#anyways my ribs hurt idk why | Explore Tumblr Posts and Blogs

httpskuzuu · 7 months

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Softer

hola :D fyodor is alive - fyodor esta vivo I was thinking about making a masterlist or something like that, I don't know if when I upload this I will have it published or how I will do it

anyway, I really liked this and enjoyed writing it, it's longer than I usually post but Idk, by the way, I hated translating this, it was a pain in the ass, but that's what I get for joining a mostly English community ññññññññññññ-- well, this is mostly inspired by Sinner by TheBloodySadist, you can find it in Ao3 if you want to read it, I had an obsession with it a few months xd

jaja this has gone on too long, well, adiós adiós :p

Yandere!Fyodor x Reader

English is not my mother tongue, sorry for the mistakes

sumary: You tried to escape and now you have to take the consequences, but you make something change in Fyodor... (juju, mistery >:p) Pt.2

tw: yandere behavior, kidnapping, failed escape attempt, explicit punishment, explicit violence, blood, broken bones, humiliation¿, manipulation, brainwashing, stockholm syndrome, reader needs therapy, stabbing, nudity, sedative, Fyodor is a fucking tw

You tremble under the weight of the boot on your ribs, you swear that at some point you hear them cracking along with an agonizing pain throughout your body.

The pressure on your body makes it impossible for you to breathe properly, which is a serious problem considering you are hyperventilating. Every breath burns your exhausted lungs and aggravates the pain.

You'd ask Fyodor to kill you already if it weren't for the fact that your throat is in a terrible condition from so much screaming and pleading.

"Well, I see I can't trust you, can I?" Despite the situation, Fyodor's tone provokes you inner anger, sounding so sarcastic. Something deep inside you tells you it's not sarcasm, it's concern, but you can't believe it, especially not coming from Fyodor.

You imagine that, if you had the strength at this moment, you would kill him with your own hands. You know well you wouldn't be able to, but it's pleasant to think about it.

"I do everything for you, and still you try to escape." He puts more pressure against your ribs and you've never felt as much pain as you do now. "You spoiled brat." He growls and his Russian accent becomes much thicker.

He removes his foot from your body and you can breathe. Relief courses through your veins and, out of pure instinct, you thank him for that act of kindness. He could have stretched it out longer, put more pressure on you and broken your ribs more, but he was merciful and gave you a break…. A break, you know that your punishment is not yet over.

You don't know yourself and your thoughts. One thing you have to hand it to Fyodor is that his training is really effective, but you're tougher than that, or at least you like to think so. Realistically, right now, you just want to curl up against him.

A kick in the side snaps you out of your thoughts, you moan and cry from the pain, your throat burning with fire. You never want to utter a sound again in your life after this.

"Aw, you poor thing… Does it hurt? Now you know how I feel every time you leave me." He's lying, you know that, but that doesn't take away the guilt that settles in your head free-form.

You shouldn't have run away, Fyodor isn't even that bad if you behaved: no gratuitous physical harm and he takes better care of you than you could ask of a kidnapper. You were an idiot, you deserved all this for not appreciating your life with Fyodor properly. God… Why did you try to escape in the first place? The Russian would always would catch you, you were just causing trouble.

Ignoring your destroyed throat, you decide to speak. "I'm sorry, I'm sorry, I won't try to escape again. Please give me another chance, I'll be good…"

Fyodor kneels down next to your agonized body. He puts his hand against your tear-stained cheek, at first you flinch, thinking he was going to hurt you more, but then you lean almost automatically against his cold hand.

You cry harder as you feel Fyodor's gentle touch, you don't quite understand what's wrong with you, you just know that you want to melt against his hand. You close your eyes and tremble. You want a hug from him, you know you shouldn't want that, that it's disgusting, he kidnapped you and hurt you, but at a time like this, when you've been disobedient, he's still showing you affection….

"Shh, it's okay, милый." He catches the falling tears with his thumb. "I know you're sorry, but your punishment isn't over yet." You automatically tense up and slowly open your eyes to look at the man in front of you, there is a smirk of superiority painted on his face, observing your pathetic appearance.

You don't dare open your mouth to complain because deep down you know very well that you deserve it, you deserve the pain for being so bratty and causing inconvenience to Fyodor. You accept what lies ahead of you and let Fyodor pull his hand away from you.

With his grip firmly on your hip, he guides you to turn around. You keep the cheek that was previously receiving the loving touch against the ground a thousand times colder than Fyodor.

You concentrate exclusively on the Russian's hands, it's just an idiotic attempt to ignore the pain all over your body. He pulls up your shirt, leaving your back bare against the cold, why is everything so cold all of a sudden? Fyodor is too, in a way he brings you peace of mind, it's like he's everywhere, even in the air…. What the hell are you thinking? You firmly believe you're delusional at this point, these are not your real thoughts, it's clear to you, he put all these idiotic ideas in your head and now you can't get them out. It's agonizing in a certain way.

The only thing you hear is your irregular breathing, if it wasn't for Fyodor's hand clamped on your hip, you would think you were alone right now, and you don't know if you would like that more or less.

Something sharpening presses against your upper back. Everything breaks down in a moment as Fyodor makes a straight cut across your entire back. It hurts horrendously, especially as the blood starts to spurt out. You start to feel dizzy and for a few moments you convince yourself you're going to pass out, but no, your body is still holding on, focused solely on Fyodor's hand.

"Breathe, моя любовь. It's just a cut." You repeat Fyodor's last sentence in your head like a mantra: it's just a cut, it's just a cut. He could have done it much worse to you, you were fine, just a cut.

You take comfort in closing your eyes hard and imagining that you are once again a child at the doctor's office, that you are simply having blood drawn for a blood test because you have not been feeling very well lately. You make a fist with your hand and clench it, digging your fingernails deep into your palm, it's as if you are clutching the hand of one of your parents for comfort. There is no more pain, it's okay, it's all right-

Another cut, this time horizontal, creates a cross on your back. You don't care, you're at the hospital, and you're safe, nothing will happen to you. It's just a cut.

Fyodor stabs the weapon into your side. You open your eyes wide as a torn scream comes out of your mouth.

Fuck it all, do you really deserve this? Have you been so horrible? You assume that Fyodor simply hates you, that he wants to torture you.

Fyodor pulls the weapon out of your body, you look out of the corner of your eye and the wound doesn't seem to be that bad, you thought it was deeper because of the pain, but no, it was something apparently superficial. You didn't want to know how much it would hurt if he had really stabbed you deeper.

Fyodor's voice right next to your ear startles you. "Sorry, was that too much? Did I hurt my little one too much?" That mocking tone again, but you hear a hint of love and concern, or so you assume. No, it's impossible for Fyodor to hate you, if he hated you there wasn't that hint of love, was there? If he hated you, he wouldn't say to you like that: my little one, his little one.

"I can't take it anymore! Please, Fyodor!" He leaves a chaste kiss on the back of your neck, and you cry disconsolately, you don't know why, but you do know it's not because of the pain, the pain doesn't matter anymore.

"You can." Fyodor's voice is the ultimate authority right now, and if he says you can take it, it's because you can. "You don't want to disappoint me, do you?"

After those words you instantly panic, you desperately shake your head, of course you don't want to disappoint him! You have to accept your punishment, it was your fault in the first place.

"Brace yourself, dear." Fyodor leaves a trail of kisses from the nape of your neck all the way down your back, above the vertical cut. You assume he's filled his lips with blood and hate yourself at the thought of how attractive he'd look like that.

A new cut interrupts your hatred. You scream, but nothing more, you can take it, for Fyodor….

It's just one cut.

You don't know how many cuts there are next, you are not able to count them. You don't feel your throat anymore, but miraculously it still works, your screams are still coming out of it, you are relieved because you still want to keep your voice to talk to Fyodor, to ask him to hold you.

Fyodor removes your shirt completely and lays it aside on the floor. He holds you firmly and helps you sit up, any movement is hell for your ribs, but you endure it by concentrating on your kidnapper, on his loving but steadfast touch.

You look at him dizzy, teary-eyed and shattered. He is smiling, you have not disappointed him. Your head hurts as you cry disconsolately against his chest again.

"What's wrong? Why are you crying now? Your punishment is over, I won't hurt you anymore."

"You…" You're unable to speak, it's too much at once, the pain and your thoughts coming together in a ball of discomfort. You shake your head and hug him tightly.

"Are you afraid?" You weakly shake your head. It's true that Fyodor scares you, especially on these occasions when he punishes you, but you're not crying about it now.

Funny, you don't know why you're crying, but you do know what you're not crying about.

Fyodor is silent, thinking about why you're crying. "Is it about the pain?" You deny again.

Fyodor hums thoughtfully. "If you don't tell me what it is, I can't help you." You ponder on that: does he want to help you? Is he serious?

You make the feeble attempt to gather your thoughts and speak. "It's just- I don't know" Your voice comes out shakier than you wish it would. "When you touch me… It feels so good, I don't deserve it, I don't-"

"Oh, I see… Aren't you crying because of something bad? Is it because it feels good?" You nod quickly, yes, that's as close as you feel. You're happy when it touches you, when it's good to you. Were you crying out of happiness? Well, you guess so, although it feels more depressing.

"It's okay, relax." He leaves a kiss in front, and it breaks you inside. "You've taken the punishment very well, come on, you deserve to be taken care of."

The process of getting up from the floor is horrible, not only because of the pain all over your body and your numb legs, but because your mind doesn't stop spinning around Fyodor's last sentence. It feels horrible and so good at the same time that your mind is only around one specific person.

He helps you up and you let him lean your useless body against his. He guides you through the house, being patient with your slow pace. He's mostly silent, except when he tells you how well you're doing or that not long to go. Since when did Fyodor know how to talk so pleasantly?

You reach the bathroom, he sits you on the toilet and turns on the bathtub faucet. While it is filling, Fyodor takes some pills out of a drawer that you have always found locked. You don't know what the pills are or what they're for, but he hands you one and you take it without question.

You let your head fall against Fyodor's stomach, even though he is standing upright he doesn't move an inch and lets you be comfortable, he strokes your hair and you sigh lovingly. You don't deserve it, but you need more of this Fyodor, the soft Fyodor who takes care of you and makes you feel good, what did you have to do in the future to keep it in this shape? If you need to be damaged for that, well, you are willing to do it.

"The tub is full." He warns and moves a little away from you, causing you to raise your head. You miss a little that he's touching you, even though he's only been separated of you for three seconds. He holds you under your armpits and helps you up. "I need you to stand up on your own, can you, дорогой?"

You try not to focus so much on Fyodor asking you if you could do it instead of just sending you the order, and focus on standing on your own.

The Russian undresses you completely, his hands are soft, and you feel them all over your body. They are so cold, and you are so cold too now that you are naked. You are vulnerable, now more than ever, and Fyodor's fixed gaze on you disturbs you. You are simply an easy prey to hunt, his prey.

He doesn't look like a hunter now, as much as his gaze is like knives stabbing through every spot he focuses on, you think he's not doing it on purpose. Fyodor doesn't know how to be nice, he never has. He knows how to be neutral: he can keep you alive and give you necessities, but he can't kiss you and keep you warm.

But there's something wrong with all this, he's being warm because since when are his hands so soft against your battered body? You need him, you need him so much it hurts, is this his way of being nice? Okay, fine, you accept it without complaint.

When he puts you in the tub you want to die, the cuts on your back burn at the contact of the water. You don't dare say a word at that or ask Fyodor to pull you out, you're afraid you'll upset him, that he'll get tired of you being so weak and whiny and stop being gentle. Fyodor could have left you lying on the cold floor, bleeding, but he didn't. You can't be an unbearable child to him.

The Russian starts washing your body, putting special emphasis on your cuts and the wound on your side. You look at his serious face with need, why were you only now realizing how handsome he was? Mmmh, you must have been blind before. He notices obviously your shy look on his lips and he smiles, that smile indicating that he was superior to you and despite that, he was still keeping you alive and forgiving of everything you did.

He approaches you and gives you the only thing you needed to be satisfied for today: a kiss. It reminds you of all the good things, strangely enough in those memories Fyodor also appears and disturbs you minimally.

You question yourself that, maybe, Fyodor does know how to be gentle.

This is the proof you need to know that now this was a new version, right? He kissed you. You feel a warmth spreading throughout your body, now it is warm, and his hands are warm too. There is a big change in temperature and it feels like heaven.

After that, Fyodor continued to wash you with special care, ignoring how your face might explode from how red it was.

The only thing that could crush the heat was tiredness, you almost fell asleep a couple of times, but you didn't want to fall asleep because it would be like wasting time with this soft Fyodor, what if tomorrow he returned to his serious and impassive face? You can't waste this time or you would regret it.

"Go to sleep, take it easy. I'll take you to bed when I'm finished." You looked at him as the most merciful being in the world. He cared about you…

You hold back your sobs for these acts of kindness, you don't want to cry anymore, not only to avoid possible discomfort in Fyodor, but for yourself, the headache is unbearable.

You let yourself fall asleep, with your head supported on your knees and Fyodor's soothing touch.

You had a nightmare which you don't remember, or don't want to remember. You wake up with your body held in Fyodor's arms, warm and gentle.

Since when did everything become so homey? Homey? Would that be the right word? Describing any situation involving Fyodor with that word doesn't feel natural to you.

You find it hard to feel your body, and your thoughts don't flow as quickly and aggressively as they used to. It's like being enveloped in a cloud, full of comfort and calmness.

You just feel something on your side, at the site of the shallow stab wound. You think maybe it's some bandage, but your limbs are asleep and too comfortable against Fyodor to move them to check. Otherwise, you feel nothing, only someone else's hand on your lower belly, it's extremely intimate in your perspective.

You turn your sleepy head and glance sideways at Fyodor. He seems calm, looking at you, his face is emotionless again and it scares you. You come to convince yourself that he is still the soft Fyodor, if he wasn't his hand wouldn't be on you, he still hasn't changed, you repeat that to yourself until you believe it.

"… Fyodor, do you know what?" Your voice comes out weak and hoarse, you wonder how soon your throat will heal. You're thankful you can't feel it well, so there's no pain anymore.

"Mmmh?"

"I think I love you."

"Do you?" There is a change, minuscule, but a change.

You nod and look away from his face, you can't stand it, no. There has been a change, you don't know in what. There's been a change, a change! Is it good or bad? You want to think it's a nice thing.

"You're different."

"I am? In what way?"

"You're softer, something nice."

"You're drugged, you don't talk sense."

"But you're different! Seriously, you never take care of me."

Silence rules the room and it hurts. Why did you talk? What idiocy, it's your fault everything that happens now, all your fault.

"You cried with happiness when I helped you sit up." Your gaze returns to the other.

"I know, so what? You want me to cry again?" There are no bad intentions behind your comment, there really aren't. You feel your brain empty, and you can't quite interpret the situation, what is Fyodor trying to tell you? Is he angry? Is he going to punish you again? It's exhausting to use your brain in this state, so you just give up and go with the flow.

"No, I don't want that." The silence stretches a little longer and, for just a few seconds, Fyodor looks away. He looks away. "I just… I thought maybe you'd be happier if I treated you good."

"Ah…" He wanted you to be happy? Really?

"I know I hurt you, but you know I only do it when you deserve it, don't you?" You nod and the cuts on your back burn for a few seconds. "Good. I really want you to be happy, with me."

You feel like at any moment the old Fyodor will appear through the door and say something like it was all a test, and then punish you for failing it. It's a horrible feeling, but you come to believe that it will seriously pass.

"So… Are you still going to be soft?"

"Yes, only if you are obedient in return."

Yes, yes, yes. He's going to keep being gentle. For some reason your chest hurts, and you sob, Fyodor has a few drops of surprise in his expression. You hide from his gaze and just focus on the yes, it's like releasing a horrible burden out of your body. You weren't afraid he was lying, something told you he wasn't, his expression maybe, or his voice, or….

"Are you crying with happiness now too?"

"I like the soft Fyodor…"

"Mmmh, that's good, isn't it?" He pulls you a little closer to his face and leaves a soft kiss on your forehead. You'd like to kiss him in return, but you can't move. "I'll keep being soft then."

I swear all I could think about while writing this was to to send it all to hell and make these two fuck

maybe I will make a second part

#bsd x reader #bsd x you #bsd fyodor #fyodor #fyodor dostoyevsky bsd #fyodor x reader #fyodor x y/n #fyodor x you #yandere fyodor #yandere bsd #yandere bungou stray dogs #bungou stray dogs #bsd

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weird-an · 1 year

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hello! idk if you take prompts/suggestions for ficlets but I really love your writing and this idea just popped into my head so I figured I’d ask!

Billy or Steve (idc which) having a really goofy laugh. Maybe they’ve been told in the past that it’s an ugly laugh or people usually cringe and end the conversation once The Laugh jumps out. Billy/Steve have resolved to not laughing (or maybe changing their laugh) to avoid the embarrassment of rejection again. But one day when they’re hanging out together (as friends or as an already established couple whichever you prefer), Billy/Steve gets a little too comfortable and The Laugh slips out. Billy/Steve is mortified, but it turns out that the other absolutely adores The Laugh.

It can be as angsty or as fluffy as you deem fit, I trust your literary judgement.

tw: bullying, Billy hurting someone in response to that, mentions of (verbal) abuse.

Billy's laugh is too high pitched and when he laughs really really hard, it always chokes in a sort of hiccup and squiek.

"You sound like a fucking girl," his dad tells him. "Cut it off."

So Billy tries to keep his mouth shut. To not laugh at home which is easy because Neil gives him nothing to laugh about anyway.

The boy that shoves him into the lockers at school, calls him fat because of his chubby cheeks and the same slurs his dad uses at home, catches him laughing at a stupid comic someone drew at his desk one day.

"You laugh like a pig," he says. "Piggy Billy."

It becomes a nickname he never asked for. He hears it in the hallways, in the lockers, everywhere.

His mom tells him that he doesn't need to listen to them. But then she fucking leaves and there's no one else to listen to except them and their ugly words.

Billy stops laughing at all. But he starts pushing back.

The anger inside him is a friend, getting bigger with every insult thrown, makes him strong. It's like a tunnel that only leads one way. He nearly breaks the kid's arm when he calls him Piggy Billy one more time.

They stop calling him that. Billy doesn't start to laugh again. He feels bad for losing his temper, but it works in his favor.

He doesn't think about laughing. They move to Hawkins and now its even hard to smile.

Then Steve Harrington decides to hang out with him, because he sees something in him that Billy doesn't really get. Because he tries to make Billy grin even when he's so angry and just wants to lash out and break something until it's as broken as he is. Because it works when Steve tries to put a smile on his lips and Billy wants to return the favor.

One day, they're stretched out on Steve's bed, skin still flushed and nerves tingling from the aftermath of their orgasms.

Steve's breathes ghosts over his neck and his fingers slide along Billy's ribs.

It tickles. Billy laughs. Too high pitched, choking on the grunt on the end. His mouth snaps shut and his cheeks burn when he realizes it.

He stares at the ceiling, panting and waits for Steve to joke about it.

"Oh my God," Steve looks absolutely delighted. "This is so cute."

He tickles Billy again. Billy's laugh slips out again, with that much force like it has just piled up in all these years, waiting to leave his throat.

"Cute," Steve says again.

"Fuck off. I'm not cute." Billy gasps, trying to catch his breath. His cheeks burn.

"Of course not," Steve says entirely insincere. He sits up. "Why didn't I ever hear that laugh before?"

A careless question that sounds too much like an accusation.

"I don't laugh."

Steve falls silent. A hint of confusion on his face changes into something else. Pity, sadness, Billy isn't sure what. But it's gone in a second.

"Well, you should. I like it."

"Just suck my dick, will ya?" Billy rolls his eyes, when Steve tickles him again.

The laugh shakes Billy from head to toes.

"I like it," Steve repeats.

He fucking means it, Billy realizes. There is that weird feeling in his chest again he always gets when Steve likes something about him. Despite of Billy being Billy.

The next time he laughs is when they watch a movie, Billy is sprawled out on the couch, head on Steve's lap.

The movie is stupid. It's so stupid, it's funny. The Laugh bubbles up again and he wants to slap his hand in front of his mouth, but Steve catches it before he's there, intertwining their fingers.

It's easier to laugh after that.

Billy laughs and Steve kisses him. It feels fucking good.

#thanks for the writing prompt anon! that was lovely #it's kinda cracky #todays ficlet comes early guys #I can't really pitcure Billy as a bully himself but rather as someone who has been pushed until he pushes back #idk why i always picture billy bullied in high school #harringrove #billy x steve #harringrove ficlet #billy hargrove

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starchilddante · 2 months

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You know what really doesn't make sense? People understand the idea of "negative historical connotation" in the context of race (such as the n-word or making a joke about asian people eating cats) gender (such as saying "like a girl" or making fun of someone by calling something girly) politics (mocking a veteran) and a million other things, but can't get it through their head that the same thing applies to the queer community?

I have a semi-religious straight cisgender friend who constantly makes jokes about me being sinful, gross, or how you know, "God hates pride" every time I bring up my queer identity. When I voiced disagreement, he immediately got pissy. Saying that my victim mentality is the reason people don't feel sorry for queers anymore.

First of all, I didn't ask you to feel sorry for me. I asked you to stop making jokes like that because even if they don't personally harm me, they enable abusers to continue their toxic behavior under the guise of a joke. While you may not mean anything by saying, "Oh, wow, that's a little gay," Some people do use that phrase to hurt others. I also just don't appreciate my queerness constantly being turned into a joke, because it honestly proves we can't have a honest discussion about it because you don't agree.

Then this guy tells me I need to learn to take a joke. And again, I explain to him why it might be a joke in this context, he still needs to be mindful and I would feel wrong not saying something because my queer identity is not a joke, and regardless of whether or not I'm a victim, there are queer people who became victims, and his language supports genuine homophobia, even if he is not homophobic/transphobic/whateverphobic (though I'm pretty sure he is.)

Part of me is tempted to basically make him lose my number, but I want to educate people. I want them to understand. I don't understand what's so hard to get about it being the same level of inappropriate as using the n-word or calling someone girly as an insult. (I mean, I do know. He's homophobic and it's easier for him to make jokes and get mad then admit it.)

Idk I guess I'm just venting or whatever I just get so tired of this conversation every time I make any reference to being queer. The problem is, I know it's not well-intentioned, whatever he may say. There's a difference between friendly ribbing (which is far more acceptable coming from other queer friends, of course) and genuine insulting jokes. He gets it, I'm sure, he just refuses to admit it.

Anyway, I'm proud as hell to be queer and I'll stand up for everyone who has given up their lives so I can say so without risk of death. On top of that, I'll keep saying if for those who still do risk death if their families were to find out, and for everyone who is still in the closet.

I'm here, I'm queer, and I sure as hell won't tolerate your bullshit just because I know who I am.

#pride #lgbtq #asexual #lesbian #queer and proud #vent post

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evansbby · 7 months

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Bruh ari hurt me really hurt

When he said reader is better than Sharon my left side of the chest started to hurt🥲🥲🥲🥲 and then on top of that he slapped us with then I'll make her his girlfriend 😭😭😭😭

Bruh and the kick in the ribs with I already have a girlfriend dam he got really violent with us not gonna lie

I have a question why did Steve got disappointed when she told him her address was he hoping she'll sleep with him???

Honestly I'm team Steve

But if he makes us his girlfriend then I hope he doesn't cheat on us or worse already has another girlfriend but my heart can take manipulation but I can't take another betrayal bruh that's like bullet towards my heart

And also when I realised he had given money to cab driver it actually made me chuckle and the unlocking the door scene tooo😂😭

I really thought Curtis would drug us but the fact that ari did it instead......I was disappointed but it's a dark fic so that obviously that would happen but that means he doesn't care about us in my head😭

I'm just blabbering at this point.....

Man I loved the fic soooo fucking much like so fucking much u served fr dudeeeeee I'm so invested in this (more than poyt tbh) hehe

U just dilever with all ur fics honestly 😭😭😭 all the fucking time😵‍💫😵‍💫😵‍💫😵‍💫

Ari really hurt reader a lot this chapter 😢😢 I wonder if he’ll ever be able to make it up to her! Bc she really likes him a lot! Even when she was with Steve, she kept talking about Ari up until the point where Steve forbade her to mention him again!!

Steve got disappointed when reader reminded him about her address is because he was hoping she was drunk enough to just forget about that, and he would’ve been able to just take her back to his place. But when she straight up reminded him to put her address down, he couldn’t say no to her face, so he had to do it… which ruined his plan of taking her back to his place and further taking advantage of her lol.

And just bc Ari drugged reader doesn’t mean he doesn’t care about her!! It was more like a recreational drug to get her to relax and fuck him 😭😭😭 I mean even without the drug she would’ve fucked him anyways but idk… they were at a party so it seemed fitting bahahah

Thank you sooo much, I’m happy you enjoyed it! Honestly, I didn’t think people would be into my chaptered fics after POYT, but I’m happy that you and so many others enjoyed it! I can’t wait to start working on part 3!

#anon #wg ask

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deathsbestgirl · 1 year

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fire 1.12

i know there are mixed feelings about this episode — the case is weird & anytime i think about it too much, it seems there are some holes in it. but i think it’s such a great one for mulder & scully and a view into mulder’s psyche. i hate phoebe green, but i feel like i react to her more similarly to the way scully does in the episode. she obviously doesn’t like her, but she doesn’t say anything too outright unless mulder does first. i love the way she makes her presence known, does work on the case, and cares of him when he needs it. and they talk about personal things but still try to maintain a certain distance this early on. as always, i love the journey.

(it’s long because quotes)

anyway, onward!

honestly one of my favorite early scenes. it’s hilarious to me that scully has nothing in her hands and he’s carrying a stack of books as they return to the car from court. like why lol

i forgot what it was like to spend a day in court.

that’s one of the luxuries to hunting down aliens and genetic mutants. you rarely get to press charges.

*scully laughs* it’s opened.

what?

it’s unlocked.

that’s weird. i’m sure i locked it.

must be an x file.

*mulder laughs*

literally one of their cutest exchanges yet. i love scully’s real smile and her laugh and his goofy little laugh at her joke. it’s kinda like he still doesn’t quite get she’s ribbing him all in good fun and not actually at his expense.

~queue phoebe green’s twisted humor and not in a good way honestly~ like this bitch doesn’t know mulder anymore and she doesn’t know scully (probably doesn’t know about her but still, yikes) — did mulder recognize her voice?

scully was really absorbing what she was as hearing, her gasp when phoebe opens the door…

also literally just noticed that phoebe doesn’t actually kiss mulder square on the mouth, it’s at the edge of his lips, a weirdly lingering kiss for a man you haven’t seen in ten years…

i also love the way mulder calls her out immediately for the way she hurt him.

aren’t we looking rather ghostly?

it’s an old friend.

aren’t you going to thank me?

for what?

saving your life. one tends not to make the same mistake twice.

i’ll try to remember that.

oh come on, don’t tell me you left your sense of humor in oxford ten years ago.

no, actually, it’s one of the few things you didn’t drive a stake through.

*phoebe kisses him*

you know, some mistakes are quite worth making twice.

dana scully, this is, uh, phoebe green. terror of scotland yard.

hello.

she hates me.

what brings you to the colonies?

like. that’s kind of unlike mulder? but specifically what gets me in this whole exchange is the way he looks at scully when he says “it’s an old friend” no she is not and scully immediately gets the vibe. and the ~won’t make the same mistake twice~ bit — he isn’t planning to go there with phoebe again but they both remember what she does to him and it is *not* a compliment. if anything (the little window into his psyche) his childhood trauma made him a perfect victim for phoebe. treat him like shit, giving breadcrumbs to keep stringing him along, cruel “jokes” at his expense, abusing her personal knowledge of him, just keep him seeking her approval because she knows he’ll keep trying to get it. it’s fucked up.

and i think this might be the first time scully really gets to see that in him. she’s seen mulder get bullied, taken advantage of and he kinda just lets it happen & suffers through. but this is another layer. and she’s so put off by the kiss and phoebe immediately clocks the reaction. she’s ready to play her games with him.

the way mulder ignores most of phoebe’s comments & advances — making phoebe tell him why he should thank her, both mistake comments, the kiss, ~she hates me~ — he just plows forward, trying not to give her an inch.

and just like phoebe clocked scully, scully can see her game. the manipulation. (this bitch has the same vibe as the wendi go lady in charmed)

ALSO idk why but mulder introducing scully by saying first & last name feels significant. not that he hasn’t done it before or won’t do it again, but he calls her scully & he had to say “dana scully” emphasizing she’s a woman, she’s important and i think it signals to scully there’s something to be wary about here. he uses dana in vulnerable moments. whether it’s him or her that’s vulnerable. any vulnerability between them, dana comes out of his mouth.

three pipe problem?

that’s, uh, from sherlock holmes. it’s a private joke.

how private?

um…we knew each other in school in england. she was brilliant, and uh, i got in over my head, and uh, paid the price.

mulder, you just keep unfolding like a flower.

that was over ten years ago, scully.

yeah, i noticed how you couldn’t drop everything fast enough in order to help her out.

oh, i was merely extending her a professional courtesy.

oh, is that what you were extending?

look, i am going to run this by the arson guys and then she’s on her own.

something tells me you’re not going to get rid of her that easily.

and she’s reading mulder like he’s an open book. his defenses crumbled so quickly. he barely said anything, but she can read between the lines (and i wonder, did she have any similar relationships or somehow just know people like phoebe? who in her life had a similar situation? cuz in my experience anyway, you need to witness it or experience it to pick up on it so quickly)

[sidebar — that picture looks exactly like the woman, how are they not freaked out?! lmao also i’m sorry but this woman’s voice annoys tf out of me 😭)

so sherlock, is the game afoot?

afraid so, watson…but you’re off the hook on this one.

what do you mean?

i mean, i’m not gonna put you through this.

put me through what?

phoebe’s little mind game.

what are you talking about?

there’s something else i haven’t told you about myself, scully…i hate fire. hate it. i’m scared to death of it…when i was a kid, my best friend’s house burned down. had to spend the night in the rubble to keep away looters. for years i had nightmares about being trapped in a burning building.

wait, and phoebe knows about this?

oh yeah. this is classic pheobe greene, mind game player extraordinaire. ten years it’s taken me to forget about this woman, and she shows up in my life with a case likes this.

so she shows up knowing the power she has over you and then she makes you walk through fire. is that it?

phoebe is fire.

mulder, are you sure you don’t want me to help you out on this one?

sooner or later, a man’s got to his demons.

i love the way scully makes sure he knows she’s there & available to help him get through this. the way she shows insight to phoebe’s behavior (honestly reminds me of all things, but at least daniel was vulnerable with her. at least during that episode if not during their actual relationship.)

and again, mulder opens up to her a little more. again, a different kind of vulnerability than sharing about his sister or letting her see how deeply her abduction affects him. this was a serious personal relationship (assumed few & far between for him) that caused him real heartbreak & harm. romance isn’t something they typically talk about, only when it comes up organically (jersey devil & scully’s date, her relationship with jack,l. i wonder if mulder actually avoided telling her about diana fowley when she appears because of how it’s gone for them before?)

at this point in their partnership & relationship, they don’t just let each other carry their burdens alone. mulder is trying to save scully the trouble of dealing with phoebe’s games — he know she’ll pull scully in too, even if only to get to him and he doesn’t want that for either of them. but scully won’t sit idly by during a case, even if it’s unofficial, while her partner is working it & it’s one that troubles him.

deftly done, agent mulder. casually disregard her indiscretion. a firm but polite manner until she accedes to cooperate.

it’s a technique i refined in my relationship with you.

oh, yes, well i see you haven’t lost your sense of humor after all.

i’m sorry, that was a cheap shot. i don’t want to dredge up the past. let’s just stick to the case.

let’s.

look, pheobe, i —

unless i’m mistaken, ten years seems sufficient time to have forgiven, if not forgotten, a few youthful indiscretions.

i’m cursed with a photographic memory.

then don’t you tell me that you’ve forgotten a certain youthful indiscretion…atop sir arthur conan doyle’s tombstone on a misty night in windlesham.

like i said, let’s just stick to the case.

she is exceedingly frustrating. people like her know how to use genuine emotion, or a facade that seems real, to make the person they hurt feel guilty for hurting them with the facts of what they’ve done. they want their victim to forgive & forget, never taking the harm they caused seriously and using any opening in the person’s defenses to weasel their way back in to get what they want. it’s hard to watch. because mulder is the perfect victim for this. he remembers the good & the bad and he wants to believe in the goodness of people he’s let close to him, of people he’s trusted. and his empathy is honestly off the charts for them & anyone he feels some kind of kinship with. so he ends up apologizing to her for a “cheap shot” when it seems deserved because she’s trying to reel him in again. and the music tries to make it appear genuine, vulnerable. but it isn’t.

scully in the office doing paperwork, with the arson case file just sitting in front of her. how long did she try to resist reading through it? presumably, she’s been there all day while mulder runs around with pheobe…

it’s lowkey my favorite thing that scully does so much profiling? maybe not as in depth as mulder can & would go, but she’s always spot on for the type of person they’re looking for. and she’s so good at finding all the information they need to find them. she’s the one who actually cracks the case because she did the legwork in the office, while they ran around like chickens with their heads cut off. her science brain also works through plausible explanations they don’t seem to be thinking about at all — because they aren’t capable given their backgrounds and i love it.

agent beatty. i’m special agent dana scully. can i steal a minute of your time?

oh yeah, sure, come in. i’m just working on this mafia torch job here.

i’m working with agent mulder.

oh yeah, wild case. so what can i do for you?

you mentioned that the arsonist might be using some kind of rocket fuel as an accelerant.

yeah, that’s just speculation. it still doesn’t explain how he sets bodies on fire.

what if he got some of this fuel into some hand cream or..?

well, you’ve got to understand, that even the smallest amounts of this stuff can produce temperatures over 5000°, but i suppose it’s not impossible. extremely diluted. but you still have to find a way to ignite it.

like. how is she the only one who seems to realize the perpetrator has to be pretty close to them? but i suppose she’s really the only one working with a clear head on this & giving it her full attention…it makes no sense to me

mulder makes the comment about ~i’m not used to someone so quick to agree with me~ screw that 🙃🙃 and then phoebe goes & offers up a nice hotel room AND THEN he basically rejects scully, he’s gonna ‘have his hands full’ (like bro she’s figured out who it is. what is wrong with you??) but i think scully sees it for what it is, he’s falling into phoebe’s trap like he was trying not to. the trap he wouldn’t let her fall into with him.

and of course scully shows up right when they start dancing together and gets to witness the real kiss — like why did they write that if not for romantic undercurrents

(“that doesn’t mean there won’t be any fires to put out…i’ve thought about you often.” and that kiss was disgusting— i want to die and so does scully)

then she literally sees cecil lively standing there watching. when she turns back around, he’s gone.

and once again, agent scully is the only one focused and doing her job. it’s because of *her* the boys are saved — idc if cecil takes the credit & actually gets them out. that was purposeful misdirection on his part and even if he didn’t do it & mulder couldn’t, someone would have gotten to them in time. (cuz tv mostly lol)

DID MULDER RUN UP 14 FLIGHTS?! like i know you’re not supposed to take the elevator but DAMN like of course he collapses. even if he wasn’t terrified of fire, to run up that many stairs and then inhale a smoke immediately. (and fucking cecil took them in the elevator…)

so strange how this man isn’t coughing at all from the smoke inhalation — no one thought that was odd? the kids & mulder are in rough shape…

and scully’s right there to take care of mulder — and when he wakes up. his first stupid question is “where’s phoebe?” did he really expect her to be there by his bedside? scully is so sweet and gentle with him, i want to die for a good reason this time.

(scully) what happened to you up there?

(mulder) i panicked. couldn’t move, scully.

(s) it couldn’t could have happened to anyone.

(m) yeah but it happened to me. i haired out, plain and simple.

(s) what do you know about this guy that saved the kids — the driver?

(phoebe) i checked him out prior to the marsdens’ arrival. he’s worked on the property for eight years. no record. his references checked out. they were lucky he was here tonight.

(s) who was watching the kids tonight?

(p) he was.

(s) are you sure? i could have sworn i saw him down in the hallway, about the same time that the fire broke out.

(p) you couldn’t have. anyway, the man we’re looking for is english.

(m) hey.

(p) i came to see if you were okay.

(m) how are the kids.

(p) they’re fine. everybody’s anxious to get back.

(m) ti the cape?

(p) only to pack. they’ve made travel arrangements back to england for the day after tomorrow.

(m) and you?

(p) i’ll be leaving in a few days…look, i’ll give you a ring back at the bureau before i leave…goodbye.

(s) you okay?

(m) yeah.

you at all interested in what i came all the way up here to show you?

yeah.

how did phoebe not realize that cecil wasn’t the driver? she literally sucks as an investigator.

and *of course* scully managed to do research on arson profiles and dig into the workers & who’s traveled into the u.s. at the right time. got his name, found some strange information about cecil.

(mulder’s hair is horrific in this episode)

scully is so gentle with him. she never pushes too much or too hard. but she’s the one giving him answers & solving the case they didn’t ask for.

scully was fucking right — personally i think she’s right more often than fandom acts is true? and mulder is wrong a lot more often too. what’s most common is a combination of both their theories? idk maybe. can’t say i’ve kept a tally lol

and THE LOOK scully gives mulder as he jumps up excited at all the information she gives, taking off his robe — fucking priceless. i think it’s the first time she’s really considered him beyond their partnership or friendship. she’s jealous & protective and trying to toe the line of what’s acceptable as their current relationship allows and i LOVE her.

and when mulder walks in on phoebe kissing the husband — like literally how long has that been going on?? ridiculous. and why in the world does phoebe call for mulder when the room starts going up in flames? like bitch just get them all out of there. why does mulder have to tell any of them to get out lollll

it feels like three separate times mulder has to face fire in this episode. and it’s great that he gets to face up to it. failing the first time, acting the second time, his actual nightmare in the third. and he makes it through. he actually saves the children. not cecil, the arsonist. and not phoebe who’s been working the case.

i hate that cecil was right but scully is going to do what’s best for everyone even if she’s in danger. and at least phoebe does one thing right. so interesting that it’s actually she scully she helps when it’s required and with no hesitation. and then they all get to see cecil light up…he just keeps yelling for so long it’s crazy.

(in an accent) care to take me to lunch? (in her normal accent) scare you?

you have no idea.

where is phoebe?

i don’t know.

you don’t know. she didn’t call?

nope. she did messenger this to me last night, though.

did you play it?

no.

why not? aren’t you curious what’s on it?

ten to one, you can’t dance to it.

the way mulder repeats that line.

gillian getting to use her accent is my favorite. making scully good at a british accent is soooo good and i’m obsessed. wish she got to use it more!!!

scully writing the report. cecil l’ively should be getting a lot more attention ?! like he’s healing from burns that would have killed anyone else and is healing rapidly. and that’s all i have to say about the case lmao

#txf txt #mulder and scully #msr #the x files #fire #queue want to believe

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tellerluna-stories · 2 years

Text

episode 03: boss dog to the rescue!

CONTENTS: 01. 02. 03. 04. 05. 06. 07. m.list!

TW/CW: there is bread and it is eaten, and it is an important part of the plot. idk how to explain it in a way that doesn't sound absurd,,, BASTA MAY TINAPAY DITO HAHAHAHA

A/N: this chapter is dedicated to the stars to my moon, the lovely @byeol-ssi!! hope you enjoy the fluffiness hehe <33. also!!! I probably won't be able to update regularly for a while because some majour stuff came up irl and I don't think I'll be able to write until everything's settled. thank you for understanding~~

“Good morning!”

“Do you need help with that?”

“Oh hey, wanna walk to class together?”

“See you tomorrow!”

For the past few weeks (yes, weeks), your ears had been ringing with the sound of barking— er, the chipper sound of Thoma’s voice as he kept hanging around you. You didn’t know exactly why he was so insistent on going out of his way to talk to you, but he didn’t seem to have any ill intentions or ulterior motives, so you let him do whatever he pleased.

…That, and perhaps he had grown on you a little bit. Just a little.

Anyway, today was a weekend, so you wouldn’t see the puppy-boy. The weekend was a precious, precious time for you, whose social battery was easily drained; it was a time you reserved solely for yourself to recuperate after all the stress that the weekdays brought. So on this fine day, you decided to venture into The Great Outdoors on a great and noble quest to purchase the finest rations that a relaxing weekend would require. In this case, that meant freshly baked bread from a nearby bakery.

There was a lively spring to your step as you walked, mouth watering slightly as you thought about all the warm bread that awaited you; normally you preferred to stay indoors and hide from the light of day, but today was different. It was the perfect weather to walk outside— on days like these, the sun’s rays chose to play hide-and-seek over rooftops and through tree-branches, without scorching everything to death and blinding you for no good reason.

Hey, even someone who normally shunned the light of day would want to go outdoors once in a while, right?

You took a deep breath and savoured the gift of your senses; feeling the pleasant contrast between the faint warmth of asphalt through your shoes and the soft breeze that cooled your face, admiring the vibrant colour of lit by sunshine— and most importantly, smelling the bewitchingly sweet aroma of fresh bread that signalled you were close to your destination.

One step, two steps… just a few more paces before you completed your quest.

"Whoa, Taroumarou, slow down! Don’t tug on the leash like that, you’ll hurt yourself—"

You froze in your tracks, your entire body stiffening at the sound of a voice that was unfortunately all-too-familiar. Coming from just around the corner— no, it couldn’t be. You were hallucinating.

“Taroumarou- ugh, don’t pee in that flower-pot! That’s not your toilet!”

(Okay, maybe you weren't hallucinating, because if you were... was it possible to file a complaint to whatever part of your brain was in charge of creating hallucinations? Could you just ask to have this particular hallucination replaced?)

Your heart hammered against your ribs as you tiptoed to peek around the corner, praying fervently that you were mistaken. But still another part of you fluttered anxiously with hope— as to what you were hoping for, it was still unsure.

Blond hair that shone like gold in the sunlight.

Emerald-green eyes framed with long, sun-kissed lashes.

A pair of strong, slender hands that grasped onto the leash of an absolute unit of a fluffy dog, who was blessed with fur that almost matched the colour of his owner’s hair and was almost as fluffy.

Lips that curved into an exasperated smile, gently reprimanding said dog as his owner tried to persuade him to change his choice of toilet.

It was almost comedic, really— just an ordinary student struggling to walk his dog on a fine afternoon, an ordinary scene that you’d pass by without a second thought. On any other day you'd have ignored him and continued to walk through the world in your own protective bubble so you wouldn’t get invested in the lives of other people... yet here you stood, absolutely spellbound by this stranger.

The puppy-boy laughed and shook his head, leaning down to scratch his dog under the chin, and a strange shudder ran down your spine. It was like scales had fallen from your eyes, revealing the Thoma that you had never seen before— or perhaps never wanted to see until now.

Your heart knocked against your ribs, once, twice, and then paused a beat.

“Thoma?”

His name slipped from your lips before you could catch yourself, and the boy eagerly perked up at the sound of his name, just like when you had first met. “Oh, it’s you! I didn’t expect to run into you here.” Thoma tugged on Taroumarou’s leash lightly, gently nudging the dog forward with his foot. “Taroumarou, say hello to my classmate.”

“Ah… hello, Taroumarou.”

The dog trundled towards you, snuffling around your legs and shoes till it was satisfied and gave an approving woof.

“Looks like he likes you,” Thoma grinned, squatting down to scratch Taroumarou behind his ears. “It’s not that easy to get the approval of Boss Dog over here, so you must be quite extraordinary for him to favour you like this.”

“Is that so?” Squatting down at a carefully calculated distance from Thoma (for decency's sake, you rationalised), you leaned closer to peer at Taroumarou’s dark eyes and fluffy cheeks. “Say, Taroumarou, may I pet you?”

(Now, under normal circumstances you'd have retained your more reserved persona around people you weren't close with, but in this case... what could you do? There was a very cute, fluffy dog just within reach, and if it wasn't obvious enough, you had a particular weakness for puppies.)

Boss Dog yipped, and Thoma leaned closer to listen as if he were the dog’s official interpreter. “What was that, boy? Can my- ew, don’t lick inside my ear! Gross!”

Both puppy-boy and puppy toppled onto the pavement as Taroumarou happily jumped up to lick Thoma’s face, and you couldn’t help it, you really couldn’t— you burst into laughter right then and there.

Not the polite, canned laughter that you used around people, no— it was the roaring, dying wheezes of someone who hadn't laughed this much since grade school, and your stomach muscles sorely paid the price for it. You barely stopped yourself from collapsing onto the pavement and howling like a hyena, but it didn't help one bit that the Boss Dog still kept jumping around Thoma like a little imp intent on eating earwax for a snack. Your lungs pleaded for mercy and your face ached from all the smiling, but all you could do was to laugh even harder.

Meanwhile, the source of your laughter froze rigidly, his brain slowly processing what was going on as Taroumarou frisked around him. It was the first time he’d ever seen you smile, let alone burst into a fit of laughter that had you whacking your palm against the concrete and tears rolling down your face.

Well, technically it wasn’t the first time, but still— the smiling, giggling version of you that stood before him now, it was because of something he (and Taroumarou) did. You were smiling because of him.

“Ah- I’m sorry.” You wheezed, brushing a stray tear from your eye. “I promise I wasn’t laughing because you fell. It just was so funny to see Taroumarou hopping around like that…”

“Yeah, yeah, I get you there.” Thoma’s face lit up eagerly, his own nonexistent tail wagging behind him. “But he’s not always this crazy, I promise! He’s usually more well-behaved.”

“It’s alright.” Smiling, you scratched Taroumarou behind his ears and reveled in the fluffiness of the Boss Dog. “He seems to be a good boy, whether he’s frisking around or being polite. Aren’t you, Taroumarou?”

Thoma’s furry look-alike rubbed his cheek against your leg and yipped happily. Letting someone from school see you like this was out of character for you, but for some reason you didn’t care anymore.

It suddenly occurred to you that you had no idea on how to proceed from here; you had greeted your classmate, laughed in his face, and from there… what did people even do when they encountered an acquaintance outside of a school or work setting? You didn’t know the standard procedures, but you were pretty sure that it required small talk and some sort of food.

Speaking of food... you'd almost forgotten the reason why you had set out on this journey today.

"Do you like bread?" You suddenly blurted out, realising how stupid the question sounded as soon as it left your mouth (ah, your gift for eloquence was truly unmatched). "There's a good bakery nearby, and they usually bring out the batch for the evening around this time."

Taroumarou perked up at the suggestion, while Thoma's eyebrows shot up in interest. "As a matter of fact, I do like bread. Even more so when it's fresh."

Your mind went completely blank. You had no idea you’d get this far, so now what were you supposed to do?

“That’s good!” Stiffly, you jumped to your feet and marched off in what was hopefully the right direction. "It’s this way.”

Behind you, the dog and his owner exchanged glances before Taroumarou lurched forward. With a strength that could've rivalled King Arthur himself when he pulled out the sword Excalibur, the Boss Dog practically dragged Thoma to follow after you.

“Taroumarou, wait!” Thoma stumbled, just barely catching the leash that nearly slipped out of his hands. “You’re acting really weird today, boy…”

If only you could go back in time and smack your past self. Or say thank you. You no longer knew which one was the more practical option.

For some reason, you had thought it was a great idea to share your closest-guarded secret, the source of all baked goods divine… with a puppy boy. A very nice, friendly puppy-boy who you could admit was not bad-looking, but he was still an outsider.

A piping-hot bag of assorted bread sat on the little portion of bench between you and Thoma, effectively acting as a barrier to prevent your sanity from disintegrating completely. The look the owner had given you when you’d arrived with a pretty boy in tow was embarassing enough as it was.

This was supposed to be a quiet, peaceful afternoon, you lamented as you nibbled on a piece of bread. You could barely taste it.

“Whoa, the bread here is delicious!” Thoma exclaimed, blissfully oblivious to your inner turmoil. He tore off a tiny piece and tossed it to the ground for Taroumarou to taste. “Here boy, let me know what you think.”

Judging from the way the Boss Dog greedily licked up the little chunk of bread, this bakery also had his paw-print of approval.

“Well, uh… I’m glad you like it.“ You felt the eyes of the store-owner lasering in on you from all the way behind the counter— as far as you knew, she was just an excellent baker who gave you discounts for being a regular, but the fact that you could feel the intensity of her gaze from where you sat outside the bakery made you question if she was secretly some sort of superhuman. “Not a lot of people know about this place, so it’s rarely crowded.”

“You’re joking, right? This place is a hidden gem.”

"In a way, it's also a blessing in disguise. No crowds, no long lines..." Sighing in contentment, you slumped against the back of the bench a là shrimp posture. "I kept this place a secret ever since I found it, just so that it would stay that way. Haven't told a soul."

You froze the minute the words left your mouth; saying it like that might imply that you were entrusting some important secret of yours with Thoma. What if he misunderstood your intentions and thought you were flirting with him? That had been an unfortunately common problem among all your advice-seekers, and it would be humiliating to have to clear up the misunderstanding after you'd scolded so many people for doing the exact same thing.

“Yeah, I kinda understand why.” Thoma mused, his attention wholly fixed on his food. If he had misunderstood you, he showed no signs of it. “Seriously, this is amazing— I should take notes for the next time I bake bread.”

“…You can bake?”

“Yep. It’s kind of like my hobby, along with cooking and cleaning.”

The most absurd image come to mind— ‘Everyone’s Thoma’ opening a window while dressed in full housekeeping gear, complete with rubber gloves and a handkerchief to keep his hair out of his face. You briefly wondered if he was the type to wield a feather duster or a broom as his weapon of choice (for cleaning, of course).

Come to think of it, today was the first time you’d seen him outside of school. In school he was always well-behaved and a perfect gentleman, the dreamy student who everyone adored. It was Thoma’s natural disposition to behave the way he did on campus, but… there was something that was just a touch off from his usual self.

"You seem more relaxed today," You remarked, eyeing the boy who sat next to you. Taroumarou eagerly sniffed the ground, tangling his leash around your shins in his search for fallen crumbs.

"Well, I do suppose so. Weekends are a way for me to destress from the weekdays and all the worries that come with it." He replied, munching thoughtfully on the piece of bread. "I don't want to sound ungrateful for the things I have but... there are a lot of people who have expectations for me, and I don't want to let those people down."

Oh.

You'd had the impression that Thoma was just some generic popular boy who all the students swooned and sighed for, like the male love interest straight out of a cheesy high-school romance story— but apparently you had misjudged him.

Similar to your reputation as a relationship counselor, being 'Everyone's Thoma' was a burden, though one laden with good intentions and well-wishes from others. Because he always looked after everyone and brought joy to hearts of people around him, it became something those people began to take for granted and then even expect from him. It never crossed their minds that sometimes, the person who did all of these things might get worn out; in that sense, he wasn't so different from you, except that it was only even further magnified because of how many people looked up to him.

You had the privilege of slinking into the shadows and disappearing unnoticed, while Thoma... didn't.

Shame flushed hot in your face, gnawing at your stomach with pointy little fangs of guilt. "It must be tiring to deal with all of that."

"Ah, well... not most of the time. It only gets particularly draining on my bad days." Thoma popped the last of his bread into his mouth and smiled cheerfully, as if to say ‘don’t worry about it’.

The people who tell you not to worry about how they feel are usually the ones you should worry about most, you incorrigible pup.

Of all the people and relationships you'd seen and encountered, it always was the ones who disregarded their own feelings who suffered the most. You'd seen one too many girls weeping over a foolish lover not worth their time, pushing their feelings of hurt and grief deep down inside just because they thought that that was how it was to be in love. It was the same with friendships, and in Thoma's case too; if one person disregards their own feelings of stress and emotional pain in order to please the other party, then there was a high chance that the relationship wouldn't last unless something was done about those feelings.

"You know, every once in a while you should live your life for yourself. It wouldn't do you any harm to take care of yourself first."

The words were almost the same as what you had told many of the advice-seekers who begged for your assistance. Take care of yourself first, prioritise yourself— you'd said it so many times till the phrase was hollowed out into an empty formality, lingering on the tip of your tongue like a bitter pill. Over time, your advice became a poison that numbed the senses of the one who gave it out.

But for some reason, you had a faint notion that things had changed.

"Well, this is just my opinion, and well... I don't..." You scratched the back of your head, trying to think of the right words to say. "I don't know if I understand your situation entirely, so I may get things wrong."

He smiled as he fished for a new piece of bread, the corners of his eyes crinkling up like freshly-bloomed flower petals in a way that sent an electric shock tingling down your spine. "It's alright, really. I'd like to hear your thoughts on it anyway."

"You're- well... you're kinda like this bread."

Brilliant. Harvard would be begging on their knees for you to attend their university if they heard you now.

All three of you stared at the half-bitten piece of bread in your hand, although the expression on Taroumarou’s face looked more hungry than anything. Judging from the extremely judgemental aura radiating from behind, the owner had also overheard you.

"How…” Thoma blinked uncertainly. “How am I supposed to take that?"

"As a compliment...?" At that moment, you wanted nothing more but to melt through the ground to be absorbed into plant food. That way you could at least contribute to the well-being of any future ecosystems and make something worthwhile out of your embarassing existence.

The Boss Dog nudged Thoma’s ankle and whined softly, giving you a beady side-eye that would’ve made a grown man cry; compared to his master, Taroumarou was certainly not as merciful to your feelings.

"…Uh, would it be too much for me to assume that you're implying I'm a snack?"

"What— no! That's not what I meant." You spluttered furiously, flailing your hands about as you tried to deny any existence of an unintentional pick-up line. "That wasn’t my intention at all, I promise!”

He snorted and turned his face away, using the bread in his hand to act as a shield (like that would have done anything to conceal his laughter.) “No worries, I’m just joking. I figured you didn’t mean it like that… unless you actually did—“

“Don’t remind me!”

“Haha, alright, alright. I’ll let you finish.” Thoma lowered his bread to reveal a lopsided grin, a slightly teasing lilt to his tone of voice. His golden hair floofed up like a little cloud, giving him the illusion of two puppy-dog ears sprouting from the top of his head.

Cute, a small part of you remarked.

Once you realised what you had just dared to think, your plans to become compost were immediately placed at the top of your priority list. That’s it, you were definitely losing it and it was all his fault.

“Anyway, as I was saying.” You cleared your throat and gestured to your piece of bread. “You’re like this bread.”

“How so, prof?” He shifted to face you, crossing his legs and propping his chin on his hands like he was listening to a teacher. Emerald-green eyes sparkled with such attentiveness that it was starting to make you feel embarassed all over again, which was not helpful at all.

“…Do you want the long or short explanation?”

“I’d like the short explanation, please.”

“You- well…” It was somewhat awkward to say it aloud, but you had already dug your grave and now was the time to lie in it. “I don’t know exactly how to phrase it, but you sort of have the aura of fresh-baked bread. Like... when you’re around other people.”

Thoma’s eyebrows shot up in confusion, his nonexistent ears flopping to one side as he tilted his head. Taroumarou followed the example of his master, looking at you with such adorable confusion that you almost lost your cool. The audacity of these puppies to be so cute…

Luckily your counselor side took over before you had another meltdown, allowing you to continue without incident. “I think that’s what makes people gravitate to you so easily. Do you see how everyone swarms to buy bread in the cafeteria when there’s a fresh batch?”

“Oh, yeah. It’s always difficult to buy anything during that time.”

Your brain was running on fumes at this point— just what exactly had been your point here? It had been quite some time since you’d counselled someone and you hadn’t had the time to prepare yourself as you usually did. The expectant look on Thoma’s face as he gazed intently at you… well, needless to say, it was not helping your thinking process.

But you wanted to at least tell him something that would make him feel better; you didn’t know why, or how you would do it, but you just knew that you wanted to do it.

And fine, maybe you were just a bit worried about him. Call it sympathy from one reliable person to another.

“The thing is… you’re not just some object that can just be pushed around and argued over like the cafeteria bread. You have thoughts and needs just like everyone else, and I don’t think it’d be particularly fair to yourself if you kept pushing those aside for what everyone else wants you to be.” You said quietly, lowering your hand. “You may be similar to freshly-baked bread, but that doesn’t mean you always have to keep giving your time and effort to other people."

Thoma didn’t reply, merely continuing to look at you with an odd, melancholic expression on his face. One finger slowly tapped against his cheek, tracing absent-minded circles there as he gazed into your eyes.

“Ah- I’m sorry. I think I overstepped there.” Hastily you shoved your bread into your mouth, focusing all of your effort on chewing and swallowing so that you wouldn’t have to deal with reality. Without even realising it, you’d slipped into complete counselor mode while talking to him— it seemed that your old habits still remained.

“There’s no need to apologise.” One side of his mouth quirked up into a wry grin. “I was just thinking about what you said, that’s all.”

“If anything about what I said was incorrect, I apologise for assuming. Just- I suppose you can forget about it.”

“No, it actually made me really happy to hear that.” Thoma replied, the little smile on his face growing even further. “Just as I thought, I really am in good hands when I’m with you. Thank you for looking out for me.”

Your face burned hotter than an oven; this puppy-boy really was out for your neck, wasn’t he.

“Ah, the bread’s almost gone! Here, have another piece— you’ve barely eaten anything.”

A piece of bread was promptly thrust in your hands, still warm to the touch— though you had to admit that it wasn’t as warm as the feeling spreading in your chest. Thoma crossed his arms with an air of satisfaction, looking like a proud housewife who had just fed her guests with her hard efforts.

It almost made you want to burst out laughing all over again.

This side of him is definitely different, you decided. But it was a nice side to discover, one that made him a little more human than all the achievements and gushing flattery that were attached to him by others.

Unconsciously, you smiled a little as you bit into the bread he had given you. Oddly enough, it seemed to taste better than when you'd sit on this very bench and eat in solitude— perhaps there was some merit to the saying that food tasted better with company.

"Hey, I just thought of something." Thoma said aloud, nudging Taroumarou slightly with his foot in order to stretch his legs.

"What is it?"

"When you explained the sort of aura I have around other people, I started thinking about what kind of feeling you would have. I've come to the conclusion that you're just like this bakery."

"...How am I even supposed to take that?"

"Well, same as yours. It's a compliment." A different facial expression crept on his features— a look that you almost would've described as sly, if it weren't for how angelic his face naturally looked. To you, it was both amusing and unnerving at the same time.

You paused mid-bite to give him an unimpressed stare. “At least I explained why I thought you were like bread. Where’s your explanation?”

Thoma hummed softly, an amused look in his eyes as he rocked back and forth in his seat. “Maybe another time.”

“Well that’s unfair.”

“Don’t worry, I’ll definitely explain it to you. Boss Dog here is our witness.”

Taroumarou barked in agreement, wagging his tail eagerly as he eyed the bread in your hand. You finished off your bread with a resigned sigh, accepting your fate; maybe making you squirm was just another part of Thoma’s personality.

Quietly, you admired Taroumarou for a few moments, running your fingers through his soft fur and savouring the fluffiness against your fingertips; a small part of you wondered if Thoma’s hair was fluffier, but you quickly dismissed the intrusive thought.

Still, your fingers twitched impulsively as you stole glances at Thoma’s loose, fluffy locks, and you decided that perhaps it was best for you to retire before you did anything rash. You already had several close calls today, and you didn't want to create any more memories that would cause you to scream into your pillow at night from sheer embarrassment.

“Sorry, but I can't stay too long. It's already getting late.” You brushed off the crumbs from your clothes and stood up.

“Oh... I see.” He looked almost regretful at the thought of you leaving (or perhaps it was just your wishful thinking). “In that case, don’t let me keep you.”

“It was… nice to see you today.” The words were no empty formality, you realised; you had genuinely enjoyed getting to see him today. And even more strange was the fact that your social battery was still full, perhaps even revitalised after running into Thoma and Taroumarou.

“Likewise.” Taroumarou yipped happily as Thoma did a little salute and grinned, sending your heart skipping like a lovesick school-girl’s. “Boss Dog says it was nice to see you, too.”

"Ah, um... if it's possible, could I see Taroumarou once in a while?"

"Just Taroumarou?"

You turned back and stared at him, completely lost on how to even respond to that question.

"Ah, you don't have to answer that if you don't want to." Thoma leaned back against the wall and gave you an amused smile, a perfect picture of relaxation in the fading sunlight. "I always walk him around this area, so maybe you can see him the next time you go out for bread."

“That- that’s a great idea.” You gave him an awkward thumbs-up in response, cringing at how stiff you sounded. Something in your chest melted into a mushy, gooey puddle as soon as Thoma tilted his head to face you, his sparkly puppy-boy eyes in full effect.

"We should do this again sometime. Taroumarou really seemed to enjoy getting bread with you today." He lightly shook Boss Dog's leash and patted him on the head. "As did I, of course."

His sincerity took you off-guard, as it always did; how could he live like that, with his heart on his sleeve for everyone to see? Yet at the same time, it didn’t seem like such a terrible way to live.

If all he had given you was his honesty, then it was only fair that you pay him back in a like manner— that was how you rationalised it, anyway.

“…Hey, Thoma.” The following words sat heavily on your tongue like a lump of iron; you weren’t sure if you were close enough for you to say something so… brazen.

"Yes?" A soft smile bloomed over his features, his eyes aglow with warmth that made your heart skip in strange ways and filled you with a strange, reckless courage; did Thoma always smile so gently when he looked at you?

"See you on Monday." You finished the outrageous statement with what hopefully passed for a friendly smile, and waved goodbye. Before Thoma could answer, you scampered off, your stomach twisting in knots as your words burned themselves into your auditory memory permanently— oh, you really hoped you didn’t just embarass yourself. “You can have the rest of the bread!”

The Boss Dog wondered why his subordinate sat there for such an extraordinarily long time, an unmoving statue even as Taroumarou wriggled himself into Thoma’s lap. His eyes remained dazed and unfocused despite Taroumarou’s best efforts to rouse Thoma from his stupor— what a strange boy. Was Thoma behaving this way because of the other human?

He tilted his head and sneezed, the scent of bread wafting temptingly in his nostrils; Taroumarou was a dignified dog of noble breeding who scorned to behave in a way that was beneath one of his pedigree, but for the sake of his subordinate he had nobly sacrificed his dignity in order to gain extra time with the strange human. Begging for crumbs, yanking on his leash in an undignified manner, even going so far to stall for time by peeing on a flower-pot when he had smelled the nice human from around the corner. Taroumarou recognised the scent from all the times his subordinate came home from school with a giddy smile on his face, the distinct smell of that particular human still lingering on his uniform.

Everything he had done was all because Thoma had seemed so happy when he saw that person— if his subordinate had been a dog, his tail would’ve been wagging non-stop. But now Thoma was very still, like one of those garishly-painted statues in the garden that Taroumarou had deemed as his sworn enemies.

The Boss Dog thought long and hard, pondering as to what could have brought his subordinate into such a state; could it be that this was Thoma’s first time courting?

Well, that seemed to be the only logical answer; the only other answer that Taroumarou could think of was that Thoma really had become one of those urban nightmares also known as the garden gnome. The Boss Dog whimpered slightly— he didn't like that notion at all.

He nudged Thoma’s arm once more, desperately hoping that his efforts would not be in vain. Finally, just when Taroumarou was about to bring out his genius last resort (which was to pee in Thoma’s lap) in order to save his subordinate from an eternity spent as a statue, Thoma spoke.

“Taroumarou, boy…” A strange, giddy smile curved upwards on Thoma’s face, the thrumming of his heartbeat reverberating through his entire body. “I think I’m in big trouble.”

Taroumarou rolled his eyes in a mixture of relief and disgust, nuzzling his snout into the crook of Thoma’s knee. Humans were strange creatures.

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fluffallamaful · 1 year

Note

Oh nobody EVER thinks to explain any of this to Dream. Sam just barks orders that are followed without hesitation, and Wuackity only ever explains things in the immediate (ie. “Do this and you won’t get hurt” sort of thing), which means that — on Dream’s end — this is akin to a psychological horror. Anyway, you wanted bathtime tickles? Good news — that’s basically the first thing that happens.

So Dream hasn’t been allowed to properly bathe in about a year. He doesn’t even have a change of clothes. Bottom line is that he STINKS — which means it’s easy for both Sam and Quackity to logic an explanation for them to give him a bath.

Well, the first thing they need to do is shave off all his hair. ALL of it. Under his arms, on his legs, everything: it’s matted and disgusting and needs to be cut away so it can grow back fresh. Quackity tries to ignore how Dream whimpers as the blades go over the skin: he’s careful not to nick him, and that’s what matters. Eventually the gunk has been peeled away, and the skin underneath is left red and tender. After the hair is gone, Quackity still has to scrub out certain areas for a long time because of all the gunk build up. (And the skin underneath those areas is probably really tender, too!)

Now their prisoner is left red and raw and shaking. Quackity gets some sort of lotion or oil and starts to rub it over his inflamed skin — only to get a very unexpected result. It tickles like hell. The lotion makes his already tender skin more sensitive than ever, and with the pain dulled — well.

And Quackity doesn’t just have something fun to do handed to him on a silver platter. He has a reason to have to do it, because Dream is red and raw all over. Dream can’t stop squirming, so after his foot and leg is done (sole of his foot and his entire knee must have been an experience in and of themselves tbh), Quackity sits on his leg while Sam holds his arms above his head, and Quackity gets to work massaging the oils into his back and his sides and his ribs. He stays a little longer wherever he starts to hear him laugh louder. >:)

And then he has to flip him over.

He initially goes for the tummy first, but the squeal of anticipation — not even tickles! — that greets the movement makes him decide to save that for the finishing act. Instead he goes for the ribs, the armpits (Sam has to put a little more effort into holding his arms above his head for that one. Not much — Dream’s still very weak — but a little bit.), the neck and the chest. He saves the tummy for last.

He might even play a bit more with the tummy, too. (“Oh, looks like I missed a spot. Pass me the sponge, Sam.”) At the end, he might even finish off with a big old raspberry, right on the little hollow beneath his belly button.

The lotion bit probably takes about two hours. Dream is a wreck by the end of it.

Afterwards, he’s dressed in a clean hospital gown while his prison uniform is tossed in the incinerator downstairs (it is DISGUSTING), and he’s led to a room. A room that Sam insists on staying in with him. (It’s fine. Quackity can play the long con.) The two of them work to feed him some hot soup (obviously), and he’s can only stomach about a third of a full bowl but at least it’s not potatoes — it’s some beetroot concoction. Then they clean his teeth and finally put him to bed.

Sam insists on sleeping with him. Of course.

okxhxuzhss ohhh my heckkk 😵‍💫 idk why but this was so flustery to read fzgs.

once again you have described quackity and sam’s poor explanation to dream so heckin well 🙌🏼 sam is still kinda unreadable and oddly clingy. and quackity is so ominous that dream just assumes that he’s threatening him. they’re too caught up in their own heads to realise how wildly confused dream is (he’s always been pretty good at hiding it anyway).

(discussion below)

🦙🦙🦙…

this whole situation is so cute omg. dream being given his first proper bath,, but at the cost of losing all of his body hair 😭 (what the heck 😭), quackity carefully shaving him with possibly the exact same tool that he had used to torture only days prior,, and having to ignore how panicked dream looks about it :((

i’m of course absolutely stuck on the idea of them realising that the lotion is tickling dream. like i actually can’t help it my whole stomach it flips. but i imagine dream would realise way before both quackity and sam would,, but obviously it’s in his best interest to keep it to himself. he’s already vulnerable and humiliated enough. he doesn’t need anything else to add on to this…

but of course eventually he can’t help but smile at the feeling. it’s amazing to not be in pain, an eye opener even. the feeling of not having his matted hair constantly pulling when he moves, the smoothness of his skin, the lack of stinging from his scars. it’s already enough to make him feel giddy. quackity’s touch is so gentle. it’s foreign. sams grip on his hands is equally caring. the lotion has a scent that makes him feel refreshed, he feels clean.

the smile slips out as well as the tiniest huffed giggle when quackity’s hands reach the backs of his knees. his thighs are tingling, his arm that he promptly uses to muffle the reaction is soft and clean. his legs start shuffling when quackity moves down to his shin, hands clenching and unclenching. his shoulders start shaking when he reaches his foot, and finally the first audible giggles pour out once the tingling from the lotion catches up with quackity’s rubbing.

it’s finally then that quackity and sam catch on,, particularly when quackity has to apply the lotion in between dream’s toes. dream actually starts kicking out at him then, unhiding himself and twisting himself up to fight at quackity’s hand. sam is quick to recapture and pin him back down though. he holds dream’s biceps out to the side and keeps him firmly (nicely though) pressed into the surface. quackity continues his application and dream cackles helplessly, foot twitching in quackity’s grasp

they start cooing at him. they tease him about it. it’s only sweet stuff about him being adorable,, but it’s unbelievably embarrassing for dream (who’s shirtless, bathed and raw). quackity sits on his thighs and starts applying to lotion to his back. he rubs over his shoulder blades, ribs, sides. maybe he even gives dream a bit of a massage (he’s rather good at them, experience from his fiancés). dream is full on giggling now. his legs and foot are still tingling, he’s still got the fresh scent of cleanliness in his nose, and he’s overwhelmed with the feeling of touch that isn’t harm.

he actually yells when sam stretches his arms out more and quackity’s hands glide up his upper ribs,, sniggering like crazy when the back and side of his neck are tended to. and then he hears the words “ok flip him over”, and he actually fights it.

he tries so hard to remain hidden,, but he’s overpowered easily, and immediately he’s showered in coos and teases once quackity and sam get to see his face. his eyes are glassy, his cheeks blotchy and red. he absolutely screams when quackity’s hands reach down towards his stomach,, pulling in vain at his arms when his face darkens eight shades. quackity starts covering his sides and ribs that couldn’t be reached when dresm was turned over. he arches his back. he tries to curl in when the hands move to his chest. his sides are tingly. he shakes his head when his neck is tended to again, whining when quackity cups his face and tells him how cute he is. he screams when sam stretches his arms up again, barking out laughter when quackity rubs into the baldness of his armpits. he twists and arches his back. he cackles. his arms are released one by one so quackity can apply the lotion to his arms. his fingers scrunch and straighten repetitively.

at last the only place left to do is his tummy. and quackity decides to mess with him a bit (omfgggg 😭). he scrubs at hypothetical dirt patches (that are conveniently located over dream’s worst spots). he kisses each spot when he’s done. he applies the lotion and massages it deep into his muscles to ‘make sure his tummy is extra smooth’. dream wheezes and cackles. tears start gathering in his eyes from the overwhelming sensation.

he yells when quackity places a raspberry to finish, giggling uncontrollably for several minutes after quackity promises that he’s finished. he’s given a hospital gown and is helped into his bed. he’s FED SOUP. SOUP. he tries his hardest to eat the beetroot concoction (i feckin hate beetroots i relate mr dreamie). they note down that he’d prefer rabbit stew. sam insists on staying with him while he gets to sleep. it’s surprisingly easier than dream originally assumed. his eyes are practically rolling the minute he hears sam purring

🦙🦙🦙…

#i fall in love with every one #every single one #Soups Time Travel AU #soup the destroyer #llama asks #lee!dream #ler!quackity

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wench-and-jezebel · 1 year

Text

NCIS Reaction: The Curse

Wench (@scripted-downfall) reacts [with (maybe) occasional asides by Jezebel (@typicalopposite)]

Since this is apparently a running part of my reaction, today’s snack report: unfortunately paltry because I have zero appetite. I am, however, having apple soda again, so all hope is not completely lost!

CROSSBOWWWWW

Beautiful crossbow, actually

I know he just found a body or something, but I'm still stuck on the crossbow because it was pretty

Body it is

[I bet it’s terrorists] Ya know, we haven’t had terrorists in a whole damn episode; it probably is lksadjf;lk

Tony being good with maps gives me life

They almost left him :(

He had to run to catch up :((((

Not Tony complaining about their lack of funds again (Valid, though)

"How did he get so..." "I believe 'mummified' is the adjective you're looking for" Actually, my The Mummy-obsessed mind autofilled "juicy", but that's exactly the opposite end of things

[Ooffff flip phone] I love flip phones. Had a flip phone for years and I’d still have one if I could.

TONY, YOU'RE BRILLIANT. BUDDY JUST SHOWED OFF HIS NAVAL KNOWLEDGE AND I AM PROUD

I can't tell whether to be happy that Gibbs remembered Tony's two-year anniversary as an NCIS officer or be annoyed that he was that dismissive of it.

Going with annoyed given his subsequent, "Seemed like a good idea at the time" [With Gibbs, as you’ll see in later episode, he is very protective of Tony but he’s very… I can’t think of another character to compare him to, but he does care about Tony]

– – –

Here, we paused the show to have a “short” conversation.

Wench: Bobby?

Jezebel: If Bobby’s personality was more like Rufus. Like Bobby combined with Hotch. Or… Botch. If you will

Wench: Well, that's both good to know but also... idk, maybe this is a flaw in my personality, but I always feel like constant ribbing goes too far. Like, for a Dark Angel parallel, Max and Alec's banter might not have been bad, but it's constant and oppressive and too extensive to be just light-hearted banter. Her initial "Alec, as in smart-aleck" isn't that bad on its own. Combine it with everything else, it gets less haha, they're bantering and more damn, she's an asshole to him. Here, the teasing would have been fine, but now it's kinda wearing. And I feel like that being your work environment would suck.

Jezebel: And that’s fair. He is very much a grouch teetering towards if not sometimes full on ass hole. But man’s had a hard life and let it make him a hard ass I guess you can say. Lol

Wench: Sure, but he’s mainly only being like this to Tony. Kate has had a few interactions like this, but not nearly as many. And Ducky — as mentioned — has to deal with Gibbs interrupting him a lot. But still, way more Tony than anyone.

Jezebel: Well, Tony’s the one (other than ducky, I think) who’s been with him longer. Yes it’s normally geared at Tony. And if Tony is your favorite, I’m guessing that would bother you. Initially, Gibbs was my favorite when we first started watching again because I knew the full backstories and what was to come before watching. So I guess I just view it as Gibbs being Gibbs, and they don’t seem hurt by it so it is what it is lol

Wench: I get that, but also… idk, again, maybe I’m putting myself into character roles (not just Tony’s) too much, but that kinda. Sucks. Like, I ramble to people and have them walk off without paying attention, or interrupt because what I’m saying is “unimportant,” and yeah, maybe it is, but it’s still something important to me. So I see Ducky getting interrupted/dismissed, and I know how much that can, frankly, hurt. (I recognize that me rambling about something frivolous when we’re hanging out doing nothing anyway is different from a rant in the middle of a crime scene investigation, but it doesn’t change things that much. The point stands.) Or I see Kate getting disciplined for asking for an explanation, and that irks me because I completely get the importance of understanding why you’re doing something. (And yeah, I get that sometimes you have to snap to attention and follow orders, but not all of Gibbs’ little that was an order; I don’t answer to you things are in situations that are time-sensitive to that degree.) Or my family reunions, with nastiness hidden under “teasing.” You don’t go along with it and you’re “not a good sport” or “too sensitive”, but it’s so oppressive that it wears, and ignoring it becomes vaguely impossible. There’s so much that it’s not just a slightly-mean-spirited-but-still-funny-haha joke; it’s more serious than that. (This is the Tony parallel of the story.) And seeing these dynamics played for laughs is a bit. Iffy. To me.

Jezebel: And all that is fair. And is it possible that you’re putting yourself too much in the characters’ shoes, but that’s both fair and kinda a big part of shows in general. And something I don’t think writers consider. Because, iirc, it’s never touched on that any of this bothers either Tony or Ducky, and both will fight to the death over Gibbs, as would Kate (except she has repeatedly fought him on her thing 😂). And by fight, I mean also in a sense of if someone came and was like you’re a horrible person look how you treat them. They would be like whoa ho no stop! Leave him alone

Wench: I mean… tbf, them defending him doesn’t mean that much. Just pointing out that Dean would do that for Sam

Jezebel: Fair, but Dean also expresses things Sam does to hurt him. Again, iirc, that’s NEVER touched on here. (Ok, maybe not EXPRESSES, but you know they do.) Also, to this: they are brothers and Dean has been raised to do NOTHING but protect and love Sam. And to put him about everything. Tbf, Gibbs is just Tony’s boss and Ducky’s coworker (I don’t think he’s his boss). They don’t HAVE to care so much for him. They just do.

Wench: So, tbf, that was just an example of how someone’s personal willingness to defend treatment does not automatically make it good treatment… but, r.e. your point about them not having to care about GIbbs: that doesn’t change the fact that they do. And they largely seem to respect him. So his judgement still matters, even if it doesn’t have to.

Wench again, but a slightly separate topic: I do think that a large part of the issue is that this is the comic relief.

Jezebel: Yes!!! It’s very… I can’t think of the word. The show is a serious and sometimes dark show. I think it might get better for you as it goes

Wench (continued from above): But they only show the filler, and not much of their other interactions. So their relationships basically come across as "Gibbs 'banters' with Tony about disrespecting him" without actually showing the parts where he does the respecting that would counterbalance it. (yet). Or "Gibbs doesn't care about Ducky's rambling interests and seems to think him a bit doddering" without showing the conversations where that doesn't happen.

Jezebel: Fair

Wench: And I get that's not the focus of the show, so the writers didn't prioritize it... but it's still important. It's the difference, imo, between direct characterization and implied characterization. This show currently is very... surface-level. There's no need — or desire, seemingly, on the behalf of the writers — for analysis by the audience; everything important thus far is simple and spelled out. The script more or less says that Gibbs respects Ducky; thus, Gibbs respects Ducky. And, since the script says it, they don't need to actually write it because obviously it's true. That's the direct characterization bit, and, until it's directly contradicted, that's just the status quo.

Jezebel: Yes, and that’s what I mean when I said that the writers didn’t consider viewers taking the banter personally and it coming across as rude instead of funny.

Wench: Whereas I'm looking at the indirect characterization and seeing nothing to support this direct characterization. There's not much underlying respect to their interactions. Aside from when Ducky's actually giving facts about the case, every interaction has been Gibbs shutting Ducky up. (e.g. walking out/hanging up on one of their conversations, etc.) So, intellectually, am I surprised that none of the team is ever negatively harmed (ostensibly, at least) by Gibbs' personality? No. The side of their relationships that would make it healthy are just always happening off screen or something. I'm just saying that the characterization is inconsistent depending on whether they're talking on screen or not, and taking the on-screen interactions as a sign of how they interact off screen makes things a lot less happy-funny-haha than it's intended.

Jezebel: Yeah, that all makes sense. Just, like I’ve said before, I don’t dive that deep into stuff, so that’s why I initially don’t get it. But I get it 🙂

Wench: That sounds vaguely like I'm browbeating you into agreeing. Plz tell the reaction viewers (and me) that I'm not doing this alkdsfj

Jezebel: I think I’m at the point where I see that you take the characterization very seriously, judging by what you’re saying. And I take what the script says for what it says, if that makes sense.

Wench: Yeah, I follow.

Jezebel: But I can tell you that it’s not that deep or whatever, and you can know it’s not that deep because you see in the script that it’s not supposed to be that deep. This is just supposed to be comic relief. But if you’re still affected by it like it is that deep, that’s fair, and who am I to say you’re in the wrong for that, you know? Or anyone else for that matter.

Wench: Yeah, I get what you’re saying. And I doubt I will stop commenting on them being mean to Ducky or Tony (or maybe even Kate, sometimes, especially if I start liking her more), but I recognize (and, technically, have since the beginning of the show) that it’s not as serious a thing as I’m saying. I know it's comic relief and a very surface view of writing, intellectually, but I still want to remark on it, emotionally. You know?

Jezebel: Yeah that’s fair

Wench: Ready to continue?

Jezebel: Yeah, but hold on let me heat up my (normal) food

Wench: ljlaskdjflkadjf rude

Jezebel: 😂😂😂😂

Thus concludes the “short” conversation that lasted 50 minutes.

– – –

The British side of me is annoyed by the “lootenant” instead of “leftenant.” (No, I’m not British; I was just raised on British Isles television.)

Abby is adorable

Kate's hair being so long and unrestrained bugs me

Abby is still adorable.

Oof, poor dude being charged as a deserter :( BUDDY WAS DEAD [Right ?!?]

Bravo, Tony. Research skills!

Not them being mean about his research skills :(

Okay, the conversation about GIBs vs Gibbs is kinda funny [😂😂]

"You took the easy way" Accurate. Go off, Tony

Tony and Gibbs in chorus is rather funny, ngl, but also. Gibbs, leave off the "if" statement if it changes nothing about the outcome alkdsjf

I do appreciate Ducky chatting to the corpses every episode [It’s gonna be sad eventually] Oof [That’s all I say]

THE LIGHT BOARD IS SO COOL

Also, vaguely adorable that he remembered the case by connecting it to Gibbs

Once again, the emphasis on his rambling is a touch sad but whateverrrrr

Gibbs not listening to him even about the case tho ("No! I just told you...")

aksdjflkasjdf "*heavy sigh* Well, looks like we're gonna have to go to Hawai'i, boss."

Oof, the talk of ages [I feel ya Gibbs]

I appreciate Tony giving shit back to Gibbs this time

Dude, his age is bound to be in his file somewhere

Tony... affectionately, shut up :) [Tony done put him in his feelings]

Oof. "He'll be exonerated?" Um... 'bout that.

Damn, six years isn't bad! Though, btw, Randy is automatically a bit suspicious. Was he in the service?

Something about the wife's acting in this scene is also a bit suspicious, but I don't think it's intended to be.

[OH DAMN. He died the day she was born; that sucks]

Damn, Gibbs, go off.

I will give you that Gibbs' acting does a bit to cover up the writing issues; he's clearly harsher and more serious when he's actually angry at someone than when he's bantering. (e.g. that agent vs Tony/Ducky/et al)

This time, Tony's the one harping on a joke lakdsjf [😂😂😂]

Gotta love adrenaline-junkie!Tony coming back for an episode

BRINGING BACK ABBY’S SIGNING!!!

– – –

Okay, midpoint reaction time…

I honestly think this episode is better in the writing. It's really ironic that we just had the discussion above on the episode (other than the pilot) that's actually been not-bad on the "teasing" front. For one thing, it's far less restricted to one person. Gibbs, Ducky, Tony, Kate, even Abby... they've all had moments where they're teasing and moments where they're being teased. For another... idk, it's all hanging together better. There are moments where each character gets to be shown as blatantly competent on screen. Gibbs, obviously, has one as the main character, but you've also got Ducky exhibiting his stellar knowledge of autopsies (past and present), and Tony rattling off random naval/geographical facts, and Kate handling research/next-of-kin interviews on her own, and Abby doing her own awesome lab stuff. This is the first episode — except, again, maybe the pilot — in which I didn't feel like most of them were reduced to archetypes (the mad scientist; the jester; the techie; etc) [🙂]

Storyline is interesting — no terrorists quite yet, though — and decently paced thus far; we’ll see if that continues. Uh... it's getting late and I'm out of things to say rn; stay tuned!

– – –

alkjfalkj Abby and Tony, the duo I needed

Damn, an actually enjoyable interaction between Kate and Tony [☠️☠️]

Still loving Abby's fashion, lab appropriate or no

"What schmuck?" "Our schmuck, unfortunately" alksdfj

WHAT DID I SAY ABOUT RANDY BEING SUSPICIOUS [😂😂😂😂] One of these days, I'm gonna actually solve the case before they do successfully. (I still maintain that the last one should have been a computer virus) [☠️😂]

Not Tony harping on the funds again alskdfj “First class toilet?”

“How old do you think Gibbs is?” aslkdfj

Never trust chick flicks, I swea- YES, GIBBS, AGREED [☠️☠️☠️☠️☠️☠️]

[I love that after that whole “short” interaction…. You have had twenty moments of Gibbs being different ☠️] I know, I’m crying. I’ve made a fool of myself. Our readers will never trust me again. (I SWEAR IT WAS ACCURATE IN THE OTHER EPISODES OKAY)

[I’m ded at how he said Gibbs] aklsdjf

“I don’t even want to hear the word ‘curse’ out of your mouth, DiNozzo.” “Would I say that, boss?” “You said it to me.” [“You said it first”]

[She’s got the smirk of a guilty person. GUILTY] Tis true. But also, is this your reaction!?!?!? :))) [*silence*] This was a joke; please keep doing it [😂😂😂]

… [Well shit] Damn, she's got receipts. Literally.

Abby and Ducky, my dears, I love you

[Not a niblick]

This is called "how many times can we say 'niblick' in one scene" [☠️☠️☠️☠️]

I like her necklace again

"... my dear" "... my darling" I love them

[Guiltyyyyy]

He said the word "fraternize"; that's a yes on the romance (GOmens vibes)

"That wans't in your report" "It didn't seem pertinent" It's always pertinent, my dude.

Oop, Tony's flirting smile makes an appearance

"Do not 'sir' m-" [*simultaneously* Do not sir me] Oi. [= Tony called me old and now my feelings be hurt] alksdjf;lkasdjf ACCURATE [The reading part still kills me. ‘Cause same my dude. My old dude] :( [I have to take my glasses off to read☠️]

You can tell things are getting intense; the music is picking up

I really want it to be Randy, plz. I called it and I wanna be rightttttt.

Abby's getting so many good scenes; I love her [Yessss] Like her music too, btw. [😂]

“Speaking of big boys” [👀 that’s why people ship you two, Tony] I mean.... Steddie quotes… But also, no. I don't like it. Please, no. [☠️☠️☠️☠️ Hurry up and appear McGee] Yeah, I, uh… I don’t like it. Their characters just. Don’t work. Imo.

Who’s snoring? [☠️☠️☠️☠️ That meeee. I’m Gibbs] alskdjflaksdjf rude. Don't you dare. I need you to proof this before I post [Ok lol]

TONY'S HAIR

"I'll get them to confess" mmmhmmm

Another good Kate-and-Tony interaction

aslkdjflkasdjf "hermetically sealed" gives me Now You See Me flashbacks. "That's it: I'm allergic to hermetic seals"

[Ooooooh… I hate her] Yeahhhh [Get her Kate] Okay, I confess, I appreciate Kate’s passion here [Chick fight. Pull her hair.]

Kasjdflkasdjf THE ANIMATION OF THE CRIME

alksjdf poor Abby, getting her animation slighted. I knew I didn't like that petty officer chick; "petty" is right

[Hinky] HINKY. Such a good word.

[☠️☠️☠️☠️☠️ Noooooo, I’m ded] Did. Did they legit say that she. Walked by. And distracted the other servicefolk. Because she turned heads.

ONCE AGAIN. WHY DOES ANYONE TRUST THE NCIS ANYMORE. THEY'RE ALWAYS LYING.

[So many. SOOOOO MANNNYYY. Episodes end with that elevator shutting.] aksldjflkasjf

*elevator shuts*

– – –

Okay. Um. I’m aggravated. Not because the writing/acting/characterization was bad, because it wasn’t. But because. After I spent all that time detailing how it’s been bad in the past. They then went: PSYCH. And changed the handling of the entire cast and character list. I liked it better, don't get me wrong, but those were not the characters who'd been in every past episode since the pilot. Jezebel, please tell me you agree.

Anyway... I enjoyed that episode, so I'm pleasantly surprised. The Abby interactions with everyone else were delightful. The team was a bit less archetypal/formulaic. The comedic relief was lighter, less implied-to-be-harmful-even-if-directly-stated-as-not. I liked Kate this episode; she had a lot of Max's positive traits and very few of her negative ones: smart, capable, and impassioned, but not rude, arrogant, or logic-blind. Gibbs was a lot more of a grouchy mentor figure (affectionate) than a grouchy mentor figure (derogatory). And the others, of course, I loved. I always do, though, so that's not a surprise.

And I'm realizing that you're definitely asleep or something, aren't you, Jezebel. [*silence*] I think that’s a yes.

Welp.

Okay, then.

This is great.

Ummmmmmm. *nervous chuckle* Not that I’m paranoid about posting my reactions without Jezebel beta’ing them, but I’m abso-freaking-lutely paranoid about posting my reactions without her beta’ing them. Also, I literally cannot post this without her say-so because it has her words in it, and I have to get her consent. But, I have work tomorrow and I kinda wanted to post this before I went to bed. But, I’m tired. But- [I’m awake, lol. And 😂😂😂😂😂 I agreee (about the characters) It THRILLLS me that this happened this particular episode] SHE LIVES! Muahahahah, I can post on time. This midnight conversation with myself is still staying in the reaction, however, because I find it hilarious.

Hope you enjoyed our wackiness, and the random way this show seems to thrive on proving me wrong… ‘Til next time!

#ncis #ncis reactions #reactions #episode reactions #leroy jethro gibbs #kate todd #tony dinozzo #abby scuito #donald mallard #s01e05 #the curse #wench (pr)

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magnoliamyrrh · 9 months

Text

Oh godd i just remembered those dreams were fucked lmaooo what was that abt/// tw ment of torture in this one lmao tho ive talked abt worse things in real life that have happened to me so idk why im putting a tw

the first one i dont remember the beg. of but it ended in being stalked by these group of men and i was trying to get away, it was nighttime, back home in bucharest, but didnt manage and it seemed they wanted to torture me which was bad and i was trying my best to keep my cool and seem unphazed and try to lie my way out of shit cuz it seemed like they werent 1000% sure it was me they were after. but then the one i was talking to took the heel of a knife and pressed it hard in-between where my ribs meet, under or in the sternum, and i remember it hurt so fuckin bad, him asking me with a smirk if it hurts, does it? and clenching my jaw lying through my teeth saying it dont. and i guess that pissed him off a bit so he took the knife and did some shit to my foot idk

anyway i woke up then and what freaked me out after i realized it was a dream is that it hurt really, really really bad under my sternum. i haven't had that sort of rly bad pain since my bulimia was bad. but it hurt so bad. and my foot hurt so damn bad too. same pain as in the dream. freaked me out for a bit before i came to it and realized that my physical pain was likely giving me these nightmares

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ticklish-n-stuff · 2 years

Note

Sorry, I gotta show my bias here: please the enstars grumpy cat. He's my favorite nagging mom. And he's also kinda relatable with being the mom friend and his toxic and destructive perfectionism.

Tickletober day 16: Izumi day (bc I can)

Good answer (even tho there was no wrong answer lol). We love our nagging mama💖

Today has been ROUGH so what better way to destress than by writing for our favorite grumpy knight.

*No Yuu-kun's were harmed in the making of this fic*

___________________________________________

Makoto x Izumi (platonic)

Lee: Izumi

Ler: Makoto

Warnings: Tickles!

___________________________________________

It was another ordinary day for Yuu-kun, he was out and about minding his own business. Everything was going fine until he felt a disturbance in the force. He didn't know why, but he started to feel a bit uneasy.

"GYAH!" he suddenly yelped out when he felt a pair of arms wrap around him in a tight embrace.

"I finally found you Yuu-kun~!".

Oh no that voice, it was none other than Izumi.

"W-what are you doing here?!".

"I just flew back from Florence so of course I had to come see you~".

The blonde gulped as he felt the older one's grip tighten around him. That's never a good sign. He struggled trying to get out of it, but it was impossible, didn't matter how hard he squirmed Izumi just kept clinging onto him. Drastic times call for drastic measures if he wanted to be free. Makoto gripped his hands unto Izumi's sides, trying to gently push him away as to not hurt him. What he wasn't expecting were the soft giggles that bubbled out of his senior.

Makoto looked at him dumbfounded before it all clicked in his head. Wanting to experiment, he wiggled his fingers against Izumi's sides with vigor, earning louder snickers from the latter.

"Yuu-kuhun staHAp thAhat!" the silver haired male squirmed from side to side, giggling hysterically in the process. He tried muffling his giggles against Makoto's shoulder, all while still clinging onto him for dear life. Although it became harder with the tickling, he still remained determined and stubborn.

"I'll stop once you let go of me. Until then, tickle tickle~" Makoto started feeling a bit more playful in the situation, after all it wasn't everyday that he got to see this other side of Izumi. He moved his fingers up to his ribs, poking and prodding at the spot.

"Pfft-! Mhmhm...!" Izumi bit down on his lip to try to control himself, but it was useless. Makoto noticed how his arms were starting to become a bit loose, maybe he was aproaching a good spot? He wormed his fingers up to Izumi's armpits and that's when the damn broke. "GYAH! AHAHAHAHA!" Izumi instantly clamped his arms down, not being able to hold on any longer.

Even though he was now free, Makoto couldn't help but keep tickling him. Enjoying watching him smile and laugh so brightly.

"N-NO MOHOHORE!" cried out Izumi through his obnoxious laughter. His eyes were completely squeezed shut, a few tears starting to prick the corners. His cheeks were fully red and his smile was so wide it was unrecognizeable. He was absolutely in stitches. Not wanting to overdo it, Makoto slowed his fingers to a stop.

He watched as Izumi panted, catching his breath in the process. Makoto looked at him in endearment before saying "Your natural smile is so pretty, you should smile more often" which only caused Izumi to errupt in the spot.

___________________________________________

Idk how to end this, so I'll leave it at that :p

I'm sleep deprived so this might be ass lol

Anyways, I love Sena Izumi 💖 (although Leo is still my #1 huehuheu)

#enstars #ensemble stars #tickle fic #enstars tickle #enstars tickle fic #ensemble stars tickle #ensemble stars tickle fic #izumi sena #makoto yuuki #lee!izumi #ler!makoto #tickletober 2022

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blurrycow · 2 years

Text

Life Is Too Short To Last Long

Synopsis: Five Hargreeves is on a self-destructive rampage, and Viktor needs to stop it before it gets worse.

Word count: 2931

Trigger warnings: mentions of death, death, suicide, blood, cursing. Like Five buddy are you ok

Author’s notes: HERE IS THE REPOSTED VERSION OF THE FIC WHERE I KILL FIVE!!! PLUS CHAPTER TWO!!! ahaha so I did try to get this over 2k and!! It worked!! So that’s why it’s got so many run on sentences and lengthy descriptions, sob. Anyway I hope you likey because this is my pride and joy and like the first actual REAL fic I’ve ever finished (and I may make a third part, so stay tuned!) Also, Five is super ooc in the second part, but that is because he is dead. So. Tags: @conchshell, @stupidcanofpeaches, @assaily, @burnmyself, @sharkneto, @hargreef, @rllybritrlly (idk if you read fanfic brit but i like torturing people so…. youre on the taglist now lol)

Hi, sorry for the tag guys! But I DID end up finishing this and I think it’s pretty good if I do say so myself muahaha

“Come on, Five,” Viktor pleads, but Five only presses his hand closer to his chest. Viktor can feel all of his ribs through his shirt. Five is so skinny. How did he not see it before? Who knows how long it’s been since he ate? Since he sat down and took a break? How long has it been since he’s gotten a shower or relaxed?

“Just do it,” His brother begs, holding his hand like a lifeline against his heart, and Viktor stops short. Five never begs. He’s aloof. He’s prideful. He’s cold. But above all, he does not beg.

Viktor swallows and shakes his head. “I can’t.” He’s not lying. The cold pierces through the night like a sharp knife, gleaming and hard, the type of cut that you don’t notice until you’re bleeding out on the floor.

Viktor is the one metaphorically bleeding out on the floor.

Five’s eyes grow hard and cold, the greenish blue laced with anger and pain. Viktor is startled by their intensity. “Just do it,” he repeats, and his voice is shaking slightly, warm breath releasing in pale grey puffs into the light of the streetlamp and the dark road. A place for a nighttime stroll or midnight donut run. Not a place for a killing. Not a place for a suicide.

Viktor feels the tears coming, but he swallows down the lump in his throat. “I don’t know why.” Maybe he can prolong this. Maybe if he makes Five explain, he can talk him down.

Five shuts his eyes, lashes fluttering on pale cheeks. Viktor can feel his heartbeat, pounding shakily but holding steady. “Because the Commission implanted a disease in my brain.”

“And what does this disease do?” Viktor grills desperately, hoping with all of his will that his siblings are coming soon. If anyone can help Five it would be Allison’s rumors or Luther’s strength, or Diego’s knives and Klaus’s wit. They would all be so much better in this situation.

“It makes me want to destroy you,” Five says, opening his eyes again, and they are very shiny, like an ocean in the sunlight. “It makes me want to kill you all and myself, so I’d rather you get it over with before I have to kill all of you.”

The night is quiet. A gust of wind chills Viktor to the bone. He’s never felt this cold in his life. “You’re my brother. I can’t hurt you.”

Five lets go of Viktor’s hand, suddenly feral, savage, a wild boy turned rabid. He grows teeth, snaps, snarls. “You have to, Viktor! If you don’t kill me, I’ll kill you! It’s a kill or be killed world, and the only thing to do is kill me, because you can’t die, not when I’ve been working my whole damn life to keep you alive!”

Viktor is silent. Guilt chews its toxic way through his stomach, eating out his organs, leaving him desiccated and immobilized on the floor.

“You did it once. You can do it again.”

That’s what does it. That’s what fells the final blow. Viktor remembers the agony, the anger, the lash, the worry.

He’d killed his family. Five’s time spent in the apocalypse was his fault.

Viktor has to put him out of his misery, no matter how much he wants to hold on.

He stares at this boy, this boy that is not the same as he remembers, and Five is spitting and maniacal, shouting something about how Viktor needs to kill him, to just channel his power and blow his brains out, but Viktor has stopped listening.

There’s really no other choice but to kill Five, then. To kill the only brother he’s ever really loved.

How sad is that? How tragic must the Hargreeves be to be put into situation after situation, and now their backbone is offing himself at Viktor’s hand?

But time stops for no one, not even the Master of Time, and Five is already foaming at the mouth, hungry and ready for blood, and Viktor has to choose: does he want to die or does he want Five to live?

Five slams Viktor’s hand against his chest again, weakly, like he’s running out of steam. “I told you why. Now do it quick.” His eyes are bloodshot and pained, and glistening with something that looks like tears. But it can’t be tears. Five Hargreeves never cries. Crying is too weak. Crying is too human.

And Five Hargreeves isn’t human. He’s a cold, unfeeling killer. This is what the world has shaped him to be.

Viktor is teetering on the edge of humanity, ready to fall.

“You goddamn coward,” Five whispers, sensing the change in the atmosphere, and Viktor goes over the edge, toppling into the dark pit of oblivion, past his soundproof chamber and critical whispers and into the shadows where it is dark and cold and black, and there he sees a boy, standing alone.

The boy is holding a leash empty of pets, and his hair is dark and unruly and falling in a curtain over his face. He is thin and short, with icy blue eyes far too intelligent for his face, and he is wearing a blue uniform piped with red. The boy opens his mouth, and blood spills out over his teeth, staining them red, dripping down his chin in lazy rivers that spiral in scarlet kaleidoscopes. The leash drops from his hand as he collapses, and Viktor hears his own voice within the boy’s tortured scream- KILL ME.

He flies back to the present where things are overwhelmingly hot and Five is back in front of him and the streetlights gleam pale fluorescents and the wind whistles like a cheery barber and Viktor is filled with a strong and sudden conviction that this is what he is supposed to do.

He’s gotta be a good brother, right?

He nods, looks at his brother. Five nods back, mouth in a tightly pained grimace. They both know what comes next, and although later the guilt will come, the overwhelming loneliness and hurt and shame, for now Viktor can only see the fact of what is happening right now and what will come.

His plan will be put into action, and Five might never forgive him, but he can’t just let him go.

Viktor unleashes his power in a burst of blue white, and the world is bathed in pale light.

***

He lands on the ground hard, feet unsteady by the force of the blow.

The ground is unseeable, and Viktor can’t see his ankles or feet, because they are wreathed in black smoky sludge.

For some reason, this does not bother him. It does not worry him that he cannot see his feet. Usually it would, he thinks, and then laughs at himself. Why is he thinking about his feet?

He looks up. He’s alone on an empty street, the smoky black sludge coursing down the decline but not pulling him along with the current. It is dark, not the dark that smothers the night, but the dark that wraps you in a comforting blanket. There are no stars, only an endless path of evenly spaced street lamps on either side of the road he is standing in. It’s quiet. Viktor takes a breath.

He does not note the sudden change in temperature, or the way the trees droop like abandoned dogs. It does not bother him.

Or, at least, he thinks it doesn’t.

The world feels very simplistic, a mirage of black and white. It’s beautiful. The sludge keeps its course down the pavement, and the black sky keeps on twinkling. The glaring white lights from the streetlamps only add to the atmosphere.

A sudden ringing of a bell, a chime. Viktor turns his face heavenward. It is the first sound he has heard since he arrived, wherever he is. Whatever he is.

He tilts his head back down to look back at the path and in front of him is a short, chubby girl, with long brown hair and straight bangs and pale white eyes rolled back in her head.

Viktor knows this girl well. He has been her. He has felt her pain and felt her worries and felt her embarrassment and sorrows and scars and he knows, with conviction, that she is here to chastise him.

He is not scared, for some reason, but his skin crawls.

“Viktor, Viktor,” the girl cries, distressed, tears rolling down her face, fat and always coming in their amusement. “Viktor, what have you done now?” She appears to be looking for him with her pale unseeing eyes and Viktor tries to walk closer, to console his younger self, but the sludge prevents him from moving. “I don’t know,” he tries to say. “Why are you here?” but his mouth doesn’t let him, and when he opens it the only thing that comes out is open air, cool and unfeeling and emotionless.

The girl says, “The pain will come soon.”

“Viktor, you have made a grave mistake,” says another voice, and when he looks again, the girl is gone and in her place is a tall, bulky man with an olive trench coat and closely cut butter-yellow hair. There is the vaguest notion of recognition behind those white eyes, and Viktor startles by the intensity of it.

Another blink and the man is now a curly haired dark skinned woman, and she leans forward, lips by Viktor’s ear, and he tries to jerk back from her touch, but he can’t move. The woman whispers, only you will realize what you have done, and leans away and when he sees her again, moon-white eyes pale and unseeing, she is another person, a man, with short, curled hair and a mischievous grin, and the man says, “You will regret this,” and then skips around Viktor in a circle and he tries in vain to escape the sludge and paralysis, and the black sludge is rising, rising, coating his legs and the bottom of his torso and is crawling higher and higher still, up to his neck and chin and Viktor cannot move and he seems to be suffocating from the power of the black sludge and the man with the grin laughs, happy, so happy to see his pain and suffering, so happy to see justice carried out, and then the man is gone and in his place is a boy.

The worst part is that the boy does not do anything. He just stands there, watching, knowing, and his eyes are not white, they’re blue-green. A startlingly familiar color. He stares at Viktor with recognition and disappointment.

“Viktor,” he says. “This was not the plan.”

And then Viktor remembers, in a racecar rush, vibrant and killing.

The pain, the flash, the regret. It comes in like a waterfall, almost crushing him alive.

“Five,” he says, almost desperately, pleadingly. “I couldn’t.”

“You need to go back,” Five says, quickly. There is no question, no hesitation. Viktor wishes he had that confidence. “You can’t stay here. You don’t belong here. You weren’t supposed to kill yourself too.”

“Neither do you,” Viktor argues. “You were too young.”

“I was fifty eight,” snaps Five. “I was done anyway.”

I was done anyway.

How had Viktor not seen it?

“Why didn’t you tell me,” he whispers, not really a request. “I would have helped you.” He doesn’t add: I’ve been there. I know how it feels to be alone.

To want to just… be gone.

“I wasn’t your problem,” Five waves away his words, eyes everywhere but Viktor.

“I care about you. You’re my brother.”

“Well, you shouldn’t. Care about me, that is. All it’s gonna bring you is trouble.”

“You shouldn’t be here,” Viktor says, reserve going steely. How could Five just leave them like that, again?

He wanted to leave.

Why would he want to leave? How could he willingly kill himself?

But it was Viktor who killed him, really.

“Just go,” Five says, turning away; and Viktor is suddenly mad because it sounds a whole lot like what he said before, before he pointed the hand at himself, before he told Viktor to just kill me, you damn coward.

Viktor’s not the coward, Five is. Five’s the one who’s been running his whole life, first from their dad, and then from the Commission, and now he’s running from life into the comforting arms of Death.

Five’s the real coward here.

Viktor tells himself this, and it helps him stay calm as he says, “What made the Commission so angry as to plant the disease in your brain?” He needs an explanation. Maybe things can make more sense, maybe he can make a plan, maybe, maybe, maybe.

Five rolls his neck to the side, and it makes a cracking sound. “Pissed em’ off, that’s what. I refused to kill Kennedy, and when I went back to get the briefcases in the first apocalypse, they did it. While I was sleeping. It only hurt a little bit,” he adds when he sees the expression on Viktor’s face.

Somehow, Viktor does not believe him. Five’s pain threshold is like a tastefully decorated altar. It’s not really a threshold, and Allison had told them long ago that if Five downplayed something, it was definitely worse than he said.

Allison! What had happened to her? Viktor hasn’t seen his sister since three days ago, when he and Five broke off, away from the Sparrows. The others scattered elsewhere. None of them have reached out, or tried to communicate.

At least, not that he knows of. He hasn’t reached out to his siblings either, mostly because he can’t.

He really misses his sister. He misses his dumbass brothers, too, despite all odds.

“Viktor?”

Viktor looks up, and he’s made a plan, he’ll stall, just keep Five with him for as long as he can. “Sorry. I don’t think you can stay here. I won’t let you. If I go back, you’re coming with me.”

Five’s blue-green eyes darken, pupils contracting, until they are swallowed by an ocean of color, an abstract art of madness and torment. “I can’t. If I go back, I’ll just kill you. This is the only way.”

“There is always another way,” Viktor says, voice rising. “You taught me that yourself. There is always another way, and there is more than one way out. We can tie you down so you don’t hurt us. We can, we can confine you so you’ll still be with us somehow, I-”

“Do you hear yourself?” Five cuts in, snapping like a rubber band on the edge of a knife. “Do you seriously think I’ll agree to that? Why would I want to live in a world where I can’t do anything?”

He’s right, and Viktor knows it. The only reason Five is here in this medium space is because Viktor is. And because Viktor won’t let his memory go.

He’s selfish. The kind thing, the good thing to do, would be to let Five go to wherever it is he wants to go, and not hinder him in his travels. Viktor can honor his brother’s memory in his own, and let the spirit go free.

Klaus has told him enough about the dead for him to know that spirits don’t like to be contained.

“I don’t know,” Viktor says, softly, like falling snow. “This feels like Ben all over again.”

He doesn’t think that he can lose another brother, watch another fade away for real.

Viktor looks up again, and Five has moved to stand beside him, a comforting presence. “If you go back and I stay… there might be a chance that the timeline is changed. If I’m dead, I can’t be in Dallas in the past. That means that I’ll probably be with the Sparrows.”

Viktor sniffles. “I don’t know if I can handle that after seeing Ben.”

“It’s okay,” Five says, a little awkwardly. “I’ve already lived a long life anyway. I don’t mind.”

He still looks about twelve. It’s weird to hear him say that.

And Viktor still doesn’t want to let him go. Although it would be the kinder thing to do.

“The girl already met with me,” Five says, “And she said that I was ready to go. Whenever you are.”

“The girl-”

“She doesn’t want to meet with you. She said it’s not your time yet. So you can go. Whenever you think you can let me go.”

VIktor wipes his nose on the back of his hand and holds his arms out.

Five stares at them a little bit in confusion, and Viktor says, “One last hug, before I leave?”

Five smiles, just the tiniest bit out of the corner of his mouth, and Viktor thinks that he wishes he would have smiled like that more when he was alive.

His brother is warm, and his elbow pokes into Viktor’s stomach, but he finds he doesn’t mind. Five rests his head on top of Viktor’s shoulder, because he’s tall enough to do that now, Viktor sighs.

“I’m gonna miss you so much, Five,” he says quietly, and Five doesn’t reply, only buries his face deeper into Viktor’s hoodie.

Viktor wonders how long it’s been since Five’s been hugged like this.

Finally, his brother pulls away from the hug, and Viktor smiles at him a little.

“Bye, little brother,” Five says, crooking another sideways grin.

Viktor wishes he could capture him like this forever.

Remember him smiling.

He lets go, and the light is an overwhelming symphony in the dark.

#five hargreeves #tua #the umbrella academy #viktor hargreeves #Number seven #number five #Fanfiction #REVEL IN MY EIGHT PAGE LONG DEATH CURE AU

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