall asleep.

[rosequart]

i compiled a bunch of direct quotes about pink diamond/rose quartz from the newest artbook, end of an era. some of these quotes are taken from charts and scribbled notes, so the sentence structure might be weird.

let me know if there are any typos/missing information you think i could add!

quotes from rebecca sugar: on pink diamond/rose quartz

Pink Diamond is so sure that she’s powerless, but she’s actually profoundly powerful, so much so that she devastates people’s lives without understanding it because she thinks that she has no real power or sway.

The thing that she really lacks is balance, any ability to temper her extremes. This is part of her character throughout her forms: she’s always very extreme. 

Pink fits into those older tropes, too: the restless princess, the little Winsor McCay clown.

Pink is pure want. Impulse, desire—she’s infectious. She is the flip side of White; she can bring out a Gem’s hidden personality—their deepest wants. This isn’t necessarily a Diamond power (she has a handful of Diamond powers both destructive and constructive), but she has this power in a very human sense. She is an enabler and very manipulative when it comes to getting what she wants, so when what she wants is to get closer to someone, her intensity, and her sincerity, opens them up and draws them in.

White and Pink were always clashing. The Diamond body repressed Pink’s wants, as directed by White, the self-critical conscience. Pink’s shield made it impossible for White to override Pink’s identity, so she had to find other ways to repress her.

Episodes like Bismuth make much more sense when you know that Rose is Pink, and even more sense when you understand how poorly Pink treated friends who became inconvenient.

Rose is tracked carefully through the entire show. She makes sense once you know she is her own worst enemy. She dreams, achingly, that she could become compassionate, because she’s sure she’s incapable of compassion. Her lack of respect for herself makes it impossible for her to respect everyone closest to her. She reveres them instead, because they are better than she could ever be, and that reverence is so honest and intoxicating that it draws everyone closer to her, without them understanding the deep self-hatred that pull is coming from.

She couldn’t stand herself; self-destruction is a huge theme throughout the show—the struggle of the feeling that you shouldn’t exist, and what that can do to a person. A lot of the themes of the show exist within Rose, like her inability to be honest with other people or herself about what she’s done. She’s so deeply ashamed of herself and her past, with very good reason. The truth is that the people in her life would be so much more understanding than she believes they will be. The contempt that she has for herself gets turned outward as contempt for other people when she can’t trust them. When she can’t trust herself, she can’t trust other people, and it makes it impossible for her to be close with anyone. It makes life extremely difficult for her. It makes living difficult for her.

Rose wants [honesty and trust and being able to grow and change] so badly, but she can’t really accomplish any of that until she accepts herself—and she never does.

quotes from rebecca sugar: on rose and greg

Rose and Greg have a very specific relationship. They parallel each other: Greg left his unsupportive family to follow his dreams. He changes his name and begins living as his stage persona...He invents himself.

Rose is instantly interested in Greg; he’s so human, sweet and funny and pliable. But as they get a little deeper into their relationship, Greg starts to realize how alien she actually is. She objectifies him, she laughs at him...she can’t seem to relate to him or pick up on how he’s feeling. They have a physical relationship, but they’ve never had a meaningful conversation. He starts to feel used. So he challenges her in a way she’s never been challenged before: he asks her to treat him like an equal. This is huge for her. She’s always been less than the other Diamonds and more than everyone else. She opens up to him in a real way, and over time she’s ready to confess everything to him. But he understands what it is to run away from home and reinvent yourself. He doesn’t need her old name and he’s not going to drag her through whatever it was she ran from; as far as he’s concerned, her old self isn’t the real her anyway. The real her is her in the present, the person she decided to be. [...] This is an incredible relief for her! With him, she can live authentically in the moment...They both can, but on the flip side, they enable each other. She never unpacks what scares her about her past, and neither does he.

They really wanted to have a child [...] It’s something they are genuinely excited about. And that’s something that’s left a little open-ended—just how selfish it was for Rose to do this knowing that she would disappear. What Rose is doing is outrageously selfless and outrageously selfish at the same time, and you can really read it both ways and neither is untrue.

chart notes: on pink diamond/rose quartz

Pink learns to keep secrets. She tells her new Pearl to keep them too. (She puts on an act. Behaves better.) She doesn’t trust herself...keeps asking her Pearl what to do...

The Game: Rose plays Batman on the ground. (Pearl is Robin and Alfred.) Pink tries to use Rose as an excuse to call off the invasion. This backfires when Blue and Yellow send in reinforcements.

Rose finds herself the head of a family. Determined to be everything White was not—she is close with everyone, flexible in everything. Love & fun are the rule—and there are no rules—and everyone is the most special!

chart notes: on rose and the crystal gems

Pink keeps asking Pearl what she thinks. Pearl understands she should have no opinions, and should follow orders. She is caught in a paradox. Her head swims. She laughs—feels scared—what is this?

Pearl is falling in love. Pink, as Rose, is intoxicating. She’s free somehow. They both are, when they’re on Earth.

Rose falls in love with Pearl’s surprising boldness that comes out of left field—!

Pearl and Rose start fusing a lot.

Pearl and Rose—the dust clears, revealing an endless honeymoon. Pink is gone and Pearl is free—free to love Rose.

Garnet trusts Rose, respects her secrets. She sees in Rose a self-made gem, a quartz that transcended her station out of sheer will and the power of self-love. Garnet loves Rose and her mystery, the way she learns to love & embrace the mystery of herself. Rose is her rock and inspiration.

Rose teaches Amethyst: you can be anything you want to be! Huge advocate of shapeshifting, self-expression, anarchy—however, Amethyst can sense shame from Rose and Pearl over the Kindergarten.

chart notes: on rose and the crystal gems, post-pink diamond reveal

Amethyst finally understands Rose: wanting her to shapeshift, not feel obligated to be a quartz, suddenly feels sympathy...kinship. It wasn’t Amethyst being inspired by Rose—Rose was inspired by them!

Garnet shocked: Rose taught her to love herself. If that was a lie—if Pink Diamond was self-hating, and wanted to disappear—than what does that mean for Garnet? No—it wasn’t Garnet being inspired by Rose—Rose was inspired by them!

Pearl is finally released—but, a rift—! Garnet feels betrayed! But, Pink did change! Pink did grow! Rose was different! That’s why Pearl was inspired by Rose—or, wait—Rose was inspired by them!

chart notes: on pink and the other diamonds

Pink, the littlest diamond, is largely ignored by Yellow, Blue, and White. Her silly impulses and eccentricities are not particularly helpful to the other diamonds in their endeavors. No one wants to play with her. Pink desperately wants White’s attention and approval (she will never get it).

Pink’s [original] Pearl is the only one who sees how much this upsets Pink. Pink is bright in front of Yellow, Blue, White—but when they don’t have time for her, she privately takes it hard.

Noticing Pink’s behavior, Yellow and Blue think she should have her own colony. White insists—she hasn’t really changed. She’ll never change. She gives Pink a colony—if only to prove Pink will fail.

White knows Pink is out there. This expensive, embarrassing tantrum is not worth her attention. Pink will come groveling back when she’s done running away from home.

Yellow and Blue are relieved to have Pink back—but White is vindicated. I knew you’d be back, your silly game is over—get back in place.

Steven gets Yellow and Blue to understand who he is now. But White won’t have it [...] In an ultimate act of self love, Steven fuses with himself, as White realizes—she can be wrong, and she’s truly lost her ‘daughter’.

[ushidoux]

Be My Last - Iwaizumi x  Reader (Pt. 4)

Summary: You have trouble getting over a past relationship and it’s preventing you from moving forward. (~1.7 words)

Warnings: questionable fidelity, angst, but otherwise tame

A/N: There isn’t a lot of action in this chapter but a whole lot of feelings.

Part 1|| Part 2 || Part 3 || Part 4 || Part 5

-

You awoke to the sound of Iwaizumi’s careful shuffles around your bedroom as he got dressed for the day. Rising slowly to a sitting position with a stretch and a yawn, you noticed he was a little more dressed up than usual, his usual polo shirt and khakis replaced with a pair of sharp trousers, a nicely pressed shirt and a tie.

“Good morning, baby,” you murmured, voice still heavy with slumber.

Iwaizumi’s eyes shifted from their focus adjusting the sleeves of his shirt and smiled as he watched you rub the sleep out of your eyes, walking around to your side of the bed to kiss you on the forehead - a soft brush of the lips.

“Good morning, love. Did you sleep well?”

The smell of a gentle cologne drove you forward, intending to lean your face against his chest, but he was already back to his side of the bed to gather his things before setting out for the morning.

“I did… I can make breakfast if you’re not in a hurry!” You offered, eyes following the young man as he quickly exited the room.

“I’m alright!” He called, voice distant now. You could tell he was already rummaging around in the kitchen, and the smell of freshly brewed coffee wafted in your nostrils in sharp contrast to the toothpaste you were using to rid yourself of morning breath once you trailed behind him.

You glanced at the time on the wall clock, leaning against a wall opposite the inlet to the kitchen. He wasn’t exactly late for work, but he was rushing out faster than usual. 

“Is everything okay?” Your voice was muffled between spittle and mild concern.

He glanced at you, hesitating for a split second before smiling. 

“I’ll see you tonight,” he replied without answering your question, and then the door closed behind him.

There was a subtle sense of your blood cooling very slightly, a tinge of worry settling in your chest. Venturing back into the bathroom, you finished brushing your teeth, paying exquisite attention to your tired eyes in the mirror as though your reflection was the issue. 

Maybe you were overreacting. Things had been a little tense since your argument, but it was nothing that couldn’t be smoothed over. 

It was only after you’d settled back onto your side of the bed with your open laptop and your screen flickered on to display your ex’s Instagram page that your heart started to race.

You closed it shut again, wincing.

He didn’t see it. He couldn’t have. He would have said something. The argument would have started right up again. It wouldn’t have ended until one of you was sleeping on the couch or you were sleeping in each other’s arms.

You let out a deep breath, taking a few moments to let your self-defensive thoughts sink into your skin. It was nothing serious after all.

Overreaction after overreaction. The only thing that mattered right now was that you opened your laptop and spent your Friday off of work on getting ahead.

---

As luck would have it, Iwaizumi was stuck in traffic.  Perhaps it was a blessing in disguise that he’d wanted to escape your apartment as soon as possible and make it out early. He’d actually intended to leave before you woke up. 

As much as he didn’t want to admit it, he was still angry. 

Not at you. Never at you. At himself.

He remembered the words he had said to you at the start of your relationship, what felt both like just yesterday and ages ago.

Use me if you need to.

He gripped the steering wheel and grit his teeth, trying to maintain composure despite the fact that he’d been in the same spot on the road for the past ten minutes and people were laying into their horns around him.

What kind of stupid shit was that?

It had sounded good to say it at the time, like most things a guy says to woo a pretty girl. Use him. You’d fall in love with him later, in due time. He believed it was true then.

He hated that he was starting to lose faith in that now.

He hated the idea that someone else, who really wasn’t doing anything but simply existing in proximity to you was doing such a number on him. He couldn’t fault him either. Ushijima had loved you first. 

Did it matter if Iwa loved you more?

---

You’d given yourself that you weren’t allowed to leave your apartment until you got your work done, lest you come up with another excuse not to finish, which meant by the time the clock neared six p.m., you had laid sprawled in nearly every corner of your apartment typing and by now were cross-legged on the kitchen counter, your laptop balanced on your knees.

But you were finally done.

You sighed with excitement. Now to put that behind you. 

Saving your work, you slipped off of the countertop and back into your pair of slippers, moving back to your bedroom to change into a just as comfortable but more presentable pair of sweatpants and a t-shirt.

You were running out of snacks, as evidenced by the frequent trips to the kitchen over the past eight hours. What better way to treat yourself for a job well done but with a walk down to the convenience store to stock up?

Maybe you’d grab Iwa a bag of his favorite chips as a peace offering on the way too. 

---

“We’re already out, young lady!” the cashier teased the moment you crossed the store entrance, setting off the bell. 

You pout but still glance over to the row of baked goods, where your precious melon bread is normally stacked neatly in clear packaging, waiting for you. It’s a little bit embarrassing that he knew you would never pass up on it, but you’d lived here long enough that it wasn’t inconceivable that it’d become your defining trait.

“I’m absolutely devastated, sir!” You called back dramatically, making your way to the back for ice cream instead. They had what your favorite in stock, plus a limited edition flavor so you had more than enough consolation.

Satisfied, you closed the freezer door after picking your selection only to meet eyes with Ushijima, whose hand closed tightly around the handle of a fridge door. He stood a good distance away, but his eyes had been on you and remained so; the very slight part of his lips betrayed the fact that he had been trying to come up with something to say for the past couple of minutes.

He did say your name, something like a greeting, out loud, and you reflexively looked away, heart pounding. Granted you didn’t own this corner of town, but what were the chances he’d only chosen to go here?

Quickly realizing you still weren’t interested in talking, Ushijima pulled out a large bottle of water and closed the fridge, deciding not to bother you further.

It was suddenly a good thing that a text message to you on his phone was in drafts only, him not having the heart to send it. It wasn’t for a lack of courage… it was more so due to shame. Even if he felt like he had to apologize, there wasn’t much he felt he could say that would make it better, not worse.

His shame and your discomfort only intensified as he ended up queueing up behind you. Timing was never on his or your side it seemed.

Ushijima watched you tense up ever so slightly, your shoulders hunched as your arms overflowed with snacks, including the freezing tub of ice cream. Normally he’d offer to help with your load, given that he wasn’t carrying much more than the water but again, boundaries.

He’d set that distance himself.

In reality, he probably should have chosen another running path to discharge energy after practice had ended early today. However, it had been long enough that alternative courses didn’t come immediately to memory and he’d been willing to take that chance.

And here you both were.

He hated this, the obvious residual feelings bubbling to the surface after having been repressed for so long, the fact that he couldn’t justify any of his actions, the fact that he hated older him.

The fact that you won’t even look at him. 

Just say something. Anything. 

Is closure every really needed, or is it just an excuse to refuse to move on?

He opened his mouth to speak, yet again, but you beat him to it.

You turned towards him, smiling, albeit a weak imitation of what you’d always offered him, back when you loved him recklessly, with your whole heart.

“I… um, don’t want it to be awkward,” you said in a small voice. The sound of your voice, directed finally to him, unprompted made his own beat speed up.

Was this an olive branch you were extending that he didn’t deserve? He pondered this, steeling himself for the worst.

You kept your friendly expression as steady as possible. You weren’t sure what you were trying to prove, to yourself and to Iwa.

You didn’t love him. And for that reason, you had no right to be bitter or cold. Right?

“It doesn’t have to be awkward,” you continued.

Ushijima was at a loss for words now, watching you carefully with his normally sharp, hawk-like eyes but now more like the hawk’s prey, assessing the threat before it. Could he get his hopes up? “We can be friends,” you decided.

It’ll only hurt for a short bit of time, you told yourself. And soon things will be back to normal. As they should be.

A part of Ushijima wanted to reply, I don’t want to be friends. He’d finally realized this, no matter how selfish of a thought it was. However, he was content to nod only and swallow that thought. 

“I’d appreciate it.”

He watched you pay for your items and leave, unsure of what friendship would entail.

---

As you dug into your tub of ice cream a couple hours later, you realized you weren’t so sure what that entailed either.

If only to make it worse, then came the buzz of your phone with a single message, I miss you.

[2manyfandoms2count]

Golden hour

I felt very indulgent today and decided to write some pure fluff. Caution: contains Shanghai special spoilers! Mostly Ladynoir, but also a bit of Marichat because yes.

Hope you enjoy!

Read on AO3

---

Chat Noir had to ask. He knew that there was a risk he would get caught out on his little lie, but hey. Even if they said curiosity killed the cat, the key part was that satisfaction brought it back.

“Hey, Bugaboo?” He lazily opened an eye and turned slightly towards her.

She hummed in reply, revelling in the warm evening sun.

She’s so pretty, Chat thought as he looked at her. Seeing her lying there so peacefully in the golden sunset, it was really hard to resist the itch to update his profile picture of Ladybug (and maybe, who knows, his phone background).

They’d both finished their ice cream a while ago, but neither of them had felt like leaving just yet. Basking in the last lights of a warm Summer day after a quiet patrol at the top of the Eiffel Tower, with the Champs de Mars on one side and the Seine on the other was exactly the kind of holiday each wanted. Especially if it was with the person they’d never get tired of sitting in complete silence with, even if they wouldn’t necessarily admit it out loud.

Ladybug shifted a little and Chat Noir cleared his throat, afraid that she’d catch him staring. His quiet admiration had almost made him forget his question.

“How long did it end up taking you to fly back from Shanghai?”

Her eyes flew open and for a second she looked like a deer caught in headlights, but it could have just been an adjustment to the light. Her cheeks were red when she propped herself on her elbow to face him, although it was hard to tell if it was a blush or the beginning of a sunburn.

“I’m not entirely sure, it must have been something like…” Ladybug’s brain whirred as it tried to grasp at an elusive physics class that might have held a ballpark answer. She knew that with the magic of the suits, even making a detour via the poles (mince, had she said she’d take the Arctic or the Antartic route? Did it matter? Why hadn’t she looked it up like she’d meant to-) was probably shorter than the average flight length. “Four hours? More or less?” She cringed a little as she waited for his reaction.

The latter turned out to be a squint, as Chat Noir tried to gauge if his own calculations had been entirely wrong, or if she was bluffing. Given that it took a plane a little more than twelve hours to fly back, he could see a detour via the Arctic possibly taking just as long. The powerup was pretty fast though, probably more in the rocket-speed range, so the travel time would have been significantly less. If the physics exercises he’d solved in class, which listed said speed to be around five thousand kilometers per hour, could be trusted, it cut it to about two hours, assuming there were no pit stops along the way. The Antarctic route would obviously be longer, given that Shanghai was, all in all, quite high above the Equator; he would have said it was probably a six hour flight at least.

Her time was therefore either too long or too short, and one question remained; which route had she said she’d take again?...

He saw her fidgeting increase with the length of his silence.

“It could have been six hours, though. Or twelve? Really, I don’t recall exactly, I forgot to look at a clock because it’s not like we have watches with our suits, you know?” She chuckled nervously as she tried backtracking and suddenly it dawned on him.

“You didn’t fly back, did you?” he asked softly, and her lack of response spoke volumes. “You had to go back and check on Marinette, and then you figured you’d stay a bit.”

It would explain the lack of patrol calls he’d gotten during the remainder of his short stay in Shanghai, when there’d been so many since he’d come back. She’d probably returned around the same time he had. He wondered if they’d crossed paths as civilians while walking around the city. Had he known she was there, he would’ve kept an eye out for anyone who looked vaguely familiar. Someone he could’ve seen in Paris as well. Maybe Marinette could have helped him.

She gave him a curious look, but then nodded along sheepishly. “How did you know?”

“It’s just the kind of thing you do,” he smiled. “Also, it would’ve been a little irresponsible for you to make the round trip within a day, especially after having fought two major Akumas. Not to mention a real shame, because Shanghai is quite lovely.”

“Are you saying you didn’t fly back either?” She nudged him with her elbow. “It’s not like you weren’t a part of those fights, too, and you talk about the city like you know it quite well.” She didn’t mention the fact that he would’ve had an extra reason to stay over, given that he’d actually been hit by the Akuma. She didn’t want to dampen the mood.

It was Chat’s turn to fidget a little. “Oh no, I definitely flew back, it’s just that, erm, well… oh! I arrived before you, remember? So it wasn’t so bad to fly back so soon afterwards, I’d had a bit of a break while I was looking for Marinette. And that’s when I did a little sightseeing, too. Our suits are really perfect for tourism, having access to the roofs helps prevent getting lost!”

“That’s true.” She smiled at his enthusiasm, thankful that he wasn’t pushing the topic any further. “Actually, speaking of Marinette… I wanted to thank you. I’m not sure how you found out that she was missing, but the fact that you flew out to help her…” She couldn’t express how much it meant to her, not without saying too much. She hoped that he would read in between the lines though, even if he thought it was just that she appreciated his dedication to helping out Parisians. Ever since she’d gotten her Guardian duties, she felt like things were changing in her life; it was subtle, but the ground was starting to feel shaky under her feet, and she wasn’t sure it was completely linked to the start of the summer and the end of collège. It was nice to know that Chat Noir was still here for her with or without the mask, even if he didn’t know it.

“It’s only natural. I would’ve done it for any civilian…” he started, and her shoulders slumped a little, even though it was to be expected. She perked back up when he leaned forward and continued in a confidential tone: “... but if I’m being honest, if there’s one civilian I’d drop everything for, it would be Marinette.”

She felt her cheeks warm and couldn’t repress the smile that spread on her lips. “Oh?”

“Well, she’s just such a valuable part of our team, even if you don’t use her potential much,” he gave her a pointed look. “And, well, it’s not like I know a lot about her,” he scratched the back of his head, “but one thing I do know is that she’s a very good friend, and just a very… solar person in general. She just radiates kindness and warmth, you know? And I… heard someone called her an everyday Ladybug once, and it’s a really good description. If everyone had a Marinette in their life, I think Akumatisation rates would probably plummet.”

Ladybug gulped at the compliment, which just seemed to come so easily to him. “Well, thank you.”

Chat Noir glanced at her and noticed her fluster. He leaned a little closer to her, eyes glinting mischievously and nudged her lightly. “My Lady, are you jealous of Marinette? Because you know I’d also say all these things about you if I knew who was behind the mask. You’d absolutely become the first civilian I’d drop everything for.”

“As if.” She nudged him back with a fond smile. “Silly kitty.”

She lied back down, and as he mirrored her, she scooted closer to him so she could rest her head on his shoulder. It was the best thing she could think of to thank him at that moment, even though she knew she’d be working overtime to find a proper gift to give him from Marinette.

Yes, her little holiday in Shanghai with Adrien had been nice, of course it had; but to paraphrase Dorothy, there was just no place like home. And this was exactly what this place felt like.

[alessabriel]

Y/n  knows how to handle the drunk side of Jakurai.

Character: Jakurai Jinguji. Warnings: None.

I am so graceful to see how Jakurai changes completely when he is drunk, it is like a duality; on the sober side it is super quiet and on the drunk side (it doesn't always happen) it is totally advantageous, shameless and super energetic to say it in some way and I came up with the super idea of: it has a couple; And that handles him very well when he's drunk and that's almost like a super power on his own.

Anyway, here we go!

The fresh breeze from the cold heating hit your face when you left your office, a chill ran through you at that but you downplayed it and adjusted your jacket over your body.  You gave a little goodbye to the people who got off the elevator before her, they were nice people and certainly efficient in their work.  For a few moments you thought about actually transferring Kannonzaka Doppo to this branch, however you could almost hear the self-deprecating speech that he would release, perhaps if there were vacancies and you offered it out of nowhere, I could accept.

It was a thought for another time.

With a heavy sigh, you stepped out of the elevator into the building's underground parking lot.  It was tiring to be honest, but that your office was on the top floor was not the best thing in the world, but there was a good point for it because of the incredible view from one of the top floors of the building.  You followed the path to your black car and with the keys in hand you deactivated the alarm listening with pleasure the slight beep of it and once close you opened the door leaving your work bag on the passenger seat, just seeing it reminded you that it was  a gift from your partner when you were promoted at work.  He was useful, cute and practical and you loved him with all your soul, although you loved him more in those moments because he was empty of jobs.  Once inside your car you closed the door, being just a few minutes away from turning it on, your cell phone rang and you almost wanted to ignore it but something in your chest told you no, so with a weary sigh you looked for your cell phone in your bag finding it and admired for a few seconds the  name of one of your partner's division partners;  Jakurai Jinguji, you took it without thinking further, modifying it to place it on the car support and Kannonzaka's voice flooded the silence of the car.

"Doppo-kun, is something wrong?"

You heard with some doubt how the redhead behind the call seemed to whisper things before hearing accelerated footsteps running away from something, it was strange but considering that Matenro were always in the middle of solving cases it was not so strange or abnormal, but if something worrisome and ates  After hearing Doppo's endless apologies, you went ahead, without taking your eyes off how you left the parking lot.

"No problem calling me Doppo-kun it just seems strange to me from what I remember. Jakurai told me that they would have dinner together tonight" you explained calmly.

"If we actually had dinner together Y / n-san b-but something happened and we need her right now, I don't think he can drink more and Jakurai-sensei is more energetic like that. Come on please Y / n-san!

With a tired exhale you turned on the turn signal to redirect you to Hifumi Izanami's department, I could bet that he had been the reckless one to pressure Jakurai to drink even though he always refused to do so.

"It was Hifumi-kun again, correct?"  you questioned with slight regret as you entered the correct lane for Hifumi's department.

"Yes Y / n-san, I only got distracted for a few minutes to look for something to bring you some dinner when Sensei left and when I came back Hifumi had strained alcohol" you could hear the slight fatigue of the Doppo and you felt a little bad, it was  the only completely sane to put it in some way.

"I'm going there and for the moment hide in your room and turn off the lights, if Hifumi-kun gave him alcohol, let him deal with it. Is it okay Doppo-kun? Quiet alone, it could be said that it is more, like free and somewhat childish  , it's not so bad when you manage to handle it well "

"Thank you Y / n-san"

You hung up and continued your journey to Hifumi's apartment, you managed to see how your partner's car was there and you just smiled.  You knew that something like this would happen sooner or later in these days off that Jakurai had.  It was not annoying but they were always afraid of the other side of your lover, when in reality it was just an exaggeration of the more hidden side of him and it was at some point liberating for the fact that he was very repressed even in rap battles.  You put all those thoughts aside and parked right behind your partner's car, getting out making sure to set the alarm.  Hifumi and Doppo's apartment building was nice, before going up to the apartment you bought something from the vending machine which was a cold cranberry juice that was super bitter.  that would do.

The journey to his apartment was quick and once you knocked in front of the door, almost immediately a redhead opened the door, ushering you in with a bang.  Before you could greet Doppo you heard Hifumi's shriek accompanied by Jakurai's voice, it was funny to see him like that.

"Y / n-chan!"

You advanced until you were in front of him and before you gave in to him to hug you, you placed the cranberry juice on his cheek listening to the hiss that emitted from the cold of the can on your partner's cheek.  It was both funny and strange to see him like this, so whiny and it was a shame that Doppo had to deal with it and even Hifumi even though he himself had been the culprit.

"Have you been drinking Jinguji?"

Instantly Jakurai's expression fell a little, showing to your eyes dejected almost with his tail between his legs, even though he was drunk he knew that he could not disobey you because getting too drunk meant that his voice could be damaged and with it he helped people.  Simply only you managed to make him see reason when he was drunk.

"Just a little love"

You swept Hifumi's apartment with your eyes and noticed several bottles scattered around the living room, the social pressure was not very good on your partner.  You only let out a sigh before speaking.

"Upstairs we will go home and you will take a good bath with cold water, go out into the hall"

Before the tallest one could say anything, your severe gaze and pursed lips assured him that the hangover would be silent, therefore Jakurai slightly downcast went out the door struggling a bit to put on his shoes but you ignored him before starting to look for his sweater,  phone and other things, you received help from the two remaining in the room.

"I only ask you not to make him drink, when he refuses it is not because he does not want to drink with you ... This is why" you explained seriously to Hifumi when you were already at the entrance of the apartment holding your partner's belongings.

"If we're sorry Y / n-san, we won't do it again"

You couldn't be mad at it since even despite the hostile side of Hifumi and others, they were good friends to be honest.

"Good night and rest, don't forget to have something for your hangover"

With that last goodbye you left the apartment to the ground floor by the stairs where Jakurai was drinking the cranberry juice with a frown, it was a strange and energetic drink that you knew he did not like but it mattered little to you, that would lower his  alcohol and you could not scold him more for how he held the can with both hands and his slightly rosy cheeks.  It was cute and it was a relief that he listened to you.

"Come on let's go big boy"

Jakurai even in the haze of alcohol could detect the soft, sweet and floral aroma of her as well as her hands were as soft as anything, it seemed like silk against her hands and she only clung to her, at times like this she could only let herself be carried away by her.  He loved her and prayed to heaven to always be with her, from moments like this until when the ring kept in her office at her house was perched on your ring finger and they were engaged.

Only you could handle it at any time...

personally I really liked that gif and so uwu ✨🌺

[ohallthecrushes]

That one day... // Arthur Fleck x Reader

A/N: I’m tired, my lower back is in pain and I should be sleeping, but my hyperfocus didn’t let me. xD So somehow I made this one shot that I was pretty sure I’d never finish. Arthur is sweet, but dark and creepy and in love with reader.

Summary: You and Arthur just became friends. He fell in love with you from the beginning, but because you were hurt before you want to stay just friends with him. You thought he’d be ok with it, but of course he’s not. Soon you start falling in love with him too, but having in mind what you decided before, you try to ignore your feelings for him. When you finally let him know, he doesn’t believe you and it turns out into a little disaster. Can someone teach me how to write good summary?

Word counts:2293

You and Arthur were friends for some time now. One month to be more precisely. It all started with you coming up to him and asking if he was alright after you saw him standing before a building you lived in...

Looking lost in thoughts. 

In the middle of a pouring rain.

Without an umbrella.

Broken down and beaten up.

It was a simple gesture of kindness that you took him to the nearest donuts shop and bought him a hot coffee to warm him up. You sat down with him and made him to talk. Reassuring him that you wanted to sit there with him and you actually wanted to help even by just lending an ear.

It was a gesture of kindness, but it was a magic moment to Arthur.

His life had changed that day.

You gave him your phone number, just in case he ever wanted to talk again and he thanked you and apologized to you for the trouble at least seven times before you two left the shop and separated.

He didn’t call you the next days, weeks even, which felt somewhat disappointing. You were hoping that he would call to offer you a coffee or something like that. Not that you wanted him to repay you. You just... You felt like he was a good sensitive man, a gentle soul so hard to find in Gotham that you would like to know better.

It was a shame that he wasn’t interested.

But then, you couldn’t know that he spent two whole weeks following you around, getting information about you and learning your daily habits.

You couldn’t know. He made sure of that.

It was that one day when you accidentally bumped on him when you were going back from work that he invited you to your favorite coffee shop down the street. You agreed with a smile, lucky you felt that day.

He appeared to you as a shy, timid man with daily struggle and mental problems but also with big hopes and dreams.

He was always polite and considerate of your feelings, and he asked you a lot of questions about you and your life.

Some were simple and silly like your favourite color or songs you often listened to.

Some were more intimate and even inappropriate at times. But you were never upset with him for asking such. You knew he didn’t have any friends that he could learnt from what healthy boundaries were.

Until now, of course.

You became his friend and you two began to meet more often. He opened up to you some time later and you could see how much more comfortable he started to feel around you.

You even noticed that he felt comfortable enough to gently brushed his hand over yours when you two were walking through a park. Something was in the air...

That was when you had to stop him.

- Arthur...

- Yes?

- Remember when I told you about my ex boyfriend? And how fucked up our relationship was?

- Yes...

- You know... how... hurt I was. I’m not ready to start dating yet. I hope you understand that and you don’t take it personally, I...

- Oh, it’s alright - he nodded his head a little to vigorously to fully hide that he’d been hoping for something to happen between you - I didn’t try to do anything, just... I get that you’re not ready, I do. I’d like us to stay friends too.

- You’re sure? 

- Mhm - the way he lowered his head and avoid the eye contact told you he wasn’t fully honest.

- Artie...

- I’ll be alright, really. I have feelings for you, you know, but I don’t want to destroy what we already have. You’re my friend... You’re my only friend. I don’t wanna lose you.

You wanted to say something, but he smiled at you softly.

- Don’t worry about me, Y/N, I’ll be fine.

That day you were foolish enough to think that he actually would be alright about you two being just friends. He seemed fine at that moment and you thought that because it was just the beginning that his feelings for you weren’t strong enough yet, so they would be easier to suppress, easier to ignore. As if it was something he could just take back.

But he was already far too deep and beyond the point of turning back.

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

You didn’t get back to that topic ever again.

You kept hanging out with each other everyday you could, and everyday when you couldn’t you were talking by phone, telling each other how your day was and sharing your thoughts on different topics. He was telling you jokes and listening you laughing. While you were feeding him with your home made cookies and watching him dance in his Carnival costume. You kept each other company as friends do, ignoring the fact that sometimes, just sometimes he looked at you with an old hope and longing.

You stayed just friends.

But your smile was his favourite thing in this world to look at.

And he occasionally told you a few compliments to make you blush as well - his second favorite thing to look at.

But his voice was the last thing you heard before you went to sleep and the first thing you heard when you woke up.

But “goodmornings and goodbyes” became your daily habits. Something you couldn’t get through a day and night without.

But he sometimes surprised you with small gifts, like your favorite cupcake or something related to your hobby. Smallest things so you wouldn’t forget about him.

But everyday you were getting more and more excited to see him.

And before you know... You were far too deep and beyond the point of turning back.

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

It was that one day when you two were chilling on his couch, drinking tea and watching old comedies. You were facing each other and silly laughing about... oh who cares what.

You felt happy when he was around you. You felt excited when he looked at you or called you by your name. You felt things towards him a friend shouldn’t feel.

You had realized that a week before, but you’d tried to ignore it. You’d managed to ignore it somehow even though it hurt you inside. It burnt a hole in your heart when you also had realized that you couldn't tell him. After all you were the one that had insisted to stay just friends. You were the one thinking foolishly that feelings can be easily repressed or forgotten. You should had knew better than that.

Your eyes were wandering all over his face as you tried to silence your heart at that moment.

But his small hiccups were adorable and his smile was so wide and his crooked tooth looked so cute.

But you couldn’t look away from his lips as well.

You couldn’t take it anymore. How could you be so naive? How could you deny him and yourself something you both felt so deeply?

You stopped smiling and started screaming inside.

- Y/N? - he asked puzzled and concerned as he reached out to touch your arm - What’s wrong? You look like you’re in pain...

You were in pain, indeed.

To stop yourself from crying you started laughing. But it was a sad laugh that Arthur wasn’t amused with.

- Y/N?

- Oh god! I can’t... I can’t do this anymore - you shook your head as you dramatically covered your face with your hands and put your head up. You couldn’t just sit there pretending anymore, hurting your feelings like that.

Arthur stared at you confused and worried, wondering what made you say that and what did you mean.

He’d noticed that you’d been acting weird lately, that during conversations your head had been somewhere else and it was as if you'd been hiding something before him. He didn’t want to pry, but he couldn’t help but felt that whatever that was, had something to do with him.

Suddenly he felt insecure again. His old demons started barking.

Did you just... agree that you couldn’t stand him and pretend to be his friend anymore? Did one of his fear just became a reality?

- W-what are you saying? What d-do you mean you can’t?

You spread your fingers to look at him. You didn’t want to take your hands off your face, cause you knew you were blushing like hell.

- I can’t just... - you took a deep breath - i can’t just be your friend...

Something in his eyes told you that you just hurt his feelings in an awful way. You didn’t mean to! Oh no, let me explain!

- I mean I... I didn’t want to sound... I find it hard to... - you struggled with your words and you saw how the light in his eyes slowly disappeared, replaced by something much darker and empty.

He thought he was right, his brain hadn’t lied to him this time. You really did despise him, didn’t you? You had just pretended that you liked him, because you felt pity for him, when in reality you couldn’t even stand him. He was right from the beginning, wasn’t he? He clutched his fists and felt like his lower lip began to shake as well as one of his knee.

You couldn’t see how scared he was, how disappointed and hurt, cause you shut your eyes closed, trying to focus on the right words. But the right words just couldn’t came out and you felt frustrated with your own disability to handle this conversation that you’d just started.

- Oh, for fuck’s sake - you said as you opened your eyes and leaned forward, letting your lips express what your mind couldn’t. You kissed him or more likely pressed your lips to his in a little desperate manner, silencing you both from racing thoughts for a brief moment. Then you leaned back, opened your eyes and waited. He looked at you confused and anxious and you knew what was coming next.

He pressed his hands to the place where your lips had been just a second ago and burst into a very loud very hurtful laughter. His body turned away from you shaking as if he wanted to hide himself from you, from your sight, so you wouldn’t pity him even more. He could feel your hand gently caressing his back as you always did when he had his fit, but you did this only because you had to, right? You didn’t really want to be there with him or for him in that matter. He was just a freak to you. He was just. A. Freak. A very naive freak.

- W-why... are... why are y-you... mocking me... like this?! - he managed to gasped out as his laughter scaled down. He was siting with his head lowered and his eyes on the floor. His eyebrows were knitted, his leg was bouncing fast and he was seriously upset.

- What? I’m not... - you were confused now, his sudden outburst made you withdraw your hand. Wasn’t you clear enough with your kiss? - I’m not mocking you, Arthur, I’m...

- You know I have feelings for you and you’re mocking me with that kiss!

- I’m not! That’s not what I wanted to-

- You said - he interjected you - that you can’t do this anymore. That you can’t be my friend! What you meant is that you can’t pretend anymore that you like me. You said that! And then - he glared at you with a hurtful look in his eyes - then you kissed me to mock me - he added with a lower much more quiet voice. For a moment you were afraid to speak up.

But you started to grasp on his way of thinking. And... oh boy.

- No... You’re wrong, Arthur. I didn’t kiss you to mock you. Why would I.. - you sighed - What I meant by that is... I have feelings for you too and that’s why I can’t pretend to be just your friend anymore.

He looked away and took a moment to process your words. He didn’t look at you and you were afraid that he wouldn’t believe you, but his leg slowly stopped bouncing and when he finally looked at you, his eyes were soft looking and his voice didn’t sound so dangerous. 

He didn’t fully believe you, but he was getting there.

- You... have feelings for me too? - he repeated very slowly as he was still processing what he’d heard.

- Yes, I do. I’m sorry I wasn’t clear enough with that before.

Slowly his body turned to you and he became visibly more relaxed. His eyebrows twitched as he finally got what you were saying.

- But you said before that you wanted to stay friends...

- I know and that was... well, very stupid of me. 

You took his hand in yours.

- I fell in love with you Arthur and if you still feel the same about me... Then I’m ready to start something new.

His face lightened up with a big smile and you saw tears in his eyes.

- Y/N... Oh god, I’m so sorry I reacted like that! I thought that... I let myself thought things I shouldn’t have. But that was my...

- ... your fears talking, I know.

He gently squeezed your hand and leaned down to assure you that he still felt the same about you.

He cupped your face and kissed you with an overflow of passion.

That day your life had changed.

[longinglook]

I may or may not have spent my entire Sunday binge watching all of I told sunset about you and Gaya sa pelikula and now I have so many thoughts and feelings that I need to write about them so here we go! Under a read more (if tumblr allows me to) because it’s 2k words hehe

First of all, I knew next to nothing about both shows before starting them. I had seen a couple of gifs here and there, but really had no idea what I was in for.

I started with I told sunset about you, which has 3 episodes out of 5 out. All I knew is that it was going to be beautiful and possibly sad, and it was. Everything about this show is so high quality, from the audio to the dialogue to the locations to the acting, just wow. The production is better than a lot of movies I’ve seen, and every technical aspect is perfect. I am really loving the plot so far as well, I find the childhood friendship to stubborn rivalry to grown up friendship again very relatable. I think it’s a very common experience for a lot of non straight folks to develop an extremely close bond with a same sex friend when you’re too young to realize what you’re actually feeling for them until you’re a lot older and suddely the jealousy and possessivenes all make sense.

I love the recurring themes sprinkled throughout the episodes, starting from the chinese vocabulary that expresses the core thoughts of the two main characters: rival, intimacy, secret, male protagonist, as promised. They could easily be the episode titles, or the names of imaginary sections the show could be divided into. It’s a great way to integrate metaphors and deeper meaning into the plot.

That’s how most of the communication goes in this show, deep emotions are never conveyed through words because words are scary and loud and they can’t be taken back once they’re out there. The plot advances though stares and gestures and touch and gorgeous shots of the landscape. The pace is slow with hour-long episodes that could each be a movie of their own. This worried me a bit before starting, and I have to admit that at times I struggled to stay focused, especially during scenes that set the mood but don’t do much plot-wise. This is just a personal preference, though, and in no way I see it as a flaw. 

The dancing around each other the main characters do, sometimes literal, is frustrating but it determines an emotional build up that’s just starting to reach its peak. This is one of those shows that has me screaming if only they talked to each other, but the silences and unspoken words are so well directed and acted that it works. I struggle a lot with keeping in mind that they’re still in high school, they’re very young and I can’t expect them to act rationally just yet. 

I was really worried about Teh possibly going the insufferable Theory-of-love-khai way, and I am still not 100% sold on him. When he started helping Oh-aew again it felt like he was just doing it to make himself feel better about the whole thing. It was frustrating to see him so possessive and jealous while also so deeply in denial about his own feelings, to the point where he had me rooting for Bas instead. He was getting better, but then he fled at the end of episode 3 and now I have no clue what’s going to happen next. About this, I really have no idea if they’re going for a happy ending or a sad one. I’m really hoping it will be good, because so far there has been barely any emotional payoff for all the repressed longing and misunderstanding the show has put us through.

I do like their dynamic a lot though, I have a weak spot for childhood friends reconnecting and an ever weaker spot for informal mentor/mentee relationships. Oh-aew asking Teh to tutor him until he passes the admission exam was an almost exact mirror of Yuri on ice Yuri begging Victor to be his coach until he retires and I loved that a lot.

Now on to the one issue I have with this show: it feels too much like an art film. It reminds me of Moonlight and Call me by your name, in the way that I wasn’t able to connect with those movies because they are too perfect. They are so beautiful and carefully crafted that I can’t fully immerse myself in them. There’s a filter that stops me from relating to the characters and constantly reminds me that this is not reality. It’s pretty, it’s extremely well done, but it feels like art. It has some quirks, some scenes that feel too artificial. One scene in particular, the one where Teh buries his head in the paper Oh-aew wrote with his coconut scented pen to sniff it, which is a direct parallel to Call me by your name, bothered me in particular. Just as it felt over-the-top and purposefully weird in the movie, so it feels in the show. It’s a way of showcasing how a confused teen deals with attraction he barely understands, it’s raw and animalistic in a way, but it’s so quirky that all it accomplishes is to remind me that I’m watching an lgbt show. It makes me wonder if a scene like this would make sense in a straight relationship because here it seems to highlight how different and primal his attraction is. If I had to pinpoint it, I’d say that I have a problem with media showcasing queerness though peculiar, purposefully awkward scenes like these instead of normal kissing and cuddling.

Overall, I can’t wait to see how this show ends and I still think it’s one of the best bls to air in 2020, if not ever. It’s refreshing to see something with a big budget used well! So far my rating is 8/10, which I know is a lot lower than what everyone else seems to think but it’s still very much subject to change! Just hoping they won’t pull a Make our days count, but I doubt they’ll go there.

And now Gaya sa pelikula. Wow. Again, I knew next to nothing about this show before watching, and I was coming from a 3 hour I told sunset about you binge watch, so the bar was pretty high.

And boy, did this show deliver. I was blown away by the depth and the humor of it. It feels like the writers had fun taking all sorts of common tropes and stereotypes just to show everyone how well they can be evolved and made complex. Two strangers who somehow find themselves sharing an apartment sounds like the start of so many fanfictions out there, but it’s so well executed and interesting that you don’t even stop to think about how weak the premises for their meeting are. It doesn’t matter and it’s not even that far-fetched, either. The sister and the neighbor are also two characters that start off as extra stereotyped, but in just a few scenes they unveil an incredible depth and backstory. It blew me away.

Each character is so realistic. Everything they do and say makes sense, they all have their reasons and their past and they react accordingly, it’s so coherent. It’s impressive how everything takes place inside the house and you barely realize it because things happen and the plot moves anyways, and the way information about external events and people is conveyed is so seamless that you don’t even notice it. In only 7 episodes (so far) they have managed to give everyone a complex background and personality through the use of objects and small details and wow don’t get me started on the music.

The soundtrack is SO GOOD. I never really pay attention to music in shows but it plays a very important role here in my opinion and, well, it’s exactly the kind of music I like listening to and ahhh I just spent 4 hours playing the first kiss song on loop so I might be biased. Right from the start in episode 1, when Karl gives in to Vlad’s music and starts dancing to it, it’s established that it’s an important element to the mood of each scene. I love how the dancing I talked about for I told sunset about you comes back here, but while I saw it as a hesitant dancing around each other there, here it’s the opposite, it’s freeing and it’s about accepting yourself. And the end of episode 6 highlights this, with the beautiful quote “You are entitled to a love that lets you dance without fear and shame.” It made me cry a looooot.

I think the development of their relationship is masterfully done. It doesn’t happen too quickly nor too slowly. Karl goes through some needed shocks that act as his wake up call. When I’m watching bl shows I care the most about them feeling real and relatable. I don’t want to feel like they were written by a straight person trying to guess what it’s like to be gay. Now I didn’t look anything up about the Gaya sa pelikula writers, but I’d be very surprised if they were straight. I can relate to both Karl and Vlad for different aspects of their stories and their worries and thoughts. There was one part in particular that hit so close that I had to take a few breaks because it hurt too much. I am a lesbian, I’ve had relationship with a girl that lasted over a year, I am out to some friends but not all. I never came out to my parents, who are both very open minded and friends with a lot of gay people and would love me just as much if I told them, and yet I can’t. It’s not just that, I am terrified by the idea of them already knowing or being able to guess. When Karl freaked out over his uncle guessing, it hit me so hard because I’ve felt the same way so many times.

Episode 7 was amazing. I hate badly written drama the most, and 99% of shows can’t come up with any good reason for drama but they have to put it in there anyways and it sucks. This was the complete opposite, I adored it and I say this as a lover of fluff. It feels right, I think it’s an issue that would come up between two people like them. They are both right and the only thing that could happen there is what actually went down. I definitely think things will be fixed by the end and I am looking forward to it, but I am very glad this issue was included because it’s so important and so true to many lgbt people’s lives.

Another aspect I absolutely adored are the multiple references to lgbt theory and language, and Vlad has some of the best lines I’ve ever heard coming from a bl. When he tells Karl not to be afraid of the word, when he explains that “you don’t look gay” isn’t a compliment, when he scolds his sister for not acknowledging the things she used to say to him by covering them up with her ally act, those are all such important and educative moments that I hope everyone listens to. I love that Vlad is not correcting some ignorant bad guy, but it’s his accepting and loving friends and family that make the mistakes, because sometimes being supportive your own way isn’t enough if you’re not actively learning from the ones you want to support.

This is a 10/10 for me right now. I can’t find anything I don’t like about it. It never feels boring, it never feels overdone, it never feels cheap or unoriginal. It went straight to the top of my favorite bls.

And now I can’t help but compare the two a bit, because yes they are two different shows but right now the relationships they portray have reached the same point: there has been a climax and now the one who is more confused about his sexuality is panicking and taking a step back. It’s a coincidence that I watched both shows on the same day when their last aired episodes end in such a similar way, but it really leads me to compare the two. I don’t want to put them one against each other or say which one did it better because that’s not the point of this, they are both two amazing and important shows who are excelling in what they’re doing. 

Gaya sa pelikula is down to earth, it’s explicit and it’s straight to the point in explaining what’s going on inside each character’s head. It feels like watching real people deal with real struggles. I told sunset about you is a lot more subtle and quiet, and since we don’t really have a clear insight in the characters’ heads sometimes it’s hard to completely understand what’s going on with them. It’s a completely different way of narrating, and while Gaya sa pelikula makes me feel like I’m a part of the events, I told sunset about you feels like I’m just spectating from an outside perspective. They are different choices, but one of them ends up feeling a lot more emotional to me than the other.

To wrap it up, I highly recommend both shows and I can’t wait to see how they’ll end! They are both among the best shows of the year, both free of all those annoyingly stereotyped characters and plot points that most bls tend to overuse.

[blessedarethebinarybreakers]

Hi this may not be new to everyone but I was recently introduced to the concept of questioning God. I was raised with the idea that you do not question Them bc who do we think we are to question God, and to question Them is to lack faith. I'm still trying to wrap my head round this new idea so sorry if this sounds really silly and naive but why would we want to question God? And is questioning God=lack of faith? Sorry if this was messily worded

Hey there, anon! When you’ve been raised never to question God, the idea of questioning them can be kind of scary -- but hopefully you will find it to be freeing and empowering and enriching, too! 

Now, I think most Christians would ascribe to some sort of “who are we to question God?” type mindset, as you name. I think I probably do, insofar as that means I tend to understand God as omniscient; I do believe that God’s answers and God’s will are Right and Just, are Correct, and that I don’t really have any hope of “proving God wrong.” But even so, it’s not a failure of faith to question anyway! As this post will assert, questioning is a healthy and powerful part of faith. 

For in questioning God, in going on a journey of reflection and asking God what the heck is up, I will learn and grow -- I will discover what God’s will truly is, and just why it is Right and Just. And I will grow deeper in relationship with God on the way. 

___________

(Before expounding on all of that, I want to add that there may well be some Christians who do believe that God might could be proven wrong -- or at least that God is open to learning and changing God’s mind! Diversity of faith and interpretation is valuable and worthy of respect. 

After all, there are stories in scripture where God changes Hir mind -- Xe is convinced by Abraham not to destroy Sodom and Gomorrah if even just 10 righteous people live there; and by Moses to spare the people of Israel. 

And then there is one of my favorite stories from the life of Jesus, i.e. God Incarnate, where he seems to get schooled by a Canaanite or Syrophoenician woman. I’ve got a sermon on this very story and what it might mean about God’s relationship with us as one open to give-and-take, growth and change! 

If I’m not mistaken, a faith that makes room for the possibility of God changing God’s mind is more similar to most Jewish persons’ beliefs about God than a “God is always right. period.” type mentality. Anyway, back to the main point of this post!)

___________

Questioning God does not = a lack of faith. After all, countless faithful figures in scripture asked questions of God, from Moses to Habakkuk, from the psalmist to Jesus himself. See this post for examples!

In fact, many say that questioning God is actually evidence of a deep and vibrant faith. (Again, this idea is a Big Deal for our Jewish neighbors.) 

If you dare to question, if you spend time and energy pondering hard topics and you engage with God as you do so, that’s a sign that you care. That you want to know what is true about God, what is true about God’s will for us. You’re not willing to swallow lies or submit to easy answers. That’s powerful faith. As Rachel Held Evans puts it in her book Inspired,

“If I’ve learned anything from thirty-five years of doubt and belief, it’s that faith is not passive intellectual assent to a set of propositions. It’s a rough-and-tumble, no-holds-barred, all-night-long struggle, and sometimes you have to demand your blessing rather than wait around for it.”

___________

Now, saying all this stuff about faith probably requires a redefining of faith. If you’ve grown up being told that faith is as simple as believing in God, as not doubting God’s existence or God’s will, all of this stuff about faith being a struggle or a conversation with God or any of that doesn’t make much sense. So here are some quotes + places you can go to explore new meanings of just what faith is:

“The opposite of faith is not doubt, it’s certainty -- because what need do the certain have for faith?” - Science Mike, The Liturgists. 

"The opposite of faith is not doubt, but certainty. Certainty is missing the point entirely. Faith includes noticing the mess, the emptiness and discomfort, and letting it be there until some light returns." - Anne Lamott, Plan B: Further Thoughts on Faith

It can also be helpful to understand faith not as an achievement, but as a gift -- not something we earn, but are given freely. See this post. 

The idea of faith being a journey with ups and downs, and doubt not being faith’s enemy but a healthy part of it, can be explored in this posts + the posts linked in that one.

I find Barbara Brown Taylor’s discussions of a full solar faith vs. a lunar faith in her book Learning to Walk in the Dark very helpful when discussing a relationship with God that allows us to bring Her all our questions and doubts and messy emotions. I described her idea of the perils of a full-solar faith in which we cannot question God and must act happy & thankful all the time in this older post.

____________

Okay. Let’s get to the part of asking questions of God that excites me the most -- using our questions as a way to enrich our relationships with God!

God longs for real, mutual relationships with us -- and that can’t happen if we are unquestioningly obedient, right? A relationship cannot be one-sided; it cannot be unbalanced; it must involve a willingness on both sides to hear the other out. It must allow for vulnerability, for confusion, for communication. 

In asking questions of God, we can grow in relationship with Them. And we will be following in a long tradition of good and faithful people who have done the same! 

Here’s a quote on how sharing our questions and frustrations with God can actually deepen our relationship with them:

"My favorite Quaker example of this willingness to confront God is a story told by a woman who was so frustrated with her life she began berating God. For nearly an hour, she told God how pissed off she was with Him. Finally, her anger subsided and she heard a “still, small voice” whisper to her: “Finally, we can have an honest relationship.”"

- Anthony Manousos

And another quote about how letting God in on our anger or frustration towards Them is an important part of being honest and connecting with Them:

“Is it ever acceptable to be angry at God? I would suggest that it is not only acceptable, it may be one of the hallmarks of a truly religious person. It puts honesty ahead of flattery.” - Harold S. Kushner

_____________

An additional reason we would want to question God is because sometimes, what we are really questioning is whether a certain thing we have been told is actually of God is or not. Often, when we question God what we’re really questioning is the ideas of God that have been fed to us by other human beings. 

For instance, if we have been told that the Bible holds nothing but God’s direct word and will, and then find passages that seem to promote harmful things like genocide or slavery, it is right and good and human to question whether such things are actually promoted by God! 

“Accepting the Bible’s war stories without objection threatened to erase my humanity. ‘We don’t become more spiritual by becoming less human,’ Eugene Peterson said. How could I love God with all my heart, soul, mind, and strength while disengaging those very faculties every time I read the Bible?” - Rachel Held Evans, Inspired

Or if we’ve been told that LGBT relationships are not God’s will, but then we see such relationships bearing good fruit while the repression of an LGBT identity bears bad fruit, it’s sensible and good to question what God’s will in this matter really is.

"If same-sex relationships are really sinful, then why do they so often produce good fruit—loving families, open homes, self-sacrifice, commitment, faithfulness, joy? And if conservative Christians are really right in their response to same-sex relationships, then why does that response often produce bad fruit—secrets, shame, depression, loneliness, broken families, and fear?" - Rachel Held Evans

For more on this element of questioning God that is more about questioning scripture or certain church teachings / leaders, see my “Framework for Interpreting Scripture” page on my website. 

_________

I’ll close by commending to you my #wrestling God tag. There you will see many examples of faithful people asking God questions, bringing their difficult emotions and their doubts to God, and even getting snarky with God! For instance, a post with verses expressing anger or confusion towards God.

Finally, if you dive into what it means to ask questions of God, things might get overwhelming for a while -- some people find that taking these steps causes them to feel like everything they thought they know about God has changed. If that happens to you, I’ve got a post that aims to guide you through some steps to getting to know God again. 

Best of luck to you, anon, as you continue your faith journey! Please let me know if you have any more questions as you go! 

[subtlereferencetomyinterests]

Communication Issues (AT:TTSIMBCMEOAYSFIL)- Chapter Three

Ao3,   MasterPost,   Chap.1,   Chap.2

Relationships: Eventual Romantic Analogince, Romantic Prinxiety, implied background Moceit

Warnings: Misunderstandings, Miscommunication, Self-isolation, Arguments, Unintentional Emotional Repression, Body Horror (in the form of Remus being Remus!), swearing, some small descriptions of pain, self-deprecations. There’s some fluff in the middle cuz I’m not pure evil, but this is pretty angsty :3 (I promise it’ll have a happy ending u just gotta wait ok). Remus uses it/its here, and is also aromantic.

Word Count: 8,167

Now, dramatism isn’t one of your functions, so you like to think that you’re being entirely  reasonable when you say that you’d rather die than inform your closest friends that you’ve grown to love them a bit more than platonically. 

And yet, here they are. Sitting on your couch, in your cluttered room, staring up at you with expectation in their eyes. They’re waiting, Logan. You didn’t actually expect to avoid this forever, did you?

Maybe you did, but it wouldn’t be the first time you’ve been wrong.

But you digress: you owe them the explanation they came here for. And as you open your mouth to speak, your voice is not nearly as measured as you’d like it to be. 

“As I said before, It was never my intention for you to think I did not want to see you- that is to say, it simply wasn’t feasible, given- well- there were certain complications, you see…”

Virgil narrows his eyes, bemusedly, from his contorted position across the arm and top cushion of your couch. 

“What kind of complications?”

You look at the carpet, but it doesn’t offer much visual stimuli. You look up at the ceiling, but the angle makes your neck ache. You settle your eyes on your bookshelf instead, studying the multi-colored covers of novels that span the length of the entire opposite wall. 

“...Complicated ones.”

Virgil snorts, a sound that usually has you thinking about just how adorable he can be, but the sound is devoid of humor in its current form. 

“Care to elaborate, Teach?” Roman inquires, his legs folded comfortably under himself as he watches you. He’s managed to keep himself pretty still and quiet, though you aren’t sure if that’s attributed to his current restraint or the effects of your room.

  You push your glasses up on your nose. They fall back to their original position. You repeat this action almost compulsively. 

“It’s foolish- Very foolish. I know this is somewhat hypocritical of me, but I believe it is for the best that I do not burden you with it.”

“You aren’t a burden!” Roman squawks indignantly, in conjunction with Virgil snipping: “We’re well past that, buddy.”

You feel your face heat, embarrassingly enough. You aren’t sure why, but their instant and vehement defensiveness for you is a bit motivating. They… they won’t hate you for it. They might even understand, if you’re willing to be optimistic about this. 

“You could call it. Jealousy, I suppose.”

“Jealousy?” Roman scrunches his nose, uncomprehending.

“Yes- I know it isn’t exactly fair of me to feel this way, but it’s the unfortunate truth. I have noticed that the two of you have become much… closer, than you once were,” you see the two of them flush in embarrassment, which only serves to prove your point. “Rest assured, I’m very happy for the both of you and your bond. It’s just that I’ve realized that I have become essentially irrelevant, which I find to be… upsetting. And I know you both are far too kind and non-communicative to outright tell me this, thus I decided that I would take matters into my own hands by giving the two of you your much-needed space willingly.” 

You do not add that you’re also avoiding them because you can barely stomach being around their PDA. It seems unnecessary, and maybe a tad pathetic.

Virgil recovers from his embarrassment at your calling him out quickly enough, his abashment being engulfed by indignation. Oh, wonderful. They really can’t let up without a fight.

“What the hell are you talking about?” His anger is clear, but all three of you know that he’s only upset at the situation. 

“I would love to remain as your friends, of course, I only meant that it would be best if I didn’t interrupt you two-”

“Interrupt us?!” He’s very near shouting, leaping up from his seat and stalking towards you. He stops less than a foot away, and you try desperately not to recoil from him. 

“Yes,” you sound meek, don’t you? “It only made sense-”

He stares at you as though you’re an idiot. It’s a despicable look, but when you turn your attention to Roman for a reprieve, his expression is no different.

And then they- oh, what they do next brings you more pain than any expression ever could. It starts quiet, like they’re trying to hold it at bay, but their resolves crack and crumble. 

They laugh. They’re laughing at you. 

You shouldn’t have let them in- not into your room, not into your head, not into your life at all. You should have known that when your genuine emotions came to light, they’d only find it humorous in the end. Because you, Logan- Logic, your ‘feelings’- they’re hilarious. They are nonsensical and hardly befitting a being such as yourself, yet you have them! And you actually began to speak about them! What a comedic situation. You’re a fool in every sense of the word- both a jester and an idiot. 

They aren’t even laughing that hard, but to you each small sound reads as a raucous, villainous cackle that tears apart your skin and leaves you raw. Roman’s head is tipped back and he appears to be shaking with amusement; Virgil is trying to press his lips together and stifle his chuckling, but he’s doing a poor job of it.

Something writhes in you, much uglier than your shame or guilt. It squirms beneath the layers of your skin and runs up and down your spine, tensing your muscles with its electricity. It’s fury, burning nearly as bright as your face surely must be with this humiliation. 

How could they, tricking you into caring for them, convincing you to help them and support them, only to then heckle you when you hand them your trust. It was such a fragile thing already- which you know is preposterous, trust isn’t tangible, but in this moment it feels quite like a cracked window finally shattering to useless shards.

“Out.”

Virgil is startled into silence immediately; Roman makes a strangled sort of sound as he stops laughing.

“What?” They chorus, both looking ready to contradict you with drawn out and over-emotional arguments. 

You won’t give them that satisfaction.

“Get. Out. Of my. Room,” your shaking speech is blanketed in monotone; it’s like a towel thrown over a forest fire; it won’t last long.

Their eyes widen comically. They speak all over each other, clamoring to explain or excuse their actions, but to you the pleading is naught but white noise. 

You gave them a chance to leave of their own volition, but if they’re so keen on remaining a nuisance, then fine. You huff a sigh, turning your back to Roman and Virgil. With a snap, their chatter cuts off unceremoniously, and you are left cold and lonely. 

When you turn around, they’re gone.

<<<???>>><<<???>>><<<???>>>

You don’t get a chance to react before you’re thrown upwards through the floor of your bedroom. You land in an unceremonious heap, half-on and half-off of your bed, losing your balance almost immediately and toppling to the floor. Rising up makes you dizzy enough as it is, but being forced away from somewhere makes you want to vomit. 

You pull yourself up from the ground, holding your head in your hands until the world stops spinning. As soon as your brain gets working again, you can hear thunderous footfalls out in the hall. They stomp right past your door and down the hall. There’s a series of loud thumps, rattles, and shouts, before whoever it is retraces their steps.

You walk to your door as if on autopilot, opening it just as Roman was about to knock. He’s panting, distressed. 

“We fucked up,” he says.

“Yeah,” you pull him inside, slamming the door behind him, “We did.”

“I didn’t mean to, you know that right? I wasn’t laughing at him, I wouldn’t, alright?” Roman spirals, “He thinks I did! It was just ridiculous, was all! To think that we don’t want him around- to think-”

He curls into himself. You catch his hand before he can press it against his chest, unfolding him. You hold his wrist and rub little patterns into the back of his hand.

“Ro, hey.”

He glances up at you, wild-eyed. Eyeshadow is already creeping its way down his face.

“Why don’t we talk about this in your room instead, hm?” 

He nods, shaking, with a small mutter of ‘right, right’. You nod back, holding onto him just tight enough that your claws don’t quite dig in. 

You materialize in Roman’s room, dragging him along with you. Almost immediately a fierce pulse of energy overwhelms you. You stagger in shock, but Roman doesn’t even blink at the force. He pulls away from you and falls upon his massive, plush, circular canopy bed with a despairing whine. You can’t really blame him. 

The Creative power of this room takes its effects on you faster than any other side’s abilities could- you really wonder how Roman is so used to it. You sit on the bed beside him, intending to comfort him as he buries himself further into his hoard of pillows. But then, you can’t. You can’t sit down. Far too much troubled excitement is pooling in your stomach; far too many ideas and thoughts are running through your head, and the loudest of them are desperate appeals to start fixing this mess.

Anxiety and Creativity wouldn’t theoretically mix well, but that’s just the thing about theories. They’re often wrong, so very wrong or crackpot or conspiratorial. The truth of it is Creativity and Anxiety work together wonderfully, both as concepts and as actual, metaphysical creatures. You’ve known this, even if you won’t admit it, since you were all teenagers. But only now does it hit you just how much Roman’s abilities can do for you. It takes all of your energy, all that pent-up fear and frustration from what’s just happened, and it gives you the tools to actually use it for something.

It also makes you, ya know. Just a little recklessly confident.

“Alright, Princey, get up.”

He whines again, shifting his head just enough to glare at you.

“I’m wallowing in self-pity! For the reason that one of my dearest friends thinks me a- a bully! How are you not freaking out about this?”

“Honestly?” You wrap your hands around his wrist again, pulling him into a ragdoll-ish sitting position, “I’ve got no idea. Mentally I think I’m in the fifth dimension or some shit, so we gotta work this out quick before I come back down and really lose my mind.”

He grumbles, but you see him biting back an amused smile. Flopping his legs over the edge of the bed and making no movement to stand, Roman narrows his eyes up at you. 

“Alright, alright. We need to give that conversation another go, I know that, but we should give Logan some space first. He’s unlikely to hear us out now. You know how headstrong he is when he gets… like this.”

You nod, vacantly, because you're already three steps ahead of where he is in the conversation. 

“Yeah, good point. More time.”

“Right,” Roman draws the word out, looking at you strangely, “So why aren’t you moping with me?”

You pull the reins of your practically palpable energy enough to sit down, right next to him.

“We obviously have to work out this-” you gesture between yourself and Roman, “-before we can really talk to Logan,” once the sentence is out of your mouth you wish you could swallow back the ‘obviously’, because Roman is usually slow on the uptake and you’d never intentionally make fun of that. But he does nothing more than scrunch his face up in exaggerated confusion, the pink tint to his face giving away that he must have at least some idea what you’re implying. 

“What- what do you mean by that? The two of us already get along famously!”

“I think you know that’s not what I meant. You’re using your stage voice. You always do that when you lie.”

“Who are you- Janus?” He cough-laughs awkwardly, breaking eye-contact with you. You’re surprised that you’re holding up any better than him, but your strongest reaction at the moment is a mild blush and some prickling at your skin. 

It is for these reasons that you both love and hate Creative-Mode Virgil. He is a very productive and efficient version of you, but his propensity for acting bold and impulsive makes you want to strangle him. Him being you, of course.

“Look, Logan was wrong to think that he was a third wheel, or whatever, but I’m pretty sure he was right about the… closeness with us, I guess.”

Roman’s staring at you with wide eyes, a deep red flushing him from his ears right across his nose and cheeks. He’s clearly trying to smile, but it’s coming out awkwardly strained, almost twisted sideways. There’s a second when the anxiety rushes back to you in a wave of oh no you misread this so fucking bad of course he doesn’t feel that way about you you’re his best friend whatthehellwereyouthinkingVirgil- and it almost wins you over, but you’re in Roman’s Room. And that doesn’t just mean motivation and creativity. 

Your paranoid thoughts could never beat what’s ingrained into you as a fact. You can feel the romantic tension, almost like it’s a physical presence in the room. Maybe it is. A part of you- most of you, in fact- still wants to convince you that you’re doing something wrong. But it’s getting harder and harder to believe the longer you sit here, knowing that these emotions you feel aren't entirely your own. 

“Virgil,” he breathes, and you can feel it on your skin- when did you get so close?

“We don’t have to do anything about this,” you start to backpedal, but you don’t move away from him, “Not if you don’t want to, yet. I just… we had to talk about it, I think.”

“So you…?”

The hesitance in his voice destroys your resolve. You reach out, tucking up both of his hands in your own. 

They’re warm. 

“Yeah, I- yeah.”

He surveys you for far too long; it’s hard not to squirm. You let him watch you, though, just so he can find whatever it is he’s looking for in your expression. When he does, it only draws him in nearer.

“You and Logan are right. I love you, V.” 

You try not to smile. It doesn’t work. 

“I figured.”

He huffs at you, shoving you, but he’s grinning widely. You roll your eyes at him. You don’t speak for a while, holding your tongue for as long as you can- but you really need to say it. Just so he knows.

“I love you back, though. Or- something like that, I don’t know…”

Roman laughs outright at that, tossing his head back. You can already feel the energy you were given twisting into an entirely contradictory exhaustion. Because of that, you don’t even try to pretend to be annoyed; you just watch, fondly. 

When he’s settled, that amused look turns sharply to worry. 

“So now what?”

You pause, running your thumb over his knuckles as you think the question over. 

“Logan?” 

“Yeah, that.”

“Well, like you said, we give him some space.”

“And then?”

You glance up at Roman for confirmation, but you don’t need to. Like you said, you can feel it; his room is a pretty big snitch. 

“We tell him we love him.” 

 You let yourself forget about what happened, just for the afternoon. It’s hard, but what choice do you have? It’s out of your hands for now. And, while usually that makes you even more nervous, you manage to force yourself into the shape of something vaguely undaunted. After all, if you can’t tell Logan just how much you care about him, you can still remind Roman. 

In your own way, of course. 

“Hey,” you mutter, for what must be the millionth time that evening. Roman turns his attention away from the vent-art he’s working on, glancing at you.

“Yes, Knightmare?” He asks, but the tired and affectionate smile on his face says that he already knows your game. Damn, and here you were thinking you were subtle. (not.)

“Mmh,” you press your face into the side of his neck, leaving a few miniscule kisses to the skin there. Your arms are twined around his waist, a position that bordered on- oh, who are you kidding, it’s exceptionally clingy.

The embarrassment that you feel from so openly displaying such sappy, disgusting affection is overturned, however slightly, by the quiet laugh and kiss to the top of your head that Roman returns to you for your efforts. You hide your smile in the crook of his neck.

You continue to shower Roman with attention for a minute or so, covering his face with little pecks and pressing yourself against him, before leaning back a few inches. You sigh. He resumes his work, resting his back against your chest as he does so. 

You will let him continue to draw for ten or so minutes. You will ask for his attention again, and he’ll give it to you with a slightly wider smile than the last time you did it- that smile grows exponentially, but only by tiny increments.

You’ll kiss him all up his neck and the side of his face, hug him even tighter, listening to him laugh in a much too relieved voice before you let up once more.

And he’ll be a little more sure of you each time. A little more sure that you two can do this together. 

<<<???>>><<<???>>><<<???>>>

You are not a patient entity when it comes to the things you want. You are, in the best of cases, the exact opposite. This gets about One Million Billion times worse when the one thing that you want is to declare your love for someone, and said someone hasn’t left his room even once in six days.

Virgil, Patton, and Janus (once you’d relayed the situation to the latter two) have essentially been keeping you on a leash at all times of the day- or night- to make absolutely sure that you don’t break Logan’s door down. Which- to be fair- you wouldn’t put it past yourself to do that, but still. 

But even with the distraction of a new boyfriend (boyfriend!!!!) and those two overbearingly caring friends of yours, you are still Physically Unable to Not Do Anything currently. And, you suppose if you can’t break Logan’s door down, you might as well try that idea out on someone who wouldn’t bat an eye at such an, ah, intrusion seems to be the fitting word. 

“Uurghhhhh!”

You drop yourself face first onto Remus’ bed in your usual melodramatic fashion, immediately regretting it because fuck that smells horrid. When was the last time it washed its sheets?

Probably never, actually. You sit up.

Your sibling is sitting cross-legged on its desk, working on something that’s got a good deal of goop and limbs. It looks up at you blankly. 

“Ro? What the hell are you doing in here?” It doesn’t sound angry, just very, very surprised. 

“My life is ending.”

“Fun! Does that mean I get full creative control?”

“No! And it’s not fun, you animal!” 

It scrutinizes you, setting its strange arthropodic creation down on the desk. You lean back when it leans forwards.

“Wow, shit must be really bad if you’ve decided to come here!”

You nod, miserably. 

“Okay,” it claps its hands together, standing up only to fall against the bed beside you. It’s half-sitting, half-laying; the way it twists all its limbs up can not be comfortable. “What’s going on?”

You glare at it, but you aren’t sure why. Probably just because it is there and you need something to glare at while you talk. 

“It’s Logan…” You trail off, waiting for Remus to catch on. It takes its time thinking, even more expressionless than before. 

“You know why he hasn’t left his room in days? I tried to check on him but he barely told me anything. Just said he was tired, and ‘thanks for the concern’,” it says at last, catching you off-guard.

“You mean you haven’t heard? I would’ve thought Patton or Janus might have told you.”

It taps its claw to its chin a couple of times, thoughtful. The implication clicks just a second later, apparently, because it lets out a whining groan and drags its hands down its face.

“Oh, not that. I can’t do anything if it’s that!” It exclaims, “Yeah, they did mention it, but I guess I just tune that kind of thing out,” it pauses, “...It’s because you and Vee are fucking now, right?”

You flush, embarrassment and indignation welling up at the back of your throat. You bat Remus’ shoulder, bristly as a thornbush.

“No, we aren’t- I mean, not yet- I mean, that’s none of your business!”

“You did kinda come to me for help, though, so it actually is.”

You glower, refusing to justify that with a response. It rolls its eyes at you, turning over so that it’s flat on its back with its upper half hanging off the bed.

“It’s your bad to come to me for romance advice. You couldn’t have asked literally anyone else- yourself, for example?” It fusses with its talons as it rants, snapping off a couple of nails absentmindedly, “It’s not even the fun kind of gross.”

You can’t believe you’re considering saying it. You won’t! You shouldn’t! You refuse!

“...Please?” Oh fuck, you’ve done it now.

Remus pulls its head up slightly, a very smug grin across its face. Its teeth are horrendously crooked and yellow-stained, looking much too big and sharp to fit into its mouth. 

“Awww, you’re begging? God, you’re so desperate.”

It’s very difficult to resist the urge to push it off the bed. But you are a pillar of restraint today, because it’s not entirely wrong about that, and you still need it to help you.

“Look, it’s too personal to my own life for my abilities to do me any good. And Virgil can’t talk about it- he’s way too frazzled to even think about it, the poor thing. Plus, Patton and Janus aren’t… great… at things,” that’s a very soft way of putting: the former gets much too emotionally invested and the latter is entirely snarky and unhelpful. “So I came here. I think a more, erm, detached point of view could help.”

Remus hums at that. 

“I guess there’s nothing more detached from romantic issues than someone who’s never had any- you’ve come to the right place in that case.”

“So you’ll help?” 

Remus slides slowly forward until it’s landing in a heap on the ground, various crunching noises resulting from the impact. It huffs, lifts itself up to rest its chin on the edge of the bed, and stares at you unblinkingly.

“You’re not allowed to tangent about how pretty his eyes are or how much you love his voice, or anything like that, got it? Otherwise, I will puke, and probably into your mouth just to shut you up.”

You gag, perhaps a bit exaggeratedly.

“That’s vile!”

“Thank you! Now, bitch to me about your problems before I get bored.”

You look down to your lap, winding and unwinding your fingers repetitiously. You think about the past couple of days; in many aspects, it’s been wonderful. Virgil actually wants to be your boyfriend! And that’s what he is now! Of course, you both are just as cuddly as ever, but now you don’t have to worry about holding back. That’s been an amazing relief.

But there’s always that little thing missing, holding you back from being content completely. You want to give Logan his space, truly you do, but every day you feel a little more distant from him. A little further from being able to fix things. It’s familiar in all the worst ways.

You blink rapidly, remembering where you are before the emotions overcome you. With a shaky breath, you begin to speak. It’s just a summary at first, but then you can’t help but give Remus your most detailed accounts of, well, everything. 

You gauge its reaction intensely, but it’s as inscrutable as ever. You finish the tale hurriedly, expectant for some sort of response from the creature across from you.

There is an intolerable silence as you practically see the gears turning in Remus’ brain, which is funny because you thought Octopuses were supposed to have nine of them. You have no idea what it’s using all the other ones for, if that’s the case.

“You laughed at him,” it smirks when it speaks, sounding out the words slowly. You scoff.

“We were laughing at the situation! We didn’t mean it to seem that way. It was just bad timing! ”

It cackles at you, sitting back on its legs and tossing its head back. It sounds like a shrieking kettle.

“No wonder he’s so pissed! He thinks you think his feelings are a joke! His whole deal is not wanting to be that. That’s, like, his big thing.”

You’d… sort of figured that’s what happened, but hearing it out loud still stings. To think you’d done that to him. He was getting so much better with his feelings, but you had to go and ruin it. 

“I already know that I- we-” mental filtering, Roman, “We caused the issue. I wanted to know how to fix it.”

Remus stops laughing as suddenly as it’d started, looking at you with all the sincerity of, perhaps, someone capable of being serious. 

“Corner him,” it answers simply.

“Excuse me?”

“Corner him. Your first mistake was that you went to him in his room, which meant he could just throw you out of there. He’s stubborn, right? Plus, he thinks you were making fun of him. He’s not gonna come out to have a civilized conversation on his own, cuz he’s a dumbass, so I don’t think more space is gonna help you out here. Lure him out! Tie him up, if it’ll make him listen!” Remus pauses thoughtfully, “Orrrrr you could try amputating his legs entirely, but he’ll probably grow them back. He’s annoying like that.”

You choose to ignore the last suggestion, focusing instead on its main point. 

“Are you sure that won’t make things worse?”

“Define ‘worse’ for me, in terms of right now, currently, in here on this day.”

“Good point.”

Remus nods to itself, standing up from the floor and stretching its arms above its head. Its shoulders dislocate, but it pops them back into their sockets once its done. This almost feels like the conclusion of the conversation, but you get the impression that it’s taking its time to piece together a sentence with a little more finality.

“He was obviously crazy about you two before, which means he probably still is. He’s also a sad little shit, though.”

You move to stand as well, curling your fingers against themselves again.

“You really think so?”

“Oh, I have no idea. That’s your department, remember? Now, get out of my room; no alloromantics allowed after-” it checks the time, clearly making the rule up on the spot, “Five twenty-six P.M.” 

“Fine, fine, I can take a hint,” you place your hands on your hips, feeling just a little more confident in the wake of this talk.

“‘Hint’? I explicitly told you to leave.”

You grumble at Remus, but make your way to the door nonetheless. It turns back to its desk, grabbing for a jar that seems to be filled with insect legs. It’s immediately refocused into whatever strange creatures it was working on, pulling them apart and shoving them back together. You let the affronted look fall from your face, replaced by a small, fond smile.

“Thanks, Re.”

It glances back at you, briefly.

“Yeah, yeah, it’s nothing…” it pauses, its hands stilling. “Good luck.”

“Thank you,” you say, earnestly.

You leave, letting it get back to its work. 

 The hallway smells like a fucking Macy’s compared to Remus’ room. Jesus Christ, it’s a relief. 

You shut the door behind you with a soft click, leaning back against it with a deep, shuddering sigh. It’s been a long week. 

Ah, and just on time, as if to prove your point, there’s a gravelly shout and a thump from downstairs. You draw yourself to attention, shaking the slump from your shoulders. You flit through the narrow hall to the top of the stairs, listening carefully for an issue to resolve or an unseemly beast to slay. A prince must protect his subjects, after all.

For a few seconds, all you can hear below is frantic whispering. You set a foot on the top step, but you don’t get the chance to descend.

Virgil is there like a flash of lightning, speeding up the stairs and heading right for you. 

You startle, spiraling back to escape his path, but it’s futile. He catches you at the top, sending you both crashing into the opposite wall. Pain shoots up your back at the impact, as well as sparking in your shoulders where his claws are gripping you. You hiss, the sound dying when you meet his eyes. 

They’re bright. No, glowing. No, seeping- their color is seeping into the world around them, curling in little streaks of murky green and violet around Virgil’s face. 

He speaks, but it’s without distortion. It’s clear and crisp. It isn’t quite anxiety that’s consuming him this way, no, it’s something much more powerful.

“Roman,” he takes your hand in a fervent grip, “Ro, it’s Logan.”

You blink, and before you really know what you’re doing, you're already halfway downstairs.

<<<???>>><<<???>>><<<???>>

Light, sparse taps are turned out against the solid wood door. The sounds, however small, echo throughout this packed little room.

Your fingers stall above the laptop’s keyboard, and for a fraction of a second frustration overcomes you. It’s gone as soon as it comes, replaced unceremoniously by numbness. This is a minor inconvenience to your work, but not much else. Thankfully, you are not one to dwell on it; after all this time, you are finally in complete control of your faculties and your emotions. 

The knock returns, more sure of itself as it hits against the surface. Bemusedly, you wonder why on earth they’re still bothering- but, that isn’t them, it belatedly occurs to you. The rhythm isn’t that of some showtune or another, nor is it harsh and pounding.

You aren’t sure how many days it’s been since you’ve heard that particular sound. You aren’t sure… What day is it?

Well, regardless, you’ve been jarred from your work. You could ignore it and continue on- you’d likely forget it soon enough- but the fact that you recognize the presence specifically as Patton stops that idea in its tracks. He’s sensitive, an overthinker to an extreme degree. He could entirely misconstrue it as a dislike of his company if you were to not respond, unlike a flippant Remus or a collected Janus. And, well…

You’re over it. You’ve been over what Roman and Virgil did to you. But even though you very much are, it’s still perfectly reasonable to not want to be near them. There would be nothing to gain from talking to them, and you’d like to spare yourself the headache. But, you digress; Patton was not a part of what transpired. He would not do that to you, and therefore he is not an impediment to your work. Looking at it rationally, he is in fact a great source of comfo- help, for you. 

With this in mind you stand, making your way across the room. You stagger when you walk, like something’s pulling you in different directions. Odd. The feeling is somewhere in your head, sinking down your vertebrae, insisting that you need to remain in the sanctity of your room. If you leave, the pull suggests, then all your carefully built clarity of mind should become disrupted. How strange for such a convincing conviction to be so seemingly baseless, you reflect.

The knock returns, and that is of course a much more pressing issue. There’s a pull coming from there as well, only one much fiercer and easier to place. It’s the strongest thing you’ve experienced in some time, like someone’s arm around your waist, guiding you forwards (even if there isn’t anyone there, really). 

“Good afternoon,” you intone, drawing the door open with excessive force. Strange, again; maybe you had just forgotten how heavy it was. 

Patton stands across from you, shock written across his features with his fist still poised in the air, as though to knock again. He drops the hand quickly, reaching out instead with both arms while a grin consumes his face. But the limbs spasm concerningly, and stop. He sweeps his arms back and presses his balled hands tightly against his chest, still smiling at you, only a little more strained. His eyes are big, murky pools of color and emotion, raging and contradictory and impossible to make sense of. Even looking into them is overwhelming. 

“Hi, buddy,” he says it so quietly, but the actual words don’t matter. He says it with force, like perhaps he’s localized every emotion he’s ever felt entirely into his tone of voice.

You blink at him, an undefined question on your lips before that pull behind you turns into a sharp push, and before you know it you’re slumping forward into the hallway and out of your room. As you’re forced out, you narrowly avoid hitting the carpet. That’s thanks to Patton, who rushes forwards with a yelp, hauling you up into his sturdy arms with very little effort. 

The confusion you’d felt leaves you in a great big rush, replaced by fire. Your skin is consumed by burns at your friend’s touch- or at least it feels that way, but logically it cannot possibly be actual flame- but fuck logic because you’re on fucking fire.

It’s an all-consuming heat, but that’s hardly all it is. It’s breathing. Like you’d been holding your breath to the point of mad deliria and only now are you gasping in great, relieved breaths of clear air as some great and stifling weight is lifted from your lungs. It also feels like moving from an ice bath to a sauna all too quickly, giving you the greatest relief in conjunction with horrific pain. 

Oh. You’re crying. 

“Shh,” Patton whispers, as though this isn’t anything out of the ordinary, “It’s okay, it’s alright.”

You hold onto him hesitantly. Are you sitting? You think you must be, judging from this position.

“Do you need me to let go? Is it too much?”

You open your mouth to speak, and your voice is in perfect, frightening monotone.

“Yes, please.”

Patton draws back gently, just far enough so that you’re not touching. Big, crocodile tears crawl down your face still, but they begin to die down after a moment. You get your breathing under control, even if just barely.

“I didn’t want you to fall and get hurt,” Patton explains, “But I realize that making you touch a living vessel for emotion might’ve hurt, too, after- well, after that,” he gestures vaguely to your room, and then to yourself. You tilt your head in confusion.

“What-?” You look down at your arms, and the question dies on your lips.

It’s lifeless; corpse-like. The cold, slate-gray painted up your arms and probably across your whole body. The color looks sucked out of you, leaving only emptiness in its wake. The only sign that you’re a living being and not a husk, a shell, a piece of shed skin- other than the tremble of your frame- is the shocks of electric blue running up your body. They could be veins, if not for the fact that the lines were perfectly straight and geometrically cornered.

Patton reaches out, pensively, and presses a cautious finger against the back of your hand. At his touch, the spot bursts into life like watercolor on wet paper. Lively, peachy skin with cool undertones appears, before fading back to gray as Patton removes his finger. And it stings. 

You jump to your feet with a struggle, hardly registering when Patton follows your lead. You spin on your heel, staring through the open door and into your room. You can’t imagine entering it- just the feeling of being near it shortens your breath. It’s frigid, it’s hard and unshakeable and dark. It is completely and entirely devoid of emotion or life, and you hadn’t left that frozen hellscape in days.

It’s a wonder you can feel anything at all, after what you’ve done to yourself.

A shaking gasp rips out of your throat, and before you can think another panicked thought you jolt forward and wrench the door shut. You back away from it until your back hits the opposite wall.

“I- I didn’t realize I was doing it,” your words sound like pleas, falling from your mouth without your consent.

“I know,” Patton stands beside you, close enough to feel but not to burn.

“I didn’t mean to, I just-”

“I know.”

“I was doing better. I was doing so well, I was happy.”

He nods solemnly. 

You’ve been aware of the existence of your emotions, and relatively accepting of it, for a good deal of time. Hypocrisy is unsustainable. You can’t very well preach the negatives of repression on a weekly basis and then go on to practice it indefinitely. 

But what you are… everything that you encompass, everything that encompasses you, it makes it much too easy to slip up. To force out every pesky feeling in favor of more ‘important’ things. What it really is is a pitiful defense mechanism, unfortunately built deep into you by the purpose of your being. And it seems that your room can even do it without your knowledge.

“Logan?”

You look up, unsure if he can even see how miserable you are. Can you emote anymore? You try to frown, but your muscles are stuck like plastic.

“Why don’t we get you somewhere else and see if we can get some of the feeling back into ya, okay?”

You adjust your glasses once, then twice.

“Not your room, I would hope?”

“Oh, goodness,” he lets out a startled laugh, “Of course not, that would be way too much! I was thinking somewhere a little more, uhm, neutral?”

You perk up at that implication. You could just go to the common room, of course, but that’s hardly the only unaffected area in the Mindpalace. Your world isn’t quite real- and even if it is it’s extremely fluid and easy to influence- meaning you can make about just as many locations as any of you would like. Which includes structures ‘outside’ of your ‘house’.

An ill-defined existence like that might irk you, if you were in a philosophical mood. Thankfully, the only mood you’re in right now is sad. 

“Yes, I think a change of setting could be beneficial.”

Patton chirps happily, much like a tree frog, and makes to lead you downstairs. You follow close behind him, chasing that emotional high but still nervous of the pain that it could cause you. 

You’re on edge for reasons enough already. The idea that you could run into them is a prominent one that you’d rather not focus on. 

For a split second you think you might have to, though, because there’s someone sitting on the couch when you step down from the landing. Your breath catches in your throat, but then he looks up at you, heterochromic eyes wide with surprise, and you exhale steadily. 

“Hello, Janus.”

His eyebrows arch up at your greeting, perplexion in his smile. Appraisingly, he observes you, offering only a small wave. He addresses Patton when he speaks. 

“Well, Dear, it seems you were right to be concerned about him.”

Patton mutters something that you can’t quite make out, looking disconcerted. 

You’d be flushing indignantly, if you had the ability to. Your shoulders hunch up as you glance between your friends.

“You’ve been talking about me?” 

They both look acutely uncomfortable, exchanging looks. That’s answer enough for you, though. 

Oh, just look at yourself. You’re a spectacle now, aren’t you? Poor Logan, getting his metaphorical metaphysical heart broken, only for it to become the talk of the MindPalace for days on end as he relapses into repression. Isn’t it such a lovely thing for you to be? A piece of gossip. Entertainment.

Janus’ worry grows on his face, and soon he’s up from his spot and hastening towards you. You step back from him, trying to remember what glaring is meant to look like. He doesn’t invade your space again, but he just… stares at you. 

“Would you like to talk about it?” He asks. You can almost laugh at the question. 

“I’m sure you already know all about it, though, don’t you?”

Both of them are taken aback by your snapping. You regret it immediately; they haven’t done anything wrong, not really. They’re trying to help you, it isn’t their fault that they got caught up in your ‘tragic tale’. But your frustration is difficult to push down. You get the feeling that you can’t push anything down, without worrying that something will snap; it’s almost like an overworked muscle. 

“Whatever you think has been happening out here,” Janus speaks, even and slow, “It’s not that bad, alright?”

Patton nods along with him, and reaches towards you. He falters, eventually opting to hook a finger through the band of your watch instead. Your skin prickles, but there’s no pain. 

“C’mon, I was thinking we could try heading to the Clubhouse.”

That settles your anger, microscopically. You think Janus is being truthful, and Patton is nothing but consoling. And, of course, there’s the clubhouse…

You might not ever admit how much you like it. It’s been around since before you were around, back in the days of just Anxiety (the oldest), Creativities (tied for second), and a very newly formed Morality. Back when it was first made, it really was just a little child’s clubhouse, made primarily by Roman, with some disruptions by Remus, and small additions by a tiny Patton. It was probably the first neutral structure made up by the sides, as they had just begun to figure out their powers and the ‘world’ that they inhabited. Of course no one had the heart to get rid of it after that.

You give Patton a nod, angling your face so that it maybe looks like you’re smiling. He lets go of you, smiling back as he turns on his heel and heads for the door. You trail behind him, knowing that it must look very silly that you’re basically tailgating him. Janus follows you in turn, a few feet behind. He watches over the both of you protectively. 

You step out onto the lawn, hearing grass crunch beneath your shoes. The wind is particularly biting, and the sky above threatens a storm. You’re sure that the weather in the real world isn’t this chaotic, so someone in the mindscape must be sulking. You don’t mind; it’ll only make the warmth of the Clubhouse all the more pleasant. 

The Clubhouse has changed so much over the years that it’s unrecognizable as its original iteration. What once was a little stick-and-stone glorified fairy house is now a cottage-like building, one story high with a thickly thatched roof. Beside the door on either side are big bay windows, each made into little reading nooks. It’s essentially one big room, the outside painted with such vibrant pastels that it easily stands out against its surroundings.

The doors creak when Patton opens them, but not in a way that denotes damage or wear. It’s an old and comforting sound, one that comes from familiarity and consistent use. You step through the threshold, and affection floods your chest.

It isn’t large, but it’s well-equipped. There are ancient oaken tables stacked up with crafts materials, squashy bean bag chairs, and a bright rug or two thrown over the rustic hardwood floors. The nooks have pillows and blankets piled in them, looking like nests. There are bookshelves, art supplies, vinyl records (complete with a record player)- even some new-looking wall displays of preserved bugs and butterflies for decoration. To top it all off, fairy lights were strung across all the walls, making it all seem quite mystic. 

You find yourself taking another step inwards; the amenities are incredibly inviting. Everything here is inviting, and homey, and lived-in. The house itself almost feels alive, nonsensical as that is.

It’s no wonder this is everyone’s favorite.

Patton watches you patiently, his hand resting on the door handle. You take a deep breath, but you aren’t sure why you need it. You make your way to the perfume-y, floral print sofa against the wall to your right, treating everything around you rather reverently. When you sit, you sink down into the couch.

Patton sits a respectful distance from you. Janus strolls right after him, knocking the door shut with the back of his boot before settling in an armchair on the left of the couch.

There’s a comfortable silence, and you start to feel your numbness abate. With a contented sigh, your head falls back against the cushion and your eyes fall shut. Not in an effort to sleep. You’re just… resting. You breathe deeply, letting the atmosphere envelop you.

The corners of your mouth twitch up.

“Logan!” Patton squeaks, “Look!”

Your eyes blink open, mildly startled at the outburst. Patton’s gaze on you is intense, first focused on your face and then moving down your arms. You follow the look, to see your...

Your perfectly normal, flesh-colored arms. Your human-ish, mildly tan, average arms. You feel what you can now recognize as a smile grow wider on your face. 

“Well,” Janus chimes, “It seems you just needed a little break.”

“Maybe so,” your voice creaks from lack of use. You hadn’t even realized you’d been nonverbal since you’d last snapped at them. Neither had drawn attention to it, which you silently thank them for (they, after all, were all too familiar with the experience). 

“Do you feel good enough to talk about what’s been upsetting you?” Patton gently asks you. And you… don’t have an answer.

“What is there to talk about?” You tilt your head bemusedly. 

“I think he means, are you ready to talk to who’s been upsetting you?” Janus explains. Patton hesitates before nodding his agreement.

“I- what?” Your serenity leaves in a rush, replaced by astonishment and outrage, “You expect me to- to talk to them?”

You give them approximately three seconds to respond before plowing forwards with your rant.

“I’m talking to you both, isn’t that enough? You’ve done nothing to wrong me, of course. What does it matter if I don’t speak to those- those- those-”

Janus’ eyes expand to circles, the pupils shrinking to anxious slits.

“Those?” He prompts.

“Tricksters, betrayers, playactors, wolves- whatever you want to call them!” Where were vocab cards when you needed them? All your synonyms can’t carry the punch that you need them to. Insults aren’t much good if you have to explain them after. 

“No!” Patton practically screams, out of absolutely nowhere. You glance at him, stunned, to see him looking like a kicked puppy- er, froggy. He’s on the verge of tears, leaning towards you precariously, with devastation swirling in his big eyes. “This is why you need to talk to them, please, Logan.”

You are so very bewildered, you barely notice that Janus is standing from his chair until he’s already across the room. 

“As I said earlier: whatever you think happened, didn't. I can prove it, too,” he mutters, standing by the door.

“You weren't there, Janus,” you snap, "I tried to tell them how I felt and they- they laughed at me.”

“They didn't!” Patton squeaks. You shake your head frantically, still reeling.

“It was- it was awful, you can’t-”

“No,” Patton interrupts, “I meant that literally. They didn’t do that.”

This interaction is making your head spin with indignation. You are capable of immense patience when it comes to Patton- and Janus, for that matter- but this has become ridiculous. 

“I’m so tired of being made a mockery of, Patton. I won’t stand for it any longer, even if you’re just trying to help.”

He breathes in sharply, about to argue, but then his gaze catches on something behind you. His mouth stays open, but he’s soundless. You jump to your feet, spinning around to see just what he’s looking at.

The door is open. Janus is gone.

There's a shout from the main house.

Taglist: @shrimp-crockpot @glitter-skeleton-uwu @intruxiety @thefivecalls 

(Lemme know if you wanna be added or removed :3)

[2manyfandoms2count]

You can count on me (I will be there for you)

Aaaaand here we are with the final chapter of this story! A very cracky finale, with a surprising amount of fashion judgement and a lack of serious damage. I’ve made them suffer enough on their wedding day.

Thank you so, so much to everyone who’s read so far! It was a genuine pleasure to write this story, and the positive response has warmed my heart. Lots of love for everyone 💕 Hope you’ll enjoy this!!

Part 1 | Part 2 | Part 3 | Part 4 | Part 5 | Part 6 | Part 7 | Part 8 | AO3

---

Chapter 9

Max has conveniently chosen the room they’d all met up in earlier for their lift back, Ladybug notices as she steps out of the portal. Rena Rouge and Queen Bee are standing at the door, discreetly peeking at the reception on the other side. They turn around when they hear the portal’s low hum.

“How’s it going?” Ladybug asks, joining them in their stakeout.

“I think they’re starting to feel a little uncomfortable.” Alya nods towards the next room, and Marinette steals a look, not knowing if her friend is referring to their primary suspects, or Nino and Kagami.

A look inside answers her question. The four of them are standing in the middle of the room, and it’s quite clear from their body language that her friends are doing their best to look at ease, while their interlocutors are clearly desperate to go. They show it differently, though: whereas Gabriel is standing straighter than ever, eyes darting towards the nearest exit as Nino enthusiastically speaks to him about something involving large hand gestures and a lot of shoulder pats, Nathalie seems exhausted, shrunk on herself while Kagami talks about something technical, if Ladybug can trust her frowns as she explains.

“Well, as long as it’s them and not the guests, it should be alright. Wouldn’t want a mass akumatisation on our hands.” Ladybug straightens up and sighs.

“So, it’s really them?” Alya asks.

“I think saying ‘most probably’ would be an understatement.” She shakes her head.

“Poor Adrien,” Queen Bee mutters next to them. “This is honestly the last thing he needs.”

Marinette looks at Alya worriedly, and her friend squeezes her hand. “He’s up to speed, I think he’s hanging in there.”

“I’ll have a talk with him later.” Ladybug promises herself.

“Anyway, what’s the plan now?” Queen Bee turns towards her expectantly.

“Well, see, that’s my problem, I’m not entirely sure how to go about it-”

“I am.” Chat Noir walks straight past them, stormy eyes fixed on the two suspects, his tail slipping through Ladybug’s fingers, and he's out in the open before she can retain him. She hadn't heard the portal close behind him, nor his approaching footsteps.

She starts to run after him, we don’t have a plan, what is he doing, but Rena Rouge grips her arm before she can, yanking her back inside their honorary headquarters. Ladybug’s offended look melts as her friend delicately takes her veil out of her hair. She’d completely forgotten about it.

“Might not want to out yourself to them right now, since they probably don’t know who you are,” her friend says softly.

“Now go make sure your partner doesn’t get into too much trouble. Don’t worry, we’ve got your back. We’ll figure something out if anything happens, but you generally do pretty well without the B team.” Queen Bee pushes her out of the room with a wink.

Ladybug glances back one last time before she heads in; Max has come closer, and her three friends smile at her reassuringly as she does. She smiles back, hoping it expresses just how much she’s thankful for them being there, and not how worried she is about what might unfold.

---

Chat Noir barely hears the guests’ gasps as they make way for him. He strides purposefully into the room, his eyes trained on his father. Gabriel Agreste. Hawkmoth.

When he catches sight of the dark figure approaching him, the man tenses even more than he’d already been, which Chat hadn’t thought was possible. Yes, you can be worried, he thinks, nodding at Nino and Kagami to relieve them of their duties. Both stand aside, and start ushering people away from the newly formed trio.

“Chat Noir,” Gabriel greets coldly, eyes flickering to his right hand’s ring finger.

Even now, that’s all he can think about, Chat shakes his head, protectively balling his hand into a fist. He’s ready to seize the opportunity, even if it means disrupting his only son’s wedding. He hopes his scorn is visible as he looks at him.

“What a… pleasant surprise,” his father lets out without conviction, a hint of a smirk playing at his lips.

It takes all of Chat Noir’s willpower to not spit at his feet, and even more to not spit in his face.

“Mr. Agreste,” he says through gritted teeth. “I believe we need to talk.”

“Do we? Whatever about?” His eyebrows shoot up, and he looks around the room with fake amusement, as if trying to find an allied face in the crowd. Most people look away uneasily. He’s a powerful man, but his challenger is one of Paris’ most trusted protectors. Something must be up, and although it isn't clear what side it's best to be on, something tells them it's not Gabriel Agreste's.

To the untrained eye, Gabriel looks perplexed, almost hurt by the request. To Adrien Agreste, though, who has spent years scrutinising his father’s facial expressions, searching for any hint of pride, love, anything positive, there’s no mistake; he can read the fear in his eyes.

He takes a step forward.

“That’s a nice scarf you have today.” He nods towards his father’s neck, sporting his classic candy-cane Ascot. “A little… ten, fifteen-years ago, though, don’t you think? If it ever was in fashion.”

“It’s a signature look,” Gabriel scoffs, offended by the superhero’s words. “As Chanel once said, la mode se démode, le style, jamais.”

“Yet that implies that you actually have style, which is a statement I’m sure I’m not the only one to disagree with.” He takes a look around the room, pouting pensively. “Actually, you know what? I think the scarf should come off. It clashes with the wedding’s colour scheme. Unless it holds a higher meaning to you?” He asks innocently, but there’s no mistaking the threat in his eyes as he holds a hand out.

Gabriel shares a look with Nathalie, who nods uneasily. He takes off the tie, revealing a single, gleaming, amethyst underneath (bingpot, Chat thinks), and hands it over to Chat Noir. “Of course not. In fact, if this is a way of getting something of mine, you know, I would’ve given it to you for a lot less hostility. Would you like it signed?” He smirks again.

Chat is about to lunge at him when he feels a hand on his shoulder.

“Chat Noir, don’t you think we should take this some other place? Somewhere less public, perhaps?” Ladybug asks soothingly.

Chat’s eyes flicker to her for the briefest of instants. It’s enough for Gabriel to seize the opportunity.

“Nooroo, dark wings rise!” Gabriel makes the most of his opponent’s distraction, yanking Ladybug by the arm to hold her against him.

She yelps as she feels the cold metal of his cane against her neck, almost choking her. Her eyes dart wildly around, taking in the panic that washes over the room, and she tries to free herself, but Hawkmoth tightens his grip. People scream and push each other as they run for shelter. This is exactly what she’d wanted to avoid.

“There, you have what you want, don’t you?” Hawkmoth lets out a dry laugh. “A public reveal. Maybe you should’ve consulted with your girlfriend first, though.” Ladybug feels the cane start digging in her neck, and she gasps.

“She’s not my girlfriend anymore,” Chat Noir snarls, taking another step forward. He knows he can't go straight for his opponent with Ladybug trapped like she is. He'd run the risk of her getting severely injured.

Ladybug is thankful for his diversion; her captor’s attention is fully on him, rather than on the hundreds of agitated guests. Her mind whirrs as she tries to think of something to do that wouldn’t end in total carnage, but the lack of oxygen is making her mind fuzzy.

“Oh? What a shame. You know, I could help you get revenge for her breaking your heart. I’ll take her earrings as down payment, and you can give me your ring when you’re done.” His smile makes him look deranged. Chat Noir can feel the panic rising in his chest, but represses it.

“Who says she broke my heart?” He shoots him a look of disgust and opens his hand, ready to invoke his Cataclysm.

He doesn’t get that far - a portal opens behind Hawkmoth and out flies Carapace’s shield in a flash of green, hitting the villain straight in the head before falling at his side.

He grunts and loses his grip on Ladybug, who seizes the opportunity to take a deep breath and scramble to Chat’s side. Her partner steps in front of her, his arm extended protectively in front of her body, as Hawkmoth pushes himself up to reach for his cane.

He stumbles back down before it can fly back in his hand, yellow flashing out from the same portal and hitting him in the lower back. His knees buckle under him. Queen Bee and Carapace step out of the portal, the former rewinding her spinning top.

Chat Noir yanks Hawkmoth’s brooch off of his immobilised body, releasing his transformation. Kagami comes forwards, holding Nathalie with her arms pinned behind her back. The assistant had apparently tried to make a break for it when her accomplice had transformed. They are soon joined by the police special forces, advancing cautiously behind their shields to secure the perimeter.

As Gabriel and Nathalie are cufflinked and brought out of the room, Ladybug catches Adrien and an illusion of herself out of the corner of her eye. She doesn’t think she’d look as panicked and distraught as Alya is making her, were she a mere bystander, but then again, her expression matches Adrien’s. It probably isn’t as over the top as she thinks it is.

Carapace picks up his shield once the floor is cleared, dusting it a little before fastening it to his back.

“I know it’s not the first time I knocked Hawkmoth in the head, but man, it feels even better now that I know who he is.”

“He deserves all the worst.” Chloé looks at Nathalie and Gabriel’s backs the same way she’d looked at socks in sandals the previous summer - with complete and utter disdain. Ladybug is almost surprised that she doesn’t sprint after them to kick them or something.

Chat nods along, before his attention snaps to Ladybug. Worry wrinkles his forehead as he holds her at arms’ length, looking for any sign of injury. “Are you alright, my Lady?”

“Yeah, don’t worry about me.” She waves his concern away, even if her voice is hoarser than usual. She pushes him back slightly and cups his cheek.

He’s the one she’s worried about. An anger she’d never seen so potent on him had seemed to emanate from him as he talked to Gabriel Agreste. She needed to talk to him about it.

“Marinette?” Alya’s voice sounds in their ear, interrupting their fussing over each other. They wince a little at the volume.

“Yes?” She replies, keeping a hand on him.

“People are starting to fuss over you and Adrien, I think you should come and detransform. I’m not sure I can handle hugs.”

She glances at Chat Noir.

“Go, I’ll be fine.” He squeezes her shoulder. “I’m going to make sure they don’t escape their lift to jail. I promise no punching will be involved, even if I feel like I missed out earlier.” His smile is a little tense.

“Okay.” She lets go of him cautiously. “Come and find me after?”

“I purr-omise.” He kisses her forehead and watches her walk out of the room, barely sparing a glance at their doubles who start following her. She therefore misses fake-Adrien retaining fake-Marinette and whispering something in her ear. The latter nods, and he kisses her knuckles before leaving through another door. Fake Marinette blushes and gives him a small wave with a lovestruck smile. Alya really has us nailed down, hasn’t she, he shakes his head as he watches the scene unfold.

“Hey dude, how are you holding up?” Carapace drapes an arm around his shoulders. Queen Bee and Kagami move closer to them as well. From the concerned look on Chloé’s face, Adrien deduces that the others must have brought her up to speed on the situation. She’d never been a big fan of Chat Noir.

“It’s a lot.” He admits, raking a hand through his hair. “But I’m so thankful for you guys. I lost it earlier, and that almost lost us Hawkmoth and Ladybug.” He looks up at his three friends with a small smile.

“We’ll always have your back.” Chloé pats his arm. “Especially when it’s this satisfying.”

“Now, go and watch your progenitor get driven away. I hope you’ll find it enjoyable.” Kagami nudges him towards the exit.

He nods and takes his leave. He has one last card to play to make it truly fulfilling, and he’s definitely putting it down.

---

Chat Noir walks towards the van, feeling his anger boil again at the sight of his father’s profile through the back doors’ windows. He takes a moment to breathe in deeply and think happy thoughts. Now that Hawkmoth has been arrested, he’ll finally be able to reveal his identity to Marinette. He’ll do it before the end of the day, so they can make the most of their honeymoon. Maybe there is a silver lining to this, after all.

Having regained his cool, he strides up to the van, his step unusually heavy. Gabriel Agreste looks up at the sound of his footsteps on the gravel, and frowns.

“What do you want?” He asks dryly.

“See, I just thought our conversation earlier was cut a little short. What with you attacking Ladybug and everything.” His eyes shoot daggers.

“Why would you care, if you’re not together anymore?” His father scoots a little away from the van’s back doors as Chat Noir approaches.

“I never said we weren’t together anymore. And even if that were the case, I’ll remind you that we’ve been fighting evil, you, for over a decade. Nothing could break our bond at this point. But what I actually meant was that ‘girlfriend’ is no longer a suitable title for her. She’s now my wife.” He tells him, an almost manic glint in his eye. This is going to hurt you so much, and I'm going to enjoy every last minute of it. This is for hiding Maman from me.

“Are you expecting congratulations from me?” Gabriel all but rolls his eyes, his voice laced with sarcasm.

“Well, even if you didn’t exactly say it, I feel like you covered that part earlier.” Gabriel’s eyes are on the verge of reckoning. He would probably figure it out with a little mulling over during the drive, but Chat needs the satisfaction of seeing his expression at the exact moment he realises what he means. “She’s a bit busy at the moment, but I’m sure she’d join me in thanking you for coming to our wedding today… Father.”

Gabriel’s jaw drops and Chat enjoys watching the thousands of emotions that flicker through his eyes, distorting his face as the van starts to drive away. It’s perfect timing. He can see his father shouting, banging on the doors, but he’s out of earshot. He stands on the porch until the vehicle is out of sight, then heads back inside.

He’s almost tackled by Marinette as he does.

“Chaton, something just… doesn’t seem right,” she whispers as she hugs him. She’d thought about it while she reassured her parents and some other guests that she and Adrien were fine, although the latter's absence made her question his well being. Not wanting to worry too much about it, she’d dissected the events in her head, instead. “Everything seems to be sorted now, we uncovered Hawkmoth’s identity, but then who was blackmailing me? Who was blackmailing him? And why?”

Chat Noir notices people are looking at them a little pointedly, whispering. He untangles himself from her arms and reluctantly steps away. “We’ve got all the time in the world to discover that, Princess.” He nods towards their audience and she nods in understanding, although she looks a little disappointed. “It was an honour saving your wedding.”

“Yes, thank you for that.” She clears her throat.

“We can discuss it with Ladybug after your honeymoon.” He says, and she notices he’s a little tense, almost brooding as he stands before her.

“Speaking of which, I… I should go and find Adrien.” She looks around, hoping she’ll finally spot the familiar mop of blond hair in the crowds that have returned, slightly shaken. Alya told her that he’d gone to freshen up after the arrest, and she can’t help but wonder if he’s okay. It’s been a little while. “Want to come with?”

“I don’t think my presence is necessary. I’ll catch up with you later.” He feels a giddy smile spread on his lips, his thoughts clinging to his reveal. Marinette shoots him a quizzical look before heading off towards the stairs leading to the bedrooms.

He manages to beat her to his. He detransforms, and opens the door right as she’s about to knock.

“Oh, hey, Marinette.” He jumps back a little, pretending to be caught off-guard by her presence. “I was just about to join you downstairs. Is everything alright?”

“That’s my line.” She tries to joke, but his jumpiness concerns her a little. “Can we talk, just for a second?”

“Yeah, of course.” He opens the door wider for her and leads her inside the room, fidgeting with his ring. He invites her to sit at the foot of his bed.

Marinette opens her mouth, then closes it. She frowns as she tries to find a good opening question, comment, anything. She hasn’t been this tongue-tied since collège, and this has got to be the worst moment for it to strike again. She utters a couple of words, but backtracks again and again. None feel really right in these circumstances.

Adrien patiently listens as she tries to find the words. She doesn’t dare touch him, if her distance on the bed tells him anything. He wished she would though; he could do with a hug, their previous one having been interrupted. He knows hugging Adrien could make her feel uncomfortable, though, on account of the fact that she thinks he might have feelings for her, and that she doesn’t want to lead him on. Always so thoughtful, his Lady.

“How are you feeling, Adrien?” Marinette finally says, carefully taking his hands in hers and squeezing them. “You say the word, and everybody goes home. I’m really so sorry things turned out this way, had I known, I wouldn’t have done anything today…”

“Marinette,” Adrien squeezes her hands back and looks at her earnestly. “Trust me, you did the right thing. It would never have been a good time to learn about my father’s… activities anyway. At least you had everybody who matters with you, ready to help. It might have been more complicated to have that any day.” He smiles sadly. “Besides…” He starts, but hesitates.

“Adrien, I’m here for you. You can count on me to be there, to listen. Don’t hold back.” She leans forwards, encouraging him when his silence stretches.

Adrien’s smile strengthens, becoming almost hopeful as he shifts closer to her on the bed. This is it, he thinks. Now or… well, not never, but this is as good a time as any.

“Besides,” he clears his throat, “I’ve been meaning to tell you something for a while now, and I guess this is just a sign that we should have this conversation now. You said that we should wait, but-”

“Ah, there you two are!” Alix barges into the room without knocking, and Marinette would have flung herself at her to thank her for the interruption, had she not been afraid of hurting Adrien’s feelings. She carefully lets go of his hands and stands up, crossing her arms over her chest.

She hadn’t liked Adrien’s tender eyes just now. Like they were hoping for something she knew he knew she couldn’t give him. She didn’t feel like turning him down today, not after everything that had happened, after he’d basically lost his family. But she wouldn’t really have a choice if he tried again later.

Where are you, Chat Noir? she thinks. Having him around would probably keep Adrien at bay. She wonders what better things he could have to do at this moment, but nothing comes to mind.

She turns towards her friend. She’d have to do, for now.

“Alix?” The young woman had started slow clapping about halfway through her inner monologue, looking excessively smug.

“I’ve been looking for you two everywhere, I wanted to congratulate you in person.” She grins.

Marinette and Adrien look at her, slightly puzzled. Marinette wonders if she’s off somewhere, and just wanted to say goodbye. Clapping seems a little over the top, though.

“You solved my mystery!” She clarifies, prompting Adrien and Marinette to look at each other.

“Care to elaborate?” Adrien raises an eyebrow.

“She got us a sort of escape game as a wedding present,” Marinette starts explaining, although she’s failing to see how everything ties up together.

“Yeah, and you did really well! Not gonna lie, I was expecting more drama from today, but hey, it was probably for the best.” She sighs when she sees her dumbfounded friends’ faces. “See, both of you were just so cute together, it was honestly getting a little nauseating back in the burrow.” Alix sarcastically joins her hands near her cheek. “Everything was in order, no end of the world in sight” she shoots a pointed look at Marinette, “but that made you slow down on the Hawkmoth hunt, so I had to do something. I know I’m not supposed to meddle, but hey. Hawkmoth and Mayura were getting on my nerves, and I’d kept my mouth shut long enough. ” She shrugs. “And I thought the detective play was pretty fitting, remember Mylène’s Akumatisation, when we were trying to film that movie for a competition in collège? You guys played some agents or something, and I think it was the moment pretty much everyone started shipping you two together, if they hadn’t already been.”

“But, we're not..." Marinette starts before another thought goes through her mind, the first of many that prevent her from finishing her sentences. "And the envelopes…” She shakes her head, trying to organise her thoughts. Things don’t add up in what Alix is saying, but she’s too stunned to figure it out.

“Planted by me, for you and Hawkmoth. I thought it would speed things along, whoever made the first move. Sorry for freaking you out so much. I actually wasn’t expecting you guys to go through the fake wedding route, but it ended up making things a lot easier for me. Everybody was in the same place at the same time, so really, great job on that.” She nods to herself before looking up at them again. “It was even super easy to get Max to bring his equipment, just had to make a post on one of his usual forums saying a life-size hide and seek was a great wedding activity, especially if you had earpieces for the seekers, and voilà. You have a convinced man.” She gives them a satisfied smile. “I’ll get him to launch a game before the end of the day. He might be disappointed otherwise.” She adds pensively.

Her friends still look at her like she’s grown a second head. She rolls her eyes at the lack of response, but kind of understands.

“Anyway, I know there’s a lot to unpack, but just know that everything’s fixed now. I’ll leave you two to enjoy the honeymoon you so deserve. Ladynoir for the win!” She winks.

Turning around, she takes a couple of steps, hands digged in her suit pockets, mentally counting down for Marinette to connect the dots.

3, 2, 1…

“Wait, Alix?” Marinette calls out to her friend.

“Yes, boss?” Alix smirks as she turns around.

“What do you mean, Ladynoir?” She’s frowning, eyes darting between her and Adrien.

“It's a ship name, for Ladybug and Chat Noir?" Alix asks, angelically batting her eyelids. "Oh, no, don't tell me; you guys hadn’t reached that part of your discussion yet.” She snaps her fingers and shakes her head, her grin giving away how unrepentant she is. “Well, spoiler alert, then, I guess.”

Marinette turns towards Adrien, who’s smiling sheepishly at her.

“I was just about to tell you, Bugaboo,” he says and her eyes widen in response.

"I'll leave you two to it!" Alix smiles as she walks out of the room, whistling the wedding march tune. She doesn’t need to turn around to know Adrien has probably taken his bride’s hand in his and is probably kissing her knuckles, while Marinette is on the cusp of having a meltdown.

Her job here is done.

She slides the ‘do not disturb’ panel on the door handle; something tells her they might need it. So what if the first dance is even more delayed. She’s not in charge of the day’s schedule.

But she definitely won the best present award.

[limited-practice]

Communications Expert Part 2

It’s a lot of fun to write quick and dirty scenes about my favourite Outlier nerd getting it on with his human and I’m writing a lot of them, so this series now has a title. This part is a direct continuation of part 1 and is shorter but still explicit. 

Communications Expert part 1

2001 words of Hubcap/female reader are under the cut.

Hubbcap’s metal fingers are smooth and hot. They’re not rough and textured from a lifetime of manual work, and they’re not cool or cold or warm like the other cybertronian fingers you’ve come into contact with during the course of your work here. They’re hot. 

“You’re running hot,” you tell him, as you lean back against him and keep your legs only slightly open.

“That’s, ah, yes. I guess. I mean- um, I am with you. So.” He responds lightly but hesitantly, uncertain if you’re being serious or flirty and not quite convinced that you like feeling him like this.

You stroke his fingers that are on your chest. “I like it,” you reassure him. You slide your fingers down between the gaps of his fingers and intertwine them with his. “I like you. I was just wondering about it. About you. I, ah, wonder about you a lot. Have wondered. Am still wondering.”

He squeezes your voluntarily trapped fingers gently. “Good. Um. Yes, good.” 

You smile softly and hear the smile in his voice. 

He rubs his thumb over your joined fingers. “I guess...well, I think it’s because of my abilities. How I can block and boost signals. I’m swimming with frequencies that people haven’t come up with words to describe let alone explain them to me and- and I think some of them power up in certain situations and run through me and heat me up and- and yeah. I guess you could say that you...turn me on a lot.”

You smile wider, and a gush of embarrassed heat vents out of him after he says that. You move your fingers in order to extract them from his, and it takes Hubcap a few seconds to realise that you want to break contact with him. He springs his hand open immediately, like a trap that’s caught something precious it shouldn’t have, and you can feel his worry and disappointment bleed through his spark and into your back. 

Before he can convince himself that you’re bored or repulsed by him and have been all along, you put one of his hot metal fingers in your mouth and suck it.

His cooling system activates with a loud click. You hear the soft rotation of fans embedded in his frame and feel a soft but persistent stream of warm air on your skin. 

You lick his finger thoroughly. Up and down and then back into your mouth to suck it and swallow it down to the knuckle. You slide your mouth off of it with a small wet pop and kiss it. Then you put another finger in your mouth and start your attentions over. Then you choose another finger. You take turns tasting all of his digits twice over, and by the time you’ve finished his fans are whirring steadily and the temperature of his vented air is climbing. 

“You’re running hotter now,” you say, making sure your voice has a clear teasing tone to it so he won’t doubt himself again. “And you taste good.”

Hubcap puts both of his hands on your thighs. He angles his hands so that his fingers dip down onto your inner thighs and uses them to spread them ever so slightly more. 

“...I’m glad,” he says, as he caresses your inner thighs with both sets of fingertips. “And yes. I’m- you make me like this. Hot. Hot and happy.”

You involuntarily spread your legs wider for him. But his exquisitely molten fingers don’t delve any deeper or stroke any harder. You’re pressing back into his chest harder, and are leaking all over his thighs.

“I, ah, would like- I mean- if it’s OK with you?” he says. Asks. Stutters.

You want to do anything and everything with him.

You grasp his dick with one hand and squeeze him lightly.

His frame tenses and his fans snick up another gear and his fingers press harder into your skin. 

“Yes,” you say, squeezing him again in the hope that he’ll copy you again and touch you firmer. “Tell me what you want. I, ah, want to do it all with you.”

Hubcap puts his mouth next to your ear, and lowers his voice as if he’s admitting a shameful secret that you might not want to hear but he’s screwing up his courage and is going to ask it anyway. 

“...can I taste you?”

You stop squeezing him, and he immediately stiffens with fear that he’s played this wrong and has ruined everything. “I mean of course if you don’t want to that’s no problem at all it’s not even an issue it’s--”

You cut off his babbling by kissing him.

It's your first kiss together, and it takes him by glorious surprise. 

He kisses you back eagerly, somewhat desperately but still carefully, as if he can’t believe that you actually want to be this intimate with him. You moan into his open mouth and he moans back into yours, and everything is hot and wet and perfect. He tastes like a charged battery. He tastes delicious.

He breaks the kiss and puts his lips on your neck. He kisses up towards your ear, and before you can say or do anything he whisper-rasps “Please. Please let me just- taste more of you, just- please lay on your back?”

You nod quickly.

He manhandles you carefully but efficiently onto your back. In fact his movements are so precise it’s as if he’s practised them before. It’s as if he’s run this scenario through his mind a thousand times and mapped out every movement in the slim chance that it would one day become reality. 

There is so much space on the bed that you could stretch your arms out to either side and not come close to reaching either. But in a burst of spontaneity you decide to put them elsewhere. You put one behind your head to use as a pillow, and look up at him to see if he knows what you’re doing and that you’re not mocking him.

It takes him a few seconds, but he catches on. 

“That’s, ah, the position you...found me in when you came in.” He tries to say this casually with a hint of fake admonishment at you, but his shy voice is all repressed happiness that you found him in the first place and still want to be here with him.

“Not quite,” you say. 

Your other hand slides down your thighs and dips in between your legs. His eyes widen, and that’s the moment you touch yourself. You’re so ready for more that one swipe of your finger on your clit has you inhaling and tensing, and that’s the moment you see a look on his face that tells you he's decided to be spontaneous himself. He lowers himself down, props himself up on forearms, and puts his face right in front of where your finger is working on yourself. 

“...that’s still not right,” he says lowly.

You swallow, and add a second finger to the one that’s rubbing circles on yourself. The heat from his face is mixing with the heat from your body, and when he finally puts a hot hand on your thigh and uses it to spread one leg wider so he can see you better that’s when your skin erupts in sweat.

“Better, but- still not right. Still not accurate.”

You want to say something sharp and witty and fun about how much of a controlling tease he is, but all possible words have died on your tongue. You pick up the pace, but he puts a hand on yours to stop you.

“I did it slowly.” His voice is thick and his eyes bright. “I...took my time. Like this.”

He guides your hand into rubbing circles on yourself at the correct speed. It’s even slower than your initial pace, and you breathe deeply and quickly as you watch him move his hand on yours. 

“Better. Yes. Like that. Except…”

He trails off, mesmerised by what he’s seeing. He licks his lips and you buck forward without thinking. This makes him blink and brings him back to the present. 

“Except I didn’t just use fingers. I...used my whole hand.”

You make a whining sort of sound, but manage to gasp out “Then use it.”

He smiles quickly and kisses your inner thigh even quicker, as if scared that he’ll lose this temporary upper hand if he focuses too much on what he wants to do with his mouth. “Here, like this,” he says. “You could...like this.”

He manipulates your hand so that your thumb is now on your clit and your fingers are curled under and inside yourself. Your fingers aren’t that long and there’s not much of them inside you and you need more, you really need more. 

“Try this,” Hubcap says, reading the expression on your face as if you’d screamed your desires out loud.

He pulls your hand forward so that your thumb comes off yourself, which gives you more finger lengths to push inside yourself. He takes a careful but firm grip of your hand, and slowly pumps it back and forth and fucks you with your own fingers. 

You’re dripping wet and this feels so much better. Your hand and his are slick with fluid and your fingers make the most lewd squelching sound as he slowly pumps them in and out of you. He looks like he’s going to combust or offline any second now. 

“I wonder,” you say slowly and with great effort, “If your dick would make the same sounds as my fingers are doing.”

A grinding mechanical sound roars from inside him and he bites his lip in desperation as he concentrates on maintaining the slow pace he’s sentenced you to.

You’re so close now, and caution and reserve are dead. “You said you wanted to taste me but you're not. After you’ve finished you can clean my fingers off and - ah - make it up to me.”

His reponse is to fuck you even slower. 

When you start panting and are unable to say another word, that's when he angles your fingers up slightly so they’re now higher and to the side, which creates a small space for something more. As he pulls your fingers almost all the way out of you he lines up one of his own fingers from his other hand and pushes all of them back inside. His finger is longer and thicker and hotter and-

-and if the technology existed to translate your noises, they would be translated as “thank fuck yes that’s the perfect fit don’t you dare stop or do anything else this is perfect, perfect.”

Hubcap is the best communications expert alive, and can understand more signals than even he thought possible. He doesn’t change his pace or add or remove a finger and he’s fucking you with dirty purpose now and it feels good, it feels really good and you don’t want it to ever end and you want to tell him this but you can’t and--

And you come with a cry and an arching of your back and a clenching down on your joined fingers and fuck.

It takes a few moments before you can hear anything through the pulse of blood in your ears, and another few before you relax and unclench. 

Hubcap slowly withdraws your hand and his finger and looks at them in naked greed. You make eye contact and he immediately sucks them into his mouth. He is revving loudly and burning up, and you’re not sure whether he’s come himself.

He finishes cleaning your fingers, and rests your hard working hand on your stomach. The arm behind your head is beginning to tingle from constricted blood flow, but you have little energy to move it right now. You feel warm and relaxed and satisfied. You look up at him and smile indulgently. 

“You can make it up to me now.”

[roseamongroses]

W.A.L: “ Don’t Go Breaking My Heart” (11)

Summary: Eden was the lowest of the low, a monster, hardly human, and was set to be executed. Roman was on trial, perpetually stuck in time until it was time to atone for his families sins.Neither cared much for staying trapped.So when a Stranger offered freedom, offered peace, offered power, it was hard to say no.Even if it put them on the wrong side of history.

Vibes/ Tags:time is irrelevent, homophobia who?, magic and beasts, demigods

Warnings: Imprisonment, Mentions of execution, Blood/ injuries,  Mentions of past Death, repression, cursing, some  dissociation

Characters: Deceit(Eden) Sanders, Remy Sanders, Logan Sanders, Virgil Sanders, Patton Sanders, Roman Sanders, Emile Picani

Ship: Roceit

1) (2)   (3)  (4) (5)

(6) (7) (8) (9) (10) (11)

---

Eden had gotten back from his morning routine, slick with sweat and body aching as he entered the lonesome stone home. He hoped the Stranger wasn’t here yet so he could squeeze in a bath and maybe a nap--damn he needed a nap. The home was quiet, but that wasn’t new.

Eden sniffed the air, lip curling, "Dot must be experimenting with onions," he groaned, staggering into the room he shared with Roman.

Inside red hair peek out of a mountain of blankets. Eden picked his way through the new stack of books in the corner and the newest list of ingredients/ formulas to memorize.

Fun.

Eden begrudgingly checked the phone’s clock, before glancing back at the pile of blankets, “Roman…” he called, seeing the pile go deathly still.

Rolling his eyes, he approached the blankets, “Roman get up--you have lessons,” he said, yanking the blankets off, “Get up.”

“I don’t wanna,” Roman whined, curling into the pillows further, using his shawl to cover his arms, “Come back to bed--it’s too early for this.”

“No, it isn’t,” Yes, it was, “You’re being a baby--Don’t you have lessons with Dot to get ready for?” Eden scolded, mainly because if he couldn’t get a second of fucking rest no one in this house is allowed to get a second of fucking rest.

Roman rolled onto his back, propping his head up, “Dot’s not even here,” he sniffed, only mildly entertaining the idea of getting up as he only opened one eye, “She left sometime last night--the Stranger too.” his face scrunched up, "Or maybe it was this morning, there was a lot of noise..."

“They’re probably on an errand, they’ll be back soon,” Eden said, getting exasperated when Roman flopped back down to sleep, “Get. Up.”

“Fine.” Roman pouted, both eyes opening now, “Can you pick me up? The curse is still pretty strong from the last time the Stranger was here,” he sniffed, batting his eyes and everything like Eden was a fool.

Eden sighed, taking Roman’s hand and bending down. Not because he was a fool, but because Roman is persistent and it always wastes more time then it’s worth sometimes.

What made him a fool was that he didn’t see the gleam in Roman’s eye before it was too late. Roman wasn’t physically stronger then Eden by any means, but he was crafty--hooking around Eden’s legs at the exact right time to catch him off balance. Before Eden could even protest, Roman had somehow had him pinned and swallowed by a sea of blankets with some Roman feeling arms snug around Eden’s waist.

“I have work to do,” Eden complained, feeling the warmth creep up on him. Roman had him pulled tight to their chest, easily resting their chin on Eden’s head.

Eden sagged despite himself, “I’m still sweaty,” he weakly warned.

“Mmm, I don’t care,” Roman said, voice still rough from sleep, rolling pleasantly through Eden like a lullaby, “You're tired, I’m tired, let’s nap a bit.”

“They’ll be back soon and…” Eden was slurring, “...and I’m not,” he yawned, “...taking… shit from the ass for a… a…. nap.”

“If he yells at you again, I’ll handle it,” Roman said, cooly.

“I can...I can handle my….” Eden yawned again, eyes drooping close.

“I know you can,” Roman smiled, curling into Eden’s back, “I’ll wake you up in thirty,” he promised, even though Eden was already well on his way to being asleep.

---

The Stranger wasn’t surprised when he woke up in the Chambers, irritated--yes, but not surprised. He was drained of magic, his glasses were taken away, and all he could smell was the sharpness of the air and see the bleakness of the four white walls.

He’d stolen a lot of things, but this would certainly be the most consequential. Stealing a Sanders is one thing, but attempting to make the council look like the fools they are? He’d be executed, surely and he’d laugh the whole way there. But... he knew they’d gotten Dot too. She wasn’t fragile, but the last time they were in the Chambers was still fresh even though decades had passed. Even if she had agreed to get involved one last time.

The Stranger wouldn’t blame her, if she attempted to kill him again.

-

Dot was going to kill him, immortality be damned.

---

Eden ached as soft, slender hands carted through his hair, pulling him from sleep. The tendernesses washed over him, as the hands were oh so carefully, prodding his face--wary of the scales that marred Eden.

He could hear Roman singing that lullaby. His words a low murmur that swept the room and drew the Earth’s attention. Roman thought Eden didn’t know what the story meant, but he knew enough to know it wasn’t the nanny that sang it to Roman.

At least, not in the beginning.

While learning to shift, Eden had to get really familiar with memories and that lullaby’s memory was strong enough that you could taste it. So strong, Roman probably didn’t even know he uses his magic so sweetly when singing it. As if inviting the earth to dance, to linger, to celebrate. As is if he was inviting Eden.

It made Eden angry.

It made him… scared.

It was going to be just like before, soft hands, soft words, eyes that stung with distrust. Of accusation so frantic, it made everything afterwards a regretful blurr.

But who could blame them?

Eden did exactly what they all expected. He knew why their eyes followed him, followed his mom. If he wasn’t nothing, he was a threat. He’d inevitably be the villain. And he was--

“Eden,” Roman said curious, “You’re awake,” he laughed,“You overslept by three minutes--you’re really slacking nowadays.”

“You’re a bad influence,” Eden grumbled, sitting up, and checking the phone.

No messages, no orders.

“What other influence do I have to be?” Roman asked reclined in a manner that made it hard to forget that he’s had people feed him like that.

Roman’s hair was braided close to his head and trailed down to his shoulders. His clothes carelessly put on--shawl garishly out of place yet fitting, his crown of horns dimly glinting in the room’s low light.

Eden rolled his eyes, pulling an especially thick book out of the nearby stack to read.

“No-” Roman whined, “C’mon you get a day off and the first thing you do is more work?”

“You read for fun,” Eden said, not looking up from the page. He grimmaced and pulled out a smaller, more worn book to begin translating the garbled english and whatever the fuck that symbol was in the corner.

“It’s not the same thing,” Roman huffed, “I enjoy those. Do you honstly enjoy--” he squinted at the book’s spine, “What the fuck does that even say.”

“I have no clue.” Eden said, feeling all life drain from him.

“Okay,” Roman said, pushing the book away and planting themselves on Eden’s lap, “We’re going swimming, and you’re going to have fun.”

“Sounds fantastic,” Eden saidm dry, “What a splendid idea Roman.”

“Really?” Roman said, bright eyed as he hooked his arms around Eden’s shoulders.

“No. Not really,” Eden said, “We’re thousands of feet underground, Roman, where do you expect to find water?”

---

“He found water--he actually,” Eden gaped, before shaking his head, “He’s a demigod--of course he could.” He still had the intense need to sit down.

One couldn’t say it looked like traditional water, the water was unnaturally clear from any of the murkiness and grime found in other parts of the cave. And freed from any of the little beasts. Eden was suspicious Roman had persuaded it a bit, but it did look nice…

Roman had waded into the water, dress hiked, and… he looked back before slipping the shawl from his shoulders and setting it aside. His wings were faint shimmers molded to the arch of his spine. He tilted his head up, eyes closed, lips curved sweetly as he stretched.

“You coming?” Roman asked, giggling.

Eden sighed.

It did look nice.

---

Roman screamed as Eden snatched him by the waist, hoisting him over his shoulders and promptly dumping him in the water.

Roman sputtered, flinging his wet braids from his eyes, “Fuck you.” he growled.

An equally drenched Eden, flipped him off, “You started it.”

“I didn’t start shit,” Roman lied through his teeth. He picked at the dress, peeling the top half down to his waist, “Dot is going to kill us.”

Eden, who had long since tossed his dress, had already accepted that, “Shame,” he drawled, wadding to the rocks, “The white looked nice on you.”

“Aw, thanks I--” Roman’s voice trailed off as Eden hoisted himself onto the rocks and okay he was staring a bit. He wasn’t subtle.

“Are you objectifying me?” Eden raised an eyebrow.

“Appreciating,” Roman corrected wading to the rocks as well, “But yeah a little bit,” he leaned against the wall, looking up with a pleading expression.

Eden helped him up, “How did you ever survive without me?”

“Oh,” Roman snickered, “Only with about several hundred servants.”

“That’s horrible,” Eden groaned, “You’re a rich bastard, you know that right?”

“Oh, it’s not like I have any of that now,” Roman rolled his eyes and Eden was tempted to shove him back into the water, “The council confiscated everything, so all the watchdog’s were sent back home. They took the houses, the money, and my… family.” The playfulness was gone.

“How…” Eden leaned on Roman’s shoulder, frowning, “How old are your sisters?”

Roman seemed surprised, “Uh...the oldest one right now is 16,” he said, “The youngest three…. Father spoiled them rotten,” he grabbed for his shawl, wings disappearing again.

“That’s a pretty big age gap.”

Roman gasped, “I’m not that old,” he said shoving Eden.

“No--” Eden smiled, “I think I saw a couple of grey hairs in your comb this morning--that’s pretty old.”

“My hair’s the only thing I have going for me you bastard--You’re lying--you’re lying--” Roman stuck his fingers in his ear, “Lalalala, you’re lying.”

“My specialty,” Eden said, he narrowed his eyes searching, “Where did the phone go?” he asked, and Roman shrugged, “You’re feeling fine right? The curse isn’t any stronger than before?”

“Nope,” Roman said.

Eden frowned, “But--” he tensed, “Something isn’t right. Is anyone else down here?”

Roman closed his eyes briefly, hands on the stone, “Other then the Aleseners...no.” he said, “You don’t feel safe?”

“I,” He didn’t feel safe at all, “I’m just antsy, probably need something to do.”

“We should head back anyway,” Roman suggested, watching him carefully.

Eden nodded.

The only thing he should be worried about is explaining the missing phone to the Stranger.

---

They walked back slowly, the passage narrow, but not entirely unpleasant. Roman’s hands trailed the sides of the cave, occasionally whispering while Eden tried to salvage his dress.

Eventually the path became familiar, and Eden knew they were close to Dot’s home.

Roman had spun around at that point, “Mmm,” he wondered, “What to do next-what to do next?”

“Maybe start your lessons?” Eden suggested, already mentally preparing himself for the book from hell.

“Nah,” Roman said. Because of course, “If Dot still isn’t here I don't see a point--” He stopped abruptly, and Eden bumped into him, “Did you grow fangs? When?”

“What--” Eden’s hands flew to his mouth.

“Well damn,” Roman seemed weirdly enthralled, and Eden didn’t stop him from tilting his head up so they could get a better look, “I have a... couple of ideas we could do now--”

“You want to kiss me because of fangs, Really?”

“I was going to suggest you bite me, but I mean I’m down for that too,” Roman’s grin was sharp, as he traced the fanged points.

“What,” Eden batted Roman’s hands away, “What.”

“It isn’t like they’re going to pierce my skin or anything--” Roman shrugged, “Kissing is nice and all, but I still want to see if they’re venomous.”

“No.” Eden hissed. Partly upset because Roman’s that fucking weird and partly upset because, well are they vemous?

“To the kissing or the biting?” Roman asked, matter of fact. He was close to Eden, his skin burning and fingers still barely brushing against Eden’s chest, “Cause I don’t mind...”

“To both, ” Eden said, and Roman looked puzzled.

Eden knew it was a bad idea, but something about how careless Roman was being about it made it seem even worse, “I wouldn’t want to lead you on.”

Why doesn’t it bother Roman? Even if it wasn’t romantic, why was Roman okay with it? The idea really did make Eden sick. He wasn't sure if it was the realization that he wasn’t messing around with someone’s physical attraction but their actual feelings or that Roman was so willing to--

“It’s not that serious. It’s just--” Roman stuttered as Eden reaches up to cradle Romans face, “A bit of… fun.”

“Fun?” Eden echoed, making sure he was looking Roman dead in the eye, “You know I don’t have feelings for you, right?”

“I know.”

“Do you?” Eden asked, his fingers tracing up Roman’s face, he felt them go lax, “How far would you let me go for a little “fun” ?” he mused.

“As far as you want,” Roman said, burning underneath Eden’s hands. Vines trailing hot around his throat.

“As far as I want?” Eden repeated. He inhaled, forcing his eyes to stop slitting, —forcing himself to stop trying to remember Roman like this.

Roman nodded, small flowers popping up in his hair.

“And,” Eden let that cruel tune play again, “No strings attached, right? Your feelings don’t have to mean anything to me?” Roman didn’t respond, Eden’s hands dipping lower and lower, “Is that really what you want?”

“I’ll take whatever you’re willing to give…” Roman’s voice cracked, him tucking his face in Eden’s shoulder, “Even if… even if you don’t… I deserve it.”

“Roman,” Eden hugged them, tight, “You deserve more.” he said, “But right now, I can’t give you that,” it washed over him all at once, and it wasn’t anger, or fear, it was--“I want to, but I can’t,” he admitted, and Roman looked up startled, “If I was more selfish, I’d ask you to wait, but I won’t.”

“You want…?” Roman was crying, but his smile--that smile, “It’s not because the Stranger ordered you to?”

“No,” the truth was foreign at this point, “Surprisingly enough, I enjoy spending time with you,” he said, and Roman giggled pulling away, “Right now, let’s try being friends, alright?”

Eden could handle that for now. Eden could trust the soft words a little more, because he couldn’t stand the thought of lying about it any further. At least to Roman. He couldn’t stand the thought of Roman giving his all, only to get scraps in return.

Roman twirled his hair in his hands, eyes soft,“I like the sound of tha-” he choked on air.

“Roman!” Eden reached for him, but flinched as their head lolled revealing two blank eyes. Eden took a step back, his senses now in overdrive, trying to figure out how, when, who, but it didn’t matter. He couldn’t think fast enough. Like a plague, the white rapidly spread across Roman’s skin, painting over his freckles, painting over his smile until he was... stone.

Roman had turned to stone, right in front of him and the bitter truth, the terrible truth, the nauseatingly pitiful truth was that there was nothing Eden could’ve done to stop it. There is nothing he could do to stop it, the truth breathed into him and it was nasty.

He believed it, he didn’t care, he refused to listen.

---

“It worked?” Patton seemed surprised

“Of course it worked, I thought of it,” Logan said, even though he was surprised himself.

It was rather hard to cut off the ‘offical’ council bonding once you have it, even for a temporary amount of time. And it was dangerous if Roman found them before the curse reactivated in full.

It wasn’t one of his best plans, but it certainly wasn’t stupid.

Logan motioned for Patton to pick up the statue, the two teleporting away easily. After that Logan turned around. He adjusted his glasses, staring into the darkness, “Please don’t bother with that, I know you’re here.”

His vision--no the rocks rippled a bit. Barely a shine there, but Logan knew he had their attention,“You’re Eden, correct?” he asked, flipping through his notebook, the photograph burned into his memory, because of course it was Eden, who else could it be--

“No, I’m not,” And like that- Logan’s reality shattered.

“I took his name, his face, but I’m not him,” the darkness explained.

The ripples shine gradually took shape. What that shape was, Logan couldn’t tell. The shadows splotched with his scales. The only vaguely human thing about him were his eyes. As if reading his thoughts, their eyes slitted into a striking yellow.

A shifter-- pretty rare-- Logan assessed. It would be foolish to believe them entirely, but Logan did want some answers. His magic was pretty exhausted, so trying to contain them like Roman might prove to be troublesome. And he didn’t have the proper papers to arrest him either, nor probable cause other than his alleged association with the Stranger--but even that wasn’t completely verified or documented--

Every part of Logan said to leave him, even the logical parts. There was no civilization down here and he couldn’t get out himself, not without losing something in the process. Logan could easily leave this ghost here to die, even if he wasn’t what almost killed Virgil. It was better safe than sorry, but he knew he couldn't leave them… Dr. Picani would be upset. And he would know if Logan was lying, he always knew.

Logan pursed his lips, “What is your name, then?” he asked, even more exhausted. Dr. Picani was going to have a field day knowing that he’d have some new kid to fret over, questionable intentions or not.

The shifter smiled, “Tell me where Roman is and I might find one.”

...Interesting.

“I hardly see how that’s relevant,” Logan dismissed that thought for now, holding out a hand, “You don’t have much of a choice but to come with me. There isn’t much else down here. Your mentors have been taken into custody, and you hardly have the abilities necessary to get out of here alone. ”

The shifter glanced away, like he knew something Logan didn’t--which is a ridiculous thought, before taking his hand.

---

Eden’s eyes were piercing as he let himself be engulfed in light.

[imyourliquor-youremypoison]

A Girl’s Best Friend (Peter Parker x OC) - Part 12

Synopsis: Diamonds are man’s best friend- or dogs are girls’ best friends, wait… how does the saying go again?

Warnings: Family issues; Peter has a crush and it’s complicated; mention of assault; good dogs; College AU; aged up! characters; TONY STARK IS ALIVE AND WE ALL LIVE IN A HAPPY PLACE CALLED DENIAL

A/N: In this story, Peter has Tom’s dog, Tessa.The dogs in the story play a minor but key role.

Word count: 3.9k (longest one yet!)

Part 11 <<< >>> Part 13

MASTERLIST

               Peter had done outstandingly well given the circumstances – Emmeline had thrown him out of his comfort zone by asking him to accompany her to this reception, but he was exceeding all expectations if she had had any.

               She wasn’t doing as well as him. She was very tense, to the point of physical pain and an actual stomachache. There was so many people, so many faces among the crowd; people she was supposed to know and meant to greet and exchange a few banalities with. They were all anonymous faces to her, nobody she actually knew and gave a fuck about.

               In all honesty, she was avoiding her parents, and they had been doing fine so far. The first two hours of this charade had been busy but relatively uneventful and smooth. At some point, Emmeline spun on her heels and stepped a bit closer to Peter, almost hiding her face in his neck.

“My mother is standing over there, by the giant flower arrangement, glaring at me,” she explained when Peter raised an eyebrow. “Don’t look!”

               He huffed and let out a curse word when she elbowed him a bit too harshly but that was it; he looked at her instead.

“You’re not going to talk to her?”

“Not if I can help it,” she admitted without any shame. “The later the confrontation, the better. Trust me on that.”

“I wouldn’t presume to know any better,” he chuckled, taking her hand and leading her away, hopefully out of her mother’s viewing field. “Want a glass?”

               Peter gestured to a waiter waltzing by with a tray of champagne flutes.

“No.” Emmeline crossed her hands over her stomach, still so tense she would feel her abs. “Don’t let me get my hands on alcohol tonight, please. If I start drinking, I won’t stop.”

“My God, Em, you weren’t joking when you said that you hated it here,” he said, finally realizing just how much she dreaded such events, and how scared she was of her parents. “You’re shaking,” he noticed when he took her hand in his: an attempt to ease her nerves.

               She quickly withdrew her hand.

“I know, I’m sorry. I just can’t stand this place, just being here, having to shake hands and smile at people whose face I will forget within the next minutes, it’s making me sick.” She averted her gaze from him, looking over her shoulder as if checking if her mother hadn’t followed them. “I dragged you into this when instead you could be home, celebrating Christmas with your aunt.”

“I’m quite happy where I am,” he assured her, putting his hands into his pockets. “Here, come.” He once again led her away from where they stood and towards the bar this time, asking for a glass of water for her, and ordering a beer for himself.

               He handed her the drink and Emmeline wrapped two hands around it, as if she was afraid to drop it.

“I’m in a fancy place, at a fancy reception, about to eat a fancy dinner, with the girl I fancy,” Peter listed with a teasing smile on his face, watching the way Emmeline’s lips trembled slightly when she repressed laughter. “I’ve been in worse situations, trust me on this.” The last time he had seen her so shaken up was…

“I’m sure you have. Still…” she trailed off, her eyes detailing him as she thought about her next words. “This isn’t what I would have wanted for our second date.”

“Oh, this is a date? I was under this impression that you hired me as a personal security detail.”

“Hiring implies some kind of payment, which I did not offer,” she countered, taking a sip of her water and stepping closer to him.

“I was hoping to get a date actually, but since we’re in the middle of one, I’ll have to find something else,” he thought out loud, enjoying seeing her smile again, watching the way her nose scrunched up a little and her eyes squinted slightly when she laughed.

“You have a few hours ahead of yourself to decide,” she informed him. “Choose wisely.”

               Before Peter could even think about an answer, the music suddenly stopped, and someone demanded attention from the crowd by tapping on a glass – something that Peter thought only happened in movies.

“Dinner,” Emmeline said, gulping down and emptying her glass of water as if it were a whiskey on the rocks. “It’s showtime. We’ll be sitting at the big table, no more hiding from my parents from now on.”

“They won’t make a scene here, will they? No need to make yourself sick over this dinner,” Peter tried to reason her.

“You’re right. I’m just a ball of nerves, but if I came here to act like a scaredy-cat, I might as well have put on one of those prudish dresses my mother sent me to pick from.”

“Wait, what? That’s insane! You’re not twelve!” Peter exclaimed just as they were both swept into the general crowd movement, following the other guests into the adjacent room to find their seats.

               Emmeline had explained that every year, her parents left an empty seat next to hers in case she wanted to bring a plus one, but she knew it was a pretext. She was a laughingstock to them. Seeing her sitting alone next to an empty chair: that’s what got them off. He had had his doubts about this at first, but when he saw her tremble at the sheer thought of sharing a dinner table with her parents, he reconsidered.

               He was more than happy to fill this chair; he was more than happy to stand beside her when she held up her mother’s stern gaze as they sat down. Peter had seen the venomous glare she directed at their joined hands. Emmeline had simply taken his hand to lead him to their table without losing him in the crowd, but he would gladly hold her hand all night long if it could help make a rebellious statement.

               It wasn’t until dessert that things started to go downhill. People were beginning to stand up and mingle to talk with people sitting at other tables too, minds fogged with champagne. Emmeline had bolted from her chair as soon as her mother stood up, and she had dragged Peter with her towards the terrace to get some fresh air and escape from her family.

“You’re going to have to talk to them as some point, you know?” Peter told her, wincing a little when he saw her look over her shoulder.

“Do I though?”

               He gave her a stern look.

“You’re right.” Her shoulders slumped. “I have to apologize to you in advance for everything they’ll say.”

“What?” Peter laughed but quickly stopped when he realized Emmeline didn’t join in. “What could they possibly say to me?”

“Oh you’ll see. Everyone here is a snake.”

               She trembled and Peter watched her warm breath create a puff in the cold Winter air. Before he could find something to say, he felt the hairs on his arm stand on end and the window to the terrace opened and closed again.

“Emmy, I thought it was you!” A man’s voice exclaimed, and they turned around to watch a young man strut towards them, hands in the pockets of his long coat. “Almost didn’t recognize you in that dress! I’m not used to seeing you dressed like a woman,” he sniggered, his voice full of thinly veiled contempt.

               If the twist of Emmeline’s lips was any indication at all, she did not like being called ‘Emmy’, or being sexualized simply for wearing a dress that didn’t have a claudine collar, and she certainly did not like this dude. Peter stepped slightly to the left to stand between them, as if to shield her from his venomous words.

“Dexter,” she hissed as a way of greeting. “What are you doing here? I thought you were studying abroad.”

               Peter felt her step closer to him, but she stayed back. It wasn’t her usual behavior – staying back, in retreat. Emmeline was more of a conqueror type of girl, she spoke with her chin up.

“Been keeping tabs on me, have you?” Dexter said, a boyish grin plastered on his face. He couldn’t be more antipathic to Peter. “I’m back for the holidays, my mother wouldn’t have it any other way. You know how mothers are.”

               So far he hadn’t shown any signs of seeing Peter at all, he only talked to Emmeline as if he wasn’t there at all. She didn’t give him to curtesy of answering to that stinging remark. He no doubt knew about Emmeline’s bumpy relationship with her mother, and he just pushed a sensitive button for funsies.

“Nevermind,” Dexter said, not dropping the Colgate smile. “So, what did you bring us here?” he asked, finally deigning to set eyes on Peter, although it must have stung according to the disdainful frown on his face.

               Peter smiled, glad that he didn’t appeal to that dude. He wouldn’t want to be liked by someone that unpleasant. Dexter looked Peter down, stopping at every single detail and lifting an eyebrow whenever – Peter thought – he saw something he didn’t like. Which must have been everything.

“If you needed company, you could have called me.” Instead of bringing an outsider, was the subtext.

               Emmeline placed a hand on Peter’s arm to stop him from lurching forward when she felt him tense up. Dexter was a vile human being and she would pay good money to watch him finally get beat up after running his mouth. The way he talked about Peter, not even asking for his name or greeting him properly… he treated him like he was her pet.

               Maybe she should have brought Bella along tonight, surely she wouldn’t be as easily pacified as Peter. Her entire face morphed into an expression of profound disdain and she sneered at him when she opened her mouth again.

“You’re still as much of an ass as I remember,” Emmeline spat at Dexter, stepping out from Peter’s shadow. “The sheer thought of having ever dated you makes me when to retch, and I would rather kiss a toad than even share a dinner with you.”

“Oh, wow!” Dexter held his hands up in surrender, still grinning. “No need to go hysterical on me. It’s your loss, I’m just offering.”

“She’s not interested, you can go now,” Peter spoke up, at last gaining the dude’s attention. He made a funny face, as if he had thought he couldn’t talk at all.

“It speaks!” he commented. Emmeline scoffed and turned around, not standing the sight of him anymore. “Does it bite too, or just bark?”

               This time, she didn’t stop Peter from punching him in the cheekbone, nor did she have any desire to try.

*

“You dated that douchebag?” Peter asked, stretching his fingers. It didn’t hurt but Emmeline had been concerned and he needed to at least pretend to be a little sore, shaking his hand for good measure.

“And I wake up everyday regretting it,” Em sighed, shaking her head. “You shouldn’t have punched him.”

               Her smile said the opposite.

“He clearly needed some sense knocked into him, I did us all a favor. Not to mention how deeply satisfying it was.”

               The smile became wider, she even let out the smallest of giggles and looked away, rubbing her forehead and trying to suppress the smile.

“I can imagine. I wish I’d done it a long time ago. That jackass really had it coming.”

               The way she said the last part made his Spider-sense tingle.

“I sense a story behind that,” he told her. They had been standing in a hallway for about ten minutes now, postponing the moment they would have to go back to their table. “Should I ask?”

               Something flickered behind Emmeline’s eyes and Peter knew he guessed right.

“It’s not a nice story,” she told him just before he went back on his question and told her to forget it. “He’s always been a self-entitled asshole, but at some point in my life I found that attractive and even went along with it. He used to wander around shadier parts of the city for the thrill of it, and one day it went south.”

“How far south?” Peter couldn’t help but ask.

Peter was in a delicate position regarding Emmeline, because she did him a favor by not prying in his life whenever he acted strange or sported unexplained bruises that she spotted. He had seen her frown to herself on several occasions. Therefore, it was all the more difficult for him to ask personal questions.

He wanted to repay her the gracious discretion by not putting his nose in her business. But he also wanted to be all up in her business.

“Arctic pole,” she laughed humorlessly. “Some nutter that really didn’t want my father to win the elections had followed us, and Dexter made a run for it as soon as things became sticky. Let’s just say he’s at least part of the reason why I have a guard dog trained to protect me from dangerous men.”

“I should have broken his nose,” Peter hissed between his teeth, jaw clenched. “Your father didn’t do anything about it? I mean, I know you have a difficult relationship but he must have-“

“He couldn’t. Dexter’s going to inherit an empire, own half the buildings in the Upper East Side along with a hefty amount of money one day. The last thing he wanted was a warfare with his family. The incident was swept under the rug and he got me a puppy to make me feel better.”

               Every last one of Peter’s instincts pushed him to act on what she said, despite knowing it happened years ago. He wanted to get this Dexter locked up for sheer cowardice, he wanted to find the man that assaulted Emmeline when he wasn’t around to protect her and hang him at a lamppost by the ankles with his web, and he wanted to meet her father and tell him what he thought of his parenting methods.

“The more you tell me about your life and family, the less I understand why you still play their game,” Peter confessed, shaking his head and looking at his feet.

               Emmeline gave him a little crooked smile and blinked back tears, pulling herself together. They had been standing outside these doors for way too long already, it was time to go back and face her parents, and everybody else in that room.

“It’s not a choice, Peter. If I don’t play the game, I lose. Remember I wasn’t born into this world, I was brought into it. I look like I’m a part of this, I wear a dress worth more than everything in your dorm to blend in the crowd, but I’ll always be an outsider.”

               There was so much defeat in her tone, so much pain.

               Before the sadness took over, Emmeline turned away from Peter to stare at the door, electing to talk about a lighter topic.

“It’s all in the past now, I don’t want to talk about it. I’m telling you because I trust you, that’s all,” she told Peter, taking his arm to get ready to walk in.

“But-“ Peter barely had a chance to open his mouth before she cut him off.

“What if Dexter told someone? Like I said, his father owns half of Manhattan, he can make your life very difficult if he wants to,” Emmeline asked, proud to notice her voice was even and didn’t give away her state of distress. It didn’t take a genius to see what she was trying to do and Peter, while being curious, didn’t lack delicacy to the point of forcing her hand in that matter.

               He shrugged, confident that Dexter told no one.

“And admit to having been sucker punched by your toy boy? I’m sure he didn’t.”

*

               Peter distinctly remembered everything that happened after dessert, like a slow-motion segment of a movie, filled with unnecessary details that he wouldn’t notice otherwise. Everything from the moment he felt all the hairs on his body stand on end, to the moment he came back to his room at May’s, through the window of course.

               His first instinct when his Spider sense tingled was to jump to his feet, suddenly reminded of what Tony told him about someone sending death threats to the mayor, eyes alert and scanning the room in search of danger.

“Oh, dear me,” someone exclaimed behind him and when he turned around there stood a middle-aged woman way too thin for her own good – her pearl necklace seemed too heavy for her neck. He didn’t know why he noticed that of all things, but he did. Then he realized that her piercing eyes were darted on him, accusingly. Her hand rested flat on her chest, implying that he had scared her. “Are you going somewhere, young man?”

               Peter winced and when he looked at Emmeline, who hurried to finish her glass, he saw her wince too. If this woman wasn’t her mother, Peter vowed to shave his head the next day.

“N-no,” Peter quickly stuttered out, focusing back on the dignified woman. Not a hair stood out of place. “It’s a pleasure to meet you, ma’am,” he added.

               When she held out her hand, Peter’s brain froze for a moment too long, then he came back to his senses and took it in his, placing a kiss on her bejeweled fingers. That was what she wanted him to do, right? Her pleased smile indicated that he had done the right thing, but Emmeline’s eyeroll was what sealed the deal. Of course, she would mock this old-fashioned greeting.

“Emmeline, why don’t you make the introductions? I feel as though you’ve been avoiding me all night. What did this boy do to have you hide him from me?”

               The fakest smile she could muster was slapped on her face, making Peter nearly snort. He bit his cheeks to keep a collected face.

“Mother,” she said with a purposefully childish voice. “Meet Peter Parker. Peter, my mother, Sybil Gerard.”

               She didn’t specify who he was, giving his name was already more than she would have liked to tell her family. With a name, they could do research. She didn’t say they were at university together, she didn’t say whether they were friends or a couple – not that she knew what they were at this point, she just didn’t want to share it.

“Well?” Sybil Gerard insisted, her smile as stiff as Emmeline’s. Now he could see the family resemblance. “Is that it? Don’t I get more details? Or are you trying to withhold information from me?”

“No, it’s my private life,” Emmeline deadpanned, still smiling. “When will the speech start? This dinner has lasted longer than your last facelift already.”

               Peter half expected the entire room to hush over and turn towards them, ogling the two women to see who would strike first after Emmeline’s blatant provocation. Sybil Gerard, however, had dealt with her daughter’s venomous remarks for a long time and she barely flinched, even letting out a faint laugh to show that Em’s pique did not hit as close to home as she had hoped.

               With baffled excitement, Peter watched on, not knowing what to say – if she should say anything at all.

“Your father still has a few people to greet and we’re waiting for the TV crew to give us the green light, but rest assured you will be the first to know when we’re ready. I dare hope you will make an effort and behave with poise, don’t forget it’s live TV,” her mother snapped, having abandoned the sweet façade she put on for appearances’ sake in presence of Peter. “Your smile needs practice. You may have discarded all the dresses I sent you, but I won’t suffer another insult tonight, you have disappointed me enough already.”

               Peter had to blink a couple times to get rid of the image of a reptile that his mind conjured when Sybil spoke. She spat more venom than a cobra. A shiver ran down his spine and Emmeline’s visibly gulped down but stayed put and nodded without another word.

“And try to be a little more pleasant, the guests are wondering what’s wrong with you.”

               She didn’t wait for her daughter to answer and simply left after that last pique. Emmeline exhaled and hiccupped to catch her breath as if she had been holding it during the last minute of this dreadful conversation.

“That was intense,” Peter commented, if only to break the silence. “She’s… charming.”

               He brought his lips in a thin line and Emmeline looked up from her napkin, the corner of her mouth wavering slightly.

“She’s a soul-sucking cold-hearted bitch, is what she is,” she corrected him, and they both began to laugh, shaking off the tension and awkwardness that Madam Gerard left in her wake.

“That’s one way of putting it I suppose.” He took her hand under the table, hidden by the long tablecloth. “She’s also wrong. You look beautiful, and your smile is perfect as it is, no practice needed.”

“You don’t have to make me feel better, Peter, I’m used to it. It doesn’t get to me anymore.” It did, they were both aware. “I’m a big girl.”

“Shut up and accept the compliment,” Peter teased her, drawing another laugh from her. “You know, I’m glad I came today. This is the most thrilling Christmas dinner I’ve had in years! It’s exciting! Like I’m on a TV show.”

“A high society drama with its secret love affairs and corrupt politicians, then,” she hummed, scanning the crowd to look at everyone’s smiling faces. Everybody was so shiny, so spotless. The light caught on every diamond earring, silver ring and pearl necklace. “Not my kind of TV show.”

“What kind of TV show are you then?”

“Well…” She began to fold her napkin origami-style as she thought about it. “I’d like to think I’m a high fantasy show, that I’m on a path towards self-discovery and accomplishment, forming unbreakable bonds with the people around me in the process, and embracing who I am, but in reality I’m more like… Gossip Girl, or Riverdale, or whatever.”

“Teenage drama?”

“Yeah, exactly. Any TV show where the protagonists look older and fitter than they ought to be. There needs to be at least one shirtless scene per episode, and half the soundtrack is by the Arctic Monkeys.”

               A laugh fell from Peter’s lips and he frowned a little, perplexed.

“Oddly specific, yet accurate, somehow,” he said, soon joined by Emmeline in his laughter. One has to laugh in this kind of situation, or it’ll become overwhelming. “Are you ready for the climax of the episode then? Because your mother is coming this way again.”

“Oh no.” Emmeline sighed under her breath. “I’m so sorry you have to endure this with me. I’d have left you to your aunt if I were less of an egoist.”

“Are you kidding? This is better than a Broadway show. I think I can see the flowers waning in your mother’s wake.”

               Emmeline punched him in the arm and Peter pretended to be hurt, chuckling quietly. Both of them dropped their grin as soon as Em’s ice queen mother reached their table, casting a cold over them.

.

.

.

.

Reblog to save a writer

Taglist: @of-virtuoso @the-freefeather  @complete-trash-101​​  @justanothergenzkid​ @yarkmydude