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wordsfromthesol · 3 years

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Hunted

Author: @wordsfromthesol Taglist: togasbetch malfoys-demigod pricetagofficial Pairing: Dick Grayson x Reader Summary: You're a detective at Bludhaven PD with Dick Grayson and when a serial killer your after starts hunting you down, you have no choice but to ask for his help. Warnings: Kidnapping, stalking Word Count: 2.3k

You had been working at Bludhaven PD for about 2 years before the hotshot Dick Grayson came on the scene. Though you had grown into friends or at least friendly coworkers…he annoyed the shit out of you. After all, everything seemed to come so easy to the pretty boy Grayson and you could count the number of times you had actually seen him at the station on one hand. Thankfully this happened to be one of those times because you had run out of options.

"Dick, can I get your eyes on this case? I'm been staring at these files for hours and can't find the pattern. Yeah, they've obviously got a type. But that's not enough to go on."

Dick briefly runs through the file before staring blankly up at you. "You can't be serious, right? You need to take yourself off this case."

"People are dying, Dick." You had already assumed you would get some pushback from the star detective.

"I can't let you go after this guy. You're an exact match to all 5 people they've killed." Dick attempted to reason with you, to no avail.

"Then I'm the exact person who should go after this guy. Rather it be me than some civilian." Finally, Dick relented and gave you some useful information.

"Well…everyone was taken near an abandoned subway line." He takes out a highlighter and marks up the map. You tried to mask your nervousness as the bright yellow line stopped a block from your apartment.

"Thanks…I didn't even notice that." He nodded, still apprehensive about giving you the information, as he handed the file back to you. Tucking the papers away, you decided to finish up the research at home.

As you sauntered home, you were barely able to keep your eyes open. Stopping at the crosswalk, you noticed a man staring at you in your peripheral vision. You swore he was the same man from five blocks ago. Surely you were just paranoid…right? You began weaving in and out of the crowd, making a complete circle back to the crosswalk. Yet there he was in the corner of your eye. This wasn't paranoia. This was real. You pulled your phone out of your pocket and pressed Dick's contact card.

"Hey, uhm…remember that case we were talking about today?"

"You mean literally 20 minutes ago? Yeah, I remember."

A nervous chuckle escaped your lips, "Well you were probably right." Dick could hear the shakiness in your voice.

"He's following you, isn't he?"

Your current situation momentarily left your mind as the words tumbled out of your mouth, bypassing the brain. "How the fuck could you possibly know that?!"

"Don't go home. I'm coming to get you." You wanted to plead with him to stay on the line, but your stubbornness got the best of you. Slowing your pace, you attempted to stay in the crowd and walked straight. How was Dick even going to find you? As soon as the thought danced across your mind, there he was, as if you summoned him from thin air.

"Y/N!" The familiar voice called out from the street. A deep sigh of relief flooded over you as you trotted over to him. Crawling on the back of the motorcycle, you didn't bother asking where he was taking you. Anywhere was better than here.

"Wow. Just wow." Dick shook his head in awe as he climbed off the bike, ushering you into the apartment building.

"It's not like I planned it." You tried to force the uneasiness from your voice.

"Right, of course not. You realize he had to have been following you for days now, right? He knows where you live. You can't go back there." You hadn't really thought about that, yet where were you supposed to go? You looked at him pensively, unable to form a proper sentence. "Looks like you're staying here then." The alacrity of the statement caught you off guard.

"I can't just --"

"Right right. So let's go antagonize the serial killer. Genius." The sheer amount of sarcasm took you aback, this was a completely different side of the infamous Dick Grayson than you were used to.

You glared at him as he opened the door to his apartment. "So dramatic…besides, someone has to stop him. He's already after me, so I'm the perfect bait."

Dick's eyes went wide. He looked at you like you had three heads before bellowing, "ABSOLUTELY FUCKING NOT!"

"Do you have a better plan?" Part of you hoped he would begin rattling off some convoluted trap. One that didn't hold your life in the balance.

"Well…not yet. But I'm sure we can think of something. Give me a few days."

A few days came and went and you were losing your mind in Dick's apartment. The worst part was, you were never alone. Dick or one of his family members was always by your side. You weren't quite sure how some 14-year-old kid was supposed to do anything if said serial killer showed up, but Dick was insistent.

Finally, you caught a break. Jason, your latest babysitter got called away on some emergency and Dick wouldn’t be home for another hour. Of course, Jason informed you to tell Dick he left just moments ago, which actually worked in your favor. You dialed Captain Holt on your phone and began to strategize. The captain wasn't keen on using you for bait either, but eventually, you swayed him. Everything was planned to take place tomorrow afternoon, a time Dick just so happened to be testifying in court.

"Y/N?" The confusion spread across Dick's face as he opened the door.

"I'm here!" You called out from the bedroom before stepping into sight.

"Where's Jason?"

"Oh, family emergency. But he left like two minutes ago. Nothing to worry about."

"Okay…" Dick didn't sound convinced.

"I also got a call from the captain today. He wants to meet with me tomorrow at 2." You tried to play it off as a casual request, but you knew it wouldn't be that simple.

"What? Why? We still haven't caught the psychopath…plus I have court tomorrow."

"Dick, I'll be in a police station. You can drop me off on your way."

Dick let out an exasperated sigh, "Fine. But I don't like it."

You were absolutely terrified, but you tried your best not to let it show through. After all, you asked for this. Dick still seemed uneasy, even as he dropped you off at the precinct. You wondered if he could tell something was wrong. Though there wasn't much he could do at this point, considering he was due in court by noon.

"Y/N. Are you sure about this?" Captain Holt questioned as you walked into his office.

"No. But something needs to be done. This guy doesn't just give up. So either I'm bait and we have a chance at catching him, or I die a horrific death for no reason. Not the best of options."

Holt nodded in understanding, "Well everything is set up. We have snipers in position around the perimeter of your apartment and a dozen plain-clothed in the vicinity."

"So hopefully we have a chance. What about near the abandoned subway entrance? That's how Dick thinks he's staying out of sight."

"Covered. We are ready to go on your command. Though I still think Detective Grayson should be informed of the plan."

"He's in court. So he couldn't help out anyways. The fewer people that know, the better. Let's move."

You arrived at your apartment without any issues, though you could feel a million pairs of eyes on you. With everyone watching you, it would be hard to notice one more face. Nevertheless, you persisted, attempting to go about your day in your apartment. The apartment that now seemed so foreign to you, though you had only been unexpectedly ripped from it a week ago.

As the day went on you began to feel more and more lightheaded. Normally, you would chalk it up to stress, but given the situation, you decided otherwise.

"Captain…"

"There is still no sign of him," he ignored the strain in your voice.

"I think…he's already…here." A crashing sound was left ringing through the earpiece.

"I want everyone on her position now! Get me a visual!" Captain Holt's booming voice commanded those around him. "Where are my snipers?!" An eerie silence crept over the line. "Shit." He mumbled before pulling out his phone. The dial tone appeared to mock him until finally the other end picked up.

"What happened?" The stringent words reverberated in the air.

"He has her."

"Goddammit. How did he get her out of the precinct?" Dick didn't wait for an answer. "Because she wasn't in the precinct. How could you let her be bait? You've seen what this guy does!" The anger was bubbling up inside him. Out of everyone, why you. Why did he have to go after you?

"I know."

"How long? HOW LONG HAS HE HAD HER?!" Two cops turned towards Captain Holt as Dick's voice echoed from the speaker.

"About a minute. From her apartment." As soon as the word left his lips, the line went dead. Holt buried his head in his hands. If there was any hope of finding her, it was Dick Grayson.

You woke up in a cold, dark, concrete room. "Well, guess that didn't work out as planned…" You mumbled to yourself, or so you thought.

"Really? You thought a bunch of cops in blue jeans could stop me? I've been hunting you for months. Along with the others. But you. You were my challenge. I memorized everything about you. Your favorite breakfast, your confidants, what time you call your family. Lovely little folks, by the way. And then you thought you could hideaway in that pathetic little Richard Grayson's apartment. The only reason I didn't take you then is because I didn't want to. What kind of challenge would that be? That would have diminished everything!" He carefully stepped around your chair, weaving your hair in and out of his fingers, until he turned to face you. "But now, here you are! My masterpiece! My coup d'etat!" His lips forced their way to yours. "Don't worry, my sweet. I'll take my time with you. After all, the grand finale demands perfection!" The crazed man turned on his heel and sauntered out of the room, leaving you with your own horrific thoughts.

It felt like hours had gone by before he returned. When he walked in, his eyes went immediately to your wrists and fingernails, which were now bloodied beyond recognition. "Now I wish you hadn't done that. Blood does not make for a spectacular fossilization." He walked around and surveyed the damage. "I guess it was to be expected though. After all, it wouldn't be fun without the challenge."

"You know, you keep saying that this is some big challenge, yet you gassed me and then tied me up. That doesn't seem like you are really challenging yourself."

"Simple-minded fool! Challenges are not always those of brute force. It took planning and timing to get you here. Those 4 snipers set up on the surrounding roofs? Had to get them out of the way. A delay in your communication device? Truly a necessity. And though you had the foresight to add a few men to the abandoned subway tunnel, they neglected to surveil the associated maintenance hatches. So you see, your perfect encapsulation proves to be quite the…" You noticed a slight furrow of his brow as the sentence broke. "Challenge. Now to finish preparing the resin!" Off he galloped, but you swore something was off. A slight change in his mood.

You heard several loud bangs before your captor fell backward through the door. Nightwing loomed over his grisly body. Then his eyes shot up towards you.

"I'm okay." The words were forced from your throat. With those two small words, Nightwing glared down towards the man and began throwing punch after punch. "STOP! Please!" You screamed out the words, shocked at the vigilante's ferocity. Nightwing's eyes slowly shifted towards you. It was as if a twinge of pain ran its way through his body as he crept towards you. Once close enough, his hands carefully cradled your face until finally, he spoke.

"I don't know what I would have done without you. Why did you do something so stupid?" You could tell he wanted to say the words out of anger, yet a euphoric aura surrounded them instead.

Still confused, you began to answer as he unbound your wrists and ankles. "He wasn't going to give up. This was our chance to catch him…"

"I would've found another way!" The words burst out of him louder than expected. Nightwing let out a sigh as he helped you out of the chair.

"Alright, Dick, I'm sorry." You glanced at him for a reaction...nothing. Worried he didn't hear you, you pushed the point further. "Guess I should be glad you weren't in court long."

Dick stopped in his tracks, finally realizing his mistake. "I…uh…left early." As the two of you got outside, there were a dozen cop cars already swarming the area. Two of the officers came up to meet you.

"Detective! Are you alright? What happened?!" The first began to raddle off questions, but Dick quickly deflected.

"You can find out later. I'm taking her to the hospital. Your man is inside, unconscious."

"I can still talk ya'know…" You mumbled as the officer ran off to inform the others of the new information.

"Yeah, but then you'd try to convince me not to take you to the hospital. And that's not going to happen. But don't worry, the captain is on his way there now. You'll get to regale the entire course of events with him."

It was almost scary how well he knew you. "You'll stay too?" The simple question caused an oversize grin to spread across his face, but all he did was simply nod.

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naralanis · 3 years

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little bumps in the road (pt. 8)

Previously on LBitR

“For the record, I still say Disney World would have been far safer than this insanity.”

Lena does her best to ignore Kara’s muttering. While this may be one of the more insane schemes she has ever concocted in her life, the truth of the matter is that she would have never, ever suggested it if she didn’t honestly think they could pull it off.

“Maybe,” she concedes, squinting at the drugstore compact sitting on the nightstand as she readjusts the wig. “But it certainly wouldn’t be as productive.”

She turns to Kara, who’s still frowning, and fluffs the strawberry blonde locks cascading from her own head. Maybe she should just bleach her hair and be done with it.

“So, what do you think?”

Kara’s frown deepens considerably. “You still look like you, Lena. I’m not sure about this.”

“Wait, hold on; I’m missing a crucial piece,” Lena retorts, reaching for a pair of thick, black-rimmed glasses sitting on the nightstand. “Ta-da,” she says flatly, pulling them on. “Unrecognizable, I’m basically a different person.”

Kara pulls a face, and Lena mentally kicks herself, rushing to pull the frames off.

“Kara, I didn’t mean...”

The blonde raises a hand, stopping her in her tracks. “I know,” she says, though she does so through clenched teeth. “I still think this is a monumentally bad idea. Explain to me why I can’t go with you.”

Lena sighs. “Because you’re supposed to be dead, Kara--it’s far less risky if I go in alone. Even if I get caught, you remain a secret. Plus-- I know the building. I used to own it, once upon a different Earth, remember?”

Kara crosses her arms over her chest, looking entirely unconvinced. “I still think we should wait for Alex. She’s going to respond soon, Lena, I know it.”

“Maybe she will, maybe she won’t. Call her again tomorrow,” she says, as evenly as she can. “But I’m doing this, Kara. I can’t just stand by while you go without powers for another day--who knows when Alex will actually be able to help? I need to do this.”

Kara stares, pensively and worriedly, not saying a word for a long time. She looks at the wig Lena’s wearing, at the outfit they bought a few towns over to make her look like some intern--button-down, dark jeans, oxfords, at the medical supplies they’ll use to take a sample of her blood and transport it to LuthorCorp tomorrow. Her gaze lingers on the glasses Lena’s still holding, and she releases a sigh, sounding more than defeated--she sounds afraid.

“You know you don’t have to do this, right?” she waves a hand over the considerable space between them, seemingly at a loss. “There’s nothing to... atone for, or whatever.”

Lena smiles, knowing it doesn’t reach her eyes.

“We’ll have to agree to disagree there.”

Kara looks anguished, seems to be grinding the gears in her head, like she knows that at this point she’s just grasping at straws.

“Is it too late to find a vet lab somewhere?” she tries, with no conviction behind her tone.

“No, but LuthorCorp will have the equipment for much faster, and more accurate results. I can do this, Kara. I promise.”

Kara visibly deflates, and Lena knows the matter will be dropped, just like that. “Fine. I concede. I’m never talking you out of this, am I?”

Lena feels her smile twitch a little, but she reaches over the gulf between them, putting the glasses back on the nightstand.

“No, darling, I’m afraid not.”

Kara’s responding sigh seems to echo in the motel room; it lingers in the air, heavy with a fear Lena knows she’ll try to brush off.

“Alright, fine. Now please take off that wig--you as a blonde is freaking me out.”

Breaking into LuthorCorp is quite simple, in a manner of speaking: all one needs to make it through the main doors is a swipe card. If she had the necessary materials, Lena could easily clone one with her eyes closed, but as it is, she needs to acquire one from an actual employee.

That is easily accomplished; Kara, decked out as tourist (complete with a neon-orange fanny-pack of her choosing), distracts a low-level minion having his lunch break on the public plaza right across the street from the main building, and Lena just walks right past them, disguise in place. His entry card and lab-coat are in her hands in less than a second, and in the other, she’s already crossing the street.

With any luck, Lena will be in and out of the building before the card is ever reported missing.

The problem, however, lies in getting into a laboratory. Any of the more equipped labs, those working on secretive (and likely illegal) projects, would lie behind layers and layers of security Lena has neither the time nor the tools at present to even try to break.

To their luck, Lena doesn’t actually need to try to sneak into any high-clearance labs--all she needs is a solid thirty minutes with a mass spectrometer of her own design; a handy not-so-little piece of machinery that had become standard in all L-Corp labs in their previous Earth, and, because Lex cannot resist stealing a good idea, LuthorCorp.

Still, even to access a simple, run-of-the-mill lab at LuthorCorp, Lena needs to go through biometric sensors--retina scanners, to be precise.

And maybe, just maybe, Lena had neglected to mention that little detail to Kara when they discussed the plan for the umpteenth time that morning while she methodically took a sample of Kara’s blood, but that’s neither here nor there.

Once she’s through the main doors-- Kryptonian blood sample packed into a Thermos full of ice in her purse (I am amazed and disturbed at how easily you were able to get medical supplies like these, Lena, seriously), it’s easy enough to make her way through the elevators, carrying a stack of papers to look the part of an intern--no one even bats an eye.

The cameras on the third floor are exactly where Lena had expected them to be, so she walks down the corridor to where she knows is a supply closet, and swipes in with no problem. The layout of the building really had not changed at all since she last worked there, even if that had happened on a literal other reality.

Once she’s in, Lena only has to wait. She counts the seconds in her head in French, both to keep track of time, but also to calm her racing heartbeat, because this--this is the biggest gamble of her plan.

Since she obviously does not have a way to bypass the biometric scanners, Lena’s only option is to get someone to do it for her.

She lies in wait in the supply closet for about two and a half minutes, and then she hears it: the sound of footsteps, two sets of them, and idle conversation, coming down the corridor directly her way. Lena takes a deep breath, counts the steps as they approach--she only has one chance to do this right.

When the steps are right in front of the closet, she swings open the door with force.

“Ow!”

The hit is a good one--whoever’s on the other side blocks her from opening the door all the way with dull impact, and her papers go scattering all over the place.

“Oh my God, I’m so sorry! Are--are you OK, did the door hit you?”

Lena’s holding a hand over her right eye, moaning and doubled-over in mock pain as two young men--both looking to be interns-- look her over with concern. One of them is already on the floor, gathering her papers.

“Ow, no, it’s my fault, I shouldn’t have opened the door like that--oww” she cries, maybe a little too dramatically. One of the interns, tall and lanky, steadies her as she fake-wobbles on her feet.

“Ouch, did you hit your head? Let me take a look at your eye, take your hand---yikes!”

Lena removes her palm, previously dusted with the finest blush powder she could find at the drugstore yesterday, and makes a big show of blinking away her tears. The make-up gives her an instant shiner, and the fine powder has the added benefit of irritating the shit out of her eye--so the swelling and the tears are 100% real.

“I’m fine, really, thank you,” she says, waving them off and taking the sheets the other intern dutifully picked up. “I’m so sorry, I was in such a hurry--are you guys OK?”

“Better than you,” the first one, laughs, though he still looks concerned. “Are you sure you’re OK? Your eye looks pretty bad, do you want to go to the infirmary or something?”

“No, no, it’s fine -- I just got to run some stuff, then I’ll get some ice. I’m fine, really,” Lena waves them off politely, touching the skin around her supposedly injured eye.

The two men exchanged a worried glance, but the first shrugs his shoulders. “OK then, take care. Sorry again.”

“No worries,” she laughs, a little too high, but she’s so close, so so close... “I’m just a klutz--my fault, totally.”

She’s already walking away towards a lab, one she had checked during her walk from the elevator to the supply closet. The interns linger by the closet door for a moment, before slowly making their way to the elevator, still sending worried glances her way.

Lena swipes the stolen card, and immediately the panel by the side opens up, revealing the retina scanner and prompting her to scan her credentials. She leans towards the scanner, and the red light makes her blink; the machine buzzes and flashes red, and a robotic voice filters through the side-speakers.

Unable to scan. Please try again.

Lena huffs, audibly--she hears the interns’ steps pause someway down the corridor. She stomps her foot, and leans over the scanner again. It buzzes.

Unable to scan. Please try again.

“Shoot! You’ve gotta be kidding me right now!”

The steps grow closer, and for a moment Lena’s a bit worried she may be overselling her frustration, but before she can try scanning her retinas again, the tall and lanky intern is by her side.

“Did you try your left eye? Seems to be in better condition,” he jokes--his smile is genuine and friendly, but Lena puts on an impressive grimace of alarm.

“I never registered it,” she bemoans, feigning panic. “God, I meant to, but then it was just one of those things--oh my god, my boss is going to kill me--”

“Hey, relax,” he quips, raising a hand to stop what was going to be a rather dramatic tirade. He smiles, and swipes his card at the door, leaning over the panel and scanning his own eye.

Scan complete. The voice drones. Access granted; Montgomery, Jason.

The panel lights up in green, and the door unlocks with an audible hiss. Lena lets out a little squeak of delight that is barely faked--she can’t believe it worked.

“Oh my god, thank you, you’re a saint!”

She pushes the door open, but is barely a foot inside when an arm blocks her entry--she almost screams, body frozen in sheer terror as she turns to look at the intern the door panel just identified as Jason.

He’s smiling broadly. “Say, I’m sorry about your eye. Can I make it up to you over some coffee, later?”

Lena can barely contain her sigh of relief, but she puts on her sweetest smile and bats her eyelashes (though she’s not sure how good the effect is with the eye that is actually stinging quite painfully--what the hell was in that powder??). “I think you just did, Jason.”

His blush would have been cute, if Lena had not been on a very tight schedule. “Oh, I insist. When does your shift end...?”

It takes Lena a second to register he’s waiting for her name; she slowly maneuvers under his arm, dragging her fingers over the sleeve of his labcoat--she can practically feel the poor guy’s shiver as she leans in closer.

“Liz,” she whispers, close to his year. “And my shift ends at seven. The café across the street alright with you?”

He visibly swallows. “Yes, ma’am. See you there, Liz.”

Lena gives him a wink--with her good eye-- as he steps away. As soon as the door clicks shut again, she exhales with relief, leaning against it so she doesn’t just fall to the floor. Her knees are trembling.

She knew she could pull it off, but she also cannot believe she did.

With no time to waste, Lena practically bolts to the nearest spectrometer, quickly uncapping the Thermos with Kara’s blood sample and getting to work. It’s almost refreshing to be in a lab again, even under these circumstances, after weeks on the road. There is an innate sense of calm that falls over her when she’s working like this, like this is her element.

Like this is where she is meant to be.

The spectrometer whirs to life with Kara’s sample--Lena only needs twenty, maybe twenty-five minutes with it. She is tempted to stay for as long as she possibly can--there is so much equipment here that would be helpful... if only she brought a bigger purse, maybe she could have stolen some without detection, since there are no cameras in the labs.

The screen begins to break down the analysis, and Lena’s barely seeing it; she’s copying everything by hand onto a notebook--once the machine is done, she will make its history unrecoverable, and she doesn’t want to print anything through LuthorCorp printers.

Lena works quickly, annotating in her shorthand and trying to work as fast as the machine gives her results. She is barely processing what she sees; there will be time to read and figure everything out later, but now, she needs all the information she can cram into this little notebook.

She can feel her own eyes widening at some of the results, has to check them twice before writing them down--her pen furiously scratches across the paper, but her brain is already elsewhere, trying to reverse engineer the method of synthesizing what she’s seeing in Kara’s blood, trying to figure out ways to get it out of her system, trying to...

The spectrometer slows down and stops--the bar on the screen reads analysis complete. Lena releases a sigh of relief, hand cramping as she writes.

And then there’s the click of a gun right behind her.

“Fancy seeing you here, Lena.”

Lena shuts her eyes--the right one still throbbing, and raises her hands, still clutching the notebook as she slowly and deliberately turns around. She never even heard the door hissing open. She opens her eyes to meet a flinty, furious glare.

“Hello, Alex.”

Parts 1, 2, 3, 4, 5, 6, 7

<< Previous || Next >>

#nara's word vomit #supercorp #supergirl #lena luthor #kara danvers #LBitR #BUCKLE UP KIDS #WE ARE DOING FAKE-ASS SCIENCE #I know some of y'all really wanted them to go to a vet's #but listen #they simply COULDN'T #kara would get distracted by all the puppies #and Lena would never get any work done #also I am pulling this out of my ass every morning #SO WHO KNOWS WHERE WE'RE HEADED #not me #definitely not me #never ever me

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daisylore-au · 3 years

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5/5 — TOMMY INTERROGATION [end]

part seven (?) !!!! final part of this whole event !! out of 28 votes, 25 of you voted to let tommy see dream (and this will be a side event in the future), so that’s the option we go with here !! after this, there will be a few days break between events, where i plan the next one and answer general asks and sort out the summary/story-so-far for this blog. i rlly hope you enjoyed, and tysm for sticking with this !! <3

Henry takes a deep breath. This might be a bad idea, but hey, she’s full of bad ideas. It runs in her blood. “Yeah, I think he’d like to see you,” she says, and watches something like hope and fear flicker over her brother’s face, “he likes seeing new people. You might even help him remember!”

Tommy swallows. He doesn’t look like he’d expected that answer. “Like he’d want to remember his death.”

“Prob’ly not,” Henry admits easily, “but maybe you’ll remind him of his life more.”

There’s a long silence for a while, where Henry yawns and Tommy looks pensive, like he’s thinking about something he’s never dared consider before.

“Okay.” He sounds a little strangled when he speaks. “Okay, I might go to him, I might go see him. At some point. I... Yeah.” He clears his throat roughly. “Flower fields, yeah?”

“Yup.”

“Right.” Silence falls again, and Henry thinks the conversation had gone well. Better than well! She’s surprised at how nice talking to Tommy like this had been: she’d been worried it would be a lot harder. And her brother looks more at ease too — troubled, deep in thought, but less burdened, somehow. Like he’s got a second chance at something.

And then she yawns again, and their quiet little moment is broken when Tommy shoots her an offended look.

“You’re bored of me,” he whines, and Henry smirks at him, “you’re yawning because you’re bored of me, aren’t you?”

“Yes,” Henry answers plainly, “yes, you’re boring. You’re having a big main character moment and I’m just sat here. You’re gonna make me fall asleep.”

Tommy yelps, faking offence, but he’s grinning. “What the fuck? I’m literally going through character growth, and you’re being mean to me. That’s not on.”

Henry gets to her feet, shooting her brother a grin. “Well, have fun having growth,” she sings, picking up the book and handing it to Tommy with care, “I’m gonna go to bed. And you’re old, so you should too. ‘Cause being tired will make you wrinkly.”

“I’m not old!”

“Well,” Henry allows, “not as old as—”

“Philza Minecraft.” Both of them say in unison, grinning, and all feels right in the world as Tommy stands too with a snort.

“Okay, yeah, I’ll get to bed too, then. I’ll clean all this up in the morning. Come on, you.”

They reach the door, and Tommy switches the light out — Henry takes a dramatic moment to look back at the axe and whisper goodnight, my beloved to make her brother laugh before following him upstairs, feeling satisfied. That had been probably the best outcome: and maybe Tommy would visit Dream! She’d have to tell the others, but Tommy is cooler than the other guardians anyway, and they all know it, so she’s sure they’ll be fine with it.

Probably, anyway.

“Night,” she says brightly to Tommy, opening her room door, “sleep tight.”

“Don’t let the bed bugs bite,” Tommy answers with an eye roll, but he’s smiling, and Henry takes it as a win as she climbs into bed, eyes heavy, exhausted after her late night.

She dreams of cliff fights that change to building a structure with a friend and shrieking with laughter at his jokes, the sun setting on them both as they work. She’ll forget the name Church Prime in the morning — it’s long since been torn down, but in her dreams, she helps build it, and feels like her happiness will never end.

(In his own room, Tommy stares at the photos on his bed, eyes red-rimmed and throat tight. There’s a photo of the original eight server members, from Sapnap to George to Callahan to Alyssa, all of them grinning from ear to ear and looking delighted to be there. In the middle is Tommy, perched atop Dream’s shoulders with a shit-eating smirk, while the man below him looks equal parts amused and disgruntled. Tommy’s heart aches, and he tucks the photos back under his mattress, choosing to deal with them another night.

Because the more he looks, the more his old mentor and friend and brother figure’s eyes look like Daisy’s green one, and it hurts too much to think about right now.)

#> daisy lore: writing #> daisy lore: part one (interrogation)#> main story !!#> daisy lore: henry #> daisy lore: tommy #> daisy lore: part 1 day 5 #tw trauma

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2manyfandoms2count · 3 years

Text

You can count on me (I will be there for you)

Alya joins the identity dance, and the chapters flirt with the 2k mark again (it’s fine).

Hope you enjoy!

Part 1 | Part 2 | Part 3 | AO3

---

Chapter 4

Chat Noir detransforms as he lands into Marinette’s room, and goes straight for her sewing box. He knows the code for it; Ladybug had made sure he did after she’d started to find the blackmail letters, in case anything happened to her.

Not that they use it much, these days, mind you.

The Miraculous box unfolds before him, and he swiftly picks up the Fox and the Horse Miraculouses. He’s about to close it when his eyes land on the Turtle bracelet, and he pauses. Even though it would probably be better to have as few people involved as possible, he has to say it might be a good idea to have some backup, just in case.

He mentally scans the guest list. Alix already has her Miraculous with her, and he knows she’ll use it if needed. Luka’s Second Chance could come in useful, but he’s performing with Kitty Section. It would be a little tricky to camouflage his costume on stage, especially with Alya’s Mirage otherwise occupied. Chloé would surely be ecstatic at the idea of seeing Pollen again, but Adrien isn’t sure that she would be very discreet about it. Same for Kim and Xuppu.

This leaves Nino and Kagami, his best people. Calm, collected, trustworthy. He shoves their Miraculouses in his pocket, closes the box and dashes out of the door. He doesn’t know exactly what their role could be, but he knows that having the Miraculouses on him can only buy some time later.

He slows down as he walks into the reception room, nodding to a few acquaintances his father had insisted should be there, and grabs a canapé from a waiter’s tray as his eyes search the room for his wife’s best friend. He spots her in the middle of a conversation with Marinette, next to the head table, and makes a beeline for them.

“Hello, beautiful ladies.” He clears his throat as he approaches.

“And hello to you, Hot Stuff.” Alya winks and elbows Marinette in the ribs. The bride blushes a deep shade of crimson at the reminder of the time she’d stolen Adrien’s phone, and starts to regret asking Alya to be her Maid of Honour. I’m going to die of embarrassment before the end of the toasts, aren’t I? Her head shake says.

“Marinette, would you mind if I borrowed Alya for a minute?”

“Please, do.” She all but pushes her friend towards her husband, who smiles and starts leading her towards the edge of the room.

“Actually, Adrien?” Marinette calls out before they’re too far away. He turns around and sees her jog up to him.

“Erm… Have you seen Chat Noir yet?” She whispers, looking around them carefully to make sure nobody’s listening. Alya’s eyebrows shoot up and Marinette gestures that she’ll explain later.

“Yes!” Adrien nods. “You can count on me, after the toasts.”

“Okay, good.” Marinette lets out a relieved sigh. “Just wanted to check. I’ll leave you two to it.”

“See you later, love.” He leans in and kisses her on the cheek, ‘for appearances’.

“Y-yeah, sounds good.” She blushes again, her hand flying to her cheek as she watches him and Alya leave. Kwami, his acting is smooth.

“Aw, look at my girl, she’s just as flustered as when we were in collège!” Alya coos, glancing back at Marinette once they’re out of earshot. She waves at her, and Marinette waves back nervously before starting to talk with a guest. “What’s this about Chat Noir though?” She turns towards Adrien and looks him in the eye.

“Actually, he’s what I want to talk to you about.” He shuffles awkwardly on his feet, trying to find the right words. “But first, I need you to promise this conversation will stay between us. No telling Marinette, or anyone.”

“Not even Nino?” Alya clutches her heart. She can keep Miraculous secrets from the public, but she feels bad keeping things from her fiancé.

“Nino will know part of it soon enough, I promise. The rest is something I’ll only tell him once I’ve told Marinette.”

She pouts pensively, weighing satisfying her curiosity against lies of omission.

“I guess that’s alright.” She finally shrugs, and her eyes widen hungrily at the smell of a scoop. “So, what’s wrong with Chat Noir? And what does it have to do with Marinette?”

“Well, I wouldn’t call it a problem, per se, in normal circumstances, but today…”

“Spill it, Agreste.”

“Okay.” Adrien takes a deep breath. “You know how Ladybug is dating Chat Noir?”

“Duh, I was the one who uncovered that story.” She says with a smug smile. Adrien rolls his eyes, an amused smile playing on his lips. It had occurred to him later that Ladybug had made sure it was Alya who found out first, as if to soften the blow of keeping her identity from her later.

“Well, it turns out that…” Adrien looks around them quickly, just to make sure there are no ears lying around, and his voice drops to a whisper. “Marinette is Ladybug.”

“What? ” Alya’s shriek is muffled by Adrien’s hand.

“Shh, this is confidential info, we don’t want people to come poking around.”

Alya blinks, then closes her eyes and takes a deep breath. She takes her time to formulate a coherent sentence, although Adrien can tell from her slight nervous twitching that her thoughts must be all over the place.

When it looks like she's gotten over the news enough that she can control the volume of her voice, he moves his hand away from her mouth.

“So, Marinette is… you-know-who. Okay. This is fine. I can handle it. I just… I was obsessed with her! How did I not notice she was literally right there, next to me, the whole time!!” She facepalms.

“Tell me about it.” Adrien smiles. He'd had the same mini meltdown after he and Ladybug had parted ways on the day she'd called off her transformation in front of him. He’d sat in front of Marinette for years , and never suspected a thing. At least, he thought so. There was something about calling her their everyday Ladybug that had come back to mind when he’d dug deeper in his memories… But he would be lying if he said it had been intentional.

“But… If she’s who you say she is… She’s been seen kissing Chat Noir very recently, while you guys were dating. So, no offense, but… why would she be marrying you? Shouldn’t she be marrying Chat Noir? Unless…” She gasps and points at him. “ You’re Chat Noir!”

Adrien smiles at his friend's excellent deduction skills. “Well, see, this is where it gets complicated. You are correct in saying that I am Chat, but , Marinette doesn’t know that.”

“What? But why?” Alya frowns in confusion.

“The good old ‘no reveal’ rule.” He shrugs. “Long story short, Ladybug is being blackmailed. She revealed her identity to me because she figured it would be better this way. I -Chat Noir- offered to act as her bodyguard until we got to the bottom of it all, but she refused because she doesn’t want to know who I am, in case everything goes wrong. She wasn't sure where to get protection from, though, so I offered the Adrien Agreste option, since I have a bodyguard. Match made in heaven, really.”

“Dayum.” Alya looks at him blankly, taking the time to process his explanation. “So, to sum up: you guys are involved in a fake, fake-wedding situation, where Marinette thinks she married her ex-crush for benefits, instead of the love of her life, when you were the same person all along?” She smirks. “Boy, I wish I’d known that before writing my toast, I would have made so many allusions to it… I would have kept it discreet enough that she wouldn’t have understood, of course, but the satisfaction of her connecting the dots later would’ve been amazing.”

“Don’t worry, I took care of that in my own speech.” He winks. He plans on keeping a phone nearby to record it, so he can play it back to her when she knows everything and have her see how genius it was.

“Okay, now. I’m guessing you didn’t just tell me this to get it off your chest.” Alya clears her throat.

“Indeed. Something happened earlier, and Marinette thinks that the people who are blackmailing her are my father and Nathalie.”

“No offense, but that would check out.”

“None taken, I feel the same way.” He pats her shoulder, lips spreading into a tight smile. “Anyway, we’re going to go back to the Mansion to look for evidence after the toasts, and we’ll probably need Rena Rouge to come out of retirement to make sure there are ‘sightings’ of us here while we’re gone. I'm sure Marinette will tell you all about that part of the plan herself, but before that, I need your help because Marinette wants to speak to Chat Noir and Adrien.”

“Oof. She really isn’t making it easy for you to keep your identity a secret, huh.” Alya chuckles.

“Nope.” He smiles as he digs his hands into his pockets. “But it was bound to happen at some point, I’m actually surprised I managed to dodge the situation for so long. You wouldn’t believe the number of times she wanted to have dinner with Chat Noir and Adrien so we could all discuss the plan.”

“Typical Marinette, to overlook the potential awkwardness of having her boyfriend and her fake fiancé together if she’s working on something.” Alya shakes her head.

“Tell me about it." He chuckles, looking at the ground. His wife really is something else, and he loves her for it. "So, are you up for it?”

“Of course!” Alya replies, eyes twinkling as Adrien hands her the necklace. She slips it in her purse with a satisfied smile. “You can count on me.”

“I never doubted that.” Adrien smiles back, and turns back towards the room.

“I just have one question, though.” Alya holds him back before he can start walking away.

“Yes?”

“Why me? I mean… It’s been a while, and… Why not get your cousin to do it? You guys are pretty much carbon copies of each other, physically speaking, wouldn’t it be easier?”

Adrien pauses. “Maybe in theory, but unlike him, I trust you.”

“Ooh, family drama.” She rubs her hands together. “Why did I assume there wouldn’t be any today?”

“Wishful thinking?” He jokes. “Anyway, I'll give you the signal to Mirage a nice little Adrien later. And then if you could bring the necklace back discreetly so that Marinette doesn’t suspect anything, that would be great.”

“Aye, aye, captain.”

Both head back towards the centre of the room, Adrien finding his way to Marinette’s side, and Alya to Nino’s.

Alya grabs a champagne flute and a knife. She nods at Adrien knowingly before she clinks them together, a sly smile spreading to her lips.

The toasts sure are going to be fun.

#things are getting interesting #miraculous ladybug #the miraculous tales of ladybug and cat noir #mlb #miraculous fanfiction #miraculous fanfic #ladynoir #adrienette #adrinette #alya césaire #one-sided reveal #aged-up characters #fake wedding #inspired by fanart #elle writes

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shooks-stupid-stuff · 4 years

Text

i have the text dump, it has lots of lore and will probably break the text limit-

SO BASICALLY JACIAN AND TAIANA SHIZ BASICALLY ALL I HAVE COME UP WITH FOR THEIR RELATIONSHIP AND PLOT STUFF AND YES-

so basically they first meet in act 1 of the main plot (tm) which is really just adventure to go stop odd thing thats happening (idk exactly what atm but thats not really important). Jarcian is basically a knight whos working for an unknown(at the time, we'll get to it later) person, and he has been tasked with impeding the progress of the main group. how does he plan to do this? well, despite literally having troops at his disposal (who all adore him and are 100% loyal to him, they love their goofy captain), of course he challenges the main character group to a one on one duel, because he is just a goofy villain who fights fair and lives by his honor. Of course Taiana accepts his challenge, being a knight herself, and they proceed to have a draw. Out of respect, and because he's lowkey thrilled that someone has taken him seriously for once, Jacian concedes and retreats for the time being, but not before he and Taiana declare each other to be rivals (with like 75% of the main group just being so done with both of them and wanting to leave). They have a few more encounters after this, with taiana always insisting that they take up his challenge fairly rather than just like have everyone defeat his forces because she feels he's not a bad guy and actually at this point considers him a friend, and after a while Jacian begins to think that he might be developing feelings for Taiana, which he really doesnt know how to feel about so he consults his second in command, Anton (short for Anthony; this man is just a side character but he is like the best side character ever and im 100% giving him a unique design bc he's just like the most supportive dude ever-). i plan on making a short comic based off the conversation they have but basically Jacian has his suspicions confirmed, and goes full panic attack and sad mode bc oops literal forbidden love this is so sad : pensive : . There are like 2 more encounters between the main group and Jacian's group, both of which Jacian is just like being very obvious on accident but taiana has no idea what a social cue is so she just doesnt pick up on any of it, and then major plot shit happens and we're onto part 2.

in part 2, things get kinda angsty and really can split off in 2 different directions, with one being significantly less angsty than the other. basically, shit goes down, and all 3 of the main kingdoms are all just kinda in conflict now. Taiana ends up becoming the queen of her kingdom (called Serenia) and, despite her appearingly newfound confidence and leadership skills, she is internally in turmoil due to previous plot events (and this only gets worse with future ones) and is beginning to fall into a state of self doubt due to the pressure she puts on herself to protect everyone coupled with the fact that she cant, and failed to protect her own father and brother. After a bit of rebuilding and strategizing, Taiana decides to lead a counterattack against the neighboring kingdom of Grysia who's king, Natalio, has basically backstabbed every other kingdom and had invaded Serenia while the main group was out doing other stuff (his son is also part of the main group, and some real shit happens there but thats another tale for another ramble-). It turns out that Jacian serves him, and is having one hell of a moral struggle right now. His knights honor forbids him from betraying his lord, but he's unsure if he's truely doing the right thing as he's been complacent to so many inhumane atrocities that Natalio has preformed. But in the end he decides that he must stick to his duty to the very end, no matter what (and let me just say, once natalio shows his true colors he does some bad shit, like really damn bad. but again, another disscussion for another day). Eventually, the main group is pretty much on the castle's doorstep, and so Natalio makes the decision to send Jacian to put a stop to them. More specifically, to their leader, who at this point is Taiana. Jacian of course, really doesnt want to (but as he later figures out, Natalio knows of his crush and plans on having the two destroy each other, with the result of one being killed and the other being emotionally destroyed. as I said, natalio is a very bad man), but his duty commands that he must, and so he tells Anton to make sure his troops escape the conflict together, and heads off to his final duel, where he intends to head to his grave and take his secret with him. When he confronts the main group, he is much more solemn than he normally is, and he challenges Taiana to one final duel. and despite every other duel they had resulting in a draw, this one results in a loss from Jacian. As a final wish, Jacian begs Taiana to take his life, as he'd rather die at her hands than at Natalios.

now, since im thinking about the plot in terms of it being a game, there actually is a branch in the plot based on a choice made at this point (mainly bc the angsty one is more interesting character development wise but the not angsty one makes me happy and i want to see these 2 be happy together-). so the two choices are basically to take Jacian's life, or to spare him. ill go over what each choice leads to in order.

choose to take his life: Taiana tries to take Jacian's life, but she just can't bring herself to. She already internally feels as if she's lost or come close to losing many of the peopleshe holds dear, and she could never bring herself to kill someone she considers a friend. Seeing this, Jacian smiles before apologizing to her for everything, and thanking her for the joy she's brought him, before telling her he loves her and taking his own life via stabbing his sword through his chest. His intent is to save her the pain of taking his life by ding it for him, but this ends up pushing her over the edge, as she blames herself and sees it as yet another failure to protect someone she cared about. The main group ends up defeating natalio and liberating Grysia, but Taiana is left with menatl and emotional wounds that would leave her unstable for much of the remaining plot. it doesnt help that she eventually realizes that she loved him too. His former troops, which had deserted the war just as he asked, end up joining the Serenian military, with Anton becoming the captain of the knights. This mainly leads to alot of character development for taiana, and how she learns to cope with and accept the fact that she cant protect everyone, no matter how much she wants to. (there also is another really angsty part later bc main villian has some bs powers but uhh we've had enough sad i thinkand this is getting really long-)

choose to spare him: Taiana refuses to take Jacian's life, to which Jacian retorts that she had to if she wanted to get past. Of course, she once again refuses as she wont harm someone she cares about, especially when she's already lost people she cares about and is really close to just losing it. She then states that if one of them had to die, the he should take he life, much to his dismay. She stands firm on this, and he attempts, but his feelings finally overpower his sense of duty, and he just cant. but at the same time, his honor won't let him betray his lord, and if he goes back he will just be killed. He and taiana argue a bit, with taiana trying to convince him to join her before finally breaking down and just letting out everything she's had pent up inside since the the end of part 1 of the plot (different story for a different day) Jacian lets out some emotional baggage of his own, including confessing his feelings for taiana,which she is completely surprised about. They talk and mildly argue for a bit more, with Jacian eventually surrendering to his feelings, and vowing to right the wrongs made by his complacency before thanking Taiana for helping him to remember why he became a knight in the first place, and abandoning his old sense of honor to take up arms with the main group and find a new sense of honor, fighting for the people as taiana does rather than just for one corrupt man. Natalio really isnt suprised by this, and simply says that he'll send them both to the grave by his own hands, before being defeated by the main group with the help of Jacian's troops because yknow, theyre loyal to Jacaian before theyre loyal to the king. During the 6-year skip between part 2 and 3, Taiana and Jacian end up getting married, and similarly to the other option Anton is appointed captaianof the Serentian Knights, and remains a close friend to Jacian (along with the rest of his troops, theyre his bois). This mainly leads to more development of Jacian and how he interacts with the other charcaters in the main group, as well as him helping taiana to cope with many of her insecurities and issues, and offering support in a way that none of the other characters in the main group can (i meant to not this earlier as well, she may be very close to other characters as well, such as xayvion, but they just dont understand certain aspects of her personality deep down as well as Jacian does. The two are just a pair of overly excessive goofy knights, and though they may be slightly different they understand each other in a way no one else does).

and uhh thats basically it, this was way more than i meant to write and i really need to go to sleep now so uh yeet- anyways i love these 2, thank you for coming to my ted talk-

#OC shiz #shook rambles #Taiana (OC)#Jacian (OC)#this took an hour and a half please take it #also its probbaly non-comprehensive gibberish im sorry #im just very tired and brain is going brr and aaaaaaa i love these 2 #the angst makes me sad but like it makes for good character development #i have become what i swore to destroy noooo #time to make aus for my own oc stuff y e e t

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ruthfeiertag · 4 years

Text

Random Ruminations on Depression

Preamble:

I want to take back the word ruminate. The Online Etymology Dictionary explains that the word “ruminate (v.)” dating from the 1530s, means “'to turn over in the mind,’ also ‘to chew cud’ (1540s), from Latin ruminatus, past participle of ruminare ‘to chew the cud; turn over in the mind,' from rumen (genitive ruminis) ‘gullet,’ of uncertain origin.” Merriam-Webster Online Gives the definition of ruminate as

transitive verb

1: to go over in the mind repeatedly and often casually or slowly 2: to chew repeatedly for an extended period

intransitive verb

1: to chew again what has been chewed slightly and swallowed : chew the cud 2: to engage in contemplation : REFLECT

https://pixabay.com/photos/pensive-female-woman-window-staring-580611/

But psychology — and in general I have real respect and genuine gratitude for the healing and support psychology and psychotherapists provide; if I kept a gratitude journal, my therapist’s name would be on every page — has come near to ruining this apt word that perfectly expresses the way many of us need or choose to take the time to ponder and deliberate rather than hasten to judge or get embroiled in the consequences of an ill-considered decision. Psychology, as a field, has decided ruminate should mean obsessively thinking about whatever is bothering one, over and over and over…

I think one of the reasons this definition has become popular, not only among psychologists, but in the general public as well, is that we have such short attention spans and have come to prize speed over all else. We rush to embrace technology that robs us of our privacy, we don’t stay to watch the credits after a movie (unless there’s an added scene), we expect to know the results of every election before the votes are all counted. Take a breath, people. Being ruminative used to be a positive attribute, one that indicated one was a careful, thoughtful person, not inclined to fling one’s self pell-mell off a cliff. Now it is a weakness, a character flaw that indicates one brings one’s misfortunes upon one’s self because one can’t control one’s thoughts.

Join me in my mission. Let’s rescue ruminate. Start using it in its proper sense. Fling it with abandon into your philosophical conversations: “I was ruminating upon the meaning of life the other day and wondering just what 42 really has to do with it.” If someone tries to push you into making a snap decision, say, “You know, in order to give you the thoughtful answer you deserve, I need to ruminate on that for a day or two.” When next asked to describe yourself, pause for a moment, then declare, “I am an attentive, measured sort of person with a ruminative cast to my mind.” (Just don’t tell anyone you’re a ruminant. That will totally undermine our goal.)

And after we save ruminate, we’re coming back for you, enable.

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

Every so often, the New Yorker slips a suggestion for an archived article into the Inbox of my e-mail. That how I came across Andrew Solomon’s article, “Anatomy of Melancholy,” that appeared in New Yorker’s January 12, 1998 issue. It’s a pretty harrowing description of the depths down to which depression can pull person, and of the biases that still pertain when it comes to admitting to others or to ourselves that we have a mental illness and, worse, might be so “weak” as to need chemical (or electrical) interventions. As I moved through the essay, I can upon this proffered bit of wisdom:

Accuracy of perception is not an evolutionary priority. Too optimistic a world view results in foolish risk-taking, but moderate optimism gives you a strong selective advantage. “Normal human thought and perception,“ Shelley Taylor writes in her 1989 book, Positive Illusions, “is marked not by accuracy but by positive self-enhancing illusions about the self, the world, and the future. Moreover…these illusions are not merely characteristic of human thought; they appear actually to be adaptive.” As she notes, “The mildly depressed appear to have more accurate views of themselves, the world, and the future than normal people. [They] clearly lack the illusions that in normal people promote mental health and buffer them against setbacks.”

hulki-okan-tabak-SKadYI4E7OM-unsplash-scaled

So — why are those of us with depression and accurate perceptions the ones who are mentally ill, while the “normies” with their illusions are the ones who are considered sane? Why are we the ones who are seen as less evolved? Am I the only one who thinks this assessment is a little bit off?

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

In a recent car commercial, actor and apparent guru Matthew McConaughey ruminates (see how easy it is to just slip the word right into a sentence?) out loud about the process of identity formation. He muses

“Knowin’ who we are is hard — it’s hard. Eliminatin’ who you are are not, first, and you’re gonna find yourself where ya need to be.”

OK: first, shouldn’t the logic of the first sentence — the search for identity — lead to a statement about finding out who one is rather than where one is? I guess that’s what happens when one infuses manufactured sagacity into an advert for a vehicle. And never mind the lack of parallel structure in the second sentence.

But what I keep thinking is, “What if we, as is recommended by Mr. McConaughey, eliminate all the people we are not, only to realize there’s no one left?” That’s kind of who-where I keep finding myself.

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

An ethical dilemma: At the recommendation of a friend, I picked up Change Your Brain, Change Your Life, by Daniel G. Amen. M.D. I haven’t read very far into it, but so far there are some sensible observations about the practicality of having one’s brain scanned for damage so one knows whether medical or psychotherapeutic remedies are most likely to be beneficial. However, on page twenty-nine, our friend the doctor discusses thing that hurt the brain and things that help the brain. Under malign influences, Dr. Amen notes that “even spending time with unhealthy people [is] bad for the brain.” OK: I can see how that can work.

In the next paragraph, Dr. Amen lists things that can boost the brain. This list includes the point that “In many ways, the best thing you can do for your brain is to spend time with healthy people. As we will see, they are contagious. I often say the fastest way to get healthy is to find the healthiest person you can stand and then spend as much time around him or her as possible.” That also makes sense.

BUT — and you may already see the problem here — let’s say I’m a healthy person. I know an unhealthy person, someone with, say, depression, someone who would immensely benefit from spending time with me. Yet if I do spend time with that person, I’ll be engaged in an activity that will be detrimental to my own grey matter. On the other hand, if I choose to protect myself by shunning the depressed person, I’m selfishly depriving her or him of my beneficial “contagion” and preventing that person from attaining the flourishing cerebrum she or he deserves. (Unless, of course, that person has been ruminating. In that case, she or he deserves all the melancholy that infests her or his soul. [That’s an example how NOT to use the word ruminating.]) I’m either allowing harm to come to myself or withholding aid from another, which makes me a pretty lousy human being, and knowing that I’m a pretty lousy human will depress me.

Now let’s imagine that I am the unhealthy person, and I know a tremendously healthy person, in whose salubrious presence I never fail to rally. I have a lot of time on my hands. I easily could spend days with this person and notably sharpen my dulled mental functions and ameliorate my debilitating mood. However, by latching on to this bloom-imparting individual, I will be causing harm to that person’s well-being and will likely disrupt her or his equilibrium. That would make me an insensitive parasite, sucking the life out of someone for my own ends, and being such a draining leech would make me feel horrible and depressed.

So what to do? I hate lose-lose, damned-if-you-do-or-don’t, caught-between- Scylla-and-a-hard-place options.

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

And then Will Wheaton put this up on his Blog:

報復性熬夜

Revenge Bedtime Procrastination, which has a much more beautiful name in Chinese (the literal translation for revenge bedtime procrastination means “suffering through the night vengefully.”), is a phenomena unique to people who feel out of control in their daily lives, so we refuse to go to sleep early, to exert some control over our lives, and to enjoy some quiet time alone, when the rest of our people are sleeping.

I should confess, straight up, that I am, by nature, a night owl. It runs in the family. But I love both this concept and its name. Between the depression and the M.E. and the State of the Union, I’m having an increasingly hard time getting any sleep. I just wish being AWAKE YES I’M AWAKE YES I DO KNOW WHAT TIME IT IS OH ISN’T THAT A LOVELY SUNRISE? would wreak some actual vengeance on the conditions and people who are responsible for my near-insomnia.

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

Image by Stefan Keller from Pixabay https://pixabay.com/photos/fantasy-face-branches-woman-3317298/

I hope my ruminations provide some conceptual cud for your synapses, dear reader, to masticate at the pace of your choosing. And don’t forget: enable is still waiting for us to effect an heroic rescue, one worthy of our idiom.

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hellas-himself · 5 years

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Crack Ship Holidays

Friendsgiving Pt. 1

Soooo this is starting off where we left our two dorks last. This is going to take place before, during, and a bit after thanksgiving Friendsgiving because I don’t celebrate but I do love the day off with my loved ones (and my grandma’s food but that’s besides the point) November is also Rhysand’s birthday month so NATURALLY that’s going to come up. major shout out to @bookloveaffair for letting me drop this crack ship on yall no shame.

I hum along to one of the songs playing on my phone as I tap my pencil against the counter. I have three different budget options laid out in front of me and none of them work. The first one, I pay the rent and my car insurance but not my phone. The second, I pay the rent but not my car insurance to have my phone active in case the school called me. The third- I laugh. I can’t not pay rent. The bar had sent its last check but it was not enough. I was screwed. I only have until the fifth to pay my rent before my asshole landlord starts bitching about kicking me out.

When I hear the front door unlock, I gather my bills and the envelopes I wrote on and put them into a pile. Cassian steps into my apartment and pulls off his hat.

“Can you believe it’s already snowing?” he asks as he closes the door.

“I hope it sticks,” I reply as I slide off the bar stool to greet him. His coat is wet and cold when I hug him but I don’t care. Not when he kisses me the way he does.

“Ready to go?” he asks and I smile.

“Let me go get my coat.”

He kisses me again before I hurry to my room. I grab the bag I packed with more clothes as well as the big bag full of my art supplies. Cassian had said I should have it just in case the school called me so I could just leave directly. His optimism is touching.

Cassian is leaning against the counter when I step out. He looks pensive but once he notices me, he grins and pushes himself off to take the bags from my hands.

The car ride to his house is quiet, but Cassian holds my hand the entire way. Every time he looks at me, I blush. Once we get to his house, I bring Valo outside while Cas carries my things to the bedroom.

“How was work?” I ask when Cassian comes to stand beside me. He puts an arm around my shoulder.

“It was great. Az and I got to work on a piece together. I wish you would’ve been there to see it.”

“Maybe next time?”

He presses a kiss to my temple.

“Yeah. We aren’t done by a long shot.”

“I can’t wait then.”

“What about you, bunny?”

“Well. When I wasn’t texting you, I was cleaning up the apartment and finishing up on laundry. I got my last check from the bar so I deposited it in the bank. I saw Aelin,” I say. “She was on her lunch break. I can’t believe we’d never run into one another before.”

Cassian chuckles.

“Oh and the groomer called to confirm Val’s appointment tomorrow. I told her I’d be there.”

“Thank you, bunny.”

I shrug and call our giant puppy over. Valo runs right into me and I don’t fall thanks to the arm Cassian has around me.

“Hey! Be careful, Val!” Cassian reprimands. Val whines and walks in a circle around us before bumping his head against my hand.

“It’s okay, baby. You’re happy I’m here, huh? I am too,” I say and kiss the top of his head.

Cassian lets me go and walks over to the small bin in the corner of the porch and pulls out a ball. He whistles to get Val’s attention before he throws it. I’m surprised it didn’t go over the fence by the force of it. Val barks and takes off after it.

“Will you be alright?” Cassian asks me.

“What do you mean?”

“With rent and all that?”

Oh. I blush and shove my hands in my pockets.

“I’ll figure it out.”

I don’t have to look at Cassian to know that he’s not satisfied with that answer. But he puts an arm around me and kisses the top of my hair. When Val comes back, I take the ball and Cassian laughs when I throw it. It doesn’t get very far but Val is thrilled.

“Why don’t you go pick a menu from that drawer in the kitchen and pick something for dinner? There’s cash in my wallet.”

“You sure?”

“Yeah. I would rather spend the next forty minutes with my beautiful girlfriend and our oversized lap dog than have to go inside and cook today.”

I giggled. “Alright. I’ll be right back.”

I give him a quick hug before I walk towards the door.

“Oh, and bunny?”

“Yes?” I stop and turn to look at him.

“I’ve got you,” he says. “Don’t worry about anything.”

I realize he isn’t talking about paying for dinner.

“Feyre’s here. I’ll call you when I get home… I love you too, Az.” Elain smiles at whatever Azriel is saying to her on the phone before she hangs up and slides the phone into her back pocket. She pushes herself off her SUV and opens her arms to me.

“Hey, you,” Elain says as I give her a hug.

“Hey! I hope you weren’t waiting long. There was so much traffic coming here from the dog groomers.”

She kisses my cheek. “No, I just got here. Besides, it makes me feel like I’m in high school again when Az and I talk on the phone. I like it.”

Elain gives me a wink and when she grins, I already know what’s on her mind.

“You look happy.”

I know I’m blushing as Elain links her arm in mine.

“I am.”

“Az says Cassian has been smiling like an idiot lately. I wonder why.”

I roll my eyes but I can’t help the smile on my face.

“He asked me to be his girlfriend, El.”

“He did? When?”

“After the Halloween party.”

“About damn time,” Elain mutters and lets me go to grab a cart. She pulls a list out of her pocket and hands it to me. “Iliana’s been pestering me about you two, she’ll finally leave me alone.”

We share a laugh as we step into the store. Elain’s grocery list is divided by groups and despite the glitter gel pen used, this is Azriel’s handwriting.

“Your husband is so organized,” I say as we make our first stop.

“Well. Since I’m in charge of Rhysand’s birthday cake this year, I figured I’ll get some stuff now so closer to the date I’m not running around. With my luck, I wouldn’t find what I want if I leave it for then.”

“I agree with that wholeheartedly.”

“Speaking of which, I need your help designing it.”

“What’s the theme?”

“Lucien has no idea how to top Mor’s Harry Potter theme last year. The only thing Rhys loves more than that is The Wheel of Time and Lord of the Rings.”

“Oh! I can work with that.”

I hand Elain the list and pull out my phone.

LUCE!!!! Wheel of Time or LOTR? I can do either or. Or both. I hit send and slip my phone into my back pocket. We talk idly as we make our way down Azriel’s perfectly organized list.

“Cas and I take forever to do this,” I say as I grab a tub of ice cream from the freezer. “I might have to steal Az’s idea.”

Elain snorts. “That’s because you two are children. How does Cassian even fit in these carts? I don’t know how you’re still allowed to shop here.”

I smile and push the cart for Elain as we head towards the cashiers to pay. I feel my phone vibrate and pull it out of my pocket.

“I wonder what he decided,” I say as I unlock my phone. But it isn’t a text from Lucien. But from my bank. I don’t realize I’ve stopped walking until Elain tugs on my sleeve.

“Feyre?”

I breathe in sharply and let it out. I clear my throat and shove my phone back in my pocket.

“It’s nothing. It wasn’t Lucien.”

“What’s wrong?”

I shake my head and try to keep going but Elain stops me.

“Feyre. Is Tamlin still bothering you?”

I don’t like the way his name still pierces my heart and makes me feel afraid.

“No. It isn’t him… It’s just…” I stop and look away, needing to keep myself from crying. “Stupid car insurance already took the payment and so did my phone. I’m so fucking screwed.”

“Hey… If you need help, you know Az and I can take care of it.”

I shake my head with a sniffle.

“No. I’ll figure it out.”

Elain puts a hand over mine and nods her head.

“Let’s go pay for this,” she says. “I’m bringing Az lunch today. We can surprise Cassian, too.”

I nod and return her smile.

I don’t see Cassian when Elain and I step into the tattoo shop. But Az notices us and is already making his way over. He kisses Elain as though he hasn’t seen her in forever, leaving my sister blushing. Rhys has gratefully come to sweep me off my feet, literally.

“Hello, darling,” he says with a grin. When he sets me down, Az comes to give me a hug.

“Hungry?” Elain asks, and holds up his Marvel lunch box, a beat up, metal lunch box he’s had since grade school and Iliana had found at her grandmother’s house last summer and he’s used ever since. Az looks at his lunch box and then looks at Elain with a smile.

“I’m starving.”

“Stop it,” she whispers loudly and lets Az lead her away.

“What about me?” Rhys whines and I laugh.

“We both know Lucien is bringing you something.”

Rhys is beaming. “Aurelie is sending left overs.”

Rhys puts an arm around my shoulder and guides me to the break room. Cassian is walking inside from the back door when we step into the hallway.

“Bunny?”

“Hey, Cas.” Rhys wiggles his eye brows at us before he goes off to pester Elain and Az. “Elain made lunch so I brought you some.”

By some weird coincidence, my pink bento box was in Elain’s kitchen cupboard. It’s covered in purple butterflies and blue bunny rabbits. Cassian closes the space between us and takes it from my hands with an amused smile.

“Now I know I didn’t lose your lunch box,” he says and gives me a kiss. “When Lia stayed the night for their anniversary, I packed her school lunch with this.”

“That was months ago, Cas.”

He shrugs and I roll my eyes. I take his hand and lead him into the break room where everyone stops and stares at us. I have to let him go to take off my coat but once it’s hung up, he takes my hand again.

“Finally,” Az says and bites into his sandwich. Elain slaps his arm which seems to amuse him further.

Cassian sits down in his usual seat and pulls me down onto his lap. He slides an arm around me and uses one hand to open the bento box to pull out the sandwich Elain had made. I’m content to lean back and listen while he and the boys talk about their morning. Their plans for the evening.

“What’s wrong?” Cassian asks softly. I shake my head. “Did you eat?”

“Yeah… El and I ate before we left the house.”

“Valo still with Amanda?”

I nod. “He should be done soon.”

I can tell the others are trying and failing at pretending they’re not listening to our conversation despite having their own.

“I’d go with you to get him but I’ve got someone at one.”

“It’s okay,” I say and press a kiss to his cheek. “I’ll walk him over later so we can ride home together.”

Cassian smiles.

After lunch, Cassian shows me the tattoo he’s working on. It’s a full sleeve.

“Bunny,” he says and puts his arm around me. “You zoned out. You didn’t even notice Az’s joke.”

“I did?” Fuck.

“What’s wrong?”

I let out a sigh and lean into him.

“The fucking car insurance and my phone payments went through this morning but that was rent money and I can’t believe I forgot to ask them not to use the auto pay this month.”

“Hey… hey, it’s okay. I’ve got you.”

“Cas…” I want to cry. I hate how much I want to cry.

“We’ll talk about this when we get home,” he says and pulls me in for a hug. “Just… consider it. Please.”

I nod. “Let me get out of here,” I say, though I do not wish to be anywhere but here in his arms. “Val should be done soon.”

Cassian kisses me softly. “I love you,” he says.

“I love you,” I say back, and force myself to leave.

My arms are around Cassian’s neck, holding onto him as he kisses me ardently. His grip on my thigh is almost to the point of pain and I know it’s going to bruise. I don’t care. He’s panting when we stop to breathe, and I meet his gaze when he looks at me and I smile.

“Holy shit,” he says breathlessly and adjusts himself so that he’s merely laying on top of me. I don’t want to move. I’m not sure if I could if I tried. “That was…” He whistles.

“You’re carrying me around for the rest of the night,” I manage and he laughs.

“My pleasure.”

Cassian goes quiet as I run my fingers through his hair.

“Bunny,” Cas says, his voice like gravel. “Move in with me.”

I pause. “What?” My voice is no better than his.

“I’ll break the lease.”

“No… I mean. You’re serious?”

Cassian pushes himself up to look at me. The look on his face makes me want to kiss him.

“I don’t want you stressing over something so easily remedied. You practically live here anyway. The apartment isn’t anything more than storage.”

“But Cas…”

“When you start working, you can fight me on bills.”

I scowl and he leans in to kiss me.

“If it’s too soon, I’ll pay the rent.”

I shake my head, hating that there are tears in my eyes. Cassian panics but I reach up to pull him against me again.

“Okay,” I say.

“Okay?”

“I’m sorry I’m crying… I’m just so overwhelmed and-” Cassian interrupts me with a kiss. He rolls us so that he’s on his back and I’m on top of him. My hair falls over my shoulders, and he reaches up to tuck some of it behind my ear.

“You’ll move in with me? Like for real?” He sounds the way he does on Christmas morning and he’s about to get his present.

“Yeah. For real.”

He sighs with relief and then his expression softens. I close my eyes and I feel him brush away the tears still falling from my eyes.

“Don’t apologize for how you feel. Least of all for crying.”

“I know, I’m-” I stop and open my eyes to look at him. I blush. “I’m trying.”

He places his hand at the nape of my neck.

“I know, bunny… I know.”

I smile. “You are the greatest thing that’s ever happened to me.”

Though he flashes me a cocky grin, he’s blushing.

“I’m the luckiest girl in the world.”

“Bunny…”

“Yes?”

“You’re making me blush,” he says in a rather conspiratorial tone. “I have a reputation.”

“But I like it when you blush,” I say with a pout. It’s so hard not to laugh.

“Fuck my reputation,” he declares and kisses me in such a way, I know we’re not going to bed anytime soon.

“Can I have this?” Mor asks and I look up from where I am sitting on the carpet. She’s holding up a red sweater I’ve never worn before.

“Sure.”

I go back to unscrewing the bedframe. Mor had taken the liberty of going through my dresser and closet while Cassian, Az and Rhys moved the heavy furniture downstairs to put in Cassian and Azriel’s trucks. I am giving it all away. Lucien has been changing my address online most of the morning, he even submitted the form to the post office for me.

“Hello, hello!”

I look up to find Aelin standing in my doorway.

“What are you doing here?”

She shrugs and walks over to where I am sitting. I give her a hug when I stand up.

“Rowan had wanted to go to the gym with Cassian but he said he was busy moving his girlfriend out of her apartment and into his lovely home,” she says and pokes my side. “When did this happen?”

“Just a few days ago.”

“That’s unacceptable. I gave you my number, right?”

I shake my head, and she groans. With a laugh, I unlock and hand her my phone. She takes ONE selfie and saves it for her contact picture.

“In one try?” I ask, completely taken aback.

“It’s all about knowing your angles,” she says proudly. “I can show you.”

“Uh… Yeah. Maybe once I’m all settled in.”

Aelin beams at me and hands me my phone.

“Now you have no excuse. I want to know everything. I need to know else I’ll die.”

“Ignore her. She’s no better than Tinker Bell.”

Rowan walks into the room with Cassian right behind him. He comes to hug me hello and he keeps an arm around my shoulder before reaching out to pinch Aelin’s cheek.

“So. Tell us what to do. We’re all yours today,” Rowan says.

“Damn babe. I thought you were kidding when you said you wanted-” Rowan silences Aelin with a glare that has her cackling.

“Uh… My bookshelf? I have a separate bin for the fragile stuff.”

Mor peers out of the closet. She looks like she’s up to no good.

“Let Rowan do the shelf. Come help me get these clothes sorted,” she says to Aelin who wriggles her eye brows as she walks off to join Mor. Rowan follows her and says hi to Mor before shrugging off his coat.

Cassian makes his way towards me as Rowan grabs himself a cardboard box and unfolds it before the bookshelf.

“You alright?” Cas wraps his arms around me. I bite down a shiver from how cold his sweater is.

“Yeah… You?”

“I ordered pizza. Elain is on her way over here with Iliana.”

I smile and give him a kiss.

“Perfect.”

“I’m leaving with Az to drop the furniture off. But call me if you need anything.”

“Okay.”

Cassian kisses me, earning a sound of disgust from Mor. When we look at her, she stops and sighs.

“God, I love you guys,” she says and before I notice, she’s got her phone out and I am blinded by the flash.

#crack ship holidays #friendsgiving #cassian x feyre #part one of four #or five #I don't know yet #self indulgence #cuz yall aint ask for this #Feyre is stubborn af #and cassian is the cutest fuckin dork #I love them both so much #Feyre archeron #cassian #also having aelin and rowan here is fun

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jamesbucksiclebarnes · 5 years

Photo

Rating: Mature

Chapter List: [1] | [2] | [3] | [4] | [5] | [6] | [7] | [8] | [9] | [10] | [11] | [12] | [13]

[AO3 Link] | [Fic Page]

Tag List: @crossbowking

SERIES SUMMARY:

"Not human. She was not human. They all knew it. Could almost feel it, but couldn't make sense of it. That was why they were afraid. Not because of what she used to be Before. But because of what she was now."

Having found herself serving as the right-hand to the Governor for too long, Synnove le Jacques does her best to make things right with the people of the Prison. Stuck beside her partner in crime, her irritatingly obnoxious and hideously problematic best friend, Merle, she does her best to fight back against the monster she has let the Governor become.

CHAPTER TITLE: To Hunt the Vanished.

I should have known.

I should have fucking known.

How could I have been so stupid? Why the hell had I left him alone? I’d been angry, sure, but that was no excuse. I knew better than to leave Merle to his own devices. Knew him well enough to have known he was up to something – something stupid. But his manipulation into forcing me to make an unbreakable promise had left me seething. I’d seen red and the vibrance of the colour had taken my attention away from that look in his eye.

When Daryl came crashing into the room, where I’d been about to tell Rick that I knew the Governor had asked for me, to tell him I would go without a fight so long as he kept Michonne safe, I’d felt my heart almost stop in my chest.

The panicked look on his face when he met my gaze made my stomach clench and my breath stutter to a halt in my throat.

“I can’t find Merle,” he said breathlessly. “Or Michonne.”

Rick and I shared a wide-eyed look before we both burst into a sprint, following behind Daryl as he led us back down to that room beneath the cellblock. One of the toolboxes had been upended and was lying on the floor. I smelt the distant scent of blood.

“Fuck,” I sighed.

“They’ve gone. He was in here,” Daryl said as he began to pace through the machinery. “Said he was looking for drugs. Said… a lot of things, actually.”

Both Rick and I looked to him.

“Like what?” Rick asked.

I glanced at Daryl. Would he tell Rick that I’d been here, that I knew?

“Said that you were gonna change your mind,” he said after only slightly too long of a pause.

Something around the corner caught my eye and I stepped toward it, past Rick, and crouched down. It was a price of fabric with a bright, if somewhat faded, pattern. Gently, I picked it up.

“It’s Michonne’s,” I stated, looking over my shoulder at the two men. “He took her.”

“Damn it!” Rick spat.

I rose to my feet, turning to face him with a snarl. “Isn’t that what you wanted?”

“Not alone, I didn’t!” Rick snapped back, taking half a step toward me. “We had a plan, damn it!”

“Right,” I snorted. “One that ended with both Michonne and I’s heads on a pike.”

Rick’s surprise was barely more than a blink before his anger overpowered it. “What would you have me do? Put all of my people’s lives on the line for the two of you?”

“They’re still on the line!” I screamed back. “Giving us over to Phil won’t make a fucking difference, Rick! He’ll still attack, and you’ll be left standing here, two men down for no fucking reason other than your own blind ignorance!”

“Then help us!” Rick yelled in return, his voice cracking slightly in the desperation. His next sentence was quieter, less aggressive but still forceful enough to echo through the room. “Give us another damn option.”

“I’ll go,” I stated simply. “I’ll find Merle and I’ll drag his ass back here. And after that, I’ll go to the feed store. Just me. No one else.”

Rick’s upper lip shook as he turned his head to the side, glancing at Daryl with a frustrated huff. “That ain’t happening.”

“And why the hell not?” I asked, stepping toward him, close enough now that, when he turned back to look at me, I was barely an inch from his chest. “Wouldn’t it be better for me to be the only possible casualty?”

“He won’t come back,” Daryl cut in, before Rick could respond. He was looking between the two of us with thinly veiled concern, his voice barely loud enough to register in my brain over the thundering of my own heartbeat. “Not if he knows you’re going alone.”

“You let me handle that,” I stated, glancing at him but not turning fully away from my stand-down with Rick.

“No,” Daryl sighed. “I’ll go with you.”

That made me move. I turned toward him, brows pulled tightly down as Rick and I both said, “Hell no.”

“It ain’t a damn request,” Daryl spat back. “He’s my brother. I’m going.”

“And you’re mine,” Rick said, his voice almost twenty-times softer than it had been a moment ago. “It’s too dangerous.”

“I’ll bring him back here,” Daryl said, glancing across to me. “We find him, I’ll take him back, you keep going.”

I looked at him evenly for a long moment. Logically, I knew Daryl could more than handle himself, that having him along with me may actually be somewhat of a help, especially when it came to convincing Merle not to be a dickhead. But somewhere, likely in the same recesses of my mind where that stupid magical bullshit lay, I felt the cold hand of hesitation holding me back.

Rick looked just as perplexed, but once I saw him nodding out the corner of my eye, I knew my own opinion on the matter was no longer of any concern.

“Alright,” he breathed, low and indecisive. “You two stick together ‘till you find them. I need you by my side when they come.”

Daryl nodded, reaching up to clasp that crossbow strap like it was his only lifeline as he began to make his way toward the exit.

I had my two knives, held within the loops of my black jeans, but nothing else. That was fine with me. A gun would be too loud, and I doubted Daryl would let me borrow that crossbow of his. To be quite honest, I could probably take out the Governor with a damn pencil if it was all I had, so long as I could get close enough. That would be the real issue. He’d have guns on that feed store, guarded like Fort fucking Knox. I’d have to get through that before I even had a chance at him.

Merle first, though. I had to save that damn fool from himself. Again.

We went on foot.

It was easy to track their path if we were walking along it, so walk along it we did. Daryl remained pensively silent at the beginning, only speaking to inform me what he saw of their trail. I didn’t have the heart to tell him I could see it just as clearly. Instead, I let him lead me along without a word, down across the road and into the encircling forest. Merle’s tracks were blurred and elongated, as were Michonne’s, indicating they’d struggled for the first few paces before they settled into clear imprints. Michonne’s physical attempts to free herself ceased quicker than I would have expected, though I didn’t doubt she’d continue the psychological jibes until the Governor literally had a gun down her throat. I liked that about her.

About ten minutes in, Merle’s tracks became more and more muddled. It was as if he’d taken the most obscure route possible in order to throw both Daryl and I off his trail. At one particular point, when two sets of footsteps went off in two different directions – the fact he’d actually taken the time to walk two separate ways just to spite us will never not amuse me – Daryl came to a sudden halt.

He stared down at the contradicting tracks, the grip on his crossbow strap so tight his knuckles were almost bone white. I could see the way the muscles on his neck and shoulders had tensed, his jaw clenching and unclenching as he tried to spot the most prominent set of footprints in the mud. A few seconds passed before he let out an irritated huff.

I stepped forward and put a hand on his shoulder. The touch made him jump slightly and he stepped away from the contact. I didn’t take it personally.

“We have a good idea where he’s heading, right?” I asked softly.

Daryl nodded, though eyes remained locked on his brother’s partially faded footprint.

I looked down at it, too, a nasty feeling beginning to eat away at my stomach. Again, more tentatively this time, I reached out for his shoulder. The leather of his vest was rough against my palm, moving rapidly up and down as he lost control of his breathing.

“They went this way,” I stated, pointing to the path to the left. It was more faded, less purposeful than the other. Atop that, I could still partially smell Merle’s sweat, brushed upon the leaves of the nearby bush to my left. There was no mistaking that stink, that was for sure. “Come on.”

Daryl nodded again, though this time, when he cleared his throat, he began moving. We followed the path to the left and, sure enough, found it continued further into the forest. He’d taken more precautions this time, though. I could see it in the faded steps, the scarcely broken branches in his path. The trail was obscured, difficult enough to discern that both Daryl and I were forced to move at a somewhat slower pace just to make sure we didn’t miss anything. The walk was silent. Nary even a biter was nearby. Distant growls could be heard in the distance, sure, but they were certainly of no concern to us.

Almost fifteen minutes of complete silence had passed before Daryl spoke. “Why the hell’s he doing this?”

I took a deep breath, letting it out through my nose. I’d been thinking the same thing for quite some time.

Rick had asked Merle to help him with Michonne. He knew that obeying orders and doing what was best for the group would put him in higher favour, but he knew as well as I did that this deal was complete and utter bullshit. He believed Rick would lose his nerve. So why would he do this? Why now?

Doesn’t matter what Rick thinks. Phil only made the terms to deliver us to make things easier for himself when he finally decides to lay waste to this place.

That was what I had said mere seconds before his entire demeanour had shifted.

Deliver us.

I’d said “us”.

Merle had known Rick intended to put me back at the Governor’s mercy. He’d known because I’d told him, and he’d done the only thing he could think to do – take Michonne and hope it was enough for Rick to see sense. The stupid old bastard had done this to protect me.

And I couldn’t be angrier at him for it.

I didn’t tell Daryl all that, of course. Couldn’t stomach it. Instead, I turned partially toward him as I walked and gave him a sad smile. “He’s doing what he thinks is best,” I said softly. “For you. For me.”

It was true. Had to be, elsewise I’d never be able to verbalise it. Merle didn’t often think very far ahead but, when he did, he considered everything. Taking Michonne to the Governor, exposing to Rick the reality of the situation, and forcing me to promise to take care of his brother… He was doing this for Daryl just as much as he was doing it for me. If not more.

And if he pulled off an assassination on top of it? Returned home safe? He’d hope to be greeted as a hero and not the villain he believed himself to be.

Maybe this was just as much about who he was as it was about Daryl and I?

The thought made some deep sense of sorrow begin to hollow out the base of my stomach and I clenched my jaw tightly in order to stop the emotion from manifesting in my expression. Daryl didn’t need to see me concerned. He had that covered enough for the both of us.

“He’s being a damn idiot,” Daryl remarked, though I could hear the emotion slightly hitching his otherwise gruff voice.

“Maybe so,” I responded, ducking beneath a low hanging branch, from which a strand of coiled dark hair hung. Michonne. “But, if we’re being honest, when is he ever not?”

Daryl glanced at me over his shoulder. It was an odd look, something like humour but hindered by the panicked concern in his eyes.

“We’ll find him,” I said after catching his gaze. My hand reached out to touch the bare skin of his bicep in an attempt to reassure him. He didn’t pull away. “Then we can both take turns kicking his ass, alright? And, because I’m such a generous motherfucker, I’ll even let you go first. Sound good?”

He gave me a tight smile at that, letting out a huff through his nose that sounded almost like a chuckle before nodding once and turning back to the murky trail of footprints ahead of us.

We continued walking until we emerged on the other side of the forest’s edge, where the trees were parted to make way for asphalt. The road was unkempt and covered in fallen leaves, stretching down and turning around a bend to our left. Daryl followed Merle’s muddied footprints a few paces before they began to fade entirely, disappearing into the asphalt. The last partial print brought Daryl to a standstill as he looked down at it, brows furrowed, bottom lip shaking slightly.

I didn’t stop. The footprints were headed off to the left, down toward the bend in the road. I might not have known the roads around here as well as a native Georgian might, but it didn’t take a genius to guess this particular road led to the feed store. We knew that was where he had been heading, after all.

“Come on,” I bid him, not turning back. “We can follow this road down to the feed store. Just stay out of sight of it when we get there.”

Daryl hesitated only a second before skipping into a jog. When he reached me, he didn’t slow, continuing his brisk jog down the road. I kicked into gear, catching up to him easily.

We were barely jogging for more than a handful of minutes before I spotted her. I grabbed Daryl’s arm and brought him to a slow stop, lifting my other hand to point down the road at the figure slowly making their way toward us.

It was Michonne.

A Merle free, unbound, pissed-off Michonne.

My heart constricted in my chest at the sight of her. Daryl didn’t even glance in my direction before charged toward the woman in the distance. I followed closely behind.

When he was close enough to her, he immediately took an aggressive stance. “Hey! Where’s my brother? You kill him?”

Michonne’s slight shake of her head was enough to bring Daryl to a halt. “He let me go,” she said simply.

I blinked, my mind racing a million miles a minute. He let her go but didn’t return with her? Why? Did he intend to go after the Governor on his own? Because I wouldn’t do it? Please, God, tell me he was not that stupid.

It took Daryl a moment longer to figure out the reality of his brother’s intentions. I’d already begun to take off into a sprint, leaving both he and Michonne behind. I had to get there before he got himself fucking killed.

Why the hell – How could he be so stupid? Why would he do this without me, without even talking to me?

He had, though, hadn’t he? He’d basically plain as day asked me to assassinate the Governor myself. I’d told him no, not without permission, and his entire body language basically replied, “Well, I don’t need permission”. How had I just… let that go? Ignored it, like I believed he wouldn’t do something that stupid? He had made an entire damn career of being stupid.

Why had I left him alone? I shouldn’t have left him alone.

I ran faster than Daryl could even keep up with. My heart was pounding, faster even than the sounds of my booted feet hitting the grey asphalt of the road. Inside my mind was nothing more than a string of barely put together curses, as panicked as they were manic and nonsensical. By the time the feed store came into view, I barely registered the decision to step off the road. It was as if my body knew to be cautious before my brain did. It slowed me down only slightly. I cut through the underbrush, ducking beneath low-hanging branches mid-step as I all but glided through the forest, a ghost amongst the trees.

Before I reached the edge, where the woods gave way to the long grass of the untended field, my feet stuttered to a stop. I don’t know how long I’d been able to hear the sound, only that it had just registered in my brain.

Gurgled moaning, shuffling feet, coming from the field surrounding the feed store.

Biters.

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bramericansugar · 6 years

Text

Jungkook Meet Cute- Supermarket

It was just a regular Saturday afternoon when you decided to stop by the grocery store to pick up a few things. As you walk in, you have your headphones in and are listening to BTS your current favorites. As you walk, you sing them to yourself as much as you can and do tiny little dance moves when no one is watching. From a distance you see a group of boys causing a bit of raucous in the fruit section, so you decide you’ll come back to that section when the teen boys have left. As you continue walking down the aisles you come across the chip aisle. “I could definitely use some snacks.” You think to yourself. The aisle is pretty empty except for one boy standing in front of the pita chips looking very pensive. You begin browsing the chips to pick out your favorite. As you get closer to the boy you glance over and then back to the chips. “Is it? No. It can’t be!” You think to yourself. You think you recognize him but you think there’s no way it could be him. What would be the odds that he would be in the grocery store near your house. You discreetly look back at him. It is him. And you are in complete shock. You could go all fan girl on him, but you know that would only scare him. You also know he’s not allowed to take pictures with fans. So the only option left is to act cool.

“Stacy’s pita chips huh?”

“Uhh, sorry” He says in his broken english.

“ You like Stacy’s pita chips?”

“Yes. I like very much.”

“You know they make them in different flavors?”

“Oh really?” He says with big wide eyes now, as if you’ve just told him you know where the treasure is.

“Yes.” You say pointing to the shelves. “There’s toasted cheddar, cinnamon sugar, fire roasted jalapeno, and my personal favorite Parmesan garlic & herbs.”

“Wow” He says now in total amazement. “Thank you.” he says with a smile and small bow.

“Any time.” You say nodding your head.

He grabs one of each and as he’s about to leave you say “Y/n. My name is y/n.”

He looks back and says “My name is Jungkook.” “I know.” You whisper and wave as he walks away. “Nice to meet you.” You say slightly loudly as he walks away. What you missed was Jimin and V were now standing at the end of the aisle waiting for JK. It takes everything in your power not to run to them and hug them all. BTS had become your recent obsession. You had listened to every song, you had watched every video possible on them. You felt like you knew each one of them personally, like they were your old friends. But you knew you had to play it cool.

***

Jungkook arrives back at V and Jimin. They immediately ask who he had been talking to. “Y/n. She helped pick out the snacks.” He says. “Apparently all the snacks were her suggestion then?” Jimin teases. “No. I couldn’t decide which one I wanted so I grabbed them all.” JK responds a bit embarrassed. “She was really cute.” V says. “I know.” JK responds now blushing. “Then why didn’t you talk to her longer or ask her out.” V says. “Because, I’m bad with girls. You know that. And my english is terrible.” JK says a bit flustered now. “Jungkook, calm down. We can help you! We’ll combine all three of us and we can help you talk to her.” Jimin says. “No it’s too late now. She’s gone.” Y/n had walked out of the aisle and was nowhere in site now. V starts walking to the next aisle, and then the next until he spots y/n. “Here.” V mouths and waves for the other two to come down to him.

****

You are now in the juice and water aisle. You look down the aisle and you spot V. You pretend you don’t see him. But you’re curious as to why he looked directly at you and then made hand signals as if someone else was waiting for them. Now a million different thoughts go through your head but you easily dismiss them. “Why would they want anything with me? They have millions of girls literally falling all over their feet. Some would even lick their feet. Okay you’re going down a weird path here. Let’s stop.” You think to yourself. You do a quick check and now all three boys are at the end of the aisle. They’re looking at the gatorades but every so often one of them looks over your way. And they are constantly talking amongst themselves. Obviously in Korean so you have no idea what in the world they’re saying. Where are the real life subtitles when you need them? You get so lost in your thoughts you didn’t even notice Jimin walk over. “Hello.” he says with a big grin. “Hi.” you reply back pretending to not know you are talking to the sweetest angel there ever was. What you wouldn’t give for a cuddle from him right now. “My friend, Jungkook, is very nice boy.” He says. And your heart flutters when you look over at JK. “Yes, he was very nice.” You reply back not trying to grin so big it takes up your whole face. “But he very shy.” Jimin follows up. “It’s okay. I don’t bite.” You immediately regret saying that. One thing that never translates well are idioms. “I mean, I’m nice.” You correct and Jimin smiles. V now walks up. “He thinks you’re pretty.” V says looking back and forth between you and JK. You are literally exploding inside. Fireworks are going off, and it’s taking every ounce of you to not run over and kiss JK. “Well I think he’s handsome too.” You reply back trying to act super cool. “We are BTS...” V says with a playful grin. And in your head you’re debating whether to let them know you know or not. You go bold. “I know.” You smile and look at the floor. “Oh you know BTS?” Jimin says very excited. You grab your ipod and show them what you had paused. JK now gets closer to the group. Airplanes pt.2. was the image on your ipod. They all smile “woah.” “i’m a big fan.” You say now still smiling to the floor. “You are all very talented.” You say looking up at the group in front of you. They all thank you. You realize this is your chance, to ask them to hang out. “Would you like to have some froyo with me?” You say taking a gamble, but preparing yourself for the no. “Froyo?” They all ask very confused. “Oh sorry, frozen yogurt. It’s delicious. And I know a place close by.” You explain to them. “Oh no, I can’t.” V said. “I can’t.” Jimin now responds. Both V and Jimin look at JK with a smile. “Yes please.” JK responds. And at this exact moment you feel happier than you’ve ever felt in your life. The boy you always thought about and watched had just agreed to spend time with you alone. V and Jimin run away saying bye, waving and giggling. As you leave the store you with Jungkook you see all the boys together giving Jungkook the thumbs up and you realize those were the boys you saw from far away creating a mess. You and Jungkook leave the grocery store and head onto your first adventure together.

#jungkook #jeon jungkook #bts #bts jungkook #meetcute #oneshot

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psychicrunawaybouquet-aus · 6 years

Text

I’m back again with a tiny spideychelle fic. I really don’t proof read or beta so hopefully it’s legible...

I love these lil beans so much ughhhhhhh.

Graduation:

Something Peter had begun to view as a distant, temporary outline for his future. In his head, he would either be an avenger, or dead at the hands of Thanos before he had the chance to attend his graduation. In some ways, that’s exactly what had happened, he had been an Avenger and he had been dead, yet here he was walking up to the podium to accept his high school certificate.

The moment passed in a surreal blur as students and parents cheered, but when all the speeches were done and ceremonies performed, all Peter could think about was everyone he had lost. So he looked down at his hands and pushed through, until he looked up again and suddenly he was in front of May and stood next to Ned, all of them a little out of place from the rest of the crowd.

‘I can’t believe you still got Valedictorian.’ Ned said a little pensively. Peter honestly hadn’t even registered that he was valedictorian, he didn’t even remember getting up and receiving his plaque. Yet when he looked down into his hands, there it was along with his certificate.

‘I bet MJ is seething.’ Ned added elbowing Peter gently. Before Peter could open his mouth in response, Michelle just quite literally materialized next to May, wearing a puffy garishly pink dress and combat boots, and said.

‘I wouldn’t say seething Leeds. But don’t think I won’t be asking the school to open a non-biased enquiry into our grades. I’m fairly confident that my English marks were better then Peter’s.’ May jumped a little at MJ’s words, also clearly shocked at her sudden emergence.

Peter smiled at his tall, curly haired friend and said ‘Well I’m fairly confident that your physics and chemistry marks weren’t as strong as mine.’

No expression other than boredom crossed MJ’s face as she lazily chewed a piece of gum and said. ‘Ok loser you tell yourself that.’ And then just as quickly as she appeared she was gone. The three looking at each other, confused before Peter said ‘I’m never going to understand that girl.’ He saw Ned nod in agreement before May added thoughtfully as she shrugged ‘I like her.’

….

He thought that would probably be the last he would see of Michelle Jones and something about that thought made a little place inside his chest ache, but when he finally got home and crawled into bed, taking off his fancy suit jacket and carelessly throwing it on the floor, he noticed a small piece of folded white paper fall out of his pocket. Rising from his bed, Peter strode the small room to pick it up. It was a little scruffy but as Peter turned it over he immediately recognized the handwriting. They had shared too many study notes for him not to recognize it. ‘Dear Peter.’ it said, so he gently unfolded it and was met with a drawing, finished with vibrant red an blue colored pencil. It was him. Or more to the point in was Spider-Man, swinging from a building with a Midtown backpack on whilst holding a cat. Down the bottom was MJ’s messy scrawl, all it said was ‘From MJ.’

Peter gasped and immediately dropped the paper. MJ knows. How did she know? Why didn’t she mention it before? How long had she known? So Peter did the first thing that came to his mind, he called Ned.

He had to ring twice before his friend answered the phone.

‘What’s up man, I’m watching a movie with mom and dad?’ answered the cheery familiar voice of his friend.

‘Sorry!’ Peter exclaimed hurriedly, ‘But this is an emergency.’

‘Do you need me on the computer? I didn’t get a Karen alert?’ He asked concerned.

‘No no,’ Peter said, ‘I’m not in the suit, but this is about Spider-Man... MJ knows.’ Peter added bluntly.

‘What? How?’ Ned asked, Peter could hear him let out a little gasp.

‘I don’t know how but I just got home, and I found that she somehow left a note in my jacket pocket. The note was just a drawing of Spider-Man and it said From MJ.’

There was a momentary silence on the other end of the phone.

‘Ok, maybe she doesn’t know, maybe she just thinks you’re a big Spider-Man fan.’ Ned said hopefully.

‘NO Ned, she knows, now I’m thinking about it I think maybe she has known for a while, she behaves strangely and sometimes offers weirdly applicable advice.’ Peter said, as he fiddled with a pen on his desk anxiously.

‘MJ is always strange I wouldn’t worry. Anyway I’m sorry Peter I have to go my parents are calling me.’ And with that he hung up the phone. ‘Damn it.’ Peter said to himself.

So he tried to go to sleep, but he couldn’t, it was too early, so he watched a movie, and played Nintendo, but still all he could think about was how on earth MJ knew. So in the end he gave up, and reached under his bed for his suit. Quickly he undressed and put it on, quietly he exited through his bedroom window and begun to swing in the direction of MJ’s house.

She only lived 3 blocks away in a small apartment, he knew because they had studied at her house before, her room was on the left side of the building, three stories up. And sure enough as he slowly and covertly scaled the building and peeked inside her window, he was met with the site the he remembered. One violently orange feature wall on the left side of the room and one seriously large and over crowded bookshelf on the right. Rather than attempt to knock on her window, Peter just checked to see if the glass pane would slide open. To his surprise it did.

He paused for a moment, considering his options. Again he peered into the room, his eyes just peeking over the windowsill. She didn’t appear to be home. Should he come back later? Or should he just crawl through the window and wait for her to come home? Not wanting to wait, his stomach churning with anxiety, he decided to just crawl through the window. He silently slid the glass pain and quickly crawled into the room. Her bed was under the window, so he landed ungracefully, causing the springs to make a squeaking noise. He froze and glanced around quickly. ‘Hey Karen.’ Peter whispered. ‘Is MJ here?’ ‘I am not sure Peter.’ Karen responded. ‘I will run a scan on the building.’ Before Karen could come back with her results the bedroom door opposite the bed swung open with a loud creak. In the door way was MJ, arms crossed, clothed in fluffy purple pants and a baggy black T-shirt. ‘Hello Peter.’ Was all she said.

Peter tripped over her bed sheets and landed in a mess on her floor at her feet. Quickly he got up, trying to recover from the embarrassing situation. Clearly he had been right, Michelle knew. So he stood in front of her and took off his mask. She looked completely unfazed to see his face, her body language still one of mild irritation and stoicism.

‘How did you know?’ He questioned. It was then that her expression changed, her face cracking into a laugh.

‘How did I know? The question is how am I the only one at Midtown that does know? In fact it’s amazing the whole world hasn’t figured it out!’ she retorted. Her wild hair seemingly exacerbating her emotions.

Peter just stared at her for a moment before he said ‘You aren’t the only one at Midtown who knows.’

‘Ahh yes,’ MJ said ‘Dweeb number 2 is also in on your spider activities.’

Peter blinked and said. ‘How long?’ She appeared to soften a little, her arms relaxing from their tight cross against her chest and her lips curling into a smirk. ‘Since not long after your uncle died, I had suspicions, and then after the stunt in DC, I knew for sure that it was you.’

‘Why didn’t you say anything?’ He asked, still shocked.

She just shrugged and said ‘I wanted to wait and see what happens. I thought maybe eventually you would tell me yourself.’

‘I would never of told you.’ He said forcefully, he noticed for a second that she flinched, her expression hinting that she was pained by his words.

‘Wait no!’ Peter quickly said reaching out to her. ‘I didn’t mean it like that. I would never have told you because, I have never told anyone. Everyone that knows, was an accident. I think I would still rather no one knew, because then everyone is safer.’ She smiled at his words in a way that could only be described as gentle and affectionate and then glanced down at her arm.

It was then Peter realised that he had placed his palm against her forearm. He too also looking down at his hand, there was an awkward static moment before he yanked his hand away and anxiously ran it through his hair, shaking it a little.

They ended up talking for hours. About school, about Spider-man and eventually about Thanos. He filled the gaps in on things she hadn’t been able to figure out, and she explained watching his behaviour from the outside, piecing together the puzzle. To his surprise, talking to MJ about Spider-Man and Thanos was different from any other person. She didn’t cry and hold him like May, she didn’t ask for details like Ned. She just listened and occasionally asked questions. She let him just be free in his feelings for a moment, the two then side by side on her spongy double bed.

‘What was space like?’ She said after a moment of silence, somewhat lightening the mood from death and despair. And then the conversation was re ignited again, he steered the topics away from him, and asked her all the things he had wanted to know about the mysterious MJ. She didn’t answer many things readily, but there was a strange intimacy and freedom, that came with tiredness and the silence only found at 4am in the morning. She did admit to having a crush on Zac Efron growing up, and she touched on her family life, opening up some of the pain and loneliness that had been put upon her.

Eventually she asked. ‘Did you love Gwen?’ Immediately Peter tensed, but then her soft slender hand was over his, gently squeezing in support. And so Peter relented. ‘Not as much as I should have.’ He mumbled as a tear rolled down his face. ‘She deserved better.’ He added, his voice catching. He cried silently for a while, allowing himself to go to the place of grief and guilt he specifically locked away for Gwen. He felt MJ roll into him and nuzzle her face into his shoulder, draping one arm over his torso in silent reassurance and comfort, before long her warmth lulled him into dreams.

He was pulled gently from sleep for the first time in years. As his eyes fluttered open, he noticed the sun was filtering through MJ’s window and illuminating the soft honey tones in her brown hair. Her mouth was slightly curled into a smile, although her cheek was pressed into his shoulder, causing her face to be a little augmented and squished. It was wonderful to see her like this, vulnerable and soft. so Peter burned the image into his memory and enjoyed his quiet reverie before she would inevitably wake up. He gently bent his elbow, which was held under her body, allowing his hand to make contact with her back and rub soothing circles in her skin. He smiled again as she nuzzled closer into his neck.

It was then that Peter realised that he was in MJ’s bed, easily holding her in his arms, thinking about how right it felt. MJ. Michelle Jones. Michelle ‘MJ’ Jones, his friend and Academic decathlon captain. She stirred a little next to him as he began to awaken to something he should have realised a long time ago, his epiphany hitting him like a truck. All this time she knew he was Spider-Man and all this time he was in love with M.J.

#spideychelle #Spider-Man: Homecoming #Michelle x Peter #peter parker #michelle jones #tom holland #zendaya #graduation

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corystssides · 6 years

Text

Roommates, part 3

finally, this guy delivers another chapter.

Words: 1141

Summary: Everyone thinks they’ve ruined everything. Except Patton, who had a very calm and peaceful lunch.

Warnings: one-sided Prinxiety, excessive swearing, sleeping together but in a platonic way, mentions of dysfunctional families, arguing, angst, jumping to conclusions, I think that’s it but as always, let me know.

Chapter 1 Chapter 2 Chapter 3 Chapter 4 Chapter 5 Chapter 6 Chapter 7

Virgil woke up slowly.

The first thing his brain noticed was that it wasn’t his alarm that woke him up, which meant it wasn’t a school day. Obviously, that meant that he should go back to sleep. So, he snuggled into the warmth with a small sigh, barely awake.

Then, it occurred to him that it wasn’t blankets that was causing the warmth, but rather another person. Boyfriend? Probably boyfriend. They must have fallen asleep playing video games in the basement. He should probably get up and make everything look normal before his parents walked in on them. But he was so comfortable. Surely a few more minutes couldn’t hurt.

But his parents would be pissed if they caught them sleeping together, even if it was literally only sleeping. So he forced himself to open his eyes. The first thing he saw was dust motes floating lazily through late-morning sunbeams. Wait...sunbeams? There weren’t any windows in his parents’ basement.

Then, he realized where he was, who he was with, and how he’d probably ruined everything.

“Shit!” he hissed, jolting upright and trying to scramble off the bed. It was harder than expected, since he was in between the wall and Roman. He slid off the foot of the bed and almost crashed into Roman’s desk on the way down.

Roman stirred. “Virgil?” he asked. His sleepy morning voice was...amazing. It wasn’t fair, dammit. Nothing about this was fair.

Virgil stammered out apologies as he frantically searched for his keys. Where were they? He knew he had them last night. The apologies only woke Roman up more, now worried because Virgil was worrying. His hair was a total mess, and he stared at Virgil oddly, as though not entirely sure whether he was awake yet or if this was still some sort of dream. Virgil froze, a perfect imitation of a deer in the headlights. Why the hell was his stupid neighbor so handsome? It wasn’t fair.

And then, Roman’s brain woke up enough to figure out what was going on. “Virgil, wait--”

Virgil snatched up his keys, which he’d finally found on Roman’s desk. “Bye!” he said, sprinting out the door in shame. Less than five seconds later, Roman heard the neighboring door slam shut. In spite of himself, Roman was impressed by how quickly Virgil had unlocked his door. The dorm locks were old and well-used, and typically very finicky.

Then, he realized what had just happened, and he swore under his breath. Then, he swore louder, putting his face in his hands and flopping back onto the bed. He’d just ruined everything. His shy neighbor was never going to speak to him again. All the work he, Patton, and Logan had done to get the kid to come out of his shell was probably toast now. Shit. Why couldn’t he have thought ahead, for once?! It would have been way better to risk Patton’s wrath (or more likely, his total understanding) than to freak out Panic at the Dorm Hall. God damn he was a complete idiot.

After a few minutes, Roman rolled out of bed. It was unlikely that Virgil would want to see his face right now. Or ever. But definitely not right now. Therefore, the next best option was to take a shower and come up with a plan on how to rectify the situation.

As he changed out of yesterday’s clothes and into his bathrobe, Roman noticed a piece of paper on his desk that he was certain hadn’t been there last night. He picked it up, and realized it was a note from Patton. Quickly, he read it over. Oh no, he thought, ohhh noooo.

He found his phone, and texted Patton. Don’t u DARE talk about this with anyone else before u talk to me, comprende?

He waited impatiently for Patton to text back. After what seemed like far too long, Patton replied with a lol no problem. I’ll be back in like a half hour.

A half hour? Great. He was going to take a shower.

Logan was already in a cantankerous mood when he’d arrived at the dorm. He’d gotten used to the relative peace of the dorms already, and having to go back home and deal with his parents arguing all weekend while he tried to do homework was infuriating. He wished they’d just get divorced already; they’d clearly be a lot happier apart than they were together. But divorce was simply not done in the Pensive family, and so they took out their misery on each other and everyone else around them. Really, Logan couldn’t get away quick enough.

So maybe, Logan was a little harsh when, upon walking into the dorm and seeing Virgil pacing back and forth, he said, “So what’s your problem today?”

Still, he didn’t think he’d been harsh enough to warrant the “Shut the fuck up, Logan,” that Virgil snapped at him.

If he’d been in a slightly calmer state of mind, he probably would have noticed the edge of panic that Virgil’s voice held. But he wasn’t, and he didn’t, and his temper immediately flared up instead. He couldn’t engage with this. If Virgil was going to throw a tantrum today, he wasn’t going to respond with anything emotionally charged that could lead to even more arguing in his life.

“Fine, whatever,” Logan said, dropping his backpack next to his desk. “We are just roommates, after all, not friends.”

Okay, so it was a little emotionally charged.

“That’s right, we are,” Virgil snapped back, running a hand through his hair.

“Great!” Logan said, icily. “I’m going to the library to study.”

“Have fun.”

“I will.” And after being back at the dorm for less than five minutes, Logan stormed back out, almost running into a bewildered Patton. He didn’t stop to chat; it would be cruel to ruin anyone else’s mood.

It wasn’t until he was completely out of Sanders Hall that he realized that he’d forgotten his backpack. He sighed, but decided it wasn’t worth going back for. Both he and Virgil clearly needed some time to calm down before engaging with each other again. He still had at least three months before the RA would even let him consider changing rooms. Until then, he and Virgil had to work out their differences, and he wasn’t going to do it in the style of his parents.

Right now though, he was going to get coffee. That should give him some time to calm down and approach this whole situation in a rational manner, rather than an emotional manner. Feelings were icky, and while he needed to pay attention to them in order to avoid things like this in the future, that didn’t mean he should act upon them.

He pointed his feet toward the coffee shop and started walking.

#logan sanders #roman sanders #virgil sanders #prinxiety #my fics #roommates #i rewrote this chapter so it wasn't awful and it ended up turning into a dramatic mess instead of a comedic mess lol #will virgil get the guy? will logan and virgil ever be able to get along? find out in the next episode of ''we're roommates not friends''#jk y'all know me #it'll probably drag out like a dragon ball z fight #will logan and virgil ever get along? find out after something like seven more chapters of ''we're roommates not friends''#published: jan 10 2018

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writesandramblings · 6 years

Text

The Captain’s Secret - p.54

“Finger on the Trigger”

Full Chapter List Part 1 - Objects in Motion << 53 - In for a Penny 55 - Null Way Out >>

"Captain's Log, stardate... same stardate as the last twenty logs. Supplemental. We've begun building the tachyon device that Mischkelovitz tells me will kill us all. At this point, it seems preferable."

Lorca paused. He was in his quarters, mostly dressed and wishing the coffee wasn't being rationed so strictly. While he could have pulled rank, it would send the wrong message to the crew and the last thing he needed was to make them more resentful of this situation than they already were.

"Computer, wipe that and start over. Captain's Log, supplemental. We are beginning work on a tachyon pulse device despite the risks, as there are few options left for us to explore. The anti-spore idea has proven to be a dead end. The transporter idea has gone nowhere, literally, and the temporal field research needs parts we don't have. In light of that, I'm willing to risk everything to get us out of here. The alternative is no future at all." The irony being that the real problem was the potential of too much future.

The door chimed. It was Landry. "Captain. The overnight disciplinary report you asked for."

"Hand-delivered. Nice touch," smirked Lorca. He scanned the report. There was another uptick in incidents. Apparently, someone was stealing pieces from the puzzle in the mess hall, and an ensign who normally worked in operations and had a reputation for being tightly-wound had freaked out at being unable to complete the puzzle for the third time.

"Do you want me to investigate the missing puzzle pieces?" asked Landry.

"I can think of a dozen better uses for your time."

"I can only think of one."

One was enough, it turned out.

In truth, it was beginning to feel vaguely unsatisfying and routine. Not that Lorca didn't try to make it interesting for both their sakes, but apparently Landry's heart wasn't totally in it this morning because she turned her head and looked out the window and said, "Does it look like there are more stars to you?"

"Really, Ellen?" asked Lorca. "Am I not doing my part here?"

Landry propped herself up on her elbows. "No, look. Between the two bright ones, there's a little star. That wasn't there before."

Lorca withdrew with a sigh. He turned to look.

He immediately abandoned Landry. Not only could he now make out more points of light, there was a faint red-orange hue in part of the sky. More stars and the trace of a familiar nebula.

He hurriedly began to dress. "Computer! Senior science staff to astrometrics!"

Landry watched him put his clothes back on with faint disbelief. "You're leaving me? Right now? Like this?"

He threw his hands up and smiled with genuinely dorky happiness. "There are stars out there! Stars!" He pulled his shoes on as he hopped out the door.

Landry stared after him, torn between annoyance and admiration. Then she smiled. No one else loved stars quite as much as Captain Lorca. And that grin on his face, she'd never seen one quite like it before. There was something bright and pure in it.

It was amazing. After this many weeks and in this situation, he could still surprise her.

Running to astrometrics had probably been unnecessary, as everyone else had chosen to walk. Saru, Egorova, Stamets, and Kumar arrived one by one and took up their usual places in the room. It was too early in the morning for Mischkelovitz, but Groves came in her place. Presumably he would fill her in later.

"Stars!" said Lorca, with his hands for emphasis.

They stared.

He tried again. "Has anybody looked out the window lately?"

"At the stars?" asked Stamets, hunching his shoulders slightly as he tended to when he couldn't believe what he was hearing.

"You mean the increasing light?" said Saru.

"Yes! There are more stars out there than there used to be!"

Egorova cleared her throat. "Sir, we're aware of the increase in photons. I didn't want to say anything until I was sure, but we don't have six hundred years. We have eight months."

"Fantastic!" said Lorca, thrilled. Eight months was insane, but doable. They would even be able to lessen most of the rationing restrictions.

Egorova blinked her eyes rapidly. He thought she meant eight months until null time ended. She shook her head. "No. We have eight months until the photon density kills us."

The change on Lorca's face seemed almost to happen in slow motion. His elation shifted into pensive disgust. "What?" he said with a sharp jerk of his head.

Egorova sighed. "So, we're in a time bubble. Photons—along with other particles—are hitting the outside of the bubble. A tiny portion of them slip through miniscule gaps in the mycelial barrier, meaning we get to see a few more stars for the time being. But the larger portion of photons stick to the barrier, both when they exit and enter. As a result, there's an entire set of photons that aren't reaching us. They're frozen in time along at the edge of the bubble. It's the photons we're not seeing that are the problem. They're thickening the barrier. As they accumulate, the holes will get smaller and the view will get darker, and the temporal barrier will become more complete."

The more Egorova spoke, the worse it sounded.

"Eventually, the density of particles will create a sort of temporal black hole." This sounded like a Groves term. Possibly pillow talk. "In a regular black hole, gravity is so strong no light can escape. This will be a hole from which no time can escape. My guess is when we hit the point of temporal singularity and our local time collapses, there'll be a brief flash of light as photons on the surface of the field are expelled by the collapse, and nobody will ever know it was us. They'll just see a photonic explosion. The resulting hole will look black, because no light will be able to escape, but it won't have a massive gravity signature. It will just be something that grabs matter and freezes it in time. Eventually, I think it'll grab enough matter to create an actual black hole. But that could take millions of years of external time."

Lorca sat with this for a long moment, chewing his lip. "Huh," he finally concluded, staring at the far wall with half-lidded eyes.

"What if we try initiating another spore jump out of here?" suggested Kumar.

"How?" asked Stamets. "I put more spores in the chamber, they're just gonna get contaminated by the spores that are in there. It's like an infection, remember?" He felt certain he had explained this to Kumar already once before.

"Captain," said Saru, "we may yet have success—"

"New plan," said Lorca suddenly. "We're going to expend all of our resources. Food, power, air, everything. We'll burn it if we have to."

"Captain?" said Saru tentatively.

Lorca held up a finger. "Then, at the last moment, whatever force it is put us in this predicament is going to let us out."

Stamets, Saru, Kumar, and Egorova looked at Lorca with varying degrees of alarm. Saru's threat ganglia began to emerge.

Groves snickered. "You've lost your goddamn mind," he said, and started laughing.

Since Mischkelovitz wasn't present, Lorca decided to do something he'd been wanting to do for a very long time. He pressed the button for the comms. "Lorca to Landry. Commander, would you mind dropping by astrometrics and escorting Specialist Groves to the brig?"

"With pleasure, sir."

Egorova's eyes widened. "Sir!"

"You can't do that," said Groves. Despite the fact Lorca was finally making real on the old threat, he still didn't seem alarmed in the slightest. "I know, I know, captain does what he wants on his ship, but Starfleet regulations clearly state you need a reason to imprison me. Or else it looks really bad, like I'm right and you have lost your mind."

Lorca threw his hands up and smirked. "Insubordination, insulting your captain, improper conduct in a meeting, you can take your pick!"

"Oh, come on," said Groves with a grin. "None of the above."

Landry arrived looking very pleased because this was her favorite part of her job. "Mr. Groves. You going to come quietly? Please say no."

"Make peace not war," said Groves, chuckling at his own perceived cleverness. He went with Landry without further objection. Unflappable to the last, it seemed.

Saru, Stamets, Egarova, and Kumar stood and watched Lorca for some sign that this was not as bad as it seemed.

"Sir, I know that sometimes human humor escapes me," said Saru, "so perhaps you can explain the joke about destroying our supplies?"

"No joke, Mr. Saru. Just good old human intuition. We'll get out of this, you'll see." He had decided Lalana might be right. This was a truly bizarre way to go about destroying the ship. If someone had put them in this with benign intent, someone could take them out of it if they forced that person's hand.

Saru touched a hand to his threat ganglia. He had always felt human intuition somewhat lacking.

Egorova did her best to put a kibosh on the insanity. "We still have eight months before we're at the point of no return. We might come up with better ideas. And maybe the anti-spore just needs more time."

Stamets let out a tiny groan and rubbed at his eyes. "Nothing is working! No matter what we do, the anti-spores keep falling apart! They need to have characteristics matching a spore, but it turns out when you invert everything, the spores just fall apart like confetti."

"Perhaps a more novel approach," began Saru.

For the second time, Lorca cut Saru off. Something in the way Stamets said the words triggered half an idea in Lorca's head and his eyes went wide with shock. "Lallen!" he shouted. Then, in a more modest tone: "No, not lallen... lelulallen!"

No one else in the room had any idea what he was talking about.

"Computer, access lului medical files, authorization Lorca-Charlie-Omega-5-1-7-9."

The report appeared on the floating astrometrics display. Lorca swiped through it as fast as he could, looking for the right part. Ek'Ez's report was as thorough as could be. What it lacked in technical scans it more than made up for in written detail and optics. He found the passage on lului medical treatment protocols and shook a finger at it, grinning. "Aha!"

Stamets was standing nearest Lorca and squinted at the text. "Suspension of biomimetic..." He gasped. "Yes!" He turned and looked at Lorca with something akin to happiness. "Yes! Why didn't I think of that?"

"'Cause you're not a medical doctor," said Lorca, utterly without malice. "And you don't know anything about lului."

Stamets happily threw his hands up. "I mean, I don’t! Whatever that thing is! But this—captain, this could work!"

Saru also realized what Lorca was proposing. It was entirely the sort of novel solution Saru had been trying to suggest they consider before Lorca cut him off. "I'll begin gathering the materials and inform the necessary crew."

"Excellent." Though the idea had been his, Lorca looked at them in a way that made it feel like this was a shared victory. "Let's get to it."

"Sir," said Kumar. "The tachyon emitter?"

"Go ahead and finish it, but we're giving Mr. Stamets another chance."

"Thank you, captain," said Stamets, elated.

Kumar looked genuinely disappointed. Despite the group's insistence his idea was a bad one bound to doom the ship to a terrible end, he had really thought he would be able to prove them wrong.

Saru, Stamets, Egorova, and Kumar made their way out. Lorca leaned on the astrometrics console and started chuckling. Background radiation. As if. Though, it had been his idea. In a way they were both of them the key.

Arriving in his study, Lorca grabbed a fortune cookie. You desire to discover new frontiers, it read.

"No shit," he said, and smiled, crunching down on the cookie as he brought up the feed in Stamets' engineering lab. The place was absolutely abuzz with frenzied excitement for the first time in weeks. As he had not eaten breakfast, Lorca grabbed another cookie after a minute.

The door chimed. It was Colonel O'Malley, looking tired and unhappy. "Captain."

"Colonel," answered Lorca in kind, and offered him the cookie.

O'Malley declined. "Please tell me you did not put John in the brig."

Lorca cracked the second cookie. "I put him right where he belongs. Surely you can see that?" Lorca was undeniably pleased with himself. Even if Groves was unperturbed by the confinement, it really felt like finally putting the man in his place. The second fortune was: Your thoughts are highly regarded. Lorca snorted in amusement at it.

O'Malley sighed. This was the end of his shift and he was cutting into his sleep to be here having this conversation. "I don't disagree with you, but would you mind letting him out?"

"I'd mind very much," said Lorca, smirking and chewing. He dropped the fortune in the trash alongside the previous one. "Specialist Groves isn't going anywhere. My decision is final."

It took O'Malley a moment to formulate a response. "Captain. I'm not sure how much you're aware, but John and I have an agreement concerning Dr. Mischkelovitz. You have to let him out so he can fulfill his part of it."

"I don't have to do anything," said Lorca. He took a third cookie. This was a very poor substitute for an actual breakfast, but he was in too good a mood to care. Your dearest wish will come true. He was on a roll today.

"I will beg if I have to," said O'Malley, making his desperation clear. "Someone has to watch her during the day."

As fervently as O'Malley was trying, Lorca remained wholly unmoved and maintained his flippancy, saying, "I'll assign an ensign. If you hadn't noticed, we've got plenty of them on hand with very little to do."

"Oh no you bloody well won't," went O'Malley. "Security clearances, for starters. You really want word about Lalana getting out on the ship?"

The amusement on Lorca's face faded. That was a good point.

"Then there's the issue, it has to be someone Melly trusts, or we're going to have an absolute meltdown on our hands."

Lorca shrugged. "How about Lalana? She has clearance and she's there already. And you can't tell me Mischkelovitz doesn't trust her."

O'Malley tilted his head to the side. "You want Lalana to watch Emellia? Captain, I don't know that she has what it takes."

"You'd be surprised what she's capable of," said Lorca.

"I have no doubt, but she's an alien. They don't always pick up on the right cues, and I can't possibly get her up to speed on everything she needs to know right now. John would have to walk her through it anyway. Please, just let John out of the brig so he can do his shift. He can go back after."

Lorca shrugged. "You know, colonel, you're gonna have to get used to going without. As soon as we're back in normal space, Groves is leaving Discovery permanently." Not into the vacuum of space, as Lorca had variously threatened, but to the nearest starbase, outpost, or inhabited planet. Maybe uninhabited planet with breathable atmosphere if Lorca could find one.

O'Malley's face went white. "Captain, no, you can't. You promised me Emellia could stay, and frankly, I can't watch her twenty-four hours a day! I just—I can't!"

"Not my problem, colonel. You'll just have to make do with Lalana."

O'Malley's face fell, but he recovered quickly, displaying a sudden reserve of determination. "Captain, I more than anyone understand how particularly frustrating John is, but it is entirely unbecoming of you to let your jealousy get the better of you like this."

Lorca's eyebrows shot up. "Jealousy?" he repeated. "You think I'm jealous of your brother? An overblown windbag with no business on a starship who gets to spend the rest of his time here in the brig?" He was practically boasting with glee. "No, colonel, this is not jealousy."

"He's not my brother, and it absolutely is. You're threatened by him."

Lorca dismissed this with a smirk and a shrug. "Not even a little bit." Shooting three-pointers was not a skill Lorca had any interest in. Neither was coining pithy names or negotiating in courtrooms.

"Here's the thing, captain, you think I haven't noticed you and John both have to be the funniest man in the room, constantly proving nothing bothers you? It's like you're competing with each other. And I know what it is made him that way, so I'm very sorry for whatever it is happened to you, truly I am, but I assure you, Emellia's been through much worse, and the only person you're hurting by locking John up is her."

All trace of amusement vanished as O'Malley spoke. In its place rose a brimming resentment. Lorca said in a hoarse, threatening voice, "You have no idea what this war has cost me. Don't you dare presume to measure her grief against mine, colonel. I lost my entire command. People I've known for years, who were loyal to me, who followed me, who trusted me. People I cared about. I had to watch as my ship was destroyed. You think you know what that feels like? And you think the loss of a single man compares to all of that?"

O'Malley was calm, patient, and understanding as he said, "I wasn't referring to the war, captain. But as you mention it, I would never dare presume the weight of what happened to your ship or measure it against anything. But please, for Emellia's sake, let John out. You're better than this."

"Am I?" challenged Lorca.

"Yes. Without a doubt." O'Malley's splotchy, freckled face was openly sincere.

Lorca frowned and looked away, a faint sneer forming on his lips. After a moment it switched to a snarling frown. "Fine," he said. "Arrange the hours with Landry. And I don't see him anywhere but in that lab or in my brig. Understood?"

"I won't forget this, captain. Thank you." O'Malley stood at brief attention, which was a marked sign of respect since their ranks were equal, and left.

Lorca still had the third fortune and half a cookie in his hand. Two and a half fortune cookies did not make for a sufficient breakfast, but he no longer had an appetite. He dropped both the fortune and the cookie half into the trash.

Saru came across with O'Malley in the corridor. O'Malley was balancing three trays of food on his arms.

"Colonel," greeted Saru. "You are not eating in the mess today?"

"Not for a while it looks. Captain's made it very clear that John's not allowed there. Would you like to join us in the lab?"

"I've already eaten, but I will assist you." Saru took one of the trays.

"Much appreciated!" They continued down the corridor. Saru slowed his long strides slightly to match O'Malley's pace, but despite the almost comical height difference, O'Malley walked quickly, so it was only a slight adjustment.

O'Malley seemed a good person to talk to, as he was outside of Discovery's usual chain of command, and Saru had gotten to know him decently well in the recent weeks. "I am concerned about the captain's confinement of Mr. Groves."

"Oh, don't be," said O'Malley. "John'll be fine."

This was not precisely what Saru meant. "Do you think it reflects poorly on the captain? John is a civilian. There is much about Starfleet he doesn't understand."

O'Malley half-smiled at that. "Between you and me, John's an expert on the regulations. He just willfully ignores them. Honestly, I'm surprised he didn't end up in the brig sooner. Getting under people's skin is sort of his modus operandi."

"Then, you see no problem with the captain's decision."

O'Malley realized there was something more at play here. "Did something happen with the captain?"

Saru did not answer this question easily. "This morning, in addition to confining John, he suggested sabotaging our remaining supplies. And..."

O'Malley was patient. "You don't have to say if you don't want to."

This relieved much of the pressure Saru felt and he admitted, "He was dismissive of me."

During his time aboard the Shenzhou, Saru had always felt he lacked respect from the rest of the crew. The arrival of Michael Burnham had only served to highlight this state of affairs. From the first moment Burnham set foot on the ship, Georgiou had been almost infatuated with her. Suddenly everything was about Burnham: how brilliant Burnham was, how special, how strong and skilled. The actions they took were largely Burnham's suggestions and Burnham became the central figure of the ship to whom everyone looked for guidance.

It was no surprise when Georgiou passed over Saru for the position of first officer and chose Burnham instead, but that did not make it sting any less. It had only compounded Saru's feelings of inadequacy at the time. He knew, on some level, that he was not inadequate, but the universe seemed to be trying to convince him of the fact, and it made it hard to deny in the face of such overt evidence.

Saru still loved and respected his former captain. Georgiou was always kind and patient. But kindness and patience did not equal respect.

Joining Discovery as its first officer, Saru had not expected things to be very different, because he remained largely the same person he had always been. Changing ships did not change who he was at his core.

Yet things were different. There was only so much of that could be attributed to the position of first officer; Saru was not so arrogant as to think the respect he received was wholly his own. The fact was, crews took their cues from their captains. Lorca had shown respect for Saru from the outset and the crew had followed Lorca's lead.

Which was why it hurt so much to suddenly feel like Lorca was treating him the way Burnham had, the way Georgiou had allowed Burnham to.

They were nearing the lab. "Here, come in a minute, will you?" said O'Malley as Larsson came into view. Larsson had been expecting O'Malley and opened the door for them.

The doors cycled. Mischkelovitz and Groves were within. O'Malley practically threw the food trays at them and returned to the outer area with Saru, closing the doors for privacy.

"Right," said O'Malley, crossing his arms. "Tell me from the top what happened."

Saru explained in as much detail as he could. He went over the events of the meeting, the seemingly insane suggestion, the way Lorca had interrupted him not once but twice, and then found himself confessing that this reminded him of the way he had been treated by his former crew. O'Malley listened with patient attention, and when Saru was finished, he said:

"I think it's just been a very bad day for the captain. The combination of John being annoying, having his hopes dashed, and the whole infernal situation we're in just got the better of him. If I may, Lalana says Captain Lorca is a man who hates standing still. Despises it with every fiber of his being. This null time thing is essentially his worst nightmare come true and he's been living in it for a month now. It's amazing he hasn't cracked sooner. But you should go right now and tell him that you felt disrespected. Do it in a way that suggests you recognize the behavior is out of character. Be understanding, but not overly sympathetic. You don't want him to think you see him as weak in any way, or that he needs your sympathy. Understand what I'm saying?"

The instructions were somewhat complex, but they made a certain sense. "I should endeavor to make the captain understand I know it was a momentary mistake, and it is already forgiven."

"Ah, that's perfect!" said O'Malley. "Off you go, then."

"Thank you, colonel," said Saru as the outer doors opened.

"Any time, Saru." O'Malley smiled and the doors closed.

O'Malley stood alone in the lab's entryway. The smile vanished almost immediately. "O'Malley to Lorca."

"Go," came the response.

"Are you alone, captain?"

A pause. "Yes." There was a note of curiosity in the tone.

"Right. So, Saru's going to come to you in a minute and he's rather upset that you talked over him twice in the meeting this morning. When he walks in the door, you should immediately tell him you've been mulling over the morning's events and you feel you did him a disservice, you're just tired of being stuck in one place. You don't have to apologize, mind you, just make him think you feel badly about it."

Another pause. "What?"

"Did I stutter? Or is it the accent? It's the accent, isn't it."

"The accent doesn't help," said Lorca. "What brought this on?"

"Well, you did me a favor, captain, and I'm the sort that likes to repay them, so. Just giving you a heads up."

Yet again, a pause. "This doesn't mean Groves can stay."

"But you've got to admit, it's awfully useful doing me favors, isn't it?"

"Lorca out."

O'Malley smiled again, this time for no one's benefit but his own. He opened the inner doors. "Your food's cold," was Groves' greeting.

"Shut up, John," said O'Malley cheerfully, then noticed something was missing from his tray. "Melly, did you eat my pudding?"

When Saru arrived, Lorca greeted him with something like a confession, offering roughly the same combination of words O'Malley suggested. The Kelpien was gratified to realize how much his captain truly valued him as a result. Then Lorca let Saru speak as to the nature of the issue, similarly pleased that Saru seemed to realize it was not an intentional slight on his part, and they concluded with a handshake.

When Saru left, Lorca stood in quiet thought, staring at the faint glimmers of stars that had not been visible before. Though there was no atmosphere, the way the photons interacted with the barrier made them seem to twinkle.

He was going to get them back out there or die trying.

Part 55

#Star Trek #Discovery #Star Trek Discovery #Captain Lorca #Gabriel Lorca #fanfic #fanfiction #Saru #Paul Stamets #prequel #null time #Michael Burnham #Philippa Georgiou

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coffeeandcas · 7 years

Note

Summer trope: Dean is a nervous passenger on a plane (surprise!) and Cas is a fellow passenger OR Cas and Jimmy are both flight stewards. Cas is attracted to Dean and attentive to his state of being while Jimmy hardly notices him. Chaos ensues (too twin cliche?)

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‘Ladies and gentlemen, this is your co-pilot speaking. We hope you’re enjoying your flight with us today, and that our sir stewards are providing you with everything you need. The captain has turned on the fasten-seatbelt sign as we’re approaching some mild turbulence. Please remain in your seats with your seat belts securely fastened until further notice. Thank you.’

“Fucking hell, Jesus, shit, crap, oh God, fuck.”

Dean, who hasn’t even considered taking his seatbelt off for a second during the hour in the air so far, grips the arms of his seat and clenches his teeth. There are a great many words in the English language he despises (vampires, demons, lettuce, cats, Crowley, to name a few), and ‘turbulence’ is pretty high up on that list. Next to him, the elderly couple make shocked, disapproving sounds and tut loudly at his language. He can’t find it in himself to care, and ends up glaring savagely at them until they disappear behind their newspapers muttering about ‘bad boys’ and ‘never when we were young’.

He has the aisle seat, and is currently unsure whether he made the right choice. He hates flying. With a burning passion. (OK, lets not say the word ‘burning’ when the plane could literally explode at any second and take Dean along with it, that can happen you know?) He had spent a solid ten minutes at check-in debating with the poor girl at the desk about whether he would be safer by the window or by the aisle. His logic was that if he’s sitting pinned by the window that he’s trapped and can’t escape if something were to happen. Her logic, which he hated, was that if something happens he’s pretty much trapped regardless, since planes are just long tubes with wings, with nowhere to run to, so he should just pick a seat and settle his nerves. By this point, he’s sure she was getting pretty rattled with him. But her final pearl of wisdom was a good one: an aisle seat means he’s closer to the flight attendants, and the flight attendants serve snacks and drinks. And alcohol; although she was careful not to mention it he knows she was referring to a stiff drink when she said ‘settle your nerves’. And he’s had three already.

Two air stewards are making their way slowly up the aisles, asking people to put their belts on and removing any rubbish they might have. Dean watches them intently, more to have something to direct his attention on to than anything else. One is tall and well-built with a soft Cajun accent and a nice smile. The other is dark-haired and pensive-looking, his voice rough and gravelly and he looks just a little bit irritated by everyone. Dean huffs out a laugh as the guy approaches, and tries to stop his hands from shaking. Wrong job to choose if you don’t like people.

“Any trash?” The guy materialises at Dean’s side a moment later, wearing his almost imperceptible frown, and Dean shakes his head. The elderly couple next to him ignore the air steward completely. He’s about to move on when Dean’s hand shoots out of its own accord and touches his elbow. The guy turns back to him with what is clearly a very fake, plastered-on smile.

“Can I help you, sir?”

“Uhm.” Upon closer inspection, the air steward actually has really pretty eyes. Sapphire blue, lined with thick lashes and he blinks just a little slower than normal, holding Dean’s gaze evenly. He’s momentarily distracted by where he is, and his brain tries to come up with a cheeky line to use on the guy, but suddenly the plane lurches and drops half a foot and Dean lets out a very unmanly squeak of terror. The air steward has gripped the back of his seat to steady himself, and has moved a step closer in doing so. He smells o cinnamon.

“Sir?” He’s looking down at Dean still, this time with an expression of consternation on his handsome face. “Are you all right?”

No! Get me out of this flying death trap! “Yes. I’m fine.” A couple of octaves lower, Dean. You haven’t been a teenager for years. “Could, uhm, I get a drink? Please?”

“As soon as the turbulence has passed we’ll be coming through the cabin with drinks and snacks. I’m sure it won’t be long.” The guy moves as if to leave and Dean, a swell of nervous desperation rising inside him, reaches out to grip his arm. The guy raises an eyebrow but doesn’t speak.

“Please. Just really quickly. I really hate flying, and-” The plane lurches again and shudders, and Dean squeezes his eyes shut in reaction. When he opens them again, the guy is looking down at him impassively, waiting to be released. His cheap gold name tag reads ‘Castiel’. Huh. Odd name. “Please.”

“I’ll see what I can do.”

Castiel pulls his arm away from Dean’s clenching fingers and moves on to the couple behind, and Dean tries to regulate his breathing and remember some of the meditation crap Sam had been spouting to him. Deep breaths, logical thoughts, distractions, oh God, what if we crash? He slams his eyes shut again as the plane judders and tries to think of good things. Pizza, his Impala, playing pool with Bobby, Netflix and porn… shit, that was a bit lurch. Oh God!

“Sir?”

He manages to prise his eyes open just long enough to see a set of baby-blues looking back at him. The air steward has returned and is crouched next to him, holding a glass of something that looks and smells alcoholic. Dean manages to take it without shaking too badly, although unsticking his fingers from the arm of his seat had been a challenge. The steward smiles, a proper smile, and it transforms his whole face. For a moment, Dean is speechless and just stares.

“There you go! I hope that helps. You just let me know if you need anything else, OK?”

And then he’s gone, and Dean twists to watch him walk away. That was weird. He didn’t seem half as grouchy this time. Maybe he snuck a shot of whiskey whilst pouring one for Dean, that could explain it. He watches Castiel walk away down the cabin towards the rest area at the back, and can’t help but notice how nice his ass is. Damn.

Then the plane grumbles, trembles and lurches again and Dean downs the whiskey in one swallow, closing his eyes and holding on for dear life.

“Was he all right?”

“Fine, Cassie. Scared shitless, but fine.”

“Should I check on him?”

“Why?” Jimmy busies himself with sorting through the menus from their earlier flight, grimacing at the food choices. “The vegetarian option is always terrible. They need a new chef.”

“I’ll pass on your feedback.” Castiel twitches the curtain, peering down the aisle to seat 34C, where the nervous passenger’s arm can be seen, his hand white-knuckling the arm of the chair. “He might need something else.”

“What else?” Jimmy glances curiously at his twin. “I gave him the drink he wanted. He didn’t ask for anything more.”

“Well. You know. Maybe he didn’t wish to bother you.”

“Oh, and you’re wishing he’d bother you, is that it?” Jimmy laughs, wrapping an elastic band around the menus and stashing them in a tiny cupboard. “Cassie. I swear you fall in love five times a day. At least once per flight.”

“I do not.” Red in the face, Castiel lets the curtain drop and grabs for a handhold as the plan trembles. “And sit down, you’re making me nervous.”

Jimmy is about to protest but the plane cuts him off by swaying in the air and plummeting at least three feet: shouts and frightened cries echo from the cabin and Castiel catches his brother around the waist as he stumbles forward and almost hits his head on the corner of a cabinet.

“Shit. OK, big brother, you may have a point.” Jimmy takes a seat and fastens his belt, only to look up and see that Castiel has done the exact opposite. “Hey! Where are you..?”

“I think everyone’s OK.” Castiel is poking his head outside the curtain again. The turbulence seems to finally be subsiding, and everyone is settling in their seats again. He can see Benny further down the cabin, calming a frightened young mother and her child, and Meg’s soothing voice comes from somewhere nearby as she reassures someone. He can’t help it: his own gaze is drawn to Dean, and he’s moving down the aisle before he can stop himself.

The guy really is handsome. Truly. Tanned, honeyed skin and dark blonde hair that Castiel is certain was artfully styled when he entered the plane. It’s now a mess thanks to nervous fingers constantly playing with it. He’s in a soft-looking t-shirt which shows of muscular forearms, and he even has a scattering of freckles across his nose which Castiel finds incredibly endearing. Cute, even. Although he’s sure the word wouldn’t be well-received: the guy looks like his alpha-male exterior is well intact. Well, it was until the turbulence, now it seems to have slipped a little.

“How are you doing?” He speaks softly enough so as not to startle the guy, but just loud enough to be heard. His head swivels to look up at Castiel, and his face is a picture of sheer panic.

“Crashing? Are we going to crash?”

Castiel gets the distinct impression that he’s walked in on a very fierce internal conversation. “No. We aren’t going to crash. Believe it or not, this isn’t unusual for us. But I understand that it’s unsettling. Can I get you a bottle of water?”

A pause, into which the guy seems to be breathing heavily and his throat works as he swallows multiple times. Then, “Dean. I’m Dean.”

“Hello, Dean. I’m Castiel.” He would shake Dean’s hand like a gentleman, but it seems like the guy’s fingers are glued to his arm rest. “I think the worst of the turbulence has passed. Are you doing OK?”

“Do you think? Yeah?” Dean looks hopeful at this, his eyes sparkling a bit as the overhead light catches them just right. “I swear, I’m normally a helluva lot braver than this. It’s just… yeah. Planes. Not a fan.”

“I gathered,” Castiel says drily and Dean squints up at him, unsure if he’s being teased. Jimmy picks that moment to saunter up, now apparently deciding to be the epitome of perfect air steward.

“Sir? How are you feeling? Is there anything any of us can get for you?” He receives a sharp jab to the ribs from Castiel, but it doesn’t wipe the syrupy smile from his lips.

“Holy crap. Am I seeing double here, or…?” Dean is wide-eyed, staring up at the twins with undisguised shock. Castiel shakes his head while Jimmy barks out a laugh.

“No, buddy, you’re not. Double the fun on this flight. Cassie, I assume you’re capable of looking after him while I attend to the rest of the plane?” An exaggeration. They have four flight attendants for a reason, but Castiel allows Jimmy to push past him and amble on up the aisle. He pulls a face at his brother’s back, then turns back to Dean.

“Seriously though, Dean. Can I get you anything?”

“No.” His hold on the seat arms hasn’t relaxed much. “I don’t think any more alcohol would be wise. I don’t want to throw up.”

“No, I agree.” Fighting against his nerves and his instincts to run because why would this handsome, dreamy guy want to be stuck talking to him, Castiel crouches down by Dean’s seat to give them a little more privacy. “Flying is statistically the safest form of travel, you know?”

“Yes, I’ve heard.” Dean inclines his head to look at him, and Castiel is momentarily lost for words at how pretty his eyes are. Emerald green, and currently wide with concern. He wonders how they would look with the pupils blown wide due to something else entirely… “But it doesn't feel like it. Feels like we’re going to drop out of the sky.”

“We’re not.” Again, against his better judgement, Castiel does something he’s never done for a nervous passenger before. He covers Dean’s straining hand with his own. “It’s OK. Only half an hour left, you’re going to be just fine.”

“Really? Half an hour?” Dean doesn’t look comforted. In fact, he looks downright disheartened at the news. “That’s forever.”

“It isn’t. It will pass quickly, I promise you. We’re starting our descent into Dallas in a few moments.” Sensing that keeping Dean talking is the key, Castiel soldiers on a bit, hoping Meg and Benny don’t mind picking up his slack. Jimmy will mind, but he doesn’t care too much about that. “Are you heading there for business or pleasure?”

“Work, mainly. Meeting my brother. We run a… family business.”

“Well, that sounds great. I’ve heard Dallas is a nice city.”

“You’ve never been?” Dean’s eyes are reflecting surprise now, and Castiel allows a small smile to touch his lips.

“No. I’ve only seen the inside of the airport and the hotels. I don’t get much time to explore, the turnaround is normally pretty quick.”

“It’s beautiful. You really should-” Dean cuts himself off as the seatbelt sign flashes once more, and his eyes once again take on MLS terror. Castiel’s hand squeezes his, gently, reassuringly.

“It’s all right. Really, Dean. You’re going to be fine.”

“Oh, God.” As the plane lurches and drops again, Castiel reaching to steady himself on the seat in front, Dean turns horrified eyes on him and claps both hands to his mouth.

“What is it, Dean?” Dark eyebrows furrow in concern, and a warm hand touches his thigh. “What do you need?”

“I’m going to be sick… Cas, can I…”

Castiel never learns what the rest of Dean’s sentence was going to be, because half a second later the guy throws up. All over him.

Dean allows the elderly couple to elbow past him and bites back a retort as they muster and grumble about him to each other. He waits until almost all the passengers on the plane have disembarked before dragging his duffel bag down from the overhead bin and making his way, shakily, to the exit with one goal in mind: getting his feet back on solid ground. He’s still shaky, nauseous, and more than a little embarrassed. Then, as he approaches the exit, Castiel sends him a reassuring smile and his mouth runs a little drier. OK, maybe he has two goals in mind. Three, if you count endless grovelling to the person you vomited all over. Castiel is in a fresh shirt and his hair is still a little damp; Dean’s stomach again clenches, this time with humiliation.

“Thank you for flying with us,” Castiel says as he approaches. His freakishly identical twin stands at his side, grinning. “It was a pleasure to meet you.”

“You too.” Dean moves aside to let a young family off, then it’s just him, Castiel, and the twin left on the plane, with the other air stewards already disembarked and doing whatever it is they do. “Thanks for… the flight. I’m so sorry. Really.”

“It’s fine. I’m glad you were all right in the end.” Castiel is studying his face, the vaguest hint of a smile at his lips, and do his cheeks look just a little pinker? “Flying can be difficult if you’re not used to it.”

“Yeah. No. I mean, yes, it is and no, I’m not used to it. I hate it.” He says it with a little more vehemence than intended, and the twin snuffles, clearly attempting to hide a laugh.

“I can see that.” Castiel’s smile is warmer now, and they just sort of stand there, looking at each other, neither moving towards the stairs to leave the plane.

“Oh, for the love of God.” The twin rolls his eyes in exasperation and places his hands on his hips. Up close, the differences between them are more amplified. Castiel isn’t as dramatic or exuberant as his brother, and he’s a slightly heavier build. More muscular, Dean thinks with a spark of interest. Before he can say anything more to Castiel, his brother interjects.

“Look. You guys need to get moving so we can get off this plane because I need a shower, a coffee, and a fucking cigarette. So, Cassie, are you going to ask Mr Nervous Flyer out or do I really have to do it on your behalf? We aren’t fifteen any more. And I think the ice between you has been sufficiently broken. Or, well, drenched.”

“Jimmy!” Castiel definitely flushes now, right to the tips of his ears, and looks simultaneously mortified and scandalised. “I don’t know if… he probably doesn’t want…”

Before Dean can respond in the affirmative that he does want, and that he’s so, so sorry for the whole projectile-vomiting thing, Jimmy opens his mouth again. “OK. 34C, do you want to go out for dinner with my brother? We’re stopping here overnight before heading bask to Chicago, and I could use a break from him. He’s a little annoying. I nominate you to entertain him instead; do you accept?”

It’s the most bizarre, infuriating, idiotic and downright stupid way Dean has ever been asked out but he can’t help it. His embarrassment melts away somewhat, a grin spreads across his face and he’s nodding. “Sure, Jimmy. I can show Castiel the sights of Dallas for a few hours.”

Castiel is blushing furiously and looking at the ground, but a hint of a smile appears at his lips and he glances up at Dean. “You sure?”

“Hell yeah. Here,” Dean fishes in his wallet and hands over a card with his number scribbled on - he had written it out just before the plane landed, just in case he got a chance to give it to Castiel before he got the hell off the flying death trap. “Give me a call later? I know a great burger joint if you’re into that sort of thing.”

“I am.” Castiel looks relieved and excited at the prospect of going for dinner with Dean. “I’d love to have dinner. I should probably shower first though…I’ll see you later?”

“Yeah. See you, Cas. I promise I won’t puke on you this time.”

They grin at each other and part ways. Dean descends the stairs, breathing in the warmth of the Texan air and congratulating himself on surviving the (albeit pretty short) flight with only minimal (OK, maximum) embarrassment. Behind him, he hears the twins erupt into a babble of excited, angry chatter - no doubt Jimmy is getting an ass-whooping for not leaving the whole asking-Dean-out thing to Castiel, and he can’t help but grin. Fiesty twins. If that isn’t something straight from any guy’s wet dream… But he finds himself disinterested in Jimmy, and only has thoughts of Castiel as he walks through the airport, already wondering what to wear and if he should make a reservation.

Sam is waiting for him at the arrivals gate, full of excited babble about a case he’s found which he's sure is a wendigo but he wants Dean’s opinion and should they set off tonight or is Dean too tired? He definitely pulls a spoilt, sad puppy face when he’s told that no, they can’t go tonight because Dean has a date.

“A date? With who?! The pilot? An air stewardess? Who could you possibly find to ask out on a plane, Dean?”

Sam shuts up pretty quickly when Dean confirms that yes, it’s one of the air stewards, and if he dares open his mouth again he won’t come and hunt the wendigo at all and Sam will have to go solo. He knows his brother wants company on this hunt, and the threat works: the cab ride to the motel is quiet save for minor chit-chat and Dean bemoaning the state of the Impala. She had been backed into by a truck a week ago, and is currently sitting in Bobby’s yard half-mended by Dean’s own hands. He misses her, and can’t wait to get back to finish fixing her and polishing her up.

I wonder if Castiel likes cars…

I can’t believe I puked on him.

I can’t wait to see him…

The first date goes well, with no untimely incidents. Three days later, the second goes even better and Castiel never ends up using his room at the airport hotel…

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honestgrins · 7 years

Note

human klaroline at a party. klaus is talking to his friends when drunk caroline comes up behind him. she catches him by surprise when she grabs his hips and starts thrusting into him. klaus is embarrassed, his friends think it's funny. katherine recorded it on her phone and caroline is mortified after watching it. (inspired by kourtney kardashian's instagram video with kylie at. please don't judge me for keeping up with them).

I would never judge, Anon! I made some slight adjustments, but I hope you like it!

Mortified || Klaroline

Caroline awoke to the bang of her bedroom door opening, though the piercing pain in her temples quickly took precedence. “Ow,” she moaned. Pressing her face into the pillow helped to block the offensive morning light; unfortunately, it couldn’t do the same for her roommate.

“Good morning, sleeping beauty,” Katherine teased, jumping onto the bed to throw off the covers.

Cringing from the onslaught of light and noise, Caroline reluctantly accepted her fate. “Hangover cure, please.” She held out her hand, grateful for the aspirin and the protein shake Katherine passed her. Choking down the chalky drink, Caroline winced when she finally opened her eyes. “What happened last night?”

“I’m so glad you asked.” Katherine smirked as she pulled up her Snapchat story. “Remember your adamant plan to finally suss out Klaus’s deal with you?” she asked smugly.

Caroline racked her brain for any memories of the night before, but they all ended around Kol’s birthday dinner with all their friends - and Klaus. “He showed up at the Grill late, right? I don’t know anything about a plan.”

Though she could guess.

When she met Kol Mikaelson in college, he was just the trust-fund baby looking to sleep his way through college (both literally and figuratively). After weeks of feuding and Caroline snapping back at his smart-ass remarks, a grudging respect was born. Over the years since, that respect grew into an iron bond of friendship.

His brother, on the other hand, never seemed to care very much one way or the other about her witty banter. Klaus had been the one to take pity on a recently graduated Kol whose trust fund access was cut off when he didn’t want to move back home to join the family business. With Caroline moving to Chicago for her first big-girl job, it was a no-brainer to live with his follow, ne'er-do-well brother just a few blocks away.

It was during Caroline’s apartment-warming party a few weeks earlier that she realized Klaus Mikaelson was weirdly quiet. She and Katherine, a fellow Whitmore grad with better closet options and cleaning habits than Kol, encouraged everyone they invited to bring a friend in an effort to widen their social circle in a new city. When Kol bought his artsy architect of a brother, she thought he’d be a natural fit for their group.

Honestly, tolerating Kol was the first task to master, and the guy was living with him.

Katherine had called dibs immediately upon seeing his tousled curls and delicious scruff, but Klaus’s nonverbal reactions to her blatant come-ons were too much work for her. Caroline had rolled her eyes at Kat’s annoyed declaration, determined to strike up a conversation with him. She had noticed him glancing in her direction throughout the night. Being Kol’s brother put him firmly in her ‘friend’ pile, but Caroline wasn’t above a little innocent flirtation among friends. Hell, it was the best way to survive both Kat and Kol.

Still, Klaus hadn’t risen to the occasion. He nodded appropriately, attentively listening to her babble about linen closets for some reason, but he had nothing to offer in return. It was like talking to a mirror that would now and then hum noncommittally in response. Every time she asked a direct question, he would pensively take a drink, pause, then quietly answer with the barest explanation. While she was all for people doing what they needed to in social situations, Caroline hated that he felt so uncomfortable in her presence; Klaus quickly moved from the 'friend’ pile to the 'guy standing alone at the party’ corner.

According to Katherine, though, she had apparently decided enough was enough at Kol’s birthday party.

“Your plan to, and I quote, 'find out Klaus’s weird grudge against hot blondes’ involved slamming back the tequila shots Kol gleefully fed you,” Katherine explained just as gleefully. “After about an hour of thinly veiled comments about 'actual conversationalists’ and 'judgmental staring,’ you decided that Klaus wasn’t blushing hard enough and took to the stage for karaoke.”

Caroline frowned, unsure why she let herself get so worked up to actually unleash the hell of her overactive mind on Klaus. She usually had more tact than that, especially after Kol explained his brother was just super shy with strangers. Caroline had shrugged that first meeting off, then, figuring he would warm up to her over time. It wasn’t until Klaus had formed biting retorts to Katherine’s constant needling that Caroline was officially offended.

“How did I become persona non grata before Kat?” she had asked Kol furiously. The little jerk just shrugged and smirked at her frustration, swearing he had no idea.

It was a lie, and Caroline knew it - which was probably why she had allowed Kol to feed her shots and fuel whatever confrontation Kat had inevitably captured on her phone. “Show me,” Caroline demanded, resigned.

Scrolling past drunk selfies on her story, Kat landed on a surprisingly loud video. Caroline automatically recognized Joan Jett’s 'Do You Wanna Touch?’ playing, though she could hardly believe the blonde girl giving an exaggerated lap dance while singing was her. “I-is that-”

“-you grinding on Klaus’s lap in front of the whole bar?” Kat finished with a smile. “Yep. You had moves, too, ended up with some bills thrown for you. Mostly from Kol, but still.”

Embarrassment burned her cheeks as Caroline squeezed her eyes shut. “Oh, my god. I’m such a bitch.”

“A sexy bitch,” Katherine supplied unhelpfully. She just shook her head when Caroline groaned in misery. “Get over it, Forbes. Dimples got under your skin, so you called him out in your…own, particular fashion. What’s the big deal?”

“A, it was Kol’s birthday I turned into a personal sideshow.” Caroline held up her thumb before adding a finger for each additional point. “B, you published a video of me giving a lap dance. C, I gave that lap dance to Klaus, Kol’s painfully shy brother who can barely speak to me after a month of knowing each other. He must have been mortified.”

Katherine snorted, replaying the video. “No, sweetie,” she mocked. “He was too busy staring at your boobs. As fun as this whole dumb blonde thing has been for me and Kol, I really need you to wake up and realize Klaus is stupidly into you.”

Scoffing, Caroline finally got out of bed to get dressed. “He’d actually have to hold a conversation with me to like me.” It was an old argument since moving to Chicago, one of Kol’s favorites. “Like you said, he’s too focused on my boobs.” Wrangling them into a bra under her dress, Caroline waved goodbye.

“Where are you going?”

“To straighten out this mess you did nothing to help me avoid!”

With that, Caroline slammed the front door shut as she fled the apartment.

As loud and determined as she left for Klaus and Kol’s place, Caroline felt a rare timidness when she finally stood in front of their door. Summoning her courage, she knocked twice and bounced on her toes while the footsteps inside came her way. Klaus was the one to open the door, a tired hand running through his rumpled curls. “Caroline?”

“Hi,” she greeted softly. He only seemed surprised to see her, not angry or dismissive like she had feared. “Can I come in?”

Stepping aside, Klaus pointed toward his couch. Caroline took the hint and sat, though her eyes roved around the neat, minimalist apartment. “I’m surprised you can keep the place so clean with Kol as a roommate. He’s a walking tornado.”

“Part of the agreement we made when he moved in,” Klaus answered. He rubbed his neck as he watched her fidget on the couch. Rather than addressing the oddness of the situation, he just waited her out.

Caroline wasn’t good with silence. “So, where is Kol? Too hungover to get out of bed?”

Almost instantly, the tips of Klaus’s ears flushed pink. “He didn’t make it home last night, actually,” he said quietly. “I saw him leave with that Enzo chap.”

Caroline frowned. “But my coworker Bonnie brought Enzo to the party, I thought they were dating.”

Coughing, Klaus shook his head. “No, love, I think Bonnie left with them, too,” he explained, his face cutely bashful.

“Ah,” Caroline smiled in realization. “Happy birthday to Kol, I guess.” Her smile faded as the reason for her visit came back to mind. Glancing down to her knees, she picked at the hem of her dress. “But I should be honest and tell you that Kol wasn’t the one I came to see. I think I owe you an apology.”

She peeked up to see Klaus’s expression; he seemed curious, as opposed to upset. Interpreting that as silent encouragement, she took a deep breath to prepare herself. “As you can probably tell, I don’t remember a lot of what happened last night, because I was completely wasted, and Kat showed me a video that I wish she hadn’t had the opportunity to take, not only because my voice was a little pitchy during karaoke, but also because of the inappropriate dancing that might have been fueled by tequila,” she rambled. At his blank stare, however, her mouth decided to keep going. “You know, the dancing that breached all personal space and proper manners.” Holding out her hand, she gestured broadly below his belt. “In that general area.”

Curling his lips into his mouth, the dimples in his cheeks betrayed Klaus’s smile. “Caroli-”

“-and I know you’re shy, and I probably embarrassed the hell out of you in front of so many strangers, and I can’t begin to apologize enough for basically forcing my insecurities onto you because I can’t figure out why I’m the only one you don’t even try to talk to, when that was so not the way to go about broaching the subject because you’re a person with your own needs and habits and you don’t need me barging in with my own expecta-”

This time, the interruption came from Klaus sitting next to her and reaching for her hand. Caroline’s mouth closed with a snap; her eyes were automatically drawn to the light circles he drew on her wrist with his thumb. “Perhaps I needed the push,” he admitted.

“Push for what?” Her voice was hesitant, breathy as the space between them shrank.

Quiet as always, Klaus just leaned in to place a soft kiss on her cheek. Small pecks lingered on a path to her lips, where he brushed his mouth against hers until she sank into the kiss. For a long moment, she breathed him in when he pulled away. “Oh,” she finally sighed. Remembering her spat with Katherine earlier, Caroline’s brow furrowed in confusion. “But you don’t talk to me.”

Rubbing his nose along hers, Klaus seemed to be searching for the correct words. “I listen more than you think,” he answered. “I’m not used to sharing much, but I enjoy listening to you talk. You love your work, your apartment, your family, your friends. You hate the color of your kitchen, the latest episode of your favorite show, and whoever thinks casual Fridays include velour tracksuits.”

Caroline stared in shock. “It’s just babbling,” she pointed out. “You can’t really remember all that.”

“You’re passionate, love.” His hand was drawing those distracting circles on her wrist again. “I place high value on passion.”

“What are you passionate about?” she asked softly, letting her lips brush his as she spoke.

Smirking, Klaus kept that inch of distance between them. “I’ve taken a sudden liking to karaoke,” he whispered against her lips.

She shoved him lightly, giggling. “That might be the first joke I’ve heard you make,” she said. “But seriously, I know nothing about you, save what Kol tells me.”

“Don’t believe a thing he says.”

“I don’t, trust me,” she snorted. “So, what are your passions? I want to know.”

Klaus ran a hand along her side, and she tried not to react to the warmth. “You’re welcome to find out,” he said. “I have a makeshift art studio in a spare room, my work desk is right over there if you’d like to see a blueprint. There’s also a great bottle of wine I’ve been keeping for a special occasion.”

“Those are great and varied passions.” Caroline noted the way his eyes traced the freckles across her nose, smiling as he realized he was caught staring. “Any others?”

“I can think of one,” he murmured before kissing her again.

For a guy who didn’t talk much, Caroline wasn’t embarrassed to admit that Klaus certainly knew how to use his mouth.

#klaroline drabbles #klaroline #to rely on the kindness of strangers #anon anon #asked and answered #not so prompt prompt

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randjadaptations · 4 years

Text

Review Post

Two (Or Two Hundred, Or Two Thousand) Households, Not All Alike In Dignity

There are more Romeo and Juliet adaptations than just the ones I’ve talked about here. I didn’t even get into the opera, or the animated garden gnomes, or the thousands and thousands of movies that are technically related to Romeo and Juliet in some way. There are more adaptations than you could reasonably expect anybody to count, and by the time you got done counting, you wouldn’t have energy for much else. And yet, not everything can make it into every adaptation. The mediums demand changes, whether because of time conventions or what’s physically possible or what the people adapting the story feel like doing at the time. When cuts get made (and they do get made), they tend to be made to everything but Romeo and Juliet. When you cut it down to just one person on the ice with four minutes, the basics of their interactions with each other are still there. That doesn’t mean those sections are immune to changes, though. Just about anything can be changed, because even though I have lots and lots of opinions, none of my opinions are actual rules.

Romeo, Oh Romeo!

With Romeo, nearly every adaptation cuts into or entirely cuts out his initial infatuation with Rosaline. West Side Story and all of the music and figure skating adaptations have no mention of her at all, while the 1968 film only has Friar Laurence mention her once. The reduction and erasure of Rosaline serves to make Romeo more likeable; the audience doesn’t want a protagonist whose affection seems fickle. Why would we want him and Juliet to be happy if we think he’s going to be over her in a minute? So Rosaline tends to get the axe, with the notable exception of the ballet. There, the production really leans into Rosaline, going so far as having her that appears on stage. The choreography around Romeo dancing with the handkerchief shows pretty clearly that his affection for her is surface-level, and he actually returns the handkerchief in the beginning of Act II of the ballet. This was a clever way of keeping Rosaline in the show while still showing that Romeo is now quite serious about Juliet, and it was one of the reasons he was a particularly likeable Romeo amidst the sea of Romeos.

Romeo is also a bit of a goofball when the adaptation gives him the time to express that part of himself. In the 1968 film, he runs with glee towards Friar Laurence to tell him of his intentions to marry Juliet and he has to be literally pulled away from her once she arrives at the church. That film and the ballet also frequently show him goofing off with his friends, singing and playing pranks and generally being delighted by life. In West Side Story, Tony (our Romeo stand-in), is unshakeably optimistic and hopeful, and he’s clearly loved by his friends. Romeo has several pensive moments in the earlier acts, but it’s still made clear that his core isn’t quite as serious as his occasional moping might make it seem. Even the 1996 film, which has the most arguably unhinged and serious of the Romeos, has him get shoved into a pool and get high on mystery drugs from Mercutio. Romeo is serious, of course, but these lighter moments make it clear that if it wasn’t for the situation around him, he’d probably have had a decently happy life. He wasn’t doomed to misery by some defect of his personality, but the world around him.

In the original text of the play, Romeo winds up killing Paris and a servant at Juliet’s tomb before going to see her. Every single adaptation that I encountered removed this detail. Paris is often at the funeral for Juliet when it’s shown, but he’s never at the tomb when Romeo arrives and is never killed by Romeo. Much like the removal of Rosaline, this is done to make him more likeable to a modern audience and to stay more consistent with his dislike of the feud stuff in general. Him killing Paris could be seen as simply a jealousy thing, even if it wasn’t intended like that at all, and so most people choosing to adapt Romeo and Juliet fix this possible perception issue by removing Paris from the situation altogether. It might also be distracting to just have Paris’s corpse there while Romeo and Juliet are having their final moments. The 1968 film and the ballet don’t have an aversion to corpses, but the dead that appear in the Capulet monument in those scenes aren’t newly dead. Tybalt’s been dead for several days by that point, and they’re often covered up by some sort of sheet. Paris’s body would be out in the open, which might draw an audience’s attention away from the main action.

However, removing Paris and the death of Paris’s servant undercuts the amount of despair Romeo is in leading up to his death. He’s obviously distraught, but often not distraught enough to do harm to someone else. 1996’s film solves this by having Romeo briefly take a man hostage before going to see Juliet for the final time, but most don’t do anything about that. At the point that he reaches the tomb, he’s usually more depressed than anything else. All of that outpouring of despair only comes out when he sees Juliet’s “body,” not in the lead up to it. I understand why people might not be down with Paris getting murdered, but I think that we should have more adaptations that bring it back. We can leave his body just outside of the tomb, maybe. There are solutions to this problem.

It’s the Sun! Or Juliet. Romeo Doesn’t Know The Difference.

One thing that stands out in nearly every adaptation is Juliet’s profound sense of isolation. The audience sees Romeo with lots of friends his own age, but Juliet has no companions. Prior to Romeo, her world consists of four people: Her parents, her nurse, and Friar Laurence. Her relationship with her parents is strained in most adaptations even before the introduction of Romeo: she makes faces behind her mother’s back in the 1996 film, is stiff and awkward in the 1968 one, can’t clearly follow Lady Capulet’s directions in the ballet, and even some music mentions it. It’s not known how often she sees Friar Laurence at the start of the play, but it hardly seems like they’re close at all. Her only true companion is the Nurse, who acts much more as a mother than a friend, and even she is bound to listen to the Capulet parents. This isolation even comes through in figure skating adaptations; there’s a reason singles skaters tend to portray Juliet more than Romeo, and part of it is because on an emotional level, she’s on her own out there. No one can truly look out for her best interest. Juliet’s universe is small, and she has very little say over it until she meets Romeo and begins to make decisions for herself.

There’s one startling exception to what I’ve mentioned above: West Side Story. That musical gives Maria (who acts as our Juliet) her own circle of friends at the bridal shop. She also has a close relationship with her brother’s girlfriend that’s independent of her brother, and her parents are never openly cruel to her. The conflict in West Side isn’t caused by individual families, so that allows her to have more personal support systems. This is also at least part of the reason that Maria doesn’t kill herself when she finds out that Tony is dead. She knows that she can go home, that she can be supported by some of the people around her. None of the other Juliets have that option. Once they’ve picked to follow their heart, they can never go back home. If Juliet walked out of that tomb, there’s a high chance that she would have been sent back into it.

The Capulets take the abstract threat of the family feud and parental disapproval and make it very real. Lord Capulet’s refusal to listen to Juliet, his credible threats of throwing her onto the street, and his often physically abusive actions in response to her not wanting to marry Paris make it clear that he’s not going to take Juliet’s marriage to Romeo very well. He’d follow through on all of his threats, if not worse. Lady Capulet offers Juliet no assistance, and makes it clear that if Juliet wants to defy her father, she’ll be doing it on her own. The Nurse is also quick to tell Juliet that she should go along with her parents in every adaptation, but she’s at least nice about it. All of this leaves Juliet with literally one ally left in the world, and so it’s not surprising that when she gets to Friar Laurence, she’s desperate enough to fake her death. When the audience sees the way that they mistreat Juliet even without knowing, it’s not hard to imagine that it would get much, much worse if they found out that she crossed the lines of the feud to marry Romeo. This urgency to keep the situation a secret is a huge part of why Juliet fakes her death in most adaptations (in West Side Story, Anita tells the Sharks that Maria is dead when she actually had no intentions of fake dying at all), and her faking her death is what winds up with both her and Romeo dead for real. And yet, with the threat of her own family hanging over her head, Juliet’s actions seem almost reasonable. At that point, there’s no good way out for her because she has no genuine outside support. And while I love seeing Maria have agency and take control of the situation around her in productive ways, the distance that most Juliets are forced to keep from the rest of the world hits hard. It makes her situation all the more devastating, or maybe that’s just my quarantine brain talking. Who knows.

Violent Delights and Their Violent (and Nonviolent) Ends

Even though the ending of Romeo and Juliet is one of the most well-known parts of the play, several adaptations have made changes to it. Both films followed the plot points fairly closely: Romeo arrives at Juliet’s tomb (after killing Paris, which all adaptations removed), kills himself, Juliet wakes up, discovers that he’s dead, kills herself, and then the families end the feud. Interestingly enough, the 1996 film lets Romeo and Juliet make eye contact before they realize all is doomed. Juliet wakes up just as Romeo drinks the poison, and they’re allowed a final kiss before their deaths. The change there was small, but it added an extra layer to the tragedy. At that moment, they both knew that it didn’t have to end the way that it did, but it was too late to do anything about it.

In West Side Story, it’s mostly Maria who brings an end to the feud. When Tony dies, she’s the one who demands that everyone drop their weapons. Even though she briefly threatens to shoot several people and then herself, ultimately, she drops the gun. Slowly, the feud ends, one gang member at a time getting together to form Tony’s funeral procession. It only took the death of one of the lovers for everyone to realize that things had gone too far and needed to be stopped, and Maria’s insistence that it all stop cemented that the feud needed to end. This is a fairly radical departure from the original, but it still keeps the spirit of it. The deaths that do happen are painful in the fact that they could have easily been avoided. and even one of the protagonists wasn’t immune to the feud getting to them.

The ballet, most music that includes Romeo and Juliet’s death, and nearly all figure skating adaptations end as soon as Juliet dies. The removal of the families formally ending the feud forces the audience to more deeply consider the deaths of the protagonists. This ending centers the story on Romeo and Juliet themselves instead of the feud around them, and takes away any chance of a feeling of “Well, at least they’re doing the right thing now.” Ending it on the note of Juliet’s death leaves the official status of the feud unresolved, but adaptations that go for this route are much less focused on the feud as its own independent force and are more focused on how it affects the main characters. Their view is more personal and less sociological, and so it makes sense for those adaptations to end it on their deaths.

A not-insignificant portion of Romeo and Juliet adaptations give the lovers a happy ending. I personally find this infuriating. If the feud could have been stopped by love and affection, it probably would have been stopped ages ago. Romeo’s plea to Tybalt in Act III that most adaptations include would’ve ended it. The point of Romeo and Juliet dying is that love wasn’t enough to stop the overwhelming forces of hate and misery around them. It’s only once the major families have both lost their own children that they realize that the feud is actually pointless and harmful. If the deaths of servants and loosely-associated friends and cousins was enough, it would have ended with Mercutio and Tybalt, or it would have ended before the story even began. If people want to talk about a story where love overcomes all odds, they should simply tell a different story. It’s tempting to want to give Romeo and Juliet a happy ending; they’re both characters that are easy to sympathize with and root for. But giving them a happy ending does the core of the story a great disservice, unless someone felt like ending the story with them meeting up in heaven or something. Even then, that would be kind of cheesy. It’s honestly better for everyone to stick to the tragic endings. An ending doesn’t have to feel good in order for it to be good.

Parting (Which Is Such A Sweet Sorrow!)

Across hundreds of years and all the continents on earth (except for Antarctica, unless the penguins are up to something I don’t know about), people have been adapting Romeo and Juliet. Even Shakespeare’s play, despite serving as the main base for everything I’ve talked about so far, could technically qualify an adaptation. There was The Tragicall Historye of Romeus and Juliet before it, which was one of many sources for the play, and that in itself was based on a folktale that wasn’t written down yet. It goes back and back and back, because even if it changes forms, humans will always have love and larger forces that stop it from going well. People are predisposed to talk about it in every format available to them, because talking and making stories is just what people do. Romeo and Juliet is a deeply universal tale, and even if there are changes in the details, the center still holds.

Also, I’d really like to make all continents a definite statement. The penguins deserve to be included in all of this, too. We shouldn’t exclude the penguins.

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