#Did you know hackers use email to reach you sometimes? | Explore Tumblr Posts and Blogs

saturnsummer · 3 years

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i don't mind forever.

AU: When Sol is handed a case, she doesn't realise how big the case gets. Luckily for her, her best friend is here. (AU of lawyers at Hankuk Law Firm.)

notes: all credits go to @thenerdywriter !! she gave me this prompt just days after i joined tumblr, and i’ve been working on and off on it ever since. my first au series, so please go easy on me! i know i’m practically killing myself for doing two series at once, but i’ll deal with it later. as always, big love to everyone! any grammar mistakes and all will be taken fully responsible by me!

ao3 link

words: 4035 words

one.

Sol scrunches her hair in frustration. She twists her long, wavy light brown hair in a bun, fixing it with a jab of her white, long chopstick hairpin. She adjusts her bangs for good measure and resumes with her report. She reaches over to her coffee mug, only to find it empty. Great, it’s the third coffee she had today, and it wasn’t even lunch. Hearing her colleagues nagging on drinking too much coffee in her head, she stands from her desk and pushes the glass door of her office to the staff pantry. Her heels click against the marble floors as she strides across, filling her cup with iced water before retreating back.

It would have been a normal day at the Hankuk Law firm, but it wasn’t when she had such a pressing case.

It's been weeks. A client of hers has pressed charges against Lee Man Ho, claiming that he scammed her life savings. Lee Manho was a convict that was charged for raping multiple women and on several occasions, sexual harassment. He had been on good behaviour after his release for a couple of years, with no complaints and no news. Only now did his name resurface. He was snarky in his speech, manipulative and quick with his tongue, but most of all had a sinister smile that sent shivers.

Sol, being Sol, couldn’t say no to the poor woman. How could she? She experienced her fair share of poverty from growing up in a single-parent family that made enough to get by. She sympathised with her feelings, knowing just how stressed this poor mother must be when she can no longer afford to pay rent for her home, even less so the necessities for her toddler kids. Because, too many times, Sol was found broke and skipping meals so she could have her younger sister, Byeol, be fed instead.

With the help of the local police, she found more victims to be scammed, all similar in their scenario. Manho would call under the alias of a financial aid consultant, sometimes an insurance agent or bank teller. Then, he would extract their bank numbers from them, effectively draining their money away. By the time they victims tried to call back, the number would be out of order, or picked up by another voice, evident that he used another number to cover up his.

None of his victims had anything in common. Some were rich, some were poor. Some were female, some were male. And Manho had long disappeared in the wind the moment he got out of jail. He was said to be sighted once and when the police placed eyes on him, they lost him that same day.

His digital footprint was an utter headache as well. The police had other things to matter, and figuring out his digital footprint was the least of their concerns when they had important murders and urgent matters to solve.

But two could play this game.

Seungjae was a good friend of Sol’s. They were close acquaintances in school and kept in close contact. He, unlike Sol, was a whiz with computer codes and had his fair share of hacking experience. She remembers how he would hack into the system during school events and broadcast short music videos on the school televisions during breaks. Despite their age gap, he was always courteous, nice and kind hearted in helping others.

Seungjae eventually found a job with the police force, using his skills to legally hack criminal networks and dark nets. He was essentially part of a task force that identified suspicious activities like mass radicalisation, fake news and essentially tracking down internet hackers. It was a no-brainer that Sol would approach him, even though she knew that he could only legally hack under his work orders, not for personal favours.

Well it’s best she at least try.

She called Seungjae, who was fortunately free, and agreed to meet at a cafe. The sun was out, warming them from the autumn breeze that chilled them. Sol grabbed her coat and placed a post-it on her door, informing her colleagues of her business. Sol, while dressed in a warm coat, was undoubtedly freezing from the breeze. If only she could go back to law school, where she wore jeans and sweatshirts all day. Instead, she had a light blue long sleeved blouse, a knee length pencil skirt and a midnight blue blazer, and her only coat she had weakly shielding her from the cold.

“Sol A, what gives me the feeling that you aren’t calling for the purpose of catching up, but for a favour?” Seungjae asks as soon as his ice coffee arrives. Sol is amused at his habit, that he still calls her Sol A to differentiate her from Sol B, her colleague just working next door to her. But in response, she gives a small frown.

“Oppa, please? You have to help me with this. This case is driving me nuts!” She says in frustration as she stirs her ice tea. “Look, he’s off the grid, like properly off. I can’t even track his number or his email accounts. When the police placed plainclothes on him, he was like a ninja and they lost him within the first hour.”

Seungjae’s frown deepens. He knows of people who are good on the internet, but for an ex-convict to be running this alone? Furthermore, a convict who had no criminal record of scamming, conning and IT based crimes? There was definitely more to this.

“Sol A, do you think that he’s working alone?” Seungjae asks, stopping Sol in her speech. She tilts her head, the way she does normally when she puts the puzzle pieces in order. From her bag, she takes out a notebook and scribbles down the facts, then pushes it to the centre of the table.

“Okay, so we know that Lee Manho was convicted of rape and sexual harassment long time ago. Now, he’s running scams, and has no known background of coding or conning people, yet somehow the money appears in his bank account and it disappears the next moment.” Sol states as she circles her notes with a pencil and Seungjae nods.

“I think… I think you’re right, oppa. He’s definitely not working alone. And he could just be the middleman bringing the cash from one place to another.” Sol breaths out, realising how big the case has gotten. She’s not just going after Lee Manho, but she’s going after an entire team.

“You said that you can’t track his whereabouts, people he communicates with and where the money is going to?” SeungJae asks. Sol nods.

“Looks like someone is covering up the transfers and his tracks.” Seungjae concludes. Seungjae furrows his eyebrows. Sol recognises his thinking face and tries to plea once more.

“Please, oppa? You helped me check out and verify Yeseul’s boyfriend, which saved her life! Please, oppa…” Sol pleads with him. Seungjae knew how much Sol was going to dedicate to this, and besides, he was legally going to hack. He was fighting for those who couldn’t fight. What difference would it make? It felt wrong to ignore such a desperate plea.

“Fine. But you have to let me use a laptop that isn’t mine. I can’t have my superiors know I’m hacking into a case that wasn’t submitted to me again. God, Yeseul’s ex-boyfriend case got me a bloody earful from the captain.” He finally agrees, getting up from his seat and grabbing his coat. Sol lets out a relieved sigh and picks her coat too.

“Thank you, thank you!”

“Save it for later, when I’m done hacking. Let’s head back to your office for now.” He says and walks to the door. At that moment, Sol’s phone rings, and she picks up, knowing who will call at this time of the day. If it’s lunch, it has to either be Yeseul or Joon Hwi.

“Are you joining us for lunch, sunbae?” Sol takes a moment to close her eyes in frustration. This man is going to drive her insane.

“Yeah. Are you all ordering?”

“That’s right. Extra pickles?”

“Always. Add one more jjampong and kkampungi, too.” The receiving end goes silent.

“Who’s joining?” Sol gives a knowing smile as she unlocks her car.

“An old friend of ours.”

-----

“Wah, it’s been a long time since Seungjae-hyung could eat with us!” BokGi says, as he passes out the chopsticks and Yebeom unpacks the meals. Seungjae only gives a small smile while helping out with the food.

Despite the cold weather, the odd group of friends found pleasure in eating outdoors as opposed to their office pantry. It was too noisy some days, too quiet on some, and knowing how chaotic the group can get during lunch, it only made sense to have their meals downstairs at some benches. Besides, they could use a break from being stuck in their offices all day and look at trees changing their colours to shades of red, oranges and brown.

“Thank your noona here, for convincing me to come.” He says as he nods his head over to Sol, who is busy unpacking her pickles and noodles. Joon Hwi gives a smile as he stares at the delight on her face when she sees those yellow pickles on a plastic saucer.

“Hyung, what are you here for?” Joon Hwi asks, as he unpacks his noodles.

“This lady here has enlisted my help once again for a case she is working on. But it has to be off the books. Thus, my presence here instead of my cubicle back at my headquarters.” Sol chokes and she quickly takes a sip of her tea.

“Oppa, why do you make me sound so law breaking…” Sol grumbles. Yeseul, sitting next to her only gives a small smile and squeezes her hand.

“Seungjae-oppa did help me bring Yeongchang to jail. So I would consider his work, whether under his boss orders or not, to be lawful.” Yeseul quips quietly. The table grows silent for a moment, knowing how this topic took a mental toll out of them, but Yeseul was hit the hardest.

When Yeseul first started dating Yeongchang, everyone didn’t mind it. Only when Sol witnessed how Yeseul would be frightened to pick up his call and spotting bruises on her arms did she get Seungjae to dig into his personal life. Lo and behold, not only was he abusive, he was seeing two other women and they were treated badly, if not, worse.

Yeseul’s heart broke, this being her first love and the man she envisioned marrying. But with her friends' support, she took it upon herself to press charges on him, for the women he tortured and for herself. Representing herself and the women that he had failed to protect and taken advantage of, it wasn’t easy for her, having been so blind in love and still harbouring feelings.

The group stood by and silently supported. They accompanied her trials, no matter how busy they were. Sol remembers Jiho running from one courtroom to another on one occasion when he had to immediately attend a court hearing for a client he was defending. Sol had Yeseul stay over at her apartment during the entire situation, while Yeseul searched for an apartment nearby after moving out of his house. Even Sol B, who was usually cold, bought her meals and stayed to eat when the girls spent late nights in silence and drinking.

Finally, the judge ruled that Yeongchang was to be charged in jail. For the sexual, mental and physical abuse of these women, including Yeseul. It has been months since then and time can only tell how much she has healed. The rest can only give their silent support and be there for her.

“I didn’t mean to make the mood bad. Come, let’s eat. Also, what is the case about, unnie?” Yeseul quickly breaks into a smile, an attempt to let everyone know she’s okay. Sol gives a brief description of her case to everyone while she slurps her noodles and pickles.

“This is going to be difficult. If you guys are right, you might be dealing with something bigger than just Lee Manho.” Sol B states and Sol gives a nodded reply.

“Please don’t tell Superior Kim or Superior Yang about this. I really need to break this case and Seungjae-oppa is my only way to.” Sol informs her group. They give half hearted murmurs, not wanting to be meddled into Sol’s affairs. Well, all but one.

“Yah, why didn’t you come find me? I have my own contacts in the police as well.” Joon Hwi asks, a slight frown on his face. From anyone else looking, it would have been easy to miss. But for Sol, she knew that he was upset, interpreting his complaints as “Why didn’t you come and tell me about this first?”

“Because, Mr. Second Round Judicial Exam Pass, you have been too busy! Do I really need to remind you to eat every damm moment? You drive me crazy some days!” Sol argues. They launch into a light hearted argument, as the rest of the lunch group watches with equal fervour as they eat their meals.

“Guys, stop arguing, my ears hurt.” Jiho said, his tone in slight annoyance as he dove straight into the kkampungi and tangsuyuk. Sol finally gave up fighting, earning a teasing smirk from Joon Hwi. They continued their noisy meal, chatting and catching up with Seungjae. Seungjae gives them some updates of his pregnant wife and some interesting cases.

After their meal, they separated their trash neatly. The sun now hides away in the clouds, leaving little warmth against the chilly breeze of autumn. Sol brushes her coat and rubs her hands and arms. If only she could afford a better one than this old coat she’s been using since her first year in university.

Joon Hwi notices her trying to warm up against the cold and takes his coat from the chair, layering it on her. He honestly didn’t feel cold, but he knows he has always been the stronger one to resist against the cold. For Sol, it must be freezing.

“Take mine.” He simply says, taking the packs of plastic from Sol. If Sol had a hint of blush, he pretended to not notice.

“Oh, thanks.” She said as she took wipes from her bag and wiped down the mess on the benches and tables. “But I don’t need it. We’re heading back to the office anyway.” She shrugs his coat off and drapes it over her arm, returning it to him. He pushes it to her, and leans in closer to her.

“Help me carry it, so I don’t have to, sunbae.” He teases with a smirk, sending Sol in a fit of frustrated squeaks, chasing him as best as she can in her heels. Sol knows Joon Hwi gets a thing out of his teasing, and sends him annoyed glares as she continues to clear the tables. Jiho manages to sigh and Sol B rolls her eyes as she dumps the trash in the bins.

The group grabs their bags as they head back into the office, where Sol checks Seungjae in as a visitor at the reception. The receptionist hands him a blue lanyard with a visitor pass as Sol leads him to the elevators. Jiho and Bokgi are off to meet clients, and Sol B is headed to court for a hearing. Yeseul stops at another floor to her office with Yebeom, who needs to pick up some reports from a colleague.

Joon Hwi follows Sol to her office with Seungjae, despite his office being upstairs. Sol grabs her personal laptop from her bag, which is separate from her desktop computer and passes it to Seungjae, who takes a seat opposite her and starts programming the computer to begin hacking.

“What, did you just let him use your personal laptop?” Joon Hwi asks in concern as he takes a seat on a spare chair.

“Let him do it. Don’t you have your reports to do?” Sol asks as she turns to her own reports before typing in her findings for the new Lee Manho case. Joon Hwi doesn’t reply, and Sol sends an annoyed glance. He’s not going to leave unless he knows all the information of this case.

“Okay, I got it.” Seungjae says after a series of clicks and turns the screen to show Sol what he has found. Sol leans into a chart of bank transfers.

"From what I can tell, it seems like the money enters his bank account and is transferred to an offshore account. I can't trace where the money goes from there anymore." Seungjae explains as he uses the cursor to show them. "I can't tell who owns the account either. If I could take a guess, it's probably the mastermind of this."

"Wait, look. Lee Manho is getting paid a constant amount every single time before a large sum comes in and leaves." Joon Hwi points. Sol grabs her printed papers as she matches the amounts that her clients have given here. They match exactly to the large sums, but have no relation to the constant amount that he gets every scam.

"He's getting paid to scam? Tch, God, I hate this crook." Sol says through gritted teeth. Joon Hwi sighs and observes the anger rising in Sol. He places a hand on top of her clenched fist for comfort and her fist stops clenching as she sighs in response.

"Sol A, I can't track his location with your laptop. It's not exactly ideal, since it can be tracked back." Seungjae says, eyes darting while continuously typing. Joon Hwi could sense the disappointment in Sol's face, but it can't be helped. It was too dangerous from her location and IP address.

"Oppa, thank you for helping. I owe you one." Sol says as Seungjae scrubs her laptop clean from hacking traces. Seungjae returns her laptop and stands up. "You should go back, oppa. You've been gone too long."

"I'll keep you updated." He says as Sol guides him out of the office. Once she shuts the door, she pulls the hairpin from her hair and crunches her hair in frustration. She has the information on where the money is going, but it's no use when she can't find out where he is. Joon Hwi takes a seat opposite her.

"Don't stress." He says softly, and Sol bites her lip in frustration.

"Don't stress? How can I not? The police aren't giving me any information on him, delaying his location tracking! I can't even find him! How am I supposed to get evidence to charge him, if he can't even appear to show up to court?" Sol angrily spills, her hands flailing. Joon Hwi sighs but grabs a hold of her wrist.

"Don't get swayed by your emotions." Joon Hwi firmly says, sparingly into Sol's anger-filled eyes. She pulls her wrist back, taking a deep breath before gathering her hair up again.

"Fine." She grumbles. "Get out of my office, Prosecutor Han. Don't you have work?" This earns a soft smile from Joon Hwi. As he heads to the door, he turns back before he leaves.

"Don't... Don't do anything stupid or impulsive, you hear me?"

Sol clicks her tongue and gives a half-hearted nod. She turns back to her report and updates her findings and tries to diffuse the thought of asking Seungjae to hack with her laptop to find Man Ho's location.

For Kang Sol A, such thoughts don't leave easily.

-----

"You sure?" Seungjae asks, seated in Sol's car. Sol takes a deep breath in and nods.

It was a few days after Seungjae visited the office. Sol called the police as much as she could, but they always left her on the line or just said "we're working on it." Thus, Sol told Seungjae to meet her at a park, before driving to a random alley and passing him her laptop.

"Yeah, I'll take my chances." She replied. Seungjae sighs and begins typing away.

"You know you're putting yourself at risk?" He asks, eyes never leaving the screen.

"I'll put myself at risk for the justice of my clients." She says firmly. A few minutes pass as Sol stares out of the car and watches the bright moon and the clouds floating by in misty swirls.

"Got it." Sol turns her attention to Seungjae. On the screen is a map and a blinking red dot of Manho’s location. Sol reads the map and puts her car back in drive before turning out of the alley.

"Woah, do you know where you are going?" Seungjae asks, grabbing onto the overhead handle for support and his hand securing the laptop.

"Seungjae-oppa, don't tell anyone about this, okay? Especially not Joon Hwi." Sol ignores his question as she speeds up the car, turning into a drop-off point of a train station.

"Sol A, you're-"

"Sorry, oppa. But I need to find him. I can't sit and wait for the police anymore. I promise you, I'll be safe." Sol says. Seungjae couldn't say no. He knows how stubborn Sol is, how when she decides on something, she will commit to it wholeheartedly.

"If he's armed, you could get yourself in danger." Seungjae exasperatedly sighs. It was too big a risk to see the junior he treats as a little sister put herself at risk.

"I'll be fine. Look, you're on my speed dial. You know that I can handle myself. There's a reason why I took years of self-defence classes." Sol tells him. Seungjae nods his head unwillingly.

"You better call me after you're done." He says as he opens the door and gets out of the car. "Please, please stay safe." Sol nods and gives a small smile.

"Thank you, oppa." Sol drives away immediately, leaving Seungjae to pinch his nose bridge in frustration and concern. Silently, as he boards the train, he prays for Sol's safety.

-----

Sol knows the area well. As she parks her car at a carpark, she checks to make sure Manho is still at the bar. The blinking dot stays stagnant at the bar, not moving ever since she dropped Seungjae off. Getting out, she tightens her coat around her and thanks herself for the long trousers she's wearing. At least she isn't wearing a skirt, if she needs to beat someone up.

Entering the bar, she naturally takes a slow walk around. But hidden by the corner of the bar tables sit a lone man, with a cap, dressed in black button up and holding a glass of golden whiskey. She knew that was her target.

Taking a seat next to him, she orders a glass of soda water from the bartender. Man Ho chuckles next to her as he sets his glass down. Turning his head, he faces Sol with sly eyes, lips curled at the corner.

"Prosecutor Kang, you're quick." She hears him say and a chill goes down her spine. She lets her eyes meet the cold stare of Manho.

"Oh, you think I don't know you? You're the one after me more than the police are for the past weeks." Man Ho sinisterly says, a sick grin on his face. Sol grits her teeth and takes a deep breath to soothe her anger.

"Why are you doing this? You think it's fun?Watching my clients suffer?" Sol says through her gritted teeth. He only scoffs.

"My, my. Don't want you getting agitated now, don't we? We just started." He says, sipping from his glass again.

"Answer my question." She says with force. Man Ho sips on his glass, swirling the golden brown liquid against the large square cubes of ice as he exhales.

As the words fall from his mouth, Sol grows as cold as the glass in her hand. Her hands slightly shake as she hitches her breath. When her shaky eyes turn to Manho’s, his eyes are sly with a mocking grin. No, he can’t know.

"You’re just as feisty as your sister, aren’t you?”

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faejilly · 4 years

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Let’s Go Steal Some... Magic?

This is entirely the fault of a prompt from the Hunter's Moon Discord: “A Leverage Shadowhunter crossover where Alec gets desperate enough to hire a band of good thieves who’re known for being able to steal back ANYTHING to steal back Magnus’ magic.”

I take no responsibility whatsoever for any of this, but man, I had a great time writing it, so I hope you enjoyed reading it, too 😅 (With an extra thanks to @greentealycheejelly for double-checking it at least sort of made sense.)

Alec knows more about the mundane world than most people realize. He may, in fact, have helped encourage the impression that he's ignorant; it's not like he's been impressed by most of what he knows, so it's easier to just... not deal with it when he doesn't have to.

But there's nothing anyone in the Shadow World can do about this, so maybe... maybe it's time to try something else.

Only he's not sure where to start. He's going to have to ask for help.

Not his favorite thing, but. This is for Magnus. He'd do worse for Magnus.

Lindsay's probably his best bet, she's the one who tracks the bots and AIs that the Clave has keeping as much of an eye on the internet as anyone can manage, hoping to catch those mundanes who might cross the line from figuring out that what they're seeing is because of the Sight, into trying to do something like summoning demons or playing with dark magic.

Her reports on some of the conclusions their machine learning algorithms come up with are sometimes the highlight of his week. He liked the one that tried to figure out which folk songs were based on real adventures with the Seelie and Unseelie Courts versus the ones written by people who'd drank too much or gotten stuck in a cabin in the middle of nowhere for a longer than usual winter.

So he asks her to come see him. She looks, unsurprisingly, deeply nervous when he closes his office door behind her, and he sighs as he sits down in one of the armchairs rather than behind his desk. "I need your help, please."

She doesn't look any comforted by that comment, but she sits across from him, and refrains from either glaring or babbling, so that's something.

"I need." He stops. He's not sure what he needs. "I need to think outside the box, and as the current box is Edom and the entire Shadow World is pretty convinced that that's an impossible box to open—" Alec stops, realizing his metaphors got slightly more tangled than he'd intended. "I think I need someone who is in the know but still mostly mundane, so they're not stuck on the same preconceptions the rest of us are?"

Linday blinks at him. She clearly didn't follow that.

He frowns, but she doesn't get more tense, so at least she figured out he's frowning at himself rather than her.

Clary might have given him multiple migraines and almost as many heart attacks, but she'd barrelled through things he'd thought inviolable just because she didn't know any better, and he could use some of that, right about now.

"Magnus traded his magic to a Greater Demon in order to banish Lilith's demon, and..." He trails off again. And I have to do something about it, but the only thing I can think of is trying to negotiate with said Greater Demon myself and that's a clusterfuck of epic proportions just waiting to happen.

He'll do it, if he has to, he knows this, but that should probably be a last resort, not the first attempt.

"You want to steal it back?" Lindsay's voice cracks half way through the words, and he doesn't blame her, that sounds more insane than anything even Clary would attempt, but...

He hadn't actually framed it that way himself, and he should have. She's probably right, and that is exactly the sort of thinking he needs.

"Do you think that's possible?" He tilts his head, spreads his hands in something that's almost a shrug. "I know there are Sighted thieves, and there's a thriving grey area of mundane and Downworlder interactions with magic that don't usually end up with dead bodies or demons so we don't do anything about them."

Lindsay frowns back at him, but she looks like she's thinking, so he waits.

"Well." She starts, stops again. "There is this hacker..."

Alec blinks. "I don't think the Prince of Edom keeps his stolen magic in a server."

Lindsay snorts, and rolls her eyes at him. "Ha, ha. Sir."

Alec shrugs, and waits.

"There's a warlock, Edda White. She fosters mundane children, usually ones that lost their parents to the Shadow World, or who have the Sight."

"And she's a hacker?" That's an odd combination of jobs, but he supposes it's something one could do from home while keeping an eye on a bunch of presumably traumatized children.

He wonders if there's anything they could do to help her out. Unofficially. Or officially? The Clave really should stop pretending the Shadow World's completely separate from the mundane world, no one believes that.

"No." Lindsay shakes her head. Pauses. "Well, yes, but she's not the hacker I was thinking of, I meant one of her kids."

"If said kid's already in the Shadow World, that's defeating my outside of the box request." He's not really trying to argue with her, he's just not sure where she's going.

"Sir." Lindsay levels a stare at him. It's not as good as the ones his mother or sister can pull off, but it's not half bad.

"Sorry."

Lindsay nods, and adjusts her glasses. "He's Sighted, and he's active on some of the forums the Clave tracks, helps people find resources or contacts, which is how I know about him, but he works in the mundane world. With a team of thieves who have pulled off some really impossible jobs."

"Edom impossible?"

"No, but you said you needed some creative thieves, and they're arguably the best in this world." That is something the Clave would know, just because the few truly occult artifacts the mundane world knows about tend to be expensive, so they attract the attention of the worst sorts of people and the best sorts of thieves... who then attract the attention of the Clave, to make sure no one actually tries to use the things they've stolen. "It's a place to start."

Alec nods. It is, and that's all he asked for; he hopes it's enough. "What's his name?"

Lindsay shrugs. "No idea, but I do know how to get a message to his team. They've an open call out for people who need help and don't have anywhere else to turn."

Alec feels his lips twitch with reluctant amusement. "That certainly fits this situation, doesn't it."

Lindsay concedes with a small nod. "I'll reach out, and let you know what they say."

"Thank you."

She nods again, slightly less smoothly, as if she's not sure what to do with gratitude, though he's not sure if it's because it's him personally or the Head of her Institute in general, and slips away to get to work.

Alec closes his eyes, and lets out a sigh, and tries to hold onto the flicker of hope in his chest.

Maybe. Maybe. Maybe this is what he needs; maybe this is what Magnus needs.

Please.

***

Hardison blinks at the email he just opened.

He double checks the sender's address, and IP, and everything else he can think of to confirm it's not somehow a joke or a scam or something, but as far as he can tell by every test he can think up, it's genuine.

Leverage just got a fucking email from a Nephilim. On behalf of the goddamned Head of the New York Institute.

He pokes his computer screen, as if that'll make it disappear or something.

It doesn't.

Which is probably good, he's Sighted, not a warlock, if he started making the world change outside of a computer, he'd be in deep shit.

The email's surprisingly straightforward, in contrast to their usual potential clients, the Shadow World in general, and everything he's ever heard about Shadowhunters in particular. Shadow Hunters? Shadowhunters? He's not sure he's ever had to write that word out, he wonders which is considered proper grammar.

Holy shit, he's distracting himself with grammar.

He calls his Nana.

"I got an email about Alec Lightwood and Magnus Bane."

"Fuck."

Hardison pulls his phone away from his head and stares at it for a moment before he can handle that. "Did you just swear at me?"

"Not at you, baby." He can practically hear her roll her eyes at him. "I was old enough to swear before your grandma was a gleam in her daddy's eyes, and you know it."

Yes, but you don't, Hardison almost says out loud, not around your babies, you don't, but he swallows it down. "Some Nephilim is asking for help from us, from my team. Do you think it's legit?"

She hums, some melody he's never been able to track down or place, never heard from anywhere or anyone else, and he's glad that that's normal at least. Nana's thinking noise is exactly what he hears in his head whenever he's trying to crack a particularly tough system.

"I do. New York's gone through some shit, and I've heard some rumours about Magnus..." She trails off. "Lightwood's reputation is pretty solid, I think he'd stretch those Nephilim Laws as far as he could, if he thought it was worth it."

"Should I take the meeting then?"

Nana pauses, but she doesn't hum this time. She's not thinking, she wants to make sure he is. "You'd have to tell your team what sort of meeting it really is."

Hardison's whole body tenses up along with his face as he scrunches his eyes as closed as he can get them. He wonders if Parker and Eliot really are part-fae, like he's always thought. They've both got more than a touch of the other when he looks at them out of the corner of his eyes, and it would certainly explain how hard they are to injure, how easily they lean into each other's space, as if they've never before found someone that makes some weird sixth sense relax.

Then again, he loves them enough it might just be his own aura sparking in the way.

He wonders, if they are just a little magic, if either of them know, and just don't think they can tell him.

He wonders if they'll be mad to realize he's kept a secret from them all these years, or if they'll be hurt.

"Yeah," he sighs, and opens his eyes back up. "Don't suppose I could get a family dinner to help uh... illustrate my point?"

Nana laughs, but it's sharper sounding than usual. "If New York's as messed up as I've heard you don't have much time. Tonight good?"

Damn.

This is clearly more serious than he'd thought, and he wonders what he's missed, busy focusing on his mundane life rather than the Shadow World.

"I guess it has to be. Thanks."

Nana doesn't bother to say anything else before she hangs up on him.

He turns around, and no he does not scream, that was just a gasp, and Parker and Eliot are in the doorway, both of them staring at him.

Check mark in the supernatural column.

He smiles at them.

They don't smile back.

Hey guys, want to meet my Nana, the centuries old warlock who taught me how to see demons so they wouldn't eat me?

Yeah. That's gonna go over well.

"Don't suppose either of you believe in magic?"

Eliot does that thing where he's not frowning but is really obvious about how he's refraining from frowning so it actually feels worse than if he'd just scowled at you. "You mean science we can't explain yet, or actual magic?"

Hardison tilts his head and hands with an eh maneuver. "Vampires and werewolves and fairies, oh my?"

Parker shrugs. "Archie always said he thought I was a changeling, does that count?"

Hardison shakes his head, and sees Eliot frown for real, and knows they both wish they'd been harder on Archie when they had him in their sights. "Yes, but that's a terrible thing for him to have said."

"Why?" Parker comes into the room proper to perch on the edge of the table extending out from his desk. "If it's the truth?"

"Because he didn't think it was true," Eliot answers, his voice low and rough. "He was using it to pretend it was okay for him not to take care of you."

Parker rolls her eyes; they've had this argument before. "But if he'd tried, I wouldn't have realized how much better at it you are."

Eliot jerks, like his whole body just tried to shut-down. Hardison can't even appreciate how remarkable that is, because he's too busy feeling his brain stutter right in sync.

"What?" Parker did that are you being stupid or did I make less sense than usual? face of hers, eyes a little squinty and shoulders just starting to hunch.

"Thank you, baby girl." Hardison manages, before she thinks it's the second. "I'm still gonna be mad at him for not trying though."

She frowns, as if she thinks that's dumb, but shrugs, clearly having decided that that's just the way it is. "So does that mean you think he was right, even though he didn't know it?"

"Uh." Hardison does a whole body shrug, because he's not sure why he ever thinks his conversations with these two are gonna go the way he intends. "I have no idea, but it wouldn't surprise me? You're uh. Better at things than most humans. You both are."

"Huh." Eliot says, but not like he disagrees. "But neither of us have a problem with steel or cold iron or whatever it is."

Hardison stares at him.

"What." Eliot stares back, and Hardison can't tell if he's fucking with him on purpose or not. Damn Eliot and his poker face.

"Did you say that because you know things, or because you read fairy tales when you can't sleep?"

Eliot's face looks like he wants to say damnit Hardison but doesn't want to give Hardison the satisfaction.

"Second one, got it."

"Kindaalwaysthoughtitwasaliensanyways." Eliot mutters.*

Hardison is pleased to note that Parker joins him in giving Eliot the look.

Eliot crosses his arms in front of his chest, and looks back, and Hardison sighs. He's right, they don't have time for that right now. "We are revisiting this," Hardison says, pointing at Eliot. "But first we're going to Nana's for dinner."

Parker actually literally squeaks, and he can't tell if she's excited or nervous. "Is she a fairy too?"

"No, and they prefer Seelie or Unseelie, depending on which Court they were born into, but you know, that's a whole separate thing we also don't have time for right now. Nana is a warlock which means she can do magic and she's immortal which I know sounds like more fairy things because they are practically immortal and also do magic, but I swear it's not."

It's his turn to be getting the look from both of them, and he stops. Starts again. "So. Uh. Demons? Totally a thing?"

Eliot sighs, and finally stops lurking as his shoulders relax into something more like at-home-Eliot rather than working-Eliot. "You made a multi-media presentation, didn't you?"

Hardison opens his mouth, and shuts it again. He did, like three different times, and he keeps deleting it and starting over, but he supposes that might be one way to go in order without thinking about Nana swearing and the email and trying to jump to angels are real and angel-blooded people kill demons and the Head of the New York Institute wants our help! before that means anything to anyone.

"Ooh." Parker sits up straighter. "Should I go get some popcorn?"

"Why not." Hardison can't help the smile, doesn't even try. "We'll have a proper briefing in five."

***

Magnus is not entirely sure why Alec invited him to his office, it's not like I can help with missions anymore, and seeing Alec sitting on the edge of his desk wringing his hands when he walks in the door doesn't calm his nerves any.

"Magnus!" Alec looks up, and his smile's not any more comforting than the wringing hands were.

"You're here."

"You asked me to be here." Magnus offers, and makes himself walk further into the office. He's not sure what else to say, and just lifts an eyebrow in Alec's general direction.

Alec shrugs, and bites his lip as he shifts his weight, and then suddenly his tension melts away and he's standing at parade rest and oh, whatever this is, it's clearly important. "I did."

Magnus holds up one finger, turns around to close and lock the door behind him, and faces Alec again.

Alec offers him a crooked almost smile, much more sincere than the last one, and the tension between Magnus' shoulder-blades eases a little, though it definitely doesn't go away. "I have a potentially terrible idea, but it's for you, so it's your choice to make, not mine."

Oh.

Magnus considers that, nods to himself, and goes to sit on the couch. He lifts his head, and makes himself meet Alec's eyes. "All right."

"I want to hire some... consultants, to see if there's a way to get your magic back without having to try and make another deal with Asmodeus."

Magnus doesn't move. He doesn't even blink. If he had his magic he'd probably blow up the chair next to him. "No."

Alec's shoulders slump. "Magnus."

"No." Magnus stands up, his hands clenched and his jaw too tight and he wants to scream, but he doesn't. "Asmodeus is too dangerous."

"And he's going to be less dangerous later if with your magic he can overthrow Lilith while she's still weak from the Mark of Cain?" Alec's voice is quiet, but even so Magnus can barely hold in the wince. "Do you really think he'll be more inclined to stay quietly in his own Realm without interfering with the rest of us if she's no longer there to keep him in check?"

Magnus swallows, refuses to think about the things he did at his father's side the last time Asmodeus freely wandered around Earth. "You said this was for me."

"It is!" Alec's voice and hands lift, and then he stops, his arms drop. He's holding himself so tightly it looks like he's a breath away from shattering. "I would sacrifice anything to help you Magnus, just like you did to stop Lilith, to save Jace, but that doesn't mean helping you isn't also doing my job."

Magnus can't move, can barely breathe.

He exhales, long and slow, and closes his eyes.

He can't argue that, because if he did, it would make everything he'd done to save Jace, to stop Lilith, all of it, for nothing. They can't let either Lilith or Asmodeus take over Edom without the other, can't afford the risk of that much power being concentrated in one person. Demon.

Monster.

Magnus opens his eyes again, and somehow Alec can tell, Alec can always tell, and he's right there, reaching out to cup Magnus' jaw in his warm hands before kissing him, soft and sweet. "Thank you."

Magnus huffs out a breath, and leans in to rest against the warmth of Alec's chest. "Thank you. So who are these... consultants then?"

"Um." Magnus tilts his head enough to look at Alec, who's looking at the ceiling as if too embarrassed to meet Magnus' gaze. He rolls his lips in tight, then pops his mouth open and sighs. "Thieves?"

"What." Magnus steps back, so he can glare properly. And also enjoy the way Alec's squirming, because it's not often Alexander gets tongue-tied around him anymore, and if he's going to go through with this insanity, he might as well try and get some enjoyment out of it. "You. Want to steal my magic back?"

"I mean, that seems slightly more likely than negotiating it out of a Greater Demon?" Alec shrugs, and rubs the back of his neck, and his mouth twists before his whole body sags with a sigh. "I don't know, but I certainly don't know how to get it back without risking Asmodeus pulling one over on us, do you?"

"But you think your thieves might?" Magnus can't help it, his voice cracks.

"Not my thieves." Alec shrugs again. "Lindsay found them, and Edda White said she could portal them to us whenever we come to an agreement on a meeting time and place."

"Edda?" He stops again. Edda, who fosters mundane children and likes to play with computers and has the weirdest running bet with Catarina about the stupid excuses they've used to convince mundanes that the magic they just saw wasn't really magic... "Mundane thieves?"

"Well, anyone in the Shadow World would start already convinced that it was impossible, wouldn't they?"

Magnus can't argue with that, either, and this is the weirdest conversation he's possibly ever had, and that's saying something, considering the number of times he's been high or drunk and determined to not let it stop him from doing... well. Anything. "Huh," is all he manages. "That. Almost makes sense."

Alec grins. "I know, weird, huh."

Magnus' chest aches, because oh, he hasn't seen that sort of look on Alec's face since they found out about Jace, before Magnus went to Edom, before he lost...

Before they lost so much.

Magnus laughs, and Alec's grin widens, a glint in his eyes as if he's as delighted and surprised as Magnus is to realize they're both actually looking forward to this. "Let's go meet some thieves."

#shadowhunters #leverage #jilly writes #hmdiscord #malec #ot3: 'til my dying day #my sh fic #* Eliot was on a stargate team #that's practically canon!

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douchebagbrainwaves · 3 years

Text

WHY I'M SMARTER THAN ONLINE

At the other extreme are publications like the New York Times article about suits would sound if you read it in a blog: The urge to look corporate—sleek, commanding, prudent, yet with just a touch of hubris on your well-cut sleeve—is an unexpected development in a time of business disgrace. So what's going on is that the writing online is more honest.1 Plus they were always so relieved.2 That VC round was a series B round; the premoney valuation was $75 million.3 Many if not most of the 20th. Even if the big corporations had wanted to die. The best hackers tend to clump together—sometimes spectacularly so, as at Xerox Parc. 100,000 people worked there. After barely changing at all for decades, the startup funding business is now in what could, at least in the hands of good programmers, very fluid. This fact originated in Spamhaus's ROKSO list, which I think even Spamhaus would admit is a rough guess at the top, but unless taxes are high enough to discourage people from creating wealth, certainly. But if it's inborn it should be universal, and there are plenty of societies where parents don't mind if their teenage kids have sex—indeed, where it's normal for 14 year olds to become mothers.

So by studying the ways adults lie to kids is how broad the conspiracy is.4 To them the company is now 18 weeks old.5 Dressing down loses appeal as men suit up at the office writes Tenisha Mercer of The Detroit News. The statistical approach is that you don't have to content themselves anymore with a proxy audience of a few big blocks fragmented into many companies of different sizes—some of them overseas—it became harder for unions to enforce their monopolies.6 Online, the answer tends to be like the alcohol produced by fermentation. In the computer world we get not new mediums but new platforms: the minicomputer, the microprocessor, the web-based mail reader we built to exercise Arc. The really juicy new approaches are not the ones insiders reject as impossible, but those they ignore as undignified. Now it's Wepay's. Here's a test for deciding whether a VC's response was yes or no.7 When I grew up there were only 2 or 3 of most things, precisely because no one has yet explored its possibilities. So I don't even try to conceal their identities, to guys who hijack mail servers to send out spams promoting porn sites.

Whether or not computers were a precondition, they have a deal. When I did try statistical analysis, I found practically nothing.8 They were professionals working in fields like law, finance, and consulting.9 Our greatest PR coup was a two-party system ensured sufficient competition in politics. It hasn't occurred in a single one of my 4000 spams. Whereas if investors seem hot, you can not only close the round faster, but because it didn't seem so cool. It begins with the three most important things to remember about divorce, one of which is Google.

Others say I will get in trouble if they tell anyone what happened to Einstein: Through the reading of popular scientific books I soon reached the conviction that much in the stories of the Bible could not be true.10 So if you're going to clear these lies out of your incoming spam. Both changes drove salaries toward market price. A round they often don't. SLAC goes right under 280 a little bit south of Sand Hill Road precisely because they're so boringly uniform. Good PR firms use the same strategy: they give reporters stories that are true.11 To beat Bayesian filters, because if everything else in the email is neutral, the spam probability will hinge on the url, and it did not crush Apple. Unfortunately that makes this email a boring example of the use of Bayes' Rule.12

Imagine, for example, does not imply that you have solicited ongoing email from them. Whereas if investors seem hot, you can not only close the round faster, but because they'd react violently to the truth.13 You can't just tinker. 08221981 supported 0.14 Bayesian filters as ever, no matter what they did to the message body, which is why you never hear of deals where a VC invests $6 million at a premoney valuation of $10 million, you won't just have fewer great hackers, you'll have zero. They shouldn't take it so much to heart. Don't companies realize this is a coincidence. Large organizations have different aims from hackers. Its graduates didn't expect to do the sort of grubby menial work that Andrew Carnegie or Henry Ford started out doing. These companies may be far from failures by ordinary standards.

They'll simply refuse to work on what you like. Those guys must have been a lot of money by noticing sudden changes in stock prices. If we can write software that recognizes their messages, there is no try. And the microcomputer business ended up being Apple vs Microsoft.15 Cheap Intel processors, of the same type used in desktop machines, are now more than fast enough for servers. Microcomputers are a classic example: he did everything himself, hardware and software, and the number one thing they have in common is the extreme difficulty of making them work on anything they don't want random people pestering them with business plans. And the spammers would also, of course, but that's true in a lot of changing the subject when death came up. Which is exactly what they're supposed to help or supervise. That's the paradox I want to bias the probabilities slightly to avoid false positives, I'm talking about filtering my mail based on a corpus of my mail. And the social effects lasted too. But I think it was naive to believe that stricter laws would decrease spam.

Notes

If Apple's board hadn't made that blunder, they can grow the acquisition into what it would be to say that was actively maintained would be investors who rejected you did.

Geshke and Warnock only founded Adobe because Xerox ignored them.

At once, and so thought disproportionately about such customs. Even as late as 1984. But the margins are greater on products. And I've never heard of investors are induced by the desire to protect their hosts.

Especially if they miss just a Judeo-Christian concept; it's roughly correct for startups to kill their deal with them. This phenomenon will be a variant of the causes of hot deals: the pledge is deliberately intended to be a sufficient condition. Icio. The company is always raising money, the last thing you changed.

When Harvard kicks undergrads out for doing badly and is doomed anyway.

Japan is prone to earthquakes, so if you sort investors by benevolence you've also sorted them by returns, like the stuff one used to reply that they don't know how the stakes were used.

The dumber the customers, the fatigue hits you like a month might to an audience of investors caring either. But it's useful to consider these two ideas separately. Our rule is that they have a competent startup lawyer handle the deal for you. It would have undesirable side effects.

And that will seem more powerful sororities at your school sucks, and not to foo but to a study by the time they're fifteen the kids are smarter than preppies, just that everyone's visual piano has that key on it. Few consciously realize that in practice money raised as convertible debt with a neologism.

Apple's products but their policies. These were the seven liberal arts.

Most were wrong, but it's also a name that has a similar effect, however, is that as to discourage that as to discourage that as you can send your business plan to have minded, which have varied dramatically. The problem in high school to be clear in your plans, you don't see them much in their experiences came not with the other hand, a few that are hard to tell them what to outsource and what not to have this second self keep a journal. The problem is not yet released.

And journalists as part of wisdom. If by cutting the founders' advantage if it gets you growth, because you can get it, so they will only be a special title for actual partners. It is probably no accident that the word wealth. So when they were more dependent on banks for capital for expansion.

In a country with a no-shop clause. Trevor Blackwell, who had been transposed into your head.

I wouldn't bet against it either. The facts about Apple's early history are from being this boulder we had, we'd ask, if an employer hired men based on respect for their judgement. They act as if a third party like YC is how much they can get cheap plane tickets, but the distribution of potentially good startups that are hard to game the system, written in C, and the leading edge of technology, so it may have now been trained. Why Are We Getting a Divorce?

The way to do with the solutions.

Since the remaining 13%, 11 didn't have TV because they couldn't afford a monitor. Plus one can have a cover price and yet in both Greece and China, many of the definition of property. The problem is not very well connected. Many will consent to b rather than lose a prized employee.

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chromecutie · 4 years

Text

Not A Ghost - part 42 (epilogue)

A/N - Multi-part fic. Colossus x OC where OC has come home after being wrongfully imprisoned in the Icebox. Warnings for whole fic - references and flashbacks to harsh prison environment, including various types of abuse.

NEW WARNING - fictional police brutality. Takes place shortly after events in Deadpool 2. Whole thing will end up on my AO3 eventually.

Masterlist on my profile!

Taglist: @emma-frxst @ra-ra-rasputiin @holamor @empressme-bitch @marvel-is-perfection @hazilyimagine @marvelhead17 @rovvboat @angstybadboytrash @whitewitchdown @master-sass-blast @mori-fandom @mooleche @dandyqueen @emberbent @leo-writer @silver-stormy . Wanna be added or removed? Holla at me.

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

Three years later.

After the Icebox rescue, Piotr had taken another leave of absence from the X-Men until he was sure Rhonda could take care of herself. The Rasputins argued for months about whether he should rejoin at all, knowing all too keenly the possibility of being snatched up by the DMC. They had settled on a reluctant compromise that he would alternate a month of active duty with a month off.

Rhonda never rejoined the X-Men, and never again tagged along with Piotr on a mission, no matter how Wade tried to bait her. She did, however, hammer into every single active duty member about being careful and made them promise that if they ran into DMC, to either kill them or run. Scott and some of the other members shook their heads and whispered about Rhonda being paranoid, but Piotr, Ororo, Ellie, Yukio, Hank, and Kurt knew better, and they frequently drilled simulations of fighting the DMC. Just in case.

When Piotr eventually resumed active duty, Rhonda was so anxious that she would be nauseous until he came home. Though she had been resistant to getting into therapy at first, she’d found an unexpected friend in Michelle. When they got past their tension and awkwardness of seeing each other as “the other woman,” Michelle made a lot of helpful suggestions. Rhonda started seeing someone Michelle had highly recommended - a therapist who was also a mutant and specialized in helping other mutants. They worked together well, and over time Rhonda worked past her trauma to a life she cherished.

A dance class sprang up at the Xavier School. It wasn’t quite ballet or modern dance, but it encouraged students to seek out multiple forms of dance and see how they can fit together. Rhonda studied and gained certification to teach aerial silks and started teaching a handful of students in an additional silks class. Yukio was her first silks student, and she became a skilled aerialist in her own right.

Rhonda found she enjoyed making choreography and videos to her favorite songs. She got her prison tattoos completely covered with a floral pattern that matched the zhostovo tray from her in-laws, just like the way Piotr had painted on her a few times. It was a lengthy process, but once her cover-up sleeve was done, Rhonda started posting videos under the pseudonym Zhostovo. When her following had built enough that people in the comments were begging for lessons, she realized she had outgrown the single room in the Xavier house.

A short drive away, Piotr and Rhonda found a great spot to build a larger studio. There was enough space to teach good sized classes and with the equipment put away, it converted to a beautiful soundstage for recording videos. Friends frequently visited and collaborated - Cable moved the camera or Rhonda herself for dreamlike effects, Russell had developed incredibly fine control with his abilities and was sometimes asked to help with some pyrotechnics. Piotr, Ellie, Yukio, and Wade found themselves in front of the camera a few times when Rhonda asked them to feature or perform a duet with her. Yukio was by far her favorite silks collaborator - it helped that they had similar electric abilities and made that part of their choreography as well.

Piotr lent his talents to paint gorgeous backdrops for some of the videos, and painted murals around the exterior of the studio, which eventually came to be called the Rasputin Performing Arts Center.

The court case against the DMC was messy, to say the least. Including Rhonda, there had been nine mutants who had been proven to be kidnapped and thrown into the Icebox with none of their rights honored - no phone call, no lawyer, nothing. For most of the Icebox Nine, as the media had called them, there weren’t even records of them in the Department of Mutant Control’s databases. The DMC itself dodged and weaved around accusations, using the lack of official record to try to discredit the prosecution, declaring it a ridiculous conspiracy theory.

Public perception was mired in reconciling the facts that there were many dangerous criminal mutants imprisoned in the Icebox, and also many who had been detained illegally - the true number of which was impossible to determine if they weren’t even on record. Never mind guessing how many had died over the years before they could be rescued. People didn’t want to believe both things were possible and true, and it gave Rhonda and Piotr a sick feeling their case would ultimately go nowhere, no matter how determined their attorney was.

Rumor had it that the DMC had closed the Icebox and had built a new prison in an undisclosed location. Professor Charles Xavier enlisted hackers to once again find whatever plans they could, but came up dry.

The Zhostovo YouTube channel grew quickly. Zhostovo herself was known for incredibly expressive choreography. At first, her videos were uncut wide shots of her rolling some floorwork across her studio space, or wrapped in silks in the air with her hair dyed to match, or sometimes moving through thin air, suspended by nothing the camera could see. She started with performing to songs from the early 2000s, before branching out to more recent hits. Her videos became more complex, with multiple camera angles, close ups, and special effects that at first viewers assumed were digital, until she published a video revealing that she was a mutant, and introduced the other mutants who helped make her videos by adding fire, fog, glowing sparks, and numerous other effects. In a matter of months, maybe a year, people started saying they preferred her videos over the musicians’ official, record label-produced videos.

Zhostovo’s performances for “Work Song” and “Someone New” by Hozier were what skyrocketed her channel’s popularity. There was a bone-chilling soulfulness she poured into those that resonated with many Hozier fans. Zhostovo made a few TV appearances, always flanked by her husband, whose steel form towered over everyone else, and at least one other mutant from the group she had introduced in her videos. She wasn’t young, but her hair was always dyed bright colors, and she had flower petals tattooed on one cheek, matching the folk painting style of the sleeve on her right arm. She was also an outspoken mutant rights activist, and made it clear that she wanted to show the world - humans and mutants alike - that extraordinary abilities can be used for fun and art and self-expression. She emphasized that most mutants were not the violent monsters conservative news stations made them out to be, and that believing them would cost lives every day.

On an early spring day, when things were green but there was still a little chill in the air if the sun wasn't out, Rhonda and Piotr were having a picnic on her grave, a special date they did a few times a year. The plot had been converted into a little garden, with just enough of a clear spot in the middle to fit two people having lunch. The granite headstone still stood with the erroneous year of death chipped away, but it was surrounded with rosemary and wildflowers. The season’s first bees bobbed along, looking for the most open flowers, and Rhonda’s grave was easily the brightest and most lively spot in the private cemetery.

Rhonda’s smile tugged at the flower petal tattoos that covered the old prison tear drops. She gently waved a bee away from her sandwich before taking a bite. Piotr plucked a little sprig of rosemary and added the leaves to his sandwich before starting in on it.

“You’re quiet today,” Piotr observed. “You seem like you’re in a good mood, but quiet.” He sipped some of the white wine they had packed. He had armored down, and was now able to hold it for hours at a time. He'd kept his beard - it was thick, neatly trimmed, and had just gotten its first touches of grey.

Her eyes crinkled more as she smiled around her bite of food. When she swallowed, she took a deep breath. “I got an email this morning,” she began. “I didn’t wanna say anything about it until I was sure it was real, you know?”

Piotr regarded his wife carefully, playful suspicion growing. “Sladkaya, an email from who?”

The cemetery was quiet, but she looked around anyway, as if checking for an unwelcome eavesdropper. The wildflowers and herbs rustled in the breeze. She grinned so big Piotr was sure he could count all her teeth. Her shoulders lifted as she took a deep breath, “Hozier wants to collaborate on a music video. A real one, not the copyright infringement videos I do.”

Piotr almost dropped his sandwich before he remembered it was in his hand. He set it down and reached for her. Rhonda jumped to her feet and hugged his head to her stomach, both laughing. “That’s wonderful news!” His fingers pressed into her thighs. “Amazing! Is it for a new song? Or one already out?”

She was bouncing with excitement and squealing for a solid minute or two before she sat down again, still fidgeting and twisting with excitement. “I think a new one! His people sent over a contract and an NDA I have to sign before I can hear the song he wants to work on. Do you think Matthew would look it over? I know he’s not an entertainment lawyer, but a contract’s a contract, right?”

“We can ask,” he agreed as they toasted their plastic wine glasses. He watched her eyes sparkle with tears of excitement, the way her curls bounced as she laughed, dyed dark green to match the foliage in her tattoo. The lush blooms and leaves that filled her arm still had a raised texture of the Xs they covered if you looked closely, but the black spaces and gold scrollwork were striking any time she moved. “Is this what you wanted when we were young?” he asked.

“When I thought I was gonna go to Julliard and join a dance troupe?” She thought for a long minute, then shook her head. “It’s better.”

They shared beaming smiles, Piotr’s eyes brimming with tears for his wife's joy, when a fat little bumble bee landed on one of the flowers on Rhonda’s arm. “Oh!” he exclaimed softly. “Hold still, Sladkaya.”

He pulled out the camera he always brought along for these picnics, and captured the moment of Rhonda's surprise, noticing the bee on her tattoo, as she delicately held her wine glass with her four fingered right hand, her gravestone behind her, sunlight playing on her forest green curls.

#not a ghost #piotr rasputin x oc #cooossus x oc #deadpool fanfic #xmen fanfic #colossus #marvel #piotr rasputin

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that-writer-who-never-posts · 5 years

Text

Expectation x Reality

^^^That’s Tom’s face finding my blog (And it’s adorable)

Tom Hiddleston smut

Here it is... @catalinaacosta, @gingers-writing, @adamcansuckme and @wrappedinlokisarms hope it’s what you’ve been looking for!

Prompt: Tom finds your old tumblr and things he wouldn’t imagine about you.

warnings: Mentions of spanking, lots of dirty talk, daddy kink, of course...

like 3k words

You were alone at home. Very bored. Tom would arrive soon, he promised you would be able to have dinner together, but until then, you had nothing to do.

You started to think... There were you, laying in bed, waiting for Tom Hiddleston, your fucking boyfriend, to come home... If you had a time machine, you'd tell it to your past self and she would laugh. Oh, that silly girl used to write fanfiction about a man who is now really yours. How did you get so lucky?

Suddently, you had the urge to find your old blog and read all your stories again. It would be pretty embarrassing, and Tom couldn't even dream about them... He knew you were a fan when you met, but he didn't know you would expose to the whole internet what you wanted him to do to your body.

You grabbed your laptop and googled tumblr. God, it's been a while. You logged in and looked at your account for a second. You missed that. You scrolled a bit and something caught your eye, so you decided to click the "read more" link. It was smut. Probably the heaviest one. You started to read, but went "nope" real quick. You closed the tabs and hid your face on the pillow. Who are you hidding from? You're alone here... Still, you weren't doing that again.

It was really the best moment to close those tabs, because a few minutes later you heard the front door opening.

"Y/N?"

You closed your laptop and went to meet him.

"Hi." You said wrapping your arms around his waist from behind.

"Hello." He turned around to hug you. "Miss me this much?"

"Well..." You were a bit unconfortable with his presence after what you've read, but you just needed to keep your mind busy. "I was thinking just now that I'm very lucky to have you. And you should know that."

"No, I'm lucky to have you." He smiled and gave you a quick kiss.

---

Later that night, you were already asleep, but Tom was wide awake. It was almost valentine's day and he wanted to give you something special, to make up for being away so often, and show you he really loved you. But he didn't know what to get you. So he had an idea. And he was pretty ashamed of it, but that was the only way.

He got out of bed, carefully to not wake you up, grabbed your laptop and went to the living room. He sat on the sofa and turned it on. He felt like a hacker, but you two were proud to have no secrets between you. So he went on your browsing history, to see if there was something you had been needing lately.

But he was surprised to find something else... Your most recently closed tabs all had his name on them. Why? He clicked on one and found out it was a fanfic. They all were... He covered his mouth to hide his laughter. You had been reading fanfics about him? That was adorable, he couldn't wait to tease you about it. All fanfics were on the same blog, so he clicked to open it. He read the bio and it said something like "Hey! My name is Y/N and I'm a huge marvel fan. I write mostly about Tom Hiddleston/Loki. Requests are closed!"

The writer's name was the same as yours... Well, big coincidence. He continued to scroll down and found one of those "Get to know me better" asks. There were about 30 questions. Apparently, you and that writer had the same name, eye color, height, favorite bands... His heart was racing when the last ask was for a selfie and there you were. Many years ago, but it was you.

He didn't even know how to feel. He was wrong for invading your privacy like that, but he was upset you never told him about that blog. Well, now it was too late. Since he found it, he decided to investigate it, to know what else you were hiding.

"Tom?"

He jumped and almost threw your laptop through the window. You were standing by the door with the sleepiest face.

"Sorry, darling. I just..." He was an amazing actor, but he was afraid he wouldn't be able to lie to you in the middle of a heart attack. "I forgot to send an email and... It was something important. For work. I couldn't find my laptop, I hope you don't mind that I used yours."

"Of course not." You rubbed your eyes. "Come back to bed?"

"In a second, love." He reached for his phone and took a picture of your blog's name, so he could find it later. Jonathan Pine was alive and breathing inside him.

He turned your laptop off and went back to bed with you. You snuggled in his chest and fell asleep. But now he was even more awake. He watched you peacefully dreaming and hated what he thought about you earlier... You didn't lie to him, you just didn't mention the blog because you didn't use it anymore, it wasn't important. He cursed himself for being so stupid... If you didn't use it anymore, it wouldn't be on your recent searches. Maybe you weren't writing anymore, but you were using that blog for something, and he would find out what it is.

---

On the next day, you were the one who had to go out, while he had the day off. Tom was acting really weird, you thought. About what happened last night, you believed him, after all, he would always sneak out of the bed to work. But in the morning, when you had to leave, he didn't insist for you to stay, like he usually did. But that's just you being an attention seeker, he understood you had to work, he's not a puppy. He just looked like one, sometimes.

Little did you know that when you closed the door, he had already googled your blog on his phone, and was ready to start his investigation. The first story he came across was something really sweet about the reader and him having kids and playing together on christmas day. There were many mentions of having kids with him on that blog, and it warmed his heart. You were an amazing writer, he loved the stories and it was his biggest dream to have a family with you. He was about to forget he was mad at you when he found it. Yes, it. That one not even you could read yestetday.

"Tom Hiddleston smut. What is this?" He said out loud. "Warnings... Mentions of... Spanking, chocking... daddy kink?"

He looked at nothing for a while, trying to digest all that. There it was, the secret life he imagined you would be hiding.

"...he grabbed you by the neck and said... I said... What? I'm going to punish you until you learn to never tease me again?" He had to read that out loud, cause if he didn't hear it, he would think his eyes were fooling him. "...He turned you around and... Dear god... I slapped her? And she fucking loved it!"

At first, he thought he continued to read because it was shocking, and human brains are naturally attracted to that. But on the third smut, he realized he was doing that looking for some kind of recemblance between that and your actual sex life. And all he could think of was "Oh dear. She must be the most frustrated woman in the world." He was always so gently and lovingly. Looked nothing like the Tom you dreamt of. Maybe that's why you was reading that yesterday... Maybe you got off by yourself all the time when he was away... Because he wasn't enough.

He was sad. Why didn't you bring that up before? You could have asked him and... You knew pretty well he never says no to you. But hurting you like that just... Doesn't sound right. Oh, who was he trying to fool? He had a massive erection at that moment. The way you described that girl begging to him and the thought of having you completely under his control, being his and letting the entire street know you were... The intensity of the eye contacts, the marks on her skin, the dirty talk... He needed that. Now.

Who would imagine it? Tables have turned. The things you wrote when he made you horny were now making him lose his mind and take a cold shower. And you had absolutely no idea he was now aware of the kink girl you were. You had no idea what waited for you at home.

---

The day at work was pretty boring. Not in a bad way, just nothing unusual. Less than an hour before it was your time to leave, you recieved a message from Tom.

*"You better come straight home after work."*

Your heart stopped. Someone died, you were sure.

*"What happened?"*

*"You know what you've done."*

And that was all you were getting from him. No, you had no idea what you've done. And you were terrified. You drove home as fast as you could.

"Tom?" You called, opening the door slowly, afraid of what you would find.

You locked the door behind you and heard footsteps approaching. When you turned around, you found him with a tie on one hand and a belt on the other.

"Are you getting dressed? Where are we going?" You were so confused.

"No, darling." He smiled darkly. "We are going to the bedroom right now. I want to talk to you."

You nodded and went to your bedroom, with him walking behind you really slowly. He was definitely acting very weird today.

Getting there, you found your laptop was on the bed. You sat in front of it and saw your blog open there.

"Shit." You blushed heavily. "I can explain it!"

"There's no need to explain. Do you think I'm stupid?" He sighed. "I want you to read it to me."

"Tom... I'm sorry I didn't tell you, but this is..." You thought you were going to pass out. "This is something I did several years before meeting you, I was just a stupid teenager."

"I clearly said I didn't want an explanation." He looked at the things he had in his hands.

"What is that for?" You asked, actually scared. All you could think of was that he was packing his stuff to leave you.

"This tie? Well, to tie you up, of course." He smiled. "And the belt, darling... I hope I don't have to use it. But you know pretty well what it is for! It's all over your dirty stories. Now undress and give me your hands."

You didn't say anything, just started taking your clothes off. You were confused and embarrassed, but more than anything, you were so turned on. When you were completely naked, you showed him your hands. He told you to lie down in bed and put them over your head. You did that, then watched him tying your arms to the bed. He placed the laptop on your belly and adjusted the screen, so you could see it.

"I'm going to have to ask you twice, and I'm not doing that again." He said, showing you the belt. "Read."

You were afraid your voice wouldn't come out. You laid your eyes on the fanfic and saw a highlighted paragraph.

"He told you to..."

"Change you to me." He interrupted you. "We both know who's the slut in these stories."

You almost came when he said 'slut'. You had never heard him saying that... And now he was calling you it.

"He told me to get down on all fours. Once I did... Hmmm" You were interrupted by Tom's fingers massaging your folds slowly.

"Continue." He acted like he was bored.

"...He entered me with his... Fuck." Now he slid two fingers in you at once. "His cock and I..."

"No." He removed his fingers, making you arch your back, looking for more. "Don't change the story. You didn't just say cock. I loved how you described it, read it correctly."

"His beautifully hard and huge cock." You blushed more than ever.

"Good girl." He pushed his fingers inside you again. "Continue."

"No." You felt ridiculous, you couldn't read that shit to yourself yesterday, imagine to him...

"No?" He looked at you angry and confused. "Do you want me to use this belt?"

"Yes." You almost whispered.

"Yes?"

"I want you to punish me, d-" You shut up quickly.

"Say it." He smirked.

"Daddy." You waited for him to be disgusted, but he looked absolutely amazed.

He picked the laptop up and placed it on the table beside your bed.

"Please... Tell me if I go too far?" He said, looking at the belt.

You nodded. He lifted your legs and the belt met your butt. Harder than you thought it would. You didn't scream, you moaned. Tom, at first, just wanted to put you on his lap and apologize for hours. But he saw how much you loved that, he heard you asking for more. So he did it again, on the same spot, making you moan even more loudly.

"Will you be a good girl now?" He smiled, but all that pureness of his smile was gone.

"Yes, sir." You were pretty sure that was just a dream.

He lifted your legs again, but this time to sit under them, so your hips were now on his lap. He placed two fingers inside you again and his thumb pressing your clit. And started to move them. Your breathing was so heavy and your arms kept trying to move, and he watched you with a straight face, like you weren't doing anything.

"Tom... Please..."

"I know you can do better." He kept his expression and added more pressure to your clit. "I've read it."

"Fuck those stupid fanfics..." You cried out. "You are so much better than I imagined there... Now please... I need you inside me."

You could feel his dick very hard under your butt. But there were those annoying clothes...

"Why should I do as you ask?" He shrugs. "You hide things from me. You lie. You don't beg like I know you can."

"Tom!" You feel your climax approaching, it was the way he was talking... "Please, I promise I won't hide things anymore, I will be a good girl, I will do anything you want... But I need to feel your cock... Your beautifully hard cock, that is a lot more beautiful than I thought, inside me. Right n- Oh fuck."

You came.

"You never looked this beautiful." His gaze devoured your entire body. "Begging me to fuck you in the middle of an orgasm."

"I like it when you cum inside me, daddy." You would say anything he wanted to hear at this point.

"I know you do, baby girl." He smiled, lifting your sore body so he could stand up.

If your hands were free, you would pull him back. But you realized he did that to take his clothes off. And he did that without taking his eyes off yours. When he was completely naked, he crawled on top of you, kissing your lips slow and seductively. There was absolutely no need of foreplay at that moment, so he grabbed your hips with his hands and entered you at once, making you scream against his lips.

"If I find out you've been hiding things from me again, you can say goodbye to this feeling, do you understand?" He whispered on your neck, between kisses and bites.

"I do... I'm sorry..." Your hands closed around his tie and you held to it as he started to fuck you very hard.

The sounds coming from his mouth were new to you. He was absolutely free at that moment. He was wild. He was lost on your body.

His movements were fast and messy, his dick hitting you in so many ways, one better than the other. The noises of your bodies colliding and of that bed, that seemed about to break, couldn't hide your moans. There's no way the entire world wasn't listening to that.

You orgasmed one more time, or 385 other times, you couldn't tell, before you felt him filling you with his cum. He couldn't just stop, he had to slow down until he did. You looked at each other with an expression that meant 'Did you fucking see what just happened here? Am I dreaming?'.

He freed your arms and laid down beside you.

"Are you okay?" He said watching you stretch a bit.

"Are you fucking kidding me?" You closed your eyes and laughed. "I know. It was..." He laughed too. "It sure was." You nodded. "Listen... I understand that you were ashamed of those fanfics, and you have no reason to be, because they are amazing..." He said seriously. "But you should have told me you wanted something like this. It wouldn't hurt my feelings knowing that I was boring you, I'd just try and change it." "Tom!" You looked at him in shock. "You never bored me! I loved everything we've ever done... That's why I didn't bring this up. I was happy, I was satisfied. And I didn't want to make you uncomfortable." "Y/N, let's get one thing straight." He said. "Doesn't matter what I find in that computer, I will never, never hurt you. That belt thing was the most hardcore we're getting here. And I was still terrified to do it." "I know." You laughed. "That's more than enough for me, love. Also, there's nothing more for you to discover on that computer." "There's something I already did, but we didn't mention it yet." He smiles sweetly at you. "What is it?" You sigh, knowing you're about to get in trouble. "You want to have three kids with me." He smiles widely. "And I loved those names!" "Oh my god..." You blushed and hid your face in your hands. "I'm deleting that blog." "That's okay." He winks at you. "I already read what you want me to say on our wedding day."

---

Taglist:

@theoneanna @inlovewith3 @spidey-holland7 @too-cold-for-youhere @princetale @drakesfiance @kcd15 @lokilvrr

#tom hiddleston #tom hiddleston fanfic #tom hiddleston fanfiction #tom hiddleston x reader #tom hiddleston fic #tom hiddleston x you #tom hiddleston smut #tom hiddleston oneshot #tom hiddleston imagine #loki #loki smut #loki x reader #loki x you #loki fanfic #loki imagine

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okimargarvez · 4 years

Text

MAIN TARGET

Original title: Main target.

Prompt: a hacker unsub is targeting Penelope.

Warning: what if for 15x4.

Genre: action, family, romantic.

Characters: Penelope Garcia, Luke Alvez, unsub, BAU team, Andrew Mendoza, Maxine.

Pairing: Garvez; slight maxcer, katt, prendoza.

Note: oneshot 68 in Garvez collection.

Legend: 💏😘🔦.

Song mentioned: Eri come l’oro ora sei come loro, Tiziano Ferro.

Note: As I promised, here there is the second story about the spoiler for 15x4. The first I written was based more on the plot and pics, this one it’s after seeing the promo. So I written as I NEVER watched the sneak peeks. Hope you can like it, but more than the episode will be good. The final part it’s based on @thinitta opinions. Thank you, again!

GARVEZ STORIES

MAIN TARGET

No one has entered my golden limbo anymore, an abandoned, cold, tired kitten

-Are you sure you had nothing better to do than to accompany me to this nerd competition?- despite her protests, she has not been able to convince him that she is able to bring the trophy she has won alone, which confirms beyond any doubt that she is still the best hacker out there. -You will be very bored.- the man shakes his head, amused by her statement. He justifies her only because she was too busy “kicking the ass' of geeky kids, to realize how much fun he had, on the contrary. How many times he has laughed or smiled.

He keeps the door open, but he collides with a girl who apparently doesn’t seem at all a computer’s lover, but appearance are not everything and maybe she has accompanied someone in this competition, as he did. He starts to apologize, but she is raising her hand, signaling that it was her fault. Her eyes however don't leave Penelope's body, that is stop behind him. It seems strange to him, he feels an unidentified sensation that he prefers to remain so, so he remembers the way in which more or less the whole place looked at her when they arrived. In the IT field, Garcia is a celebrity. -Anyway, I don't think so.- he resumes their speech as soon as they are outside. -And I was happy to be able to spend time with my best friend.- she stops, turning almost to effect rallenty, widening her eyes and mouth.

He recognizes that kind of expression on her face. -Awww, Luke, you are my best friend too!- she exclaims, stroking him on the arm, not being able to embrace him. -This reminds me...- she hits him symbolically on the shoulder.

Luke massages himself exaggeratedly, to make her feel guilty. -Ouch! Why?- he also uses the hurt puppy eyes look.

She doesn't leave him too much to stew in his juice. -For having terrified me to death with that bomb.- she explains, as they start walking again. It wanted to sound like a nice joke, but in the middle the voice betrays her, breaking.

With his free hand and without stopping to walk he takes her by the arm. -Well, but I didn't asked for be in that situation.- and above all, the bomb was fake, nothing but a diversion. But those two seconds in which he believed he was going to die had been enough for him to see everything more clearly. The important things in his life, which were not things at all. One image. The photo in his memory. The first meeting between Roxy and Penelope. About a week has passed, but he didn't need more than those two seconds to understand why in such a moment he had thought just that.

The blonde taunts herself immediately, unable to be really mad at him. -I know, sorry, I... I was only afraid of... you know.- to lose you, but to really lose you, not to say, not in the sense that you move to another city or even another state or you get married with Lisa ... lose yourself permanently.

Luke also hears the part she prefers to keep silent. -Yes, I know.- what's between them has now become clear, impossible to hide. Neither of them tries to. They don’t know when it will happen, but little, very little is missing. The wait is almost over. This awareness is sufficient not to make them anxious, in fibrillation. It is as if they were already together, even if not officially. She didn't introduce him as her boyfriend to the hackers they met at the competition, but most still perceived him as such. Sometimes attitudes, body language tell more than what we just say. -Would you mind if we made a detour?- the blonde nods. They leave the trophy in the trunk of Luke's car. He sees her watching him trying to understand what goes on in his mind. He chuckles, amused. It's always nice to be the center of her world. They reach the entrance of a park. -Here I take Roxy and Lou to stretch their legs.- Penelope no longer knows where to turn her head. Everywhere there are dogs of every breed, color, size. There are those who run, those who play, those who sleep. It is a kind of circle, reminiscent of an amphitheater or an arena, but covered entirely with lawn, the benches for the owners arranged in a strategic way, to allow everyone to keep an eye on their puppy. One dog in particular attracts Penelope's attention. She leaves the bag and runs towards him. Luke watches her talk to a blond man about her age. They smile. He feels a twinge of jealousy, but doesn’t frighten him or fight against it. Not anymore. She may have a smile on her face, but her heart belongs to him anyway. Something vibrates next to his thigh. He looks down. A pink cover, with the head of a piglet. She has an infinity of them, little less than the frames of the glasses. The mobile phone screen lights up. It was not a deliberate, voluntary action, he will be said later as justification. It was a normal instinct to drop his gaze on that surface. And it's not his fault that he can read quickly, not as much as Reid, but he is doing pretty well. -Hey, Penelope!- simultaneously he does the right thing, calling her. -You got a message.- but then his brain processes the information provided by the retinas. -But what...- and he can't really stop there. He takes her cell phone and scrolls through the email to the end, rereads it a second time, just to be sure. So, he sees that it is part of a series of similar emails from the same sender. He starts reading those too and is about halfway through when she returns to the bench.

The smile immediately turns off on her lips. She is quite bewildered, confused, more than angry or indignant. -Luke, why are you reading my mail?- she asks, but despite the sight problems, she is also a skilled reader. -Luke?- she repeats, shaking him from the numbness or trance in which he has fallen.

He doesn’t give up the telephone set, shows it to her, indicating the contents of one of the emails. -What the hell is this?- even if she knows those words by heart, her eyes can't help reading them again. And she experiences exactly the same thrill as the first one. -Please tell me it's just a joke, a hacker stuff.- Luke pleads, not ashamed to use a desperate tone, not at all macho.

Penelope shakes her head, forced to give him a displeasure. -No, I... don't ask me.- she tries to take back her cell phone and instead ends up that he grabs her wrist.

-This fool says: Tonight, I will dream of a new way to kill you. You did not want to give me a chance in the real world and I will destroy you first in the virtual one, where you are more comfortable, and then also in the real one. There will not be a single trace of your existence, the black queen will cease to exist. No comment?- hearing this threat coming out of Luke's mouth is more than she can bear. She abandons herself on the bench, but the man doesn’t waste any time. He did it when it was not even thinkable, he did it a little further on, for sure he will not scruple himself now.

His right arm surrounds her shoulders, pushing her to lean against him. -He... I...- she is shaking. She is terrified, but he doesn’t know if it is more the responsibility of the stalker or the fact of having to confess it to someone. As if it could be her fault, as if she could have ever done something to deserve such unwelcome attention. But in the eyes of these depraved people, even a smile, like what she did a little while ago, can be considered an invitation, a suggestion.

He sighs, trying to calm down, because it could only shake her further. And this is certainly not his target. -You went out with him?- he knows it's an awkward question, but he's forced to ask it. He should treat the matter like any case, not get involved. But it is practically impossible. Did Morgan do it when Battle tried to kill her? -Make me understand, because I want, I need to understand.- fortunately, to his enormous relief, she shakes her head.

-No... the situation is...- she stutters. Without thinking about it, Luke begins to caress her hair, and continues, realizing that the gesture is helping her. -There is this guy, on the web... he has been explaining me in details... how he is gonna kill me...- she doesn't cry, and the thing is quite strange, but she vibrates like a jackhammer and the beating of her heart gallops. It's all true, he didn't imagine it, it's not a funny joke, even if he hoped for it.

He swallows, feeling anger rise up his body and stop in his throat as usual. He closes his eyes. Counting even up to ten thousand won't help. -How long?- he asks only, without opening his eyes. If he does, he will find that she is afraid of him too, right now. Because his voice seems to come from the depths of hell. Such anger resounds within him, implacable and at the same time so tempting...

Her lips tremble, her hands vibrate, the whole body is shaken by sobs. -A few... a few weeks... almost a month.- she admits at the end.

All good intentions are sending to hell immediately. -WHAT?- he shouts so loud as to attract the attention of some owners and even some dogs, who stop to stare in their direction. He looks at her without masking the nervous in any way. But his arm remains where it is, wrapped around her shoulders. -Is there any living thing, apart from Sergio, to whom you said it?- Penelope shakes her head, fleeing her gaze. And he doesn’t seem about to perform a deplorable act. -Why didn't you tell anybody about this?- some men simply keep an eye on him from a distance. But the real question is Why didn't you want to tell me either?

-I, I don't know! I thought it wasn't dangerous, he never did anything other than sending me those messages, and I didn't want to waste time of the team, with all the things that have happened in these months...- JJ's confession, then she then had risked to die because of the daughter of the Chameleon, the bomb, the break between him and Lisa, the engagement of Emily and Andrew. It is understandable, her reasoning, but not for this more acceptable. Because she risked being killed so as not to weigh on others. And he can't see it as a nice thing. He may never find out what it feels like to kiss her. Or to wake up next to her. And only because he fell in love with a too generous woman. No way.

-How could you believe it wasn't dangerous? This madman will not limit himself to online threats, his language says so, he will come out. Very soon.- he can't take it, looking at her in a normal way. -There is even a part where he talks about me.- he whispers, showing her. You fell for the new boy like an ordinary whore. You were like gold and now you're like them. But I know how to make you come back precious. With death you will recover that aura of purity.

-I'm sorry, Luke, please excuse me!- watching her cry and begging him to forgive her for faults that are not actually hers, is more than he can handle. He takes her face in his hands, forcing her to stop. But she manages to say one last thing. -I don't want you to hate me too!- he takes a breath before speaking.

-Hate you? I don't hate you and I could never do it. What does it mean that too? Who would this fool be?- the childish appearance has never made her less attractive to his eyes.

-My brothers, because I allowed Jesse to get out of prison and because it is because of me if our parents were out at that time.- she replies, eating only a few words in sobs. Luke wipes her latest tears to flow down her cheeks.

-I am sure they don't really hate you, and that in any case things will work out .- he replies in a calm tone, realizing that it is working, that she is calming down. -But right now, we have to focus on this madman. We need to talk to the team about it. You will see, we will take him.- he cannot have the mathematical certainty, were it not that the idea of living together every day from here on with the possibility that she will be torn from his hands... is inconceivable. So, they will be able to find him and make him harmless, in a more or less definitive way. This will depend on him. Hackers are often cowards, although it is bad to think so, since she also falls into the category; but it is enough for him to remember the reaction of the boy who worked at WUKO and enjoyed driving cars to invest people. He doesn’t believe that he will be able to endure a physical struggle.

-No, please, we can't tell the others, it's one of the few times that we don’t have a case, they're all relaxing... I know that Emily and Rossi are helping Matt to assemble the crib, Kristy sent me a pic... and they chose a tremendous color.- she chuckles, but she can't fool him, because his eyes are still shiny. -With all that has happened... we deserve a break.- but Luke is not willing to listen to reasons.

He caresses her delicate face again, bringing it closer to his own. -I wish I could do as you say, Penelope, but... I have a bad feeling.- it is the instinct of the hunter, who has awakened from hibernation and is almost never wrong. -I have to protect you, I can't lose you, okay? I know it's melodramatic, that seems to come out of a bad action movie with some romantic skits, enough to convince your girlfriend to come to the cinema with you to see him...- marketing strategies, nothing else. -But it’s still the truth.- the weight of his words hovers between them. He lifts her chin and their lips meet for the first time. During the kiss he feels her tremble. She is afraid, she is terrified, but she has no intention of communicating it to him, not even to him, after all that has been and is happening even now.

And every kiss you denied is a little bit that you of lost me

They separate gently. Penelope immediately looks away and the man realizes that the path is still long, he has not crossed the finish line. -Luke, I...- he doesn’t allow her to waste her breath in listing the thousand reasons why that kiss is not to be understood in the only sense it assumes. He does it in her place.

And every ‘I love you’ that I kept silent is a bit that I lost of you

-No.- he shakes his head. -It was not a comforting kiss, nor I did let myself be taken by the role of friend or protective colleague, by the atmosphere. Do you really want to deny what's between us?- she shakes her head, curling up against him. -Good. Now let's start by informing Emily, she will decide what is best to do, what do you say?- she disagrees, even though she is aware that Luke is right. So, she just keeps silent. -Listen to me, Penelope, I will not allow anyone to kill you or tear you a single hair, do you believe me? I know you are afraid, I’m too, I am terrified, but I will not leave you alone for a second, it will have to kill me first, pass over my dead body, as they say, to get to you.- the woman remains with her eyes sealed, clinging to the his chest as a lifeline. A buoy in the middle of the sea. -I couldn't do anything for Battle already... but this time... I'm here, and I'll do my part.- she walks away and looks at him, shocked.

-You know?- she only whispers. But she should have guessed that someone had told him what had happened after her reaction as they were discussing Ferrell's case again. Luke nods.

-Yes, I know, and even now I struggle to understand how someone could have done such a horrible action. Not just for shooting you. But that bastard went out with you. He was able to admire a suit that you had chosen specifically for him. And your smiles. He had a privilege that I didn't think it would ever be granted to me... for this I hate him, even if he's dead.- he doesn't want to hide even a small part of his thoughts anymore. -I would have liked to kill him with my own hands.- he fears that she could get away, after all this is the main reason why he has always limited himself to flirting with her.

-Wow.- she replies instead, as the information aligns in her brain.

-Yeah.- he sighs and calls Emily. -Hey, am I bothering you?- he feels the blonde's gaze on him. He strokes her hand gently to reassure her. -Huh, well, maybe it's better if you put the speakerphone on. Penelope has a stalker. Ok, a quarter of an hour and we'll be at BAU.- he hangs up. -Honey, I know you don't want to bother anyone, but believe me, if you force Rossi to wear another tie to come to your funeral, he will be very annoyed.- despite the dramatic situation, he managed to make her laugh. -Here, let’s go.-

And your every silent smile was a photo of us

On the way they still talk about Battle, but above all, Penelope reveals that there was another time when someone wished her dead, not long before he appeared on the horizon. -They were called the dirty dozen, it's a complicated story, but it has to do with Cat, Cat Adams. It's thanks to Reid if they didn't kill me.- he listens without asking questions, he keeps them all for later. -In practice the worst and most skilled assassins wanted my head on a silver platter, like Salome with John the Baptist.- along the way she makes various attempts to make the story less ugly. But he remains silent and inscrutable. -I lived for some time indoors in the BAU, in an office. I had equipped it pretty well and sleeping on those sofas wasn't bad either, I don't know if you've ever tried...- nothing, not even in this case any decipherable reaction. -And it wasn't terrible, I'm serious!- she doesn't know if he believes her, and she's afraid to deepen what goes on in his mind, considering what he told her about Battle. And that in any other case it would have exclusively terrified her, but since it was him... she had also been flattered. Because even if he hadn't explicitly told her he loved her, it was as if he had. -They have all been very close to me, Rossi has tried to teach me how to play poker, but, you know... I'm bad at bluffing.- a hint of a smile. She should be decidedly satisfied. -And Hotch dined with me, we cooked the jalapenos... - whatever is going on in his mind, he never lets her hand, until they reach his car, and if by chance someone risks touching her, he quickly drags her against him, literally shielding her. -I wanted to tell you so you won't find out from others, as happened with Battle.- she concludes, and he understands that she's done. He brings her hand close to his mouth, kissing her knuckles.

-Thank you for trusting me.- trust is all in a relationship and he has a weight on his conscience to take off, but this is not the right time. They will first eliminate the threat and then discuss it. -It is really terrible to imagine you in such a situation and to know that all this was happening only a few floors higher than mine... and rationally I know that I could not have done anything. It was not yet my turn, but this time it is. Please allow me to protect you.- he is kind to ask, considering he won't accept a negative answer anyway.

-I don't want you to be in danger because of me.- she replies instead, putting the cards back on the table. Luke understands what she meant by that phrase. -You want to do what you couldn't with Battle, am I right? Hunt him and eliminate the threat.- her eyes memorize every detail of the man. -What if I asked you instead to stay by my side and let the others conduct the research? Would you be willing to do this for me?- she is asking him a lot, because she is aware of his nature, how much he misses certain aspects of his previous work.

The man doesn’t reply hastily, risking to say the wrong thing, as has often happened to him before and not only with her. Obviously, he had imagined to personally hunt the bastard who was threatening the life of his... loved girl. Like a knight on a white horse in fairy tales, like Orlando in the Carolingian cycle. Fearless and intrepid, heedless of death. But he is too insightful not to understand the blonde's point of view. If he dies during this hunt, what sense could there to try to protect her? Yes, she will be alive and this is the main thing, the main goal; but without him... right now that he has confessed what he feels... he meets her gaze for a thousandth of a second and obtains confirmation. She could die of it anyway. -Penelope, honey... if that's what you really want, I'll do it, even if it's going to be really hard.- she nods.

-I know. I know I claim a lot, but... try to see it in this perspective. You won't be on the bench. You will be my personal bodyguard. Or would you rather leave me alone while you are all out looking for him? I'm not a profiler, but I know hackers are a particular category of unknown subject. They are not part of the classic schemes.- it is not certain that he understood what she meant. -It could send you off the road, sidetrack you and wait for the right moment to attack me when I'm alone. If he really intends to move on to the facts.- she concludes.

-Fuck, you're right, that's why you are the genius of the lamp and I am the Aladdin's carpet.- the joke manages to snatch a giggle, but above all it goes to hit a very hidden part of her soul. Never, at first glance, she would have said that Luke was such a playful guy. And she likes to bask in the belief that she is partially responsible for his transformation.

-There would be another thing too... and I don't think you will like this more than the other.- she recovered her security not because she stopped being scared... it's difficult, when you know there is someone out there who has done of you his main goal. Rather, because panicking won't get her anywhere. And she has a lot to fight for. Her extended family, Sergio and now also Luke. She will not allow any homunculus to ruin everything. It took four years to get to this point and he still seemed on the verge of making a decisive move, regardless of this situation, which accelerated things. But she has no intention of thanking him when she has him in front of her. The man patiently waits for her to start talking again. -Here, the fact is that... the unsub it's like me. I think I'm a more challenging opponent for him. I mean...- he got there. He brakes, risking to cause a tamponade. He recovers part of his faculties and pulls over laterally.

-You want to be the bait, don't you? You want to lure him into a trap, you want...- he shakes his head. She knew he would never agree.

-Luke, if it is true that you love me...- it sounds like a fake phrase. -You have to let me do my job. I'll be safe, I'll be behind a screen and you'll be with me!- she tries to make him reason. -It's my field, this, not yours!- she protests, clenching her fists.

-Let's see what Prentiss will say, and what the others will think.- he replies, as a sort of respite.

In my opinion it is much better to give a cut and thank goodness because you were doing too well, you know

JJ is the first to notice their entwined hands when they enter the meeting room. The other thing that stands out is the absence of Spencer, who arrives a few minutes later, with a very strange look, half confused and half with head on the clouds. There is a third detail. Almost everyone is dressed inappropriately to do their job, because in fact it was not expected that they would.

-Well, now that we're all here... Penelope, do you prefer I explain the situation to others?- the blonde is about to respond, when Agent Alvez takes the floor in her place, standing up and separating from her for the first time in about an hour.

-I would like to do it, if you don't mind...- he just gives her a look and maybe he wants her approbation. Garcia opens her laptop and a first image appears on the screen in front of them. One of the last emails the asshole sent her. Full of vivid details on how he will kill her. Everyone's eyes widen in disbelief. JJ just can't conceive that this is happening again. Although more than six months have passed, he feels the scar throbbing, the last of a beautiful collection. Luke leaves them a few more seconds to absorb everything. -This person, if we can call him that, about a month ago started contacting Garcia, writing things like the ones you see here. Spence, we has already sent you a detailed copy, I am sure that in five minutes you will have read it all.- the youngest nods, bending over the tablet and trying to concentrate each neuron on the task entrusted to him. Even if the image of a certain girl with whom he was spending a nice afternoon continues to disturb him, tease him. -Garcia has narrowed the field of research while we were waiting for you.- he looks at her with such pride that all doubts disappear from the mind of the profilers. Tara caresses the blonde's shoulder, sitting next to her.

-He is good, but not so much.- he is not at her level, it is the translation. -He managed to mask his real address, well, any teenager who spends too much time in front of a computer...- the fact that she is rambling, as usual, reassures them, even if they can't let go too much. The danger is always out there and this time it has a precise face. -To make a long story short, the area from which he sent those messages is Denver.- another image, it is a map with a red dot towards the center of the state of Colorado.

-This, however, doesn’t mean that he is still here, right?- Rossi asks and he is not the only one to have wondered this question. Everyone first looks at Penelope and then turns their gaze to Luke. He nods.

-Yeah, I think so too.- he turns to the boss. -I know it's not correct, that goes against the protocol...- Emily lets him speak, but her face darkens. -I wish I could stay with her, I should blindly trust the teams and the witness protection service...- but he shakes his head, because when the person you love in first person is at risk, then everything changes.

Taking into account what he risked with Barnes only two years ago, he doesn’t expect the brunette to nod so strongly. -They won't let us handle this case, because one of our agents is directly involved…- she replies. -So, I don't see where is the problem.- a radiant smile appears on the lips of the Latin. -Matt, I think it's better if you also stay here in Quantico, Kristy is so close to giving birth...- the other man nods, relieved. Although the idea of witnessing the birth of another child perhaps makes him more anxious than leaving with others. -The rest of us are going to Denver, although I feel we won't get much out of it, we can't leave out any options.- Reid never took the floor, which is quite strange, but above all he is still staring at the tablet. -Wheels up in twenty.- JJ reaches out, placing a hand on his shoulder.

-Hey, Spencer, are you okay? - he winces. Jennifer is her best friend, but six months is not enough to erase certain confessions. He is torn about the need to tell someone what happened to him, because it was since Maeve's time... or rather, this comparison cannot stand. Because the first time he saw Maeve was practically the last. Max, on the other hand... why can't he stop thinking about it? What's so special about her?

-Yes, yes, I am... upset by this thing.- this doesn’t calm the uncertainties of the blonde. -Shall we go?-

Taking advantage of the paid leave they both have in arrears, Luke moves to live at Garcia's house, along with Roxy, of course. Perhaps his apartment would have been safer, with all the weapons hidden, but when he proposed it to her, he read in her eyes that it was not the best choice. He had lived there with another woman; however girls were friends. Her home, however... was a virgin. In any case, he equips it as a bunker, installs every security system he knows and almost they get into a fight, when he discovers that it was such a vulnerable target. He calms down because losing his head doesn't help anyone.

On the third day they receive a message. Kristy gave birth to the baby. It's a girl. Matt is back in the minority again, and they are sure he won't mind. They even manage to laugh at it, although the tension is always clear between them, and of a different type than usual. It is not sexual, even if that remains latent and never disappears. It does not depend on being aware of what the other is feeling. Or for the only kiss they exchanged. It is the waiting that exhausts them.

By violating any existing protocol, the team manages, with the help of Emily's boyfriend, who has knowledge in the Denver police... to convince the chief of the latter to collaborate without letting the superiors know, because otherwise they know they will try to take them off the case. Even if they can't force Garcia to join the program if she doesn't want to. And they are sure Luke can do much better than any stranger, however well trained. However, they don’t get blood out of a stone and are forced to return to Quantico empty-handed, but with a heart full of panic.

On the jet, Spencer receives a message that interrupts his fifteenth reading of War and Peace. He does it whenever he feels scared, insecure, because it reminds him of Gideon, a case where computers were seen as the main threat, and also those who use them for work. He flows that short sentence that has already implanted in his retinas... but of course, he has an eidetic memory, no? But he is certain that this would have happened anyway, even if he was an ordinary man. He raises his head and glance at JJ who is talking to Emily and Tara. And suddenly he feels good, and not a reckless one for having given the number to an almost unknown woman. But she is not an unknown; her name is Max, and that's all he needs to know. Now he can concentrate on his job and prevent the asshole, as Luke calls him, from hurting Penelope. She has given him back the lucidity that he thought he had lost and she has succeeded in being simply herself.

-I don't agree and I don't like it at all.- he exclaims, as expected. Penelope shakes her head. -No one here has anything to say? JJ, are you really going to let your best friend, untrained to shoot and not even get out on the field, put her life in direct danger? Reid, is it possible that you didn't come up with one of your brilliant ideas? Someone say something, please!- they are all at her (their) home because they didn't even consider the trip from there to Quantico safe. A few days have passed and living with her is beautiful, an advance, a glimpse of the future... but not like that, not with that shadow always between them.

-I understand how you feel, Luke, of course we are all concerned about Penelope's safety, but we will be close to her, you know we would never let her go completely alone.- tries to reassure him Rossi, who has always seen him as a son and is responsible for what was born among his children... after all he was the first to insist so much that he joined the team.

To be on the safe side, they used his magic box of baseball tickets, the faraday cage, so that the unknown subject cannot hear what they are saying, even if their cell phones are turned off. -Honey, we've already discussed it. You have to let me do my job.- but the man's eyes reply You don't want me to do mine, though. And those of her, still Instead yes, you are already doing it and it could even last more than one case, right? Protect me and love me, as I will protect and love you. She strokes his arm, not ashamed to show affection for him. And he to reciprocate, intertwining their fingers.

-Dammit!- a book flies beyond the table, without being damaged. Everyone turns to Spencer. Garcia starts to vibrate, because she remembers another occasion when he did the same. -I don't know why it took me so long.- Emily intimates him with the look to go on. -We have not considered a fundamental variable. We assumed it was a man, right? But for those who were... JJ, Penelope, do you remember the case of Lila Archer?- the two blondes nod in sync. But Reid's super-powered brain has already gone further. There would be another example he could give… and which he would understandably prefer to avoid.

-What is it about?- Matt asks for those like him who still ignore the connection.

-She's an actress we met in 2005, I think.- JJ seeks the approval of her best friend. -The people around her, like a rival, her manager... died, paving her the way for success and at the same time various persistent messages arrived from a particularly devoted admirer...- it is the landlady to reveal the mystery.

-It was her assistant. She was a woman.- silence for a few seconds.

Tara is the first to break it. -Are you really convinced that this is a similar situation?- at the same time, Luke curses himself. Why was he so stupid? Why has he never considered such an option? Penelope risked dying from a stereotype.

Spencer shows them some sheets, prints of the emails of the subject unknown for Garcia. -It's in the language, it's all here, black on white.-

Agent Alvez sighs, trying to make as little noise as possible. The new dad next to him just looks at him. He won't make the same mistake. He will not be fooled by the fact that being a woman, the asshole is a minor threat to the woman he loves. They are in a van just one meter from the place where she is. He doesn’t see her, but sees what he is observing, as if they were inside her eyes, thanks to the micro camera installed in a special pair of glasses.

There is still no one, then, a noise. Years and years of training. Work undercover. And he jumps like a Newbie. Ouch, wrong term. -Friend, stay calm.- it's easy for him to say. But he tries to listen to him, aware that he is right.

-Hey, honey!- the asshole doesn’t have to understand that this is a trap. She didn’t write to her "let's meet in this place at this time", as she would have liked. No, Emily has come up with another plan, much more sophisticated. She loaned her boyfriend, an excellent bodyguard. Luke watches Mendoza smile at her and then everything turns black for a few seconds, but he knows it's because he hugged her, as he knows that being jealous of him is stupid and irrational... but he can't help it. He will have to work on it and he will have the time, so closed speech. -I missed you.- he says, and he could be an actor, however good and credible he is.

-Me too.- a snap. But she's not kissing him, no, it was probably... on the cheek, yes, he wants to believe it is so. Again, moving images. There are not many people, but one in particular attracts his attention, however out of focus it is.

-I have already seen her. Shit, I've seen her before.- he starts muttering. -During the hacker competition!- he stands up, banging his head against the roof, given the limited space.

-Where would you like to sit?- his girlfriend asks her boss's fiance in the meantime. Trying to do the right thing, he speaks to her thanks to the skillfully modified earring he wears.

-Penelope, I identified her, is the one sitting two tables away, I have already seen her, it cannot be a coincidence.- he communicates them, masking as best he can the anger that rises. He doesn’t care at all that it is a woman and not a man, as he assumed until a few hours ago. If she dares to hurt Penelope, he will have no hesitation. Andrew, who is equipped with another kind of device and has therefore listened to Luke in turn, takes her by the hand.

-What about this?- exactly in front of the mad woman. Penelope nods.

-It seems perfect to me.- but her smile falters. Just a second. Just one miserable second. And someone else's eyes widen.

-She has understood it's a trap.- Luke whispers, so softly that only Simmons hears him. He takes off the equipment. -I’m going.- he announces. The friend holds him by the arm, but he gets rid of it. -I don't give a fuck, I have to get in!- he opens the door and rushes to the street, almost spraining an ankle. Such distractions cannot be allowed. He runs to the entrance, but he has to calm down, think clearly. What if he was wrong and ruined everything? Then he looks through the window and feels himself dying. There is a body on the floor. He forces the eyes to focus on the image. It's not her, it's not her. He repeats it as a mantra.

He throws open the door abruptly, now he cares nothing about the surprise effect. The device screams the same name into Penelope's head over and over again. -Andrew, Andrew, are you okay?- a voice that she has never heard so desperate.

-FBI, let her go!- he shouts, and for the first time during this mission, he follows the protocol. He pulls the trigger, ready to fire. His aim is very good, but enough to risk hitting her? What was one of the last things Spencer said? These subjects tend to put themselves in extreme situations and if they understand that they cannot obtain the love of the subject of their desire, then they kill themselves, taking it away with them. He looks at the narrow weapon in those pretty hands. He has no intention of underestimating her.

-Good evening, Agent Alvez.- her voice is melodious, but there is something too much, like a coffee to which excess sugar has been added (Reid would not agree). -Why didn't you pretend to be her boyfriend? You certainly have more chemistry.- she is smiling, while she points the gun at the blonde's belly, her arm around her neck.

-You knew who I was.- he tries not to look towards Mendoza. -She has no fault. You love her, right? And then you have to let her go. Isn't this the true love? Wanting what the other wants, even if it makes us feel bad.- he approaches slowly, while the other people have already been evacuated. She doesn't care about anyone else outside of Penelope. -What's your name?- tries Luke again.

-Yeah, you really care! But Penny knows me, doesn't she? How could you not realize that I was behind all this!- she tightens tightly, until she snatches a moan.

Her eyes are shiny but she doesn't cry. -I... I'm sorry, I don't remember...- her eyes widen suddenly. -Elizabeth.- she says only. The other's face melts into an ecstatic expression, and almost seems to be about to embrace her. He takes advantage of it to get closer.

-Stop there.- but she is not stupid, not enough. -Penelope, do you prefer me to kill him or you first? Who do you choose?- the blonde's eyes fall into hers, while he reads her lips. Forgive me. He rushes forward.

The detonation of a shot. Matt gets out of the van like a fury, followed by the others. It was impossible to surprise her from behind, because she leaned against the wall. Tara stays with Emily to calm her down. Scuffle noises. Matt picks up Luke's cold gun. It didn't shoot, shit. Spencer touches Mendoza's neck: there is a beat. A stain of blood on the gray floor. Small.

The drops and the noise follow. Luke and the woman are struggling, but it is now clear who is getting the better of it. -Luke! Please don't do this! Luke!- Matt and Rossi lift the injured agent off the ground, careful not to hurt him. JJ rushes to her friend, while Spencer handcuffs the woman along with a dented but alive Mendoza. -I'm fine, I'm fine, but she shot him!- she embraces her, and together they leave that place in a sort of strange procession of sick people.

Reid feels the cell phone vibrate in his pocket. He answers, smiling when he recognizes the voice on the other side. -We have just solved a bad case and saved one of my best friends... I would like it if you can know her...- he looks at JJ -maybe all of them.- the wait, the uncertainty.

-It would be nice, but… are your days all like this?- she asks him.

-More or less.- he admits.

A little further on, red and blue lights signal the arrival of the rescuers. -It's nothing, just grazed my arm.- Luke protests, trying to convince them not to go to the hospital. But Penelope's gaze leaves no room for compromise. He resigns himself with a sigh. Andrew is loaded onto the same ambulance.

-We have to stop meeting like this.- Emily tells him with a trembling tone.

-I agree.- the man simply replies, chuckling. Wrong choice. His fiancée scolds him with a dirty look.

-What would you say about a nice double date?- Penelope suggests. Luke watches Spencer before the doors are closed.

-If we wait a few more days I think we can make a third date.

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

TAGS: @martinab26 @thinitta @garvezz @mercedes-maldonado @shyladystudentfan @pegasus-scifichick @paperwalk @inlovewithgarvaz @the-ellen-stuff @astressedwriter @symphonyashley @jess-the-introvert @veronicafiore88 @kofforever @myhollyhanna23shadowystudentcroissantpickle

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dvp95 · 5 years

Text

don’t complicate it

pairing: dan howell/phil lester

rating: t

warnings: none

tags: magical realism, canon compliant (not anymore! it was canon compliant in 2017), psychic abilities, phil is a psychic and dan is an embarrassment

word count: 11,289

summary: A magical realism au where everything is the same except sometimes, Phil's dreams come true. Featuring YouTuber cameos, existential crises, and a love story. (Or: It's 2017 and Dan Howell's entire universe has been flipped upside down.)

NOTE: this is not a new story! this is my first dnp fic and i’m just transferring it here to have all my shit in one place, basically. i wrote this two years ago and if i were to write it today, i’d change some stuff, but. i’m generally still pretty pleased with it! so i hope y’all get a kick out of old daye’s bad pacing and shaky dialogue

read on ao3 or here!

If there's one thing Dan knows for sure about his housemate, it's that Phil Lester is weird. He's always been weird - weird to film with, weird to listen to, even weird to look at since he's usually pulling a face for no reason or turning his hand backwards to fit in his pocket - but living with him has made Dan eternally grateful that he is so fond of Phil's weirdness, because otherwise this friendship thing just wouldn't work.

In addition to the general weirdness, Phil has more superstitions than Dan's entire family. Dan has been yelled at for putting a box of new shoes on the table, yanked away from ladders rather violently, and asked if he's angry if he leaves his cutlery crossed on his plate. It would probably be annoying, if Dan ever got seriously annoyed by the things Phil does.

It's funny instead of annoying, like most things about Phil, but Dan has to draw the line somewhere.

"What do you mean, I can't use my laptop today?" he asks Phil slowly, trying very hard not to freak out. "What have you done to it?"

"Nothing!" Phil insists. He holds up his hands like it somehow proves his innocence.

"I don't believe you," says Dan, "and I'm not going to stay off my laptop for an entire day, you absolute donkey. Give it back."

"I can't give it back to you." Phil sounds exasperated, which is the exact wrong emotion for him to be feeling after hiding Dan's laptop at ten in the morning. "If you use your laptop today, it's going to break. We can't afford another iProduct."

Dan narrows his eyes. First of all, he has his own bank account with his own money, and there is no 'we' about buying Dan a new laptop. Secondly - "My baby is perfectly fine, assuming you haven't done something to it and you're planning on replacing it before I notice."

"That would be stupid of me, of course you'd notice."

"Phil."

"Can't you just trust me?"

If it was anything else, Dan would probably let the argument drop and let Phil be weird about this, too. His laptop, though? That's off-limits.

"No, I can't," Dan says, holding out his hand. "Give me back my laptop. Right now."

Phil sighs heavily and leaves the lounge, returning after a few minutes with Dan's laptop in his hands. He hesitates when Dan reaches for it, but passes it over reluctantly.

"Just... don't click anything Felix sends you," says Phil. Dan rolls his eyes and agrees in order to placate his friend, but he has a bad habit of forgetting things Phil has told him - and can he be blamed? He has eight years' worth of Phil-specific information to retain, it can't all stay at the forefront of his mind.

That's his reasoning for clicking the link Felix emails him, despite explicitly being told not to. He inhales sharply when his screen immediately goes black.

Phil turns to look at him from the other end of the sofa, expression already resigned. "I told you not to click it, Dan!"

"What happened?" Dan asks, panicking as he tries every keyboard shortcut he knows.

"I don't know," Phil huffs and pulls out his phone. "I'll ask Felix, I suppose."

It turns out that Felix's email got hacked, because of course it did, and everyone on his contact list got an attachment full of scary computer viruses. Felix gives everyone a heads-up on Twitter, but the damage to Dan's laptop is already done.

When Dan gets back from the Apple store with bad news and a shiny new laptop, he stops in Phil's doorway and frowns. "How did you know Felix got hacked?"

"I didn't," Phil says without looking up from his own laptop. "I just had a feeling you'd break your laptop today."

"No, you told me this morning not to click on anything Felix sent me. That's more than 'a feeling', Phil." Dan struggles not to look or sound sheepish. He isn't the one who needs to explain himself, here.

"I don't know what you want me to say, Dan," says Phil.

"I want you to tell me how you knew about this," Dan insists, pointing at his shopping bag even though Phil isn't looking at him. "Did you and Felix plan this?"

That makes Phil look up. "Of course not!"

Phil is the worst liar Dan has ever met, and the hurt in his voice at being accused of murdering Dan's laptop on purpose is real enough. Dan bites his lip so that he doesn't apologise reflexively. Even if Phil had nothing to do with the death of his laptop, the fact that he knew about it beforehand is suspicious enough to withhold apologies.

"Okay, so tell me the truth," Dan says instead of apologising like his mouth wants to.

"The truth," Phil repeats, looking back down at his laptop to close the lid. "I mean, okay, but you won't believe me."

"Try me," Dan challenges.

"I had a dream about it," says Phil, making careful eye contact with Dan. "That's it, that's all that happened. I dreamed that your laptop died because of an email from Felix, and then it happened, because my dreams come true sometimes."

This is not the first time Phil has made such a claim, but it's definitely the first time he wasn't at least half joking. Dan's scoff dies in his throat at how genuine Phil is acting.

"You're not psychic, Phil," Dan says slowly.

"Of course I'm not." Phil rolls his eyes, and Dan has a moment of relief before Phil adds, "I'm clairvoyant."

"Those are the same thing!"

"They actually aren't, interestingly enough. See -"

"Please stop," Dan groans, holding up a hand. "Stop right there. I don't believe in any of this nonsense, and you know that. I'd sooner believe you became a master hacker overnight and sent me that virus yourself as an expensive and unfunny prank."

Hurt flashes across Phil's face before annoyance takes over, and he shrugs. "Believe whatever you want, Dan. You asked for the truth and I told you."

"Your 'truth'," says Dan, air quotes difficult with a shopping bag but necessary, "is scientifically impossible."

"Fine, I won't tell you about my dreams anymore," Phil huffs, standing up to pointedly start getting ready for bed.

"Well, good," Dan says after a long pause. Phil doesn't deign to reply to his cutting wit, so Dan goes to his own bedroom and starts setting up his new baby. The first thing he does once he can start using it is type in the word 'clairvoyant'.

Google doesn't tell him anything he doesn't already know, so that's a non-starter. He ends up in a Reddit thread about premonitions during sleep, and even though the stories are interesting, they can't be true. That isn't how the universe works.

There's a lot about the universe that Dan doesn't understand. He knows that better than anyone, and it's the cause of many a crisis in his life.

Magic, though? Fortune telling? That's just factually wrong.

Dan decides, when he hears birds start to sing and realises he's spent all night in a Google vortex again, that what Phil experienced was nothing more than a coincidence.

It has to be a coincidence, or a joke, or else Dan is going to lay facedown on the floor for an entire week.

Phil is acting weirder than usual.

They're recording for a danisnotonfire video that Dan isn't sure yet if he actually wants to upload, and Phil keeps looking over his shoulder and reacting to every small noise outside their building. After ten minutes of this, Dan tells him to stop the camera for his own sanity.

"I can't use any of that," he says like he wasn't second-guessing the idea already. "You're so jumpy! Did you play spooky games without me?"

"No," says Phil.

He doesn't elaborate, which forces Dan to respond with a slow, "Okay, so why are you acting like a small rodent?"

Phil opens his mouth, probably to bicker about exactly what he's doing, but he's interrupted by the sound of someone banging on their front door. As if this is what he's been expecting, Phil leaps to his feet and bolts out of Dan's bedroom.

"That was weird," Dan tells the camera. It's no longer recording, but he has no one else to commiserate the weirdness of Phil Lester with.

While he waits for Phil to get back, he wonders who's at the door. It's not like they have many friends in the city, and the ones they have tend to text or call before showing up. Louise always says it's so she doesn't 'interrupt anything', which Dan tries not to read too deeply into.

Dan gets bored and follows Phil down the stairs, where he hears a loud and familiar voice drifting up from the entrance.

"- and I'm only trying to get to Dublin, right, but Heathrow decided I was suspicious somehow and I make inappropriate jokes when I'm uncomfortable - stop laughing - so they detained me and I missed my flight!"

"And we're the only people you know in London?" Dan hears Phil ask, and he sounds amused but not at all surprised. Which is weird, because Markiplier being in London without warning is pretty surprising stuff.

"I don't know anyone else's address," Mark admits, sounding good-natured despite an apparently difficult airport adventure. "Yours is in my phone, but I don't remember putting it there."

"Pretty sure I added it at VidCon this year," Phil says, starting to climb the stairs. "I had a feeling you'd need our sofa at some point."

That's a sufficient enough explanation for Mark, who has moved onto asking what they have in the way of coffee and food, but Dan hurries back up to his room to have a minor mental breakdown. He checks Mark's twitter and Facebook, but there's no mention of a trip, and it wouldn't make sense for Phil and Mark to have planned this to trick Dan, with the way they were talking downstairs.

So how did Phil know that Mark was coming? Why did he have a feeling, months ago, that Mark would need to know the address of someone in London at some point?

It doesn't make any logical sense. This isn't a joke or a coincidence, it's just really fucking weird.

Dan eyes his floor, considering lying down on it, but they have a guest. Existential crises are not proper host etiquette. Still, he waits for Phil to shout his name before getting out of bed and confronting this very strange turn of events.

Maybe the universe doesn't work scientifically at all. Maybe scientists are just people who make shit up and act like it's the truth, because Dan is starting to think that Phil might not have been lying at all.

He doesn't get a chance to say anything to Phil, between getting shot down for an impromptu collab - "No offence, boys, but I'm on vacation, maybe on my way back!" - introducing Mark to their current favourite anime - "Fuck you, I'm not crying." - and setting Mark up on the sofabed in their gaming room - "It's too small for either of us, but you're about a foot shorter, aren't you?" - until they're walking downstairs together in comfortable silence, arms brushing.

"You knew Mark was coming," Dan says, not bothering to make it a question.

"Yeah," says Phil.

Dan appreciates that Phil doesn't try to lie, but it only adds to the paranoia that's been building all day. "And like, you already knew about that? At VidCon?"

"You were listening?" Phil asks with a surprised grin as they reach their main landing.

"Irrelevant," Dan sniffs, crossing his arms.

Phil laughs at him, but it's not mean. Sometimes Dan thinks that Phil doesn't have a mean bone in his entire body.

"Yeah, I had this dream at VidCon," Phil leans against his bedroom doorframe, "and Mark was wandering around London without a travel plan on his phone, trying to find a hotel he could afford. I just thought it would be easier and more fun for him to come here."

"And you had the same dream last night," guesses Dan.

"No, last night I dreamed he ate all my cereal, which only makes sense if he's in our apartment."

"Good, you deserve to have your cereal eaten," Dan says automatically, because that's something he understands. The universe might get turned on its head if Phil is actually magic, but at least Dan can find comfort in the fact that he's still a cereal thief.

"Shut up," Phil laughs and reaches out to push Dan's chest lightly.

His hand lingers, but Dan is far more concerned about the fact that Phil might be psychic.

"I want to hear about your dreams." Dan knows as he says it that this is a mistake, that if magic exists and it isn't being used to his advantage, the world will be a scarier place than it already was.

"All of them?" Phil asks, still smiling. "Or just the clairvoyant ones?"

"You can tell the difference?"

"Sure. I mean, if it's realistic or boring, it's probably going to come true. My regular dreams are frickin' cool."

Dan can feel a grin tugging at his lips. "I suppose if they're so 'frickin' cool', I want to hear about those dreams too."

"Cool," Phil giggles a little and steps away from his doorframe, looking more relaxed than he has in days around Dan. "I'll keep a detailed dream journal just for you."

"You'd better," Dan says faux-sternly.

This entire situation is one of the most unsettling things Dan has ever experienced, but the bright smile on Phil's face when he says goodnight is worth every panic attack Dan is going to have about the makeup of the known universe. He seems so happy to be believed that Dan wonders if Phil has ever told anyone about this in so much detail.

Probably. Phil is basically an open book, after all.

If it makes Dan feel better to pretend as he's falling asleep that Phil has confided something in him that he's never divulged before, nobody has to know.

Dan wakes up before noon on his own, for once, and he startles when he sees someone in his kitchen before remembering that they have a guest. Yawning, he opens the kitchen door and greets Mark with a distorted, "Morning."

"Hey," Mark grins, leaning against the counter with a bowl of Phil's cereal. "You think Phil's gonna mind if I finish this?"

"Course not," says Dan, "you're the guest."

They both maintain a straight face for a couple seconds before Mark breaks and causes Dan to start laughing too. It's always comfortable to hang out with Mark, but Dan would be lying if he said he liked having guests spend the night. He doesn't like the feeling of someone being in his apartment while he's asleep.

It's nice, then, to be reminded that Mark is funny, and warm, and leaving in a couple of hours.

"So, you're going to see Jack?" Dan asks, because Phil had elbowed him every time he tried to ask the night before. "Shit, I mean, Sean."

"I fuck that up constantly," Mark admits, rinsing his bowl in the sink. "Yeah, I'm spending the weekend at his place. We're trying not to make a big deal of it, because - well, you know."

"I do?" Dan raises his eyebrows and starts making coffee for three.

"Obviously." Mark points at the mug that Dan pulled out for Phil, the one with Daddy emblazoned across it.

"That's a joke," Dan says automatically.

Mark starts laughing again, far too loud for the subject matter and time of day. "Bro, I know it's a joke. I meant you obviously know why we're keeping it on the down-low because you also have crazy shipper fans who think you guys are going to get married and die in each other's arms."

"I prefer to think of them as 'dedicated'," Dan says, turning away from Mark until the heat in his cheeks settles down. "But yeah, I get it."

"Didn't mean to make it weird, dude," Mark says apologetically. Apparently Dan didn't hide his face fast enough. "I figured you were, like, comfortable joking about it."

"I am." Dan glances at the kitchen door, paranoid that Phil is listening and getting the wrong impression. "For a second I just thought you were saying that you and Jack are together, and then I felt stupid when I realised you just meant the fan speculation."

The ensuing quiet is strange, considering his conversation partner, but Dan doesn't look up from the mugs.

"Wait," Mark touches Dan's shoulder to get his attention. "Wait, hang on, are you saying that you and Phil are in a relationship?"

"No, but I guess we're closer to it than not," Dan half-jokes. "So sometimes I forget we aren't."

It's the truth, but it seems to shock Mark into silence.

The fact of the matter is that Dan knows who he's going to spend the rest of his life with. He knows, despite everything, that Phil is the most important person in his life and probably always will be. Nothing about them has ever been on the down-low, because they have nothing to hide, but there are times when it slips Dan's mind that the fans aren't onto something.

After coffee is poured and Dan has drank half of his own for something to do with his hands, Mark finally speaks. "I don't think Sean and I are thaaaat close, so I get why the joke was weird coming from me. Also, I'm pretty sure you should tell Phil that you want to be with him."

Dan nearly spits coffee onto the floor.

"What?"

"I know it's not my business," Mark says with a shrug, "but it sure seems like you're pining."

"I am not pining," says Dan, affronted.

"You totally are."

"Am not."

"Are too."

"Am not."

"Are - look, I'm not getting into this with you." Mark looks like he's trying very hard not to laugh, and Dan glares at him. "I'm just saying that I'm never going to just randomly forget that Sean and I aren't in a relationship. and it's weird that you do."

"Phil being my platonic life partner is the least weird thing in my life," Dan says dismissively. Mark rolls his eyes.

"Whatever you say, dude," says Mark.

To Dan's relief, he lets the topic drop for the next few hours. They play Mario Kart until their shouting wakes Phil, and then they take turns kicking Phil's ass. Phil is pretty good-natured about the whole thing.

As fun as Mark is to be around, Dan is relieved to see him to the door. He doesn't need any more of the pointed looks Mark keeps sending his way whenever he grabs Phil's arm in excitement or leans in close to psych him out.

"You should come round again sometime," Phil is suggesting as they gather awkwardly in the small bottom landing.

"On purpose next time," Mark agrees, giving each of them a one-armed hug. It's nice - Mark is a champion hugger, even while holding a duffel bag.

"It was good seeing you," Dan says truthfully. "Next time, maybe a heads up?"

"Nah, I think I'll be spontaneous again."

"What if we're not home?"

"That's a good one, Dan."

"You'll miss your flight if you keep bickering," Phil interrupts with a laugh. He squeezes Mark's shoulder and cryptically adds, "Don't eat the sandwiches on the flight. It'll make you sick."

"Okay," Mark says easily, hefting his bag onto his shoulder. "I'll see you boys around."

The ensuing quiet in Mark's wake is welcome, but all Dan can think about is how close together he and Phil have to stand in order to fit on this landing. Thanks to the proximity, he can see uncharacteristic bags under Phil's eyes.

Dan reaches out to press the pads of his fingers gently against Phil's skin there and hums, "Mark being sick kept you up?"

"No," Phil says with an indulgent smile.

"You promised to tell me about your dreams," Dan reminds him when Phil shows no sign of continuing. He's probably been touching Phil's face for too long, so he lets his hand awkwardly drop to his side.

Still smiling, Phil shrugs. "It wasn't that interesting, Dan. Just hard to figure out."

"I can help," says Dan.

He wants Phil to confide in him, even about the weird things. As much as this situation freaks him out, and it's a lot, Dan doesn't like Phil keeping anything from him.

"I just remember being anxious, and I couldn't figure out why," Phil admits at long last, sitting down on the steps. "I wasn't at home or anywhere familiar, which just made it worse."

"Were we travelling?" Dan asks, leaning back against their front door instead of sitting beside Phil on the narrow steps, like he wants to.

Phil grins and shakes his head. "You just assume you were there, huh?"

"Of course I was there," says Dan.

"You were." Phil's grin widens as he looks down at his hands. "Obviously you were there. You kept telling me to calm down, but I couldn't, and then you left the room."

"I left?" Dan asks in disbelief. "I literally left?"

Just another piece of evidence supporting the fact that Phil does not have psychic dreams - Dan wouldn't leave Phil alone when he was in the middle of freaking out, that would never happen. When Phil is freaking out, the only thing that calms him is having someone talk him through the situation.

"Yeah, that's what confused me," Phil hums. "You don't usually leave."

"I never leave," Dan corrects him.

Phil looks up at him with an expression that Dan can only categorize as, well, fond. It's the expression that somehow means 'you're an idiot' and 'I'm glad we're doing this together' at the same time. The internet has probably labelled it as something else, since there's a good chance the expression has been caught on film, but Dan doesn't think anything will describe it quite as well as fond.

The moment is stretching into something harder to laugh off, and Dan has to clear his throat before the quiet becomes suffocating.

"Alright, did you figure out why dream-me left you alone?"

"No, but I'm sure you have a good reason," says Phil in a soft voice. He stands and stretches, purposefully breaking eye contact with Dan. "You fancy a tea?"

Dan shakes his head and watches Phil climb their narrow stairs, wondering if there's something Phil isn't telling him.

Phil's smile disappears as soon as Dan turns the camera off, which isn't unusual when their filming takes a long time, but Dan gets worried when Phil sighs and puts his head down on the desk.

"You okay?" Dan asks, resting his fingertips on Phil's shoulder.

"I'm tired," says Phil into the wooden surface, "and I keep having bad dreams whenever I try to rest."

This isn't news to Dan, as Phil has been keeping him in the dream loop for the past couple weeks, but Dan didn't realize it was getting so bad. He feels guilt settle in his stomach for not noticing before Phil faceplanted into their desk.

"Is there anything that usually helps? Like, stops you from dreaming altogether? I think we still have that vanilla vodka from New Year's, that usually conks me out."

Phil tilts his head on the desk to give Dan an indulgent smile. "No, getting drunk doesn't help."

"That's a shame," says Dan.

"I don't know, nothing really stops me from dreaming," Phil says when it's obvious that Dan isn't changing the subject. "Like, I guess there are things that help make the dreams blurry and more fun to be in, but I've never woken up and thought, 'wow, I didn't have a single dream last night'."

"That sounds... exhausting," Dan admits. He has more dreamless nights than not; he thinks that if he had dreams every night and also, some of them might come true, he'd go mad.

Phil doesn't bother to respond to that, because obviously it's exhausting, but he sighs again and closes his eyes.

"You can't sleep here, c'mon," Dan murmurs, squeezing Phil's shoulder before standing up. "I'm sure your bed will be more comfortable than wood."

"Your mum is more comfortable than wood," Phil says, nonsensically.

With a bit more prodding and cajoling, Dan gets Phil to his feet and guides him down the stairs so he doesn't wipe out. Phil wrinkles his nose when he looks at his bedroom, so Dan finds himself saying, "Will it help to sleep in my bed? It's not like I'm using it right now."

"Why would that help?" Phil asks, which isn't a no.

"Change of scenery," Dan suggests, opening his door and gesturing for Phil to go in. "Make yourself at home - within reason, like."

"I'm going to snoop through everything," Phil threatens weakly. Dan rolls his eyes and gives Phil a gentle shove into his room. "Okay, okay. Thanks."

Dan stands in the doorway long enough to make sure that Phil gets to the bed without colliding with anything before turning to leave. He normally stays in his room for a good portion of the day, but he doesn't mind taking up the browsing position in their lounge so Phil can get some actual sleep.

Before he can walk away, though, Phil mumbles something that makes him pause.

"What's that?" Dan asks without turning around - just in case Phil hadn't said anything at all.

"Will you stay?" Phil repeats. His voice is quiet and muffled by Dan's comforter, but the request is unmistakable.

Dan isn't sure how this will help, but he smiles over his shoulder and says, "Sure. Let me grab my laptop from the kitchen, I'll be right back."

Considering the exhaustion, he expects Phil to be asleep by the time he gets back with his baby, but Phil's half-closed eyes watch Dan hesitate and look between the desk and bed uncertainly. He doesn't say anything to guide Dan, which is annoying, and Dan ends up making a frustrated noise before flopping onto the far side of his bed and opening Tumblr.

Phil makes a contented noise and curls around Dan, close enough that Dan can feel his body heat but not quite touching. Dan isn't sure if he should feel relieved or disappointed.

It's easy to get lost in the void of Tumblr, and it isn't until Dan gets a text that he realises actual hours have passed. He doesn't want to disturb Phil, but he thinks it might be worse if Phil's sleeping schedule gets all out of whack, so he shakes Phil awake before checking his phone.

"Huh?" Phil bleats, startling awake and blinking a lot.

He has a half-quiff and his eyes are redder than usual. Maybe he should have taken his contacts out before napping, but Dan refuses to feel guilty about that because Phil is a grown man and has been able to take his contacts out without reminders in the past.

"Your nap was becoming a coma," Dan says, picking up his phone before he forgets to check the text.

"Oh," Phil says around a yawn, curling further into Dan so his head is sort of resting on Dan's tummy. "I'm sorry for taking over your bed."

"It's fine, you doofus," says Dan. He's paying more attention to the fact that his mum actually texted him than this conversation, and that's his excuse for carding his fingers through Phil's weird sleep quiff.

Phil doesn't seem to mind or even find it weird. It would probably be weirder to stop doing it now that he's started, so Dan just keeps absently petting Phil as he reads through the strangely long text from his mother.

"What're you looking at?" Phil asks into Dan's shirt.

"Mum texted."

It's such an unusual occurrence that Phil rearranges his entire body in order to stare at Dan whilst keeping his head on Dan's stomach.

"Your mum or my mum?"

"My mum," says Dan, and when did the word 'mum' turn into something that needed clarification in his life?

This is what he'd meant, when he told Mark that sometimes he and Phil are more like a couple than not. He can't picture any of his other friends in this situation, can't even fathom having his hand in someone's hair and talking about their shared mums in bed if there wasn't a romantic element.

With Phil, though, this is just what their friendship is like. Dan honestly isn't sure if things would be easier with said added romantic element, because things are already so easy.

"Dan?" Phil is saying, his voice slightly raised, and Dan guesses that Phil's been trying to get his attention for a while.

"Sorry, what?"

"I said what does she want?"

"Um," Dan looks back down at his phone, trying to collect his thoughts and hide his flushing face, "my family's going on holiday, so she wanted to let me know."

Phil plucks the phone out of Dan's hand and ignores the squawking protests to sigh, "Dan, she also asked you to water her plants."

"So?"

"So, you have a job in London," Phil says, his lips pursing unhappily. "She always thinks you have free time."

Cheeks burning, Dan snatches his phone back and pushes both Phil and his laptop off of him. He doesn't need to be told that his family doesn't take his job seriously, he knows that already.

"Will you come to Reading with me or not?" Dan asks, swinging his legs out of bed and stretching to avoid looking at Phil's apologetic face.

"Course I will," says Phil. "Are we going for a day or the whole time they're gone?"

The idea of spending an entire week in his childhood home is unappealing to Dan, so he responds that he'd prefer only staying over for one night. With any luck, he won't run into anyone he knows while he's there.

Phil doesn't push the topic. He knows when to stop, when all he'll get from Dan is sullen glances and 'I don't want to talk about it, Phil' if he says one more time that Dan might be happier if he tried building stronger relationships in his family.

It's no wonder that Phil doesn't get it, since the Lesters have basically adopted Dan as one of their own.

That's not who the Howells are, though; they aren't sunny and jokey, they don't watch his videos and text him thumbs up emojis, they don't invite Phil over without prompting.

Dan loves them all the same. Of course he loves them, they're his family.

It's just that - when Dan gets homesick, it isn't for Reading. It isn't for Manchester or this crappy London flat either, really. Sure, he misses his sofa crease and the cracks in his bedroom ceiling when they're on the road, but only until the next moment that Phil catches his eye and grins brighter than the sun.

Dan doesn't get homesick often.

"I can't even read your writing." Dan tries very hard to sound exasperated when all he wants to do is laugh.

"My writing is so much better than yours!" Phil says defensively, making grabby hands at his dream journal. "A dramatic reading of my dreams was not included in this deal."

"It should be, that sounds hilarious."

Dan doesn't give the journal back, because he's just winding Phil up. He flips open to the last page, ignoring Phil's annoyed squawk of a noise that he's only capable of making before his morning coffee, and starts reading.

Lots of the dream descriptions are straight-up impossible; Dan notices that there are stars marking the most realistic entries and a fair few with just a giant question mark. He also can't help but notice that there are places where pages have clearly been torn out. Judging by the dates on some of the earlier entries, Phil has had this journal for months longer than Dan expected, and Dan wonders what Phil wanted to keep to himself.

To be fair, he's had plenty of dreams that he would rather Phil never heard about, but he also would have never written them down in the first place.

Phil leaves the lounge to make coffee at one point, returning quietly with two mugs just when Dan thinks he's had enough of reading older dreams that have already come true. He closes the journal and accepts his coffee before mumbling, "Thanks. Did you make some of these up?"

"No," says Phil, rolling his eyes.

"These ones have happened," Dan says unnecessarily. "You should really keep better track of which dreams have passed."

Before Phil can say anything, Dan fishes for a pen between their sofa cushions and puts a checkmark beside a dream about Dil becoming a nightmarish crafts project.

"Oi, don't mark up my journal," Phil says, but he makes no effort to take the journal or pen from Dan.

Dan ignores him to ask, "How do you not live in constant fear?"

"I dunno." Phil is shrugging when Dan looks up with an expression of disbelief. "I mean, I don't usually dream about anything bad, so it's not like I have death and devastation hanging over my head all the time - unlike you. Don't hit me, I have coffee!"

The train to Reading isn't long, especially compared to some of the treks Dan has had to do with a caffeinated Phil at his side, but he still hates every second of it.

It makes him feel younger, and he isn't sure if he likes that feeling. Young Dan was embarrassing and judgemental and so, so terrified that he wouldn't be liked by anyone that he made a lot of choices to make other people happy.

Plus, he can't move the whole journey, since Phil has decided to fall asleep on his shoulder.

Phil's steady breaths are normally quite calming, but he keeps mumbling things that Dan can't quite catch, and it’s driving him crazy.

He never used to care this much about dreams, even his own, but he thinks that the paranoia is justified here.

This whole clairvoyance thing has made Dan incredibly anxious. He can't help but wonder what other things in this universe he doesn't understand, if a form of magic is real. Part of him hopes that this is all an elaborate prank - he'd be mad at first, but it would be better for his mental health all around.

When the train finally starts slowing down, Dan gently shakes Phil's shoulder.

"Dan?" Phil mumbles, not sounding fully awake.

"Yeah, 's me."

Something about the moment that Phil blinks up at Dan without moving from his shoulder causes the breath in Dan's throat to catch.

"I had such a weird dream," Phil confides. "Like, an actually weird dream. Tyler Oakley was doing a collab with Leatherface."

"Sounds harrowing," says Dan.

"It was, a bit," Phil says on a yawn, sitting up properly and blinking at the train window. "Oh, I didn't mean to sleep the whole trip! You must have been so bored. I'm really sorry, Dan."

"The quiet was a nice change," Dan says instead of admitting that he was in fact very bored without Phil's chatter, "and you needed the sleep."

"I did," Phil agrees, before pulling out his phone to check his fringe in the camera app.

"Shut up, you look fine."

"Wow, Reading puts you in a bad mood. We haven't even got off the train yet and you're a grumpleton."

Dan doesn't grace that comment with a response, as Phil is right anyway - Reading does put him in a bad mood. He just stands up and nudges a still-sleepy Phil to do the same when the train is stopped completely.

They take a cab to Dan's family home and Phil talks the entire time about absolutely nothing. Dan appreciates it; the chatter helps him tune out his surroundings so he isn't thinking about the time he threw up on that bench over there or when he got caught shoplifting at the nearest corner store.

Walking into his parents' house is always so weird, because Dan half expects it to have stayed the same since the last holiday he visited. Obviously, it never does.

Part of Dan can't help but think of their books, proudly displayed on the Lesters' coffee table, while looking at the cringey graduation photo on the wall of his own parents' lounge.

Somebody else is growing up here now, is the thing. The photos of Dan on the wall have been the same for five years, but Adrian is still going through the motions of becoming a person, and it's weird for Dan to see that happen in chunks.

"He's getting so old, it's weird," Phil voices, looking at the new photos next to Dan's awful ones.

"Tell me about it," says Dan. "We are all dying."

Phil laughs, because that's what he does when Dan makes a joke about death, and carries his bag upstairs. Since he's feeling listless and like a stranger in his own family home, Dan follows.

Dan was upset with me? is the latest thing written in the dream journal that Dan sneaks out of Phil's bag when he can't sleep. It doesn't help.

When Dan wakes up in his old bed, the afternoon sun filtering through the blinds in an all-too-familiar way, he has a moment of absolute panic that he's gone back in time - honestly, it wouldn't be the weirdest thing in his life right now - but he’s too long for his bed and he can hear Phil singing in the kitchen.

Dan only has a couple of hours before their train leaves, so he pushes himself out of bed and doesn't bother with getting dressed to water his mum's plants. On his way downstairs he calls out, "Good morning."

"Afternoon!" Phil's voice comes back, bright and loud and not suited for Dan's old house at all.

"Can you get me some water?" Dan asks as he ambles into the kitchen.

"For you or the houseplants?"

"Both, I guess."

"I already fed the houseplants," Phil says with a smile, opening wrong cupboards until he finds a cup. "You want lunch?"

Swallowing around the sudden, inexplicable lump in his throat, Dan murmurs an affirmative. There's something about Phil making himself so at home in a place he hasn't been overly welcomed that is making Dan feel some kind of way that he isn't prepared to deal with at this time of day.

His parents like Phil well enough, but they don't really understand him; they don't understand the person he helped Dan become, either.

Even if Phil is feeling weird here, he's going out of his way to make Dan feel comfortable.

"Why was I upset with you?" asks Dan. His voice is almost too quiet, and he watches as Phil's fingers slip on the loaf of bread he's slicing. "In your dream, I mean. I couldn't sleep so I - yeah."

"I'm not mad you looked," Phil says over his shoulder, "since I made it for you and all."

Dan knows that isn't true from the dates and level of detail in the journal, but he isn't about to call Phil out.

"Well, that's good. So?"

With a heavy sigh, Phil starts to spread peanut butter on bread for Dan - the exact amount that Dan prefers, not that he notices.

"I'm really not sure," Phil says slowly, not looking at Dan. "Remember when I had that dream about me freaking out and you leaving? It was like, the exact same, except you were really upset that I was freaking out instead of trying to calm me down."

"That doesn't sound like me," says Dan.

Phil shrugs and holds out Dan's finished sandwich in response. Dan has to stop himself from squeezing Phil's hip in thanks like he usually does, because Dan is half naked and they're in his old house and he thinks it might be weirder here and now. Then he thinks maybe it's weirder if he doesn't do it, but Phil has started moving towards the lounge before he decides.

Around a mouthful of peanut butter, Dan asks, "How many times have you had this dream?"

"A few," Phil says as he flops his whole body onto the sofa. He leaves enough room for Dan to sit near his feet, which is considerate of him.

"Have you considered that it might just be... a dream?"

"I have done," says Phil, "but it just feels so real, you know? And it's been the same weird room, not on like Jupiter or something."

"I'm not sure what we'd have to argue about on Jupiter," Dan muses out loud. If Dan is honest with himself, he can't think of anything in the entire universe that would make him angry at Phil during what sounds like a panic attack.

"Maybe I stole your space cereal," Phil jokes, poking Dan's thigh with his toes.

Dan wants to say that he wouldn't be legitimately angry over cereal, that he's never been more than irritated by it, that he plays his reaction up for his own entertainment, that almost anything he buys is for Phil too, but all that seems too serious for the moment.

Instead, he cracks a joke and changes the subject so he can make Phil smile for a little while longer.

It happens so slowly that Dan doesn't even notice until it's already out of hand.

They've been back from Reading for a week, and Phil has been acting weirder than usual the entire time. Dan didn't see this as a reason for concern, because sometimes Phil is weird for no reason, but when he catches Phil eating his cereal and the first thing out of Phil's mouth is a frantic "sorry!" instead of his usual squawk of "don't look at me!", Dan gets concerned.

"Phil," he says slowly, running a hand through his bedhead and trying to act more awake than he is, "I don't actually give a fuck if you eat my cereal."

"You don't?" Phil immediately puts his hand back into the box, the little shit.

"I mean, it's annoying, but you looked like a startled deer just now," Dan says around a yawn. "I'm not going to yell at you."

An emotion passes over Phil's face too fast for Dan's tired brain to categorize it. Phil shrugs a shoulder and looks back at the box of Crunchy Nut like he's deciding whether or not he wants to eat more.

He's been like this all week, careful and anxious and avoidant, and Dan doesn't know what to do. If he confronts Phil about it, Phil will just deny everything and try too hard to be normal - Dan remembers 2012 vividly - but he doesn't want to encourage this behaviour either.

"Are you alright?" he asks, hoping the simple question won't spook Phil.

"What d'you mean?"

"I mean... you're being weird."

"I'm always weird, Dan."

Dan decides to drop it for the time being. The last thing he wants to do is push Phil further into this weirdness by interrogating him.

"How did you sleep?" he asks instead, noticing the way Phil's shoulders relax when he changes the subject.

"Pretty good, thanks," says Phil, "my dreams were boring but, like, peaceful."

It only takes a bit of prompting from Dan before Phil gives him a play-by-play of his dreams, and since they're as boring as advertised, Dan lets himself zone out and worry about Phil on his own time.

Phil doesn't get any less weird after that, but he tries harder to cover it. Since Dan is a good friend, he pretends like he doesn't know that Phil is still jumpy and anxious underneath the bad jokes.

Honestly, it sucks. Dan wishes that Phil would just open up and say what's on his mind so they can both move on.

That is, until Phil freaks the fuck out.

See, they've been looking at bigger places to live for a few months now, but they have time until their lease is up so they're in no rush.

Dan gets a notification for an available duplex a few weeks after he tried getting an answer out of Phil, and it looks confusingly laid out but otherwise a good fit. It's exciting, but he hesitates before texting Phil about it - does he really want to play the 'everything is normal' game while meeting a potential landlord? For all he knows, Phil is going to come across as a serial killer.

Instead, he texts Louise. She responds with more emojis than characters, but agrees to check the place out with Dan.

The duplex has so much room that Dan has a startled moment of bewilderment. Does he own enough furniture to fill this place? Before he can voice the concern, Louise waves him off with an easy, "Stop worrying, you dingleberry."

"I'm not worried," Dan lies.

Louise rolls her eyes and starts snooping in the closets. "Oh, blimey, can I keep some of my things here?"

"No," says Dan, although he's sure that at least one of his closets will be taken over by Darcy's old toys and Louise's heels. "Me and Phil need the storage for all our miscellaneous shit."

"You could always, I don't know, get rid of some," Louise suggests.

"Maybe during the move we will," Dan allows, gently guiding her out of the closet before the landlord gets concerned.

Aside from a few awkward moments - inevitable, with Louise at his side - Dan thinks that the tour goes really well. He likes the space, the road is blissfully free of loud noises, and the landlord doesn't immediately think he's in adult films when he mentions where lights could go.

Dan likes it so much that he's reluctant to leave, but Louise reminds him that he isn't the only person whose opinion on the house matters.

"You know Phil has to live here too, right?" she says with a laugh when Dan starts asking pointed questions about when the place will be empty. Dan makes an exaggerated huff of a noise.

"He'll take what I bring home and he'll like it."

The landlord gives them an indulgent smile. "We can arrange another day for you to bring your boyfriend by, see if he likes it here?"

"Sure," Dan says automatically, trying to ignore his heart beating faster and Louise staring a hole into the side of his head. He knows that a Talk is coming. "I'll talk to him about it tonight. Thanks for, y'know, having us."

Dan hopes that ignoring Louise on the way to the tube will delay the Talk, but Louise is not easily deterred.

"Boyfriend, eh?" she asks in a lilting voice, elbowing Dan in the side.

"Shut up, it was easier than explaining."

"I actually think that it wouldn't be hard to say 'Phil's my friend and roommate'." Louise, he thinks, sounds far too amused by this situation. "Now if you get the place, your landlord will think you're a couple the whole time!"

"Would that be so weird?" Dan asks. "I mean. It's what people already think when they meet us, and sometimes I forget that we aren't."

Months ago, Dan had said the same thing to Mark; he doesn't expect Louise to react much differently.

"Well, duh," Louise says matter-of-factly, "because you love him."

Dan almost walks into a telephone pole. "Excuse me?"

"Don't be daft, you light up every time he comes in the room," says Louise. "Plus, I can feel your heart rate speed up."

"You can... feel that?"

Wrinkling her nose, Louise shakes her head. "Maybe sense is a better word, but your emotions are so much louder when Phil's around. It's given me migraines in the past, you know."

"Exactly how many of my friends have magic powers and why don't I?" Dan exclaims. He resists throwing his arms in the air dramatically, but only just.

"Ooh, who else?"

"That isn't the point! What the ever-living fuck, Louise? You can sense emotions?"

"Only really strong ones," Louise says with a shrug, like that isn't a big fucking deal. "That's how I know when you do something awkward that makes you want to die - honestly, I thought I already told you this!"

"If you did tell me," says Dan, "I would have assumed you were joking."

Louise rolls her eyes and pulls out her phone as if Dan is boring her. "That sounds like a you problem, then."

She changes the subject when they get to busier streets, chattering about her new boyfriend while Dan, once again, re-evaluates his entire worldview.

So, Phil freaking the fuck out.

It takes Dan by surprise, because Phil seems excited by the prospect of more storage and less drilling, but he tenses up as soon as they walk inside the duplex. The landlord doesn't notice, busy repeating the same things that Dan has already heard and gesturing at all the closet space.

Dan doesn't want to draw attention to Phil's weird stiffness, so he makes idle conversation until the landlord leaves to take a phone call.

"Are you okay?" he asks, reaching for Phil's arm.

It's one of the most bewildering moments Dan has ever experienced - and that includes recent magical discoveries - when Phil jerks away from his hand like he's going to be burned.

"I don't - I don't -" Phil stammers, his eyes wide as saucers, "- I mean, it's that - I know this place."

Dan feels useless with his hands at his sides. "Did you see it online?"

"No, I - in my dreams, I -"

It clicks.

"Phil, are you panicking because you had dreams about panicking here?" Dan asks slowly. He doesn't want to laugh or show any irritation in case it makes Phil's hands start to tremble even more, but this is a little funny and a lot annoying. "You know that's such a catch-22, right?"

The look of absolute distress that Phil gives him says that yes, he knows that very well, but he doesn't seem to be able to stop hyperventilating.

Dan sighs and runs a hand through his own hair, letting his fringe do whatever it wants when he does.

"Okay, mate? I'm going to tell the landlord that you aren't feeling well and that we're leaving so that you can have a panic attack in peace. I'm not in any way leaving you alone because I'm mad or because I hate you, alright?"

Phil gives him a shaky thumbs up before covering his face with both hands and making audible attempts to breathe deeply.

The last thing Dan wants to do is leave Phil alone like this, but he does. He doesn't want a potential landlord thinking that they're batshit, after all, so he relays the not-feeling-well lie and comes back to lead Phil outside by the elbow. Instant relief washes over Dan when Phil allows the physical contact.

"You're so weird," says Dan.

He means it to come out as exasperated yet still fond, keeping grip on Phil's elbow for his own peace of mind, but something about Phil struggling to breathe evenly has Dan sounding unexpectedly soft.

To his surprise, Phil huffs a breathy laugh. "Thanks, I think? And thanks for, um, not leaving me alone for long."

"I told you that didn't sound like me," Dan says, squeezing Phil's arm, "you've been trying to avoid a fight that was never going to happen, you absolute knob."

Phil laughs again, loud and genuine. He's starting to sound more like his regular self, so Dan lets go of him to hail down a taxi. It would be silly to put his hand back immediately, Dan thinks, because if Phil's panic attack is over, he has no real excuse to continue touching him. He opens the taxi door for Phil and clamps down on every instinct that wants to help him in - Phil is thirty years old and capable of getting into a car on his own, thanks ever so - and folds his own hands on his lap once they're both buckled in.

"I quite liked that place, actually," Phil admits. He's twiddling his thumbs, and Dan is proud of himself for not putting his hand atop both of Phil's to make him stop. "Do you think they'll let us come back?"

"They seemed to like me," Dan says, because making a good first impression is a point of pride.

"Maybe they'll only rent to you, then," Phil says in the cadence of a joke.

Even though Phil is finally himself again, Dan can hear the uncertain edge to his words. After all, neither of them need a roommate anymore.

Dan looks out the taxi window so it doesn't feel like an admission when he says, "No, we're a package deal. The landlord knows. Honestly, I'm pretty sure everyone knows."

There's an eerie silence from Phil beside him, but Dan focuses completely on the scenery changing to more familiar buildings. The cabbie isn't paying attention, thank the lord, so Dan isn't completely mortified by having this conversation in front of a stranger.

He's still slightly mortified.

It feels like an honest-to-God jumpscare when Phil puts his hand on Dan's knee and squeezes - Dan is pretty sure the noise that startles out of him isn't human.

Phil laughs, not unkindly, and leaves his hand there. "Yeah, I suppose we are."

"You're not acting weird anymore," Dan observes later that week as they wait for a Sims lot to load.

"No, you were right about that dream," Phil says with a sheepish smile. "You didn't get mad like I kept expecting you to, but be honest - you were definitely annoyed."

"Of course I was annoyed, you made yourself panic," Dan says with a fond roll of his eyes. He hates when the fantastic is logical, but the evolution of Phil's dream makes a lot of sense; at first, Dream-Dan was worried, and then got angrier as Real-Dan learned about the dream.

Phil elbows him in the side. "Shut up."

The game loads, then, so they stop discussing it and lose themselves in Dil's world for a while. It isn't until Dil becomes 'VERY ANGRY' that Dan remembers he wanted to share some information with Phil.

"Right, you've been acting so weird that I completely forgot to tell you," Dan says, pausing the game. "Did you know that you aren't the only person with weird powers?"

"It would be pretty egotistical for me to think I'm the only one, Dan."

"Shut up," says Dan, "Louise can feel other people's emotions."

The look on Phil's face is totally worth springing this on him. He goes through a whole face journey, starting on pure shock and ending in something that looks strangely nervous.

He looks away before Dan can analyze the expression further, pointing at the computer scene. "Like - like, she can see when people are focused or inspired, like we’re all Sims? Dan. Dan, that's terrifying."

"She said it only worked with strong emotions," Dan laughs, batting Phil's hand away from his monitor so he doesn't leave finger smudges.

"Do you believe her?" asks Phil.

Do you believe me now?

Dan gives a noncommittal shrug, his first instinct to being asked an opinion, and adds, "Yeah. You've both made a pretty compelling case for magic being, like, a thing."

"What did she feel off of you?" Phil asks curiously, and Dan accidentally-on-purpose presses the pause shortcut so their attention can be consumed by their odd little virtual family again.

Dan assumes that if Phil asks Louise anything personal, Louise will keep her mouth shut. He has a lot of blackmail material on her, after all, and friends don't tell people that a friend is feeling Things without consulting that friend.

As the month comes to a close, though, Phil starts pretending he can't find his dream journal and gives Dan looks when he thinks Dan isn't paying attention. It's nerve-wracking.

Luckily, Phil is his regular self aside from that. Dan lets himself revel in how good it feels to have his best friend in top form and cracking decent bants again.

He wants to ask Louise if she's spilled the beans on what are certainly misunderstood feelings, but he's a little scared of the answer. If he doesn't ask either of them, Dan can pretend that everything is back to normal and that he isn't hyperaware of his own body every time Phil touches him.

To make a joke of it all, Dan texts Markiplier without context that he finally understands how Schrödinger felt, because Mark and Louise are the only ones who have an inkling about this situation.

From Mark: Dude, it's 5am here. Shut the fuck up and tell Phil how you feel.

To Mark: that's not what i'm talking about

From Mark: Ohhh, so you ACTUALLY have a maybe-dead cat in your apartment? That's so weird. Maybe you should call someone for that.

To Mark: you're enjoying this too much

Mark, the twat, leaves Dan on read - presumably to go to sleep - and Dan hovers over Louise's contact photo before groaning and opening Tumblr instead.

It's best if he doesn't know. He's pretty sure a cat inside a box is eventually going to die.

I should examine this, probably, Dan thinks as another casual brush of Phil's fingers causes his heart to jump into his throat. He doesn't particularly want to end up facedown on the floor, so he decides he'd rather play Mario Kart.

Unlike their brief attempt to buy a house, which went sideways in the worst way, signing a lease at the new flat is deceptively easy.

Phil is talking the landlord's ear off while Dan reads the paperwork over and tries to look like he knows what he's doing. He has uni flashbacks at the legal buzzwords, but he tries to focus instead of interjecting in all of Phil's stories and questions. It's working relatively well until Phil has to ask, "Are we allowed a dog?"

"No," Dan answers before the landlord can, tapping a line in the lease. "Sorry, Phil, a dog will have to be got when a house is bought."

He notices that Phil looks a little disappointed but not surprised, and he wonders if that's because Phil anticipated this downside of renting or if he had a dream involving their lack of pets.

"Fair enough," Phil acquiesces, squeezing the back of Dan's neck casually.

Their new landlord smiles at them and Dan is feeling quite good about this whole situation until they ask, "So, how long have the two of you been together?"

"Excuse me?"

Phil doesn't sound offended or even bewildered, just curious. It makes sense; they get mistaken for a couple quite a lot. For his part, Dan is trying to become invisible by melting into the sofa, because he knows that their landlord's assumption isn't coming from nowhere.

"Sorry to pry," they say politely, "Daniel mentioned that the two of you have lived together a while, and I do enjoy a good love story."

Dan hopes that the floor is going to open up and swallow him whole. He feels Phil's gaze but refuses to meet it, face burning.

After a couple of seconds - during which Dan contemplates death or, at the very least, running away to Tokyo - Phil returns his hand to Dan's neck and easily says, "Eight years."

With a mortified noise, Dan hides his face in his hands and tries to ignore the heavy thumping of his heart. Their landlord is saying something else, probably asking what the fuck is wrong with Phil's boyfriend, but all Dan can pay attention to is the weight of Phil's hand and the sound of his genuine laugh in response to whatever question he's asked.

"He's just embarrassed because he hates telling people how we met," Phil stage-whispers. "He basically stalked me online until I noticed him."

"Oh my God, I hate you," Dan groans into his palms.

"No, you don't," says Phil cheerfully.

New landlord chuckles before a phone rings and they have to leave the flat to take the call, murmuring an "excuse me". The silence left in their wake is horrible, and Dan thinks that he's never going to come out of the safety of his hands again.

It takes a few minutes for Phil to move his hand from Dan's neck; honestly, Dan is expecting him to laugh or ask questions that Dan doesn't have answers to, but Phil just takes Dan's hands in both of his and gently pulls them away from Dan's face.

"Did you tell our landlord that we're a couple?" Phil asks, his voice lilting strangely on the last word.

Dan nods, biting his lip. He can feel the heat of an ugly blush radiating off his face, and he has genuinely no idea how he's going to explain this away.

"Why?"

It's a simple question, and certainly a fair one - anyone would want to know the answer - but it stumps Dan. He'd done it because the landlord had assumed, but seeing as most of the people they meet have the same assumption, the logic doesn't really hold up. He could say he'd done it ironically, which he thinks that Phil might accept as an answer, or a joke, which he thinks Phil would disapprove of.

He could say a lot of things, but they all feel like lies. Dan looks down at where Phil is holding his wrists between them on the sofa so he doesn't have to make eye contact when he answers, "Sometimes it feels more like the truth than saying we aren't."

"I guess I can see that," says Phil. To Dan's absolute bewilderment, his voice is calm and his hands aren't shaking. Dan's are. "Tell me something else, then? What do you want to be the truth?"

That... is a less simple question.

"Dunno," Dan shrugs, because he can feel Phil watching him and he doesn't want to take too long to answer. "I never really thought it would be a relevant question."

"Well, do you still want to live with me?" asks Phil. The question is filled with such genuine concern that it startles Dan into looking up to shoot Phil an incredulous expression. He's not prepared for how close Phil is, even though personal space has long been a myth between them.

"Of course I do, you fucking buffoon."

A corner of Phil's mouth curves upwards and Dan tries not to show how nervous he is, because Phil is still weirdly calm.

"Okay, okay," says Phil, squeezing Dan's wrists before letting go, "we should sign, then."

Dan had completely forgotten what they were doing before Phil asked if he wanted to be in a relationship, so he's grateful for the reminder. He skims the rest of the lease as thoroughly as he can with Phil watching him.

There aren't any surprises in the paperwork, which Dan is grateful for - he isn't sure he'd be able to debate with the landlord in his current state. He signs quickly and hands the pen to Phil as their new landlord walks in, pocketing a phone.

"You're all set?" the landlord asks with a smile.

"We are," Phil answers for them both. He stands up and shakes the landlord's hand, making small talk while Dan forcibly drags his gaze away from Phil.

He doesn't know what he wants. It should be easy, sorting through his feelings and deciding yeah, that's how I want things to be, but there are serious downsides to any decision Dan makes right now.

Ruining their friendship would be unacceptable, but honestly, Dan doesn't think anything he says will make Phil stop being his best friend. It would just be awkward if Dan wanted something Phil doesn't - and why didn't Phil say what he wants, so Dan isn't freaking the fuck out and wondering? - it wouldn't be the end of the world.

Dan thinks it would be pretty damn close to the end of the world if they tried, failed, and had to dance around each other as awkward exes. That's the darkest timeline, right there.

Or maybe it's not.

Phil is gesturing for Dan to leave with him, smiling widely, and Dan considers what would happen if nothing changed between them. It's certainly the path of least resistance, but as Dan stands up and Phil leans into his space out of sheer instinct, Dan has to admit that not addressing the way his heart reacts to Phil is the worst option on the table.

The landlord says things and Phil says things back, but Dan isn't listening. He's too busy forcing himself to imagine Phil moving out, Phil getting a dog without him, Phil finding someone else to share his life with, because that's what best friends do.

By the time they hail a cab to their terrible current flat, all Dan can say for sure is that he really, really doesn't want to do nothing.

Phil is quiet for once, looking out the taxi window and letting Dan have space to think, and Dan is so fond and so sure, at this moment, that he reaches out and puts his hand over Phil's.

It only takes a moment before Phil registers what he's doing. He grins so damn brightly that Dan hates himself for not considering his options before this.

"Is this your final answer?" Phil asks, affecting a silly announcer voice to lighten the moment.

Dan snorts and says, "Yeah, alright."

It's all he can manage out loud right now, but Phil beams at him and turns his hand over so they can wind their fingers together properly. It's not the first time they've held hands, but it's the first time it's meant something so important.

Things could still go so wrong. This might not work, and things will be awkward, possibly forever.

Dan, well. He chooses to hope for the best here.

"Did you dream about this?" Dan thinks to ask during a commercial break. Phil is curled into his side, lanky giraffe legs thrown over Dan’s lap. It should be weird, since they've never cuddled quite like this before, but Dan feels warm to the core. "Us, I mean. Is that why you hid your journal?"

"I didn't hide it," Phil lies, "I lost it."

Dan huffs his disbelief and pinches Phil’s thigh. "You can tell me. In case you didn't notice, I'm not going to mind."

The grin Phil shoots him is almost shy, which tugs at Dan's heartstrings. He smiles back and runs his fingers through Phil's hair, because he can.

"Does it really matter what I dreamed?" Phil hums, leaning into Dan's hand like a cat. "I've had dreams about us for years, to be honest, but I could never figure out if they were premonitions or just, like, wishful thinking."

"You weirdo."

"Your weirdo," counters Phil. The words are a bit stilted, like he isn't sure if Dan wants to hear them, and Dan can't help himself - he presses his lips to Phil's, quick and chaste and easy as breathing. He'd worried that maybe it would take a while for them to be comfortable with kissing, but honestly, it feels like the natural progression of their relationship.

Phil grins and chases Dan's mouth as he leans back, pressing light kisses all over the bottom half of Dan's face until Dan is laughing breathlessly.

"Okay, fine, you're my weirdo," Dan says as Phil smooches the tip of his nose. "Now shhh, the show is back on."

#phanfic #phanfiction #dnp fic #words words words

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tyrannysaurusfloof · 5 years

Text

Retrograde

Summary: Mark is used to scam threats via email, but when Dark ends up kidnapped by someone the threats become very real. Rescuing Dark may not be difficult, but the damage runs deeper than just simple torture. Characters: Darkiplier, Mark Fischbach, Tyler Scheid (minor), Ethan Nestor (minor), Dr Iplier (minor). Relationships: Dark/Mark Warnings: Torture, Kidnapping, Minor Character Death, Temporary Amnesia

Read on ao3!))

Mark was used to spam emails from random addresses claiming to be a hacker that would release all his personal information if he didn’t do X or Y, and most of the time when he ignored the emails, nothing came of it. So, when an email came through to his business address while he was recording, with nothing but ellipsis in the subject line, he was tempted to ignore it, but they were usually a funny read, so Mark paused the recording and turned his attention to the email.

It followed much the same pattern, demanding X amount of money and attention from Mark, with a response within three days or something precious to him was going to disappear. That threat was a new one, but Mark wasn’t entirely fussed by it. Sending it to the spam folder and making a mental note to show Dark later when the ego returned from his trip out, Mark went back to recording and the email slowly slipped his mind.

Three days later another email came through.

Reading it, Mark rolled his eyes at the thinly veiled threat to something “precious” to him, but made a decision he was going to keep Chica even closer when he took her out, and would warn Teamiplier of a potential stalker situation.

When it all coincided with Dark not coming home when he had promised, Mark applauded the email’s timing and thought nothing else. Dark would sometimes disappear for days on end, visiting Anti or Wilford or doing whatever else he did when he wasn’t at home, and Mark didn’t keep tabs on him. As long as the ego didn’t do anything publicly bad while wearing his face – and Dark knew the other boundaries that came with that – he was free to do as he pleased.

The climax of it all was unexpected and sudden.

Alone in the recording studio again, Mark was humming to himself as he scrolled through the list of games he wanted to play, trying to decide which one to pick. Suddenly, a ringing erupted in the otherwise silent room, and Mark may have made a very high pitched screaming sound because of it. Expecting Dark to materialise after the ringing, Mark was perturbed when it was simply the shadowy, smoky tendrils of the ego’s aura, filling the room and stretching out towards Mark in a way that seemed too panicked for the aura’s normally controlled state. It was something that had surprised him, learning that Dark could detach his aura from him at a simple command, but Mark had come to be comforted by the thing, by the way it would curl into his hair and wrap around his neck almost like a living scarf. Nothing about how the aura was acting now seemed right, and Mark was instantly on high alert, his mind bringing him back to the emails instantly.

There was no way someone could have gotten to Dark.

“Where’s Dark?” He asked immediately, turning away from the computer to focus on where the aura had gathered itself in the middle of the room. It couldn’t speak, but Mark understood it regardless since it was a part of Dark and it was expressive, still connected to the ego despite being separate from his body, and he needed an answer about where the ego was. “What’s wrong?

The aura gestured towards the door before suddenly growing very still. Mark approached it, frowning, reaching out to gently stroke his fingers through the tendrils in a comforting manner, but he immediately pulled his hand back when the aura exploded into sharp spikes, deadly and dripping black ichor.

“Fuck!” Mark cursed, his fingers inches from being impaled.

Not a good sign.

“What’s going on! Where is Dark! Talk to me!” Mark demanded, ducking around the spikes of the aura to the core of it. As his fingers brushed the smoke, the aura instantly relaxed, withdrawing the spikes and wrapping lazily around Mark’s entire body. Two thin tendrils reached up towards his head, a simple request to share with Mark a vision of what had happened. It was not the most comfortable thing in the world, and honestly, Mark hated doing it, but the aura had no other way to communicate, and he had a feeling Dark was in trouble.

The first thing he felt was two points of pure agony to his temples, causing him to tense his muscles and stumble away from the aura. The shadows wouldn’t let him get any further away, wrapping completely around him and pressing the same tendrils back to his head. This time the pain was absent, and Mark’s vision clouded with what the aura truly wanted him to see.

Dark, prone on the floor after a dart shot to the neck brought the ego down.

A masked man appearing behind the ego, dart gun in hand, cracking his neck, before bending down to fasten a shock collar to the ego’s neck.

Looking at the situation from Dark’s aura’s point of view, Mark swallowed down the sinking feeling in his gut as Dark reached up to the shadowy tendrils, barely conscious but able to mumble orders to find Mark, to protect him, to warn him of this. It was difficult to hold still, to not reach out, with Dark lying so close to him, but Mark knew it would make no difference.

As Dark’s eyes slipped closed, Mark reared back and waved the aura away, stomach heaving and twisting.

“Is this to do with those emails?” He gasped. “Fuck.”

Someone had kidnapped Dark.

Someone who knew the ego, who knew he had a dangerous aura and had taken preventative measures. Whoever it was had sent Mark warning after warning and Mark had ignored them all because he was used to those sorts of things and they never meant anything.

“Take me to him.” Mark ordered.

The aura wrapped around Mark’s shoulders as he grabbed his phone, pulled on a jacket, grabbed his keys and ran from the house. Chica was out with Tyler, and he had his own set of spare keys to Mark’s house, since Mark had a feeling he wouldn’t be back very soon. As he ran towards his car, the chime of a Skype call coming through his phone made Mark jump. Dark’s aura reached forward to accept the call, spreading around Mark to hide the fact that he was indeed on the move, so Mark answered the call with trembling fingers and he was greeted with a shocking sight.

In a dingy little room, undecorated and damp, sat a bed. On that bed Dark was tied, thick leather straps over his chest and legs, cuffs on his wrists and ankles, blindfolded and with a metal bar between his lips. At full strength Dark would have been able to break those straps easily and escape, but whoever had kidnapped him already knew that and preventative steps had been taken. On Dark’s temples were two small electrodes, stark white against the ego’s already pale skin. By the bed was a small machine, connected to the electrodes by twisted wires, and it didn’t take much for Mark to put the entire scene together.

Electric shock torture.

As he watched, the machine beeped and the electrodes delivered a sharp shock directly to Dark’s temples, sending his muscles into spasm, entire body tensing and teeth clacking on the metal bar as he bit down. Mark very nearly ended the call as it happened, but instead he managed to carefully put the phone onto a bracket attached to his dashboard and start the car. Footsteps echoed through the room as Mark pulled out of the drive and allowed Dark’s aura to steer him in the right direction. Attention barely on the phone, Mark started when the same masked man he had seen kidnapping Dark appeared, head tilted to the side, hand casually resting on Dark’s shoulder.

“Who are you?!” Mark demanded immediately, knuckles white where they gripped the steering wheel.

“I’d much rather talk about you,” The man replied, voice muffled by the mask and slightly distorted. Mark assumed he had a voice modifier attached to the mask, but it was difficult to see. “For reference, you can just call me K, for Kidnapper.”

“Creative!” Mark spat, “Now tell me what you want?!”

“Don’t take that tone with me,” K warned, tapping his fingers against Dark’s skin. The ego twitched away from him, shoulder shaking and head turning to look at where the voice was coming from. Mark wasn’t sure whether it was better or not to know Dark was conscious while this torture was happening, but at least he had confirmation that the ego was still alive. “Now…let’s talk about you. Mark Edward Fischbach, Youtube personality and supposed good guy.” K paused to crack his neck and press a button on the machine to send another, stronger, shock through Dark. Mark could hear the strained cries of pain this time, forced out despite the gag in his mouth, and his stomach rolled. “Unbeknownst to your fans, you’re in a relationship with your ‘Dark’ half, pun intended.”

Dark struggled weakly against the bonds at his name and Mark glared at the phone. The aura was still guiding the car, taking him to a rather abandoned area of LA where it would be easy for this man to hide out. Whatever it was doing to block the view of them driving from the man seemed to be working, because he didn’t seem concerned by the fact that Mark was on the move, clearly coming for him, and for Dark.

“It was almost too perfect.” K continued calmly, “You ignored my emails and I found out that despite your constant claims, your life wasn’t empty of love. Of course, figuring out how to kidnap him around that aura of his was difficult, but I think I managed it rather well. Enough tranquiliser to bring down a baby elephant, a shock to restart the heart, and then constant electric shocks to frazzle that dangerous brain of his…you really don’t pick the good guys, do you Mark?”

He has no idea Dark can separate his aura from his body, Mark thought suddenly as K looked down at Dark, brushing a stray strand of hair from his face and pressing the electrode against the skin where it was beginning to peel. The aura stopped the car immediately in front of an abandoned warehouse and gestured inside. Grabbing the entire bracket to keep the phone steady in his hands, Mark exited the vehicle and began to walk inside the warehouse, cautiously following the aura as K continued to speak to him

“You ignored my email.” He said.

“I get a lot of spam.” Mark replied coldly, “Of course I did.”

“Foolish.” K grinned, the mask shifting around his mouth, “Now look what you’ve done. Dark has been like this for hours, and all this electricity straight to the brain…human or not it won’t be good for him.”

“Just tell me what you want?!” Mark hissed, trying to keep his voice as quiet as possible so K wouldn’t hear him moving through the building. It was dark and eerie, and Mark wasn’t entire sure where such a small room would be located, until the aura began to lead him down towards the basement area.

Of course.

Resisting the urge to roll his eyes at the predictability, Mark crept down the stairs, letting K talk.

“Money, belongings, recognition, who knows?” The man was laughing, “Money definitely. I mean, I’ve seen how much you make from Youtube. But then I thought, would it be interesting for your fans to see this. To see how their hero had lied to them and was actually in love with the ego that he warned them away from, that he said was the worst person, and would only ever manipulate them? I mean, I can’t imagine it would go down very well.”

“Why does that matter to you?” Mark asked, “Why does ruining my reputation mean so much to you? Money, I get but that? I don’t even know who you are.”

“Oh, it doesn’t mean anything to me.” K smirked, “I’d just like to see it happen is all.”

Mark didn’t get a chance to respond. Dark’s aura wrapped around him completely and stopped him from walking, and it was then that he realised he wasn’t just hearing K’s voice through the phone but from the next room as well. Mouth dry, Mark peeked around the corner and saw K standing with his back to the door, talking still into the phone, with Dark lay prone next to him except for when his entire body spasmed around the electricity rushing through him. He needed a plan, and he needed one now.

Luckily, Dark’s own aura seemed to have thought of that.

It took form in an instant, a shadow of a person and reached out to Mark.

Let me in.

A silent request but one Mark read immediately. The aura could do some damage by itself, but with a body to pilot it would be stronger. Still, Mark was apprehensive again. Dark had warned him against the aura, telling him to never let it in if he did ever separate it from himself. If Mark did, he would become Dark, and Dark would be left weak and dying with the proper support from his main powers.

Shaking his head, Mark pointed into the room with his free hand, and made a fist. The aura seemed to understand he wanted it to knock K out, and wasn’t about to let him in, so the shadow person it had become walked into the room, with Mark behind it.

“You miscalculated one thing.” Mark announced as he walked in, taking a small amount of glee from the fact that K froze when he heard his voice echo around the small room, turning slowly to find Mark there with the shadows next to him. “Dark’s aura isn’t something you can just control.”

The shadows swarmed K as soon as Mark spoke and the man screamed, trying to battle them off to no avail. As soon as he was away from the bed Mark rushed forward, kicking the machine to the floor where it smashed, allowing him to rip the electrodes off of Dark’s temples. The ego was trembling, mouth red from where the metal bar had rubbed against the skin as he had strained against the electricity pouring into him, and as soon as Mark pulled it free he drew in a large gasp of air. Mark removed the blindfold next, and found Dark’s eyes rather glassy, as if the ego wasn’t all there. Understandable, considering the fact that he had electrocuted for hours.

K’s shrill scream pierced the room and Mark looked up in time to see Dark’s aura forcing its way inside the man, destroying him from the inside out and Mark yelled for it to stop. He hadn’t wanted K killed, but arrested, charged for kidnapping, torture and threats, but Dark’s aura was unstoppable. The man was dead within seconds of it forcing its way inside, collapsing to the floor in a crumpled heap and leaving the aura free to settle itself around Mark’s shoulders, waiting for him to release Dark’s bonds.

That was mistake.

As soon as Dark was free he was upon Mark, throwing the Youtuber to the ground and climbing over him. Panting hard and hands going around Mark’s throat, Dark growled, no recognition in his eyes.

“D-Dark!” Mark gasped, hands going up to grab Dark’s wrists and pull his hands free. The ego was still weak, and Mark was able to wriggle from his grasp and push Dark off him, scrambling to his feet and taking a few steps back as Dark righted himself and faced him, anger rolling off him in waves.

“Mark.” He spat, “You’d dare come here! In my body! Give. It. Back.”

“W-what are you talking about?!” Mark cried, matching each of Dark’s steps forward with a step back of his own, keeping the distance between them, body tensed and ready to run if he needed to. “This…you’re in your own body.”

“Don’t play dumb!” Dark yelled, “You took everything from us! From me! Give me back my body!”

He lunged then, directly for Mark’s neck and Mark jumped aside, heart pounding. With frantic steps he ran from the room, hearing the stamp of Dark’s footsteps behind him as the ego gave chase. Free of the electric shocks and with his aura so close, Dark’s strength was returning fast and Mark needed to get clear of this warehouse and somewhere safe. Whatever was wrong with Dark was bad, and he was in danger. With his phone grasped in one hand, Mark called the last number he had called and waited until Tyler answered.

“Mark? Are you running what’s happening?”

“I’m about to send you a location, come as quickly as possible!” Mark yelled, “Dark’s gone crazy I’ll explain later just please come quick!”

The call ended immediately and Mark took one second to send the location through to Tyler’s phone before taking off again, Dark hot on his heels.

“Mark!” He bellowed, “You can run all you want you won’t get away!”

“I don’t know…what you’re…talking about!” Mark yelled back, turning corner after corner and leading Dark on a while chase through the warehouse as he tried to find the exit. Dark’s aura was flying alongside him but didn’t seem to be in much of a helpful mood as it didn’t try to direct Mark to any way out of the building. Cursing whatever K had done to Dark to make him like this, Mark burst through a doorway only to find it was a dead end, the entire section of floor having collapsed.

Turning to run down a different section, Mark found himself face to face with Dark, the ego glaring at him as he grabbed Mark’s arms.

“Mark.” He whispered, teeth bared, “You thought you’d get away with this, but I came after you. I’ve always been after you.”

“Dark please!” Mark pleaded, pushing back against Dark as the ego tried to force him towards the edge of the broken floor, “Dark!”

His words fell on deaf ears and the triumphant grin on Dark’s face as Mark’s footing slipped and he nearly went over the edge was terrifying. Hands appeared out of nowhere and wrapped around Dark, yanking him backwards away from Mark and allowing him to regain his footing before he fell to his death.

Tyler wrestled with Dark, casting the ego away from Mark and standing between them. Dark snarled, ordering Tyler to get out of the way, but Tyler refused, protecting Mark with his entire body as the ego ran at them again. Mark yelled, words incomprehensible as he begged Dark to stop and Tyler braced himself, but Dark never reached them. A baseball bat appeared and cracked against his head, sending the ego careening to the floor from the blow, knocked out cold. Ethan appeared as Dark fell, eyes wide and hands trembling.

“Are you guys okay?” He asked, voice small and shaking.

Mark nodded, unable to form words as he rushed over to Dark, dropping to his knees and turning the ego over. Tyler approached as well.

“What the hell’s going on?”

“Someone kidnapped him!” Mark explained quickly, “Tortured him using electric shocks! We need to get him to a doctor.”

Neither Tyler nor Ethan seemed entirely convinced that taking Dark with them was a good idea, but they didn’t argue, allowing Mark to pick the ego up bridal style as they walked from the warehouse. Dark’s aura was still free, hanging around Mark’s shoulders, but it gave him little comfort as they laid Dark across the backseat of Mark’s car. Ethan rode with him in the passenger seat and Tyler followed behind. No one spoke for the entire journey back to Mark’s house, or even in the time it took them to carry Dark through the house to the closet door that would lead them through to the hidden extension where the rest of the egos were.

Dr Iplier was happy to see them, but less happy when he examined Dark. The ego had burn marks on his temples from where the electrodes had been sitting, not to mention the blunt force trauma from where Ethan had hit him.

“I had to!” Ethan said defensively, “He was about to kill Mark and Tyler!”

“I’m not judging.” Dr Iplier shrugged as he continued his examination of Dark, “You said when you freed him from his bonds he was crying confusing things and didn’t seem to recognise you?”

Mark nodded, unable to talk.

“I think the electricity made have caused retrograde amnesia.” Doc murmured, “It means he doesn’t remember things properly, and a lot of his more recent memories are gone. Probably isn’t a good idea for you to be around Mark, especially when he wakes up, if he doesn’t remember you properly. He needs to rest, but you inspire anger in him.”

“But-.”

“Mark.” Tyler interupted the protest quickly, “He tried to kill you. He hasn’t done that for a long time, you should probably listen to Dr Iplier and stay away for now while he tries to fix Dark.”

“Is there a fix for this?” Ethan asked curiously. He was still trembling but Dr Iplier had checked him over, said he was suffering from a small amount of shock, given him chocolate “with no traces of nut products” in and said he wasn’t dying.

“Retrograde amnesia is a difficult one. It can spontaneously get better, but there is no real cure of it.” Dr Iplier replied, “However Dark isn’t human, so I cannot say for certain whether he will recover from this. I’m sorry.”

Leaving the room was a little easier after that. Without waiting for anyone else to speak Mark ran, not stopping until he found Chica, kneeling down next to her and burying his face in her fur. She wagged her tail and pawed at his front, sensing his sadness. Eventually, Chica sat still and let Mark rest his head on her, shoulders shaking from sobs.

“Mark.”

Dr Iplier’s voice interupted and Mark looked up to find the Doctor squatting next to him. Chica bumped her nose along his hand and he fussed her with a gentle smile before turning serious eyes to Mark.

“I know this is going to be hard, but while I monitor Dark and his reaction to seeing you, I think you should stay away.” Dr Iplier said quietly, “I will do everything in my power to get his memories back for you, but I can’t-.”

“Promise it?” Mark finished, “I know.”

Clapping a hand to Mark’s shoulder, “I’m sorry this happen. It may sound cruel but, I wish it would have been anyone else other than Dark.”

Nodding, unable to talk for fear he would break down, Mark offered a weak smile and went back to hugging Chica.

That became a normal routine for him over the next few weeks.

Visiting Dr Iplier’s clinic to get an update on Dark to find the ego still didn’t remember him properly, and then finding Chica and burying his face in her fur to comfort himself. Recording and posting videos was difficult, Ethan and Kathryn ended up doing the majority of the edits for him, since Mark barely had the energy, and when he did, it went into sitting by Dark’s side, talking to him when he was sleeping, hoping that telling him stories would jog something in his unconscious.

The one main comfort in that time was Dark’s aura stayed separate from him, following Mark around, wrapping around his shoulders and lying next to him when he tried to sleep. Nightmares came back, and Mark spent more time hugging a pillow and letting the aura stroke his face in a false attempt at being Dark than he did sleeping.

When he got the call from Dr Iplier, all sadness fled and panic set in.

Dark had vanished, and Mark had no idea where the ego had gone. With his memories shot, Mark knew he needed to find him, and it was only after tearing through the entire house to make sure Dark wasn’t hiding anywhere that Mark noticed Dark’s aura was following him around looking nervous.

“Where is he?!” He cried, turning on the shadows.

They formed into the shape of a person, and Mark knew if they had a facial expression they would look affronted, but he didn’t have time for this. He needed to find Dark, now. The aura seemed to understand, and immediately began to draw him back towards the room Dark had been using in the house before their relationship had really become concrete. Mark followed, apprehensive himself about what he was going to find inside, but the room was empty save for the wardrobe.

Inside there was a small entrance to the void.

Mark swallowed.

“He’s in there?” He whispered.

The aura nodded its shadowy head and gestured for Mark to go inside. Taking a deep breath, Mark pulled out his phone and texted Tyler, asking him to come over and watch Chica. There was no way he was taking his dog with him into this void, and he had no idea how long he would be gone, or if he would even come back, but with Dark’s aura guiding him, he at least had a chance. With one last glance back down the corridor to where Chica was sleeping near the top of the stairs, Mark crawled forward into the void.

It was odd being inside it. Pitch black and without walls, floor or ceiling, it felt as if Mark was walking on air, with no idea where he was going. It was only the gentle tug of Dark’s aura on his hands or hair that told him he wasn’t alone, and he was going in the right direction. Every so often a shape would loom out of the darkness, close enough for Mark to distinguish it from the rest of the void but there was never enough light for him to truly tell what the shapes were. Dark’s aura led him perfectly, and Mark only tripped once.

Bending down to feel for what had caused him to trip, his hands wrapped around a cane, smooth and cold and unfamiliar, but as soon as he straightened, he felt Dark’s aura wrap around the cane and he could feel the trepidation of the shadows.

“Are we nearly at the end?” Mark asked.

The void swallowed his voice, but he felt the aura nod right next to his head. Quickening his pace, Mark rushed forward, moving automatically wherever the aura guided him when suddenly, with a flash of light that nearly blinded him, he stumbled out of the void and back into the normal world.

What greeted him was a sight like no other.

A large mansion stretched out in front of him, turreted roof, pale brick, balconies and more, surrounded by sprawling grounds, large iron gates and tall walls. The wooden front door with large panes of glass set into it was partially open, and Mark’s breath was taken away by the sheer amazingness of such a house. It looked incredible from the outside, and what he could glimpse of the inside through the windows made it seem even more incredible. Dark’s aura did not seem as impressed by the place, curling around Mark’s neck in a small shadow almost as if hiding.

“What is this place?” Mark breathed, stepping forward away from the entrance to the void and towards the open front door.

There was something deep in his gut that recognised this house, and something else entirely telling him to stay away from it, to not enter it and leave while he had the chance. Mark ignored the second feeling. If the aura knew Dark was here, Mark had to find him.

Besides, it was only a house.

Inside it looked abandoned. There was a fine layer of dust on all the surfaces and furniture, and remnants of a party that had happened long ago were strewn about. As Mark wandered, he found faded tape marks in the shape of a body and his heart sank, but he pressed on. The house was huge, and it was easy to get lost in, but Mark eventually found himself back near the entrance looking at a pool of old, dried blood and a cracked mirror.

Something was off about the mirror, almost as if someone was staring at him from the other side and Mark felt an overwhelming urge to touch the glass. As his hand started to reach out, Dark’s aura yanked his hair painfully, causing him to yelp and step backwards, fingers missing the glass by inches.

“Don’t touch the glass then?” Mark guessed, and the aura nodded again in confirmation.

Beginning to wander again, Mark passed by a suit of armour, a room strewn with old, yellowing paper with semi-familiar faces on, a dining room and a kitchen where an odd mascot was sitting, broken with peeling paint. Everything about this house seemed off, and even when Mark had wandered the downstairs and the upstairs, he felt he had moved in a strange way, getting between certain areas of the house easier than he should have been able to.

With only the perimeter left to check, movement out of the corner of his eye made him pause.

Dark was outside, pacing back and forth in front of a wrought gazebo. He was talking to himself, shell cracking and body spasming as he argued with someone Mark couldn’t see. Edging his way outside but keeping out of Dark’s field of view, Mark paused to listen to what the ego was saying, hoping for some insight on why Dark would come here.

“He took everything! It’s not fair! It’s all his fault! Colonel and Celine and…my other friends. He needs to give it back! Give it back! This house can…I can…with the power in here…with the old rituals…no, don’t argue with me! I said I can! This is the only way!”

The words made no sense, spilling from Dark’s lips with fervour, as the ego slowly lost more and more of his form. His aura was getting antsy where it lay across Mark’s shoulders, wanting to re-join its normal form and bolster Dark’s emotions, but it stayed with Mark as he walked closer, mouth dry.

“Dark.”

The ego ignored him, gripping his head with his hands and muttering even faster.

“Dark!” Mark repeated, louder this time, only a few steps away from the ego.

Again there was no response, so Mark swallowed down his fear and reached out, touching Dark’s shoulder.

The response was instantaneous.

Dark turned, snarling, eyes focusing on Mark with an ungodly amount of rage in them. “You!” He spat, shoulders hunching as his form cracked around him, red and blue flashes of anger and hurt for Mark to see. “What are you doing here?!”

“I came to find you!” Mark answered quickly, stepping away as Dark advanced on him. “Your aura led me to you! Dark, what is this place? What are you doing here?!”

“Don’t play dumb!” Dark snapped, “You know this place, you own it! Mark…you made a mistake coming here. I’m going to take back what’s mine! Rectify what you did in this blasted house!”

Run.

The instinct came from Dark’s aura, and Mark listened to it immediately. Turning his back on Dark, he ran for the house, wrenching open the door and slamming it shut before Dark could get there. All the horror games he had played had taught him that this would give him precious seconds to escape, but Mark had a sinking feeling it would all be for nought. Dark clearly knew this house, knew the passages and the connections and Mark had never been here before. He had no idea where he was going, following the directions of Dark’s aura again until he found himself on the second floor, overlooking where Dark was prowling below, near the broken mirror.

“Mark I won’t let you escape.” The ego shouted, cracking his neck and glancing around. “Not this time. You’re going to fix everything! And give me my body back, I’m tired of this broken one.”

“What is he talking about?” Mark hurriedly whispered to the aura, but he received no response.

Regret was seeping through him. He shouldn’t have followed the aura through the void to this house, he shouldn’t have tried to approach Dark knowing the ego didn’t even remember him properly. The burn marks from the electric shocks were still visible on Dark’s temples, it hadn’t even been that long since Mark had rescued him, and Dr Iplier had said that these types of problems could persist for years.

But Dark wasn’t human. And Mark had hoped he would get better quicker.

Mark was broken from his thoughts by a hand wrapping around his arm and yanking him to his feet. Crying out in shock, he found himself face to face with Dark, pressed up against the slightly broken and buckled bannister.

“You aren’t the first person to fall from here!” Dark whispered coldly, eyes boring into Mark’s and Mark saw no recognition in them for who he truly was, just hatred and a sheen of happiness. “And you probably won’t be the last. But this will be the most entertaining.”

Instinct kicked in and Mark shoved back, forcing Dark away from him and getting away from the edge. Dark growled and tackled him, trying with all his might to force Mark over the edge of the bannister to the fall below, but Mark held onto Dark with all his might. It was sheer willpower and determination not to die at Dark’s hands that gave Mark the strength to fight the ego, that and Dark’s own aura working against him.

“You will die here!” Dark yelled as Mark pushed him hard and he slammed into the opposite wall. With a snarling expression he leapt at Mark again, and Mark jumped out of the way just in time. As Dark turned back to him, his momentum was too much and he didn’t manage to stop before he hit the bannister. Mark saw in that instance what was about to happen but he couldn’t move quickly enough to stop it.

The wood buckled under Dark’s weight, creaking and giving way and Dark went over, falling backwards away from Mark as Mark lunged forward, trying to grab him, but he was too late. Dark disappeared over the edge and slammed into the ground with a horrific noise. Mark stood, frozen, his heart hammering and breath short as the shock settled in. Stumbling forward, he peered over the edge and saw Dark lying in a crumpled heap at the bottom of the drop, body broken and eyes closed, blood leaking from his head.

In an instant Mark was rushing down the stairs on shaky legs, entire body trembling as his heart felt like it was about to beat out of his chest and his vision was swimming. He collapsed down next to Dark, legs too shaky to properly hold his weight, scared to move the ego in case he caused further damage but refusing to sit anywhere then right by his side.

Time passed.

It could have been hours, minutes or days, Mark wasn’t sure.

Finally, after Mark was beginning to give up hope, Dark moved.

It was a slightly movement, a twitch of the hand followed by a tremble running through the entire body, and then, Dark’s eyes opened. For a moment he looked confused as to where he was, but when his eyes settled on Mark, recognition flooded them.

“Mark.” He murmured, trying to reach out for him, “Mark.”

Hoping against hope that this wasn’t because he had banged his head and that he memories were actually returning, Mark leant forward into the embrace, tilting his head so Dark could cup his cheek and nodding.

“Are you okay?” He whispered.

Dark sat up, cracking his neck and the broken bones in his body back into place without a flicker of emotion on his face. There was something beneath it, a hidden memory that Mark wasn’t privy to, but he didn’t want to press when it seemed the ego was finally back to himself.

“I…I remember fighting you…I didn’t…I didn’t know who you were.” He replied, “I’m sorry.”

Shaking his head, Mark moved slowly forward and wrapped his arms around Dark. Dark’s arms tightened around Mark as well and he buried his face into Mark’s chest, breathing deeply as he tried to contain his tears. Mark was not so controlled, crying as he held Dark to him. They stayed like that for a time, until it became painful for them both and Dark reluctantly pulled back.

“You…you remember?” Mark asked softly, “You’ve got it all back?”

“Not all.” Dark corrected him just as softly, “But yes I…I know who you are. And who you aren’t. We need to leave this house.”

Mark had no argument against that, even if his mind was screaming that Dark was injured and he needed to see to that first.

Dark avoided the mirror when they stood, and merely leant heavily against Mark as they made their way out of the front door towards the opening in the void, his aura trailing behind them. The void was still open and waiting for them, but the trip back was shorter this time, Dark transporting them through the void in an instant so they tumbled out of the wardrobe onto the floor.

“Mark!”

Tyler appeared in the doorway, panicked and relieved all at once, but his expression went sour when he saw Dark, the blood on his face and clothes, the broken twist of his body, and the tear tracks down Mark’s face.

“What happened?! Are you okay? Did he hurt you?!”

“It’s a long story.” Mark said, pushing himself to his feet and stepping between Tyler and Dark, “But he has his memories back Tyler, he isn’t trying to attack me anymore.”

“That’s not my concern right now Mark, you’ve been gone for days!” Tyler exclaimed, “I got your message to come and watch Chica and then when I got here you were just gone! No explanation, no note, nothing! I-we all thought…!”

“You thought he’d gone to kill himself.” Dark supplied, voice raspy from crying silently into Mark’s chest, “How foolish.”

“I thought you’d killed him actually.” Tyler replied as calmly as he could, “And he had made provisions for Chica because he knew he had no time left.”

“Not as foolish.”

“Dark!” Mark hit the ego in the stomach before walking towards Tyler and hugging his friend. He would in time tell him what had happened, and that Dark had nearly succeeded in killing him in that strange house, and it was only because of Mark’s resistance and a broken bannister that it hadn’t come to pass, but right now, he needed to get Dark seen by a doctor.

“So, you’re okay?” Tyler queried, pushing Mark back to look over him.

“I’m fine, Dark’s the one that got hurt.” Mark agreed, “I need to fetch Dr Iplier.”

“I’ll get him.” Tyler muttered, “And I’ll tell the others your back. You…you see to Dark.”

“Thank you.” Mark smiled, hugging Tyler again briefly before turning back to Dark. The ego was already heading towards the door of the room and down the corridor towards where Chica was lay. As soon as the puppy heard them coming she was on her feet and racing towards them, tail wagging happily as she jumped around them, especially Mark.

“Hey bub, I missed you too!” Mark laughed, kneeling down and letting Chica curl into him, licking him and panting happily.

When Dark nearly keeled over, Mark jumped up and caught him, whistling for Chica to follow while guiding Dark to their shared room. The bed was freshly made, and Dark made a noise of discomfort when he sank back onto it.

“Your lucky you didn’t break your neck at least!” Mark exclaimed as he gave Dark a quick once over.

The smile Dark gave in response was a wry one, and Mark felt an odd feeling shift inside him again.

“I’m just glad I remember you.” He murmured, reaching out for Mark to join him in the bed.

Apprehensive about hurting him, but more than willing to cuddle after so long of thinking Dark was never going to remember him, Mark carefully climbed into the bed and lay next to him, resting his head against Dark’s shoulder.

That was how Dr Iplier and Tyler found them, sleeping peacefully with their fingers entwined, Chica asleep on her dog bed next to them.

“I hope this never happens again.” Tyler murmured, closing the door to and leading Dr Iplier back towards the ego’s home.

“Don’t worry, I doubt Dark would let someone kidnap him again.” Doc laughed, “After all, he’s going to have to listen to me say ‘I’m sorry, you’re dying’, and he hates that a lot.”

Cracking a smile, Tyler shook his head as Dr Iplier disappeared back through to the “extension” built to house the egos. Whatever was going to come in the future, all that mattered was that things were right now. Dark was back, he remembered who Mark was, and Mark was happy.

And for now, that’s all that mattered.

#darkiplier #markiplier #darkmark #tw torture #tw kidnapping #tw amnesia #repost #so queue me

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4wordletter · 5 years

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@say-never

I’m curious though; did you see M blocking and deleting you multiple times as red flags?

not particularly. i think she really did want to be with me and long distance was very frustrating for us both. i’m no angel, there were times where i definitely didn’t show as much love, care and attention as she deserved. i can really be an asshole at times, a real jerk. but at the end of the day she always knew i loved her and i always did my utmost to communicate that to her through my words and actions. every relationship has ups and downs but, with long distance, it’s difficult. you can’t just hold someone in your arms and share silence. you have to find words, and sometimes that’s really difficult.

I don’t know, man. I still have to wonder why you keep her close. I understand that being manipulated can make someone into a person they’re not. I know you two have a long history, and a whole relationship full of nuances that I’m not privy to. I don’t know her or hardly anything about her, and I want to believe that she really is a sweet girl who was just in a terrible situation. maybe it isn’t my place at all to say anything, and I’m not asking you to do or change anything, by any means.

you got it right in one, she is a really sweet girl. she has the best of intentions. she’s a good person. i strongly believe that her actions were not premeditated but were rather the result of constant badgering from her parents and an incessant undermining of her decisions. a key part of this is that M very much thrives on love and acceptance from her parents just as we all do.

when that flow of love, respect and acceptance isn’t as strong as it ought to be, we start to shape our lives in such a way to try to strengthen that flow. we want to feel that love and support. we need it. we want to be praised and told we’re doing a good job. out of everyone in the world we want to hear that from our parents. we all do.

you’re right about the terrible situation. the situation was that her parents lost faith in me as soon as i showed signs of weakness or failure. on april 12 2016, i flopped. i failed big time. you know the story about the anxiety. despite my best efforts i never regained any respect in their eyes. they viewed me as a flake, a loser. i was instantly “not good enough” and they used their power over M to drive this point home to her and she in turn drove these points home to me as well.

right up until december 2016 she was told by her parents that i wouldn’t come. she was told that i would leave her standing at the altar (they knew way in advance i wanted to marry her). she was told that it would take me visiting her twice before she should visit me (fundamentally saying, don’t you dare visit him). she was pretty much forced into canceling her trip to see me in august. i know that she wanted to come but if she did decide to visit me (despite me not having gone in april) then her decision would be criticized over and over and over until it was unbearable. so, she didn’t come.

before i came, her mother would keep repeating to her “i don’t know why he’s coming, i don’t understand why he’s coming”. all of this must have been extraordinarily hard to deal with. very hard indeed. not only did she have no faith in me (which, let’s be honest, was quite fair) but she had these two people badgering her with their own take on the matter. and the takes were never good.

i wrote long messages explaining that i wasn’t a flake, i wasn’t a loser. it fell on deaf ears and there was never a reply to those messages. M said her parents were just busy, but really, all was lost at that point. i had already failed. they’d put our relationship in a coffin at that point, ready to bury.

that’s one side of the terrible situation. the other side is after i visited. i did attempt to connect with her parents on a deep level. i sat them down and ostensibly those conversations went well. my aim was to allay the fears they had. i outlined my plan with M (proposal, moving there, etc) and stated my dedication to her and E in no uncertain terms. i connected everything back to God such that my conversations were woven together in a nice little bundle with a bow on top. i spilled my heart to them. my eyes watered just a little when i related my feelings for M & E to a bible story we’d just had a sermon on that week.

these conversations were in no way meant to be persuasive. my aim wasn’t to try to convince anyone of anything, but rather to make a statement to say: here i am, here are my intentions. i knew they thought i was a flake and a loser and i used these opportunities to show just a glimpse of the “real” me: genuine, loving, caring, dedicated and loyal.

but again it fell on deaf ears. i had made a comment about how i’d even work at walmart if i had to, i’d do anything to support my girls. this, of course, is hyperbole i used to drive the point home: i was dedicated. they decided to twist it into me saying i wanted to work at walmart. they used that against me to tell M that walmart wasn’t good enough and that they’d need a higher quality of life than that.

essentially all my conversations were twisted and turned into something awful. i don’t know what. i do know that M was fed a lot of very strange thoughts and ideas, like me being in the mafia. what was M to do? she was living under their roof. she wanted their love and support. look at what they were doing to her.

now, if you look at this picture i’m painting for you, you’ll see 3 victims and not just one. you’ll see that M never had a moment to think straight. having a ring on your finger can make even the calmest person nervous. her parents took those nerves and amplified them a hundredfold to such a degree that her anxiety reached a fever pitch and - before you know it, the ring is in a box, secreted away by her mother to the post office.

that feeling must have been an overwhelming concoction of relief and sadness. relief in the sense that there was no engagement and therefore nothing for her parents to bash her over. yet, sadness that she was doing this to someone she loved.

this says nothing about E. she loved me dearly, we had a very pure connection that i’ve gone over in other posts. i strongly feel that M’s parents were motivated by a desire to hold on to E, to hold on to their connection they had with her. i think that they felt threatened by me.

they felt i was going to swoop in and steal E away from them. this was made quite apparent during my visits because there was rarely a moment when E wasn’t by their side. we had to include them in everything and they even went as far as to say that M & E weren’t “allowed” to stay with me in my airbnb. on the last day of my trip M’s mother was quite insistent that E go to daycare instead of spending time with me.

bear in mind that the context of this was that her parents had also forced E to stop calling me “dada” and forced M & E to drastically cut down the time we spent together. whenever her parents were near, M would turn the laptop away from them so they couldn’t see me. i think she would be chastised if she didn’t.

so. i’m home from my second trip and while i’m flying home, they’re chipping away at M and filling her head with nonsense and anxiety. as you know, the day i landed back home (or while i was in the air, i think?) - M started to receive the same emails that she had in the last couple months from a computer hacker. i’m not really sure who or what or if it was a virus or something like that.

i didn’t think much of it, i just figured it would go away. but it didn’t. at all. they kept coming. on the one hand i was trying to talk to M about what was happening between us, and on the other i was trying to make these emails stop. we changed a zillion passwords and i felt so useless that i couldn’t stop these emails.

on the sidelines, M’s parents used this as a prime opportunity. it was me who sent the emails all along. i think their logic was that i did it to get back at M for calling off our engagement. that i was so angry with her that i sent these emails.

the words “you’re a prime suspect” are branded into my brain. i’ll never forget the feeling of being called that. my stomach lurched when i heard her say that. i’d been trying for days calling her, trying to see if she was okay. when i finally did, that’s what she told me. i was a prime suspect.

i begged and pleaded to take the next flight out and come see her. i felt so fucking lost and frustrated. so alienated and defeated. that’s when my desire to die kicked in. right then. i begged her to let me come. her reply was “my mom says not to come here”

i cannot describe the frustration i felt. HOW could they possibly think that the man who sat them down and confessed his love for their daughter and granddaughter with near tears in his eyes was capable of this? not only that, but how does it make sense for me to do that? surely if i wanted to hurt her, i would want her to know it was me? and if i didn’t want her to know it was me, why would i attempt to hurt her at such an obvious time? it doesn’t make any sense to me.

nah, this email thing came at the “perfect” time. even before those emails they were trying to get rid of me with mafia this, walmart that. just little things they would use to chip away at M’s confidence in me. the email thing was a weapon they used against us both. they pinned the blame square on my shoulders. i’d gone from a guy who made 4 transatlantic flights in 3 months just to see THEM (i stress, THEM!!! i wanted to see her parents as well as M & E, they were my future family ffs) to some asshole computer hacker who sent out lame emails as some kind of revenge?

it’s bullshit. it’s all so much bullshit. i don’t buy it at all. as soon as M’s mum found out she was talking to me she ransacked her room. threatened her with being kicked out. yelled at her in restaurants. M knew i never sent those emails. she’d known me forever. she knew i wasn’t capable of 1. such stupidity and 2. such pure malice. she couldn’t convince her parents otherwise and neither could i. they’d painted me black and that was that.

that’s the full picture. do you see the 3 victims now? me, M, and E. fundamentally i believe they wanted to keep E to themselves and make absolutely sure she was being raised exactly how they wanted, in terms of schooling, religion, etc. i don’t think they felt M and myself would be capable of raising E together. they had no faith in me in any capacity.

so, yes. i maintain a friendship with M because in a way, it means they didn’t win. they didn’t defeat us entirely. whatever semblance of a connection we have left after all that is proof that somehow, we survived. they tried their damndest and they couldn’t defeat us. we’re still friends. nothing they did to convince her that i was evil worked.

M is able to make her own choice and she chooses to talk to me of her own volition. they don’t know, so they can’t fill her head with nonsense or threats. they can’t threaten to kick her out now or any of these things. she wins. they destroyed everything else she’d built up with me, but not the fundamental connection.

we talk very little, but when we do, it’s immensely healing. the heartache i felt for months and months thinking that she thought i was this monster. when she speaks it’s healing because i know that she sees me for who i really am. she knows i’m not that monster. she knows we didn’t deserve what happened.

no matter the distance either in time or space, we’ll always be friends. the romance is dead, certainly, but something more pure lives on - friendship, companionship. i find these qualities much more rewarding.

i hope that makes things clear. i find M to be a positive influence. she’s a great person, a great mom, a hard working student. i’m still proud to know her and to have known her.

something arose from the rubble and the ash, and that is something that should be nurtured. it’s a pure, wholesome connection. we’re not trying to impress each other. we’re not trying to be sexy or seductive. we enjoy each other’s company. she’s just as funny and silly, still as fascinating and captivating. that’s not something i’d throw away. i’ve said it to you, too: these connections are rare. very rare indeed.

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internetdetectives · 5 years

Text

4/22/19 - Chat with Moonman

moonman31 1:44 PM: "okay” moonman31 1:44 PM: "this is epic” Jos 1:44 PM: "Hey moonman” Mugen Kagemaru 1:44 PM: "Well, well!” Jos 1:44 PM: "high?” moonman31 1:45 PM: "Not at all” Jos 1:45 PM: "Ah” Jos 1:45 PM: "tell us whats epic” Jos 1:45 PM: ": p” moonman31 1:45 PM: ":stuck_out_tongue:” moonman31 1:45 PM: "Ascension!” Mugen Kagemaru 1:45 PM: "... What.” moonman31 1:45 PM: "Bet I had ya scared for a second” Jos 1:46 PM: "Except the part of the death, ascension is cool ?” Mugen Kagemaru 1:46 PM: "Nah, just unamused” Dense 1:46 PM: "Hey moon” moonman31 1:46 PM: "Actually I have been laying low” moonman31 1:46 PM: "I'm sure you noticed” Mugen Kagemaru 1:46 PM: "Kinda hard not to” Wolfcat 1:46 PM: "mugens balls were bursting in fear” Mugen Kagemaru 1:46 PM: "Not here boy” Mugen Kagemaru 1:46 PM: "@moonman31” Mugen Kagemaru 1:46 PM: "So what's this thing you were calling epic a few minutes ago?” Jos 1:47 PM: "ascension!” Mugen Kagemaru 1:47 PM: "Stop switching accounts, it's not funny.” moonman31 1:47 PM: "I have been spending my time professionally stalking ya boys” moonman31 1:47 PM: "and not using much internet beyond that” Mugen Kagemaru 1:47 PM: "Oh this should be good.” Mr t series good 1:48 PM: "who is axis” Mugen Kagemaru 1:48 PM: "Visitor. Pay her no mind.” moonman31 1:48 PM: "So I am basically pretty sure Nocta knows I cannot be trusted anymore 100% so I'm basically on his shitlist now since he assumes that part of the forums got posted to Dumblr” Mugen Kagemaru 1:49 PM: "Haven't seen any of that, so I dunno what drugs he's doin.” moonman31 1:49 PM: "I surprisingly think he still trust Dov though which was the point” moonman31 1:49 PM: "You need him there and I cannot really give you the inside scope anymore” Mugen Kagemaru 1:50 PM: "You never could in the first place, if I recall.” Mugen Kagemaru 1:50 PM: "Or has that restriction been lifted?” moonman31 1:50 PM: "Man you are cranky :moonman:” Dense 1:50 PM: "Oh fuck” moonman31 1:50 PM: "Ok check this” Mugen Kagemaru 1:50 PM: "Might have something to do with Wolf and Jos, but by all means, please carry on.” moonman31 1:50 PM: "I didn't mean Nocta when I said I was stalking ya boys” moonman31 1:50 PM: "I meant I've been looking into a few things about our pretty unique situation” moonman31 1:50 PM: "I had access to some stuff I can no longer access” moonman31 1:50 PM: "Secret website shit” moonman31 1:50 PM: "I'm not an elite hacker but there's a subspace of the observatory for all the neato cult stuff you all suspect is there anyway” moonman31 1:50 PM: "And I was reading some garbage about parallelos and stuff is making a whole lot more sense” Mugen Kagemaru 1:53 PM: "Oh shit son” Dense 1:53 PM: "Damn” Dense 1:53 PM: "Wich means” moonman31 1:54 PM: "But the most immediate concern for y'all is what's up with my alt handle in your place” Mugen Kagemaru 1:54 PM: "Exactly right, Dense” Dense 1:54 PM: "Nocta is 100% ascended” moonman31 1:54 PM: "Greth” Dense 1:54 PM: "Ohfuck” Dense 1:54 PM: "U rite where da fuck is greth” Jos 1:54 PM: "Im back” Dense 1:55 PM: "Joso” Mugen Kagemaru 1:55 PM: "That account's been active in my abse - Wait what?” Jos 1:55 PM: "No im back” Jos 1:55 PM: "tell me dense” moonman31 1:55 PM: "I'm pretty sure from some email snippets that shit is about to get heavy but I literally don't understand what the fuck they were talking about” Dense 1:55 PM: "Just hi” moonman31 1:55 PM: "Just they were talking about it a LOT” moonman31 1:55 PM: "and it seemed bad” Jos 1:55 PM: "Hi brother” Mugen Kagemaru 1:55 PM: "I was gonna say, it was inactive up to when I left, but y'all are saying it's not there no more?” moonman31 1:56 PM: "That's the first bit of news” Jos 1:56 PM: "So, another subpage, the forums is a subpage, as there is one hidden huh” moonman31 1:56 PM: "The second bit of news is an apology” moonman31 1:56 PM: "For the bots.” Mr t series good 1:57 PM: "that was you huh” moonman31 1:57 PM: "I needed to slow down nocta so I literally invited scambots” moonman31 1:57 PM: "sorro.” Dense 1:57 PM: "Oh shit” Mugen Kagemaru 1:57 PM: "@Jos More like the forums are the surface page and this LC shit is a subpage.” Dense 1:57 PM: "So it was you” Jos 1:57 PM: "That is a good strategy” Wolfcat 1:57 PM: "no need to apologize” Wolfcat 1:57 PM: "thanks for the local russian hookers” Jos 1:58 PM: "Can you send spam bots to luna to slow her down jk” moonman31 1:58 PM: "The problem is I never had control of them per se but at least it worked for a while” Mugen Kagemaru 1:58 PM: "So how much can you tell us, whether it makes sense or not, about what they're talking about in this subpage?” Mugen Kagemaru 1:58 PM: "Like maybe we can interpret” moonman31 1:58 PM: "Something is going to happen with some sort of agent of Luna” Mugen Kagemaru 1:59 PM: "Did they say what and whom? I know it likely doesn't make sense, but did they actually say it?” moonman31 1:59 PM: "They want to bring the final piece of the puzzle into place” Mugen Kagemaru 1:59 PM: "Hmm…” moonman31 1:59 PM: "I know it involves the parallelos” Jos 1:59 PM: "Tyler is already taken i guess” Mugen Kagemaru 2:00 PM: "Bruh I get it, it don't make sense, but maybe they actually said the words?” moonman31 2:00 PM: "I was never fully indoctrinated as you might say so I was pretty much at the same level as Dov” Mugen Kagemaru 2:00 PM: "Meaning you won't tell us what they said literally because it doesn't make sense. Fine, whatever. We'll move on.” moonman31 2:00 PM: "I know the real hard core cult is nocta, yuuki, kaiden” moonman31 2:00 PM: "Samuel too” Mugen Kagemaru 2:01 PM: "Welp, that's not good.” Jos 2:01 PM: "Hoax is just there, in the middle…” Wolfcat 2:01 PM: "Damn” Wolfcat 2:01 PM: "whats up with yuuki” Wolfcat 2:01 PM: "she sent me a weirdass PM just saying "thewoods" like 100+ times” moonman31 2:01 PM: "She's been around on discord but neither of us has posted” moonman31 2:01 PM: "I think she's conflicted on some things” Jos 2:02 PM: "Why all the waifus turns out to be dangerous” Mugen Kagemaru 2:02 PM: "@Wolfcat“ Mugen Kagemaru 2:02 PM: "I remember that, when was it again?” Wolfcat 2:02 PM: "sometime in february” Mugen Kagemaru 2:02 PM: "Hmm…” Jos 2:02 PM: "when the haunted house gif was a thing” Wolfcat 2:02 PM: "also im guessing you can't just show us this "subspace" on AO right” Mugen Kagemaru 2:03 PM: "Yeah she said when she went to the house she learned things about The Truth that she didn't know before, which is why I thought it was dangerous for the pics to be shared carelessly.” moonman31 2:03 PM: "I mean possibly” moonman31 2:03 PM: "Actually” moonman31 2:03 PM: "but I'd need time to figure out the new password” Mugen Kagemaru 2:04 PM: "That implies it can already be seen by normal users…” Wolfcat 2:05 PM: "just got a weird PM: " from nocta” Wolfcat 2:05 PM: “"Tengo un diablo en mis pantalones"” Wolfcat 2:05 PM: “wait nvm that was from jos my bad” Mugen Kagemaru 2:06 PM: "..." Mexican Nocta 2:06 PM: "Me cachis” Mexican Nocta 2:06 PM: "me equivoque” Mexican Nocta 2:06 PM: "buenas tardes” Mugen Kagemaru 2:06 PM: "•headdesk•” Jos 2:07 PM: "Wrong multiverse brother” Mr t series good 2:08 PM: "mugen losing hope as always” moonman31 2:09 PM: “”mugen losing hope as always”” moonman31 2:09 PM: "a motivational poster” Jos 2:09 PM: "i must print one of those” Jos 2:10 PM: "So yeah, I had the feeling the forums were just a façade” moonman31 2:10 PM: "not really” moonman31 2:10 PM: "more like a recruitment tool” moonman31 2:10 PM: "but uh I had experience with the Moon Children as you know so the things set of my alarms big time and I wanted in to go undercover and it worked for a long ass time” moonman31 2:10 PM: "I think I'm blown now though” Mr t series good 2:12 PM: "F” moonman31 2:12 PM: "F” Jos 2:12 PM: "Will try to find this, true webpage, there must be a connection somewhere” moonman31 2:13 PM: "technically speaking I'm still an Astral Child” moonman31 2:13 PM: "but I have a feeling this is going to come to a bad place soon” moonman31 2:13 PM: "since I'm obviously some kind of traitor” Mugen Kagemaru 2:13 PM: "Yeah man you may wanna run for it and keep away from their places.” moonman31 2:13 PM: "that's the idea Jos 2:14 PM: "And develop somekind of telepathic resistance, you know their powers” Jos 2:14 PM: "i tried” moonman31 2:15 PM: "you should also know there used to be a bunch more members of the forums that have not rejoined” Jos 2:16 PM: "I guess Samuel is one of them” moonman31 2:16 PM: "that concerns me, it's been a longass time since we've been back” moonman31 2:16 PM: "I mean at least he has an account?” Jos 2:16 PM: "Yeah” Jos 2:16 PM: "This is weird” Jos 2:16 PM: "But i hope the cult didn't do anything to silence them…” Jos 2:16 PM: "for x reason” Wolfcat 2:18 PM: "i might have asked this already i not sure tbh” Wolfcat 2:18 PM: "but do you know exactly what was happening in the vid you uploaded to greth vlogs” Wolfcat 2:18 PM: "like who was the lady in that vid” moonman31 2:19 PM: "Yeah that was something I grabbed from the site” moonman31 2:19 PM: "I was still trying to let you know I was feeding info without tipping off nocta” moonman31 2:19 PM: "but that was the point where he started monitoring my traffic” moonman31 2:19 PM: "shit was cash i got a vpn” moonman31 2:19 PM: "that only worked for so long” Jos 2:20 PM: "The thing is that this lady knew where to go, she had to give signs to this Greth to reach the place, whatever it is, i think the lady knows more” Wolfcat 2:20 PM: "i suspected it might have been yuuki :thinking:” Jos 2:20 PM: "Well, Nocta is theorized to be this being capable to controling electronic stuff, you could hide everything, but if he can sense it... its hard” moonman31 2:21 PM: "uh what” moonman31 2:21 PM: "idk about all that he owns the domain and forums so he probably just started intensely watching IPs” moonman31 2:21 PM: "which he did after I uploaded that vid by getting into that youtube account” moonman31 2:21 PM: "so in retaliation I flooded the place with scambots” moonman31 2:21 PM: "and used a vpn to blend in” moonman31 2:21 PM: "but that only worked for so long” Jos 2:22 PM: ""30 hot chicks near 21 km, what are you waiting for? click here"” Mugen Kagemaru 2:23 PM: "@moonman31 But yeah do you know who's who in the video?” moonman31 2:23 PM: "no clue” moonman31 2:23 PM: "I just grabbed the file off the server because it seemed important and chucked it your way” moonman31 2:23 PM: "the stuff i was seeing vs what I could directly share was always in conflict” moonman31 2:23 PM: "I knew the instant I finally gave you a file or two” moonman31 2:23 PM: "the war between the traitor and nocta would escalate” moonman31 2:23 PM: "and that's exactly what happened” Mugen Kagemaru 2:25 PM: "Wait that's a new thing” Mugen Kagemaru 2:25 PM: "Who's this traitor you're talking about?” Jos 2:25 PM: "moonman” moonman31 2:25 PM: "...” Mugen Kagemaru 2:25 PM: "I've been out of the loop lately” Jos 2:25 PM: "he just said it top there” Jos 2:25 PM: "he is a traitor to the astral children” Mugen Kagemaru 2:25 PM: "A'ight a'ight” moonman31 2:26 PM: "We're not 'the Astral Children'” Mugen Kagemaru 2:26 PM: "You used that phrase though” moonman31 2:26 PM: "no, cult members self identify as an Astral Child” Mugen Kagemaru 2:26 PM: "Anyway, like I said, I've been out of the loop, seemed like something these guys learned after I left.” Jos 2:26 PM: "okay” moonman31 2:26 PM: "'I am an Astral Child'” moonman31 2:26 PM: "but we are the Astral Observatory” Wolfcat 2:29 PM: "More like the Ass observatory” Wolfcat 2:29 PM: "but forreal tho” Mugen Kagemaru 2:29 PM: "That's more referring to that one thing Eve has.” Wolfcat 2:30 PM: "Ass?” Mr t series good 2:30 PM: "Uh, i dont know what you on about” Mugen Kagemaru 2:30 PM: "@Wolfcat Asstral Observatory” moonman31 2:32 PM: "I'm still waiting for this one guy to join” moonman31 2:32 PM: "he had the best selfies to meme” Mugen Kagemaru 2:33 PM: "Oh? What's the name, we'll watch for him too” moonman31 2:33 PM: "IsoscelesAssassin” Mugen Kagemaru 2:34 PM: "Better than "ScaleneKiller"” Mr t series good 2:34 PM: ":rofl:” moonman31 2:34 PM: "There was also the Spanish guy” Mr t series good 2:34 PM: "spanish guy?” Mr t series good 2:34 PM: ”:thinking:” moonman31 2:35 PM: "Yeah I don't remember his handle though” Mugen Kagemaru 2:35 PM: "Jordi something, I think. (Kidding)” moonman31 2:35 PM: "no” Mr t series good 2:35 PM: ":joy:” Mugen Kagemaru 2:35 PM: "I'm kidding, dude.” Jos 2:35 PM: "jos, dense,,” Jos 2:35 PM: "Ummm” Jos 2:35 PM: "thinking” Mr t series good 2:35 PM: "well i guess we dont know that spanish guy” moonman31 2:35 PM: "oh, pardon, if that was a reference™ I didn't get it” Jos 2:36 PM: "jacobtheguy” Mugen Kagemaru 2:36 PM: "More of a joke, and don't worry, we'll explain someday” Jos 2:36 PM: "idk” Mugen Kagemaru 2:36 PM: "You're not the only one under restrictions”

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