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tearsofgrace · 3 years

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endings are hard... but they aren’t impossible

tldr; the good place fucking nailed the finale, supernatural completely and utterly bombed it.

tags: wc--4.5k, gif heavy, spn meta, the good place, supernatural finale, spn wank, all gifs are mine, if you read til the end there’s a pretty gif

so i recently finished the good place (i was watching w my family and we finally had time to sit down and watch the last season) and god fucking dammit that ending is FLAWLESS. literally flawless.

and because i’m, well, me… i spent most of the time during that hour long finale thinking about how supernatural could have had even a fraction of that and avoided so much heartbreak.

anyways. i decided to compare them. to REALLY compare them. to get into the nitty gritty of why the fuck the good place ending left me feeling, as the finale is all about, sated and complete. and why the spn ending left me confused, lost, broken, betrayed, unable to even enjoy my comfort show at all until a dear friend finally just watched an episode (8.08) start to finish with me.

so without further ado (always wanted to say that) here’s the good place/supernatural finale meta that no one asked for

comedy

we’ll start small. both these shows have excellent comedy. in extremely different ways… but still

in the good place finale, the comedy was perfect. whether it was jason reappearing in the forest, michael trying to get through The Door, tahani reversing the “hot bod” bit on eleanor, every comedic moment was actually pretty emotional and added something to the show. they deepened characters’ meanings, added to their relationships, and made the audience think as much as they made the audience laugh.

in the spn finale… the comedy was the pie gag. the whole sam shoving pie into dean’s face. beyond this being… like meta as hell (the whole prank thing) it doesn’t have any depth to it.

and to add salt to the wound, this “hilarious” thing happens RIGHT AFTER salmondean have a conversation about missing jack and cas that is equal parts flat and infuriating. the brothers, in particular sam about jack and dean about cas, should care more. this is their family. and family is everything to them. but, no, by all means pie dean in the face.

last lines

this one IRKS me. okay.

the last line of the good place "I'll say this to you, my friend, with all the love in my heart and all the wisdom of the universe: Take it sleazy.” “All right.” is ICONIC. okay?

it’s a reference to season 1 that doesn’t feel fan-servicey. it’s kinda honestly emotional cuz it’s like a message to us, the audience. it perfectly completes michael’s arc. it captures the light-hearted vibe of the show while also somehow managing to be poignant. you can see it coming like the second before it happens but it’s also not the obvious choice. it’s just. goddamn it’s good.

the last line of supernatural…. is… “and cut.” not even said by one of j2. i mean i know it’s a meta show but COME ON ARE YOU FUCKING KIDDING ME??????????

now i hear you shouting wait but that’s just the end of the thank you message. okay fine whatever. in that case the last lines are “Hey, Sammy.” “Dean.” (i couldn’t bring myself to gif that moment)

i’m sorry but. that’s predictable. that’s obvious. that’s boring. that’s flat. sure, it celebrates the bond between the brothers. but like… that’s not what this show is about anymore. it’s not just about sam and dean winchester it’s about what they’ve created. it’s about the world they’ve saved, the family they’ve made, about how they always keep fighting but nope we get bland, boring, coulda seen ‘em coming from miles away lines for the very end. that’s fine.

montages

the spn finale is like 50% montages that don’t make sense and are poorly done and not emotional

the good place has a montage of michael being human that brought me to tears

timing

here’s another short section. the good place finale was 53 minutes long as opposed to the usual 20 minute long runtime of every episode. granted, the fandom of the good place is very different, but STILL there was no documentary telling the fans things they ALREADY knew (there was a short special after the ep, but the episode itself was still far longer than normal). it was 53 minutes of plot. of really fucking good not rushed plot.

the supernatural finale was… what 36 minutes long?? as opposed to the normal 40 minute runtime?? granted, we did get an hour long documentary of things we’ve all heard in cons and interviews a billion times so hey. take what you can get i guess.

character arcs

this is most of the meat of this meta. one thing we’ve all been harping on a TON is how they RUINED character arcs. soooo let’s go through and juxtapose some character arcs shall we

eleanor

eleanor shellstrop starts the show completely self-obsessed. she died getting hit by shopping carts while picking up margarita mix and let’s be real she’s a total icon. love her to death. she grows a ton, becomes one of the most selfless characters on the show, and starts to actually (jack forbid) CARE about things. it’s one of the most satisfying and relatable character arcs i’ve ever seen.

it’s not just her selfishness either, her character is super multi-faceted and complex, and i feel like even in the end we’re getting to know her better. she’s afraid of commitment, always worried about what others’ actions will do to her, loves the trivial side of life, is queer as fuck (as acknowledged by the show in a way that’s not harmful at all but also isn’t explicitly bi/pan/unlabeled/omni etc, allowing queer fans to see their own identity in her), and is all around a HUMAN BEING. her ending at the beginning of the show was her death. her stupid, trivial, meaningless death where she was, as she puts it, all alone. and her final ending ISNT that. yes, everyone goes before her. and i think that’s purposeful. to show that she’s grown enough that being alone in some sense is okay.

but she’s never TRULY alone. and in the end. the REAL end. janet is there. the whole time. because eleanor asked her to be!! she got over her crazy need for independence and simply asked for help. and eleanor dies an amazing person that has become selfless, has found joy in philosophy while still enjoying trashy content, has fixed her relationship with her mother, and has found a sense of completion. eleanor’s life ends on her terms, and it’s beautiful.

dean

alright. now just as you’re feeling all warm and fuzzy let’s look at dean winchester’s ending. you’ve heard it a million times, so i’ll be brief. dean was raised to be a hunter, a soldier, a killing machine with no feelings and no purpose. he was raised to die scared on a hunt, his life over because of some mistake he made because he will NEVER measure up. at least that’s what john and everyone else told him with the exceptions of some of his family (and family don’t end in blood). he started to accept that he didn’t have to have this. he started to realize that he could CHOOSE what his ending was.

the beautiful thing is, we never truly got to see what that was. i personally like to think it’s similar to the roadhouse michael locked him in while he was trapped in his own mind. a safe place for hunters, somewhere he (and cas in my opinion, but that’s not important) could settle down and still be in the life. it would be an amazing tribute to jo and ellen, and just all around a great ending. he wouldn’t have to be scared, but he wouldn’t have to conform to some apple pie facade of normalcy. and ya know what?? say that he died so he could have peace i dare you. because dean doesn’t find peace until sam is there anyway so i beg of you WHAT WAS THE FUCKING POINT.

dean winchester died scared. dean winchester died on a hunt. dean winchester died on one of john’s old hunts. dean winchester died not directly at the hands of a monster, but at the hands of a mistake. his mistake. dean winchester died without ever working through the trauma of his best friend in the entire world confessing his love in a final act of self-sacrifice. dean winchester died in a way that leaves a sour taste in my mouth and does not at all show the audience what he’s been through and how much he’s grown. dean winchester did not die on his terms, and he deserved better.

chidi

okay back to happy. chidi anagonye. by far my personal favorite good place character (don’t tell anyone i always say jason cuz he and i are very similar). chidi in the last few episodes is SO DRASTICALLY different than the chidi we meet at the beginning. he’s decisive, confident, self-assured, and it’s amazing to see. he’s not afraid of life anymore. he’s not afraid to make the wrong decision and forever alter his reality, because he’s okay with failure.

at the beginning, chidi was so petrified of life that… it killed him. and in the end, he’s completely at peace with every decision he makes, even the final one. yes, he considered staying for eleanor, but that just shows how his moral code and his compassion for others is still very much still intact. it shows the audience that you can be confident and decisive without being a selfish asshole.

chidi leaves the good place knowing that it’s the right thing to do. knowing without a doubt that his time has come. the old chidi never would have been able to fathom being that sure about something. it’s beautiful. it’s a development that can give the audience peace, can show them that this drastic of change is possible, and that chidi became a better person for all of it. chidi went on his own terms, and it was beautiful.

sam

… this one might be controversial… but sam winchester. god i hated sam’s ending. at first i was kinda okay with it. like, okay fine he got his normal life. but, really, in the end that’s not what sam wanted. he started to realize that he didn’t need that apple pie, white picket fence life. he didn’t need the wife and the kids and the backyard and the barbecues because that is NOT sam’s personality and i will throw hands on that.

that’s not to say he doesn’t want some sort of romance, maybe even kids, but not in that way. he lets himself see that he doesn’t need to be defined by his rebellion to john. doesn’t need to be defined by going to college or any of those “normal” smart kid things because it doesn’t fit him. and that’s okay! but how does sam’s story end? it ends with a wife (that isn’t even important enough to show her face). with kids. with a goddamn white picket fence. we think he’s still hunting to some extent… but it’s not the arc we were led to believe would happen. it’s not this amazing leader sam that we see in season 12-14, uniting hunters and organizing them.

he had SO MUCH potential and they throw it away on a vanilla ending that shows only surface level pain at losing his brother. he doesn’t even invite the rest of their family to the wake for fuck’s sake. jared did an incredible job. pls don’t think i’m saying he didn’t. but that script…. sam winchester’s arc was cut short. he didn’t go on his terms, and he deserved better.

jason

jason mandoza. the only character that has ever embodied my complete dumbass energy to the insane extent that it exists. he went to hell for his impulsivity. he never thought before a decision. i aspire to be as reckless as jason while on earth. but he LEARNED. he got better, just like they all did. and by the end of the show, jason doesn’t need to be impulsive anymore. much like eleanor being left “alone,” the show does a masterful job with making him be the first one to go, capturing his old impulsiveness. but he chooses to leave. he takes his time in deliberation, waiting until a feeling of peace, of completion, of well, ‘true happiness’ (sorry cas stans, i’m right there with you) has settled over him.

the ending of his story is one of growth, just like all these characters have been. and the best part? the show makes it comedic in the most poignant and beautiful way, because it’s jason, it had to be funny. we learn that jason has been in the woods for like, eons, just waiting to go through the door because he wants to give janet a necklace. he’s learned to simply wait. to be at peace with… nothing. his torture was being a monk, but in the end, jason embodies those ideals. his arc comes to fruition in an extremely satisfying way. jason goes on his own terms, and it’s beautiful.

castiel

this one is gonna hurt like a bitch. castiel is my comfort character. he’s my role model. he’s me in a lot of ways. i love him. so fucking much. so excuse me if this is slightly incoherent. i’m actually okay with cas’ ending… in a way. because his actual ending as an on-screen character? perfect. self-sacrifice while coming out and professing his love to dean winchester. a little bit bury the gays, but let’s be real, it’s supernatural. and “happiness is in just saying it” has to be the most powerful way to think of coming out. it takes away the fear, it takes away so much of the pain that can follow. because the joy is in just saying the words.

it’s how this was treated on the show that makes cas’ character arc terrible (and we haven’t even gotten to 15.20). YOU CANNOT JUST IGNORE A LOVE CONFESSION. that is god awful writing and i will never change my mind on that. cas deserved his family to care about him. to at least address and be sad about the fact he was gone. jesus fucking christ after everything castiel deserved at least that. and then we go to 15.20. cas is in heaven. cas is serving god. cas is right back where he started. now, i’m coming off a little strong.

if the show had decided to show us cas and jack in heaven makin’ the world a better place… i woulda come around to it. i woulda realized that that’s not REALLY erasing 12 years of character development and cas realizing that his whole identity isn’t just him serving heaven and isn’t just him being an angel and that he’s so much more than all of that and he could still be happy as a human… because really he’s with his son. but they didn’t show us that. they barely even mentioned him. and to me. that counts as a bad character arc. and i’m sorry if you disagree. castiel may have gone on his own terms, but they treated that beautiful sacrifice with disrespect and disdain, plus resolved his arc by putting him back where he started. he deserved better.

tahani

*deep breaths guys this is a long post i’m sorry* anywayyyy tahani!!! we love tahani obviously. let’s talk about her arc, because it always kinda bothered me. throughout the show, we see all the other character’s growing and expanding their knowledge of right and wrong. and, don’t get me wrong. we see tahani grow a lot. but she makes a lot of the same types of comments and shit like that. but it’s how she treats the reactions to those comments. by the end of the show, she laughs at the caricature of herself that the others see. she isn’t looking for vindication in name-dropping, she just does it. she is far less self-absorbed, and is genuinely interested in those around her. she fixes her relationships with her sister and her parents in a way that doesn’t feel forced and actually feels like a beautiful, healthy family reunion.

she has a list and she does everything on it. it’s worth noting, that the things on her list are not at all what they would have been at the beginning of the show. most of them are humble “labor” type tasks, and all of them are in self improvement. tahani’s end on the show is not the same as everyone else’s. she realizes that she doesn’t need to be done. that there doesn’t have to be an end to self-improvement. and she becomes an architect. the writers perfectly embody her transformation from a self-obsessed rich girl who has never done a thing for herself and laughs at the lower-class to a down-to-earth worker that simply doesn’t want the journey to end.

it’s incredible how perfectly the writers were able to close off these character arc’s without it feeling forced, and without ignoring their character development. imagine that. tahani chooses her own way, and it’s beautiful.

jack

jack’s ending may be the only one that i’ve actually somewhat come to terms with. it’s not terrible. it’s not great. but it’s not nearly as bad. because ignoring that awful monologue about every drop of rain and shit, jack really does end up helping people. he ends up doing something that he loves and that makes the world a better place. and he doesn’t lose his personality in it. but. i dunno, that’s still his destiny, right? to create paradise. and this is a show about ripping up the rule book, about choosing free will above all else… so to have every single character just fulfill their destiny is cheap.

still… i’ll try to be unbiased. because really at the beginning of jack’s time on the show, he’s unsure what he wants. and at least, in the end, he’s sure. he has a wisdom that he’s always had but he’s now using. and i’m good with that. but what’s NOT okay about jack’s ending is the lack of on-screen family. jack learns that family is important. sam, cas, dean those are the people he cares about. and you’re telling me he would just NEVER see them again? and be okay with that? i know he rebuilds heaven with cas, but we don’t even get a story about him rescuing cas from the empty. and he seems in 15.19 to not be that concerned about it (after the amazing emotional scene at the beginning). jack should have cared about his family. he did. but they ruined that for him. so jack kline deserved better.

michael

oh man where do i start. michael’s growth is the biggest on the show. i mean. he starts as a literal demon and ends a human. he gets better, he falls in love with humanity (*castiel fan in me sobbing again*) and he chooses over and over to be good instead of bad. his whole arc is a classic redemption arc, and every single beat just gets better. he chooses selfishly to side with humans but in the end it turns out to be the best decision he could have made. because he develops emotions, he develops compassion, he develops a moral compass.

and his end reflects that. because to complete this arc of a demon becoming more human… he literally becomes human!!!! it fits so well. and he’s allowed to make mistakes and be happy and gain all that humanity has to offer. this just shows that human!endgame for cosmic beings that become more human WORKS SO WELL (and it shoulda happened for cas and jack that’s all i’m saying). michael went on his own terms, and it was beautiful.

eileen

oh boy… this one stings. because they brought her back, used her up, and we never saw her again. eileen was one of the best side characters on the show, and they rarely addressed her arc. she comes onto the show as a hunter seeking revenge, and gets that revenge in the same episode. her s15 arc is focused on what’s real and what’s not, with her relationship to sam admittedly being a central part of her character because… it’s supernatural and women can’t exist without that. but still! eileen grows throughout the show and in the end… we don’t even know what happens to her. it’s as if her arc wasn’t important enough to even glance at.

it’s as if the connections the boys make outside of each other mean nothing when in reality they mean everything. they prove that the co-dependency is behind them and that family doesn’t end with blood and that real connections can be formed between people that last a lifetime. eileen was a disabled hunter that was shown to still be one of the best in the business, and they didn’t even give her the courtesy of a goodbye. eileen didn’t go on her own terms, and she deserved better.

janet

this is gonna unbalance my list but goddammit janet’s ending was perfect. she was a not-robot, not-girl that should have been incapable of feelings. but throughout the series we get to watch as she learns first-hand about human emotions and processes them. she cares about the humans in her charge and fights for them on multiple counts.

in the end, we see janet come to terms with both her cosmic being side, and her human side. she never stops being with the “cockroaches.” she sees them all leave, she’s there for them while they’re there, and she also continues to speak her mind and live autonomously. janet was a non-human character done right. she lived on her own terms, and it was beautiful.

some honorable mentions

spn ignored (in the finale) chuck, amara, stevie, charlie, jody, donna, garth, bess, the other angels, claire, kaia, patience, alex, and the list goes ON in favor of focusing on JUST sam and dean. did none of those characters at least deserve a quick goodbye??????

the good place wrapped up multiple arcs i had completely forgotten about in a totally natural and not forced way. mindy, doug forester, (the mushroom guy, i know, it took me a second), pillboy, donkey doug, kamilah, tahani’s parents, eleanor’s mother, eleanor’s friends, chidi’s best friend, vicki, shawn, glenn, simone and so many that i’m forgetting all got satisfying ends that they totally deserved.

they even fucking resolved FROG GUY’S arc and gave him a real frog. that’s right. frog guy (jeff) had a better character arc resolution than dean motherfucking winchester.

heaven and hell

obviously in very different vehicles, both shows explore in depth the realities of the afterlife. and lemme tell ya, at the end of the day, one sits a whole lot better than the other.

the good place finale ends this quest for the perfect afterlife by saying that everyone can improve and that an eternal paradise shouldn’t keep you from eternal rest. they pretty much make me wish that this is what our afterlife looked like. they handle everything with care so it’s balanced precariously in a way that doesn’t give you anxiety looking at it but instead fills you with peace and faith in humanity.

supernatural addresses this series long battle between heaven and hell by creating a heaven where you drive for forty years without seeing the people (cough cough cas and jack not his parents) that matter to you and drink beer that tastes like shit. a place you can’t be happy or find any sense of peace until your brother has died and he’s there too.

and hell… well they barely even address it. there’s a new queen of hell i guess? but so what. it’s still very much heaven and hell in a way that’s the worst and hey plus to them… makes me wanna stay alive thank you very much. oh and purgatory is in shambles and not functioning properly cuz all that eve bullshit.

loose ends

whenever something is ending, you gotta tie up the loose ends. not in a “oh, we must wrap everything up and leave no stone unturned” kinda way but in a “wow, we should probably try to make this unambiguous because this is the last time we will ever see these characters” kinda way.

the good place does that. so fucking masterfully. all these side plots with all these different characters were taken care of all while focusing on the main six characters. we get to see how their intervention has changed everyone else. for example, mindy’s arc is wrapped up perfectly, with eleanor going to save her.

plus different running jokes like “take it sleazy” are wrapped up, we revisit really old callbacks like the original neighborhood, and all of it feels natural and in the moment. it feels like full circle in a way that doesn’t erase growth.

supernatural, on the other hand, left a million loose ends open. what happened to the boys they saved? where the fuck are jody, donna, etc.? did eileen make it back? cuz sam was pretty upset about that. what happened to it “being loud” in the empty? hell, what happened to the empty? what happened to hell? what about chuck? it woulda been nice to see just for a second what became of him. did charlie and stevie make it (i’m very invested in that relationship)? if we’re taking the original ending… why the fuck is jimmy there? did kansas just all,,, die?

i’m not saying they needed to address everything… but god a few wrapped up storylines besides the brothers wouldn’t have hurt

coloring

can i just… real quick… as a giffer lodge a complaint

the good place has beautiful vibrant coloring in the finale

spn has like bland washed out whatever the fuck that is coloring. it’s not even the dark early aesthetic cuz they dropped that it’s just… ew. so. do with that what you will.

conclusion

first… while writing this i realized just HOW MUCH it’s not about destiel… like believe me. i knew i wasn’t just pissed about destiel. but holy shit it’s not destiel at all like did i even mention destiel that much???? this was never about a ship. this was just a trash finale.

in the end. the good place writers knew what they were doing. they knew their fans, they knew their characters, they knew their world, and they knew how to wrap it up in a way that was satisfying and sad and perfectly fit the tone of the whole show. it wasn’t out of character or rushed, basically every loose end was tied up without the audience even realizing that’s what they were doing, and i feel happy and complete having watched it.

the supernatural ending was a betrayal. flat out. to the audience that has stuck by it in a way bigger way than the good place fandom. to the characters that have helped so many people. to the actors that have given so much of their lives. to the other members of the crew, to certain writers… all of it was just a slap in the face.

we deserved better guys. there are better endings possible. so i’m sorry. i really am. but i guess… that’s what fanfic is for, right?

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juniorgman187 · 3 years

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Fighting Fire With Fire (Reid Fic)

Summary: Reader must lower her pride after a date goes wrong and the only one who can rescue her is her mortal enemy - Spencer Reid.

A/N: This was a beast of a fic to write. It’s been in my WIP since September, and I managed to go from 11 pages to 22 pages in three days. It is now my longest fic thus far. I am insanely fucking proud of it and I hope it does well. Category: Angst Pairing: Fem!Reader x Spencer Reid Content Warning: allusions to ‘catfishing,’ allusions to abduction, dub-con to taking provocative photos, alcohol, mentions of bruises, jealousy, carrying hug which implies weight of Reader (lmk if I missed anything) Word Count: 11.7k

✧･ﾟ: *✧･ﾟ:*

I tried to play nice; I really did, but there was no getting through to him. Everyday started and ended with us fighting fire with fire.

Maybe the reason the two of you butt heads so often is because of how similar you are.

That’s what the team would say when Spencer and I got into one of our daily (sometimes hourly) arguments.

They constantly encouraged us to get to know each other so that we’d finally see the likeness, and until recently, I wasn’t opposed to the idea. I was willing to do whatever it took to get him to like me. However, as previously mentioned, my willingness quickly dissipated in light of recent events.

Voluntarily spending more time than necessary with him would be a recipe for disaster no doubt.

Somehow, in a matter of a month, Reid decided that he simply did not enjoy my presence, which was the nice way of putting it.

To be more crass, he loathed me to no end.

Initially, I was operating under the assumption that he wasn’t fond of change, and with me joining the BAU, the change was too much too fast for him, but after four weeks, his attitude toward me never deviated. Yet again, I made another excuse for him, arguing to myself that people are allowed to not like me. I could respect that, but where he lost my respect was how he made a conscious effort to remind me of how much he despised me. Even when I was at my nicest, he still treated me like a scelerate.

If there was a prize for gaining a mortal enemy in the shortest amount of time, I guess I already won that without even trying. He hated me with a burning passion, for reasons unbeknownst to me, despite the fact that all I’d ever try to do was be his friend.

For far too long, I kept denying the part of me that knew making peace with him outside of work wouldn’t go well and it’d simply go down in history as another failed attempt of mine to form a bond with him, so it was at this point that I decided to face the facts.

He didn’t make it easy for me, either. It was hard having to be kind to someone that was only ever out to get me.

He would constantly correct me but only after I said something incorrectly, just so he could prove me wrong.

“If each police officer patrols a street, we’ll be able to cover the entire comfort zone.”

“Actually, we’d need three more officers if we want to cover the entire comfort zone. There’s still 2.347 miles that are unaccounted for.”

I never understood why he couldn’t just say his piece before me so that I didn’t look like an idiot, but I suppose that was the point.

And he had this infuriating, unwarranted habit of judging my taste in cinema and literature. Anytime I told Emily or Derek about a movie I saw or told Rossi about a book I read, he felt compelled to share his antagonistic opinions as if I asked for them in the first place. Sometimes even spoiling the endings for me!

“Rossi, I just started reading Doctor Sleep!” I was so eager to tell Rossi that, so much so that I’d become blind to one dark cloud’s own eagerness to ruin the fun.

“The hotel burns to the ground, but the ghosts don’t die with it.”

He said it with such monotony and nonchalance, not even bothering to look up from his own book to watch my reaction to his menacing act. He just didn’t care!

The list of reasons not to like him truly did go on and on, so it was almost insulting how people would compare the two of us.

They’d bring up the congruence in intelligence, the same affinity for reading, and closeness in age, but it only made me madder. The last person I wanted to resemble was Reid, except today, I gained another glaring similarity to him.

“Look at you two. Did you plan your outfits or something?” Emily playfully pointed out after I walked into the conference room.

I eyed the doctor sipping at his cup of coffee who swiveled around in his chair to see what everyone else was seeing. Just from a short glance, I spotted his navy blue button-up with white polka dots that was nearly identical to the color and print of my dress.

“Well, looks like one of us has to go home and change.” His lips grew into a mischievous smirk behind the rim of his mug.

Was that a joke? Did Spencer Reid make jokes now?

“Ha ha. Very funny.” I facetiously remarked, taking the only open seat at the table which was next to the jokester himself.

“I’m kidding. You look really nice today.” He alleged without a hint of irony. He was complimenting me now, too? It was so unfamiliar that it felt like uncharted territory, possibly even a trap.

“Why? Because I’m dressed like you?” I wasn’t going to fall for his words now, maybe the version of me who would do anything to gain his approval would have. She would’ve smiled and said ‘thank you,’ but this me was going to challenge him if that was the last thing I ever did. “Bit of a narcissist are we, Dr. Reid?”

“Mmm maybe,” He wagered, tilting his head from side to side as if to contemplate the possibility. “Or maybe I just really think you look nice.”

Without even thinking, my heart skipped a beat. I was utterly repulsed by how I let his words have any effect over me. I couldn’t believe that he’d actually managed to fluster me with mediocre flattery.

It felt like years that I had to sit next to Reid at the round table before Hotch dismissed the team for the flight.

30 minutes later, and we were on the jet. I’d taken one of the seats at the table opposite Derek and Emily, with Spencer beside me.

Little things like this I could handle, but I knew it wouldn’t be long before he started bothering me. Morgan was listening to music and Emily was turned around in her seat, facing the back to talk to Rossi. Reid was playing himself in chess, and it took all of my self-control to not be a total asshole and knock the board and its pieces over and into the aisle. Luckily, I had a good enough distraction.

Grant: can you ft tonight?

Me: we’ll see. i might have to work overtime.

For the months that I had been talking to Grant, I was deliberately ambiguous about my job because I wasn’t exactly keen on telling him that I worked for the FBI and that I might not be able to FaceTime him since I was in the process of investigating a series of homicides. That’d surely scare him away and I was never one to flaunt my government job anyway.

Grant: you look stunning today

Me: you haven’t even seen me today

Grant: don’t need to.

Grant: you’ll always be stunning to me.

“Who keeps texting you?”

I looked up from my screen to see Reid fixated on his game but still engaged in my business.

“No one,” I harshly replied, making a conscious decision to turn my phone on vibrate so he wouldn’t hear the chime of my text notifications.

With one nimble side glance, Reid eyed my screen. I nudged him away with extra force.

“Nosy much?!”

This stunned him. He wasn’t used to my coldness, he probably expected me to smile in a chagrined manner and not confront it - as I would have done - but now I was fighting back, and if I didn’t know any better, I’d say he liked it.

I knew he could read fast, but how he managed to look at my phone so quickly it was like he never even moved his eyes - I didn’t know. Somehow, though, he managed to capture Grant’s entire username, and I didn’t doubt that he caught my entire conversation with him, too.

“Who’s Grant?” The name rolled off his tongue like he was insulted to even be saying it.

“No one.”

He didn’t respond soon after I said this, which I misinterpreted as a little victory for me since I almost believed he was going to drop the subject, but in true Spencer Know It All Reid fashion, he just kept going.

“‘You look stunning today B-T-W. You haven’t even seen me today. Don’t need to. You’ll always be stunning to me.’ Doesn’t really sound like a ‘no one’ to me.” His recitation of my entire PRIVATE conversation with Grant embarrassed me.

Did I forget to add his eidetic memory and speed-reading ability to the list of reasons not to like him?

“Shut up!” I nudged him, this time using much more force than the last. I was becoming more and more inclined to push over his ridiculous chess game so that he’d finally take me seriously.

“Oh, really clever by the way. Vaguely insinuating that you ‘might not be able to call him because you’re working overtime’ just so you don’t have to disclose the true nature of your job.” Spencer’s sarcasm was thick.

“Are you just jealous because the only date you’ve been on was a fake one with a serial killer and not even your actual girlfriend while she was alive?” My reference to Cat and Maeve caught the attention of the entire jet.

Each member mentally rolled their eyes thinking ‘Here we go again.’ And if that wasn’t their reaction, they were certainly cringing at the fight that was ensuing.

Things had been suspiciously good between the two of us today so it was about time we argued. We were due for our daily quarrel.

“Oh, that’s right! The only girls who like you are victims in our cases.” Now this comment was referring to Lila and Austin. (I had Penelope to thank for filling me in on all of Reid’s ‘entanglements’ after I was first reassigned).

“Really? You wanna go there?” He sassed back, diverting his attention away fully from his chess game now. “Do you know how many people get ‘catfished’ when using online dating websites? Or the statistics on how many people are raped, assaulted, or murdered by said ‘catfish’?”

“I’m not stupid, Reid. He and I have been talking for months. We’ve been on calls and Facetime before, too. We’ve just never met in person. Sound familiar?”

“What Maeve and I had is not at all comparable to what you and this ‘guy’ have. And just because you’ve seen his face before doesn’t mean he’s not a serial killer or operating under an alias.”

I had to scoff. Who was he to label our relationship valid or not?

“What’s it to you anyway? We all know you’d be ecstatic if this guy turned out to be a serial killer or catfish. You’d get to rub it in my face and say ‘I told you so.’”

This touched a nerve. He hated it when I attacked his nice-guy facade.

“Is it so hard to believe I’m actually concerned for your wellbeing?”

“Yes, actually.”

“Fine. If you think I don’t care about you, then don’t come crying to me when you realize he’s not the guy you think he is.”

“Oh, trust me, I won’t! It’s not like you’d be able to protect me anyway, Pretty Boy.” I sneered, using Morgan’s nickname for him as an insult got to him, and I could see it in the way his jaw clenched and his nostrils flared.

Hotch had to interject now. “Alright, (y/l/n), Reid, that’s enough. We need to focus on what’s actually important.”

I settled back down in my seat, facing forward and avoiding eye contact with Reid.

“Have fun on your date,” He muttered under his breath. “Hope you survive it.”

Bastard.

For the rest of the case, I was on edge. Deliberately avoiding him was a much harder task than one might think. I had to wait at least ten minutes for my coffee, so I wouldn’t be at the machine when he was there, and if I had to guess, he probably took longer just to make me wait in agitation. I had to awkwardly squeeze into a new spot beside Rossi and Hotch when we were delivering the profile. I had to ask not to travel in the same SUV as him.

And this exhausting routine went on for days. In fact, I’d managed to almost go the entire case without interacting with him. That was until Hotch sent us both in the field to apprehend the unsub.

“Are you sure?” I asked with clear reluctance.

“Are you questioning me?” Hotch replied sternly.

“No, sir.”

I was already on thin ice being the new recruit, so I knew better than to question any of Hotch’s orders. And as miserable as working with Reid was, I figured he’d at least ease up on the hostility when we needed to be professional. Evidently though, even in the field, he wasn’t willing to work together with me.

It was a quick decision, not careless in the least, however. The unsub had locked himself in his warehouse and refused to leave unless we were brave enough to drag him out of there ourselves. The ultimatum he gave specified that only one of us could do it and we both agreed that I should go in, seeing as he’d underestimate my strength as a woman, and I’d have the upperhand when I inevitably apprehended him.

However, he also explicitly told us that I couldn’t come in with a gun - it had to be an even playing field.

“You are not going in without a gun,” Reid ordered.

“We don’t have time to argue about this - I have a spare on me, okay? There are three hostages in there, two of which are children.” Without giving him a chance to respond, I handed him my gun and holster.

Had I let him waste a single second more of my time, we wouldn’t have been able to save the three hostages and successfully arrest the unsub. I saw this as a victory and I was almost willing to celebrate it with him, but it wasn’t long before he let our enmity tear us apart again.

When we got back to the precinct, I went to the locker room to change, then suddenly, Hotch came in.

“I’ve been informed that you went in unarmed against a fellow agent’s orders. This matter will be discussed in my office when we get back. I should warn you, (y/n), you do not want to make this mistake again.” Hotch left me with those foreboding words, and I knew, I knew immediately that Reid was to blame for this.

If I took a look in the mirror of my locker, I wouldn’t have been surprised if I saw that my face was turning a bright shade of red. I was fuming - bursting at the seams from the anger building within me that was desperately fighting to escape. I could imagine myself as a cartoon character with steam blowing out either of my ears. I was about to go on a rampage, and no one - absolutely no one - could stop me.

The last straw was hearing him come in. This was my opportunity to unleash what was already boiling.

“What the hell, Reid? ‘(y/n) went in unarmed.’ Seriously?!” I undid the velcro on my vest so hastily out of my blind rage that the spiky side of the velcro strip nearly sliced my finger. “Are you trying to get me fired?”

“If that’s what it takes to make you realize how stupid of a choice that was, then yes, I do.” He was so calm and collected in his inflection that it angered me all the more.

“What are you even talking about? What ‘stupid choice’? You knew I had a second gun on me. And even if I didn’t carry it, I still would’ve had my vest on. I wasn’t going in unarmed or unprotected, so why would you tell Hotch that?”

“In the time it would take you to assess the danger, react, and then reach for the gun at your ankle, the unsub would’ve been able to shoot you twice - if not more. That’s going in unprepared, which is going in unarmed.”

I scoffed in disbelief that he was actually reprimanding me. “Are you kidding? This is all based on a technicality? Did your eidetic memory somehow forget about what happened with Maeve? Because my memory didn’t. I know for a fact that you went into that warehouse without a vest or a weapon. And unlike you, I had a spare and my vest. AND I actually apprehended the unsub. Did you stop Diane?”

This crossed a line and I knew it, but it was too late to take it back, and clearly, it was much too late to repair any relationship I had with him. We were far beyond the point of no return.

He was so mad that he didn’t even answer me. The only response I could gauge was from his body language, which by the looks of it, all the signs of anger were plain on his face. He clenched his jaw so hard I could hear his teeth grind. Even his nostrils flared so primitively. His eyes narrowed down at me with a glare that said, ‘I’m the predator and you’re the prey.’

“Yeah, exactly.” I spat when he stayed silent.

I turned around, starting towards the exit, but I was too furious to stop there, so I spun around and unleashed the remainder of my wrath that had been dying to come out.

“Look, I get it. I’m the new kid around here, and it sucks when someone new comes in and changes up the team dynamic, but any mistake I make, or any mistake Hotch thinks I make, could send me packing. You’ve been working in this unit for years, and even if Hotch questions your choices, he won’t reassign you. He won’t even threaten it. He’s willing to overlook your mistakes because he knows that what you have to contribute to the team is too vital to let go, but I haven’t even had my chance to show him what I have to offer. So when I do make a mistake, there is nothing for me to fall back on, nothing to redeem me, and no safety net, but you? You have years of experience on your back to break your fall. So don’t you dare act like you’re doing me a favor by reporting my ‘mistake’ to Hotch. You might be costing me my dream job, and if you think that makes us friends - think again.”

I stormed out of the locker room seeing red.

This war was far from over.

_ _ _

“You’re clenching your fists again,” Emily said under her breath. I was grateful that she said it in a hushed tone, otherwise she might’ve revealed my lingering anger to the whole jet, which wouldn’t have been good.

I immediately unclenched them, opening up my hands to reveal small, dark C shaped imprints on my palms from where my nails had dug into them.

I should’ve expected that she would’ve learned at least one of my tells by now. I did have many after all. Cheek biting, fist-clenching, leg bouncing.

“Something bothering you?” She probed quietly.

She set her book down to give her undivided attention to this conversation. That was enough to tell me that an excuse like, ‘Nothing, I’m fine,’ would not suffice. She wouldn’t be satisfied until I told her the truth, which I surely did not want to tell. So I settled for a half-truth.

“Hotch wants to talk when we get back.”

From my peripherals, I saw her knit her brows together in confusion. “Is . . . is that it?”

“Mhm.” I lied.

“But that’s not enough to warrant the fist clenching. Cheek biting - sure - you do it when you’re anxious, but not fist-clenching. You only do that when you’re angry about something.”

“Oh, so you have figured out all my tells,” I smirked.

“Pfft, I figured them all out the first week you got here, but I won’t tell you the rest, otherwise you might try and hide them from me,” She joked.

I shook my head playfully. “Yeah, you’re right. I’m just worked up about something - it’s nothing you need to worry about though.” Habitually, my eyes looked right up in his direction. I caught a glimpse of him sprawled against the couch, sleeping. He was lucky I wasn’t ranting about the little stunt he pulled earlier to Emily. He should be thankful that I was even trying to protect his reputation to her at all.

“I get it if you don’t want to talk about it, but it does help. Take it from me, someone who really only trusts myself, you shouldn’t hide what you feel.”

What you feel.

I clung onto those words.

What was I really feeling?

Was I upset that instead of receiving praise for the arrest I made, I was scolded like a child? Was I angry that Hotch believed what Reid had to say about my “problematic behavior” instead of believing in me?

Or did I feel betrayed that despite my best efforts to build a bridge, Reid was tearing it apart brick by brick? Burning it to pieces with the fire of his rage?

“Thanks.” I bleakly said to Emily. I would’ve told her the truth, but it didn’t feel necessary at that moment. If anything, it just would’ve reflected badly on me.

Truthfully, she was the closest thing I had to a friend in the BAU, and if I wanted a permanent spot here, I needed to make more of them - and fast.

“Hey, (y/n), we’re all going down to O’Keefs tonight to celebrate. You wanna join us?” Morgan asked, walking up the aisle and crouching down beside my seat to talk to me.

“Oh, I wish I could, but I have to talk with Hotch when we get back,” I explained, smiling politely.

“We can postpone the meeting till first thing Monday morning. I need to go home and be with Jack, anyway,” Hotch added.

I didn’t realize he could hear me from where he was sitting, which made me all the more nervous that he might’ve overheard the entire conversation between me and Emily earlier.

“Looks like I’m free,” I looked back at Morgan. “Does the offer still stand?”

“Anything for you, sweet cheeks.” He winked.

Judging from the lightness of the atmosphere, everyone, except maybe Hotch and Rossi, would be celebrating at O’Keefs - including Spencer.

I think I might’ve actually preferred to be scolded by Hotch tonight, instead of being silently glared at by Spencer, but it was already too late to revoke my confirmation of presence.

Because, if Hotch could hear me from where he was sitting, then Spencer could, too.

He already heard I was coming, and there was no way I was backing down.

_ _ _

In spite of the fact that I could barely hear myself think over the loud chatter and blasting music, I could still feel the rage radiating off of Spencer. You would think with how long his nap was on the jet, he wouldn’t be so cranky, but I guess he just couldn’t sleep off his disdain for me after our minor altercation.

I wondered if the team could see it, too. The way he was burning a hole into me with his fiery stare. The tension was palpable, as it has always been, but remember - I’m not the one who wanted it that way.

He started this. I was only making the feeling mutual.

“So what about you, (y/n)? Are you seeing anyone?”

I tried to hide my growing smirk behind the rim of my beer, but I knew I couldn’t hide much from them. Of course, right across from me, Spencer was glaring at me expectantly, waiting for the answer he already knew.

“Oooh, look at her - she’s blushing! Spill.” Penelope ordered, beating her palm on the table so enthusiastically it shook all the drinks on it.

“Well, there’s this one guy I’ve been seeing for a while,” The second I started speaking, I noticed Spencer rolling his eyes. I figured his apprehension was the only response of its kind that I would receive, but I was very mistaken.

“How did you two meet?” Penelope giddily asked, nearly jumping up and down in her seat.

“A dating app, actually.”

The table went completely silent, and I immediately felt my stomach drop. It was as if I’d just said something very wrong. With just a quick glance in front of me, Spencer was basking in this.

What a dick.

Emily hesitated to ask. “...Have you two met in person before?”

Now it was my turn to hesitate to speak. “No, not yet.”

I took another sip of my drink even though I wasn’t thirsty. I just wanted to hide any part of my face I could to shield myself from the five sets of eyes burning holes into me now, rather than just the one. Trying to make matters better, I spoke all too quickly, nearly sputtering on my beer. “I’m completely safe, though. Nothing sketchy’s going on, I promise.”

“Of course,” JJ agreed. “We totally trust you,” neglecting to attach the cliche, ‘It’s him we don’t trust.’ But if she had, it would’ve spoken everyone’s bubble thoughts right about now.

“Just be careful, mama.” Derek’s response felt the most sincere, and I honestly believed he was happy for me, but it didn’t change how much their judgement initially stung.

For the rest of the night, I didn’t talk. No one noticed.

Except maybe the last person I wanted to notice.

I quietly slipped away somewhere in the night when the conversation was at its highest precisely so they wouldn’t question where I was going or if I was okay. If they had asked, the truthful answer to the former would’ve been ‘just outside to get some air’ and the latter ‘no.’

The cool breeze drifted through the door like rising fog and for the briefest moment in time, I felt suspended in the space around me - I’d finally caught my breath. That feeling wouldn’t last long, though.

I’d intentionally gone outside to compose myself until I came back a person who wasn’t on the verge of tears, but apparently, trying to pull myself only resulted in my falling apart. A ball of yarn unraveling is the closest comparison I can draw to what I must’ve looked like, crying quietly on the street.

“I figured I’d find you here.”

It was the mere sound of someone’s voice that shocked me, but it was the person whose voice it was that led to the frustration that followed.

“What are you doing here? Shouldn’t you be inside talking to the team of people who also agree with you about Grant?”

He was too much of a nuisance to warrant exchanging eye contact with so I simply stared forward as I spoke and wiped the tears away that were still pooling on my lower lash line. I hoped he hadn’t actually seen me crying, but from what I could tell, he was probably standing there long before he said something. And if he was truly looking at me as deeply as it felt like right now, then he’d have noticed my bloodshot eyes, flushed cheeks, and unending sniffling.

“Is that why you disappeared back there? Because you’re upset they didn’t exactly like the idea of your relationship?” The pain in the ass really tried, he really tried to get me to look at him by facing me and making these gestures with his hands that should’ve gotten my attention, but instead, I stayed put leaning against the wall, keeping my line of sight straight ahead.

“(Y/n), they weren’t insulting you or judging you -”

“Then why did it feel like it?” For the first time since he’d joined me, I’d looked at him. I didn’t even mean to and I had every intention of denying him that privilege for the entire duration of our conversation, but as soon as I asked him my question, we locked eyes, and I saw it written all over his face.

He felt sorry for me.

Now, he could clearly make out how distraught I was from this unobstructed view of my face that was kindled by the dim, flickering yellow glow of the streetlight beside us. And he kept staring, looking into my eyes to read me just as easily and just as quickly as he read a book.

“All we want is for you to be safe,” His voice crackled momentarily, and it actually touched some part of me for how genuine it sounded. “We weren’t trying to judge you or to insult you, and I’m sorry if it felt that way, but if we want your safety, and you tell us about something that could be potentially harmful, then of course we’re going to be apprehensive about it. That’s how people that care about you should react.”

“So are you saying that I don’t care about myself because I’m engaging in something risky?” Isn’t that the most ironic statement of this year? The definition of our job was risky, and even if this wasn’t the safest relationship on the planet, it was nothing like what we put ourselves through everyday being in the field.

“No, that’s not what I’m saying -”

“So what are you saying?” I dared. He shook his head and sighed like he was about to give up, but I needed an answer. “No, please, do continue. Finish what you were gonna say. Since you apparently know everything, 187. Please go ahead - tell me what you think I should do.”

Tell me what you really came out here to say, I ordered him with my eyes.

“I think I respect you more than you respect yourself, and that’s really saying something. Because if you actually liked yourself as much as I do, then you would realize that subjecting yourself to this nonsensicality of a long-distance relationship is not only dangerous - but insulting to your worth, too. You deserve more than that, (y/n).” He couldn’t have been clearer when he murmured a low and firm, “Much more.”

The world was spinning on its axis too fast for me to process anything he said before snapping back at him. “So what exactly is it you want me to do?”

With utmost clarity in both annunciation and intention, he told me, “Break up with him.”

Not a shadow of a doubt in his words.

Then, like the phantom of the opera himself, he vanished back into the bar, but even if he had stayed, I wouldn’t have had anything to say to him. I was simply rendered speechless.

Circling back to my previous argument, I questioned once more why was it any of his business anyway? I was allowed to do as I pleased and I most certainly did not have to listen to him. And I didn’t.

But I should’ve.

_ _ _

My Monday morning meeting with Hotch wasn’t nearly as fire and brimstone as I thought it would be. It did however feel like the equivalent to an “I’m disappointed in you” parent speech. In some ways, I related to the average teen who was grounded. Except instead of my phone being taken away, it was my freedom. From now on, I could only follow executive orders that had been given to me. At least for the time being.

It was clear that, deep down, some part of Hotch knew what I’d done was the right call, but he couldn’t give me any favors. Not until they were deserved on my end.

Walking onto the jet after our meeting, however, felt more juvenile than the punishment itself. I was a kid again, re-entering my classroom after using the restroom, only to have all eyes on me as I came through the door.

As per usual, the only empty chair was next to Reid. There’d been too many instances of this happening to think it was just a coincidence. At this point, I had to assume it was by design. Whose design however? That I didn’t know.

“Hello, trouble,” He sang when I took my seat.

I could only assume that this new nickname was based on what took place in Hotch’s office - thanks to him, need I remind you - but I didn’t care to know the origin because that would require talking to him, and for several reasons, that was the last thing I wanted to do. The first of which was what happened less than three days ago. An event we both hadn’t mentioned yet, and I hoped we never would.

I took every preventative measure in the book. I changed seats with JJ. I moved to the couch. I even started reading in the little hallway between the kitchenette and bathroom of the jet to avoid sitting beside him, but against all my best efforts, he always found a way to bug me. When there’s a will, there’s a way. After exhausting any real reason he had to talk to me, he had to get creative.

“You’ve been on that same page for four minutes and twenty-seven seconds.” I heard him say when he walked up to the kitchen to reach for the pot of coffee. Almost expecting I’d ask him what he meant, he added the explanation casually. “It never takes you more than three minutes and twelve seconds to move onto the next page. So either you’re not understanding the material or you’re not actually reading.”

It was utterly hilarious of him to imply that either of those things were definitely the answer. “What if I’m just taking my time reading this page, genius? Ever thought of that?”

His eyes turned into slits as he leaned in closer to examine me. “You’re blinking rate just increased, too.”

“Stop!” I screeched childishly, pushing him away by his shoulders in an attempt to get him off my back, but he was far from off my back. No, he was right against it. More specifically, his hand was on the small of it.

Leaning in so close that his lips were practically pressing on the shell of my ear, he whispered, “Come find me when you’re ready to tell me the truth.”

He didn’t need to know his words or actions had any sort of effect on me, so I kept the most stoic facial expression on, and I didn’t say a single thing back. He turned back around to leave with the hand on my back being the last thing to go. His lingering touch caused a shiver to run down my spine while paradoxically burning my body from the friction.

I was disgusted with myself for having let him elicit any sort of reaction from me, even if he wasn’t aware of it.

“Yeah ... well, d-don’t expect that to be anytime soon,” was my poor attempt at a retort to shut him up.

“Whatever you say, trouble.”

_ _ _

Personal space can be a wonderful thing. Much less so when it’s invaded, however.

After what felt like the longest flight ever, all I wanted was to take a shower and go to bed. My wishes were granted when I was able to wash off the stress and exhaustion and slip into a blush pink satin pajama set Grant sent me that I’d been meaning to wear. The plunging neck of the tank top was lined with lace and adorned with the tiniest little bow at the center. To match the shirt, the hem of the shorts were lined with lace that trailed up the small triangular slits on the side of the shorts, where at the vertex of them was the same little bow detail. For such a pure and innocent color as baby pink, you’d think it’d be somewhat less revealing. The longer I started at myself in the mirror while wearing it, the more aware I’d become of the intentions behind why Grant had sent it.

How cute, I thought, rolling my eyes.

Gifts should always be appreciated, if for no other reason than the effort put into it, but this just felt slimy. There was obviously no valiant romantic intent behind the negligee, which spoiled the delight of receiving something out of the blue from him. What’s worse was that I wasn’t even sure how to thank him for something like this.

Me: thank you for the pajamas. they’re so cute!

Lying was easier over text message, in case you were wondering what the perks of a long distance relationship were.

Grant: good, I’m glad you like them. are you wearing them right now?

But sometimes, when you should lie, you don’t. And you regret it later on - take it from me.

Me: yeah, they’re super comfy

Grant: great! i wanna see them on! take a pic

As if to compensate for the indisputable hatred I had for this lingerie and what it stood for in our relationship, I did the only thing I could think that would make him think I really liked them. That I felt good in them.

I took pictures - not your ordinary, run-of-the-mill, Yelp review pictures, though - provocative ones.

In the same breath I went to take them, though, Spencer’s words rang through my head.

You deserve more than that. Much more.

Shaking off the thought of Spencer, I decided against what the little voice in my head that sounded too similar to his would’ve said.

To add to the illusion, I situated myself within the hotel sheets and used the front camera to capture my chest that was very much on display in this top. In the middle of rolling around the bed, trying to find the angles that wouldn’t show my face of dejection, the door opened.

Instantaneously, I clawed at the sheets until they wrapped around me like a towel. I was ashamed to admit they provided more coverage than these ‘pajamas’ did.

My shriek of shock must’ve sounded familiar to the stranger intruding on me because no sooner did I scream than they questioned, “(Y/n)? What are you doing here?”

Oh, you’ve got to be fucking kidding me.

“Spencer, what the hell are you doing in here?” I grumbled, struggling to maintain a tight enough grip on the sheets that would keep them from falling and unveiling a sight I desperately did not want him to see.

“I asked you first.”

Boy, if you only knew how badly I wanted to slap that smirk right off his face. “This is my hotel room obviously. Your turn.”

Returning just the same tone, inflection, and vocals, he imitated me. “This is my hotel room obviously.” Like one of those magic tricks he’d show Henry or Jack, he miraculously flashed a room key between his index and middle finger that wasn’t there before.

“No, that’s impossible.”

“I opened the door, didn’t I?” That damn smirk was still there when he asked this. Maybe, just maybe, if it hadn’t been so condescending, I would’ve thought his sarcasm was ... attractive. Disgusting, I know.

“Well, if you actually plan on staying here, then you’re sleeping on the floor or the couch, got it?”

My question went unanswered until I turned around to follow where he’d traveled in the time that I spent pondering how this happened. Now perched at the window, sitting on the arm of the chair in a way that chairs weren’t meant to be sat on, he continued to stare silently at me.

“What? What is it?” I urged.

“What’s going on with the …” He made a side to side sweeping motion with his key card. “Bed sheets?”

Consciously, I shimmied the fabric further up my body. Seeing as there was virtually no way to escape an honest answer, I confessed. “If you must know ... I’m wearing p-pajamas.” My own body was rejecting the shameful admission causing the word to stumble out of my mouth.

He didn’t need to know any more than that to gather what kind of garments they were. He already figured it out.

“Did Grant give them to you?”

I almost rolled my eyes at the implication. “What makes you say that?”

“Because I know you,” He punctuated every word perfectly. “And I know that you wear big shirts and sweatpants to bed because you don’t see the point of spending money on clothes that are only made for you to sleep in - especially if they’re clothes that make you uncomfortable like these ones clearly do.”

Although, I greatly despised the fact that there was even a little bit of a chance that I might’ve agreed with him, I still defended Grant. “It was a thoughtful gesture.”

“Thoughtful, right,” He scoffed. “And which head was he thinking with?”

I was baffled he had the gall to say such an innuendo. “Spencer!”

How dare he? So what if Grant bought me something provocative because he was physically attracted to me? At least someone was.

Despite the ferocity plain on his face, he chose not to pursue this conversation. Visibly biting back on words he knew would hurt me, Spencer managed to sound remarkably genuine when he promised me, “I won’t look if you don’t want me to.”

I want you to, was my very first thought. Oh, God, that’s so fucked up, was my second.

He underlined his sincerity by turning fully around until he was facing the window. “But we should probably put the sheets back on the bed if you plan on sleeping on it.”

He was so patient as he waited for me to remove the cloth from my body. It almost made me feel guilty. He didn’t grumble or gripe, nor did he pressure me to do it at all. So by rights, there should’ve been no reason for me to take so long to let the barrier fall - he wasn’t looking at me. But I was just so goddamn embarrassed.

This wasn’t me, and even he knew that.

“You can turn around now,” I mumbled quietly once my safety net of a bedsheet had abandoned me. My arms were crossed over my chest and my thighs were pressed so tightly against each other as if to limit the surface area that Spencer could scrutinize.

That never came.

He did look, I could tell that much. But it wasn’t a look I’d ever seen before. It wasn’t rage or annoyance or pity. It was a look of lust.

A look that made me positively weak in the knees. A look far more sensual than even my racy garments.

“I’ll just sleep in Morgan’s room tonight, okay?” He offered once he finally broke out of his incapacitation. Grabbing the two opposite corners of the sheets that I was holding, it was a team effort as we arranged the covers where they belonged. It was probably the longest period of time we’d ever worked together without fighting or talking at all for that matter..

Not a single word was exchanged between us while Spencer gathered his things to leave for Derek’s. The room started to feel dangerously empty in the stillness.

When he slipped past me to make his way out, I caught his upper arm, successfully pulling him back around.

I could’ve been sweet, I should’ve. But that wasn’t our thing. So I settled for what came naturally to us and what would set off the least amount of red flags - I didn’t play nice. “As long as you promise not to hog the entire bed with your behemoth body, we can sleep together -” Catching the words as soon as they came out and what they could’ve implied, I began backtracking. “Sleep in the same bed. Sleep as in rest. Not sleep as in … anything else.”

Then, in one of those rare moments- he laughed. He actually laughed. Like a real, hearty, sudden laugh. “I know what you meant, (y/n).”

I’ll never forget the smile that followed the world’s greatest laugh either.

Oh, God, I’m so fucked up.

_ _ _

Spencer’s POV

Domesticated animals are smarter than we give them credit for. Studies have shown that pets can actually sense time; They know when it’s time for their owner to leave for the day and when they’ll be coming home, too.

Animals aren’t dumb - and neither was I.

Like a dog sniffing out their owner’s imminent absence in the home, I could tell (y/n) was leaving the hotel room for the night. If her current state wasn’t convincing enough, then her behavior throughout the entire day supported that theory just as well.

Whether it was her phone, the clock on the wall, or her watch, she was evidently keeping a close eye on the time. She did it so often, though, that you would think she would just use simple deductions to figure out what time it was by estimating the time it was when she last checked, but nope. She rarely let more than a minute go by without monitoring the clock.

My suspicions didn’t end there. What’s more suggestive was the anxious fidgeting. She had her tells of anxiety - everyone does - but this was a level of stress I’d never seen her exhibit before, not even in the field.

She kept cracking her knuckles, even when she’d exhausting all the popping noises she could from them. Her leg-bobbing was another big tell, too. I tend to sit on tables rather than in the chairs at said table, allowing me to feel the earthquake occurring on the precinct floor. Her leg was bouncing up and down so vigorously it was practically shaking the room.

I would’ve asked her what she was so impatient about, but I feared I already knew the answer.

Grant.

And if I never heard that name roll off her tongue again, it would be too soon.

That didn’t mean I couldn’t ask where she was going, though.

Pretending to read Sir Arthur Conan Doyle, I barely let my eyes venture far off the page when I loudly asked from the window seat, “So where are you going tonight, trouble?”

The faintest sound of a chuckle erupted in the bathroom, most likely from the nickname I hadn’t let die yet.

“Nunya,” was her ever-so mature answer.

I didn’t want to give her the chance to say ‘nunya business’ like I knew she would, so I quickly interjected with a monotone, “How clever of you.” If she wanted to be a child about this, then so be it.

“Let’s see. You brought your good heels out of your suitcase, which you only wear on special occasions. And you put on a different perfume than the one you usually use, so I’m assuming it’s new. ... If I didn’t know any better, trouble, I’d say you’re going on a date.”

She peeked her head out of the bathroom doorway to say, “You’re creepy, you know that?”

Seeing the small portion of her face that was embellished with a smile would’ve been enough if only I knew what dress she was hiding in behind that wall. I had yet to see that part of her ensemble, but if I had to guess, it would break my heart.

“Just saying,” I casually lied while clearing my throat.

“Well,” I heard her begin from within the bathroom. “Not that it’s any of your business, but Grant is meeting me tonight.”

Kill me now.

“I thought Grant lived in D.C.” Not that that would change much if he was already here.

“Yes, he does, but he’s driving all the way here to meet me. Seeee,” She drew out the word. “Would a serial killer do that?”

I refrained from giving the obvious answer: Yes.

“Well, I hope you don’t plan on bringing him back here. Otherwise, that’d be terribly awkward, don’t you think?” My allusion to the possibility that Grant would come back here to find me in her bed was borne from the intentions that were a complete contradiction to the words I’d just spoken. It, in fact, wouldn’t be terribly awkward. No, it would be fun. For me at least.

I would have loved to have seen the look on his face, and the worry on hers as she tried to explain who I was and why I had any right to be in (y/n)’s gravity.

The room went silent again while I stayed on the same page of my book and, unbeknownst to her, waited for her to enter the room. How long she was taking was starting to worry me, though.

“Need any help in there?” I called out.

“Nope,” She said through a strained voice that proved she was indeed struggling with something.

“Really?” I asked once more to give her another opportunity to lower her colossal pride. “Cause it sounds like you need help.”

“Nope. I’m good.” Liar.

I knew her too well. I counted down to the exact second when she finally scrambled to ask, “Can you help me zip up my dress?”

“Yyyup.” I’d already resigned to the fact that I would have to help her, bouncing happily off the bed when she finally admitted it and letting myself lose the page I was on as I tossed the book haphazardly behind me.

I was forced to join her in the bathroom for it was already hard for her to humble herself enough to ask me for help, so she certainly couldn’t be expected to lower her pride again and walk out to a place more convenient for me.

The first thing I noticed was that it was a space clearly not made for two. It was so cramped that I ended up right against her in order to fit. The second thing I noticed was how she made no movements to distance herself. She was so close to me that I could actually see the little hairs on the back of her neck standing up from where my breath ghosted on the area. The sterile smell of hotel bathrooms had been replaced by the flowery, aromatic scent of her new perfume, and my heart broke all over again.

Using the back of my fingers, I cast a barely-there caress on her neck to stroke her hair out of the way to clear the path of the zipper. The little hairs on the back of her neck stood up again.

She liked that.

“So do I get to know where you’re going?” I reached for the zipper on the small of her back. “For safety purposes, of course.”

“Aww, you looking out for me, Dr. Reid?” She teased in a seductive tone while gathering her hair into a makeshift ponytail that for the shortest second recorded in time might’ve reminded me of a constantly recurring intrusive image.

“Always, trouble.”

The zipper fastened with absolutely no resistance all the way to the top. My eyes flashed to the mirror to catch her expression, which told me everything I needed to know.

What a pretty little liar. She didn’t actually need my help.

Comprehending that the realization dawned on me, she gave me what she knew would shut me up. “We’re going to The Rooftop at Lamont’s.”

How effortlessly she slipped past me without a thank you or a glance in my direction served as a rude awakening.

“Well, you should take an umbrella with you. It looks like there’s gonna be a storm tonight.” This was my small way of coming to terms with the reality of the situation.

“Eh,” She waved my suggestion off with a dismissive hand. “We’ll be fine. Oh, and don’t even think about stalking me!” She warned before exiting the room.

In the blink of an eye, she was gone - my peace of mind having left with her.

_ _ _

The amount of sleep you need varies for each person and is affected by several factors. However, for most adults, 7–9 hours per night is the ideal amount. And I was slowly reducing that optimal quantity, hour by hour, until there was none left.

I would continue to sacrifice my sleep so long as I was awake for her return. If she’d asked why I was still up, I would lie. Though I wouldn’t look half so pretty as she did when she lied.

Losing rest seemed like such a small price to pay to make sure I was fully alert in the event that an emergency happened, even if I would suffer the consequences in the morning. But hey - that’s what caffeine is for, isn’t it? To re-energize oneself after staying up to guarantee one’s enemy’s safety.

Yeah, I’m sure that’s exactly why Kaldi invented coffee in 750 A.D.

Besides the thunderstorm, my mind also made great company for situations like these. Granted, the visions it would project kept me up for a reason - they were all so awful.

There was simply no projected reality where things would turn out alright.

If she had the time of her life on her date, she would come back to throw it in my face that I’d been wrong, and her admiration for Grant would have deepened.

Or if he stood her up, she’d be devastated, but instead of letting me console her, she’d push me away as easily as she always did.

In a more neutral instance, perhaps she would admit it wasn’t as great meeting him as she thought it would be and the relationship would fade out for innocent reasons. Even if that seemed like the most favorable circumstance, she would eventually grow to resent me for planting the seed of doubt in her head in the first place.

But nothing- nothing I could have imagined would be as treacherous as what actually happened.

At exactly 1:09 a.m, my phone started to ring. I can’t explain to you what it was, but I just knew - it was her calling, and it wasn’t even her number.

“(Y/n)? Is everything okay?”

If she said something beforehand, I couldn’t hear her because the storm was too loud and her voice was too quiet. “Did I wake you up?”

I reassured her with a tone I didn’t even recognize. “No, no. I was awake. Why? What’s up?” The line went quiet again, forcing me to prompt her to speak in order to find out if she was still there on the call. “(Y/n)?”

“Spencer ...” She choked out a hoarse sob. “I need you. I need you to come get me, please.”

My eyes clenched shut at the dreadful sound of her sorrow, and I jolted into action. After scrambling to gather the keys to her car that she’d left behind, I fled the room faster than ever before.

“I’m on my way, (y/n). Stay right there. You’re at The Rooftop at Lamont’s right?”

The poor thing took the longest pause in history, either from shame or disorientation. “He threw me in the back of his car and drove me all the way to D.C. I …” Her breath caught on her dry throat again. “I, um, I managed to escape and now I’ve barricaded myself in a payphone booth. I haven’t called the police yet. You were the first person I thought to call. I just, I just needed to hear your voice.”

My knuckles turned an unfamiliar shade of white when I gripped the steering wheel, picturing her caged up in a rectangular box, dialing my number instead of 911 just so she could hear my voice.

“Everything is gonna be okay. I promise you. My ETA is 1:28. That’s in 19 minutes. Are you okay being there for that long or do you want to find somewhere safer?”

I could no longer distinguish the difference between talking to her right now and talking to a victim in distress. I was speaking with the same tone and inflection but feeling a sharp pain in my chest that wasn’t there before.

“I can stay here. Just ... don’t hang up, okay?” The fact that the possibility of me abandoning her over the phone even crossed her mind was more than enough to get me to drive well over the speed limit.

The list of traffic infractions only grew from there because honestly? Screw my safety or anyone else’s. Her’s was the only one that mattered. She was the priority.

She was my priority.

Throughout the entire call, I kept repeating, “You’re gonna be okay. You’re gonna be okay. You’re gonna be okay.” Frankly, it was something we both needed to hear.

It was both the fastest and slowest 19 minutes of my life. Time no longer felt real when I finally found the payphone booth that boxed in my troublesome girl. No sooner did I drive up to the sidewalk than I ran out of the car to sprint the short distance to free her from her coop.

“(Y/n)!” I shouted, swinging the door open and throwing caution to the wind in the process. Immediately, she dropped the phone, not even bothering to replace it onto its receiver.

The pouring rain had stripped her of her dignity. Mascara ran down her face in pigmented streams of black. Her curled hair was dampened into strings. But worse of all, it hadn’t washed away the darkening bruises on her skin.

“Oh my god, Spencer!” She cried as she ran into my open arms.

Her body collided with mine in such a gentle manner that I had to wonder how that was possible at all or if it was a figment of my imagination. Was our collision actually that gentle or did it seem that way because of how good it felt to have her arms and legs latch around my entire torso, crossing and connecting somewhere in between?

With one arm under her thighs to hold her up, I pulled her impossibly closer to me by cradling the back of her head with the other hand.

Her small hands found their way into my hair, a new sensation I tried not to indulge in so as not to let my attention stray away from the little life I was holding in my arms.

She was so cold.

Shivering from my warm embrace, her teeth chattered as she whispered, “I’m so sorry, Spencer. You were right I should’ve listened -”

“Shh, it’s okay, (y/n),” I said with the hopes that I could make the pounding heart that was thumping against my shoulder settle down until it reached her standard heart rate of 67 beats per minute.

After a second of just holding her wordlessly, she spoke again.

“I don’t wanna fight.” She surrendered so easily to me that I could hardly believe this was her at all.

“I don’t wanna fight with you either.”

That was entirely true. Fighting with her was the last thing on my mind. The first was getting her into my car.

It was easier that I imagined it would be, but then again, it’s easy to do things when you’re motivated in this way.

Before I loosened my hold on her to shut the passenger door, she squeezed me a little tighter, as if to be absolutely certain this was real and not some cruel dream.

“Thank you,” She hummed into the crook of my neck. From where her shoulder was digging into my throat, I couldn’t exactly respond verbally, so I settled for rubbing my hand up and down her back comfortingly.

“Let’s take you home,” I basically said to myself seeing as it was too quiet to be discernible.

“No,” She shook her head rapidly. “Take me to your apartment.”

“What?”

“I don’t want to go back to the hotel right now. I need to be somewhere I feel safe.”

My apartment is closer than the hotel, I reasoned, pretending it was the logic of it that made my heart swell and not the statement I would fixate on for the entire duration of the ride there.

I need to be somewhere I feel safe.

And that’s wherever I’m with you.

_ _ _

Reader’s POV

Porcelain wall tiles gleamed back at me, mocking my wretched misery. They were much prettier than me, but then again, anything else would be prettier than me right about now.

I certainly wasn’t the belle of the ball in my bare naked state. The fact that I was sitting in a pool of my own washed off dried blood didn’t help either.

I would’ve looked away from the bright white walls, but where else were I to look? Into the pair of eyes that I was deliberately avoiding? The ones that were staring a hole through me right now? No. I couldn’t bear to meet those eyes. So I kept looking forward at the mean walls - those mean, mocking walls.

“Is the water warm enough?” He asked, dipping a finger into the bathwater to test it himself.

I watched as his hand snuck into the tub and swirled around some water, causing soap bubbles to revitalize.

For a reason I didn’t know nor could remember at this given moment, Spencer drove me to his apartment. That memory of why I was here was fuzzy, but the rest following my arrival was more vivid. Perhaps because it was all unfolding right now.

“I think I should go,” I murmured. The bathwater had gone cold, and the silence was too deafening. If I didn’t leave now, then I would be trapped forever.

I leaned forward with my knees still pressed to my chest to protect my modesty while I tugged on the silver drain plug of the tub to release the suction.

“You can’t go home. You’ll be alone again, and who will be there to help you that time?”

“I don’t need anybody’s help.” I responded curtly.

“Then why did you call me tonight?”

“Why did you answer?”

He was stunned by how I didn’t miss a beat with my question, stunned enough to purse his lips in contempt. “Should I have declined your call then? Said ‘no’ instead and let you fend for yourself? You know what - my bad, (y/n). I sincerely apologize that I care about you.”

I scoffed at his factiousness. “No, what you should’ve done is whatever the hell you wanted to do. But clearly, since you said ‘yes’ and came to my rescue like I’m some victim in a case - you wanted to be there. I could chalk that up to you having a hero complex, but I think it’s time for you to admit you just wanted to see me at my worst so you could throw it in my face like you’re doing right now.”

He clenched his jaw in fury, muttering under his breath, “I should’ve left you in that booth.”

This crossed a line, but I was just as ready to cross it, too.

“But I bet you liked saving me. Seeing me as a damsel in distress that you could white knight. You like that, Spence? Does my weakness settle your deep rooted fear of inadequacy in strength?”

Shouldn’t have done that.

For a second there, I was sincerely scared of the response I might’ve just elicited, so I shot up from the tub and grabbed the towel on the rack, quickly wrapping myself in it and avoiding Spencer’s gaze the entire way out of the bathroom.

“Where do you think you’re going?” Judging from the loudness of his voice, he was right on my heels, following me close behind.

“You’re smart. Figure it out.”

“God, why do you have to be such a pain in the ass? I don’t want to leave you like this.” It never failed to amaze me how he could both show disdain and concern for me in the matter of a sentence.

“Well, you’re not leaving me like this - I’m leaving you like this.” My clever remark angered him more.

Seemingly from out of nowhere, Spencer called out from the end of his hallway, “What are you so scared of?”

Reaching the end of my rapidly fraying rope, I spun around to throw my arms out to my side in just the same defensive manner as he did. “Nothing! Maybe I just don’t wanna be stuck in the apartment of the man who hates me! Can you blame me?”

He ran a hasty hand through his hair, pulling at the strands out of pure irritation. “Why do you keep saying I hate you? How can any of what I’ve done for you tonight suggest that?”

He’d chosen his words carefully and for that, he was smart. His inclusivity of the word ‘tonight’ meant I could only reference his actions from the past few hours, which wouldn’t help my case, as opposed to the months and months that he’d given me the cold shoulder, which would have helped my case. But again, he was smart - he had me in a deadlock. I couldn’t accept defeat, but what could I possibly argue against his point?

My body literally shook from the power of the deep groan that tore through my chest. “God, what do you want from me, Spencer?” I wanted nothing more than to be far, far away from him, but my body was resisting all those urges. Lunging forward, I pointed the sternest index finger at him, staring the most unforgiving glare into his soul. “Tell me - tell me what you want! Because when I was nice to you, you-you treated me like shit. And then when I stopped being nice to you, you still treated me like shit. So what -” I had to laugh to alleviate the sheer rage I was feeling. “What the fuck do you want from me? Because it’s like no matter what I do, it’s just not good enough for you!”

His eyebrows had furrowed and his eyes softened. He didn’t look angry whatsoever. No, he looked hurt.

“Not good enough for me?” He leaned down to my level to look right into my eyes. “You are everything … everything to me.”

With one last breath, I cried out in anguish, “Then why? Why do you hate me so much?”

He gulped back the lump in his throat - the last barrier that kept him from telling the truth.

“I ... I never hated you. I just need to be in control of my thoughts and feelings at all times, otherwise, I feel-I feel like I’m going crazy. Like I’m on the verge of a psychotic break that I’m genetically predisposed to have. But when you came around - I lost all my control. You were inhabiting my dreams, you were stealing my sleep, occupying more and more space in my brain until there was no more room left to take. God, I think about you all the time, and I literally cannot physically stop it. I have no control anymore,” and somehow him saying that sounded something like an ‘I love you.’

“The only thing I could control was how I treated you. I thought being awful to you would get you to despise me enough to make me despise you, too, and while it was easier to be angry at you, it was so much worse having you hate me.”

“I never hated you, Spencer.” Never.

“You should have,” He rasped. “I know I don’t deserve you, but I wish to spend every day proving that I want you. Oh, I want you so bad,” He sharply inhaled through gritted teeth, and I unconsciously laughed in return. His pain wasn’t funny in the least. What was amusing was knowing that he had the same excruciating longing for me that I had for him.

“I don’t want control anymore if it means I can’t have you.”

He leaned in so carefully that I almost didn't register the movement at all. Our hearts were pounding to the same synchronized beat. We were the shore and the tide one in the same. Our breaths would draw in and out, in and out, as he held my face so gently. We were still the shore and the tide, but more than anything we were drowning in the ocean of ourselves. The rising waters of his admiration threatened to flood every empty nook and cranny of the room until it swallowed me whole. All I could feel was him, everywhere, filling absolutely everything.

“Wow ... I finally got you speechless,” The cocky bastard hummed happily, letting his words vibrate on the smallest part of my lip.

“Oh, shut up,” I declared through a smirk I needed to fight off before finally closing that nearly imperceptible gap between us.

All the forces in the world couldn’t tear us apart after we connected. They were no match for the force Spencer’s hands had as they pulled me impossibly closer. The pressure might’ve even been unbearable had it not been for the velvety pair of lips giving me back all the oxygen it stole from my lungs just seconds ago. They were so soft, like freshly washed sheets, like biting into cotton candy, like floating for the first time, feeling utterly weightless in water. It’s sweet, it’s so effortlessly sweet.

Not nearly as sweet as the words that followed our parting.

“Not enough for me?” He repeated, recalling my previous claim. “You’ve had me since the day you walked in, trouble.”

✧･ﾟ: *✧･ﾟ:*

fingers crossed this fic doesn’t flop!

complete taglist: @muffin-cup @s1utformgg @no-alarms-no-surprises-silence @jemimah-b99 @justanothetfangirl @kylab @rainsong01 @calm-and-doctor @inkstainedwritergirl @rexorangecouny @ashwarren32 @carooliina @fortheloveofcriminalminds @watermelongubler @obsessedmaggiemay @k-k0129 @aperrywilliams @eevee0722 @spencersmagic @spencerreid-mgg @half-blood-dork @goldeng1rl8 @just-a-bunch-of-fandoms @random-human-person @masumiyetimziyanoldu @dreamer-writer-fangirl @kalamitykait @jinxy175 @apolloroid

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#spencer reid #Spencer Reid fic #spencer reid angst #spencer reid fanfiction #spencer reid fanfic #spencer reid imagine #spencer reid kiss #fighting fire with fire #juniorgman187 #criminal minds #criminal minds fanfiction

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vriskakinnieaynrand · 2 years

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I met a based egirl online and we seem to be getting along well. She's talked to me about how she wants to have a family and stream on the side as a flexible form of income. She's already making decent money doing that. However she didn't say specifically that she wanted to have a family with me or anything, just a hypothetical. Is that a sign of any kind of interest? I also feel like she's not talking to me as much as I'd like, but we also both suffer from social anxiety and it sounds like I've managed to get over it more than her, and I don't really have any other friends that share the same politics and sense of humor, so I could just be hungry for that kind of connection, more than her. I'm also increasingly desperate for a partner, and she probably is too, since we're both around 30.

What I'm asking is, how do I tell if she's interested in a relationship, and how/when do I ask if she wants to start one? We live fairly far away, but she's planning on moving to a state that's much closer to me, and I'd like to move as well, so that's not really an issue. As a full time streamer she can obviously go anywhere as well, and I'm not particularly tied to mine. I do worry that as someone who's never been in a relationship before, jumping into a LTR is starting on hard mode, but she's really cool and I don't really have any other options.

I think I may have sent a similar ask to you before, but I've since learned more about her and I think she at least seems to like me. As a near-autist I have a hard time understanding how people think of me and how I can best communicate with others, and there's definitely trouble with the mutual social anxiety. For example, I don't think she's ever started a conversation with me, it's always been me asking a question first or posting a meme. However, I used to do the exact same thing until very recently when I really tried to improve my communication, and from what I've heard it seems like girls don't tend to do that anyway. Of course, that could just be cope.

i'd interpret that as a weak sign. her not talking to you that much is also a weak sign in the other direction. how much of a sign depends on knowledge abt her that i don't have, and that you also don't have but can guess abt and refine yr guesses over time. this is known as "bayesian reasoning"

not talking much isn't as much of a sign as internet ppl say it is. i don't talk much even to ppl i'm interested in - i'm frequently busy or exhausted, and when i'm not, i might not have anything to say. openers don't get much easier over time u_u at least for me. some ppl are better at it. but i'm working on it. this is known as "tsuyoku naritai"

from the description alone - "self-described 'near-autist' w social anxiety asks if the successful streamer girl he's talked to a few times is interested in him" - the answer is no. but! maybe there are details of yr case not captured by the description that point to the opposite. this is known as "outside vs. inside view"

if you don't have other options, have you tried fixing that? it takes time to join communities, but it's an investment. the more of a ~social network~ you have, the more options you'll have. but don't, like, join a community in order to gain connections, find communities yr interested in anyway, lurk til you can reasonably delurk, and (importantly) try to produce things rather than just consuming the community's cultural output - i think this is how i managed to get an adequate social life long before i had any social skills at all. this is known as "10x"

there are even internet communities for anxious near-autists! this used to be known as "rationalism" but that scene died and idk what's replaced it. i think the seat is vacant and the white smoke is a while off, like how its '70s predecessors went dormant until the behavioral economists rediscovered them. that's fine tho, there are many other Types of Thing

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zvaigzdelasas · 3 years

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what tips do you have for self-studying mandarin? how have you been studying the language?

For sure! Mandarin was the 2nd self-taught language I started (1st German) back in high school (a decade ago? Christ). After learning the basics I went on to focus on other langs, so im not like super duper practiced. Most of these tips are rly general bc learning any 2nd (or 3rd or 4th or...) Language rly boils down to the same process w slightly different priorities.

Most important: there is no such thing as a one-size-fits-all magic bullet method. Everything has it's downsides, but everything also has it's uses! Don't be discouraged from using smth that can help a little bc u think it's 'incomplete'

For example: duolingo is great to build the 'skeleton' of the basic parts of a language, but is severely limited in the amount of Vocab that is taught.

For vocab, IMO it's best to use some kind of SRS (Spaced Repetition Software), which is basically fancy flashcards that prioritize stuff you don't know over stuff you do. The big ones are memrise.com (more automatic, small batches, some courses include handy mnemonics which can be incredibly helpful to get started) & anki (self-evaluation, almost entirely customizable) [duolingo had a service called Tinycards that did this, but I guess they recently discontinued it :/ sad. This is why I lean towards anki nowadays bc you can download all the data & not be reliant on someone else's servers]

Music! IMO rap/hip-hop is the best genre (some songs I listen to here) bc it's highly idiomatic & very word-dense, but any music works. What's important here is to not just listen to it, but to find the lyrics & practice singing along to it! It can b helpful to start by slowing it down & gradually ramp up speed as you get more comfortable w it. If you don't understand half the words you're saying then that's fantastic!! That means that as you start learning more words, you'll automatically have context to them (the rest of the song)

Podcasts! There are lots of 'learner' podcasts which can vary in quality, but I mean native podcasts for native speakers. Find one in a category of stuff youre interested in, slow it down, and just listen to the flow of conversation.

Practice with native speakers!!! There are online services such as iTalki which are more of a paid service model (great when trying to formalize/prepare for a test or smth) but likely wherever you are (esp in the US) there are chinese speakers. Don't just walk up to a rando on the street and start speaking chinese, but try to make friends with ppl & if you know they speak chinese, ask if you can practice w them. A former work friend of mine was from china, and i would try to use as much chinese as possible w her (the phrase " 'X' 要什么意思" became drilled into my head bc of that 😅). If you move to a country where that language is spoken, then that's all-the-better

*embrace making mistakes*. Try to make at least one mistake every day. Every single language learner makes mistakes, it's just most language learners make them when they're babies & haven't developed a shame gland yet. IMO this is the primary reason for the 'babies are better at learning languages than adults' factoid. brain plasticity is a factor but IMO the lived experience an adult has is enough to counteract any meaningful difference in plasticity, bc when learning a 2nd language youre not simultaneously learning how the world & the basic laws of reality work, like a baby is.

LearningWithTexts is a great service, where you can just copy paste articles in your target language & gradually break em down word-by-word & start reading em. LWT specifically requires a little bit of tech knowledge to set up (if the term "LAMP/WAMP server" means anything to you, then you're techy enough to figure it out on ur own), but the link included is a good beginner tutorial if you've never worked w web/db stuff. I'm sure there's similar services that are more 'one-click', but this provides the greatest amount of customizability/data ownership, so it's what I use. (Plus since the data is in a SQL db, you can easily export the words into Anki)

Assimil/Michel Thomas/Pimsleur/etc: these are mostly "listen to and repeat this phrase a hundred times" style courses. They are very useful, but they're also very expensive & imo not worth the $$$. If you can find them at ur local library/scour the online seas to find a free copy, then go for it - but unless yr someone who can only motivate urself if u invest $$$ into smth, there are other things that fill this niche

Children's Books! I used to recommend ppl try and find a copy of Harry Potter in their target lang bc it's a well-known & widely-translated story, but since the authors been.....Extremely Online™....... i can't rly suggest that as easily anymore in good conscience😅 find something aimed for children/young adults tho, if it's a translation of a story you know that's even better. You can also use LearningWithTexts to help u w this one

Grammar! This is rly far down on the list intentionally. W chinese there's not actually too many grammar rules so it's not too relevant, but w other languages IMO you'd do better by 'scaffolding' your practice thru sorta intuition & half-guessing the rules until you get semi-comfortable actually using the language. Once you're there, then learning the details of how grammar works is rly helpful, and it also sorta becomes the "backstory" of the language (ie u go "ohhhh that's why this word acts this way when this happens, I get it now!") instead of learning it rules-first without any context to attach it to. Supposedly some ppl do better grammar-first but I don't understand it (or rly believe it tbh), so adapt to ur own experience/strengths!

This was the biggest influence on me early on TBH, if you're looking for motivation he's great at it. He also has a website fluentin3months.com with a lot of tips & resources both for general language learning & for a bunch of specific languages

youtube

That's all I can think of ATM, if u want more my DMs/askbox is always open

#language learning

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matth1w · 3 years

Text

Always You

Pairing: Roman Sionis/Black Mask x Female Reader

Summary: After years of separation, you finally reunite with Roman.

Warnings: Vague descriptions of sex

Rating: Teen

Word Count: 1,344 words

Note: Inspired by repeat listenings of Crystal Dolphin (I know). I imagined a camera circling around the two as their eyes meet, everything else fading into the background.

Second Note: Again, so stunned and thankful all the love Dancing for Daddy is still getting. 800+ notes!!!

Forever Friends: @captainrogerss / @commander-writergirl / @fics-not-tragedies

Roman Sionis (Open!): @stardancerluv / @redspaceace / @darling-i-read-it / @tales-from-gotham / @vintagemichelle91 / @ladyofhellhounds / @aliasimagines / @justauthoring / @daphne-fandom-writing / @ewanfuckingmcgregor / @troybcker / @ntlmundy / @21stcenturywitchcraft / @theblackmaskclub / @jokersdoll-blog / @ryjo1992 / @highly-unknown / @nighttime2am / @hoefordarknessrecreated / @zodiyack / @obiorbenkenobi / @innuendocrescendo / @obitwo

D O N O T R E P O S T M Y W O R K

You and Roman had always loved each other. Before you knew what love was, back when love was sweet and innocent. The love you shared was simply that of best friends who smiled wider when they held each other’s hands than anyone else.

As you stepped forward, patient and thankful for the line that let you try to simmer the bubbling anxiety within you, you took in a shallow breath.

Your name only barely loud enough for the guard to hear. After a few moments of attention directed at his lists, no doubt, his eyes met yours again, a bit of a frown beginning as he looked back down at his tablet.

“I see.” He gruffed.

Unsure if you were hoping he would turn you away or let you forward, you stayed silent.

After one more long beat of staring at you, he jerked his thumb to the door.

“Inside for weapons check.”

As you crossed the threshold, you heard the signature beep of an old school radio being pushed.

In the club, Victor’s ear buzzed. “Tell the boss she’s here.”

He strides over to Roman who is thankfully in the middle of a very unimportant conversation.

Only a moment after he leans down to relay the message, Roman jumps up from his seat.

Manic excitement lights his eyes that leaves as quickly as it came, replaced by pure nervousness.

He runs his hands through his hair, taking in deep breaths as he shakes his body and removes his sunglasses, and much to everyone’s surprise, his gloves, mindlessly throwing them into Zsasz’s hands.

He turns on Victor with a start, seemingly realizing his friend is more than an accessory rack.

“Do I look good?” He resists the urge to grab onto his shoulders and shake him when his answer isn’t instant.

A nervous, too high pitched laugh bursts out of Roman before Victor can even reply.

“I mean, of course I do.” He flits his head with his typically fake big smile.

Zsasz just nods with an unaffected look, hiding the concern underneath.

“Course.” He says as he places a reassuring hand onto his boss’s shoulder.

Roman had been waiting for this moment his entire adult life. But now that it was here, that you were here, he felt so nervous. So insecure.

Would you like him? The club? His clothes? Was it too much? Not enough?

The cacophony of thoughts continued to race through his head.

‘Everyone out.

… No stay.

No one look at her. She’s mine.

… But she deserves a sea of people adoring her.

What do I do? What should I do?

Oh it’s too late to do any—’

Time seems to slow as you walk through the curtain leading into the main room. Everything quiets, even the song seeming to slip underwater.

You’re unsure if it’s truly the music or just the effect this man is having on you. The air vibrates with the deep bass, electrifying your skin and moving you forward despite the echoing worry in your mind.

‘What if he doesn’t recognize me?

What if he doesn’t remember me?’

You gather all the courage in your body as you let your eyes scan the room for the only one you could truly see.

Had you not been holding onto something you would have certainly faltered in your step.

The way he looked at you instantly quieted your fears and confirmed you had not once left his mind.

You were expecting his looks. Roman was always fawned over as a child and truth be told, you had always found him attractive. And recently, you searched him online and realized he had aged like fine wine.

You expected the lavish suit. Dressed to the nines in a glamorous, almost campish style that seemed to be perfectly made to shine amongst everyone and everything else.

You had even expected the eyes, though they were more intense than before. Piercing through your skin and soul.

But lord. You did not expect eyeliner.

And Roman himself was stunned. He had kept tabs on you and had even gone to see you once from afar but nothing could compare to how you looked only feet away from him.

He felt like a young child again, the moment he realized he loved you and would make you his one day. The emotions came crashing and he was frozen in his place.

You faintly register the music beginning to rise as the world seems to spin around you two.

You wanted to bottle this moment. Play it over and over again. The music, the lights, the touch of the dress of your skin, the warmth filling you.

But most importantly, the way Roman looked right here.

Right now.

And how this man, your oldest friend, first and truest love, was looking at you.

The music coming back to its full force makes you blink out of the trance and finally move. Your steps matching his cautious, unbelieving steps.

You’re standing in front of each other, just staring, eyes roaming over each other’s bodies, taking in everything that was hidden by distance before. Hands hovering in the air, still in their instinctual yearning for the other’s embrace.

Neither of you dare to break the silence, the fiercest spell that had come over you both.

With one last journey of his face, so close allowing you to appreciate every inch, you realize one of you will have to say something.

“Hi—”

His lips jolt onto yours, closing the electrified distance, breaking the spell and instead creating something stronger - stealing the words from your mouth, breath from your chest, and heart from your very soul.

His lips are strong and firm and desperate in their movement like returning home to a place you had only been to in your dreams.

But you feel them pull away. Too soon.

So you follow him and grab them again, sealing them with smiles as you bring your hands up and around to the back of his neck. Fingers flirting with the ends of his hair.

In a singular moment of clarity, Roman has but one thought tearing his lips from yours.

“They don’t get to see what I’m going to do to you.”

The sound of his rough voice stuns you, so different yet so similar to that which filled your memories. Not even taking in the words, you nod. Your head just barely moving down for a moment, still lost in your state of bliss.

With that, he leans away as if nothing had ever pained him more and takes your hand in his, rushing steps moving you through a parting sea of bodies.

Within moments, the sound and staring eyes disappear and his hands are roaming all over you, overwhelming your body so much that it can only respond in kind.

In the privacy of his darkened bedroom, you make slow, deep love. Staring into each other’s eyes as you give all of yourselves to the other.

Deep kisses capture your moans - breathing them into each other’s mouths when you can hold them no longer.

His touch always on you, never leaving your skin.

Unsure where he ends and you begin. Both shaking, tensing, pulsing, releasing together.

Finally laying together side by side, you’re both unable to stop looking and touching one another. The spell thicker than ever.

You want to say something, anything, other than a cut off greeting and euphoric chanting of his name. But you continue to appreciate the moment in silence.

Roman kept his body closed off from the world. But not you. He wanted to feel everything you had to offer. With yet another thought pushing out to be voiced, he opens his mouth.

“Marry me.”

It was quick, sudden, and for a flicker of a moment, you thought impulsive.

Until you realized this was always where you two were meant to be.

You had no other words than the one he repeated to you as a boy when you asked with innocent giggles if he would marry you.

“Always.”

#roman sionis #roman sionis x reader #black mask #black mask x reader #roman sionis fluff #roman fluff #black mask fluff #roman sionis fic #roman sinois reader insert #black mask fic #black mask reader insert #bop #birds of prey

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nightwingfangirl · 3 years

Text

So, I'm going to try writing one of my actual stories here. It will be updated after this as separate parts, so look out for it. You can also find it on Wattpad, A03 and Fanfiction.net

Bloodlines

Dick Grayson, it turns out, was adopted by the Graysons as a baby. That leaves a few questions; Who are his real parents? And how will he react when he discovers their identities?

*I own nothing but the plot! All images used are not mine. *

Part 1

Bruce Wayne stared at his computer screen, scanning the document before him for any sign of it being fake. For all his effort, he couldn't see any.

He had begun his search into Dick's background due to the many remarks made by guests and friends at Dick's likeness to both himself and his father, Thomas Wayne. He himself had noticed a few things, but had waved them off as coincidences. There was no way that he and Dick were blood relatives, although he had adopted the 15 year old recently, 7 years after taking him in.

Still, he had been curious, so he looked up Dick's records and, most importantly, his birth certificate.

As it turns out, Dick's parents weren't actually the Graysons. He had been adopted on the day he was born by the pair. His real birth certificate read that his birth mother's name was Enlisa Kley. He had been born in France, as expected and his father was listed as "Unknown", but, judging by his real mother's unscrambled name and the time of his birth, Bruce had some suspicions as to who it could be. He just needed to run some tests first.

…::-::...

The results came back positive, just as Bruce had expected. The only problem was telling Dick, but he needed to speak to Dick’s biological mother first.

…::-::...

“Selina,” Bruce said, as she entered her apartment that night.

Selina jumped slightly in surprise, “Bruce, what a pleasant surprise. What are you doing here?”

“16 June 2004? Does that ring a bell?”

Catwoman’s eyes widened, “What about it?”

“Why didn’t you tell me?”

“I couldn’t keep him.”

“So you gave him up for adoption?”

“Not exactly. I met the Graysons at the hospital. Mary had just suffered a miscarriage and lost her child. I had just had a child that I couldn’t keep, so I let them adopt him.”

“But you still didn’t think to tell me? Even after I took him in myself.”

“It was too late by then.”

“Don’t you think it’s too late now?”

There was a pause in their conversation.

“Are you going to tell him?”

“We can’t not tell him. He has to know. It’s only fair. I’m certain that he won’t like it at first, but he will accept it eventually.”

Selina sighed, “Alright, when are we going to do it?”

“Now.”

Part 2:

“Master Dick, Master Bruce wishes to see you in his study.”

Dick looked up from his algebra homework as Alfred spoke.

“Alright, Alfred. I’ll come now.”

The immortal butler gave a slight nod before vacating the doorway. Dick finished off his equation before heading to the study.

He entered through the open doorway, and was surprised to find Selina Kyle there as well.

“Alfred said you wanted to see me?”

“Yes,” Bruce said, vaguely, “I have something important to tell you, that I’m not sure you’ll like.”

Dick stiffened slightly. What was Bruce talking about? What wouldn't he like? And what did Catwoman have to do with it?

“I was looking into your background,” Bruce explained, “and I found out that the Graysons weren’t actually your parents. You were adopted by them as a baby.”

Dick’s blood ran cold. The Graysons weren’t his parents? He was adopted? But then…

“Who - who are my real parents then?”

Bruce took a deep breath, and told him.

Dick’s eyes widened with every word in both surprise and shock. Bruce was his father. Selina was his mother. The Graysons weren’t his parents. He hadn’t watched his parents die. His whole life was a lie.

Bruce finally stopped talking and waited for Dick’s reaction.

Dick didn’t speak, couldn’t speak. He stood in shock, slowly shaking his head in denial. It wasn’t that he didn’t want Bruce to be his father, he just couldn’t believe it.

He slowly backed out of the study, which neither Bruce nor Selina noticed until it was too late.

Dick bolted.

He ran from the study, flew out the doors, and away from the manor. Grasping his cellphone in his hands shakily, he dialed a very familiar number as the tears began to stream down his face.

“Hello?”

“Babs?”

“Dick? Where are you? What’s wrong?”

“W-would your dad mind if I come to stay the night?”

“I’ll ask him, hang on.”

Barbara could be heard talking to her dad in the background.

She soon came back to the phone.

“He says that’s fine. But what’s wrong?”

“I- I’ll tell you when I get there, thanks Babs.”

…::-::...

“So, Dick,” Barbara said as they sat down on her bed, “What caused you to leave the manor in such a rush? And what’s got you so upset?”

Dick explained everything to her. She did, of course, know about Bruce, Dick and Selina’s secrets. She was a vigilante herself.

When Dick had finished, she lay back on her bed and sighed deeply.

“I see,” she said, “Why you were so upset.”

…::-::...

Meanwhile, back at the manor, Batman and Catwoman were suiting up to go and look for their son. They had been unable to find him on the manor’s grounds, and even though they knew that he was well trained, they were worried for his safety. It was late at night, at a time when Gotham rogues were usually about. He did, luckily, have his belt with him, as he had been told to have it on him at all times, so he wasn’t completely weaponless.

The pair climbed into the Batmobile and drove out into the night.

Part 3:

Bruce wasn’t sure why he hadn’t thought of looking there before. Of course that’s where Dick would go.

Barbara’s house.

Barbara had been Dick’s closest friend since they’d met when they were eight years old. The pair had been inseparable ever since.So, naturally, that’s where Dick would go if he was feeling vulnerable.

It was Bruce Wayne who rang the Gordons’ doorbell, not Batman. Commissioner Gordon answered and seemed to not be surprised by the billionaire’s appearance.

“He’s in Barbara’s room,” he simply said.

Bruce went and stood outside the closed door, listening to the sounds from inside. It seemed as though the teens were playing cards, as faint cries of frustration and intermittent laughter could be heard. Taking a deep breath and feeling bad about interrupting their game, Bruce opened the door

…::-::...

Barbara looked up as the door opened, not at all surprised to see Bruce there. Both she and Dick knew that it would only be a matter of time before he thought of looking there. He was the Batman after all.

As Barbara looked at him, and now knowing his connection to Dick, she began to see the similarities between them. She wondered why she hadn’t noticed it before, although she supposed she hadn’t really had a reason to think about it.

Dick also looked up at Bruce’s entrance, and Bruce noticed that he wasn’t as tense or hesitant as the night before, more worried or scared. Bruce could understand that. It wasn’t everyone who had their whole life turned upside down like that.

…::-::..

Dick couldn’t help himself. When he saw Bruce in the doorway, he smiled. It was good to know that Bruce was his father.

Part 4:

It was about a year later, a few months after Jason had been adopted, that the thing that became known as "The Argument" happened.

The end result was Dick quitting as Robin, storming out of the cave, packing up his things and leaving the Manor while Jason could do nothing but watch helplessly.

He and Dick had become close in the few months since they'd met, and he did, at least, have the decency to say goodbye, but Jason was going to miss his big brother.

…::-::...

It was about half an hour after Dick had left the Manor that Barbara got a knock on her front door.

She had only recently got back from her own patrol, and was slightly surprised to see Dick there.

"I just came to say goodbye," Dick explained solemnly, "I'm leaving for a while, I don't know where to, but Bruce doesn't want me anymore."

"What? Dick, why?"

"You know things have been pretty tense between the two of us for a while now, and tonight was the final straw. We both lost it and ended up shouting at each other, and then he tried to fire me, so I quit before he could, packed my things, said goodbye to Jay and Alfred before coming here"

"Oh, Dick," Babs sighed, wrapping him in a hug, "I understand, but, I'll miss you."

"I'll miss you too, Babs. I promise I'll keep in touch, okay?"

…::-::...

After Dick said his, very emotional, goodbye to Barbara, he wandered the Gotham streets until he got to a particular apartment building.

Leaving his bags in a very well hidden alcove, he scaled the side until he got to a certain balcony and climbed inside.

He found Selina on her sofa watching television. She looked up at his entrance.

"Dick! What are you doing here so late?"

Dick sighed and explained to her the same story he had told Barbara previously. His mother looked just as upset.

"I understand why you're going," she said sadly, "Bruce shouldn't have spoken to you like that. And, don't worry, I'll keep an eye out for Jason."

"Thanks, S," he said, "I'll keep in touch, okay."

"Alright, kitten," she replied.

Before exiting the way he had come, Dick gave her a two-fingered salute before climbing down over the balcony. Selina simply shook her head at her son's antics.

…::-::...

It was about 3 months later that both women realized where Dick had gone. He had messaged the pair simply with a "Watch the news tonight - N" and they had no idea what "N" stood for, but it soon became clear.

They did as he'd asked, finding nothing of interest until a report on a new vigilante in Bludhaven known as Nightwing. Both women smirked. That was definitely Dick.

Part 5:

3 years later, a 19 year old Dick Grayson sat on his sofa in his Bludhaven apartment watching the news. He had it turned to a Gotham channel, feeling nostalgic for the city he had grown up in. It was then that he heard of the tragedy.

"It has been confirmed," the news woman said, "that the second adopted son of Bruce Wayne has been killed."

Dick swore his heart stopped beating.

"The 16 year old was kidnapped by the Joker while on an overseas trip, and was beaten before the warehouse he was being held in blew up. Bruce Wayne, who had been unable to get there in time, is heartbroken over this tragic loss. Our condolences to the family."

Dick switched off the TV. It couldn't be true. Jason couldn't be dead. Not him. Not Dick's little brother. He had to see for himself. He had been away for too long.

…::-::...

There was a loud knocking on her apartment door that woke Barbara up. She checked the time wearily. Who would it be at 04:20 in the morning?

Putting on a top and slippers, she lumbered to and opened the door. She nearly had the fright of her life when a 19 year old Dick Grayson stood worriedly on her doorstep.

"Babs," he said urgently, "Please tell me it isn't true, that Jason isn't…"

"Oh, Dick," Babs cried, all signs of tiredness fading instantly, "I'm sorry, but…"

Dick, realizing what that meant, grasped her tightly in his arms as the both of them cried, cried for the loss of their little brother.

…::-::...

The next morning, Dick awoke bleary-eyed on Barbara's sofa. It took him a moment to realise where he was and why, and, as soon as he did, a huge wave of sadness overcame him.

He got up, changed into a clean set of clothes from the suitcase he had brought with him, and went to check on Barbara.

Seeing that she was still asleep, he decided to let her be as she needed the rest.

Leaving a note beside her bed, he left the apartment quietly, locking the door behind him.

…::-::...

Climbing back into his car, he drove in the direction of the apartment he had last visited three years previously.

Deciding that, while he was there, he might as well make his presence in Gotham a surprise, he left his things in the car and scaled the side of the building once again, climbing over the balcony to enter the apartment.

Selina, this time, was not seated on the sofa, but rather preparing herself some breakfast in the kitchen. She got quite a shock when Dick suddenly appeared in the doorway, probably because she didn't recognise him at first.

Seeing him there again, she was stunned at how much he really did look like Bruce; with the same raven hair and bright blue eyes.

"Dick," she said, walking immediately forwards and embracing her son in a hug, "What are you doing here? When did you get back?"

"I got here last night," he replied, "drove from Bludhaven immediately after I heard about Jason. Spent the night on Babs' sofa, and here we are now."

"He was only 16," Selina uttered, quietly, "far too young to die."

"We all know what we're getting into when we start," Dick agreed, "We just don't really believe it's going to happen."

…::-::...

Dick and Selina spent a good portion of that morning catching up, Dick explaining about his job as a Bludhaven police detective. She listened with interest, but they both knew that it was just an excuse not to talk about Jason.

Soon, Dick said that he needed to leave, knowing that if he was going to talk to Bruce again, it would be better if it was sooner rather than later.

…::-::...

It felt strange, Dick thought, driving up to the familiar iron gates after three years.

He drove up the drive, got out of the car, and stood for a moment before the large mahogany doors, taking a second to build up his courage before knocking.

The doors were opened almost immediately by Alfred, who took one look at the man on the doorstep and gave him a small smile.

"Master Dick," he said, "Welcome back."

Part 6:

"Master Bruce is in his study, with Master Tim," Alfred informed

"Okay, thanks, Alfie."

Tim, Dick knew, was Bruce's latest adopted son, his youngest brother.

Dick walked reluctantly up the stairs to where he knew the study was situated. Knocking briefly on the door, he opened it and went inside.

Both occupants looked up at his entrance, one of surprise and the younger of confusion. Bruce and Tim.

"Dick?" Bruce uttered, "You're back."

"I'm sorry I stayed away for so long."

"It's my fault."

"Not entirely."

"Truce then?"

"Truce."

Apparently, I have almost reached the maximum length, so the rest will be a separate post. I have, however, only written up to part 7, so the parts after that will follow on separately.

Please let me know what you think 😊

#dick grayson #bruce wayne #selina kyle #robin #batman #catwoman #wattpad #barbara gordon #batgirl #dickbabs #dibs #graybat

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memorylang · 3 years

Text

Easter: Redwoods, Light | #52 | April 2021

I write from Vegas, having returned after spending most of this spring in Reno. Life has been well. I feel adjusted to being back in the States a year. Every so often, objects and settings still remind me of last year’s evacuation from Mongolia. I still have the interest I’d had in trying to improve the lives of those around me. I still plan to return to Mongolia as soon as pandemic conditions permit.

This month’s blog story reminds me of cycles. Attending a virtual Open Mic Night at the conclusion to this month's “Culture of Creativity Workshops” featuring overseas alumni, I felt called to tell our folks there about this very blog story that I hadn't yet finished. A fellow participant suggested my theme of cycles. I'd spoken of how events that happen throughout time, how our feelings come and go. So here it is—My Easter 2O2I tales of cycles, light and renewal!

Back to Vegas

I returned to Vegas tasked by my father to continue to sort my belongings, tend to the yard and help my older brother and his girlfriend clean the kitchen since their recent move back to the house. Early in March, I’d visited the house with my siblings, and I’d intended originally to spend Holy Week here, too. But my college parish had many functions, including a friend’s baptism, Knights’ service events and opportunities for me to continue to help with the recordings of Sunday Proclamations of the Word. Palm Sunday’s and Good Friday’s were special highlights. Anyway, I'd opted to stay in Reno for Lent’s remainder into Easter’s first weeks.

Easter in Reno

Being in Reno for most of this April instead of in Vegas like last year, I enjoyed seeing trees blossom. A highlight of this Easter season has been its many serendipitous moments. This is also noteworthy because I'd listened to the "Tao of Pooh,” which noted spontaneity as among the good spiritual life’s fruits. A spiritual director had told me something similar not long before I'd graduated college.

Days before Easter Sunday itself (U.S. Year 2, Week 5; April 2–8, 2O2I), I enjoyed getting the opportunity to lector at that Mass. It was a small Mass, but I felt glad to be in person for the greatest celebration of the Christian year since all had shut down last year. Later this Easter Octave, I’d gotten to both lector and serve at a family's confirmation Mass. That too felt lovely.

Serendipity hadn’t stopped there! I’d caught up with an ol’ friend at Rancho San Rafael Park not far from the Uni and later biked with another friend at North Valleys Regional. My bike itself I’d bought from a rummage sale the day before on an unexpected adventure in a U-Haul truck to help our student coordinators collect furniture in the morning after they’d asked whoever could help. Thus, that Wednesday night they’d requested help, Thursday morning I’d joined them to Gardnerville and the rectory, and Friday night I was biking with a friend. The last time I recall riding in a U-Haul was over a dozen years ago when I was 11, my family moved from Indiana to Vegas.

My youngest sister has also been encouraging me to practice my licensed driving by borrowing her vehicle to and from our parish. I’d visited so often that staff offered me a key to simplify visits to my "home away from home away from home." I’d felt touched because I could go on walks around our pretty campus without worrying about getting locked out when I was alone. The flexibility gave me peace recently on my U.S. Year 2, Week 8 (April 23–29, 2O2I), when midday I’d needed to drop by my Honors College alma mater’s office to help print a letter I’d written to graduating seniors for our Honors Alumni Task Force.

Also at church, I’d gotten to participate in a few of our Alpha sessions hosted by a diaconate candidate whom I’d interviewed back in 2OI8 on my diocesan public relations internship. I'd heard about Alpha first back in Mongolia from a kind Evangelical Mongol. Anyway, the diaconate candidate, student coordinators and Alpha participants have been great conversation partners.

Beyond these, our pastor had driven me to my first Pfizer vaccine dose, lent me films and advised my reading! On one occasion, he even let me bring Holy Communion to a friend of mine. Such activities have kept me from feeling too distressed amid research writing and revisions. Parish support has made my “happy contentment” quest kinder.

Redwoods National and State Parks

This year’s Easter Octave concluded for me with another trip with my national parks friends (U.S. Year 2, Week 6; April 9–I5, 2O2I). This trip, I’d anticipated especially. As a young lad in Indiana, I’d felt mesmerized by the photos of massively tall California trees noted in our science textbooks. Thus, from an early age, Redwoods imprinted themselves in me.

At these national and state parks, epic scenery of old-growth forests, mountainous hills and valleys beside the coast astounded me. I hadn’t seen the Pacific Ocean since January 2O2O when I’d flown back to Mongolia from Vegas via San Francisco. I felt surprised by how many months had passed since my last overseas adventure.

At the loop completing the Tall Trees Grove trail, I found a special place. My peers had gone ahead while I stayed behind to take photos, record videos and capture audio. I hadn’t expected to find at the trail’s end a creek filled with still other trees—vast ones, like those that I’d seen in subtropical Asia but different.

I basked in these trees. While taking photos, I also discovered my phone has a virtual reality setting. I tried it out, remembering undergrad extra credit VR photography projects. I’d wanted to journal at least something.

“Daniel!” my peers called from some distance down the path. I couldn’t see them, but their voices echoed well enough. I called back something to the effect of, “I’m here!” I still wanted to get a good fill of this park. Here’s what I journaled:

[11:45 a.m.] Redwood, National Park, end of Tall Tree Grove along the creek zone is this phenomenal section of mossy trees with winding branches. Here I discovered my VR. [A woman paused, passing me, “You must be Daniel.”] 19IO–I96O, so many of these trees that used to be across Humboldt, Eureka, Arcata were cut down. The smells… the scents, the mosses, the ferns, the light. Beyond.

Mid-journaling, I paused because a mid-aged woman who was passing by smiled and acknowledged that I must be the "Daniel" she'd overheard about. I smiled yes and reveled in the gorgeousness that surrounded us. She affirmed and mused how this park’s name should be changed like, “Redwoods and Other Trees and Lose-Your-Brother-in-the-Forest National Park.” She added how in the early half of last century, these very types of trees once blanketed far more Northern California, across the very counties through which my friends and I traveled to get here.

I later journaled again after sprinting much of the uphill trail back to my friends. We then saw the “Lady Bird” Johnson trail, then a confluence of the Klamath River and Pacific Ocean (where there were seals!) and finally Trillium Falls. I’d written this about the final hike:

So hypnotic. [...] Dodona’s Grove* vibes from the Trillium hike after the Falls. Whispers from God. Endlessness.

*The Grove of Dodona is a prophetic forest from “The Hidden Oracle,” a book to which I’d listened amid the pandemic by an author I used to read in junior high and high school, Rick Riordan. While I wasn’t a huge fan of where he’d taken “The Heroes of Olympus” series’ finale, I'd often admired his picturesque locales.

My peers and I left the park by 6:45 p.m. The view from the road on which we departed reminded me of the bamboo forest in 安吉 Ānjí near 杭州 Hángzhōu. I’d seen it in 2OI7 during my first summer overseas and have rarely found comparable places.

Of Redwoods, I journaled too of how gleeful I’d felt to have hugged so many trees. A friend had complimented my writing when he mentioned that I don’t need to take so many photos. I added how photos help me remember what to write. I'll probably share my Redwoods photoset in May.

A carpet of moist, fallen leaves along the paved trails had reminded me of a Sunday morning path that my dad would take my siblings and me through for years at Spring Mill State Park in Mitchell, Ind.

Spring Retreat: Recognizing God’s Light

Beyond Redwoods, I'd stayed behind in Reno chiefly to participate in my college parish's Spring Retreat. This spring the student coordinators held it in Gardnerville, the same location where I'd enjoyed it my senior spring. However, I'd had to leave early from it that year. It was my first and only of the eight semesterly retreats from which I'd left early.

That year, I'd left in order to co-emcee the Diocesan Youth Rally 2OI9. To my surprise, the youngest member on this year’s student coordinator team was likely at that same event when she was a high school student. Similarities like these gladdened me.

I felt renewed. This year’s theme, "Light in the Darkness" (Spring 2O2I), reminded me of "Ignite the Light," (Spring 2OI8), the year after my mother died. This time, however, I’d had more years to reflect and feel greater peace. Similarly, I've felt more peace being back in the States even though I'd prefer to be abroad. God’s light shines every day, in every moment of every person. I can see it.

Writing of seeing things, I’d also seen "WandaVision" and "The Falcon and the Winter Soldier" while up in Reno. I’d reconnected too with a Disney-loving college friend to get more Disney+ watchlist ideas. I’d seriously enjoyed the “Into the Unknown: Making Frozen II” docuseries. Both she and my college pastor led me to witness iconic performances by Julie Andrews in both "The Sound of Music" and "Mary Poppins."

Justice

April felt refreshing for a more challenging reason as well. Much of the month had featured on many channels coverage from the trial over the killing of George Floyd. I imagined that this would be a trial that my generation remembers for years.

I’d watched live various testimonies and even the closing arguments. Then, on that Tuesday, April 2O, 2O2I, afternoon, our nation heard the verdict—My pastor called it among the fastest traveling news.

I've been on the Social Justice Task Force of the American Psychological Association’s Society for the Psychology of Religion and Spirituality since last summer. Our Task Force had come together in response to the killing of George Floyd and subsequent renewed pushes across our nation for social justice.

Our task force has been meeting every other Tuesday night, after weekly fed Zoom fatigue. Our meeting that Tuesday fell on the night of the guilty verdict. But, this justice felt cathartic only somewhat. More shootings filled the media. Our task was far from over.

Still, I’d another reason to celebrate. That Tuesday marked my last advocacy meeting on behalf of the National Peace Corps Association to offices of Nevada’s lawmakers this March–April. All told, I’d coordinated and met virtually with offices of the U.S. Congresspeople Horsford, Titus and Lee as well as Senator Rosen. And Representative Titus herself attended our meeting! She was very kind. So, I felt relieved to have finished those duties for now.

Asian American and Pacific Islander Heritage Month

Next month (May) begins Asian American and Pacific Islander Heritage Month. I've decided to tell a #StopAsianHate story. Given America's centuries of racism toward Asians, I don't enjoy the subject. But, I’d had an experience on my Week 5I (Feb. 19–25, 2O2I). It reminded me the importance of continuing to tell stories so that we can promote diversity and inclusion.

I was on one of my Reno walks that cold winter. As usual, I'd pass by the local elementary school. I'd paused to check my phone. The time was while children were at recess. They played opposite a chain-link fence a few yards down a hill from where I stood.

At first, I didn't think that the kids were talking to me. So, I paid them little attention. Then their voices sounded closer, in greater numbers.

I hadn't decided whether to acknowledge the children but decided to finish my walk. My walk brought me along the fence. From my right periphery, I saw a clump of children gathering, following. They certainly addressed me.

I heard what sounded like slurs against Asians that I won't repeat here but also questions that I will repeat here.

The kids asked if I was homeless, whether I'm an orphan, whether I speak English. I reflected on these. I was wearing a big scarf from Mongolia, a hefty hand-me-down winter coat and wide, secondhand jeans, frayed at my ankles. But I hadn't spoken a word to the kids.

Their questions themselves weren't offensive. Yet, the children’s tones reminded me of the mocking ones I'd heard in middle school when boys made fun of me for caring more about good grades than getting girlfriends. (Little did the boys know, girls I liked tended toward good grades.)

Anyway, these kids seemed to have negative implications behind positive responses to their questions. This upset me. After all, homelessness, being an orphan and not knowing English are not inherently bad things. For, often, people do not choose to go without a home, parents or American English. So why might these children ask these degradingly?

I felt perturbed by the realization that these children would find pleasure in mocking people who they suspect are without homes, parents or English skills. Yet, from this, I felt a glimmer of solidarity. I'd heard directed toward me what seemed unkind speech. This may help me relate to Asians who hear slurs, to those without homes, to those without parents and to those perhaps struggling with English.

My parents tend to insist too that I buy new clothes, though. Given our world's rampant consumerism, I find second-hand ones quite fine. "Form follows function." I wish that more folks would appreciate hand-me-downs and thrifting.

Nuance

Curiously, as I continued past this chain-link fence, a somewhat pudgy boy of color asked with a wide grin for money for Taco Bell. Truthfully, I didn't have money on me. I calmly answered the questions, not pausing from my walk. I guessed the kids dismissed the homeless guess/joke. I noticed thankfully that they wore face masks. We’re still in a pandemic, after all.

The boy's questions made me wonder about his family life. True, he could have been joking. But I remembered, many of the boys who'd picked on me in middle school had been living in a neighborhood that many people called not a “good” part of town.

In light of the visibility that Black Lives Matter has had in the past year, I've tried to grow more aware of how cruel predominantly White societies can be toward Black, indigenous and other peoples of color. I recalled learning when I was little that, often those who bully had been bullied themselves. Sociology interests me.

Thus, when these playground children said potentially questionable things to me, I wasn't sure whether to intervene about the slurs or micro-aggressions or what I'd say.

As I neared the fence’s edge to complete my pass by the school, I overheard a girl's or maybe a woman's voice call the kids to stop wasting their free time. I'm glad that someone spoke up. Compassion is the answer, especially in light of hurtful things.

I’m still unsure whether my general silence was helpful or problematic. But the experience caused me to think. For, children learn fast. Innocence is invaluable. My generation's problems and those of that above ours replicate in youths the longer we fail to act.

I’m glad that folks are speaking up these days in hopes to #StopAsianHate. Social justice mustn't sleep.

Language Six

On April 2O2I’s last day, I hit my 365-day streak on Duolingo!

Over the past year, I’d focused on Latin, Spanish and Chinese. Having finished every lesson and level Duolingo had for Latin, I started dabbling in German. While I’ve no intention to extensively pursue German (yet, at least), I’ve enjoyed how its lessons help me see from where many non-Latin roots reach English.

I’ve been dipping into my Germanic heritage on Dad’s side again lately. This began about when I’d seen “The Sound of Music” then reconnected with my distant relative who’s researched more of our shared Austrian and Volga German forefathers and mothers. Turns out that my relative had personally written to and received a postcard from the real Maria von Trapp!

I've grown to like more German language. "The Sound of Music" and how Spotify has Disney soundtracks in German help. Besides listening to vocalists like Namika, I’ve also gotten into LEA, Manuel Straube, Julia Scheeser and even Willemijn Verkaik! This is probably just a phase, but it’s certainly fun.

Every language I’ve sought to learn has at least one Spotify playlist. For recent films I’ve seen, like "Mary Poppins" and "Mary Poppins Returns," I’ve cherry-picked tracks in German, Spanish and English. Though I don’t catch most words, I like to consider translators’ decision-making.

Summer Fun

I get my second Pfizer dose on Cinco de Mayo. By then, I hope to have channeled my Julie Andrews-inspired service of making things better than how I've found them. Later that vaccine week, on Mother’s Day, I’ll return to Reno with Tita and Papa.

May 14 will celebrate the Baccalaureate Mass of lovely student coordinators and friends from undergrad. Then comes the 2Ist birthday of my youngest sister and will also mark when I’m fully inoculated, May 19! Pentecost comes May 23. Then will be May 3O, the wedding of two of my undergrad coworkers, including a fraternity brother. We'll have a mini staff and fraternal reunion!

After that, I look forward most to a Seattle trip at my 24th birthday. National parks friends and I are flying up to see Olympic National Park. It’ll be my first time to see further into the Pacific Northwest than Ashland, Ore. My younger (not youngest) sister got a job in Seattle, so I’ll be surfing her couch for part of my visit. Super stoked to reconnect with friends from high school, college and Peace Corps in the city! Even my married friends with whom I'd spent New Year's Eve the past couple years plan to visit me there.

This April my siblings and I reviewed our first scholarship applications for a Foundation that we’d founded to honor our late mother, who was Chinese. So, with next month and the fourth anniversary of her passing, I’ll share Foundation experiences, I think. Along with those, graduations and celebrations await!

You can read more from me here at DanielLang.me :)

#Peace Corps #Mongolia #redwoods #WithMe #Easter #memoir #story #Catholic #God #memoryLang #USA #Coronavirus #COVID-19 #Nevada #California #travel #spring #church #UNR #StopAsianHate

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sam-lives-story · 4 years

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#SamLives - Chapter 15

“Marble Theory”

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Also find the latest chapters of this story on [Archive Of Our Own]

Chase came to a slow stop behind the pair, and when he caught sight of the Skype call, he grinned. He strolled over and leaned down to get into the video frame, propping his elbows on the back of Jack and Mark’s chairs and smiling between their tense faces, oblivious to it all.

“Sup bro! You’re MatPat, yeah?”

Matt had gone very still, his eyes wide as saucers and his mouth hanging open in a search for words that, Jack had a feeling, would never come. His expression was familiar to the Irishman...in that it was very, very similar to the one he had worn when he had accidentally seen Sam for the first time.

“W-What–”

Jack sighed wearily and ran a hand through his hair, slouching back in his seat.

“Chase,” he mumbled, almost apologetically for Matt’s sake, “this is Matt. Matt...this is...part of that ‘Serious Shit’ we need to talk about.”

Matt dropped his Diet Coke.

The Skype call fell silent for a long moment.

Mark managed to draw Chase into a sheepish state of quiet with an exasperated look and a huff, Sam curled closer into Jack’s shoulder from the tension in the room alone, and Jack waited with baited breath to see how Matt would react once he was free from his shocked, stunned stupor. None of them had to wait long.

“What?!” Matt demanded, both hands clutching at his hair. His voice had gone high and squeaky, and semi-hysterical laughter bubbled past his lips. “Wait - what?! That’s - he’s–”

Then he was grinning, excited, baffled joy lighting up his entire being. His exhaustion from before seemed to vanish behind utter glee.

“He’s alive, yeah,” Jack nodded, starting to smile himself. Chase fell back into a cocky grin and dragged a chair around the table, straddling it backwards and leaning forward between the YouTubers again to keep himself in the conversation.

“He looks just like you.” Matt sounded in awe. “But how–”

“Probably the same reason as Sam and Tim,” Mark supplied. “I’ve got a theory about belief playing a huge part in this, and though I’m not sure how to prove it, it’s the best one we’ve got so far.”

“Tim…?”

“Tiny Box Tim.”

Sam perked up at the name. He nodded happily and swooped into the air, doing a little loop and darting out of the room...perhaps in search of his newfound friend.

“That’s...your channel mascot, right?” Matt hazarded, looking almost uncertain, and Mark shrugged.

“Essentially. Or, he used to be. Not so much now-a-days, but that’s for his own safety more than anything else.”

Jack blinked. Oh. That...made sense, actually. He’d been vaguely aware - if not actively so - that Mark hadn’t really mentioned Tim recently on his channel, but it wasn’t as if he had known Tim was real until recently either.

“So–” Matt stooped out of frame, reappearing with the fallen Diet Coke in his grip and toying with the bottle between his hands. He ran a hand through his hair a few times, puzzling something out, then he spoke again. “So. Okay. So. Sam and Tim are real. And now...Chase, was it…?”

“Yeah bro. Chase Brody.” Chase gave Matt a tiny two-fingered wave with a proud little smirk.

“Chase Brody,” Matt nodded in thanks. “And now Chase is real. So that’s three characters that have come to life, right? And supposedly, if Mark is to be believed then – what?”

He trailed off with a question at the look Mark and Jack were exchanging on the other side of the camera. A strain had appeared behind their eyes, a tightness in their expressions, and Chase seemed to have turned a little grim as well. His jaw had gone tight and he looked away, tossing a half-glance over his shoulder toward the door.

“It’s not three, man,” Chase muttered. He tossed a glance to the camera before rising from his chair, crossing to the kitchen doorway and leaning out of the room with one hand on the doorframe. “Yo, Hen! Henrik!” He huffed and took a deep breath, shouting louder. “HENRIK–”

“VHAT?!” Henrik’s German accent came from somewhere in the apartment, distant and muffled by the walls between the two men. "Just text me, don't shout like a verdammt hooligan–"

"Phone's charging," Chase shot back. "Get in the kitchen. Skype call. Important shit."

"Sheisse–" There was muffled grumbling in the distance, then– "Pants?"

Chase glanced down, and from his seat Jack could see Chase's shoulders sag at the sight of his utter lack of anything more than boxers on his legs. Whether it was in sheepish embarrassment or annoyance that he had to wear real pants, Jack couldn't be sure.

"...would you be pissed if I said no?" Chase called back. Henrik swore from somewhere down the hall.

"Idiot. Every damn time you get on a video call…”

“Another one of your characters, I presume?”

Jack and Mark both refocused on the computer screen at Matt’s voice, and Jack chuckled weakly.

“Yeah...Dr. Henrik von Schneeplestein. German doctor.”

“Huh.” Matt unscrewed the lid of his Coke slowly, just in case it exploded in his face, and - when it thankfully didn’t - brought the bottle to his lips as he asked his next question. “And are they always like this?”

Behind them, Henrik had finally appeared in gray slacks and a black turtleneck to shove a pair of wrinkled jeans at Chase’s chest, the two of them bickering in low tones all the while. Like an old married couple, or a couple of teenage boys. Like brothers. Like best friends, if Chase’s mirthful smirk and Henrik’s eye-rolling chuckle was anything to go by.

“You’re askin’ the wrong guy, man,” Jack shrugged. “Sure, I created ‘em, but that doesn’t mean I ever wrote ‘em in the same scenes together. This is – well.” He looked to Mark, who quirked an eyebrow at him. “...well I mean you’ve been more creative wit’ your Egos’ interactions, Mark. I’ve yet ta put mine in the same room. This is the first time I’ve seen ‘em talk to each other at all.”

“Trust me,” Mark’s expression darkened a fraction. “I’d much rather be seeing my Egos talking like yours are right now. Seeing the two of them together last night, discussing whether or not I should be left alone…” He shuddered and his shoulders tensed.

“So...more than three,” Matt concluded, and for the first time his expression was beginning to take on some of the tension the rest of the call’s participants had been carrying since the beginning.

“More like seven if you’re counting the kids,” Chase confirmed, appearing over Jack’s shoulder. He was tugging a pair of jeans onto his legs, fighting with the zipper while Henrik began making himself a cup of coffee in the background.

“Und by ‘kids’ you mean Sam and Tim, ja?” he asked, to which Chase nodded.

“Seven–” Matt let out a slow breath and slouched back on his couch, eyes unfocussed as thoughts raced through his mind. One hand was running haphazardly through his hair while the other continued to toy with the lid of his Coke bottle.

“Yeah, seven,” Mark agreed. Then… “So far.”

Jack winced, and Chase and Henrik exchanged tense looks behind him. So far. It was a thought they had been avoiding, but all the same, it was one that had crossed everyone’s mind. So far . ‘So far’ implied ‘More to come’. It implied that Darkiplier, Antisepticeye, and Googleplier would not be the last of the darker Egos to appear...but at the same time it offered some hope that characters like Jackie and Marvin and maybe Dr. Iplier may be willing to step in and help…if they showed up, that is.

“You do realize how...how...earth shattering this entire concept is, don’t you?”

Matt’s gaze was still distant, unfocussed, his head resting back against the couch cushions and his eyes aimed somewhere near the ceiling. The gray bottle cap from his Coke bottle rolled between his fingers, clicking quietly against his wedding ring every so often. Jack could see the gears turning in the theorist’s brain, could tell even through the screen that this was a lot for Matt to wrap his head around.

“Nooo,” Jack drawled sarcastically, and one of his hands came up to itch at the side of his bruised neck. “Bein’ attacked and almost killed by my own doppelganger, twice, definitely didn’t blow my fuckin’ mind.”

Mark rolled his eyes and elbowed his best friend in the side. Matt’s head jerked up off the couch and he went bug-eyed, shock and concern flooding his features, and in that exact moment two individual voices chimed in.

“What?!”

One was Matt.

The other was Robin...who had entered the call just in time to catch Jack’s last comment.

“Wait, I’m sorry,” Robin’s brow furrowed. He shifted in his seat - in his recording room, it seemed, which is where Jack would have been too had his fear of most technology (and memories in that room) not stopped him from setting foot in there a few hours beforehand - and levelled both Jack and Mark with a questioning look.

“I knew about the stream. I saw that one. What do you mean twice?”

Jack’s hand stilled against his neck and he blinked at the new arrival, looking a little sheepish and more than a little tense. He had texted Robin to give him a head’s up about Chase and Henrik being on the call. But he hadn’t really explained–

Twice. The first had been horrible...and the second was still so very fresh in his mind. Last night. Last night, in his sitting room, one room away. Last night and sharpened knives and glowing strings and a hand at his throat and–

Mark tapped Jack’s leg lightly, trying to wordlessly catch the other’s eye. The Irishman swallowed and snatched his hand away from where it remained by his throat, tossing a weary smile in his friend’s direction. He nodded minutely in thanks.

“After…” The word came out hoarse and Jack cleared his throat with a wince. “–after our call sort of...dropped last night, A– er...the...the glitch , showed up again. It...er…” He broke off, unsure how to explain what had happened in words that wouldn’t make him want to throw up.

Robin muttered a curse under his breath and Matt took a long swig from his Diet Coke.

“Jack, you’re still recovering, mein friend,” Henrik cut in. He stepped up behind Jack with his turtleneck sleeves rolled up to the elbow, leaning down to get a look at the bruising on Jack’s neck. “I can tell zhem about last night, ja? Perhaps Mark can fill in ze things I’ve missed.” He caught Chase’s attention and nodded to the stove. “Could you make him some tea?”

Chase, who had finally managed to fasten his jeans, nodded without a single comeback and started rifling through Jack’s cupboards in search of what he needed.

“Holy crap, you weren’t kidding…” Robin spoke again, his eyes wide and curious, watching Henrik and Chase on his screen and looking much like he was trying to convince himself this wasn’t just high quality video doctoring. “That’s Chase and Schneeplestein...seriously, you could be triplets. Are they all real now?”

“No.”

“Yes.”

The former was Jack. The latter was Henrik. Jack’s gaze snapped to him.

“Yes? What d’you mean, yes ?”

Every YouTuber in the conversation pinned Henrik with a look, each lingering somewhere between avid curiosity and a sharp demand for clarification. The doctor took that as his cue to pull up a chair. He quirked an eyebrow at the assembled audience and settled into his seat, folding his hands neatly in his lap.

“Perhaps ve ought to vait for ze final member of this conversation to arrive before charging ahead vith new information. Yes?”

“Okay, no, I get that part,” Matt cut Chase off in the middle of his re-retelling of the Nerf-vs-Knife battle he’d had against Anti. “Mind-controlling ‘puppet strings’ aren’t so impossible. There are plenty of cases in nature where living creatures can manipulate the thought processes of others, or even sedate their victims.”

Chase raised an eyebrow at the theorist.

“...we learn a lot of weird scientific facts while researching for our theory videos.”

Chase nodded with a quiet “huh”. It made sense.

“No, what I’m trying to figure out is how a living being can be both solid tissue and an entity with the capacity to separate into smaller pieces at will. You said Anti’s head exploded when you shot him?”

“Pretty much, yeah,” Chase shrugged. “I mean it like - flew apart into tiny flashing specs and then came back together. As far as I’ve been able to figure out, he’s not fully solid most of the time. I mean, dude, he literally appears out of the shadows. He’s like a digital ghost.”

“Digital…” Matt drummed his fingers against the half-empty Diet Coke bottle in his grip, a thoughtful expression on his face.

They had been discussing the recent chaos for almost an hour. Once Amy had arrived on the Skype call, and after she had checked and double-checked to make sure Mark was alright, Mark had jumped right into explaining what they knew so far. They had shared a link to the ending clip from Jack’s stream in the chat so Matt could watch it himself (Jack rightfully refused to relive that particular memory in detail again) and between Mark, Henrik, and - now - Chase, they were just about finished with their retelling of the past few weeks’ events. Technically, they had only recapped everything up until the post-battle discussion that had taken place after Anti and the others had left, but Matt had become somewhat fixated on how Anti functioned and had asked Chase for more details about the fight that had occurred.

“Pixels,” Jack chimed in. “The flashing specs? I thought they looked like pixels.”

The Irishman was nursing a warm mug of tea and doing very little talking, doctor’s orders. He and Mark still sat splitting center before the camera, and Chase was perched on his backwards seat behind and between the pair. Henrik had taken up a spot just behind Jack’s other shoulder, making for a slightly cramped but still visible seating arrangement.

Jack’s knee bounced incessantly throughout the discussion, his sneaker squeaking quietly against the linoleum, and Sam had returned to his spot on Jack’s shoulder (much to Amy’s delight). Tim had joined them by this time as well, and the tiny box couldn’t seem to decide between cuddling up in Mark’s lap and playing on the table with the small pile of tiny trinkets he’d apparently been collecting from various nooks and crannies in Jack’s apartment.

“Pixels. Alright.” Matt made a note of it on the spiral bound notebook he’d gone to fetch near the beginning of the call. The once-empty page was already filled with scrawlings and he had long since started onto the back as well. “I’ll take some time to analyze that clip from the livestream later. I’m sure I could learn a lot about how he works if I take it at a frame-by-frame breakdown…”

“If you need more to work with, I can try and get something from Jackie,” Chase offered, his chin now resting on his folded arms on the back of his chair. “I mean the guy loves filming his fights, and he’s definitely had a few with the Glitch Bitch.”

“I’m not sure who Jackie is, but if he’s got something, I’ll gladly take a look.”

It took Jack’s brain a second to realize what Chase had said. Once he did, his head whipped around so fast he felt his neck pop and the bruises on his throat throbbed.

“Jackie – wait, Jackieboy Man?” he asked, massaging his neck and ignoring Henrik’s sharp warning look for being so careless. “I have some fuckin’ questions.”

“You think you have questions?” Mark asked rhetorically.

“Mark, did you tell them about that theory of yours yet?” Amy asked, drawing her boyfriend’s attention. “That ‘believing’ thing.”

“I told Jack,” Mark told her. He flashed her a grateful smile and a wink. God, he was glad to have her around. “It’s probably worth bringing up. Thanks Amy.”

“Believing?” Matt this time, curious as ever about this entire ordeal.

“The power of belief,” Mark nodded. He resettled in his chair, folding one leg over the other and propping his right ankle on the opposite knee. “Matt, you’re familiar with Bendy and the Ink Machine, right?”

Matt gave him a flat look.

“...okay, yeah, dumb question,” Mark agreed. “Anyway - well, I explained it in a lot more detail to Jack last week, but to stick to the basics...I have a theory that Sam, Tim, Anti, and the rest of the egos were brought to life based on the fan following they gained from the fanbases they belong to. It - it sounds a little far-fetched, I know. But in listening to some of the dialogue from Bendy , Joey Drew’s ramblings about ‘belief’ having more power than people know...it got me thinking. Because each character that has shown up, every single one, has appeared after some sort of hype and attention was built around their character on YouTube. Sam and Tim showed up first. Tim came to life a few weeks after I shared an animation with Tim’s introduction on my channel. Sam was the first to show up on Jack’s end. I started seeing signs of...well…” He stammered for a moment, his eyes going distant, and Jack had a feeling he knew exactly what Mark couldn’t quite say.

“You started seein’ signs of Darkiplier. Your dark alter ego.”

“...r-right.” Mark nodded sharply.

He was fisting his hands in his lap at this point, and though they were out of the camera’s view, Jack could see how white his knuckles were and how tightly he was clenching his hands together. Tim seemed to sense Mark’s discomfort and tumbled off the kitchen table and into the YouTuber’s lap.

With a weak smile, Mark forced his hands apart and let his familiar climb happily into his palms.

“...I started seeing signs of...him...after I posted my short film series centered around his creation. Anti showed up shortly after the ‘Sam Lives’ incident went viral. While Sam’s video didn’t have Anti in it, it still acted as a spark to set things off, seeing as there had been some fanbase buildup right before then because of that video you made with Anti and Henrik.” That one was directed at Jack, who nodded. “The only one that doesn’t make sense to me is Google.”

“Wait, what about Chase?” Jack murmured, eyebrows furrowed.

“The Nerf gun, dude,” Chase told him, patting Jack’s shoulder. “It might not have made it into all your uploads, but don’t think I didn’t notice that.” He proceeded to pop up on the rear legs of his chair, balancing there with a hand on each of the chairs in front of him.

“The Nerf gun?” Jack asked, looking lost.

Mark, on the other hand, looked far from confused, his expression almost bordering on guilt. Jack turned slightly in his seat to face his best friend and set the half-cool tea he’d been holding on the kitchen table, levelling Mark with a pointed look. He waited a moment, watching Mark stew silently. Then–

“Got somethin’ to share wit’ the class, Markimoo?”

Mark coughed, then shrugged, and Jack was sure he’d have folded his arms across his chest in defense if Tim wasn’t still sitting in his hands.

“Well, I mean…” he stumbled over his words. “...I mean I may have been using the Nerf gun. A lot. In videos.”

“No no, I know that bit,” Jack nodded. “Ye scared th’ shite out o’ me more times ‘n I can count with that one. If that damn gun hadn’t been a great distraction the other night, I’d be tellin’ you off fer bein’ so annoying with yer random trigger-happy moments in the recording room. Tell me what I don’t know.”

A beat. Then finally Mark stammered out:

“It wasn’t random, alright?” he admitted, rubbing a thumb gently against Tim’s cheek, earning a little rumble of happiness from the tiny box. “After watching your stream, and after you told me you’d been cutting out glitches from your recordings before sending them to Robin, I had a feeling it wouldn’t just stop after Anti visited you in fully-formed person. So I...sort of...tried to make sure he didn’t come back again. Not fully. I kept the Nerf gun with me, and any time I thought I saw glitches or shadows in the corner of the room I’d shoot at it. It worked like a charm, for a while anyway. I just cut out any of the parts of the recording that had real glitching before I sent it off to be edited.”

Jack’s expression went stiff and strained, his throat feeling oddly tight. The change in atmosphere happened in a matter of moments.

“He...he was there?” He asked, the words leaving him a hoarse whisper. “The whole time, he was there? He could have - he could have shown up, at any moment, he almost did ...but...what–”

“Breathe.” Henrik. The doctor’s hand squeezed Jack’s shoulder and Jack was quick to latch onto it, his eyes shuttering closed and his free hand clutching at the leg of his jeans. “Take a breath, ja? Slowly. Zhat’s it…” Jack forced himself to calm down, Mark’s shoulder bumping his in apologetic support on his other side. Henrik’s voice was calm and even in his ear all the while.

“Anti vouldn’t have been able to get in so easily, trust me. It takes a lot of effort to reach zhis side of ze Brink, no matter how powerful you are. Mark’s efforts were more zhan enough to keep him at bay vhile it lasted. Anti most likely vould have returned sooner if your good friend had not been here.”

“Whoa, what?!” Chase interrupted, the front legs of his chair slamming back to the ground loudly. “What the hell, Hen? What happened to calling it “The Edge”? It sounds way cooler man, and we had, like, a majority vote!”

“Two out of five is not ze majority,” Henrik rolled his eyes. “Und you forget zhat ve are not ze only ones who live beyond it.”

“In that case, we should count–”

“Even if you add Bing to your numbers, it still isn't the majority,” Henrik muttered. Chase opened his mouth again, but before he could even speak– “And your purple-clad, eyeshadow-vearing edgelord of an acquaintance doesn’t help your case either.”

It sounded, to Jack, as though this wasn’t a new argument...but he didn’t feel up to mentioning that aloud.

Mark mouthed the words ‘purple clad’ and ‘edgelord’ with a look of baffled confusion on his face before he landed on the more important tidbit from Henrik and Chase’s convo, and said–

“Bing?”

“Yeah man!” Chase grinned, punching Mark lightly in the shoulder and nodding. “Bing’s a hell of a guy! He’s taught some sick nasty tricks on that skateboard of his...though I gotta say he’s leaps and bounds better than I am.”

Another familiar name. First Jackie, now Bing...

“Why don’t we take a step back here?” Matt piped up, all eyes drawn to his little corner of the screen at his words. He got a little more comfortable, took a long drink from his Diet Coke, and clicked his pen a few times in thought. “So we’ve got a whole bunch of supposedly-fictional characters all coming to life, right?” He started listing it off. “We’ve got Mark’s theory about ‘belief’ playing a role in this. We have what seems to be a greater universe here that includes all of these characters interacting in a capacity that hasn’t been explored in your canon plots on YouTube, right?” Both Jack and Mark nodded to confirm his question. “Alright. And then we’ve got this Brink thing that The Medic over here brought up, which - based on its context - serves as the barrier between the world the ‘fictional’ characters live in and the world we’re in right now.”

“I can see vhy you vanted to bring him in on zhis,” Henrik muttered to Jack with an almost proud smirk on his face. Jack nodded. Matt was kind of brilliant at connecting dots that nobody else could see...and hopefully he could help both Jack and Mark find a solution for the whole “my evil alter ego is coming to kill me please help” situation once he understood what was going on.

“So I think the next thing we need to do is to question our local fictional friends,” Matt went on. “Chase and Henrik. Clearly we’ve seen - or some of us have seen - the things happening on this side of the screen. Or - this side of the Brink. Either. Or...maybe both.” Confusion crossed his face for the briefest of moments before he shook it off and went on: “But either way, I think we need to know what happens on your side of that wall. If there’s anything at all that could help us understand how this all works, that would be fantastic.”

“That’s what I’d like to know,” Robin agreed, and Amy nodded along with the others.

“I wanna know how we got from writing and filming a super fun murder mystery, to finding a creepy bad guy haunting our house,” she said. “Normally that’s not something most filmmakers are worried about, right?”

Amy looked rightfully uncomfortable, and Mark smiled consolingly through the screen.

“I’d imagine not, no.”

“Alright, well, if we’re getting questioned–” Chase interrupted abruptly, standing from his chair and stretching, “–then I think I’m gonna need a drink for this.”

“Chase–”

“Want one Jack?” Chase offered, ignoring the warning tone coming from the good doctor.

“Nah, I’m good,” Jack waved him off, reaching once more from his tea. “Knock yourself out man. But if you could grab the honey while you’re over there, I’ll buy you more Doritos, yeah?”

Henrik’s mutterings of ‘Jack, don’t–’ were lost beneath an exuberant cheer from Chase.

“Awe hell yeah, dude,” Chase agreed with a cheeky grin.

“Chase–!”

“It’s chill, Hen,” Chase rolled his eyes. “I’ll be back in a sec.”

He escaped to the fridge, and Jack couldn’t help but compare his expression and posture to that of a teenager who knew he was doing something wrong but didn’t seem to care. That, combined with Henrik’s muttering of choice swear words mixed with something German he couldn’t understand, and Jack made a firm mental note to ask about the argument later. What in the world was going on…? He knew his characters. He had created them, after all. What could he be missing here?

“To answer your question,” Henrik bit out, finally turning away from Chase to face the Skype call again, “I have existed since ze beginning, or at least zhat is how I remember it. From ze moment this Jack created me in my first video, I’ve been alive on my side of ze Brink. Vith each new character and addition of plot, my backstory has filled in. I know, at one point, I didn’t remember being very good friends with Chase. But zhen I just...did. Some things, I know, didn’t come about from your videos, Jack. Some things just...vere. Und vhile I cannot be sure, I believe ve are affected just as much by the fans who believe in us as ze person who created us in ze first place."

Jack was momentarily floored.

“Like how even though you started off as a joke character who was a horrible doctor, you clearly have full medical experience now,” he pointed out, and Henrik smirked.

“Yes. Like zhat. You didn’t write it at first, but ze fans did. Und zhen you began to believe it to.”

“Oh yeah, about that,” Chase added, his tone tight. “I know you didn’t know we were real yet...but can I just say fuck you for the backstory you gave me? Dark humor is great and all, but fuckin’ hell man…”

Guilt flooded him and Jack flinched, bowing his head and swallowing thickly. Yeah. Yeah, he probably deserved that.

“I’m sorry for that. If I’d known you all were real, you know I never would have–”

“Nah, of course not,” Chase shrugged. He was still a little bitter as he sipped at his beer (under Henrik’s salty glare) but he honestly didn’t seem to hold any hatred toward Jack. Almost as an afterthought, he tugged the small bottle of honey out of his back pocket and tossed it on the table in front of Jack. “You’re a good guy. But like I said. Fuck, dude.”

Chase raised his beer in a halfhearted ‘cheers’ and took another long swig.

“Ve can talk about it later, ja?” Henrik said. He seemed tense. Tense and uncomfortable, but all the same, he was staying on topic better than any of them. “To carry on...our stories and beings are comprised of a balance of what you, ze creator, share vith the vorld, und most likely vhat the viewers believe vhen they see those stories. Not that something vill suddenly make us disappear or change in a drastic vay. If for vhatever reason you vere to retcon a character and replace zhem or redesign zhem, I get ze feeling something new would come to life instead of the original character being changed.”

“Like that edgy-ass version of Dark, right?” Chase tossed in, and Mark choked on air.

“What? ”

“Ya know, the old Darkiplier. He’s not the real deal anymore, but hell, he still hangs. He’s mostly like an edgy teenage ghost-dude who sometimes hangs with Bing and Virg–”

“That being said,” Henrik spoke up over his friend, “ve can be affected by things in ze outside vorld. Like my gaining proper medical knowledge...or more recently, Chase gaining a Nerf gun zhat holds more power zhan it did before.”

“That shit ain’t a plastic toy anymore,” Chase agreed.

“I was gonna ask where the hell that came from,” Jack nodded. “My Nerf gun - the real Nerf gun - didn’t do a damn thing to...him. When he showed up.”

“Don’t you remember? There was a shit ton of fanart going around with me and a PMA gun. I was blasting positivity, bro. I dunno why but I guess somehow it stuck in the minds of the fanbase or something? Hell if I know.” Chase shrugged and smirked over his beer bottle. “But now I’ve got it, and it’s helped a hell of a lot with our Anti problem on our side of the Brink.” He blinked and his grin widened. “And yours too, come to think of it.”

Matt had been quietly jotting down everything as it was said, his head down and eyes sharp and focussed despite the late hour on his end. Amy, too, looked somewhat exhausted.

“Anything else you know about the Brink?” Matt asked, barely sparing a glance at the camera as he continued to write.

“It’s this wall, this force, that basically separates our world from yours,” Chase shrugged, swirling the bottle in his hands as he spoke. “I wouldn’t exactly say it’s solid but it sure does a good job of keeping things contained. It took a lot to break through when Hen and I saw that you were in danger, Jack.”

“Why just you?” Jack asked. He was toying with the flip cap of the honey bottle, had been for a few minutes now, the quiet clicking of the cap playing beneath the ongoing conversation around him. “Why aren’t Marvin or Jackie here, or JJ?”

“Zhere hasn’t been enough ‘belief’ or power to allow zhem ze strength required to cross over,” Henrik provided the answer. “Chase and I vere given enough recently to grant us zhat privilege. Normally vhat ve have right now vouldn’t be enough...but Anti has been making it far too easy to cross over recently.”

Henrik’s expression darkened, and Matt’s pen stilled on his notebook.

“How so?” the theorist asked, finally looking up from his notes.

The good doctor looked thoughtful for a moment.

“Vell - let me put it like zhis.” He shifted to the edge of his seat and leaned forward, looking over his glasses with his fingers steepled before him. “Say you have a sheet of paper and a marble. If you drop ze marble on ze paper, it vill not break through. It may bounce off, but it cannot rip ze page. Now - let’s say you poke a hole in the middle of the paper vith a pencil. Ze marble still cannot break through, but if you vanted to pour smaller beads onto the page, zhey vould be able to pass through the hole. The more times you pour beads on the paper, the weaker the paper gets from ze veight und ze pressure.

“Over time, you can add larger, heavier beads to vear it down, and maybe you can poke two or three more holes in ze page very close to ze first one...und perhaps, now, if you vere to drop that marble onto ze page...either ze hole has been worn away enough and gotten big enough to let the marble fall through, or ze marble might be heavy enough to break what little paper separates the four holes vhich now exist.”

The good doctor leaned back in his seat again, hands folded in his lap.

“Either vay, things can pass through zhat paper much more easily now. Anti has been punching too many holes in the page...and he’s been dragging others through to help push ze process along. It is much easier to cross over zhan it used to be. So really, if you vanted, it vould not take much for Jackie or ze rest to cross over. All zhey vould need is a little...nudge. A little more veight on their marble. A spark to add to zheir power.”

“A catalyst,” Matt realized, with a little nod. “Something to add fuel to the fire of the fanbase.”

Jack and Mark exchanged a look, understanding dawning in both of their expressions, and they could see the same look in the eyes of the others on the call.

“We’ve gotta fake a leak,” Jack grinned. “A plot leak.”

“We can’t do it on our channels though,” Mark pointed out, making Jack’s grin falter for a moment. “You know that the moment you post something, or I post something, the Evil Trio are gonna pop out of the wall to attack again.”

“I dunno,” Chase grinned, looking cocky as he set his now-empty beer bottle aside and reached for the second one he had stashed beneath his chair. “After what I did to Anti? I doubt he’s gonna be walking away easily after that.”

“Even so…” Henrik’s eyes burned sharply behind his glasses and he reached over to steal the second bottle from Chase’s hands, shutting the other man’s complaints down with a firm shake of his head and a look. “Drawing less attention to ourselves is preferred. Ja?”

“Why don’t I do it?” Matt offered. He shrugged. “I’ve already posted that video about Sam. I could send out a tweet that hints at a new theory related to the Egos–”

“No.” Amy had spoken up, shaking her head firmly. “Matt, I’m sure the boys would appreciate your help, but not like this.”

“What do you mean ‘not like this’?”

“You have a son to take care of and he’s not worth putting yourself in danger for. Is he?”

Jack let out a low whistle and Mark got a dopey smile on his face at Amy’s words.

“...you really picked a good one, Mark,” Matt conceded, a tired chuckle escaping him. He ran a hand through his hair and flashed a sheepish smile to the camera.

“Hell yeah I did,” Mark agreed. “Damn. You’re good.”

“What can I say? I’m a smart girl,” Amy grinned, giving him a tongue-in-teeth smile. “And that’s also why I won’t offer myself up as a sacrifice. Dark probably already knows who I am since he’s been in our house, and though I don’t see him coming back now that you’re there, I don’t want to give him reason to come after me when you’re not here to be my backup.”

“She’s so good,” Mark reiterated, his expression taking on a dreamy and dark-eyed look. Jack had to elbow his best friend to keep him from drooling all over the kitchen floor.

“Alright, so, now that we’ve basically narrowed it down to almost none of us,” Robin spoke up now, “why don’t I do it? Why don’t I let something slip on a stream?”

“What?” Jack asked, looking reluctant to agree. “But that’s–”

“–probably the smartest plan we have,” Mark finished for him. “Robin is already involved. He edits all your videos. So as long as we are still the ones editing everything weird out of things before we send them, it would come across as Robin talking about legitimate future content.”

“Oh absolutely,” Robin nodded. Jack looked like he wasn’t entirely happy with this plan. Robin kept talking, “And since we already had Ego content planned, if Anti or that Google guy happen to be snooping in, we already have texts and messages from weeks and weeks back talking about things we wanted to do.”

“Yeah, but…” Jack tried to come up with another reason that this wasn’t going to work. “...but you’re in Sweden.”

“And…?”

“And what if something happens and we can’t get to you?”

“Jack, Anti von’t be going after anyone unless zhis actually vorks,” Henrik pointed out. “And even zhen, it’s more likely he’d go after us. But on ze off chance zhat he does vant to take it out on our dear friend, by zhen Jackie and Marvin vill have arrived, in vhich case ve’ll have a magician and a superhero sitting in the room who can get us zhere much faster zhan a plane, train, or automobile.”

Jack fell silent at Henrik’s words, thinking. Matt continued to scribble in his notebook and Chase was still moping over having his beer taken away, but the rest waited silently for Jack to agree to what was arguably the best plan they had right now.

“...fine.”

“Good,” Robin smiled. “Now that I’m in the loop, I can feel useful for once and actually help with the crazy stuff you’ve been dealing with.”

“I appreciate that,” Jack acknowledged with a tense smile of his own. “But just - if anything happens, anythin’ at all , you call us. Okay?”

“Absolutely.”

“Great. Good. Okay.”

“Alright,” Mark nodded. “Are we good here? Anything else we need to go over?”

“All good on my end,” Matt raised his pen. “I’ll go over the stream footage, and whatever else Chase can get me from Jackie. If I can figure out something to help take Anti down a notch, I’ll let you know.”

“Thanks Matt,” Jack’s smile turned more genuine. He finally stopped fiddling with the honey bottle cap and set the plastic container aside. “We seriously appreciate it. Anything helps right now.”

“Of course! Happy to help.”

“Just take care of Ollie, okay?” Mark added. “With how cute he is, that kid’s gonna be spoiled for sure.”

“Spoiled rotten,” Matt agreed, a sparkle in his eyes.

“I’ll see if I can stream tonight to get the word out.” Robin this time. “The sooner the better.”

“Definitely,” said Jack.

With something that sort of, kind of, maybe-half-resembled a plan set in place, Robin and Matt left the call, leaving only Amy on the screen...and it was then that Jack made his friendly goodbye. He plucked Sam from his shoulder and tucked him into his hoodie pocket, grabbed the tea and honey from the table, and all but dragged a confused Chase from the room with Henrik following behind them, smirk set in place.

“What’s the big idea, bro?” Chase demanded, finally yanking his arm free from Jack’s grip once they reached the living room.

“What?” Jack smiled innocently behind his tea. “I just figured Mark an’ Amy would want some alone time ‘fore the call ended. He hasn’t seen her in almost a week, you know?”

Chase held up a finger to protest, paused, nodded slowly, and let out a dramatic sigh.

“Alright, alright, fine. You’re right.” He rolled his eyes and started off towards the guest room down the hall. “You still owe me a bag of Doritos!”

“I know!” He almost raised his voice to shout the words after the retreating back of his doppleganger, but thought better of it and took another sip of tea with a wince.

“Here...Jack…” Henrik stepped up to him, and though Jack hadn’t asked him to, the doc gently took the tea and set it aside, taking a moment to get a good look at Jack’s neck. “Let me go grab my medical bag. I may have something to help vith ze soreness.”

For not the first time, Jack was grateful that most of the characters he had created had friendly personalities and good hearts. Both Chase and Henrik felt like old friends whom he had just met...and though there wasn’t a word for that feeling specifically, he knew that if there was it would probably apply to Jackie and Marvin too, whenever he met them.

Jack smiled to himself. Yeah...he was pretty lucky. True, he had a demon of a doppelganger after him, and he'd already had two near-death experiences (which was two too many in his opinion) but even so...lucky. Definitely.

[A/N] - Hey all!

I know it's been a long time since I posted...a long......long...loooong time...but to be frank this chapter was much harder to write than I wanted it to be. I struggled with trying to write Robin and Amy (sorry if they're out of character!) and for some reason the words just would not come out the way I wanted them to. It's not my proudest chapter, but it's still an important one. So I hope that everything was explained in a way that made sense!

The Marble & Paper concept literally came to me as I was writing this thing, and I ended up really liking the metaphor. I've had the concept in my head of how the Brink and the Fictive world work for a long time, and I was pretty satisfied with the explanation given in this chapter. It's definitely going to come into play later...so I hope you paid attention. The next chapter will be much lighter and MUCH more fun! And as of last night, I've gotten a few pretty crazy ideas for how to direct the plot moving forward. Forgive me a mischievous chuckle, but it's gonna be a fun time... ;)

~ Pixie

Also find the latest chapters of this story on [Archive Of Our Own]

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wetookanoath · 4 years

Note

Your relationship with your brother are cute. I hope I can share OTP and fanfics with my sister hahaha. But my fam are a homophobe ;w;

I’m so sorry your family is like that, I know it can become a truly traumatic and uncomfortable, even dangerous, space for you, and I really hope you are okay and know you are not alone.

My brother and I have gone through a lot together and we had the luck and privilage to be raised by good people who understand and like to learn. And it’s also the fact that my brother it’s simply a good man.

He is bisexual, like me, and we grew up very close and have similar taste in the media we like to consume as hobby, so it’s easier for us to share this kind of things from time to time. It’s not always perfect (we disagree a lot in, for example, Star Wars in general and GOT ships), but when we find something both of us like, it can be fun.

In this case, I wasn’t expecting any of it lol.

I never knew JT was into shipping as I normally do (aka, participating in fandom, reading fics, consuming fanart and participating in discussions) and to find out he is so into it in spite of Karate Kid being his big thing as a child, was actually very... surprising. Because he is a guy, I just didn’t expect him to actually say “shit, that’s my ship” from something considered so manly that he LOVED as a kid. Like damn, I remember he wanted to be Ralph Macchio and had a poster of him as Daniel and another one from Cross Roads in his room from ages 10-13 or so (more or less).

And like, I do remember he liked Johnny too. He liked the Cobras, but it was because he thought they were cool. You know, the way a kid sees the bad guys and thinks they are cool because a) they are all friends and b) they dress cool. But talking to him recently, he was telling me that he was around 17 (which was when I was living in Mexico City, so he was alone almost all the time at home) when he was watching Karate Kid and realized that maybe he liked Johnny because he liked Billy (the actor).

So, now-- I wasn’t aware of this at the time and we just had this conversation yesterday over breakfast, but when he was around that age was when he started to question and realize things about his sexuality (months before he was watching the movie, btw). And all that year, he kept wondering and noticed what pre-teen and teen years heroes, for him, were because he liked the character/person and which were because he was into them (or both). And his Billy Zabka thing was because he liked him That Way (as well as Clint Eastwood and Rick From The Mummy and Young Harrison Ford thing lol).

He came out in 2018 to me, 2019 to my mom and some family members. His friends and so know, of course. It was also in 2018 when he put posters in his room again, it was also when Cobra Kai aired and he watched it since day one. He found out about it and followed through until it was out and I’m actually surprised it took me so long to watch it too and to realize part of why he likes it so much it’s because he is a shipper, so his fandom experience has been fun beyond FIGHTS SO COOL YOU WANT TO FIGHT TOO.

In the ranch, among other things he loves, photos and polaroids, he has these pictures on his wall:

(And another two I can’t find on google so lmao, whatever, you get the point)

I remember having this process too, but I was younger. I realized I was bi around 14 or 15 years old. And 15 years old Nina was a lot into Nina Dobrev from TVD, and Kate Beckinsale in the Underworld movie franchise. I had this poster in my room:

I’m still trash for this woman, btw.

I have found out that the more I think of certain “obsessions” I had growing up, I get the feeling that it’s definately something that has been there forever, you know? The kind of female characters I liked because of their personality and the ones I like dbecause they “looked cool” (hot, Little Nina, hot), stuff like that-- they tend to have things in common and so on.

Really another thing to see my brother has had certain experiences similar to mine when it comes to these things.

BUT BRO, THIS HAS TEACHED ME SOMETHING: MEN SHIP TOO, MEN ACTUALLY CAN AND WILL SHIP IF THEY SEE SOMETHING THEY LIKE, and I’m glad my brother is not ashamed of it and enjoys it the way he does. Also that fandom is hella talented, I’ve been reading some of the fics he has reccommended me and I????? HOW?????? There’s this one that is so good, so, so, so SO genuinely good, I had the instinct of sending it to one of my best friends over DM on instagram but I don’t want to force them to it, so I didn’t at the end lol.

It’s been fun, it really has been fun to discover all this.

#nini got mail #personal #at this rate my brother will find my tumblr and it will be over for me #long post //#it think????#i'll add a read more later wait #Anonymous

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bigbangsmasher · 5 years

Note

💋 runs in late with isolabucks lay one on me

Makoto swipes left on yet another face before giving Tsubaki a real Look. The other girl has just dropped a truth bomb that Makoto wasn’t quite expecting, if only because she didn’t think it was true.

“What do you mean you’ve never kissed anyone, Tsubaki?” she said, tucking her phone away. “I’ve kissed you.”

“Well, that’s different. Those are just friendly kisses- they don’t mean anything.” As Makoto frowns, Tsubaki is quick to continue. “I mean, they don’t mean the same thing! I mean, it’s just- it’s different Makoto, you know that.”

Makoto scoots her chair closer to Tsubaki’s, laughing. “I know, I know! I’m just bustin’ your chops, Tsubaki. A friendly smooch and a full on kiss is like comparing grape juice and a bottle of wine.”

“That’s one way of putting it. I’ve kissed family members as well, but that’s even less similar. It’s just… people our age have usually had their first kiss by now, haven’t they?”

Makoto mentally scrolls through their friend group and is pretty sure she’s the only one in it that’s had a real kiss with a potential romantic partner, even if none of them really panned out. “I dunno about that, Tsubaki. I mean maybe, but it’s not like there’s anything wrong with not being as good at stuff as other people. I mean, look at me, I got an F in our first year his world history!”

Immediately, Tsubaki’s gaze is ice-cold. “You told me you got a C.”

“Th-that’s what I meant! It’s just been so long it slipped my mind!”

As Tsubaki’s expression softens into a laugh, Makoto’s does the same. It’s nice to be able to meet like this and just… relax around one another. They haven’t been able to sit around and talk about love troubles since the Academy days, which seems so far away now. But in Spirale, everything is just so ordinary, in a weird way. They’re just living their lives like they should’ve been able to, working during the day, having tea and cookies in the evening, and enjoying each other’s company.

If this moment could last forever…

The whistle of the teakettle prompts Tsubaki to her feet. “Ah! I’ll be right back, Makoto. Milk and six sugars, right?”

She smiles. “You know me too well.”

As Tsubaki bustles about in the kitchen, Makoto opens her phone again. She’s been using this dating app for a while, but nothing’s ever come of it. She’s never responded to messages, never gone out with a match, never nothing. She hasn’t thought about her own love life in a long time- it felt like there was too much going on in her life, and now that her life has settled down there’s too much going on in her head. If she can’t keep herself straight, why should she dump that on someone else?

“Makoto, I’m just curious now,” says Tsubaki, still busying herself with the tea. “Who was your first kiss?”

“Oh, me? It was…” Makoto trails off, piecing together fragments of memory from places that feel like they happened centuries ago. “Just… some guy from the neighborhood in Shinatsu. We just went to the movies together, and then he kissed me and tried to touch my boob. He didn’t get a second date.”

“I see…” Tsubaki pours the tea with an intense look on her face, perhaps comparing their own experiences. “What was his name?”

“I dunno. It’s not really important.” That’s a lie. It was Shirou. “He’s not really important.” That part’s not a lie.

“I just feel like… these things should be important. Or at least memorable, don’t you think so?”

A familiar face shows up in the app, so Makoto chuckles and swipes right for the fun of it. “I think that’s asking a lot. I mean, your first kiss, your hundredth kiss, what does the number matter? What matters is who it’s with. Things like that are only as important as you make them. One kiss with a person you love is more important than one hundred with strangers, right?”

“That’s… well, that’s more insightful than I was expecting, Makoto,” says Tsubaki as she sets the tea down. “But I like the sentiment.”

Makoto slides her phone into her coat again, chuckling. “Well, you know me! I’m something of a love guru, Tsubaki. After all, I’ve been on many, many dates.”

“And how many of them were with the same person?”

“That’s-”

A silence ensues as Makoto’s mouth hangs open, because Tsubaki just went for her throat. After a few moments, the other girl can’t stifle her laugh. “Oh, I’m sorry Makoto! It was just right there, I couldn’t resist!”

“I mean… you got me there,” mutters Makoto, retreating into a chocolate cookie. “Maybe I taught you the art of banter a little too well.”

Both girls laugh again. Makoto finds herself wishing they lived closer together.

Leaning in, Makoto’s eyes begin to sparkle with mischief as that familiar cleft smile dances on her face. “Soooo, Tsubaki. Why did you want to talk about kissing, anyways?”

Tsubaki coughs into her teacup as Makoto scoots her chair closer again. “W-well, I just… some things have happened recently that made me think about it, that’s all.”

“I see, I see. You read a book with some kissing in it, right?” Makoto pulls out her phone again, swiping through apps.

“Y-yes, that’s exactly it! It was a very nice romance novel, and-”

“Nothing to do with this?” Makoto turns her phone so Tsubaki can see, and there on the screen is the incriminating evidence: Tsubaki in a sexy nun costume, and Ragna dressed as either a pile of damp fur or a werewolf, and they’re hand-in-hand, dancing together.

Immediately, Tsubaki’s face goes red. “M-Makoto!” she says, voice reaching an impressively high pitch as she reaches for the phone. “Where did you get those? Were you spying on me?”

“What, no! Not then, at least,” says Makoto, holding her phone just out of Tsubaki’s reach. “We went to the party together, remember? And I just happened to catch a little eyeful of something as the night went on…”

“I-it’s not what you think!” says Tsubaki, either trying to see the depths of Makoto’s evidence or erase it altogether. “Ragna and I have simply spent a good deal of time together here, and I only wanted to show him that I appreciate it!”

“It’s fine, it’s fine! I’m not judging you or anything, though this is definitely a step back from Major Kisaragi.”

Now Tsubaki’s face matches her hair. “I don’t know what you’re implying about Jin, Makoto!”

“I’m just thinking you have a type, my dear Tsubaki. Careful, you’re gonna spill your tea!”

The threat of spilling her hard-made tea is enough to defuse Tsubaki’s wrath at least a little, and so she settles down, sinking back into her chair and taking a cookie from the plate between them. After a few bites and a few sips, she speaks again, as placid as a quiet lakeside. “I really don’t know what you’re talking about, Makoto.”

“Right, right. My bad.”

A contented silence settles between the pair as they enjoy their snack. For a moment, the city around them vanishes, and all that’s left is the two women as they bask in each other’s company. Despite their teasing, there’s no doubt that the same thing is on both of their minds: I’m lucky to have friends like this.

Makoto breaks the silence, mouth still full of cookie. “You’re scared you’re gonna do something to mess it up, right? Like you’re gonna have to kiss him, but you’ll get it wrong, and then he won’t be interested.”

Tsubaki’s eyes widen, revealing deep blue pools that have a depth Makoto can’t imagine. Tsubaki’s easy to read, but there’s so many cards she keeps close to her chest. It must come from the upbringing. “M… maybe it’s something like that,” she sighs. “You know I don’t have much experience with things like this.”

“That’s why we make a perfect team! We got each other’s backs!” Makoto scoots her chair forward one last time, and now her and Tsubaki are side-by-side. “Look, there’s nothing to worry about. I’ll teach you how to kiss, Tsubaki.”

To Tsubaki’s credit, she only jumps a little. “You’ll-!” She takes a moment to compose herself. “Thank you Makoto, but that’s really not necessary.”

“No, really. Look, I know it sounds like a joke, but I just wanna show you it’s not that bad. I’m not gonna, like, slip you some tongue or anything. But if you see it’s not so bad, you won’t be as nervous about it later.”

“Slip me some…? I-I just don’t think you need to, Makoto. I’m sure it’ll be fine.”

“Oh, I get it! You don’t want to be seen smooching a beastkin!” cries Makoto, throwing her hands in the air. The dramatization in her voice is so thick you could cut it with a sealed weapon. “I wouldn’t want to besmirch the good name of the Yayoi family!”

“Makoto…”

“It’s my own fault for daring to fly so high! For even thinking of touching the sun with wings of wax!”

“That’s a very good metaphor, but…”

“I won’t dare dirty your lips with mine! We’re just from two different worlds, you and I!”

Perhaps this is where the timeline splits. Can a continuum shift exist here, even in the distant city of Spirale? Perhaps somewhen else, Makoto can’t keep up her act, and the pair laugh and go about their conversation again. And when they part ways for the night, Tsubaki settles down with a good book while Makoto calls a friend to meet at a bar, and when they wake up the next morning nothing between them will have changed.

But perhaps this is not that time.

“Makoto.” Suddenly Tsubaki’s hand takes hold of Makoto’s and guides it back to the table. “There’s a reason they never let you into the drama club at the Academy. If I… allow you to do this, will you calm down?”

Makoto gives a dramatic sniffle. “It’s worth a shot.”

Tsubaki sighs, and though she tries to force a smile, she probably isn’t as pleased with the prospect of having her first real kiss be Makoto and not a certain Christmas-colored man. “Alright, alright. I don’t see the harm.”

Immediately, Makoto’s waterworks shut off. “Okay, okay! First, just some general advice. If it’s a first kiss, you don’t really need to do anything fancy. No one’s an expert at first, after all.” Suddenly she’s very serious, leaning in as she speaks. “Just purse your lips and do what comes naturally. If you’re getting more into it, try and match their lip movements. And don’t just stick your tongue into their mouth, you gotta take it slow.”

“Makoto, you said no tongue.”

“That’s tips for later! Here, let me just- I’ll just show you.” Makoto closes her eyes and tries to put together a scenario in her mind to get herself into the mood. She’s just had a romantic dinner with Tsubaki, and now, at the end of the night, she’s making her move. Her eyes open slowly, a gentle smile on her lips as she tries to remember some of the good dates she’s had and what’s been said in them. “Tsubaki… This has been a wonderful night. Do you mind if I…?” She begins to lean in, eyes on Tsubaki’s gently-parted lips.

But Tsubaki is glancing side to side, eyes wide and cheeks beginning to color a gentle red. “What are you- Makoto, what are you talking about?”

Reaching out, Makoto puts a hand under Tsubaki’s chin. “Here’s another tip, Tsubaki,” she laughs. “Don’t overthink things. Just… do it. Nothing kills a moment like someone who thinks too hard about it.”

She doesn’t give Tsubaki a chance to move away or raise any further objections. It’s just a kiss, by the book and only lasting for a few seconds. A gentle touch of the lips, a tilt of the chin, and the quickened beating of two hearts.

As Makoto leans away, Tsubaki nods to herself. “Well, that… wasn’t so bad. I guess you were right after all, Makoto.” She blinks a few times, perhaps expecting for a teasing comment that doesn’t come. “Makoto?”

Something has changed. As Makoto leans back into her own chair, she finds herself somewhere far away, tumbling through her own mind. She knows a kiss can say so much, and suddenly she finds herself regretting that this one said nothing at all. Now she finds herself wanting to say so much, things she didn’t even know she wanted to say.

“Tsubaki, I…” She stops, biting her lip as regular words fail her as well. A look of concern clouds Tsubaki’s face.

A holed-up vent has burst open somewhere, one that she didn’t know existed. She’s been on so many dates with so many people, kissed so many friends and acquaintances and near strangers, but nothing has compared to this one moment between her and Tsubaki. One of her closest friends, the first one who reached out to her at the Academy, one of the first ones who really cared, one of the first people outside of her home village who knew her by Makoto, and not just by Nanaya or beastkin or squirrel girl.

Makoto had just assumed she didn’t know what real love looked like, that it had been hiding from her all this time. Maybe it had been the other way around. They were friends, the best of friends, along with Noel and the others. And then… so much had happened. There was fighting among friends, and then the Imperator mind eater, and then finally, they were free, and they’re here, and Makoto finds herself wondering if there was a spot in there somewhere that she could’ve said something, done something, felt something different. Or is she just too late, a few months too late to be that person in her life when she hadn’t even known she’d wanted it so so badly?

“Makoto, is everything okay? You’re crying. Please tell me this isn’t another act of yours…” Tsubaki’s gentle touch on her cheek causes Makoto to rush back to reality, siphoning the flurry of thoughts that had been clouding her mind back into some clogged-up bottle in her chest.

“Oh, I- I’m sorry, Tsubaki,” she says, blinking in the light. “I just… I don’t know. I’m just confused all of a sudden.”

They lock eyes, and Makoto realizes what she had wanted to say with that kiss. I’m sorry I didn’t do this sooner. You deserve this, and so much more. I shouldn’t be doing this but goddammit I’m doing it anyways because I don’t even want to imagine the alternative. Is it too late to say those things now?

As Makoto stares, Tsubaki seems to be catching on. “Makoto, are you alright? You look like… Is there something on your mind?”

God, yes, yes there is. Something she never could have or would have imagined in a million years, but it’s happening now and it’s already slipped out of her grasp and it’s not fair but nothing’s even been fair and what if it never could have worked in the first place?

Then again, nothing kills a moment like someone who thinks too hard about it.

Makoto stands up. “I’m sorry, Tsubaki. I’m being really selfish right now.”

Tsubaki rises as well, reaching out for her friend. “Makoto, what are you talking about? I’m worried, this isn’t like you.”

Makoto’s well aware it isn’t. This is all so sudden and fresh, yet it throbs like a scar from ten years ago. It’s going to hurt, but she needs to know. She reaches out with one hand, taking Tsubaki by the cheek and gently tilting her chin up. “Sorry, what I meant to say was I’m about to be really selfish right now,” she says as she leans in.

There’s a spark where their lips meet one last time. Something lights in Makoto’s chest, something that feels like elation and pain at the same instant. Something is satisfied, but something else recoils in fear and disgust, knowing full well that she shouldn’t be doing what she’s doing.

Tsubaki has someone she likes. You can’t just dump something like this on someone’s lap. You can’t just hold them by the shoulders and pull them towards you, afraid that at any moment, there might be space between you once more which ends the moment in time, and which means things will never be the same.

Makoto kisses Tsubaki. Maybe she should’ve done it years ago. Maybe she never should’ve done it. But she’s doing it right now, and although she might regret it later, at least she’ll have this instant where the girl who’s only kissed one person and the girl who’s kissed one hundred people cross over. If this moment could last forever…

There’s a hesitant touch at Makoto’s hips, the warm hands of the girl she’s locked lips with. The tenseness in her digits seem to fade away, and indeed, she’s pulling Makoto closer now, as if somehow, she’s feeling something similar. Maybe in her own head, she’s regretting the things she never said, the thoughts that she never knew she could think, the actions she never took.

Makoto takes Tsubaki’s head in her hands as Tsubaki’s hands press into Makoto’s back, and the moment stretches on. It could last forever too, until Makoto’s tongue pokes Tsubaki’s lips, which makes her jolt back, and suddenly the spell is broken. Both girls are staring at each other, wide-eyed and red-cheeked, panting slightly and feeling their heartbeats in their throats.

The first one to shy away is Makoto. She falls backwards, stumbling over her chair and spilling her tea over the tabletop. Although she opens her mouth, only a single word manages to find a way out, whereas Tsubaki only manages one syllable more.

“Tsubaki…”

“Makoto, you…”

They both stare at each other, perhaps wondering if the other will speak first. In Makoto’s mind, she’s already hounding herself for doing something so damn stupid. How can you apologize for something like this? Sorry I kissed you even though I knew you liked someone else. Sorry for unleashing a vault full of repressed emotions that I didn’t know I had onto you. Sorry for taking your first kiss. Sorry for loving you in a way that maybe I shouldn’t.

Makoto manages half a sentence this time. “I just wanted to be…”

Tsubaki waits, but nothing else comes. And again, Makoto is the first to break away, because the idea of confronting this terrifies her. It’s like she’s caught in that pit again, slowly freezing as Tsubaki stares into her. Tears trickling down her cheeks, Makoto simply turns and runs out of the room. Although Tsubaki reaches out for her, she says nothing more as her friend runs away. Her own mind and heart are a tangle of fragile strings, and she clutches at her head, biting back bitter tears.

Those weren’t the right words, thinks Makoto as she dashes through the streets of Spirale. She doesn’t know where she’s going, only that she has to get as far away from herself as she can. It shouldn’t have been ‘I wanted to be.’

“I’m so… I’m so sorry, Tsubaki,” she says through gritted teeth.

What she should’ve said was “I just wanted you…” With that, maybe the last words would’ve found their way there naturally.

Just another possibility of the continuum shift…

#ask #meme #camelliacried #this is... definitely not canon for anyone wondering #also it's very long so sorry in advance

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missnmikaelson-main · 5 years

Text

Who Are You? - Part 1

I do not own TVD or TO

So I had this idea while taking a shower and it wouldn't go away, so I had to sit down and write it out.

Just to let everyone know I haven't seen anything pass early season 3 of the Originals and hardly any of TVD after Elena left. So I have only the vaguest knowledge of events. I know Elijah was compelled to forget who he was to keep him from running back to Klaus' side when he enivitably needed him, but I'm taking liberties with the amnesia.

Elena in this story never took the cure, but instead eventually broke things off with Damon and left Mystic Falls behind.

I like the idea of the Boarding School but I don't like the idea of Steroline so I think I'll keep the school and Caroline as the headmistress, but she and Stefan opened the institution as friends. Basically she had the idea and he had the property that was really being wasted on just him after Damon left town.

I also don't write Kennet, and personally don't like Kolvina. I never actually saw much of Bonenzo but I think I'll have them together in this story.

I'm thinking the wedding still went down between Jo and Alaric the same way, but Kai didn't curse Elena because she and Damon had broken up.

None of the gifs are mine. Credits to whoever made them, and if you know just let me know and I will gladly tag them.

Manhattan, the heart of 'The Big Apple': one and a half million people were crammed on the tiny island. Someone could catch a glimpse of the most gorgeous person on the face of the planet, and never see them again.

It should have been a city where she could disappear. Nobody should have ever remembered her face, but it seemed she was doomed to a life of being recognized.

Screw blind dates; her most recent had ended when the guy had called her Katherine. Even dancing in the club she was recognized.

All she had ever wanted was to be forgotten by the world, to leave behind the shadows of Katherine and Tatia and whoever else had come before. She wasn't them, she was her own person, but it was hard to figure out who she was with her past breathing down her neck.

For once she would have loved to introduce herself to another person.

She toyed with the edge of her purse and leaned against the rough bricks of a storefront. Tipping her head back, examining the roiling clouds overhead, she debated grabbing a cab. The coming storm wouldn't make her ill, by any means, but it would be messy and uncomfortable; she still had ten blocks between her and her apartment.

There were countless cabs on the street, and hailing one now would be easier than waiting for the rain to start.

She stepped sidestepped her way to the curb ignoring the cat-call coming from somewhere to her left. There was so much noise in the crowd and outside of it, and she heard it all: babies crying, men and women yelling, squirrels chattering, cars honking, and dogs barking.

She was anxious to leave it behind for a while, but the moment a yellow taxi came to a stop in front of her she froze. The air flew from her lungs in a rush.

There was a man across the street facing away from her.

There was a man across the street wearing jeans, an off-white Henley, and a black leather jacket, and facing away from her. In spite of the casual clothes she knew it was him, she would know his stance anywhere.

It would be rude not to say hello.

It had been a very long time since she'd had a stimulating conversation with anyone that challenged her. Now that she had seen him, now that her eyes had located him in a crowd of thousands, she wanted to see him; she wanted to hear his voice say her name in that way only he could: rolling off his tongue sending shivers down her spine.

++++

He was beginning to think that venturing into the city might have been a mistake. The sound was deafening, and the smells were overpowering. There were the pleasant ones drifting from the open doors of coffee shops, and then the ones that made even his stomach turn: diesel, brine, the foul combination of human waste.

Underneath all of it he could hear the pounding hearts of the humans closest to him. They beat frantically on the busy city streets, fueled by anger, lust and fear; the rich smell of blood caused his throat to burn and his gums to ache.

He swallowed down the primal urge he suddenly felt and banished the images in his mind of luring the nearest passerby into the darkness of the alley and draining him or her of blood. He had fed not too long ago and wanted to prolong the time between taking the life of another human being; the bloodlust wasn't urgent yet.

It could wait.

He let the people pass him by and stared off down the street looking for anything that might be familiar, but he recognized nothing.

His mind was as blank staring at that street as it had been when he woke on the bus.

Somewhere behind him he heard a woman's voice calling out. It was distinctive in tone and full of a friendly determination that grew louder and annoyed the closer it got to him. He suspected she was going to be very angry at her friend for not answering her.

He stiffened when a hand landed on his arm and looked down to see a blue stone encased in silver circling a slim finger. The woman's voice was teasing, but there was some definite annoyance underneath.

"I know for a fact you heard me," she tilted her head, "even in a crowd this big you heard me. Now, I know we haven't seen each other in a while, but I can't seem to recall doing something to upset you."

He dragged his eyes up from the hand that was sending tiny jolts of energy up his arm to her face.

Her hair hung to her shoulders in a glossy brown curtain; loose curls twisted the ends and brushed her collarbone. Her pink lips were parted slightly as she looked at him. An air of familiarity shone from her dark brown eyes, and for a moment when she smiled up at him softly he felt the clouds part and the sun on his skin, but it didn't burn as he knew it would without his ring.

He didn't know anything about himself, but he knew he couldn't take off the ring; the ring that was so similar to hers.

She had longed for anonymity for half of her life, ever since meeting Stefan and learning the truth of what she was. She had wanted to be unknown, to meet someone for the first time and ask those first questions, to hear them directed at her, but never in her wildest dreams had she imagined hearing those words from him.

"I'm sorry," he frowned, "but who are you?"

Her brows shot up. The last person in the world who wouldn't know her on sight was standing in front of her; he had known her face longer than she had.

"Is this a joke?" She pursed her lips. Was she so easily forgotten?

"Who are you?" He shook his head, very aware of her hand still on his arm.

He saw something that looked like hurt flash in her dark eyes and for a moment that wonderful light dimmed. He caught her wrist before she could pull away and repeated the question.

"Elena… you know me," she swallowed. She thought he might be the only person who did.

He didn't, but he wanted to.

"Alright, Elena," he tasted the name on his tongue; it was sweet. "Who am I?"

Her mouth popped open. Tilting her head she took a small step back and peered into his eyes; there was a quiet desperation there. She could see it then; he was begging her for an answer without actually begging.

"You're Elijah Mikaelson," she murmured, knowing full well he could hear her.

A single drop of rain fell from the sky and rolled down his cheek. His mind flashed to the cufflinks in his pocket; one of the only clues to his past.

She could see in his eyes that the name meant nothing to him.

Twisting the wrist he held she took his hand and started down the street as the sky cracked open and sheets of rain bore down on them. This wasn't a conversation for the street.

++++

She used a fluffy towel to sop up the worst of the water dripping from her hair and offered him one. She shrugged out of her brown jacket and hung it over a chair.

"Coffee, tea, blood?" Elena opened the fridge. Her gums ached, and her throat burned for sustenance. She had discovered over the past decade that her ideal feeding schedule was three blood bags a day and she was due for the third.

She frowned into the fridge when she heard his heart stutter, and turned around with a couple of blood bags in her hand. Personally she preferred hers warm so she poured it into a ceramic mug and popped it in the microwave; the fifteen seconds passed quickly and before she knew it she was pulling the warm blood from the appliance.

She caught the slight shift beneath his left eye and passed him the first mug because for his features to shine through he must have been famished; maybe even close to mal-nourished. He did look a little paler than normal.

"Here," she placed the steaming blood on the counter, "I'll fix another." She busied her hands with the task and considered going to change, but she didn't want to be in dry clothes while he was stuck in wet.

"What happened to you?" She moved to her small table and sat across from him.

"There's not much to tell," he ran his forefinger around the rim of the mug.

"You have no idea who you are," she sipped her blood, "you didn't know who I was, and you're wandering around half-starved."

His eyes narrowed and widened when she tapped the area below her right eye; it was then he felt the veins pulsating and the sharp sting of his fangs.

"Something happened to you," she leaned over the table, "and I'll help, but it'll be much easier if I know what I'm dealing with; if you can give me some indication."

She traced his features with her eyes in fascination, always having wondered what his vampire visage looked like.

Elijah tapped the side of the mug before lifting it and sipping the rich liquid. The blood paled in comparison to that taken directly from a human being, but it was warm and flowed through his veins to satisfy the burning hunger raging through him, and nobody had to die for it.

For six long days and nights he had thought himself alone in the world, but then he had found a kindred spirit. She was like him, but so different, and if there was one then there were bound to be more.

"I woke up a few days ago on a bus," he began, "with no memory of who I was, or where I came from."

"You don't remember anything?" Elena crossed her arms on the table. Her foot brushed his under the table when she moved to cross her ankles.

"Aside from the briefest flash of a man there is nothing," he frowned.

His eyes narrowed at the sudden exasperation in her gaze.

"Was this man blonde by any chance?"

"No," Elijah blinked, "he had dark skin, and no hair… late 20s."

Elena tilted her head. None of the description rang any bells, and she had honestly been expecting Klaus to have been involved in some way; like he had gotten more creative than the daggers.

"Anything else?" She lifted her mug to her lips again.

"Yes," he reached into his pocket.

Elena picked up the cufflinks he placed on the table. They were gold and emblazoned with an 'E'; very much on par with the Elijah she knew. The second thing he placed on the table was a folded slip of paper.

Flipping it open she felt her eyes narrow. She knew the hand that had penned the three simple words, though their meaning was lost to her.

"Don't look back to what?" She glanced up at him through her lashes.

"I wish I knew," he chuckled. "Who was the blonde man you thought I remembered?"

Elena chewed her bottom lip and leaned back. She hooked one arm over the back of her chair and tapped the table with her other hand.

"Klaus," she inhaled slowly, "he's your brother."

"I have a brother?" He gave her a sceptical look. Wasn't that something he should have remembered?

"You have four," she smiled sadly, "but only two are still alive. You've also got two sisters."

"Large family," he murmured. "How do you fit in to this?"

"In a way I wish I didn't," she snorted and was surprised when blood didn't gush from her nose. She sighed before leaning back over the table; her eyes flickered over his windswept hair when he mirrored her motion. "I can only tell you what I know, and I'm afraid that's not going to do much for your lost memories. I don't want to think about something with the power to make you forget who you are."

"Why not?" His eyes flickered over her face mere inches from his.

"Because you're an Original," she bit her bottom lip. "Vampires can compel humans to forget things, and Originals can compel vampires, but nothing should be able to compel an Original."

"Compel?" He inhaled the floral smell of her shampoo.

"You really don't remember a thing," she breathed.

He held in his shiver when her cool breath fanned over his chin. He felt the strangest sensation in her presence, like a gravitational pull drawing him into her orbit.

"Compulsion is a little trick held by vampires," her eyes flashed with amusement, "it lets you impose your will on someone else provided that person is free of vervain."

"Is something funny?"

"Kind of," she laughed softly, "I'm explaining the nuances of vampirism to one of the oldest vampires in the world. It's a little… funny's not the right word. It's just…" Elena's tongue swiped along her lower lip. "… It's not a situation I ever would have seen myself in."

"Exactly how old am I, Elena?"

"Exactly?" She exhaled. "I don't know how old you are, exactly, I just know you've been alive for a thousand years. You told me once… the story of how your family became vampires."

"Perhaps you could enlighten me."

Elena nodded and tilted her head while thinking of where to start. His story was so convoluted that there was no good spot to begin, so she started with the day they met and moved on to present leaving out nothing. He was silent until the end.

"I left you in a cave with a woman who I knew wanted you dead?"

There was a hard edge to his voice, and something akin to horror in his eyes. It brought back memories of his letter.

"You left me with your sister," she nodded. She could see the apology on the tip of his tongue and held up her hand. "I forgave you for that a long time ago."

"How could you ever?"

"Because you did it for your family," she shivered. "That's something I can understand, and in case you've forgotten I did betray you first."

"It sounds like you had every reason to," he inhaled sharply. "You had every reason to want Klaus dead, and war often comes with collateral damage."

"I was pissed with Klaus, but I didn't want to hurt anyone else; I didn't really want to hurt him." She straightened her spine. "You were defending your family and I couldn't have stayed angry with you for that, not when I would have done the same thing."

"Were we friends Elena?"

She was mildly taken aback by his question. The answer was on the tip of her tongue, but she hesitated.

Were they friends? She had trusted him with her life on several occasions and gone to him for help when the situation permitted it. She had tried to protect him and find a way to keep him alive after his mother's spell because he had tried to help her. She couldn't bear to think of him dying; the horrible rumor of his death, clearly unfounded, had brought her to a standstill. She had always cared about him, respected him, and looked out for him, but were they friends?

Did friends cast longing glances at each other when they thought the other wasn't looking? Did friends feel the energy field drawing them closer? Did friends look at each other the way he was looking at her now?

She had thought his attraction to her was because of the face she had worn and the women who had come before, but if that were the case then why?

There had always been something unspoken between them, but clearly drawn lines had never been crossed.

Were they friends?

It was the closest noun that described their complicated relationship, so she nodded, but the brief moment of hesitation was not unnoticed.

They were friends, but they weren't friends. They had always been something more.

"You're not a deceitful person, are you Elena?"

Her mind flashed back to their conversation in the woods.

"You're not going to break a hole in my kitchen floor, are you?" She cocked an eyebrow. "I like this apartment, and I'm fairly certain I won't get my damage deposit back for that."

"I'm sorry?" He frowned at the amusement in her eyes.

"You said something like that once," she explained, "seconds before trapping me in the tunnels." She flattened her palms on the table. "I've only ever told you one lie in my life, Elijah."

"There's something more," he murmured.

Elena's heart wasn't sure whether to stop or pound out of her chest.

Was he going to mention the unspoken thing; the tension that had existed between them since day one?

"Will you tell me?"

She blinked and tilted her head.

"About my family." His mouth twisted on the word like he couldn't fathom the concept. "Not the things you say I told you, but your impressions of them."

"Okay," she nodded, "I don't know them all, but I'll tell you about the ones I do."

She considered for a moment before deciding to start with the worst of the worst.

"There's Klaus; he's the Original hybrid. He and I aren't really friends because I never forgave him for murdering my aunt and using me to break his curse, but we've worked together in the past and from what I understand he's mellowed a lot. You always sided with him even when he was wrong because he's your brother. You were focused on redeeming him; even when the rest of your family wanted to give up on him."

She had always imagined Elijah for that. The bonds of family were what made him who he was.

"Then there's Rebekah. We had a sort of Thelma and Louise thing when I turned off my humanity. I think we would have been good friends in another life if I didn't have the face I do. She can be ruthless and vindictive, but also really sweet when she wants to be. The three of you swore a vow after your mother died: Always and forever, you would stick together. As far as I know you've never broken it."

"Finn… he was your older brother. When he died it was because my friends were intent on killing all of you. I never saw any of you grieve for him, but I'm sure you did. He was under the effects of a dagger for nine hundred years. I didn't know him well, but the interactions I had made me dislike him, but I dislike anyone who would turn on their family. I heard he came back from the other side and made peace with all of you."

"I don't really know Freya, and Henrik passed long before my time, but I knew Kol about a decade ago."

She took a deep breath. Kol was one of her biggest regrets; it hadn't been until years later that she had realized part of her decision had been influenced by the sire bond, but she had never gotten over it and had breathed a sigh of relief when the new reached her from the Crescent city.

"We should have listened to Kol. He likes to play the role of a trickster and a madman but he's quite sane, and he knows his magic. I should have listened to him, but I was blinded by my circumstance and helped my little brother k… kill him."

She pushed a hand through her hair and blinked at her coffee cup.

"He's alive. I don't know the full circumstances of his resurrection. All I know is that he met a girl, a witch, and she found a way to save him. He'd probably know how to fix your memory."

He tilted his head when she bit her lip and looked away.

"You're hesitant to call him."

"We didn't leave things well," she admitted. "The last time I saw him he was technically still dead and royally pissed off. He was going to kill me, but my dead brother made a reappearance and saved me, pushing Kol back behind the veil as it closed."

He couldn't explain the rage that flooded his veins when he thought of anyone harming her. He thought it somewhat strange since she had just admitted to killing two of his brothers, but there it was; maybe it was because his family was an abstract concept and she was tangible, but he got the feeling he would have forgiven this woman for anything.

"I never apologized to you, or him," she breathed suddenly lost in her memory. "I was going to let him kill me."

"Why would you ever do that?"

"Because I deserved it," she shrugged one shoulder, "I killed him and countless others went with him. I killed a hunter. I was a murderer, and for one moment, one brief moment, I didn't want to live that. I still have trouble living with that," her voice dropped to a murmur almost too quiet to hear.

She cleared her throat and leaned back in her chair. The sun had gone down while they were talking, and a glance at the clock told her it was nearing one in the morning. Based on what he had told her she had a hunch he had arrived in the city that day.

"It's late," she sighed.

"I should go." He startled as if just noticing the hour and moved to stand up.

"You can stay if you want," Elena picked up the mugs and moved into the kitchen to rinse them off. She caught his eyes when she glanced up. "I've got a spare room, and I can call Bonnie in the morning."

"Bonnie?" He tilted his head before the name clicked. "Right, your witch friend."

"She might be able to help you remember," Elena loaded the mugs in the dishwasher. "She could be here tomorrow."

He watched her for a moment, considering the offer. She was warm and bright, and possibly she could even teach him some control.

"I wouldn't want to impose."

She smiled because even without his memory he was still polite.

"You're not," she reassured him.

++++

She sent the message before sliding between the sheets of her bed and closing her eyes, but sleep eluded her for the longest time. It was hard to sleep when she could hear his heart beating steadily across the hall.

++++

The room smelled of her; everything inside had been touched by her floral perfume.

How was it possible that he could feel her warmth from so far away?

++++

The sun was rising in the sky when he heard the unmistakable sound of the shower. It roused him from his light slumber and for several moments he just sat on the bed and examined the view from the window. There wasn't much to see beyond the flower box on the window sill across the alley.

Eventually he stood and moved towards the door; in the back of his mind he registered the water had stopped, but he thought nothing of it until he opened the door and collided with a towel clad woman.

Instinctively his hands moved to steady her hips and pulled her tightly to him to keep her from stumbling.

Elena's breath caught in her throat when she tipped her head back and met his eyes. She saw there the same look she had once seen the moment before he had kissed her in Willoughby, but this time he wasn't hiding anything and she was vividly aware of the thin towel wrapped around her upper body barely covering her thighs.

For a moment neither said anything, and both were struck by the thought of how right the impromptu embrace was.

Even as vampires they needed to breathe. Elena was the first to draw in a ragged breath and with it the smell that was him and only him; it was enough to turn her knees to water.

Elijah breathed next, quick and shallow; her lavender shampoo bombarded his senses and made him dizzy. His hands tightened on her hips pulling her impossibly close in an attempt to ground himself further and stop his head from spinning.

He could feel her heart pumping in time with his, and wondered what else they could do in sync.

His left hand splayed over her lower back, gripping the soft towel; his right hand lifted to cup her cheek tenderly.

Elena's flesh tingled under his touch. It was déjà vu in the strangest sense; the same but different because this time when he touched her she had humanity. This time she could think about the way he was making her heart thunder in her chest, and take note of how his was racing just as fast.

She made no move to stop him and voiced no protest when his mouth landed on hers. There was less hesitation before she met his motions. Her fingers curled in the collar of his shirt. Opening her mouth marginally she allowed his tongue to dart inside countered his exploration by nibbling softly on his bottom lip, sucking the skin into her mouth and soothing the bite with her tongue.

And that unspoken thing… it passed back and forth between them with each brush of lips.

Her mouth was swollen and her breaths were harsh when he pulled back left a gentle peck on her lips. She couldn't open her eyes for a long moment after he rested his forehead against hers.

It was Elijah who finally broke the silence, his warm breath fanning over her cheek.

"We've done that before?"

"Once," she breathed. Elena opened her eyes and looked up through her thick lashes. Her chest expanded with her attempt at a deep breath. "You thought I was someone else."

He tipped her chin up and stared down into her pupil blown eyes.

"I can't imagine believing you were anyone but you," his fingers curled in the soft material at the small of her back.

"Because you don't remember," she reminded him.

"You're right," he nodded, "I don't remember, but I have this feeling I would know you anywhere. And if I kissed you, Elena, I'm certain it was because I wanted to kiss you."

"I can't speak for the past of course," he ran his thumb along her jaw, "but I can speak for now. I wanted to kiss you a moment ago, and I'd like to do it again."

She shivered when he backed her into her bedroom door. Between him and the wood she was boxed in and perfectly comfortable with her cage.

"Shall we go for three, lovely Elena?"

He was hovering a hairsbreadth from her lips, and her hands were inching upwards to his neck when there was a harsh knock on the door.

Elena wanted to scream at the person to go away. She wanted to stay right where she was and revel in the knowledge that for once she had been chosen because of her by someone who had no knowledge of Katherine or even Tatia; even if they were locked away somewhere in his mind, for one brief moment it was only her.

But she couldn't ignore the second knock when it was accompanied by the low voice of Bonnie.

Tag List:

@elejah-wonderland @rissyrapp20

#elena gilbert #elijah mikaelson #elejah #elena x elijah #post season 4 to #tvd #to #the vampire diaries #the originals #fanfic #who are you fic

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secretbranch · 5 years

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LRR OF THE SPARK

Okay, so in a recent live TCC, LRR was asked what planeswalkers they associate with “everyone in LoadingReadyRun”, and they gave some great answers, so I wanted to compile them as well as add my own opinions, so without further ado....

(also note that race/gender don’t factor here) Graham (Garruk)

Graham has cosplayed as Garruk for videos before, and you can totally see it. They also threw around the idea of Angrath, which I will admit I like better, but I also know that, for better or for worse, due to recent developments, Graham has cemented himself into the mono green man of the wild. (Plus, I wanted to use the stained glass art versions of all the walkers, and then I realized Graham was Garruk rip #whereareyougarruk) Paul (Karn)

You could argue that Paul is some sort of blue mage because of his endless experimentation in Friday Nights, but while Karn may not approve of some of Paul’s designs, he would appreciate the effort. Also, I mean, Paul’s card in Friday Nights is colorless for a reason, right? James (Angrath)

Alright, so a bunch of names were thrown around for James (Nicol Bolas, Gideon, Ajani [because he’s so supportive {sarcasm}]), and I personally didn’t think any of them fit. I then remembered a conversation I heard on stream (can’t remember exactly when, otherwise I’d link it), but someone referred to James as “Kind of a dick, but still has a heart of gold”, and that made me think of Angrath’s story from Ixalan, and I realized he was the perfect fit. Also, if I had a nickel for every time I’ve heard someone in chat say that James would make a great dad, I wouldn’t be yet another broke millennial, hahah. Ha.

Kathleen (Sorin)

This is one where you may have a different opinion than the LRR friends. Whether or not you consider it low-hanging fruit, you may have thought of Liliana first. While I do admit there is some merit to Kathleen being our goth queen, wielding her horde of Brave New Faves listeners against the forces of evil, a helpful, totally extra edgelord is not far off either.

Alex (Saheeli)

Alex was the first of a couple people whom I almost gave Tibalt. Early Friday Nights had him pinned as some sort of Rakdos Madman obsessed with explosives, sort of like if a goblin was a person. But, frankly, I don’t think the Demon Prince fits Alex very well. Alex is super creative, which you know if you’ve seen his art or his comics. He’s also been referred to as a “meme nexus”, and has a lot of information stored in his brain (which paved the way for the discussion of “Alex-isms”). His ability to create and appreciation of the world around him s very reminiscent to me at least of Saheeli. Plus, Alex doesn’t give a shit about your gender norms anyway. Fuck ‘em.

Cameron (Tamiyo)

Books? Notes? Yep, that’s Cam. Also, without a doubt, some of the deepest cuts and references you will ever hear on LoadingReadyRun have been from Cameron. He is the longest running co-host of a show where they analyze video games as art. Come on, the similarities keep coming. Also, Cam would totally be down to say “fuck your gender norms”. He is beauty, he is grace, and yet he will trip and fall and somehow find a way to land directly on his funny bone.

Ian (Daretti)

As discussed in the video, Ian is absolutely the tinkering goblin madman that turns into an evil genius in the sequel. Like, the show is LITERALLY called TINKER Tailor Solder Fry. Not to mention Daretti’s other quality: D E C A D E N C E. Some goblins will settle for any trash. Daretti only settles for the highest quality of trash. I feel like this statement highly resonates with Ian. Plus, there’s probably some “waifu is trash” joke that I’m missing since I don’t watch anime, but regardless: perfect fit.

Cori (Huatli)

They almost said Vivien, but then Cam pointed out (and I totally agree) that Cori would have red or blue in her color identity. So, here is Cori! She’s super helpful and friendly and wholesome, and she also reins Ian in when he goes a little too off the rails. That being said, Cori has been known to go off the rails a little herself, and is super creative, so Huatli seems like a nice match.

Beej (Sarkhan)

So this was what the LRR folks picked at the panel, and it catches a lot of people offguard. The universal first response I think is Tibalt, E̻̻͙̭̼̅́ͯ̒ͅX̸̠̫̟̙̣̮͔ͬͯ̈́ͤͤP͌ͨͫ̄́͏̠͉Eͦͨͨ͊͂̓҉̱R̷̠͔̮̲̥̘͚̄̈́̅ͧ̇̃I̲̙̗͇͌ͮ̃́̚E̢͇̝͆ͪ̑̌ͧͮ̎NC̓̒̐͆͐͂ͭ҉̥̺̞E̠͖̐͊ͬ̔̐͊̎̕ ̮̪͒ͣ́͗͆̆̏͠B̥͍̳̲̠̳̀̓̏ͥͮ̈́ͣE͇̳̫͙͕ͅͅE͈̱̜͈̱̱̲J̼̉̔ͅ and all that. But, after thinking about it, Sarkhan is a rambling madman who turned out to know more about the universe than almost anyone, and isn’t that in the spirit of E̻̻͙̭̼̅́ͯ̒ͅX̸̠̫̟̙̣̮͔ͬͯ̈́ͤͤP͌ͨͫ̄́͏̠͉Eͦͨͨ͊͂̓҉̱R̷̠͔̮̲̥̘͚̄̈́̅ͧ̇̃I̲̙̗͇͌ͮ̃́̚E̢͇̝͆ͪ̑̌ͧͮ̎NC̓̒̐͆͐͂ͭ҉̥̺̞E̠͖̐͊ͬ̔̐͊̎̕ ̮̪͒ͣ́͗͆̆̏͠B̥͍̳̲̠̳̀̓̏ͥͮ̈́ͣE͇̳̫͙͕ͅͅE͈̱̜͈̱̱̲J̼̉̔ͅ?

Heather (Jaya)

This was another personal pick of mine, and I really like it. Cute but fierce is something I can totally see describing Heather. Like, Heather definitely has this very loving, innocent mindset, but anyone who has seen enough Rhythm Cafe knows that that statement isn’t entirely true. She also seems like someone who will fiercely protect her friends, and that’s something Jaya can definitely get behind.

Serge (Yanggu)

You knew it was coming. How could you not see it coming; the adorable doggo-wielding cinnamon roll who can surely kill you with his boyish smile while simultaneously actually killing you? Everyone in chat always protects Serge when bullies like Adam or James show up, even when Serge was sassing them seconds before. Also, Yanggu is a green mage, and we all know how Serge feels about lands.

Ben (Chandra)

In the words of Kathleen: “THIS ONE IS MY FINEST HOUR!!!!” Think about it. Ben has always said he’s most closely aligned with Red and Green, and here’s this planeswalker that can be both a wild child and super wholesome. Also, canonically a member of the LGBT+ community. ALSO, you KNOW Chandra is super supportive of people when she’s not immolating them. I didn’t even think of the Zippotricks McEdgelord thing until I was halfway through this. His individuality, his creativity, he is Chandra in disguise.

Adam (Koth of the Hammer)

Beefcake of the Mountains? Adam Savidan??? Absolutely. I will admit, this is what LRR said, and I would have gone for someone a little more studious since I know that’s a lot of the Adam we don’t see on camera, but as for what we DO see, hell yeah. I also find it hilarious that the guy acting as the conductor for the WE’RE HEEEEEEEEEEEEEEERE train wasn’t even in War of the Spark. Rip in pieces, Koth. Matt G (Ral)

I’ll be honest, at time of posting, Matt is still fairly new to streams, and I haven’t seen a lot of stuff he’s done, but I’ve seen his personality through his editing (which is always amazing btw), and his creativity and very open personality is expressed greatly in Ral. Plus, I mean, when there’s low-hanging fruit, sometimes you’ve just gotta give the gay boi the gay boi.

(Bonus Friday Nights A-LRR-mni)

(Note that this is mainly their Friday Nights Personalities)

Jer P. (Teferi)

Super organized, methodical, intelligent. Who the heck is WILLING to sort their cards, let alone OTHER PEOPLE’S? Jer has had to since move on from LRR, which is sort of like Teferi retiring from planeswalking. And I mean, come on.

Matt W. (Ob Nixilis)

Hear me out. I’m not saying Matt is a demon. I am saying he is absolutely Ob BEFORE he broke the contract. Throughout his episodes in Friday Nights, he is ob-sessed (don’t you love my puns?) with winning. Furthermore, like Ian, decadence is a word that comes to mind when you consider the way he talks. A very sinister villain is Wiggins who returns every time we go back to Zendikar (or have a Desert Bus, but you get it) And that’s it!!! This was a fun homage as well as a much needed trip down memory lane. Hope everyone enjoys, while I know folks will disagree with my picks. Don’t forget to check out all of the links I hid in here. Big thanks to LRR for existing and being so wholesome and good. You guys rock.

#lrr #loadingreadyrun #mtg #friday nights #planeswalkers

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cielleduciel · 5 years

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I have some sensitive questions, and you totally don’t need to answer if they’re too much, but here they are. Did you ever struggle w internal homophobia? If so, how did you manage to overcome it?? And my last question: any tips for softly breaking it to Albanian parents? I know people are individuals but its still the same culture so..

• Same anon as before!! I am an 18-year-old girl that was born and raised in the US. Thank you so much, and take as much time as you need to answer.

• I would also like to add that I’ve struggled with this for a pretty long time now (since I was around 12), so it’s not like I realized my preferences just recently. For years I’ve been telling myself that it’s just a phase or I’m just starved of affection (so I’m looking for it in the wrong place) or that I just haven’t met the right guy yet. I feel disgusted with myself, and it’s very tiring and emotionally consuming. Add in my Albanian relatives on top of it, and I’m just done with it all.

thanks for your patience anon, this last week’s been a bit hectic for me

first off i’m flattered by that first question, bc i was the most self-hating repressed closet gay i knew. i started off as that kid that was like “i don’t have a problem with gay people i just don’t think they should get married and i hate it when they ‘act’ gay”. i went through three boyfriends and two different sexual orientations before i finally accepted i was a lesbian, which took me until april of last year. so if that’s hard to imagine then i know i’m doing good for myself, and maybe it can give you some reassurance too

tbh i don’t think any of us can ever actually avoid or stop struggling with internalized homophobia, given that we’re all inundated with those messages every day in big or small ways. i think at best i just learned how to stop listening to it so much. it took me a really long time though and honestly at your age you’re already way ahead of me than i was, the questions you’re asking yourself now are ones i couldn’t bear to face even in my early 20s

my personal struggle has been very much connected to my family and growing up as a 1½-gen albanian immigrant. if your family and upbringing are anything like mine, then you might understand, and they’re probably just as closely related to your struggle as well. don’t take what i say here as gospel since this is all from personal experience and i’m not even 100% where i want to be yet. but i know how lonely it is for us out there, so i’ll try to be as real with you as i can without getting too personal (idk if this readmore will work on mobile so my apologies and just scroll down really fast @ anyone not reading this)

first thing: don’t be in a rush to tell your parents, even if you’re an adult, and especially if you’re still dependent on them. i assume you’re asking for tips because you already know or have reason to suspect that they won’t take it well. and if you’re still struggling to accept yourself, your parents’ & relatives’ opinions are the last thing you need to be worrying about right now (i know easier said than done we’re albanian i Understand but like. trust me)

second: i really think learning how to stop listening to that internalized homophobia is just a slow process of learning to normalize your feelings in opposition to it. truly the most important thing i did for myself was surround myself with other bi/lesbian women as a way to counter everything else in my life that was telling me to hate myself. the key here is that i did that for years. the logic goes like this: if my world was already and will always be filled with heteronormativity and homophobia, then to fight it, i needed a space i could come back to that’s filled with what i needed to see and could make it feel as normal as i logically knew it was

i didn’t have the freedom to reach out to others IRL so i sought out bi/lesbian women online and immersed myself in those communities. i filled my online spaces with people like me who could show me every day that what i was feeling was genuine, normal, healthy, whole, positive, and worth embracing. when i really began to internalize that, self-confidence and assurance just kind of naturally followed, which made it easier to shout down and ignore the Internalized Homophobia Gremlin in my brain

another thing too, and this’ll sound silly. idk if you’re into video games but they were also a big part of my normalization process. i love role-playing games and for years i used them as a private, risk-free, judgment-free way to “experiment” with women and allow my feelings to “run free” after repressing/ignoring them for so long. i personally know other LGBT people who discovered themselves in similar ways (through DnD, for example). something to consider if that’s your thing. but media of all kinds can be powerful normalizing tools too, if you can find decent ones to your liking

i had to be really patient and gentle with myself though, and you’ll have to be too bc there really is no quick fix, we’re up against years of internalizing this crap since we were born, basically. do whatever you need to fight against it though, bc there is literally, objectively, nothing wrong with you. you deserve to be happy just as you are, you deserve love and to be able to find it with another woman, and remember you’re never alone in this even if it feels like you are. i think that’s the most powerful reminder

back around to your last question, worry about coming out to your parents when you’re on more solid ground, bc it doesn’t sound like you are rn. everyone’s parents are different but as a general rule i’ve found that when trying to broach a difficult subject, you really need to have your back up against a point that you refuse to budge on, and plant yourself there. you can negotiate or make arguments around it but you need that one point that you’re absolutely sure of where you’ll always hold your ground

in coming out to them, that point needs to be your identity and everything attached to it, so your confidence and sense of self need to be as solid and unmoving as a fucking mountain so that they can’t dig into you and undermine your conviction. esp bc tbh it’s entirely likely that you’ll have to have that conversation several times. so that’s why i stress working on yourself first. for your own sake, don’t jump the gun on this

also, it’ll be much easier on you if you’re not always stuck under the same roof, or at least not totally dependent on them. and i know that’s tough and complicated because a lot of us never truly “move out”, per se, and it’s normal for us to stay with our parents/family for a very long time. but if you can find a way, arrange something with friends, etc., i find it really helps with your general confidence to know you have somewhere else you can go unconditionally, without restrictions. and i don’t mean “rush to move out as soon as you can”, bc like i said, i know that’s hard on us for many reasons and it may hurt you more than you think it will. but if it’s a point you can get to eventually, it does help

after all this, if/when you eventually do decide to come out, i recommend you tell only one of your parents at first. whichever one you’re closer with or find easier to talk to (i’d say ideally whoever’s the least homophobic but like. lmao). do it privately and when you’re both in a good mood. i find altogether this makes the atmosphere less confrontational and more personal, a show like you’re “confiding” in them moreso than making an announcement. depending on how it goes i think you can adjust your strategy from there

even still, i can’t say with any confidence that it will go over well, but it’s as gentle a way to break it to them as i know. if on the very off chance you have another relative who you know is sympathetic and won’t go telling the entire rest of the family immediately, i’d say try reaching out to them first, as it’ll give you “practice” talking about it and they may be able to advise you about your own parents better than i can, as well as support you directly. but even this i would only do after you’re more confident in yourself and your identity

in the end, keep in mind that you don’t have to come out either. it’s not like a requirement for loving yourself. many of us stay closeted to our families for a very long time simply bc it’s safer, easier, and smarter wrt our situations. again, i know that’s complicated because of how tight-knit our families are traditionally, and how much we may want to remain close to them for cultural reasons. at some point it may make it difficult to hide (my mom started suspecting i liked girls before i even knew i liked girls. it was scary). but like, i’m 27 and i’m still not out to most of my family (my dad doesn’t even know). it doesn’t stop me from being a proud albanian lesbian, or from having and maintaining a happy & healthy relationship with my girlfriend. it doesn’t have to stop you either

and…. i think that’s really all i can say. sorry for taking so long and also for talking so much. i hope i could help even a little, or if not, at least offer some reassurance. it’s a good sign that you’re reaching out and trying to get a handle on your feelings, so keep at it, and remember you’re not alone out there. there are so many of us in the world living our lives and trying to build a future and support each other. i really think you’ll be fine

#asks #blog chatter #long post

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skeletonbrothersreptilelovers · 6 years

Text

Activity Night

This isn’t something I’ve wrote recently but I thought I would post it anyways. I did edit it though! I fixed minor errors and fixed some parts that I know how to write better now. I originally posted it on Archive but didn’t post it here because I didn’t really have any followers back then.

I was thinking about making it multiple chapters. People could send me activities they wanted to see the US gang do and I would write them whenever I had the chance. If you guys are interested in me doing that still, then do tell! ^^ You can send me some activities

I put some of it below the cut because it’s 4,083 words, but left some out so you can see if you want to continue reading it or not! ^^

I hope you enjoy! ^^

“Oh good, everyone is here!” Asgore says happily.

You are currently sitting on an over-sized couch – custom made to fit Asgore’s size – sandwiched between Papyrus and Undyne. Papyrus is pressed against one arm of the couch and Alphys is pressed against the other, Undyne half in Alphys’s lap, half sitting on the couch. You are pressing up against Papyrus, and if anyone asked it was because you need to be facing Undyne to listen to her speak about her new science project.

Totally not because you are crushing on the overly tall, lazy skeleton and want to be touching him.

Sans and Chara are both laying on their stomachs with both their hands propping their heads, intently watching Adventure Time together. Temmie was definitely not watching it out of the corners of his eyes beside Chara. Toriel was sitting in a rocking chair while having a pleasant conversation with Napstabot and Happstablook, the former sitting on the arm of the rocking chair while the latter just floated nearby.

Everyone’s attention is on Asgore as soon as he speaks. Chara excitedly stands and rushes to him, and he lifts them up into the air when they reach him. They laugh happily while staring down at him.

“Dad! Finally! We’ve been waiting forever! It’s your turn to pick the activity tonight, so we can’t start without you!” Chara says in mock angry, a smile threating to take over their face.

“My child! I do hope you wouldn’t start without me even if it wasn’t my turn to pick!” He says, laughing happily whenever Chara sticks their tongue at him.

“Course’ not Gore. We wouldn’t Dreamurr about it.” You chuckle lightly at the joke while everyone else, minus Asgore who is loudly laughing and Toriel who simply shakes her head, groans.

“BROTHER! DO NOT RUIN ACTIVITY NIGHT WITH YOUR HORRIBLE PUNS! HAVE YOU NO SHAME?” Blue berates him.

“Aw, c’mon bro. Ya know I’ve been tellin’ jokes since I was bone. I can’t resist.” Papyrus winks at you when you snicker, which causes your cheeks to heat up. You send a wink back his way.

Asgore calms his laughter while the skeleton duo continues their banter. He shakes his head at the two before speaking again.

“Anyways, it is my turn to choose the activity for activity night, as Chara said, and I think I have the perfect activity!” Everyone turns their attention back to Asgore, include the skeleton brothers, and eagerly waiting for the activity.

Activity night is why everyone is gathered at Asgore’s cozy home. Every Monday and Friday, everyone meets up to do some random activity chooses by whoever’s turn it is, and everyone must participate whether they like it or not. There is an order of who gets to choose the activity next. Starting with Asgore, the order of who chooses the activity is Asgore, Chara, You, Sans, Papyrus, Undyne, Alphys, Napstabot, Happstablook, and Toriel. Temmie got removed after the incident. It’s done every Monday and Friday, so everyone could start and end their week in a good mood.

“A friend of mine recommended it to me. You take everyone’s name and write it on a piece of paper, then you put that piece of paper inside a container. Everyone draws randomly, and then the person makes a list of everything they like about that person! I thought it would be a nice way to bond, as well as to help remind everyone that they are loved! After we are finished with this, we can enjoy the rest of the evening outside roasting marshmallows.” Asgore explains, and everyone nods their head in understanding. It seems like a nice little activity. Some people are more excited about the activity after though.

“Oh, but I shouldn’t participate! My list would be way too long!” Napstabot says dramatic, clutching at his chest in false remorse, “But! We could make it a little more interesting while also creating a way for me to join the fun. How about we make it into a tiny competition? Whoever has the most things listed wins… Something!” Ah, so that’s why he didn’t want to join in. Napstabot is nice, but he never misses the chance to be told how amazing he is. The only other thing he doesn’t miss out on is creating a competition he could be the judge of. Asgore considers it for a second before nodding.

“That sounds fair. The winner can have a whole pie made by me.” Everyone instantly perks up with the promise of possibly winning pie. Even Napstabot looks mildly disappointed that he won't have a chance to win.

Asgore retrieves tiny slips of paper and passes it out to everyone – minus Napstabot and Temmie (who would most likely write nothing on the list anyway) – to write their names. Once everyone is finished, they fold the paper and put their names in a small bowl normally used for popcorn.

“Alright, now whoever is picking a name has to close their eyes and grab from the top! No digging!” Asgore instructs, and everyone quickly grabs a name. You choose to wait until everyone is settled down to take the last name available.

“We cannot tell who we are writing about either! It should be a surprise until the end. It also stops people from switching.” Asgore says before going to tend to his list writing.

You waste no time in unfolding your paper. You feel your cheeks flush lightly at the sloppily written ‘Papyrus’ on your paper.

What do you even write? You like everything about him. His laugh, his clothing choice, his smile- you even found his smoking habit enticing whenever he leans back and slowly blows out the smoke, just enjoying the feeling of it all. You especially like whenever he catches you watching him, so he uses his magic to make the smoke turn into different shapes.

You’re getting off track.

Undyne tries to sneakily peek over your shoulder to see who you got, so you quickly snatch the tiny slip of paper and hide it.

“No peaking,” you playfully scold her. She childishly sticks her tongue at you, and you make sure to return it. You hear a couple of people, who have noticed your interactions, chuckle.

You glance over at Papyrus, studying him for a few seconds. He was lazily scribbling words down on his list, and you had no doubt the everything listed was slobby. You shake your head at him before returning your attention to your paper.

Better get started.

You nervously fiddle with the pencil in your hand. You really hope Papyrus doesn’t mind what you’ve written. He hasn’t read it yet, no one has read any of theirs yet. Napstabot was currently getting ready to tell everyone the number of things listed about them before he hands them out. Then each person will take a turn stating who wrote about them and what they said.

“Okay! I’ve got the papers situated, now let’s count them up! Sans, you’ve got a high number of twenty-two! Undyne has fifteen. Happstablook has fourteen, although I could’ve listed a hundred. The queen has sixteen. Asgore has nineteen listed, which is the same amount as Alphys! ____ has eighteen. Chara also has nineteen it seems!” Napstabot pause at the next paper, which could only be yours because Papyrus was the only one left. He looks a little upset for a split second before a soft smile overcomes his face. “Aw, it seems like Papyrus has the most! Which is to say, he only has one listed.”

Everyone looks at Napstabot with confusion and slight upset.

“That’s not fair! Whoever got him obviously didn’t put any effort into it. I could at least name twenty things I like about him!” Alphys is very upset, mostly because it’s unfair.

“DESPITE HIS PUNS, I COULD NAME MANY THINGS I LOVE ABOUT MY BOTHER TOO!” Sans says, a little put off that his bother didn’t get a higher number.

The rest of the group has similar opinions besides Napstabot and Papyrus himself (as well as Temmie, who says he would’ve written one thing too. “nothing”). Papyrus looks normal, but you can tell he’s a little disappointed.

“Eh, they only had one thing because I’m number one. Nyeh heh.” He jokes, though most are still upset over the fact he only got one thing listed to react.

“Now now, let’s hand everyone their papers back to see what was written about them and by who!” Napstabot shushes everyone, quickly handing out the papers.

Papyrus got Sans, and his list was half filled with puns. Sans was both touched and fuming. Sans had gotten Alphys, who forcefully gives him a noogie while saying his just a big mushy nerd. Alphys got Happastablook, and she apologizes for not having much to write because she didn’t know her well. Happstablook was very happy that someone who didn’t know her very well was able to say such nice things about her, so all was okay.

Happstablook got Chara, who tries and fails to hug the ghost. The attempt was appreciated. Chara got Asgore, who proceeds to fake cry of happiness (or maybe it was real and he didn’t want to admit it) and gives Chara a wet, sloppy kiss on the cheek. He got Toriel, who is extremely bashful. Toriel had gotten Undyne, who was a stuttering, blushing mess by the end of it. Undyne pulled your name, and you pull her into a tight hug.

Everyone’s attention turns to Papyrus, who is now has a dusting of orange on his cheeks. Most people have already figured out it was you who pulled papyrus’s name due to the process of elimination, but no one said anything. You feel your cheeks heat up as well.

“Well? W-what does it s-say?” Undyne asks, very curious now that she realizes it was you who wrote it. Not only does she know about your crush, she happened to see you write a ton of stuff down earlier, so she was a bit confused as to why he only got one thing listed.

“It uh… It isn’t important.” He mumbles, his cheeks becoming a bit brighter. Sans stomps his foot.

“BUT I WANNA KNOW WHAT ____ SAID! SHE ONLY LISTED ONE THING, SO IT MUST BE AN IMPORTANT ONE THING!” Sans tries to take the paper, but Papyrus pulls it out of his reach.

“Nuh-uh.” While he was holding it up and away from his brother, Asgore sneaks up behind him.

“Now let’s see here,” he says as he quickly snatches the paper from Papyrus, who startles and quickly protest it being taken away from him, “it says… Awww, how sweet ____!” Asgore beams at you, and your face instantly catches on fire.

“’Gore, please,” Papyrus says, reaching up to steal the paper back. Asgore allows him only because he already knows what it says.

Everyone, minus Napstabot, instantly starts asking what it said, their curiosity instantly peaked.

“I do not know, Paps seems pretty embarrassed by it… but maybe I could tell? No, no, that would be rude of me,” Asgore teases, causing them to groan in frustration.

“Absolutely everything.” You say, which causes all eyes to turn on you. You feel your cheeks burn brighter, “I wrote ‘absolutely everything’.”

Everyone goes silent, the only noise in the room is the Adventure Time theme song. Then suddenly, all at once, everyone (minus the three who already read it and Temmie, who was gagging) let’s out a big ‘awwwwww!’ that startles you.

“You’re so c-cute and sweet!” Undyne says while hugging your head to her chest. You chuckle bashfully.

“Ya MUSHY nerd! You’re lucky my girlfriend is hugging you or I’d be giving you a noogie right now!” Alphys says, and you’re suddenly very grateful that Undyne is smothering you.

“I KNEW YOU WOULDN’T HAVE ONLY WROTE ONE THING FOR NOTHING! ALTHOUGH YOU SHOULD HAVE WRITTEN ABSOLUTELY EVERYTHING EXPECT PUNS!” Sans shoots his brother, who has calmed down some, a look.

Chara even sends you a wink when you look over at them.

“Well, it seems that Sans and Papyrus are the winners!” Asgore suddenly states, changing the subject so the rest of the evening isn’t spent gushing over you. “I’ll be baking a pie for them to take home. While I bake, everyone should go outside and roast marshmallows or just enjoy the campfire! We can share some stories when I come out before everyone has to head home!” At Asgore’s suggestion, Chara quickly darts past him into the kitchen, most likely to grab the marshmallow. Everyone heads out the back door to reach the campfire.

It has been an hour or so since everyone went outside. Asgore joined everyone pretty quickly after everyone went out to start story-time, but no one has yet to leave. Most likely everyone will end up staying the night, as that happens some activity nights. You were a little away from the group, close enough to still be a part of the group but far enough that most people don’t pay you any attention.

“Yo.” You give a small jump at the familiar voice that suddenly sounds beside you. You quickly turn your head to see Papyrus, who wasn’t there two seconds ago, sitting beside you.

“Hey,” You respond quietly, giving him a soft smile. You turn your attention back to the firepit to distract yourself from staring at him. The glow of the fire on his face would mesmerize you if you looked too long.

“So… Absolutely everything?” Papyrus nudges you gently with his shoulders when he speaks, and you feel heat creep across your cheeks that has nothing to do with the fire.

“Haha, yeah.” Is your awkward response. How else are you supposed to respond? ‘yeah, I like everything about you because you’re amazing and I’ve never felt like this about anyone before’ didn’t seem appropriate.

“Care to elaborate sweetheart?” You feel your blush intensify at the name. He calls you sweetheart often, but it never fails to make you flush just a tiny bit.

“Well, actually, I can,” you say as you reach into your coat pocket. The list he read wasn’t the first list you wrote. You wrote a long list before the ‘absolutely everything’ list but got too nervous and had to quickly come up with something else. You hesitate when he reaches for it, which causes him to raise an eyebrow at you.

You want to give it to him, but you’re afraid. If your feelings weren’t obvious already, then they certainly would be afterward. You knew that Papyrus wouldn’t make it awkward if he didn’t feel the same, but you still didn’t want to feel the rejection. Papyrus grabs the paper, tugging it lightly but not forcefully. He won't take it if you really don’t want him it.

You almost take it back, but you remember what Undyne said. “J-just let him know. I promise, the o-only thing you’ll r-regret is not telling him sooner, even if he r-rejects y-you – which I doubt he will!”

You let go of the paper, your face heating up even more. You bring your knees to your chest and cross your arms over them, gently resting your head on top of your arms while waiting. You could feel butterflies in your stomach.

“Let’s see here… Oh.” Papyrus’s face turns a different shade of orange than the fire glow while he reads over the list. He reads it out loud.

“What I like about Papyrus:

His smile

His laugh

Especially the laugh he does whenever I catch him off-guard with a good pun

The way he looks at sans and occasionally me (its scribbled out, but still readable)

His personality

His puns and jokes

The way his eyes twinkle whenever he thinks of a particularly clever pun

The way he cares

His face when he gets frustrated

His face when he’s concentrating

His clothing choice

His blush”

The list goes to thirty – where you realize you’ve probably written to much, so you stopped – but your face is super heated and you’re embarrassed so you tell Papyrus to stop.

It’s silent between you two for a long while. You feel yourself get fidgety. Papyrus knows how you feel now (how could he not after that?), and you wonder if he’s going to pretend he doesn’t realize or reject you. You doubt he feels the same. He’s probably just embarrassed that you feel this way towards him, and that’s why he blushes whenever you do certain things. He probably realized your feelings way earlier.

“____.” You flinch whenever he calls out your name, jerking your head away from the fire and towards him.

“I-I! I’m sorry! You can ignore the list. I know you don’t feel the same. I’m just silly, ignore me.” You quickly say while reaching for the list. Papyrus puts it out of your reach, so you have to lean up and over him to even have a chance at grabbing it.

“Whoa, who says I don’t feel the same?” His words make you stop reaching for the paper altogether. Your attention turns to his face, and he winks at you, “I could list the number of days I’ve thought about being able to get with Ya. ____, yer perfect. Anyone would be a complete moron to not return yer feelings.” Papyrus says with a soft smile. He expression and eyes held nothing but adoration.

You feel like your soul was about to burst with all the emotions you are feeling; relief, happiness, love, and disbelief all swirling together. You want to respond to him, maybe ask him on a date or ask what this all means towards your relationship with him. Did he want to wait and go on a couple of dates first, or did he want to make it official right here and now?

You fail to notice Papyrus starting to sweat.

“Did… Did I misread ya somehow? I’m sorry. I thought that ya wanted… I mean, ya made seem like ya felt the same.” Papyrus starts rambling, fumbling with the paper in his hands while he tries to scoot back from you (you were practically on top of him trying to get paper). His expression was crestfallen.

He hadn’t misread you, but you got busy with your thoughts to realize that he might come to his own conclusions when you didn’t answer him. You quickly grab the first thing your hands can get ahold of – his hoodie strings – and stop him from moving any farther.

“I really really like you Paps.” You quickly say, and he instantly stops his weak attempts at trying to get away. He lets out a sigh of relief, a blush slowly spreading across his cheeks. He sheepishly rubs the back of his neck

“Oh, good. ‘cause I really really like you too.” He says in relief before smiling at you with a genuine smile. It was your favorite smile, a smile that used to rarely happen but has appeared more often the last year.

A warm smile overcomes your face. You could feel happiness and affection swelling in your chest, growing the longer you gaze at him.

“Can I...?” You don’t continue the question, but you gently tug his hoodie strings towards you while you lean forward slightly. His split-second confusion is replaced with instant realization. He doesn’t respond, but he does lean forwards, so you take that as a sign of yes.

You grip his strings a little tighter whenever your noses gently bump into each other. You sit like that for a few seconds, your nose close enough to gently brush against his. You could feel his warm breath with how close you were. You briefly wonder how kissing a skeleton would work, but the thought dies whenever Papyrus gets tired of just sitting there.

He presses his teeth against your lips, and your entire body shivers are the buzz of his magic that sparks against your mouth. Your face flushes a deep red as you return the sweet kiss. You pull his strings towards you, pulling him closer to you and deepening then kiss. He lets out a tiny noise of approval.

Both of you jump at the sound of several cameras, and you quickly pull away to see that everyone’s attention was on you two. Can your entire body blush? Because you feel like it is blushing in mortification.

“Why did you stop NERDS!? It was just getting interesting! Papyrus even hand his hand sneaking up her shirt!” You blink at that and look down, and notice your shirt was slightly hiked up where Papyrus must have been sneaking his hands underneath it. You look over at him, but he avoids any eye contact with you.

You didn’t mind, but you would like some warning before he tried to get grabby with his hands.

“BROTHER! I NEVER KNEW YOU HAD IT IN YOU! YOU SLY DOG!” Sans teases his brother, which causes Papyrus to somehow glow brighter. Sans rarely has a chance to tease Papyrus, and it is always funny to watch the bubbly skeleton pick on his younger brother. Too bad you can’t enjoy it fully right now, as you’re part of the teasing.

“I’m so glad my child fell asleep while I was telling stories, or you two would be in a lot of trouble.” Asgore scolds lightly, and you’re relieved that Chara was asleep too. They would never let you live this down.

Everyone starts to join in on teasing you and Papyrus, besides Undyne who is blushing furiously and switches between looking at her phone, glancing at you and Papyrus, and giving you happy smiles. She’ll most likely tease you when you hang out with her. It takes a while, but eventually everyone calms down to call it a night.

As you guessed earlier, everyone would be staying over at Asgore’s place tonight (minus Happstablook who doesn’t sleep and just fades away back home, and Toriel). Blankets and pillows are thrown everywhere, Alphys was sulking on the floor – Papyrus said that his prize could be the couch while Sans’s prize could be the pie, so Alphys didn’t get to sleep on the couch this time – with Undyne who was basically laying on top of her. Napstabot was charging in the corner, and Sans angrily declared earlier that he would be sleeping in Chara and Temmie’s room when Papyrus made a joke about him being Napstabot. Asgore was in his own room.

You are on the rocking chair that reclines, pushing the seat as far as it’ll go so you could try and get some sleep.

“Hey.” You open one eye to see Papyrus laying on his stomach with his arms crossed, his head resting on top of them while he stares at you.

“Hey,” you say sleepily in reply. Despite being sleepy, a fond smile crosses your face and your emotions from earlier return.

He doesn’t say anything, but he does turn on his back and lifts his arms upwards. He glances at you from over his shoulder, raising one eyebrow in question.

You stare at him sleepily for a second before it finally caught on what he was silently asking. You slowly put the chair back to its original position, careful not to make much noise, before standing and making your way to Papyrus.

You pull back his blanket and pretty much fall into his arms. It wasn’t the first time you’ve cuddle him, monsters are all about platonic cuddles. You’ve cuddled Sans and Undyne, and even been pulled into a cuddle session with both Alphys and Undyne at the same time. It’s the only reason why you didn’t get hopeful when Papyrus asked you to cuddle the first time or any other time.

You bury your face into his hoodie on his shoulder. He chuckles lightly, using his magic to pull up the blanket and wrap it around the both of you. He adjusts the two of you so that you’re pressed against him and the back of the couch – the couch was big enough to fir both of you snuggly. He wraps both his arms around you and pulls you close, and you return the favor by doing the same to him.

“gnight, sweetheart,” he mumbles, pressing a quick kiss on top of your hair. A smile overcomes your face despite being almost asleep.

“Goodnight, Paps.”

#Underswap #Underswap Papyrus #Underswap Sans #Underswap Asgore #Underswap Toriel #Underswap Chara #Underswap Napstabot #Underswap Happstablook #Underswap Undyne #Underswap Alphys #Underswap Temmie

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