#this is like...the least shippy thing ever i am so sorry hey i tried

[swanfrcst]

between the moonbeams

fandom: owari no seraph | gureshin | ~4k words

summary: the hiiragi’s reign must end – and this duty rests in guren’s hands.

a/n: late entry for @onsshipsweek day one: the past & royalty & falling into darkness ||| this is a vague royalty/assassination plot au...give me the gureshin angst

content warnings for: character death (lol)

(this will be posted on ao3 after it’s beta-d and fixed up a bit but i wanted to get it out for the week before it was SUPER late...)

NOW:

“Are you ready?” Shigure asks quietly, carefully.

Guren cannot see her face behind the thick black mask she wears, but her tone carries her worry well. Worry about too many things to properly articulate in the sharp, curt way Shigure often does.

“As ready as I’ll ever be,” Guren responds. He slips on his own mask, securing the straps behind his ears. One last check of the knives hidden in the folds of his clothes, the homemade bombs strapped snugly to his waist, the sword sheathed tightly to his side.

A quick glance to the four people standing beside him reveals that they are all standing at attention, waiting for Guren to give the command. There is tension between them, borne from urgency and determination. Guren inhales and wonders if he will be sending all his friends to their deaths.

“Operation Namanari, begin.”

Inside the castle, the hallways burst with light and cheer. Hiiragi Tenri’s party is bustling with exotic foods and upbeat music, nobles dressed in rich silks and gleaming gems coasting room to room. Shinya keeps his smile bright throughout the entire evening, making small talk with various men and women and bowing politely whenever he passes one of his older brothers.

It’s not until Mahiru appears at his side, beautiful silver dress trailing behind her like swan feathers, does Shinya realize how tired he is.

“You look a little worse for wear, brother,” Mahiru says. And what a hypocrite she is, Shinya thinks, for Mahiru’s still got her royalty smile painted prettily on her lips, even when she is talking to him.

“Well,” Shinya replies, letting himself relax for the first time that night, carefully rolling a glass of sparkling wine between his fingertips, “I’m not the best people pleaser in the royal family.”

Mahiru cocks her head, considering Shinya first and then the crowd around them. There is no one paying any attention to them, and there was still some time until the planned speeches and banquet party. Humming lightly, Mahiru daintily places a gloved hand on Shinya arm, smile shifting into something more organic, more real.

“Shinya,” she says, “Won’t you accompany me to the courtyards? It looks like both of us could use some fresh air.”

Immediately recognizing the spark of adventure in her eyes, Shinya barks out in laughter. “It would be my honor.” 

BEFORE:

Shinya sticks his face through the gilded iron bars of the fence and says, “You know that commoners aren’t allowed this close to the castle without permission, right? You should leave before my father catches you.”

There is a startled cry and the boy who had been furtively crouching behind a bush raises his head above it.

“What’s it to you?” he snaps defensively, and Shinya notes with curiosity the smudges of dirt and mud on the boy’s cheeks and the way leaves and sticks have become matted in his dark hair.

“I’m a prince, duh,” Shinya replies. “And you’re trespassing on my house.”

The only reason Shinya is at the castle’s back gate is because he is awfully bored after having escaped the pesky private tutor. Besides, Shinya is practically last in line for the throne anyways, and all his siblings know he couldn’t really care less about being a king. In the end, it’s up to Kureto and Mahiru can fight it out. But for now, Shinya is too young to understand what exactly it all means.

Shinya also hasn’t seen anyone outside of his family or the castle staff before, which is why he decides to stay and talk to this strange boy instead of running away and alerting a guard.

Surprisingly, the boy doesn’t cower in fear or run away. Instead, he glances around quickly before stepping out of the bushes with an angry glower. Shinya supposes it is meant to be menacing, but as someone who has lived with Hiiragi Tenri for eight years, the boy’s expression is simply amusing.

“Listen, you,” the boy hisses in a quiet rage, “I don’t need a stupid prince to tell me what to do! I can go where ever I want and do whatever I want and you can’t stop me!”

What is his problem, Shinya wonders, and falls into silence, staring at this strange boy who spouts strange things and is somehow not afraid of anything.

The boy snarls in response to Shinya’s silence and raises his face to glare at Shinya. His eyes are dark and alight with passion, but it is markedly different from the ambition often reflected in brother Kureto’s gaze. Shinya immediately decides that he’s made a new friend.

With this epiphany in mind, Shinya smiles and waves at the boy, who stops growling in confusion. “Wait here,” Shinya says, and runs off before the boy can respond.

Shinya heads straight for the pathway hidden behind a ring of large stone sculptures and a thick grove of trees. There’s a hole in the wall blocked by a big rock, the hole big enough for Shinya to squeeze through. As long as he’s not gone for too long, this secret should stay with him for years to come.

For now, he just wants to meet his new friend. So Shinya squeezes his eyes shut to prevent bugs from getting on his face and painstakingly shimmies through the hole, carefully pushing the rock back as much as he can once he crawls out. The strange boy watches him this entire time, tense but anticipating.

Brushing off the dirt on his knees and elbows, Shinya confidently marches toward the boy, who quickly turns around, making sure his back isn’t facing Shinya – a motion Shinya takes note of. But these mysteries he can solve later. After all, Shinya’s got all the time in the world.

“Hello,” Shinya says, putting on his brightest, most charming smile. The roughness in the boy’s expression fades a little, as if he’s letting his guard down.

“My name is Hiiragi Shinya.” he continues, “Would you like to be my friend?”

NOW:

Guren glances up at the full moon, frowning. Perhaps it would have been better to wait until there was less moonlight – less chance of them being seen. But Hiiragi parties were a rare, exclusive event, and Guren did not have limitless patience. By this point, it was now or never.

At his side, Goshi reaches out and taps his shoulder twice before flashing Guren a thumbs up and slipping away into the shadows. Shigure and Mito had already left earlier, each of them fulfilling their part of the plan.

After Goshi leaves, Guren presses his back against the rough, tall wall surrounding the Hiiragi castle and counts his breaths, marking the seconds that pass by. Accompanied by nothing but the moonlight and the white noise of crickets singing, Guren manages to still his movements and let his thoughts wander. All at once, the sword by his side seems heavier than normal, as if reminding him of the weight his actions will carry.

(              There was once a time where Guren had stood next to the youngest Hiiragi prince as an equal, kissed his scrapes and bruises until the young boy had shed tears from laughter rather than pain, held his hand under the midday sun and the starlight from a new moon. There still are times when Guren wakes up to the memory of a warmth pressed against his side, the echoes of kisses fading from his cheeks, his neck. Once, he wakes up with tears in his eyes and a name on the tip of his tongue.               )

But of course, duty outweighs love, and Guren has had years of practice shutting away his heart.

On their way to the courtyard, they pass by a lone servant carrying a tray of food through the hallway. Her dark blonde hair is tucked neatly into a small braid, and when she sees them approaches, immediately begins to kneel.

“No, no,” Shinya cries, a little flustered, although the serving girl seems more affected, judging from the way she trembles, “it’s quite alright, please stand.”

“Mahiru-sama, Shinya-sama,” she whispers, “Please excuse me.”

Mahiru, however, has stilled, carefully watching the girl as she slowly rises to her feet, head bent and eyes averted.

“What’s your name?” Mahiru calls out. The servant flinches.

“S-Sayuri, my lady,” she says, still refusing to meet Mahiru’s eyes.

“Mahiru,” Shinya asks, “What in the world are you doing?”, because Mahiru’s got that look in her eye that spells nothing but trouble.

“Oh, nothing you need to worry about,” the princess says, brushing off Shinya’s concerns with a wave of her hand before turning back to the servant. “Sayuri, darling, won’t you accompany Shinya and I? Just bring that tray of snacks with you, it’ll be appreciated.”

Of course, the serving girl can’t refuse, so she bows and follows Shinya and Mahiru into one of the Hiiragi family’s many courtyards. This one has a curved koi pond in the middle of the grassy space, a cobblestoned path winding through the trees planted against the wall.

Humming cheerfully, Mahiru carefully gathers her dress and walks along the edge of the pond, peering at the fish that flit about. The moon reflects on the surface, casting glowing silver ripples across the dark water.

The courtyard is far quieter than the commotion inside, and Shinya sighs deeply, stretching his arms out. “Finally,” he says, laughing, “I have escaped.”

Mahiru scoffs. “If only.”

(There is a rustle in the treetops, and a startled bird squawks and takes flight. “A squirrel?” Shinya asks carelessly, following Mahiru around the pond. She shrugs. Both of them ignore Sayuri, who has fixed a sharp look onto what seems to be empty space.)

The two siblings stand before one of the stone benches lining the pond, Shinya brushing away the dust and grass before gesturing for Mahiru to sit down. She smiles sweetly at him, waving Sayuri over and plucking a small pastry from the plate. Shinya sits next to her, stretching his legs out in a manner very unbefitting of royalty. The two let the blessed silence wash over them, basking in the moonlight.

“Say,” Mahiru muses suddenly, breaking the silence. She carefully smooths out some wrinkles in her dress, flicking away imaginary lint. “This would be a perfect night for an assassination, wouldn’t it?”

Shinya, who has just taken a bite of a small slice of pie, chokes. It takes a bit of sputtering and sipping from a glass of water offered by Sayuri for him to recover. Meanwhile, Mahiru still wears the same amused expression, as if she is in on some secret Shinya doesn’t know.

Perhaps she is – Shinya wouldn’t be surprised.

“You shouldn’t speak like that, sister,” Shinya says, although it is more of a reflexive response than anything.

Mahiru coughs softly, and Sayuri says gently, “Is there anything you need, Mahiru-sama?”

“Oh,” the princess says, “I’d like one of the specialty rolls brother Seishirou has been raving about. Get some for Shinya as well.”

Sayuri sets her platter of food down and bows deeply before quickly walking away. Watching this quaint exchange, and observing Mahiru’s nonchalant demeanor, Shinya suddenly has a very bad feeling about what the rest of the night holds.

THEN:

“Guren, where have you been all day? I already told you that today we were going to meet an important ally, how could you forget?!”

As Guren steps through the foyer of the safe house, he rubs his face and does his best to ignore Mito’s snarls grating at his eardrums. She is standing in front of him, arms crossed and brow furrowed, but Guren realizes he barely has the energy to care.

“Something important,” Guren says flippantly, pushing past Mito and walking toward the kitchen. “Narumi and his men can wait.”

“They’ve been waiting!” Mito screeches, pivoting sharply and storming after Guren. “You realize they are the only viable providers of the materials we need? Do you want to throw our entire operation into jeopardy?”

Guren ignores Mito’s ranting and goes straight to the bedroom, locks the door behind him. Eventually, she falls silent and leaves, no doubt to fume some more elsewhere. If it were at any other time, Guren would feel guilty and irresponsible – but –

.

Shinya finds him in their regular meeting spot: a small, hidden alcove about a mile from the castle. He’s smiling ear to ear, a cloth bag in one hand and a wine bottle in the other.

“You’re extra smiley today,” Guren notes, swinging down from his comfortable position wedged on the branches of a tree. “What’s the occasion?”

“Well,” Shinya says, gesturing for Guren to come closer, “it’s not every day that you ask me to meet you, so I thought I’d celebrate you finally deciding to take the next step in our relationship!”

He is joking, Guren knows, but Guren’s throat still closes with the knowledge of what he is about to do. But he is careful to let none of it show and playfully hits Shinya’s arm instead.

“What relationship?” Guren says with a small smile, “I only keep you for the food you bring me.”

Shinya nods knowingly. “Of course. Who knows what kind of food you commoners eat every day? It’s about time you treat yourself.”

Saying so, Shinya waves the bag in Guren’s face and sits, placing the bottle of wine next to him as he opens the bag and begins to carefully take out the prepackaged snacks inside. Guren, however, stays standing, even when Shinya looks up expectantly.

“What’s wrong?” Shinya asks, “Are you ok?”

Guren is so, so careful to make sure that his expression stays neutral, as if he didn’t quite care about what he would be saying next.

“Shinya,” he begins, watching as Shinya recognizes the change in atmosphere and sets the package in his hands down. “We should end this.”

“End this? Are you afraid of being caught?”

“No, it’s just – there is no point in us meeting any more. In fact, there was no point in the first place. It’s time to move on.”

A lie, a lie, a lie, but who is Guren to tell?

NOW:

Guren hears “I’d like one of the specialty rolls – “ and immediately tips his head up and left, waiting for the visual signal. Already, the palms of his hands are sweating, almost soaking through his gloves. In the corner of his eye, a shadow shifts; one of Shigure’s throwing knives streaks silently through the air and lands snugly in the dirt next to his feet.

Bending down to pocket the knife, Guren flashes a hand signal in Shigure’s general direction. Then, he sets his shoulders and begins to climb the wall. The rough stone digs into his hands, and even his gloves aren’t thick enough to stop the chill from slipping past the fabric. Fortunately (or unfortunately, depending how he looks at it), the climb is longer than expected and he has the time to really stop the slight tremors in his arms that aren’t caused by physical exertion.

He reaches a dip in the wall, where the surface has been smoothed out by wind and rain, and swears under his breath. Now he has to carefully shift to the side, searching for a better path. Even in the darkness, Guren can feel Shigure’s eyes on him, tracking his movement, ready to provide assistance if needed.

But Guren knows that if he does not climb over this wall himself, he will never be able to carry out the task he has been assigned. So he grits his teeth and pulls himself over the final stretch of concrete and stone.

Once his vertigo settles, Guren takes in the courtyard below him. There is a grove of trees in front of him, effectively shielding him from Shinya and Mahiru who are sitting in a stone bench facing away from him and toward a small fish pond, idly chatting about kingdom affairs.

Guren can’t see Shigure, but he knows she is positioned to his right, knives and wire traps at the ready. Behind him is Mito, crouched on top of the wall with a quiver slung over her shoulder and a taunt bow ready to fire. She’s got a bottle of oil and a flint stone by her side as well, along with sheets of flammable cloth.

This is for the greater good, Guren repeats in his mind. This is for the greater good –

A flash of silver whistles through the night, moonlight catching off the polished metal of Shigure’s knives as they shoot past Shinya and Mahiru. Six, seven, eight of them find spots in the dirt, in the cracks of the stone path, in the barks of trees. Another flick of the wrist, another five, six, seven slip out of the trees, and this time, the razor-thin wires attached to each knife flash in the moonlight.

Shinya’s eyes grow wide, and he leaps to his feet, ready to flee (or fight? he doesn’t know).

“Mahiru,” he says urgently, “Mahiru, what – “

Sayuri closes the courtyard door behind her and peaks down the hallway, listening for footsteps. When she hears none, she quietly bolts the door shut and wedges a block of wood in the gap between the lock.

Then, she pats down her dress and quickly walks away. The blades hidden in the sleeves of her uniform press against her skin – a reminder.

THEN:

The talk of the city is this: Mahiru is getting married.

A political marriage from the looks of it, betrothed to a prince of a neighboring country, a country with access to certain natural resources that the Hiiragi kingdom lacked.

But when the Hiiragis do their annual parade around the capitol to celebrate King Hiiragi’s birthday, Mahiru sits upon her carriage dressed in lavish robes and with a satisfied smile dancing on her lips. Guren stands among the gathered crowd, watching along with the rest of the city as the Hiiragi royal family passes through.

Curiously, the moment Mahiru turns her head in Guren’s direction is the moment when the sun sparks off the edge of the carriage, momentarily blinding Guren. He curses silently and brings his hand up to shade his eyes, but when his vision clears, Mahiru is looking away and the carriage has passed.

No matter. Guren has gotten what he came for, and quietly slips away through the crowd.

A few days later, Hiiragi Mahiru knocks on the door of the safehouse listed on the letter she’d received. The door swings open to reveal a timid-looking girl who bows when she sees the visitor.

“Come in,” Sayuri says, “Guren has been expecting you.”

Mahiru stays for less than half an hour. When Guren walks out into the living room, Mahiru, dressed in a simple cloak and body void of any makeup or jewelry, seizes him up and smiles unkindly.

“So you’re the man who has my brother in the depths of misery,” she says, voice carefully flat.

“It was a mistake,” Guren replies with just as much emotion. “And I think we both know that duty comes first.”

After this exchange, Mahiru listens carefully to Guren’s plan and agrees to it with little resistance. Before she leaves, she turns to Sayuri and says, “I will be seeing you soon, then.”

Sayuri simply bows and the door closes behind Mahiru, her footsteps fading away into the night.

NOW:

Mahiru sits on the stone bench and does not move, even as a knife flashes right in front of her face, narrowly missing her nose, even as Shinya jumps up and cuts his arm on a taunt wire stretched through the air. She is calm, eyes fixed on a point in the distance.

“Shinya,” she finally says, “If I were you, I wouldn’t move.”

And Shinya freezes because this is the voice Mahiru uses when she is deadly serious, when she expects complete compliance and nothing else. But why?

Suddenly, Shinya feels something shift underneath his feet, and a tremor shakes the earth. Shinya leans down to steady himself against the bench, swearing under his breath as the invisible wires leave cuts on his cheeks, his arms, his shoulders. Then – there is an ear shattering explosion and part of the castle goes up in flames.

“What is going on?” Shinya screams, planting his feet firmly into the ground as another explosion rattles the earth. Ash has begun to float from the interior of the castle where the explosions had gone off, the wind dusting black flakes of burnt material onto the grass.

Still, Mahiru sits calmly, hands folded neatly in her lap, hair still pinned perfectly with not a strand out of place. This image is so unbearable wrong, and dread begins to pile low in his stomach. Shinya ignores the fact that there are razor sharp wires hovering by him that could kill him in an instant and steps forward to grab Mahiru roughly by the shoulders.

“Mahiru,” he hisses, and Mahiru slowly meets his eyes. “Explain.”

A flicker of weariness reflects in her eyes. “I am sorry, Shinya,” she says quietly, even as another explosion echoes through the night. “But this is for the best.”

“For the best? What best? Why is this happening?”

But before Mahiru can answer, and arrow streaks out from the shadows, lodging itself neatly into Shinya’s shoulder. He yells in pain, stumbling backwards, even as another knife sparks through the air, a warning.

An assassination, Shinya thinks through the haze. But why? Who?

And why does Mahiru not care at all?

Through the crackle of flames and the chaos from the castle in front of him, Shinya hears the soft tap of something – someone – landing on the grass behind him. Mahiru turns her head, eyes widening a fraction, but Shinya doesn’t notice. Instead, he turns around, slowly, as carefully as he can with an arrow in his shoulder.

There is a person, dressed in all black, face covered with a mask that is flat and dull and catches no light at all. The person lifts their head up, seemingly glancing over Mahiru first, then Shinya, and just as Shinya is about to open his mouth to speak, another explosion drowns out his words.

The last thing Shinya sees the masked figure, framed by the light of the full moon, and the silver glint of a blade as it swings down, down, down.

AFTER:

Guren stumbles out of the smoke, into the streets of a city that was far too active for this early in the morning. But it’s to be expected – the Hiiragi castle is in flames and no one knows why.

Turn left, pass three alleyways, another left – into a small medicine store and down the staircase into the storage cellar he runs, pushing open the hidden door and finally coming to rest before a group of people gathered in the secret room. Standing at the end of a wooden table is a man, tall and slim, with pale white skin and an unsettling smile. He watches Guren as he catches his breath.

Sayuri and Goshi immediately come to his side, checking for injuries. Guren knows that Mito and Shigure will be here soon as well.

“You did it,” the man says. “I didn’t think you could, considering – “

Guren barks out a peal of laughter, rough around the edges and sharp in the middle. He pulls off his mask, peeling off his gloves. Sayuri quickly takes them.

“It hardly matters now, does it?” Guren sneers. “We’ve completed our part of the mission, and that is the end of our association with your rebel group.”

The man only smiles, hands clasped behind his back, unperturbed. “So be it,” he says, “I wish you luck in your future endeavors, Ichinose.”

Behind Guren, the door swings open, and Mito and Shigure step into the room. They do not close the door behind them. Guren takes a deep breath, straightens his back.

“Let’s go,” he says, and leads the way out into the darkness.

#onsshipsweek #owari no seraph #ichinose guren #hiiragi shinya #gureshin #guren squad #hiiragi mahiru #swankitty writes #this is like...the least shippy thing ever i am so sorry hey i tried #also this entry was not SUPPOSED to be this late but then again it wasn't supposed to be more than 1.5k SO...rest in pieces

[masterwords]

Okay for asks, what about Hotch and the team are dealing with a hostile and skeptical police chief, and the chief is really going in on Hotch, and Hotch is doing his best to deal with it calmly, but it’s already been a long and stressful case and the police force have been absolutely no help, doubting and fighting the team the whole time, and the police person says something Hotch’s father used to, and Hotch just has a full on flashback/panic attack type thing in front of at least the team, if not the police force too. And one of the team (probably Morgan) tries to just hold him and bring him back to reality. Feel free to change the setting and cause or whatever as much as you like, but that’s the general concept! I’m kind of a sucker for Hotch angst + the team seeing Hotch be vulnerable 😶‍🌫️

I do want to say, though, that if this is something you’ve already done something similar for, or if it’s boring, please don’t feel obligated to write it! Only if it will be fun for you!

Hey! Thank you for trusting me with your idea. I will say, I am not sure I could ever get tired of putting Hotch into situations where he's vulnerable so feel free to send asks anytime. <3 This is mostly platonic Hotchgan, but it's vague enough that it could be shippy. I like to look at it that way always but I know not everyone does. :)

Warnings: migraine, panic attack

Words: 4358 (HOLY CRAP I'M SORRY. This got massively out of hand.)

**

It was already a two day migraine. Strong enough that even his contacts were a problem.

It was no sleep in a bed for longer. Sure, he'd found fifteen minutes to lay his head down on the desk in his hotel room, set the alarm, and doze off while the coffee pot spit out it's goods for the third time that day. That didn't amount to much more than disorientation and a new pain in his neck.

It was a victim's family living in a house that looked just like his own childhood house. The very same Southern charm, immaculate interior, plastered smiles.

It was all of these things, and still it could have been none of them when he considered his state of mind in general. This case was worse than anything he'd experienced in as long as he could remember, everything about it. The way the LEOs treated them, the way Jack had cried when he told him they were leaving, the intense heat and humidity. Hell, maybe it was the fact that the police station only had Sweet n Low and he hated Spencer using that garbage in his coffee but he wouldn't drink it unsweetened. The police were less than welcoming, had sent Derek and Dave off in the opposite direction of the dumpsites more than once just for laughs. Gotten them lost in corn fields on dead end roads. He was keeping JJ and Emily away from the station, not allowing the LEOs the chance to make their “little lady” comments to their faces, behind their backs was bad enough. The things they said to Spencer were enraging.

But that time he spent sleeping, that was the best part of his entire week. Eyes closed, riding the waves of intense pounding in his head and nausea coursing through him. The rest of the world faded away, it was just him and his pain and that was somehow comforting. He was startled by a knock at his door three minutes before his alarm was set to go off, pulled from whatever sleep he'd managed to sink into. He blinked hard a few times, felt his contacts pull at his lids, threaten not to let them open again. Against his better judgement he pressed his fingertips to his eyes, rubbed gently and felt one contact pop free, slip backward. Another frantic knock and he stood, rushed toward the door while trying to get a grip on the renegade contact, ready to rip them right out and just wear his glasses.

Spencer stood in the doorway, an awkward smile on his face. “Are you ready to head back?” he asked, as if it were a treat to get to go back to the station, to try and work with a Sheriff and his deputies that didn't want to play nice. They'd only been in their rooms for an hour, just their forced “lunch break” though Aaron hadn't eaten a bite, just drank a glass of lukewarm water followed by a pot of coffee. With any luck, his heart would explode right there in the Georgia heat. He beckoned Spencer in, told him he'd be ready in just a minute and maneuvered blindly to the bathroom to take out the offending contacts. Returning in glasses, pushing them high on the bridge of his nose, he noted Spencer's look of shock. The look he tried to hide but couldn't. Aaron smiled gently, tried to ease the tension in the room, pressed at the sore spot on his neck with his middle finger for a moment and said he was ready.

He let Spencer drive. That should have been the moment, right there, that tipped him off. Aaron slid into the passenger seat without even offering to drive, and Spencer shrugged it off easily, maybe he was just tired or maybe it had something to do with his glasses. Whatever it was, he wasn't concerned about the other man's fragile state of mind. They discussed the case, whether they honestly thought they'd catch their unsub or if they'd be heading home empty handed – neither of them had high hopes. The police and their lack of cooperation gave them more than enough cause to doubt the success of their case. The city roads gave way to crops on either side of them, a sea of bright green as far as the eye could see. Spencer regaled Aaron with whatever knowledge he could produce on each separate crop, the types of pests that liked to ransack them, the reason the dirt was good for each one, anything he could think to fill the void left by Aaron's silence.

All Aaron wanted was quiet. His head was beyond painful, and though the contacts had been hard to contend with, now he had the pressure from the glasses resting behind his ears making him feel sick. He closed his eyes and leaned his head back against the seat, humming and acknowledging Spencer's questions when appropriate. There was something about Spencer's voice, the way he jumped down the rabbit hole and never looked back that was soothing, it was why he'd kept Spencer close and sent the others out. He never looked too deep, never tried to dissect Aaron's moods, his behaviors. Just accepted them. Derek and Dave had to go, they would have had him cornered in his hotel room, chained to the bed. They looked too close, knew him too well. Derek would coddle him, Dave would scold him. Both options sounded awful, so he chose Spencer and his cautiously aloof nature.

The station was the lone building in the sea of crops. They serviced the entire rural area and they didn't care for having the FBI haunting their halls but the mayor had insisted they get a handle on things before harvest time flooded the area with migrant workers and gave their unsub a mass of fresh targets. Aaron feared that the unsub was gone, the trail was cold already and likely wouldn't heat up until it was time to harvest, he was probably hunting somewhere further south that was already starting to run their combines.

It was quiet in the station, only a few deputies hung around, chatting around the coffee pot. They hadn't seen the Sheriff for hours now, he was running double duty with another office a county over until they elected a new official.

“Hotch?” Spencer asked, pulling him from the spell of the coffee pot. He turned slowly, exhausted, on his third cup of the battery acid they were passing off as coffee already and it was doing nothing to keep his eyes from falling shut and staying that way. No rest for the weary.

“Yes?” he replied, a moment later than he should have. His brain was working on a delay, like the sound and the action weren't quite in sync. He'd watched a movie with Jack the week prior, the mouths and the words they said were a split second off and it had driven him crazy. Jack didn't seem to notice. It threw everything off, made him feel itchy and exposed. Spencer paused, or Aaron thought he did anyway, before continuing.

“Sheriff Morrison wants to speak to us in his office.”

Aaron pressed his free hand to his eyebrows, rubbed hard with the pads of his fingers and sighed. “This should be good,” he muttered. Spencer smiled. He hated this, the way they were being treated, but it brought out a sarcastic side of Aaron he wasn't often privy to and for that, at least, he was thankful.

“I can't figure out this geographical profile,” Spencer said, walking shoulder to shoulder with Aaron through the station. “I've marked everywhere on the map that victims have been found, and where they came from, and it just doesn't make sense. We're missing something.”

“I have some concerns,” Aaron said under his breath, pressing his glasses up on the bridge of his nose, “about the files we've been given. I suspect they've been doctored.”

“Doctored? But why would they...”

“Not now, Reid,” Aaron whispered, approaching the Sheriff's office. He rapped twice with the backs of his knuckles, peering into the empty room. “You're sure he said to meet him here?”

“Yes, I'm sure Hotch,” and of course he was. Aaron knew better than to question Spencer's memory. They stood for a moment, figuring they should wait. It wasn't long before the Sheriff approached them with a few deputies in tow, returning from their lunch break.

“That map of yours is interesting,” one of the deputies said, his drawl exaggerated and slow. He smiled. “Looks like Kindee-garden art class was fun today.”

“Excuse me?” Aaron asked, stepping in front of Spencer just enough to put his body between his colleague and the officers. The Sheriff smiled and turned to the deputy, muttering something just under his breath.

That was it. Not even even something big, it was something so small anyone might have missed it and Aaron couldn't even tell you exactly what it was that he'd said, it wasn't meant for him. Maybe it was just a vocal inflection, the way his father had pronounced certain words struck an odd fear into him even still when he heard it from someone else's mouth. Maybe it was the look on his face or the way the room smelled like sweat and burnt coffee and stale cigarette smoke, just like his father when he would come home drunk and ready to rumble.

Maybe it was the woman's voice suddenly shouting at the booking desk behind them about them holding her boyfriend in the drunk tank overnight. The migraine had been quiet but now raged front and center, the exhaustion and days without sleep left him exposed and unable to force his way past. His vision exploded in white hot sparks and for a split second he thought he was going to be sick or pass out. It was entirely involuntary, a reaction to stimuli he couldn't control.

Any of these things on their own, he could handle. But this was a perfect storm.

He fled. Excusing himself by muttering something incoherent, he turned and walked away from the gathering as quickly as he could force his legs to move. It was undignified and he would have to explain it later to someone, he wouldn't get away unscathed but if he didn't find a dark room, a safe place, he was going to have a panic attack right there in the middle of the police station. That was the last thing he needed, any of them needed. Head down he walked out, focusing intently on the sound of his heels against the tile, echoing off of the walls. The woman's shrieking rattled through him, she sounded more like an angry raven than a human as he moved away, kept his eyes trained on the floor and focused hard on the number of steps between he and their conference room. They wouldn't follow him there.

At least he hoped they wouldn't. He sank down into a chair, folded his arms on the table and pushed his head into his arms, resting against the table like a child playing Heads Up 7up. His hands shook, chest heaved painfully and he felt the sting of tears coating his cheeks, pooling in the lenses of his glasses and slipping down to the table. His glasses pressed hard against his nose, dug into the soft places behind his ears. Mercifully, that was when his breath hitched in his throat and the sobs came, not a moment sooner, the tingling fingertips and toes, the invasive and obsessive thought that he was, in fact, having a heart attack and not a panic attack. No one could see him now.

“Morgan?” Spencer asked, pacing outside the door to the conference room. He stood between the door and the station, ready to hold anyone off that he needed to.

“Yeah, what's up kid?” Derek's voice broke in and out, crackled on the other end of the phone. They had terrible service, the call would be choppy at best.

“I know this sounds weird, but I think Hotch is having a panic attack...” he whispered into the phone, peeking through the slit in the blinds at his boss curled up in the chair with his face hidden in his arms, all folded up on himself against the table. He looked like a child and Spencer thought he could see him shaking, like he was crying. It made him feel sick. Aaron hadn't been right since coming back to work, since Foyet and his knife, since Haley, but he thought they were past the really bad parts. It had been so long now, he'd almost managed to convince himself that everything was fine. He'd taken back the leadership of the team, they'd had a lot of successes.

His own knee had long since healed, so must have all of Aaron's wounds, his grief, all neatly packaged up and put away. Realizing he was wrong never sat well with Spencer. “Is that...normal? What do I do?”

“Yeah, kid. He gets them just like the rest of us," Derek said softly.

"Nothing you can do,” he replied, putting some distance between he and Dave who was staring intently at him. If Dave knew, he'd have them on the road speeding with their lights flashing to get back and they couldn't afford that, not yet. He needed time to consider their options, if what they were doing was useful, if they should just pack up and leave.

Spencer didn't like Derek's answer and huffed his disapproval. Derek smiled and shook his head.

“I just mean you can't fix it, that's not how anxiety works man. Get him a cup of water and a wash rag or a towel soaked in cool water. If you need to talk to him, do it slowly Reid...don't ask questions, don't talk about whatever was happening when it started, just...read a police report out loud. Tell him about corn. I dunno, something boring and calm. Just don't ask him about what happened or how he feels...ask if you can do anything for him if you need to say anything at all.” Derek's voice cut in and out, he knew Spencer was only getting a portion of what he was saying, he just hoped it was the right portion. The part where he reiterated over and over not to ask him what happened, why he was feeling the way he was. Spencer loved asking why.

“Where are you?” Spencer asked, still staring at Aaron through the blinds, looking for just about any excuse not to go in there yet. Derek shook his head.

“We're like 30 miles away on the side of some dirt road corn field...I dunno. It's on you kid.”

“Hotch thinks they're doctoring the files they're giving us...”

“Yeah, Rossi mentioned the same thing. Listen, we're gonna head back but you gotta get in there and stay with him okay? Make sure he's good.”

“What if he doesn't want me there?” Spencer asked and Derek laughed, that rang through loud and clear.

“Kid, he won't. He absolutely won't want you there. Don't let him bully you into leaving. You understand me? You don't walk out of that room until he's on his game again, or I get back. You sit in there with him all day if you have to.”

The moment Derek told Dave what was going on, they were on the road. There was no hesitation, they weren't going to find anything out where they were anyway and they'd both known it. It was going to be bad back at the station, but this was his team so long as Aaron was incapacitated and one of his people was struggling and needed them. Needed him. “We're comin' back kid, just...do your best. He's not dying.”

It was helpful to remember that fact when Aaron was in the thick of it, when he was convincing himself and everyone around him that he was having a heart attack, when he knew all of the signs and symptoms and he looked at you with those eyes so full of the terror of knowing exactly what a heart attack looked like. He'd called 911, he'd watched his father fall, felt the fear when he stopped breathing, when he'd had to start CPR on a man he only barely wanted to survive. Guilt put his hands on his father's chest, guilt and shame forced his panicked counting. He'd studied all of the symptoms, knew every sign inside and out. He could manifest each and every one of them before your eyes if you let him.

Spencer grabbed the water and a towel before entering the room. Instinctively, he turned down the lights, left only one row in the back on, thought it might calm him down if it were him in the situation. He liked to feel like he could be invisible, thought maybe Aaron might feel the same.

“It's just me,” Spencer said, approaching the other man slowly, recounting everything Derek had told him. “I brought you some water, would you like it?”

Nothing. No response. He set the water down where Aaron could grab it if he wanted and hung back a moment, calculating his next move. He just needed to buy enough time for Derek and Dave to get there, they would be better, they would know what to do, how to help him. He realized as he sat himself down that he couldn't think of a time he'd ever really touched Aaron, aside from an errant handshake or a pat on the arm, and even then it was usually Aaron initiating the contact. His hand trembled a little at the idea of it, like it was crossing a line, a boundary he wasn't sure needed crossing and Aaron was just crying so softly, uncontrollably, and lost to the world beside him. He was quiet, almost silent except the sniffling sounds, the tiny gasps and Spencer wondered if Aaron was trying to hide from him too.

It was the last thing he wanted. Of course he'd never seen Aaron so vulnerable, not once and it made him wildly uncomfortable. He hadn't been there to see Aaron in the hospital after Foyet, he hadn't seen him weeping over Haley's body, he'd only known what he was told. They had gone to great lengths to keep him away and for what?

Now he was here, the only person who could help and he had no idea where to begin. This was uncharted territory, but it wasn't as awful as he'd expected. Not insurmountable. It almost made him feel better, like if Aaron had weaknesses, maybe he wasn't so bad off himself. He wasn't a child. He could do this.

“It's okay, Hotch,” he said softly, opening a police report beside the man. “I'm right here if you need me.”

He didn't move, didn't even breathe for a moment and Spencer almost reached out and touched him but thought better of it. No, Aaron wouldn't want that. Instead he began reading the report aloud, starting with the victim's name, age and height. He read as slowly, as dully as he could muster. Beside him Aaron sucked in a deep breath, followed by a multitude of smaller, shallow breaths. Itw was a painful sound, like his lungs just couldn't do their job. Like his chest was too tight to allow room for breath. He pushed his head in deeper, pressed his forehead hard against the table trying to relieve the pressure. It was breaking his heart, but it was sound, at least he seemed to be letting it run its course instead of hiding it from Spencer so he kept reading.

Derek entered the room almost silently, the only noise coming from the hallway where Dave was laying into the Sheriff and letting him know they were no longer going to be working on this case. Spencer smiled, he wouldn't want to be on the receiving end of that speech. Dave was often the first person to smile, had kind twinkling eyes, but there was a flash of anger, a streak that was more than a little terrifying. When one of his own was threatened, his version of justice looked a lot like revenge.

“Hotch?” Derek asked, placing his hand gently on the small of Aaron's back, fingers delicately tracing small circles at the base of his spine. Spencer watched in awe at the effortless way Derek touched him, knew exactly what to do, what to ask, how to bring him back. With his free hand, he pulled Aaron's glasses off, set them neatly on the table beside him and let his hand rest against the other man's hair. His fingers danced there against his scalp, small circles, figure eights and zig zags sending a shiver through Aaron's spine, his racing heart beating wildly against his chest. “We're gonna pack up and get out of here. They don't want us.”

That was it, that was all Derek said. He picked up the cool, damp rag and lay it against the back of Aaron's neck before standing, motioning for Spencer to follow him.

“Let's get this room broken down, we're heading back to DC. We're done with these hillbillies here.”

“What about Hotch?” Spencer asked, peering back at the other man still face down on the table. Derek shrugged. He didn't seem worried at all, but Spencer could tell how much he cared. He wondered how Derek stayed so cool all the time. How it was so effortless for him to take care of people.

“Time,” he whispered, patting Spencer on the shoulder. “He needs time. I've got it, you just start packing up our shit okay?” Relief was what Spencer felt, knowing that Derek would manage his way through Aaron's troubled waters, bring him back to shore and Spencer could go use his skills somewhere else.

The next time Spencer came into the room, Aaron was sitting upright. He was paler than usual, slumped over but he was up. His face was puffy, eyes red, cheeks streaked with tears. Derek was sitting beside him, maybe a little closer than he'd ever seen him, and he was on his phone, firing off emails to Chief Strauss about the situation they found themselves in. The room was silent.

“Everything is packed. JJ and Prentiss are going to meet us at the airport, Rossi and I checked us out of the hotel.”

Derek nodded and set his phone down. He knew Aaron wasn't moving yet, standing him up would be a mistake, send him into a tailspin. He'd done that once, forced Aaron to move during a panic attack, and he'd ended up with the man passing out in his arms. Something about blood pressure, the EMT had told him, he didn't listen to everything they said but he did take away one key piece of advice – don't move him while he's having a panic attack unless he's in danger.

“I can walk,” Aaron whispered, turning his head just slightly until he was looking at Derek. “I'm okay.”

“You sure? We got all the time in the world.”

They walked out of there with Aaron between them, neither touching him, letting him carry off the illusion of being fine while being flanked entirely by people he trusted. Derek had managed to get him into the bathroom, help him clean up, splash cold water on his face until he looked angry, intense, but not sad. Spencer lead the way, Derek followed just behind Aaron, Dave pressed in close beside him. They kept in step easily. He thought he could feel eyes on him, mocking him. The leader of the BAU running away with his tail between his legs, this wasn't going to look good on any of their reports. Chief Strauss would have words for him.

No one bothered him on the jet, Derek had instructed everyone to leave him be. Hushed voices spoke about the case, about the LEOs and their uncooperative behavior, the fact that more people were going to die as soon as harvest season was on them. Maybe they'd catch their guy on their own, they clearly didn't want help. A game of poker opened up, kept everyone occupied and distracted.

“Morgan?” Aaron asked, waving the other man over. Derek excused himself from the card game, folded his hand and tossed it to Rossi, and sat down beside Aaron, pressed in as close as he could. He loved to invade Aaron's space. “Thank you,” he said softly, rubbing at his temples. His head felt worse, somehow. Like he'd been on a three day bender and was drying out, now he was just a dried out husk of hungover man but without the fun of the party.

“How long?” Derek asked, indicating the way he rubbed at his head. He'd seen it days ago, the way his eyelids drooped and his shoulders were stiff, but they had a job to do and pointing out that he knew Aaron was struggling wasn't going to help anyone.

“Two days.”

“Shit. You want the lights off?”

“No,” Aaron whispered, leaning back and closing his eyes. “I just wanted to thank you for your help.”

“Nah, it was all Reid. He's the superstar here.” He reached over and pulled Aaron close to him without asking permission, he never bothered with that. He pressed his palms to the other man's temples and applied pressure, like a vice, biceps flexing to maintain it. It was a flood of instant relief, and though Aaron knew all of the pain would come right back the moment Derek let up, he was glad for the few moments of complete and utter peace. All noise in his head had ceased, he was left with just a silent void “I just swooped in and took all the glory for myself.”

Aaron smiled and settled in, let Derek hold his pounding head as long as he was willing, as long as he was able. It was the best he'd felt in days.

#criminal minds #aaron hotchner #derek morgan #spencer reid #hurt/comfort #hurt hotch #hotchgan #mortch

[fonulyn]

So my partner is amazing and let's me ramble about RE to them whenever I want to, and even sat down to watch Vendetta with me when I bought it, so the other day I was like explaining Leon and Chris' characters (bc my partner knows how much I love them both lmao so of course that's what I was talking about), and we have both come to the conclusion that Leon is a bisexual disaster, and Chris is a homosexual. The running joke is that Leon is also just generally a whore, out there living his best life, and Chris is the kind of gay guy who no one expects to be gay bc of stereotypes and his habit of never really talking about himself, but he also was never really in the closet about it, so he's surprised whenever people are surprised to learn that he's gay lolol but in all seriousness Leon is not only bisexual, but he's the type to fall in love easily despite all of his background and trauma related to betrayal, so his heart is almost continually broken, either bc he's betrayed or he loses whoever it is he's found himself in love with (and sometimes both i.e. Krauser, and Ada at the end of RE2), either through death or just leaving bc he knows he can't stay/can't be with whomever. As for Chris, maybe I'm reading into it wrong, but despite all of the like, romantic connotations they try to put into some of his games (which I don't. Really see? Like there was some in the first game with Jill but I just cannot see them together like that, neither seem interested in one another like that. And of course, Jessica, who I can't stand, and who Chris is supposedly totally oblivious to? Like she thinks he didn't notice her flirting in RE revelations, and Parker is like "is it that, or is he maybe interested in someone else?" And the assumption there is that he means Jill, but again, I don't see it? Even in that game! But that line of Parker's always makes me think "yeah, he's more than just interested in someone else, he's playing for a whole nother team entirely!" lmao. And I haven't seen much for 5 but I'm sure it's there between Chris and Sheva, and then for 6 from what I understand there really is hardly any talk of Chris in regards to any women at all? 8 has nothing, as well, and the DLC for 7 is just another "Chris loses his entire team in horrific fashion yet again" side plot, so nothing there either), he never seems interested. He's always focused on the task at hand, not letting emotions get in his way, and like, some could argue that that's why he doesn't show interest or why Capcom doesn't create more romantic lore around him, but if they really wanted to Make Sure he was straight and Make Sure everyone playing these games knew that, I imagine there would be some one line little hints in the games of him talking about how he can't let himself get distracted, or in his line of work there are no happy endings or what have you, but. There's none of that. Bc he isn't forcing himself not to be interested, he isn't purposefully focusing on saving the day so he doesn't have to get hurt knowing he can never have whichever high potential for a dope ass protag female character who's constantly sacrificing herself to save him bc what better purpose could they serve, right Capcom?, he's just. There, doing his job and trying to save whoever he can, not getting distracted in anyway whatsoever by any of the women in his life, romantically at least. He still cares way too much, but it never comes off as romantic to me in pretty much any way. Also the note he leaves in his STARS locker in RE2remake, Claire being like "this doesn't sound like Chris at all!" Is funny to me bc like, I don't really remember so correct me if I'm wrong, but she doesn't elaborate on WHY that note doesn't sound like Chris lmao is it bc he's respectful to women at all times and doesn't ever objectify them, probably hates when other people do? Or is it bc he would never be interested in women in this way ANYWAYS, the man is so gay, he must have left this note so that Claire would know something is Up, bc her brother is Such a homosexual.

Anyways sorry, I just wanted to ramble/get your opinion on this. Over-analysing RE is actually really fun lmao

haha not gonna lie, I opened your ask in the car on the grocery store parking lot and tried to read it on my phone, and gave up squinting at the small screen halfway through :'D now that I'm back at my laptop though, lol, all good :'D

first of all I'm happy you have someone to ramble to even though they aren't into the thing themselves! :D I regularly rant about RE fandom things to my brother haha and he listens patiently although he isn't in the fandom at all, he's only played the games and that's it. but he still listens to my shippy rambles lol.

as for your thoughts? makes sense to me tbh. I definitely headcanon Leon as a bisexual disaster most of the time, because it does seem fitting. maybe it's partly because I think he's absolutely breathtakingly stunning and it'd be a shame to deny anyone that, so, naturally he wouldn't care about such trivial things as gender, pfth, love is love.

also Leon falling in love easily? absolutely. too damn easily. c'mon this is a man who gets attached to anyone who shows him even the tiniest amount of basic kindness in the matter of minutes. he canonically forms attachments with Claire, Ada, Krauser, Helena, Buddy and JD (JD 😭)... whoever else am I forgetting? but this is the guy who meets someone and would die for them five seconds later. so. it tracks.

and you know what, I can 100% see Chris being only into men. because like. I don't see the romance there either when he's interacting with the women in his life? okay, sure, I could imagine something there between him and Jill if pressed seeing the way he so single-mindedly wants to save her and then holds her in the scene after they get that thing off her chest. maybe. but even there it doesn't really feel super romantic to me, personally.

in the first game with Jill there's not... a lot of romance I don't think? sure she falls asleep against his shoulder in the evac helicopter but i mean, i've fallen asleep against a friend like that? not an indication of romance? they're clearly important to each other! i am not trying to diminish their importance to one another at all! they'd die for each other and they'd do anything it takes to protect each other and i do think their relationship is compelling but... i don't really see anything inherently romantic in it.

and Jessica, yeah, Chris is 100% oblivious to her advances. it is implied in the game that he's into Jill instead but other than that there's again zero actual romantic interaction between Chris and Jill. I was actually talking about this with my brother, who said the same, like there were so many chances in Revelations to put something romantic in there between Chris and Jill but there just. isn't? anything? except for Parker's comment. which is why it felt so damn out of place? (and like my brother would've wanted to ship Chris and Jill, he was kinda bummed about this i feel :'D) so interpreting it to mean he's not interested in women at all would actually make more sense lmao.

as for RE5, I've played it twice (with my brother lmao do we see a theme here) and honestly I don't remember anything in the game that would've insinuated anything more than solid partnership between Chris and Sheva?? if someone who's more familiar with the game wants to correct me on this, then please! but at least off the bat I can not remember anything so I think they actually didn't try to even hint at romance for them?

and in RE6 Chris is way too focused on killing "Ada" to have any thoughts about anything else :'D so no. no mentions in there regarding him and any women. at all. not even hints of Jill which is so incredibly weird (and stupid tbh) bc she was made to be so important to him in RE5 and then doesn't even get a mention in RE6? (/shakes fist damn you capcom! the characters exist outside the games they're in!)

I think that's pretty much the main difference between Chris and Leon tbh. Chris sees the job at hand, and he knows it'll help, he knows it'll save people and it'll make the world safer and he's so single-mindedly focused on the job that he sees nothing else. while Leon sees people, for the better or for worse, and he is willing to take detours if it helps even one person in the meantime. like in RE6, Leon willingly ignores the task at hand to go help just about anyone. Chris doesn't want to pause even when pressed bc he has an end goal in mind.

and bear in mind, I am not trying to say this somehow makes Leon better or Chris better or anything. they're both doing this to help. they both have their heart in the right place. they both care. but they're just so different! their personalities, and their way of dealing with things is different! I feel Chris is really target oriented and wants to get the job done. while Leon's easily distracted from it, because of all the damn feelings :'D

but yeah. i love them both, and i think it's really damn fascinating how they're both the good guys, the heroes of the franchise, but they both take to things so differently.

i don't know if any of this makes sense, I think i rambled too :'D but hey-o, it was fun lmao.

and hey no need to apologize at all!! always feel free to shoot me a message if you wanna chat!

#re answers #anonymous #ask and i shall answer #chris redfield #leon s kennedy #also i know #this is all headcanoning and my subjective opinion #so feel free to disagree #on anything :3 #and everything lmao :'D #long post

[transbibennyweir]

I love mbav so much it’s one of my favorite shows ever and I’m still so upset over the cliffhanger ending but on a side note Benny weir was definitely my number one favorite character but that might be due to the fact that I have a crush on him and in real life too anyway though I will say bethan is definitely my otp favorite pairing from the show as well and I was so upset they didn’t end together in the end but I was wondering if you would consider making Bethan fanfiction for this month?

duuude i feel the same way i love the show and even me who isn’t really into shipping can’t argue that those two had some real chemistry going on. that cliffhanger ending will always suck but at least we got fanfic to cope and pretend it didnt happen lol but yeah i’ve been writing two or three (really) short fics. the requests are mostly bethan so lucky you! i just put a new i did under the cut. its short and smiple and not too over the top shippy. its still good i think but the next bethan fic i want write to be super over the top shippy for fun with fluff (and angst with comfort ofc) (also this is on ao3)

The Valentine Dance at school was only a week away and Benny had the less than amazing plan to confess some long time dwelling feelings, and if he was lucky score a date to the dance. Although, he was lacking in any confidence seeing as he was never the best with plans and had the worst luck with... Well with everything if he was honest. Ethan was more the plan guy. Which was a total problem when Ethan is who the confession was for. Benny debated for half the school day if he should ask anyone for help, it became pretty obvious that they wouldn’t be that helpful. Rory can’t keep a secret to save his undead life, Erica isn’t much of the romantic type (ignoring that she wouldn’t want help at all in the first place), and Sarah... Actually Sarah might be the only one that would be any real help. That’s if she wanted to help. After what happened Freshman year with Ethan pinning for her and the eventual coming out from Sarah that she didn’t like guys it was sometimes amazing they could still be friends without one of them dying of awkwardness. If anything it was more awkward to ask for help from your current crush’s ex-crush, but Benny was out of options.

“Hey Sarah!” Benny greeted on his phone, his leg bouncing as he sat nervously on his bed. He had decided that he would try talk to her after school, partly hoping he would talk himself out of doing any of this. “I kinda need your help for something important. How quick do you think you could be at my place tonight? Sarah? Sarah!”

When there wasn’t a reply Benny repeated her name wondering what happened followed with a moment of silence and a sudden swiping sound of gusting wind through his phone then a whoosh out in front of his bedroom window. Vampire speed, always handy. “This quick enough for you?” Sarah giggled. Between last year to now Sarah was a lot more playful about her vampire-ness, much to the amusement of Benny.

“Knew I could count on you, Sar!” He grinned at her.

“As always. So, what’s this super important thing you needed my help in the middle of a school night?” She asked, jumping onto his bed with a weightless thump. “Is it a magic problem or just your special brand of weirdness for tonight?”

“Ha! Very funny. I mean it. It’s serious. There’s the dance coming up and I need your help scoring with-” Benny was cut off by Sarah abruptly standing up with a squeaked out “What!”

“Benny! I thought you said this was serious. I rushed over here for you thinking ugh-I can’t believe you! I am not helping you with ‘score’ with some random-”

“It’s Ethan.”

“Oh.”

“Yeah....”

“Benny, I am really sorry.”

There was an awkward silence that made Benny want rip his insides out which was a total confidence booster. “Nah, no, it’s fine. I shouldn’t have been so ‘Benny’ about it. My fault.” Benny’s voice sounded worn and hoarse. Sarah wrapped her arms around Benny to comfort him, sitting back on his bed they stayed quite, Benny taking steading breathes. “I know it’s been a summer since he got over you, but I dunno we’ve always been friends and really close. Confident Benny wants say there’s a chance he’s into me, but Nervous Benny says everything I think has been a sign is just me getting way too hopeful and I’m just,” Benny sighed leaning into Sarah’s hug. “Really tired dancing around how I feel all the time.”

“Awe, Benny,” Sarah settled into her place on the bed facing her favorite spell-caster. “Okay. I’ll help you. What’s the plan?” Benny sheepishly smiled and raised his shoulders.

“I was kinda hoping you could come up with something. I’m more of a plan follower than a plan maker. My ideas tend to lead to the actual problem that needs fixing.” He laughed nervously.

“I think I can come up with something. You still know that flower spell, right?” They grinned at each other.

“Of course.”

+++

The school dance was now only four days away and Sarah’s plan was simple and more importantly fool-proof. Which is what Benny was counting on.

“So, all you need to do is talk to him. Take him to the park. Whoa him with some magic, some flowers and then boom! Ask him to the dance. Simple and sups romantic.” Sarah said as they walked outside to see Ethan and their friends waiting for them in the school parking lot. “Think you can manage?”

Benny waved at them nervously. “I’m totally going mess this up.”

“Ben, it’s literally the most straightforward plan on the planet. There’s no way for you to mess it up. Just be your usual funny and charming self, it’s what he loves most about you.” Sarah smiled reassuring. Reaching their friends Benny tried not act anymore strange than his typical self, which was hard when Benny’s go to was being strange. It came with the magic powers and general teenage boy awkwardness. Erica was pushing Rory back onto the ground as he tried to float above her head saying there was something in her hair, there wasn’t, really he just wanted steal her hair pin that he was obsessed with.

“Come on, Erica!” Rory teased picking at the clip.

“Rory, if you don’t stop I’m going drive a stake through your un-dead heart!” She threatened as Ethan laughed before turning his attention to Benny and Sarah.

“Hey, Sarah, Ben.” He smiled sweetly, his eyes glancing at Benny with a sheepish blush. Although the boy in question was too busy freaking out internally to notice. “We still on for movie night?”

“Oh right!” Sarah said suddenly with a false quickness. “I totally forgot that’s tonight. Me and the vamps have some Vampire Council business and such. Y’know, vampires only. Heh.” She lied poorly but Ethan was just a little too slow to catch on.

“We do?” The two other vampires said holding off on their mini fight over a hair clip, Erica holding onto both Rory’s wrists in opposing directions. Erica watched the panic in Sarah and Benny’s eyes that said all she needed to know; ‘please just pay along’ written all over their faces. “Oooh. Yes-yeah. We do. Totally. No humans allowed or they will eat your face off. We’re doing a... vampire... ritual.... Yeah.”

“We do that? Awesome!” Rory said suddenly excited if not a little confused. “Why didn’t they tell me anything? Do you guys have their number or something because if so I feel it’s unfair that I don’t-”

“Rory, not right now.” Erica pulled her hair clip out of Rory’s hand, annoyed. “We should get going. Don’t want be late for the... ritual. Right, Sarah?”

“Right! Yeah, we really need get going. Super speed can only be so quick. Let’s go.” Sarah chuckled, pushing two of her friends away from Ethan and Benny. “We’ll see you later!” The three vamps speeded off, the other two waving them bye. The school parking lot was empty by then, Ethan’s full attention placed fully on Benny who felt the crushing weight of his friend’s eyes on him as he always did when they were alone. It was easy to play off any pining feelings when they hung out, their friendship had always been enough for Benny. Even when he had see Ethan longing after a different person, it was hard sometimes, but Benny could always push down any budding jealously or unsettling sadness. Ethan would always be his friend and now if he was lucky he could put boy in front of friend. The thought making his cheeks warm and his heart fast.

“Soo, movie night?” Ethan asked, they started their walk home only instead Benny had planned to take a subtle left turn towards the park the spell for appearing flowers repeating in his head.

“Actually I was thinking we could, uh, go for a walk... to the park?” Benny flinched with the odd expectation that his friend would suddenly reject him right there and then. “I have something I want show you, I dunno. Is that dumb? I feel dumb.”

“Benny. It’s cool. Come on, I kinda wanted tell you something anyways.” Ethan replied with a smile, his hand close to gracing against the taller boy’s. The near touch drawing them closer to each other, they’ve always gravitated towards one another with a strange pull that was always between them. Benny wondered if Ethan ever felt it, if he could ever see how Benny looked at him with such love and care. Maybe his seer powers let him see it more clearly than Benny felt it, lucky him Ethan still didn’t fully know how mind read yet.

The start of their walk was mostly silent, the longer the quite went for the more Benny’s internal freak out grew into full blown panic. He was seriously reconsidering saying anything at this point. Half way to the park and they hadn’t said a single word to each other, a first for their friendship. Ethan was biting his lower lip clearly lost in deep thought, Benny was too nervous to speak and break into whatever was going through the shorter boy’s head.

“Ben... Benny, heh, uh, I’ve been wanting to say this for awhile and I didn’t know how and I know you’re you know... You.” Ethan started. None of his words were comforting to Benny right now. “Wait-wait. That came out weird. I just wanted say when we came out to each other last summer. I know I acted really weird afterwards and it was totally uncool of me and I know I should’ve said sorry forever ago, but I’m real sorry, Ben. It was lame of me and I only acted like that because there some feelings I didn’t think I was ready to think about and now it’s like my brain is stuck thinking them but I don’t want things weird so, uh, am I making any sense?”

Benny didn’t know if he should laugh or cry, he went with the former and abruptly began to giggle in a almost soft of manic way. The sudden out bust of laugher worried Ethan. “Why are you laughing? Benny, I’m being serious. Come on, dude.”

“Sorry, dude. It’s just, you really scared me there for a second, E. I know it was a weird shift it’s totally fine. I was never mad.” Benny said, his laughter subsiding. Although he took note of the last bit, he didn’t want feel like he was reading too much into it but it couldn’t nothing, right?

They reached the park a few yards off where there was a bench was waiting for them. The lump in Benny’s throat was starting appear and it was getting too late for him to choke and bail on this whole thing. “Let’s go sit on the bench. It’s my turn to ramble and make barely any sense.”

“So nothing new.” Ethan teased. Ben wrapped his arm around Ethan’s neck and ruffled his hair.

“Yeah, yeah. Just sit down, okay?” Benny sat down with a nervous smile and his leg bouncing with a quick uneasy pace. “On the topic of us not being the straightest lightsabers in the bunch. Heh. There’s the dance coming up and I didn’t want go alone and there’s this person I wanted ask-”

“Really?” Ethan butted in with a sad look making something clink in Benny’s head. “That’s... great. What’s he like?”

“Oh you know, he’s really cool and mega smart and like, the biggest dork in the whole world.” Benny was grinning now, biting his lower lip to fight back his nervous joy. Maybe it was petty but if he was understanding right then making Ethan jealous for two minutes would make up for last year’s Sarah obsession.

“Oh. Uh. He sounds really cool. I’m glad you like him so much. So, what’s the plan to ask him out?” Ethan asked, his mood becoming more downcast suddenly. E, you pretty idiot. Well, just a bit of teasing fun wouldn’t hurt.

“Mhm. Yeah, he’s really great. I was thinking of asking him after school, y’know, surprise him with some flowers use a little magic to make sure their his favorite. Like this,” Benny made a quick glance to make sure no one was looking before making a bouquet of flowers appear. It had been the first simple trick that Benny had ever show Ethan. It started as a cheesy way to impress girls now it was becoming a cheesy way to impress his Ethan. The flowers matched the color scheme of Ethan’s favorite Star Wars character, right down to matching the center one with the character’s lightsaber.

Ethan stared at the flowers with a shy sadness. “Oh? Then what? Explain to him vampires are real next? I’m sure that one will go over real great, Bens.”

“Maybe. I think he’d be freaked out at first, probably less than he should be but grow to think it was way kick ass. I think he’d do pretty awesome fighting some bloodsuckers. Bet he looks really hot staking one out. The same way I think he looks really hot when he plays video games and starts losing and sits on my lap-which is totally cheating by the way, but I let it slide because again total cutie. I want ask him to the dance, maybe after we could sneak out and-”

“Jeez, Benny. Stop it, okay. I get it.” Ethan stood up from his seat, covering his ears. “You must really like him. What’s his name?”

“Oh, I dunno it’s something like Ian? Eric? Wait! No, I remember it’s Ethan Morgan the dumbest yet prettiest boy in town. Only second to yours truly.” Benny grinned gaining more of a cool confidence as he saw the way Ethan’s blush grew dark across his face.

“Oh.”

“Yeah ‘oh’ you dope! Who else could I have ever been talking about?! Han Solo?”

“First of all, I don’t know! And second, Han was totally gay for Luke but that’s for a different time.” Ethan said, glancing as an older couple walked past them.

“Wait, were you jealous? Like actually?”

“What! No way, I was not.” Ethan’s blush creeped up to his ears. “And anyways, it was totally not cool of you-”

“Then we’re even. Fair?” Benny leaned closer to Ethan, the flowers disappearing from between them. “Were the flowers too gay?”

Ethan leaned closer and bit his lip. “Bens, I don’t know how break this to you, but you’re like the gayest person in town.”

“Second to you.” He laughed before Ethan closed the gap between their lips catching him off guard. The small doubt that lingered in the back of his mind was put at ease as their lips fit together. “Sorry. I was really hoping I didn’t mess this up.” Benny tried not to giggle.

“Lucky you, your bad gay jokes and charm is what got me hooked on you in the first place.”

“Yeah, guess I am a catch. So... We’re on for the dance?”

“Yeah.” Ethan smiled holding Benny’s hands. “Yeah, Bens. We are.” They grinned at each other, hands clasped together and knees touching.

#mbav #my babysitters a vampire #bethan #benny weir #Ethan Morgan #asks #fanfic #request

[nothingeverlost]

Coming Home (Baby Steps verse)

Happy Rumbelle anniversary my darling co-shippers!  in honor of the day have a mostly fluffy fic with these two dorks who can’t deal with their emotions, and a few peppered Skin Deep references.  Shippy in a ‘omg get a clue’ kind of way.

Also Swanthief shippiness.

Bae Gold comes home from Italy, completely unaware that his dad doesn’t live in the pink house anymore.  

II

“Dad’s going to be so surprised.”  Bae picked up one normal rock before finding the fake one with the key inside.

“You know it’s not too late for me to head to a hotel and let you guys have some time before introducing me.”  Emma hung back a little with their bags, just unloaded from their Lyft ride.  They were both in desperate need of a washing machine.

“There’s no hotel in Storybrooke, we’re too small for that.  Besides there’s no reason to pay to stay somewhere when we have a house.”  It was his home, and the only place he’d lived until he’d gone away to school, but it had been three years since he’d been back.  Long enough that it felt a little weird.  Some of his memories here were not the happiest, but the fights between his parents were long over as were his mom’s glacial freezes and fiery tantrums.  She was off on an adventure that made her happier and home now meant his dad.  “I want to show you where I grew up.”

“Okay but I draw the line at filling any of your teenage fantasies about climbing through the window while everyone is sleeping.”  Emma slung her duffle over one shoulder.

“You didn’t seem to mind that one I had about the backseat of a car.”  Neal laughed as he turned the key in the lock, pushing open the front door.

“I still swear they put something in the wine at that dinner.  It was really strong.”  Emma tossed her duffle on the ground, in a corner that meant it was out of the way.  “I really need to pee.  Bathroom?”

“Right over there.”  He pointed her in the direction of the downstairs bathroom next to the library.  The door to the library itself was open and empty.  It was one of his dad’s favorite rooms, which confirmed the fact that he probably wasn’t home.  If he didn’t pop up soon he’d call, but for now he and Emma could use a shower - together if he had any say about it.  His first priority was something to drink; air travel always dehydrated him.

There was a sippy cup in the sink.  Also a plate with Sesame Street characters on it.  Weird, because his dad wasn’t the babysitting-the-neighbor’s-kids type.  

“Hey, does your dad have a girlfriend?  There are bras drying in the bathroom.  If they’re his I’m not judging or anything, it just doesn’t fit in with anything you’ve said about him.”  Emma found him in the kitchen, standing in front of the fridge.  There were applesauce pouches on the top shelf and flavored creamer on the inside door shelf.  His dad hated flavored creamer.

“I’m feeling very twilight zone, Emms.”  His dad had never said a thing about dating, not ever, and it might not be odd to go on a few dates but having someone move in with him was different.  And someone who had a kid was really weird.

“What are you doing in my home?”  Bae was startled from his exploration of the fridge when someone spoke from behind him.  A woman shaped someone, holding a plastic croquet mallet, or maybe it was an oversized hammer.  Either way it wasn’t that threatening.  It was her words that twisted his gut.

“Your home?”  It had never occurred to him that his home wasn’t his anymore, that his dad might have sold it.  But the furnishings were the same, and many of the knick nacks as well.  

“The sheriff’s station is only a mile and a half from here.  I could have someone here in two minutes.”  The woman spoke with an Australian accent that might have been sweet to hear if she didn’t sound so nervous.  Bae wasn’t used to making people feel nervous.

“I’m not a threat, I promise.”  He held his hands up just to make himself look as unassuming as possible.

“He’s probably the least threatening guy you’ll meet.  Rather run from danger than face it.”  Emma still stood behind him.

“Thanks, Emma.”  He rolled his eyes.  “Unless things have changed this time of day Graham’s probably at Granny’s diner.  I’m sure he could be here in a couple of minutes but you don’t need him and his lunch would just get cold.  I can explain.”

“Strawberry?”  From behind the stranger a little girl suddenly appeared, toddling into the kitchen with a bowl of fruit that had a pattern matching the pieces in the sink.  “Ruby share.”

“Not right now, sweetheart.”  The brunette abandoned her plastic toy to pick up the girl, holding her on one hip and half turning so she was as far away from them as possible.  Bae had to admire the protective instinct even as he stared in confusion at the kid.  Her hair was almost the same color as his own.  He had no clue how old she was but she had to be younger than three.  Did his dad have a kid?  Did he have a sister?  “I really need you to tell me why you’re here, please.”

“I live here, or at least I thought I did.  I mean I’ve been away at school, and this semester I was in…”

“You’re Bae.”  Her shoulders sagged as the tension drained away.  “I’m sorry, it never occurred to me that Trevelyn wouldn’t tell you.  I’m Belle, and this is Ruby.  Your dad said you were flying back soon but he was planning to see you in New York in a few weeks.”

“Surprise?  I’m Emma, by the way, since Bae seems to have lost his tongue.  We decided to come back a little early.  I got a summer job that pays really well but it starts in a week.”  Emma opened the cabinet closest to the sink and then the one next to it, pulling out a cup for water.

Bae couldn’t stop staring at the little girl Belle still held.  “Are you and my dad…”  

“Are we?”  Belle looked at him, her expression blank for a moment before she blinked and her cheeks turned pink.  “No.  Oh, it’s nothing like that.  Trev rented this place to me.  He’s my landlord and my friend, and he watches Ruby for me sometimes.  She’s my ward.”

“I didn’t think anyone used that word anymore.”  Bae wasn’t sure if he felt relieved or disappointed.  He didn’t like to think that his dad would keep such a huge secret from him, but he also didn’t like that his dad had been alone for such a long time.  Knowing he might have someone had been nice.  Weird, but nice.

“I guess it comes from reading too much Jane Austen.  When my foster mom died she left custody of her granddaughter to me.  Maybe it would be easier to say she’s sort of my niece.”  Maybe it was knowing she was being talked about, or maybe she didn’t like being still for so long, but Ruby wiggled to be let down.  When Belle complied she ran over to Bae and Emma.  

“Lion say?”  Ruby asked, looking up at them.  Bae looked over to Belle.

“She wants you to play the animal sound game.  Ask her what a lion says and she’ll tell you.”

“What does a lion say?”  Bae squatted down so he was eye to eye with the little girl.

“Rawr!”  Ruby wrinkled up her nose and showed off her tiny teeth when she made her noise.  Bae asked her another five or six noises, getting a moo, quack, baa, tweet, and a confused look in return.

“That’s enough, Gold.  We still have to figure out where we’re showering and sleeping.”  Emma nudged him gently on his shoulder.  “Though it’s nice to see you carrying on a conversation with someone at the same maturity level as you.”

“Good?  Hello Good.”  Bae was about to tease Emma back when Ruby suddenly ran over to Belle, holding her hands up.  “Hello?”

“Yes, sweetheart.”  She picked Ruby up, setting her down on the counter.

“Does that mean something?” he asked curiously.  He’d never spent much time around younger kids.

“She wants to call your dad, actually.  Hello is what she calls the phone and the ‘L’ sound used to give her some trouble so he’s ‘Good’ when she talks about him,” Belle explained.  “We should call Trev and let him know you’re here, but you’re both welcome to use the shower and your room is still untouched if you wanted to stay.  I’m afraid the B&B is full this week, or I’d put you up there instead so you could be closer to your dad.”

“Closer to dad?”  He was going to crack a joke about his dad being called good but now he was just confused.  “He doesn’t live here?”

“He’s been renting a room at the B&B for almost three years.  That’s how I know him, from when Granny died and I took over running things.”  Belle froze with her cell phone in her hand.  “You didn’t know?”

“He always came to see me.”  He hadn’t been home for three years, his dad was always so eager to see the city.  It had seemed like an adventure, just the two of them, new memories to make in a new place.  And he’d loved being the one that knew more, getting to show off for his dad.  Crap, he didn’t know what to think now.

“Hey.”  Emma’s arms slipped around him from behind, and she rested her chin on his shoulder, holding him close.  Somehow she knew what he needed better than anyone else could have known.  He covered one of her hands, linking their fingers together.

“Suddenly walking in on your parent having sex isn’t the weirdest homecoming this week.”  They’d shown up at Emma’s parents' house just as unexpectedly, and apparently hadn’t learned their lesson yet.

“They were not having sex, they were taking a nap.  In the middle of the day.  Naked.  And you promised we would never talk about it again, Bae Gold.”  She didn’t really sound irritated, though.  How he’d managed to go to Italy and find the perfect someone who just happened to live only a couple of hours away he didn’t know, but he was beyond grateful.

Belle looked amused.  “There’s bread if you want sandwiches, and I am serious about the showers and the bed if you’re interested.  You dad can let you know I’m not a serial killer or anything.”

“Would you mind if we used the washing machine too?  The shower doesn’t do much good without clean clothes,” Emma asked.  

“Of course.  Bae knows where things are probably better than I do.  I need to get this little lion up to bed for her nap but then one of us should call Trev.”  

“No sleep.”  Ruby tried to crawl across the counter but Belle grabbed her around the waist and picked her up.  

“After sleep you can help cook, okay?  We can invite Gold for dinner.”  Belle looked at Bae, though she was speaking to Ruby.  He nodded.

“Good eat cheese?  Please?” Ruby rubbed her eye with one fist, belying any argument about not needing a nap.

“You can have cheese for dinner, Rubes.  We’ll probably serve everyone else something a little more well rounded than cheese cubes and watermelon.”

“I don’t know, sounds good to me,” Bae teased.

II

Gold was about to take a break from work for lunch when the phone rang.  For just a moment he was annoyed until he saw Belle’s name flash.  “Hey.”

“Hey yourself.”  

“Ruby down for her nap?”  The diner was slow enough on Mondays she took the day off.  It felt silly to admit that he missed them both when he had seen them the day before, but even after almost five months it was strange not to be living down the hall from them.  Even when he had his door shut he was used to hearing the familiar noises of the girl playing and Belle talking.

“She is, after much protest.  She was much more interested in our new houseguests than her bed.”

“You have visitors?”  She hadn’t mentioned anything about company.  So far as he knew she hadn’t had anyone stay overnight, and he couldn’t help but wonder who it was.  An old friend from Chicago? An old boyfriend?

“Actually you have visitors.  Just off the plane from Italy and currently taking a shower.”

“Bae?  He’s home?”  Oh crap.  Bae had made no mention of coming to Storybrooke.  None at all for three years.  It had made it easy to avoid telling him that the house had been too big, too full of bad memories without Bae’s presence to balance it out.  That the weight of it all had been so suffocating he’d run and rented a room at the B&B.  Just a few nights, he’d told himself.  A few had turned into a week, a week into a month, and a month into almost three years.

“He wanted to surprise you.  Surprised me instead.  And himself, when I found him in the kitchen.”

“I’m so sorry.”  Of course Bae would have let himself in, he didn’t know better.  He hated to think how Belle felt, finding a strange man in her home.  He hated almost as much how Bae must have felt, finding someone else living in his home.  “It’s my fault.  I should have told him.”

“We’ll laugh about this one day, Trev.”  She was laughing now, a warm sound that touched him almost as much as her words about the future did.  It always made the butterflies fill his stomach when she talked about ‘one day’ or ‘next year.’  Like she saw their lives as entwined in a way he wouldn’t dare assume.  “He’s a delight, your Bae.  A very friendly boy.”

“I don’t know where he got that from.  Sometimes the apple is flung rather far from the tree.”  She called him a boy but Bae was only seven years younger than Belle.  Certainly closer to her in age than he was.

“No one has been a better friend to me than you, Trevelyn.  I see a lot of you in him already, and we’ve only had one conversation.”  Gold almost dropped the phone.  She couldn’t actually mean that, could she?  Belle had many friends.  It sometimes seemed half of Storybrooke was her friend from the easy way they all smiled and talked to her when she was at the diner or when they walked through the park with Ruby.  “I know you’re working but Bae did come to surprise you.  Can you come over soon?  I hope you don’t mind but I already promised Ruby that you’d stay for dinner.”

“I’ll be there as soon as I can wrap things up.  Half an hour?”  There wasn’t anything work related that needed to be done before tomorrow, but he needed a minute to himself to breathe and steel himself to see his boy.  He had a lot of explaining to do.  

“We’re having sandwiches.  Should I make one for you or have you eaten already?  Real food, I mean.  Tea doesn’t count as a food group.”

“Tea is one of the most important food groups.”  It was the same joke he’d used a hundred times when she’d fussed over him not eating breakfast.  It was comforting.

“I’ll make you a sandwich.  One more won’t make a difference.  Bae looks like he could eat a couple, and Emma’s probably starving too.  You know how airplane food is.”

“Emma’s there?”  His son had spoken of her, but he didn’t know they were traveling together.  A fling in Italy was one thing.  Bringing her home to meet him seemed to speak of something else entirely.

“They’re good together.  It’s sweet to see them, so clearly in love.”

“Yeah.”  He remembered being young, and thinking love was clear and obvious.  Now he knew it was never simple and far from easy.  There was nothing clear about it, especially when you held it close to your chest and didn’t dare tell anyone else about it.  Certainly not the person you were in love with.  “I’ll see you all soon.”

II

Trevelyn knocked on the door just a little over twenty minutes later.  Belle had told him a hundred times he could just come in - it was his house after all.  He always knocked, even if he was coming to make some small repair or to watch Ruby for an hour.  While she always wanted him to feel welcome there was also something old fashioned and sweet about him waiting for her to let him in.  After all it had taken a year for him to call her by name and share his in return.

“Hey.”  She opened the door to find him doing his best to hide his nerves.  “They’re in the dining room.  Ruby’s still sleeping.  I offered to let them sleep here; I hope that’s okay with you.”

“That’s too much of an imposition.  I can…”  Gold stopped, and remembered that the other rooms in the B&B were full.  There wasn’t an alternative he could suggest.  “I’m sorry.  That’s kind of you, and I appreciate it.  Thank you.”

“Ruby will think he’s staying to be a playmate for her.  He’s good with kids.”  Once she’d gotten over her shock and had been able to relax she’d been amused to see him squatting down to play with Ruby.  He did so with more ease than his dad, but other than that the resemblance was strong.  They even made some of the same hand gestures.

“I don’t know that I’ve seen him with kids before.”  He would have been happy to have siblings for his boy, but Milah had been adamant after her pregnancy that she wasn’t going through all that again.  His delight at seeing her stomach swell had been the opposite of her feelings.  Her focus after Bae was born had been on getting her body back into shape.  Bae had been fed by bottle, and Trev had been in charge of most of his meals, especially the ones in the middle of the night.

“My experience with kids is pretty limited but I have a lot of practice with stubborn old men who keep very big secrets from their exceptionally awesome child.”  Bae had apparently abandoned lunch to join them in the hall.  “Hey dad.  I think you might have forgotten to mention a thing or two.”

“Bae.” Belle took a step back when Bae and Trev hugged, delighted to see how affectionate they were with each other.  Even after the hug ended they still touched, Trev’s hand on his son’s shoulder.  “You look good, son.”

“Italy was amazing.  Emma is even more amazing.  I couldn’t wait for you to meet her, dad.”

“I’m going to go check on Ruby.”  If the toddler was awake, of course, everyone would know.  She had a tendency of sitting on her bed and howling like a wolf to announce that nap time had ended, or just getting up and playing with her toys in a way that wasn’t at all silent.  Bae wouldn’t know that, and Trev was probably too distracted to realize she was using it as an excuse to leave father and son alone.  Ruby, of course, was still sleeping.  Belle took a moment to get sheets out of the linen closet to give them a wash after Bae and Emma were done with their laundry.  After a moment she got out a second set; she shouldn’t assume that they would want to share a bed, though instinct told her they would.  She lingered a minute longer looking at the photos hanging in the hall of a younger Bae; now that she’d seen him as an adult she could recognize him.  If she hadn’t met him so unexpectedly and been focused on if she and Ruby needed to run she might have seen the family resemblance.  After a few minutes she headed back to the stairs.

“She needed a home, and this place is better for them.  After you left this house was suddenly too much.”  

“I’m sorry, dad.  I should have…

“You should have done exactly what you did, Bae.  I would never want to hold you back.  You need to explore and learn and find new things, find your things.  Every day I miss you but I am so proud to watch you become the man you have become.  I want your happiness more than anything, and staying here wouldn’t let you become who you’re supposed to be.”  Belle held the slightly musty sheets to her chest and felt guilty that she was watching such a personal scene.  She couldn’t look away, though.  Trev was so good at keeping things inside that she often had to guess what his small gestures and expressions meant.  She appreciated his biting wit and knew from his actions that he cared about her, but rarely did he discuss his feelings so clearly.  Bae was lucky to have a father that loved him and wasn’t afraid to say it.  She struggled to think when her father had made his love and pride known to her.  

“I love you, dad.  Your happiness matters just as much.”  Bae frowned a little.

“I’m not unhappy,” Trev teased, looking up as Belle came down the stairs, no longer comfortable without them knowing she was there.  She smiled at him, pleased to see him happy.  Perhaps she was too focused on that smile or perhaps it literally made her knees weak because she was a couple of steps from the bottom when she missed the edge of the step.  She barely registered the fact that she was falling and that she was going to hit the floor when suddenly she was wrapped in warmth instead.  She blinked and looked up to find Trev staring at her, eyes wide and breathing heavy.  He held her in his arms, his cane fallen to the ground.

“Thank you.”  They’d hugged a couple of times, but she’d never been close enough or lingered long enough to feel his heart beating against her skin.  She was tempted to lean her head against him, wanting the feeling to last a little longer, but that wasn’t fair to him or good for his leg.

“It’s no matter,” he said as he carefully helped her to stand.  “Are you certain you’re alright?”

“I should be the one asking you.  I only fell, you’re the one that had to catch me.”  She bit her lip before asking if his leg was alright, knowing how reluctant he was to mention his cane or injury.

“That was so quick reflexes, dad.  Color me impressed.”  Bae held his dad’s cane in his hand and offered it.  “I’m glad you’re alright, Belle.”

“I told Ruby you were our guardian angel when you offered us this place, Trev.  I guess I was more right than I knew.”  After straightening her dress a little she bent down to pick up the dropped sheets.  “I’m going to put these in the laundry room and go make some iced tea.”

The washing machine was running, a comfortably bland and repetitive sound.  Belle leaned against it and took a handful of deep breaths, willing her heart to slow down and mimic the rhythm of the washer.  She wasn’t certain if her racing heart was because of the near disaster or if it was entirely down to being held in Trevelyn Gold’s arms.  It didn’t matter; even if Bae and Emma weren’t around she wasn’t brave enough to find out.  She had Trev’s friendship and it meant the world to her.  She might want more, but not at the cost of what she had.  There was no reason to think that he’d be interested in a relationship with anyone, let alone her. 

“Hey, sorry.  Just seeing if it was time to switch things to the drier.”  Emma leaned in the doorway.  “You okay?”

“Yeah, just bringing down sheets to wash so we can make beds up later.  Or bed?”  It was easier to think about someone else’s relationship rather than her own non-existent one.  “We have two extra rooms.”

“We just need the one, unless that’s weird for you.  I know some people wouldn’t feel comfortable with that.  We stayed at this one place in a little village where they wouldn’t rent us a single room because we weren’t wearing wedding rings.”  Emma rolled her eyes.  Belle laughed.

“It doesn’t bother me in the least, and I’m pretty sure Trev would be a lot more bothered by you two coming back married than you two sharing a room.”

“You know him pretty well, don’t you?”  Emma asked.  Belle looked down at her hands and wondered how to answer the question.

“I don’t know if anyone knows him very well, other than Bae.  He’s a man with a lot of layers, and everything I learn about him is like a gift.  He’s a good friend, and I don’t know where I’d be without him.  I went from working in Chicago one day to coming home for a funeral to find that I suddenly had a baby and two businesses to run.  I didn’t even know how to hold a Ruby without her crying until Trev taught me.”  It was just over a year and a half now, and already it was impossible to imagine her life without him in it.  “Speaking of Ruby I think I hear her.”

“Is that what that noise is?”  Emma laughed as they heard a second little howl.

“She likes to pretend she’s a wolf cub.  It’s her favorite animal.”  Belle put down the sheets and headed back to the stairs, only to find Trev and Ruby walking down them hand in hand.  Trev patiently waited on each step for Ruby to find her footing; she was working on walking down rather than scooching down on her butt.  Belle looked up at how completely focused Trev was on the little girl and felt her heart, so recently calmed, starting to race again.  She couldn’t deny it anymore, she was in love with him.  Maybe, just maybe, she could work up the courage to tell him.

But not today.

“Anyone ready for dessert?  We have cake,” she offered once Ruby was done with the stairs and running to find her new friend.

“I believe I should have my sandwich first, or I might get scolded.  Apparently neither tea nor cake count as a properly balanced meal.”  Trev followed her to the kitchen, teasing gently.  Belle smiled back, and tried her best to tuck her bigger emotions away.  

“The cake will still be here when you’re ready for it,” she promised, handing him the sandwich.  “Do you think Bae wants a slice of cake?”

“His sweet tooth is even worse than mine.  I have known him to polish off half a cake all on his own, and saying no to dessert is generally a sign of illness.”  He waited while she cut the cake, and helped her carry it into the dining room where Bae and Emma broke apart quickly from a kiss.  Ruby was already waiting in her booster seat, and they all settled down to share their meal together.

#rumbelle fic #rumbelle anniversary #verse: baby steps #fic: baby steps #rumbelle #belle french #ruby lucas #mr. gold #emma swan #baelfire #swanfire hunter #swan thief #swan thief fic #papafire #my fic

[brancadoodles]

Hey you two! Thank you for messaging me! Sorry if I won’t answer you two individually, it’s just that you two bring similar points I’d like to use to say even more stuff bc I can’t shut up, apparently.

Lady with Caribbean family whose dad plays Overwatch: that’s so cool, i tried to show my mom how to play too (she chose Mei, because chubby) but didn’t have a lot of time to try. I hope your dad is happy with Baptiste!! He seems like a very Dad character, being a defender and a healer! DAD MATERIAL Y’ALL!! THE DAD ROSTER IS GROWING!

For starters, I just wanted to make clear to everyone that I’m not a black woman - far from it, in fact - and I’m not Caribbean nor do I have many connections to the region. So any black person, especially black women, and MOST ESPECIALLY Caribbean people/people from Caribbean descent, has a deeper knowledge of what I said in that take and I do not intend to take away any place of speech. I just thought it was convenient to at least introduce my thoughts from the position of someone who clearly remembers the 2010 Haiti earthquake (many of your were too young then) and who knows game development to a higher extent than most of the OW community. Also, before I got crazy with the gamer community acting mega entitled over stuff - more on that later.

That said, I gotta say a few things under the cut:

Fans - especially fans from demographics that have little or bad representation in mainstream games - have the right to want a character that represents their image, culture, and values, and that celebrates them. But no one is entitled to such characters when the game is made and controlled by a private capitalist company. The SJW (a word I’ll use as a shorthand for people who defend diversity and respect in the community bc I personally love the idea of us being warriors) OW community is usually pretty understanding, but there are many corners that seem to demand the addition of x or y type of character in the main cast. And Blizzard is not a pizzeria: they try to cater to general cries of the community, within viable time, but game development is a freaking complicated business with lots of flaws and variables.

For instance: the Overwatch creative team at the beginning was, in its majority, male and American white. Michael Chu is of Asian descent, and I know through stories that Blizzard has many female employees and is quite accepting and chill, but it’s still a major multiplayer US-centric Triple A game, and they wanted to cater to what is perceived to be the biggest public for those: young-ish white males. That ties in with their earnestness to try and make a diverse game with a diverse and respectful cast, but their probable lack of understanding of what exactly the public wanted at the moment - or in the next year, because - and I’ll make it bold to drill this into your minds - it takes from 6 months to one year to develop a new character from scratch until they’re added to the cast. Fucking understand this once and for all - game pipelines are very complicated. Again, this is not a pizza place - they have a lot of testing and planning to do and changing the pipeline to add one character before the other is unhealthy for the production.

Therefore, what sparked the creation of Baptiste was, with almost all certainty, the claims for black Mercy as shown in the Overwatch Artbook released around mid-2018. I can’t affirm what they were thinking when they discarded that concept in favor of barbie angel Mercy (ilu blondie), but my guess is that they thought it tied better with both the Valkyrie and the Guardian Angel concepts they were developing, as well as adding a woman of “conventional European beauty” (uuugh) so girls would be represented without rippling the waters too much - remember, she was a release hero, and they had no idea how well Overwatch would fare then. BUT when the community said they would WELCOME a black man as a nurturing support figure (*cough* dad), they reimagined "Angelo” as Baptiste.

Could they have released black Mercy boy back in 2016? Maybe, but 2016 isn’t 2018, and Mercy was developed way farther back than this. They wanted the game to work first, and they probably thought a lot of what they did was already super diverse (and it was).

Which brings us to a very important and often ignored point: Brands aren’t friends. Blizzard, as much as its team tries to be inclusive, is a privately owned company and Activision-Blizzard just laid off 800 workers this month alone. Corporations, as they are conceptualized and existing in the neoliberal panorama of the 2010′s, are billion-dollar socioeconomic psychopaths. That doesn’t mean that Jeff and the OW team is inherently bad or seeking profit - honestly, game workers don’t make that much money in comparison to the administrative positions, and Jeff is very much just a designer -, but it does mean that they are held by the company straps to generate enough capital to keep the machine running, PLUS profit for the execs.

Add to that the fact that the senior members of the OW team have started working in the 1900′s/2000′s, when gAMeR CuLTuRe was being sedimented, and so a lot of the previous concepts of what should be done in a big budget game to appease to the “main audience” are still at play in their minds: simply put, they aren’t millennials, and our culture changes a lot from one year to another. When they release Baptiste, the community is already claiming for a black woman stranger than ever, but remember that it wasn’t THAT blatant in July last year before Hammond (who was a passion project in the works for 4 years) and Ashe (who was an original character for the short film the team fell in love with and decided to add) - it kinda started picking up after Moira and esp Brigitte.

Does that leave them out of the hook? No, of course not. Keep complaining. They’ve already proved they were listening with Baptiste here. I seriously believe that one of the next 3 releases will be a black woman like we are all asking, because they’re seeing that’s something the audience wants. Black people are historically entitled to fair and plentiful representation all around, especially in mainstream media, but it’ll hardly happen in current capitalist culture unless it’s proven to be profitable. No company serves its community, it serves itself using the community - the value said community draws from it is what us, consumers, consider important, but no brand is required to be loyal to us. It could be that Jeff and Michael are begging to the producers to let them add a black woman from the start, and the producers say their hands are tied because their research say black women don’t play games and players don’t care - we’ll never know. We can only tell Blizzard “Hey, Baptiste is really great, big leap you made here, next time black woman okay? We need a black woman.”

(To be completely fair, they should hire black women to the creative team just as is, and make the team even more diverse (I may be wrong but I don’t see a lot black people, not even a lot of Latino people, when the team is seen). Making diverse people part of the team doesn’t mean we’ll get so-and-so character, but it adds a flavor that American white males in their 30s and 40s don’t have. But that’s another discussion for another day)

Now, to wrap this up, a message for gamers who say “you’re complaining too much there’s no diversity are you blind half the cast is non-white” oh yea and ALL NONWHITE PEOPLE ARE THE SAME RIGHT???? WE ALL THE SAME. I’M BRAZILIAN I NECESSARILY AM FROM RIO AND PLAY FOOTBALL (it’s football) AND SAMBA. BLACK MEN ARE THE SAME AS BLACK WOMEN AND BLACK PEOPLE ARE ALL THE SAME EVERYWHERE. YES. OF COURSE. THAT’S HOW DIVERSITY WORKS THAT’S PRETTY MUCH THA go get a Viper shot up your ass in Capture the Flag it’s not my place to educate you on capital D Diversity, because diversity means there are a lot of takes in play. Diversity isn’t “nonwhite”, like white is a default. IT ISN’T.

So yea now I’m off to draw shippy art of Baptiste with everyone and family art too my God I love him so much you have no idea.

Also, brands aren’t friends, destroy the establishment, be aggressive but respectful, and the best fans are the ones who want the property getting better and make it better through their own creativity. Peace.

#baptiste #overwatch #meta #games #video games #ow #raposabranca #not art #WOW THAT GOT LONG #i'm not saying anything anymore about this #i'm gonna be super evasive from now on #i absolutely understand if u dont read this i wouldnt

[nihilnovisubsole]

oh hey it’s a shipping meme

kamibanani tagged me in this over a month ago, and i’ve been meaning to do it ever since, oops. time to take a stroll around the fandom block again

warning in advance, this is very long. i’ve contained the chaos under the cut!

1. Ultimate OTP

i already know this is a cop-out, but i really couldn’t pick one, because all the ships i’ve written have filled important roles in different parts of my life

nancy and butch were the first ship i let myself ship “in earnest,” instead of doing ship art and fanfic while loathing myself for it. in the same way, oleg and rosie went a long way toward getting rid of my sense of shame about doing shippy/romantic creative work. they’re an inherently ridiculous couple in an inherently ridiculous story, so i took it as a given that it was silly and pressed on.

zaeed and irina are kind of a reminder to myself that you have to let yourself be human to be in a relationship. you can’t be a marble statue. you have to be vulnerable. your partner will see you with no makeup, and find out what turns you on. they’re also in some ways about being embarrassed about who you’re attracted to, and struggling to reconcile who you are with who you think you should be. tgoed was another big, messy meatloaf about my relationship with men - how i love them but struggle with my fear of them hurting me, which makes jo snarky and dominant and sad and lonely all at once.

i can already tell this is going to be a monster of a post, so i’d better move on, oops

2. A ship you’ll always love

i still don’t want to make myself try to pick one, so it’s more a question of what relationship models i like

i like battle couples, i like snarky couples who play fight, i like couples who are understated about their affections for each other. any DINK couples will end up at least somewhere up there on my list, for many sappy reasons that i won’t bore you with. most of all, i like couples who know they don’t need each other, but they want to be with each other anyway, because it makes life that much better.

i also like when characters have a flaw that they’re able to overcome with love, because even if it’s not always realistic, it’s really satisfying to read. we may not be responsible for “fixing” our partners, but isn’t it nice when a relationship is a positive influence on someone? isn’t it nice to think that one character could bring out the best in another, and make the other want to do the same for them? again, i’m getting too deep here.

3. Your current obsession

hands down, marcus and livia, my favorite rogue girl and strong-eyebrowed boy. i’ve spent two years working with them for dangerous crowns and i still haven’t gotten tired of them.

i was talking to my mother about this over dinner the other night: marcus and livia know they’re at their best when they’re combined. marcus is the trope of the great general who’s bad at politics. i’ve said that before - he’s a shrewd tactician, but a blunt object at court. he’s also gotten everything in life by playing by the rules, so he’s squeamish about breaking them - and when he tries, the results can be unpredictable. livia, on the other hand, has enough guile for both of them. she can play courtiers like a fiddle, and has decades of spy skills to get her out of trouble. however, if she’s not careful, she gets too vigilante sometimes. she’s used to street justice, and marcus has to talk her down from some of her more drastic instincts.

neither one of them would be able to save histria by themselves. but together, they’re a serious threat, because they shield each other’s weak spots. and when things get dark and they do find themselves tilting toward a moral cliff, it’s their love for each other that pulls them back from the edge.

you know me, i could talk about marcus and livia all day. i don’t want to make the story out to be more than it is, but i put a lot of thought into them.

4. A ship you never thought you’d like

to be honest, i never saw myself getting into dragon age at all, in part because none of the love interests jumped out at me. and then i was like, “oh, who am i kidding? i write ships with unromanceable characters all the time.”

so, uh, congratulations, varric and carmine! you got me into a whole IP. sure, both my halfway-developed dragon age characters ended up being companion OCs instead of wardens, hawkes, or inquisitors, but whatever. since when have i enjoyed a game the way it was meant to be enjoyed

5. A ship you liked but don’t anymore

well, there was that kaidan/irina thing a few years ago. i know, i’m sorry, it’s the one i bring up every time.

kaidan and irina had the problem of being nice on paper, but thoroughly incompatible. kaidan is open with his affections. irina’s embarrassed by that. kaidan is casual. irina is formal to an infuriating fault. kaidan wants to keep the line of communication open at all times - he wants to talk about feelings, he wants you to be vulnerable so he can help. irina turns inward. she wants to suffer in private and come back in her own time. that would make kaidan pry further, which would make irina hide more, et cetera.

zaeed is more distant. that doesn’t sound healthy for her, but it’s actually what irina is more comfortable with. zaeed has been around enough to realize that she needs space, and also to know that her relationship demons have nothing to do with him. not how she needs to be perfect, not the shame she feels about sex, none of it. it’s not that he doesn’t care. it’s just that he knows better than to ask. zaeed has seen the weirdest, most strung-out parts of the galaxy. a woman who has trouble expressing her feelings is not that big a deal.

i feel bad for kaidan fans every time i talk about this one. i really don’t dislike him, the ship was just a bad fit. sometimes you write something thinking it’s going to be great, but the more you dig into it, the more you realize it doesn’t work.

6. A ship you think should be canon

i hate to admit it, but i prefer it when the few non-OC ships i like are never "confirmed onscreen,” and stay in the realm of unresolved tension. the payoff rarely satisfies me as much as what fans come up with. i think it’s the same principle people talk about with “showing the monster” in horror movies - the audience’s imagination is more effective than anything you can show them. [i’ve heard this attributed to hitchcock, but i can’t be sure it’s him.]

the ideal for me is when creators leave characters’ love lives blank, so i can smoosh an OC against them and thoroughly run away with it. my city now! my city now!! ｍｙ ｃｉｔｙ ｎｏｗ！！！

7. A canon ship you hate

bold of you to assume i’m actually going to say anything negative about the [various, but rare] canon ships i dislike that much

8. A ship you’ve shipped for years

at some point or other, i always come back to 47 and diana, mainly because they seem to pull through whatever challenges their franchise throws at them. i’ve already talked way too much about why i like their dynamic, so i’ll just link back to this post instead of putting you through another round of it!

9. A ship everyone loves but you don’t care about

going back to question 7, “a canon ship you hate,” this is what happens with like, almost every popular ship i see. it takes a lot of awfulness for me to sit up and go, “oh god, that ship.” either that, or it has to involve one of the tropes on my instant-kill list. even when a canon/canon ship is good - maybe even great! - i’m so used to “cooking my own food,” it has to really jump out at me for me to get attached to it.

99 times out of 100, ships float by me like a gentle breeze. it’s like that meme of the video game dad:

10. Favorite rare-pair

oh, come on, look at who you’re talking to 😂 this entire meme is rarepairs, i don’t know how to ship anything else!

#long post #like EXTREMELY long post #looks like i still have a lot of feelings about ships apparently #shipping meme #shitpost

[plumedesimili]

The aftermaths of reaping

Summary : After a particularly violent day of collecting hearts for Kingdom Hearts, Demyx finds himself unable to sleep, remembering again and again the events of the day. He wouldn’t ever have expected her of all people to comfort him, though... Word Count : ~1100

Today had been a slaughter. Literally. “One step closer to our goal”, Xemnas had said. “One step closer to have these hearts of ours back. One step closer to complete Kingdom Hearts.”

Demyx was just one step closer to break down beyond repair.

They went to a nameless world - if it had a name before, it was of no importance now. All eleven of them. And they released a tsunami of Darkness.

Heartless after heartless, with various shapes, sizes, a whole zoo full of Shadows, Darkballs, Invisibles, Possessor, a whole collection of pureblood whose goal was to bring chaos. And chaos it brought.

When people with a strong heart lost to Darkness, their heart turned into a Heartless, their body to a lesser Nobody. People with an incredibly strong heart might turn into a faced Nobody. But most people would simply disappear, their heart finding a safe haven into Kingdom Hearts.

They had reaped a whole world of its hearts. Darkness made no difference, showed no compassion. Men, women, children, babies ; all that had a heart was collected.

In front of the eyes of the eleven hooded figures who had brought this misery. And sure, Kingdom Hearts looked bigger now, and Demyx knew it was good news if he wanted his heart back, but he wondered how much more it would cost. How many hearts his own was worth.

He was sobbing in his bed when someone opened his door. He straightened,trying to wipe out the tears while knowing how foolish and too late he was. He could at least have cried with his back facing the door.

When he saw who was at the door, he knew things would only get worse.

“Larxene? What are you… It’s not what you think.”

“Isn’t it?” She rose an eyebrow, a sarcastic smile drawn on her lips. “Because I thought you were weeping like a baby on your bed. So if that’s not it, what is that?”

“I… I had a nightmare,” he lied as quickly as he could. “Now go on, make fun of me, then get lost.”

“You really need to be quieter when you cry. You’re going to wake everyone up. And they won’t be pleased.” But behind the accusation in her voice, he thought he heard something else. Had it not been Larxene, he might even have thought it was kindness.

“Today was quite a day, wasn’t it?” She closed the door behind her, and he frowned.

“I’m sure you enjoyed every second of it.”

“As a matter of fact, I didn’t. I didn’t hate it like you did - you couldn’t hide despair from your silly face, a luck no one else noticed - but it was no fun to watch either. You know, I don’t care much about getting my heart back, so it feels unfair even to me to slaughter people for something I don’t want. My world got eaten by Darkness as well. I do feel a bit sorry for them. Well, I would anyway if I could feel anything.”

This was the thing that they all said the most. Had I had a heart, I would feel that way. Heart or not, Demyx sure felt this or that way all the time. Maybe they were wrong. Maybe he never lost his heart in the first place. That would make sense - no way his heart had been strong enough to survive an attack, let alone turn him into a faced Nobody. He was too weak. While they all had stared at people screaming, vanishing into pools of Light, he had averted his gaze.

“I’d like to get some sleep. Leave me alone. I don’t need babysitting.” His voice cracked. No matter how hard he tried, he couldn’t forget the screams, the face of that woman who looked at him while holding her baby, the smell of some houses burning. He couldn’t, and this would haunt him forever. He couldn’t talk anymore, as the sobs started again, even more violently. This ought to shoo her away, at least. But to his surprise, she sighed and put her foot on his stomach, pushing him to the other side of the bed. She wasn’t exactly gentle, but that was better than a kick.

“What are you doing?” He managed to ask between two sobs. He couldn’t read her facial expression. She looked deadpan.

“I guess you do need babysitting. So here I am, the nice babysitter taking care of the crybaby. Give me some room.” She lied down next to him and threw a pillow to his face. “Here. If you can’t stop whining, at least it will muffle down your voice.”

Was this her way of being nice? Or was it that she really was annoyed by his crying? He didn’t know, and didn’t care much. He let the tears flow, and flow again until his eyes were dry, and she simply laid there, waiting in silence. It somehow felt comforting. He was still shaking, though, unable to forget the reason behind his tears, and warm fingers suddenly wrapped around his, very gently.

“Hey, Demyx?” she asked out of the blue with a quiet voice.

“Yeah?” His own voice was more of a squeal, still shaking.

“Do you remember where you’re from? Your world, I mean. When you were Somebody.”

Although the correct phrasing should have been a Somebody, he wasn’t expecting her to show any more delicacy. And it wasn’t wrong. He was Nobody now. He slowly nodded.

“Then tell me about it. What was it like? What did you do of your days? What kind of weather was there? What kind of people lived there?”

He closed his eyes, and, this time, instead of seeing bodies falling to the Darkness, he saw familiar streets ; instead of hearing screams and pleas for help, he heard people chatting and birds chirping.

“Well, it was a quiet town with a small harbour. There were many fishermen, and it stunk of fish all the time. It was full of cats, lured by the fish. And there was this shop, selling flowers who somehow all smelled of fish, but the smile of the girl selling them would make you forget about that. She would make you forget anything unpleasant. I remember this inn, where you would meet travelers from all over the world, and there was also this man-”

Somewhere in his story, Larxene had fallen asleep, her hand still holding his, a peaceful and rare smile on her face. But he kept talking, telling about everything he remembered, until every painful memories of the recent events were replaced by happy memories from the past. He kept talking until he fell asleep himself, and there was nothing scary about his dream.

He dreamt of the past. Of the harbour, of the inn, of the cats, of the flower shop. And somehow, the girl with the radiant smile had changed into a gorgeous young woman with golden hair and turquoise eyes, and her smiles made him forget everything unpleasant.

A/N : This wasn’t even meant to be shippy, but my brain did it anyway! I was supposed to write something else involving the two of them but I got this idea last night and had to write it down. I love these two a lot and had the surprise to see that @tzufcallsmeshomps drew them as kids and my heart felt brand new again <3 (seriously go check out her artworks her kids are always so cute)

Aaah I wished they actually had interactions in the game, let them at least talk (and insult each other) in KH3 pleaaase

#fanfiction #kingdom hearts #larxene #demyx #angst #fluff #comfort #nightmare #trauma #one shot #in canon Larxene would probably just have choked him with the pillow #"Shut up Demyx there are people trying to sleep she'd say #imagine xemnas coming instead of her #now that's something I'd like to forget

[televinita]

Zoo 3.01

I am rusty and out of practice so bear with me, especially since I spent 2 hours after watching just basically keyboard smashing and yelling "I DON'T UNDERSTAND ANYTHING ABOUT ANYTHING THAT HAPPENED."

Anyway, today's review format is subheaders with bullet points that are really more like single-idea paragraphs and only get longer as I go. This review is also based on my live-viewing notes and not fact-checked with a second watch.

Plot Partners: Abe / Dariela & Suspicious Clem

Abe became a doctor? Dariela has sketchy contacts Abe can't know about? They are kick-ass parents on top of all that, despite their own crappy childhoods?? I have no idea what's going on but I'm excited.

Is anyone going to explain how some dogs are apparently unaffected by the mutation or...? Is it because doggos are so Good and Pure?

What is this clumsy retcon that Clementine was obsessed with babies/dolls? She tried to take like 10 stuffed animals and zero dolls with her when they left Boston in season 1. I mean I guess she did risk her life to save a baby from murder crows, but... Speaking of which, looks like season 3 will finally be the year nobody has to rescue a baby after its mother is brutally swarmed to death!

Hot Rugged Action Hero Jackson (& Friends)

Hey so listen I'm going to need you to stop force feeding me this relationship because I am still not there yet. Maybe when I am there, I will enjoy the fact that you threw like 5 different types of my favorite shippy scenes into one episode, but for now I'm saying things like "Ctrl+Alt+Save this kiss for when I care."

I am super excited that Jackson can control lions With His Mind, though. Tell me more.

And give me ALL of the Primeval monsters. That prehistoric rhino thing was my 2nd favorite part of the episode. (and to be clear: when i say Primeval, I am referencing the awesome British TV show and its little Canadian sibling, not just an adjective)

Plot Partners: Jamie and/or Logan

I can't believe Logan is managing to annoy me even more now that he has hair.

This skulking loner Sarah Walker version of Jamie is not really doing anything for me, so if we could bring her warmer side back ASAP that'd be cool. (sorry fandom. please don’t throw garbage at me. /Pam Beesly voice.)

Although I do sort of like that she re-purposed Mitch's lab into her own computer science-y lab. That's something we should probably write stories about. Speaking of...

Backstory Tentpoles a.k.a. Fanfic Prompts

I could let you claim that Jamie banged Logan at some point in the last 10 years, or I could just go "haha cool I guess we're calling that wilderness trek and about 7 days on the plane dating now" and speak no more of this evil.

I love that it sounds like Jamie and/or the Ragtag Band Of Failed Heroes got to keep hold of Clementine for 2 or 3 years, at least, before she apparently got ripped away and spirited off by Max. I will actually die of pain right now if I try to even imagine what that change was like, but it's gonna be gold for someone to dig into. Several someones, actually; there is plenty of room.

Speaking of things that will make me die of pain if I try to think about them: Jamie going on multiple expeditions over the years to try and find him.

Particularly the one where she finds his glasses.

His bloodstained glasses.

#HELP THE DYING IS STARTING

F YEAH ALPHA SHIP

Actual reaction to That Scene: *rolling my eyes* "Jamie has all the opportunity in the world to meet more terrible men" scene right on cu- WHAT, WHAT THE JIMINIY JIGGERS IS GOING ON / NO NEVER MIND I DON'T CARE AND DON'T NEED CONTEXT.

I have too many feelings about this so mostly Imma spend them on other peoples' posts and/or gifsets, but my heart is in roughly 9000 pieces as it finally dawns on me that this being Mitch's dream = Mitch comforting himself with Jamie telling him it's going to be okay and she's going to find him = can somebody please call all the ambulances

...also I keep looking at the deep and somewhat disfiguring scars he’s got, and wondering how Jamie might react to them. These are significantly different from the usual barely-there scars fictional characters fret about; these are the kind of scars that force you to confront exactly what kind of nightmare horror pain this person went through and how maybe it's even worse than you ever pictured.

Billy Burke Proving Why I Spend Every Autumn Transitioning Out of Zoo By Tracking Down His Other Work

I am running out of brainpower and have none left to process this plot, so I will just say: as much as I hate that Mitch is surrounded by strangers upon waking up, and suspicious strangers at that, it is kind of amazing to see him like this. It's Mitch, but it's Mitch stripped of all snark and the command he usually has of any given situation, even when he's just blustering his way through it. It is all kinds of painful to see him confused, mistrustful, frustrated by his inability to communicate or even really understand what's going on.  Mitch looking this lost and withdrawn into mental retreat is quite a gut-wrench.

(it's also really good mental fodder for hospital fic. I'm just sayin'.)

My Favorite Sideshow: Mushy Father/Daughter Moments

So...that girl with Mitch definitely looks more like Young Clem, which is the only consolation prize I have for losing our amazing original actress, and it would line up with Max sequestering her away and/or being involved with shadowy forces. But it would be interesting if they're setting up Badass Clem to LOOK like she's a sketchy Clementine imposter, but actually be the real girl who is angry and embittered by her circumstances, while IADG seems more than capable of making up fake nonsense to manipulate Mitch into giving up info.

That said, my tiny human heart is not big enough to hold the amount of pain there would be if the first thing Mitch found comfort in upon regaining consciousness turned out to be a lie. I need him to recognize his own kid. That bowed head / forehead nudge killed me even more than the dream sequence.

What's REALLY going to upset me is if one of the girls is like a...clone of some kind, so that they're both technically Clem, but not. Or one is part-hybrid. I feel strongly like part-human hybrids are gonna be a Thing. (Mind you, I usually am very wrong when I start predicting.)

tl;dr Mitch + Being A Mess Of Emotions About His Daughter is my actual favorite thing about this show.

In conclusion: I still have no idea what’s going on but I am excited to see the rest.

#cbs zoo #zoo 3.01 #episode reactions #JUST PULL THE TRIGGER AND POST IT TELEVINITA #YOU CAN KEEP PICKING AT IT BUT IT'S NOT GONNA GET ANY BETTER