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nocturnaldivinationsfallingstars · 3 years

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A Stray Bullet Part 4

Fandom: Gotham Characters: Victor Zsasz, female!reader, James Gordon, Harvey Bullock and a doctor. Warnings: Mentions of blood, swearing Summary: The reader is James Gordon’s sister and works for the GCPD and is dating Victor Zsasz. The reader has kept it a secret from her brother, until one day when she takes a bullet that was meant for him. Victor then shows up at James’ place to see the reader. Word count: 4121 A/N: I am sorry this one took a while, but I had to take a couple of days off for emotional needs.

The car ride to the apartment that James shared with his sort of, maybe girlfriend Barbara Kean had been a rocky and silent one. You had been jolted all over the car, into the back doors and nearly through the front windscreen a couple of times to name a few. You had hit your side with the bullet wound against the door, even though you had tried your best to make the impact a lot less rough on your already traumatised body. You were sure that you would still end up with a bruise. Either way, you blacked out near the end of the ride from both exhaustion and pain, only to have your brother nudge you awake.

Each time your body hit one of the doors or the front seats you could hear James mutter out a not so heartfelt apology under his breath. All you could manage from your place in the back was a pain grunt or two to let him know that you're semi-okay, although right now you felt as if you wanted to be sick from being jostled around. It didn't take much longer before James parked your car in the middle of the road outside his apartment complex.

Once James had cut the engine, he unbuckled the seatbelt and yanked the back door open, hauling you out of the back while keeping an iron grip around you as he closed the doors and locked the car. “Okay, just a bit further,” he urged, leading you up the steps towards the open glass doors that led to the fancy lobby, receiving looks of concern from some residents that stood around the spacious area. All of them watching with mixed looks of horror and surprise as drops of blood fell to the shiny marble floor beneath your feet. None of them made a move to help or even ask what happened to you or James, just simply stood there and watched as he struggled to drag you to the closed doors of the elevator.

It wasn't like you could blame any of them for keeping their distance and their mouths shut around you and James, what with the given state of Gotham and the recent rise in crime lately. The fact that almost every criminal could get away with damn near anything and everything they do. You wouldn't want to be added onto someone's hit list for simply asking people a question on why they're bleeding all over the lobby floor of your home.

“How are you doing?” James suddenly asked, pulling you away from your thoughts. The doors to the elevators opened you stumbled on your way. Jim pressed the button to the floor of his apartment as he let out a sigh, still holding onto you tightly. You didn't answer him As you were too busy using the rest of your energy to keep yourself standing.

“Hey, hey, [Y/N]. How are you doing?” He asked you again and helped you into the large room once the doors to the elevator slid open. Of course, you still had to make your way through the hallway and to the door, which he then had to unlock. James pushed the door open, and you followed his dark brown eyes as they scanned the spacious living space before you, like he was expecting someone to be there in the darkness, waiting for an opportune time to attack and finish the job. Out the corner of your eyes you noticed that he gave a nod of his head, confirming that it was safe to go inside his own apartment.

“Peachy… Just — Just peachy,” you breathed out through the nauseous feeling that twisted painfully in the pit of your stomach. You felt sweaty and had a mild headache forming at the back of your head, most likely from the blood loss. Back in the car you noticed that you had started to feel dizzy, although you didn't voice your concern to your brother, it would only make him worry more and become more protective. He was probably already panicking internally enough as it is.

You squeezed your eyes shut tightly and willed yourself to not give into the urge to let gravity claim you and fall to the floor, where if you had your way, you'd stay until you felt better or bleed to death. The latter sounding like a better option to you right now since you didn't want to have a conversation about Victor with your brother. "You don't look so good," James told you, his voice sounded quiet to your ears even though he stood beside you. "You look clammy, and you're sweating," he muttered out. All you managed was a short pain filled laugh. It wasn't funny, you knew it wasn't, but you couldn't keep it in.

"That uh, yeah, that usually happens when someone loses a lot of blood." You croaked out snarkily, trying to lighten the heavy air that settled around you. You swallowed hard, your throat feeling unusually dry.

"You know, she's exactly like you. She can't read a room and her humour is terrible." The familiar gruff sound of Harvey Bullock’s voice sounded out. James scoffed at that, but your lips twitched up at the corners in amusement. You had to force your eyes open. It didn't take too long for your eyes to fall upon the scruffy detective, his hat discarded on the coffee table beside him.

"Well, if it isn't Harvey Bullock." You didn't think Harvey would help if James had asked him to, considering he nearly throttled James into the ground of the men's locker room back in the GCPD a couple of days ago because your brother decided it was a good idea to let Oswald Cobblepot live. You wondered when James had the time to call Harvey. Was it when you had been blacked out in the back of your car? Or was it sometime before then, but you hadn't noticed? It couldn’t have been before you blacked out, you would have remembered the trilling conversation that must have transpired over the phone otherwise.

A woman with long dark brown hair stood a few meters away from Harvey, a look of concern written clear as day across her features. You assumed she was a doctor, and you sure as hell hoped that she was in fact a certified doctor and not just some shady person that Harvey knows. "How're you doing darling?" He asked you, his voice warmer than it was when he previously spoke to James. He must still hold some resentment to his partner for his lie.

"Oh, you know... not bad, bleeding out, and I want to sleep. But not bad." You responded, as if on cue your eyes slid shut, almost like you had commanded it. "Please for the love of... just tell me that she is a certified doctor," you whispered to your brother as quietly as you could manage.

A whine left you as you opened your eyes once more, still trying to fight back the sleep that was threatening to take you to the black abyss behind your eyes. "They are someone that Harvey knows," he flashed an awkward side smile in your direction to let you know that he is indeed being serious about it.

Blinking at him, you took a minute to process what he had just told you, your eyes scanned his features for the telltale signs of a lie, or at least any signs to indicate that he's joking. Waiting for him to keep talking and tell you that Harvey did in fact call someone who knew a doctor who could do an urgent house call at such short notice and wouldn't ask questions about it. But there was that nervous tick, it was faint but noticeable.

"Oh no. No, no, and no," you started quickly and shook your head, removing your arm from around his back and placed the palm of your hand against his shoulder, pushing yourself away from him. Stumbling to the side you somehow managed to get yourself free from James's iron grip. "I know exactly what that means. If I wanted someone who is medically uncertified to root around my insides to get a damn bullet out, then I would have asked you or Harvey to do it for me." James shot a hand out towards you with lightning fast reflexes, his fingers snagging your upper arm to keep you from toppling over onto the dark brown wooden floor beneath your feet.

"Stop being so bloody stubborn! I am not going to perform or let anyone else who isn't a qualified doctor perform any sort of surgery on you, and potentially get you killed!" He snapped back a bit too harshly without meaning to. You swayed on the spot, staring at him for the longest time, your lips parted as if you were going to say something in response. You wanted to, god knows you wanted to say *something*, but you didn't know what you could say without making him yell even more.

Of course, you knew that he didn't mean to yell at you like that. That he was only worried about your well-being, worried about getting hurt even more so than you are now or worse, killed. However, this had been the first time in a very long time James had snapped at you, and it had to have happened at the worst time.

"I didn't mean to yell at you," he said slowly as some kind of emotion flashed across his usually emotionless face, but it was far too quick for you to catch.

"It's fine. I get it, Jim." James watched wide-eyed as you pulled your arm out of his hand, causing you to stumble over your feet as you took a step backwards on shaking legs. You could feel everyone's eyes on you and all you wanted to do was to hide from them and sort this whole thing out yourself. Hurt was clear in your voice like a sparkling diamond set out in the sun as you spoke. "It's fine," you assured him, turning away, so you could move the rest of the way towards the couch on your own. Your vision was starting to blur and melt together, you blinked a few times to clear your fuzzy vision.

You went to take another step towards the blurring couch, repeatedly blinking to keep your vision in focus when all of a sudden it seemed as if the coffee table and the floor raised upwards to meet you, twisting and distorting for the briefest moment before settling on its side. From both corners of the room you could hear at the very least two people calling out your name, followed by the loud and unmistakable thud of your body hitting the glass surface of the coffee table and then the floor. Which was then followed closely by the sound of a million shards of glass shattering and tumbling across the hardwood floor, echoing around you, so loudly it seemed to drown out the sounds of people yelling for you to open your eyes and to keep them open.

After what appeared to be a few seconds, you could feel the electric buzz of pain ripple through you, causing your mind to jolt out of the darkness and quietness that had all but consumed your consciousness. The room blared dizzyingly back to life around you, the two deep voices of James and Harvey mixed together with the high-pitched frantic voice of the woman that you forgot to get the name of. You couldn't make out a single word either of them were saying to you.

"Ugh," you groaned out and moved your hand to your shoulder where you felt a dull pulsating pain hammer and throb across your skin. Your fingers barely brushed over the soft fabric that's wrapped securely around your shoulder, but not hard enough to cut off blood flow. Someone grabbed your forearm and yanked your hand away from the bandage, holding it down tightly to some kind of slightly scratchy, yet soft fabric.

You finally managed to pry your eyes open to find that everything was blurry, the lights hanging above you didn't help much either. However, you could make out Harvey and James hovering over you, but their expressions were something you couldn't make out.

"Can one of you please hold her down?!" The female demanded snappily with a slight hint of panic evident in her voice as you moved to get up from your warm, cushiony spot. She spoke again as you were inevitably pushed back into the cushions of what you assumed to be the now bloodied couch. "I have a hold of the bullet. If she moves I might lose it, or make things worse for her.”

You didn't like the idea of that and let out a yelp as two sets of strong hands fell down to your shoulders and pushed you further into the cushions. You assumed that they belonged to James and Harvey since they're the only two men in the apartment. Harvey moved his arms from your shoulder and down to your arm, like he was trying to get a better hold of you. James did the same, both of their holds on you tightening, as if they were putting all of their weight into keeping you down while the doctor got to work.

"H - ow!" You let out an inhuman screech as the woman ripped the long forceps and brass bullet out of your side. Warm, sticky blood trickled down your skin as the bullet was removed. After, the pain was red-hot as it pulsed through you, you felt as if your flesh was burning because of the quick and simple action.

Harvey and James let go of your arms, their shoulders shooting straight up to their ears as the screech bounced around the quiet room. The woman even placed her hands over her own ears as she stared at you, taken back by the sudden noise. It almost sounded as if you were an ancient dinosaur. "Keep a hold of her arms, and for the love of god keep her still. I need to suture the wound up," the woman told them with authority in her voice - she had clearly taken over the situation. All you wanted to do was to roll over and clutch your throbbing side in your hands, but that was out of the question.

By the time James and Harvey had their hands back on your arms, putting all their weight into it, you had your vision back. James had a stony look on his features, something he had mastered while in the army. While Harvey looked as if he was cringing at everything that is happening to you, most likely picturing himself in your situation. You let out a deep, heavy and shaky breath of air, your eyes darting around the room to find something to keep yourself occupied, to keep your mind from the pain.

"Oh god," you whimpered, you could feel Harvey's thumb rub over the skin of your arm soothingly. You hated to admit it but in a way Harvey had become a brother of sorts to you, a little like a father figure as well, you supposed.

"Okay, I just need to clean the wound, and then suture it, and then I'll bandage it all up." The woman told you in a soft, somewhat calming voice. However, it did nothing to calm your nerves. “Alright?” Like it was any good asking you that question, she was going to do it anyway, and you had no choice in the matter. Unless you wanted to die, which you didn’t.

Bobbing your head in acknowledgement to the doctor’s rhetorical question, all the worries about the woman who is currently taking care of your wounds being completely unqualified or even a doctor to the gangs of Gotham now forgotten about. She seemed to know what she was doing, at least you could give her credit for that. She hesitated for a minute, before pouring a bit of Hydrogen Peroxide onto a cloth and rubbed it over the wound to prevent it from getting infected. "It might make the healing process slow, but it'll do you some good." The doctor said to no one in particular, but that didn't stop you from mentally taking note of it.

To you, it felt like the deepest and darkest form of torture and that the devil himself was pressing a burning hot poker against your side. You pressed your lips together into a tight thin line and tried to roll onto your side as if to shield the bullet hole in your side. Tried being the key word since you were roughly pulled back into place by none other than Harvey who gave you a nervous smile, that did nothing to ease the nerves that started to rise up in the pit of your stomach. "I'm sorry [Y/N]. It's for your own good," he told you without hesitation.

You couldn't bring yourself to believe a word of what he said. If something this painful was for someone's own good then you can honestly say, with your hand on your heart, that you never wanted it to happen ever again.

"Is it over yet?" Laughing nervously, looking up at Harvey and James with pleading eyes.

"Not yet." James answered in return, his eyes never leaving the doctor as she carefully threaded the plastic surgical line through the needle they've brought with them to do the job. The next painful thing to happen was the feel of a pointed needle being pushed in and out of your tender skin. All you could do was let out a low whimpering sound, trying to find something that you could hold onto tightly for comfort but all you could curl your fingers around was the thick fabric under yourself.

Luckily, however, it didn't take too long for the doctor to do the sutures. She actually worked really fast and didn't mess up a single stitch. The woman was quick to put the bandage over your bullet wound too.

"Yeah, I don't plan on taking any more bullets that are meant for my brother. Thanks for your concern though." You joked.

The woman looked from you and then to your brother, raising a questioning brow at the two of you. "Neither of you get shot like this again or otherwise. I don't want to make another house call for something worse because the Gordon siblings can't keep themselves out of trouble." Harvey snorted out a laugh and clapped James on the back. Perhaps he wasn't as mad at James as you previously thought that night, but that didn't really matter to you right now.

The doctor said her goodbyes to you and James, telling him to keep an eye on you because you've lost a lot of blood. Like she could steal bags of blood from the hospital she worked in as if it was nothing, like she had done it plenty of times before in the past without getting caught or questioned. Harvey also left with the woman to take her back home, whether it was back to his place or hers you didn't quite care to ask. Not really wanting to know the specifics and honestly if he told you too much information about her, you were afraid it would break the illusion that you made up about her.

Once they were gone you managed to push yourself up into a sitting position. James had gone to find the pyjamas that you left there when you last visited and stayed the night, so you could get out of your bloody clothes. Although your blouse was pretty much useless now because they had to cut it off to be able to take care of you. Not that you cared about it, you hated the blouse anyway. "How are you feeling?" James asked suddenly. You hadn't noticed that he had joined you and was now sitting beside you with his hands held out in your direction, holding your pyjama's out for you.

You could see the smallest hint of a smile on his lips, a hopeful one. You hummed out a quiet thank you as you took the pyjama from him, carefully nodding your head "I feel... Less like I got shot and more like the devil himself is using a burning hot poker to stab me." You laughed out shortly, leaning into him and nudged his shoulder with your, wincing at the pain that fluttered through you.

A light-hearted chuckle came from beside you, James seemed to be relieved that you're joking about it. "I am sorry for putting you through that." You moved to get up, however the movement was slow, and in the end James helped you up by giving you a push.

"Considering I took two bullets for you and saved your ass, I think we're even." You told him cockily and walked a small distance from the couch. James turned on the couch the best he could so his back was to you.

"Oh, you saved my ass?" He asked in a cheerful voice. James was looking to the floor, finding the remaining shards of glass interesting, to give you privacy while you got into the clothes. You pulled the black spaghetti strap tank top over your head and bit your cheek to keep yourself from moaning in pain.

"Uh, yes I saved your damn ass from getting shot. However accidental it was," you sassed back, kicking your boots off and watched as they landed on the floor in a heap you got into your shorts quickly. James snorted at you, apparently finding your comment amusing.

He laughed and took a hold of your arm to keep you up right, "right, yeah. You saved my ass," you turned your head to look at him and noticed that he had his eyes closed.

"If it wasn't for me accidentally getting in the way of the bullets, you'd be shot and probably bleeding out somewhere." You made a face at the bloody trousers that you were wearing in disgust. The doctor was right, you had lost a lot of blood, or at least enough to make it, so you're not in need of a blood transfusion.

A quietness passed over the eerie living room which soon gave way to awkwardness. The only noises that could be heard were yours and James' breathing, and the sounds of the busy Gotham streets outside the apartment. Your eyes darted towards the open window behind you and James, and then to the front door, both ways for Victor to enter. You needed to call him to tell him that you're fine, he'd be beside himself if you left it any longer, but that would mean you need to get some time alone to be able to talk privately without James over hearing.

"You know you still haven't told me why I couldn't take you back to your place and get a doctor," his voice broke the suffocating silence and nearly made you jump straight into his arms. "Come on [Y/N]," he persisted, nudging your arm with his elbow.

You were hoping your brother would have forgotten all about it what with everything that had happened or at the very least he wouldn't bring it up at this very moment. But you had to admit, he really did have you cornered. You folded your trousers and placed them on the floor with your boots, staying quiet as you mulled your answer over very carefully.

"Listen, Jim." you trailed off slowly, thoughtfully, not knowing how to say the next words that you wanted to say. He was going to explode when you told him. He would tell you that you're being stupid and that you need to stop seeing Victor. "It's... Complicated," you shrugged as your eyes darted around the room, looking for some kind of excuse or even some kind of godly intervention to save you or interrupt the conversation.

"How complicated could it possibly be?" He asked, looking at you for an answer.

"Extremely," you muttered out and moved away from him as he dropped his arms to his side, squinting his eyes at you like he was trying to figure out a riddle.

“You’re hiding something,” he decided.

"Pfft, What?" You asked anxiously. "No," you said a little too quickly and clenched your jaw at his accusation.

"What is it?" He asked, crossing his arms over his chest once more like your father used to do when the two of you got into trouble for something. Fuck.

Tag list; @elasmo-branchii, @nheirei, @the-ramblings, @milly-louise

#Gotham #gotham fanfic #gotham x reader #gotham x you #Victor Zsasz #victor zsasz x reader #victor zsasz x you #Victor zsasz reader insert #victor zsasz x female reader #writing #fanfiction #fanfic #ASB mention #ASB part 4 #ASBP4 #A Stray Bullet #A Stray Bullet Part 4 #trigger warning blood #tw:blood

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ddarker-dreams · 4 years

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Round Them Up. Yan Giorno x Reader [COMM]

warnings: kidnapping, canon typical violence, and some degrading language. word count: 3.4k.

A simple philosophy of budding romance is to keep date nights special.

You’ve been told this for a long time, that the intimate experience between partners is always meant to be cherished. That with time, among other things, feelings start to change, or fade away all together. It’s a frightening aspect that you used to concern yourself with, the possibility of losing the spark that ignited passion within you in the first place. If these months dating Giorno Giovanna have taught you anything, it’s that these doubts were wrongfully planted. While he’s a busy man, he’s always gone above and beyond for your sake. Fancy dinners at the finest of establishments, picnics on the best private beaches of Italy, and even occasional trips to Milan or Rome. It isn’t the luxury that draws you to him like a moth to flame, but rather the enigma of a personality he brings. Every interaction with Giorno is imprinted on your mind.

Charismatic, thoughtful, blessed with quick wit… your long list of admirations for him goes on. Humming lightly to yourself, there's an extra pep in your step as you take on the relatively mundane task of shopping. Shopping for clothes is usually one of your least favorite activities. Having to go in and out of dressing rooms, trying on multiple sizes of clothes just to find the one you need is out of stock, or the cashier pestering you into signing up for a credit card. The regular reservations that come with purchasing new clothes for your wardrobe are thrown out, as you’re too preoccupied looking forward to tonight. Giorno’s compliments of your person always feel so sincere, like every word has been designed only for you to hear.

Tonight will be no different, an event marked on your calendar for the last month.

A romantic, seaside dinner. For the special occasion, you’re wanting to look the part. Feeling over the fabric underneath your fingertips, you inspect every item on the rack with potent interest. Keeping in mind the most flattering cuts for your body type, and the colors that complement your hair and complexion, multiple possible outfits are piled up one after the other. It’s difficult to fathom that you’ve already been in this store for a little over an hour, still undecided. Store clerks have come and gone, most trying a little too hard to keep you pleased. Finding their hovering around your person stifling, you managed to make your way around the store in hopes of avoiding further confrontation. It doesn’t strike you as strange how you haven’t seen anyone around lately, really. It’s not that busy a time of day, you believe.

“This should just about do it.”

Hoisting up the tentatively picked selection, you make your way towards the back to try them on. When making your way over, you hear your phone buzzing, and look down to see who it is. There’s no fighting the smile that blossoms on your lips at the sight of Giorno’s name popping up on your screen, your phone background a picture of the two of you baking together. There’s flour smeared over his cheek, a result of your doing. Calling back fondly on the memory, your heart leaps in your chest at the chance to talk to him, if even for a brief moment. Sliding to unlock your phone, while balancing your clothes in the other arm, you see he’s asking about your day.

A heavy set of footsteps saunter towards you, like a foreboding omen.

“You must be real happy talking to whoever that is, huh?” A gruff voice catches your attention, and you look up to see an older looking man. He’s of intimidating stature, having broad shoulders, towering over you by at least a foot, accented with a navy suit. By his side are two men in a similar get up, all glowering down at you as if you were a speck of dust. You look around to see if it’s really you he’s speaking to, a spine chilling sensation trickling down your spine. There’s not a single soul in the store, other than the four of you. Not even the cashiers are at their station, the employees that were once buzzing about having vanished in thin air.

There’s some malicious forces at play here. You need to get out of this, as soon as you can.

Gulping, you subconsciously take a step back, pressing your phone to your chest. “Uh, I’m sorry… but can I help you…?”

You cringe at how your voice wanes, not wanting to showcase your helplessness if you could help it. At your further prying, no information is offered. Time is set to a standstill, every passing second feeling more sluggish than the last. The main figure of the group regards you with little warmth, grabbing a picture from his breast pocket. He looks from the object in his hands to you, scrutinizing every detail. Never have you felt so small, so powerless. Whatever is going on here is sending alarms off in your head, a nasty premonition of things to come churning your stomach violently.

“Now, listen to me real carefully. I don’t fancy the thought of messing up a pretty face like yours,” he opens the inside of his jacket, just enough for you to catch a glimpse of a handgun. You almost faint at the not so subtle message. “Follow me without any fuss, and you have my word no harm will come to you.”

Your eyes dart around, searching for help that you’ll never find. Nausea and dizziness are cumbersome, rolling over you like crushing waves. You don’t know what to expect, all you can assume is that this won’t end well. Not trusting your tongue to form the words necessary to prevent the situation from getting worse, you nod your head once. The skin underneath his eyes tighten in mirth, pleased with your subservience, waving off the men behind him. He steps over, gesturing for you to join him by his side. Heart thrown into a frenzy against your ribcage, you’re amazed by how a simple task such as walking grows borderline impossible. Your phone is taken from you in the process, the chance of being tracked through that method now lost. He said that if you came along easily, you won’t be harmed, but why should you believe him? There has to be some way out of this.

The intermingling of speech between the group surrounding you gives the opportunity to look around, having spotted a series of hallways that are fire exits. Your main objective would be avoiding any possible gunfire, the cover these hallways bring the best and possibly only opportunity at an escape. You hold your breath, worried that any change in your breathing might be an indication of your hastily put together plan. With all your strength, you pivot on your heel, fully intending to run to cover. You make it a few paces, a sharp pain in your wrist preventing you from making it any further. A pained noise leaves you at the sudden jolt of pain, the joint being twisted painfully. Too taken with the ringing of your ears to notice their reprimanding words, you’re tugged along roughly. It’s a pain unlike anything you’ve ever experienced, dark bruises forming alongside the rapidly swelling skin. To make matters worse, the vice-like grip remains, since they no longer trust you not to make an escape attempt.

Where the stranger walks, you follow in admitted defeat, wanting to alleviate the pain of your wrist. He leads you out the back of the store, many men in similar outfits standing against walls, or slithering in the background. A black car with tinted windows is your final destination. It’s pulled against the curb, the unknown man opening the door for you both to enter. Your nose crinkles at the aroma in the car, a combination of heavy cologne and cigarette smoke. Other cars follow in a single line behind you, the engine roaring to life. It makes you jump, your nerves frayed. There’s too much on your mind to pin down a single question, the tenderness of your fresh injury not helping in that regard. Having a plan to grasp onto, even if it’s a fallible, would be preferable to this. For now, you will yourself through the anxiety that plagues you to search for a solution.

Once the car has taken off, he looks over to you, frowning at your limp hand. “You look scared outta your wits, little miss. Let’s see… that means you must really know nothing.”

Now that you’re seated, the time to gather scraps of information has presented itself. This man isn’t a fellow Neapolitan, holding an accent reminiscent of northern Italy. From the few orders exchanged to what you presume to be his underlings, the dialect could possibly be Tuscan. What would people from there ever possibly want with you? It’s a prayer that may never reach the ears of god, but you pray they’re not taking you somewhere that far away. The best case scenario would be somehow escaping when the car is moving before it reaches the highway, but the car door is locked. Is smashing the window possible? It looks thick, likely bullet proof. There has to be a better opening. Your last escape attempt left much to be desired, but it was a knee jerk reaction. At least they didn’t open fire on you, but would you be so lucky for the next try?

Returning your attention back to the stranger, you immediately regret it. He’s wiping dried crimson off his hands with a handkerchief, staining the cloth. The sight answers the question from before, now certain that bloodshed isn’t one of the cards off the table. The pungent, metallic scent is undeniably blood, fresh one at that. Bile rises to your throat at the sight, hurriedly looking away as if it’d erase the nightmare that you’ve seen. Adrenaline continues pumping through your body, a momentary reprieve from the pain your wrist injury has brought.

Your wandering eyes must have been too much of a giveaway, the man next to you letting out a humorless laugh. “This? I have to admit, Don Giovanna’s men aren’t easy to rid of. I was expecting more of a security detail around his prized passera. Though, seeing as you’ve been kept in the dark, keeping too many men around you might be suspicious.”

There’s a certain bloodlust in the man’s gaze when he speaks Giorno’s surname, that chills your soul. The facades of a polite gentleman fade away, replaced by the spitting image of a mobster. His semantics in referring to you leave much to be desired, though the misogynistic language is the least of your concerns. Holding onto the lackluster set of information at your disposal, you take a wild stab in the dark at what could be happening here. While you’ve never intermingled with the mob, it’s not an uncommon tactic of obtaining wealth. Fleeting as it may be, some people go into crushing debts, having made deals with the devil.

Sitting up straight and setting your lips into a straight line, you project a more composed version of yourself. You don’t want to give away the depths of your fear. “I’m not sure what it is you want with Giorno… but if it’s a money related debt, please let me help with it. I don’t want him to be in trouble.”

The mobster takes a second to register your unprecedented words, eyes widening. Does that mean you figured out what the motivation here is? This assumption is thrown out the window as he bellows over, incapable of masking his amusement.

Cheeks flushing with indignation at how he sputters out a condescending laugh, you want nothing more than to assert yourself. If not for the possible repercussions for doing so, you’d have done it long ago. “Unless you’ve got hundreds of billions of lire in that purse of yours, that won’t work, I wouldn’t count on it. His no drug policy has cost us more than you could imagine.”

The jargon in use here erases all doubts from your mind. There’s no denying the fact that this is somehow related to gangs, Giorno, or both. You’ve never meddled in your partner’s affairs. Never so much as blinking at an eye at the smooth explanations for his coming into wealth, not seeing the point in prying beyond the surface. The usage of Don had caught your attention earlier, though that can sometimes apply to wealthy or powerful men in general. A lump forms in your throat as you think more on the subject, arriving at the conclusion Giorno is involved in more than you ever anticipated.

---

“Are you sure about clearing the schedule for tonight?” Mista inquires, giving the pistol in his hand another glance over. He inspects every groove, having already familiarized himself with all aspects of the weapon. Checking to make sure it can work at all times is a necessity, seeing as he’ll never know when the time will come to use it. Giorno leans back into his chair, not paying immediate heed to the gunslinger’s concerns. He steals a glance down at his phone, still expecting to have seen a message from you by now. At the further absence of your response, he responds to Mista.

“There’s nothing left to discuss. I’ve made my demands of them very clear.” Giorno fights back the urge to sigh, the weight of dealing with rebellious groups sadly nothing new. As long as their avenues of making money involve the drug trade, they won’t ever bend permanently, all of the promises naught but lip service. Not even long lasting Passione allies prove to be fully complacent. That was all before him, anyways, when they could operate without accountability.

“We have enough evidence of their conduct. Niceties are no longer necessary.”

Mista raises an eyebrow, catching onto the hidden intent laced within Giorno’s words. “So it’s come to that, huh? You’d think the stories of what happened to the former narcotics team would be enough to keep them at bay. It was brutal, right Fugo?”

The aforementioned male fights the urge to roll his eyes, leaning against the hardwood of Giorno’s desk. While his role is more of an advisor to Giorno than Mista’s, he can’t help but express a similar sentiment. There likely isn’t a better option, having discussed and been promised dozens of times that the mafioso from Tuscany would cease their drug trades. Each time has proved a fruitless endeavor, the Don from the most prominent group in that area going through great lengths to hide his tracks of the grimy dealings.

“But you know, Giorno… Enzo’s men won’t be taking kindly to being cut off,” Fugo pipes up, taking the opportunity to voice his own share of concern. “You’ve been giving them the cold shoulder for a little over a week. It’s only a matter of time until he figures out what’s going on, or worse… does something about it.”

Giorno gives a look of recognition, having already thought of this. It’s undesirable to think about, but seeing how the day’s heading, he might have to cancel his plans for you tonight. “I’m expecting it, yes. It’s a shame how stubborn he’s been on the matter.”

Fugo’s lips part, only to be interrupted by the door to Giorno’s study suddenly being flung open. Scrunching up his eyebrows at the impudent entrance of one of Passione’s underlings, all words of admonishment disappear when spotting what’s unmistakably your phone in the guard’s hands. The room goes dead silent, Giorno standing from his spot and walking over to inspect your belonging. In the world they live in, this is a threat, most likely relating to the very topic the three of them were just discussing.

“When did this show up?” Giorno takes your phone into the palm of his hand, Mista and Fugo leaving their own spots to do the same. The guard is flushed, out of breath, most likely having run from the entrance of the villa to this spot. Even under the immense pressure this brings, Giorno’s tone remains an even timbre. Fugo spots the slightest of shakes in his fingers, eyes moving back to the guard for the sake of Giorno’s privacy. It’s affecting him on some level, but he knows Giorno; and how he deals with stressors like this.

“J-just now, sir,” The guard explains in a frenzy, chest heaving for air. “We lost contact with [First]’s escorts about five minutes ago, I already sent out men to the last known spot she was seen at.”

Giorno’s lips twitch downwards in evident displeasure, lips pursed. This misfortune of human error will be addressed at a later time, when he knows you’re safe. “Why was I not alerted sooner?”

“We thought it might be a technical issue--”

Your phone has already been imbued with life, morphing into a butterfly from the usage of Gold Experience’s ability. Giorno strides past the bewildered guard without care, Fugo and Mista following soon after him. Fugo reaches down into his pocket, procuring a set of car keys, seeing as Giorno’s set on walking towards the garage. For once, neither he or Mista offer any quips to lighten the situation. Their knowledge of your relationship with Giorno is fuzzy at best, morally obscured at worse. Fugo’s turned a blind eye to the private life of his Don, not wanting to dip into the rabbit hole. He’s seen enough to know you’re blissfully unaware of Giorno’s invisible touch in your life.

Mista is the first to try and speak up. “We’ll get her back, Giorno.”

“Of course.” The words are curt, borderline snappy. They make their way to one of his many sports cars, their attention set on the butterflies movements. Fugo notes how it’s heading north, further confirming the suspicion that you’re currently in the hands of the gangster group from Tuscany. Giorno receives a plethora of phone calls in the drive, ranging in information regarding the attack and your possible whereabouts. A group of cars with unmarked license plates were confirmed by some of the workers at the mall, who had been threatened into compliance. They gave rough descriptions that fit the bill of one of Enzo’s Capos. This feels deeply personal, cutting too close for Giorno’s liking.

He had not been expecting such a brazen counterattack, operating with casualties in broad daylight is almost unheard of. A testament to their desperate mindset, if he had to guess. It’s true that they’ve been bleeding dry ever since he’s enforced the zero tolerance drug policy, not that there aren’t other options of securing wealth. The unsavory method is one of the easiest and most lucrative, before he was in charge that is. His mind goes to you, and the possibilities run rampant.

Gold Experience can heal any physical wounds inflicted on you, but the mental scarring… that will be another issue entirely.

Though, he’s certain that they won’t kill you. You’re too valuable a bargaining chip, but there are fates far worse than death. Thinking about it brings emotions to the surface he hasn’t experienced in a long time, flurries of malicious thoughts pointed towards your captors forming. They’ll meet a befitting death -- he’ll make certain of that -- but your well being is of the top priority. Giorno wills himself to remain in control, fighting off the shakiness that threatens to overtake him. The last thing he needs to do right now is allow his carefully crafted composure to slip, it would serve no one.

He catches Fugo sending him the occasional glance, but thinks little of it.

There’s a strong resolve unique to you, Giorno believes. He regrets not having placed tighter security on you, mentally drafting up ways to avoid a situation like this from ever repeating again. It’ll be a much more constrictive way of living, and while it pains him to think of you losing some freedoms, it’s all for the greater good. Having been so caught up in his personal feelings of allowing you the autonomy to do as you please is what led to this misfortune in the first place, a mistake he will not repeat. When you’re back in his sight, completely safe, he’ll make sure nothing like this ever happens again.

You’ll come to understand it.

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wordsablaze · 3 years

Text

To Be Loved

Love is a fickle thing, it can burst into life within minutes or it can take months to fully bloom. The one thing Jaskier and Eskel can always agree on is that it's more than worth the time it takes...

A/N: continues on from to be found but also works as a standalone, written for aro week <3

Their first date had gone well, all things considered.

Eskel had been a little sleep deprived on account of working until late and worrying until even later but Jaskier hadn’t seemed to mind at all, bursting with enough enthusiasm for the both of them.

He’d been waiting outside the bakery at six, scrolling through his phone and looking up just as Eskel was debating whether he should just sneak back inside. Jaskier had grinned widely and Eskel had immediately known it was going to be a good evening.

“You look like you have a lemon stuck in your mouth,” Lambert tells him as he walks into work a week later.

“And how would you know what that looks like?” Eskel grumbles.

To be honest, he’s felt like he has a lemon stuck in his mouth since last weekend because Jaskier had promptly disappeared off the face of the earth. He wants to think it’s just a coincidence but he can’t help feeling as though it’s another case of the whole Eskel isn't good at first dates so of course it wouldn’t work out thing again.

Lambert raises his hands in surrender and gestures to the kitchens, where everyone is allowed to work in peace when they’re not in the right mindset for actual interaction. He zones out immediately, only looking up when Coen pokes his head in the doorframe.

“We might need your help with this guy,” he says, and Eskel sighs, already expecting a problematic customer or something.

What he’s not expecting is Jaskier tapping his foot on the floor and biting his lip. He freezes when he sees Eskel, opening his mouth to say something, but Eskel holds up a hand. “Can you come through to the back? I don’t want to have this conversation here.”

In the few minutes it takes for them to reach the office, he’s decided he’s more than ready for Jaskier to admit his spontaneous flirting was just a whim and he's not interested in anything else. Only, Jaskier does nothing of the sort.

“Eskel, I am so sorry about disappearing! I didn’t mean to, I swear! It’s just that Shani’s place flooded so she broke her ankle and I had to drive her to the hospital but we were arguing on the way and this guy at a red light decided I’d hurt her as if I wouldn’t rather die but we ended up fighting and I ended up with a concussion again and we both had to stay for observation or something and I- I’m really sorry for leaving you hanging,” Jaskier blurts.

Eskel blinks.

“Is she okay?” he asks, not really sure what he’s meant to be focusing on.

Jaskier nods, his shoulders dropping as he lets out a slow exhale. “She went to medical school, she knew exactly what they were going to do before we even got in the car.”

“That’s useful,” Eskel replies, but then shakes his head. “Wait, are you okay? Someone gave you a concussion?”

He’d been amused last time Jaskier had downplayed concussions but now he’s seriously wondering if he should be concerned about how the other man can be so unfazed by so much - it’s not like you can develop an immunity to head trauma.

Jaskier just nods again. “Of course, I’m fine. I hope I didn’t give you the wrong impression?”

“Not at all,” Eskel lies.

There are arms around him before he can try and figure out whether Jaskier had seen through his lie. He stumbles slightly but allows the embrace to happen, oddly comforted by the fact that Jaskier is just as relieved to have explained the truth as Eskel is; maybe this time things truly can work out, he thinks.

“You really don’t have to go tonight,” Jaskier says for the fourth time that day.

Eskel sighs, throwing a cushion at him. “It’s been three months since we met, I think it’s about time I see you perform.”

Jaskier hums before flopping onto the small sofa, resting his head on Eskel’s lap with the rest of his body draped lengthwise, his feet dangling off the armrest at the end. “But I know you don’t like loud or crowded spaces and we aim to have exactly that,” he pouts.

There’s a long moment in which Eskel just appreciates that he’s not being forced to go despite how bizarre it is to experience the exact opposite situation. He smiles down at Jaskier and very truthfully says, “It won’t matter because I like you.”

He places a finger on Jaskier’s lips when he tries to argue again, chuckling. “And before you ask me again if I’m sure, don’t.”

Jaskier’s eyes practically sparkle for a moment before he twists his head and bites Eskel’s finger, nowhere near hard enough to hurt but firmly enough for it to be a shock.

Rolling his eyes, Eskel laughs. “What, my baking isn’t enough for you anymore?”

Starting to reply only to realise that he can’t form actual words whilst biting down on an index finger, Jaskier pulls Eskel’s hand away and grins. “Dessert is fine, darling, but you’re a five-course meal and I wouldn’t trade all the oven goodies in the world for you.”

Eskel has no idea how to reply to that.

It’s far more romantic than anything he’s used to and he’s never been good at flirting so the last thing he wants to do is say something that ruins whatever they have going on. After a long moment of panic, he settles on shrugging. “We have a pretty good oven.”

Jaskier hums in reply and thankfully doesn’t press on his hesitation, sitting upright with a small sigh. “I suppose I should go get dressed. Are you driving?”

“I don’t trust you with my car,” Eskel says, only half joking.

“I’ll be wearing those heeled boots then,” Jaskier grins, taking absolutely no offence as he springs to his feet and blows a kiss before heading to Eskel’s bathroom, where he’d dumped his change of clothes when arriving earlier and declared it was his domain for the rest of the day.

If anyone had told the Eskel of a few years ago that he’d willingly allow someone so chaotic to saunter around his home and genuinely flirt with him in every other conversation, he’d probably have rolled his eyes and assumed they’d somehow mistaken him for someone else; maybe changing his mindset has been for the better, he thinks.

The ocean has no right to be so elegant.

Eskel had never been a huge fan of beaches because the stubbornness of sand is quite frankly sinful but Jaskier absolutely adores everything about them and there’s only so many of his puppy dog eyes that can be refused.

“We’ll barely even touch the sand, I promise!” Jaskier had declared, and he’d made sure of it too.

Soon enough, they’re settled on the rocky side of the beach, propped up against a larger stone with their legs stretched out in front of them and their shoulders pressed together. Jaskier slips his fingers into Eskel’s and gently squeezes, which has quickly become one of Eskel’s favourite things ever.

“Aren’t the waves gorgeous?” Jaskier asks wistfully.

Eskel hums. “They can still kill you.”

Jaskier laughs, nudging him. “Ever the optimist, aren’t you? Nothing can kill me, darling, not today.”

Well, he can’t really argue with that because he feels the exact same way. It’s hard to think of anything morbid when celebrating six months together and he doesn’t particularly want to try so he just nods in agreement.

“Thank you,” Jaskier whispers after a while.

Eskel turns to him, tilting his head to one side. “No, you were right, it is soothing to watch the waves.”

“That’s not what I mean.” Jaskier lifts their connected hands and places a soft kiss on Eskel’s thumb before looking directly at him with an even softer smile. “Thank you for letting me stay for so long.”

He says that as if Eskel isn’t in disbelief about someone being willing to stay with him for so long, especially someone like Jaskier who could probably charm his way into the lives of anyone he pleases.

“I should be saying that to you,” Eskel admits, “I know I’m not exactly the best partner out there.”

Jaskier genuinely looks offended. He uses his free hand to poke Eskel’s stomach and glares at him. “Don’t say things like that, you are possibly the kindest and most patient person I know, not to mention the most handsome.”

Eskel’s face heats up at that and even though he knows he tries to be kind and patient, he can’t help wishing he could be more, that he could be charming and fun and worthy of the poetry Jaskier keeps texting to him whenever he’s drunk.

“Hey, look at me?” Jaskier asks.

Eskel’s head moves before he gives it permission but he has no regrets because Jaskier is smiling and he’s grown overly fond of that stupid smile and the way it manages to make him feel a little better every time it’s directed towards him.

“I love you,” Jaskier whispers.

Oh.

His expression must give his alarm away because Jaskier squeezes his hand again and shuffles so he’s leaning his head on Eskel’s shoulder, looking out at the ocean. “You don’t have to say it back but I couldn’t possibly have gone another day without telling you. And it doesn’t matter, you’re still the best.”

Jaskier falls in love with someone or something new every other day but they’ve both been hesitant to acknowledge his unwavering commitment to loving Eskel until now. Eskel exhales slowly, letting his head rest stop Jaskier’s and closing his eyes.

His first instinct is to apologise but he’s almost certain Jaskier would throw him into the ocean if he did so he settles for squeezing Jaskier’s hand and shuffling even closer, focusing on the way they fit together so well, on the way everything they do together is comfortable, on the way he doesn’t feel pressured to pretend.

He’s always been a little scared of actually finding the love he usually only hears about through everyone else in fear of somehow failing at it but Jaskier has never demanded anything he wasn’t happy to give; maybe love isn’t so frightening with the right people, he thinks.

“Jaskier, where’s my hoodie?” Eskel asks, frowning at his wardrobe.

He knows Jaskier sometimes borrows his clothes but he’s not sure how to take that since he seems to do that with literally everyone he knows, whether that’s his bandmates, random people he meets at bars, or even Ciri on a few memorable, drunk occasions.

“Which one?” Jaskier calls back from the kitchen where he’d gone to find popcorn because he refuses to watch a film without some.

Eskel sighs. “The red one with the flowers.”

“Roses!” Jaskier corrects, and Eskel just knows he’s shaking his head in exasperation. “And I don’t know!”

After a moment of frustration, Eskel shrugs on the other red hoodie and makes his way to the kitchen, groaning when he sees Jaskier wearing the not so missing hoodie. Jaskier’s eyes widen at the sound and he spins on his heel to check the microwave as if having expected it to be exploding.

“I thought you said you didn’t know?” Eskel asks, raising an eyebrow.

Jaskier only frowns. “I don’t?”

It takes him a minute to catch on and finally glance down at himself, at which point he bites his lip and looks up again sheepishly. “I just grabbed a random one,” he mumbles eventually.

Eskel rolls his eyes because it’s not the first time they’ve had this type of conversation and makes his way over, using his thumb to gently pull Jaskier’s lip out from under his teeth before very softly kissing him. “Blue suits you better,” he whispers.

Jaskier nods, still wide-eyed and a little breathless as he lifts his arms and loops them around Eskel’s neck. “But red reminds me of you,” he whispers back, his gaze flickering between Eskel’s eyes and lips.

Well, there goes Eskel’s heart melting again.

The microwave beeps at them before he figures out how to reply, both of them jumping enough for their foreheads to crash together. Jaskier curses immediately, stepping back as he rubs his head and glares at the microwave as if it’d just stabbed him.

“Hope the popcorn is worth the pain,” Eskel says, laughing.

Jaskier sticks his tongue out before pulling the popcorn out, pouring it into a bowl and handing said bowl to Eskel as he has the steadier hand and is far less likely to spill it all before they even sit down, which they’d unfortunately had to learn from experience.

“Don’t doubt me, darling, you are going to love this film!” Jaskier declares just as he always does - he’s only right about half the time but Eskel has to credit him for the everlasting confidence at least.

It doesn’t take them long to settle, Jaskier leaning heavily on Eskel and their arms wrapped around each other, and although Eskel is about ninety percent certain he won’t like the film judging by the cover, he wouldn’t dare interrupt Jaskier’s mission to broaden his cinematic horizons or whatever.

“You are unfairly comfortable,” Jaskier mumbles, practically burrowing into his chest.

Eskel laughs, snuggling closer himself. “You have very strange standards.”

Jaskier hums quietly, choosing popcorn over replying to the accusation just as the film finally starts with a rather cliché shot of the view from a window. He was right in thinking he wouldn’t particularly like it but Jaskier’s constant commentary has both of them laughing and it’s worth the watch anyway; maybe being with someone else makes the boring things less boring, he thinks.

Weird how a year can feel like forever as well as no time at all.

Eskel wakes up on the morning after their first anniversary with a slow smile, taking in the way Jaskier is sprawled over him like some sort of misguided blanket.

Perhaps it’s just Jaskier’s poetic influence over the past year but he thinks it’s utterly fitting that sunlight just so happens to be falling over the two of them in a way that makes it seem as though they’re glowing even though it’s still winter.

It’s a good thing Jaskier sleeps like the dead when he actually manages to fall asleep for a normal human amount of time because it gives Eskel the chance to do things like bring them breakfast in bed. This one he’s been planning for a while so he doesn’t waste any time gazing and quickly slips out of bed, getting himself sorted and making his way to the kitchen.

He more or less makes the pancakes with muscle memory alone because there’s a part of him that can’t help worrying. He knows Jaskier loves him, he knows that better than he knows most things, but he’s never had a relationship this long and he doesn’t know the right etiquette to all of this.

“Eskel?”

Cursing inwardly, he grabs the tray - complete with a plate of four pancakes, two mugs of coffee, and one small envelope - and heads back to his bedroom, pausing in the doorway. “Right here,” he smiles.

Jaskier returns the smile, then yawns before raising his eyebrows at the sight of the tray. “We already had anniversary breakfast yesterday?”

“Are you saying you don’t want the pancakes?” Eskel asks, smirking when Jaskier sits up with a grin that makes his answer perfectly clear. “Thought so.”

“Mhm, you’re the best boyfriend in the galaxy,” Jaskier says as Eskel places the tray at the foot of the bed and settles beside him.

Eskel is more than aware his face has probably gone embarrassingly red but for once, Jaskier doesn’t point it out, instead getting distracted by and picking up the little envelope with a frown. “What’s this?”

Deep breath.

“Can I open it now?” Jaskier asks, thankfully able to guess that Eskel’s throat has gone a little too dry for him to explain.

When he nods, Jaskier offers him a smile and rips one side open, gasping when he sees what’s inside: a key. Or more specifically, a replica of Eskel’s house key.

“I love you,” Eskel says honestly.

It’d taken him a while to get things sorted in his head - not to mention several awkward conversations with his family and friends - but at this point, he’s absolutely certain he loves Jaskier and nothing can make him question his heart in the slightest.

Jaskier sniffles and throws his arms around Eskel before he can apologise for making him cry. And Eskel laughs, holding his boyfriend whom he truly genuinely loves because he is capable of that after all close until they’re both satisfied they’re not going to actually burst into tears or anything.

“I love you back, of course,” Jaskier says as he pulls back, rubbing his eyes.

Eskel grins, ignoring the way it almost physically hurts his face, and only grins further when Jaskier kisses him despite both of them being a little too smiley for it to really work.

“I can’t believe you made me cry before pancakes,” Jaskier grumbles eventually, elbowing him, but he’s still half-grinning and there’s a lot of mixed signals.

Laughing, Eskel brushes his thumbs under Jaskier’s eyes. “The pancakes aren’t going anywhere.”

Jaskier hums in acknowledgement and twirls the key between his fingers for a long moment, apparently thinking something over. “You are aware this means you’re never going to get a moment of peace again, right?” he asks.

“I’m willing to take that risk,” Eskel replies even though he’s never felt more at peace than when he’s with Jaskier.

“On your head be it, darling,” Jaskier laughs, shuffling so he can curl into Eskel’s arms again, “I love you so much.”

Eskel’s reply is swallowed by the lump in his throat but it’s okay because Jaskier knows and he knows Jaskier knows and that’s more than enough. Their breakfast will probably go cold before they get round to it but neither of them will mind because everything else is just so perfect; maybe love is just being patient with the differences, Eskel thinks.

ik this is fairly niche so it's unlikely many ppl will be reading but just in case: this fic was not meant to reflect aromanticism as a whole - sometimes you just don't aim for love and that's totally valid !! this was just a lil ventfic,,

ongoing masterlist for this au if you’re interested :)

thanks for reading !! masterlist | witcher blog: @itsjaskier

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dutchdread · 3 years

Text

What is Love? Baby don't hurt me.

This article sets out to define different types of love in a meaningful way, and argue why the specifics surrounding Aerith and Cloud makes it so that the commonly accepted romantic version of the emotion can't apply. __________________________________________________

Whenever you talk to anyone, it's important to be on the same page, and one of the most important parts about that is making sure that you're speaking the same language. I am sure we've all had moments where we were arguing with someone only to discover that you both believed the exact same thing, but that you simply used a different word to describe said thing.

"That's what I've been saying" "No, that's what I've been saying!" "Well what are we even arguing about then?!"

When that happens, you're not arguing about the topic itself, you're arguing about semantics, about language.

An argument about whether or not what Cloud, Tifa, and Aerith felt for each other would fall under "love" is a debate about language, not FFVII, and I am not here to have a conversation about language. Unfortunately, before I can actually have a conversation about FFVII, a conversation about language is apparently needed.

Love is an incredibly broad term, used to express what we feel about our family, our pets, our friends, our "lovers", and even our favorite songs, weather, and food. So why the hell do we ask "who did Cloud love" as if love is some singular binary system?

I can never prove that what a character feels isn't love, I can only assert that I personally wouldn't use the word "love" to describe said feeling, and explain why I wouldn't. When we ask "does Cloud love Tifa or Aerith", we are presupposing a concept of "love", and asking who it applies to.

"I pity you, you just don't get it at all, there is nothing I don't cherish"

But it applies to both, and it applies to Barret, and Marlene, and Denzel, and everyone. Because love is far too broad a term to start with, it's a catch-all. Instead of starting with a preconception of what love is, and seeing who has it, we should describe what people actually have, and see what their individuals shapes of love look like.

Even so, I will do my best to describe what I mean by romantic love, as opposed to a crush, or infatuation, or attraction, so that when I say "Cloud and Aerith don't (and can't) romantically love each other", that it's clear what that assertion means to me.

I'm going to tell you a story, a story that, admittedly, doesn't make me look good, but which will hopefully provide context for what I think love is and why.

When I was younger I wasn't the most popular kid, back then I assumed I was unattractive, as an adult I realize its because I was socially awkward as fuck (I was actually cute as heck if I do say so myself). However, by the time I got to highschool I had made a best friend and had managed to figure out and fake social conventions enough that I could at the very least solve my issues through humor instead of violence. The change from typical village kids to a wider pool of potential friends also enabled me to finally find people who were more like me. Even so, the whole social outcast part was still ingrained deeply enough in me that I was mostly putting on an act in front of people, saying whatever I needed to say in order to get a certain reaction, in order to be liked, rather than just being myself. I had had crushes before, when you're alone it's easy to really fall for someone, and hell, I was always a sucker when it came to love stories, but my childhood had basically left me too nervous that I'd say the wrong thing to ever actually say the right thing when I really liked a girl. However, generally being the life of the party left me with a string of girlfriends I didn't care too much about. Even so, I eventually met a girl that I was instantly smitten with, the most attractive girl I knew and somehow I managed to start dating her, and hell, I even thought I loved her. I dated said girl for several years, but without going into spoilers I'll just say that I left that relationship pretty jaded and and disillusioned with the concept of love. I felt like I had done everything I could and love in general was bullshit and was honestly pretty done with women in general. Ironically my new pessimistic attitude made me much more successful with women than I had ever been before, by that time I was known as someone who was fun to party with, and unlike the majority of people my age I was in incredible shape and still had all my hair. However, while I enjoyed my newfound popularity there was a part of me that really resented it because I realized that what women seemed to react positively to wasn't what I imagined love to be like and I hated that. I hated that when I used to be kind and filled with notions of "true love" no one was interested, but now that I was disinterested and clearly manipulative women seemed to throw themselves at me. During that time I basically stopped looking for a meaningful relationship and just decided to have fun until my life would, inevitably, fall apart.

Eventually though I got a girlfriend who I didn't deserve and was much too good for me. However, when I did I was no longer interested in building a relationship and I was pretty certain that it would eventually fall apart anyway like everything else. As a result I mainly cared about what I could get from her, I didn't act like a proper partner and I when I thought about "fixing the relationship" I was thinking mostly about what she could do to be a better girlfriend, honestly, part of me actually resented her for not being my ex. When talking about our issues the general terms were "I'll do this, but only if you fix that". Without going into details, the general gist is that we had a horrible start to our relationship and that affected everything that came after it.

Eventually though this girl who I once mainly saw as just another temporary part of my life became something more to me, she became a more complete person. I mellowed out, and started appreciating her more, I decided to get us to work on the relationship but the damage was basically already done. She'd given up on me ever wanting to settle down and had started distancing herself from me emotionally and eventually I became sick of fighting for the relationship by myself and we broke up. Afterwards, free of pressure, I sat back and l evaluated what I wanted in life, I thought about myself, and her, REALLY thought about her. The good parts, and the bad. And I realized that all the things I was annoyed about were honestly absurd. I decided I was going to fight for her, not just "try to fix the relationship" by figuring out what worked and what didn't, but I just decided I was going to properly appreciate her, be the best boyfriend I could be, and not ask for anything in return. And let me tell you, that change in mindset changed EVERYTHING for me. Within months I became absolutely smitten with her, when I first started the relationship I was honestly annoyed if we met up and didn't have sex, now just sitting on the couch under a blanket with her became the highlight of days, even the things I once saw as negatives became a precious part of the puzzle that made her her. My biggest regret in life is still that I couldn't be the person she made me back when I first met her. (and concerning looks, she is honestly so much more gorgeous than the ex it's not even funny, how did I not see that?). The point of all this is that love isn't automatic, it's not something that happens without your consent, it's the result of actions, of decisions. When you choose to take the time to look at your significant other, and soak up and appreciate who they are and what they do, when you put in the effort, that's when love grows. I've gone from being sick and tired of someone I had been with for years, to being absolutely infatuated with them, simply by making a decision. I could not have made that decision had I not been myself, that decision would have been false. Looking back, all those earlier girls I've been infatuated with, that wasn't love, I didn't even know who they were, I barely knew who I was. No matter how much passion I felt in the moment, no matter how much fun I had in the times we spent together, now I don't even remember their names.

Love isn't your heart beating faster, it's not that instinctive nervousness that comes with talking to a cute girl you just met. It's a complete and deep appreciation of a person, un understanding of who you are, who they are, and what that means to you. Love is what I feel for my brother, who is as much a part of me as my own arm, without whom I would not be me. Someone who isn't just another person in your life, but is a part of what you consider to be your life, without them your life could not be the same, because they're an absolutely crucial part of it. That doesn't happen in a week, because you can't really learn who someone is in a week, even if you could see all of it, you couldn't internalize it. You can always imagine living without them, because you were, just last week. There are people who meet their soulmates sure, and say they knew within a week, but had they never seen that soulmate again, they would not still be pretending they were "the one" years later, and if they were, their friends wouldn't be saying "that's love", they'd be saying "that's an unhealthy obsession". Cloud and Aerith barely knew each other, both when it comes to time, as well as to how much they actually knew about each other. Cloud had no idea of who he was or what was important to him in life, he was unable to be honest with others or even himself, so how would he ever be able to meaningfully make an informed decision to make the kind of emotional commitment that's the cornerstone of love? He didn't know himself, nor did he know Aerith, to whose feelings he was canonically oblivious and whose entire life was a mystery to Cloud. How can we say that Soldier Cloud is capable of knowing who he loves when he's not even aware of the the gigantic Tifa shaped area of his identity. Can Soldier Cloud determine what he values and why without the knowledge of what he's gone through in his life? Sure, but can Soldier Cloud make that determination for the real one? No. Soldier Cloud, and his emotions, have no relation to that of the real Cloud. The real Cloud must determine what people mean to him all by himself. And when it comes to real Cloud, it is pretty obvious who is the biggest part of his life, the person who defined it from the time he fell for her as kid, right through when he became a soldier to impress her, and up to and past the moment he started raising children with her. For Cloud it's pretty obvious who he has the deep personal understanding with, the girl who filled his sub-conscious, and was literally in his head with him, the girl who is stated to understand him best, and who has a shared story with him, having experienced both the good, and the bad, alongside him. Who was there with him when he was a child, who was there with him in Nibleheim, who found him when he lost his identity and gave him a new one, who was with him when Aerith died, who was with him when he broke, who was with him when he was catatonic, who was with him and helped him find himself again, who was with him during the last night underneath the highwind, who was with him at the end in the north cave, who he started living with afterwards, who waited patiently while he went to find himself, and welcomed him back with a smile. I am sure Cloud liked Aerith....but he LOVES Tifa.

#Cloti #shipping #Love #Tifa #Cloud

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twisted-tales-of-all · 4 years

Text

Persistence and Resilience

Lee Junho (2PM) x Reader

Anon Request: Hii! I know this might seem a little old, but can I request a scenario for 2PM’s Junho? Can I request an arranged marriage angst-fluff scenario where he already had an evil girlfriend and he’s cold to you somehow when you are so kind to him, then when you can’t take it any longer, you left and he started to miss you and realize that his girlfriend is cheating on him,,, fluff ending hehehe! I’m sorry if this is too hard though 😅

Summary: You accepted your life as the second child to a father with a big corporation a long time ago. You knew the arranged marriage would happen one day, but you expected a partner who also accepted their fate. However, the suitor your parents choose for you acts immature and unreasonable. Can this even work?

Word Count: 2.1K

Warnings: Arranged Marriage AU. Contains angst, slight (implied but not described) smut, and a fluff ending. Strong language once or twice, slight violence

A/N: It isn’t exactly what was requested, but I started going based on the request and let my creative mind lead me where it did. I hope you still like it!

You knew the day would come, but you never expected it to be this chaotic. As soon as you reached a certain age, your parents started introducing you to sons of other big industry owners as your possible suitors. They only needed you as a pawn in the grand company scheme. Ultimately, neither you nor your brother could avoid it. Eventually, he'd inherit and run the company despite his dream of managing a small coffee shop, and you'd soon be forced to marry someone that could help business.

You met him twice before the marriage was announced, and he never paid you any mind. He never expected anything to happen. Plus, he has a secret model girlfriend, so why worry about his parents forcing him on dates? However, the announcement sends him into a rampage, especially since he hears the news from media outlets rather than from his parents.

You and your parents meet with his parents to discuss the wedding date and other important details when Lee Junho bursts in, fuming about the arrangement while dragging his clearly-bothered girlfriend behind him. Calmly, his father stands up, turns to Junho, and slaps him hard across the face.

"You will marry her. I don't care about your wants. The company comes first, and, as the oldest, it's about time you recognize that. You don't have to love each other; you only need to tolerate one another for the sake of our companies." Sitting back down, he turns to you, "I apologize for my son's attitude. Please, forgive him. He'll come around, but he's far too used to getting everything he wants."

"No worries, Mr. Lee. I understand his feelings and can look past them for the sake of this arrangement." You smile back, watching as your fiance shoots his father a disgusted look before storming out with his girlfriend.

"Thank you, Y/N." Mrs. Lee adds, "Your daughter is very well-mannered. She will be a welcome change to my son's wild lifestyle. Thank you for this opportunity, Mr. and Mrs. Y/L/N."

The dinner continues as boring as you expect. The next few months don't improve much either. You rarely see the man chosen as your husband, and his attitude never really improves. You try your best to be friendly and kind to him whenever you two interact, but he always blows you off.

The wedding day approaches, and, for once, Junho acts nice to you. Of course, you recognize that it's an act for the families and media, but it's the first time he hasn't treated you like dirt, so you enjoy the day as best you can. There isn't a honeymoon. Instead, your parents bring you and Junho together to explain that you'll be moving into his house by the end of the week to show the media that the relationship works well. They want people to believe the motivation for marriage is more than a simple merger.

Without a doubt, this infuriates your now-husband. He rarely meets his girlfriend to eliminate any potential gossip, and now he has to share his home with the one person he blames his suffering on. You, on the other hand, try to be optimistic and see this as an opportunity to become friends, regardless of how difficult the task may be. Slowly, you move your belongings into his house. He gives you a personal wing of the house, hoping to limit interactions between the two of you.

Over the course of the month, you learn Junho's typical schedule. Exercise in the early morning, followed by breakfast and a shower. Then, he stays in his office room most days until dinner, unless there's a company meeting he's forced to attend. After dinner on Thursdays and Saturdays, he leaves for hours, and you can only assume by the state of his clothes and hair upon return that he meets with his girlfriend on those nights. When you understand his schedule enough, you begin eating or cooking at the times he usually does, in hopes to grow closer. He accepts your presence but hardly talks to you. Any conversations you start with him fall flat quickly. Tonight, you decide to make Junho dinner.

He thanks you and sits down to eat. As you sit down across from him, you ask him about his girlfriend. This time, he finally decides to talk with you.

"She wants to go on a vacation soon, but I don't know how to go with her when I still have to think of my father's stupid company."

"Do you want help? We can pretend to go together. I'll bring my friend so it looks like a double date situation. Only if you want, though. I don't want to force you if it'll be a pain dragging me along."

He stares at you for a moment, wondering why you still try being nice when he's been nothing but mean to you, "Are you sure you'd want to do that? You won't feel weird about the situation?"

"Why would I? We don't have feelings for each other. This marriage is for our parents, but that shouldn't stop us from living how we want. If we help each other, it shouldn't be too hard to fake a healthy marriage."

Suddenly, Junho smiles brightly. You've never seen him smile so genuinely, so it shocks you enough to get your heart racing. As he thanks you and explains his plans, your mind wanders, thinking about how handsome he is when he's happy. When he asks whether you'd be okay with his plans, you snap back to reality and blindly accept his proposal.

As it turns out, the plan included a trip to an island your parents own. They agree without issue, hoping you and your husband can bond. The only setback to the trip is that the two rooms are separated by gender, meaning you'd be sleeping in the same room as his girlfriend while Junho rooms with your friend. Junho's strange optimism insists that this will give him an easy excuse to sneak into his girlfriend's room, as he can claim he wants to see you.

At first, you didn't see the issue with his plan. However, the asshole returns as he decides to make out with and even have sex with his girlfriend despite you being stuck there with them as a cover for him. After a few days, you give up. Your kindness can only extend so far, so you storm out as the lovebirds undress each other without a care in the world.

You stroll along the beach, meeting up with Changmin, the friend you brought along for company. You sit on the beach and talk. He tells you all about his fiancee and asks how you feel about your forced marriage. Changmin has been your close friend for over a decade, so he could see your frustration. He tells you to talk to Junho about his behavior. With a sigh, you admit that he's right, and you head back to your room, fully expecting him to still be there.

When you arrive, you hear moans through the door and decide not to enter until they're finished. Turning around to head back to the beach, you accidentally bump into someone directly behind you. Trying to make eye contact to apologize, you see Junho, who looks past you and at the door. Your eyes grow wide as he passes you, yanking the key from your hand and storming into the room. You rush after him in case you need to stop a fight, even though you're scared of that possibility.

You both see Junho's girlfriend and some random younger boy pushing away from each other. She hides her naked body under the covers while he quickly stumbles into his clothes on the way out. You expect Junho to scream at his girlfriend or punch the boy, but he just points to the door and tells her to leave and never talk to him again. She tries to apologize and beg for forgiveness, but Junho doesn't let it happen.

Raising his volume and strengthening his glare, he demands, "Get the FUCK out of my life!"

She wraps herself in the complimentary robe, grabs her bags, and rushes out the open door. Silence falls over the room. The scent of sex lingers and haunts him. He drops his arm and falls to his knees as he stares at the floor and tries to comprehend what happened.

You help him up from the floor and onto the bed. At that point, the man who appeared to lack a heart breaks down crying. You pat his back, so he leans his head on your shoulder. Ever since you've met him, you've never seen him drop his guard and be vulnerable. You stay with him until he cries out all his tears. When he composes himself, he apologizes, but you insist that it's perfectly fine.

After a short silence, he looks at you and asks, "Can I sleep next to you tonight? I think I need the comfort of another person."

"How about we sleep in your room then? The smell in here doesn't seem to be going away any time soon."

He agrees with a nod, so you both head to the next room, and you explain the situation to Changmin. He apologizes to Junho and asks if either of you need anything. When you both insist that you're fine, he retreats to his bed and puts his attention to his laptop. You and your husband get in the other bed together. He lays under the blankets and moves close to you for comfort. Not quite ready to sleep, you sit in the bed with his head in your lap as you scroll through your phone.

When your body finally relaxes, you put your phone on the bedside table and lay down. As you shift your body, you disturb Junho's sleeping form. He manages to find a new comfortable position with his head close to yours. In his sleep, his arm moves across your body, moving you closer to each other. You try to focus your mind on anything other than his closeness, and you eventually join him in sleep.

You wake up to movement and let out a groan as you stretch and open your eyes. Sitting on the bed, fully naked, is your husband. You quickly avert your eyes, making Changmin laugh at your shyness.

"Haven't seen your husband naked yet? Jeez, what will you do when your parents start bugging about having kids?"

You throw a pillow at him for even suggesting the idea, even though you understand that it will happen one day. Junho, however, decides to further provoke you by joining forces with your friend. He moves to you and hovers above you with a smirk.

"Should we make this fair? I haven't seen you naked either."

"I didn't look, so it's still fair right now." You speak quickly, hoping to escape the situation as soon as possible.

The boys just laugh at your reaction as Junho rolls off you and pulls on his underwear. When he tells you that it's safe to look, you finally begin to relax. You still avoid looking in his direction, but you're glad to know that he can still joke around despite the scene he witnessed the day before.

For the last day in your vacation, the three of you decide to roam around and have a good day despite the previous issues with the trip. At the end of the night, you head back to your room and begin to pack for the 3 AM flight back home. When Junho finishes packing, he heads over and asks whether you need any help. Since you're nearly finished, you thank him but decline his offer.

He sits down on the empty bed and looks at the wall before opening up, "Y/N, I'm sorry for how I treated you because of my girlfriend. I never expected her to be that person, but seeing her cheating on me made everything click into place. But, also, thank you so much for being so kind to me despite my terrible attitude. If you'll forgive me, I guarantee you that I'll be a lot less rude and a lot more open with you."

"Hey. Calm down with that heartfelt stuff. You're forgiven, Junho. I'd still like to have a working marriage with you for the sake of our families, so this is a good step forward." You place a hand on his shoulder and send him a smile as he turns to face you.

When he sends a warm smile back, you believe that good things will finally come after your persistent kindness and resilience with your husband.

#kpop #kpop boys #kpop boy scenarios #kpop scenarios #kpop imagines #kpop writing #kpop requests #2pm #2pm scenarios #2pm imagines #2pm writing #lee junho #2pm junho #lee junho angst #kpop angst #2pm angst

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scorevechkin · 3 years

Note

For the prompt thing, 5 with bradray!

Tumblr prompt 5 with bradray “Wait a minute. Are you jealous?”

Ray doesn’t normally think of himself as a jealous person, he’s not somebody who gets worked up if someone flirts with his partner. Normally, that is.

He’s not a jealous person, he’s not.

Except — except he is, right now. Specifically because some leggy redhead is purposefully pressing her tits against Brad’s arm like it’ll somehow get him to notice her or something. Ray’s seen photos of Brad’s ex (he’s snooped in Brad’s old room when they’d visited his parents) and this woman looks enough like her that it makes Ray seethe.

They were only at the bar because it was both date night and there was a football game on. What better way to have a low-key date night than chilling at the bar, drinking shitty cheap beer and eating overpriced shitty appetizers? Well, it would be better if Brad didn’t have a woman hanging off his arm, Ray thinks.

Brad obviously isn’t interested, Ray knows that, but it doesn’t stop the ugly jealousy from sitting in his chest and fanning up into his cheeks, already flushed pink from alcohol. Ray regrets sending Brad up to get the jalapeño poppers because that means he has to wait at the bar to get the bartender's attention, which means he has to wait longer while Lisa’s lookalike paws at Brad’s arm as they make polite conversation. Or, that’s at least what Ray’s hoping is happening.

Ray knows he shouldn’t be jealous except the longer he stews there alone, the combination of alcohol and whatever seems to eat up at what little self-confidence he has when it comes to his relationship with Brad, which sucks. Brad’s a tall, gorgeous, tan, viking beef slab of a man with a proportionate cock and he’s dating Ray, Ray who’s 5’9” on a good day, who has barely managed to put back on any of the weight he lost during OIF and who still has slight facial scars from Rudy’s shitty espresso pot. His beer tastes terrible now and his stomach churns uncomfortably, seething and just sitting there looking like a fucking idiot. A jealous idiot. He doesn’t know why he’s suddenly so insecure, because trusts Brad, of course, but Brad is (was?) straight. Maybe there were some wires crossed between OEF and OIF, maybe some fucked up head injury that made Brad think Ray was the bees knees or some shit.

It sucks, that’s all Ray knows.

Plus, he can’t even fucking do anything. DADT is still a real thing and as far as the world is concerned, Ray is just Brad’s roommate. Not his boyfriend, just an old Marine buddy who visited and ended up not leaving.

He’s so consumed with his thoughts that Brad manages to sneak back up on him, jumping slightly when one big hand grabs at his shoulder. “Ray, what’s wrong with you?” Brad asks, dropping back into his seat and it’s then Ray realizes that Brad brought back another bottle of beer only for himself.

Ray doesn’t pout, he doesn’t. “Nothing is wrong, homes, I’m just sitting here.”

Brad’s eyes furrow and his voice pitches up a bit the way it does whenever he’s about to get defensive. “What the fuck is your problem?” The words only serve to rile Ray up more. “Nothing is my fucking problem! Why do you think I have a problem? You know who I’m sure doesn’t have a problem? The redhead shoving her tits in your face.”

“What the fuck are you talking about?” Brad asks at the same time as Ray immediately says “Jesus Christ, forget it.”

That seems to break the dam and Ray gesticulates wildly, knowing he probably looks insane as he waves an arm towards the bar. “The fucking tits, Brad!” he hisses out, like he’s trying to whisper but obviously failing at it. “The tits?” Brad asks, looking more and more confused and annoyed at Ray, choosing to give an exasperated sigh as he takes a long drink from the bottle. Ray’s annoyed at how fucking dense Brad is being, because! Because, it’s clear Brad liked the attention! And the fact that she looks like his ex, the one he so forlornly talked about in Iraq like he was still in love with her.

Ray knows he’s being irrational at this point but it’s like he can’t stop himself from becoming frustrated, and maybe it’s because there’s a 6 year difference between Brad and himself. Brad got engaged once and Ray is freshly twenty-three and this is his first long relationship.

“Wait a minute, are you jealous?” Brad asks abruptly, there’s amusement in his tone that only serves to piss Ray off more. Because, fucking yes, he’s jealous, but also fuck Brad for making fun of him. “No.” Ray spits out, pointedly looking away from Brad, who only continues to stare at him. He can feel Brad boring fucking holes into his head so he finally looks back, “Okay fine, yes I’m fucking jealous, are you happy?”

Brad gives a shrug, “Maybe. I’m just,” there’s a hint of a smile, “I’m surprised, usually I’m the one who feels jealous.”

Ray almost spits out his beer, almost. “I’m sorry, you? When? Why? What the fuck, Brad.” “Ray, in case you hadn’t realized, due to your predilection to be half fucking naked at any point at home, you’ve gained a few admirers.” Brad frowns and picks at the paper label on his beer bottle before giving up and chugging the last of it. “Plus, it’s hard not to notice how some of your classmates stare at you when you decide to annoy the shit out of me by inviting them over.” “They stare at me because they’re intimidated by my superior intellect.” “Maybe they stare because you decided you were going to wear your silkies,” Brad stares at him and Ray recognizes that sort of hungry look he has, mixed with a fond annoyance. Neither of them says anything for a long moment and Ray chances a glance back at the bar and the redhead is still there, glancing back at their table to try and get Brad’s attention. Ray huffs, finally finishing off his beer, which is lukewarm at this point, making a face as he slams the bottle down. “Do you— okay, firstly, what the fuck Brad, how the fuck did I not notice? Next time just literally hit me over the head like a caveman and drag me off to ravish me, homes, I give you fucking permission. Secondly, you’re it for me homes, like,” he leans into the table a bit more like it’s a secret he’s telling Brad, knowing full well the noise of the bar is easily going to drown out their conversation, “your fucking horse cock has factually ruined me for anyone else.” The lingering jealousy is still there but it’s easy to put it on the back burner as Brad stands up from his chair, leaning in close in the guise of needing to tell Ray something privately. “I’m going to get our jalapeño poppers to go and pay our tab, then we’re going to go back home — and I can show you what exactly I wanted to do to you while you were parading your skinny ass around in your PT shorts.”

Ray’s body flares up in heat and he nods dumbly as Brad reaches down to squeeze at his waist before he’s moving away back towards the bar. He watches as the redhead tries to cozy up to Brad again, a triumphant sort of giddiness as Brad puts a hand up to, at least what Ray assumes, turn her down again. Brad looks back towards Ray as the redhead stands up from the bar and leaves, giving him a wink as he takes the to go box from the bartender. Big gay Brad, Ray thinks as he shakes his head fondly and makes sure they have everything before they leave.

#Anonymous #prompts #sorry this took so long anon 😔#bradray #generation kill

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nightklok · 3 years

Text

Why hello it's time for me to be a nuisance and post my detailed Picklegail manifesto after a year of keeping this hidden underground, now it will be raised upground as part of my revenge plan-Under the cut is how I would've wanted their relationship to progress throughout the series-I converted a twitter thread i had into something readable so apologies if some things still don't make sense sdflkj

I like the challenge of trying to keep key elements of the show the same so Abigail won't be introduced until season 4 because I am like this. However, she would be mentioned in passing throughout the series by Pickles. The scene where Nathan mentions wanting to be a regular jackoff in Dethdoubles would probably have a few more lines by Pickles about 'settling down with that nice person you still think about' though the rest of the guys would think it's weird to think that. This would officially start in Snakes N' Barrels Part 2, the scene where Pickles began describing LA.

"Oh yeah, here's where I hosted my first concert in this small club. Got to meet a lot of fans and stuff. Especially this one girl, shit, wonder where she's at now."

This would also kinda explain why Pickles never even seemed to show interest in finding romantic partners throughout the series; almost everyone had an episode where they had a crush on someone even if it never went anywhere in the end. Pickles just never bothered dating because he knew that finding someone genuine as a celebrity was tough and he knew he wouldn't be connected as well as he did with that girl he met back in the 80s. There might also be a scene in Rehabklok where the doctors mention 'letting go of the past', which could also mean both letting go of his trauma from his family and letting go of the idea that he will get the relationship he really missed.

Season 4 comes around and now they all meet. Nathan notices how Pickles looked at Abigail like you would with trying to figure out if you recognize someone.

Nathan: "oh hey was she the chick you went out with back in the 80s?" Pickles: "Ehhh I dunno she is familiar though"

Will it get addressed by the characters? Probably not. Will it instead be painfully dragged out long because the readers will know? Yes, as per the MTL way :D

The two do eventually get some alone time. Abigail interacts with Nathan, Skwisgaar, and him one on one since they're the brains of the band and she wants to get through to them to help get progress on the album. Pickles and Abigail would get more one-on-one time; he especially becomes her translator when it comes to trying to understand what the boys are talking about when brainstorming.

They end up warming up to each other, making jokes, and probably the first time they really did comfy with each other was when Abigail asked Pickles to read the sheet music and he says seriously “I can’t read music”. she laughs thinking it’s a joke (he’s really not)

Abigail: “You know, I met someone back in the 80s who wanted to be a musician but didn’t know how to read music.”

Pickles: “Really? That’s crazy haha wonder if I met em too”

(this is in fact to piss readers off. There will be more dialogue to describe how oblivious the two really are.)

In the background of this, Nathan would be trying to impress Abigail. Her mistake would be beating around the bush instead of telling him upfront, causing very minor miscommunication.

But overall, the progress in the album is coming faster than ever thanks to Abigail's efforts. Though once again Nathan gets the dreams telling him the album isn't ready.

Pickles and Abigail pull an all-nighter to finish one of the last tracks. They get to talking a lot more about their personal lives, finding themselves having quite a bit in common. Abigail mentions meeting a singer back in the 80s who had inspired her to take up music production. After all, it would've been very hard for her to go to college at the time but the man had his own secrets too (being LGBT+ in the 80s) and he somehow managed to be successful. They don't kiss despite the tension but they do fall asleep on the couch together. Nathan sneaks into the recording studio while they're asleep and assumes they're dating which made him quickly back off on trying to flirt with Abigail. It would also make Nathan feel guilty as he realizes that Pickles is still mad at him if he won't tell him about his relationship. However, he wasn't there for that.

He catches the glow of the monitor and sees the album is almost finished. It isn't ready. He quietly attempts to delete it but the light of the monitor changing for him to delete the files slowly wakes Pickles up. He is groggy but then he realizes what's going on and attempts to stop Nathan but once again he's too late.

Abigail wakes up and quickly snaps out of her grogginess when Pickles explains frantically what happened. They both yell at Nathan for destroying their months of progress but Nathan only says, “it’s not ready. We need a better album. Trust me.” But since he doesn’t give a thorough explanation it’s hard to trust him.

Now is Going Downklok. They are in the submarine, Nathan is trying to fix things between him and Pickles but Pickles won’t have it. So he decides instead to let Abigail and him have as much free time as possible.

Nathan just talks about how great Pickles is to Abigail, accidentally dropping hints that she may have known him as the guy from before. And he does the same to pickles though he doesn’t talk to him much anymore and ignores him.

Pickles and Abigail are once again alone at the recording studio, both ranting their frustrations over working with the album once again. Eventually, it carried over to their own personal lives. And finally, they have the braincells to realize that maybe they did meet so many years ago. The room is so stuffy it feels like a sauna and only adds to the growing tension between. It only increased when they tried to leave the studio to remain as professional as possible but one of them instead locks the door. They both end up making out and eventually having sex in the recording studio.

Years of pent-up frustration, loneliness, and overall everything that had led up to the moment washed over. They decide to keep a secret relationship afterward because even though they did find each other, much like in the past, they found each other at the wrong time.

The dinner scene comes up. The two sit feet apart just to make sure no one would be suspicious. Nathan is at his height of frustration because he knows he had to delete the album but everyone is mad at him. He gets a little too drunk, and like the friend he is, outs their Relationship like a drunken wedding speech. Pickles quickly refutes that, instead he screamed at him over broken trust, deleting the second album that Charles had made sure the public wasn't aware and finally decided to quit the band. The news spreads like wildfire.

Abigail is quickly put to blame however it lasted very short since there became other conspiracies surrounding it. Nathan did say quite a lot after all to the point where it’s clear Abigail wasn’t part of the equation. But of course, some people blame her still and she decides to lay low. Pickles has to deal with his own consequences too so he decides to stay at her parents’ place with her as they wait for the news to blow over. While he’s happy to finally be with her, he does miss music terribly. Specifically, he misses playing with Dethklok.

She reminds him he can always talk to Nathan to sort things out but he knows Nathan isn't the type to apologize. The day of the concert comes, things happen as expected in the show. He doesn’t come home because they are in the submarine and he has to explain everything to her through a phone call where he’s beginning to break down, saying he has a terrible feeling that things will never be the same. She tries to calm him down but given how Selacia’s appearance is all over the news, she has the same feeling. They reunite briefly before the funeral.

I haven’t decided on the official ending so here’s ending one:

Toki offers to give up his seat so Pickles can sit next to her. He accepts as he doesn’t want to sit anywhere near Nathan. Magnus seems bothered but doesn’t say anything. There would be a funny scene of them just recreating 'Hello Magnus' 'Hello Pickles' once again.

But Magnus' tension quickly dies down when he hears them whisper to each other. He sees them hold hands discreetly and relaxes.

Magnus: "So I see the rumors are true between you two?"

Pickles: "I-yeah. What are you gonna fuckin' do about it?"

Magnus: "Nah, nothing. Just happy for you, is all."

Magnus does gain Pickles' trust enough to let his guard down by just sharing small talk. When the service begins, MMA texts Magnus over why Toki is sitting so far and how the plan is ruined. Magnus is hesitant to respond for a few moments (regret over what's to come, perhaps?) but he goes through and texts back that there is a change of plans but this plan would be better.

Well, couples would do anything to make sure the other is safe in such extreme circumstances.This plan could be much better, after all.

Ending two: pretty much exactly as canon. Pickles probably a lot more emotional- The end :D

#metalocalypse #pickles the drummer #abigail remeltindtdrinc #picklegail #my writing #I am surprised i managed to get this down #was it wise to post this when the big talk is the movie?#maybe but its part of the plan I think fskjl #gonna @ this to brendon small as my cover letter to let me be a writer just wait fdjld

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anxiouslyfred · 4 years

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Mold on Me

for @dukexietyweek‘s prompt High School, I have no clue how american schools work so I’m just going with what I know.

Summary: Virgil had only heard about Remus as a kid who annoyed his friends in their classes but after finally seeing what the other student looks like and meeting him is torn between hiding away or trying to get to know Remus better. Remus is already decided on meeting the snarky student again, if only to learn his name.

Warnings: Knife mentions, Food mentions?, unsafe science lab practices mentioned,

/\/\/\/\/\

Virgil had been bullied badly when he was younger. It was why he hated being around the more populated areas of the school and now basically lived in the Library as much as he could. That didn’t mean he was against making friends, just that they’d usually be the ones deciding to make friends and he just wouldn’t question it at all.

“He almost blew up the lab today. Why did I have to get partnered with someone who clearly has no regard for any form of safety? Even when I stopped him and tried to correct the experiment from where he’d mixed all the chemicals up he was literally taking the ones I was trying to return to mix together again!” Logan had been ranting for most of their breaktime by this point. Virgil didn’t really mind, and actually was kind of curious about the student in question.

He hadn’t had a class with Remus King before but already knew plenty of views about him, just because his 2 friends shared different classes with him. Logan’s complaints were always regarding some form of danger or safety protocol but Patton’s were where his interest came from.

The food technology class that Patton shared with Remus did have a lot of interesting assignments getting set at various times, including making savoury ice creams near the time of the open evenings so they could, essentially, prank the children wondering if this would be a good school for them to come to next. Patton had somehow managed to make one that tasted delicious but Virgil still couldn’t work out if the flavour combination he’d been told Remus made only sounded disgusting or actually tasted horrible too.

“Dude, surely the teach would have stopped him if it was that dangerous.” Virgil just couldn’t be bothered to add something more to his list of reasons not to trust the teachers. It was already too long for his comfort and Logan was never one to help.

Patton at least caught onto that and came up with a subject to divert their conversation onto for the rest of their break.

/\/\

The next time Virgil thought about Remus was a few days later as their lunch break ended and he was heading into the science block for his physics class. Patton hadn’t made it out to lunch that day since his food technology class was either side of it so they’d have more time for the practical lessons.

It at least made the corridor Virgil was passing down smell delightfully of chocolate but he was far more interested in, and slightly terrified by, the boy kicking the door of the food tech classroom open, storming down the classroom, yelling “It’s knife work! What about that can’t be turned into uses for a weapon? What planet are you from that blades and any work from them isn’t two steps from a use to attack or torture another!”

One last thought Virgil had about Remus was that his friends were disasters at describing what any human looked like. According to Logan, the boy had obviously dyed his hair and ignored any attempt his parents or brother made to teach him personal hygiene. Patton was a little kinder, saying Remus had a lovely wide grin and energetic eyes, although Virgil was still trying to figure out just what that meant.

His mental image so far had been of some slightly crossed-eyed younger version of the Joker from Batman, but the boy fitting all the stories he’d heard of Remus looked nothing less than gorgeous.

“They’re from the Health and Safety state, Dude. We’re meant to have forgotten the threatening uses of knives we use in cooking unless we are the ones being threatened by them.” Virgil muttered his reply, to anxious about being noticed to say it any louder.

He still got noticed and the boy halting in front of him. “Someone in this damn school gets it! Come join us in class!” Virgil didn’t have much of a choice to disagree as his arm was grabbed and he got dragged into the classroom, sheepishly waving to Patton when the other students turned to look at the rapid return.

“Mr King, I’ve told you before that you cannot drag your friends into here even on a lunch break.” the teacher sighed, confirming Virgil’s assumption over who it was.

“I actually was heading to class anyway. There’s only like 2 minutes left before...” Virgil began explaining, tugging on his arm to get it released just as the bell went off to officially end the lunch period. “Yeah. I guess I’ll have to properly meet you some other time, Remus.”

He ducked out of the classroom before anything else could be said, letting the flow of other students heading to class calm the spiralling emotions and only just hearing “No fair, I’ll learn your name next time, Stachybotrys.” yelled after him.

If only the insane boy wasn’t proving to be exactly Virgil’s type perhaps he’d have learnt something about physics that day.

/\/\

Logan was not amused when he reached their table today. “Do either of you know if Remus means a person or the mold when he mentions Stachbotrys? I have had to argue constantly to get any progress on our study for the entirity of our class.”

“I met him for like two minutes. That should not be enough time for him to have anything to say about me.” Virgil growled, hunching back into his hoodie.

“He met Virgil while trying to storm out of food tech yesterday. Apparently our anxious bean muttered something in agreement of what he was yelling about knives.” Patton added what more he could at Logan’s raised eyebrow.

At least amusement was replacing Logan’s frustration now, a smile clearly being held back. “At least I didn’t try suggesting he locates the mold on rice then. Remus does seem rather insistent that and I’m paraphrasing here, he’s going to find and make his the Stachbotrys that is all he could think of last night.”

There aren’t quite words for everything Virgil wanted to say to that, so in the attempt he let out a rather strangled noise, burying his head in his arms. He could take having a crush on a complete whirlwind maniac who seemed to drive both his friends up the wall but having even the merest suggestion the affections could be returned was too much to understand.

“If he brings it up next time we share class I’ll suggest visiting the library to look up the subject, shall I?” Logan offered. Virgil made a mental note that there had now been 3 instances of teasing pushed too much by the boy who insisted he only ever acted logically.

/\/\

“I don’t need to read about mold but my science partner has decided if I’m going to talk about my Stachybotrys so much our experiments can easily be adjusted to focus on mold.” Remus’s voice was loud as he marched over to the helpdesk in the library and Virgil was just grateful he had decided to read at one of the tables hidden among the shelves while waiting for his lift to arrive. “Apparently that means I do need books to source the information I already know so which shelves am I looking for?”

Definitely not the area Virgil was in. The shelves near him included cultures of the world, and how to books for various creative hobbies. The only thing that seemed even remotely likely to interest Remus were the history of war books near the end of the isle but they didn’t connect to mold at all.

Virgil’s reasoning and frantic checking that he could hopefully avoid the other boy distracted him enough that he didn’t realise Remus looking through the shelves opposite him. “Stachybotrys! I found you again!” He couldn’t miss the exclamation though.

“Didn’t realise we were playing hide and seek. I thought I was writing an essay for English Lit.” Virgil hissed back, really not wanting to give the librarian any cause to kick him out.

“Ooh, what’s it on? And what’s your name? You’ve been on my mind like a mold and it would be nice to have the right name for the newest mold I’ve encountered.” Remus clearly didn’t care about making some noise although he did quiet down dramatically when he saw how uncomfortable the noise was making Virgil.

“I’m Virgil though I’m fairly sure you’ve already got my friends convinced Stachybotrys should just be a nickname for me now.” He was actually annoyed at that.

Patton always butchered the word, and would only try to use it when mentioning how besotted he thought Remus was since the only diversion of subject in their food tech class recently had been how the molds of different foods could make people sick or kill them.

Logan on the other hand would just randomly use the name for Virgil in the hopes Remus would be somewhere close by to hear him. That had never worked since Virgil was either in class, outside to eat or in the library.

Remus peered at him a little. “Still fits though. You definitely appear like a threat but ultimately leaving the world undecided over how dangerous you are. So assuming Logan’s one of your friends, who is the other I’ve got calling you it? And do they think I have a chance at dating you?”

“Patton and are you seriously asking me if my friends think you should ask me out? Dude, if you want to date me just ask me if I want to go on a date. Or is being ridiculously convoluted a game of yours?” Virgil scolded, shaking his head, trying to decide if there was some kind of mind game happening in the moment or not.

“Okay then, Date me, Emo kid! We can go ravage a farm search for signs of mold and decay among all their crops and end with a picnic of snacks I invented recipes for in class!” Remus just shrugged at the tone, moving on to what was requested of him,

That was even further from Virgil’s expectations of the response than Logan saying Remus was set on finding him had been. Most people were at least a little put off by how harshly he reacted whe uncertain of situations. “Can we start with the food? My brain will just panic over how I could die from being close to mold and then eating if we do it your way round.”

“Of course we can. Let’s meet at Gorse Hill farm at like 2pm on Saturday for our date then!” Remus jumped up from his spot then, a wild grin on his face as he waved, heading off. “Can’t wait for it, Stachbotrys.”

#dukexietyweek2020 #dukexiety #remus sanders #virgil sanders #patton sanders #logan sanders #high school au

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fmdjaeyeol · 3 years

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word counts: 274 + 260 + 276 + 320 + 251 + 261 reward: +5 tracker points

assuming your muse has changed in some way, be it internally or as a result of a change of the external factors around them, how is your muse different? these can be as small as an opinion on a song they hadn’t released previously or as big as a major change in their background.

jaeyeol changed the most out of all my muses admitted. there’s been a couple major switches with them. the biggest one is the change of pronouns that yeol is using (which are they/them/he/him) in addition to the bit of a gender crisis they’re having at the moment. they view of gender was always a bit skewed because of their parents, mostly their dad and all the rather conservative and religious beliefs he has. it took jaeyeol years to accept that they were queer and interesting men/male-presenting people, and still they struggle to admit that out loud even in spaces where they know no one will judge them. honestly i don’t think jaeyeol though much about gender and how they perceived their own gender, and honestly neither did i. it kinda hit me out of nowhere too, so that’s the story that jaeyeol is also getting. for now, they’re still very confused and have no idea what’s going on and the story here is that jaeyeol is testing out new pronouns to get a full idea of how not being perceived as only male makes them feel within space they’re comfortable in and giving everything a good, long Think.

other changes include yeol being a year younger now, it never felt right to have them as a 97 liner tbh so i bumped it down a year and moved the date a couple days back as well. and of course jaeyeol got a faceclaim change. lastly, they are no longer a main vocal, they are now a dance and rap legend ft occasional vocals and honestly i love it for them.

what does your muse think of their company and their group?

in short, jaeyeol likes catalyst overall. the music and lyrics are a bit weird some times but honestly it works for them somehow, and it also fits well with their personal style of dancing, which they’ve been able to bring to the forefront in helping choreograph for songs. the group has allowed them to continue to explore dance styles as they’ve choreographed and tried to figure out things that wouldn’t just work nicely for himself but also all the other members and how they dance. in addition to liking the general concepts and music, they’ve made some friends along the way, which is always nice. in terms of how they feel about gold star, just like every idol probably does, jaeyeol would like to fight them sometimes for the decisions they make or the way they lay out catalyst’s schedule, and their favorite pass time is stressing out their poor manager. though there’s no boiling hatred or anger towards anyone and they’re just vibing. all of this is pretty much the same way jaeyeol felt towards dimensions/unity prior to the restructuring of everything. the only real difference there is that previous jaeyeol was a bit salty they weren’t getting solo schedules and opportunities but that’s different now (maybe because i’m getting better at making claims and establishing what i want to do with my children, maybe not, the world may never know). so yeah, like i said, generally jaeyeol is pleased with catalyst and their success, even if that success isn’t what gold star has initially expected of them.

is your muse on their first contract or their second? if they’ve renewed, what were their feelings around that at the time and what were their hopes for their second contract? if they haven’t renewed, what are their current thoughts on the end of their eventual first contract?

catalyst is still on their first contract, having debuted only in may of 2018. they haven’t been around long enough to move out of their dorms and jaeyeol is still stuck with a roommate and no pet to love on. their first contract renewal isn’t going to be happening until 2025, so both yeol and all the catalyst members have lots of time to think on what they want for their futures. jaeyeol is very appreciative of the fact that it’s still a good few years off because honestly, they have not a clue what their thoughts are on the end of their first contract. it’s weird for them to think that they would have dedicated seven years of their life to catalyst by then, and almost a full decade in total once you factor in the amount of time they spent training prior to debut. the few times that they have thought about this contract ending and them potentially signing onto another seven years spent at gold star has resulted in them going back in forth onw hat they want to do with their lives. on one hand, money is great, but on the other they could potentially have a successful solo career and be doing their own thing. also they’d be thirty-four years old by the time the end of a secret control rolled around to an end and ideally jaeyeol would like to have done the whole settling down, got married, and maybe even had a kid or two by that point. it really isn’t appealing to them to still be bopping around and going woo woo woo woo firetruck at that point.

what are your muse’s goals and motivations?

jaeyeol’s main goals right now are to continue what little bit of a solo career that gold star has let them begin to build. it was just doing some choreography for catalyst but now they’re also being allowed to do modeling projects and expand more outside of the group, which is something that they are firmly enjoying. it’s not that they don’t love catalyst and being a member of the group, but they also like the idea of having an established solo career that is separate from just being an idol so that when catalyst eventually comes to an end sometime in the future, they have something to fall back on and rely on. i guess this is also their motivation in many ways. stability is something that they never really had growing up, which is odd considering that their family was well off in many different ways, but still, they want something more for themselves than the environment they grew up in, which was rather unpleasant. their current goals in relation to that is just continuing to grow and try more things, eventually they want to go on and start choreographing outside of the group and for other groups and maybe even solo songs if the opportunity arrives. in addition to their motivations i mentioned earlier, jaeyeol also just wants to like have something to take pride in and prove to people in their life that were trying to steer them in an entirely different direction where they didn’t want to go, that their happiness was most important and that they could be successful and respected even if they hadn’t gone on to be working a standard desk job or become a doctor or lawyer. they just want to be more than what they thought they could be while growing up and maybe one day be confident enough to speak out more and motivate others to do the same.

what is one conflict, internal or external, that your muse is currently dealing with, has recently dealt with, or will need to deal with in the future?

i touched on this fairly extensively in the first question honestly and explained the one real large ordeal that they are internally dealing with at the moment, and to reiterate, that is their gender and their gender expression. the idea of being anything other than male had never crossed jaeyeol’s mind, let alone potentially questioning their gender to a point of going outside the standard binaries. on top of doing that all in a country where something like that isn’t a widely accepted or supported thing. they thought the only struggle they were going to have like this was their sexual orientation but at least, they were proven wrong. the conflict was brought upon because of me actually and suddenly i realized that i was naturally using gender neutral pronouns to refer to jaeyeol and took it as a sign that my brain was trying to tell me something. so here we are. the idea of jaeyeol questioning their own gender crosssed my mind briefly when i first conjured the image of the muse in my head but it was never any substantial thought, but apparently i had the thought for good reason. and like i also said earlier, they’re testing out the whole option of being non-binary and being perceived as such with those closest to them, including their partner and friends as of right now. though they have no idea where they would be on that spectrum, in terms of whether they feel like they are agender, genderfluid, etc.

if your muse has established career claims, what are their thoughts on their career so far? if they do not, how do they feel about not having individual activities yet? what would they like to do in the future, if anything? if they don’t have ambitions for individual activities, explain why.

jaeyeol is living their absolute best life in their career right now if they were to be straight up asked, even though it isn’t much of a solo career outside of their group in the way that people would probably think about having a solo career like having solo music (which is something they aren’t super interested in honestly). the only things that they really have done on their own is some solo magazine covers because gold star media finally came to their sense and realized that they have that absolute beauty that is jaeyeol jeon and are putting those looks to great use other than being (arguably) catalyst’s center or one of the unofficial center’s of the group. so far there’s only been two but they look forward to doing many, many more in the future when the calls come in asking for them. the other part of their established career claims come from partial choreography claims on a few of catalyst’s tracks, including: firetruck, cherry bomb, simon says, and kick it. the list is short but in my brain they’ve been doing their own dance choreographies to songs on instagram/ social medias as well, those are just some of the real official things they have their name attached to at the moment. both of those paths are ones that they would like to continue on with and hope they get to for a long time. the next step they would like to take is choreographing for other groups or people so they can keep expanding their talents and abilities.

#famedrstask1 #the limitless me | paras.#graphic design is my passion clearly

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glam-apollo · 3 years

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Title: Mr. Yellow Dies

Fandom: Dirk Gently’s Holistic Detective Agency

Summary: When Jane Oliver approaches Dirk Gently's Holistic Agency about a murder she thinks might have happened years ago without any clues, evidence, or even a victim, the agency quickly agrees to take the case. Dirk, Farah, and Todd find themselves at the Oliver family's Halloween party while investigating and have to participate in the family's Halloween tradition: the murder mystery party game. Will solving this fictional murder help them uncover anything about the real crime they're investigating, or is just a distraction from the actual case? And who died, anyways?

Written for the Halloween @dghdabigbang! @browneyes-asiandragon made some lovely artwork accompanying the story so please go check it out! It’s really amazing!

I’ve included the fic on here but you can also read it on ao3 if preferred.

Mr. Yellow Dies

Knock! Knock! Knockity-Knock!

There was a pause before the sound of footsteps could be heard coming from inside the house. The front door creaked open. The man opening the front door was tall, well-built, with dark hair that flopped nicely over his forehead. He smiled at the trio that stood on his doorstep but his eyes betrayed confusion. "Can I help you? You seem a bit old for trick or treating."

Todd Brotzman looked at the man standing next to him out of the corner of his eyes. What were the three of them doing there? They certainly were an odd trio--Holmes, Watson, and a Care Bear, all a good fifteen years too old to be ringing doorbells asking for candy. What was his plan? He'd been vague as ever on the way over, assuring Todd that it was a party, a party for the case, and everyone loved parties, now, didn't they? So come along!

The whole ordeal had started with a simple statement. “I’ve been invited to a party twice,” Dirk Gently announced to his friends proudly in their agency’s office. “And, as much as I’d like to think this shows I’ve come far in my social standing, I’m afraid there will be no possible way for me to attend this party twice at the same time.”

"Two invites?" Farah Black said. “You got two invites to the Olivers' Halloween party?”

“Indeed I did, Farah!” Dirk said.

Todd set down the files he had been sifting thru. “How’d you manage that?”

“My natural charms and talents, of course,” Dirk said, pretending to be offended. “Geez, Todd.”

"What’s the plan, then? I don’t want to sit around, waiting for a report of two party-crashers getting shot." Farah pursed her lip. “No offense.”

“None taken,” Todd said. “I’ll stay back.”

"Au, contraire!" Dirk said. "Farah will be accepting my invitation from Jane. I will be going with my invite from Lenny. And Todd will be going as my date."

"Right, okay," Farah shrugged.

"What?" Todd said.

That had been five days ago. Since then it had been a flurry of finding costumes, Dirk obsessively dragging Todd and Farah into any Halloween themed store he could find, arguing he hardly ever went to parties, much less costume parties, so they should indulge him. Todd secretly thought that it was very likely Dirk had a long streak of elaborate costume parties from his days back in England, but he held his tongue. Seeing Dirk delighted by styrofoam coffins and confused by slutty fireman costumes was worth keeping his own suspicions withheld.

In the end, Dirk had somehow managed to convince Todd that a Sherlock-Watson duo costume was a good idea. “You see,” he pointed out, “no one would suspect actual detectives to dress as detectives for Halloween! That would be absurd.” Todd agreed that, yes, it would be absurd. Dirk bought him a bowler hat anyways.

Farah had been quietly indecisive about her costume all month. Todd hadn’t been sure what she’d go as--she’d shown interest in a variety of things, from a champion scuba diver she said was a childhood hero to the main character of the action novels she’d been obsessively reading during downtime in the office. In the end, she ended up with a Care Bears onesie Tina had lent her after, from what Todd understood, a very long phone call about how stressful Halloween was and a subsequent long drive to Bergsberg on the 30th.

Back at the front door, Dirk smiled at the man questioning them. The man was quite handsome, with a square jaw and tough cheekbones. Almost too classically handsome, Todd thought to himself. But it worked with his costume--some variation on Dracula--which became apparent when he opened his mouth and showed off his tiny fangs.

"Max Oliver?" Dirk asked confidently.

"Yes," the man said, eyebrows raised, fangs revealed in the O his mouth formed. "And you are?"

"Dirk Gently," he said, pushing the front of his deerstalker cap out of his face. "I was invited by Lenny. This is my date, Todd, and this is the lovely Farah Black, who was invited by Jane."

"I've never seen any of you before in my life," Max admitted. "I didn't know guests could invite guests, either."

"It would be a bit awkward to send Todd home now, wouldn't it?" Dirk said pointedly.

"Dirk," Todd groaned.

"No, I mean, I didn't realize Lenny could invite guests," Max said, shaking his head. "Although, I suppose he's never really been one to follow our family's ideals."

"Is that so!" Dirk said, giving his friends a pointed look.

Max nodded. "It isn't my place, of course, but I consider him an outsider to our family." Max stared up and down at the three of them, as if to make a point that they were even more outsiders than Lenny. After a beat, he sighed and opened the door for them. "You might as well come in. I’ll at least give Mother the final call on you three."

Dirk smiled and gave his companions a thumbs up before walking into the house after Max. Todd and Farah followed, Todd already regretting his itchy costume, Farah already regretting her lack of weaponry.

Max led them into a lounge where five other people sat around in couches and chairs, chatting quietly to themselves. Todd only recognized one of them--Jane Oliver, their client. She was the reason they were here in the first place, the reason the case had been opened. She was small both in size and presence, the youngest of the three Oliver siblings, still in her teens. She was wearing a mostly plain, long red dress, which Todd assumed must be some sort of Princess--Princess Bride? Cinderella? Sleeping Beauty? He hadn't the slightest clue.

Jane was sitting next to an older woman, presumably her mother, the infamous Cordelia Oliver. Cordelia was the owner of the local community theater and a force to be reckoned with. She had lost some of her dazzle with the passing of her husband, Jules. Jules Oliver had been her partner in the theater, her partner in their home, her partner on the stage. Losing him meant she had lost love. Yet none of her fierceness faded; if anything, it grew into a strong and steady resentment towards the world and life itself.

Dirk smiled at two men sitting on the couch opposite Cordelia and Jane. "Lenny! Daniel!" he said. Daniel Oliver was the middle child of the family. College-aged and somewhat unmotivated, he was a stand out in his family of determined extroverts. His boyfriend, Lenny Anderson, seemed to represent everything the rest of the family couldn't stand about Daniel and worse. His lazy nature, lack of care for anything, inability to make and hold commitments annoyed the Olivers on the best of days. Lenny couldn’t keep a job, stay on a major, anything. At least he made Daniel happy.

Max flocked to a woman standing alone by the bookshelf. Adrianna Waye. She was the star in most of the local theater productions and Max's fiancé. She was gorgeous, elegant, and, by all accounts, extremely unpleasant to be around. Cordelia loved her.

Farah and Dirk had been doing most of the research on the family, while Todd had been going back and tracing old case files, trying to find a crime or a missing person or an unsolved murder that would otherwise connect with the case. He hadn't found anything, not anything they could confirm at least. Todd reflected on how this had all started. Jane Oliver had stumbled into the agency one day, clutching a yellowed composition notebook and trembling a bit, explaining that she had seen a crime, a murder, as a child. She had blacked it out and forgotten it until now, but going back through her diaries, she had found her recounting of the crime. It was dark, she explained, so she couldn't really tell them who or what. She thought it was a man--or maybe a boy. It was someone with a small build, and they were attacking another person brutally. She couldn't remember what happened after that, just terror, sheer terror.

They had a murder to solve. With no evidence of the murder having actually happened besides a child's diary. No suspects, no victims, nothing. Dirk Gently's Holistic Detective Agency gladly took the case.

The crime had taken place in the backyard of this family property, Halloween ten years ago, when Jane was only six. At least, she said, according to her diary. Her memories of that Halloween were all jumbled--something about her family, lots of yelling, some sort of dispute. And the crime, the attack that she could only remember that she forgot.

"Max?" Cordelia asked. "Who are our other new guests?"

"I don't know, Mother," Max answered evenly. "Why don't you ask Lenny? Or Jane?"

Cordelia narrowed her eyes and focused her gaze on Lenny. "Leonard?"

"Geezy, m'am," Lenny sighed. "I invited Dirk here as a plus one."

"You're already a plus one!" she shrieked. "And what about these other two?"

"Todd is my plus-one!" Dirk chirped.

"A plus one can't invite another plus one who invites his own plus one!"

"Ah," Dirk said quickly, "but wouldn't me having invited my own plus one make us our own set of guests?"

"Daniel, do you know these men?" Cordelia demanded.

"A bit," Daniel said without looking up from his phone.

"And what about this woman? Who the hell is she?"

"Ah," Jane said softly. "Mother, I invited her." After Dirk had determined who was accepting what invitation, they had reached out to Jane to tell her about Farah, not wanting there to be any mix up. They had decided on a brief backstory and that was that.

"Who is she?" Cordelia demanded.

"She's a school tutor. She tutors me and some of my friends in the library," Jane answered evenly. Todd wondered if they should at all be concerned about what ease and grace their client was able to lie through their teeth. But really, he thought, that was what they were all doing. They had no reason to be at that party.

Cordelia Oliver knew that.

She was a queen surveying her kingdom, and she was not pleased with what she saw. Todd felt himself holding his breath, ready to be kicked out at any second. To his surprise, she sighed, deciding this battle was not worth fighting today. "Fine," she said. "You can stay. You're lucky the party kit I bought comes with extra characters."

"Party Kit?" Todd said, feeling any ounce of relief of not being kicked out dissipate.

The Olivers had a tradition, a tradition that went back for at least the last eight years, maybe more. They would every Halloween have a murder mystery themed party. They would purchase a "party kit," either from an online retailer, or, some years when they felt particularly excited, commissioned from a friend. The kit would give each guest at the party a character and a few clues. In the course of three rounds they would develop their characters, discover and investigate a "murder," and have the murderer finally revealed in the third and final round. It was truly perfect for a family of actors, though as the kids grew up and her husband passed away, it was something Cordelia clung onto more than anyone else. The schitick was getting old. But she wouldn't let go.

Cordelia started passing out envelopes with character names on them. "You all know how the game goes," she said, a stage voice taking over, complete with pause for dramatic effect. "Tonight, one of us will die. Tonight, one of us will kill. Tonight, we will all solve a murder." Jane looked white as a sheet hearing her mother's words and looked to Dirk. Dirk smiled back at her reassuredly.

"We have a few extra guests tonight," Cordelia continued, handing an envelope to Adrianna and another one to Max. "Let us hope they survive the night."

"God, Mother," Daniel said, continuing to focus on Candy Crush rather than the manila envelope he'd been slipped. "There's no need to be so melodramatic."

Cordelia paused and looked at him with stony eyes. "Tonight," she said, "we are all actors. Whether we like it or not." Lenny smiled at his boyfriend encouragingly, reminding him it wouldn't be too bad. Daniel glared back at him. He knew this tradition far too well and was not pleased to put on a performance for his mother’s sake.

"Great!" Dirk said, happily accepting his envelope. "So, how does the game work exactly?"

"There are three rounds," Max said, walking away from the wall to behind the sofa his mother sat at. "Round one, we all open our envelope and look at our character and the clues we are given. We mingle as the characters, deciding whether or not we want to share our clues with the others."

"Round two!" Cordelia jut in. "Someone will have instructions telling them they will 'die.' After their 'death' occurs we will have another round in which to mingle and see if we can discover which of us might've had the motive to 'kill.'"

"I feel as though we've grown out of this, mother," Daniel said. "It's just glorified Mafia. When will you give it up already?"

"I find it very fun, Daniel," Cordelia snapped. "It's the least you could do for your poor mother."

Daniel sighed.

"And what about the third round?" Farah asked lightly.

"Third round, we open this envelope," Cordelia said, holding up an envelope that. Unlike the manila ones she had handed out, was a deep red. "It has the answers in it. Then we will find out who was right and who was wrong and who was the killer."

"What a dreadful and yet surprisingly delightful game!" Dirk enthused. Cordelia narrowed her eyes at him.

"Quite," she said. "Now, let the games begin."

Everyone began opening their envelopes. Todd ripped the top off of his, wondering how this was in any way going to help them solve the case. Had Dirk known they were going to play this game? He gave Farah a look, who seemed just as lost as him. She shrugged and went back to reviewing the papers from in her envelope.

Todd reviewed his envelope. He was playing as a character called “Mr. Red,” an older gentleman who was a banker. The only clues he was given was that he suspected Mr. Yellow, one of his bank’s employees, of fraud, and that his character saw Madame Orange and Mrs. Indigo discussing something in hushed voices on his way home from work one day. Todd grimaced. They were really about to play live-action Clue.

"Todd." Todd jumped up in surprise as Dirk slipped up next to him. "You know I'm not one for a classical approach," Dirk said, keeping his voice hushed, "but I must admit this situation compels oneself to do some very non-holistic detecting."

"Wouldn't the fact that the situation has arisen at all make it holistic?" Todd pointed out.

"Ah! Great assisting, Todd, or should I say," Dirk looked down at Todd's papers and then back up at him with a pleasant smile, "Mr. Red."

"You're excited for this, aren't you?"

"Quite! But seriously, Todd. Please consider trying to use this as an opportunity to ask key questions that seem like they're about the game but are actually about our investigation."

"Dirk, we still barely have any idea of what we're investigating," Todd sighed.

"Having time set aside to mingle and interrogate should help then!" he replied before disappearing into the room.

"Let round one," announced Cordelia Oliver, "begin!"

Todd sighed, feeling out of his depth. He looked around the room, seeing that people had already begun to talk quietly and exchange clues amongst themselves. The one person left by themselves besides Todd at this point was Daniel Oliver.

Todd sat down next to him. "Sherlock abandoned you, ey, Watson?" Daniel asked, raising an eyebrow but looking otherwise completely disinterested in the appearance of a new person in his vicinity.

Todd laughed nervously. "Dirk? Ah. Well. He's playing the game, same as all of us." He swallowed. "So... what's your character?"

"Mr. Maroon," Daniel said with a slight roll of his eyes.

"I'm Mr. Red," Todd said.

"Practically the same names," Daniel complained. "I know there aren't that many colors in the rainbow, but they could've come up with a better theme. Colors? Mysteries? Incredibly overdone, if you ask me."

"You'd know better than myself," Todd said.

Daniel snorted. "I know far too well. Do you want my clues?"

"Sure," Todd said. "Are you just supposed to give them to people like that?"

"Not if you want the game to be harder," Daniel said. "But I'd rather this be done as quickly as possible. So my character doesn't trust Mr. Yellow or Mrs. Grey."

"I also suspect Mr. Yellow," Todd admitted.

"And it's supposed to be a mystery." Daniel shook his head.

"You've done a lot of these, then?" Todd said.

"Every year. Since what feels like forever. Mother has gotten persistently more annoying about it since Dad died." Daniel looked resentful. "She can't let go of it."

"That must be hard for your family," Todd said.

"Maybe for them," Daniel replied evenly. "I'm glad he's dead."

“Oh.” Todd said. "You don't feel like you're one of them, then?"

"No. I don't want to act. I don't want to be the center of attention. All of them are hardworking attention whores. I truly feel like this tradition is the pinnacle of that. It makes me feel sick."

Todd felt his stomach curl in an uncomfortable way. "You should be careful," he said.

Daniel rolled his eyes. "What, are you going to impart some wise-wisdom on me? I don't care. I don't even know you."

"You're right," Todd said, trying to ignore the feeling that he needed to get Daniel off of the track he was on, lest he fall into the same self-destructive hole of lies that Todd did when he was his age.

"I'm sure you think I'm ungrateful and selfish. But they're cruel to me. And they don't like Lenny either."

"No?"

"No. They hate him even more than me. If I'm a black sheep, he's an entirely different animal to them."

"Five more minutes of round one!" Cordelia shouted from across the room.

Todd stood up from the couch awkwardly. "I should talk to some more people," he said. "Nice to see you, Mr. Maroon."

Daniel rolled his eyes.

Todd wandered around the room, trying to find someone else to talk to, and eventually ended up tapping the shoulder of Adriana Waye, who had been standing by herself in the corner of the room. She flinched and then turned around, her bright green eyes first looking a bit surprised and then totally disengaged.

"I'm Ms. Grey," she said. "I'm Madame Orange’s maid, working for her and her daughter, Mrs. Indigo, and her son-in-law, Mr. Yellow. And you?"

"I'm Mr. Red," he replied. "Uh... I'm a banker."

"The bank owner?" she said quickly. "The man who owns the bank Mr. Yellow works at?"

"I think so," he said.

"Hmm," she said, and Todd got a very distinct feeling that she did not like him at all, although he could not tell if the impression came from her acting or real judgement she was imparting on him.

"I, uh... I think Mr. Yellow is committing bank fraud," Todd said lamely, looking at his notes.

"Would you kill him if he was?" she said, her blue eyes hard and intense.

"What?" Todd said, shrinking back.

"In the game,” she said, her gaze softening slightly. “Obviously.”

"Oh," Todd said. "Wouldn't it be strange for me to suspect myself? I mean, wouldn't that kind of defeat the point?" He paused. "And we don't know Mr. Yellow is going to be the one to die, yet!"

Adrianna looked across the room at Max. "Mr. Yellow is certainly going to be the one to die," she said. "You’ll see."

"How do you know?"

"It's the way these games always work," she said. "God, who invited you again? Have you really never done this before?" Todd shook his head and Adrianna looked exasperated. "Cordelia should've kicked you out."

Todd didn't have a good argument for that. He coughed nervously, feeling weirdly squeamish looking at her dark grey eyes. "So what are your clues?"

She looked absolutely done with him. "You cannot ask me for my clues as yourself. You need to discuss the situation with Ms. Grey as Mr. Red."

"I guess I misunderstood," he said. "You really enjoy the acting part of this, huh?"

"It's a good thing I do," she said. "I'm our theater's biggest star for a reason."

"Cordelia likes you a lot, then?"

Adrianna shrugged. "She likes me. And she loves Max. And Max loves me. It all works out."

"One minute left!" Cordelia shouted.

Adrianna looked irritated. "I really spent some of my time talking with you, huh?" she said, stalking off before Todd could answer.

Todd slouched, taking a deep breath, looking around the room before making eye contact with Farah and meeting her across the room. "I'm Dr. Violet," Farah explained. "I’m Madame Orange’s physician. And you?"

"Mr. Red," he said. "They seem like an awfully happy family, don't they?"

"Mr. Yellow and Mrs. Indigo? Or the Olivers?"

"The latter. Although the former might be true, too, I'm having a hard time keeping up."

She nodded. "Fictionally and factually miserable in both cases. I have a good feeling about our case, though."

"Yeah?"

"I was talking to Jane. She's sweet, you know? And I think we're very close to cracking the case."

"She didn't do it, though. Right?"

"Oh--no. No. But I think someone here did."

"That doesn't exactly make me feel incredibly comfortable being a party crasher here."

"That's the end of round one!" Cordelia shouted.

Dirk noticed Farah and Todd talking together and walked over to them enthusiastically. "Well!" he announced. "I'm not sure what I just learned, but I definitely learned something, which will definitely help solve one, if not two, cases! It's true one has a bit more importance to it, but I'd like to think that in solving our fictional case we'll solve--"

Dirk was cut off by a loud scream from across the room. Max Oliver let out another large cry, holding his hand to his chest, before having his knees buckle underneath him, falling down on his knees, letting out a final sob before collapsing on the floor.

"Oh my god," Farah said.

Cordelia walked over to where her son lay sprawled across the floor and then looked up across the others in the room. "A murder," she said. "Has been committed. Mr. Yellow is dead." Adrianna gave Todd a pointed looking from across the room, her hazel eyes piercing. Todd looked away.

"How ghastly," Dirk said with some enthusiasm. "What a wonderful performance."

Max sat up from his place on the floor and beamed. "Thank you," he said, fangs sticking out.

"Now, for round two," Cordelia announced. "Max will not be able to participate. You must talk amongst yourselves and try to discover which one of you is the killer. We will have ten minutes. Let round two... begin!"

"Alright," Todd said. "I suppose we should get back to mingling..." He looked over to see Dirk's eyebrows furrowed, deep in thought. "Dirk?"

"Todd," he said quietly. "Farah. I have the strangest feeling the case of Mr. Yellow is much more tied to our case than we'd thought."

"How so?" Farah asked.

"I'm not quite sure," he said. "Let us try and discover who killed Mr. Yellow. And perhaps that will reveal it to us."

The three nodded and scattered across the room.

Todd found himself in the unfortunate position of being under the immediate scrutiny of Cordelia Oliver.

"I," she announced, "am Madame Orange. I'm afraid we've never had the chance of meeting before."

"Mr. Red," he said shortly. "Banker, Mr. Yellow's boss, I think."

"Ah, yes," she said, face sorrow clouding his face. "My son-in-law’s employer. Isn’t it tragic what has happened to Mr. Yellow?"

Actors, Todd thought, are insane.

"Right," Todd said. "Erm, do you have any idea who... killed him?"

His willingness to play along seemed to please Cordelia. She raised an eyebrow playfully. "I have some idea," she said. "He had a few enemies. I heard," she leaned in, her voice taking on a conspiratorial tone, "he owed some people money. Would you know anything about that? As the banker?"

"Oh," Todd said, trying to remember if he did. "Uh, no. I don't think I knew that. Although I..." he paused, grabbing his notes and looking them over. "I suspected him of committing some sort of fraud."

"Hmm!" she said. "Fraud at the bank isn't a good look for you. Do you think that could stir yourself to kill?"

"Uh--no?" Todd frowned. "I guess I don't know. Am I supposed to defend myself?"

Cordelia seemed disappointed at his breaking character. "It's up to you," she said tightly. "But if you've killed someone, we'll find out in the end, when we open the envelope with the answers to the case."

"Oh," he said. "Well--I guess I don't think Mr. Red, er, me, did it." He paused a beat. "And... why didn't you do it?" he asked, knowing giving Cordelia an excuse to talk should lighten her up.

"Mr. Yellow was my daughter Indigo’s husband! I loved him as if he were my own son. I wouldn’t lay a hand on him unless he did something to hurt my daughter.”

"But what if he did?” Todd pointed out. He looked at his notes. “I saw you discussing something with Mrs. Indigo the day before his death. That doesn’t look particularly good for you, Madame Orange."

"You don't look unsuspicious yourself, Mr. Red. Although I don't think you killed Mr. Yellow."

"No?"

"No. You don't have it in you."

Cordelia turned on her heel and went away to talk to someone else, and Todd felt weirdly stung by her harsh assessment of his fictional banker self.

He wandered across the room, trying to find someone to talk to. He walked past Max and Adrianna who were talking in hushed tones in a language that didn't sound familiar to him. He decided not to interrupt them and turned around, nearly running into Jane Oliver.

"Oh dear," she said. "I am very sorry, Mr. Todd."

"It's okay!" he reassured her. "And tonight, I'm Mr. Red."

She nodded. "I'm Mrs. Indigo." She sighed. "I'm Mr. Yellow's wife, apparently. A bit awkward, I think, for several reasons."

Todd smiled. "Fair enough. I am--or was?--his employer at the bank. I suspected him of fraud. Would you know anything about that?"

"The only way Mr. Yellow was ever a fraud or a phoney was in real life, Mr. Red," she sighed, playing into her character lightly. "I do believe he was having the most awful affair with Mrs. Grey."

"I suppose that made your character--you, I mean--pretty upset."

"Yes." She sighed. "I think it's likely I did it. Or--Mr.s Grey’s husband, Mr. Maroon."

"It's kind of funny suspecting yourself."

"I think it makes the most sense," she said evenly, then in a lower voice, "thank you, by the way. Dirk said you and Farah have been invaluable in helping with..." She looked around. "...with a case."

Had he been helpful? Had any of them been helpful? Todd felt as though he was getting nowhere, stuck in a sludge of clues and names and characters and confusing bits in the middle. He wasn't sure he had done anything effective to help Jane Oliver. He thought about denying her claim, telling her to take it back, telling her that her impression wasn't true. But he swallowed it in his throat. Be nice, Todd.

"You're welcome," he said. "We're trying our best. To solve..." he paused, and added, feeling kind of silly, "...Mr. Yellow's murder." That made the girl laugh, which pleased him.

"Speaking of Dirk," Adrianna said, "here comes Mr. Green." Dirk approached the two of them, grinning brightly.

"Todd! Jane!" he addressed them both with enthusiasm. "I've got half a mind that this is going somewhere!"

"I sure hope so," Todd said.

"I'm glad you think that," Jane said with her shy smile. "I think I'm going to go try to talk to Adrianna." She made a face. "Tell me what you find, later?" she asked Dirk.

"Of course," he promised, waving at her as she made her way across the room. "Todd!" he turned to Todd, his deerstalker hat flopping in front of his eyes. He pushed up the rim. "I think I've found out my motive for killing Mr. Yellow!"

"That's great, Dirk, but.... what? Do you think your character killed him?"

"Oh, no," he said quickly. "I'm Mr. Green, by the way, if I hadn't mentioned it to you. And I don't think it's awfully likely I am the killer, but I love my brother Mr. Maroon a lot, and his wife Mrs. Grey cheated on him with her employer Mr. Yellow!" Dirk sounded enthralled. "The way this game is played is absolutely fascinating, wouldn't you say? I think we should definitely buy one of these for the office during holidays."

"Dirk," Todd said, "there are three of us who work in the office. And... Mona sometimes. I don't think that's enough people."

Dirk frowned. "I guess not."

"Do you have any idea who actually killed Mr. Yellow? Or... about the other thing?"

"No," Dirk admitted. "Well, maybe. There's so many different threads in this game. And it's not exactly... how I do detecting. I think you or Farah would have a better idea, quite honestly. I’ve had a very fun time getting into character and developing Mr. Green, though. I wasn't given much, so I gave him a new profession! I've decided he works for the secret--"

"Dirk," Todd cut him off. "We need to focus. Right?"

Dirk looked a bit put out. "Can't hurt to have a bit of fun, too."

Todd backtracked. "Sure, of course, but I think we're running out of time to investigate--"

"End of round three!" Cordelia announced loudly. The chattering continued. "End! Of round three!" she holler. This time, a hush fell across the room.

"Everyone," she said, her voice commanding the space, "let's gather round in a circle and discuss our theories of who killed Mr. Yellow." She stood behind where Max sat on the couch and put her hands on his shoulders protectively. The party goers made their way to the couches and chairs situated in a nice circle around the coffee table. Once everyone had settled down, Cordelia smiled, although she continued to stand behind Max instead of sitting in the circle herself.

"If someone can say who killed Mr. Yellow and why, with certain accuracy, they win the game." Cordelia held up a bright magenta envelope. "Once everyone has given their input, we'll open the envelope and see who was really the killer. If you are accused of being the murderer, you may defend yourself if you think someone else has done it. Now who would like to start?"

Todd felt Dirk beside him tense in excitement. He wondered if this did have any connection to the case they were here to solve, or if it was a red herring, a detour that would eventually lead them somewhere completely different in order to actually solve the case.

"I'll start," said Adrianna. "I think Mrs. Indigo did it."

Jane frowned. “My character? I guess I don’t think it’s entirely impossible I did…”

“You found out Mr. Yellow was hiding some things from you,” Adrianna said. “Including his affair… with me, Mrs. Grey. So you killed him.”

“Jane?” Cordelia asked. “Do you have someone else you think could’ve done it?”

“I think Mr. Maroon would’ve had half a motive, for the same reason as I.”

“Leave me out of it,” Daniel groaned. “I think it was… uh…” He looked around the room, seemingly trying to pick someone else to become the scrutiny of the conversation. “Madame Orange. She found out Yellow cheated on her daughter.” He shrugged. “She’d be as mad as anyone else.”

Cordelia pursed her lips. “That’s assuming I even knew about the affair. Perhaps I didn't even know until he died! How would you know?”

“Everyone wanted to kill Mr. Yellow,” Dirk muttered to Todd.

“Madame Orange was angry after her check up with Dr. Violet before the murder happened,” Farah pointed out. “Although she didn’t say why. It could’ve been about the affair.”

“Everyone wanted to kill Mr. Yellow!” Dirk said again, sounding surprised. Todd looked at him and he grinned back.

“I was upset because my gardener, Mr. Turquoise, had quit in a huff.”

“You fired me!” Lenny butted in. Todd realized he’d barely spoken to half of the people playing the game, feeling suddenly like he’d shown up for a test he hadn’t studied for. “And I certainly didn’t kill Mr. Yellow!”

“Alright,” said Cordelia. “But I deny that I did. I still find Mr. Maroon awfully suspicious.”

Daniel glowered at his mother. “If you won’t admit it, I’ll accuse someone else. Like….” He looked around the room. “...my brother. Mr. Green.”

Dirk smiled. “It could have been me,” he said. “I love my brother, Mr. Maroon. I found out Mr. Yellow was having an affair with his wife. And I felt this was an affront to my family. But I think we are focused much too narrowly on the what and the why. In fact,” he said. “I think we are far too focused on this game.”

“Too focused on the game?” Lenny said. “Isn’t that the point of the final round?”

“The point of the final round,” Dirk said confidently, “is to find out who killed Mr. Yellow and Max Oliver.”

“Oh,” Todd said softly. Dirk had solved it.

“I am Mr. Yellow,” Max said.

"Exactly! So the question we have to answer," Dirk continued, "is who killed Max Oliver. I, of course, have my own theories, but I would like to share last. Mrs. Cordelia. I still find you a bit suspect. Why don't you tell us again why you aren't the killer?"

Cordelia stiffened in offense. "Why am I not the killer? You must be kidding me! I just went over this. I wouldn’t hurt my own son!"

"Ah, but perhaps Max wasn't the child you wanted. And neither was Daniel. And neither was Jane. You wanted a child who was a star, Mrs. Oliver. And you knew you'd never get that if you didn't intervene yourself."

Adrianna narrowed her eyes. "He knows this is a game, right? We aren’t our characters."

Dirk's eyes lit up. "Ah! And Adrianna Waye. What an interesting piece of this puzzle you are."

Adrianna shifted uncomfortably. "Don’t even bother accusing me of killing him. I was the one who was having an affair with him. I was one of his only allies. It wouldn’t make sense."

"No, you're right," Dirk agreed. "It wouldn’t make sense. Besides that, a lady such as yourself seems unlikely to get her hands dirty with murder." He paused. "She'd make someone else do it."

Adrianna turned to Max and laughed. "What is he talking about? This isn't connected to the game at all."

"You know what it's about--"

"Ah!" Farah cut in. "I have a theory. Did Lenny's character actually do it? Mr. Turquoise was Madame Orange’s gardener, so maybe he saw something at the house, like the affair. Blackmail gone wrong type situation."

Dirk nodded. "Lenny seems a bit suspicious, doesn't he?" He looped around the living room, ending behind Lenny's chair. "Lenny, what do you have to say to that?"

"I don't know,” Lenny said. “I don't think my character ever actually interacted Max, though, did he?"

"Exactly," Dirk said. "Lenny is too much of an outsider. He might not like Max, but there was no reason he would want to kill him. He wasn't even present at the crime scene. Now, Daniel, however..."

"Wouldn't it be my luck to pick the character who's the killer three years in a row?" Daniel sulked, shooting his mother a look.

"Of course Daniel could have been jealous of Max. Jealous of how his mother adored him and doted on him. But... that doesn't explain why he would kill him." Dirk turned to Jane. "Do you understand what I'm getting at, Miss Jane?"

Jane's eyes widened. "But I still don't understand! Who--who did I see die on that night?"

“Who did you see die on what night?” Cordelia turned to her daughter, her eyes narrowed. “Jane, is there something you’re not telling me?”

“Sorry, mother,” Jane whispered softly. “But yes. Ten years ago, I saw a murder.” Dirk gave Farah a small nod and Farah quietly moved to block the one door that led out of the study. Todd moved towards the window, having a strong feeling that any possible exit was soon going to quickly need to be blocked. Jane continued, “These people have been trying to help me solve the murder, mother. But… But I don’t know who did it, or who even died…” She trailed off, looking small and lost in her big velvet chair.

“You’re detectives?” Cordelia demanded.

"Indeed,” Dirk said. “Quite a good disguise, right? Now, Jane, the person you saw being murdered on that night was your brother, Max."

"But that's absurd!" Cordelia burst out. "Max is right here!" Max stood behind his mother, his expression stony.

"That," Dirk pointed to Max, "is certainly someone going by the name Max and living his life as if he were Max Oliver. But that is not your biological son, Max Oliver. He was killed on this day, ten years ago, in your back garden."

"Don't be absurd," Max cut in, his voice cold and stiff. "You've been talking nonsense all night."

"Have you ever," Dirk said, "met an actor who was so incredible that sometimes you didn't even know they were acting?" Todd got the very distinct feeling Dirk was thinking of Mona. "I have. And I will tell you this much. When someone who is talented enough chooses to not be found, they won't be."

"You're crazy," Max said. "You have no proof."

"Alright," Dirk said. "Maybe I'm wrong. Then answer me this. How come you and Adrianna talk in a language no one has ever heard when you think you're alone?"

"What?"

“Oh!” Todd cut in. "And is that why Adrianna’s eye color shifts so dramatically? I wasn’t imagining that?"

"People's eye color can shift--"

"Not from light blue to deep brown they can't,” Dirk said, nodding at Todd.

Max snorted. "Just because you're dressed as a detective doesn't mean you can say whatever you'd like and expect it to go over."

"Alright," Dirk said. "Let me read from this journal," Dirk said, reaching into his trenchcoat and pulling out a copy of Jane's diary that they had photocopied and brought along. Todd hadn't realized Dirk’s intentions in bringing the copy along--but he wasn’t sure Dirk had known until this exact moment, either.

"’October 31st, 2008,’" Dirk read aloud. "’Dear Diary, Today I saw something very frightening. It was during the Halloween party, I went out in the back garden to get a bit of fresh air and because everyone was very loud. When I was out there, I thought I heard someone screaming. I thought maybe it was one of my brothers, and so I ran. I saw a figure in the dark standing over someone else, but when I got to where I saw their silhouettes across the garden, they were gone. I saw something I thought could've been blood or beer or water but it was too dark to see. I'll go and see if it's still there tomorrow. I don't know what I saw. I went inside and told mama and papa about it. Papa joked that I'd seen a ghost on Halloween. I don't know. Love, Jane.’"

"I know who Jane saw that night," said Dirk. He pointed at Max. "She saw you. And she saw her brother, Max."

"I am her brother Max," Max replied evenly.

"Oh please," Dirk said. "Will you give that up already? You may live as Maxwell Oliver but you were at least not born that way. You weren't born in this town, or, quite frankly, even this planet."

"What're you going to do about it?" Adrianna said, rising to her feet.

"Adrianna," Max snapped. "Sit down."

"I'm going to..." Dirk said confidently, and then stopped. "Well, I hadn't really thought of that."

“It’s true,” Jane said softly. Cordelia had stepped away from Max and was now standing behind her daughter. She placed a hand on Jane’s shoulder, looking tense. Jane looked up at Cordelia. “It’s true, mother. It was Max I saw on that night. It must’ve been…”

Max frowned. “Are you really going to believe this, Mother? Believe all this slander about your favorite son?” His eyes narrowed. “I’ve been so good to you… an absolute star, in fact. Don’t tell me you believe some sort of alien-murder plot thought up by a stranger over the word of your own son?”

Cordelia Oliver's eyes clouded over. "I'm not sure, Max."

"I cannot believe this," Max said. Adrianna fidgeted in her chair uncomfortably. "Do you know everything I've given for this family? Everything me and Adrianna have given for you, Mother?"

"What are you?" Dirk asked curiously. "You must be something quite interesting. And..." He paused, his nose bunched up. "...and either undetectable or fifteen years new to this planet."

"We were undetectable," Adrianna said.

"Adrianna!" Max barked. "Will you shut up?"

"Oh, give it up, Max," she said irritably. "He's caught us in our game. Might as well admit it." She turned to Dirk. "You wouldn't really believe it if we were from a different planet."

"I certainly would," he said. "I've come across a fair few extraterrestrials in my time. I don't suppose you communicate through music on your planet?"

"What?" she snapped. "No. Don't be stupid. You were right, we communicate in our own language. And these weren't our original forms." Max glared at her, his lips pursed in determined silence. "But there's no way for you to prove that, you know? That's the best thing about what we are."

"Oh god," Cordelia said, holding her hand over her mouth.

"And what is that?" Dirk asked.

"Can't pronounce it in your language. In fact, you numbskulls hardly have the language to describe it. Leech? Reincarnate? Phoenix?" Adrianna seemed almost pleased by this, as if the fact that she was somewhat undefinable was a final act of rebellion against whatever separated her from them. "The point is," she said, "we take on different forms over our lives. We essentially could live forever--as long as we kill before our vessel dies. When that happens, we take on the form of whatever we last killed."

"Woah," Dirk said.

"What happens to the body?" Farah said, eyeing Max and Adrianna nervously while still guarding the door.

"We become the body," Adrianna said as though it were obvious. "The last vessel we occupied turns to dust once we leave it for good, once there's no use for it anymore."

"And you killed Max and took his body," Jane said softly, looking Max straight in the eyes. Max frowned and looked away.

"What--what now?" Daniel asked nervously, looking between Max and Adrianna. The room was filled with a tense air.

Max sighed, breaking the silence. "This is truly awful," he said, his tone almost bored, "I never wanted it to come to this, and I am very sorry. I did love you, Mother," he said to Cordelia. "Unfortunately..." He reached into his coat pocket, pulling something small and metallic out, "...the two of us will have to kill all of you now that you've discovered our secret."

Max Oliver had a gun. The room broke out into hectic noise. Cordelia screamed, Daniel let out a large stream of profanities, Todd started to argue with Max, and Dirk shouted something about everyone needing to talk this out, please, and not have so much killing all the time. Everyone was on their feet in a few seconds. Todd and Farah exchanged a look, guarding the door and window respectively, not sure if they should run or stand their guard. The only person who remained sitting was Max Oliver.

"No one move!" he barked. "Shut up!" And he was pointing the gun, and the room quickly fell silent. "You see," he said. "You all have made this so hard for me and my dear EtTew0si." He stood up from where he sat and went to the bookshelf, grabbing a candlestick. He handed it to Adrianna who smiled at him and kissed his cheek.

"Now who's first?" Max said, sounding almost bored. Todd gave a sideways glance to Farah and mouthed the word "gun." She shook her head, mouthing back a long sentence. He had forgotten he couldn't read lips.

"Oh Jane," Max said. "Why not you? This whole dilemma is your fault, now, isn't it?"

"It's not my fault," Jane said, trembling but holding her voice steady. "None of this would've happened if you hadn't hurt Max."

Max pursed his lips, ignoring her comment. "Come here, and we'll make this quick and painless," he said.

"No," she said, holding her ground.

Adrianna shoved her forward from behind, pushing her with the end of the candlestick. "Do what he says!" she said.

Jane opened her mouth to make a retort but decided against it. She looked back at the other people in the room, staring hopelessly.

"My dear sister," Max said, pointing the gun at her head. Adrianna stayed behind her, holding the candlestick up. "I am sorry it had to come to this."

"No, you're not," she said, tears forming in her eyes.

"You're right," he laughed. "I'm not."

The next few seconds were a whirlwind. Farah leapt up from her place by the door to in front of Max, grabbing Jane out of the line of fire as Max pulled the trigger. Adrianna, not realizing what had happened before it was too late, didn't dodge and instead was hit squarely in the head with the bullet Max had fired. Adrianna barely had a second to let out a cry of pain before her body turned to dust, drifting down to the floor, lifeless. Max whirled around, still holding his gun, pointing it at Farah and Jane where they sat on the floor.

"You think you're real smart, huh?" he demanded. "What--"

A bang fired in the room.

Max stopped talking.

Max stopped breathing.

Max fell over onto the floor, fading into a pile of dust.

Across the room, Cordelia Oliver held up her pearl handled pocket purse pistol, smoke still drifting off the tip of the weapon, tears streaking her face.

The next week, Jane Oliver visited Dirk Gently's Holistic Detective agency. She knocked lightly before walking into the office. "Hello!" she said.

"Jane Oliver!" Dirk said, his entire face lighting up. He jumped up from his desk. "How are you doing?"

She smiled sadly. "This whole ordeal has been a lot for my family... but I think we are better for it. We've all been trying to understand, of course. But it's brought us closer too."

"I'm glad to hear that," Farah smiled, looking up from her desk. "Thank you for visiting, Jane."

Jane nodded. "I’m to give you these." She passed two envelopes to Dirk.

He looked at her, confused. "What?"

"For the case," she said softly.

"Ms. Jane, I was under the distinct impression that we were not taking payment from you," he said. He passed the envelopes back to her. "In fact, I insist on it. I don't want to take money from you."

She laughed. "It's not from me. It's from my mother. She's going through a lot, as we all are, but she's extremely grateful to you guys." She shrugged. "She didn't actually tell me what was in those. Just to deliver it to you three."

"Well, thank you," Dirk said, surprised, taking the envelopes back from her.

"Yes!" she said. "And thank you guys... for everything. The truth is hard, but I'm glad I know it. And..." she turned to Farah, "thank you for saving my life."

Farah smiled awkwardly. "I mean, yes. Of course. That is... yes. You're welcome."

She beamed at them. "I'll be sure to recommend you guys, although I don't know how many other sixteen year olds have use of a detective agency."

Dirk smiled. "Thank you Jane."

She nodded once more. "Goodbye!" They waved and wished her well and then she was on her way.

"I wonder what Cordelia sent," Todd said.

"Let us see!" Dirk said. “This first envelope is addressed to ‘Dirk Gently & Co.’ Fancy!” He tore the envelope open, pulling it out and looking it over. His eyes widened.

"What?" Farah said.

"Yeah, what is it?"

"I don't think we'll have to worry about agency finances for a while," Dirk said, eyes wide. He passed Farah the check from inside the card.

She raised her eyebrows. “Oh-kay!” she said. “Well. We should definitely send a thank you note.”

“She wrote a note, too,” Dirk said. He read aloud, “‘Dear Dirk and Company, I never did like Sherlock Holmes and Dr. Watson. However, the three of you I found quite tolerable. To think I would’ve lived with and loved an imposter my whole life if not for your agency. Much thanks. Sincerely, Cordelia Oliver.’”

“I guess she’s got a heart under her mean exterior after all,” Todd said.

“‘P.S.,’” Dirk read. “‘I am assuming you will be quiet about the disappearance of my ‘son’ Max. I hope this check more than manages that.’”

“Oh,” Todd said, and Farah laughed.

“Well!” Dirk said, setting down the card. He smiled at his two friends. “I think that’s another case solved with arguable efficiency.”

“What’s the other envelope?” asked Todd.

“I don’t know…” Dirk looked at it. “She wrote something on the front... ‘I couldn’t be bothered to open this after what happened. but I thought one of you care want to know more than I. Sincerely, Cordelia.’”

“Oh!” Farah said. “It’s the envelope from the game--the one that has the killer in it.”

“I didn’t even realize we never revealed the fake killer,” Todd said.

“I did,” said Farah. “Open it?”

Dirk nodded, pushing a pencil thru the top, ungracefully breaking the seal. He popped the envelope open and looked inside before pulling out a tiny slip of paper.

“Oh God,” he said, sounding exasperated. “Of bloody course it had to be.”

Farah raised her eyebrows and he passed her the paper. She looked at it and frowned. “Crazy coincidence, that’s all.”

“Let me see that,” Todd grabbed the paper.

“Farah, nothing ever ends up being mere ‘coincidence’ with me,” Dirk said pointedly. “Ever.”

“Alright, that’s weird,” Todd said, tossing the paper back onto the desk in front of Dirk. The three of them started at the paper for a moment, saying nothing.

“I say we break early for lunch,” Farah broke the silence. “My treat.”

“Avoidance,” Todd said. “I like it.”

“Burgers?” Dirk chimed in. “I love it.”

The three of them stood up and cleared out of the office, turning off the lights and locking the doors to the office. In the now quiet office lay the small slip of tangerine paper on a desk. It read, in plain cursive, Madame Orange is the killer.

End

#dirk gently's holistic detective agency #case fic #dghda #dghda halloween mini bang 2020 #fanfiction #dirk gently fanfiction #my art

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starwalker42 · 4 years

Text

And The World Keeps Spinning [1/2]

This is for the X-Files Fluff Exchange by @xfilesfanficexchange, which was a huge leap out of my comfort zone but I’m so glad I signed up to! My prompt was “something fluffy around Mulder and Scully spending Valentines together either as a new couple or maybe not a couple yet” from @kristinsauter, and I really hope I did it justice! Part 2 to follow x (Link to A03)

This is all my fault. Frohike would probably disagree, but he wouldn’t have been able to talk me into this if I hasn’t had those beers, so I only have myself to blame, really.

It was barely a week after New Year’s, and it shouldn’t have surprised me that with only one drink down I was already talking about that night; every morning since, I’d woken with the memory of Scully’s lips on mine, and despite my best intentions I’d found myself dreaming about it during the day, too.

Originally the guys had been ecstatic, but when it became apparent that was as far as we’d gone- and that we hadn’t discussed it since- praise quickly turned to exasperation. Frohike gave the most world-weary sigh I’ve ever heard, Langly started off on one of his lectures- dude, are you serious, what the hell- and even Byers looked unimpressed.

“You can’t kiss a lady when the world’s about to end and not take her out for dinner,” Frohike commented around his beer.

I can’t remember what exactly my excuse was- probably something about it not being the right time, about how she was my partner, not just some random hookup, and that it wasn’t as easy as ‘taking her out for dinner’- but I don’t think they listened anyway.

“You can’t leave her hanging, dude.”

“I know you’re nervous, Mulder, but you should ask her.”

“Just take her to Casey’s-”

I shot down Frohike’s idea almost before it was out of his mouth. “My first date with Scully is not going to be Casey’s.”

“Unless you get your head out of your ass I don’t think it’ll happen at all.” Langly drawled, and that did it.

“I’ll do it! I’m going to ask her out for Valentine’s.”

“Why the wait?”

In my mind, it was to leave enough time for this conversation to be forgotten and for the guys to never bring up the subject again. But of course, that didn’t happen, and last week they were the ones reminding me about what I’d said. I’d promised I’d ask her when we were out of town on this new case with the VCU.

I haven’t.

I’d meant to, several times, but the moment was never right: the words just hadn’t come out, or we’d been discussing the case, or been standing over a skinned corpse… you get the idea. So now we’re in the office, on the 13th February, having worked non-stop for seven days, and I’m trying to delay my inevitable exit my packing my bag as slowly as humanly possible while Scully finishes filling in her report. She always takes longer; she has to be precise and make sure everything’s filled in right, can’t just scribble stuff down like I can.

Normally I love that about her- today I just want her to hurry up so she can leave the office and I can stay down here in my self-created loneliness for the rest of my miserable life. The guys are going to have a field day when they find out about how badly this has gone.

“Penny for them.”

I glance up and meet Scully’s smiling eyes. She raises her eyebrow expectantly and I find myself unable to come up with a suitable lie. The words come out on top of each other.

“I was just wondering if you want to come over tomorrow night. For dinner.”

I have to look away, can’t stand to see the unavoidable pity and rejection in her face.

“Sure, sounds great.”

I almost feel the floor fall from under me. My cheeks are on fire as I feel my face break out into a smile I can’t stop.

“Uh, okay, cool.” My bag almost falls from my hand as I fumble with it. “See you at seven?”

“I’ll be there.”

Is that my heart pounding?

xXx

Mulder grabs his coat, stops briefly in the doorway to run his hand across the back of his neck, and says to the floor, “See you tomorrow.”

I stop trying to decode his behaviour. It’s been a long week. “See you tomorrow.”

And then he’s gone.

Tomorrow is Monday, which would normally mean we’d be in each other’s company for a good ten hours or so in the office, but after this past week Skinner’s practically begged us to take a few days off so I’ve threatened Mulder that on pain of death he must not step foot in this building until Wednesday at the earliest. I know it might be just as hard to keep me away.

I’m looking forward to a few days off, of course I am- I haven’t had a bath in lord knows how long- but the longer I’m away from the office, the less I can relax. Okay, that’s not true- the longer I’m away from Mulder would probably be a better way of putting it. As pathetic as it sounds, if I’m away from him for much longer than a day it just feels wrong. I feel wrong. I’m sure some would call it dependency, and while I’m not sure about that I know that when I’m away from him, even if I know exactly where he is and what he’s doing, even if he’s only a phone call away, I’m lonely. I don’t know when but somewhere along the line it became clear that I’m happiest when I’m by his side; that I’m safer, more comfortable, and somehow more whole when I’m with him. I feel like myself.

Our classic method of hiding what I’m beginning to suspect is a mutual need for contact is anything can hide behind the safe veneer of a night in between friends, more often than not in the form of a takeaway and a terrible movie on Mulder’s couch. It’s happened enough times that at this point I’m expecting it at times like this, so I’m a little shocked that Mulder thinks it necessary to have to make pre-arranged plans. Surely he knows he could call me at 6 tomorrow night and I’d be over in half an hour?

I again remind myself to stop trying to work out my partner, and try to be content with the knowledge that I understand him a hell of a lot better than anyone else. The thought makes me smile as I grab my keys and leave the office.

It isn’t until I’m driving back home and see, of all things, the Victoria’s Secret window display, that I realise what day it is tomorrow. It’s not just Monday. It’s Valentine’s Day.

It’s fucking Valentine’s Day.

My first thought is to dismiss it as a coincidence: Mulder forgets even my birthday, and it’s been a long hard week, and if I forgot then it’s likely he did too… but then I remember the way he couldn’t meet my eyes, the way his cheeks flushed, the relieved smile he gave when I said yes.

He knows what day tomorrow is.

And I’m pretty sure he’s asked me on a date.

And I’ve said yes.

Holy shit.

xXx

It’s not until the doors to the elevator close behind me that I allow myself to breathe.

Holy shit.

I just asked Scully out. On a date. A Valentine’s date. And she didn’t roll her eyes, or oh brother me, or deck me one in the face. She said yes.

Holy shit!

I don’t know how to do this. How long has it been since I was on a date? Should I book a restaurant somewhere? Is it acceptable to get takeout? What the hell am I supposed to wear? My the time I’m at the garage I’ve managed to talk myself into a spiral of panic, and I’m very close to calling Scully and cancelling before I remember that ultimately, that’s who I’m doing this for. Scully.

I don’t have to dress up or create some fake-perfect evening for her, because that’s not our thing. And tomorrow is about us.

On my way back, I stop at the store and buy a bottle of wine- one of the expensive ones that Scully never admits she has at her place- and decide to risk forgoing takeout and buying ingredients in the hopes that I can still remember how to cook carbonara. I don’t know what I’d even begin to write in a card, so I don’t even glance at them, but at the flower display I have to stop. I’ve only ever bought Scully flowers when she was in hospital, but if there’s any time to break a tradition it’s now. Red roses are too forward, and too traditional, and everything else seems to be the same shade of pink that I know Scully will hate. I’m about to give up when I see the smaller bouquets at the front- well, one in particular. It’s a beautiful mix of what look like white roses and a whole mix of others that I can’t identify apart from their colour- blue. They’re almost exactly the same shade as Scully’s eyes, so close that it almost takes my breath away.

They’re the ones.

The cashier doesn’t seem surprised by my purchases- I assume she’s used to harried customers buying last minute Valentine’s gifts- and a few minutes later I’m back in my car and driving home. I feel my face breaking out into a ridiculous grin, and don’t try to contain it.

xXx

I’ve been on edge all day. I’ve tried going for a run, having a bath, reading some of my book, but I can’t relax. It’s now 4pm and I’m judging that to be a suitable time to start getting ready, especially because if I leave it any longer I think I might scream. Also I’m likely to need another three hours just to work out what the hell I’m going to wear, and how to come across as completely relaxed about this entire situation. How long has it been since I went on a proper date? How long since I’ve been on one and actually enjoyed it?

Ed Jerse comes to mind, but deep down I think I know that I didn’t really enjoy it, that what I enjoyed was the concept. Letting go and getting away from myself in the way that no one would expect from straight-laced Agent Scully. But even at the time, I wasn’t enjoying it. I remember closing my eyes and trying to imagine it was Mulder inside me, having to bite my tongue so I didn’t cry out his name. It occurs to me that if things go to plan tonight, I might actually end up in the place I’d wished for those years ago. Mulder and I might have sex tonight. Okay, now I really need to go and have a shower. A cold one.

I can’t get the picture out of my mind, though. If I’m being honest, I haven’t been able to get it out of my mind for a while now. And our kiss on New Year’s didn’t exactly help things in that regard. I’m pretty sure it’s no longer a question of if but when we cross that final line, and if it hadn’t been for Mulder’s injuries, I think we would’ve crossed it that very same night.

But maybe it’s better this way; at least now I can prepare somewhat. I straighten my hair for what must be the third time today, and try to work out how best to do my makeup without looking like I’ve been thinking about it too hard, which ultimately means that I redo it several times before I’m happy. I second guess myself on what to wear about a dozen times as well, going between completely casual (jeans and a t-shirt) to the frankly overdressed (an evening gown I’ve had for years and never worn), and everything in-between.

In the end I opt for a V-neck sweater that Melissa bought for me all those years ago, one that I’ve only worn a handful of times and only never out of the house. It’s gorgeous material, cosy and soft, but it was clearly either designed for someone with bigger breasts or with a bigger load of self confidence because on my chest it’s somewhat loose, and definitely not the kind of thing I’d normally wear. If it wasn’t that Melissa had bought it for me I think I would’ve got rid of it by now, but I’m glad I didn’t. I can’t wait to see Mulder’s face.

xXx

There’s a knock on the door ten minutes before seven. I’m not even surprised: it’s Scully, of course she’s early. In a way I’m glad, because dinner is almost ready and part of me had been dreading the point where minutes after minutes went by without her showing up until it became clear that she was never going to.

Now as I hear her knock on the door I allow myself to breathe a sigh of relief that all of this- making dinner, buying wine, cleaning the apartment, putting on one of my best shirts- wasn’t for nothing. An instant later panic hits again. Oh god. Scully’s here, which means this is actually happening. Oh god.

I realise I’ve been frozen in the kitchen when I hear another knock, slightly louder this time, and remember that even though Scully has a key and is more than willing to use it under normal circumstances, she’s likely to not be so keen right now. Okay. Okay, I can do this.

My hand trembles as I slide the bolt across and pull the door open. I’m apologising almost immediately, too anxious to let the words take their time.

“Hey, sorry, I heard you I just had to make sure the food wasn’t-” and then I actually look at her, and- “Wow.”

It’s not exactly a new thought, not particularly different to what usually goes through my mind when I look at her, but her appearance tonight is… wow. I can’t pinpoint what it is, exactly, and can only conclude it’s some magical combination of a slightly darker lipstick than usual, the smile she’s giving me, and the fact that I can see so many more inches of her beautiful skin than usual thanks to the cut of the sweater she’s wearing. How the hell does the sight of her clavicle do these things to me?

Noticing the way Scully’s eyes glance up and down my body while I’m still stood in the doorway, I step back to allow her in and close the door behind her. My hands? Still shaking with the best of them.

“Can I take your coat?”

“Uh… yeah. Thanks.”

My hands don’t feel like they belong to me as I slide the jacket off of her, not missing the way she gasps when my fingers accidently brush the exposed skin of her collarbone. I hang it up and briefly turn my attention back to the stove, where the spaghetti is at risk of overflowing, and try to breathe. Scully is too quiet.

“I’ve got wine if you want?” I ask over my shoulder, but she’s gone. “Scully?”

“In here.” Her voice comes from somewhere else in the apartment, out of sight.

I turn down the stove and head through to the living room. She’s stood at my desk, and I immediately know what she’s found. I’d hoped I could at least get her to have a drink before she saw I’d bought her flowers.

“These are for me.” It’s not a question.

“Oh, actually they were for my other date, but she didn’t show,” I joke, trying to ignore the pounding of my heart. Were they a mistake? And did I just call Scully my date-?

There’s an indecipherable expression on her face when she turns to face me. “No man’s ever bought me flowers before.”

Somehow I find that hard to believe doesn’t seem like the correct response, especially because I know my partner, and I know this isn’t how she messes with me. She’s being honest, and somehow without thinking I find myself doing the same.

“They reminded me of you.” She raises an eyebrow. “They’re the same blue as your eyes.”

I catch the way her cheeks flush before she glances away, and hear the quiet thank you she gives to the floor before she speaks up.

“You don’t drink wine, Mulder.”

I hear the pan bubbling from the kitchen again. “Yeah, well, you’d better not go teetotal on me now, Scully, because otherwise I’m going to have to start.”

She raises her eyes and gives a smirk. “I’ll get a glass.”

xXx

I don’t think I’ve ever been as surprised by Mulder as I have been tonight. He’s bought my favourite wine, he’s got me flowers- beautiful ones at that- he’s made dinner for us even though I was 90% sure he’d never cooked in his life, and now it appears he’s had time to stop off at Blockbuster to empty the romcom aisle.

“What’re we feeling?” He spreads the VHS cases across the coffee table and looks over to me expectantly. We’re almost touching on the couch.

My head is a little fuzzy with wine and the giddiness that comes with being too close to Mulder for too long, and rather than answering immediately I find myself just looking into his eyes for a long minute. I can feel it, the familiar magnetism between us, and for once I realise that nothing should be holding us back from giving in to it. I’m tipsy, and Mulder’s been drinking beer during dinner, so I know he’s not exactly sober either. We’re here, in private, together. It would be so easy to give in. So why don’t I? With liquid courage, I lean forwards and send a thanks to whoever created Valentine’s Day and gave me an excuse to press my lips against his.

Neither of us move, I don’t think we dare to, and the outcome isn’t much different to that first kiss on New Year’s Eve- a somewhat gentle, trepidatious kiss that feels like it lasts forever and still ends far too soon.

“You choose.” I manage as we disengage, noticing how much huskier my voice has become.

Mulder doesn’t even look, just grabs a tape at random and manages to get it into the player before returning to sit next to me. I press myself against his side and smile when I feel his arm come to wrap around my shoulders, like it belongs there. The first few beats of ‘Be My Baby’ play from the TV, and I hum in approval of Mulder’s choice.

“You know, I’ve never watched this film.” His voice is low and soft in my ear.

“What? It’s a classic American movie,” I whisper back.

“That’s what every woman says. It’s a chick flick.”

“Patrick Swayze’s not your type?”

He presses a quick kiss to my cheek as we settle back against the couch. “You know exactly what my type is.”

You know what Mulder? I think I might be beginning to work it out.

#XFFluff2020 #x files fanfic exchange #xf fanfic #my writing #msr #x files #i honestly had so much fun with this one #and this challenge in general #i can't wait to see what people think of it!

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agreste-image · 4 years

Note

☕️ your classmates!

Well, this is going to get a little long, probably. I mean, there’s 14 other people.

In general, I like them all to a degree. Some I consider my best friends, some I’m just not close to, others are...

Not nice people.

We’ll just go for a paragraph per person. Skipping myself, obviously, I’m not my own classmate.

Soooo... Chloe, then. She manages to fall under both not a nice person and a best friend. Even I’m not really sure how. She can be kind when she wants to be, and she was my only friend for years. I hope I can help her be more of herself, not just a little platinum blonde echo of Audrey, because I think she’s struggling too.

Alya, I’d like to think, I’m kind of close to. Not as close as I could be, considering she’s dating one of my best friends. She’s a nice person, wayyyy too freaking brave, though. How many time have Ladybug and Chat Noir had to physically relocate her out of the danger zone of an akuma? I guess it’s kind of admirable, though, that she’s willing to do that for the sake of providing information to the public. Sometimes, though... she needs to do actual research... I’m definitely a huge part of that whole nightmare situation, though.

Her boyfriend, though. That’s Nino! You guys have probably seen me talk about him on here sometimes. He was the first one to actually give me a chance when I started going to public school, everyone else just assumed I was going to be like Chloe. He’s kinda my hero? All he knew about me was that I was friends with Chloe but all it took for him to decide to befriend me was watching me try and get gum off a seat. He knows what his goals are and he goes for them, though he does get pretty frustrated when things don’t go the way he hoped, but he’s quick to forgive other people when they mess up and damn I know that’s hard to do. He’s ALSO recklessly brave, like Alya... I thought I was going to have a heart attack when Anansi was a thing. Augh.

Sabrina is... weird. You’d think I’d know her a little more, given she’s always with Chloe, but I really don’t? I don’t know if I’ve ever spoken to her one on one. She’s eager to please Chloe, but I don’t think that extends to anyone else, not quite the same way. I know a lot of people feel bad for her because she basically acts as Chloe’s servant, but I, uh. Don’t? Obviously it’s not a good relationship, but I remember bits and pieces of the One Time Sabrina was partnered with Marinette and Chloe on a project, and Sabrina’s capable of being just as mean and manipulative as Chloe. She’s just more submissive, for some reason. I dunno.

Rose is like what I would be if I was incapable of truly recognizing the cruelties of people. It is SO strange. I’ve never seen anyone as optimistic and bubbly as her. I like being around her, but in small doses. She can be a little airheaded sometimes, which makes planning things with her just a bit of a headache, because she’s always so excited about everything...? Once you get it all ironed out fully, though, usually it’s okay. She’s not a planning person, definitely spontaneous, or at least that’s the impression I get. She’s the singer for a rock band, actually, Kitty Section. I play keyboard for them sometimes.

I feel like I have to talk about Juleka after Rose. They’re a pair- dating, maybe??- I almost never see one without the other. Juleka’s pretty opposite to Rose. Rose is bright and loud, Juleka’s dark and quiet. Short and tall, outgoing and shy, confident and too hard on herself. She wants to model, or did at one point, and I fully believe she’d go quite far if she put her mind to it, but she is so. Painfully. Shy. It’s nice to see her with Rose and her other friends because she’s not trying to curl in on herself and not be seen. Unfortunately, because of that shyness, I really don’t know her very well. I’ve made some attempts to get to know her better, but, ah, to get her to talk requires Rose’s presence, and third-wheeling is awkward.

Kim is... yeesh. Competition is fun, but life isn’t a competition!! You don’t have to constantly dare everyone to ridiculous things. Sometimes it’s fun, but my god, Kim, dial it back. I’ll give him this, he’s calmed that down somewhat in the last few years. but beyond that, I barely know the guy. I’ll admit, my most prominent memories of him usually involve akuma, so that probably makes me subtly wary, but those weren’t his fault. I should try and hang out with him sometime, really, and actually get to know him.

I don’t know Ivan very well either. He’s quiet, seems grumpy a lot of the time, but I think that’s just his default expression. He and Mylene seem very happy together, which is. Surprising to me. Mostly because of how they got together. I know he’s ridiculously honest, I’ve seen him try to lie and it was... so embarrassing to watch. I should try spending time with him as well.

Max I’ve been around, but again, am not super close to. I’ll be perfectly honest, his intelligence is a little intimidating at times, while occasionally making things awkward when he takes stuff too seriously. But, wow, he made Markov. Who I would count as a classmate if he was able to participate, but he’s not, at the moment he’s... well, not recognized as a person, legally, yet.

Alix is always the one taking Kim up on his dares. Usually, her conditions are that he stop making dares, which makes me laugh. She’s very comfortable and confident with who she is and doesn’t ever seem afraid to speak her mind, which does lead to some fights when she won’t admit she was in the wrong for a little while. She comes around, though. I admire that, and yet again, I realize I should probably try to spend more time with her.

Mylene, poor girl, she’s such a scaredy-cat. I’ve literally seen her jump at her own shadow before. From what I’ve been able to gather, she’s a very caring, kind person who will always do her best to help others, even when she’s on the verge of tears from how frightened she is. I wish I could help her with that, but I don’t want to give her a heart attack by approaching her. (She seems pretty easily distracted at times.) I think she could be an actress, if she wanted to be. She’s not half bad at it.

Nathaniel is a VERY talented artist, and I’ve encouraged him multiple times to at least consider doing it as a career, or side-job, at least. He’s shy about it, especially after Evillustrator regarding himself and Reverser with Marc (another class), but he’s been working off and on with Marc on a small series of comics. I swear, he never puts the pencil down, and I don’t ever want to interrupt him while he’s in the zone, so he’s another one I’ve mostly observed, but would like to know better.

Marinette. Where to begin with her? I can easily describe her as our everyday Ladybug. She’s a wonderful girl, always taking the lead, doing her best to help everyone within reason and not backing down when threatened. She’s gotten the attention of celebrities, for crying out loud, my own father and Audrey Bourgeois and Jagged Stone all acknowledged her talents and that makes me unbelievably proud of her. Sure, she...may not have been able to get a proper sentence out around me for a few years, and sometimes we don’t even say anything, but that’s alright. I know the reason behind it, even if I can’t do anything with that information, and I understand that feeling. Being around her is comfortable. But I don’t know her as well as I’d like to. I wish I could ask without making things potentially weird. Besides, she’s almost as busy as I am. Class rep, clothing design, helping with her parents bakery, helping all of her friends. Our schedules almost never line up, I think...

...Lila. I put off talking about her as long as I could, and that turned out to be a good few hours as I slowly answered this ask. She breathes lies that can be unraveled with the slightest bit of research, but nobody ever DOES and it infuriates me to no end. Lila made me regret being kind and giving her repeated second chances because my refusal to tell someone about the lies I caught her in got Marinette temporarily expelled and ostracized, and I’ll never forgive myself for my part in that. I have to be around her that much more than anyone else because of course she somehow managed to get Father’s attention and started modelling with me because for some goddamn reason she wants to be around me for some fame to rub off on her. Or wants me. One of the two. I legitimately hate every second I’m near her.

That should be everyone in my class other than my teachers. I realize, reading back over it, that I don’t know most of them too well, which makes me feel a little bad, but hopefully I can correct that.

#((GOD THIS TOOK FOREVER.#headcanons #long post #Anonymous!#Answers!

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kurowrites · 4 years

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Snow - Chapter 6

Entire fic. AO3.

---

“You did WHAT?” Nie Huaisang screeches the next Monday during lunch, and Wei Ying has to hastily shush him unless he wants even the hindmost person in the cafeteria to know what Wei Ying has been doing this weekend.

With his luck, Lan Qiren will waltz past them in the worst moment and hear what Wei Ying has been doing with his nephew, and it probably won’t end well for anybody involved. Not that he thinks Lan Qiren will deign to dine in this cheapt little cafeteria, but you never know. Stranger things have happened. Like getting picked up by a snow prince.

“Wei-xiong,” Nie Huaisang says as he leans forward. His voice is lower now, but his eyes still gleam with eagerness and the promise of scandal. “I have been hoping that you will find a decent partner for a long time now. You’ve been single all this time, I was getting worried! You never showed a real interest in anybody, even when I introduced you to those excellent soccer players. Still a waste, by the way, if you ask me. But anyway. I certainly admire your enterprising spirit. Still, though… making the nephew of Lan Qiren your sugar daddy? That’s both very impressive and rather worrying.”

Wei Ying laughs nervously. “What? Lan Zhan isn’t my sugar daddy.”

Nie Huaisang emphatically raises his eyebrows.

“Wei-xiong,” he says, and he sounds far too entertained for Wei Ying’s taste. “Let me recount. He got you a taxi drive home when you were sick and took care of you. He came to check up on you the next day. He got groceries for you. Twice. He got you new pyjamas, new bedsheets, new kitchen appliances, and other things. He took you out to a well-known spot for coffee dates. You went to bed with him within two days of your acquaintance. He’ll probably get you anything if you ask for it, and make proper use of your assets. That’s a sugar daddy. And you got yourself a really rich and really generous one by sheer dumb luck. I can’t believe you.”

Wei Ying gapes a little. He hasn’t really thought about their relationship so far, has mostly been too immersed in Lan Zhan himself to think about what it is that they’re doing. If this is even a relationship. Can be called one.

He thinks about it now. Lan Zhan has indeed bought him a lot of things, more things than he needs, really. Case in point: the extremely comfortable but completely ludicrous dressing gown. In return, he wants – Wei Ying. Wei Ying has even teased him for it, has made a joke of Lan Zhan wanting him. But it’s obvious, on second thought. Lan Zhan is willing to pay for him, is willing to spoil Wei Ying, as long as Lan Zhan gets what he wants. As long as Wei Ying gives him what he wants.

A strange, cold feeling settles in his chest.

Well, he thinks to himself, he can’t really complain, can he? He got so many things already, and Lan Zhan has treated him like a perfect gentleman. But then – why would Lan Zhan go for a sugar baby rather than an ordinary romantic partner? Is he trying to avoid future complications, planning to get rid of his partners easily and without complaints whenever they have fulfilled their use?

Maybe he has misjudged Lan Zhan’s taciturn character. Maybe Wei Ying simply assumed he cares about Wei Ying as a person, but he really just wants an uncomplicated person to… to fuck. It’s not unheard of. It’s a possibility.

But then, the rabbit. It was such a thoughtful gift, after they had talked about keeping rabbits. After Wei Ying had told him that he didn’t want to be alone. On the other hand, Lan Zhan might do this with all of his partners. Wei Ying might not be the first.

Wei Ying mulls the entire thing over, but he can’t find a proper solution. He obviously feels inclined to think that Lan Zhan truly likes him, but how many men and women have deluded themselves into seeing things in a relationship that simply weren’t there? He would certainly not be the first to make that mistake.

What he can’t deny, however, is that from an outside perspective, their relationship really looks like Lan Zhan is his sugar daddy. Who is spending a lot of money on him.

Nie Huaisang comfortingly pats his hand.

“All in all,” he says lightly. “I think you should enjoy it. Who knows how long it will last? So, enjoy it, but be prepared.”

Be prepared that Lan Zhan can end this relationship whenever he pleases. Nie Huaisang doesn’t have to spell it out for Wei Ying to understand. He’s not the one who’s holding the power in his hands in this relationship.

God, he behaved so stupidly on Saturday!

“Huaisaaaang,” he whines, leaning over the table to beg for Nie Huaisang’s sympathy. “Comfort me.”

Nie Huasiang laughs, amused as he always is with Wei Ying’s antics. “There, there. There is nothing to comfort, you’re in an enviable position.”

The next thing he knows, there’s a presence right next to him. A hand lands on the back of his neck, squeezing once, before long fingers tilt his chin up and around. He follows the movement and sees – Lan Zhan.

“Lan Zhan!” Wei Ying exclaims with surprise. “What are you doing here?”

“You told me where you are,” Lan Zhan replies. There’s a tiny frown on his face, Wei Ying notices. “I came in search of you.”

Despite the fact that Nie Huaisang just explained to him the he shouldn’t get too attached to Lan Zhan, he can’t help but beam up at Lan Zhan, happy that Lan Zhan came to find him.

“Ehehehe,” he laughs. “I’m so happy.”

Lan Zhan doesn’t respond, but his thumb moves to trace the line of Wei Ying’s jaw. He tries not to shiver in pleasure.

“Who is your friend?” Lan Zhan asks after a moment, turning his eyes towards Nie Huaisang.

Nie Huaisang squeaks a little and makes himself small.

“Oh, sorry,” Wei Ying apologises. He forgot for a moment that Nie Huaisang was there at all. Oops. “This is my study buddy, Nie Huaisang. I say study buddy, but we mostly just have lunch together and gossip. Nie Huaisang, this is Lan Zhan.”

Nie Huaisang looks nervously back and forth between Lan Zhan, who is still staring at him, and Wei Ying, who still has Lan Zhan’s hand firmly attached to his neck. If Wei Ying didn’t know better, he would say that Lan Zhan is jealous and trying to stake his claim. But that notion is ridiculous.

“Uh… nice to meet you, Lan er-gongzi,” Nie Huaisang eventually manages to say. “I think you’re familiar with my brother, Nie Mingjue? He’s been friends with Lan Huan for a long time.”

“You are the brother of Nie Mingjue?” Lan Zhan asks, and traces his fingers along Wei Ying’s neck in a light caress. This time, the shiver is definitely there. “Give him my best regards.”

Having apparently lost all interest in Nie Huaisang and any further conversation with him, he turns back towards Wei Ying.

“Are you free today?”

“I’m off at five,” Wei Ying replies. “After that, I’m free.”

“Good,” Lan Zhan says, and Wei Ying feels inordinately happy at pleasing Lan Zhan. “I will pick you up at five, then.”

With a last lingering touch on Wei Ying’s jaw, Lan Zhan lets go of him and vanishes again, the crowd in the cafeteria parting in front of him like the sea parted in front of Moses.

“Wow,” Nie Huaisang says, once Lan Zhan is safely out of sight and hearing. “What the hell was that?”

Honestly, Wei Ying would like to know, too.

---

When Wei Ying leaves his office that evening, he finds Lan Zhan already waiting for him. And even though he had the entire afternoon to prepare him for this moment, to come to terms with the fact that Lan Zhan is his sugar daddy and not… whatever Wei Ying imagined he was, his heart cannot help but beat faster the moment he catches sight of that tall figure in white.

“Lan Zhan!” he calls out, and Lan Zhan turns towards him. He doesn’t smile, doesn’t greet back, but somehow, it’s as easy as breathing to just fly right into Lan Zhan’s arms. When he remembers that he should maybe tread a little more carefully, Lan Zhan is already embracing him.

It’s the best feeling in the world.

“How was work?” Lan Zhan asks.

“Fine, fine,” Wei Ying says dismissively. Who wants to talk about work now? “I was looking forward to seeing you.”

“Hn.”

Wei Ying squirms a bit in Lan Zhan’s arms until he can look up at him properly. Lan Zhan seems to have no intent of letting him go soon, and seems perfectly fine to intimately hug another man in a public space where everyone, including his uncle, might see him.

But as long as Lan Zhan doesn’t mind, Wei Ying won’t mind it, either.

“Hi,” he says, unable to stop looking into Lan Zhan’s gorgeous, luminous eyes.

“Welcome back, Wei Ying,” Lan Zhan replies, and Wei Ying has to laugh a little. It’s such a ridiculous greeting! But he loves it. He likes everything about Lan Zhan. Maybe Nie Huaisang is wrong, and Lan Zhan will never want to let him go.

He wonders if there’s some kind of rule about marrying your sugar baby.

“So, Lan er-gongzi,” he says, imitating Nie Huaisang’s style of address from lunch. “What have you planned this lovely evening?”

“I made a reservation for dinner,” Lan Zhan replies.

“Oh, you’re taking me out?”

“Hn.”

There is a moment of pronounced silence, and Wei Ying raises his eyebrows in expectation.

“And?”

Lan Zhan breathes the tiniest little sigh.

“I was hoping you will stay with me tonight. At my home.”

“Lan Zhan!” Wei Ying teases. “So forward!”

He squeezes Lan Zhan once, to show that he’s not serious.

“I’ll gladly come over, though.”

Lan Zhan gives him a soft kiss as reward for his favourable answer, and brings him to a taxi that’s already waiting for them.

They are deposited in front of a slightly upscale restaurant that’s well-known for the specialty dishes they serve. Lan Zhan reserved a private table for them, and Wei Ying has such a good time eating delicious food in their little booth that he forgets about everything else. Like that he should keep the things in mind that Nie Huaisang told him during lunch.

Lan Zhan orders another taxi to take them home, and Wei Ying finds out that “home” is not a modern high-rise apartment like he expected, but an entire house, evidently quite old, but impeccably renovated and beautiful. Wei Ying gapes as Lan Zhan gives him a short tour through the different rooms, all decorated and furnished with utmost care. This is the first time he’s seen something like this outside of a museum setting. He hadn’t known places like this still existed.

“Lan Zhan,” he eventually says in wonder. “This is amazing.”

“It took many years to restore it faithfully,” Lan Zhan replies. “My brother lives here too, at least when he’s in town. He is travelling at the moment.”

Wei Ying smiles. It’s a very innocent way to say, “We’re on our own and can do whatever we want.”

Lan Zhan eventually leads him to the bathroom and lets him have free reign of the facilities. He has everything prepared for Wei Ying, too, from a toothbrush to a long red robe he’s apparently supposed to use as a nightgown. He’s a bit sceptical about that last part, but once he puts the robe on and considers himself in the mirror, he thinks he looks quite nice, actually. He turns in front of the mirror to look at his reflection from all angles, and yep. He might just want to seduce a man in this one.

He hesitates for a moment before he leaves the bathroom. He knows he would do well to remember Nie Huaisang’s warning during lunch. Who knows how long this will last? Who knows how badly hurt Wei Ying will get if he isn’t careful now?

But it doesn’t matter, does it? It’s already too late. Even if he walks away now, he will be hurt. Whatever Lan Zhan’s plans may be, here is nothing that can save Wei Ying from heartache now. He might as well enjoy it for as long as he can.

With determination, he opens the door.

Lan Zhan also uses the bathroom and eventually comes to find him, dressed in a robe too, only his is white. It suits him, just as everything else that he decides to put on his body suits him. He only has to send Wei Ying one single look, and Wei Ying is already sufficiently seduced. Dammit. Lan Zhan makes him lose all perspective. He just wants Lan Zhan to take him to bed, hopes that Lan Zhan will take him to bed.

Lan Zhan silently holds out a hand to him, and Wei Ying takes it, lets himself be led to Lan Zhan’s beautiful bedroom. It’s so easy to follow Lan Zhan’s directions, to lie down on the soft sheets of his bed, to let Lan Zhan open the tie at the waist of Wei Ying’s robe.

He enjoys Lan Zhan’s burning gaze as he uncovers Wei Ying’s naked skin, as he softly traces the outline of his body. He moans when Lan Zhan places little kisses and bites everywhere, begs for more, begs for Lan Zhan to bite him so hard that it will hurt. He wants to have a memento of this. Lan Zhan obeys, and leaves his traces in the crook of Wei Ying’s neck, shoulders, the flesh above his hips, and the insides of his thighs.

He takes Wei Ying apart so beautifully, so perfectly. His fingers trail his skin like fire, his breath on Wei Ying’s bare skin is torture. Wei Ying has no doubts. When Lan Zhan slowly works him open, readies Wei Ying’s body for him, Wei Ying is certain. When Lan Zhan finally pushes into him, and starts rocking him gently, Wei Ying knows he’s done for.

He will never, ever be able to have another man.

He will never be able to feel all that he inexplicably feels for this man for anyone else again.

He can’t believe that he was done in so easily. That two days of caretaking and some groceries did the trick.

He holds onto Lan Zhan tightly and whispers nonsense into his ear, encouraging him to take Wei Ying apart completely, to make him his, and his only. When he finally does come apart, splintering into a thousand pieces in Lan Zhan’s skilful hands, he only hopes that Lan Zhan returns at least a tiny part of the love that Wei Ying feels for him.

#kuro writes #the untamed #wei wuxian #lan wangji #wangxian #mdzs #snow fic

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safflowerseason · 4 years

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some dan x amy musings

In response to a question from @wecouldstillbegreat...what is Dan and Amy’s relationship to physical touch/physical intimacy?

This is such a good question…although it was kind of hard to answer, because it’s so easy to blur the boundary between the show and fanfiction!

It’s an especially interesting question too, in light of the fact that Veep is not a particularly “touchy-feely” kind of show, and physical touch and physical intimacy are so often manipulated or twisted by the various characters. Selina and Tom’s relationship is a good example of this…both of them attempt to use their physical attraction to ruin one another. Or Selina and Andrew…Andrew constantly takes advantage of Selina by sleeping with her, and even Selina herself is somewhat aware that her physical attraction to Andrew is constantly getting her into trouble.

Dan and Amy’s relationship stands out on Veep because when they touch one another (or when they aren’t touching but want to), the physical dimension of their relationship is generally framed to emphasize the “purity” of their emotional connection, if that makes sense. Dan and Amy are terrible people, but they are two terrible people who have a genuine emotional connection to one another that the show isn’t interested in twisting (at least during the Iannucci years). Whether or not Dan and Amy are aware of it, touch for them is a fundamentally good thing.

In S1, Dan touches Amy in a very “unconscious boyfriend” kind of a way—a hand on her back, an arm over her shoulder, etc. This is also the season where their relationship is played the most “romantically.” I’m assuming the acting choices for both Reid Scott and Anna Chlumsky derived from this tonal approach.

(Sidenote: in spite of my earlier statement that touch is broadly framed as a “good” thing for Dan and Amy…I have to include a caveat here. The frequency with which Dan touches Amy in S1 is quite startling, considering they are not dating and Amy is especially distrustful of Dan during this period of their relationship. As an audience, we’ve been generally socialized to accept his behavior because their relationship has been coded as romantic…Dan and Amy are attracted to one another and thus it’s “fine” for Dan to always be touching her in these small ways…but it’s really not cool. (It makes you wonder if RS would have made the same acting choices in a post Me-Too world.) Of course, for what it’s worth, Anna Chlumsky also never plays Amy in S1 as physically uncomfortable when Dan is touching her in this way, a choice which broadly shapes the audience’s reaction to Dan as well. The fact that they are in a “romance” excuses a lot of behavior that we might not look at so indulgently now.)

In S2-S4, this dimension of their relationship drops off—they are close, constantly in one another’s space, arms brushing, etc, but Dan’s not draping his arm around her on the couch after he’s gotten her to agree to a suicide pact. It’s impossible to know what the actors and the writers discussed, but subconsciously or otherwise, this change seems to reflect the broader tonal shift from S1 to the more subtle “Machiavellian work spouses” dynamic of the later Iannucci seasons.

During S2 and S4, Dan mostly touches Amy when she’s extremely emotionally fired up. The two big moments that come to mind is in 2.08 during Selina’s interview and 4.08, when she’s so desperate to deliver Pierce to Selina she’s about to blow their cover. This speaks to their intimacy in a different way, I think—that Dan feels enough of an emotional connection to Amy to reach for her when she’s furious, but also that Amy finds his touch emotionally soothing (whether or not she realizes it). In 2.08, Amy would be perfectly justified at flinging Dan’s hand off of her, of jerking her body away from him—he’s incredibly smug and condescending to her—but she doesn’t. That’s significant.

Even in S3, when Dan and Amy are basically in an episodes-long fight over Dan’s promotion as campaign manager…Amy is the one who Dan leans on when he has his panic attack, and she willing assists him out of the room, minutes after she’s sabotaged him. (We barely see this happen, though, and I can see why they might not have wanted to show it, because the imagery would be beyond unsubtle and probably felt a bit serious for the moment…it’s funnier and lighter to have Dan freaking out in the cab and thoughtlessly running a hand down her face.)

There are not very many of these moments, but analyzed collectively, they obviously emphasize that Dan and Amy’s relationship is, well, different than Amy’s with Mike or Dan’s with Selina. They certainly stand out in a show that’s about how cutthroat and corrupt politics can be. And not to get all fluffy about it, but it makes me think of when Reid Scott called Anna Chlumksy “partner” in that behind the scenes video. They are partners, and the fact that Dan feels comfortable enough with Amy to literally grab her when she’s about to charge into the West Wing matters very much.

Then of course, 5.02 happens and Dan and Amy are emotionally estranged for the rest of the series, basically. They don’t touch at all onscreen in S5 or S6…and I’m not going to analyze S7 because it depresses me, and because I’ve already pointed out similarities between Ep. 7.03 and Ep. 2.08 in how Dan deals with Amy.

It’s also worth pointing out that the significance of the moments in which Dan and Amy are specifically not touching one another but clearly want to, and the lack of touch between the brings their physical chemistry into intense focus. The bar scene in 4.04, for example…or the other bar scene in 5.02, not mention the scene in the hotel corridor. In those moments, Dan and Amy are at the very edge of giving in to their physical desire for one another—they’re not touching because if they did, they might not stop. And even though we don’t see them hook up in 6.09, their reactions to that night clearly indicate that they both had a fantastic time. Turns out touching in all the ways is just as much as fun as bantering in dive bars. (Even Dan’s “yeah, yeah, we had a lot of drinks that night…” response to Amy at the very end of 6.10 has a kind of…coy intrigue to it. He knows that it was a good night, and he clearly wants to repeat the experience, while also, obviously, not wanting to come right out and say so. If it sucked, he just would have been like “Ugh, don’t remind me” à la S7 Dan.)

Anyway, so what does all this actually mean? On a super basic level, we can generally infer that Dan seems to be a pretty touchy-feely kind of guy (or at least Amy brings it out in him). That doesn’t mean he’s super cuddly or into PDAs, but touch is an important emotional conduit for him (his love language, for lack of a better word, although both Dan and Amy would hate that phrase). And Amy, who broadly does not like being touched by other people and has never been in a satisfying sexual relationship, likes it when Dan touches her (this is largely tied, I think, to the fact that Dan is the only person in the show around whom Amy can act like herself). And when they do finally give into their desire for one another, it is a very heady experience for both of them that they’re eager to repeat. At the very least, I would argue that canon takes us that far.

As for what these characteristics look like in a real relationship…well, the show never takes us there, so it’s up to one’s own interpretation of Dan and Amy’s relationship. Obviously, fanfic writers (including myself) have broadly extrapolated all this into stories that explore such a relationship and where physical touch becomes a somewhat central feature of their relationship. Often in these fics, sex and other forms of physical intimacy represent a way for Dan and Amy to communicate their feelings without actually having to express them verbally (their least favorite thing). We never see it in the show, but it’s nice to imagine—and most fanfic writers have—that in a real relationship, Amy does things like lean her head against Dan’s shoulder or kisses him just because she wants to. In fanfiction, these kinds of small moments illustrate to the reader that Amy fully trusts Dan (or is trying to).

Just to pull an example from my own work…in BMTL, Dan and Amy have been “together” for roughly four years, and they’ve had a kid together for five and a half years. One way I’ve tried to demonstrate the (relative) longevity of their relationship is through physical touch. They play-wrestle, she falls asleep with her head in his lap, Dan is so tired in Chapter 3 he almost falls asleep in Amy’s lap while she runs her fingers through his hair…these moments just felt, to me, really natural to write in a fic where Dan and Amy are an established couple, not to mention how frequently Dan has held Amy in his arms, in the moments where she’s actively grieving her dad (and he’s not making it about him).

Well, answering ask somehow turned into a novel, so I’ll stop here! Needless to say, it’s a very rich topic!

#veep #dan x amy #dan egan #amy brookheimer

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five-wow · 4 years

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10.14!! i watched it!! here are some thoughts!! (actually a lot of thoughts because looking back it kind of got away from me in a big way, wow.)

i did NOT know the episode was going to cold open on eddie running straight into traffic and steve being a heroic idiot who manages to save both his dog and his own life more through sheer luck than any particular skill, but oh dear god, that was intense.

and then we have danny sitting in a bar somewhere and staring down a glass! looks like they’re both putting their morning to great use.

this woman who comes in and starts talking to danny? i love her. she is awesome. (i know she’s going to die based on the episode description, but for now, i’m choosing to ignore that and just enjoy her presence.)

ALSO the lady bartender who tells danny he should listen to the woman because she sounds like she knows what she’s talking about? i love her, too. she only gets to say maybe three sentences but i’m already mostly convinced that danny’s mystery woman should probably ditch him for this bartender lady. mystery woman is doing ALL the work here, and danny is just kind of present.

fjdkfdjk danny excusing himself for the phone call with “it’s a work thing” and then the VERY FIRST THING steve says is “relax, it’s not a work thing”. i’m laughing so hard, but also, that’s just ?? genuinely like they’re reading each other’s mind from opposite ends of the island, or wherever danny may currently be. (AND an immediate sign that danny’s excuse to pick up steve’s call in the middle of a conversation was not a good one, or true, for that matter. i wouldn’t necessarily call this a lie, but with danny’s track record when it comes to telling women he’s dating the truth, this is also not the greatest start of a relationship, maybe, omg.)

danny, just after a really awesome and super pretty woman approached him in a bar even though he’s got basically nothing going for him at the moment, offers to come home because eddie isn’t feeling well. and. i mean. it’s not that that’s not sweet or that it’s not a good offer to make because maybe steve needs emotional support even if eddie doesn’t, but it also really really sounds like danny is kind of hoping for a reason to fully excuse himself from his impromptu date.

also, fdjkf, danny teasing steve about the pretty vet lady is cute but confusing to me, because steve met her right before he spent upwards of a month stalking his mother in columbia and he can’t have been a great person to be dating right after that, either, so how is that relationship even still going? i just assumed that was a casualty of life getting in the way, but apparently this vet is either a very, very patient woman or almost creepily invested after just a single date, if she’s giving steve this much time to just randomly disappear on her.

AND THEN steve asks danny if he wants to join steve to grab a bite to eat and finally, finally! danny mentions that there might be someone waiting for him, and this is low key hilarious to me all over again because i’m sure it’s not really meant this way, but i’m reading this now as danny going “no! i totally am not looking for an excuse to get away, because i am having a great time!” while also feeling a need to reestablish his own dating prowess after steve’s last date was just mentioned and/or hoping to maybe make steve a little jealous for that same reason.

danny starts telling mystery woman how he’s deduced that she must be new to the island! i really like this, both because danny is finally contributing something to the flirting (he has a personality!) and because it makes such perfect sense for that to be something danny picks up on, considering his own history when it comes to integrating on hawaii.

danny: “[hawaii] grows on you.” yes, mystery woman! all you need is to find another woman you can have strong sexual tension with for a decade while raising two kids together, moving in a couple of times and getting mistaken for a couple regularly while also clinging to your heterosexuality like it’s a life raft even though you keep ignoring all your heterosexual partners, and you’ll feel right at home, just the way danny does!

WHOOP. they’re making out in the bathroom now. that escalated quickly, fjdkf.

they were giggling and moaning and talking loudly the entire time, but when danny tries to leave through the door mystery woman needs to check if the coast is clear first or they’ll get busted. oh, you guys. i think poor bartender lady already knows, as basically the only other person in this empty bar.

also: danny has a rental car?? from steve suggesting food i kind of assumed danny is still on the island and in the area, but apparently he couldn’t take either his own car or steve’s truck, because then it would get wrecked during the car crash that’s scheduled later on in this episode, i guess. good thinking, danny!

they have baseball and the east coast in common! that’s cute! (though i also can’t help but be reminded of melissa, who was from new york, and feel like this woman is turning into melissa 2.0, gosh. this first meeting is better so far, though! danny is not creepily car stalking a much younger woman he only met for two minutes at a gas station - well done, danny.)

they have a Moment and then someone coming towards them on the road is being an idiot and danny swerves and the car FLIPS and i don’t think danny is getting his deposit on this rental back.

the pretty doctor is making a house call for steve and steve is too anxious about eddie to even think about the fact that this should probably be a little awkward somehow, oh my gosh. he just rambles ahead about eddie’s problem, like a good dad.

danny and mystery woman are both looking very banged up and bloody, but mystery woman has part of the license plate number of the car that nearly hit them and tells danny to give it to the police so nobody else will get hurt! she continues to be awesome.

fdjfkdjkfdj, so steve gets an answer about eddie (he’s showing signs of post-traumatic stress) and he and the doctor have a serious conversation about that and then he walks her to the door and THEN he goes “emma, before you leave, i feel like i should probably bring up the, uh-” and she fills in “how you never called me back”. oh my GOD, steve. he went on a date with this woman, never called her again (somewhat understandably from his side, but still) and then DID call her, but to ask her to come make a house call because his dog is acting weird, and she granted him this favor and acted like not just a professional but a really kind one. WHY do these disaster men get paired with these perfect women, fjdk.

steve!! tells her!! he has issues balancing work and personal life!! and it honestly isn’t that much because it’s missing huge chunks of what really went down, but oh boy, this is already A Lot and i’m surprised we’re getting this much and i’m proud of him!!

she’s seeing someone! she tells him no hard feelings! she tells him she believes him when he says it’s not about her but about his problems! GROWN UP RELATIONSHIP TALK. i mean, there was never much of a relationship here to start with perhaps, but STILL, i love this. very good. A+.

steve’s face after she leaves though, oh my gosh. he seems a little shellshocked that he actually just had that conversation, maybe a little disappointed in himself that he let things happen this way.

lou is at will’s college for parents weekend! and there is talk of decorating will’s dorm room, which is cool, but also confuses me a little bit because i’m assuming will’s been living in that room for many months by now.

wait, okay, i’m more confused: lou is calling about eddie because tani texted him that eddie wasn’t feeling well, which is cool! family keeping family in the loop! except then steve says that the vet just left and said it might be pts, and then lou suddenly says he knows someone whose expertise is in military working dogs, and he already reached out to him and that’s the part where i go ? because how did lou already know it would be pts, or anything of the sort? what was this specialist supposed to do if the vet had just diagnosed eddie with some regular dog disease?

i was so caught up in the euphoria of steve attempting to communicate emotions and the whole ohana pulling together to help eddie that i almost forgot about the car crash, oh shit. danny of course can’t get cell service, because these things always happen in the middle of nowhere in fiction, because it would have been too easy if he could have just called an ambulance.

the new vet super clearly telling steve that this is in no way his fault and that he shouldn’t feel wrecked with guilt over eddie’s pain is !! very good!!! this episode is about eddie’s pts, but steve’s getting to work through some issues too, here, wow.

steve calls tani on the way back home with eddie and tani is just randomly in a car with quinn?? i love it. it’s super unclear to me if they’re working today or if they’re just hanging out in a car, plus quinn doesn’t say a single word in this entire scene, but i love that she’s there, regardless.

OOF. mystery woman has been impaled on some thing that stuck through the back of her car seat, and yes, that’s definitely some great drama and not something i saw coming, but also. oh my god. i don’t think that should be a thing that happens if you’re in a crash that left the car pretty well intact overall, so who the hell designed a car that sometimes sticks something metal through the passenger seat if it rolls?

mystery woman: “just tell me. just don’t lie to me, please don’t lie to me now.” OKAY a) this is very brave of her and i still love her a lot, b) PLEASE DON’T LIE TO ME is a very loaded thing to hear one of danny’s love interests tell him to his face because of danny’s aforementioned penchant for lying to them. this is a very different situation and he was just trying to keep her calm, but still.

“it’s a little bad” is both objectively the truth (well done, danny, proud of you too this episode) and a hilarious way to describe the situation. unintentionally hilarious, for sure, but hilarious.

the guy tani and quinn talk to at the base is really helpful and nice! “i hope the warrior is better soon”, aww.

tani, reporting on eddie to quinn: “mcgarrett was trying to settle him for a nap. he did lap up some of the water from the bowl that i brought though, so that’s good.” quinn, with absolutely no change in expression: “huh, that’s weird. did you tell him the water was for eddie.” i am. i am giggling so much. this is exactly my kind of humor and it was perfectly timed to release the pent-up tension from everything that is happening, thank you, quinn.

tani and quinn have a talk about tani’s worry about junior and HOW is this episode suddenly so filled with absolutely awesome moments for female characters, i am flabbergasted. i mean, really really happy because i love the mystery woman and the vet was perfect and now we’re getting some beautiful tani & quinn interaction while they’re helping steve out, but this was not what i expected to find in this episode.

everybody wants to help eddie and it’s making me cry, ahhh.

AHA. danny and mystery woman talk about rachel!! danny says they’ve been “sorta trying to work it out for the last year or so” and then that “we’re better of as friends” and on the one hand i’m REALLY GLAD we’re getting some kind of word on this, because it was odd enough as was but now that danny seemed to be open to dating someone else it was even more necessary to know he’s not still dating rachel too, but on the other hand i’m kind of sad it’s second-hand? i’d have liked an episode with rachel actually in it to work this out.

ohhhh god. danny hears a car so he wants to go up to the road to stop it, but mystery woman tells him to stay, but he goes anyway, so wanna bet that when he gets back after he probably doesn’t even manage to stop the car, mystery woman is dead? eep.

oh! that went a lot quicker than expected and mystery woman is in fact still blinking when danny approaches the crashed car again, so she is not dead yet! good news! now danny gets to watch her die, hooray!

tani and quinn walk onto steve’s beach and that’s such an odd sight but also a really nice one!

ohhh, they were headed for the neighbor. and then they say hi and introduce themselves as people who work with steve and this woman immediately starts rambling about the biodiversity of hawaii, no holds barred and with the hugest smile about it, and here we have ANOTHER woman i immediately love with all my heart, holy shit.

i was a little afraid that they might have to fight the lovely neighbor to get the plant that triggered eddie’s pts removed, but they DON’T, they really really don’t have to fight her because she immediately gets it and says she’ll get rid of the plant in question and that makes me very happy on so many levels.

danny manages to stop a truck!!! and this guy asks zero questions about all the blood on danny’s clothes, but i guess that’s a good thing at this point.

!!! eddie and steve are cuddling on the couch and quinn goes “aww, look at you two. love is real.” and YES. i RELATE.

okay, everything about this scene is perfect, actually, because tani jumps in to agree with quinn and then quinn says the chasing somebody to the airport like they do in romcoms is a little psycho, and that really doesn’t absolve the h50 writers of slightly psycho things they’ve done when it comes to romantic relationships but i like the burn anyway, ha.

STEVE OPENS UP TO QUINN AND TANI about relating to eddie’s panic and feelings of being lost and he’s basically saying “yeah, i know what pts is like” and i just. i am full of emotions. thank you, whoever wrote this.

oh gOD though, tani asks steve how danny is and steve says “i spoke to him this morning, he is good” and that’s obviously a painful moment to be saying that seeing as we, as the audience, know how danny is actually doing at that moment.

and then there’s a knock at the door and quinn says “maybe that’s him now” and steve gets up as he says “not unless he forgot his key” and i SCREAM. it makes total sense that danny would have a key, and doubly so because he’s literally been living at steve’s for months, but they WAY they just casually had him throw that out there is QUITE SOMETHING.

oh danggg, it’s adam.

huh. steve welcomes him home and hugs him and i’m a little confused because wasn’t there still a criminal investigation pending for adam’s actions? did that get resolved? wasn’t steve still a little mad at him and completely unsure what was happening?

ah, we get a somewhat dramatic zoom on steve’s face that tells us that steve definitely still has questions.

so danny climbs back down to the crashed car after calling for help and he tells mystery woman that his name is danny and THEN she dies, right before she can tell him her name. at this point i’ve been expecting it for ages and it’s not exactly a shock, but jfc, they definitely managed to pick a very traumatic moment for this to happen.

danny just... gets back up to the road and starts walking away as the ambulances arrive and that’s a nice and symbolic end but also, uh, some poor emt is going to have to jog after him and try to wrestle him into an ambulance to get himself checked out. danny. danny, come back.

in the end, i !!! REALLY LOVED this episode. i didn’t expect to, because i was pretty sure mystery woman would die and i wasn’t into the idea of introducing a love interest for danny and then killing her off. truth be told, i’m still not into that and i hate that she had to die to give danny a painful episode (and that we still don’t know her name, which i get from the storytelling perspective because it adds a layer of pain but it also feels kind of bad from a please-respect-women perspective that she’s quite literally nameless), BUT at least i really really loved her character, which is honestly already more than i thought would happen, and THEN there was the other plot this episode!! the one with steve working through trauma and eddie getting help from everyone and tani and quinn being awesome and us getting to meet one of steve’s neighbors for the first time and her turning out to be an adorable plant nerd, and all of that, i adored it. i know danny’s car crash was supposed to be the center of this episode, but for me it kind of got swept aside by my elation over what was happening in steve’s house, and all the really awesome women this episode threw at us, holy shit.

#h50 #10.14 #i did not expect to be this excited after watching this episode but I AM #*#h50 spoilers

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