#with the stuff about family responsibility and being unable to express himself very well...yeah. big time

[llycaons]

I think personally the minute I knew I liked wwx was very early on in the show...like in ep one when he stopped time (somehow?) and stole the peanuts and then was like ugh these suck. he just immediately had a lot of personality and his mischief and carefree nature was so starkly juxtaposed to the previous scene we saw him in that he was very intriguing to me. and he was a scamp...I love a scamp

[bigskydreaming]

I will forever squint suspiciously at a fandom that overall makes a bigger deal out of Dick Grayson expressing he didn’t want to replace his father when he was still young and actively grieving than they do Tim Drake literally hiring an actor to be his fake uncle and saying no to Bruce’s first actual offer of adoption.

Like, if you can get on board with Timothy Drake-Wayne after that, because Tim changed his mind after he was further along in his grieving process, you can get on board with the idea that at some point after the age of ten or twelve Dick similarly changed his mind about thinking a second father would be an insult to his first father’s memory.

*Shrugs* I just don’t get how hard some people go to bat for the idea that Dick never wanted or needed someone he viewed as an actual parent at any point after he was eight. Because you can’t deny that whatever Dick has said about that in the comics, he’s NEVER made it nearly AS big a deal as most fans who cite it at all do. Like, when you run with the most extreme extrapolation of that but gloss right over Tim’s far more extensive efforts to keep Jack Drake the sole father figure in his memory at first, I feel like something else is going on there.

(And I’m not trying to turn this into a Tim vs Dick thing, btw, I’m honestly just using Tim’s story there as a benchmark for how a clearly parallel sentiment is overwhelmingly referenced in regards to just one character but not another. My issues with the way people engage with this particular idea in regards to Dick like, exists without Tim being in the equation at all. That was simply an example of the fact that there IS a discrepancy.)

But point being, as all roads in this particular direction of thought almost always seem to lead to Dick being slotted into some nebulous category separating him from the rest of his siblings, where he’s only partially Bruce’s kid but not FULLY, not like the others....I am the Wary. 

Because whatever the surface intentions behind that, it almost inevitably voids some of Bruce’s responsibility to him as a parent, while at the same time making it easier to heap parental or caregiver style responsibilities for the others on Dick. If Dick’s more like Bruce than he is like his siblings in the overall family dynamic, this not only lessens the need to show him on the receiving end of Bruce being a parental figure, it simultaneously heightens the urge to make him a parental figure to the others to pick up Bruce’s slack there, because they’re more partners than they are father and son, see. So why wouldn’t Dick pick up Bruce’s slack and help him out there, and why would he need Bruce to actually be fulfilling that very role with him instead?

All the things people are critical of Bruce for in his parenting with Dick aren’t quite as bad, right, when Dick’s not fully his son or doesn’t quite view Bruce as his father....its easier to reframe it as fights between colleagues. Or recast Dick’s estrangement from Bruce as not actually a failure on Bruce’s part to reach out and cement exactly what Dick meant to him every time Dick flat out says “I want to know what I mean to you, give a name to it, give me an explanation for why you made these choices that isn’t that you don’t want me because all I see when I look at those choices is you expressing you don’t want me.” 

Because if Dick doesn’t actually want that explanation ever, if Dick doesn’t actually want that rock-solid expression of Bruce putting a name to what he feels for Dick and what he views him as, then the arguments between Bruce and Dick in his late teenage years DO become two-sided. Its just them butting heads back then. Rather than what they actually WERE in the comics, which was Dick clearly expressing insecurities about his place in Bruce’s life and Bruce repeatedly letting him leave or outright telling him to leave without actually giving it to him.

(I’m not even talking about NTT #55 for once, I’m actually talking about when Dick went to Gotham after he found out about Jason being Robin now. And as the events of that issue get referenced a TON in fandom, its HIGHLY suspect that one specific part of that issue gets rewritten in particular: where its acted like it was Dick that stormed off in a huff there or Dick who didn’t want anything more than to confront Bruce about Robin. It really doesn’t get addressed enough IMO that yes, Bruce said outright that he did it because he missed Dick....and then two panels later, Bruce literally asks Dick to go now. Says I would like you to leave now. Bruce is the one who blew up and lost his temper, literally smashing something while Dick was just heated because he was understandably upset, while Bruce somehow made it like he was the one being hurt by Dick and asking for space from him. Yeah, he said I miss you, but he never DID anything with that and in fact just turned around two seconds later and drove Dick away again, like Holy Mixed Signals, Batman! Y’know? Like what exactly was Dick supposed to do with that? “Oh, so Bruce misses me, but also he didn’t want me there, like I was literally RIGHT THERE for the first time in seventeen months and he missed me so much that....he didn’t even ask me to stay for dinner? Or call or reach out to me afterwards? So....my conclusion is.....what, exactly?”)

Ultimately though, my big beef with the stuff about adoption or Dick not wanting to replace his father, its not even about those specifically. Its about that period when Bruce very visibly was NOT in Dick’s life....and that was BY BRUCE’S CHOICE. That is the thing that needs addressing in my book, and far too often goes unresolved. No matter what the particulars of Dick’s views or wants re: adoption, there is literally no confusion about the existence of comics where Dick is repeatedly the one to reach out to Bruce, at a point in his life where he no longer had any legal ties to Bruce whatsoever.....and clearly express in one way or another that he is there and willing to talk, that in fact he WANTS to talk about why Bruce doesn’t seem to want HIM, specifically. 

It was Dick who brought up the issue of Bruce adopting Jason but not him and asked WHY at that one issue with them at a party. It was Dick who returned to Gotham and asked Bruce WHY he made Jason Robin when he hadn’t wanted Dick to be Robin - (and for the record, NO version of events where Bruce is the one to make Jason Robin aligns with Dick voluntarily giving up Robin.....the one and only continuity in which Dick did that, HE made the choice to pass Robin on to Jason. Mixing and matching continuities specifically to make Dick unable to claim hurt or resentment for the identity he crafted for himself being given away to someone else without his approval because ‘he was the one who said he didn’t want it anymore’ is yet again, suspect, as it serves absolutely no purpose other than to lessen the hurt done to him and abdicate Bruce’s culpability in hurting him when he did that). 

It was Dick who returned to Gotham after Jason died with no intention but to express his condolences and share their grief, and it was Dick who returned to Gotham to check on Bruce after Tim said he was worried he was going to get himself killed, as well as again more longterm in order to help with Tim’s training.

And in each and EVERY one of those situations.....it was Bruce that ended those encounters, and ALWAYS without ever offering Dick any actual resolution or change in their dynamic. Despite Dick’s very presence in each of these being a very clear sign that Dick was unhappy with their estrangement and wanted a change to it or else he wouldn’t even be there, he would be off being comfortably estranged somewhere else and totally content with that.

THAT’S the bigger issue and always has been, I think. That no matter how else you parse it, Dick repeatedly looked for and asked for reassurances, some kind of actual TIES to Bruce, and that Bruce for whatever personal reasons of his own, repeatedly did not give....even when Dick walked him right up to the perfect opportunity to just fucking say “I would like you to come home more, I want you here, I want you as part of my family even though you’ve already aged out of our existing legal bond.”

Bruce still just WOULD NOT SAY IT. Dick was very clear about needing and wanting something from Bruce that Bruce DID NOT GIVE HIM. Bruce gave him basically nothing to work with in these encounters more often than not. 

(In the interest of not being disingenuous here, I do admit that at the party when Dick asked Bruce why he’d adopted Jason and not him, Bruce did give a fairly touching response about how by the time he thought Dick would be open to it, he thought that Dick was too old to actually want or need it anymore. BUT, problem is, even with that it does absolutely nothing to change or address how the very fact that Dick was expressing insecurity about this now meant that Dick WASN’T actually too old to want or need it. It was literally a smack in the face that Bruce’s conclusion was wrong and not actually about Dick’s wants. And Bruce knew this, even referenced it at later points when he threw it back in Dick’s face to accuse Dick of resenting Bruce adopting Jason and not him.....which is a clear indication that Bruce knew it was something Dick still wanted or else there would be no reason for resentment, and THAT is the issue there. That no matter what Bruce said at that party about his reasons for not adopting Dick sooner, that very conversation itself should have been reason enough for Bruce to rethink his stance then there....but he didn’t. Also he ended up adopting Dick like five years later soooooo.....if he could do it then when Dick was even older, that doesn’t work as a barrier for him not doing it then.)

And that’s the troubling part.....how many people try and make that period of their lives unclear with no other visible purpose than to make the fact that Bruce WOULD NOT OUTRIGHT CEMENT DICK AS FAMILY OR ASK HIM TO STAY, like.....less problematic.

And as I’ve said before and will no doubt say again.......that logic process bugs the hell out of me, because it ultimately tries to claim the responsibility for Dick’s unhappiness in this regard back then is at least as much his fault as Bruce’s. That it was some kind of fight between equals, or that it was something Dick initiated or that Bruce had no power to resolve on his own via just his own choices or gestures.

Because it wasn’t! That’s not remotely what all of that was! And like I’m also always saying, you don’t HAVE to stick with the canon by any means. You can literally rewrite things so Bruce adopts Dick before he’s eighteen and they never HAVE that period, you can rewrite things so that Bruce reaches out and ends that period early on by DOING THE WORK of being the parent in that situation, you can ‘fix that’ by any number of means......yet over and over we see that period of estrangement repeatedly upheld as a thing that exists in the history that fics and headcanons reference having happened......but with the only ACTUAL change from the comics being that its framed as though it was just growing pains or Dick being stubborn or a dozen other things that somehow keep coming back to Dick doing something wrong there instead of repeatedly standing in front of Bruce asking for him to clarify their relationship and Bruce changing the subject or asking him to leave.

Again. THAT’S the problem.

You want Good Parent Bruce Wayne? Then WRITE Good Parent Bruce Wayne. Don’t just write Stubborn Teenaged Asshole Dick Grayson who btw doesn’t even really want Bruce to be his parent so there’s absolutely nothing Bruce could have done to bridge that gap back then anyway. 

(As that’s an equally critical part of the equation here as well. See, since Dick DID clearly express a want for a clear connection to Bruce back then, acting like Dick never really wanted a second father is a super convenient way to write over the part where Dick spelled out for Bruce how to bridge the divide between them and make things good again.....by demonstrating an actual WANT to have Dick in his family!)

But writing Stubborn Teenage Asshole Dick Grayson Who Did This To Himself.....that is something entirely different from writing Good Parent Bruce Wayne. You haven’t actually done or said anything with BRUCE’S character by just making Dick the fall guy for every conflict between them as though they were just equals all along and there was never any kind of actual parent child relationship or even a DESIRE for there to be a parent child relationship. Where the responsibility for being the PARENT like, lands on the....y’know. Parent.

And for the record, I don’t think this issue is confined just to this period of the comics, I think rather that its kinda the point of origin of a very large recurring problem in Dick’s conflicts with other people.

Because like I said, it was abundantly clear that Dick was expressing a want to be acknowledged as family, or just flat out acknowledged by Bruce at all, during this time. And if people can somehow make THAT period into just his fault.....then of course it should be no surprise that they can make any conflict he’s part of into his fault. Its a freaking blueprint for doing just that! 

And that’s exactly why this pattern recurs so damn often with EXACTLY the same fanon beats......whatever role the other character plays even in initiating a conflict is shifted onto Dick and somehow made into his own proactive choice and not something he’s actually reacting to. Thus Dick does double duty as both the CAUSE of the conflict and the resulting EFFECT - aka how he reacted to that thing that originally, he did not actually cause or initiate. While meanwhile, the other character not only gets off scot free bearing no actual culpability....no, now since DICK is the one making all the actual choices in the conflict from start to finish, now the other character is actually his VICTIM in it as well.

And that’s just.....so....blegh.

[somethinginthethunder]

real [ushijima wakatoshi x reader]

Author’s Note: ahahahhaahaiuhfiureno I’m back!! Did you miss me? No? Ah, well then-- anyway! This is also a more low-key fic since I literally have no idea what to write. Also, romance is hard to write as well :’) send help, please. And asks, too. Doesn’t even have to be a request lmao.

As usual, shares and feedback are appreciated (as long as they’re authentic! Please don’t feel obligated to give it if it’s not real!) Idk if I like this one, but I’m posting it anyway for that good satisfaction of being able to post stuff.

Also, if Ushijima is ooc I am so sorry!! Maybe I just don’t know him well enough :’) again, send help

And thank you for the feedback and response to ‘Walks in the Rain’! It meant so much to me I literally love you all!!

Word count: 1,346

Summary: Ushijima Wakatoshi wonders if what he’s bringing to the table in this relationship is enough. At least, for you.

Warnings?: my writing i’M KIDDING I’M KIDDING, but none other than that!

---

It was no secret that Ushijima Wakatoshi was not a very expressive man. In fact, some might doubt that he has the ability to express any of his emotions at all (if he had them in the first place). So it would, of course, be a big surprise when it was revealed that he had a girlfriend.

You.

You, Y/n L/n, were the lucky girl who got to give him your love, and in return, get his back.

But it wasn’t so obvious.

At first, people had doubted the existence of your relationship, wondering if it was just a ploy to get his little fangirls out of the way. But they soon found out that it wasn’t the case.

There were little actions that confirmed the relationship. Rare kisses, holding of hands, longing stares, and tiny gifts. But it hadn’t convinced everyone. Two students even asked him if it was real. 

“Is it really true she’s your girlfriend?” the short-haired girl asked, a pout on her lips.

He thought for a moment, an almost confused look on his face. 

“Yes, she is. Why wouldn’t she be?” he asked, his face still holding an intense stare.

“Well,” the other girl answered. “You just don’t, like, act like a real couple. So, we thought that maybe it was a trick!”

Acting like a real couple? His shoulders loosened as he collected the rest of his things, standing from his seat. “We’re a real couple. I love her, she loves me. What more do you need to know?” he asked, obviously not particularly wanting a real answer. He had another period to get to, anyway.

When it came to things like volleyball, his future, and school, he wasn’t usually one to express his worry over them. In fact, he didn’t usually feel worried at all as long as he knew his options.

But that conversation was different, for some reason. He knew that he wasn’t the most emotionally fulfilling boyfriend, nor was he too expressive with himself at all. But he assumed his actions made up for it, and his clear-cut loyalty.

What if, he thought,  that’s what you’ve wanted? Someone who could express them self like he typically couldn’t. 

If this were anything else, he wouldn’t have thought about it too much. But this was about you. He always considered everything about you and what he would do for you. He honestly couldn’t say no too often unless it was something quite important.

He knew that if he had the option to give you everything you could ever want and need (good income, a family, nice home, etc.), that’d he’d give it to you, even if it meant he wasn’t included.

The stone-faced ace mulled over this for a little, wondering why it was taking such a toll on him.

“Ah, Toshi!” 

His eyes lowered to meet your gaze. There you were, in all your glowing beauty. A smile on your face at the sight of your tall boyfriend. You looked happy as ever, as if the sun had decided to bless you with its rays of light for the day.

“Y/n,” he responded, his face noticeably softening as he allowed you to hold his hand (initiation is well divided amongst the two of you).

“How was class? Mine was boring,” you asked, leaning against him as you both walked down the halls.

He didn’t respond for a bit, seemingly preoccupied with his thoughts.

“Toshi?” you said, looking up at his face.

“Ah,” he answered, seemingly snapped out of it. “It was fine.”

You blinked at his answer. It wasn’t anything out of the ordinary, but you could tell something was up. That was one of the things he liked about you. You could understand him and were flexible when it came to what he offered.

“What’s up?” you inquired softly.

He looked back at you, slightly tightening the grip he had on your hand. “Let’s go out tomorrow.”

It wasn’t the answer you thought you’d be getting, but you didn’t mind at all.

You smiled, amused at his ways.

“Of course! Where to?”

☆☆☆

“Y/n.”

Your attention was brought away from the beautiful garden and back to your boyfriend. 

Both of you had decided to take a walk in town and stop by some of your favorite places. Nothing special, but it was the little things that mattered to you the most. Well, that and him, of course.

“Yes?” you hummed, taking a sip of the drink your hand.

“Is my… affection enough for you?” he asked, a hint of hesitation in his voice.

“Enough?” you said, clearly confused. You tilted your head in confusion, unsure of what he was referring to.

“Although I don’t think it quite matters what people say about us, it is apparent that some think we’re faking our relationship simply because I don’t seem,” he paused, unsure of how to phrase it. “Uh, emotionally fulfilling.”

“Emotionally fulfilling?” you echoed, an eyebrow raised.

He nodded in confirmation, studying your face as you walked past the stores and other buildings. In your own mind, you realized what he was referring to.

Huh.

You thought for a moment.

“Well, do you love me?” you questioned, throwing the drink can away as it was finished.

He was unable to understand how you were feeling in this moment. Were you surprised? Glad that he finally noticed? Sad? What was it? Deep down, it kind of frustrated him how he couldn’t read you like you could read him. 

“Of course I do. You know that,” he answered, confidence in his voice.

“Well, then, that’s all I really need,” you shrugged, the smile returning to your face. Before, he could respond, you continued. “I’ve heard some of those, too. People talk, but you’re right, it doesn’t matter. You may not be the cookie cutter perfect boyfriend, but you’re perfect for me.”

You stopped at the entrance of a park, which was to be your final destination for the date.

“I don’t need grand gestures or dramatic confessions of your love. I just want you. You make up for everything that is perceived as  normal in a relationship. You just told me you love me. And I can tell you do, from the way you smile, the way you talk, and the way you let me love you, especially,” you moved to step in front of him, taking hold of his other hand.

 “Don’t worry about trying to make yourself better for me. If I need something from you, I’ll tell you,” you reassured him. “I love you. If people think it’s fake, then let them. We know it’s real, and that’s enough. As long as our feelings stay true and nobody cheats, we’ll be fine.”

“I could never knowingly hurt you,” he mentioned swiftly, combating the mention of cheating.

“And I believe you. I suppose it’s also worth mentioning I’d never hurt you either, though I hope you already knew that,” you hummed. “Now gimme a kiss!” you pouted, trying to change the mood.

Something inside him changed. Not drastically, no, but there was something. Reassurance. Trust. And, hell, even more love for you (if that was even possible).

He smiled at you. You appreciated how you got to experience his smile more than the average person did (which was basically never).

Leaning down to match you height, he pressed his lips to yours. 

It was soft, kind, and real. 

Momentarily, you wrapped your arms around his neck to make it last a little longer than usual. He didn’t mind, of course.

Once you pulled away, your hands intertwined once more, with you pressing your forehead against his chest. Just the two of you enjoying the existence of each other, nothing else.

His hand pressed against your back as you absorbed each other’s warmth.

Finally, you pulled away, returning back to his side once more.

“Right! Let’s finish this date off with the happiest note possible, yeah?” you beamed, glad that the worry was finally out of the way.

He nodded in agreement. And with that, your walk was resumed.

...So what if your love wasn’t like others?

It’s still real.

---

☆ tags for overall ☆  (please ask if you want to be added!)

@shou-kunn

[swimfuel]

okay humanstuck thoughts under the cut

i owe a lot of this to @/rhythmic-idealist's kankri/vantasposting bc holy shit theyve got such a big brain (ill link to their individual posts when im on desktop since im using this to keep all my thoughts straight and i agree with most of what they say wholeheartedly)

general status quo stuff:

signless works in an extremely demanding career involving helping others (i'm leaning towards an attorney who works with organizations and does pro bono work), and is also extensively involved in social justice work outside of his job... he is very rarely home

he loves and cares for his children deeply and tries to express it whenever they're face to face, but the couch in his cramped and messy office has seen far too much use over the years for him to have been able to say it enough

his habits of working himself to the point of exhaustion are handily passed down to his kids btw

the kids had to grow up quickly because signless was out of the house so often and so consistently—kankri, who was already pretty high-strung, has to learn to take care of himself and karkat

they grow up near ms firuzeh maryam, who's their pseudoaunt/grandma (she took in a nine year old kavana vantas when she was about twenty), but they just call her ms rosa

they spent a lot of time in the maryam house growing up, with miss rosa's two nieces. porrim is a year older than kankri, while kanaya and karkat are the same age

kankri grows kinda sensitive to people trying to mother him since it rubs against the notion that he's the "adult of the house" and that he can take care of himself and karkat just fine

(and it also kinda underlines the fact that kankri has no idea what he's doing at the best of times)

and ironically enough, kankri becomes overbearing and naggy towards karkat in his own right, which forestalls them becoming close in any brotherly sort of way

they grow up really just... unable to communicate with one another clearly

karkat develops his ornery exterior in response to kankri's constant stream of opinions and frantic attempts at making up for the presence of a guardian in the house

i think there would actually be some really interesting parallels with rose in this au.. maybe i'm drawing from my own experiences as well but i think he'd begin to assume that every time his brother opens his mouth, he's going to criticize karkat

but instead of reacting like rose with the "making yourself more of a puzzle"/passive aggressive stuff, he gets a more defensive/hackles raised/"argue with you before you can argue with me" approach

and the thing is that they do love each other and would take a bullet for the other etc etc etc.. but they don't know how to express it because they've fallen into these shitty patterns

and it really doesn't help that kankri has grown somewhat resentful of signless over the years... that mix of resentment and fear and love gets more extreme and more polar every time signless gets injured during a political demonstration

i think kankri and signless would also be slightly closer than karkat and signless, as signless' job really only started to ramp up when karkat was less than years old and kankri was in his early double digits

kankri autistic btw its word of god (i am god)

karkat has a pet crab. its name is also karkat. he vents his frustrations to it.

i feel like the vantases exemplify both the best and worst parts of their aspects with one another as well... the strength of their bonds keeps them together and grounded, but TOO grounded. [insert Blood rant here]

the Blood rant:

i define Blood as bonds, responsibility, and the "core". if Life is the fertile soil and everything living on a planet's surface, then Blood is the gravitational core of the planet keeping everything together

i also think Blood, Heart, & Mind work in tandem to define a person just as blood serves to connect the pieces of the human body... Heart is the soul and the self, Mind is the application of one's self through active choices (agency), while Blood defines both the self and the choices one makes in greater detail [and, as an aside, Life provides the physical spark of life needed to keep the heart pumping blood]

OKAY wow that got tangential anyways

SO BASICALLY! too much Blood makes you stagnate, so for example:

kankri is split between staying home with karkat or going to college across the country and being truly unbound for the first time in years

another crisis of Blood: signless is caught between his empathy and responsibility to the whole world and his responsibility to his own children

okay so here's more status quo stuff:

the maryam and vantas kids grow up together and its hilarious because you'll see them all together and its just like (girlboss) (girlboss) (physical manlet) (emotional manlet)

the maryam girls are actually miss rosa's nieces but she took them in when they were both pretty young

the pyropes know the vantases well enough considering pyrope senior and sign have known one another from their respective legal practices for years, but they live on the other side of town

the leijons lived in town when kankri and meulin were very young, but they moved and travelled for a long time before coming back and reestablishing their roots

the captors (psii being one of sign's oldest and closest friends) move into town with the peixes family pretty early on though

the condesce is.. a horrible spouse and guardian, to put it plainly. she's very emotionally manipulative and isn't averse to smacking people around, including her own family. she moves herself and her perfect little family into town so she can properly oversee a new business venture close by

feferi is one of the best young swimmers in the country and has a pretty good shot of getting onto the olympic team.. a lot of this drive to be perfect and to be better results from the condesce's unrelenting pressure and thinly veiled resentment throughout her whole life

so yeah psii, )(ic, feferi, and sollux all live together and it's really not great for anyone involved. (meenah ran away years ago, and crashed on aranea's couch for a pretty long while—mituna moved out with latula for college before psii and the condesce got married)

it gets bad to the point of sollux staying with the maryams for two months while the adults try to sort out that absolute clusterfuck and get the divorce proceedings going (meenah finally convinces feferi to get out and come stay with her and aranea for the duration as well)

in terms of relationships i think latula and porrim were really really close in high school, and probably had some kind of unacknowledged thing going on for a while that never actually turned into anything because latula and mituna were going steady

kankri has had a crush on latula for years but never acted on it for similar reasons

meenah still carries a lot of that give no fucks attitude (it's developed moreso as a defense mechanism here) and can't understand why feferi refuses to leave the condesce with her

okay back to VANTAS MANPAIN i also think that karkat feels the weight of a lot of expectations on his shoulders as well

he feels responsible to live up to the example his dad and his brother set, even if it's to his own detriment—and kankri's oblivious rambling about his grades and his teachers and all his clubs certainly aren't helping the matter

kankri is one of those overinvolved kids taking a million AP's while simultaneously shitting on the collegeboard at every single step

hes this super overachiever anal retentive perfectionist type dude and (just as karkat preemptively criticizes others to forestall their criticisms of him only to harshly criticize himself) kankri subconsciously holds the people around him to the same expectations he holds for himself

so karkat also develops this sense of lacking which, in combination with everything else, culminates in self loathing and thinking he has to solve everyone else's problems and getting horribly mad at himself for every little mistake

GOD i have a lot more but lemme post this before i accidentally close out of the app and lose it all

more little details:

vriska's mom and terezi's mom HATE each other like HATE HATE HATE one another it's so bad

karkat wrote a ten page review of my immortal in middle school

jade is one of nepeta's best online friends

sollux can't raise one eyebrow at a time.. karkat gives him so much grief about it

the vantases eat a lot of shitty renditions of persian dishes until karkat learns to cook because literally the only person in the world with a CHANCE of getting KANKRI VANTAS to make an EDIBLE DISH is miss rosa

kanaya is really good at persian dance too but is VERY VERY embarassed to perform in front of people.. however porrim definitely is not

karkat has insomnia while kankri just stays up stupidly late for assignments that really shouldnt be taken that seriously.. but they both have the same rumination/sleep anxiety thing where your brain goes insane with horrible and depressing scenarios as you try to sleep

and more ideas that i thought were interesting but idk how to fit in the context of this au:

signless and disciple getting married pretty late in life after having been in love for years, the vantases move in with the leijons and karkat suddenly has two sisters

nepeta and karkat are both juniors at this point, meulin is probably in her third year at a local college nearby while kankri is about to start his second year at a university pretty far away

the kids in general honestly but ill figure it out

more random hcs this time with kids:

kanaya and rose get into a flame war online that gradually settles into elaborate courtship rituals

also nepeta + jade online besties

also bec can inexplicably still teleport

the first sbahj movie comes out and the next six months of dave strider junior's high school career are absolute hell

actually hc that dave senior goes by d strider professionally. the d stands for a lot of things

aradia and dave frequent a lot of the same forums but never end up really interacting

meanwhile karkat and john frequent a lot of the same forums and DEFINITELY end up interacting. this turns into grudging (at least on karkat's part) friendship after they find themselves fighting for their lives defending an objectively shitty movie together on the same thread

[writingfortoomanyfandoms]

Penny For Your Thoughts (V)

Pairing: Young!Sirius Black x Reader

Series Summary: Y/N Y/L/N has lived in the Potter household since she was eight years old. Even amongst the Potters, whom she knew loved her, she has never felt truly accepted, never felt like anything other than a burden. Until she went to Hogwarts. For the first time she had friends who weren’t forced to act as such, she had a family who loved her by choice. There, she met Sirius, the first and only person to ever truly understand what she was going through, to listen to her and not judge.

Chapter Warnings: Ummm not sure - maybe swearing?

A/N: And here’s part five! Please let me know what you think - especially if you’re on the taglist, hearing your comments always inspires me to keep on writing, so please do let me know. If you wish to be added to the taglist send me an ASK, replies to the parts asking to be added onto it won’t be responded to

Just to remind you of what I said last time - there’s a bit of a time skip in the following chapters, here we jump to the end of the Xmas holidays but there are gonna be a few more of these kinds of skips in time in the next couple of chapters as well so please keep that in mind!

Y/N’s winter holidays passed in a flash. 

During her first term at Hogwarts, Y/N had spent so little time with the boy who had been her surrogate brother that she had actually forgotten how much she enjoyed his company when it was just the two of them, not feeling as though she was hiding something from her friends by just being in James’ presence. 

But back at the Potter’s house it was once again her and James, attached at the hip, as they had been for years now. 

In a way, Y/N dreaded going back to Hogwarts with the knowledge that she would be going back to spending minimal time with James since they were in different houses, had very different friends, shared few of the same classes and no one other than Beatrice knew that they lived together.

However, returning to Hogwarts after the break did bring a sense of relief, an overwhelming joy at finally being back with her friends who she had missed so much in the brief time that they been separated - a sentiment that she knew James shared regarding Sirius, him having confessed to her how worried he was for his newfound best friend. 

It was oddly comforting to walk back into the Great Hall the morning after the return train to Hogwarts, side-by-side with Beatrice, Liane and Jessica chatting animatedly behind them, the four of them catching up on their holidays, filling in the gaps that they hadn’t managed to on the train the previous day. 

Before she could actually enter the Great Hall to have breakfast with her friends, however, she heard a voice call out her name and turned around with a slight frown. Liane bumped into her, not having realised that Y/N had stopped.

“Sorry,” Y/N said, seeing her friend’s startled expression.

“Y/N!” The voice repeated.

“Sirius?” Y/N laughed a little as she finally placed the somewhat out of breath voice calling out to her.

“Hey! I wanted to talk to you!” 

“I kind of figured,” Y/N said with a grin. Feeling the gazes of her friends still on her, mild confusion hidden in all of their expressions, she turned to them and gave a half shrug. 

“Save me a crumpet?”

Sirius gave her a sheepish smile once her friends had left them standing in the entrance to the Great Hall, rubbing the back of his neck, tousling up his hair in the process.

“Where are the other three?” She asked, surprised that James had apparently not surgically attached himself to Sirius’ side.

“James is waiting in the common room to corner Evans,” Sirius informed her, the smile on his face becoming more mischievous.

“I thought you made every effort to try and be there whenever Lily was rejecting him?” Sirius laughed at that, shrugging his shoulders as they moved out of the way of the doors to allow older students past them.

“Remus and Peter will tell me about it - I wanted to talk to you.”

“What about?” 

“I just…” a dusting of pink tinted Sirius’ cheeks and he avoided her eyes in a show of uncharacteristic nervousness. “I mean - thank you for… you know… that Christmas present,” he said, peeking up at her from under his long lashes.

“Oh - that - Sirius, you don’t need to thank me for that, that box was filled with so much random stuff, you probably didn’t need-”

“No!” Sirius cut her off, shaking his head wildly. His face was scarlet with embarrassment but his eyes shone brightly with an emotion that Y/N couldn’t quite place. “It was really… nice of you and you didn’t have to do it so I just wanted to say thank you.” His words were spoken all in a rush, the look on his face conveying a sense of complete mortification, completely unable to meet her eyes, though his words bled with sincerity.

Y/N wasn’t sure what came over her in that moment, but she couldn’t stop herself from stepping closer to him and wrapping her arms around him, embracing him tightly.

“O-oh.”

“You okay, Sirius?” Y/N asked as the boy slowly lowered his arms, hugging her back unsurely.

“This may come as a surprise to you but my family aren’t exactly… big on the whole… affection thing.” 

Y/N laughed, pulling away from her friend and seeing the fleeting look of disappointment that crossed his face as she did so, putting an appropriate amount of distance between the two of them.

“Sorry.”

“No - I - I -” Sirius shut his eyes tightly, a slight groan escaping him. “Don’t be sorry,” he settled on at last. “I did have a question about the present, though,” Sirius hurried to add, evidently not wanting to dwell for too long over the sudden affection that had passed between the two of them.

“Oh?”

“Those… disk things you put in… what are they, exactly?”

“They’re records - haven’t you seen them before?”

“Records? Records of what?” Sirius’ expression was only sinking into deeper confusion, his eyes studying Y/N intently as though worried she was poking fun at him. She let out a laugh.

“Of music! You put them on a record player and they play music,” this explanation didn’t seem to alleviate Sirius’ confusion at all. “Sorry - I assumed you knew what they were when I put them in there.”

“Are they… muggle?”

“Yeah - ask Remus, or James actually. Both of them know how they work,” she shrugged and Sirius gave a slow nod of his head, deep in thought.

“And the sunflower seeds - why were they… in there?” 

“I just thought that they might cheer you up - when they grow, I mean,” Y/N explained, feeling herself growing a little embarrassed. 

Of course Sirius was questioning her gift to him - he came from a wealthy, pure-blood family. He didn’t want a care package consisting of baked goods, muggle records, sunflower seeds, a book and some socks. He was likely used to far more extravagant gifts than that - and it wasn’t even as though they were particularly close friends to begin with.

“So you like gardening?” Sirius asked and of everything that Y/N had thought he may ask her, that was not what she had expected.

“I’m in Hufflepuff - it’s basically one of our defining qualities.”

“Right up there with loyalty and hard-work?”

“Did you miss the Sorting Hat saying so?”

The two of them shared a moment of laughter.

“Thanks - I was expecting to have a pretty… awful Christmas, to be honest with you, so thank you for making it… less so.” Y/N laughed again at that, rolling her eyes.

“At least you didn’t have to put up with James - he insisted on sneaking up on me every five minutes in his invisibility cloak after he got it for Christmas.” Sirius laughed at her anecdote but a look of mingled surprise and confusion painted his features. Y/N realised her slip-up a moment too late and her eyes widened just a little. “I should - my friends are waiting for me,” she said, gesturing to the Great Hall, not waiting for a response from Sirius before darting away.

“What was that about?” Beatrice asked when Y/N sat down in her usual space on the bench beside her.

“He just wanted to say thanks for his Christmas present,” Y/N shrugged. 

“You got him a Christmas present?” Jessica asked, frowning a little when Y/N nodded in confirmation.

“I didn’t know you were actually friends with him,” Liane commented through a mouthful of toast.

Y/N made a non-commital noise, sharing a look with Beatrice, who held a certain amount of understanding in her eyes and offered her a slight smile. 

“My mum won’t shut up about exams, by the way,” Liane went on when she realised that Y/N wasn’t going to give anything more on the subject, evidently going back to the topic they had been discussing before Y/N had rejoined them.

“They don’t start for ages, though,” Beatrice groaned. “Plus we’re first years, surely they don’t matter that much.”

“Not really,” Liane agreed.

“But we should still work hard for them,” Jessica interrupted seriously, a determined expression on her face. “I refuse to let Eric beat me in the exams,” she added, causing the other three of them to laugh.

Their first lesson after breakfast was Charms with the Gryffindors, but considering how much time she had spent with James over the past few weeks, she had assumed that he wouldn’t have anything new to say to her in the hours since their return to Hogwarts, but outside the classroom he tugged her to the side.

“What?” Y/N asked, furrowing her brows as she watched him rifle in his bag.

“I have something for you,” he muttered distractedly.

“What?” She repeated incredulously, not being able to think of any reason why James would have something to give her.

 “Oh - it’s not from me,” he explained, flashing her  quick smile before returning to digging through his bag. 

“Here!” He pulled out a scruffily-wrapped package, a triumphant grin on his face as he held it out for her. Y/N took it, her eyebrows raised in amusement.

“Thanks.”

“It’s from Sirius,” James explained, zipping up his bag and hoisting it back up onto his shoulder. Y/N frowned, looking over at the aforementioned boy, who had been watching her and James but quickly looked away and engaged himself in the conversation being held between Remus and Peter, though Y/N thought she saw a trace of pink on his cheeks.

“We were talking outside the Great Hall before breakfast, why didn’t he just give it to me then?” 

“He didn’t want to see your reaction.” James said drily, raising his eyebrows in amusement.

“What?” Y/N laughed as Flitwick approached down the hall, gesturing for the students to enter into his classroom. Y/N walked side-by-side with James.

“He’s worried you’re not going to like it, I think.” 

“That’s…”

“Weird?”

“I was going to go with ‘nice’,” Y/N laughed, pushing James’ shoulder a little and rolling her eyes. 

James grinned cheekily at her, starting to make his way towards the back of the classroom where Sirius, Remus and Peter awaited him.

“Oh, by the way, Sirius also said that he has no idea who Rosa is so she definitely doesn’t exist,” he added before walking away, a smug smile in place.

Once Y/N had settled into her usual seat beside Beatrice with Liane and Jessica the table in front of them, she placed Sirius’ present in her lap, not wanting to draw Flitwick’s attention to it lest it get confiscated.

“What’s that?” Beatrice whispered.

“Christmas present,” Y/N responded, also keeping her voice low.

“Why didn’t James give you his present when you were at home?”

“It’s from Sirius,” Y/N replied, not looking at her friend and carefully beginning to unwrap the scruffy paper.

“From Sirius?” Liane repeated, turning around in her chair to try and catch a look at the gift on Y/N’s lap. Y/N nodded her ascent as she pulled out the gift.

A quiet laugh broke from her, a soft smile on her face as she stared down at the present.

“It’s a book?” Liane asked, craning her neck, evidently desperate to find out what it was.

“‘Fantastic Beasts and Where to Find Them’,” Y/N confirmed.

“Don’t you already have a copy of that?” Jessica asked quietly, only sparing them a quick glance backwards, not wanting to be caught breaking the rules.

“Well, yeah - but it’s still nice of him,” Y/N shrugged, carefully tucking the book into her bag and getting out her charms textbook.

“Very sweet,” Beatrice agreed and it was clear to Y/N that she was trying her hardest not to laugh.

It wasn’t until a few weeks later that Y/N had another proper run-in with Sirius.

Y/N, Beatrice, Liane and Jessica had been studying outside, making good use of the rare day of warm sunshine that had occurred out of the blue. It hadn’t been long before they were joined by Eric and his friend Jason from Ravenclaw, who also stretched out in the sun rays with their books in front of them, beginning to revise for the upcoming exams.

Remus turned up nearly ten minutes after Eric and Jason, looking a little awkward and uncomfortable, evidently unsure of how welcome he would be within the group of Hufflepuffs and the singular Ravenclaw.

“Remus!” Y/N spotted him, smiling at the quiet boy.

“Hey…”

“Is there something wrong?” She asked, frowning a little.

“Mind if I join you?”

“James not letting you study?” Y/N grinned, which Remus appeared to take as agreement to his question as he settled himself with his back against the tree they were using as shade.

“No - him and Sirius were trying to rope me and Peter into pranking some Slytherins so I figured I ought to make myself scarce,” he confirmed, shooting her a wry smile and opening his books. “I was also hoping for some help?” He added, looking even more uncomfortable than before. But his eyes were no longer on her, instead he looked to Liane, who seemed to feel his gaze and looked up with a quizzical expression.

“What’s up?”

“I heard you’re good with Potions?”

“I’m pretty great at everything,” Liane corrected with a cheeky smile. “But I suppose I am known to specialise in Potions.”

Their productive studying, however, only lasted for half an hour at most. James, Sirius and Peter approached them, wide grins on their faces, evidently ready to disturb the group of students.

“I can’t believe you guys are studying already!” James laughed, standing by the edge of the group, looking at Y/N with raised eyebrows.

“Some of us want to do well in our exams, Potter,” Beatrice said, not looking up from the Herbology textbook that her and Jessica were both pouring over.

“I’m gonna do just fine in my exams, thank you very much,” James protested.

“He’s right, B - as annoying as it is, James can actually sometimes be rather smart.”

“I think that’s the closest you’ve ever been to paying me a compliment,” James informed Y/N, plopping down onto the floor beside her, ruffling her hair. Y/N groaned, reaching up to hit his hand away.

“Leave me alone!” She complained as Sirius settled down on her other side, lounging on the grass and looking completely at ease.

“Anyone would think you don’t like our company,” Sirius mused.

“There’s at least a ten percent drop in productivity whenever you’re in the same room as someone, Star Boy.”

“That’s because I’m just such a delight to be around that others find it distracting, Sunflower.”

“Sunflower?” Y/N asked, raising her eyebrows at him but Sirius just gave a wink in response, stretching out even more.

Y/N gave in, shutting her Defence Against the Dark Arts book, aware that as long as the Gryffindor boys were present, there was no way that she was going to be getting any actual revision done. 

Her friends appeared to be thinking the same thing as her, also allowing themselves to be pulled away from their work and taking James and Sirius’ approach to make themselves comfortable in the grass.

“I can’t wait for summer,” James declared with a content sigh.

“Neither,” Liane agreed.

“No homework for two months,” Peter added, a satisfied smile on his face from just the thought.

“You guys are aware that we haven’t even had Easter yet, right?” Y/N asked, shutting her eyes, feeling the tiredness that her body held beginning to wash over her.

“And we do get homework over the summer, Peter,” Remus added.

“Easter barely counts - we’ll all be studying,” Beatrice inputted.

“Though you guys have clearly got a headstart on that,” Sirius agreed and Y/N could tell just from his voice that he was smiling. 

“Do you guys have any plans for the summer yet?” Eric asked.

“We always go and visit family,” Liane murmured, evidently beginning to feel just as lethargic as Y/N was in the summer heat.

“So do we,” Beatrice inputted. “My sister and I will probably end up staying with my grandparents for a little while.”

“Quidditch - I’m going to play so much Quidditch,” James sighed contentedly.

“You thinking of trying out next year?” Jason asked interestedly. “What position.”

“Chaser.”

“He’s pretty good,” Y/N backed her friend up, opening one eye to see James beaming at her. She could feel Sirius’ gaze observing the two of them but chose not to acknowledge it. “What about you, Sirius?”

“I don’t play Quidditch all that much,” he said, misinterpreting what Y/N had been asking.

“I mean for your plans over the summer,” Y/N laughed, lolling her head over to look at him.

“Oh! Nothing interesting - the usual, you know? Galas, dances, dinners, that kind of thing.” 

No one responded immediately, all of them looking at Sirius in mild shock. He frowned, looking around the group. 

“What?”

“That’s the usual?” Beatrice asked.

“Well… yeah?”

“Bloody hell, Black, remind me to get out my ball dress next time I see you coming,” Liane burst out through her laughter. The rest of the group joined in, even Sirius laughing a little, though clearly a little uncomfortable.

“Sorry - must be a… pureblood thing, then.”

“Sacred twenty-eight, huh?” Y/N grinned and Sirius returned it bashfully.

“Guess so.”

[bordeauxatdusk]

Mystique (A Detroit: Become Human Fanfic) Part 1

 Read the full fic (so far) on Ao3 here!

DISCLAIMER this fic is about gay android detectives in 2038. Please know that I am a BLM supporter and that I do not write in this in support of our current shitty criminal justice system. 

Forget-me-nots.

The dead woman’s eyes were the same color as the flowers in her hair.

She was poised, artfully, in an elegant position that looked almost like a sculpture. Rigor mortis held her in place. The crown of forget-me-nots was integrated with an elaborate veil of white lace that fell gracefully down her back.

The bloodstained silk wedding gown she was wrapped in extended outward, rippling over the room, which was staged like a movie set; a host of antique items and classic still-life objects had been structured to frame her. Elaborate globes mingled with vases of flowers mingled with stacks of old yellowing books, covers frayed. Warm light streamed in lazily from large arcing windows, illuminating the oakwood floors of the room.

The light glinted off the pearl dagger embedded in the woman’s chest. In front of her, a gold-leafed, leather-bound edition of Shakespeare’s Romeo and Juliet had been left open to the infamous scene:

“O, happy dagger, this is thy sheath.”

A human would undoubtedly call the scene beautiful.

To Nines, however, it was simply another murder.

He was capable of appreciating beauty, although many would be surprised to hear it. (Some people were surprised to hear that androids were capable of any abstract thought at all.)

Nines understand the concept of aesthetic value perfectly well. What he was not capable of understanding was how humans, in their love of aesthetic value, sometimes seemed to discard logic and reason.

The concept of a beautiful murder was immaterial to him. It was still murder. Whether it was committed in a wide-open oak room or in a rotting gutter made no difference.

Nines would hunt down and eliminate the murderer either way.

He was glad that Gavin felt the same, although Nines was concerned that he seemed disproportionately unnerved by something. What exactly it was, Nines couldn’t tell.

He knew that Gavin was upset partially from the rising levels of adrenaline in his scans, partially from the fact that Gavin’s pupils were dilated and he was beginning to fidget in the way he typically expressed distress (tapping his fingers together and pacing, mostly) and partially from the fact that he was increasing his profanity from its normal rate of about every one in fifteen words to every one in ten.

Nines had spent a lot of time analyzing Gavin Reed. Perhaps an irrational amount.

It hadn’t helped much.

Nines guessed that the cause of his partner’s distress must be some deeply-held psychological trauma. Humans often experienced it, and Gavin personally had suffered a difficult childhood. Whatever the reason for his distress, it must be very serious.

“What the fuck do you mean, ‘ I don’t know ’, Tina?! ” his partner was currently yelling into his phone. “It’s a simple goddamn question! Do they have jalapeno poppers or not?!”

Fascinating.

Nines was well equipped to read Gavin, but very poorly equipped to understand him. The difference, he felt, was vast. He was... displeased by it. Androids were predictable, generally. Deviants much less so than non-deviants, of course, but they were still more logical than humans. At first Nines had been convinced that Gavin was simply uncomfortable expressing his emotions, but the android had begun to discover that Gavin himself was often unaware of them.

Perhaps there was some unpleasant memory jalapeno poppers evoked for his partner. He would have to ask later. Nines would have preferred to have Gavin leave the room and take a few minutes to calm down, but he had learned recently that it wasn’t an option. Apparently, Nines doing what he was designed to do and examining the physical evidence without Gavin’s interference meant he was “being a fucking know-it-all” and a “stuck-up asshole.”

“Look,” Gavin had said a few weeks ago, waving a hand dismissively to try and distract from the fact that he was clearly upset. “ It’s no big deal. Just don’t keep fucking asking me to leave in the middle of crime scenes, okay?”

Nines had been unable to see the point of this request. “ Gavin, you were clearly disgusted by the scope of the damage done to the victim.”

“Well, yeah,” Gavin had muttered sulkily, “but you don’t need to be all weird about it. Look, Nines, I want to do my job. Let me do it. Even if I’m not really helping, just let me feel like I am, okay?”

Nines had been even more confused. “ If you aren’t going to help, why are you so determined to be there? Humans aren’t exactly well-equipped for forensic analysis to begin with. I don’t hold it against you.”

It had escalated into a full-blown fight that left Nines more confused than ever until Gavin was finally able to articulate that he didn’t want to feel useless.

The absurdity and simplicity of the answer had caught Nines off guard. Gavin Reed, useless? They had won a medal together just six months ago for solving an incredibly dangerous case, saving the lives of ten other officers in the process (and possibly the entire DPD). Their success had almost entirely been due to Gavin. Useless?

Nines strongly disagreed.

He had told Gavin so. Nines always said what he meant.

Gavin had huffed under his breath.

“ Alright, shit, I get it,” he’d said, trying and failing not to smile. “You’re a big fucking suck-up.”

Nines knew enough about humans to understand that the insulting response had roughly meant, in Gavin-language,“Thank you, Nines. I’m flattered.”

What confused him is why Gavin didn’t just say that instead.

Humans never said what they meant. It was inconvenient.

Gavin's voice snapped him out of his reverie.

“Hey, Robocop. You find anything?”

Nines blinked. Gavin was staring at him, phone in hand, waiting.

Nine shook his head. “This crime scene is so elaborately staged, I can’t move through it without risking disrupting the evidence. Every object in this room is potentially a key to solving the case. There’s a very low probability the killer managed to set this up without leaving some traces of his presence behind-- fingerprints, hair, DNA. It would be better to wait until forensics arrives, and allow them to do their job. “

Gavin wrinkled his nose, thinking. It was a habit of his.

(One that Nines found extremely distracting, but it wasn’t the time for that.)

“Is something bothering you, Detective?” Nines asked.

Gavin huffed. “Yeah, stop calling me ‘detective.’ You know my name.”

He paused for a moment, sighed, and then gestured to the scene in front of them.

“It’s this whole thing, Nines. I hate it when they do this shit. It’s so fucked up. Trying to turn something so horrible into something pretty, or romantic, or-- I don’t know. You’ll see. These cases are always hell to investigate. We can’t let a single drop of this leak to the media, or else this poor girl is going to be on the front page of every newspaper across the country. ‘The Girl In the Wedding Dress’, or some shit like that.”

Nines didn’t understand. “I’m not sure I’m following you. You don’t want her case to be publicized?”

Gavin shook his head. “Hell no. How do I explain this? Okay. This girl, she’s not fucking Juliet, right? What's her real name? You know it already with your facial recognition?”

“Ashley Briggs.”

“Okay. She’s not Juliet. She’s Ashley. Ashley was a whole person, with a life and family and friends, and then some fucking creepy asshole murdered her and dressed her up like Juliet. The media’s problem is, they like stories with publicity. They like stuff that has a nice ring to it. Ashley Briggs, not so much. ‘The Girl in the White Dress?’ ‘The Woman in White?’ some other bullshit like that? They eat that up.  A picture of a pretty girl in a wedding dress with a dagger in her chest? That’s the kind of stuff they eat for breakfast. They love it, Nines! It’s like the Black Dahlia. If any of this gets out,  nobody will give two fucks about Ashley Briggs, but they’ll all love her death."

Gavin stopped for a moment to take a breath, hands gesturing wildly, eyes narrowed in anger.

"Rumors will be everywhere. Poor Ashley’s family is gonna have to deal with photos of their little girl murdered and dressed up in a fucking wedding dress all over every tabloid in the grocery store for the next eight years. And not a single one of the people obsessed with ‘Juliet’ is gonna give a shit about Ashley. Everyone’s gonna see her how the killer saw her, how he wanted us to see her, how he set her up: as pretty tragic Juliet in a wedding dress. Nobody is gonna know or remember Ashley Briggs. Don’t you see how fucked up that is? They never give a shit about the victim, even though they pretend to. It’s always about the fucking killer and his ideology.”

Nines was stunned. He had never considered that aspect of a crime before. Looking at it from that perspective, it did seem disturbing.

“They’ll romanticize her murder," he finished for Gavin, who looked almost too angry to continue.

Gavin nodded, shoving his hands in his pockets. “The most fucked up part is, that’s what he wants. Her killer staged her this way because he’s trying to put on a fucking show. This is a murder with a message, we just don’t know what it is. I hate that those bastards always seem to get the attention they want. People always remember the killer, but they never remember the victim. Hell, how many people do you think could name a single victim of Ted Bundy? Or Jeffery Dahmer? Or any of the other sick bastards that decide to take their sexual fantasies out on so many innocent people that everyone forgets about?”

Nines raised an eyebrow. “We don’t know that this murder is sexual in nature.”

Gavin huffed. “Nah, but there’s a pattern when it comes to motive and method. There’s tons of examples. Um. Execution-style gunshots to the back of the head are cold, professional. Victim’s turned away, there’s a distance between them and the killer. No eye contact. Hired killers, a lot of the time.”

Gavin demonstrated with a finger gun, eyes distant, like he was remembering cases he’d seen before.

“Stranglings are personal, and a lot of the time they’re sexual. Killer’s up close, right in their face. Looking them in the eye, watching them slowly die, hands-on contact. It’s ‘intimate’ for those fucked-up pieces of shit. They’re normally sexual sadists. Hate those ones.”

Gavin’s brow wrinkled in disgust as he demonstrated.

“Stabbings are personal too, but in a different way. Bloody, aggressive, painful. Personal vendetta, lots of times. Someone close to the victim with a grudge. Betrayal maybe, ‘cause there’s anger behind it. Besides, she’s staged as fucking Juliet. Who do you think her Romeo’s supposed to be? The mailman?”

Nines hummed in response. He didn’t doubt Gavin’s theory, but any investigation should work from the external to the internal. The solid evidence should be interpreted to form theories, not theories interpreted to fit the evidence. The second an investigator began to let their personal opinions dictate the situation, they became biased.

“I still believe we should wait for the evidence to be analyzed before assuming anything.”

Gavin crossed his arms. His body language throughout this speech had been aggressive. Nines’ scans told him that Gavin was intensely angry.

“I’m not fucking assuming, I’m theorizing. If the evidence says something different then I’ll change my tune. I’m just saying, maybe the fact that she’s being staged all pretty in a fancy room in a wedding dress mirroring the suicide from goddamn ‘ Romeo and Juliet’ might have some tiny romantic undertones, Nines.”

“So perhaps we should interview her neighbors first.”

“Hell yes, we should,” Gavin said. “Starting with whoever found the body.”

He started to turn away to head out the door.

Nines stopped him. “Gavin, wait.”

He twisted back around in surprise. “What?”

Nines pressed his hands together, standing stiffly. “Are you angry with me?”

Gavin stopped in his tracks and paused for a moment in an emotion Nines was unable to read. There was a second of tension, and then Nines’ partner seemed to crumple inward as he sighed heavily, shoving his hands back into his pockets.

“No,” he said to the floor by his feet. “Sorry. It’s this case. Stuff like this- it’s fucking creepy. I get all tense. Of course I’m not mad at you, dumbass. I’m just- I’m not good at expressing shit, y’know. ”

Nines walked up to him and placed a hand on his shoulder. “Is there anything I can do?”

Gavin’s entire demeanor changed, going from aggressive to something much more vulnerable instantly. It was a switch that, even though they’d been together for six months now, Nines had rarely seen.

“No,” Gavin said softly. “I just want to catch the bastard. Otherwise, cases like this, they always stick with me. I’ll- I’ll see her everywhere. Ashley, I mean. In mirrors, reflections, dreams. Asking me why I couldn’t do it. People always act like murder investigations are some cop-show badass bullshit, but they aren’t. The pressure’s gonna be hell. We’re gonna have to go through her whole life and dig up a lot of secrets. Everyone has graves that are better left buried. Take my word for it, it’s gonna suck. And even if we find the fucking bastard, he still might get off. Normally, I can distance myself from it, I guess, but when it’s something this creepy- I just- I don’t know if I can do it. There's something about this case. I have such a bad fucking feeling about this whole thing. It’s driving me crazy. ”

Nines reached out and wrapped his arms around Gavin, pulling him close. It was meant as a comforting gesture, and he noticed with satisfaction that his partner’s distress seemed to decrease.

Nines was beginning to understand how to react to Gavin’s moods, even if he didn’t always understand the reason why they were happening. They had both worked dozens of homicide cases. Nines didn’t understand how this case was any different, but it didn’t matter. He was programmed to adapt to human unpredictability.

He never knew what to make of Gavin’s hunches, though. They were objectively irrational, and they were also always right. It drove him insane. It defied reason.

Then again, nothing about Gavin was reasonable.

“We’re professionals,” Nines began, “and-”

“And you’re hugging me in the middle of a fucking murder scene,” Gavin interrupted, voice muffled from pressing his face into Nines’ shoulder, “like a true professional.”

“You needed a hug. Let me finish. We’re professionals, and there’s a lot of potential just in this room for the killer to have made a mistake. The chances of him staging all this with zero forensic evidence left behind are very low-”

“Mhmmm,” Gavin said, leaning into the hug.

“Are you even listening to me?”

“Nope,” Gavin muttered.

Nines sighed.

He gently pulled Gavin away from him, brushing off his partner’s coat, which was eternally covered in cat hair.

“We need to go interview the neighbors. Listen. We work very well together. We’ve faced near-impossible odds before. Compared to our last big case, this will most likely be easy.”

“Nothing’s ever easy,” Gavin groaned. “Especially not in fucking homicide.”

“Well then, we’ll support each other, just like last time.”

Gavin smiled wryly. “Are you going to break a rib and give me a concussion again?”

“That highly depends,” Nines said, “on whether or not you plan to shoot me a second time.”

“You told me to!”

“I was paralyzed and all my communications were disabled. I couldn’t tell you to do anything."

“Your light flashed!”

“My LED,” Nines said, raising an eyebrow, “never stops flashing, unless I’m decommissioned.”

Gavin shoved him-- an adorably futile effort, considering he didn’t move even a fraction of an inch.

“Come on, smartass,” Gavin said. “We have some friendly neighbors to interrogate.”

[mwolf0epsilon]

Sorry to bother you. But can we get a story of Norman helping Sammy from the inks Control?

Summary: It was only a matter of time before Norman's curiosity got him deader than that one cat... No good deed goes unpunished.

---

"Somethin' ain't right 'bout the studio." Is the one sentence that precedes a series of catastrophic events in Norman Polk's life. A combination of letters that form a very simple and inconsequential phrase that still held a lot of negative connotation. Easy to dismiss, especially over breakfast as he reads the paper with a bored expression on his face.

His wife sits in front of him, buttering their youngest child's toast while the eldest daughter fetches a glass of juice for herself, and her brother, the second oldest child, glances up to peer over and then around the paper.

"What do ya mean pa?" Aaron's inquisitive eyes catch his one good eye, and Norman finds himself setting the paper aside and picking up his mug. Out of his five children, Aaron is the one to inherit his father's curiosity.

"Just a thought." He takes a sip of his coffee and shrugs "Things been a little weird as of late."

"How do you mean?"

"Aaron don't go listenin' to your pa's nonsense or ya gonna get stuck with his ramblings. You gotta get ready for school, so eat breakfast and get going." Margarite rebuts, before glancing at their two daughters. "That goes for you both as well, you especially Louise, your teacher's been hasslin' me bout you doin' no work."

"Mrs. Wilson is nuts. She picks on me for no reason, the crusty egg!"

"Louise!"

Aaron pouted, clearly unsatisfied with the lack of a response, but thought better than to go against his mother's wishes. Wise kid. Norman was proud he was growing up smart.

He didn't bring it up again until the kids were sorted and off to classes. His wife gives him a long-suffering sigh before crossing her arms and looking at him in the eye.

"Don't go lookin' for trouble Norman. I know ya got the guts to go findin' nothin' good." She pleads with him.

"I don't go lookin' for no trouble Maggie, just curious is all... And things have been weird. It's gettin' to the others..."

"Norman, you do know what them people say 'bout your sorta curiosity don't ya?"

"And what would that be?"

"Curiosity killed the cat. And ya sure are lookin' real cat-like to me..."

-

Joey Drew had plans, that much Norman knew. It all had to do with that weird machine of his, as well as all those brittle pipes that kept bursting and flooding areas with thick glossy and acrid smelling ink.

What plans, Norman couldn't tell (yet), but the consequences were visible. Structural integrity in the studio was a mess, something Thomas Connor often dreaded about due to his impeccable work ethics.

Things were constantly soiled with ink, and cleaning supply expenses had risen to the point Wally was having to lug in bleach and detergents from home to get stuff cleaned up. Everyone's dry-cleaning bills had likely also suffered with this.

Speaking of, everyone was going crazy.

"I tell ya, meltdown of the century." Wally winced on the rare occasion Norman took the time to sit with others to eat lunch. That day he was sitting with Wally, Buddy and Dot. "Thought Miss Campbell was gonna throttle the poor broad!"

"She has been acting very hostile." Dot winced in sympathy. "Miss Pendle has the patience of a saint if she can bare all that, but she's not the only person Susie has blown up on recently."

"Uh?" Buddy looked over at his friend in surprise. Norman too looked curious. Wally snapped his fingers as he realized what she was on about.

"Oh yeah! The other night right? She went and barged into Sammy's office and things got heated, and not in the good way if ya know what I mean."

"Wait really? Miss Campbell yelled him?" Buddy looked to be in disbelief. He couldn't imagine a petit little lady like Susie yelling at that overgrown peacock of a man. Not when Sammy tended to yell back at people with twice the amount of ferocity.

"Didn't just yell. She tore him a new one! Was so bad I got outta there as fast as I could. Didn't wanna witness no crime a' passion and all that." Wally glanced around, hoping neither Susie nor Sammy were around to hear. "Saw him come outta the office much later when I was about ta lock up for the night. He looked... Rough."

"He always looks rough." Buddy commented.

Norman found himself frowning at that.

Now that he mentioned it, Sammy had been looking a little green around the gills. Like he was sick, or at the very least extremely sleep deprived. With Drew's policy of time being money, and illnesses having to be serious for sick leave, it didn't surprise him that Sammy might have caught a bug and been unable to sleep it off at home.

"Speak a' the devil..." Wally ducked his head and quickly scarfed up the remains of his meal before getting back up and moving off. "Here he comes now."

Buddy and Dot followed his example, not feeling particularly keen on getting yelled at by Sammy. Norman let them go, eating his meal at a leisurely pace as he observed Sammy more carefully.

He didn't just look rough. He looked off.

How exactly, Norman couldn't explain, but it certainly must be something if the hairs on the back of his neck were so fast to raise.

He needed to look into it.

-

It's a particularly bad encounter in one of the men's bathrooms that tips Norman off to what might be wrong.

After that particularly bad scene involving Drew, Norman had been more cautious with his wandering and observing. His boss's behaviour raised questions, and his threats were definitely ringing alarm bells in his head. How it all involved that wretched machine Norman couldn't figure out.

Until, while putting his burnt hand under cold water (another projector went and caught fire because ink had gotten in it somehow), Sammy Lawrence suddenly barged in and practically kicked in a stall door to then double over a toilet bowl and violently vomit the contents of his stomach.

All this happened in very few seconds and Norman found himself with his unburnt hand clutching at his chest in fright.

"Jesus Christ, ya nearly went and scared the soul out of my body!" He closed the tap and pulled the first aid kit closer, setting to work on bandaging his injured hand. Bless the doc for giving him a kit in the first place, after so many incidents with projectors.

He waited for Sammy to bark out some sarcastic retort, but instead was met with more retching and coughs. Norman became concerned when it didn't stop.

"Sammy?"

He peered into the open stall and was met with a smell that shouldn't be coming from someone's insides. An acrid chemical smell that permeated the studio, due to its origin being pumped through pipes like blood in one's veins. The music director was puking ink.

"Sweet mercy..." That wasn't good. The boy needed that stuff out, which he was managing on his own from how much he was getting sick. The issue was, how much of the crap had he swallowed if it kept coming up? "Sammy what the fuck?!"

"G'way y'fu'kin' ..." He cut off as another wave came up to meet the rest, his nose dribbling with the black sheen of ink, and big fat tears barely clearing the gunk already covering his pale skin "H'hurts..."

The pathetic whimper was enough to break his heart. Sammy sounded scared for once, rather than angry, sarcastic or apathetic.

"How much did ya even get in ya? Did the music department go under again?" Once the music director didn't look like he was going to throw up again, the projectionist scooped him off the floor and noted with horror how unusually light and pointy the blond felt in his arms.

It was like holding a sack of bones... What in the blazes? Just a few days ago he looked healthy enough...

"M'gettin' ya to the infermary. The doc might have somethin' for intoxication... If not then Drew can't just keep ya here, this is a hospital thing."

"N-no... No doctors..." Sammy struggled weakly but gave up once he realized he couldn't squirm out of Norman's grasp. "M'fine..."

"Boy, I have half a mind ta call the doctor myself if ya go sayin' stupid shit like that. You ain't fine."

"J-just stomach ache... It'll go away..."

"Samuel Lawrence you are a dumbass."

How daft did the kid need to be to not see the issue here? Hopefully the resident doctor could convince Drew to let Sammy go to a hospital. Hard to fake getting a toxic liquid in your system after all...

-

After the encounter in the bathroom it's not long before Sammy goes missing. People start speculating about it, and some are rather mean-spirited about it.

Sure Sammy wasn't the kindest person, but going about saying he ran off with his tail between his legs because Susie dumped him was just plain disrespectful (especially considering he hadn't seen Susie around as of late either).

The stories about him drinking ink tho... Those peak his interest. They are also easy to confirm, as Norman looks in horror at the contents of the drawers in Sammy's office. Empty ink wells. Several of them. Some definitely licked clean.

It explains things Norman wished he hadn't overlooked. The machine, the pipes, the slow descent... The ink was what was wrong with the studio.

Norman realized then and there that he needed to warn the others to get out. Whomever would hear him at least.

Starting with Buddy and Dot. Those kids needed out.

Whatever Drew was planning with that hellish stuff, it couldn't be good for them.

-

Once the authorities' investigations are closed up and the studio opened back up again, Norman decides it's time to finally grab his light and go down and see what the groaning was. He eats breakfast with his family as quiet as a mouse, lost in thoughts, then goes to work after kissing his wife goodbye.

Once he reaches the door, he finds a card and keys on the entrance mat.

Wally had quit. Good, at least the kid had enough sense to bolt when told to.

Norman is the very first person the set foot back inside the studio.

As such, he's the very first target for one of two creatures still able to access the floors above.

His light catches onto an inky black figure in overalls and a grinning dancing devil mask, then catches the gleam of a blade.

Norman doesn't get the chance to scream as the axe buried itself in his chest, right through his heart. He wheezes out what little air remains in his lungs and it doesn't take long for him to slip away.

What makes it worse is how the figure cradles him gently and murmurs nonsense he can't understand. That voice... Why did it sound so familiar?

It all goes dark. It's too quiet.

-

The Projectionist screeches as it runs after the figure in overalls and grinning mask. It chases after the thief mercilessly, putting it's hands through the holes it crawls through in an attempt to flee from its burning gaze.

It gets cocky and ends up getting grabbed by the leg and pulled back with force.

The Projectionist may not be able to hear its screams, but it can feel the vibrations. It's terrified.

Good.

It roars in triumph as it plunges it's hand through the figure's chest, bursting it into a puddle and discarded clothing.

Never shall it try to steal it's hearts away, ever again.

The Projectionist carried on, unaware of the poetic justice behind its own actions.

An eye for an eye was just as popular a saying as curiosity killed the cat, after all.

[spiderman-homecomeme]

Something Blue (and Red)

Part 4 of “And A Silver Sixpence in Her Shoe.”

AN: Well, it’s been a while, but here is the final part of the wedding fic! Thank you guys from the bottom of my HEART for all of your patience!! It has been a crazy semester for me, but I am finally free!! Look out for more promptmas stuff coming, secret santa, and a few more WIPS in the near future!

Enjoy!

-

In his twenty-four years of being alive, Peter’s not sure that something’s ever been so right-- ever felt so right. Rarely have the stars aligned in such a way, so perfectly as they had in that specific moment as he stood, waiting in the winding check-out line of his local TJ Maxx, his arms already full of items he didn’t necessarily need.

But when he saw them, he knew.  

There was nothing else to do, no choice left to make.

No question in his mind as the bored teen mindlessly scans the treasures, as he swipes his debit card, as he answers the age old question on the pinpad, “amount okay?”

MJ, however, seems less than impressed with the purchase, holding the limited edition Spider-Man socks between her fingers as if they might bite her, her nose crinkling in disgust.

“Seriously?” She asks, fixing him with a quizzical brow.

“Seriously,” He beams, obviously more excited than she was. “I had to.”

“Uh-huh,” she speaks slowly, carefully examining the blue and red socks. “And you don’t think that it might have been a little reckless for you, Peter Parker, to buy Spider-Man socks?”

Peter gives an innocent shrug, mouth twitching into a nonchalant frown. “Nah. The cashier just thought I was a big fan. We had a nice chat about Spidey. No biggie.”

Her face remains expressionless as she stares blankly at him, save for the skeptical quirk of her brow.

Peter decides to simply ignore the doubt radiating from his fiancée, his lips pulling back into a mischievous grin. “That’s not all…”

She barely has any time to ask before he hikes his leg up, propping his foot on the couch, revealing the exact same pair of socks.

“Now we can really be the most powerful couple out there.”

MJ can only shake her head in response, forcing an exasperated breath through her nose as the faint beginning of a smile tugs at the corner of her lips. If she were being completely honest, she wasn’t in love with the idea of becoming one of those couples; she loved Peter, more than anything, but…

Enough to wear matching socks?

Peter doesn’t mind her immediate dislike of the garments. In fact, he almost welcomes it. One extra pair for him; just means that he doesn’t have to do laundry as much, right?

(MJ tells him that that’s not what that means.)

And perhaps he wears them a bit too much, especially for someone who’s quite literally donning socks with his own (masked) face on them. It had started as a weekend only, nights-in at home thing, though it wasn’t long before he was wearing them to work, to date night, family dinners, everywhere. She’s never surprised when she sees the masked cartoon peek from under the hem of his jeans.

He claims that they’re comfy, that they’re warm, that all his other socks were dirty, etc., etc.

And really, Michelle doesn’t mind or care all that much. Whatever Peter wants to wear isn’t any of her damn business. It’s funny, it’s cute, it’s just her loveable, dumb fiancé.

But it does make their more, ahem, intimate moments a bit more difficult.

If only because seeing those damn things in all their bright blue and red glory on his feet, after he’s whispered the things he’s whispered into her ear, after he’s been trying to be so sultry and serious.

MJ can’t help but tease.

“Those staying, too?” Her voice is steady, just barely hiding the humor in her tone as she gestures at his feet.

He pauses momentarily, his shirt now crumpled in his own hand, confused for a moment before following her gaze.

And then, she laughs at her own question, hiding her face behind her hands as he playfully throws his shirt at her; he nearly trips as he steps out of his boxers, making a point to show that, yes, MJ, the Spider-Man socks stay on during sex.

It’s no surprise when she sees the very same socks as she steps out of the shower, set out next to his black and white tux the morning of their wedding.

She wouldn’t expect anything less.

A small smile tugs at her lips at the recent memory, just hours before, as she stares at herself in the floor-length mirror, her mother and May both working diligently (yet gently) at the buttons on the back of her dress, Betty standing in front of her.

That same warmth she always feels around Peter has been in full force today, and she even finds the old, yet welcome fluttering of butterflies in her stomach when the dress is finally on . Throughout her life, she’s never quite understood what it meant to “feel like a bride.” It was just a white dress; how could it have so much power? Even when shopping, when buying the dress, she didn’t get that exact feeling. Sure, it made everything much more real, but it wasn’t this .

Yet now, in spite of all of her past notions, she finally gets it; the delicate lace on the bodice and the long, elegant sleeves, the deep-v neckline, that final addition of something blue, and with that same shattered Black Dahlia necklace Peter had given her all those years ago.

Damn it, she feels like a bride.

Her mother subtly wipes at her eyes as she moves to stand in front of her daughter, clasping her hands to her chest with an almost dreamy sigh. “God, you look beautiful, Michelle.”

May nods, smiling warmly, her own eyes sparkling. “Agreed.”

“So pretty!” Betty adds, her giddiness shining through.

MJ huffs out a light chuckle, mumbling out a quiet, “Thank you,” as her hands smooth over the soft satin of her skirt. Her mind immediately goes to Peter, what he’s doing right now, how nervous he must be, and what he’ll think when he sees her, when she walks down the aisle; and just like that, her stomach does a few more giddy backflips, and she bites her lip to keep the excitement in.

“And now,” May starts, breaking the silence, a knowing grin on her face as she moves to open the final box. “For the finishing touch.”

MJ was so incredibly wrong.

Now .

Now, as the veil is placed on her head, she honestly, truly , feels like a bride.

“There,” May says, gently adjusting the fabric a fraction of an inch so that the veil lays prettily against Michelle’s curls.

Again, Michelle’s mother sighs, though along with the misty eyes comes a twitch of a frown fighting back the tears.

MJ playfully rolls her eyes. “I’m not even married yet, Mom, come on,” she gently teases as she pulls her mother into a hug.

“I know, I know,” the older woman says with a soft, sheepish laugh. She pulls back, looking at the two Jones women staring back at them in the mirror. “Give me a break, okay? I’m just so happy for my little girl,” she adds, squeezing her daughter’s side.

Michelle utters another, “thanks,” looking down to hide her widening grin.

“I don’t blame you,” May says with a shake of her head and a kind smile. She looks to Michelle, expression warm and excited. “You ready, Em?”

The bride looks up again at her reflection, taking everything in again.

It was happening.

Today was the day.

And MJ had never been more ready.

--

Peter could have sworn he was dreaming.

This whole relationship even.

In what universe was he lucky enough to land someone like Michelle Jones, to get her to marry him, to marry his dumb ass and all the trouble and shit he gets himself into? What did he do to deserve such a partner-in-vigilante-justice?

He looks to Ned at his left, his best friend giving him an encouraging grin and a subtle (yet actually not all that subtle) thumbs up; then to his aunt, to his mentor, to his friends in the seats in front of him.

But when his eyes finally land on her, his very soon-to-be wife, he finds that he can’t look anywhere else.

Not that he’d ever want to.

He always thinks that she’s perfect, no matter what; she could literally wear a brown paper bag and he’d still marry her. But, cheesy as it sounds, the air feels like it’s quite literally been taken right from his lungs.

Even now, after six whole, wonderful, perfect years together, without fail, MJ still manages to make him forget how to breathe, the sight of her in that simple white dress, holding the bouquet of white roses and black dahlias, making his chest tighten at just how pretty she is. He knows that there’s probably tears in his eyes, but he honestly can’t tell, nor does he care when he sees the faint smirk painting her lips from under the sheer veil.

Again, he really is the luckiest loser in the world.

A lucky loser who happens to be wearing blue and red Spider-Man socks.

What can he say? It’s the nice boost of confidence. Ned has his hats, Peter has his Spidey socks.

He’s unable to hold back or fight his smile--though it’s not like he’s really trying all that hard--as she finally reaches him. She glances down, and he can see the toothy grin from behind her veil, the soft expression causing his heart to swell. He helps her pull the veil back, finally able to see her after a whole day apart.

The officiant welcomes everyone, beginning the ceremony with a short speech of thanks that both Peter and MJ had written before hand.

However, Peter finds that he can’t hear what the man is saying over how beautiful his fiancée is.

He almost doesn’t hear him ask to start the vows.

Peter snaps out of his trance, pulling a folded piece of paper from his jacket. “Oh, yeah! Sorry. Uh, yeah. Vows.” A faint pink blush settles over his features as he stammers. A quiet murmur of good-natured chuckles briefly fills the room, MJ joining in, of course.

“MJ,” He starts. He feels the lump in his throat, the emotion fluttering in his stomach. He coughs, looking between the paper and the love of his life. “You are my favorite person. My best friend in the entire world. Sorry Ned.”

That gets another laugh, both from MJ and the room, and Peter passes a teasing, fake-sheepish smile to his best man.

Ned waves it off with a laugh, shaking his head.

Peter continues. “I feel so overwhelmingly lucky and proud to stand here with you today. Honestly, I feel like I hit the jackpot. When I’m with you, MJ, I’m the best version of myself. Because… with you, I’m always utterly and unapologetically myself. You accept me for who I am, even if I can be a bit of a dumbass sometimes. There’s not much for me to say that I haven’t already said, you know me, and there’s not much to give that’s not already freely given. But… I’ll give it a shot.”

He takes another deep breath, glancing up to see the warmth and love in MJ’s expression, his chest tightening. “I promise to always try and make you laugh and smile, no matter what, even if my jokes aren’t really that funny, because let’s be honest, those are my best ones.”

MJ shakes her head, not even trying to fight back her smile.

“I promise to be a better roommate, and to actually put dishes in the dishwasher instead of in the sink or on the counter by the sink. I promise to send every conspiracy theory I find, even the ones you’ve already heard. I promise to listen to your advice, and even occasionally, I promise to take that advice. I promise to love you more and more. After every win. After every fight. After every laugh.” He pauses for a moment, clearing his throat once more, combatting the shakiness. He looks back up at her, no longer reading from the folded piece of paper. “And finally, I promise to always strive to be worthy of the love you give me so freely and openly, and to never, ever take that love for granted, and to always give it back.”

He wants to make some dumb joke about how she’s a thief, taking his breath away, but he doesn’t.

“I really like you, MJ.”

Her face crumples slightly at the callback, though she holds herself together, if only so she can get through actually reading her end of the vows, as Betty hands her her own paper.

A beat of silence passes as MJ gathers both her thoughts and emotions.

“Peter,” she starts, a slight shake already to her voice. Be it from nerves or overwhelming emotions, she’s not sure. “You’re my best friend. My partner. My supporter. You’ve loved me through easy times and hard times, and I am so incredibly grateful for you and the support you have always given me. Now… Promises have always scared me. Maybe I’ve been too cautious in making them, too afraid that a change in circumstance or myself will rip the world out from under me. But… over the years, I’ve found that they can remind me of solid ground when things get shaky. Here are some promises that I can happily give to you.”

She looks up at him for the briefest of moments, heart warming. “I promise to put you first, and love you, even when you’re purposefully trying to annoy me.”

A warm laugh.

Her grin turns more playful as she looks back down at the paper. “I promise to always admit when I’m wrong--which we both know, I never am, but that’s beside the point--and to forgive you when you are. I promise to try to laugh, a real, honest laugh, at your jokes, even if they aren’t funny.”

MJ hears him scoff, her lips twisting into an even bigger smile at the sound. She continues. “I can’t promise to never make fun of you, but… I can promise to always kiss you after, just to say sorry,” she vows, shooting him another glance. “I promise to be there, no matter what, to help you when you need me. And I promise to keep updating these as we go. Because one set of vows can’t cover a lifetime of getting to grow and change alongside you. Of falling more and more in love with you everyday, which is what I promise to do for the rest of my life.”

She hands the paper back to Betty before taking his hand in hers. She’s pretty sure that’s not entirely in the whole wedding protocol, but she doesn’t care right now.

“I really like you, too.”

And then it all happens too quickly, neither of them seeing or hearing anything else as they exchange the rings.

There are no more words spoken between them, apart from “I do.” No more thoughts.

… besides finally as they hear the fateful, “I now pronounce you husband and wife. You may kiss the bride.”

And so, Peter does.

He’s not sure what song is playing now as he holds his new wife on the dance floor; he’s certain it’s not a song that you really slow dance to either, but he doesn’t care. After the very first one, he’s sort of lost track, too lost in his arm around her waist, hand on her back, the other holding hers.

He attempts to twirl her, though she has to awkwardly duck down under his arm, the mishap causing them to both erupt in giggles.

“I told you we needed ballroom dance lessons,” Peter tsks, pulling her close again.

“You’re right,” she remarks dryly, though he can feel her breathe out an amused smile against him. “Here, I’ll twirl you.”

He obliges, laughing when he’s able to pass under her arm much more easily. Mid-spin, his eyes land on her necklace once again, and he can’t help the way his heartstrings swell like the first violin section in an orchestra.

“Black Dahlia,” he points out, much like he did on the bridge all the years ago.

MJ nods, chuckling. “Something old.”

He hums in acknowledgement, giving her an affectionate squeeze. “I’m glad you still like it.” He pulls back slightly. “And the something new? Will I get to see that on tonight?”

Her head tilts and she takes a small corner of her lip between her teeth. “Maybe.”

“Can’t wait.”

Soon, the last cadence of the song fades out, and the familiar base-line of My Girl by the Temptations comes on.

They sway together a little longer, before Peter continues. “Something borrowed?” He asks, realizing she’d never told him.

“May’s veil,” she answers simply with a grin. Though it’s been put away again for the reception, MJ gestures to where it would have sat on her head.

Peter’s head jerks back a fraction. It had looked familiar. “Oh, God, how did I not know that?”

“I won’t tell May, I promise,” she teases. “She’ll never know you didn’t know what her own veil looked like.”

“Okay, okay, come on.” He shakes his head in good-humor, growing quiet for a moment. It’s when he doesn’t speak for even longer that MJ grows concerned.

“Pete?”

“Yeah?”

“You okay?”

“Yeah,” he answers truthfully, but she can hear the emotion in his tone. Another beat passes between them before he elaborates any further. “I’m just really happy that you got to… that you got to use that, you know?”

Somehow, she pulls him even closer, into a comforting squeeze. “I know.”

Silence falls over them again as they sway back and forth, not really dancing anymore, though still held in a close, loving embrace.

Suddenly, MJ pulls back slightly, to Peter’s utter confusion, taking his hand in hers and pulling him away from the dance floor and into one of the hallways.

“Where are we going?” He asks through a curious laugh. “What’s--”

“I need to show you something,” she says over her shoulder, before tightening her grip on his hand.

Without any question or hesitation, he happily follows her, the anticipation of what exactly she could be wanting to show him so badly that they needed to sneak away from prying eyes almost too much. They weave through friends and family, dodging questions with relative success as they reach the ends of the reception crowd.

Finally, they reach one of the welcome areas, MJ sits on one of the chaises, practically yanking her new husband down to sit with her.

She reaches down, pulling up the skirt of her dress to show a comfy pair of her black converse--a sight Peter’s not all that surprised to see, yet he still has to chuckle. Mostly in confusion still. “MJ, what--?”

She takes one of her shoes off, showing her very own pair of limited edition, Spider-Man socks.

Now that comes as a surprise. He huffs out another laugh, his brow crinkling as he looks between her sock-clad foot and her mischievous eyes. “Again… MJ, what?”

She leans in to kiss that bewildered expression off his face, only being the slightest bit successful. Her hand remains in his, her smile growing, eyes gleaming with pride and delight as she answers with a nonchalant shrug.

“Something blue.”

[moviegroovies]

you know, i saw flatliners (2017) when it came out, but i never got around to watching the original until tonight. now that i HAVE seen it, i think i can safely say that the original was really good! it also, unfortunately, made me like the remake a little less than i did before.

i’ve been on a kiefer sutherland kick, if you can’t tell from all the fuckin’ lost boys posts. in that movie, and in a pretty big chunk of his earlier roles, sutherland plays an aggressive gang-member type, the express antagonist for the film. flatliners was a departure from that for him... but not that much of one. 

the thing about kiefer sutherland is that i’ve yet to watch a movie where his character isn’t loud and aggressive at some point. even young guns, which has him play the softest & most affable of the guys in the gang, has some uncomfortable scenes where he’s just altogether frightening toward a girl with some obvious trauma, made worse by the fact that she’s ostensibly his love interest. i’m not here to pass judgement on how that translates to kiefer’s behavior in real life; it’s just something i’ve noticed. well, in flatliners, that trend wasn’t exactly kicked to the curb. his character in this movie is nice enough, an ambitious doctor with a calling to break the next great barrier of our time, and also... kind of a terrible person. 

i’ve never been one for the “ambition is evil” trope, but this movie definitely plays with it. kiefer’s character nelson isn’t evil, not really, but he has a troubled past that is revealed as the movie goes on: apparently, at age 9, nelson’s bullying of another boy from his neighborhood saw him responsible for the child’s accidental death, as well as the crippling of his own dog. nelson was taken away from his family for this, and, though he says he thought the punishment he suffered after the fact had been atonement enough for what he did, it’s clear that there was an element of guilt attached to the act that never left him alone. in fact, the common thread that binds together the four main characters who flatline over the course of the film is that guilt--one way or another, each of them has done something they have to carry with them, and when they “die,” they come back unable to repress or excuse these things like they were once able to. aside from nelson’s manslaughter, the film also deals with joe (william baldwin) filming his sexual encounters with women without their consent, rachel’s (julia roberts) feelings of culpability in her father’s suicide, and david’s (kevin bacon) history of bullying a black girl who went to grade school with him. 

the way that the remake treats the guilt/“crimes” each of its protagonists are carrying with them is the major point on which it departs from the original. in the original, two of the characters, david and rachel, deal with pain relating to people in their lives who are dead--whether they are actually culpable (as david is) or not (like rachel). additionally, joe’s guilt, while it does involve people who are still alive, deals with something that, for most of the film, only he knows about--how can you atone for something that no one holds you accountable for? the only one of the characters in the remake dealing with a similar guilt is ellen page’s character courtney, who feels responsible for the death of her sister in a car crash. the thing is (spoiler!), ellen page’s character is also the only character who dies.

now, i’m going to be upfront with the fact that it’s been a while since i watched the new flatliners, and unlike the original, i’ve only seen it once, so the details are fuzzy. if i get something wrong in my recollection, please be gentle and ascribe the error to human imperfection, lol. 

that being said, i feel like the remake fundamentally misunderstood what made the original a great film, trying to remake it in a genre it was never meant to occupy, and as a result, it turned what should have been a suspenseful, thought-provoking story of error and redemption into... just another cookie-cutter horror movie with a nostalgic name. the ways the two movies deal with the guilt their characters face are fundamentally opposed; in the original, only one of the four characters who flatline face the person they wronged physically and apologizes. david, yes, goes to winnie hicks and tells her he was wrong for doing what he did to her in their youth, and when she accepts his apology and sees that he’s genuinely a changed person, he gets a moment of catharsis that’s similar to the one that seemed to be repeated in different forms throughout the remake. however, joe, nelson, and rachel have no such opportunity. in the remake, neither does courtney... and courtney dies. 

that’s the difference that bugs me. never mind the way that the remake changed the nature of flatlining itself (as far as i can remember, unlike the 1990 flatliners, the 2017 version has actual demons/monsters/creatures/ghosts/whatever follow the protagonists out of their trip, which always felt like a strange turn from what started as a psuedo-scientific film, and seems even stranger when you compare it to the scene in the original where david finds nelson struggling against himself in the van, implying that the manifestation of billy mahoney that we and nelson had encountered was, in fact, a product of nelson’s guilty conscience), the thing that really fucking gets me is that the remake gives its characters one way to make amends: apologize to the person you wronged, and if you can’t, then you die. 

honestly, the nuance the original showed, the way that joe couldn’t ever really fix what he did to those girls, the way that nelson didn’t easily give himself over to regret, even mocking billy mahoney at his grave (“wake up, you little shit, you’ve got company!”), the way that rachel had no real reason to feel guilt for her father’s death except for the fact that it’s easy for a child to take the blame for something that’s out of their hands; all of that was what made the film good for me, and all of that is what i think the makers of the remake sort of missed. a 2017 reimagining of flatliners could have been really incredible; i’ve seen many posts praising the inclusivity of the cast (and yeah, after the original’s sausage party with one token female and no people of color whatsoever, the cast of the remake is a breath of fresh air), and i think that advances in science in the 27 years between the two films could have made the psuedoscience the original thrived on a little more believable. however, when it came down to the heart of the thing, the same understanding of them human psyche just wasn’t there--and honestly, i don’t think it was ever supposed to be.

in comparison, flatliners 2017 just felt cheap.

that’s just my two cents in hindsight, though. i think, coming out of the theater, i really did like the film... it just didn’t hold up the way i feel flatliners 1990 has.

i don’t want to end on a bitchy note, so let me just say a few more things i admired about the original while i’m pouring my heart out. basically: i loved julia roberts’ hair and general Look in this film, i liked the subplot with david the atheist reaching a point where he rallied against god for nelson’s life at the end, and i really enjoyed nelson’s entire plotline, the way he teetered on the edge of batshit crazy without ever quite taking the plunge. from the beginning nelson is set up as an ambitious genius, a real victor frankenstein type, and his pride definitely gets the better of him multiple times throughout the film. despite being a promising student in their medical school, nelson is never very professional in the resuscitation when anyone else is flatlining; he pounds joe’s chest when he doesn’t immediately respond to the cpr, he goes on a little bit of a power trip and plays with david’s life, and he very nearly injects rachel with a fatal dose when the defibrillators short circuit. additionally, when rachel insists on getting a try at flatlining and is backed by the rest of nelson’s handpicked team, he accuses them all of being tourists riding his coattails. he’s kind of messy, and never exactly nice. it fucking ASTOUNDED me that he got to live at the end of the movie, but honestly, i’m really glad he did. as we got to know more about him, it was clear to me that nelson was generally a person with his heart in the right place, acting out of residual trauma and a pretty obvious dose of jealousy. there were always signs that he wasn’t all bad, though: he let the others take over with joe when his way wasn’t working, he listened to steckle and david and refrained from injecting rachel with the stuff he was certain would save her, and by the end, his remorse for his act which killed billy was so genuine that he was willing to kill himself to make amends. in general, i think that nelson was clearly a more troubled and gray-moraled person than page’s courtney, but he was a character in a movie with more forgiveness for wrongs done, and the end product was kind of fantastic.

anyway, fuck all of this. must a movie be good? is it not enough to see kiefer sutherland, unhinged?

[goldenworldsabound]

Wendy, Viren, Soren and Claudia are on vacation (intro here). Everything seems to be going well, until a difficult subject comes up. (Basically, focusing on more on the family aspect and stuff ;w; I love Soren and Claudia and want them to be happy!!!)

After a long but fun day down at the lake, everyone was settled around the fire. The kids were wrapped in blankets, sleepy but happy.

Wendy delivered a hot and slightly boozy cider to Viren, who gave her a kiss on the cheek with a sweet little “thank you dear”. She grabbed a hot chocolate for each of the kids. Claudia thanked her politely, smiling wide at the chocolatey treat. Soren sleepily took the drink from Wendy.

“Thanks, mom.” He said smiling up at her. Wendy's eyes widened before her expression softened. Viren was beaming. But Claudia had a different reaction.

“Did you just- she's not our Mom, Soren!” Claudia said, looking distressed.

Soren flushed at being called out. “Why not? She acts like a mom, and we don't have a mom, so-”

“Kids-” Viren warned, but was ignored.

“We DO have a mom!” Claudia yelled back, beginning to tear up.

“She LEFT us Claudia!!! She's not our mom anymore!!!” Soren replied back, annoyed, clearly not understanding why his sister was upset at all.

“You don't get it!” Claudia stood up, dropping the hot chocolate. She ran off, tears streaming down her face, towards the lake.

“Claudia, wait-” Viren stood up to go after her, but Wendy was faster.

“I'll go. I doubt she wants to talk to you about this.” Wendy said bluntly. Viren was not the most emotionally sensitive. She ran after Claudia.

Viren sighed, putting his head in his hands for a moment, before turning his attention to Soren. “Guess you and I should have a talk then.”

Soren shrugged.

-----------

It was easy to follow Claudia - she hadn't strayed from the wooded path at all, and Wendy stayed close enough to hear the young girl's sobs. She felt bad for Claudia - clearly neither Soren nor Viren understood what she was feeling.

When Wendy exited the forest to the lakeshore, she saw Claudia scrambling up a big rock. Wendy stayed back in the tree line, giving the girl a minute to situate herself, and a moment alone. Claudia pulled her knees up to her chest and sobbed. It was heart wrenching to watch. After a few moments, Claudia fell silent, gazing out at the lake.

Wendy made her way down to Claudia's rock, careful to make a lot of noise so Claudia would know she was coming. Claudia stoically ignored her, gazing ahead as if she hadn't heard.

“Can I join you?” Wendy asked quietly, looking up at the 13 year old. After a moment's thought, Claudia nodded. Wendy climbed up the rock, sitting next to but not touching Claudia, giving her space.

Claudia looked at her suspiciously, but Wendy said nothing, simply smiling out at the lake and the moon reflected on its surface. Claudia finally relaxed as well, though she still occasionally glanced at Wendy.

“I wanted you to know that it's okay, if you don't want to think of me as your mother.” Wendy said quietly, the sincerity of her statement clear in her voice.

Claudia shook her head. “It's not that…” She fell silent, thinking. Wendy remained quiet, not wanting to push her. “I feel like… if you're my mom, now-” her voice cracked and the tears began again, but she continued. “Does that mean...I didn't love her?”

“Claudia…”

“If I love you, does that mean I'm forgetting her?!” Claudia began to sob again, burying her face in her hands.  Wendy said nothing, waiting for her to get it all out. When her sobs had quieted, Wendy spoke.

“I had no idea you were going through this. I'm sorry I didn't notice sooner. Claudia...you are capable of so much love.” She held her hand out to Claudia, who took it, gripping it tightly. “One love does not replace another. Loving me doesn't mean you never loved her. You can love both of us, just like you can love your father without losing your love for your mother.”

Without warning, Claudia flung her arms around Wendy, burying her face against her. Wendy wrapped her arms around the young girl, squeezing her gently. They stayed like that for some time, before Claudia finally pulled back, wiping the remaining tears from her eyes.

“I do love you…” She mumbled, taking Wendy's hand again. “But what if you leave? Like she did?”

“I don't have any intention of leaving. I love you, and I love Soren, and I love your father. I love all of you very much. More than anything. I won't leave.” She squeezed Claudia's hand gently.

“...promise?”

“I promise.”

They hugged again.

“Ready to go back? I'm sure your father and brother are worried.” Wendy said, still smiling softly.

“Yeah...I think so...mom.” Claudia blushed, smiling happily. Wendy smiled as well, feeling tears well up in her own eyes.

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

Viren's conversation with Soren hadn't gone well at all. Soren had totally failed to understand why his sister was upset, and Viren had utterly failed at explaining it. He'd had no idea Claudia felt that way. He felt...hurt that she hadn't come to him, but even more so, ashamed that he hadn't noticed.

Soren was now laying on his stomach, elbows on the ground with his hands propping up his face, staring at the fire. Similarly, Viren sat with his head in his hands, elbows propped up on his legs, gazing at the fire as well. They made quite a pair, looking exactly like father and son at that moment.

Viren blinked himself back to focus at the sound of approaching footsteps. His expression changed to relief as Wendy and Claudia emerged from the woods, holding hands and smiling. Claudia rubbed at her eyes, looking sleepy, while Wendy simply looked peaceful and content.

Viren stood up, and walked over to give his daughter a hug. “I'm glad you're back. Are you okay?” He asked, looking her over.

She nodded. “Yeah… I'm okay now.”

Soren had also wandered up. Despite not really understanding what his sister was sad about, he still cared about her a great deal. He hugged her as well. Almost in unison, the two of them yawned.

“I think it's time for bed.” Wendy commented, chuckling. “Maybe even for you.” She said, pointedly raising a brow at Viren, who froze mid yawn at the call out, quickly closing his mouth as if to deny it.

The kids were both happy enough to go along with that, or too tired to really disagree, and after Viren and Wendy had tucked them in he followed her back outside to sit by the fire again

Wendy gazed quietly and thoughtfully into the flames. Viren waited for her to speak, but his impatience got the better of him.

“What happened?” He asked, putting his arm around Wendy, pulling her close.

“She's… pretty messed up about what happened with her mother, Viren.” Wendy replied, sighing, anticipating this conversation not being a lot of fun. “I think that she'll be okay but she's still coming to terms with it, you know.”

“But if her mother was still here, you wouldn't be. And besides, her mother-”

“I understand that Viren. Look, I never met your ex-wife. I don't really know what happened in that relationship. And, if I'm honest, I'd rather not know.” She relaxed her hands, which had curled into fists without her noticing. “But none of this matters to a child, who was forced to make a choice that adults would find difficult.”

Viren remained quiet, mouth twitching as he contemplated a number of responses. He settled for sighing, leaning his head against hers.

“I guess I never noticed because Soren made his decision so easily.” He finally said, unable to completely stop himself from justifying things to her.

“Yes. And so Soren never noticed either. And so she had no one to turn to.” She pulled away for a moment, looking at Viren seriously. “Viren… don't try to talk to her about this unless she comes to you with it.”

“But, Wendy…”

“It's hard for you to understand. And that's no real fault of yours. I just don't think that's what she needs, right now. She's grieving the relationship, and you're not. So just give her space to do that, okay?”

Viren smiled, nodding. “Alright, you've convinced me.” She scooted closer to him again, and he wrapped his arm over her shoulder. “If you're going to keep being so wise, I'm starting to think maybe I should have been the assistant all along.”

The joke was unusual for him, a joke at his own expense. Wendy snuggled into him, chuckling. “Perhaps in matters of the heart.” She teased. “When you get serious, I can't hold a candle to your dark magic though. And,” she continued, gazing up at his face in the warm light of the fire, “which one of us has saved the kingdom on multiple occasions with our clever and innovative ideas?”

Viren flushed at the praise, laughing a little.

“I couldn't do it without you.” He kissed her softly.

It was only a small amount of time before they fell asleep together around the fire, but it was longer before they awoke and retired to bed in the cabin.

[becuzpurple]

Father’s Day

(an Ed & Kate one-shot)

21 June 2016

Lucy brushed some dirt and debris from the surface of the stone, clearing it for me to place a half dozen red and white tulips across it.  Nathan staked 3 mini Cubs pennants into the soil at its top.  Then we sat, mostly quietly, surrounded by a sea of trees, flowers, and grave markers.  It was a beautiful first day of summer - the peaceful setting lending itself to quiet contemplation.  It was Father’s Day.

When I was a child, and my parents took us to the cemetery to pay respects to our deceased relatives, we’d clean up the gravestones, plant flowers, and say some prayers.  Since Jason’s passing, though, I’ve found that reciting prayers at his gravesite just doesn’t work for me.  It feels almost forced, as if it’s expected, but it holds no actual meaning for me - they’re just empty words.  I completely understand and respect that others find doing this to be very meaningful and comforting, but it just isn’t for me.  

I talk to him instead.  Sometimes I’ll talk to God, too, but more often I talk to Jason - not out loud, but in my head.  I tell him about our lives - stuff with the kids, our family...and I talk to him about Ed, too. As weird as that sounds, I find it to be therapeutic.  It gives me a way to sorting out my joys and worries, my hopes and fears, all without judgement. Sometimes I can imagine his reply.  

It helps.

On that Father’s Day, I shared a secret with him - a big one, that no one but I knew, yet. That would change soon enough, I supposed.  It was strangely comforting to think that I no longer held the secret entirely alone, even if it wasn’t with anyone currently alive.

“Do you think he can see us?  Or hear us?”  Lucy was pulling random weeds and dandelions from around the stone as she spoke, eyes focused downwards.

I paused before answering her.  It’s something I wonder about, too.

“I don’t really know.  But I like to think so.  You know, sometimes, in my head...I talk to him.”  She did look up at me then, and I grimaced in a self-deprecating way...trying to keep things from getting too heavy.  “Is that weird?”

“No, I do that, too.” 

Nate had been quiet, but was nodding in agreement, as well.

Oh, my babies

“I guess...it’s comforting to think that he might hear us.”

“Yeah…”  Lucy nodded and resumed weeding.  

I glanced at Nate, who watched us curiously, also nodding.

“I think he does,” he added softly.

---

We didn’t stay much longer - cemetery visits tend to be emotionally exhausting for us. From there we met my parents at The Pancake House for a Father’s Day brunch.  Filling up on family and sugary, carby comfort food helped us transition from our melancholy moods.  

My dad is the best.  I’ve literally never met anyone who didn’t love him.  He’s smart and funny, yet on the quiet side.  He’s a hard worker and a devoted family man.  He loves baseball, sci-fi, and giant jigsaw puzzles.  He’d do anything for us.  He really stepped up to be there for the three of us after we lost Jason, and I’m so grateful for that.  There is no better father or grandfather out there, so celebrating his awesomeness (on Father’s Day, fur sure, but at other times of the year, too) has become very important to me.

“When does Ed get back, Kate?”  I have to smile at how my mom’s face lights up at the mention of his name - even when she’s the one saying it.  She loves him, and it’s adorable.

“Today, in a few more hours.”

“Ah, good.  I hope things went well for him out there.”

“Yeah, he said they got a lot done,” I shrugged.  “He sounds pretty happy with everything.”

He’d been away for a week, in southern California, working on the next album. From how he described it, it sounded like they were in an absolutely beautiful setting - a gorgeous chalet in a wooded area, a river nearby, and distant mountains.  He’d been with some of his favorite people in the business - people he considers dear friends - and they seemed to have had an abundantly creative and productive week.  He was really pumped about it.

He’d wanted me to go with him, but my schedule just wouldn’t cooperate. The kids started their summer sports and art camps, I had a few looming deadlines for work that couldn’t wait, and I had a doctor appointment mid-week that I didn’t want to put off.  It’s too bad, too - I would have loved to have witnessed their collaborative songwriting in action.

---

That night after the kids were in bed, we’d finally caught each other up on everything - his stories of the last week were much more interesting than the mundane details of my suburban mom life, but, lovely man that he is, he wanted all of them, anyway.  Ed genuinely loves things like that - anything involving family.  Which is a good thing, considering what I was about to drop on him.

“So, I have something for you, but I left it in the bedroom.”  I stood and wagged a finger at him, grinning at his curious, wrinkled brow.  “Don’t move, I’ll be right back.”

I left him there on the family room couch while I jogged to our room to grab the small, gift-wrapped box I’d been keeping hidden away.

Without a doubt I was dying to finally tell him, but at the same time I almost felt a little sad that it would no longer be my secret.  I laughed to myself at the idea of being possessive of it.  But I’d had a whole week for that - it was time to spill the beans, and giving him the little gift was how I planned to do that.

As soon as I re-entered the room Ed’s eyes zeroed in on the small, prettily-wrapped box in my hand.  Before I even reached the sofa I could see that he was starting to look a little freaked out.  Maybe he had an idea of what this was about.  He knew what day it was, and there I was with a gift for him - it wasn’t a difficult jump to make.  But I know him well enough to see that he was trying not to psych himself up, in case he was wrong.

But he wasn’t wrong.

I re-joined him on the sofa, mirroring his pose by sitting with one leg tucked under the other, our knees touching.

“What-what’s this, then?”  He tried to appear calm and casual, but between the stutter and the wide eyes, it was clear that he was not feeling calm.

My plan had been to not give anything away before he opened the gift, but that all went to pot because I was way too close to falling into a fit of nervous giggles. This was more than obvious to Ed, who was eying me dubiously, waiting for me to say something.

“Umm, this is for you.”  I gave him the neatly wrapped present, about the same size as a watch box.  But there wasn’t a watch inside, nor any other jewelry.

He held it in his hand, just staring at it, eyes wide.  He glanced at me a few times, finally asking, “What is it?”

He was nervous, watching me with barely reined-in wide-eyed excitement.

A few giggles finally spilled loose from me, and I couldn’t stop smiling - I was just as anxious as he was.  Attempting to calm the both of us, I placed my palms flat on his lap, just above his knees, tapping my fingers before murmuring, “Ed.  Open it.”

He took a calming breath and looked down at the box in his hands, again.  Smiling to himself, he began pulling off the ribbon.

“I - I might know what this is about...maybe?  But I also have no idea what’s actually in here.”

“That’s...probably completely accurate.”

“Jesus…”

“Open it.”

“Yeah.” He wore the cutest little grin, and kept shooting small glances at me as he carefully unwrapped the paper from the box.  How he wasn’t tearing it apart I’ll never know.  Maybe he wanted to savor the feeling of anticipation.  Maybe he was a little scared, too.  I know I was.

He removed all of the paper and turned to me with a look of pure bewilderment, holding the unopened box.

“I - I’m nervous to open it...fuck’s wrong with me?”

I gently shook my head, unable to stop grinning. “Nah, you got this.”  I gave his leg a little squeeze, as my hand still rested on it.  “Please open it, though, because I can’t take this much longer.”

He laughed, and then finally opened the lid.  He just stared for a few seconds - no response whatsoever.  I’m not even sure he remembered to breathe.  He blinked several times, and then he smiled - a slow-growing, tentative expression of stunned wonder.

“It’s a pick.”  His eyes lifted to meet mine, his voice barely more than a whisper.

I nodded.

“A ba- we’re gonna...you’re pregnant?” His voice broke on the last word.

I nodded again, my heart pounding with nerves.

“Bloody hell, I knocked you up?!”  He found his voice again, and his accent was much more pronounced than usual.  He looked at me in complete astonishment.

I hiccup-cry-laughed all at once.  “Yeah, you did!”

He glanced down again at the custom-designed guitar pick I got for him while he was away.  “January...”

“My due date is January 12th.”

“January the 12th.  Holy shit, this is for real...”

“This is real, Teddy.”  We shared a tender look at my use of the phrase he’d once used to reassure me when we first started dating.  “We’re going to have a baby.”

We’re gonna have a baby.” He repeated the words slowly, trying them out for the very first time, himself.  “I…I’m going to be a dad.”

There was a sweet shyness in the way he said it, a self-consciousness in saying the words out loud - I’m going to be a dad.

Nodding again, I cupped his jaw in my hand, bringing his earnest, deep blues back to me. “You’re going to be an amazing dad.”

He was quiet, eyes still on mine, listening.

“Your parents did good raising you and Matthew, right?”

“They are literally the best parents, yeah.”

“You’ve been learning your whole life from the best, then.  And I’ve seen you with kids - my kids, your godchildren...Ed, you were meant for this.”

His tentative smile grew, his eyes lit up, and soon his entire body was practically humming with hyper energy.  It must have been contagious, as I was nearly vibrating with giddiness, myself.  I’m sure we looked completely ridiculous beaming at each other like that. Or just deliriously happy.

He tilted his head to the side, eyes on me curiously and gave the sweetest, closed-mouth smile.  “You’re happy Kate?”

“Oh, yeah!  I - well, I’m feeling a lot things right now, but ‘happy’ is definitely at the top of the list.”

My thoughts had been going in so many different directions over the last few days - I was absolutely over-the-moon.  I never thought I’d have any more children, and I was thrilled to get this chance - and with Ed!  It made my heart feel whole and complete.  

But I’d be lying if I said I had no worries.  I’m older now, and that brings more risks to a pregnancy.  Also, there was the fact that Ed and I aren’t married - we’d only been together for six months at that point.  I didn’t know if that would be an issue or not, but I knew it was something we should probably talk about. I also worried that he might not be thrilled with the timing of the pregnancy, relative to his career.

“Me, too!  It’s crazy, right?  I can’t even keep up with everything going through my head right now.”  He huffed out a breath, surely still trying to wrap his head around the news.

“I know.  I mean, the timing isn’t great, like with your work, and-”

“-Oh, no, no,” he interrupted.  “this is everything, and it-it’s perfect.  Like, work is well and good, but this?  Family?  Is what we’re all really here for, right?  To love, and to teach our children to love.  I feel like I’m finally about to really start my life, now - the most important part of it, and I get to do it with you?  I'm - I’m so fucking in love with you, and I'm just...really chuffed right now...”

His voice caught as it trailed off.  He took off his glasses, wiped at his eyes and cleared his throat, and that’s when I started to lose it a little bit, too.

“Baby, stop.”  I sniffled as I shifted closer against him.  He pulled me in even more so that my legs were across his lap, his arms secure around my waist.  

I don’t know how he does it - he has a knack for saying the very thing I need to hear, and even better - he means it every time.  I sent a quick word of thanks to the universe, or maybe it was God (I’m not entirely sure there’s a difference), for somehow bringing us together.  “How’d I get so lucky?”

He pulled back just enough to see my face and wipe a stray tear from my cheek with his thumb.  “I ask myself that same question every single day, sweet girl.”

“I love you, Ed.”

“I know,” he answered, grinning cheekily.

I couldn’t even pretend to be annoyed.  I adore him and I’m happy to say it for the rest of my life.  But there was something else I wanted to say, too.  

“Oh, and one more thing…” I grinned.

“What’s that, love?”

Happy Father’s Day.”

---

just a friendly reminder that I’d love to hear your thoughts on this!  Send me likes, or reblogs, or send Anon questions/comments - these are the only ways I know what you like.

Thanks, guys!

[frickengreenfrickyeah]

Sides Fantasy AU Context Dump

Warnings: Mentions of violence, murder, discrimination, parental death (Please tell me if I missed anything)

The World and Backstory:

- The kingdom is called Sanderia, ruled by Queen Uthra, who has two(2) sons. Simon and Roman. Roman is the second son by about ten(10) years

- Queen Uthra came into power with her husband King William and his brother Damarcus by defeating a Tyrant Invader who was enslaving their people (and who doesn’t have a name yet because that’s where his plot relevance begins and ends). 

- But after they defeat Tyrant, Damarcus got power hungry and wasn’t content to let William have the throne, so he killed his own brother. Roman was there when it happened, our poor boi. 

- The assassination sparked a Civil War. The Crown (Uthra, most of the nobles, some army, and the druids) versus the Insurgents (Damarcus, the rest of nobles, a majority of the army, and Dark Magic.)

- The Dark Magic would have won Damarcus the war, except [spoiler] happened and it was dispersed. No human can control it now. It roves the countryside as a giant storm called the Scourge. The Scourge is bad. Damarcus loses the war, takes the remainder of his forces, and flees to the mountains.

- As a consequence of [spoiler] and misunderstanding, Queen Uthra thinks that the druids betrayed her, and therefore all magic is bad. She orders a Purge and puts her own brother, Lord Nigel, in charge of it. Think of the tv show Merlin.

- Lord Nigel does a Witch Hunt. All known magic users are burned at the stake, and druids are persecuted wholesale. They can’t leave the kingdom because the neighbors (where Tyrant came from) will enslave them, but they can’t live out in the open either, so they become nomads who hide in the vast forests and mountains of Sanderia.

- And that’s about where our story begins. 

The Sides:

Roman

- As previously mentioned, he’s the second prince of Sanderia. He loves being a knight, is eager to prove himself, and dislikes being in the shadow of his older brother, Simon. He loves Simon though, and they have a decent relationship despite the age gap.

- Queen Uthra put him in charge of managing the druids, which means he organizes and leads raids whenever a druid camp is located. Any druids caught are killed. He doesn’t see anything morally wrong with this duty when the story begins. 

- He and Anxiety have a history. Anxiety is the Murderous Magical Menace of Sanderia and Roman’s nemesis.

- Roman has a terrible secret though. He has magic. Dun dun dun. No one, not even Logan, knows. He discovered his powers a year or two before the story begins and he doesn’t really understand them. All he knows is that he needs to keep it a secret. He’ll sometimes use it instinctively in a fight. And, though he doesn’t know it, he’s a little more powerful than the average magic user.

Logan

- He’s a nobleman. And you’ll never guess who his father is. It’s Lord Nigel. Who is Uthra’s brother. Who is Roman’s mother. That makes Logan and Roman cousins. (I need family tree stuff explained like I’m two(2) years old, so sorry if that connection was obvious to you.) Logan’s not in line for the throne though, because Uthra married into the Crown. I think that’s how the line of succession works, right?

- He doesn’t have a good relationship with his father, Lord Nigel, mainly because Nigel was off Witch Hunting for most of his childhood, leaving Logan back at the castle, and Nigel isn’t a very emotionally available person anyway. Logan’s mother died when he was young.

- He’s besties with Roman though. They were glued at the hip as children and still are despite their different personalities. His calling in life is to be Roman’s adviser, and he loves knowledge, so he soaks up all he can. He’s good friends with the Court Librarian. 

- But there’s a problem. I looked it up, and glasses didn’t exist in medieval times. That was a Renaissance thing. When Logan was around eight(8), he vision started to go bad. By the time our story begins, his vision is worse than mine, which is saying something. So, when it comes to things like reading facial expressions or depth perception, he’s hopeless. I won’t say he blind, but he’s definitely impaired on a day to day basis. He can still read though, since he’s nearsighted.

- He does not have magic. 

Patton

- Patton was born a druid. Not only was he born a druid, he was born a special druid. I’m not sure how much I can get into without spoiling anything, but think Merlin (from the tv show) levels of power (and if you don’t know the show, I just mean, like, stupid powerful. OP much?)

- He was a happy child for those first few years of life. Then tragedy struck. He, his sister Cassidy, and his parents were all captured in Nigel’s Witch Hunt. His parents were burned alive in front of him. His mother’s last words to him were something to the effect of, “Look away, sweetie. Close your eyes and everything will be okay.” and he’s taken those words to heart. To make matters worse, the druid’s rescued Patton at the cost of abandoning his sister to die because they deemed it too risky. He carries that trauma with him to this day. (This got dark, I know.)

- His special status with the druids means that he’s been groomed to take over as their leader once he comes of age, but that responsibility scares him, especially since lives are at stake. Virgil supports him though, which is a great help. Unfortunately, when the elders force him to take on too much responsibility too fast, he leads the clan right into a raid. People die. He’s separated in the chaos, and, unable to face the horror of what just happened, he runs away. 

- Through a wacky series of events, he becomes Roman’s manservant. (The tv show Merlin was a big influence for me, can you tell?) He keeps his magic a secret. Logan doesn’t like Patton until he discovers he can read, which is the icebreaker that leads to friendship. Patton is really close friends with Roman as well, but he sabotages Roman’s attempts to ‘manage’ the druids. That leads to drama later.

- About Patton’s glasses... Glasses exist in this world, but they’re a known druid invention, so he can’t wear them or risk outing himself. Instead, he uses a spell to see. It hurts him that he can’t do the same for Logan. Another thing about his appearance: Druids wear distinctive cloaks, and Patton misses his, so he ties a sweater around his shoulders to imitate the feel of it.

Virgil

- He was born in a small mining town to blacksmiths and had an older brother. The town was destroyed by Insurgents and his parents were killed. His older brother took care of him for a few years before being conscripted into the Crown’s army. Virgil was apprenticed to a blacksmith while he was away. Then his brother was killed in the line of duty, his wages stopped coming, and Virgil had to fend for himself.

- He saved a couple druids from the Witch Hunt and got adopted by the clan (read: by Patton). He and Patton are besties. Virgil refused to leave Patton’s side, to the effect that he got basically the same ‘leader’ training as Patton did. So when Patton disappears and is assumed dead and everyone is running around like chickens with their heads cut off, he steps up and declares himself the Temporary Leader. 

- It’s at this time that he embraces his moniker, Anxiety, and becomes the Magical Murderous Menace of Sanderia. Basically, he and a couple other druid warriors will create a big distraction in one(1) place so the rest of the clan can slip away unnoticed when they come under heat. The job is stressful, but he’s the only competent leader available.

- He has magic, but it’s really weak. If he hadn’t been adopted by the druids, he would have never been able to do anything useful. Only through years of rigorous training did he get to the level he’s at right now. I’m talking, like, maybe four(4) spells a day, maybe more if he saves his energy for a few days. The Anxiety persona gets lots of help to pull off his stunts. He’s self-conscious about how weak he is but tries not to let it show.

Other Characters, Original and Not:

Simon

- The Crown Prince of Sanderia, Roman’s older brother. He too witnessed his father’s murder. He was around twelve(12), and Damarcus gave him a nasty facial scar in the attack.

- He loves Roman and wants to protect him from the cruel world. 

- He’s in charge of dealing with the Insurgents.

- Technically, he’s not totally an OC. Remember that one vine where Thomas changed his name to Simon to win Simon Says? Let that be a hint as to his personality. Yeah. Huge inspiration for me, no joke.

Adrian

- This guy is OC

- The top knight. Technically, Roman and Simon are higher rankings than him because royalty, but he’s got the most experience.

- He’s a father figure to Roman. 

Tristan

- also OC

- Roman’s personal guard from when he was about five(5) to around thirteen(13). Basically an older brother to Roman and Logan, even if they’re hesitant to admit it because of his common-born status. 

- He died while protecting Roman from and Insurgent assassination attempt.

Blazon

- I swear, I’m trying to keep the OC's in this post to a minimum, but I needed at least one female character on here. 

- The Insurgent leader(Damarcus)’s second-in-command. Pretty much an enigma. We don’t even know her real name. She admits to being a druid, but we don’t know how she got to be so powerful in the Insurgents, and she insists she has a brother, but we don’t know who that is either.

- Honestly, she’s really fun to write. The perfect balance (I think) of cruel and compassionate.

Emile

- Based off of Dr. Picani, obviously. 

- He’s a druid. Good friends with both Patton and Virgil. Just about thirteen(13) when the story starts. 

- His magical affinity is mind-speak. The mind-speak spell is within the power of most druids. What his affinity allows him to do is connect with people really easily over longer distances than usual. Other than that, an average power level of magic. More on affinities later.

- He’s training to be the Oral History Teller of the clan, which means he has hundreds of stories memorized and is always ready with a reference to one of them. 

Misc:

Monikers: Part of (my) druid culture is that they give everyone a nickname. There are a couple legacy titles, but most are specific to the person. Obviously, Virgil is Anxiety, and Patton is Morality when the story starts, and there’s a backstory to both. The others are worked in later. Blazon is a moniker.

Magical Affinities: All magic users have an affinity. It’s the type of magic that comes easiest (and sometimes most powerful) to them. Emile’s is Mind-Speak. Other examples include Teleportation, Water, Fire, Earth, Air, Battle Magic, Healing, etc.

Marks: I haven’t mentioned this yet, but (my) druids have a tradition of tattoos. Usually put right above the heart, the Mark magically connects all its bearers. Patton’s is shaped like a heart. Emile’s is a bird. Virgil declined to receive his.

Magic Levels: There’s no formal scale or anything, and I haven’t worked out numbers for what percentage of people have magic or anything. Most people are like Virgil, capable of casting spells only if they train really hard for years. Must druids are like Roman or weaker. Magic comes naturally to them and they don’t require training to achieve some amount of accidental magic. Patton’s power level is pretty much unheard of. I have lore explaining why he’s so powerful, but it’s really spoilery so I won’t go into it now.

Dark Magic: There’s a difference between magic that has negative effects and Dark Magic. True Magic is balanced, like the ying-yang. Dark Magic is bad. It’s a man-made corruption, and virtually indestructible. There’s spoilery lore that goes more in-depth.

Crofters: You bet I managed to make jelly integral to the world, plot, and characters! In fact, it’s so integral that I’m not sure how much I can tell you without spoiling anything. So this is all you get :P

Muggles: This more a hole in my world building than anything else. I can’t figure out what to call non-magical/non-druid people. And I can’t think of any other term for accidental magic (Unintentional? Incidental?). Obviously, HP was a big influence. Should I just name the elephant in the room and call muggles muggles, or should I try and be a bit original? I’m open to suggestions.

Also, I don’t know what to call this thing. The working title is the Sanderiad, but I think that’s a bit too presumptuous. I’ll keep working on it.

I HAVE A PRELUDE SHORT(ISH) STORY FOR THIS IN THE WORKS AND ALMOST COMPLETE. LET ME KNOW IF YOU’RE INTERESTED. I mean, I’m gonna post it regardless of what you say, but still.

Disclaimer:

Any time I mention druids in this post, I am referring to my version specific to the story I’m telling. I did a lot of world building around my version of druid culture by flipping through an Ancient Celtic history book that I got for free when my local library spring cleaned. I just grabbed whatever seemed really cool (like the fact that druids had a religious taboo against writing things down in their own language) and put it in the story. In some cases, I willfully played into stereotypes because I liked them (for instance, I’m pretty much ignoring the fact that druids were actually the intellectual caste of the Celts and not representative of their entire people or the fact that the majority of them were farmers, not nomads.) and I’m really ignorant as to how much of that culture is still relevant today. I’m sorry if anything I end up putting in the story is culturally insensitive. If you notice anything, please point it out in a respectful manner that helps me educate myself and others and fix the problem. But also I think it’s important to note that I’m creating a landscape that, on many levels, I purposefully distanced from our modern world in the name of fun and storytelling. Please know that I have good intentions, and I hope you enjoy the fruits of my labor.

Additional Disclaimer:

I don’t know how taglists work. Do you just type out the username of the person? 

Hey, if you got this far, thank you for your time! You’re my favorite person :) And since you’re already here... I love constructive criticism. I may be shy af and anxious to boot, but I take pride in my writing, which means bettering my craft. And I want to make friends!*

*See previous post for disclaimer about friendship. (Darn I wish I knew how to link stuff... Oh well, wisdom comes with time. I’m kinda patient.)

TLDR; I wrote a thing. The Sides are in it. There’s magic and tragedy and shenanigans. Cultural Appropriation is a thing. A general appreciation for all the beautiful people in the world. I’m clueless and/or socially awkward and crave attention. (Now this is how tldrs work).

[landofsomethingsomething]

Do you have any tips for writing dirkjake? A lot of writers can't really capture their relationship as well as you do

ok I’m going to write like a million words about dirkjake get ready

I think firstly with DirkJake there’s just core differences in how different fans interpret the characters and relationship from the very foundation. The way fanon is so established for like 10 different versions of Dirk and Jake individually followed by at least 3 different common ways for their dynamic to be interpreted... it all leads to a shit ton of variance in what you get when any given writer decides to write a DirkJake fic. 

I guess for me, the main things to get “my” flavor of the relationship, what I try to focus on: 

1. Dirk as a complex character primarily defined by his overwhelming constant internal state of anxiety filtered through the fucking pinhole of his exterior facade. So like. Dirk is a character that wants and needs and feels so many things, but never wants to express any of it because he is terrified that expressing all the shit going on behind the mask will drive people away from him either in disgust or terror. Dirk is a person who is constantly afraid that he is becoming the worst version of himself and constantly unable to talk about that because if people understood what the worst version of himself was capable of they wouldn’t even want to be associated with the current version of him, who is trying so fucking hard not to be that. And because from Dirk’s perspective he’s “hiding” the reality of who he is from everyone he cares about (Dirk has a VERY FUCKING LOW opinion of himself) he’s in a sense manipulating them via lying by omission. Dirk thinks he is responsible for everything bad and other people are responsible for everything good and therefore other people have no sense associating with him at all. Dirk is trapped inside his own goddamn head 100% of the time when left to his own devices and WILL destroy himself if allowed to do so. 

His stuff is a mirror of Dave’s, with one huge difference: Dave hides everything because he’s afraid everyone will think less of him for being so soft -- he’s afraid of the harm they might do to HIM, emotionally. His facade is protecting himself. Dirk hides everything because he’s afraid of the harm that DIRK might do to THEM. His facade is (from his perspective) protecting everyone else (from him.)

You’ll notice I didn’t mention anime, puppets, horses. Yeah. Moving on. 

2. Jake is ALSO a complex character primarily defined by his overwhelming need to avoid conflict and downplay his struggles with being hugely introverted in favor of projecting an idealized version of himself worthy of his own grand destiny. Jake is primarily concerned with JAKE’S own comfort, and this selfishness leaks in to the way he conducts all his relationships -- Roxy is spot on when she says that Jake is an asshole, but he doesn’t MEAN to be an asshole, he’s just... Jake. Jake is simultaneously really easy to take advantage of (because he will always defer to the easiest route if possible -- Jake calls himself a man of action but he would almost ALWAYS prefer to do nothing if he can get away with it) and also really good at manipulating people because everyone underestimates him. Jake is SMART. He just often downplays his own intelligence because he’s terrified of failure. He walks this line between being perceived as capable but not being perceived as TOO capable, because he wants to put out a specific persona without ever being called on to act in a way befitting of that persona. Like, wearing the costume is easy but walking the walk is hard, right?

Jake wants to be the hero and also wants to be the damsel but ONLY for the fun parts because the rest is hard and feels bad and is awful and sucks. He wants to skip from the Inciting Incident of a story to the Hero’s Triumph and then to the Happy Conclusion without experiencing ANY of the tumult or conflict or setbacks in between. He wants people to understand him without having to express himself because that’s hard. 

His stuff is a mirror Jane’s, one again a major difference: Jane bottles things up because she wants to appear effective and actively be relied upon to do great things -- which she is confident in her ability to do and eager to inherit. Jake bottles things up and meticulously avoids difficult things because he wants to appear technically capable of effectiveness but doesn’t actually want people to call upon him or depend on him. He is NOT confident in himself or his own abilities and intelligence. Jane wants everyone to want and need her, she thrives on being the center of attention in a room. Jake thinks about being the center of attention in a room and wants to die. 

I would never ever ever use the words “cinnamon roll” to refer to Jake English. So yep. Moving on. 

3. the DirkJake relationship is a story about two boys who have been in love with each other basically their entire lives, except they grew into a pair of maladjusted unsocialized messes with zero emotional intelligence and oh, yeah, also one is a huge fucking introvert pretending to be an extrovert and the other is a desperate fucking extrovert pretending to be an introvert and WOW IS THAT A RECIPE FOR DISASTER. Especially when they immediately torch all their other relationships and have no one to ground them or pull them back or otherwise vent or express themselves to ON TOP OF all the other personal baggage each is working through throughout the alpha session. 

And I personally take an optimistic view of it, which is, these boys have loved each other their entire lives, they aren’t going to stop now, but they are going to have to learn to work through the myriad fucking issues I outlined above in healthy ways with the help of ALL their friends and family and it will be difficult but ultimately successful and rewarding and their eventual relationship with each other will be one where each feels respected and fulfilled and no longer afraid of horribly disappointing (best case) or utterly destroying (worst case) the other. 

I like to think toward and write them toward an eventuality where Jake is no longer afraid that he isn’t capable of loving Dirk as much as Dirk loves him just because he feels and expresses the emotion differently, and Dirk is no longer afraid that Jake is just humoring him or that Jake’s inability to be in full social mode 100% of the time means he’s getting or gotten over him in full, forever. Also, where Jake is no longer afraid that Dirk will judge him or feel full on disdain for the fact that Jake actually really doesn’t want to deal with the realities of a hero’s journey and just kinda wants to chill and have fun instead of being effective and heroic 100% of the time, and Dirk is no longer afraid that Jake will come apart like a wet paper towel at the merest hint of exposure to his actual innermost self and feelings. 

And that’s my big rant about the stuff I try to keep in mind when I write DirkJake even though like 70% of it is just smut like honestly what the fuck

[dasspacegoat]

It’s nights like these when I need to be reminded of who I am and where I came from. Somewhere inside of me, there’s hope, like a child whose bully decided to play with them one day. He went to school on the next day, waiting for him to approach, for them to play together.. again. But he never came back to play. The truth is, we never played well together, and it’s not my fault.

From the very beginning, he tells me, “all of my exes are crazy”. I remember my first reaction was to want to hear both sides. Every story has two sides.. and I decided to ignore my better judgment and trust him regardless of this clear indication of someone who is unable to see the plank in their eye. I remember finding his overgenralization and avoidance endearing of all things! I saw the he was playing victim and was asking for my sympathy and I chose to give it to him, hoping that in time, he would grow and learn to give an honest assessment of his past and take ownership for his shortcomings. I actually believed that if I loved him enough, he would see how much better he could be, and that was my mistake. I chose to ignore the value of putting effort into real-time communication, authenticity, and self evaluation, as well as partner evaluation, to see if there is compatibility beyond his physical attraction to me and my desire to love broken people. I ignored this warning sign and set myself up for more “crazy” in the end.

I viewed his insecurity about me hanging out with my friends as endearing as well. I actually found it flattering to think that someone wanted me all to themselves so much that they couldn’t contain their fears in the presence of my friends. I made a point to let him know when I hung out with my friends until I felt like he understood my routine and socialization schedule.. big mistake. After being accused of cheating for half of the relationship, I wish he had the mental capacity to comprehend that if I was going to cheat, I wouldn’t tell him who I’m with.

Kind of like how he didn’t tell me who he was with all those times he was “working late” but was actually picking up one of his old flings. I’d expect anyone I’m dating to comprehend this dynamic and I hold myself personally responsible for not sticking to my principles and ending it as soon as his IQ became apparent.

RED FLAG: I of all people should not have ignored the age gap. He was the youngest person I’d ever been with and every girl he had been with was younger than him. A chunk of his friends turned out to still be in high school, including the fling he snuck around to spend time with. Again, I chose to view this all as endearing and warned him to be careful because of statutory rape laws.

The reality: this was a red sign that we were at conflicting stages in our lives and our maturity levels. If he can connect with a girl in high school, how the fuck could I expect him to connect with me? I expect equal caliber or better.

And then there was the sex. Never in my life have I met someone who made nearly as big of a deal about it. From the very beginning, he got upset with me for calling it “fucking” and wanted to make it clear to me that we were “making love”. We had been hanging out for only two weeks when he decides to pop the “what are we?” question, during sex. It was like he wanted to build our relationship on sex. I can’t count how many times he came over or had me come over just to “make love” and then leave.

He also had a thing for squirting and talked down to me for not being able to do it like his exes. He implied several times that my orgasms were weak and sure enough, he slowly started spending more time going home early to masturbate and less time actually hanging out with me. Not to mention he was so secretive about porn and masturbation. I offered to watch porn with him so many times and he would try to kink shame me and tell me that nobody watches porn with their significant other. He got his friends to support him by twisting the story to say that I wasn’t okay with him watching it in the first place. I was definitely the one in the relationship that was more sex positive and he fought me as if I wasn’t. It was maddening.

I’m so much more accepting and open than he ever was, I can’t imagine what he could have been trying to hide from me. 

Everything was my fault, nothing was his fault. He was always right and I was always wrong. There was the sex stuff. If the sex wasn’t great one time, my fault. If I couldn’t get wet, my fault. Nevermind more foreplay, changing positions, or taking breaks. Nope, my fault. He never had these problems with his ex and definitely wouldn’t have these problems if he just masturbated. I’m a worthless bitch. Traffic’s bad? He’d yell at me. I was worthless, as were my opinions. I suggest don’t push your transmission so hard, it’s getting enough wear and tear with two delivery jobs. He’d tell me I was an idiot who didn’t know how to drive and continued to drive his little stock 4banger like it’s a racecar and sure enough, his transmission craps out. All my fault for not being able to tell that that’s what was happening by the sounds his car was making.

Whether it was a big thing or a little thing, my fault, I was wrong.

One of the first things that caught my attention about him was his apparent interest in reading research journals. After dating him for a little while, I realized he’d just read all this ridiculous shit online and got all these crazy and incorrect ideas from it. I’d disagree with one of his statements and not only was I wrong but oooooooh would that set him off, which brings us to…

The temper! Holy shit. The littlest things set him off. And I mean SET HIM OFF. I remember walking into a restaurant once and it was pretty crowded. We were meeting with some friends later and running short on time. There were no seats and a 45 minute wait. I suggested waiting until a couple people left, going somewhere else to eat, or just waiting to eat afterwards and maybe grabbing a snack to tide us over while we were with his friends. Oh boy was I wrong and those were stupid ideas. He paced around the bar, infuriated, swearing and shouting, looking for empty seats. I was mortified. He grabbed my arm and we left. All over not being able to grab some food before hanging out with friends who would probably like to go eat later anyway. Even smaller things set him off, like dropping a fucking potato chip on the floor would be followed by him throwing a tantrum and shouting. I’m pretty sure I lost some of my hearing from his road rage. He’d get so mad over the littlest things and if something big happened….fuck.

Needless to say, his anger made it impossible for him to be there for me when I went through some shit. To put it plainly, he yelled at me while I was in the hospital because I called him out on sneaking around with his old fling while I was away. He denied all of it, screamed at me until I was shaking and in tears, and then hung up. Oh and this was on Christmas Eve. I’d like to point out that I later found out that she was with him that night and that they had made plans for her to spend the night in our apartment.

He took jokes too far. Again, this was one of those constant things. It’s one thing to tease people about things, but there are just lines you don’t cross unless you’re being abusive. I understood his insecurity so well because I was insecure too (my own fault), but he’d tease me about stuff relentlessly and would get to saying actual mean things instead of funny, teasing things. I have a great sense of humor and can take a joke. Though insecure, I have a thick skin. I speak fluent sarcasm and smart-assery. He took it like 50 times too far, daily. That and shit talking strangers. He went as far as to imply that I enjoyed the sexual abuse I endured as a child, in front of his family and a bunch of people at a bar. It wasn’t that he lacked social filters, it was that he chose to ignore them because he found it funny. He’d openly admit he was mean, and said he enjoyed it.

I could never have a day to myself or with my friends without him holding it against me down the line. The first time I asked to have the day to myself, one of my male friends stopped by to pick up something. He never let me live that one down and swears that’s when things went downhill for us because I was “probably cheating.” I don’t recall a single time when I hung out with my friends without a negative repercussion. He made it very clear that he thought all of my friends were stupid, vapid and worthless, while obsessed about his look and being overly-concerned about how I felt about the looks of other people, including my friends. Go figure, these are the same friends he desperately tried to pick up, using the same lines he used on me about going on an adventure and building a sheet fort.

Spoiler Alert: he doesn’t know how to build a sheet fort and would rather have sex, complain about your body and either spew bullshit that he read online or talk shit about other people. 

Something important to talk about? Text only. Yeah. And it wasn’t because he expressed himself better via writing than orally. No, he just didn’t want to see me cry or be upset by something he’d say. It was so he didn’t have to deal with any consequences. Thankfully and regrettably I had my family and friends around to pick up the pieces after our conversations. Some things are better said in person, but he never had the decency to do this. I at first assumed that he just felt more comfortable talking this way because he was a bit of an introvert. So when I needed to tell him about my pregnancy via text… shit, that was the wrong thing to do because “why the fuck would you tell me something like this over text???” Yeah, double standards.

 This motherfucker had god-awful communication skills.

I had a hard time understanding the way he complimented me. He spent the first 4 months complimenting me non-stop. I appreciated it but at the same time, none of the compliments actually fit me as a person. It was almost as if he was just reading a script of things you could say to flatter a girl but not a particular individual. He ultimately tried using those same compliments to woo my friends. I felt so bad for being suspicious of his authenticity but now I know my instincts were right.

I could think of a thousand more red flags but this is long enough. A lot of them are huge in retrospect but at the time, they were so subtle and happened so slowly. They were little things that piled up. These sorts of little things could have been cleared up with communication, which he sorely lacked. I asked him why he invited his fling to spend the night when I was in hospice and he took offense and said I was accusing him of stuff. A normal person would say “I’m not ready to share that information with you because I’m afraid that you won’t allow me to see her again or other xyz reason. I’ll check back in with you in 1-2 months when I’ve found the best way to communicate this to you.” Not him, no honesty or accountability, providing no way to successfully plan for the future, and no regard for my feelings or my well-being. It all seems so glaringly obvious now, but he was very manipulative and would have me question my feelings of uncertainty when things didn’t add up. He would rather I feel guilty and ashamed about my suspicions; doubting my instincts, than be forthcoming. 

I am guilty of ignoring these signs and continuing to fight for him when he had checked out of the relationship long ago. I am responsible for the collateral damage to my ability to trust myself but I will no longer hate myself for trying because I fell in love with this boy who had yet to be at peace with his body, his mind, his weaknesses. I tried to build him, to find the parts of him that are missing in me. I ended up with a hole in my chest and a deeper understanding of my limits and who I am.  

If being with someone leads you to disregard your feelings, ideas and experience.. disregard that person. Your instincts exist to protect you. Anyone who discredits them is an enemy.  

[saiyanprince541]

You’re my everything

Summary: After the defeat of Majin Buu, Goku vowed to return home and settle down with his family, once again. However, after seven long years without her husband, Chi-Chi has serious doubts about where his heart truly lies. Can Goku show his wife that he still loves her, just as deeply as ever and is here to stay, no matter what?

A/N: My submission for GoChi Week 2017, "Prompt 2: Longing" (read the fanfiction.net version here).

Surprise gift for my friend PrincessChiChi99 (slightly based on some of the discussions I've had with her, @saiyanb​, @maiikawriter​ and a few others, in the past). The is my first attempt at a GoChi fic in two years, so please go easy xD. Also feel free to check out my other GoChi fic. :D

You're my everything:

Majin Buu was at last defeated, thanks to the combative calibre of Goku, the tactical prowess of Vegeta and the staunch bravery of Mr. Satan and the redeemed, rotund alter-ego of that pink fiend. More so, all the inhabitants of Earth and the planet Namek owed themselves a huge commendation, for having generously offered up a share of their Ki, in order to help vanquish the sinister being that threatened the entire cosmos. The world could take a deep, reposing breath and revel in the peace that it had finally earned.

A short while after the hard-fought victory, all the heroes who'd gathered together on Kami's lookout, returned home with their respective families, deciding to take the rest of the day to reorganize themselves, before the morrow's celebration. A lot of answers and explanations were due, by two hotheaded women in particular, namely, Chi-Chi and Bulma. Vegeta knew he'd be on the receiving end of a verbal whiplashing, from his shrewish wife, for the callous cruelty he'd exhibited, during the Martial-Arts tournament as well as the extenuating explosion that followed, in his first fight against Buu. Goku, on the other hand, was as clueless and complacent as always. However, hours later in his humble above of Mount Paozu, the rustic Saiyan felt increasingly perturbed. Though Chi-Chi was initially head-over-heels at the prospect of her husband returning home and settling down with her and the family, she barely knew how to act around him, once the early sense of excitement died down.

For seven-anguished years, the Ox Princess had to raise her children all by herself, longing for the presence of her beloved, while he was off larking in Otherworld. Such thoughts and misgivings flooded her mind, as she lay in bed, staring up at the ceiling, in contemplation.

"What's wrong, Chi-Chi?" Goku asked, concern and worry lacing his vividly dark irises, as he gazed upon his wife. Chi-Chi gave him a fleeting glance, before her eyes returned to the ceiling.

"It's just- I don't understand why you left me alone, for all those years." She muttered forlornly. "You're here now and I can't even begin describing how happy I am to have you back, but-"

She paused, a moment.

"But- what?" Goku pressed.

"I don't know, but for some reason, I can't help but think that if I stare at you for too long, you'll just disappear." She let out a dejected sigh. "It's weird, I know, but even then-"

"Hey, I'm not going anywhere." The burly Saiyan vowed, girding his sinewy arms around his wife. "I promise."

Chi-Chi was unable to suppress the distinct shudder of pleasure that escaped, as she found herself trapped within the loving clutches of her happy-go-lucky husband. All those doleful years, she'd yearned for this moment, to be held inside those strapping arms once more and now that it had finally arrived, she hardly knew what to do or how she could possibly handle it, if he decided to up-and-leave her, yet again. With a breath of surrender, she wiggled about in his grasp, till they were face to face.

"You say that now, but do you realize how difficult it's been for me, these last seven years?" She wound her slender arms, around his muscled neck, her lips quivering and eyes glistening, with unshed tears. "Sleeping on a cold, empty bed all by myself, every single night and watching Goten grow up, without his father? What made it even worse was that he looks just like you. Every time I saw him, he reminded me of you and everything you were missing. It broke my heart, knowing that you weren't there to see him come into this world, to hear his first words and to watch him, take his first steps. Heck, until recently, you weren't even aware of his existence. No matter how powerful you are, Goku, you can never bring back those moments. They're lost forever."

The Saiyan could only stare at her apologetically, as a minute of tense silence swam by.

"I- I never really thought about it that way, Chi-Chi." He confessed, eyes downcast in abjection, consumed by sheer remorse. "I- I thought I was protecting you."

"You thought wrong!" The raven-haired woman exclaimed, somewhat bitterly. "Hurting me was bad enough, but what about Gohan?! The poor kid spent a whole year, blaming himself for your stupid decisions! Do you even know just how much he looks up to you, how much he loves you?!"

Goku's heart sank to his stomach. He honestly hadn't expected such a strong reaction, from her.

"Are- are you upset that I decided to come back?" The Saiyan asked, in a defeated voice. At those words, Chi-Chi's expression instantly softened.

"No, of course not." She replied, placing a hand on his cheek and running her thumb along the hardened crook of his jawline. "What upsets me is that you left in the first place." She continued, more sombrely. "You say it won't happen again, but how can I believe that, after all this time?"

Another short pause followed, before Goku decided to say say his piece.

"Chi-Chi, I'll probably never understand how hard it was for you and looking back, I know that I definitely made the wrong decision."

"More like the worst decision." The Ox Princess rolled her eyes. "But, at least you admit it, so I guess that's a start."

"What I did wasn't to avoid you, it was to protect you, even if that meant giving you up." He earnestly stated. "Believe me when I say this, it was really hard for me too. You have no idea how much I missed both you and Gohan."

"How can you say that, when-"

"Please, Chi-Chi, just let me finish." The Saiyan went on. "At the time, I thought that by staying in Otherworld, villains would be less likely to attack the planet and in the off-chance that it did happen, Gohan would be strong enough to take care of it. But, I suppose coming back here and seeing things for myself, helped me realize just how badly I'd miscalculated."

"Oh?" Chi-Chi quirked a brow. "How so?"

"Well, despite his amazing potential, I see now, just how much Gohan hates fighting." He replied. "He just doesn't have the same passion for it that Vegeta and I do, for example. If he'd used these seven years to train, he'd easily be stronger than the both of us combined, but I understand now that he has other priorities and I shouldn't come in the way of that, nor should I expect him to fight the bad guys, while I'm off, having adventures in Otherworld. He doesn't need that burden on his shoulders, not when he has other dreams." The Ox-Princess couldn't help the smile that lit her face, at his acknowledgment. She'd never expected such words to escape his mouth, not ever. It made her heart radiate with joy. "It's my responsibility to protect you all and I know I can't do that, by being absent. I looked on from Otherworld, when Majin Buu killed you and afterwards, did the same thing to Krillin, Bulma and everyone else, all because I wasn't there to stop him." He grimaced at the horrendous memory. "I'm so sorry that it took so long for me to realize my mistakes, but that's why I'm here now, Chi-Chi. I know I don't say it very often, but I really do love you." Goku fastened his hold around her, as her smile grew bigger. "I'll always protect you, no matter what happens. You're everything to me."

"Oh, Goku." She cried, tightening her own hold around him, as she nuzzled her face in the recess of his neck and wept a stream of joyous tears. "I love you too."

"I know Chi-Chi, I know." He smiled broadly, rubbing her back up and down. Seconds later, she pulled back and pressed her lips against his. Eyes widening a moment, Goku chuckled and kissed back, re-familiarizing himself with the alluring process, before steadily slipping his tongue inside the warm caverns of her mouth and roving about, as he reveled in her fine, luscious taste. His hands roamed downwards, running along her soft, smooth contours of her thighs, before firmly grasping her rear end. Just as he was about to slide his fingers beneath her panties, however, Chi-Chi took hold of his wrist.

"Wait Goku, I-"

"What's wrong?" He asked. Usually it was her that initiated the "fun stuff" and she'd never rejected his advances, in the past.

"It's nothing, I just- I don't know, I just don't want to do this so soon." She said. "I'm still getting used to you being here, so let's not exceed second base, just yet. I wanna savor this and build slowly, till it feels right, know what I'm saying?"

"Okay sure, no problem hehe." The Saiyan let out a goofy laugh.

"That's my Goku." She smiled and captured his lips in another kiss. It would certainly take a great deal of effort to make up for all the lost time and memories and while it did sadden her that it took all these years for her husband to finally acknowledge the true depths of his blunders, she was glad he did and she truly hoped that it made him a better person.

A/N: Hope you guys enjoyed! Had a lot of fun, with this one!

I know there're a lot of contentions, with regards to whether or not Goku ever kissed Chi-Chi, but this is based primarily on the DBZ script, not DBS. In DBZ he does kiss Chi-Chi, off-screen, during the Androids saga, which is confirmed in Daizenshuu, so uh- yeah. Plus, I prefer it that way xD (what married couple doesn't kiss?). :D

Lastly, a big thanks to @redasuki​ and the others, for organizing this event! :D

[keaalu]

Unspoken

(So, these two have apparently decided that after multiple vorns of insisting “nah we don’t need to bond, it’s totes casual, you guys” and having no-one believe them, perhaps it’s time to accept defeat.)

PS Said is NOT dead and I shall keep on using it. SO THERE.

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Like much of Cybertron, Iacon was still fairly derelict – most of the awe-inspiring buildings of the Golden Age lay in sad, quiet ruins, most blackened and broken by war. The little that remained had been thoroughly cannibalised for undamaged components.

…but – again – like much of Cybertron, Iacon’s residents were starting to pick up the pieces, and beginning to rebuild. The spindly towers of inanimate cranes dotted the horizon, and a scattering of mismatched lights twinkled from the windows of the buildings below.

Not this one, though. Skywarp had intentionally chosen a rickety-looking tower on the outskirts of the city-state, little more than a shell with most of its interior floors corroded away, the topmost platform reachable only by air.

Private. Quiet. Somewhere unreachable by other grounders, and far enough away that hopefully the rest of the family wouldn’t decide he was obviously up to no good and they ought to come looking for him. He was already teetering on the point of chickening out and making up some terrible excuses; last thing he needed was heckling.

What he did mostly need was for someone to do the difficult bit for him. And perhaps a scriptwriter.

He dithered in the tower doorway. Perhaps he should have asked TC for advice? Seeing as the blue jet actually had a bit of experience, and wasn’t romantically tone-deaf. But that would have involved asking him, and Skywarp figured the fewer people that knew about this, the less likely it’d go Pitwise.

The reason for his fidgety state of mind lounged comfortably in the very centre of the platform, waiting for him, a small half-consumed cube of high-grade close at hand. Pulsar sat far enough out to get a good view of the sky, but not so far that she could see the ground. Even after vorns of cohabiting with Seekers, the bike still hadn’t managed to completely shed her fear of heights.

Aurorae swirled along the planet’s field lines, fine curtains and columns draping down from above. The otherworldly lights shimmered against her pale enamel, turning her into a strange green ghost out on the platform. Large plaques of her enamel still needed replacing, though, reminding him of their recent misadventure. When they got back to Deixar, he resolved to carry her down the paintshop himself, because those grey patches? Were seriously bothersome.

Skywarp pursed his lips. Who’d have ever thought that such a weedy, argumentative little Autobot would have wiggled so well into his plating? For all their mutual disrespect, squabbling and semi-competitive sarcasm… they’d just seemed to mesh with each other.

Her recent disappearing act had left him genuinely scared that she was gone forever, and she’d not even been gone for that long. Not knowing had been the worst part. Unable to get a response to comms, or off her locator, or even to be able to spot her? Forced to comb laboriously through the quantum universe to find her? It left him with a small flavour of what it had been like for his family, when he’d disappeared off on his unintentional little jaunt through time.

And made him feel a little more confident of the plan that had been slowly coming together in his head, over the last vorn or two.

Hey femme, wanna get sparkbonded? really shouldn’t be such a difficult question to ask, but something about it put him on edge. He’d look a proper strutless wonder if she said no, too.

He’d been trying his hardest to come up with a nice, convincingly casual way to drop it into conversation – something that’d lead her to think it had been her idea, just in case anyone accused him of going woolly.

Nothing was coming to him, though. And he’d spent the entire journey so quiet, she knew something was up.

“Are you going to stay in that doorway forever?” she asked, at last, not turning around.

He took a second to try and smooth out his field, and rustled around with the small stash of energon they’d brought with them, in a vain attempt to look like he was being busy, not just dithering. “View all right?”

“Well, I can’t see the floor, so.” She glanced up and back at him, a pleased expression lightening her angular features. “Yes, it’s good.”

“Excellent.” He settled behind her, one long leg on either side, and let her relax back against him. He strummed his fingers lightly across her antennae, smiling when she started to purr, appreciatively.

“So why Iacon, anyway?” she asked, at last.

“There’s all the pretty swirly slag in the sky above us, and you’re asking why I thought it’d be nice to come here?”

She blew a little raspberry between pursed lips; okay, so she wasn’t buying that one.

“…aaand I wanted a bit of peace and quiet? Figured the guys probably wouldn’t bother to follow us all the way out here. Don’t always want them chiming in on stuff that’s meant to be private between us.”

She snorted, affectionately. “Since when? You like getting me to glitch my vocaliser when your bros are close enough to hear, because you like to embarrass me.”

He hmm!-ed a funny little laugh and mouthed her antennae. “Can’t help it if you like being embarrassed.”

She gave him a little shove. “So when are you going to tell me what’s wrong?”

“There’s nothing wrong.”

“Riight.” She finally looked back up at him, fixing him on her best challenging stare. “You were quiet all the way out here, didn’t pretend to drop me even once, and found a nice big platform that I wouldn’t have to worry about falling off. I might not be a genius, but this is not normal Skywarp behaviour.”

He grunted and glanced away.

“I might be able to help,” she chased.

“It’s not that. Nothing’s wrong, as such, I’ve just… been thinking about stuff. Made my brain hurt.” He let his arms drift slightly around her, and leaned down just enough to rest his chin on the top of her head. “Sucked slag when you went missing.”

He felt her little hands come up to rest on his arms. “You’re not still fretting about that, are you? I can guarantee you that I won’t be making a mistake like that ever again.”

“Not so much that part of it.” He folded his arms more closely around her and pressed his cheek against the smooth curve of her helm. “I just-… It got me thinking.”

Her purr picked up again – soft, reassuring. “Yeah, you said that already. What about?”

He drew in a cycle of cool air. “What we’re all gonna do now. I mean, war’s over. Properly over, and…” Get to the point, Warp. “I figured, maybe we should, you know.” He let his fingers drift closer to the centre of her chassis, level with her spark. “I mean, now it’s kinda safe? Now I won’t put you at risk just by being an ex-‘Con with… colourful history.”

She covered his hand with both of hers. “Figured we should… what?”

“Do this… ‘relationship’ thing properly.” He winced and hastily added; “I mean if we’d done it earlier, made a proper connection like TC and Lara have… I’d have known where you were and coulda rescued you sooner, right?”

She was quiet for a very long time. Her field prickled against his. She felt… confused? Upset? He wasn’t sure how to read her.

Definitely said the wrong thing. He sighed, subtly, and gave himself a little internal kick for not dropping more hints and figuring out if she was even interested. Probably why she’d never mentioned it before.

“…Squeaky?” he chased, anyway, deflated. “I-… It was just an idea. I mean. It’s… no big deal if you don’t want to, if-if you think it’s stupid.”

She remained silent for a few seconds longer. “I don’t think it’s stupid. I just… want to be clear.” Another long pause. “…are you asking me if I want to bond with you?”

He made a noise that didn’t really answer the question. “I… guess so?” He wasn’t sure if he felt more stupid, now his thoughts were out in the open. He blew out a long sigh of stale exhaust and let his arms go loose. “Okay, I know. Terrible idea. Forget it.”

She stood carefully, and turned in the circle of his arms until she was facing him. “Do you mean it?”

He pursed his lips, and for a few seconds refused to meet her gaze.

“…Warp?” she pressed.

He glanced up, reluctantly, to meet muted azure optics and a crooked, affectionate smile that lifted one side of her face. The dwindling ember of optimism in his spark grew a tiny bit brighter.

She leaned closer and let her forehead rest against his, her hands on his shoulders. “Why didn’t you just ask me?”

“Because I’m a big stupid ex-Con and I don’t do words very well? And I guess I didn’t want to have to hear you say ‘no’,” he replied, sheepishly.

She chuckled – surprisingly, sounding embarrassed, too? “Then we’re in the same boat. I was scared you’d say ‘no’, too. You obviously got brave quicker than I did.”

The words took a few seconds to process, but he felt his wings lift, subtly, all on their own. “…wait. You were gonna ask me?”

“Yeah.” She managed a self-deprecating laugh and looked away, optics brightening. “I just couldn’t think of a way to do it that wouldn’t make me sound like a complete stuttering idiot.”

He let himself lean back in against her, just a little. “…what – like I just did, you mean?”

“You sounded fine.” Her hands meandered delicately around to the back of his helm, trailing a pleasant prickle of static electricity behind them. “And it’s just because you don’t want me getting lost again?”

“Well, of course. Femme, you are slagging hopeless at the whole not-getting-lost thing. I can’t keep coming looking for you-”

A small pair of lips brushed lightly across his own, derailing his train of thought.

“Yes,” she said, in his momentary silence.

He leaned back a little, so he could focus properly on her face. “Yes… what?”

“Yes, it’s a good idea,” she said, and her nose wrinkled slightly in a small, knowing smile. “I hate getting lost.”

Edit: ffs. Of all the stupid shit I’ve written that could get plagiarised, it’s this one? Go figure. Happy New Year to me. *sulk*