#back at it with the uh. make an idiot and then make them sad. agenda. | Explore Tumblr Posts and Blogs

florenceandthemachine · 3 years

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hear your heartbeat

happy birthday to the incomparable @elisela!!! just for you, please enjoy a good fake-dating au with plenty of idiotic and family members abound.

12.5k - on Ao3

—————

“I’m telling you, Scotty. New York has been good to me. Maybe we should just renounce California and stay here for the summer.”

“Don’t joke about that, dude.”

Stiles laughed as he shouldered his phone, taking in the city air as he strolled along the streets of Manhattan.

Needless to say, Manhattan was far from home—while the city certainly was his vibe, Stiles was no stranger to tamping down the champagne tastes that clashed with his tapwater budget. The little shitbox apartment he got through NYU’s housing program was almost a thirty minute train ride from school, but Stiles figured that when he was more or less trapped on campus for nearly fifty hours a week, he could justify spending his breaks wandering the streets of Manhattan and really taking in the city.

On today’s agenda, Stiles was looking forward to wandering around a farmers market that literally stretched on for city blocks. There were fruits and vegetables literally as far as the eye could see, spices and roots and mysterious tubers of all shapes and size, but Stiles didn’t give a flying fuck about the food—his real interest were the vendors and the shoppers.

He had learned early on that open air markets like this were perfect meeting grounds for mythical beasts of all shapes and sizes, so, what better palace for him to do some… field work, so to speak?

There were nymphs who had full bouquets of beautiful flowers that lived suspiciously long in their vases as long as you complimented the blooms on a regular basis. Dryads who sold the most delicious fruit he had ever tasted, even if they charged six bucks for a pear.

Stiles had learned early on to avoid the fae—basically, any stand that sold crystal or metalcraft. His first time at the market, he had somehow wound up spending nearly four hundred dollars on quartz; the moment the money had left his hand, the stall had all but vanished in front of him.

“The people are good here. They’re fast. Blunt. Sarcastic. My kind of people.”

“Uh huh.”

Scott liked to call their whole situation lucky.

When Stiles applied to NYU’s doctorate program, he expected rounds and rounds of interviews, lists of deadlines he needed to memorize, and some less-than-subtle digs at his proposed field of study (which was fair, honestly—he knew that criminology and mythology rarely mixed).

What he didn’t expect was Scott, though, the bro of all bros. When Stiles told him he was applying to NYU, Scott had cheered him on, helped him prepare, and then immediately applied to different veterinary positions through the state.

(Scott was golden, obviously—he had years of training, letters of recommendation from everyone he had ever met, and him being a werewolf basically made him the animal whisperer.)

At the end of the day, Stiles got to pursue his passion thanks to a hodgepodge of grants at NYU, and Scott was awarded a fellowship in veterinary medicine through the Bronx Zoo. What kind of weird twist of luck would let the best friends wind up together across the country like that?

So, yeah, Scott called it luck.

Stiles called it karmic retribution for their supremely fucked-up years at Beacon Hills High, but even he could admit that ‘luck’ sounded nicer... and if Stiles was being honest, ‘luck’ was definitely the best way to classify his meeting Derek Hale.

Derek Hale was smart, he was sarcastic, and he could go toe-to-toe with Stiles over completely obscure things for literal hours. He was a first-year professor at NYU, who had the tiny office right next to the broom closet Stiles had managed to shove PHD desk into, and he was probably the only other person in the program that took mythology seriously (meaning he was the only person who didn’t make Stiles want to put his head through the wall).

He was also hot as fuck, but that was beside the point. Stiles had a little bit of a massive crush, but that was also beside the point.

They had built up a fast friendship based on a series of arguments about the Necronomicon, of all things, and Stiles loved the thought of being friends with someone who didn’t know him as the weird kid in high school who knew way too much about ritual sacrifice and circumcision.

He had evened out a lot through undergrad. He was still awkward, sure, but he was awkward with a refillable prescription for Adderall and some sort of brain-to-mouth filter.

(Honestly, the fact that Stiles had managed to avoid making a single joke about the werewolf who was stuck teaching Mythology 101 really did speak volumes to his newfound maturity.)

Speaking of Derek, though…

“Stiles! Hey, Stiles!”

Stiles almost jumped a foot in the air as he heard his name called, doing a spectacular near-drop-mid-air-catch of his phone as he regained his footing, turning on the spot to see a taller woman with jet black hair waving him over.

She was… okay, she was gorgeous—dark hair, smooth skin, someone who looked like she just stepped out of one of the windows on Fifth Avenue—but Stiles was decently distracted, because standing beside her was Derek Hale, the object of his extremely private affection for the past few months. Who, for whatever reason, was standing there looking like he wanted the sidewalk to open up and swallow him whole.

“Scotty, I’ll see you tonight, yeah? I gotta go.”

Stiles pocketed his phone as he cautiously made his way over to the pair—trio, he corrected, because there was another woman with them, looking incredibly more invested in the conversation now that another party was joining them.

He hiked his canvas a bit higher up as he smiled, trying to remember where he had seen the two before… students, maybe, but if that were the case, they would know Derek, not Stiles. They weren’t faculty members, he was sure of that. Donors to the program, maybe?

Well, if they were donors, Stiles sincerely hoped that Derek would have tried harder to wear literally any expression other than his current ‘bitter and miserable’.

And if they were donors, why were they so fucking happy to see him?

“I’m Laura. This is Cora.”

The taller of the two women extended her hand confidently as Stiles got within arms reach, and he instinctively reached out to take it, Cora following suit. “Derek has told us all about you. I have to say, I figured there was at least a ten percent chance you were made up, but… here you are!”

“Here I am!” Stiles was officially lost, but he kept his smile up, cheeks pinking up a little bit as he turned back to Derek. “You’ve been talking about me?” he asked, his voice on the line between flattered and teasing, nudging Derek playfully as he tilted his head.

“Stiles, I—“

“Of course he has! Derek’s a private guy, sure, but you can’t be surprised he told us about his new—“

“Laura—”

“Lord, Derek, calm down. You already had your big bisexual awakening, I’m allowed to be excited to meet your first boyfriend.” Laura shot back, her glare rivaling Derek’s absolute best ‘listen to teacher’ look, and Stiles could see the muscle in his jaw start to twitch. He probably would have done something, but… he was basically short circuiting, brain trying to keep up with whatever the fuck Laura had said, because Derek now had his arm around Stiles’ waist.

Derek had a big bisexual awakening?

And a boyfriend, apparently?

How had Stiles missed that??

“Stiles, these are my sisters, Laura and Cora Hale.”

Okay, great, they were Derek’s sisters. Stiles didn’t even know that Derek had sisters, which was a little sad if he thought about it.

Thankfully, he didn’t have long to think about it, because Derek—

“This is Stiles, my… my boyfriend. Now stop bombarding him. Give him half a fucking second before you go a thousand miles an hour.”

Oh—oh God. Stiles was the boyfriend.

He had seriously missed something, then—he didn’t think he had confessed his feelings for Derek anytime recently, or he probably would have died from embarrassment. Scott was really good at hiding his phone when he was drinking, which ruled that entire scenario out. Stiles could be forgetful at times, sure, but he thought he would remember if he had managed to score himself a boyfriend.

He looked up at Derek, trying to ignore the sudden burn of contact where their bodies were pressed together, but his brain was extremely focused the moment that he caught the look on Derek’s face, there and gone in a flash. He felt the hand squeeze at his waist, and the message was clear enough.

Please.

Ah, well. Stiles was always good at bullshitting, and this was no exception.

“No, no, Der, it’s fine! It’s good to meet you both, sorry, I wasn’t even expecting to see Derek until… uh, later, let alone meet anyone new,” Stiles said, his voice 100% betraying his nerves as it picked up an octave.

Laura’s voice was much more evenly toned, even if it was a little teasing. “Oh? You two have big plans tonight? We aren’t interrupting anything, are we?” she said with a grin, giving the distinct impression that even if they were interrupting, she and her sister wouldn’t be leaving until they were good and ready. Stiles felt his mind kick into overdrive, waving the question aside.

“Oh, nothing like that. We were going to meet up with my friend Scott for dinner, introducing the boyfriend to the best friend, you know how it is,” he continued, hoping his little chuckle wasn’t too terribly fake as he reached up to pat the lapels of Derek’s jacket, letting his fingers linger a little too long on Derek’s chest as he nodded.

He hoped that she knew how it was. Hell, Stiles didn’t even know how it was. He hadn’t exactly been rolling in romance since moving across the country.

“Well, if you say so,” Laura mused, raising a perfect brow, head tilted to the side. “You look like you’re about to pass out, Stiles. You alright?”

And, okay, Stiles knew enough to know what that meant. It meant that her super-sonic ears could hear his heart trying to break through his ribs with a staccato beat, typically a tell-tale sign that someone was lying, but… maybe he could work that to his advantage. He swallowed, voice a little tight as he laughed, waving the concern away.

“Sorry, I just wasn't… planning on meeting the family today,” Stiles said, probably the most truthful thing he had ever said. “Usually I’d try to prepare a little more, you know, make sure I’m wearing something nice and avoid putting my entire foot in my mouth. Maybe just a toe or two,” he said, relaxing minutely as Cora snorted from her position near Laura’s elbow.

Okay, so self depreciation was a good way to avoid suspicion with all the Hales. Got it.

“Well, if you both have plans, I’ll make this quick,” Laura said, her voice deceptively charming as she sidled up next to Stiles, though he certainly wasn’t going to complain about the way Derek’s hand tightened around his waist. “The semester is up soon, what are your plans this summer? Never mind, move them back. We’re having a family reunion the week after finals, and everyone is dying to meet baby brother Derek’s new boo after all the stories he’s told.”

…stories?

He looked up to Derek again, who was now blushing up to the tips of his ears, which—okay, cute—but which told him absolutely nothing and offered him exactly zero defense.

“Actually, I already have a flight booked as soon as my spring contract is up. Heading back to Beacon Hills for a few days, and—“

“Wait, did Derek already invite you?” Laura asked, her expression pleasantly surprised, and Stiles was speechless for a half second before Derek stepped in.

“No, I didn’t invite him because I’m not even going, Laura. Besides, he has his own plans with his own family,” he said, and Stiles blinked as he tried to keep up. “And what do you mean, they’re excited to meet him? I was very clear that the further I can keep him away from you and Mom, the better.”

Laura only rose a brow as she turned back to Cora, who took a beat before looking up from her phone, her expression halfway guilty as she clutched the device. “I uh—I may have just sent a picture of you two to the family group chat.”

Stiles choked on a laugh as Derek gasped—actually gasped—and pulled his phone from his pocket, making the mistake of releasing Stiles’ shoulder to unlock the device, looking absolutely scandalized as he glared at Cora.

It wasn’t long before Stiles had a similar look on his face, though, as Laura took advantage of his free arm, linking her own with his as she started to walk. “Alright, Stiles, here’s the deal.”

“Cora, you little—hey! Laura, get back here with my boyfriend!”

“Calm down little brother, the adults are talking.”

“He’s younger than I am!”

“So, Stiles, like I was saying,” Laura started, oblivious or ignorant to the way Stiles' mind had absolutely reeled when Derek had called him his boyfriend for the second time. “Derek hasn’t been home for more than a day visit since he moved out to this dump, and no one has raised a stink about it in years. This year, though, is… important,” she started, and Stiles nodded idly as he mentally ran through the calendar in his head.

The semester was over in just over a week, with finals crammed into three days after that, and then—oh, the full moon.

No, Stiles corrected himself, the blue moon. The first blue moon in May in probably… thirty years, if he had to guess. He nodded up to Laura as that clicked into place, a flicker of curiosity crossing over her face as she continued talking.

“We won’t take up that much of your time—it’s only like two events, I promise, and I also promise Derek will personally take care of whatever flight changes you have to make so you can still get some time with your family. After all, it’s not your fault my bonehead brother tried to exclude you until now.”

“I’m not a bonehead!” Derek said, his tone of voice just exasperated enough that Stiles sighed, carefully extracting himself from Laura’s grasp as they slowed to a stop near the curb of Fifth Avenue, the noise from the farmers market blending in with the sound of traffic as he turned back to Derek.

“Alright, hang on, hold up,” Stiles started, his tone firm enough to stop the three wolves in their tracks, Derek and Laura wearing matching expressions of surprise as they stopped in their tracks—even Cora was peeking over her phone, clearly interested, and Stiles couldn’t blame them. It had probably been a long time since either of them had been stopped by a human.

“Laura, Derek is not a bonehead. He’s smart, and he’s sweet, and he’s very kind, and it’s okay that he’s a little more private. Yeah, he’s also a stubborn asshole, but… well, that’s one of the reasons I like him so much,” Stiles said, the first genuine smile in the entire conversation gracing his face as he looked at Derek again. “But you know your brother. Did you really think that catching him off guard across the country in person was going to be the best way to convince him to visit?”

He was fine taking their silence as an answer, honestly.

“Now, Derek, that being said, I… if you are comfortable with it, I can rearrange my plans and come down with you. If you’re not comfortable with that, that’s okay too. Meeting the family—at least, the rest of the family—is a very big step,” he continued, his words very pointed.

(Yes, Derek, meeting the family would be a very big step for someone you weren’t even dating, please pick up on the subliminal messaging here.)

“But even if you’re not comfortable with me being there, I think you should still go down. I’ll get to spend plenty of time with my dad, you shouldn’t have to be all alone up here while I’m gone.”

Moving to smooth over the lapels on Derek’s jacket again, Stiles only barely tampered down a noise of surprise as Derek intercepted his hands, pleasantly shocked by how easily Derek’s warm, smooth fingers slipped between his own lanky digits.

Stiles felt his cheeks pinks up as he cleared his throat, doing his best to act normal, because he was… well, he wasn’t lying. He had absolutely thought about Derek being alone here in New York while Stiles was gone, but that was more in the sense that Stiles would miss him.

He just didn’t know that Derek might be missing some family, too.

Besides, he may not have known that much about the intricacies of a normal, family pack, but Stiles knew enough to know that a big event like this would probably be good for Derek, even if he didn’t want to admit it.

Even if Derek was going to reject his offer and go down alone.

…because Derek was going to reject him.

Derek was going to reject him, right?

Stiles had been fairly sure of that when he offered, but judging by the way Derek couldn’t meet his eyes after something as simple as holding hands, Stiles might have just fucked himself over. Derek opened and closed his mouth twice before he finally let out a huff of air and looked up, doing a remarkably good impression of a guilty animal as he looked at Stiles.

“…you’re sure you don’t mind?”

Fuck.

“Derek, I wouldn’t have offered if I minded,” Stiles said, and that much was at least true—but before he could say anything else, Laura was squealing in his ear, wrapping both of them up in a hug so tight Stiles almost had to remind her that he was human, but he was able to breathe again as the car next to the curb chirped.

“Thank God, Stiles, thank you for getting through to him! Oh, Nana is gonna flip out when she hears who’s coming—Derek, you know you’ve always been her favorite—Stiles, do you have any dietary restrictions? Derek, send me his number, and—no, Cora, you are not driving us back to the airport, move your ass—“

Stiles looked up to Derek, his expression somewhere between bemused and fearful as Laura rambled on, but… well, the apologetic look that Derek had on his face wasn’t much reassurance.

“—and Stiles, you’re going to love Beacon Hills. Bye boys! See you in two weeks!”

Stiles was left, partially shellshocked as Derek’s hand slipped from his own, the need for the facade no longer essential as the shiny silver rental car pulled into traffic.

“… Derek, since when the fuck are you from Beacon Hills?”

—————

“Scotty, stop laughing, this isn’t funny.”

“Dude, are you kidding me? This is hilarious.”

Stiles groaned as he shoved another slice of pizza into his mouth, ignoring the burning sensation that spread across his tongue as he tried to pack as much melted cheese as he could into one bite.

Scott’s apartment had been their go-to for the entire time he and Stiles had been in the city—not because it was huge and glamorous, not by any means, but Scott’s shoebox had a door between the bathroom and the living room, and therefore it was the best place for bro-time by default.

Stiles had loudly complained about the entire situation when he and Derek showed up on Scott’s stoop, firmly planting himself in his favorite of Scott’s chairs—the ‘old man’ recliner next to Scott’s little television, the game on screen forgotten as he recalled their harrowed tale.

“Stiles, if you weren’t comfortable with it, why even… okay, no, don’t you dare answer me until you swallow,” Derek snapped, and Stiles rolled his eyes as he swallowed a few times, sticking his tongue out at Derek once his mouth was empty.

“Good. Thank you for pretending to be an adult. Now, why did you even offer if it wasn’t something you were comfortable with.”

Because it was supposed to just be a gesture, Derek. Because I didn’t realize you would take it as a serious offer, Derek. Because you were supposed to say no, Derek.

… because I didn’t want you to be alone, Derek.

Honestly, as surprised as Stiles was that Derek took him up on his poorly-timed moment of goodness, he was even more surprised that after Laura drove off, when he numbly asked if Derek wanted to come over to Scott’s for some pizza, Derek actually said yes.

Derek Hale was being social. Alert the media.

(Well… maybe ‘social’ was stretching it a bit—Stiles didn’t know if it was a territory thing or what, but Derek had turned hilariously, awkwardly stiff the moment he stepped inside Scott’s apartment.)

“I offered because I’m nice, dick, but don’t even think that you can turn this on me. Derek, they knew my name. They knew what I looked like. And yeah, I mean, I’m a complete catch and all—oh fuck off, Scotty—but what in the actual, literal fuck?”

Stiles didn’t think it was possible, but somehow Derek got even more tense, shoulders tightening up toward his ears as he looked down. It took a moment before he answered, but Stiles knew by then that Derek usually had to… wind himself up to talk about some things.

“My mother lives on the opposite end of the country, and even then, she still managed to set up twenty four blind dates for me last year. Twenty four, Stiles. That’s basically one every other week. Do you have any idea how much small talk that is? And how much I hate small talk?”

Yes, Stiles thought, to both of those questions. He would never admit this out loud, of course, but thinking about one of the most intensely private people that he knew stuck at some shitty little coffee shop trying to chat with some random female on behalf of his mother was hilarious to a degree he couldn’t fathom.

It definitely wasn’t a redirection of his own… personal feelings that may or may not be directed at Derek. Not at all. Nope.

“So, around the time the spring semester started, when my mother let slide that she had passed along my number to yet another perfectly eligible barista, or something, I panicked and told her I had a boyfriend. And then she asked for a photo, and the most recent one on my phone was that selfie you sent miming your own death in the stacks, so…”

“Oh fuck, Derek,” Stiles started, downing the last of his beer. “Your big bisexual awakening wasn’t just you trying to get out of your mom setting you up on dates, right?”

“Don’t flatter yourself, ass,” Derek said, rolling his eyes as he shook his head. “The two events were completely separate.”

Stiles laughed at the thought, but even then, his mind was reeling. If this wasn’t a recent discovery, how in the fuck did Stiles miss that for so long?

“Well, you’re lucky Scotty and I had a flight booked anyway. I won’t let you face them alone, not when you have a picture perfect boyfriend to show off now—what role should I take on? Doting, love struck fool? Rebel without a care? Some sad forlorn loser who… okay, no, that one is too close to home.”

Scott stood up and laughed as Derek glared at Stiles again, but it didn’t take a genius to see the tiny smile on his face, or the way his shoulders eased as he leaned back into the couch.

“Alright, this is getting too intense a conversation while the game is on. Want another beer, Stiles? You, Derek?”

Stiles made a vaguely affirming noise as he wove his hand in Scott’s direction, eyes drawn back to Derek yet again as the other wolf politely declined, his own attention affixed to the television as the game picked back up.

Derek was… not a particularly expressive person, Stiles knew, and part of that was because Derek had what Stiles affectionately called ‘resting grumpy face’; at least, he did privately, because the one time he said it out loud Derek had thrown the Encyclopaedia of Demomorgons at his head.

So, to the outsider looking in, Derek might have just seemed uninterested in the game; but Stiles had been watching Derek work for the better part of a semester, and he knew perfectly well how to tell when Derek’s resting grumpy face formed an actual frown. Which it did. Because apparently, the Mets had personally offended him.

“I’m sorry, are you seriously glaring at the Mets? While they’re winning?”

Derek leveled Stiles with the most unimpressed glare he could as Scott laughed from his kitchen, walking back into the living room with two beers. “God, I hope he was. It would be nice to have someone with taste in the apartment for once.”

“Scotty!” Stiles gasped, clutching his heart as Scott handed him a beer, extending the claw on his thumb to pop the top off before he handed the bottle over. “The Mets are a treasure, okay? If God lived in New York, she’d be a Mets fan. I have suffered much for my Mets in my lifetime, and they—woah, Derek, you okay?”

Stiles’ charming cliches would have to wait, because when he looked over to Derek, his humor dropped immediately. Derek had gone white as a sheet, jaw slack as he stared at the beer in Stiles’ hand.

He stared back and forth between Scott and Derek, trying to figure what the hell had just happened; it wasn’t until he watched Scott pop the top off of his own beer, looking between the two of them, did Stiles put two and two together.

“Derek, you… you had to know that Scott was a were, right? Like, you had to. He—Scotty doesn’t do subtle.”

“Me?! Stiles, you called me a wet dog for like a month after I fell into the Hudson.”

Derek let out a sort of choked noise as he shut his mouth, coming back into himself as a bit of pink dusted his pale cheeks, hands moving in front of his face. “Of—of course I knew, but—you knew?!”

“Dude, I’m studying mythical lore and criminology. I’m the one who taught this furry fucker how to control himself. Of course I knew, I... oh my god. You didn’t know that I knew—uh, that I know.”

Matching looks of realization dawned on Scott and Stiles’ face as Stiles stood up, putting the beer down on the coffee table. He moved next to Derek as he sat down on the couch, keeping his movement slow, reaching out to pat Derek’s leg like he was a frail old lady.

“Derek, I know.”

After what felt like an age and a half, Derek melted into the couch, a huge sigh leaving his lips as all the tension in his body bled out like a string had been cut, burying his head in his hands.

“We’ve had arguments about wolves in pop culture. I’ve offered to help you out with your coursework every full moon for, like, the entire semester. Dude, you had to know that I knew, there’s no way I didn’t—Derek!” Stiles felt his giddy laughter bubble over as Derek shot him a red-eyed glare through his fingers, his scowl somehow less intimidating now that everything was out in the open.

Okay, Derek wasn’t just a wolf, he was an alpha. That was… interesting.

“God, you two really are perfect fake boyfriends. Two halves of a whole idiot. Derek, are you sure you don’t want a beer? Or maybe something stronger, if you have to deal with Stiles?” Scott said easily, laughing as Stiles immediately protested, though the way Stiles eased himself next to Derek wasn’t exactly subtle, either.

—————

Scott may have been joking, but by the time finals had come and gone, Stiles had accepted the fact that he would have to forgo booze and opt for a mainline of caffeine to keep up with Derek. How one person remained so meticulously organized, Stiles would never know—but in the amount of time it took for Stiles to wrap up his grant work for the semester, Derek had given four exams, proctored three more, cleaned out his office, and shared the updated flight itinerary with Stiles.

“Wait, wait, hang on,” Stiles had said, tripping over an empty box in his tiny office as Derek handed him his updated boarding pass. “Why do we have to change our flights? Scott and I are already booked, you can probably just join us, right?”

Derek rose a perfectly sculpted brow as he tapped the ticket again, shaking his head. “Hey, I promised you’d spend as few days as possible with my family, and I intend to keep that promise. The sooner we get in, the sooner we start that clock, the sooner you get to spend the rest your time with your dad.”

Stiles blinked as he looked down to the itinerary, eyes scanning over the earlier time—and it was non-stop too. That would be a bit killer on the legs, but Stiles could handle that, maybe he could take some time to sleep or pester Derek for...

“Uh, Derek... this ticket is for first class.”

“I know, Stiles, I booked it.”

“Dude, there’s a reason Scott and I booked an economy ticket with a layover in Bismarck. There’s no way I can pay you back for this.”

If looks could kill, Stiles would be... maybe not dead, but at least set on fire. Derek sighed, as though the weight of the world was on his shoulders as he rolled his eyes.

“You’re not paying me back, dumbass. You’re already doing a ton for me with this little... charade, the least I can do is make sure your frail human body—“

“Hey!”

”—is comfortable in a lie flat seat.”

“Look, I appreciate that, but I’m not leaving Scott alone on his flight in coach just because of our... fake... whatever.”

Stiles’ voice trailed off in curiosity as Derek sighed, his cheeks pink as he pulled the paper out of Stiles’ hand, pointing to the second half of the sheet—where MCCALL, SCOTT had been printed in big, bold letters, that Stiles had completely ignored.

“... you got Scott a ticket too?”

“Of course I did. He’s your best friend, I wasn’t going to ask you to leave him behind just for me. Besides, who do you think I got your information from to book the flight?” Derek said dryly, as though his deadpan delivery could cancel out the ruddy color to his cheeks, or the way that Stiles’ stomach flip flopped when the reality of that sunk in.

It was nice that Derek acknowledged the importance of their friendship, in the way that tugged at the little space right beneath his sternum, but something about the way Derek so quickly dismissed himself was... concerning.

Stiles couldn’t help but play that little bit of their conversation over in his head as he packed, as he hopped on the train, as he met up with Scott and Derek in security.

Scott, bless his heart, was absolutely elated—his excitement was almost tangible as they dropped off luggage, walked through security, and stood around at the boarding gate. Derek had to smack the both of them to get them to stand up when first class was called to board, and Stiles idly wondered if Derek regretted associating himself with them when he and Scott managed to trip in sync as they went down the jetway.

Derek and Stiles were seated together, of course, and once Stiles got over the novelty of not having a middle seat on a plane, he liked to imagine he fit right in—easing back into the seat, enjoying the comfort of the little blanket he had been given, grinning at the flight attendant as she checked in with them.

(Scott was one row ahead and across the aisle, close enough that Stiles could lean forward and smack him if he wanted to... but the moment Stiles saw his seat mate, a pretty woman with dark hair and impeccable eyeliner, he knew his best bro would be on a different planet for the entirety of the flight.)

His grin slipped a little bit, though, as he thought back to the conversation surrounding the tickets, and he looked up to Derek as he settled in a bit further.

“So, we never went over what role I should be taking on.”

“Stiles, just be yourself. You’re funny enough, and you generally mean well, they’ll love who you are.”

Yeah… who he was. Well, who he was was someone who was going to be dangerously invested in a fake relationship that would probably end terribly for him, so that was fun. He sighed as he settled into the seat, opening and closing his mouth a few times as he debated on where to go from here.

No time like a non stop plane ride to have a potentially awkward conversation, right?

“Dude, we’re friends, right?”

“We’re fake boyfriends, don’t call me dude.”

Derek’s tone was teasing as he flipped through his SkyMall, a small smile on his face, and Stiles felt a little bit of the tension ease out of his shoulders as he buckled in.

“First of all, I have called many boyfriends ‘dude’ before,” Stiles started, ignoring Derek’s snort of laughter, “and I’m being serious. We... we are friends, right?”

Be it his words or his awkward energy, Derek looked up, surprise on his face as he closed the magazine and stowed it away as the plane bumped down the taxiway.

“Of course we are, Stiles. You’re like... the only person I talk to at work outside of teaching, that’s light years ahead of most of New York as a whole.”

“I mean, I’m glad to hear, I just...” Stiles chewed on his lip as he turned in his seat, weirdly soothed by the roar of the engines as the takeoff roll started. “You know about my dad, and about my school, and about Scott, and those are basically the three important things in my life,” he started, letting out a sigh as Derek just stared at him blankly.

“It’s fine that you’re a private person, I can respect that... seriously, I may not understand it, but I can respect it,” Stiles said, grinning as Derek shot him a look, lowering his voice again as he leaned over the divider between them. “But I didn’t know that you were from my hometown, too. Or that you had sisters, let alone other family. I should have asked, I guess, but... you know you can talk to me about things, yeah? Even after all this is over, you’ll always be Derek to me. Not just another Hale.”

Stiles’ was smiling as he gently bumped Derek’s shoulder with his own, watching the way different emotions warred over his face, biting back on the urge to babble on so he could give Derek the time he needed to respond.

“We’re... we are friends, Stiles. We are.” Derek insisted, looking down to his linked hands as the plane continued to rise. “Sometimes, I just... I’m not great about talking about myself.”

For a while, Stiles thought that was all he was going to get, and honestly, he was fine with it—it wasn’t until the fasten seatbelt sign chimed off and the flight attendants passed out little bottles of water that Derek spoke again, his voice low as he cleared his throat.

“My family is huge. Like, big enough that we need spreadsheets and flowcharts to organize family events like this. I know they love me, and I love them too, of course I do, but I made some really, really stupid decisions when I was younger… I know they forgave me for it, but...”

Derek sighed, taking a deep breath as he ran his hands through his hair.

“Sometimes it’s hard to be around them and still be okay with myself, you know?”

No, Stiles didn’t know. He only had his dad and Scott growing up, but he nodded his head encouragingly as he took a sip of his water.

“I actually have four siblings. Mark is the oldest, and then Taylor, and I’m right between Laura and Cora. They’re betas, like my dad; my mom and I are both alphas, her mom, too…” Derek continued, and Stiles smiled as he settled into his seat.

By the time the flight landed, Stiles’ head was full to the brim with Hale family trivia, names, faces, teasing stories, and the warmth that had danced across Stiles’ chest for the past year or so had bloomed into a full-on fire.

Would it lead to his downfall? Probably.

But when he saw how Derek smiled when he remembered Mark’s graduating medical school, or heard the pride in his voice when he talked about Laura’s charity work, and the genuine joy he got to see when he heard another story about Derek’s childhood… well, that was all more than worth it.

—————

“I think you should kiss me.”

Stiles had to stop himself from laughing at the look that Derek shot him, doing his best to keep his body language casual as he leaned against the gas pump at a tiny station outside of Beacon Hills, though he knew his heart was going at about a million miles a minute.

“I—you—what?”

“Derek, I’m an affectionate dude, in case you couldn’t tell from all the hand holding. And if you’re going to freak out if I kiss your cheek, then you should freak out now, not when we’re in front of your family.”

Stiles knew full well his heart betrayed his confidence, but seeing Derek’s ears go pink as he dumped the armful of snacks Stiles had asked for into the back seat was a welcome sight—it was always nice to know that Derek’s cool and controlled exterior could be ruffled up once in a while.

Somewhere between the rental kiosk and the gas station, Stiles had decided that he was going to go all in on this. His little crush was already stuck right in the back of his throat and would be unlikely to dislodge any time soon, so he figured that indulging himself in the fake relationship Derek had set up for him… well, it wouldn’t do any good, but it was unlikely to make things worse for him than it already was.

It was a little weird being alone with Derek—Stiles didn’t realize it until now, but between meeting Derek’s sisters and meeting the rest of their family, this was the first time they had been alone together. They had other staff members at school, or strangers around the city, or Scott (who had politely declined a ride back to Beacon Hills with Derek and Stiles, choosing instead to split an Uber with his pretty new friend, Kira).

“You know, as far as first kisses go, usually they’re a little more romantic than just a demand. You’re supposed to woo me, Stiles,” Derek said, his sarcastic tone betrayed by his shy little smile as he pulled the nozzle out of his tank, closing the gas cap as Stiles gasped in mock offense.

“Hey, I said you should kiss me, not the other way around. Why should I have to be the one to woo?” Stiles started, sliding into the passenger’s seat as Derek followed suit. “After all, this relationship wouldn’t have even happened without your instigation, so why should I… uh… Der?”

Stiles’ voice trailed off as Derek’s hand sunk into the soft crook at the juncture of his neck, effectively cutting off his entire train of thought as Derek’s thumb pressed against the hollow of his jaw.

“Stiles.”

“Yeah?”

“I’m going to kiss you now.”

“O-Okay.”

For a minute, all Stiles could think of were those cheesy old rom-coms, where fireworks would go off, or bells would chime, but kissing Derek was nothing like that. It was the comfort of wrapping yourself in an electric blanket, instead of the shock of jumping into a frozen pond; the familiar buzz of goosebumps over his skin over a bolt of lightning. He felt a surprised little noise leave his chest as Derek’s tilted his head to deepen the kiss, his tongue flicking out instinctively to drag along Derek’s bottom lip, hands coming up to rest against the wolves chest.

Stiles could feel his heart beating through every inch of his skin as the kiss broke, struggling to remind himself how to breathe as he opened his eyes again, his nose brushing against Derek’s as he let out a little huff of a laugh.

“Was that enough woo for you?” Derek asked, his voice barely more than a whisper, and Stiles smiled as he nodded his head, savoring the way that neither of them moved back. Derek’s hand was warm against the crook of his jaw, his own palm flat against Derek's chest, and it was natural, it was so nice, it was—

Fake. It was all fake.

Stiles sighed, closing his eyes as he gently leaned in and pressed their foreheads together, that mantra playing through his head as he pulled himself back. He buckled himself in easily as he took in a deep breath, his goofy grin still in place as he looked back up to Derek.

“See? Now you can honestly tell your mom we had our first kiss at a gas station and that it was magical and I totally rocked your world.”

“Is that what happened, though? I mean, if you wanted me to kiss you so badly, you should have just asked,” Derek said, the sarcasm thick in his voice as he started the car, and Stiles laughed as they pulled out of the lot, his hand finding Derek’s easily once again.

Their silence remained comfortable as they left the city skyline behind and basically blew through Beacon Hills, the trees inching closer to the road as they wound through the preserve.

Finishing off a bag of M&M’s, Stiles cleared his throat as he crumpled up the wrapper and chucked it in the back seat, sucking a little bit of melted chocolate off of his thumb. “So. Is this regular introducing-the-boyfriend-to-the-family nerves I’m looking at here, or is this introducing-the-fake-boyfriend-to-the-family nerves? You don’t have any weirdos in your family, do you? An ex-felon auntie? A cousin who doesn’t quite get personal space?”

Stiles grinned as Derek laughed, oddly comforted by the sound as Derek shook his head. “Nothing exciting. A weird uncle, I guess. Lots of cousins, you should basically abandon any idea of personal space as soon as we walk in, and plenty of human family, too—so you won’t be alone in that. As far as felons go, well… none of us have been caught?”

“Hey, game recognizes game, it doesn’t count if you don’t get caught. And I can work with a weird uncle.” Stiles laughed at the sheepish look that Derek shot his way, his fingers still happily wrapped up in Derek’s warm hands. He could almost feel it when they crossed over onto the Hale land, the huge, white house as much of a giveaway as the shrieks of joy that even Stiles could hear from the property.

“They’re gonna love you, you know?” Derek’s voice was soft as he pulled the rental into a long row of cars, nearly lining the road leading up to the house, and Stiles felt the snarky remark die on his tongue as Derek caught his eye, his expression somewhere between grateful and wistful as he turned the car off.

“Maybe, but…” Stiles sighed as he popped his door open, chewing over his next words carefully. “But if they do, it’s because they already love you.”

He took it as a personal victory when Derek turned away, his ears pink again, and Stiles couldn’t help but grin as he followed the werewolf up the path to his family home.

The Hale House was probably as huge and impressive as the Hale family itself from the outside, and Stiles did his best not to gape like a fool as Derek opened the door for him, his hand finding the small of Stiles’ back as they stepped into the house. Polished floors, huge, high windows, a grand staircase that was the definition of grand, and—

“Derek!”

—and another unfairly attractive Hale moving forward to greet them. Tall, broad, dark hair with just a splash of salt around the temples and the goatee, shining a million watt smile on Derek and Stiles as he wiped his hands on his probably-uncomfortably-tight jeans.

Jesus, was everyone in this family gorgeous? Stiles was going to get a complex.

He looked up as the stranger and Derek briefly hugged, watching the halfway-subtle way they scented one another, Mark’s head buried in Derek’s neck for a half moment before they pulled away. If Stiles strained his ear, he could have heard something along the lines of ‘be nice’ as Derek pulled back; if the situation weren’t so funny, Stiles probably would have blushed.

“Don’t listen to him, I’m always nice. I’m Mark, and you…” Mark started, his million watt smile back in place as his eyes dragged over Stiles’ body, “... you must be Stiles.” Stiles snorted as Mark pulled him into an easy hug, catching Stiles just a little off-guard as he was wrapped in another pair of arms.

Apparently Derek’s family was an affectionate bunch. Stiles didn’t know if it was a wolf thing or a Hale thing, but either way, it was good to know.

“Mark, uh, Seattle, right? You’re the surgeon?” Stiles asked, clearing his throat as the hug carried on just a bit too long, regaining some footing in the introduction as he pulled back. “Derek’s told me a lot about you.”

That was… mostly true, Derek had told him enough about Mark to thoroughly embarrass the older male, and Mark looked like he expected nothing less as he laughed, holding Stiles’ shoulders as he stood at arms length. “Yeah, I’m sure he did, but it’s probably all garbage. After all, how can you really describe a wonder like me in words, huh?”

He actually winked, and Stiles honestly couldn’t believe that this dude was for real.

“Der, nice job with this one. He’s cute. Kid, is my brother treating you well? Cause, you know, if Hale is your taste, you can do much better than—”

”Mark—“

“Oh, lighten up Der-bear, there isn’t enough Botox in the world to get rid of those scowl lines. It was a joke. Now come on, everyone’s out back.”

Stiles laughed again as Mark put Derek in an easy headlock, ruffling up his hair as he led them outside, immediately filing ‘Der-bear’ away for future use as they stepped out into the backyard.

The backyard, which was absolutely filled with Hales.

He felt his heart do a funny little lurch as he was hit with the sheer family of it all—all dark haired, all gorgeous, and for just a moment, he wanted to smack Derek upside the head. There were probably generations of Hales here; Derek had all this family, this built in support group, and he was just going to spend the summer holed up in New York?

“Alright, Siles, we’re gonna keep you in with the main family and keep you away from the cousins,” Mark started, artfully ignoring the way Derek was swatting at him. “Uncle Peter all but insisted that Mom come pick him up, so you’ll get to avoid them until later tonight, but who you really want to watch out for is—“

“Is that my grandbaby?!”

Mark stiffened as Derek perked up, and Stiles couldn’t help but snicker as a bony hand shot up, grabbing Mark by the scruff of his neck, pulling him off of Derek with a flourish that would probably seem overly dramatic if Stiles didn’t know just how much werewolf strength was packed behind it.

“Derek!”

“Hi, Nana.”

Stiles couldn’t keep the smile off of his face as Derek leaned in to wrap his arms around the older woman—she was a good foot shorter than he was, her movements loud, with light skinned with the same tell-tale black hair that the rest of the family had. What caught Stiles’ eye, though, was the way Derek scented her—it was the same way Mark scented him, a familial nudge that Stiles read easily as a sign of deference.

Whoever this Nana was, she was clearly the woman in charge here.

“You know, we’re all technically her grandbabies,” Mark started as he reappeared at Stiles’ shoulder, rubbing the back of his neck, his childish pout painfully obvious as he pointed his words. “But you wouldn’t know it with the blatant favoritism she shows for Derek!”

“Mark, don’t be such a baby,” Nana Hale said as she pulled back from Derek’s hug, patting his cheek affectionately. She raised a brow in a spectacularly unimpressed fashion as she turned to look at her eldest grandson, sighing in mock disappointment. “Not that I thought a career based off of liposuction and face lifts would have brought you some maturity.”

“That’s—I don’t just do—Nana!”

“Now, who do we have here? Derek, are you going to introduce me to your special friend?”

Ignoring Mark’s protests easily as she turned her attention, Stiles felt his heart pick up again, his eyes flicking to Derek as he beamed; Stiles wasn’t sure if he was happy to see Mark get smacked down, or if he was happy to introduce Stiles, but Stiles would have literally killed a man to see Derek smile that brightly on a regular basis.

“Nana, this is my boyfriend, Stiles Stilinski. Stiles, this is my grandmother, Ger—“

“Nana Hale will do just fine, thank you very much,” she interrupted, pulling a face that made Stiles grin—he could absolutely relate to someone who would rather set their birth name on fire than own up to it. “Now, come here, let me get a look at you.”

Stiles stepped forward and hesitated a half moment, not sure if he should try one last time for a handshake or wait for her to initiate a hug, but before he could make up his mind she had her hands clasped on his elbows, a grip like iron stopping him in his tracks.

“Scrawny little thing, aren’t you? We’ll take care of that, don’t you worry. It’s good to meet you, sweetheart, let’s get you some food.”

“It’s good to meet you too—and some food sounds great,” Stiles said with a laugh, ignoring the fact that he was still full of junk food as Nana Hale all but preened beside him. Her grip was gentle but unyielding as she dragged him to a table that was piled with food, giving a half wave to Laura and Cora, who were stationed beside a punch bowl the size of a fish tank as he kept himself a half step behind Nana.

Stiles wasn’t dumb, okay? He knew how to make nice with wolves, and more importantly, he knew how to be subtle.

(He didn’t like it, but he knew how to do it.)

“Uncle Derek! Get Uncle Derek!!”

Thankfully, the moment was over in a flash as Stiles heard a familiar name called out in a high pitched squeal, looking back out to the yard where a hoard of kids had just caught sight (or scent?) of Derek, immediately abandoning the rough-and-tumble games they seemed to be wrapped up in to run toward Derek as fast as their little legs could carry them.

Derek immediately tensed, a manic grin on his face as he prepared to run, body twitching as he caught himself before taking off. He sent a look Stiles’ way that was somehow both apologetic and asking remission, and Stiles sighed as he smiled.

“You better run, Uncle Derek. They’re gonna get you,” Stiles said mock-seriously, only barely keeping a straight face as Derek instead ran straight to the kids, making all sorts of comedic noises as they mobbed his legs.

Fuck, he was cute.

Stiles’ attention was pulled off of Derek as he felt eyes on him, subtly scanning the yard before he made eye contact with another adult in the family, who was very shirtless, and very sweaty, and very much walking toward them with a bright smile on his face.

Okay, Stiles was definitely getting a complex.

“You must be Stiles!” he exclaimed once he was closer to their little group, and Stiles had never been as thankful for a child as he was for the tiny body perched on top of the other males shoulders, because he was just about at his ‘hugging gorgeous people’ limit. He was still sweating, for fucks sake, but Stiles supposed that even a wolf got tired out when they had eight kids hanging from their body until Uncle Derek stepped in.

“I am, and…” Stiles was about to assume this was the firefighter sibling, but as soon as he opened his mouth, the kid on top of his shoulders smiled, and Stiles was absolutely smitten. “And who is this little guy?”

The distraction was apparently a welcome one, because shirtless dude’s smile grew even wider, reaching up to pat the kid on a mop of curly hair before he lifted him up and over, holding him at chest level. “This is Isaac. Isaac, can you say hi to Stiles? He’s your uncle Derek’s special friend.”

Stiles literally felt his heart melt as Isaac gave a shy little wave, looking up at him with big blue eyes. He couldn’t have been older than three or four, and Stiles smiled and waved back as Isaac was set down on the ground.

“You wanna go play with Uncle D?” Any hint of shyness was forgotten the moment the question was asked, taking off toward Derek as fast as his little legs could carry him, which… wasn’t very fast, but was very, very cute.

“They all yours?” Stiles asked, raising an eyebrow as he looked over to Derek, who now had at least six kids hanging off of him. He smiled as the other male shivered, shaking his head quickly.

“God no, just the three. Erica and Boyd, and Isaac too, now that the adoption has been finalized. Those kids basically run the joint, Derek included—as long as you don’t mind the occasional toddler mobbing, you’ll fit in just fine.”

“Thanks, random shirtless man, I really hope so.”

Stiles grinned as Laura choked on a mouthful of punch, the weirdness of the situation apparently just now visible to her as she sputtered, punching her brother in the arm. “Oh god, Taylor, what is wrong with you! Go put on a shirt, you can’t just—you didn’t even introduce yourself, I swear—Stiles is a guest, you weirdo!”

They kept bickering back and forth as Taylor pulled an undershirt on over his head, the whining turning into background noise as he poured himself a glass of punch. He knew perfectly well what Laura was trying to say—Stiles is a human—and he was pretty sure he was mostly flattered by everyone trying so hard, but any coherent thought left his head as he took a bite of the ribs, watching Nana Hale grin out of the corner of his eyes as he groaned in delight.

“God, they really do have Derek wrapped around their pudgy fingers,” Cora mused, and Stiles nodded his head, swallowing. It was honestly hilarious to watch Derek try to manage all those kids by himself; they seemed determined to pile themselves onto his head and shoulders, and he could almost see Derek sweat, trying to make sure he didn’t drop anyone as Isaac managed to wriggle his way into Derek’s grip.

He tilted his head in consideration, taking a sip of his drink before he spoke up.

“Yeah, he always did strike me as that kind of Alpha.”

He couldn’t help but savor the way the conversation ground to a halt around him, Laura and Taylor both sucking in a deep breath as Mark shattered the glass he was holding. There probably was a better way to acknowledge that he was in on the secret, but as funny as it was watching Derek’s siblings tiptoe around the fact, he figured it was best to rip the bandaid off in one go.

Even if it meant he had the attention of the Hales closest to him in one second, flat, Nana’s burning red from where she stood with a plate piled high with food.

He probably should have been nervous, but as he looked back at Derek, he could tell it was the right choice—Derek was all smiles, waiting only a beat before he popped his fangs and playfully snapped at one of his little nieces, the air soon full of squealing laughter once again.

Keeping his gaze even, Stiles smiled in thanks as he took the plate of food Nana offered to him, watching as her eyes melted back into their darker, human color. She was staring at him like he was a particularly complex puzzle, and she wasn’t alone—Cora looked hilariously outraged that she didn’t realize sooner, and even Mark was looking over him with renewed interest as his hand healed.

“I knew you were a smart boy. He told you?”

Nana’s question was accusing, but not unkind, and Stiles shrugged it off easily as he popped a chip into his mouth.

“He didn’t have to. My best friend was bitten when we were both fifteen. He didn’t have… anything, no alpha, no pack, just me and my mad Googling skills, and we’ve had plenty of supernatural run-ins over the years. Derek didn’t tell me because he didn’t have to tell me—I’m not anything special, but I’d like to think I can spot a non-human from at least fifty feet. Maybe more on a good day.”

“Well, that’s where you’re wrong.”

Stiles jumped as he heard Derek’s voice from behind him, and it truly was a credit to his poise and sophistication that he only blushed a little as Derek’s arm snaked around his waist. His body was warm, far warmer than it had been ten minutes ago, and Derek’s breath came a little heavy as he kissed the back of Stiles’ head.

“You are definitely something special.”

“You—you absolute cheeseball, what is wrong with you—” Stiles managed to get out as he shoved at Derek’s shoulder, his entire face burning red as Laura and Cora both gagged. Any residual awkwardness melted away as Nana’s sharp laugh cut through the air, the sound putting him back at ease as he leaned back into Derek’s warmth.

Somewhere between the fortieth round of storytelling and the gathering moving back into the house, Stiles needed a breather. Derek’s family was huge, and loud, and honestly, Stiles loved it—but it wasn’t long before he felt an itch beneath his skin, his fingers buzzing against his thigh, the muscles in his jaw a little too tight.

Stiles had expected Derek to be pretty popular in the family—what he didn’t expect, though, was that he would be anything more than an introduction and the same polite questions that everyone gave the new boyfriend.

“Wait, no fucking way did the two of you take down a Kanima, Stiles, I’m calling bullshit right now—“

Derek’s siblings were great, but they were also the worst; the minute they found out that Stiles had his own supernatural background, they were pestering him for stories, demanding his opinion of things, getting more and more exasperated with his entire life the more he shared.

Stiles knew that his life was crazy, okay? He didn’t need the constant reminders or the slack-jawed shocked expressions to reinforce that fact.

“Jesus, we didn’t even know that there were any wendigos in the state, and you knew an entire family of them?”

The only stories he flat out refused to talk about were the… issues he had had with hunters through high school—this was a party, after all, and he didn’t want to be the one to bring the vibe down by talking about the one time an assassin held a gun to his head to try and draw Scott out.

Fun times.

“What do you mean, you just know a banshee? And set her up with a hellhound? Dude, who are you?!”

Kissing Derek had, oddly enough, only exasperated the situation. In less than a day, they had gotten better at trading little affections back and forth; but instead of helping Stiles calm down, they only increased that thrumming nerves that bounced around at the base of his skull.

Which sucked, honestly, because kissing Derek was… really, really nice.

Stiles waited until another cousin who’s name he would never remember caught Derek up in a conversation about another tradition he couldn’t follow before he squeezed Derek’s hand, taking the opportunity to stand up from his spot on the couch and slip away.

The Hale House was huge, and outside was no exception; Stiles soon found himself on the porch, a huge wraparound wooden structure with built-in benches that let you enjoy the kind of view that made Stiles remember why he loved home so much. He treated himself to a few pictures of the sunset over Beacon Canyon before he flopped himself down on a bench, rubbing at his neck.

“Stiles? Everything alright?”

He had half expected Derek to follow him out after a few moments—but to his surprise, it was Nana Hale that sat beside him, her cheeks still pink with laughter as she tucked a jet black flyaway behind an ear.

“Is—oh, no, it’s great! Just wanted to, uh, snap a few pictures of the view.”

Another half truth—he was full to bursting with those lately.

“I know that our family can be… a little overwhelming,” she said, her tone even as she rose a brow, keeping her gaze forward as her fingers drummed a pattern into her knee.

Stiles hummed in agreement, his own smile a touch more genuine as he looked over to her. “Maybe, but that’s not a bad thing. When I was growing up, I spent so much time wondering what it would be like, to have siblings, and cousins, and… well, it might be a lot, but it’s a lot of love, too. I’m really glad Derek has that kind of support.”

Nana’s fingers stilled against her knee as she turned to face Stiles, and for the first time, Stiles was really able to get a good look at her properly. He could understand why she was the matriarch of the family, and how she had kept that title so long; even if he hadn’t witnessed her taking Mark down less than four hours ago, there was a whole other kind of strength that she was showing here, radiating off of her in waves.

“He does. But he doesn’t just have us for love and support... or was I reading the way you look at him wrong?” Her tone was teasing as she rose her brow, and Stiles felt his cheeks pink up spectacularly as he coughed, his eyes flashing back to the window for only a moment before Nana patted his knee.

“Don’t worry, the house is completely soundproof. Those nosy little pups can’t hear a word we say. Now tell me, how long have you been in love with my grandson?”

Now fully, beautifully red, Stiles groaned as he hid his face in his hands, Nana’s laughter ringing strong and clear as she stood up and walked toward the railing. “Oh don’t be so dramatic, I have no intention of spoiling that surprise until you’re ready to really woo him with it. And you’d better woo him! You know as well as I do that he deserves the romancing.”

Her tone softened as she chuckled, trailing off with a sigh and a sort of wistful smile as she shook her head. “New York has been good to him. You have, too, I think. California was… a rough part in his life.”

Something in the way she phrased it got the investigative side of his brain thrumming, his curiosity piqued as he remembered what Derek said on the plane.

‘I know they forgave me, but… sometimes it’s hard to be around them and still be okay with myself, you know?’

The nosy part of him wanted to pry, to dig a little more, but his eyes flicked back to the window again, where Derek and all four of his siblings were doing a terrible job at acting like they weren't trying to stare him down.

“Whatever it is, I’m sure he’ll tell me when he’s ready.”

Apparently, that was the right answer—Nana’s face softened again as she smiled, nodding her head, beckoning Stiles into standing up. She put her hand in the crook of his elbow easily, steering them back toward the house in a way that allowed no room for compromise.

“You are going to be good for my Der-bear, I know it.”

“Oh, I mean, I hope so. Derek deserves that, and I definitely—“

“Just let him be good for you, too.”

She reached up and patted Stiles cheek as he stared at her, dumbfounded, automatically opening the door for her as she walked back into the house. His expression was mirrored in the matching expressions of slack-jawed shock from all five Hale siblings, all staring at Stiles as Nana started in on another family story that would be sure to embarrass Mark, or Laura, or anyone who wasn’t Derek.

He meant what he said, of course. Derek deserved someone who would be good for him.

Somehow, that was the problem here.

—————

“Stiles, you reek of nerves. All I can smell is nerves and bell peppers. It’s not a good smell. Are you going to tell me what you’re freaking out about, or what?”

Stiles jolted as Derek called him out so effortlessly, pulled out of the trance he had fallen into as he watched Derek work, pushing around some of the barbecue from the night prior with some fresh chopped veggies into a delightful spur of the moment stir fry.

Derek was also as dressed down as Stiles had ever seen him, in a light grey henley and a dark pair of jeans, and that was even more delightful than the stir fry.

“Wait, you—that’s just something you can do? Oh god, your entire family must have known how nervous I was yesterday, did they—“

“Stiles. Breathe.”

Right. Breathing. He could do that.

…. maybe.

The truth was, Stiles could honestly say that he was having a great time back in Beacon Hills.

Derek and his family were great, no lie, and fake relationship aside, the researcher in him was absolutely thriving seeing how a huge, well-established pack worked with one another. They were literally a well oiled machine, the personification of the old ‘it takes a village’ metaphor, and the only thing that amazed Stiles more than how well they worked together was how well they adapted to Stiles being there.

Of course, he thought a big part of that came from having the Alphas on his side—not just Derek, but Nana too.

(“I can’t believe she hugged you,” Laura had hissed after yet another glass of infused punch. “When she met my last boyfriend, she threw him off the porch.”

“Well, Stiles is a fragile little human,” Taylor had snorted, ignoring the way Stiles smacked his arm, “and Hank was a major, prolapsed asshole.”

“Well yeah, but that’s not the point!”)

As great as Derek and his family was though, getting to come home and surprise his dad early… well, there was no place on the planet he would rather be than wrapped in a signature Stilinski hug, the kind of hug where you held on just a little longer than you needed to so you can pretend you definitely weren’t crying.

He got to watch a game with his dad, he got to sleep in his old, lumpy-ass childhood bed, he got to make breakfast in his mom’s kitchen.

So yeah. Great time.

Or at least, it had been, until a text rolled through after he kissed his dad goodbye that morning.

der-bear: Do you want to come over for lunch? Nana has everyone out of the house, Mom and Uncle Peter showed up this morning and he’s already driving everyone crazy.

sent: sure man. want me to bring anything? :)

der-bear: Don’t worry about it. Besides, I figure we should talk before the bonfire anyway.

And just like that, something brought around a cloud to rain on Stiles’ parade.

“Is it about tonight?” Derek asked, and if Stiles’ hadn’t been so laser focused on his cooking technique (his arms, okay, he was staring at Derek’s arms) he probably would have missed the way Derek hesitated when he asked, like he was afraid of the answer.

He picked himself up off of the barstool at the island in their gigantic kitchen, leaning against the counter closer to Derek, reaching in to pluck a chunk of onion out of the pan, skillfully avoiding the swat from Derek’s wooden spoon. “What do you mean?”

“Well, you… You know we’re looking forward to having you with us, right?” Derek asked, spooning some of the food onto two separate plates, using his claws to rip two fresh chunks of bread off of a loaf. “But if you don’t… I mean, I just don’t want you to feel like you have to be there if you don’t want to.”

Stiles frowned as he accepted one of the plates, pulling the smaller chunk of bread off of one of Derek’s claws, mulling his next words over. “As long as you want me there I’ll be there,” Stiles said slowly, because there really was no way to politely say that Stiles would rather throw himself into the sun before his mythical lore studying ass missed out on observing pack activity on a blue moon.

“Why would you think I didn’t want you there?” Derek asked, looking like he was offended at the very notion, sliding a fork to Stiles as he sat down at the countertop, that offended look only growing as Stiles snorted.

“I dunno, I thought you might have changed your mind about it. Dude, you sent me a ‘we should talk’ text. I’m no expert, but I know that nothing good follows a ‘we should talk’ text,” Stiles said around a mouth full of bread, but any degree of playful levity he had gone for was sapped out of his voice the moment he saw Derek look back down at his plate.

“That, uh. I do think we should talk, but not about that. Stiles, I...”

Ah, fuck. Derek’s ears were pink again, and for once, Stiles thought that was a bad thing.

Stiles did his best not to panic as he thought through things, wondering what he had fucked up, because he just knew he had fucked up a little something. Maybe he had come on a little too strong last night, maybe he had gotten too comfortable with his crush, maybe—

“I was thinking that maybe… we shouldn’t be faking this anymore.”

—or maybe, he had fucked up a whole lot of everything.

Stiles felt his heart sink through his shoes as he swallowed his bread, his appetite suddenly gone. He brushed his hands on his jeans, giving a few short nods, swallowing again as he pushed back from the table a little bit. He thought for a moment that he should argue against it, but Derek had a sad puppy expression splashed across his face, and Stiles wasn’t strong against that on a good day.

“Oh.”

He could feel Derek’s eyes tracking him as he started to move, standing up and starting an easy track around the kitchen, flexing his fingers before he rubbed his palm with his thumbs, an old habit he had thought he had kicked back when he graduated from Berkeley.

“I think, uh, maybe you should wait until you’re back in New York to tell your family?” Stiles started, missing the tiny smile on Derek’s face before it melted into a look of confusion. “You should tell them I broke up with you, not the other way around, I don’t mind being the bad guy,” he added, staring down at his hands.

“Wait, Stiles—“

“No, seriously, it’s fine,” Stiles interrupted, putting a smile back on his face, because he knew this was going to be coming at some point. Derek had made up their entire relationship, and Stiles had worked hard to remember that the reality of it was… that it wasn’t reality. He was the one with the inconvenient crush, he was the one who had gotten stupid. This was all on him, and taking the high road to bow out gracefully would be too.

Or, at least, it should have been. But Derek had abandoned his seat as well, halfway following Stiles in his trail around the kitchen, putting his arm out against a countertop to stop Stiles at a turn.

“I said I wanted to stop faking, Stiles.”

Hell, when had Derek gotten so close to him? Stiles blinked as he backed up against the counter, Derek’s arms closing him in, and suddenly he was getting an up close and personal look at Derek’s lips, and his eyes, and the way the blush was going back up his ears, and—

...why was Derek blushing?

“I never said anything about wanting you to leave.”

But why would Stiles be staying if… oh. Oh.

Realization dawned on Stiles’ face as Derek blushed and looked down, moving his hands a little bit closer against the counter, and Stiles felt a shiver run down his spine as he felt Derek’s thumb settle right along his hip. He had to clear his throat before he could speak, swallowing down the hope that was threatening to bubble over, chewing on his lip as he put one hand on Derek’s chest, the other gently tipping his head back to look him in the eye.

“Dude, if you’re saying what I think you’re saying, you gotta spell it out, I’ve had a crush on you for like forever and if I’m mis-reading this—”

“I told you. I’m your boyfriend, don’t call me dude.”

Stiles laughed again, elation making him feel light and giddy, finally breaking eye contact with Derek as he felt his own blush burn through the back of his neck.

“Stay, Stiles. You belong here. With me.”

Rather than even try to form a coherent response, Stiles dropped one of his hands, cheeks still a ruddy color as he looped a finger into one of the belt loops on Derek’s designer jeans, pulling him just that much closer.

“Derek?”

“Yeah?”

“I’m going to kiss you now.”

“Oh, thank God—"

—————

Yeah, Stiles thought hours later, still feeling the warmth of Derek’s smile against his lips as howls sounded off around the Hale House, moonlight swirling around him from the vantage point he had on the porch.

This was exactly where he belonged.

#teen wolf #sterek #stiles stilinski #derek hale #hale family #teen wolf fic #fake dating #everyone lives #two halves of a whole idiot #this is actually my first sterek fic ever lmao HOW WILD

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leejihoonownsmyheart · 4 years

Text

Bye Bye My Blue

Requested by my N anon!

“Cuz I'm afraid to say things I want to say I push you away and make things uncomfortable Although there is so much I want to hear I cannot dare to desire and just wait painfully.”

-Yerin Baek, Bye Bye My Blue

You didn’t really like it when people saw you upset.

Yeah, yeah, who did like to be seen upset?

You supposed no one really did.

Being upset just left people in such a vulnerable state, so susceptible to judgment… You felt like it made people think that you were weak like you needed someone to make you feel better. You didn’t and you resented that people ever thought that about you…

Still, despite your opposition to people knowing when you were upset, you were one to often have a bad day. Not only that but sometimes when you had a bad day it was just so bad that you couldn’t really keep it to yourself. It was next to impossible to hide how sad you were feeling… Even on days like today.

So when you were at school, and things just got to be so much that you couldn’t make it another second in your class, you couldn’t stand another moment without letting the tears brim in your eyes and pour down your cheeks- you just quickly threw your hand in the air and rushed out of the classroom, claiming you needed to go to the bathroom.

The hallway wasn’t a great place to breakdown, but the bathroom wasn’t either.

In the end apparently beneath the school staircase beside a discarded condom was where you decided was the best place to stop and let the tears pour down your cheeks.

You weren’t worried about anyone coming after you from that class. You didn’t have any friends around this period to be concerned about you… If they would even act concerned for you if they were around that was.

You sniffled and drew your legs closer to your chest.

You wondered how long you could stay here without-

“Hey, are blowjobs still in the picture or…?”

You looked up your legs dropping to the dusty floor into a criss-cross position. Your hands quickly went to wiping tears from your eyes as if it was possible to hide the fact that you had been crying in the first place. The guy standing in front of you was someone that you were familiar with… But not close to.

Lee Jihoon. Sat a few desks behind you.

You had never spoken to him before. Just admired him from afar when he went up to present a project or when he was strolling past you in the hallway, talking to one of his many tall, tall friends.

You couldn’t really find the words to respond to him and his weird attempt to break the ice, so you just settled to not respond. He didn’t seem to mind that and walked over to you, gesturing to the space between you.

“You mind if I join you?” He asked you.

You stared up at him, but he was unwavering despite your best efforts to make him think that you just weren’t worth it. You sighed.

“I mean… If you don’t mind the used condom, it’s a public space,” you replied. He chuckled and kicked aside the item. Then he slid down the wall and took a seat next to you.

At first, you thought he was just going to sit there, as when he slid down the wall he kinda opted to say nothing at all. He slipped out his phone and messed around with it mindlessly for a few minutes, seeming to not be paying any attention to you anymore.

Honestly, just his presence made you want to cry once again. You had, after all, come out here to do just that. You shifted your body a little to the side. You felt your cheeks getting warm again and you let your hands raise to your cheeks, ready for the wetness to trail down from your eyes.

You wondered what the math teacher must be thinking, knowing that a male and female from his class had left at around the same time. You wondered if the other students were already coming out with their stupid rumors. You wondered what would happen to your reputation if anyone were to find you here with him.

God, who even cared about your reputation anymore? It was just people spreading a bunch of rumors about you anyways.

A bit of something salty seeped it’s way into your mouth and you sniffled, drawing your fingers roughly over your cheekbones to keep the tears from running down your cheeks even more.

It just made them fall more rapidly.

You were only crying again for a short moment when suddenly you felt a hand land tentatively on your back. You jumped and it left as quickly as it had appeared, but still you turned and looked at him.

He had a strange look over his face. Not one of pity or amusement… Instead, there was another emotion there that you couldn’t really place.

“What?” You demanded anyways, knowing that you sounded a little bit defensive. He seemed shocked by the sudden sound of your voice. He put his hands in the air.

“Nothing it’s just that… You look like you could use a hug,” he replied softly. He put his hands in his lap and spun to look at you more closely. “I mean, isn’t that why you left class?”

You stared at him, and apparently that wasn’t the answer he was looking for. He reached forward hesitantly, noting the way that you flinched away from him. A look of frustration grew over his face, but he pulled back anyways, his hands falling back into his lap.

“I don’t need a hug,” you stated stubbornly. “Anyone with eyes can see that I’m perfectly fine.”

Even as you spoke you had to wipe more tears from your cheeks, apparently, they had a mind of their own and that mind just wanted to cry until you couldn’t cry anymore. You pulled your legs up against your body.

“Just… Leave me alone.”

Jihoon stared at you, and for a long moment he was so silent that you thought maybe he had actually honored your request and left.

“My name is Jihoon, by the way.”

You supposed he wasn’t that smart.

You looked up at him from behind your knees.

“I know,” you mumbled back to him. “How could I not know? You’re the boy who always writes his own songs for the chorus concerts.”

Jihoon seemed to be caught off-guard by that. His cheeks turned the color of cherry blossoms in bloom and his eyes grew wide.

“You’ve heard of my songs before?” He asked. You rolled your eyes.

“I have your music on Spotify,” you replied pointedly. “Everyone does, you’re like our school’s pride and joy.”

It wasn’t a lie. Jihoon had a really good reputation at school. No one could ever say a bad thing about him… Well, other then a handful of people who (not even rudely mind you) started to spread the rumor that he might be gay because he didn’t really talk to girls ever. But… His friend Mingyu beat them up and scared anyone out of saying that any longer.

Honestly, you thought that made it seem even more like Jihoon was gay, but you weren’t the kind to obsess over such things- especially when they didn’t directly affect you.

Besides, you knew what it was like when people just kept… Talking about you. God, it was like people couldn’t stop. Why did everyone care so much about what you were doing? What you were thinking? Why did they only care when it didn’t matter?

How come if you were to walk out of the classroom and come back after only a few minutes someone would ask you what you were doing, but when you went out crying nobody cared? Did people only care about you when they could get something from you?

“Hey, I, uh, I know this isn’t any of my business but… Why are you crying?” Jihoon asked softly, interrupting your train of thought once again. You let your legs drop to the ground and raised your hand up to your hair. You ran your fingers through the strands to make sure that it was all out of your face so that he could see your expression better.

“Why does anyone cry Lee Jihoon?” You asked him. “I’m sad. I’m so fucking sad, and over it all.” Jihoon’s expression solemned up a little bit and he reached forward. You had heard very few things about Jihoon, but one of them was that he didn’t really like touching people.

You were starting to think that was a lie considering the amount of times he had tried to reach forward and touch you in these last few minutes.

“Do you want to talk about it?” Jihoon asked you. This time he sat his hands beneath his legs. A restraining effort you supposed.

If I wanted to talk about it, I think I would have already,” you murmured back. Your gaze lowered to the floor. “Right now, I just want to cry.”

“I can do that,” Jihoon stated softly.

You cut him a glare.

“Alone.”

“I can do that too,” Jihoon insisted. “Just pretend I’m not here.”

You stared in disbelief at Jihoon as he turned his body a little in the opposite direction of you, whistling as if he hadn’t just been talking to you. He sat there for minutes in silence while you cried. He didn’t say anything, he didn’t get on his phone, he didn’t even look at you. He just sat there while you cried.

There was something… You couldn’t really explain it, but you were beyond comforted by his presence right there with you. Even though you weren’t talking to him, even though you didn’t know him. There was something warm about him being right there with you.

You let your gaze wander over to him and you cleared your throat.

“Why… Why are you doing this?” You asked him. “You’re going to miss class. People are going to think we’re… I don’t even know.”

“I don’t care,” Jihoon replied. He turned to look back at you over his shoulder. “I could tell you were upset in class. We all could. I wasn’t just going to let you cry it out alone.”

“Most people would,” you stated back firmly. He shrugged.

“I guess I’m not most people,” he stated. He winced at his own words. “Okay, well, I should be honest too. I have a bit of a hidden agenda.”

Suddenly this boy who had seemed pretty confident up until now was nervous. He looked down at his hands, fiddling with his fingers, as he tried to gauge his next words. You were still crying. At this point you weren’t even trying to stop the tears.

If you were going to look like an idiot, might as well let it be because you had an anime amount of tears running down your cheeks over the other many awful ways that you could look dumb.

“I uh… I sort of have a crush on you?” He murmured, but it sounded more like a question then anything else. “I was going to slip you a note today in class to make sure that you were feeling okay… But then you left and-”

“Wait,” you interrupted. You recalled a time in which you had found a note on your desk. It was anonymous, and nice and inspiring… “So, you were the one-”

He shyly rubbed the back of his neck.

“You looked like you needed a pick me up,” he replied softly. “And I’m… A little shy when it comes to talking to people… Especially people as pretty as you.”

Despite the tears you felt your cheeks redden. You raised your hands to your cheeks and tried to wipe the tears away.

“Stop,” you murmured. “You’re wasting your time with me Jihoon I’m a… I’m a mess. You don’t want to bother with me.”

Jihoon reached forward once again, and this time you didn’t flinch away as one hand carefully wrapped its fingers around your wrist. His touch was warm and gentle as he lowered your hands to your lap, and his other hand cupped your cheek, wiping the tears from your face with his thumbs.

“You’ll only end up hurt,” you murmured. “I’m starting to think that all I can do is hurt people, and be hurt by people, and just… I don’t know, be a nuisance I guess.”

Jihoon rolled his eyes lightly.

“I don’t mind,” he stated softly. You couldn’t help but feel frustrated by his words.

“Why not?” You snapped. He cupped your other cheek with his hand and smiled comfortingly at you.

“Because you’re worth it.”

He stared at you for a moment longer and then wiped the corner of his jacket over your cheeks.

“There we go, your eyes are a little red, but other then that it’s like you weren’t crying at all,” he murmured. You stared in silence at him, and it made him laugh nervously. “Let’s not do that again.”

He stood up and helped you up to your feet.

“Let’s go back to class, and then we can eat lunch together… Is that… Is that okay?” He asked you.

You wanted to say no. Not because you didn’t like Jihoon, but you weren’t sure of your own emotions. You couldn’t believe that his confession had gotten you to stop crying… Was it your own confusion or were you just so unable to comprehend the idea that someone could like you that your brain had short-circuited? Either way, you weren’t sure, but you no longer felt the need to cry.

Instead…

“Yeah, just uh first can I…” You trailed off, now it was your turn to feel embarrassed. “Can I still get that hug?”

Jihoon’s smile was so warm…

“Of course.”

And his arms were just as warm as his smile was.

“Everything is going to be okay right?”

Empty words, that didn’t normally mean anything to you. But right now, coming from Jihoon in this moment you actually sort of believed them. Maybe you had cried yourself stupid, or maybe Jihoon was just confident enough about his own words that you were dumb enough to fall for them, but in that exact moment, you genuinely felt like maybe he was right.

“My my my darling Just calling your name makes my heart full I want to get bigger, bigger, and bigger So I can give you a big armful of hugs.”

#Requested #!#N anon #woozi #Seventeen #Seventeen Woozi #Hurt and comfort #sorta #Lee Jihoon #Lee Jihoon seventeen

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shewhowillnotbenamed1 · 4 years

Text

A Game

Very random. Probably the most random ever... I have no idea how or why this happened. (Yes, I do, I was forced into a Super Bowl pool and I know nothing about football...) So, this is my revenge.

-----------

The automated double doors to the living room split open. And the resident sorceress emerged. She made her way down the stairs and trekked silently over to the television.

"Raven!" The pale girl turned around with a start. Her back went rigid. Purple hair moving around her face.

"Well, hello to you too." She replied with a cool purple brow directed at Beast Boy.

"Hello, Friend Raven." Starfire smiled. Beckoning her from her spot on the floor with Silkie.

Raven gave her a nod. She had come here with a different agenda. "Raven, girl, come on." Cyborg moaned as he moved his head to try to see around her.

"Raven!"

And this time she had a ready glare.

"What?" She snapped, feeling her temple start to throb.

"You're trying to walk in front of the TV!" Beast Boy exclaimed, his voice increasing in pitch as he threw up his arms. No pretenses or subtlety. Of course it was about television.

What was new?

"I'm just going to walk over and get my book." Raven explained calmly. "I left it here last night." Though she hardly needed to explain herself to a sports obsessed idiot. But here she was.

And as expected, the green man launched into a tirade. She inhaled and exhaled, as she waited for it to pass.

"This is the Super bowl, Raven." Garfield told Raven as if she didn't understand.

"So you've been saying all week in anticipation of the event." Raven had to point this out.

"The Super! Bowl!"

At this, she couldn't resist rolling her eyes. Raven almost wanted to laugh at how ridiculous he was acting. About a sporting event. Although, it was Garfield, after all. "You're repeating those two words like they're supposed to mean something."

Cyborg's jaw dropped. "The culmination of a season of football is a celebration! It has it all: drama, incredible commercials, a half-time show?!" Cyborg explained ecstatically. She knew how much football meant to him. It was particularly special given his past. Though, it was still not her first choice to dedicate hours of her life watching men toss a ball around a field.

The curly, red-haired alien smiled as she interjected. "I do greatly enjoy the commercials and the musical act." Starfire admitted. "Though, I must confess, I do not entirely understand the mechanics of the game." Beast Boy gave her a strange look. She blushed sheepishly and glanced at the mechanical Titan. Cyborg shook his head with a smile, and took the tanned woman under his wing. To explain the rules of football - again. This time with charts and diagrams.

Beast Boy turned back to Raven with a sigh. A muscular green arm moving, as he drew a hand down his face. "The point is we need to optimize viewing time," his emerald eyes were insistent. "This only happens once a year."

DVR and modern conveniences aside, she failed to see the point of the fanfare. "Well, so do major holidays and I don't see you making as big a deal about them..." Raven pointed out. "You actually make a bigger deal about fake food related holidays than real ones." National Croissant Day came to mind.

"The Super bowl is a holiday!" Beast Boy and Cyborg exclaimed simultaneously.

Raven's tone went completely devoid of emotion. And her pale face became grave. "How sad for the rest of the world to not have this particular sport on their roster." Not like America had rugby or cricket.

"Wait a minute, you have powers, you couldn't just magic it?" Beast Boy and his one-of-kind logic. He really was a special kind of a human being.

"You mean move it with my mind? It's called telekinesis." She held out a palm. Using her dark energy to draw the book to her. But not before pausing. To linger for three seconds longer than necessary in front of the flat screen.

"Raven?!" Beast Boy and Cyborg yelled. With the way they had just acted, one would have thought it was life or death. Not just another sporting event in an endless cycle of seasons. It was marketing. And it was consumerism at its finest. And it was America.

"Sorry. Lost focus." She tapped her temple and sauntered over to the open floor kitchen. "Enjoy your holiday." She called over her shoulder. Behind a purple shoulder length curtain, she could see Star had leapt up and tackled Cyborg with a loud laugh. And a louder, resounding thud. Her teammates were something else. Though, one didn't need to look too close to see the tiniest of smiles had taken up residence on her face.

Tiny, but it was there.

The Titans. As it was, they were her team.

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

"Hey, Raven." A deep voice called out from behind a laptop. And she could feel a calming, pleasant wash over her. Even though he was working, instead of watching the game.

"Dick," Raven offered in greeting. She made her way to the fridge. Perusing the shelves, she noticed that the fake meat and fruit never seemed to deplete as quickly as everything else.

Sharp blue eyes lingered on her body, bent toward the refrigerator. "Sorry about them..." There was a long pause in the typing, as a hand ran through tousled black hair.

"Please." The rush of cold air stilled. As the door closed. "It's the Super Bowl." Raven reminded him, imitating Beast Boy. With a mock-outraged tone. Before a flat one returned. But with a witty edge that seemed reserved for their talks. "They do this every year, so I do this every year. It's tradition."

Nightwing smiled at this. "Well, traditions can change." He looked away from the computer completely for a moment to take her in. "One did."

"The fact that you're here and not in Gotham?" Raven quipped sardonically.

"No - not that." He replied, with another bright grin. "You're actually the one who did."

"I... did?" Raven placed the piece of fruit on the counter-top. He paused for a long moment. Regarding her with his cerulean orbs. A familiar warmth flooded the air. She could feel strands of his brilliant aura reaching. Stretching out like webs to catch her own. But, at the last moment, it hesitated. Then, pulled back, tight to his body.

"It's... the first year you participated in the Teen Titans Super Bowl Pool." Nightwing offered. And shook his head at her, as if finding this hard to believe.

"That is true." She gave him the faintest of smiles. "But, so did you." She nodded at him.

"Yes, I usually do." He coughed. "Though, I saw that you had the same team to win as I did." That was surprising. She hadn't noticed. Raven didn't really care for the choices, having little interest in the outcome of the game. And she suspected Dick didn't either.

Raven tucked her arms over her navy blue shirt. She didn't know why she was explaining all this to Dick, but she wanted to. "You know... I don't normally get invested in the game." He nodded. "But Cy insisted... Plus, I don't have to actually watch football to participate."

"Cyborg is right, Raven." Nightwing agreed. "And thankfully, you don't have to watch the game to eat the food he made." She could tell Dick was grateful for that fact. "Were you actually in here to sneak some?" That sounded downright conspiratory.

Raven gave him a flippant stare. Pausing for several breaths, she glanced at the trays of greasy wings, burgers, and nachos.

"Hmm." She drew in a breath as if finding it difficult to decide. "Probably just this." She held up an apple.

"Okay, yeah..." The vigilante sounded slightly disappointed. Almost as if he wanted her to eat with him. "Right. Of course."

"I'd offer you one, but..." She pointed at the plate in front of him.

"Oh, this? This... is for Beast Boy." Dick said. He watched her closely. The corners of his mouth coming upward, as he dared her to refute that statement.

"Uh huh..." She mentioned nothing about the burger that was clearly made with ground meat. His humor was very off-brand at times. She certainly didn't mind it - though she could never tell him.

"You're not the only one who can do sarcasm around here." Raven watched the sparkle of bright blue. She could feel some more emotions rolling off him in waves. Strong ones.

"Noted, Boy Wonder." The pale girl shook the apple after she rinsed it. "At this rate, I'll have to find a new thing..." She shrugged. "Later, Dick."

There was the barest bit of regret in his voice. It was masked by the easygoing tone he managed to muster up, as he bode her farewell. "Bye, Raven."

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

Dick knew she didn't want to be bothered. But, he still had to try. He stared at the name plate labelled RAVEN as he knocked. At least when Raven opened the door, she didn't seem irritated. She almost looked relieved that it was him, and no one else.

"Raven," Dick tried. "I was wondering if you were coming back to watch with us."

"Probably not," She said bluntly. At times, he admired how blunt she could be. It did make for an interesting challenge.

"Oh. That's too bad." He blurted.

Her eyes flashed with the faintest amusement. "Dick - what's up?" She could most certainly tell what he was feeling. He wasn't hiding it very well. The fact that he was longing for something. For her company.

"I wanted to watch the game with you." He told her. His eyes sliding over the floor, before they came up to meet her own.

It was a lie.

He only wanted to watch her. To get lost in her - in this.

"I may be in the pool, but I still don't do sports." A very Raven answer. But, he anticipated it. Dick just hoped she wouldn't say no.

"Then... I'll do whatever it is you do during the Superbowl." Truthfully, he didn't care much for the actual game. So much as spending time with his team. And Raven. His team did include Raven. He walked into the dimly lit space, hearing the door close behind him.

"But, Dick, it's once a year." She said sarcastically. Her eyes glimmering in the dark.

"I know." Dick took another step closer.

"And the rest of your team is currently in the living room consuming enough grease to flood the city."

"I know."

"Alright. But I should warn you - you should know..." Raven started in that vague mysterious way of hers. "There is one thing you should know about this 'American holiday'."

Oh?

"I've heard stories, and I don't think you could shock me." Dick told her. "But you're welcome to try."

He could swear he saw her blush for a moment. But then, it was gone."There is an overwhelming amount of testosterone in the air on this day."

"I... don't follow." He didn't expect her to say anything like this. What was she getting at?

She elaborated in her low voice. "On this day, the concentration of testosterone in the city - and most of America reaches a fever pitch."

"Raven what are you saying - exactly?" He watched her closely. Still not understanding. Or perhaps understanding too well.

"We empaths have a holiday of our own. We call the Superbowl a Nexus... Save for the fact that it gets relatively untapped." She raised a brow. "Partners typically don't reap the benefits..."

"That isn't Valentine's Day?" Dick came back to himself for a moment to mumble stupidly.

"No." She gave him a light chuckle. "Surprisingly not."

"Doesn't it depend on whether a particular team loses or not...?"

"Touche, Dick... But, no." Raven's hands moved to her hips, as she shifted her weight. "On such a day, there is a risk of tapping into the Nexus. Channeling it - directly or unconsciously. Usually I am not concerned. But with you here... In my room... "

"I want to stay." He said without pause.

"You can say that, but you don't know. I'm not going to be as in control as I usually am." Raven replied. Though she didn't seem bothered. He could swear she wanted him to stay. "I'll be a bit more aggressive than you're used to. And you'll feel it too."

Dick took a step closer and shook his head. "I'm staying with you."

And that was all it took for things to turn.

Her emotionless expression shifted. The purple depths stirred. As the eyes that held but an occasional flicker of daring. A hint of mischief. A tiny tinge of sadness. They turned as a thirsty stare took over. Her pupils dilated. She watched his body movements openly. "And I'm..." She traced his face and weaved his hair between her fingers. She gripped it, bringing him closer. Her tone sultrier and raspier than normal. "I'm going to kiss you now, Dick."

"Oh..." Dick whispered. Unable to take his eyes off her. "Raven..."

"I want the taste of your lips..." Her porcelain nose caressed his own. The words brushing over his cheek.

"Yes..." He looked like he was in awe. Under a spell. "I want to kiss you." He licked his lips.

Her hands escaped the strands of night. Raven fingered his neck, as she drew her body into him. Right up to his firm chest. The pale lids started shutting and a steady journey to his mouth started. A deep, desperate inhale as they touched. He groaned into her fullness. Those soft, incredible lips moving with his. Her cool hands were fondling him over the tight black t-shirt he was wearing. Dick's hands tried not to stray too far from the middle of her back.

And of course - they failed.

It wasn't long before they ventured. They were exploring her waist and hips. Touching the space where her shirt rode up, feathering the sliver of skin. When Raven finally stopped, for a breath, she blinked to refocus the hazy purple. And gave him a little smile. He could see just a bit of smugness on her part, as she could tell how much this was affecting him too. But she didn't mention it.

"Wow, we've..." He panted, staring at her. She was now laying on her side on the mattress. "Never done that before."

She whispered, "I know." Nibbling his bottom lip, naughtily. "It's true we'd never really kissed before. Not properly..." Her hand cupping his cheek as she stroked his lips sweetly. It took everything he had to stop. Yet, he only managed to steal back an inch.

"I know... But... I wanted to." He had wanted to kiss her properly for ages. They'd a few close calls. Several. And then there was Christmas... Nervous, obligatory pecks under the mistletoe, with their teammates around. Watching and judging. But that hardly counted.

"Wanted to?" The pale fingers gliding down his earlobe. He shivered. And sighed. He took a deep breath. "Are you not enjoying this?"

"Of course, I am. It's great. So great... Too great." And then a shaky, wavering smile took up residence on his face. This was such a contrast to how she normally was. "I know why, but sometimes you just feel...distant. More than distant - removed."

A hand was on his face as she spoke. "This goes without saying, but it's not you." Raven told him in a soft voice. "If anything, I've probably been more so... because I do want to - be around you. Often."

Dick kissed her hard, until they were both panting and shaking. "Then, promise me."

"A promise?" Raven asked, her eyes flickering playfully. "What do you propose?"

"Promise me when the Nexus is over - we're not." He urged her. Dick wanted her to need him for something. To seek solace with him. In him. "Come find me, when you want to talk. Or when you need me." Sliding his fingers through her hair. "Please... I can't imagine not touching you like this... Not kissing you."

He groaned gutural, as her mouth took him over. "I promise, I'll find you for another talk." Raven's hands stroked up and down his abdomen, as her lips parted. In wonder. About his body. She was wondering about what lay beneath. He didn't want her to wonder anymore. Dick caught the cotton fabric of his shirt in his fingers and stripped it off. Cool hands were on his skin immediately. Followed by her lips on his. And the stroke of a skilled tongue.

She was straddling him on her bed, as they kissed. His palms were lost in the sea of her shirt. He was longingly fingering the indents right above her butt.

But then...

"Raven?!"There was a knock at the door.

Starfire squealed. Informing her, animatedly. "Raven - the pool, you have won!" And then, she paused. "Raven?"

Dick grinned, as she rolled her eyes. Raven and Nightwing stared at each other. He knew she hadn't won, because he had. This push and pull between them. Between their lips and bodies. Their connected souls... It was the only game he had ever been intrigued by.

The enigma that was her.

#robrae #me #random #raven roth #nightrae #dickrae #fanfic #fanfiction #dick grayson #robin raven #teen titans #titans #dc #superbowl2020 #Can't believe I wrote this?!#I hope this isn't terrible!#I need to sleep...#Nightwing

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erintoknow · 4 years

Text

it feels like a lie

Spiraling - A Fallen Hero: Rebirth Fan-fiction

Three lives to juggle means three times as many more lies and conflicting agendas. How is anyone supposed to balance all of this? [Please Just Go]

[Read on AO3]

Alarms blare inside your helmet. Shit. They realized you're here.

Rosie is on the other side of the city; you had her create a distraction coating Memorial Park in smoke to try and lure The Rangers away. After the bridge fiasco last week you could use a break, sick as you are of fighting Argent.

That doesn’t do anything for the local rent-a-cops.

With a practiced haste you fold up the sheaf of papers and tuck them into a black storage bag attached to your suit belt. You’ll have to go over the rest in detail when you’re back at your best.

For now, you better cover your tracks.

The Nanovores make quick work of the rest of the filing cabinet before you turn yourself to the rest of the record room. Pulling out paper sat random, ripping shelves off their hinges and toppling over entire metal units. Damage done, you put a hand to one wall and weaken the joists.

Squaring your shoulder you back up, bracing yourself. When you charge forward, the drywall collapses into splinters and dust. Cries of alarm echo out in the hallway and someone fires a gun.

Ugh.

Idiots.

You turn towards the source and the man in the dark blue uniform takes a step back. You grab his mind, pulling him into a daymare just long enough to close the distance and knee him in the gut. Catch the gun before it hits the ground and it dissolves into dust in your left hand. “Someone could get hurt.”

You let the man drop and he just lays there, staring at you.

As tempting as it is to keep basking in the adrenaline rush, you should get out of here before Argent shows up.

Besides, Ariadne and Jane both have appointments of their own to attend to today.

To the same woman.

–––

Chewing the inside of your cheek, you adjust your sunglasses, press them up your nose and flush against your face. You’re just… going in to check on Ortega. That’s all. Nothing weird about that.

Just your friend.

Ortega.

Who is your friend.

That you’re checking on.

You step up to the door, hesitate – hand on the handle shaking. You let it go. Shit. Shit. Fucking – You turn back to the door and throw it open, storming in. The secretary at the desk looks up at you in alarm, one arm poised under her desk. “Hello! Can I… help you?”

“Ortega.” You state. Wait. Shit. Context. She needs context. “I’m here to see Ortega.”

The woman frowns at that, eyeing you up and down. “Can I ask who’s calling for her?”

You echo her frown back, cross your arms under your shawl. “I… guess?”

The two of you stand there in silence.

Oh.

Wait, shit – “Ariadne.” You offer. “Ariadne Becker.”

Her face perks up, suspicion easing slightly. “Oh! Your Ortega’s friend. I remember you now.”

You frown at that. She does? You’ve only been here, what? Twice? “I’m… sorry?”

She laughs, which only makes you frown more. “Ortega mentioned you were coming by today.” She did? “You can take a seat, I’ll let her know you're here.”

It’s not a long wait. Have to bite your lip to keep from smiling at Ortega walking out of the elevator. Raise a hand to catch her eyes. “Hey.”

She takes sight of you and smiles. “Hey yourself.” God. Just seeing her here is a relief. This building isn’t anything like the HQ your used to. Too clean and too sterile. Professional. Like the Farm.

“I – I made it. Hope you're happy.”

“You bet.” She grins, smug. No one would ever accuse Julia Ortega of being a graceful winner. “Com’on,” she beckons you after her. “Let’s head to my, uh...” She flashes a grin back at you, “special office.”

You tilt your head as you follow her back into the elevator. Tuck your sunglasses into your purse. Are you supposed to laugh at that or…? “Should I be worried?”

“Nah.” She punches a number into the keypad. “I’m too tired to get into trouble today.” She raises her other hand, shakes the coffee thermos she’s holding for emphasis.

Small talk with Ortega is an old routine. As comfortable, as it is dangerous: to forget for a moment this woman is actively working towards your destruction. That her smile is directed at an empty facade.

Well.

At least Jane gets to kiss her.

Oh –

Why did you have to think that just now?

You follow after her out of the elevator, a short walk past offices and meeting rooms and into what looks like an unfinished closet, ceiling joists exposed naked to the air. An obviously outdated computer, weighs down the desk at one end of the room while a white board with empty red circles spans another wall. But what really gets your attention is the set of out of place and utterly garish cheetah-print chairs. “What the…?”

“Donations.” Ortega shrugs, as if that explains anything. She pulls a seat over for you. Comfy enough, you guess. “Sorry Ari, I can’t chat too long,” Ortega slides into the seat across from you, a coffee in one hand. “I’ve got to meet someone for work later.”

You frown at that. “Oh. Um… sorry?” Isn’t she meeting Jane? Going somewhere else first?

Ortega blinks, taken aback. “It’s… not your fault?”

“That’s my line.” You force a laugh, trying not to look as awkward as you feel. One hand pokes out from under your shawl to fiddle with your sunglasses. “I just… thanks for meeting me on short notice like this. I… know this, um, new villain has you running ragged.”

“It’s fine.” Ortega waves your concern off. “You know… you’re always welcome to stop by when I’m at HQ.” She makes a face, sitting back in her seat. “Which is… all the time now since, well…”

“Chen still won’t let you back on active duty?” How long has it been now? Two months since she got out of the hospital? Time is starting to blur. Getting harder to track.

“He’s afraid I’m going to do something stupid.”

“Hrm. Y–yeah, that definitely doesn’t sound like you.”

“Shut up!” She laughs, punching you in the shoulder. You make a show of almost falling over, as if you’d been hit far harder.

“You poor thing.” You tsk, a faint smile fighting to form. If Ortega’s staying on a desk, she’s safe. Safe from someone that could hurt her again.

Safe from you.

You glance at the doorway. “You must be bored out of your mind, stuck here.”

Her smile gains an edge, “Don’t worry. I’m keeping plenty busy.”

You frown, searching her eyes. “I know that look Ortega. That’s a – a face that means trouble for somebody.”

Her smile only broadens. “Only the ones that deserve it.”

You eye the whiteboard. All the conspicuously empty circles. “And how’s that going?” That’s the real question, isn’t it? How aggressive can you get with your tactics before the Rangers buckle down?

Assuming they don’t collapse like a house of cards first.

Ortega shrugs, noncommittal. “I’m working on it. I’ve got a…” Her eyes flit away from you for a second before returning with a smile. “A multi-pronged approach, let’s call it. Keeping me busy at least.”

“Just… d–don’t get yourself put in a hospital again. Okay?” You try to catch her eye. You don’t have to fake this. This sincerity. The ache in your chest. “Please?”

She smiles back at you, soft, maybe a touch sad. You can never be sure with these kinds of things. “I’m taking this dead serious Ariadne. You don’t need to worry about me.”

“Mm.” You frown. If anything her assurance just makes you more concerned she’s going to do something stupid. “Is that why you’re plotting in Harry Potter’s broom closet?”

Ortega gasps in mock shock, a hand to her chest before collapsing into laughter. “Ariadne! I’ll have you know this is the most secure broom closet in Los Diablos!”

You laugh, “Nothing’s secure in this city.” You should know. It’s been hell isolating your workshop off the network.

Ortega clicks her tongue and taps the side of her nose. “Not so hasty now. Maybe that's the Mayor’s line but you shouldn’t believe everything she says.”

“Ortega!” You laugh, “did you just tell me not to trust the government?”

“Well, when you put it like that it sounds silly.”

“Uh-huh. And since when did you become a technology wizard?”

“That used to be your job.”

You fake a laugh. “Hey, if anything, it’s, uh– well, it’s more my job now than it ever was.”

“Well, I had some help.” She glances away, “Angie has a bit of a way with technology.” There’s a pause followed by a wince, “Don’t tell her I told you that.”

“Why?”

Ortega takes a drink from her coffee, dragging it out. “Because she’ll kill both of us.”

“I’d, um – I’d just as soon steer clear of her.” You answer, waving the concern away. “She s–s–scares the hell out of me. She’s like a… like a… woman-shaped shredding machine.”

“Angie’s really sweet! She just takes some effort to get to know.” A meaningful glance is shot your way. “Not unlike a certain asshole in this room.”

You smile back at her. “You shouldn’t talk about yourself like that.”

“Ouch! You’re vicious today.”

“S–sorry. I…” You go silent. Not sure how to finish that sentence. What else you can possibly say…? “Hey, um…”

“Yeah?”

“You said I could pick somewhere we volunteer at… that isn’t a hospital, right?” You watch her from the corner of your eye, not quite facing her.

“Uh, hey, yeah! You had somewhere in mind?”

“Y–yeah. There’s uh… there’s this soup kitchen. Up in… Pasadena. They’re… small so we should, uh, call ahead.” Got some memories of that place. Hadn’t expected them to still be around, over seven years later.

“Pasadena?” Ortega purses her lips, thinking. “That’s around one of your old haunts, isn’t it?”

You nod. No point trying to play it off “Y–yeah.”

“Okay. You make the arrangements, let me know a date. I’ll try to make sure my schedule is clear.”

“That’s… thanks.”

Ortega takes a sip of her coffee, “So. Was that all you wanted to ask me about?”

“Not exactly… um.” How do you put this? You shift in your seat. “I’ve been, uh – seeing the news stories lately… What’s this about Argent working with vigilantes? Did you know?”

“I…” Ortega looks away, back down at her coffee. “Yeah. I mean. It’d be kind of hypocritical of me to disapprove, don’t you think?”

“Someone’s going to get hurt.” You sigh, “I mean… I understand what you mean but…”

“We made a good team.”

“...yeah.” You sigh, hold yourself up with a hand to your forehead. “But Lady Argent doesn’t seem to be a – well…”

“A team player. I know.” Ortega glances up at you, a quirk of suspicion on her lips. “But you’re retired now, Ariadne. You told me yourself, this isn’t your world any more.”

You sit back, stare out the window at the passing traffic. “I… I know. But – having…. Having you around again. It’s… hard not to care. I… want to let it go. But when it seems like the Rangers are falling apart and I’m just…”

Responsible.

“Now that sounds like the Ariadne I know.” Ortega’s voice is sad, sad enough to get you to look at her again. “You never could just sit on the sidelines. Even when it was for your own good.”

You make a face. “Well, neither could you.”

“Guilty as Charged.”

“Oh f–fuck you.” You laugh, slapping her hand away. “I can’t believe you never – never made that pun before.”

Ortega’s smug grin doesn’t leave her face. “And don’t think I haven’t noticed your helping Herald now.” She leans over to you, still grinning. “Anything I should know about?”

You lean away from her, eyes wide. “W–what!? I’m just– we’re just–”

Ortega bursts out laughing. “Relax! I’m only teasing you.” She looks up, sees the expression on your face and starts laughing again.

“Asshole.” You hiss at her, face red. “He’s just a dumb kid who doesn’t know the first thing about how to hold himself in a fight.”

“I think that fight with Ghost finally shocked him out of his comfort zone.”

“Or maybe,” You give Ortega a pointed look. “You all just weren’t training him right.”

“You were his childhood hero, you know that right?” Ortega’s smile fades. “He looks up to you.”

God. There’s a terrifying thought.

“Give it time.” You huff. “I’ll fix that too.”

–––

“There she is!” Jane flings her arms into the air, “I missed my practice buddy.”

Ortega laughs, catching Jane in the coffee shop door. “Just your ‘buddy’ huh?”

“Hmph!” Jane pouts, “You know what I mean.”

“Madre de Dios, I’m so glad to finally be out of that hospital.” Ortega smiles with her whole face, pulling Jane in for a hug. For a moment it feels like they might kiss. And then they disentangle.

Jane mirrors the smile back with a touch of puzzlement. “Did they really only just let you out?” Jane and Ortega haven’t had a chance to meet up since Ghost crashed the Gala over a month ago now. Two months? It’s getting hard for you to keep track of time. But you know she’s been out for a while now.

What’s going on?

Ortega’s smile freezes on her face as she rubs the back of her neck. “Well… I’ve been busy too. Work.” She flaps an arm in the general direction of Ranger’s HQ “Sorry. I should have at least called.”

“It’s okay…” Jane’s smile takes a bitter edge. A knot twisting in her gut. “Our date didn’t exactly… go well, did it?” Maybe that’s it. She’s just trying to spare Jane’s feelings.

“Hell, Jane, I am so sorry. And then you got… hurt because of me and…” Oh. That’s why she’s been avoiding Jane. Guilt. That makes sense. You understand guilt.

“Stop it.” Jane presses a finger to Ortega’s lips. “It’s not your fault. It’s…”

Ortega takes her hand, gently lowering. “Ghost’s.”

Jane laughs, disdainful. Weaves her fingers between Ortega’s as they move to walk down the street together. “Is that really the name now?”

“Yeah.”

“How dumb. What is this guy, emo?” Jane glances back towards Ortega. Was that a frown on her face? It’s gone. She’s smiling again. Jane smiles back.

“It is pretty dumb isn’t it?” Ortega laughs along. “I’ve heard worse ones before though.”

“Oh yeah? Like what?”

“Emperor President is still my top pick.”

Jane laughs, “That’s not dumb, that’s fucking amazing.”

“Maybe it wraps back around to that.”

“Well, maybe it does.” Still laughing, Jane twists around so she’s standing in front of Ortega. Bringing the both of them to a stop. “So. I think you owe me something.” There’s a glint in her eye. This is – this is forward. Too forward? No, it’s Ortega. Relax.

Ortega’s face is a careful blank. “Do I now?”

“Another date? I…” Jane breaks eye contact, biting her lip. “I mean. If you want to. Of course.”

Ortega squeezes her hand. “Of course.” Her smile turns sheepish as she looks away too. “Honestly, I… was worried I had, well, scared you off after everything.” It’s like a weight is lifted from Jane’s shoulders. The sun is brighter, the sky bluer.

“Hey!” Jane pats her on the face, redirects her to meet Jane’s eyes again. “It’s going to take a lot more than bombs and a mentally disturbed wacko to scare me away.” She tilts her head, laughing with her eyes. “that’s practically my day job already with all the debt BS.”

“Alright…” Ortega’s smile broadens, more confident. “Alright, great!”

Jane steps forward in Ortega’s space, “And I’ve got just the idea of where we can go…”

#fallen hero: rebirth #fallen hero fanfic #fanfiction #fhr/Ariadne

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totaldramafan-lauri · 3 years

Text

Reflecting (Keep Moving Forward followup)

So, uh....first off.....if you’re reading this, I hope you have a Merry Christmas (if you celebrate it)!

It’s been over a month since I made that vow to keep moving forward.....but it’s been so hard.....It’s getting easier recently, though, as I’ve been able to think clearer.....bit by bit.....

Below is gonna be me venting about stuff that happened, and about myself and the lessons I’ve learned, so if that doesn’t interest you, don’t bother reading. I just.....wanted to....spill things out somewhere, where I’m not forcing people to listen to me.....And hopefully, this’ll be the last post I’ll have about this subject, or at least, one this long....

When it happened.....I was so taken off-guard....I was devastated and worried....and in my fear, I focused on the wrong things.....

I was SO caught up on the fact that....my friends....who I care so much about.....who I liked talking to, and sharing things with, and had such fun with .....were accusing me of hurting them, which was like, one of my worst fears....I was so blindsided by how quickly things went south......from being told that I’m loved, valid, and that I’m not annoying, and I’m fun to be around....s-stuff I wanted to believe.....to suddenly being told that I WAS annoying and obnoxious the entire time, and that I was actually an awful, selfish guilt-tripper who only wanted attention.....And.....that’s.....that’s not me.....

They brought up past events that.....I’d already either apologized for, swore to never do again, or was already made aware of and was trying to dial back on.....A-and that made it worse.....It felt like none of that mattered.....that I was so terrible that I could never truly change for the better, even as I tried to....And the part that hurt the most about the whole thing was not being believed. I didn’t expect them to forgive me, especially not right away.....I just wanted them to believe me....But no one believed me when I apologized again. No one believed me when I told them I didn’t mean any harm to any of them, and said that I’m completely aware of my mistakes, trying to be better, and would try not to repeat any of the crap I did before. Nothing I said was hitting at all, it was like I was just white noise to them.....

And after it was over, I thought about it more, let it sit with me......as I sobbed my face off, of and on, for days.....I hated knowing I hurt my friends, I hated it, hated it.....Thinking about what they were going through around me....Were they really that hurt? Was I really as awful as they said? Am I really incapable of changing and being better? What should I do to make everyone happy? Is it best for them if I wasn’t there anymore? Is it best for everyone? Do I deserve this pain, for everyone’s sake? Is everyone better off if I.....went away.....forever......?

But thankfully.....the tears slowly dried.....Thanks to the friends I still have, I got back on my feet, though it took a bit......And I’ve obviously looked back on everything a LOT.....And as the pain dulled, I started to think clearer....And identify the root causes of my mistakes.

Yes....I did mess up. I’m not the victim here. Just because it hurt, doesn’t mean I didn’t deserve to be called out. Everything I said before this was how I felt in the moment, but this is how I feel about it presently:

It’s true that I never wanted to hurt anyone. EVER. I’m one of the least threatening people on the planet. I’m a socially-awkward, anxious mess of a person who struggles with the simplest of things. I’m timid, shy, but once I get comfy, I’ll ramble on, and fangirl....and I get flustered very easily. When I get flustered, I say stupid things. I do stupid things. And.....I'm constantly worrying about being annoying. I never had any hidden agendas to “make everything revolve around me” or anything like that. In fact.....I HATE the feeling of controlling other people (It was actually a running thing that I was the most submissive person in the server). I prefer being a follower to a leader, scared of disappointing people I care for. And I NEVER wanted any more attention than anyone else. I know I’m not important. I was just another fangirl in a server full of them. A server that belonged to everyone equally......Everyone got to be happy, and that’s part of what made it so great.....Every time one of my friends got attention, I’d watch, sure, but I’d never intentionally take away from them. No matter how much I reacted, no matter how flustered I’d get, no matter how many stupid noises I made...If I knew that I was stealing attention, I would’ve tried to step back, but still getting anxious over letting people I care about down.....in case they really DID want to indulge me....

I absolutely hate forcing people to do things they don’t wanna do. Whenever someone does something for me, I want it to be because they WANT to. I’d ask things like “Are you sure?” out of anxiety. This is especially true of RPing. My anxiety over RPing is so bad that I’ll never initiate one. I always want people who RP with me to actively have fun doing it, not because I’m forcing it. I always worry about the people I do it with, and if they’re having fun, or if I’m being a waste of time....And if, at any point, I had picked up on the fact that I was forcing anything, I would’ve backed off right away and apologized.

So, me being called.....m-manipulative....? That hurt....because that’s not me.....and that’s why I.....got so defensive.....

But.....like I said at the start.....I was focusing on the wrong things.

Sure, that one part was a misunderstanding. But who flipping cares? I still messed up. I messed up BADLY. It doesn’t matter if it was intentional or not. I still hurt people I care about, and I still deserved to be called out for it. While it’s true that nothing I did was intentional, they still brought up good points about me that I needed to hear, even if it hurt. After letting everything sit with me for a month, I’m finally able to address it, and put it in text so that I’ll never forget it. I guess.....this is my own callout post to myself.

So....the biggest cause of all of this.....is self-hatred.

It’s no secret to anyone who knows me that I.....don’t really have a high opinion of myself, and I consider everyone who I get attached to to be more deserving of nice things than me. The biggest example is when it comes to Spinel....I’d always be so so self-conscious when thinking about how she’d view me compared to my friends, who are more entertaining, and more deserving of her attention....at least, in my eyes. I wasn’t jealous of the attention they’d get, though (I’d cheer them on), I just looked up to them. At first, this wasn’t a huge problem as a lot of my friends had the same issues. But.....it got worse. Over time, my mind attacked me more and more.....I blamed myself for nearly every uncomfortable or bad situation that would happen.....and started to fear being left out and being alone. This led to situations of me basically going into tangents over how much I hate myself over things that had nothing to do with me. I’d blame myself, over and over again.....

Every single time I would beat myself up over being boring/useless/annoying/etc, my friends were always there, comforting me and making me feel better. But here’s the thing: I started doing this IN THE WRONG PLACES, at THE WRONG TIMES. Like, I would offhandedly mention how I wish I was more like someone else and have to be assured I was fine, during someone else’s moments, because I was an idiot and it didn’t hit me that people would actually stop what they’re doing to talk to me. I can even remember a few times when a friend was having a really bad day, and I would have a mental breakdown over worrying about them, needing to be calmed down. THAT could’ve been kept to myself. Like I said before, I never EVER intended to get special treatment compared to anyone else. But, the way I’d constantly moan about how “It’s all my fault”, “I’m so sorry I’m so annoying”, and especially the constant self-consciousness over Spinel.....All of that.....how every single time, it ended with people comforting me in some way......it was EASY for them to interpret all of that as guilt-trippy. I wasn’t aware of it then, but I can see why people would think that now. I kept doing it, cuz I was so comfortable venting to them that.....I got into a habit of it. In my head, it was just a thing that we all did, not just me. But I had no idea of what I was doing, and how often, until I had to have it spelled out to me......and that’s just....yikes. Luckily, I’ve learned now that there’s a time and a place to vent, and I’ve made a real effort to dial back on my self-deprecating comments, after being called out....but it didn’t matter anymore. It was one case of “I learned my lesson, but I did it so often in the past that no one believes me when I say that.” And I have no one to blame there but myself.....

But I will still take that message to heart, and will try to pass it to others. There’s a time and place to vent your insecurities. Do it in a dedicated space if you can. Don’t do it in a way that brings down the mood, or in any way that could be an interruption.

But that wasn’t the only mistake I made. Oh no no no. It gets even worse. My self-loathing issues have done worse than annoy people and get misinterpreted. I’ve said things that I extremely regret saying.

So.....in.....either late August or early September....around that time, things got a lot more stressful and sad in the server. There was a period where it seemed like every other day, a friend would have some kind of breakdown and leave the server. When someone I care about isn’t feeling well, my worry over them makes me overly-anxious, and....yyyyyyeah, my mind became even meaner to me. Th-the point is, people I cared about were having a hard time, and....I spent a lot of time worrying and stressing over them. I felt helpless.....I wished I could help them and make them feel better, the way they helped me....and, I started overthinking a lot of things, wondering if I was a bad friend.

I was so sick of myself for always saying “I suck at cheering people up besides being a distraction” and using that as an excuse to not do anything....It felt like I was doing the same thing over and over again: worrying about people while being too shy to reach out, and worrying that not reaching out made it seem like I didn’t really care.....

There’s one friend of mine.....who is really good at cheering me up when I’m depressed. He’s done it multiple times. I never ask to be cheered up, but.....he seems to always know what to say. And.....I look up to him. I wanna be a person like that.....a good friend who knows what to say......and......

And so I tried. After a certain point, I decided to stop whining and try reaching out to my friends more. I DMed more often, wrote them things, tried showing them I care. And at first, I thought I was doing the right thing, even if it was outside my comfort zone. It was worth it if I made someone feel just a little bit better while in a bad place.

But....I wasn’t good at it. At all. I was way too anxious to act calmly in those situations, and as a result, most of them.....didn’t go so well. As in, I never, I dunno, thought things through before saying them. Which, when talking to someone emotionally vulnerable, you should ALWAYS DO. I should know! I AM one of those people!

A lot of the time, I.....I struggle to convey my emotions properly. When I’m emotional, I say stupid things without thinking. Sometimes, it’s something that sounded fine in my head, but once I say it or type it out, I realize how wrong it really sounded. One thing about me is that I’ll never take the cheap excuse of “It was the autism’s fault” or “It was the anxiety’s fault”, because....stuff like that sounds so wrong to me. Those things are a part of myself, so blaming them is really just another way of saying that I was wrong. But yes, it’s true that a lot of autistic people suffer from the same social issues that I do. Coming off as insensitive by talking without thinking. This also goes back to what I mentioned earlier about how I act like an idiot when I’m flustered. I get emotional, I stop thinking. That’s all there is to it. And I wish I could just......stop.

While trying to talk to a friend who was going through a hard time, there were occasions where, either out of stress or evil brain jumping to conclusions, I would bring my self-loathing issues into the situation. AGAIN, with the self-loathing in the wrong place at the wrong time! When someone I care about isn’t feeling well, my worry over them makes me overly-anxious. ....I’d try to say “I hope you’re doing OK! We miss you!” and after a bit, it was devolve into “Please please come back, I’m sorry if I did anything wrong, I’m such an awful friend, boohoo”, and......yikes? After this distance, I realize just how badly-worded a lot of the stuff I said was.

Sometimes, I would catch on to what I said really quickly, instantly feel guilty, and delete the message, hoping no one saw it (guess what: that doesn’t change anything if they still saw it), but other times, I was so dang OBLIVIOUS to just how obnoxious I was acting, and needed it spelled out to me.

The ultimate irony is that, in trying to be there for my friends, I was such an emotional wreck that....I ended up coming across as selfish instead. The exact opposite of my intention.

I wanted to be like my friend, and failed. All cuz I let my own feelings get in the way.

Whenever I’d be called out on something, I’d apologize. And afterward, I’d do my very best to never repeat my mistakes. After being called out for sticking my nose in where I wasn’t wanted, I stopped initiating DMs with anyone who didn’t wanna talk, and made extra careful to double-check things I said. I was extra cautious about everything, scared of messing up again.

And....it seemed like my apologies were accepted, and things were fine again. But.....there came a point where it’d just been.....enough.

The damage was done. The conclusions about me were made. And my reaction - getting defensive over a misunderstanding instead of actually focusing on the fact that good points were made about me - didn’t help matters.

I poured my heart and soul apologizing to them, swearing over and over again that I learned my lesson. And.....almost no one believed me. Because I messed up THAT badly. Everything that came out of my mouth was taken as a sob story. And the feeling of not being believed and trusted anymore hurt so badly that I......shattered. I broke down.....

But now, thinking clearly, I see the full picture better. I see the truth behind the misunderstanding, and boil everything down to the core issues that I can focus on improving.

Sure, I’m not manipulative, and I’ll take those words to my grave. But I was still oblivious, annoying, invasive, and my self-loathing was a MAJOR problem that I let leak into too many conversations. It got to the point where it came off as guilt-trippy and attention-seeking. I can’t deny that anymore. That’s how people saw it. Sure, it was never intentional, but no more sugar-coating.

My biggest problems were: 1. The self-loathing problems, and 2. The obliviousness of what I was doing and how it made people feel. Those are the core issues. Everything else can be traced back here.

And.....that’s everything. All my self-reflecting, summed up here. A reminder of my mistakes.

I’m so sorry.....for everything I did. I’m working on it.....I promise. Thank you for letting me know.

This is the kind of apology I should’ve given them.....Properly self-aware, not that overdramatic mush....

.....I was never mad at them for saying those things. Even when the wounds were fresh, I was never mad at them, only myself and the situation.....I didn’t wanna hate them, I wanted to make things right.....And.....M-maybe it’s me being weak, but.....I still think the world of them now. I still think of them as my friends.....Especially now, when I can look back and try to understand why they did it. They were hurt, and they were only doing what was best for them......And I hope they’re all happy now that it’s taken care of. Cuz....they deserve to be happy.

I know that all I can really do is talk about how I feel, and give my side of the story, but I’ve still thought a lot about what they must have felt.....How hurt they were, what they thought, and if it was hard to do.....I can never truly know without communicating. And, for the sake of their privacy, and not bringing up specific details, I won’t put words in anyone’s mouth. This is mainly about my feelings, because that’s all I can share. But yes, this isn’t the whole story.

Sure, it still sucks, knowing that without some kind of magic lie detector, I can never truly prove that I never wanted to use or hurt anyone, and that I really did care about them so much.....but I have to live with it. This is the price I have to pay.

And through the experience, I learned important lessons that I’ll keep close to my heart.

Back when the wounds were fresh, I was blaming every little thing about me, trying to find justification that I was unlovable trash and didn’t deserve happiness. I blamed things that weren’t at fault at all, or that I have no control over, like preferences and squicks.....anything that could’ve been annoying people all along......But, I think I finally got it straightened out now.

My feelings for Spinel aren’t at fault here. (After all, I wasn’t the only one who had them) While my ramblings about not feeling worthy of her attention, and the stupid things I’d say when flustered over her, caused some issues, those things stem from personal faults of mine that have always been there. My self-loathing would still be just as bad if she wasn’t there. I’d just be directing it at something or someone else. So, no, I’m not forcing myself to get over her. I don’t blame her. Thinking about her brings me comfort still, after all this time....and I don’t wanna let that go. I can improve as a person, and still.....l-love her.....

No, I learned what I REALLY have to change, and have already made the steps to do so. I’ve made new rules for myself. I’ve started internalizing my self hatred and anxiety more instead of oversharing it. I only vent my issues in private places, or on here, where I’m not forcing people to read my crap. I’m DONE with forcing anyone to listen over and over again about how I hate myself, and.....how I’m now in this endless cycle of hating myself FOR hating myself.....it’s a lose-lose situation either way. Point is, no more of those self-loathing tangents unless it’s called for.

And other things, too......I’ve been extra careful about RPing, I’ve been extra careful about joining conversations, and.....about everything, really. Especially DMing. Now more than ever, I’m scared of forcing people to pay attention to me....I’m worried about coming off the wrong way. When someone pays attention to me, I don’t want it to be forced. I wanna believe I deserve it. If I ever deserve anything.....(And finally, one last minor change: I’ll no longer voice chat unless I’m muted. My voice is seriously obnoxious, especially when flustered, to the point where I’ll unintentionally insert myself into conversations just by making stupid noises in the background. I’m too loud. SCREW my voice. I hate my voice. No more.)

And, as the past month or so has gone on, and I’ve slowly recovered, and gotten past this period of self-reflection.....I’ve started talking to people again, slowly regaining the confidence to do so.....while keeping my new rules in mind. And, I’m happy to say that I haven’t messed up.....yet. Don’t wanna jinx it. But yeah.....maybe I really have improved.....

And.....for the past couple weeks.....I’ve been......happy? Well, the happiest I’ve been since that day. I’m no longer miserable, and I’m in good spirits. That’s good, cuz it means that I’m not bothering people!

So....I’m optimistic. Maybe that’s a bad thing.....but at the moment, it doesn’t feel that way.

In the near future, I.....I do wanna reach out to the friends I hurt. I wanna try apologizing one last time. Maybe that’s me not wanting to let go, but.....I really care for them, and we had so much fun together......It felt like we made each other happy, before everything got bad.....I don’t wanna feel like everything we ever did was because I was awful.....the whole time.....I don’t want the memories to be tainted.....

But.....I’m scared to go back right now......I’m scared of messing it up by getting emotional again. If they don’t forgive me, that’s fine. That’s their choice to make. But I at least want them to believe me.....and if that doesn’t happen, then it’s my fault again.

So....yeah.....I do wanna go back and give it one last try.....but later, when I’m SURE I’m ready. For now, as long as I feel like there’s a part of me that’s gonna get all dramatic and moody, I’m not ready. Cuz I wanna push that part of me away. No more pity parties. No more....no more talking over them. I’ll let them beat into me if it’ll make them feel better......and I’ll be happy to be forgiven, if that’ll make them feel better.

Either way, I don’t want it to end like this....but......is it selfish to want closure? Cuz, even if I don’t get forgiveness.....at least give me that. At least let me end this on a respectful note. Cuz....I don’t wanna be a coward. I don’t wanna just.....move on without taking the steps to fix the situation, especially with the people that were there for me so often......

Geez, this got long......sorry if you read all of this. I just.....wanted to put this all somewhere......TLDR: I’m so incredibly sorry for everything I’ve ever done, and I’m taking the steps I can to improve myself and become a better person. It’s not easy, and I’ll never forgive myself for the mistakes I’ve made.....but I’ll try to get there somehow.

Keep moving forward......

#im intentionally keeping details about specific events vague for privacy purposes #cuz i am NOT in a position to reveal anything more #i just wanna vent #i dont wanna attack people (other than myself) and i dont wanna over dramatize anything #these are just my raw feelings and thats it #thats my disclaimer #venting

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lhs3020b · 4 years

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Post Mortem

I promised some thoughts on the nightmarish debacle that has happened. Here they are.

TL;DR I am scathing about everything. Everyone who should have helped us, failed.

It's the morning after. They've won. Continuity Remain is dead; there isn't going to be any second referendum and Article 50 won't be revoked. You cannot imagine how I feel right now, typing those words. However, I have never sought to deny reality (however lovely denial might be) and reality is what it is. We've lost a referendum and two general elections; we're finished. There is no come-back from this. The country has made a sick, twisted, greedy, myopic and stupid decision - but that's the decision it's made. I have nothing good to say for what happened, except that it did happen.

Well, let's look at the one tiny silver lining: since the ship has now sailed, I can indulge my deep, seething pool of vitriol for our collection of useless opposition parties. I'd held back previously because I didn't want to add to the circular firing squad. But they've all shot each other now and the corpses have largely stopped twitching. So off we go. (Before we start, I won't be writing about CUK/TiG/Change-UK, because they were just annoying, and I can't be arsed. I think we've all spent enough time on that shower of idiots.)

Here's the core reason for why I'm so angry: all this was completely avoidable. The media will, of course, spin BoJo's victory as a paragonic triumph of political conservatism. Like that infamous Pravda article from the 30s, on the Soviet constitution, they'll fawn over BoJo and declare him a visionary and a victor, a veritable genius of the ages, dripping with lyricism and wit. He isn't. He's an over-promoted buffoon who lucked into the top office due to the self-destruction of his inept predecessor, aided and abetted by a lying and sycophantic media - and, by a collection of opposition parties whose sole interest was in fighting each other.

Here we have the real core problem. The people on our side only switch on for fighting each other. There's little sign that they actually really care about Brexit, or the wider state of the UK. But pursuing partisan vendettas against each other? Wheeeeeeeeeee!

Let's think back to the summer, when BoJo was faced with stalling polls and a hung parliament. He could have been ousted then - but, of course, the Lib Dems were adamant that they couldn't countenance the idea of Mr Corbyn as Prime Minister. They'd had this tendency for a while - it's not new - but it accelerated and was nurtured under Jo Swinson.

When she was elected as leader I was initially a bit sympathetic - it seemed reasonable to give her a chance. Unfortunately, it turned out that she might be the most rightwing leader they've ever had - I actually suspect now that she might be to the right of Clegg. And she went and turbocharged all of their most self-destructive tendencies. I think what she thought she was doing was clawing Tory Remainers off of the Tories. This ran into two problems; 1) there weren't that many Tory Remainers to begin with and b) most of them are more Tory than they are Remain. So they mostly stayed put, and they few who did leave (thank you, to those of you that did) just weren't enough. Meanwhile, the hard-right tilt scared off the Lib Dem's left-leaning supporters.

A while back I predicted they'd lose seats at this election; I'm sad to have been proved right. I am, however, grimly-amused that Swinson herself lost her seat. The other problem with Swinson's rampany anti-Corbynism was that it partially demobilised continuity!Remain. A lot of people sensed that she was more anti-Corbyn than anti-Brexit; that also implied no plausible chance of an anti-Brexit coalition. Hoenstly, given how overt and personal the vitriol between her and Corbyn got, it's hard to see how it could ever have worked. And there's no point voting for something that you know is impossible. I do wonder if maybe this switched some left-leaning people off, or perhaps even sent a few ditherers back to the Tories (under the assumption that any sort of government is better than no government, I suppose).

As for the Lib Dem campaign, it was a mess. At one point their leader went on air to deny killing squirrels (yes, seriously, this actually happened). She got all excited about thermonuclear genocide at one point, because that's not at all weird and creepy, amirite?! Then there was the bizzarity that was "skills wallets" (don't ask - basically, the sort of policy abortion that happens when a collection of wonks are locked in a room with a boxed set of the West Wing and too much cocaine).

[OK, I'll expand this one. Briefly, skills wallets were a weird continuing-adult-education idea, where you'd have a pot of money that you could access at certain ages, apparently to take some kind of training or re-education or something. Why the ages in question, why that amount of money, and why not just make adult-ed free at the point of use, were never really explained. Then there was the can of worms that was additional voluntary contributions - what I took away from this was it was the adult-ed version of pensions auto-enrollment. I spent the last four years fighting a corrupt auto-enrollment fund, so I have strong feelings here!]

As for general themes, really, the LD campaign didn't have one. There was a lot of "Corbyn, THE MONSTER, the monster, Corbyn!". And, kind of oddly, there wasn't actually that much about Brexit. It actually didn't figure very strongly in their campaign. You came away from watching it all with a) a bad taste in your mouth and b) a nagging feeling that these people didn't know what they were doing.

To be fair to them, their vote share did go up, a bit - from 7.4% in 2017 to 11.4% yesterday. Which is, uh, not exactly dizzying. And it seems to have happened in all the wrong places, so they still managed to lose seats overall.

OK, we've gawped at the piss-stained ashes of the old Liberal Party, lying in state where some eggregious family-member has dumped them, on a roadside verge in the middle of nowhere. (Perhaps some enterprising squirrel has buried a nut amongst them.) Let's move onto the other vast, soul-sucking black hole of despair, also know as the Labour and Co-operative Party.

Oh dear god. The Labour Party.

The Labour Party is Britain's perennial second party, and nothing that happened last night challenged its second-place status. Their vote share dropped by 7.8 percentage points on 2017; this is what produced the Tory landslide, essentially. The Tory vote went up a little, by about 1 point, but otherwise stayed largely flat on 2017. This time, though, Labour collapsed. They lost a swathe of seats across the country, including places like Bolsover and Blyth Valley, which were previously rock-solid.

What went wrong? Everything. Basically, the stars aligned against us, in every single way.

First of all, Labour's campaign was dogged by the antisemitism scandal. And you know what? It was bloody well right that it did. The leadership dealt with antisemitism by ... doing nothing. Anyone who tried to raise the issue instead would get "Corbyn outriders" dumping on them on Twitter. Apparently we're suddenly not allowed to be concerned about racism on the Left anymore? Frankly, fuck that.

What they should have done was a quick-and-brutal party purge, perhaps early in 2018, when there was still time. Take some initiative, get control of the narrative again, and get rid of people who are only going to shit all over your campaign. But, uh, no. That didn't happen. I'll note that the Chris Williamson show in particular went on far, far longer than it should have.

Then we come to Brexit itself. Corbyn spent three years equivocating on the issue. OK, I'll allow that in hindsight, perhaps strategic ambiguity made some sense back in 2017 (though note that they still lost that election too). It didn't by 2019. But Corbyn was still trying to stand in the middle of the road as late as the summer - and by doing so inadvertently opened up political space for the (brief) Lib Dem revival, which in turn shunted Labour onto the defensive. And as I believe Paddy Ashdown once said, if you stand in the middle of the road, you get hit by traffic.

Eventually, the Labour leadership reluctantly adopted a second referendum position, but by then the damage was done. Basically, Corbyn had convinced Leavers that he was a Remainer, and Remainers that he was a Leaver. Labour appears to have lost votes about evenly across both Remain/Leave areas(!). In a way, he actually did unite the country - just against him. Ooops.

The rest of Labour's prospectus was a mess this year. Home Office reform was de-emphasized (arbitrary deportation by the Home Office is a huge concern amongst ethnic minorities). Drugs-law reform seems to have fallen off the agenda. There was no obvious theme to the campaign - surprising given that 2017's "For the Many" theme did cut across. Instead the "offer", such as it was, appeared to be a largely-incoherent grab-bag of spending promises, some of them with very large headline numbers. (The £58 billion for the WASPI pensions thing stands out there.) A lot of people simply didn't believe the country could afford it. You don't vote for things that you fear will bankrupt you.

Also, in a way, there's a parallel to the skills wallets thing here. Labour would have been better off, I think, just doing something straightforward like saying, "If elected we'll raise disability, sickness and unemployment benefits by £x per week, and we'll get rid of the ATOS fit-for-work assesments". It would have the advantages of simplicity, clarity and a clear political theme. Instead we got this weird fiscal machine that would produce some of those effects, except via a complicated multi-part kludge (which probably wouldn't even work properly anyway). I don't know how this came about; presumably it was an after-effect of one of the party's unending internal power-struggles.

Corbyn himself is a controversial figure, from his past associations with the IRA (more vague than the press would have you believe, but still a drag on the doorstep) to the perception of socialist extremism. Again, let me note that the "but he's a Communist, because that starts with 'C' too!" stuff is disingenuous, but this perception exists, and the Party have not found any apparent way to challenge it. Honestly? If your candidate is a ship that's holed below the waterline, yes it is horribly-unfair and all the rest of it, but you do need to run someone else. (I see no point softening that punch ; while Corbyn's been leader, the whole UK has voted 4 times, at 2 general elections, 1 referendum and 1 EU Parliament election. Every time, Labour has bombed. It's hard not to see a pattern here.)

Finally, the Labour Party itself has failed to ever re-unite. It's effectively two political parties in one - or possibly three, depending on how you want to look at Momentum. On a fair day with a strong wind, the Parliamentary portion sometimes manages to move just-about-consistently, but nothing else seems to have that behaviour. Honestly I suspect a lot of people's real fear about a Labour government is not that it would be a socialist tyranny, but rather that it would implode within about six months. Labour has lost its way amongst a storm of factional infighting. To be fair to Corbyn, this isn't new. Ed Milliband's desperate tenure was derailed by internal struggles. Even the 1997-2010 period had the ongoing squabbles between Brownites and Blairites (remember them?).

So yeah, Labour's campaign was an absolute shambles this year, and the whole country is suffering now for that.

Lastly, let's have a quick look at the Green Party. Where were they this year? With Extinction Rebellion making headlines, the Amazon burning, Australia on fire and weather records being smashed everywhere - remember that day when we had summer back in February? - it should have been the Greens' year. Environmental concerns are going up in salience - people are starting to get genuinely worried. And, uh, where were they? I can't recall hearing a single peep from the Green Party during the election. Whatever it was they were doing, it seems to have completely failed to capitalise on the moment. Perhaps they should have been a bit more visible.

The only people who come out of this with any credit are the SNP. I haven't heard anything teeth-grinding about them - though, that might just be because I live in southern England.

Oh, and let's take a final kick in the teeth, shall we? If you add up the shares of the votes received by pro-second-referendum parties ... guess what it comes to? Yup: 52%, versus 48% for the pro-Brexit parties. 52/48 - aaaaargh! Yet, the 48% had a narrative that kept their vote all in one place, so they won an absolute majority at Westminster. Ours got scattered to the four winds by several separate inept campaigns and several useless party leaders. Had there been a second referendum, we could have won it. But we never got the chance, because everyone supposedly on our side were completely, perfectly, useless.

Sigh :(

#UK internal politics #diary of a disaster #We're surrounded by idiots

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soveryanon · 5 years

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Reviewing time for MAG129 /o/

- Overall, I’m… so, so proud of Jon since the season has begun? He’s trying! Trying so much and so hard! And it’s still the same Jon who is prone to outbursts, who can say mean things… but now, he’s also learned that his actions and his words can be destructive, that they can hurt people, that he can hurt people he cares about simply because he voiced what he felt! It’s not so much that his snappiness disappeared; it’s more that he’s now able to quickly understand that it can have consequences and wound even when he didn’t mean to?

(MAG129) ARCHIVIST: No, it’s fine, I know you’ve got… whatever this is, I’m not going to question you. MARTIN: Thank you. ARCHIVIST: [SPITTING] Even if it looks like you’re doing something really stupid. [SILENCE] … Sorry. MARTIN: It’s okay. I get it. ARCHIVIST: I just– I worry. […] [SIGHS] I suppo– … I miss you.

I mean!! Look at him!! He could compulse, has decided not to, and reassures that he won’t; he still snaps, but understand when he went too far and was actually demeaning; he explains his reasoning instead of clamming up! He caught himself when spurting one of his “I suppose”s and openly admitted something meaningful instead! Yes, alright, that should be basic, but that’s still a lot of progress and very impressive for someone who regularly fails to understand people around him, has trust issues, and used to go on the offensive when feeling cornered or criticised. (Would season1!Jon have behaved this way, uh?)

I’m also so fond of the way that Jon is once again… trying to make Martin talk? Restarting the conversation when the silences stretch out, talking about Martin? It’s horribly sad, but… the aesthetic of Jon trying to reach Martin feels so satisfying at the same time…

- I’m, however, a bit tad worried about how Jon sometimes flirts with becoming a The Eye apologist. 1°) He has been casually dropping a bit of an “us vs. them” mentality, lately, and it isn’t clear if it’s pure pragmatism (because they’re chained to the Institute) or Something Deeper:

(MAG123) BASIRA: [SIGHS] Alright. Best I can understand it, Beholding, or The Eye or… whatever you want to call it, we’re one of the only powers that hasn’t actually taken a shot at our ritual. Yet. And everything out there knows it. ARCHIVIST: … No, I mean, we… we can’t be the only ones, surely? BASIRA: I don’t know. Probably not. But we made a big noise with The Unknowing and… other stuff, and… now they’ve taken notice.

(MAG129) ARCHIVIST: You’re working for someone… really bad! MARTIN: Yes, I’m not an idiot, Jon, but it’s no… worse than working for something really bad, so… ARCHIVIST: At least The Eye hasn’t gone after our own. Lukas has vanished two people!

“we”, “our own” can be neutral and coming from an objective fact (the Institute is still their workplace, it’s about their colleagues!), or from a strategic point of view, or… a deeper feeling of belonging. I’m not sure. I hope that Jon is aware of what he’s saying and that it’s not the latter option ;;

2°) Jonathan “The Eye Did Nothing Wrong” Sims, DO WE TALK ABOUT IT. Elias killed Gertrude and Leitner! He allowed Sasha to die! He manipulated and chained them to the Archives! He traumatized Melanie! Jon should know that even without knowing that he also traumatized Martin (which… yeah, is only one of the things Elias has done in a long list, but in this particular case, especially horrible: Jon telling MARTIN, of all people, that The Eye ISN’T HURTING THEIR OWN…). That’s a lot of harm against its own people, even without taking into consideration the few Beholding statements that have popped up, including Albrecht’s death two episodes ago? What the heck, Jon? (Melanie would stab you again for this.)

It actually sounds like, overall, Jon is equating Peter’s actions with the Lonely, while at the same time… totally separating Elias’s from Beholding? I don’t know if it’s Jon being casually hypocritical, personally biased, or if there is something behind that (Elias not being Beholding’s Best Avatar, after all?).

- I don’t know if Martin realizes how much what he says makes it sound like he’s being coerced into avoiding everyone in exchange for Peter not harming the staff any further, and like there is no bigger plan beyond that – like Martin is just a victim with everyone else being used as hostages?

(MAG129) MARTIN: Oh… … Okay? W–well, sorry, but I’ve… I, hum… ARCHIVIST: You have to leave. Suddenly. […] Lukas has vanished two people! MARTIN: Yeah, and if it wasn’t for me, it would’ve been a lot more. [SILENCE] This isn’t helping anything. […] ARCHIVIST: If–if you do need to talk, I– MARTIN: I can’t. ARCHIVIST: No. No, o–of course. [INHALE] Listen, Martin, you should know– MARTIN: Jon– ARCHIVIST: –Daisy might be alive, Basira is– MARTIN: Stop. Stop, please, I–I shouldn’t know any of this, I… [PACKING UP] I–I–I really need to go, I–I’m…

It’s never “I’m not interested” or “I don’t want to” – it’s always how about Martin can’t by obligation. However, the way Peter presented it in MAG126, Martin’s “isolation” is not the main goal: it’s a means to an end, since Martin agreed to all of this in order to stop the New Threat that Adelard was investigating. We know this. But from an external point of view, with just the glimpses of conversations Jon has had with Martin… Jon would have many reasons to think that there is no plan, no further motive for Martin, and that Peter is simply forcing Martin to do things while threatening everyone else? That… could actually make Jon worry even deeper, if Jon ends up thinking that Martin is not even working on something, but only coerced into not having any contact with the others because Peter is messing with him?

(It’s possible, and even likely, that Peter’s agenda actually involves a lot more than what he’s told Martin: that this is also a way to separate the team that had managed to defeat Elias, and/or to give Jon a taste of the Lonely, and/or to deprive Jon of potential anchors, and/or to keep using Elias’s “learn to fly by falling” approach to force him to develop his powers in a semi-hostile territory, and/or to prevent Martin and the assistants from meddling with The Lonely’s or Beholding’s plans… But I’m still a bit hopeful that Peter didn’t completely bullshit Martin about the New Threat as a cover for other reasons – that it’s still, indeed, an actual thing that will need taking care of? Martin is wary of him, that’s good; I don’t think that he sees Peter as trustworthy, and he’s probably expecting backstabbing or a twist before the end. But there would be something… really pathetic if there was actually no New Threat and that Martin had been roped into a series of lies, without managing to achieve anything. So many things have already been pathetic in Martin’s life (his one-sided crush, the fact that he doesn’t seem to be close to a lot of people even outside of the Institute since nobody had checked on him during the Prentiss siege, the fact that he sacrificed his whole life for a mother who hates him because he physically looks like his father), it would be… very heartbreaking to add more to the list with this;;

- I’m so relieved that Martin is aware of and acknowledging Peter’s sketchiness very naturally ;; 1°) And on the subject of Beholding being no better than a Lukas: Martin is not wrong, technically? Beholding is one of the Fears – it’s not a ~good~ option either, it has never been? The fact that they used to accumulate, read/record and archive statements can’t be good on the long run if it’s serving It? Maybe even preparing The Watcher’s Crown? Martin himself used to be a bit complacent about the work in the Archives (even post-reveal in MAG092), while Tim was the one to constantly remind the others that the Institute was bad, too:

(MAG098) MARTIN: [Elias] did suggest I try to get you involved and– TIM: And I suggest that he not be a scary, magic psychopath. … Whoops! Too late. MARTIN: … Yeah. TIM: [SIGHS] Sorry. MARTIN: No, I– I get it. Heh. They’re not exactly much fun. TIM: Look, it’s not that. I… [SIGHS] This place is evil, Martin. And I think doing what It wants? Probably makes us evil. And It wants those things to be read. I mean, I’m not going to stop you, but, at the same time… MARTIN: I– I get it.

Martin never really fought or tried to escape the archival work, but he’s aware enough to point out that it’s not a Good Option vs. A New Bad Option (which would be Peter); they’re all… bad.

2°) First there was Martin’s stern “Peter.” in MAG126 that just made Peter stop trash-talking Jon, now the mention that Martin is ensuring that no more staff members get wooshed into the Lonely… Martin has an iron grip on Peter, uh.

3°) Martin feared that he could be perceived and described as “Martin Blackwood: he was always scared, then he died. The end.” BUT SERIOUSLY. If he dies (and if there is a body), put “I’m not an idiot, Jon.” on his gravestone.

(- I’m ;; still hoping that those two researchers are aliiiive and that they’ll be able to get out from the Lonely. I mean. They resisted against the shady new management and against orders from a boss who 1°) is apparently incompetent at the job since he delegates all his tasks to an assistant, 2°) was probably chosen for reasons having to do with his privileged background, 3°) didn’t allow them to see him even once since he arrived, and yet had Ideas about how to rule the place. You’re brave, researchers! Fight against the system!! You don’t deserve to die for this!!)

-When listening to MAG129’s statement, I was a bit lost and went back and forth between many guesses as to which power was at work. I was expecting a Buried one from the title, but then, discovering to the statement itself, I kept wondering if it wasn’t something else: Corruption, since there was the sense of decay and the disgust when Kulbir went to the firm’s building? Dark, with the lights slowly fading out? Lonely, since everyone seemed to have disappeared? Vast, with the sky joining in that mess? Still Buried, since the firm used awful puns that sounded very Buried? I think I was just a bit surprised to see the Buried associated with water, of all things, despite the fact that it was nothing new in (what-we-assume-to-be-)Buried statements: MAG015 (cave diving), MAG088 (with the “DIG” book found on the beach)… Which makes sense considering what drowning is about? But because of MAG051 (“High Pressure”; hi Simon), I had come to naturally associate water=ocean=Vast, which I feel a bit stupid about since it’s obviously not how The Fears work; it’s not about elements or symbols but what they do to you. Still: I had that moment of “Oh? … Oh, right!!” during MAG129. It’s… a bit more obvious when relistening, given Kulbir’s main concerns and how the world shifted around him:

(MAG129, Kulbir Shakya) “but by that point, I was already too deep in debt and there was just… no way I was going to be able to stay. […] I felt… disgust rise in my throat, the awful, humid air of the waterlogged place sitting heavy in my lungs. […] The water was warm, and after the heat of the summer’s day, I breathed in, expecting the smell of petrichor. But the scent of the rain was something else – something earthy and cloying I couldn’t quite place. […] I tried to relax, to let the rhythmic tapping of the rain lull me off to sleep, like it always had when I was a boy. But I could find no comfort in it. It sounded too much like it wanted to get in. […] I was tired, I was hungry and, without the motion of the rain, the air had become intolerably humid. Every breath I took filled my lungs with that thick, wet scent, and it felt like I could barely get enough oxygen to think. The walls of my house were slick with moisture now, and there was nowhere I could go to be dry, no way out of this oppressive, cloying damp. […] Inch by inch, foot by foot, everything was descending into the water’s embrace. It would wrap itself around me, reach down my throat and fill me with its choking darkness. There was nothing I could do.

Aaaand obviously, given the many double-entendre opportunities revolving around “crushing debts”, of course The Buried would be targeting poor people feeling ~pressured~, anxious about their situation.

(MAG129, Kulbir Shakya) “The first words did nothing to dissuade me from my assumption it was junk mail: “Drowning in debts? We can help!” in big friendly text that seemed at odds with the pseudo-respectable image the rest of it seemed to be striving for. […] At the bottom, in that same friendly typeface, it assured me: “We can help with the pressure.” I don’t know what I expected. I really don’t.”

(It feels, more and more, like Puns are a way to get More Powerful when you’re serving an evil power. Only One True Fear: Puns.) Interestingly: it was also the case for Jackson Ellis in MAG097… but his dire situation got alleviated a bit after he had moved in in Bucoda:

(MAG097, Jackson Ellis) “My parents were dirt poor themselves, and couldn’t help. […] The forest pressed in on all sides, like it did everywhere in the Pacific Northwest, I suppose, but it was an effect I was struggling to get used to. […] As it turned out my situation wasn’t quite as dreadful as I thought. I discovered the next day that my work had actually paid me a small amount. It wasn’t clear whether it was meant to be salary or severance, and I couldn’t get through to anyone who might have been able to explain it, but it was enough to ease the relentless pressure, if only a little bit.”

Was it thanks to the fact that his situation got better than Jackson wasn’t entranced by The Pit like all the other residents?

- This wasn’t the first time that people escape through a near-death (or death?) experience: Antonia Hayley (MAG051, Vast), Carter Chilcott (MAG057, Lonely) were prime examples:

(MAG051, Antonia Hayley) “I should be dead, really. It’s a weird feeling. You ever had a near-death experience? I’ve had a few – they’re not uncommon in my line of work, but this… it feels different. It’s not like I put myself in danger and managed not to die; I should be dead. Decompression sickness that severe is almost never survivable, and I should have had an embolism. The fact that I didn’t… blind luck. It’s hard to reconcile yourself with avoiding of a death you feel… should have been yours.”

(MAG057, Carter Chilcott) “[…] I began to very seriously consider the idea… that I had died, and this was hell. Given that worry, the way I finally escaped could be considered ironic: I starved myself to death. Well, not to death, I suppose, given I’m alive enough to talk to you, but close enough. […] After everything else, I had no guarantee it was even possible for me to die, but I had to try. When I finally faded from consciousness, for what I hoped was the last time, it was the greatest relief I have ever felt. … I don’t… know exactly when I realized I wasn’t dead. There were various moments I… faded back into consciousness, and I know that I felt the re-entry, very hard, but it’s difficult to pin down clear thoughts before the hospital.”

(MAG129, Kulbir Shakya) “I don’t know if you’ve ever drowned, but it’s the most painful thing I’ve ever experienced. I tried to remain calm, to think of my grandfather and his firm, stony face […] My lungs spasmed painfully, desperately trying to wring air out of the warm, rancid water that filled them. And as I felt the water embrace me, fully pressing in on all sides… I gripped the last connection I had to the world I knew. The last thing I was conscious of… was the water getting colder. I don’t… remember them fishing me out of Regent’s Canal. Or most of my treatment, to be honest. At a certain point it all blurs together. I’m alive. And that’s what matters.”

I remember that Jonny more or less said that it’s impossible to truly understand how the Fears operate, given how they’ll always escape our rationalizations – but anyway: I get the impression that when they’re going all out, they kind of trap people in a reflected reality, and when people manage to escape them, they get spat out and back into our world? We had multiple witnesses whose testimonies didn’t match the official findings of later investigations, and it’s hard to tell who is lying and who is telling the truth: is the Police twisting some information in their official records since they’re alluding to Section’d events? Are the witnesses mixing up some details because their memory is at fault? When spook happens, there often seems to be two realities: and sometimes, there is no difference between the two; sometimes… something happened in one and had other consequences in the other (I mostly remember how the guy in MAG072 got his fingers cut yet they were still on his hand when everything stopped, though he saw his fingers cut with his ring on one of them, ring that he didn’t have on “his” finger anymore).

Here, Kulbir both got to “die” (or almost? or died for real?) and to hold on to an anchor (an item symbolizing someone that he loved):

(MAG129, Kulbir Shakya) “I could feel that warm, grasping water cover my feet, my ankles, slowly working its way up my calves, but at that moment, all I could think about… was my grandfather. And how he had looked when they had given him his diagnosis, calm and solid. […] He had always endured his problems, never tried to squirm out of things he felt he had to face. I gripped the sheath in both my hands and waded to the window. Corpses floated by, slowly waving at me gently, their lifeless hands grey and bloated. I ignored them. And stepped out into the water. […] I gripped the last connection I had to the world I knew.”

Which is something we’ve mostly seen in statements dealing with the Lonely, I felt? Naomi Herne heard her dead fiancé’s voice leading her out in MAG013, and Gerry had advised Andrea Nunis to think about her mother in MAG048 (which indeed allowed her to escape the anonymous crowd).

- Regarding Kulbir’s grandfather: I wonder if he had a tie with something that was mentioned in MAG076, amongst the reports of William W. Hay about World War 2 dug up by Melanie?

(MAG076) “what I saw in the infirmary at Amritsar. Two dozen Ghurkhas tearing each other to pieces, consumed by the terrible butchery they had inflicted. Such things are not to be dwelt on, but serve to illustrate my proposition that violence, inflicted, received or even just witnessed, can not only deal injury to the body or the mind, but to the soul itself.”

The grandfather was specifically said to be a Ghurkha and brought back his weapon from it…

(MAG129, Kulbir Shakya) “We actually got into a… blazing row over his old kukri. He had been a Gorkhali, serving in the Fifth Gurkha Rifles during the Second World War. I have… complicated feelings on his military history, of course, but… he had always been fiercely proud of it. And that old knife had been one of his most treasured possessions. I didn’t keep it polished like he had, even at… ninety years old, but it reminded me of him. I could see his calloused hands on its hilt, as he meticulously, almost mechanically, cleaned it. Humming a tune the name of which I never learned.”

(Could have been Slaughter-infused, but I’m really not sure that it was even relevant here? What mattered was apparently the emotional connection.)

- ;;;;;;;;;;;;;;;;;; So that’s what happened to Jan Kilbride in the end (take that, myself, for sometimes daring to hope that he could have still been alive). We had heard Gertrude mentioning that she had Plans revolving around him back in MAG099 (recording from September 2nd, 2007):

(MAG099) GERTRUDE: […] For the Buried, however, I do have what I believe might be quite an effective plan forming – assuming, of course, that my suspicions about Jan Kilbride are correct, and that’s something that should be easy enough to determine once he’s back on Earth. Considering what’s probably happened to him up there already, I feel almost… bad, but there’s ten years yet before I can afford a conscience.

And Melanie had read Jan’s statement in MAG106 (left on February 10th, 2008) observing that the statement ended quite abruptly, and that Jan himself had disappeared from public views or records since coming back to Earth:

(MAG106) MELANIE: […] Also I, hum… I can’t find Jan Kilbride. He definitely returned. I’ve got more than one photograph of the trio’s arrival back on Earth, Carter Chilcott being attended by medical personnel, and the other two looking tired… but alive. There are also a couple of short newspapers stories mentioning their safe return. But it seems as though Kilbride made his way over to the Institute, a few weeks after touchdown, made his statement, and then… nothing. I can’t find any sign of him. And neither can Basira or Martin. Not on Earth, at least. I really don’t want to say he vanished into thin air but… he’s vanished into something.

Did Jan live in the tunnels for a while or something? He apparently managed to totally vanish from official records, and we know from MAG097 that the Buried’s “Sunken Sky” took place (or at least attempted to) on June 17th, 2008 – in Bucoda, America:

(MAG097, Jackson Ellis) “[…] [The pit] was bigger. And the road had swelled, to encompass it. There was someone else looking at it, though. An elderly woman, face pinched and thoughtful, stood at the edge looking down. I didn’t recognise her, or the car she stood next to. She definitely wasn’t from Bucoda. Sat in the car next to her, I could see a young man who had clearly been crying. I couldn’t get over how blue his eyes were… The old woman caught my eye, and looked from me, to the pit, and back again. I thought about saying something when she gestured for me to leave. And I did. I decided that I was no part of whatever was happening. So I drove away and didn’t look back. That night, the earthquake struck that destroyed Bucoda entirely, so I guess I’ll never know what was going on.”

Given that Jon mentioned that:

(MAG129) ARCHIVIST: […] But I don’t want it. I don’t want to know. … I don’t want to see. … No more than I wanted to see how Gertrude stopped The Buried and their ritual, but that came to me as well. [HUFFS] They called it “Sunken Sky”! And she calculated, correctly, that casting a void-touched body down The Pit at the right time would be enough to disrupt it. Something she found in… Jan Kilbride. … But Gertrude also realized that the body need not be alive. Or in one piece. She thought it was a mercy. It wasn’t.

(Tim’s voice from MAG086: “Regarding a… blanket. Dead friend. Monster. Regarding his unavoidable and gruesome end. How he tried to hide. He couldn’t.”)

… it was apparently a gruesome end, and the tears might indicate that Jan knew what was coming. Gosh, the way Jon mentioned that it wasn’t a mercy… He got too much information about it, uh é_è

- *cough*

(MAG129) ARCHIVIST: One thing that always strikes me when I read statements like this is… the bias of survivorship. With one or two notable exceptions, the only statements the Institute receives are those where the witness has… successfully escaped whatever terrible place or being has marked them for a victim. … I wonder how many don’t make it out. How many of those shapes in the water were once just like Mr Shakya. Hm.

1°) Yeah, without even counting the survivors describing how they witnessed someone dying or disappearing, we got a few statement-givers who flirted a bit too heavily with death (Nathaniel Thorp in MAG029), or were on the verge of turning into something else (Jane Prentiss in MAG033), or should be dead (Trevor), indeed. It happens. Also, Jon could add himself on the list, maybe, since he hasn’t managed to escape the Institute.

2°) I’m still so relieved every time Jon uses keywords indicating that he’s not perceiving the events these people go through neutrally – “terrible place or being” and “victim”. We saw a few monsters/avatars torturing people like it’s a game, but it is definitely not Jon’s case, and that’s a relief…

3°) ;; And it’s indeed a sad reminder that the only stories we get are from people who managed to get out (even if some of them met a gruesome end shortly after giving their statements, as we learn through the follow-ups), and that we can’t hear about the ones who were consumed/eaten alive/killed with no surviving witnesses… (Do you sometimes think about the fact that Jon gave that role to the tape recorder, in season 1 already? That he wanted to use it to chronicle what was happening in the Archives, to not become “another goddamn mystery”, because he didn’t want to end up like Gertrude or statement-givers? I wonder if Jon still thinks of a life after him and after the assistants, by now – if he still thinks it’s possible that maybe someone, one day, could find the tapes they left behind and reconstruct what they experienced. It doesn’t seem like the tape recorders are cooperating lately, though; they come and… go, and don’t allow people to hear what was said elsewhere.)

- I’m… intrigued by the fact that, so far, all of the things that Jon has suddenly Known (the leaks through the door) were information that had not been recorded on tapes – or, more precisely, that he hasn’t got any random outburst of Knowledge about things that have been recorded. Jon hasn’t mentioned anything about knowing that Basira had visited Elias (MAG127), nor about Martin’s conversation with Peter (MAG126), and we still haven’t heard any hint about whether or not he has listened to MAG118 and MAG120’s tapes; given how he gave his condolences to Martin about his mother, it’s more likely that he indeed still hasn’t been able to access MAG118’s. Are the tape recorders and the Spooky Magical Knowledge complementary things, or… actually competing against each other? (=> Does conversations getting recorded make them unavailable for Jon’s Spooky Powers?)

- Anyway: The Tape Recorder either liked Martin again, either knew that Jon was coming, since it clicked on in the room Martin was in before Jon entered.

- Where is MAG118’s taaaaape ;___; I’m pretty sure that Jon hasn’t consulted it since:

(MAG129) ARCHIVIST: I, er… I heard about your mother. MARTIN: … Yeah. ARCHIVIST: I am… so sorry. [SILENCE] MARTIN: Thank you. [INHALE] It’s… [SHAKY EXHALE] It’s better, this way. ARCHIVIST: If–if you do need to talk, I– MARTIN: I can’t. ARCHIVIST: No. No, o–of course.

I feel like Jon would have said something… more, here, if he had heard that one? Giving his condolences neutrally like this feels like he still only knows Martin’s mother from what he learned in season 2: that Martin sends letters to her, that Martin dropped out of school when he was seventeen because he had to care for her and to sustain them since she got terribly sick. (And Martin’s “It’s better, this way” makes me hate Elias even more, since… it can mean that Martin thinks that it’s better if she’s not suffering anymore? Or… that he thinks that it’s pulling him out of an unhealthy situation, since she hated him anyway and he had built so much of his life around being able to support her – sacrificing his education, having to lie to get hired somewhere, getting hired in Spooky Dangerous Institute to get a salary. If Elias hadn’t said anything, Martin might have been able to keep deluding himself into thinking that she wasn’t good with him because of the sickness, because it can make people meaner to close ones witnessing their decay…? But no, Martin Knew The Truth when she died. Did Elias know, in MAG118, that she wouldn’t be living for much longer…?)

And am I a puddle on the floor at the fact that JON TOLD MARTIN THAT HE WAS THERE IF MARTIN NEEDED TO TALK ABOUT IT? Yes, I am a puddle of whimpering feelings on the floor. It’s… something that I would have never expected Jon to say. He usually offers his presences for spooky stories, not for… emotional support.

Jon

told martin

he would be there

for emotional support

I still have trouble letting that sink in.

- And!!!

(MAG129) ARCHIVIST: … What happened, Martin? [SILENCE] MARTIN: You died. ARCHIVIST: I came back. MARTIN: Yeah. [OPENS DOOR] I’m not gonna let it happen again. ARCHIVIST: … wait… Wait! W– [DOOR CLOSES] [SIGHS]

1°) Is this the first time that Jon has acknowledged (implicitly, since he rolled with the mention) that his “coma” wasn’t exactly a coma? Unless he took that “You died” as an exaggeration. So far, it had been euphemisms (“dreaming” in MAG122, “coma” in MAG123, “when I was… away” in MAG126), so! Does he know that it wasn’t a normal coma by now? Or is he still unaware of it?

2°) Martin’s answer… ;__; Not “my mother died”, not “Tim died”, uh. We did hear Martin begging for Jon in the season teaser, and it didn’t sound like it was only because of his crush – they objectively needed help and the fact that Jon wasn’t there forced them to find alternative ways to deal with what they were facing (Melanie&Basira holed themselves up in the tunnels, Melanie defended the Archives against the Flesh attack, Martin reached an agreement with Peter to help him against a new issue). The fact that Jon “died” changed things, logistically. But it also sounds so personal, in Martin’s mouth (a bit bitter?), and once again, I’m remembering how he had lost all his deepest connections at that point: Sasha, Tim, Jon, his mother… and yet, he took the decision to work for Peter, and we know from the trailer that he checked if “they” (Basira and Melanie, and probably the Institute’s staff) would be safe. Martin ;__;

(Okay, I freaked out at first with Martin’s answer, because… “I’m not gonna let it happen again.”: was he referencing Jon COMING BACK FROM THE DEAD? But it was probably about Jon ~dying~ in the first place. Or about Jon finding him a third time. I hope so?!)

- I wonder if… if the situation had been different, if it had been Tim inside of the coffin, if there had been a chance to save him, and not Daisy… Would Martin have reacted differently?

(MAG129) ARCHIVIST: No. No, o–of course. [INHALE] Listen, Martin, you should know– MARTIN: Jon– ARCHIVIST: –Daisy might be alive, Basira is– MARTIN: Stop. Stop, please, I–I shouldn’t know any of this, I… [PACKING UP] I–I–I really need to go, I–I’m… ARCHIVIST: Right. … right.

Martin didn’t like her much, but Tim… Tim was another story. Maybe that would have been enough to shatter the fragile equilibrium and to make him try to help with it, even while still working with Peter.

Even outside of “what if”… It’s ironic, because Jon tried to reach out by talking about people around them – barely mentioning himself (except when it came to his feelings over Martin’s work and busy state, and the quick mention of his powers at the beginning of the exchange): “Basira is off doing… God-knows-what, and I can’t talk to Melanie.”, “I, er… I heard about your mother.”, “If–if you do need to talk, I–”, “–Daisy might be alive, Basira is–” “What happened, Martin?”. And right now… it might actually have been more effective if Jon had behaved a bit more self-centred? Breekon sneaked into the Institute and could have harmed them: meaning that Peter won’t raise a finger if they’re attacked and that they’re probably more vulnerable than Martin thought. Jon’s powers are growing, now with an additional invasive dimension, and there is the risk of his inner door opening (and of him drowning). Even Melanie’s surgery: Jon was hurt! Mentioning that would have been enough for Martin to freak out, usually!

Conveying that Jon is at risk, that Jon could become a risk, could have made Martin reevaluate his priorities? Martin’s deal with Peter is based on the assumption that Jon and the others would be safe at the end; if they’re harmed and snatched by something else beforehand… it changes the configuration a bit.

(- BUT JON CHOSE TO PRIORITISE WHAT WAS HAPPENING TO THE OTHERS!!! HE TRIED TO INFODUMP TO MARTIN WHEN HE HIMSELF IS DEPRIVED OF ANY INFORMATION, BECAUSE MELANIE DOESN’T WANT TO TALK TO HIM, BASIRA IS FORBIDDING HIM TO “KNOW” ANYTHING ABOUT WHAT SHE’S DOING, AND MARTIN REFUSES TO SHARE ABOUT HIS OWN AGENDA WITH PETER!!!

I don’t know why, but this is… one of the aspects that punch my feelings the deepest? That Jon is desperately trying to share what is happening around him, to rebuild bridges, to avoid miscommunication or leaving others in ignorance? Because he has known first-hand, since the beginning of season 4, what it is like when nobody wants to share their plans with you? Because obviously, obviously we’re heading towards a Disaster if they don’t manage to unite what they’re doing and what they’re thinking, when there is so much at stake and when they have multiple potential ends of the world to thwart?)

- MAG126 confirmed that Martin is Concealing and very much feeling; that he’s forcing himself to pretend indifference. And yet, he still slipped from that self-inflicted behaviour at the beginning? (Highlighting that Peter is not his first evil boss?) And sounded like he panicked when Jon began infodumping?

;; I would like to be able to feel GLAD that Martin is showing some determination in the path he chose; he’s clearly not fine but also firmer and… hanging on to what he planned. And it surely feels, already, that he’s barreling head first towards complete disaster. Jon and Martin feel more and more that they will compete for the role of Most Self-Sacrificing Idiot in order to protect everyone, instead of working together…

- Given Peter’s reaction after Martin had barely talked with Jon:

(MAG126) PETER: You talked to him. MARTIN: I… I, I tried not to, I–I, I didn’t mean to… PETER: You talked to him. And that’s understandable, Martin, of course it is! Please don’t think I’m upset, it’s just… not ideal. Shows how much work we still have ahead of us. […] I had hoped that all this time apart would have given you the space you needed, but… MARTIN: … You said he’d probably never wake up. PETER: And he beat the odds. Which is good. But it does make things more complicated. It doesn’t… actually change… anything. MARTIN: A–a simple “hello” isn’t going to make any difference to– PETER: We’ve been over this. The sort of power you’re going to need relies on your– MARTIN: [SULKY] Obedience. PETER: Isolation. It needs to be you, Martin. You’re the only one who could possibly balance between the two.

… yeah, I’m not eager to hear what Peter thought about Martin and Jon talking again this time. I hope that Peter won’t ~generously offer~ a way for Martin to be completely out of Jon’ reach ;;

At the same time: really not sure that Peter’s (official) plan is working and that Martin is doing much progress? Yeah, he had it audibly rough, sounded bitterer and drier. But he doesn’t sound hollow or indifferent? He doesn’t sound like he’s in his natural state when forcing himself to be isolated? And after this conversation, I’m not sure that Martin will be able to do any progress Lonely-wise: I mean, if he had a crush on Jon back in season 1 already, when Jon was… like that, HOW could his heart remain still with current!Jon? When Jon is trying hard to share things and moments with him, when it’s Jon who seeks him out and wants to know what is happening in Martin’s life, when Jon apologizes spontaneously, when Jon is showing that Martin not being around him is hurting him? When Jon is showing so hard that he cares about him? I hope that Martin gets to stock up on these feelings to fight off the Lonely’s influence :|

- *crawls on the floor* everything hurts and I hate it and I’m loving it at the same time hhhhh…

(MAG053) MARTIN: [SIGHS] I just worry. You needed five stitches after you “accidentally” stabbed yourself with a breadknife. If you’re still claiming that’s what happened. ARCHIVIST: I am. MARTIN: Then you’ll forgive me for worrying when you use sharp knives.

(MAG129) ARCHIVIST: Even if it looks like you’re doing something really stupid. [SILENCE] … Sorry. MARTIN: It’s okay. I get it. ARCHIVIST: I just– I worry. You’re working for someone… really bad!

OOOOOOH

(MAG126) MARTIN: … It’s because he’s back, isn’t it. [SIGHS] He’s back, so now you’re going to be… around, again. Listening in. Mff. You missed him, didn’t you. … Yeah. … [VERY SHARP SQUEAL OF DISTORTION] Yeah, me too.

(MAG129) ARCHIVIST: [SIGHS] I suppo– … I miss you. MARTIN: [SNORT] ARCHIVIST: I’m just… MARTIN: Lonely. ARCHIVIST: [SIGHS] Yeah.

DID THE DYNAMIC

(MAG102) MARTIN: […] Look I’m, I’m so sorry, Jon, I– Elias didn’t even tell any of us that you’d been kidnapped– ARCHIVIST: Oh. MARTIN: –I didn’t know– ARCHIVIST: Hey– MARTIN: No-one else was telling me– ARCHIVIST: Hey, hey, hey… MARTIN: And there wasn’t any— ARCHIVIST: It’s alright, it’s alright. Elias didn’t tell anyone, there was, there was no way you could have known. I-I mean, I wasn’t exactly here before. MARTIN: No, you weren’t. … But I am sure that if you could have been, you would have.

(MAG129) ARCHIVIST: I, er… I heard about your mother. MARTIN: … Yeah. ARCHIVIST: I am… so sorry. [SILENCE] MARTIN: Thank you.

FLIP AROUND…

Martin used to be the one worrying for Jon!! To think about Jon when he wasn’t there!!! To feel like he had let Jon down!!!! (When he apologized in MAG040 for leaving Jon and Tim behind, too… ;;) There are many reasons for Martin to be one of Jon’s concerns, indeed: concern, because he hasn’t been there for the past months. Guilt, because Martin is the last of the original assistants left alive. Worry, because the Lukases are not known to be harmless people. Defamiliarization, because Martin used to seek his presence rather than avoid him.

But Jon also sounds so sad, trying to connect with Martin again… His voice was still dragging and a bit brooding when he introduced the statement right after – Martin’s behaviour is leaving him miserable, uh…

- Jon agreed to not try to see Melanie, and sticks to it. He also accepted to try to not Know about Basira’s errands, and… unless he’s dissimulating it from the tape recorders, it looks like it has worked so far? (He hasn’t even opened the coffin!) (Yet.)

(MAG127) ARCHIVIST: I, er, I should probably… talk to h– BASIRA: You should probably stay as far away as possible. She doesn’t want to see you. ARCHIVIST: No. No, o–o–of course.

(MAG128) BASIRA: Right. [SILENCE] [INHALES] Right. Keep it safe, I’ll be gone a few days. I have some leads I need to follow up. ARCHIVIST: Sorry…?! BASIRA: You heard me. Don’t ask about them, and don’t know about them either. ARCHIVIST: I can’t exactly control that! BASIRA: Learn. […] I’ll try and be back in a week or two. Don’t think about me. ARCHIVIST: Right. BASIRA: And don’t open the coffin.

(MAG129) ARCHIVIST: […] I haven’t heard from Basira, since she left on whatever secret errand, and I feel like I’m no closer to understanding any of this.

… I wonder if Jon will try to do what Martin asked of him:

(MAG129) MARTIN: Stop. Stop, please, I–I shouldn’t know any of this, I… [PACKING UP] I–I–I really need to go, I–I’m… ARCHIVIST: Right. … right. MARTIN: Please, stop finding me.

… or if, precisely, he’ll keep trying to see him. (Or if he will Know and… pretend he doesn’t.)

- Meanwhile, Jon’s powers are getting a bit out of control, uh… It’s, I think, the first time that Jon has expressed disgust at the idea of seeing/knowing things?

(MAG129) ARCHIVIST: […] Or perhaps I shouldn’t wonder. [HUFFS] Even as I say it, I can feel the knowledge, pushing in my mind. Eager to find a way in. But I don’t want it. I don’t want to know. … I don’t want to see. … No more than I wanted to see how Gertrude stopped The Buried and their ritual, but that came to me as well. […] I don’t like this. I don’t like… not being sure what’s going to be in my mind. What thoughts are mine and what are from… elsewhere. Why I just know some statements are what I should be reading.

Jon’s complaint is the complete opposite of how Elias had described the Beholding folks! (MAG092: “We thrive on ceaseless watching, on knowing too much. What we face is the hidden, the uncanny, and the unknown.”) It looks like the knowledge of what happened to Jan Kilbride shook him pretty badly (it sounded… especially gruesome), and… indeed, Jon would fear losing himself with what is happening.

… So I’m really Not Impressed at him for suddenly forgetting his recriminations when he got the Knowledge of what he was supposed to understand from this statement. Is Beholding trying to appeal to Jon? Jon’s anxiousness and irritation totally disappeared right after he got the Additional Knowledge, so if it was the case… it worked. Jon, don’t be so easy!! It’s not because you’re getting the information you’d like to that it’s a good thing… ;;

- Okay, I’m probably granting too much consciousness and purpose to something that is supposedly (re)acting on instinct (“like a muscle spasming on reflex”, Jon had offered in MAG080) but.

(MAG129) ARCHIVIST: […] I don’t like this. I don’t like… not being sure what’s going to be in my mind. What thoughts are mine and what are from… elsewhere. Why I just know some statements are what I should be reading. I assume this one is related to the coffin. To Daisy. … I haven’t heard from Basira, since she left on whatever secret errand, and I feel like I’m no closer to understanding any of this. … [SIGHS] I suppose if this one managed to free himself from The Buried or, to find a way out of… whatever part of Choke embraces drowning, I… [STATIC] I need an anchor.

It really sounded like Jon: i don’t know what to doooo, i have no direction, no idea… Beholding: *sends Jon towards a Relevant Statement* (●♡∀♡))ヾ☆*。 Jon: k thanks that’s a buried one, what’s the point of it then ¯\_ಠ_ಠ_/¯ Beholding: (ilu but you’re so slow, do I have to SPELL IT OUT) Σ(￣ロ￣lll) *sends static-y additional knowledge* Jon: oh– OOOOOOH.

To be fair with Jon, there were multiple things that I thought about when assuming that Jon had been directed towards this one (which was then implied to indeed be the case during his post-statement)?

* First: it’s a bit surprising that Jon is learning so much about the rituals that Gertrude managed to counter, considering Beholding’s is coming close? It’s like Jon is being given tips about how to possibly… ensure that Beholding’s won’t happen. We saw in MAG126 how Gertrude learned the location and some elements involved in the Spiral’s Great Twisting; and Jon apparently saw/felt/got first-hand knowledge about Gertrude’s reasoning, and what she did with (/to) Jan Kilbride in order to stop The Buried’s Sunken Sky ritual. I don’t know if there is a sort of intention in Jon’s outbursts of knowledge: if Beholding is simply answering Jon’s curiosity calls, or if it’s able to select what to give and hide from Jon. Giving information about Gertrude’s counter-rituals feels a bit dangerous considering how Jon’s loyalty to his patron isn’t… well, we’re still not 100% sure that Jon would be down for the Watcher’s Crown since he hasn’t specified anything in that regard (I mean, it seems obvious that Jon doesn’t want it to happen! And he’s probably remaining silent about it because it’s not safe to be a bit too openly antagonistic to your own patron in its place of power? But at the same time, Jon Made His Choice to be able to wake up, and we still don’t know what happened exactly.) On the other hand, there is… something to be said about how the two last Archivists weren’t exactly super into their own patron: Gertrude was actively working against it, Jon is maybe a bit more ambiguous (or at least passive) at the moment… is ot a Beholding thing to shoot yourself in the foot just to see what happens?!

* When I wondered about how this statement could tie in with the coffin, I thought about the rain, actually!

(MAG002, Joshua Gillespie) “It was a hard, heavy rain, the sort that falls straight down with no wind to disturb it, until everything is dark and wet. It was barely past midday, but I remember the sky was so overcast and gloomy that I had to get up to turn on the light. And that was when I heard it. […] It was almost… melodious. It sounded almost like singing, if it was muffled by twenty feet of hard-packed soil.

(MAG129, Kulbir Shakya) It started raining on the walk home. … When would you start to worry about the rain? I don’t mean about it ruining your day or wrecking an event you’re planning, but at what point does it stop being normal, and start to alarm you?

I thought it might be because reaching The Buried (or allowing The Buried to reach you) might be easier when it’s raining, or something of the sort?

* Orrr if the point might have been to tell Jon to ~dig~ into the “[Eberhart?] and Strauss” firm. (Not sure about the name, it was never mentioned before? One “Harry Eisenhard” had disappeared in MAG099’s statement, which was a Buried one, but it’s clearly not pronounced the same.)

* Or if it wasn’t something about needing to Face The Fears in order to find a way out.

* Or maybe it was Beholding telling Jon (to open the door and) to allow himself to get drowned, because it’s Inevitable anyway. (The whole anchor thing would be even more relevant given Jon’s situation! Give him reasons to care, give him safeguards able to tell him off if he slips!)

* tl;dr Can’t blame Jon for being too oblivious about what was supposed to be “the clue” in that statement, since I… didn’t bat an eye about “anchors” either – I mostly perceived them as a way to escape the Lonely specifically until now >>

- I’m!!! so happy that

(MAG099) ARCHIVIST: Is it… Why are you so insistent on keeping me around? GEORGIE: Because you’re trying to cut yourself off, and that’s… that’s really bad! Look, when’s the last time you spoke to someone who wasn’t me? ARCHIVIST: That’s… I… I–I talked to Martin a, a… a… a few weeks ago…? GEORGIE: Did you talk to him? Or did he talk to you, while you tried to find a way to escape? ARCHIVIST: I… uh… GEORGIE: Look, you’re worried. I get it. But if you really think you’re turning into something… inhuman, you need people around you. You need anchors. ARCHIVIST: All my “anchors” are just as deep in this as me. GEORGIE: Well, you still need them. ARCHIVIST: [SIGHS] Maybe you’re right. I… I’ll talk to the others. […]

Even if she’s not there, Georgie was right! “Anchor” was the word she used! ;w; (She was also the one to coin “avatar” before we learned that Gertrude also used it! Georgie is good at finding the right word when people are describing concepts!)

… Though it’s not a matter of stopping Jon from turning “inhuman” now ;; Elias had told Jon it was an irrelevant distinction back in MAG092 (“Jon, what does human even mean? I mean, really? You still bleed, you can still die. And your will is still your own, mostly. That’s more than can be said for a lot of the ‘real’ humans out there.”), Jon mentioned that he didn’t feel as heartless as he expected to with that development (MAG126: “I thought… moving away from my humanity would have made that seem more acceptable. That sort of sacrifice… but it just makes me sad…”), and it indeed feel like it’s not at the top of Jon’s fears anymore? (But he would still need anchors for this precise reason, probably ;;)

- Jonathan “I need an anchor!” Sims, why are you so relieved about that fact as if it were a helpful indication; must I remind you that

(MAG122) ARCHIVIST: Georgie, I– GEORGIE: Jon. If this really is a second chance… please, try to take it. But I don’t think that it is. ARCHIVIST: Georgie, I don’t und– GEORGIE: Take care of yourself.

nobody

(MAG127) ARCHIVIST: How’s Melanie? BASIRA: How do you think? ARCHIVIST: I, er, I should probably… talk to h– BASIRA: You should probably stay as far away as possible. She doesn’t want to see you. ARCHIVIST: No. No, o–o–of course.

currently

(MAG128) BASIRA: I’ll try and be back in a week or two. Don’t think about me. ARCHIVIST: Right.

wants

(MAG129) MARTIN: Stop. Stop, please, I–I shouldn’t know any of this, I… [PACKING UP] I–I–I really need to go, I–I’m… ARCHIVIST: Right. … right. MARTIN: Please, stop finding me.

to see or talk to you. I mean. Even friggin’ Elias, of all people, doesn’t want Jon to see him (for nebulous reasons):

(MAG127) BASIRA: [SIGHS] Fine. So you won’t see him, but you’re happy for him to hear our conversations. ELIAS: He can listen all he wants, but he’s at a very delicate stage right now, and I… fear my presence would be a… a distraction. I’ve made it clear my cooperation’s contingent on his not seeing me, and my terms have been accepted thus far.

Well. To be fair, Jon didn’t present it as the Solution – it’s a lead:

(MAG129) ARCHIVIST: […] I need an anchor. I… I could go in… myself, I, I could find her. And… then, I just need to get out. I need something out here. Something I can know the way back to. I, I don’t know what. But… [HUFFS] It’s a start.

I don’t know what or whom he would be choose, though? Georgie elected to leave him to his own devices at the beginning of this season; Basira has repeatedly mentioned that she doesn’t trust him; Melanie is currently healing and not fine (and she didn’t like Jon even before getting tied down to the Institute). Even worse, for Basira: Elias made it pretty clear in MAG092 that if anyone is Daisy’s anchor, it’s Basira. And Basira presented Daisy in a similar way, too:

(MAG092) ELIAS: […] Should I, or the Institute, be destroyed, you will all, unfortunately, follow suit. […] And it would not be a pleasant death. DAISY: Bullshit! ELIAS: Then shoot me. Just squeeze the trigger, and watch the only person you care about die screaming. Your last connection to humanity. Do it. BASIRA: Daisy…

(MAG117) BASIRA: […] But at least Daisy’s coming along. I mean… I know she’s… difficult. Everything they say about her, it’s true, it’s fair. But… she’s solid. She’s a fixed point. And if she’s there, I know exactly where I stand, exactly what I’m doing relative to her. She has no doubts. […] Despite everything she’s done, she’s… she’s still the best partner I ever had.

(MMMMM, Elias’s line to Daisy is very close to Kulbir’s “I gripped the last connection I had to the world I knew”, isn’t it?)

Given Daisy and Basira’s relationship, and given how Jon presented the “anchor” as something that would help you to get out, it kind of excludes right away that Basira could potentially go inside to rescue Daisy; she would need her to remain outside of it in order to find her way back to her? Though, with how Basira managed to escape The Unknowing by herself in MAG119, and how she mentioned the events in MAG128, maybe she would be able to find her own way out of this one by herself, too (is she her own anchor, after all?) – but Daisy would probably not be able to leave the coffin if they’re both inside of it.

* Regarding Jon: I wish that Martin could turn out to be his anchor, because this season is breaking my heart, but I feel like their exchange at the beginning of the episode was kind of… making it clear that it couldn’t be him, that he wouldn’t agree to it (or then, Jon would have to push for it, and maybe push too far). On the one hand, Jon has been able to find him twice (MAG124, MAG129) thanks to Spooky Powers, when Martin wasn’t expecting Jon to be able to; on the other hand… they have never been especially close – mostly because Jon isn’t especially close to anyone. They used to look a bit closer from the outside, but I felt it was mostly because Martin hadn’t given up on Jon in season 2 (unlike Tim)? Jon trusted him in season 3, Jon tried to talk to him in MAG102, Jon is currently missing him and worried for him and trying to talk and reach for him (AND I LOVE IT, OKAY), but Jon barely knows Martin and I wouldn’t say there is a deep, stable emotional connection between them at the moment? If it had to be someone, I would be leaning towards Georgie.

* (Or The Admiral, but I doubt that Jon would be willing to involve him. Though: I have trouble picturing him making Georgie come to the Institute, too… He didn’t want to involve her much, making her enter The Eye’s temple would sound very risky in that regard, especially with Peter Lukas currently running it?)

* (I keep thinking about Helen because of the doors and because LISTEN… listen…

(MAG127) BASIRA: And don’t open the coffin. ARCHIVIST: [HUMOROUS EXHALES] It is addressed to me! [SILENCE] … Yes, alright. … Alright. [CLICK.]

=> if you get inside the coffin through another door, you don’t need to open the coffin! No breaking (implicit) promises! >:D)

* There is still the possibility of Jon’s grandmother, but I didn’t get the feeling that they were especially close when Jon recalled his childhood with her in MAG081…?

* If the “anchor” is an item: there are the tape recorders, though it’s mostly them who seem to find their ways to Jon, these days. There is also the Web lighter, the status of which is currently unknown: did Jon still have it on him during the Unknowing, or had Martin borrowed it to burn statements in MAG118? What happened to it during Jon’s coma? Same as the tape recorders, though: is it the lighter that follows Jon, or Jon who is drawn to it?

(MAG111) GERRY: […] Nice lighter. You a spider freak, then? ARCHIVIST: What? Oh! Er, n–no. I–I, I never really, uh… I never really thought of it.

* Other contender: the Archives themselves, or the Institute overall?

(I regret even deeper that Basira hasn’t apparently shared with Jon her discussion with Elias, because it implied that Elias still has plans regarding Jon… so if Jon really can’t make it out alone, I wonder whether someone would bulge to save him this time, if things were to derail horrendously. If past experiences are any indication: no, nobody would help him, especially not Elias since Jon was kidnapped for a whole month outside of The Eye’s reach and he only got saved because “Michael” went to finish him, even when The Unknowing was coming up. But. Still.)

Anyway! The lighter made me think again about how it’s not exactly that, but I feel like there is a bit of “Ariadne’s thread helping you through the maze” imagery in the idea of descending into the coffin? Not exactly since it doesn’t seem to be about marking the way back but having something to go back to, but! As I said, a bit. (Fun fact apparently, web strings used by spiders when they go from one place to another can be called “Ariadne’s threads” in French. The more you know.)

- I Can’t Expect Things To Go Greatly In This Series, so: I wonder if even Jon manages to get in and to find Daisy… either she will be either far too gone already and they’ll have to confine her somewhere instead, either Jon will make a mistake resulting in her death – while Basira was working on her way to get her out of it alive. In the latter case, it would definitely cement the fracture between Basira and Jon in such a way that they would both be at fault: Jon would have tried to help but would have broken the interdiction of not opening the coffin; Basira would have wanted to save Daisy but, by refusing to share what she was doing, only nurtured Jon’s eagerness to try to fix things. So yeah. There are many ways it could go very bad, and I have had too many moments of “actually, things are only getting worse, I miss the time when they were less Worse” to hope for how the situation could improve :|

(But maybe it could not be a disaster. Maybe Jon could wait for Basira to come back before trying anything; maybe they would manage to save Daisy; maybe Basira would come back with Simon Fairchild on Elias’s recommendation because he still has a terrible sense of humour, and Jon could take example on how Gertrude stopped the Sunken Sky by throwing Simon into the coffin, neutralizing two threats at the same time. Would make him (rightfully) lose humanity points in Basira’s eyes, though.)

(- Melanie’s bullet was removed, tho!! Which is definitely an improvement, even if she’s currently a wreck.

First was Melanie, now is Daisy… even if the Mission To Rescue Daisy ends in a disaster, maybe trying to get Martin back will come after. Even though we know that Martin has an agenda.)

- If Jon does end up going down into the coffin: I wonder if we will hear him live? Or if he’ll describe what happened afterwards? …………….. or if the scene would switch to Elias describing the events for us. :|||||

- CHEERS!! The Pit (MAG097) had teeth inside and a tongue, so we know that Buried things can bite. That leaves plenty of opportunities for Jon, who *gasps* is still missing a Buried scar, to get it from there.

The Dark also had the creature that can wreck you. The Flesh has plenty of ways to twist you a bit. As for the Lonely:

(MAG125) ARCHIVIST: […] It’s… frustrating, to be honest. I finally feel myself, I feel… focused, and ready – and I find myself basically alone.

(MAG129) ARCHIVIST: [SIGHS] I suppo– … I miss you. MARTIN: [SNERK] ARCHIVIST: I’m just… MARTIN: Lonely. ARCHIVIST: [SIGHS] Yeah.

Whether it’s part of Elias&Peter’s plan or a nice bonus snack for Peter: the Lonely is already affecting Jon. Slowly completing the “collection”, uh.

MAG130’s title is already out, and MMMMMMM. Biggest plot-twist would be if The Flesh wasn’t involved, uh. (Can we have Melanie back a bit? ;w; Maybe giving a statement about how The Flesh attacked two months ago? ;w;)

#the magnus archives #mag129 #tma liveblog #long post/#tma spoilers/#tma season 4 #*mag097!jon's voice*#'Is he trying to warn me not to ignore my own metaphorical pit; because if so: what *is* my metaphorical pit?'

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craby-bouquet · 6 years

Text

Promotion

Jung Hoseok x Reader

Fluff, Businessman!AU (?)

1.8k words

Anon Asked:

hoseok fluff please I’m majorly deprived :’( businessman AU (along the lines of him falling for her after meeting as colleagues or smth at first) please thank you 🐰💓

Hi Anon! Hope this is okay and I hope you feel better soon! 💓

The first time you had met him was during a Monday morning meeting. “The new guy” Jung Hoseok.

He immediately caught your eye, obviously. His handsome face distracted your from everything. You couldn’t even respond properly to your boss when they asked you something. And the next couple of weeks were the same. Every time he walked into the room you were in you just… panicked. It was like you forgot how to be a normal, functional human being.

It wasn’t like you didn’t try your best: you had tried conversating with him multiple times and, though you were being awkward and cringey, those conversations were alright. He was a fun and sweet guy, which was just unfair. How could someone who is so gorgeous on the outside be so gorgeous on the inside too?

As a couple of months went by and you slowly fell for him more and more. And, though being in love with someone sounds like a lot of fun, it was the most stressful thing ever. Even as secretary of the CEO of this big company, you experienced being in love with Hoseok as more stressful.

A great guy like him couldn’t possibly not be in a relationship. And if he wasn’t, you probably weren’t his type anyway.

But lately you noticed he had been seeking more contact with you. You dared call it.. flirtatious. But that was a thought you cleared from you mind as soon as it crossed.

“You are looking lovely today.” he said while stepping out of the elevator “I love that color lipstick on you.”

You couldn’t help but blush “Thank you. You are looking rather fine yourself.” Rather fine? Really?

He smiled a beautiful smile “Thanks.” He leaned on your desk “I was wondering if you would like to have lunch with me today?”

That was another thing you liked about Hoseok he was a quite straight forward guy. He didn’t turn around the point to much. A quality you loved.

You were really surprised by that question though. Why would he want to have lunch with you? He usually sat with Yoongi and Jimin, his work buddies.

You knew it was going to be awkward, and you should probably have said no… but how could you possibly say no to a face like that? So you planned to meet up for lunch.

You hadn’t at all expected it to go the way it went. Though it had started off quite awkward on your side, he was the type of guy who just made you feel comfortable. Yes you still stuttered a bit, but you did really talk and laugh. You had a great time and, seeing as he asked to have lunch with him the day after too, he enjoyed himself as well.

In the weeks that past you two had grown to be good friends. Yoongi and Jimin eventually joined you and so did your usual lunch friends. You ended up having lunch with a bunch of people.

After a couple of weeks Hoseok kept insisting for you to sit next to him. Before that you just kind of sat wherever, but now he kept an empty spot beside him at all times. And if you ended up sitting somewhere else he got up and sat down next to you. You of course didn’t mind that at all, you had a fallen in love with him and every time spend next to him seemed like a blessing, you just thought it was quite… odd.

You also noticed he started coming by you desk more often. At first it seemed legit, telling you he had meetings and asking you to make notes of stuff, but the more time passed the more his reasons started to feel like excuses to see you. You told yourself you were just imagining things, but you weren’t sure whether you believed yourself…

But things started to get really weird when Yoongi and Jimin started smiling like idiots every time they spotted you somewhere. And when Hoseok seemed like he blushed every time he saw you or talked to you. Something was definitely going on.

Hoseok exclaimed your name enthusiastically as he leaned onto your desk one afternoon.

You laughed and mimicked him teasingly “What can I do for you?”

He smiled a big smile “Guess who got promoted.”

Your eyes grew wide “You did!? Wow, that’s amazing! I told you you would!”

“Yeah, I’m now getting my own office and everything! I’m really excited.” He leaned on your desk.

“I’m really proud of you!” you laughed, this was a great thing for him. Even though you had known he would get promoted for while now, seeing as you were the secretary of the person who promoted him, you were thrilled.

He smiled and looked down as if he suddenly got shy “I thought… maybe we could celebrate this together? If you’d like.”

You smiled brightly “We should totally! We should plan something with Yoongi and stuff, did you tell them yet?” you immediately got your agenda to check what dates would work best, but honestly that was just because you were so used to planning stuff for your boss as soon as they said they wanted to make plans.

He chuckled shyly and rubbed his neck “No I-I haven’t told them yet… But I will! I just thought that maybe… we uh, could do something together… Just the two of us I mean. Without… them…” he tried not to blush but failed.

Your heart fluttered and you hoped that didn’t show on your face “Are you asking me out on a date?” you tried asking confidently. But your voice trembled a little. You hoped he hadn’t noticed.

He looked up grinning “I’m trying. Yeah.”

You chuckled and brushed a strand of hair behind your ear “I would like that.”

He looked like he wanted to jump in excitement “Great. We’ll talk abut that later, I have to move all my stuff so I’ll see you around.” And with that he ran out of the hallway back to the office.

Later that day you got an order from your boss to tell Hoseok about his first job as “promoted man”. So you walked into Hoseok’s new office and looked around. He was still busy moving everything so it was kind of messy, but he looked like he had everything under control and you were sure it was going to be lovely. He didn’t see or hear you enter, his back was turned towards the entrance while he was reaching into a box, so you knocked on the doorpost.

He turned around startled and smiled when he saw you and looked around proudly “Come to admire the new place?”

You nodded, though it wasn’t completely true.

He walked around you to close the door “Look I even have a little peek hole in the door.” He looked through it “How awesome is that?”

You chuckled at his silliness, he was like a child on Christmas morning “Super awesome.” He pulled you closer so you could watch through the peek hole.

“And I’m gonna get photographs and action figures and stuff. It’s going to be awesome.” He smiled in himself.

“Well that’s going to have to wait…” You started quietly.

He turned his head to look at you “Don’t tell me they take it back? I’m still promoted right?”

You placed your report on his new desk and reached for his arm, hoping that would calm him down “No you’re still promoted don’t worry!”

You saw him calm down a little “Then what is it?” he asked quietly, one of his hands resting in your side. Your skin tingled.

You gulped slightly “Well… You’re leaving for a business trip to Japan tomorrow.” You smiled excitedly.

His eyes widened slightly and an even wider grin creeped up his lips ‘already’ he mouthed. But then his expression turned kind of sad, his eyes found yours “But what about our date..?”

You blinked. He had been serious? He really, really wanted that? So badly that it was the first thing he thought of when you told him he was going to make a trip?

You slid your hand from his arm to his hand, his other hand still rested in you side. You both looked at your intertwined fingers, you hadn’t meant to stand in this pose at all, but it felt quite nice to have him so close nevertheless “I won’t be leaving. So we’ll just have to wait until you get back home…” you said it almost as quietly as a whisper.

But you were sure he had heard you, the hand resting in you side made its way up to you chin and carefully forced your face so you had to look Hoseok in the eye “What if you change you mind then? What if you don’t want to go out anymore?” it was merely more than a whisper.

You don’t know what got into you at that very moment, where you got the sudden confidence, let’s just say his eyes encouraged you. You didn’t have to do much more than stand on your toes for your lips to touch his, that’s how close you were standing already. It was a sweet kiss, more than just a peck but not quite enough to be qualify as making out. The hand resting on your chin changed position so it cupped your face.

You almost whined when he pulled back and rested his forehead against yours with a satisfied grin on his lips and his eyes looking into yours.

“I’ve been wanting to do that since I saw you the first time.” He said to break the silence.

“Me too…” You didn’t want this moment to end but you had other responsibilities, and he had to continue decorating his office and planning for the journey “We’ll text.” You took a step back, fingers still intertwined. It didn’t seem like he planned on letting go.

“We will. And then when I get back I’m gonna make you the best dinner you ever had.” He winked.

You laughed “I’m sure Gordon Ramsey will be shaking.” You opened the door and he finally let go of your hand “I’ll see you tomorrow morning. Good luck packing everything.”

He nodded and turned back around to continue on what he had been doing.

You slowly walked back to the hall.

“Wait!” you turned around to find Hoseok rush towards you, a big beautiful smile on his handsome face.

He stopped in front of you and gave you a small piece of paper with some number scrambled on it “I figured it’d be easier to text when you have my number. I’ll see you tomorrow.” He brushed a lost strand of hair behind your ear and shyly kissed your cheek. After that he walked away, leaving you blushing with a big, stupid grin on your face.

masterlist

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sophieraven85 · 6 years

Text

Phil’s first crush, a Phan story (Chapter 1)

(AN: I know that Dan's living arrangements and other aspects of them meeting isn’t all accurate. Please don’t hate me for the plot convenience. Also, please be respectful of how I wrote Phil as Demisexual/romantic. Thanks and enjoy!)

Dan was in love, and this was a problem. It wasn’t the actually being in love part that was the problem, that was wonderful, it was more the who. Daniel Howell was madly in love with his high key Demiromantic and Demisexual internet friend Philip Lester. Dan knew that he himself was pan, he knew that Phil was gay. Dan knew that Phil liked him, in fact he liked him very much, but only as a friend. Phil had talked about his sexuality on Skype and Dan knew he and Phil were in no way close enough for him to open up to him romantically. Phil was funny, they liked the same T.V. shows and take out food, they were even both Youtubers since Phil had convinced Dan to make a channel and given him editing tips. They were similar, but still different enough that Dan just knew they would be perfect together. Phil thought Dan was a great friend and could even imagine being in a relationship with him, but these thoughts were purely objective. Dating Dan wasn’t something he would ever long for until he was much closer to him. He had enough trouble talking to Dan about his personal life seeing as they hadn’t even met in person yet. Phil had trust issues but he didn’t think this correlated to his sexuality. He hadn’t ever been interested in dating people before that night at university, however that had made him more wary of people online. This made his relationship with Dan much more special to the both of them. He always had trouble believing it when Dan would spend time telling him over and over that he care about him and wasn’t going to leave. Phil was excited to meet Dan in person, something they had been discussing more and more lately. Phil would pack a suitcase, hop on a train, and Dan would pick him up at the station. They would pick up Chinese food, go back to Dan’s flat, and Phil would sleep on the couch. Phil was a huge planner, new situations made him super nervous so he always liked to make an agenda, know what he would eat, where he would spend his time, where he would sleep. Dan knew this and made sure whenever they discussed meeting that Phil felt comfortable with the arrangements. Dan did this because he knew Phil, he understood, he always understood.

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A few weeks later Phil was on a train headed to the train station closest to his flat outside the university he attended.Dan was pacing the platform, waiting with baited breath for the train Phil was on to arrive. Finally, the locomotive came to a screeching halt and Dan rushed down to the second to last compartment, the one he knew Phil would be sitting in and watched out for the pale yellow sweatshirt that he knew Phil would be wearing. When he and Phil finally made eye contact, it was all he could do not to sprint over and hug him. He didn’t have to hold out for long however, because Phil ran over and pulled Dan’s chest tightly to his own. He rested his head in the crook of his neck and whispered “It’s so good to see you” Dan, still slightly shocked by Phil’s boldness, held his friend for a second before pulling away and responding “It’s really good to see you too Phil.” He grabbed Phil’s suitcase, Phil adjusted his backpack, and they were off to the nearest tube station. Dan and Phil finally ended up at the tube station next to Dan’s flat, where Dan awkwardly pulled the suitcase up two flights of stairs, declining Phil’s offers to help. When Dan had unlocked the door and Phil had walked in he just paused and looked around. Dan’s flat was a little small, but homey and covered in art from his fans. Dan asked him if he’d like a tour and Phil immediately accepted. Dan, without thinking, reached for Phil’s hand. Phil pulled back and they stared at each other for a second, both shocked and apologetic before speaking over each other in their rush to apologize. Dan stared at Phil for another moment before speaking. “Sorry mate, just.. uh.. follow me.” Dan showed him around, the lounge, kitchen, bathroom, and finally his bedroom. Dan walked in and Phil lingered in the doorway, shifting his feet nervously. Dan, noticing how uncomfortable Phil was becoming, suggested they go get food. Phil was extremely relieved and they left on the way to Dan’s favorite Chinese restaurant for takeout. After picking up the food they headed back to Dan’s place, turned on their favorite anime, and dug in to their garlic chicken and egg rolls. At around midnight Dan and Phil agreed that they should probably go to sleep. Dan brought Phil a pillow and blanket and asked if he needed anything else before heading to his bedroom and closing the door. The next morning they rolled out of bed at ten and ate some cereal. They sat on the couch in silence for a moment before Dan turned to Phil and spoke. “Phil, I’m really sorry for trying to hold your hand yesterday. I just want you to know that it wasn’t supposed to be romantic or any thing like that.” Dan was blushing furiously but continued. “I’m just pretty touchy feely and didn’t think before reaching for you.” Phil stared at Dan with happiness at how much his friend cared for him. He generally was a pretty cuddly guy, he just didn’t realize Dan was too and really didn’t like romantic situations with people he didn’t know extremely well. He explained this all to Dan who cheered up when he realized he could touch Phil and wouldn’t hurt him. He pulled Phil into his arms who gladly accepted and rested against Dan’s chest. They sat like this for a while just watching anime and talking and Dan realized that he wasn’t bothered by the lack of romance, despite his giant crush. He was starting to understand Phil better and really enjoyed the comfort of having his friend there.

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A week later Phil was home, Dan was alone, and both were very sad. Phil was getting closer to Dan, in fact they were very close. They had spent nine days straight together, as Dan had spring break, and Phil was starting to really open up to him. He knew Dan was someone special when he realized that they were getting really close, really fast. They had clicked and were best friends. They had Skype calls every Monday, Wednesday, and Friday evening, and every night on the weekend. The Skype sessions quickly became the highlights of both of their weeks, but the time they didn’t spend talking was becoming worse and worse. Dan was slacking off even more and his grades showed it, and Phil wasn’t his happy self. Well, he wasn’t himself unless he was talking to Dan. A month or two later Phil was back at the train station in Manchester wrapped in Dan’s strong arms. Phil was silently crying and when Dan noticed he immediately pulled away, asking what was wrong. “No, no no Dan I’m.. I’m fine. It’s just so so good to see you. I’ve really missed my best friend.” Dan smiled widely and rubbed Phil’s shoulder. “I’ve missed you too Phil, I really have.” Phil grabbed Dan’s wrist and they rushed off to the tube. By the time they had picked up the Chinese and arrived back at Dan’s flat, Phil was grinning. He was so fantastically happy to finally see Dan again that the smile plastered to his face just couldn’t seem to fade. Dan looked at Phil ecstatic face and smiled too, and within a few minutes the pair was giggling like a couple of idiots. They sat down to enjoy their food and a nice anime. As soon as they were done Dan jumped up and brought out his laptop to show Phil a video of a cat attacking his reflection as he knew it would make Phil laugh, Dan would do anything to hear that laugh. After almost an hour of watching cat videos the pair realized it was half past twelve and they better get to sleep, so Dan brought Phil a pillow and blanket and they both passed out, not to wake up for almost ten hours. Dan woke up early and decided that he was going to make breakfast for him and Phil, a full English. Well he would make beans, eggs, toast, sausage, he thought he had some tomatoes. He scrapped together the best fry up that he could and was just finishing up the tea for him and coffee for Phil when Phil walked in from the lounge. “Dan, what are you doing? We could have just had cereal.” “No Phil, really it was my pleasure. It’s not much but It’s what I had and better than cereal” Phil smiled and came up behind Dan, wrapping his arm around his shoulders and gave them a little squeeze. “It’s perfect Dan, thanks a ton.” Dan set the plates on the breakfast bar and Phil grabbed the drinks. They sat and had a quiet little breakfast, enjoying each others company. After breakfast they just sat in the lounge, basking in awkward silence until Dan decided to suggest an anime. They watched a couple of episodes of Food Wars. Phil decided to conduct an experiment. He knew that Dan was compatible with him, he just wasn’t interested. He didn’t feel a romantic connection, at least not yet. But something peculiar was happening, he was starting to see Dan as attractive. He was also starting to imaging being in a relationship with him more and more. They were both clingy, Phil had been this way with other close friends, but with Dan he could feel something that could possibly, one day, morph into romantic feelings. The first time he will have ever experienced this. The first time he will have ever felt that deep, longing ache to be in a relationship with someone. He might soon have his first crush, a crush on Daniel Howell.

#demi!phil #pan!dan #gay!phil #phan #phandom #phanfiction #pining #tooth rotting fluff

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ellana-ravenwood · 7 years

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“Bruce...sucks” - Bruce Wayne x Reader

Summary : The women of the League are teasing you about the love bites that litter your body....

I already kinda had the idea of doing a similar story on the women side...So here we go. Last time the guys of the League were mocking Bruce for the scratches on his back, now, it’s Batmom’s turn (though I feel it’s not as funny as the other, I tried something else you know, so that the stories wouldn’t be exactly the same, too similar and shit...erf, whatever, hope it’s kinda ok). Hope you’ll like it (insecuritiesoverloadbutitsok) :

You can find my masterlist here : @ella-ravenwood-archives

PART 1

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It wasn’t really part of your initial plan to shower at the same time than them. Bruce told you about his friends trying to tease him about the nail marks you left on his body after a heated night, and you were afraid that your girl friends would do the same, a bit paranoid about it really...

But then you thought about the fact that usually, women tended to be a bit more mature about that (maybe?), that they would probably behave and ignore the hundreds (literally) love bites on your body.

Besides, there was only Diana, Zatanna and Dinah, surely, they wouldn’t say anything, after all, they were used to Bruce being affectionate towards you when he thought no one was watching, small love bites wouldn’t shock them or anything. They were your three best friends, they knew how to not intrude too much in your life. They would definitely not talk about the marks your husband left on your body.

And oh you were so wrong.

You were in your underwear when you started to notice their smirks, and the way they whispered in each other’s ears while looking at you. No...could it be ?

You turn around, and when Diana’s eyes go wide at the sight of the love bites on your front while Zatanna and Dinah just start laughing stupidly, you know you actually were right to “fear” a reaction from them. You roll your eyes and give them your best “really ?” facial expression before saying :

-Are you guys snickering like idiots because of the love bites ?

Zatanna answers your question :

-No, we’re snickering like idiots because Bruce...

And then it happens. The worst pun you ever heard in your life (and you were used to Dick and Tim’s nerdy jokes). All three of them yell :

-SUCKS !

Stun. That’s what you are. Wow. Even worst that the poor attempt from your male friend in the league to embarrass Bruce. An awful pun.

-Are you guys serious ?

-Oh come one (Y/N), it’s funny right ? You’re covered in love bites, so...Bruce sucks !

-Don’t explain it Diana, it’s not funny when you explain the joke !

-Yeah well she obviously didn’t get it Dinah, look at her face.

-Oh I understood alright. It’s just...so bad. So damn bad.

-You have no sense of humor. That’s probably why you and Bruce get along so well.

-She shouldn’t get along with him though because he...Sucks !

Oh my God. Were they drunk ? Was that why they were laughing so hard at their stupid joke ? Was that really the best they could come with ? Like, at least, the guys had some good punch line and such, it’s just, no one wins against the Batman you know ? But your friends...Well, you were questioning wether you should stay friends with them or not. Terrible puns and unstoppable laughter because of it could be a good reason enough to stop all contact with them...

You smiled at your own thoughts, thinking that, probably, your sense of humour wasn’t any better than them. After all, you recall a few time where you and Bruce would laugh for hours at really dumb fart jokes...Oh if the world knew how you could be when it was just the two of you, most of its strongest convictions would shatter. The Batman laughing because his wife farted ? Inconceivable.

Ignoring their very loud laugh, you just start dressing again. Finally, they calm down, and as you put your shirt on, sitting on a bench against the wall, they suddenly surround you. Diana starts :

-So, he likes sucking on you uh ?

You blush a bit, but quickly regain your countenance. There was no way they’d make you crack. You could totally do it. You could pull a “Bruce Wayne” on them, and turn the table, making them blush and regret ever teasing you.

-Does he call you his little “popsicle” ?

You give Diana your most exasperated look, and roll your eyes some more. But clearly, Zatanna thinks the idea of the dark and broody batman calling you his “popsicle” is hilarious because she keeps going :

-Oh I can just imagine it. You guys coming home from a long mission, him asking for his favorite dessert...His lovely “(Y/N) popsicle”.

-Yes, I can see it too, they...

-Imma stop you guys right now, because I feel like you’r going to make it weird. Like, come on guys, do not imagine Bruce and I having sex...

-We’re not imagining you having sex, we’re imagining you beginning some foreplay.

-Oh my god !

-Oh look, we made her blush ! We made the proud and self-controlled (Y/N) blush !

-I’m not blushing, I’m annoyed !

-You’re blushing, you’re totally blushing, and we’ll tell everyone that we made you blush. That we did what the guys couldn’t do...we made one of the batlover blush. It’s quite the achievement, you guys are usually so good at hiding your emotions !

-...Batlover ?

-Batlovers. That’s you and Bruce.

-Yeah I think I got it...Why bat ?

-Your superhero name wasn’t working with “lover”.

-I’m a bit vexed now.

-Get over it...Popsicle.

By now, you are a bit amused, because maybe, just maybe, they’re making “jokes” that start to appeal to your silly and stupid sense of humor...Now if only they’d make dark and sarcastic comedy jokes, and they’d make you laugh.

But dark and sarcastic comedy wasn’t on their agenda. Making you more uncomfortable was their goal right now, so Dinah went on :

-No but, for real, how is it ?

-...What ?

-Come on (Y/N), we saw love bites in...interesting places.

-What, Oliver never leave any love bites in “interesting places” ?

-..We’re not talking about Oliver.

You give Dinah your most apologizing look (which infuriates her), and with an exaggerated sad voice you say :

-I’m sorry for you Dinah. I’m genuinely sorry Oliver isn’t interested in your special places that much...

-He leaves enough love bites ok ! He prefers just bites anyway...

-Oh Oliver bites ? Sexy. How’s that ?

The attention from your two other friends turn to Dinah, and she blushes. Just like Bruce said, diverging the attention on someone else was easy. Only, Black Canary wouldn't have it :

-Really ? What Oliver does to me sounds more interesting that what the freaking Batman do in bed ? Like, I’m pretty sure my stupid husband brags about his sexual prowesses all the time.

Diana smiles, and says :

-Oh yeah...He does...You’re right. Bruce’s more interesting.

You scoff and try to stand up, but they force you to sit back down...you would not leave before talking at least a bit about your goddamn sex life. They were genuinely curious, like...It was the Batman ! The only man none of them could really read, as he was always so stoic and such ! And you were you, the only one able to make him blush only by whispering god knew what in his ear, or make him twitch by brushing your fingers on his arms slightly while passing next to him ! LIKE IT WAS FUCKING INTERESTING ALRIGHT ?!

You sigh. You knew you wouldn’t get away as easily as Bruce, making your friends blush wouldn’t stop them from wanting to know, and you were too nice to humiliate them too much...

-Come on, tell us. Like, your body is almost purple because of all the love bites so...

-Alright. I don’t really know what to say. It’s amazing ? Like, he’s good ? Love bites aren’t the only things he can do with his mouth let me tell you that.

They chuckle slightly. A bit surprised by your honesty though...but you thought that maybe, only maybe, if you said things like that right away they wouldn’t ask too much ? Besides, it was kinda fun to talk about that with friends, and you were totally going to brag about how good of a lover Bruce was.

You made sure to make them blush, even though they weren’t prude. You gave them some details, because you thought it was fun when they gasped and made a face that clearly stated they were totally jealous of you. Especially since they knew it wasn’t your type to over-exaggerate events...Damn, Bruce seemed like a really good damn lover. Though they had to admit, you didn’t sound too bad either. They totally understood why he would cover your skin with love bites.

After almost an hour of everyone talking about their sex life (you won for “best sex life ever”, hands down...Though Dinah and Oliver weren’t too bad, and damn Diana and Clark were...Special), you guys were just totally relaxed about the thing. It was definitely not as awkward and weird as when the guys tried to tease Bruce. His experience ended in him making fun of them, while yours ended in a very interesting conversations with some of your best friends. Besides, some of you had great advices to give each others !

However, of course, because every good things has to end, at some point, someone had to ruin it. Today, this someone was Zatanna. She made you stiffen when she said :

-It’s funny, Bruce never left any marks like this on me.

Diana and Dinah freeze, knowing how you could get when the green monster of jealousy would show up...

You knew Bruce and Zatanna, a very long time ago (and since you and Bruce had quite an age gap between the two of you, you were probably just a child when it happened), had a thing while she was teaching him some evasion skills (your husband told you), and you were cool with it, because you trusted both of them, and because...Well it was a long time ago, and you were the one with the ring. You were the reason he refused a date with Zatanna years before, when she came back in his life, because he was already head over heels for you, and no one could take your place, ever. Buts still, talking about it that openly was a mistake.

You never dealt well with your husband’s exes (you remember that time you and Selina Kyle fought because she was flirting with him at a gala, right in front of you, and your sons had to separate you, while Bruce was completely stunned...that idiot didn’t even notice that Catwoman was flirting. Good thing though, it meant he wasn’t flirting back...he wouldn’t even think about it anyway, too in love with you for that). Even if it was just a very short lived relationship. And even if it was one of your best friend.

You slowly turn to Zatanna, a menacing look on your face, and say :

-...You know I turn into a terrible person when I’m jealous right ? That I can’t help it ?

Zatanna, realizing her mistake, tries to backtrack, but while trying to explain makes it even worst :

-Oh don’t be like that, you know Bruce and I had a very short lived fling years ago, when he was training, before he even became Batman. There was no love involved, we were just...friends with benefits. A slight infatuation at most.

-Zatanna, seriously, shut up, or I’ll punch you in the face so hard it’ll make your magic disappear.

You can see the glint of worry in your friend’s eyes. She knew how you could become when jealous, she was really regretting her words...damn her big mouth. Besides, yeah, maybe talking with one of your best friend about that time you used to fuck with her husband was probably a bit insensitive...But it was years before you and him even met ! Hell, they were barely twenty, you probably were no more than eight at the time !

-Alright alright. Let me just add, as a sort of apology : he never looked at me the way he looks at you. When you’re in the room, no one else exist all of a sudden. Even if I tried to seduce him, he wouldn’t even give me a second look before telling me to fuck off. You know damn well you have him wrap around your little finger. Also, he never left any marks on me, he never took the time to do so you know ?

-...

-Alright, I won’t talk about it anymore. Stop looking at me like that please, feels like you’re about to eat me, it’s creepy...Besides, the two times I did it with Bruce weren’t as great as what you describe so...Oh ok, no, don’t hit me, I’ll really shut up !

Diana and Dinah were ready to get a hold of you, just in case you decided to execute your threat and punch your friend. You had a really mean right hook...But seeing Zatanna’s sorry (and still quite worried) face relaxed you a bit. You realized it was silly to be mad about something that happened over 20 years ago, before you even knew Bruce and all...Especially since, once again, you ultimately were the one he chose. Above everyone else. And you were the only one that could make him smile without effort, laugh even, or just make him happy by your mere presence. If only you knew how much he loved you, you’d never get jealous again, because really, you were the only woman that counted in his eyes. He never loved one like you, would never love one like you ever again. You were the one you know ?

-Erf. It’s ok Zata’, I’m sorry. It’s just, he had quite a lot of...”flings”, before me you know ?

-According to the rumors, yes. But according to what you tell us, you’re definitely the best sex he ever had. Maybe because you’re the only one he ever truly loved, such a connection is...important.

-Yeah well he’s also the best sex I ever had, even if I definitely wasn't a virgin either when we first got together. Yup, he’s definitely the best, even though, you know, he...sucks.

The fit of laughter that takes over your friends almost kill them. Their laugh is so loud, and they just can’t stop...You still really don’t get why this joke is so funny to them. What the Hell really ?

Slowly, you take your stuffs and leave the place, leaving your friends to their weird laughing club.

-HAHAHAHAHAHAHA HE SUCKS ! BECAUSE OF THE LOVE BITES YOU KNOW HAHAHAHAHHAHAHA !!!!!

-HAHAHAHAH DIANAAAAAHAHAHA !! DON’T EXPLAIN THE HAHAHAH JOKE OR IT’S NOT FUNNY ANYMOOOREAHAHAHAHAHHAA.

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Bruce was waiting for you outside of the women shower room, back against the wall, arms crossed. Making sure it was only you and him around, you went to kiss him. Hard. Which surprised him a bit, but he definitely responded. He pulls away and brush a gentle hand on your cheek, putting some wild strands of hair behind your ear, before asking :

-So...Are you gonna tell me what was all that laughter about ?

-You.

-Thanks.

-Don’t worry, it was in a good way. Also, apparently, we have the most interesting sex life out of all the League members.

-...What ?

You wink at him, take his hand, and drag him with you to the nearest zeta tube. You were going to tell him the story of your curious friends, but not before a bit of...bedroom sports. As you both disappeared in the zeta tube, making-out like teenagers, some of your League friends present nearby got suddenly very embarrassed...

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