#But thing is i’m actually getting pretty fucking sick of him coping awfully

[sammygender]

YALL ARE NOT SERIOUS PEOPLE no way i’m looking at the tumblr tag for spn 7x03 aka the sam centric flashback episode dealing with his childhood trauma and how he feels like he’s a freak and everyone is just posting about DEAN. dean and his stupid fucking pie. dean winchester used to be my guy! genuinely! s2-3 i truly thought i was a deangirl! But you people (plus this show atp lmfao) are making me hate him😭

#he was cute witn his silly pie. and i care for him and understand he’s grieving cas and thinks he’s about to lose sam and is therefore copin #Awfully and doing things like resorting to black and white john winchester embedded monster racism to do so #But thing is i’m actually getting pretty fucking sick of him coping awfully #he never learns he never grows he just gets angrier. he’s incapable of seeing sammy as someone whose decisions can be respected despite the #fact sam literally SAVED THE WORLD by SACRIFICING HIMSELF. #he just sits around and drinks and tries to become his father and avoid becoming his father in equal amounts #he’s actually awful!! sam goes off to do a case something totally justified (tho sure he could’ve asked) and dean fucking punches him in the #face… and somehow it just Doesn’t feel haha funny because its forceful and it’s serious and this is like the 3rd time he’s done this shit #and it’s also in the same ep where we see sams fraught relationship w john (Bc Duh) which is paralleled to the relationship amy has with her #mom where her mom fucking hits her. like. #dean winchester!!! when i find you!!!!!!!! stop recreating ur trauma!!!!!!!! stop taking shit out on sam :( #he cares sooooooooo deeply and it affects every fucking thing he does that’s why he’s so awful and why he cant cope #But guess what the same can be said about john winchezter the same can be said about a LOT of people. doesn’t excuse anything dean. GET YOUR #SHIT TOGETHER. #i love dean he’s vividly compelling to me. But. :/ #oliver talks #sam winchester

[hotdamnhunnam]

congrats on 2k followers!!!!!! you're such a wonderful person and you deserve to be celebrated! for the emoji fic fest i'd like to send in the following emojis for raleigh becket: 😚☂️💦

Thanks for your request for my Emoji Fic Fest! And thanks for the congrats and kind words! 💗

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Under My Umbrella

Pairing: Raleigh Becket x F!Reader Warnings: smut, swearing, random silly song references, Raleigh being a big dorky softie but also (shockingly!?) down to fuck immediately Word Count: ~1.6k Emoji Prompt: 😚☂️💦 (key words are in bold)

The breach is closed. The war is over and he saved the world and everybody knows.

And that’s the problem. Raleigh Becket doesn’t like the way the spotlight overcomes him. Light he never chose, so blinding as it glows. The way the masses flock like moths drawn to the halo set above him and blindly believe they love him. That’s not love—they know of what he did to save the day when push came to a cataclysmic shove, but truly they know nothing of him.

It’s a shame to live in fame. Beneath the shadow of his own overblown name. He doesn’t have the massive ego, to embrace the role of hero, to indulge when strangers scream after him everywhere he goes. He worries that his life won’t ever be the same.

That was what drove him to this small town tucked away and hid, a little off the grid—and he’s felt better ever since he came. He’ll never be completely unknown, but at least the crowds are tame, and leave him well enough alone. He’s so alone lately it’s almost lame.

He likes it that way though. Likes his routine of waking up and waiting at the bus stop, working at his humble job. The pay is low. Even more so when business is slow. And Raleigh savors the simplicity, the contrast to the constant flash of cameras when he was recently living in the city. Even the weather helps his cause by often shrouding this small town in rain and snow.

He’s the new golden boy in town you haven’t met. You’ve heard the rumors of a cutie who just moved here but you haven’t crossed paths yet. When you hurry to the bus stop this fine morning, find yourself caught in a downpour without warning… that’s when you finally set eyes on Raleigh Becket. Suddenly the rain is not the only thing getting you wet.

You would have made sure to bump into him much sooner had you known that this is what your ass was missing. Even when his mane is damp-darkened by the rain you can still tell he’s got a bright blonde head of hair. Big eyes as blue as the Pacific and deliciously pink lips just made for kissing. You could swear, you’ve seen his face somewhere… but even if you hadn’t you would still shamelessly stare.

You’d missed the forecast so arrived at the bus stop without an umbrella in hand. The golden god has one but you do not want him to think you’re staring at him as a hint that he should share it with you; that’d be a bitchy thing to do, to make such a passive-aggressive demand.

From Raleigh’s end—once he’s calmed himself down after reacting to the most beautiful girl who’s ever come around the bend—he clears his throat and clumsily invites you now to join him where he stands.

“Y-you can stand under my umbrella.”

He just says it with no introductory words. You find it cute as fuck that he’s so awkward. It’s a good thing too, given the awkward vibes uncontrollably coming off of you. “–ella, ella…”

You had just murmured it quietly… then bitterly regret that shit immediately. Cursing yourself silently for your idiocy. Maybe the poor guy doesn’t even know this reference to a song from the 2000s or whenever it was.

But apparently he does. The next thing that he bashfully goes on to say: “… ey, ey, ey.”

Suddenly all your insecurities about your stupid sense of humor fade away. All you can think about is standing under his umbrella and hopefully sitting on his cock later today.

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

This bastard smells so fucking good it isn’t fair.

Can probably hear you breathing him so deep but you don’t even care. Standing beside this total stranger you have never felt such comfort anywhere. That subtle clean scent of simple unscented soap… mixed with the warmth of honeycomb and home and hope… cinnamon sugar muffins, sweet and soft and fresh out of the oven. Smells so wholesome you can’t cope.

You want to say something but don’t even know what. After a few seconds of silence steal another glimpse up at his gorgeous face and have to stop yourself from moaning like a slut.

… That’s when it hits you who he is. You were too caught up in his beauty that you hadn’t even realized who this hero truly is.

And Raleigh senses it the moment that you recognize—picks up on that familiar jolt of such starstruck surprise, that makes him feel like he’s an object for a sea of prying eyes. Less of a person, more a prize. It kind of hurts him, as he wishes he could meet a pretty girl and flirt a little bit, without his reputation far preceding him and getting in the middle of it. Wishes he could carry on like all the ‘normal’ guys.

Then he remembers he’s an awfully shitty flirt. That helps a little with the self-pitying hurt.

You gather up your fallen jaw to ask him the obligatory question as it’s naturally the only thing to do. “Are you…”

But then you pause—notice the shadow fall across his gaze of blue—you hate to think you were the cause. You can’t begin to process all his thoughts and what he’s been through, but you understand on some level that just because the whole wide world regards him with applause, that doesn’t mean you have to stand here and remind him that it’s true.

And so instead you just finish the sentence with something painfully dumb. The words just come, because all two of your brain cells are doing their usual stupid dance. “… are you into piña coladas by any chance?”

The sadness in his gaze fades a bit as he casts you a curious glance.

You backtrack to explain your silly words. You’ve referred to a super old song yet again, even older this time and he might not get it so you have to explain. You feel so fucking awkward. “I–I just thought that maybe since we’ve already gotten caught in the rain… we could work backwards…”

Before you can carry on with your explanation, Raleigh’s blushing face lights up in realization. His adorable pink cheeks flush red. “Oh my God I’m so sorry that went right over my head!”

He’s so fucking precious you can’t even stand it. Too cute to be true. You laugh off what you’d said and just shoot the shit, for a few minutes—or more than a few—till the two of you realize the bus isn’t coming and that you are stranded.

“Well, I guess I’ll just call in sick today.” He shrugs but shocks himself a little bit ‘cause that was not at all a Raleigh thing to say. He’d never lie about his reason for an absence from the job. Yet he might have to, if he hopes to carry on chatting with you, all day here under his umbrella at this lonely little bus stop.

“Me too,” you coo, smiling up at this wholesome heartthrob, then nervously shuffling your feet and looking out into the steady sheets of rainfall that surround you. Wondering whether or not he took the hint that you were asking him out on a date with that piña colada thing. You hope he didn’t; if he had gotten the hint, he isn’t answering.

As soon as the thought enters your mind, he picks up on your anxious energy and hits rewind. “Back to your piña colada question—I’ve, uh… actually never had one.”

Your heart perks up in happiness based on the promise in his tone. The promise that the two of you won’t have to spend this rainy day alone. The next words out of your mouth are a little flirtier than they should be maybe, but he’s such an innocent baby, that you just can’t help but have a little fun. “I’d bet there are a lot of things you’ve never done…”

Blue eyes go wide as if your insult was obscene. But Raleigh can’t stay mad at such a pretty girl. “What’s that supposed to mean?! I’ll have you know I saved the fucking world!”

And just like that he’s fucking told you—even though his tone is playful it’s still true—and though you obviously knew, he finds he’s no longer compelled to hide that part of him from view. The way he always used to do. As if he knows that you want all of him and not only the surface-level shit, as if you see into him more than just a little bit, whereas the rest of the world sees right fucking through.

He knows that you only just met, so maybe it’s too early to be feeling shit like this but he’ll take any glimpse of hope that he can get.

You take his hand and feel his pulse in sync with yours as your hearts race. Pure fucking joy. “C’mon golden boy, I know just the place.”

The place for his first frozen pineapple coconut drink. The place for his first indulgence in a new fucking kink: screwing someone he only just met in the bathroom of this little diner and whispering filth in your ear as he rails you so hard that the force of it might break the sink.

Through all the purity of Raleigh there is definitely something fucking dirty and you caught it from the first blink. Now you’ve gone and stirred it up in him turns out he’s even dirtier than you would ever think.

You standing under his umbrella was the start; you lifting him out of the shadows over his head sparks a new light in his heart. And you awakening new sides of him is honestly the sweetest fucking part.

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Emoji Fic Masterlist

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[edelwoodsouls]

never gonna stop until we shatter [fic]

Joan is atypical, and Owen is hiding her brother in the basement. In retrospect, they were always heading for this. [or: Everything falls apart in March]

For @whats-a-terrarium for the @tbssecretsanta - hope you enjoy!!

Word Count: 4,114 | Also on Ao3

He first notices it one week in March.

It’s the little things, at first. The way Joan flinches when she brushes past people in the corridor, or shakes a person’s hand. The way her eyes will go distant, miles away from herself, only to return moments later, blinking as if waking from a dream.

The way she’s started frowning, narrowing her eyes at every individual she passes. Joan’s always seen people as puzzles, but now it’s as if she’s missing pieces, attempting to fit together parts that were never meant to fit.

She comes in late to work, twice in a week. Just five minutes, and she slips in without fanfare, brushing any enquiries away with a breezy apology, a self-deprecating laugh. Just the traffic, she shrugs, and, You know how the queues are at the Starbucks.

Joan Bright has never been late in the five years he’s known her.

And then there’s- them. Owen has always believed that his relationship with this astonishing, fierce woman was little more than hourglass sand between his fingers, a ticking clock set mere seconds from midnight.

But he’s also always believed in the romance of it all. Their stolen moments in the corners of this labyrinthine building, holding hands underneath the desk, candlelit dinners after work. Weekends spent at her apartment, curled up on her ridiculously high thread count bed as she attempted to convince him to love musicals, as he sat through Singin’ in the Rain and watched her mouth every word.

Their cooking nights after a long day at work, sick of takeout and attempting to make a meal from scratch. How he'll manage to burn the rice and she'll empty half a jar of chilli into the mix, watching with laughter as his eyes widen in fear. How he'll double the amount of sugar in the cookies, and she'll down a shot of whiskey to cope after the first bite.

Now he's pretty sure she hasn't eaten properly in months. There's a tremor in her hands, when she curls her fingers around the coffee she grabs instead of lunch, if she remembers at all. There are dark, bruise-like smudges hanging heavy beneath her eyes.

It’s all probably because of the workload, he reasons. Ellie’s been cracking down on things, and with the new influx of patients in the lower tiers, of course Joan’s being put through the ringer. She’s just tired, just stressed. He shouldn’t take it personally, or read too much into it. Everything is fine.

It’s also probably because of Mark. No, it’s definitely because of Mark, as much as Owen tries to shove that fact into several boxes, locked away in the corner of his mind.

But she hasn’t mentioned it to him, yet, and he doesn’t know how to bring it up. Better that they have no reason to talk about his girlfriend’s brother, so he has no reason to lie to her.

It doesn’t change the guilty flip his stomach makes every time he watches Joan slump into her seat opposite him, brushing loose hair away from tired eyes. Every time he pulls away from her and she frowns, confused, but too hazy to argue.

He doesn't put it together for a while. Chalks all her strange behaviour up to stress, and his own paranoid bias.

Until one particularly long day. She sits down heavily in her chair, upsetting her coffee cup all over a nearby file.

"Fuck," she breathes, running a frustrated hand through her hair. "Just what I need."

"Let me grab some towels," he offers, eager to do anything he can to help her. He all but runs to the bathroom, snatches a wad of paper, and walks ever-so calm back to their desk.

"Here," he leans down beside her, pressing the towels against the darkening stains. "I'm sure it's fine. You can always reprint the file pages, right?"

"Thanks," her hands reach to grab a towel. For just a second, their hands brush together. The skin-on-skin contact is like electricity. She flinches back suddenly, drawing her hands into her lap.

"You okay?" he frowns, balling the towels up and lobbing them vaguely towards the bin. All his focus on the tense set of Joan's jaw, the distance in her eyes.

"Yeah," she shrugs, a manufactured ease settling like a rictus on her features. "Long day, y'know? Frustrating patient."

"Oh? Tell me." He sits back down at his desk, watching the way her hands flit from sorting randomly through papers to fiddling with her hair, to disappearing below the desk. Distracted, nervous gestures.

She sighs. "I just- I want to help her. If we could just break through the block, talk about that one thing she's buried and refuses to mention, we could make some real progress. Right now it's all evasion and diversion, and we've been at this for months. And I know what-"

She cuts off. A panicked- no, terrified expression flits across her face.

"Anyway, how're you?" she asks suddenly, intently focused on her fingers, on anything but him.

"Same as always, I suppose. Overworked and underpaid."

"Aren't we all?" she laughs, a surprisingly bitter sound, but for just a moment they are sharing this. It feels almost comfortable, familiar. "And how're your parents?"

The moment shatters. He frowns at her. Just a few nights ago, his mother had called to announce that she and his father have decided to move to Australia. It had come out of the blue, and he still hasn't quite internalised the information - hasn't really had time to think through how he feels, if he's honest.

He also hasn't told anyone about it. And Joan has never asked about his parents before. Ever.

"They're okay," he says slowly. "I think. I haven't heard from them in a while, actually."

"Oh. Really? I thought you mentioned something, a call with them a couple days ago? Guess I must have imagined it."

"I guess you must have."

Joan goes back to sorting through her papers, and he continues to stare at her as the puzzle pieces begin to slot slowly and awfully into place.

~|~|~|~

She first notices it one week in March.

It’s the little things, at first. The way Owen’s been staying at work later and later each day. The way he’s stopped complaining about Ellie - he hasn’t shut up about her since she 'stole the position that was rightfully his' - and started working alongside her. The way the two of them hunch their heads together over a tablet or stack of paperwork, whispering, only to flinch away the moment she enters the room.

The way he can’t quite meet her eye anymore. When she smiles at him, nudges him with her foot under their shared desk - he pulls away.

She’s probably just not thinking straight, she tries to convince herself. She’s barely sleeping, hardly remembering to eat - of course she’s getting paranoid. All she can think about is Mark, and the worst case scenarios that leave her screaming in the dark.

And this new power, of course. Of all the times to discover she’s just a late blooming atypical- now really isn’t a good time.

It makes a lot of sense, as much as she hates it. She’s read all the literature on trauma triggering and stunting abilities - she wrote half of it, at least - and if Mark’s disappearance is anything, she can tell it’s going to be traumatic. She can imagine herself, five years down the line, breaking down in front of her own therapist about all her own unhealthy coping mechanisms and reactions.

That was one of the worst things about going into psychology: being able to self diagnose. Being self aware seems to be of little help when her own irrationality is concerned.

It had been a shock, the first time it happened. Shaking hands with one of her new patients - a cryokinetic who couldn’t stop freezing water around him - she had been overwhelmed by the image of an iced-over lake. She could see her breath clouding in front of her, feel the chill in her bones.

Hear the ice cracking as she plunged into the water below.

It had been over in a second, left her winded and dizzy, with a headache more like someone trying to drive a nail through her eye.

“You okay, Dr Bright?” the cryokinetic - Manuel - had asked, eyebrows knitted together in a frown. He clearly hadn’t seen anything unusual, except his new therapist having a minor breakdown.

She’d brushed it off as a long day at the office, surprise at the cold temperature of his skin, the heat of the room getting to her - and continued their session as normal.

It took half an hour for him to mention it. How, when he was eleven years old, he had wandered out into the middle of a frozen lake on a dare, and nearly drowned. That was the day his power kicked in, solidifying the water on either side of him to create a tunnel back to the surface.

Joan really had had a breakdown after that. Privately, in the bathroom after the session - she was still a professional, after all.

Atypical. The word still sits awkwardly on her shoulders. She's spent so long in this life, defined by her typicality. And that's been fine by her - she's seen first hand what abilities can do to a person, what they did to Mark - she's never wanted that.

It's only partly a lie.

She imagines calling Mark, grabbing coffee with him. Watching his surprise as he throws his arms round her, only to be overwhelmed by a sudden vision of her past - a teenage summer day, or the first screaming match with their parents, perhaps. How he would look around, bewildered, searching for the source of this new power.

And how she would shrug with a small, pleased grin. It's me.

But she can't do that. Can't share this huge, important thing with her brother, missing now for two months. Can't share it with her boyfriend, or her mentor, who might fire her or lock her up or never let her touch them again.

Pushing Owen away is the logical choice. It doesn't even happen on purpose - she's letting everything slide. Her job is a blur of half-written reports and weary faces. Her free time is a rush of frantic calls to anyone who might know anything about Mark’s whereabouts, putting up missing posters, crying into her scotch in an empty bathtub, until she finally exhausts herself enough to sleep.

Her nights are nothing but flashes of unconsciousness punctuated with images of Mark. Floating facedown in the river, or strapped to a sterile table somewhere.

Or on the other side of the world, perfectly safe and unaware of the panic he’s causing.

Before she knows it, a month has passed, and they've barely spoken. Is it his fault? Is it hers? She can't shake the unsettling feeling that they're both avoiding each other.

She should make an effort. She misses him, though she's compartmentalised the emotion beneath a hundred layers of concern and distraction. Misses their easy conversation, waking up with him beside her.

The other side of the bed is cold and hollow now. She's not sure when she got used to him being there, still reaches for him in the dark. Stares at the mural out of her window as she absently sips scalding coffee, remembering cold, syrup-sweet walks by the bay. Awful karaoke nights, and laughing over candlelit take-out when they managed to burn their dinner in distraction.

When did this man slip so thoroughly below her guard?

So she grabs him coffee on the way into work one day. Caramel latte, his every day order. The barista gives her a knowing smile - it's been a while since she's ordered for two.

Owen is already sat at his desk, of course, a frown etched so deep in his features she could imagine he's been sat here, statue-still, since last night.

"Hey," she says softly, coming up behind him and placing the coffee down beside his elbow. He starts, nearly knocking it over.

"Uh, hey," he glances in confusion between the cup and Joan, eyebrows knitting together. "What's up?"

"How long have you been in already?" she asks, perching on the desk in her old position to face him.

"A few hours," he admits, shoulders slumping. He curls his fingers around his coffee, as if it might scare the exhaustion from his bones. "Thanks for this."

"Anytime," Joan tries to pull her lips into a smile, unsure if she quite manages it. "I wanted to- I wanted to apologise. For not being around, much. I've been a pretty terrible girlfriend. It's just- I've been so worried. Mark is- Mark is missing, and I know it could just be him being forgetful, or losing his phone, it's not as if he hasn't vanished before, only to turn up fine and completely oblivious, but- I don't know. I can feel that something's wrong, in my bones. And he-"

She stops speaking suddenly, grips her coffee until the heat makes her fingers ache. As much as she likes Owen - maybe even loves him - she can never tell him that her brother is atypical. She can't trust what he might do with that information.

When she looks up, Owen is staring at her with that look that makes her cheeks warm. Like he wants to wrap in his arms and never let anything hurt her. Like he would open his chest and give her his heart if he thought it might fix the fractures in her own.

But there's something else underneath it. A crestfallen, shivering thing.

Guilt. And fear.

Something inside her goes cold.

"I'm so sorry," he says softly, shifting his chair closer to her and putting a comforting hand on her knee. "I wish you'd told me. It must be awful, not knowing. Is there anything I can do, to help?"

"I-" Her thoughts are turning, jumbled. Anything she wanted to say, had planned for this conversation, has evaporated off her tongue like so much smoke.

"Maybe you should tell Ellie," he continues. "Maybe she can take something off your plate, make things a little easier for you."

That is not something Ellie Wadsworth would even think of doing, and Owen knows it.

Joan hesitates, for just a second. Just a second, and nothing more, before she rests her bare hand on his.

It's been a month, and still every vision feels like falling from a great height, leaving her stomach behind at the top of a cliff. Like plunging into that ice-water lake all over again. Her breath vanishes, the world slips away.

She's walking down a dark corridor. Dimly lit, walls a soot-shade of concrete. Doors at regular intervals, small square windows casting pools of bright halogen light onto the ground.

She stops at one window. Hesitates for a moment, before putting her face to the glass.

For a moment, the figure curled up on the bed inside isn't recogniseable. He's too thin, too pale. His hair is too long, his face too broken. He stares blankly at the wall opposite, not even looking up at the face staring through at him.

But there's no mistaking him: her brother.

The vision vanishes with her shock, the present cascading back to her like Atlas retaking the sky on his shoulders. She gasps, dizzy, stomach roiling though there's nothing inside it to throw up. Her throat is tight, chest heavy, heart beating so fast she thinks it might finally attempt to break out of its cage.

"Joan?" Owen's concern, too genuine, too sharp, cuts through the haze. She stares at him. The man she thought she knew. The man she thought she might love.

She's going to be sick.

"Joan? Are you okay? What's wrong?"

"I-" she chokes, "I have to go. I'm sorry- I'm-"

Before she can let her rage spill from her lips, she flees.

All this leads them here: stood in Joan’s apartment, the kitchen counter and a world between them.

The mural he had commissioned for her glares down at them through the window, and for a moment Owen imagines those painted vines bursting through the glass, wrapping their thorny fingers around his throat and putting him out of his misery.

No such luck.

Joan is speechless with something like fury, shock - opens her mouth, only to find the words lodged in her throat. The tornado spinning her insides to shreds refuses to calm for even a second to let her think.

Silence holds them in its fist, waiting to hear the creak of their bones and hearts finally breaking.

"You're atypical," he says, shattering any illusion he might have had of them simply forgetting what lies between them.

Her face splits with rage. "'You're atypical'?" she spits. "That's really how you want to start this?"

"You've been lying to me, Joan, from the day we met. Lying to Ellie, to the whole agency. What's the point of being an Atypical Monitor if we can't even monitor our own staff? Who knows what chaos you've wreaked on the system, how much you've covered up."

He's saying this all wrong. He's buying time, hands shaking as he buries himself deeper and deeper in this hole. He doesn't care about the agency, doesn't care about Ellie, but it's all his tongue can find to stem the tidal wave building on the other side of the kitchen counter.

"You want to talk about lying, Owen?" She slams her fist down on the marble. "When were you going to tell me you KIDNAPPED MY BROTHER?"

"Kidnapped- is a strong word-"

"Oh, don't you dare. You kidnapped my brother and locked him up in some secret AM basement and you've been experimenting on him for months."

"You held out on us! You never told us Mark was atypical, and you know you should have-"

"You're not even denying the experiments! When I saw- all I saw was him, in his cell. And I imagined all these terrible things you might have done to him, but there was that small hope that maybe, just maybe, my boyfriend isn't the awful monster I'm making him out to be. Maybe he's got a shred of humanity left in him."

"He's dangerous, Joan."

"My brother is not dangerous. He's got a fair level of control, and he can't even do anything on his own!"

Owen doesn't even remember moving, but now they're so close he can smell her vanilla perfume, and the whiskey on her breath.

"You know his control isn't as good as he makes it out to be," he says. Everything is spinning so fast, too fast. When did he start defending Ellie's decisions, the ones he knows in his gut he shouldn't be comfortable with? "And what happens when he's around a pyrokinetic, or an electropath? How long until he accidentally hurts someone, or himself? The safest place for him to be is with the AM, with us."

Her fists are aching, but she refuses to unclench them. If she does she might punch him in the face. "Even if that was true, he should be in Tier 4, maybe," she grits out. "Or Tier 3. But I've never seen him in that building, Owen, not once. So where the fuck is he? Is there some secret Tier 5 I don't know about?"

His silence, the set of his jaw and shining eyes, speak volumes. Even though she'd guessed it, the horror still rolls down her spine like electricity. "There is," her voice shakes. "What do you do there? Experiment on them? Torture them? Do you- do you kill them?"

"No, Joan." He reaches out to take one of her fists, but she draws back as if he's burnt her. He pours every ounce of genuineness and honesty he can into his voice. "We keep them locked in power-dampening cells, safe from each other and themselves. The experiments are just with their powers, seeing the extent of their abilities, how they interact."

"How many abilities Mark can hold at once," she guesses. "How far away he has to be for them to work. How quickly he can get them under control."

"Exactly," he sighs. Maybe he can get her to understand, just maybe. Joan's always been a scientist at heart. "His control has improved exponentially since we took him in. He can manipulate two powers at once, and hold onto them from twenty feet. And that's after only two months of work. That's good, right?"

She blinks at him, aghast. "Taking someone against their will is not good, Owen. Lying to your girlfriend for months is not good. Trying to gaslight me is not fucking good, Owen. Tell me what exactly about this situation you would define as good."

"Once Ellie thinks he has enough control, she'll let him go. She's said so, she told me-"

"Are you really that naive? You think Ellie- Ellie Wadsworth, youngest director of the AM to date - would just let Mark walk out of there? With the endless potential for exploitation his ability has? With all the secrets I'm sure he's managed to glean after months of being there?"

"She said..." The words fail before he can bring himself to speak them. He knows what she's saying is true.

Silence reclaims the kitchen, hovers above them like a boot waiting to crush ants. Any movement could bring the world crashing down around them.

"What are you going to do?" he asks eventually, voice heavy and worn out. He can't see any way out of this.

"I'm going to get him out," she says, a steely calm threaded through her tone. "I don't care if I have to break him out myself, if I get locked up instead. I'm getting him out of there."

He's not surprised, he realises. It's a relief, even, to have a certainty to rely on, that Joan Bright will burn bright and fierce and unforgiving for the people she loves.

A group he knows he's excused himself from.

A hint of hesitation flits across her face. "What..." she breathes slowly, unsure. "What are you going to do?"

"About what?"

"About me." She lets her fists loose slowly, threading her fingers together and staring at them to avoid his eye. "About my ability, and- all this."

All the energy has bled from the scene. She is exhausted and scared, and he is weary, uncertain of anything. All he wants is to make things right.

"I... I don't know, Joan. I don't want to- I can't tell Ellie. I can't take the risk that she might lock you up."

"So when it's someone you care about, suddenly it's wrong?" she bites out, a spark of anger returned.

"It's not- it's not like that. Look, I'm sorry. For what it's worth. I was just doing what I was told."

"You can't blame your mistakes on just following orders, Owen. It's your fucked up moral compass."

"Maybe that's true. But that doesn't change the past, and it doesn't change my position. I won't tell Ellie anything because I care about you, and I think she cares enough about you not to think straight. She would see this as a betrayal of her trust of the highest order, lying to her for years, slipping under her nose."

"I've only been an atypical for two months, you know," Joan's mouth pulls, momentarily, into a smirk.

"Really?" he frowns. "You must be-"

"The oldest known person to develop abilities? Yeah, I know. I've read all the literature, Owen. I don't know what's wrong with me. Maybe I suppressed my own ability, or maybe Mark going missing triggered a latent possibility. It's pretty inconvenient, actually."

"What... what actually is it? If you don't mind me asking."

She levels her gaze at him. He feels her eyes searching his face, as if reading directly into his soul. "You're going to help me break Mark out of the AM," she says. There isn't any room for compromise in her voice. "You agree to that, and I'll tell you anything you like."

For a moment, any thought of words flatlines. He stares at this woman, the woman he loves, would love even if she cast him out right now. Even if she let the rage he knows hasn't vanished loose on him with screaming and fists and nails - he would deserve every blow.

"I'll help you," he whispers. "I'd do anything for you, Joan."

She presses her lips in a grim, satisfied line. Turns to the kitchen cabinet behind her and pulls out a second glass.

"Then we're going to need drinks."

#the bright sessions #tbs secret santa #joan bright #owen green #fanfiction #own work #morgan writes #agent green #bright green

[vera-invenire]

VnC Liveblog - Chapter 9

.All chapter liveblogs are linked HERE.

Welcome to the flashback chapter. Fun and daises for everyone! 

...what’s that? We’re gonna get terrifying tragedy and endless heartache, not fun and daises? oh.

Well. Onward?

Last time on VnC, Vanitas was having sexy bloodtimes with Jeanne while Charlatan was digging through Noé‘s head for kicks and giggles.

And everything in Noé’s head, apparently, revolves around this kid named Louis, who happens to be Domi’s older brother. It is time, ladies and gents, to meet Unnerving Boy.

Look at these precious children, they hardly look creepy at all.

Teacher seems a bit flake-y, but he’s looking pretty good for a grandpa. (are some vampires immortal? how long do they live?)

So we know Teacher bought Noé, the last Archiviste, off the black market. Somehow, I don’t think it was because he just really wanted to adopt a kid. I mean, he’s already got two right there.

Oh my gosh, Domi is shy. And look at Noé clutching at Teacher’s arm, aw. Even Louis seems like a nice kid.

I take it back, LOUIS YOU ARE STILL CREEPY. AND KIND OF A JERK.

But he also knows Something is up about his grandfather. Teacher’s interest in Noé will probably not be a good thing for Noé himself.

The chapter is subtitled ‘Friends’ but like. I think you can find better friends than this Noé, I’m just saying.

Noé being raised by humans before this point is interesting. I’m guessing we’re in Averoigne, in the vampire world. (exactly how big is the vampire world...?) (and is the assumption here that vampires always give birth to other vampires?)

Note for Noé‘s timeline, as it seems likely to become important -- he was found in the human world crying by himself during winter when he was very young. Geez, that’s a mystery in itself.

Uh, humans aren’t the ones who regularly consume the bodily fluids of other people, buddy.

woah, Noé‘s got a good arm for a little kid, good job, Noé --

The adopted grandparents knew about vampires, hm? More specifically, they knew Noé was a vampire. Was this because they knew more about the situation than little Noé was aware, or was his nature just hard to hide when he was that young?

One thing is sure -- they treated him well.

He made Noé cry. Keep glaring at him, Domi. (I feel like this is the first inkling we’re getting of who Domi will become when she’s older.) (Actually. Current!Domi is a lot more like Louis than she is like past!Domi. Starting to wonder if that’s a deliberate change on her part, along with the more masculine clothes. She dose survive the massacre her brother dies in, after all, that has to have left an impression.)

And now we find out if it’s possible to guilt Louis into acting like a decent human vampire being.

Hey, it is! There’s hope for you yet, kid.

That last panel “I thought we’d be together forever, but...” has a double meaning. Noé’s talking about his grandparents (grandpa got sick and died, grandma passed in her sleep shortly after), but the narrative is whispering that it applies to this little trio, too.

1. Was Noé completely by himself after his grandparents died?

2. ...the vampires kidnap humans and force them into labor in the vampire world?? Blood source, too, I imagine.

3. Look at that bed, that bed is amazing. I want one.

4. The vampires don’t seem to have many compunctions about selling their own kind, either.

5. The background of the purchase scene is weird. Those are awfully fancy curtains. I’m thinking gaudy, horrifying auction.

Oh my god, this precious bean hasn’t changed at all.

So this is a very cute and humanizing moment for Louis, but it’s also a very Vanitas-ish moment. Vanitas does this, the unexpected and uncontrollable laughter thing, all the time. Which means I am now going to be looking for Vanitas parallels everywhere.

A bonding montage~

Louis turns into less of a jerk -- we see him helping Noé up into his tree and helping Noé with his reading. Domi delights in dressing Noé up in feminine clothes (reminding me of that little flashback of her teaching him to dance where she was dressed in masculine threads.) They even sleep in a cuddle pile with Domi curled up against Noé and Louis acting like he’s trying to put some distance between them but he’s still there, you aren’t fooling anyone, kid. (and he’s getting hit in the head by a sleeping Noé for his pains, heh.)

There’s one more picture: Teacher comes back with presents. Domi and Noé are cheering, but Louis wanders over all cool and disinterested. But remember what Louis said at the beginning of the chapter -- “Having my grandfather take a shine to you...you poor thing.”

Louis distrusts his grandfather. He knows something we -- and Domi and Noé -- don’t.

...yeah, that fun ain’t gonna last. Also, how much you want to bet the ‘secret base’ is gonna be where all the heads start rolling. (it’s chekov’s base!)

(are they playing dress up with Teacher’s clothes?)

Hey, Louis, you see how innocent and simple that blood exchange was? Unlike whatever it was you were doing in that other flashback.

Though we are seeing this from Noé‘s POV. The incidents might look different because Noé perceived them as being different, emotionally. It would mesh with how he sees Domi as ‘just a friend’ and Louis as this mysterious, complicated, unnerving, compelling tragedy who haunts him to this day. (also it’s pretty gay, lbr.)

Domi’s crush is so cute. And pfff, Louis, you thought you were gonna get out of it that easily, especially after you made fun of Domi like that? Nah, bro.

This is the point where we remember that Louis is just a little kid, too. One who has been dealt a crap hand we don’t know about yet, and is probably acting out in small ways in reaction to that.

This would be why Domi feels more sheltered than Louis. Though I do wonder, if Domi is making monthly trips, why isn’t sister Veronica shown, too?

Firstly, what the hell, family de Sade.

Secondly...this feels like one of those Sneaky Pages. I’m assuming that hand in the left most panel is Louis’ and that the last panel is those pages catching Louis’ (almost shaken looking) eye.

Lastly -- the kids are growing up. I’d guess we’re into the pre-teen years by now.

Noé, you’re making her dance under the symbol of the vampire bogeyman, have a care, would you.

We’ve seen this flashback before, too, so we’ve just about hit all of them. Except for, you know, the Big One.

(oh, no, wait, there was a mini-flashback of Noé training with Teacher, but he was a teen in that one. When did Noé start training? Why did Noé start training?)

Louis can see right through his grandfather, has ALWAYS been able to see right through him.

I’m glad that panel in the library was resolved so quickly, though. Saves me from going nuts about details, lol.

So this is a very Kid reaction to bad family news, but like, he might be right? Louis is cynical by nature, but also very sharp. If at this point he thinks his parents had Domi to replace him then -- I think I believe him.

Grandfather just fucking smiles at him. Grandfather is a dick.

And then the teeth come out.

“You have no luck. Having my grandfather take a shine to you...you poor thing.”

Look at those tendrils of darkness reaching out for Louis. And they’re coming from Grandfather.

Grandfather is sending a very clear message: he is here as an observer. Grandfather is not going to interfere with anything Louis wants to do. He’s not going to give him any help, either. And something bad is going to happen to Louis -- he’s going to do something bad. Louis now knows for sure that his family expects him to turn into a monster and not one of them is going to try to help him.

This whole bucolic paradise is an experiment with Louis as the test rat.

And why?

Because Louis is a curse-bearer from birth, or shortly thereafter. How did that happen? Why isn’t he showing any symptoms yet? The implication seems to be that he’s a ticking time-bomb, but is he?

(and if Louis is the test rat...does that mean Domi is the control?)

Noé says that after this day, little by little, Louis started acting (*cough*more*cough*) strange.

By which he means... Louis took up wood-carving? Louis is carving a piece of wood, Noé asks what he’s doing, Louis says it’s a secret.

The way to Noé‘s heart is through gifts, got it.

We know why Louis is acting this way, but Noé has no clue. But though Domi’s presence started to cause Louis pain, Noé doesn’t say anything about Louis taking it out on Domi herself, which is a big point in his favor, imo.

Unhealthy (?) coping mechanism, check.

The one person who tried to help him.

Louis was finally going to tell Noé what’s wrong with him.

I know I drag Louis a lot, but I do like him. He’s clever and dry and is so alone because the adults that were supposed to protect him wrote him off when he was days old.

Of course he came out weird and morbid. And unlike other characters I could mention (*cough*Vincent*cough*) he hasn’t resorted to taking his pain out on stuffed animals or cats or his little sister. This kid isn’t a lost cause at all, he’s just lost.

Those brittle edges can still cut though --

Aaaaaand here we go. This is what sets it all off, what brings the happy memories to an end.

Now that Domi’s older, I wonder...does she know Louis is a curse-bearer? Did someone finally tell her?

This is the thing Louis has been living with since he found those papers in the library. You know, on top of the whole “gonna turn into a rabid monster” thing.

But Noé, he can only read this as callousness toward their friend. He doesn’t know Louis is talking about himself.

Remember in Orlok’s office, when Noé snapped at the thought that they wouldn’t be able to save Amelia? How he did a complete 180 with Vanitas, making *him* come along with *Noé* because he was going to do what it took to save Amelia, no matter what?

Yeah. That reflex (and trauma, because he didn’t save Mina, did he) was born here.

(”save me, then, if you can”)

He doesn’t get to save Louis, either.

Berserk button that will shape Noé and follow him into adulthood: officially installed.

Domi chases Noé out of the room, saying she wants to help save Mina, too. She’s the one who comes up with the only plan they have, bare as it is -- they’ll ask the other village kids for help to somehow get Mina out of the village.

Oh hey, remember the secret base? As he asks around for where Noé and Domi went (the servants don’t know), he realizes that must be where they went with Mina.

“...they didn’t --!” he says once he’s figured it out.

Louis is frightened. And then...

Louis’ curse is manifesting. (that typesetting, though...some things don’t work across languages, YP)

And Mina’s curse manifests, too.

This is a classic zombie movie scene. The survivors don’t know they’ve let in an infected until it’s too late and they start to turn, taking bites out of everyone else.

Let’s run with the infection metaphor. For people like Amelia (and Mina? hard to say), Charlatan finds them and ‘infects’ them by corrupting their true name. Infection to manifestation doesn’t seem to take much time at all, maybe a few weeks.

But for people like Louis, who are born with the curse, it needs to be triggered by desperation or desire and may lay dormant for years.

It is Charlatan in his mind, though -- see the finger-claws? But I wonder if ‘Charlatan’ isn’t a single entity per se, but a creature more like PH’s Humpty Dumpty that is spread out among multiple hosts.

This desire and the manifestation of Louis’ curse is what Grandfather was waiting for. The most heartbreaking part of all this is that the desire that finally triggered it was Louis’ desperation to protect his friends.

Mina went full zombie and took a chunk out of Fred’s throat. She lunged for Noé and Domi, but was knocked aside. And then we see this -- Louis half turned, Mina’s ripped off head in his hand.

But look at his hands. Those claws remind you of anything? Say...Vanitas’ gloves?

The difference is, these claws are very real.

And now, Louis starts to lose control.

Out of his mind, he attacks Giles and Fanny, killing them as Noé watches in horror, unable to do anything.

He tries to get through to Louis, asking if Louis is doing this because Noé didn’t listen to him earlier (Noé.) and that he was sorry and he takes the blame, all he wants is Louis is to go back to normal again.

He knows what happened to him, he doesn’t want to be like this.

Were any of the other curse-bearers half this aware and coherent?

That’s his last wish. That’s his --

Nope, I’m sorry, I’m done, this is all terrible, goodbye.

of course he can’t do it, he’s like 12 and this is his best friend, this is a fucking tragedy

This flashback is painful, how long have they known each other? Five years, more? Half their lives?

....I’m just numb at this point

what the fuck was that

I knew that Louis died at the end of this, but who was that? The bourreau meant to come for Mina?

Grandfather is a piece of shit

(part of me wants to look at that last panel and make comparisons to that one early, creepy panel of Break with Gil and how Break ended up not being a bad guy, but no, no. Grandfather is a piece of shit. HE KNEW SOMETHING LIKE THIS WAS GOING TO HAPPEN. HE WAS WAITING FOR IT.)

(I really wish I knew for sure what color that moon is. what if it’s blue? what would that mean?)

where is child services, please god, someone take these children away from this man and put them in therapy

ugh. alright. before we close, couple more things I wanted to think about.

1. Louis’ curse obviously worked much differently than the other curses we’ve seen. suppose that’s because his curse WAS different? could he have been another Blue Moon vampire, another Vanitas in the making?

(this bit is pure speculation, but I’ve been wondering if Vanitas’ gloves are an affectation he picked up from the Blue Moon Vampire, like the name, and now we’ve just seen Louis’ hands go full claw when the curse overcame him. could be a link between the two.)

2. We’ve seen how this incident has scarred Noé, but what about Domi? She was there but we haven’t really seen how -- ...oh. Oh, I forgot. It’s the clothes. Even the personality, a bit. Domi reacted to the violent death of her brother by trying to become more like him. She’s not entirely like him, she’s still Domi, but. Ugh. Ugggghhh. I already knew this, but I didn’t know it, ugh.

3. Grandfather/Teacher (I’ll go back to calling him Teacher after this chapter, I think) deliberately threw Noé and Louis together. Why, we don’t know. (part of me is thinking he’s using Noé the Archiviste as his freaking camera, but who knows.)

Here’s what we do know -- he is ALSO the one who threw Noé and Vanitas together. For some reason. (it won’t be a good reason)

4. Vanitas and Louis are distinct characters with a few striking similarities between them, but I think their biggest difference is that, underneath his manic energy, Vanitas is Tired™, while, under his morbidity, Louis is Tired of This Shit™. It’s a slight but important distinction.

5. Remember that look of wonder on Noé‘s face in chapter one when he saw that Vanitas could cure curse-bearers. Yeah. Yeah, that has a new layer to it now, doesn’t it.

And that’s it for chapter 9. Did you have fun? I did not have fun.

See you next time for chapter 10, folks.

(Chapter 10 now HERE.)

#vanitas no carte #the case study of vanitas #vanitas liveblog #vanitas #noe archiviste

[ticklishhpickle]

Interrupted By Fireworks, Literally

Summary: Dan has a wake up call when he realises 2018 is fast approaching, meaning he’s spent nearly a decade pining over the one and only Phil Lester. Not wanting to waste any more time, he devises a plan. This year, he’s going to kiss Phil at midnight. If he doesn’t kiss back, he’ll write it off as a drunk, meaningless mistake and try his best to move on. But if he does... oh, how Dan wants to know. 

Word count: 2.5k 

Genre: Fluff

Warnings: None

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

Dan stared at Phil from across the room. He frowned when he saw the black-haired man talking to Hazel for what seemed like the millionth time that night. Don’t get Dan wrong, he had nothing against Hazel- except for the fact she seemed to have exactly what Dan wanted; Phil.

Dan was pathetically, hopelessly, and probably unrequitedly in love with Phil, and had been for the past eight years. It hit Dan a few weeks ago that the start of 2018 marked nearly a decade of Dan pining over his best friend. The realisation had caused Dan to have a small existential crisis, but after that he came up with a plan.

At their New Year’s Eve party, Dan was going to kiss Phil on their balcony at midnight. Hopefully. It perhaps wasn’t the most thought out plan Dan had come up with in his lifetime, but it was a plan nevertheless. He just really hoped he wouldn’t chicken out.

Best case scenario; Phil would kiss back and admit his deep feelings of love and adoration for Dan, and then ask him to be his boyfriend. Worst case scenario; Phil would awkwardly reject Dan as he leaned in to kiss him, Dan would write off his actions as a drunken mistake (even though he planned to have no alcohol on the night) and Dan would finally accept that Phil didn’t feel the same and move on. Totally foolproof.

Things weren’t exactly going to plan however, thanks to a certain blonde woman. Dan was sure Phil and her were getting together right in front of his eyes! Though it did seem strange that Hazel and Phil didn’t look like they were playfully flirting or anything, it actually looked like they were having a serious discussion about something. Phil had also noticed the way Dan and Hazel kept looking over to Phil, worried looks on their faces. They were probably worrying about how Dan would cope when they revealed to him they’d been secretly dating for years and were moving to Vegas to elope. Sick bastards.

Sitting alone in the corner at his own party was doing him no favours, especially if he wanted his plan to work so Dan forced himself out of the chair he’d been sitting on for the past ten minutes and walked over to the drinks table.

In the middle of pouring himself an orange soda, he was interrupted by his bubbly, female best friend.

“Dan! Just the guy I’ve been looking for. You gonna tell me why you’ve been sulking in the corner for the better half of this party?” Louise asked, her eyes concerned.

“Oh, the usual. Just pathetically pining over Phil while he chats up Hazel. Nothing new.” Dan’s voice was exaggeratedly cheery.

“Dan, don’t be silly. There’s no way Phil and Hazel are a thing. He likes you, Dan.”

“If that’s true, why has he spent most of this party talking to her? I should just give up and go home.”

“Dan, don’t be stupid. It’s pretty obvious he’s in love with you too. Also you live here, did you forget? Stop being a drama queen.” Louise rolled her eyes at Dan.

Oops. He hadn’t really thought about what he’d said.

“Well you’re wrong. Maybe I would have believed that before tonight, but after seeing them together I think I should just forget about the plan and move on.”

“NO!” Louise exclaimed loudly. A few party guests turned to look at the pregnant woman.

“Oops.” she said quietly, shrugging her shoulders awkwardly.

When attention was no longer on her, she continued;

“Anyway, I really, really don’t think you should do that.”

Dan narrowed his eyes at her. She was being suspicious.

“Why are you so sure about that, Louise? Is there something you’re hiding from me?”

An incredulous look appeared on his friend’s face as she waved a dismissive hand at Dan.

“What! No! No way. I don’t know anything! I’ve got pregnancy brain, remember?” Louise pointed across the room at nothing.

“Woah! That’s so weird, I better go check that out!” and before Dan could respond, Louise was gone.

Something wasn’t adding up. Louise rarely acted like this with Dan, but when she did, it meant she was hiding something. She seemed awfully sure that kissing Phil at midnight would end well, but why? Dan had always gone to Louise to talk about his feelings for Phil and sworn her to secrecy, but was it possible Phil had been doing the same all along?

It would make sense. Dan and Phil didn’t have many friends, and the ones they did have were shared. Phil would definitely tell Louise if he did happen to have secret feelings for Dan. Dan felt hope bubbling up in his chest, along with a feeling of renewed confidence. The plan was back on.

He checked his watch; it was 11:47. Fuck. He needed to get Phil out on the balcony with him, stat. Dan scanned the room quickly, huffing when he saw no sign of his best friend.

“And who would you be looking for, stranger?”

Dan snapped his head around and nearly breathed a sigh of relief when he saw it was just Phil and not some random he didn’t know.

“You.” Dan gave his friend a small smile, which only grew when he saw the faint blush that dusted Phil’s cheeks. His suspicions were proving to be correct.

“Well you’ve found me, sorry I’ve been a bit MIA all night. I needed to talk about… something with Hazel.” The tone of Phil’s voice remained suspiciously casual. Dan was hoping for an awkward response to match his slightly flustered expression.

“That’s ok Phil. But would it be okay if I stole you for the rest of the night? I want to spend time with my best friend. Wanna go to the balcony?”

Phil nodded. “Alright, but I’m just going to say this now; people will notice if you try to throw my body out the window.”

Dan rolled his eyes fondly and grabbed Phil’s hand, leading him to the balcony. What a dork.

Dan and Phil had been chatting idly for the past few minutes, the conversation flowing easily.

“So what’s your New Year’s Resolution, Phil?” Phil smiled cheekily.

“That’s got to be… your mum!”  Dan shoved Phil lightly on the arm, feigning anger. His laughter wasn’t helping his cause.

“No, seriously!” Dan said after he finally stopped laughing. “I want to know.”

Phil looked into Dan’s eyes, all traces of playfulness gone from his expression.

“To let go of a secret I’ve been keeping for too long.”

“Ok Phil, if you’ve killed someone I really don’t want to be a part of it. Murder is not in our branding.”

Phil chuckled lightly.

  Beautiful. 

“It’s not murder! You’ll find out eventually.” Phil shook his head at Dan, still smiling.

The comfortable silence that settled over them was interrupted by the muffled chants of the guests in the room over.

10!

Dan gulped.

9!

This was it.

8!

The possible start to a life with Phil as his boyfriend.

7!

Was he ready for this?

6!

Yes.

5!

Phil looked beautiful in the light of the balcony.

4!

It was time.

3!

Dan leaned in.

2!

It looked like Phil was leaning in too.

1!

Dan closed his eyes.

HAPPY NEW YEAR!

Dan’s lips met nothing. What? Dan opened his eyes to see Phil jumping up and down giddily at the sight of the fireworks. The loud, popping sounds of them seemed to be mocking him. This was no time for celebration! How dare those fireworks, ruining his moment? Surely he would have kissed Phil if they hadn’t gone off, and Phil would have kissed him back and…

Who was he kidding?

It wasn’t their fault. He knew rejection and this was it. As if Phil would suddenly be so entranced by fireworks, something he’d seen every year of his life since he was a child. It was obvious what Dan was trying to do just seconds ago and Phil being the polite man he was, was pretending he didn’t notice what Dan was trying to do in order to spare Dan’s feelings.

Dan was pathetic.

“Aren’t they beautiful Dan?”

Dan looked at his best friend’s smiling face and pushed his feelings of hurt to one side.

“Yeah. They are.”

Dan walked back into his lounge room, mentally scolding himself for thinking someone as amazing as Phil Lester could ever have loved him back. What a joke. Well, now that the plan failed Dan could just move on from his unrequited crush of nearly ten years and find someone new. That sure would be a walk in the park, especially since Dan lived with said crush! Dan seriously wanted to be swallowed up by a hole in the ground and never return.

Phil was talking to Hazel again, not that Dan was watching or anything. Of course she was. Hazel was the one Phil liked, not him. It was weird, it really did look like Hazel was scolding Phil for something. He looked like an adorable dejected puppy.

Wait, Dan wasn’t supposed to be having those thoughts anymore.

He looked like an average-looking man who Dan had no romantic feelings for whatsoever. Much better.

The definitely average-looking man pouted at Hazel as she leaned in to whisper something in his ear. She was probably telling him off for spending the countdown to the new year with Dan instead of her. They probably would have kissed if Dan hadn’t practically forced Phil to the balcony with him. Dan’s stomach felt sick. He couldn’t look at this any longer.

He walked over to where he saw Louise sitting.

“Hey.” he said.

“Hello dear, did the plan work like I said it would? Yes?” Louise was practically squealing with excitement, her eyes looking almost manic.

“What do you think?” Dan shook his head sadly.

Louise looked more shocked than a man finding out he had a third penis.

“What? Is this some kind of sick joke? It’s not nice to trick people, you know!”

Dan sighed. “No, Louise. I’m serious. I tried to kiss him, and I swear I saw him leaning in too… but when I opened my eyes he’d moved away from me and was just fangirling over the fireworks. He sees them every year and never gets that excited! I know he was just doing it to spare my feelings.”

Louise chewed her lip, obviously thinking about something hard.

There was silence for a few seconds.

“Well, that’s a real bummer. Do text me about it, love? I’ve got to go now, but thanks for having me.”

And with that Dan was left alone again, confused as to why all his conversations with Louise that night had ended with her suspiciously and very abruptly rushing off.

Two hours later and all the guests from the party were gone. Finally. As great as his friends were, being around that many people at one time and in such a small area was way too much for Dan. Parties were literally just a very concentrated form of socialising and as a result Dan couldn’t handle them well.

He picked up what was probably his fiftieth piece of streamer off the ground and heaved a sigh of relief. It looked like it was the last one.

“Well looks like that’s it! Let’s never have a party again.” Dan declared.

“Yeah, tell me about it. I think it’s already…” Phil paused mid-sentence to look at his watch. “-3am! I was right! These things take so long to clean up after.”

Had it really been that long? Three whole hours since the most gut-wrenching moment of Dan’s life. What a lovely thought.

“Oh god? That late? I think I’m going to go sleep. Night Phil.” Dan began tying the bin bag of streamers in his hands up, preparing to sleep indefinitely and forget everything that had happened.

“Wait. Dan.” Dan stopped in his tracks.

Phil sounded really nervous all of a sudden.

“Yes?”

“I think I’m ready to tell you my secret now.” Phil wiped his palms on his jeans.

Dan was very interested now. He’d been dying to know Phil’s secret since he mentioned it on the balcony. It had only been three hours though.

“Go on.”

“I’m in love with you, and have been since we met.”

What. The. Fuck.

“And I hate myself for rejecting you when you tried to kiss me. I wasn’t expecting it! Everything I’d been dreaming of was happening all at once, and so… I pretended to be really interested in the fireworks so you’d think I was just too distracted by them to notice you were trying to kiss me. I thought it would make it less awkward. I’m sorry.”

His best friend looked so sincere, and so adorably worried. Dan wanted to kiss the frown off his cute little face.

“You’re telling me, that you- the man I’ve been wildly in love for the last nine years- has felt the same way as me the whole time?”

“Well, yeah… wait, the man who you’ve what now?” Phil’s eyes were wider than Dan had ever seen them.

Dan took a big step closer to Phil and leant in to whisper in his ear.

“The man I’m in love with.”

Dan was nowhere near prepared for what happened next. Phil suddenly grabbed the back of Dan’s head, pulling him in close. Phil pushed his lips against Dan’s with vigour, years of repressed feelings coming to the surface. Dan kissed back equally as passionately, still not quite believing this was real life. His eyes opened in shock when he let out a soft moan, surprising himself but clearly not Phil as his friend just used this to advantage by slipping his tongue into Dan’s mouth. As much as Dan wanted to continue, there were still a few questions bugging him. With all the willpower he had, he forced himself to pull away from Phil, eliciting a cute huff from the older man.

“Wait, before we continue; were you talking to Hazel the whole night because of me? And was Louise involved in this too by any chance?” Dan looked inquisitively at his now more-than-a-friend’s face.

Phil went red.

“Hazel may have been psyching me up to confess my feelings to you and kiss you at midnight. And Louise may have known about my feelings too, ever since I told her five years ago.”

“Fucking called it. Lou was acting weird all night!” Dan muttered, smiling at the adorable man in front of him.

“Tell me about it! She was being all suspicious when I tried to back out of kissing you at midnight, AND I had to endure a scolding session from her and Hazel when they found out I chickened out.”

“Ugh, so much wasted time. We could have been doing this,” Dan pressed a soft kiss to the corner of Phil’s lips, “for nine years.”

Phil smirked.

“Well we better make up for lost time then, huh?”

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A/N: needed to write some fluff after that pile of angst, served cold I just posted. hope this was cute 

#phan #fluff #oneshot #phanfluff #gettingtogether #getting together #friends to lovers #pining #mutual pining #newyearseve #fanfiction #fanfic #friendstolovers #happyending #purefluff