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redrobin-detective · 3 years

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Delayed Mourning

Going Angst Day 5: Death

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It was 3pm when there was a knock on Maddie Fenton’s door. She huffed and set down the meal she’d been working on. Of course the one day she had time to pre-plan a nice meal from her family was the day she’d get interrupted.

“Yes? May I help you?” Maddie asked, opening the door. She had expected a salesman. Possibly even a neighbor coming to complain, again, about the noise or the smells that came from Fentonworks. Instead she found a small woman who couldn’t have been much taller than 5 ft with dark brown hair tied up in a tight bun. She was wearing a sharp white shirt and suit jacket with a matching white skirt.

“Mrs. Fenton, hello,” the woman gave a polite little head nod. “I’m from the the Government Institute of Interdimensional Warfare though I hear the locals like to call us the Guys in White.” She said with a knowing smiling, “of course, as you know, it’s not only the guys who are interested in ghosts. May I come in?”

“Oh yes, hello,” Maddie blinked, opening the door to let the agent in. The petite woman stepped inside, her heels clicking on the hardwood floor. Her small frame, her oversized glasses and soft nature seemed so at odds with the meatheads Maddie usually found in the GIW. “Is there something I can help you with?”

“Perhaps,” the agent demurred. “It’s more there was something I wanted to inform you of. If you’re not too busy, may we sit down and talk? Your husband and children are not home.” Maddie thought that last statement was a bit odd, framed as a statement of fact rather than an inquiry but moved on.

“Yes, Jack’s out of town visiting a relative and my kids won’t be back for a little while,” Maddie said. “Let me just finish putting this roast together, I’m almost done. Can I get you anything? Water? Tea?”

“No, thank you,” The woman said quietly. “And please, continue while you’re doing. Let me give you a little bit of background.” The agent adjusted her large glasses with her tiny hands. “Let me introduce myself, you may call me Agent S. I work primarily out of Washington for the Institute but sometimes I am deployed on site for... special cases. And, as I’m sure you’re aware, your town is very special.”

“Now, as you may have noticed, I am not particularly built like the normal Institute agents you have probably come across. That is because I do not work in the field but behind the scene in Investigations. My job is study the history and happenings of hauntings and spectral entities.”

“Oh that sounds fascinating,” Maddie beamed as she finished with her final preps and put the roast in the over. She looked over her shoulder at Agent S while she washed her hands. “Jack and I dabble a bit in history and folklore but we’re more versed in the hard sciences of ghosts.”

“Yes, I’ve read some of your papers, you and your husband truly are the frontrunners in the field,” Agent S nodded. Maddie preened at the praise and sat down, delighted to have a sophisticated conversation with someone in her field who she wasn’t married to. If more of those GIW agents were like Agent S then Maddie would get along a lot better with them. “So, Maddie, may I call you Maddie? What date and time did your portal start working?”

“It was August 28th,” Maddie said proudly. “It didn’t work at first when we first plugged it in. I’m afraid I don’t have an exact time it started up as we weren’t here. Jack was convinced one of the electrical conduction pieces wasn’t fully connected and was preventing ectoplasmic distribution. We ended up driving 4 hours to Springfield and back for some specialty parts only to find the portal working when we returned.”

“I can help you there,” Agent S said with a soft smile reaching into her white briefcase and pulling out several thick folders. She laid them out gently on the table and Maddie was unnerved by some of the information: schematics of Fentonworks, past and present financial records, transcripts of public statements. Her shoulders tensed when she saw Jazz and Danny’s names on some of the files. “Toll camera captured your vehicle on the Jane Addams Memorial Tollway at exactly 1:26pm on August 28th. We can confirm you and your husband’s vehicle traveled to Springfield and back via video feeds and credit card statements at 10:45pm that same day and were therefore out of the city all day.”

Maddie suddenly felt very trapped by the woman’s sharp grey eyes as she plucked a piece of paper and pressed it towards Maddie.

“At 3:18pm, the majority of the residential power in town went out for a period of 2 and a half hours. The cause was determined to be from a massive power surge that blew out the transformer. You may recall being blamed for this outage given your history with previous outages but the news that you were out of town settled that argument. However, I was not convinced.” She pulled out another piece of paper and Maddie bristled to see it was a Casper High attendance sheet.

“Your daughter, Jasmine was at her final summer cram session which ran from 2pm until 5pm. I spoke to her tutors and she never left the whole time and, in fact, stayed late to help a fellow student work through her study materials. But what about your son?” Agent S asked with with a curious smile but her eyes belied the fact that she had her own answers.

“How dare you spy on my family, on my children,” Maddie hissed, crumpling one of the papers in her fist. “Get out of my house, I will sue the pants off of your organization for this invasion of privacy! Get out!”

“Now Maddie, don’t you want to know how your son started up your Portal?” Agent S asked coyly, that drew Maddie up short. Danny? No, he couldn’t have possibly. He had no interest in their work, in fact, now that she thought about it, Danny had been sick that day. Agent S pulled out a set of blueprints for the Fenton Portal. Some small component inside the Portal was circled.

“You left at approximately 1pm and your daughter presumably left not long after. Phone records indicate Daniel called both Tucker Foley and Samantha Manson. Your neighbor, Mrs. Benson, saw them coming into your house not long after but before the 3pm power outage which I was able to triangulate did in fact originate from your home.” Agent S tapped the circled part of the inner portal mechanisms. “Now did you happen to push the on button in the Portal before plugging it in?”

“On button?” Maddie asked with a dry mouth, overwhelmed by the amount of information being thrown her way. All she could think about was how Danny hadn’t seemed sick when they’d left that afternoon but had looked awful when they returned. Would he have really gone downstairs and messed with the Portal? Had he gotten hurt? Been contaminated down there? Images of Vlad’s sickly visage after his accident flowed through her head. She should have paid more attention but she’d been so excited about the Portal working...

“It’s right here in the blueprints you submitted to the patent office, buried under dozens of other hardware bits. Its small, such a little thing compared to all the moving parts required to open up a dimensional portal. Daniel was a bright boy, his middle school records prove it. A bright mind, friends to impress, no parents around to chastise him... I think you can see where I’m going with this.”

“No, no,” Maddie said, burying her hands in her hair. “No, I’m not. You’re saying -what? - that my teenage son turned on the Portal when we were gone? No, my Danny wouldn’t lie to me about that... Why wouldn’t he say anything?”

“I don’t blame him for not mentioned in because, if my hunch is correct, he was inside the Portal when it turned on, killing him instantly,” Agent S said with a carefully neutral face. “I’m sorry to be the bearer of bad news but I’m afraid this haunting has gone on long enough.”

“My child is alive!” Maddie screeched, standing up in her chair. “Danny is alive and healthy and he is not a ghost!”

“I will admit the evidence of how he died is circumstantial but the fact that Danny Fenton is deceased is not.” Maddie fell back into her chair as he legs gave out underneath her.

She watched the agent put paper after paper in front of her and detailed all sorts of data about her son that Maddie, who lived in the same house as him, had missed. Unusually high ectosignatures picked up by GIW (and their own) detectors, Danny being spotted in some form before most ghost attacks, faked signatures of hers getting him out of nurses’ visits. Maddie barely felt alive herself as she stared at a red light camera photo of her baby sitting atop a light post late, late at night. His eyes were a toxic green color.

“I know this must be distressing as a mother but your child never left that basement, never attended high school and will never achieve his dream of working for NASA.” Agent S said with carefully measured sympathy as she gathered up her papers and put them back in her case. “But you are a brilliant scientist, unlike your husband, you should be able to look past your emotions and see that your child is gone and the ghost he left behind is dangerous.”

“My husband?” Maddie asked blankly, running a finger down Danny’s unnatural photograph.

“I approached Jack two days ago, mistakenly believing he would be the most understanding of you both. He refused to believe the evidence and was, in fact, going to warn your son’s ghost that we planned on taking him. He is safe but he presently being held at one of our facilities until the capture is complete.” Maddie should feel outraged at her husband’s kidnapping but all she could think about was the fact that her son was dead, dead, dead, killed by her own invention over a year ago and she never noticed. How could she not have noticed?

“Daniel’s ghost is extraordinary, not only able to pass as human so accurately for so long but immensely powerful. We need to make sure he doesn’t harm anyone else. Think of his friends who are probably being forced to aid him and keep his death quiet. Think of your husband, your daughter, living in the same house as a dangerous ghost.” Agent S dropped some of her professionalism and plucked the photo of Danny out of Maddie’s hands and replaced it with her own tiny hand.

“I know this is impossible thing to ask but I must do it anyway, will you help me capture what remains of Danny? There is a chance with his charade exposed, he will be able to move on and so will you. You have been wronged, Maddie. You have been denied the right to process and grieve your child by his own ghost. But a delayed mourning is better than none. Danny’s death is a tragedy but please don’t let it become someone else’s.”

“Maybe he’s not-” Maddie’s breath hitched, “he’s never shown any signs of aggression. Jasmine spoke of benevolent spirits... maybe-” Agent S sighed roughly and retracted her hand to grab another photo from her case. Maddie was surprised when she held up a picture of Phantom.

“Ignore the glow,” Agent S instructed. “Change his white hair to black, his green eyes to blue. Think of how often Phantom is spotted in your neighborhood, around Casper High. Remember how he always has his hands on your technology,” the agent frowned. “Think of how he grins when he sees you, like he knows something you don’t. Like it all just a big joke you’re not a part of.” Maddie felt like she’d been slapped.

“Your son is dead,” Agent S said more forcefully, throwing the picture of Phantom next to the spooky one of Danny. “And his ghost has taken his place, taunting you, stealing energy from your family, from the portal that killed him. Phantom’s power is increasing too rapidly and soon we won’t be able to contain him. It’s why I was brought in to identify his haunt so that he could be stopped before anyone else died.”

“I will state this plainly, I am giving you the chance to participate in putting your child to rest but you are not required for this operation. If you refuse, you will be confined with your husband until Phantom is taken down. Do not let this monster with your son’s face trick you any more. So I ask again, Maddie Fenton, will you help us stop Phantom from making a mockery of your son’s memory?”

XxX

“Mom! Jazz! I’m home!” Danny announced, kicking off his shoes and grabbing a paper out of his backpack as he walked into the kitchen with a grin. “And I have a present! Jazz’s tutoring paid off, look at this A I got on my history test! Well A- but a solid A-!”

“Oh... that’s great,” Mom muttered quietly. She was sitting at the kitchen table, not cooking or tinkering with some gadget. Just sitting there quietly, twiddling her thumbs and not looking at him.

“Is everyone okay?” Danny asked, dropping his bag on the floor and walking over to his mother. “I saw Jazz at school but is Dad okay?”

“No, everything is not okay,” she said turning and looking at him with tear-filled eyes. “Someone died, someone I love dearly and I’m not ready to let them go,” she sniffed and wiped at her eyes. “But they've been gone for a long time, even if I’m just hearing about it now. I’m upset but it’s better to know and be grieve than to go on in ignorance, living a lie.”

Danny was about to ask who had died when something was jammed into his neck and he was shocked within an inch of his half life. His body spasmed to escape but his mother was gripping his arm to hold him in place. He transformed unconsciously but that only made it worse. He fell to the floor, ectoplasm leaking off his form as he could barely hold himself together.

“Mom,” he croaked, reaching for her despite everything. She stomped on his hand which was practically goo from such a vicious, destabilizing ectoplasmic shock.

“Don’t you ever call me that,” she hissed through angry tears. “I didn’t want to believe it but the proof is right in front of me you horrible, selfish ghost.” She kicked him in the side and half of him ended up on her boot. “How dare you, how dare you impersonate my son! How dare you string me along all this time, make me look like a fool who had to told that her own child was dead! I bet you just laughed and laughed at our stupid, human ignorance of what your were!”

“‘lease,” he begged through the ectoplasm in his mouth. “I’m still your....”

“My son is dead and he has been for a while,” Mom said, throwing the ecto-taser away from her. Danny vaguely heard the door being kicked in and in his rapidly diminishing vision, he saw black boots and white suits. “With you gone, I can finally come to terms with it and not be tormented by an inadequate replacement.” She turned her back to him. “Get that filth out of my house, I never want to see it again.”

“Of course,” a quiet feminine voice said as his goopy arms were restrained with ghost proof cuffs. “I know this is hard, Maddie but you made the right choice for your family and Danny’s memory. Jack will returned to you within the hour. I spoke to my superiors, for your cooperation, the Institute will take care of declaring Danny dead as well as covering costs for your boy to be laid to rest, the first step in moving on.”

“No, the first step will be removing that duplicitous monster from my home. It’s stolen enough of my baby’s life. Now please leave, I have - I have a funeral to plan.”

#going angst week 2021 #*jazz hands* I uh finally contributed #this is another interesting thing that just sorta happened #I was actually rereading and writing more for Side Effects when I realized that someone could follow the paper trail of the accident #which led me to a tiny lil GIW Investigator who blew Dannys secret wide open #which *then* led me to the tragedy of Maddie learning of her child's 'death' second hand but over a year after a fact #there's something about delayed tragedy... thinking everythings ok only to learn it hasn't been for a while #Love Mads but btw her an Jack shes the one who seems the more likely to take offense to her son's ghost haunting his own life #to keep playing along and pretending to be alive #him secretly being Phantom was the final straw #Both pretending to be Danny then *teasing* her when he saw her as a ghost #(obviously thats not the case but Maddie believes was Made To Believe it was)#Oh I wanted to strange Agent S this whole time typing #the blatant.... manipulation #Maddie may feel free to grieve now but her child's torment was only beginning #haha good times see ya

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justgrits · 3 years

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Today six months ago. I walked away. I took off my ring and after hours of crying picked myself up off of my friends living room floor. You see what’s funny is, I never thought I’d leave. I was convinced he’d kill me if I did. But in the early hours of the morning on February 12th he almost did anyways. What did I have to lose at that point?

I’ll never forget the way his fingers wrapped around my neck. Or the way his eyes turned evil. How my body slammed against the wall. The way that my brain finally realized that house was a prison. I’ll never forget staring at the person I was supposed to marry as he held a gun in his hand the summer before as he drove us 100 mph down the highway. The way he screamed at the top of his lungs at me if I ever tried to stop him from shooting someone again he’d kill me. How I used to cry myself to sleep because I couldn’t even have a hug after a hard day. How I couldn’t have more than 3 kisses a day. When he threatened to beat the living fuck out of me for leaning over him to kiss him. Waking up in the middle of the night to him raising his fist to hit me again. There’s thousands of things I can think of that I’ll never forget. They haunt my mind and my soul.

But on February 12th I chose myself for the first time in years. In the morning I got up and left going to a friends house. I broke down telling them everything, I was so broken and I just couldn’t believe it all happened that way. Later that night I went back to that place to that haunting place but I wasn’t alone. I faced him head on. More of me broke as I packed my bags. He didn’t pay attention to me. Too focused on video games to do anything. As I asked him to talk I kept myself close to the door, where help was just on the other side of the door. The most haunting part of all of it was when he looked me dead in my eyes and said “I can’t love someone who has been abused” as if he wasn’t my abuser. And when he unlocked the gun safe and pulled out his gun telling me if me or any of my friends had HIS name in our mouth he had a bullet waiting for us.

I remember sitting in my car with my friend as I cried about how he never even loved me. How broken and low I felt. How scared I was as I found places to hide from him. I remember the fear I felt consuming me. But I remember the weight that was lifted off my shoulders.

The weeks following that night felt like a blur but some events stick out. My brother showing up and being the big brother that every girl deserves. Who held me as I cried, annoyed me to make me laugh. Sat with me as I drank and sang sad country songs. My best friends surrounding me. Even supporting the breakup gods request of a new tattoo.

I started to find myself again. I watched as the smile on my face became genuine. How I could simply enjoy things without having to hide it. How I could go on drives no matter what time because I wanted to. Wearing shorts again, wearing low cut shirts. Spending time with my family just cause. Drinking a beer after a long day. Blaring my music and singing my heart out or dancing badly in the kitchen. I’ve started to love myself. I cut off those who don’t serve me anymore. I’ve grown and I’ve watered myself enough to bloom into who I’m supposed to be.

#kentucky #domestic abuse #domestic violene poem #mental abuse #physical abuse #survivor #domestic abuse survivor

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starlost-andfound · 3 years

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at the divide // d.s (seasons change au)

Warning: The events in this au are an addition to the timeline of Seasons Change by @chilling-seavey (also pic credits to her <3). To avoid spoilers, please go read that amazing masterpiece first (and check out her other writing)

Inspired by If I Get High by Nothing But Thieves

Summary: Daniel searches for Marigold’s presence in a time he misses her the most.

Warnings: Angst, mentions of death and grief, alcohol consumption, kind of unedited

Word Count: Approximately 3K

A/N: If you want to really feel this one, listen to If I Get High by Nothing But Thieves and Marigold and Daniel’s song Cover Me Up by Morgan Wallen

I'll meet you at the divide

To break the spell

It was too good to be true, like a fantasy with a tragic twist, a hope for a sunny day clouded by storms. Daniel carried a heavy heart yet he felt empty. His heart beat in his chest, pumping life into his veins but he loomed around in silence. He was a ghost haunted by the walls of his own home. The house was draped in an eerie quiet, so quiet Daniel could hear the clock ticking in his bedroom from downstairs. He set aside his freshly washed plate in the drying rack and dumped his emptied beer bottle in the bin. When Lennox went to school, lunches were painfully quiet. Daniel often found himself in front of the TV, eating his lunch with the background noise of any program playing on the screen.

With a sigh he rested his hands against the counter, leaning forward. His eyes drifted to the living room, where a line of photo frames stood on the mantle above the fireplace. She was everywhere. Daniel didn’t know whether that was a blessing or a curse. The clock ticked rhythmically, Daniel couldn't count the hours. His fingers traced the frames on the mantle. She was always smiling, even when it hurt the most. He never understood how. How could she hold all the rays of the sun while her star collapsed? He was the moon without a sun sharing its light, a dark unlit sky with lonely stars.

Stars. Lennox. Daniel smiled shakily, his vision blurring as he stood in front of the last photo on the fireplace. Even as the faces and colours blended together with his tears, he could still remember the image clearly. Lennox’s first hockey match. Lennox was squashed between Daniel and Marigold, wearing his hockey gear. They all held matching smiles on their faces. She was everywhere and maybe that’s what made it so hard to let go, suffocating when her presence was embedded in the air around him.

Daniel grabbed himself a beer and sat down on the couch, picking up a familiar belonging: a scrapbook Marigold had crafted for them, celebrating their early dating anniversaries. The book’s cover was brightly decorated with stars and stickers. He sat down, tracing his fingers over the scribbled text in her handwriting. He flipped through the pages, taking his time to trace the stuck-on tickets and read the small love letters Marigold had delicately weaved in her writing.

A point where two worlds collide

Yeah, we'll rebel

His mind felt dizzy with the slight tinge of alcohol. All the memories printed into the scrapbook seemed like distant conversations and hazy images. He turned the page over, his eyes falling to a scribbled date in the middle and countless doodles and stickers in the background. His heart dropped as his mind took him back to one of the most special nights in his life.His mind and heart pulled him down like an anchor into the sea, dragging him deeper until there wasn’t enough light left to see.

Daniel wiped the stream of tears off his face, closing the book. He sunk down farther into the couch, holding his head as he cried. He exhaled shakily, feeling a light feather touch trailed up his shoulder. Daniel tensed as he heard a whisper. The voice was smooth like a calming wind, familiar like the arms of a lover.

“Why so many tears, my sweet?”

He opened his eyes and from the blurry mist in his eyes he saw the form of the woman who carried his heart.

“Sunshine,” he breathed. Daniel threw his arms around her in an instant. He cried, clinging on to her tighter as sobs shook his body.

“It’s okay, I’ve got you,” Marigold held him close, rubbing soothing circles over his back. She kissed his head as he cried. She tried to pull back slightly but Daniel only held her closer.

“How- you-you’re here-I don’t know what to do, Marigold,” he whimpered. “I can’t do this without you.”

“Why would you say that, hmm?” she pulled back and cupped his cheeks. Her thumbs wiped the tears from his cheeks. “You’re doing so well, my sweet. I am so proud of you.”

Daniel shook his head from side to side. He gripped her shirt and rested his head against her chest. His lips trembled, “I just want you back.”

Marigold sighed quietly, “You know that’s not possible.”

“Please don’t go. ”

And we run

Until we break through

“I won’t leave just yet,” she stroked his hair gently.

Daniel sniffled, and looked up. He reached his hand up, brushing his hand along her jaw and then cupping her cheek, “You are very real.”

Marigold laughed softly, “Yes, I am here.”

“Do you-” Daniel held her hand. “Does it hurt anymore?”

Marigold smiled, “Not anymore, no.”

Daniel smiled shakily, feeling the tears build up again at the answer he wished he had heard many months ago. He sat up and his hands reached up to caress her cheek. She had this golden glow that reminded Daniel of when she was carrying Lennox. “You’re so beautiful.”

Marigold smiled.

Daniel pressed his forehead against hers, “I miss you.”

“I miss you too, my sweet.”

He leaned closer, pressing his lips on hers. Her soft lips and skin disappeared under his touch, fading into the air. Daniel fell forward on the couch, his hands gripping the fabric. He snapped his head around in search of her, letting out a strangled cry as he was met with the walls of his living room.

If I get high enough

Will I see you again?

Daniel was falling into a routine and he was growing to hate it. With no energy by noon, he often landed on a couch, a drink in his hand and the multiple CD’s of home videos by his side. He never drank too much before Lennox came home. Lennox was the only light which filled the gaping hole in his chest but the sharp taste of the beer numbed his mind. It calmed the storm of emotions he carried inside, just for a few moments and for him that was enough. Daniel entered the living room with a beer in his hand, heading to the CD’s by the television. The text on the CD covers were fading where he held them, some more than others, exposing the amount of times he watched them.

I feel my loss every night

Not long to wait

He slumped back down on the couch with a beer bottle in his hand as the video loaded. A crackle echoed over the speaker before a soft voice spoke.

And if I do this thing right

I dream of our escape

“Lennox, say hi,” Marigold whispered behind the camera.

She zoomed in on a baby Lennox, waddling around the flowers in the garden in his small yellow boots. He wore one of Marigold’s old sweaters, far too small for her but slightly too large for the little boy. The sleeves and hem of the sweater were rolled up, hugging his body. Spud turned to the camera and grinned, his two little teeth sticking out. He waved his arm at the camera and turned back to the flowers decorating their garden.

He pointed at the bunch of hydrangeas and tugged at his sweater, “Blue. Like mine.”

Marigold gasped, “Yes, well done my shining star!”

Spud giggled and the camera turned just as Daniel’s car rolled into the driveway.

“Daddy’s here!‘ Marigold captured Daniel stepping out of the truck with a smile. Lennox squealed, running to Daniel with his hands up. “Dada!”

Daniel scooped him up into his arms, bouncing him gently, “Hi Spud, I missed you!”

Marigold shuffled closer to Daniel, the camera lens covered as they shared a quick kiss, “Hi my sweet.”

“Hey sunshine.”

The camera flipped, fitting all three of them into the frame. Lennox grabbed the camera in his hands and pressed the lens close to his face.

“Oh, careful Spud.”

The curious child attempted to hold the camera out like his mother, pointing at the flowers, “Blue!” The garden twisted into a spiral as the camera tumbled out of his hands and the video cut off.

Daniel sniffled quietly and took a gulp of his beer. The next video began to roll. He heard the familiar sound of her footsteps down the stairs. The camera trailed the floor until it lifted up outside the house, pointing at Daniel.

“Look how handsome my baby daddy is.”

Daniel glanced up at the camera with a bashful smile. Marigold pulled him up by his arm so he could be seen better and she set her hand against his chest, giving him a pat.

“I’m going to have to keep close eyes on you at Sunday brunch. All the ladies are gonna want a piece of this.”

“Oh my gosh.” Daniel chuckled shyly.

“And my other handsome man!” Marigold added, shuffling around the open door to get a good shot of the baby in the car seat. “Gonna be fighting the ladies off you too, my beautiful boy.”

Lennox blinked up at her but her same smile could be seen forming behind his pacifier that bumped excitedly against his little nose. Marigold turned the camera around as she leaned in with Daniel, capturing both of them together and Daniel just smiled at her, pressing a kiss to her cheek.

She looked up at him lovingly, “Happy first Father’s Day, my sweet.”

“Thank you.” Daniel smiled, meeting her halfway for a kiss. “And thank you for making me a father.”

They shared a few more kisses and ‘I love you’s until Lennox let out a small cry.

“Oh my.” Marigold said, addressing the camera again as Daniel left the frame to care for Lennox, “Well, when Lennox says it’s time to go, it’s time to go! We have church to get to and a bunch to show off at.”

When she was a few steps away, the camera caught her admiring her husband over her shoulder as he finished buckling in the baby.

She looked back to the camera and spoke gently with her wide grin spread all over her soft face, “Lennox Blake, if you’re watching this some time in the future when you’re grown up and annoyed by your parents – just know that you have the best daddy in the whole stinking world. I picked him out myself for you so that’s how you know he’s good.”

The camera clicked softly and a another video played.

The screen zoomed in on Daniel and Lennox across the grass. Lennox was tucked up on his shoulder and Daniel was pointing out little flowers and the buds on the trees as they walked. He finally looked over and caught Marigold filming, a shy smile taking over his face and he rested his head against his son’s tiny body.

And we run

Daniel was a mess, his stray tears turning into quiet sobs. He turned off the TV, the bright screen of colours and memories turning into a reflection of his pain. He chugged down the rest of his second beer and dragged himself off the couch. The air felt stuffy, like he couldn’t breathe properly. He swayed as he stumbled to the garden door, nearly falling down the steps. A choked sob left his lips and he covered his mouth. He stormed past the bushes of overgrown, wilting flowers.

And we run

Until we break through

Daniel stumbled to the back of the garden, grabbing the support of the garden swing. The tears fell down his face , smudging the darkening colours of the flowers around him. He slid down to the grass, leaning his head back. Daniel dug his fists into the ground, tugging out strands of grass with a yell. The pain in his chest burned into tears and he closed his eyes, drowning himself in his loss. His head felt heavy with what remained of the alcohol in the system and his tears. A soft breeze rustled gently.

If I get high enough

Will I see you again?

A soft hand brushed his cheeks, wiping away the tears.

“My sweet.”

Daniel shook his head, “No, go away.”

“Daniel, my sweet. It’s okay, I’m here.”

He wiped his eyes and took a shaky breath as he saw her again. “Mari.”

“Come on, let’s get you up.” Marigold reached out her hands to pull him up to his feet. She dusted off his shoulders and smiled. “There. Much better. Come on.”

Daniel sniffled, his eyes focused on Marigold in some state of confusion and surprise. Her arm was wrapped around Daniel’s as she guided him inside the house. He lifted his finger to touch her cheek. Marigold giggled softly, “What are you doing?”

“Where are we going?” his voice cracked.

“I haven’t seen Apollo and Venus in so long,” Marigold smiled, looking up at Daniel. “Let’s go for a ride.”

Daniel moved at a slow pace, trotting beside Marigold on her horse. Marigold looked around at the green fields ahead of them, a glow in her eyes. He watched how her hair moved in the wind, her blonde curls flowing. The sun reflected on her face, and Daniel smiled. Her face was full of colour, no longer pale, no longer lifeless. For once she seemed at ease and Daniel had forgotten what that felt like.

Marigold slowed down to a stop and for the first time Daniel turned his head away from her. He gasped softly, instantly recognizing their surroundings, their spot. He followed her movements as she climbed off her horse and sat down at the spot where he would normally park the truck. Marigold shifted closer to Daniel, if it was even possible, and placed her head on his shoulder.

Daniel held her hand, brushing his thumb over her knuckles. Marigold sighed, “No matter how many times we come here, the view still takes my breath away. It’s beautiful.”

Daniel hummed in agreement but his focus seemed to lie on staying as close to her as possible.

“You haven’t been singing much lately, my sweet,” she remarked.

“I know,” Daniel mumbled. His voice trembled and he took a moment to breathe. “It’s hard.”

Marigold smiled softly and caressed his cheek. “Could you sing something for me?”

Daniel nodded. His voice was quiet, just barely above a whisper. “A h-heart on the run.” He gulped. His eyes connected with hers and he sighed shakily. “Keeps a hand on the gun. You can’t trust anyone. I was so su-s”

Daniel’s head bowed down and he wiped his eyes, “I-I’m so-sorry-”

Marigold shook her head, cupping his cheeks. She wiped his tears away and smiled softly. “I was so sure. What I needed was more, tried to shoot out the sun,” she sang.

Daniel lifted his eyes to hers, his frown breaking into a shaky smile. “The days when we raged, we flew off the page. Such damage was done,” he joined in unison.

Marigold stood up on her feet, reaching out her hand. Daniel stood up, his hand in hers as she pulled him closer. Her arms wrapped around his shoulders and Daniel held her waist, sucking in his breath. “But I made it through, 'cause somebody knew I was meant for someone.”

They swayed gently from side to side. Daniel cried quietly, pulling her closer until there was barely space between them, his forehead against hers. They shared the kisses that had been stolen from them, singing the unfinished lyrics of their song with their lips just a touch apart. A setting sun cast a dreamy light over the couple. Daniel’s singing was consumed by his tears and he buried his head in between her neck and shoulder. He held her tighter, his tears staining her beautiful dress.

“So cover me up and know you're enough.” Marigold rubbed her hands soothingly over his back and kissed his shoulder. “To use me for good.”

Marigold moved her hands to his chest. Daniel didn’t move, wanting to be in her arms. “My sweet, it’s getting dark. We should get home.”

Daniel pulled away reluctantly, holding her hand as they walked back to Apollo and Venus. Marigold waited by his side as he climbed his horse. She placed her hand on his knee and they leaned closer, their lips meeting each other halfway. Daniel nearly wished he couldn’t breathe when he pulled away for a breath. Marigold pecked his lips again before climbing her horse.

She travelled forward, Daniel following behind. Marigold sped up, urging her horse to gallop faster. Daniel frowned and tried to catch up with her.

“Sunshine,” he was an arm’s reach away.

“My sweet,” Marigold turned back to him with a smile, but it wasn’t the same. There was some underlying loss in her smile and it made Daniel’s heart drop to his stomach. “It’s time to go.”

“Sunshin-” he hurried Venus to run faster. “Sunshine! Marigold, wait!”

And we run

Daniel struggled, panting. The wind blew harshly in his face as Marigold moved faster, turning into a blur. Marigold faded farther and farther away until she disappeared. He cried out for her, his voice dying out into violent sobs. “Mari-stop!”.

Venus turned to mist from beneath him and Daniel fell to his knees. He pulled himself up, ignoring the ache in his legs and he broke into a sprint.

He felt himself fade the faster he ran, hearing a voice call out for him, but it wasn’t hers. The distance he covered never seemed enough as the fields ran endlessly in front of him. His legs gave out under him and he fell, head first into the grass.

Until we break through

Daniel’s eyes opened and he turned over with a groan, feeling someone shake his shoulder. “Dad, dad!”

He sat up in a sudden movement, startling Lennox. Daniel pulled himself to his feet, marching past Lennox to the stables.

“Dad, what happened? Where are you going?” Lennox followed him, his school bag bouncing on his bag as he kept up with his father. Daniel entered the stables, his shoulders falling as he found the horses well kept in their pens.

“Dad?” Lennox walked up to his side and held his arm, looking up at a distraught Daniel. He looked down at Lennox and brushed his hand over his head. Daniel pulled Lennox close, hugging him tight. Lennox welcomed the hug, unknowing of the inner turmoil in Daniel’s heart. He could still feel her in their own shining star, little remnants of sunshine and beautiful blooming flowers.

“Let’s go inside, Spud,” he whispered.

Lennox pulled away with a smile and jogged back into the house. Daniel watched him go before he turned back to the stable. He looked past the open entryway where the green fields stretched out to the horizon, meeting the sky.

And we run

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

Taglist: @jonahlovescoffee @bessonbae @hiya-its-amber @stuffofseaveyy @hopinglimelight @the-girl-who-cried-wolf

#Daniel seavey #Daniel seavey imagines #seasons change

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denscani · 2 years

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Hey dude, I read the dog teeth series like half a year ago (or what was out at the time) and I just wanted to say it is one the most captivating things I’ve ever read. I’m not good with words and debated calling it “beautiful” or “amazing” but idk those words do not stick for something as deep as you wrote it. I just find myself coming back to read again sometimes. Again, I’m not good with words but I just want to let you know that your fic resonated with parts of me, and thanks, I guess 👍

Thanks for sending the ask anon <3

I understand not being good with words when it comes to describing something you've read or watched, etc. It's hard to articulate the thoughts at all sometimes lmao. I'm glad it resonated with you in some way though, and thanks for letting me know it did.

And your ask reminded me that it's almost the one year anniversary of having written the first part of Dog Teeth. It doesn't feel like I wrote it that long ago, honestly. I remember hashing it out in a few hours, having the first draft of that beginning part in hand in less time than I can even fathom writing something now.

It's kind of wild to think it's been a year lol. Looking back on my older pieces, there's parts I could never hope to recreate, parts I could easily improve, parts that I would have written differently with what I've learned now and how I've changed as a writer.

And I think your debate with calling it "beautiful" or "amazing" is familiar. It's something I've found myself unable to label the things I've read that have really stuck with me, but it's the closest things I can fathom calling them. So I get you on that...

It's wild cause the thing that actually inspired me to put pen to paper was first, an animatic I saw on YouTube lmao, but also this video a friend sent me. It captured the way I could never really articulate my thoughts on fiction that handles darker topics, of how stories about pain aren't just about the suffering or pain itself-- and the ways they can be almost cathartic or comforting somehow. And how, even if "beautiful" isn't the right word for it, that writing (or reading) about pain becomes nearly living in the process; raw.

One quote that really stuck with me from the video (and that I frequently thought of a lot while writing everything) is: "Her work lingers, between my conscious and unconscious mind, because the horror of these games is built on a foundation of anguish far more chilling than any individual creature. These worlds--as alien as they are--are still haunted by us. We don't know floating apartment blocks, or irradiated monuments, or the earth rising like a tick swelling with blood. But this...is intimately familiar." -Jacob Geller

#sorry for the long reply #i know you literally didnt ask lmao but i have lots of thoughts on that sort of #unable to articulate about what i just read or watched but it lingers in my mind type of stuff #😔

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tracybirds · 3 years

Text

I can officially switch the status of Being Known from “stuck” to “WIP” again :) It’s been over a year since the last update for various reasons but I’m very excited to go back to this one and provide a new chapter!

For those new to the story, this was prompted by @kenzie-running-free in March 2020 and slightly got out of hand 😅 I’ve never stopped thinking about it and I bit the bullet and deleted the entirety of Chapter Four a few days ago and let myself rewrite it from scratch.... and it WORKED!!! (use technique with caution... scariest thing I’ve ever done.....)

Anyway...

A ‘what-if’ story based on “The Man From TB5” where the Hood recognized John in the scene when he makes himself known (instead of John stuttering).... and then he gets kidnapped :)

[Part 1] | [Part 2] | [Part 3]

-----------

Darkness bled into John’s line of vision and he scrubbed desperately at his aching eyes. Time collapsed around him as he worked, the abruptly extinguished bulb the only hint of night. And every new day seemed to bring new weariness as he jolted awake by the sudden onslaught of light which interrupted the deepest part of sleep.

Just another tactic to keep him from gathering his wits together.

This morning, if it was morning, the brightly burning bulb was coupled with the scraping sound of a breakfast tray being shoved through the small slot that had been crudely and hastily carved in the door after he’d lain in wait and brought the tray down over one of the guard’s head. He’d left the man stunned on the floor and made it all the way to the end of the corridor before another guard had grabbed him from behind and thrown him bodily back into the room.

He’d woken to security footage of a fire ravaging a building, his own family on screen.

“They’re not looking for you,” sneered the Hood as he swept from the room.

No guards came in anymore.

Two days later, he’d been savagely poked in the eye when he’d tried to look through the new slot that had been hastily added to his door.

He spent hours every day, searching for a way to send out a message, or even create another receiver. Any link to the outside world would do. But it soon became apparent that the Hood had done one thing right in giving him access to an isolated system, keeping the holomonitor he’d been provided with separate even from his own devices.

One thing right among many.

John peered at the screen with his good eye, wincing at the torn skin that pulled over bruised muscle. His head spun as he stared at the endless commands, trying to replicate the spark of life no-one had ever found before EOS.

Not even him.

And that was the rub of it all.

John didn’t know, not after all his time studying EOS and her abilities, just how she’d been born of code and logical absolutes. How she could grow and change and evaluate her own mind in a way that not only seemed human, but was unquestionably so.

He glanced at the clock he’d created from scratch, counting the oscillations in the electrical current and spitting back a digital time at him. This ‘morning’ truly did correspond with the morning, and that meant the Hood would be paying him a visit for an update.

He wasn’t sure how much more time he could stall for until things got truly desperate.

How much time he had until he had to conclude that he was truly on his own.

* * *

“Scott, the floor’s unstable there!”

“I know what I’m doing, Alan.”

“Yes, but I have the numbers,” Alan replied, his voice cracking as he spoke. He spun the holo in his hands, checking and double checking the analysis that was running under his fingertips.

“Then the numbers are wrong.”

“They can’t be!”

“Alan,” said Scott, patiently. “I need you to check the parameters over again. I’m seeing two trapped vehicles, with no sign of ground stress, both much larger than me and more importantly containing passengers. I need to get them out of there.”

“Yes, but hang on–”

“There’s no time!”

Alan watched in horror as his big brother barrelled forwards. He crouched low as he ran, grabbing at nearby pylons for support. The ground heaved beneath his feet, but still Scott moved forwards steady and sure. Always with his eyes on the scared little boy in the back seat and a gentle smile on his face.

An alert ticked over into the red.

“Jump, Scott!” he yelled, watching the model floor cave in a split second before a real sinkhole opened beneath Scott’s feet.

“Alan, what’s happening up there?” came Virgil’s urgent voice, bound for home with Gordon from their own rescue.

Alan flipped the channel, realising in his hurry he’d accidentally broadcast his message to everyone.

“He’s fine,” he said, eyes still wide as he watched Scott shakily stand on the other side of the chasm. “The floor went.”

“What?”

“He’s fine, he’s fine!”

“Didn’t you run the simulation?”

“I did,” said Alan, pressing the heels of his hands against his eyes. “He wouldn’t listen.”

Silence fell over the space station.

“Hey Alan, can you pilot Thunderbird One over to us? Got my hands full here.”

Scott’s voice rang out loud and clear. Five clear thermal images were standing around him, including one in his arms.

Alan fumbled for the call button.

“F.A.B. Scott.”

“I’ll talk to him, Alan,” said Virgil. His eyes were focused beyond him, but Alan could read the quiet fury beneath the clear focus on his own piloting.

“I can’t do it, Virgil,” whispered Alan. “I must have done something wrong, there must have been something he could see that I couldn’t.”

“You’ve done nothing wrong,” interrupted Virgil.

“He never would have done this to…”

Alan’s voice failed him.

Twenty-two thousand miles below, Virgil choked back his own distress. Gordon was chewing at his lip, staring anxiously at Alan. He leaned forward so he was in view of the holo.

“Hey, Allie,” he said. “John’s gonna be okay. And he’ll be giving Scott hell for ignoring the modelling like that soon enough.”

“You don’t know that.”

“Absolutely, I do,” said Gordon, cracking a grin. “No way, John would let Scott get away with that crap. Not even if he had to haunt him for the rest of his life in ghostly fury to do it.”

“Is he wrapping up now?” asked Virgil, eyes still pinched.

Alan looked down at the display.

“Yeah, he’s on his way home.”

“Right. EOS?”

“Virgil?” Her quiet voice was sullen and more than a little distracted.

“Got room in your processors for another task?”

EOS’s lights flashed suddenly, and Alan’s blood ran cold at the sight. Three weeks he’d been stationed on board Thunderbird Five and he still found himself walking on eggshells around EOS. Her frustration at turning up nothing in the holonet that could lead them closer to John morphed quickly from long, silent sulks to short outbursts of flying bagels and spinning gravity rings. He’d never forgotten the sight of John floating limply like a rag doll that had been torn apart one too many times by a playful, thoughtless, destructive child.

An angry EOS felt too close to losing his brother for good.

“Will it help, John?”

“It’ll keep his brother alive, and that will make it more likely for us to find him.”

“What can I do?”

“Lock Scott out of his controls, Order TB2-5711FR. Make sure Alan gets to Tracy Island before him. Redirect all calls to local authorities in the first instance, follow Protocol 24.”

“I’m not leaving,” argued Alan. “Don’t pull me from duty, I can do better.”

“No arguments.”

Alan wilted, knowing he had no choice but to follow Virgil’s instructions.

“This is done, Virgil,” said EOS, blankly.

“Thank you, EOS,” said Virgil, his manner still stiff and terse. He shifted his gaze from the open ocean in front of him to Alan, his expression softening. “You haven’t done anything wrong, Alan. If Scott takes his life into his own hands, that’s not on you. But we can’t have him in the field like that, cutting corners to get back to finding John. So, we need you down here in his place.”

“You can’t pull Scott,” said Alan, his eyes wide. “What would… well, what would Scott say?”

“We’re doing him a favour,” remarked Gordon with a sarcastic twist of his lips that made a mockery of his usual grin. “He wants to find John, we all do, but if he’s willing to risk lives and rescues to do it then he should put his energy into searching and we shouldn’t stop him.”

Alan swallowed, his eyes filling with tears that he angrily swiped away.

“Does he think we’re not looking just as hard?” he asked. “We haven’t forgotten him. Have we?”

“Don’t be ridiculous, Alan,” said Virgil, firmly. “John would have our heads before we put the possibility of finding him above the certainty of ignoring people who need our help.”

“So, we keep going out there,” agreed Gordon. “And when, when Allie, Kayo and Lady P and Parker find something, and they will, we’ll be right there without a moment to lose.”

“I just don’t want him to think we’ve forgotten him.”

“John’s too smart for that,” said Gordon. “Promise you, Allie.”

* * *

He’d worked it out. Every time he did something to anger the Hood, innocent people paid for it in blood. There was no point in harming him directly, not when what the Hood wanted was inside his mind, ripe for extraction. But his heart and spirit could be broken, as a video feed periodically forced itself over his work to make him watch. Earthquakes, landslides, tidal waves, anything that would get International Rescue on the scene and off his scent.

Senseless destruction and despair epidemic across the world because he couldn’t make an AI fast enough.

But senseless destruction that he could use.

There was no doubt in his mind that his family knew the natural disasters were anything but, he could see it in the determined fury in Scott’s face, in the tense draw of Virgil’s shoulders, in the sardonic mockery in Gordon’s smile as he quietly pocketed yet another piece of equipment.

He didn’t see Alan, and he thought of his baby brother up in space often. None of his brothers had any real idea of the full extent of his contribution, no matter how grateful they were for his guidance, and he hated to know Alan would be forced into that knowledge.

He also suspected that when Alan did spill the beans, he’d find his own rotations scrutinised with a lot more care.

Still, the limited glimpses of his brothers did nothing to discourage him, and he found himself contemplating a plan of escape well into the long, cold nights.

He needed more information.

He needed access to an external holonet connection. And the only way he’d get near one was with a working AI.

Or something that could pass for a few minutes as one.

#john tracy #alan tracy #all the bros are there but these are our main perspectives today #thunderbirds are go #sometimes i fic #i need to update ao3 again don't i.....

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royallyprincesslilly · 4 years

Text

Title: Rumor Has It {15}

Chris Evans x Famous Reader Uriah “Riah” Tyler-Evans

Warning: Plot, Cursing, HEAVY ANGST,

Word Count: 4.8K

Summary: You and Chris have been married for four years after a whirlwind romance. You are both happy and trying to navigate marriage in the public eye while balancing your successful careers. In the entertainment industry, not everything is as it seems, the flash of a camera lens impairs vision. As scandal and flashing lights put a strain on your once fairytale marriage is it possible your Hollywood marriage can stand the test of the rumor mill?

**Inspired by a video seen of Chris and his co-star Ana De Armas on their press tour for Knives Out at TIFF where she kept touching his chest and face standing about five inches apart.

**NOTE: A WORK OF FICTION. NOT CREATED TO GARNER HATE OF ANY SORT.

**Loosely Edited/Proofread**

Thank you guys for reading!!!! If you enjoyed this please LIKE, COMMENT, REBLOG. 😊 ❤️❤️

Previous Chapters: 1 | 2 | 3 | 4 | 5 | 6 | 7 | 8 | 9 | 10 | 11 | 12 | 13 | 14 |

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Two days passed where you flatlined at least three times a day. Every time it happened, it sent him and everyone else into a tailspin. No one had any time to breathe before another health crisis occurred. The swelling in your brain only returned, which meant you required surgery after surgery. By the time four days had passed, you’d had three surgeries to stop the swelling and bleeding in your brain, and in those three days, your prognosis remained uncertain. Your doctor was optimistic one day because you were holding on and fighting, but the next, the optimism faltered because of how many complications you faced.

He was a ghost. He didn’t sleep. He didn’t leave. He didn’t speak. He didn’t do anything by sit at your bedside and watch you. When he wasn’t doing that he was praying for your recovery, praying for some sign or glimmer of hope. Through his family’s anger, his mother still coddled him. Every few hours, she was pushing food into his hands, trying to convince him to eat. Her logic, “you can’t be there for her if you don’t take care of yourself.” He didn’t know if he deserved to be there to take care of you at this point.

The longer you remained in the induced coma the doctors put you in, and the more problems that arose, he blamed himself more and more. By day five, he was seething in self-pity and loathing. He couldn’t look himself in the mirror without hearing echoes of conversations you’d had. He couldn’t close his eyes even for a second without seeing your face. It should have brought him comfort, but it didn’t it was haunting—you were haunting him, and you were still breathing.

Whenever he did step away for biological functions, he came back to find Christiano in your room. Every time he saw him, his instinct said to kill him, and every time Christiano laid eyes on him, he could see the hatred and jealousy in his eyes. When he wasn’t there, Christiano was slandering him to any tabloid that would give him airtime. He called him every name, even went as far as to add to the speculation he’d had an affair. The only reason why he didn’t pummel his ass was because of you.

Everyone was right, this was the place, and it certainly wasn’t the time. He was the least important factor in all of this. He still made it difficult. He had to co-exist with him around, had to find a way to remain in the same room with him without jumping over your bed to choke him out. He’d had plenty of daydreams that ended in Christiano’s dead body. He’d done it many ways, and each ending had him smirking. Scott was the one to point out the evilness to his smirk once, and like his brother, he knew just what had put the smirk there.

“Tell me something,” Christiano began. He was sitting across the room on your left-hand side with an evident scowl. “Why her?”

Rolling his eyes, he sighed out. He knew Christiano was only setting some trap for him to fall in, either by showcasing his rage that would prove to your family he was the worst choice you could have made. Clenching his jaw, he focused on your face determined not to fall for his antics.

“I’m just trying to make friendly conversation. It’s just us here. Man to man tell me. Why her?”

“What the fuck does that even mean?”

“Why’d you go after her? I know she told you about me. I know because we talked a little bit after you met.”

His head snapped to Christiano then. You hadn’t told him that.

“She didn’t tell you, did she?” He scoffed then crossed his arms. “Yeah. I called one night, she said she was in Madagascar, Malaysia—no, that’s not it—hmm--Maldives.” Christiano looked at him then. The Maldives meant something to him. Perking up in his seat, he saw a bigger smirk on Christiano’s face. He knew it meant something. “Yeah, it was the Maldives. We talked for like an hour. She kept her voice low, I thought she was just tired, but you were probably fast asleep, and she didn’t want you to know that she was talking to me.”

Christiano shook his head and chuckled to himself. “Why her?”

He stared at you again. You were battered and bruised with tubes and wires coming out of every possible surface of skin, but still gorgeous. He couldn’t help but wonder what you’d talked to him about. He remembered the trip to the Maldives--he remembered it well. He knew this was what Christiano wanted, him to doubt you, doubt your relationship. He was a real asshole.

“If you really knew anything about love, then you’d know I didn’t have a choice, and she wasn’t singled out. If you knew about anything but possessing and claiming like the entitled fuck you are, then you’d know something more powerful, something bigger than anything was what had a hand in it being her for me.”

When he looked at Christiano, he saw the same rage and jealousy, but he also saw something else confusion. He had no idea what he was talking about. This wasn’t about love for Christiano. He’d always known it, but he was surer than ever. The question was, what was this about? Before either of them could speak again, the door opened, revealing your doctor—Dr. Diallo and another doctor in pink scrubs.

“Oh, excuse the intrusion,” he began.

“It’s fine. Is there a change?”

“I’m afraid not, I’ve brought the head of OB. Remember, I told you we’d schedule a proper workup for the pregnancy?”

“Yes,” he answered as he rose from his seat.

“Mr. Evans, my name is Dr. Michaelson. I am the head of Obstetrics,” she informed, holding out her hand for him to shake, which he did.

“Dr. Diallo has filled me in on everything concerning your wife. I am sorry for your struggle.”

“Thank you.” That was when all eyes landed on Christiano, still sitting there as if he had every right to be there.

“Eh-em, Mr. White, I am going to have to ask you to wait outside. Perhaps you’d like to take a break. This may take some time,” Dr. Diallo informed. Christiano clenched his jaw but didn’t speak as he walked to the door. Before he walked out, Christiano gave him another look that said he had plenty to say, but he kept quiet and left.

“Come in, please.” Both doctors walked into the room, pushing a cart with them.

“I’m here to perform an ultrasound. After everything your wife has been through, we have to fully understand what is happening within the womb as well as make sure the pregnancy is progressing as normal and that the embryo is healthy,” Dr. Michelson explained as she set up the device that was on the cart.

“What if when you examine her, you find things less than ideal?”

Dr. Diallo and Dr. Michaelson exchanged a look that didn’t look hopeful. “Depending on the situation, two things are possible, your wife will naturally have a miscarriage, and the embryo will pass, or a medically assisted miscarriage will be performed,” she explained.

His emotions nearly got the best of him. Taking a moment, he took a deep breath. “We um—she’s already had one miscarriage.”

“When?”

“A few months ago, about eight or so,” he clarified. Dr. Michelson nodded and opened your hospital gown before she squirted a clear gel on your stomach. His eyes didn’t miss the bloodied bandages a few inches above your navel. His heart lurched, making him drop to the seat behind him.

“Are you alright?” Dr. Diallo was to his side after a few moments.

“Fine,” he assured. Dr. Diallo didn’t listen, though; he pressed his fingers to the inside of his wrist, feeling his pulse which was racing.

“Your pulse is higher than normal. When was the last time you slept, Mr. Evans?”

“The night before this all happened,” he confessed.

“Mr. Evans,” Dr. Diallo began. He knew what he was going to say. Raising his hand, he stopped the lecture before it began.

“I know. Let’s continue, please.”

When Dr. Michaelson placed the wand on your stomach. He watched her move it around searching. After almost a minute of silence in the room, it filled with the sound of a rapidly beating heart.

“What’s that?”

Dr. Michaelson smiled as she continued to move the wand. “That Mr. Evans is the sound of your baby. It’s the baby’s heartbeat.”

Tears filled his eyes, and they automatically streamed down his cheeks. The word “baby” echoed in his head. He hadn’t even wrapped his head around the fact that you were pregnant. When he was told the news, it was just something that hadn’t resonated. It was just news. Now it was different.

“It’s fast.”

“It’s absolutely normal. I’m happy that the heartbeat is this pace. I worried it would be slower. Ah-ha, here we are. I stand corrected.”

The image on the screen took his breath away.

“It is the sound of your babies,” Dr. Michaelson clarified. His jaw dropped as he looked at her. She nodded, confirming it.

“Plural?”

“Plural, twins, incredibly strong twins. See, this is one baby and the other. They are in separate sacs, two separate placentas. From this, I’d say fraternal twins.”

He leaned closer, rested his elbows on the edge of your bed, and just gawked at the image on the screen. The two near microscopic tadpole-shaped beings looked more frog-like than humans, but he didn’t care. They were his tadpoles. The weight of that had him dropping his head to rest atop your thigh. his body shook as he sobbed and just listened to the sound of the beats in the room. It was the most incredible sound he’d ever heard. Only one other sound ever had this impact on him—your voice.

“They look healthy. I can’t see anything wrong. There is no abruption of any kind, no bleeding, no abnormalities. They are perfect.” She sounded amazed.

When he looked up again, he just stared at the screen, at your children. He knew he should have felt happiness, and to some degree, he did, but it was a different kind of happiness. His sorrow still tethered him to the earth, making it impossible to feel full happiness over the news that should have sent him onto cloud nine.

“From the size of the embryos, it looks like she’s maybe nine weeks along,” Dr. Michaelson claimed.

He would have smiled if he could. Nine weeks. He knew just when it happened. It was then he remembered his mother’s words. “Through heartbreak, joy can blossom.”

He dropped his head again to your thigh and cried.

“We’ll give you some time with the news,” Dr. Diallo informed as he led the other to the door.

When he was alone, he broke down again as he grabbed your hand.

“Uriah, come back to me. Please, baby, come back to us.”

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

The sun set, then rose, and set again, and he was still beside you with your hand in his. His pleads were now silent, but still, you remained the same. Every time he looked at the ultrasound picture, his fear increased. He couldn’t shake the feeling that he was about to lose everything, and it was unbearable, especially with the thought of the two new lives in your womb. Everything in him said fight, but he had no idea how to do that. What could he do that would have any impact?

“You have to sleep.” He’d recognize his mother’s voice anywhere.

“How do I sleep? How do I do anything but sit here?”

The silence returned, but he felt his mother sit beside him and watch the same thing he was watching—you.

“She would want you to take care of yourself. If not for yourself or her, for the baby.”

He scoffed and wiped a stray tear.

“Babies. Twins.”

“Oh my god, Chris. Are they okay?”

“Yeah, the doctor says they sound healthy, and they’re strong,” he shared.

“Thank god. What a blessing.”

“A blessing? Mom, look around.” He sounded disgusted.

“The situation isn’t, but these babies are a blessing. Through heartbreak, joy can blossom, and it did. Honey, I know you’re hurting, my god, it breaks my heart but--.”

“I only have myself to blame. I know,” he interrupted.

“I never said that.”

“It’s what you want to say. It’s all any of you think. None of you will even listen or give me the benefit of the doubt. You all just automatically believe the lies, believe that asshole.”

“Watch your mouth!”

Snapping his mouth shut, he lowered his head to rest it on your hand.

“I never said I didn’t believe you. You’re my son. I will always believe you over tabloid fodder. I am just—disappointed.”

He sighed. If it was anything any child hated to hear was the disappointed line.

“How could you let this happen?” She sounded disappointed this time. Truthfully, she wasn’t asking him anything he hadn’t asked himself in the last week. The answer was the same.

“I didn’t mean for this to happen.”

“Mean for it or not, it’s happened. I’m not going to ask you if you had an affair with this woman.”

“Of course, not mom. I’ve never been unfaithful to my wife. You didn’t raise me like that. How could I? She’s perfect.”

“Okay, you didn’t have an affair. Someone has gone out of their way to make it seem as if you have. You have to ask who. To figure that out, you have to figure out a motive. Who has something to gain if you and Uriah have problems or divorce?”

“Christiano.” His eyes met his mother’s.

“So your theory is he did what exactly?”

“That video is bullsh—doctored. None of that happened. I just don’t know how he even got his hands on it. There were no paps there, no-one but cast and crew,” he explained.

“Maybe someone from the cast or crew took the video,” his mother suggested.

He began to go through each of the cast dismissing them one by one because none of them had any motivation to do something like this. He’d worked with them all before and had developed a relationship with them—a friendship. He was sure he could trust them. When he came to Ana, he acknowledged that she was the only one who was a new acquaintance. From the day they’d met at the screen test, he’d felt comfortable around her, and that was a reason why he had such a difficult time seeing her as anything but a friend. The facts were, though, that he’d never worked with her before.

“They would have had to have the know-how to edit something that extensively,” he said as his thoughts roamed.

From what he knew, Ana didn’t have those skills, but she had enough money to find someone who could. He came up with reason after reason why she could be the culprit, but for every reason to it being her, he came up with one to say she wasn’t the one to blame. He thought back to their brief conversation a few days ago. She sounded shaken up as if none of this made sense to her like it came from out of nowhere. She sounded like a victim, he thought. She was an actress, though, he thought in the same breath. Still, he couldn’t deny the way she insisted on handling the investigation into it was a little suspicious. He hadn’t thought about then or cared to because his thoughts were all over the place and only on you, but now something felt off.

“Chris--.” His manager walked into the room, interrupting his conversation with his mother.

“I’m sorry. I know this is a tough time, but this is getting out of hand. The longer you don’t make a statement, you are fueling the rumors and even giving this Christiano guy a stronger leg to stand on.”

He sighed and sat back in the chair. Real life was calling.

“You have to make a statement, even if it is something small, something simple. PR thinks the same thing. Appearances are everything.”

“I don’t give a fuck about appearances! My wife is lying in this bed. My wife is fighting for her fucking life! I don’t give a shit what they want to say. I don’t give a shit what anyone is saying!”

He sprang to his feet and paced the room. Motion always helped to calm him down, but right now, it wasn’t helping.

“I get that, but you have to find a way to slow the shit storm.”

He stopped in front of the window and stared out.

“Honey, he’s right. This is a nightmare; we get it. It is only going to get worse the longer you stay quiet. Just give them something small.”

Balling his fist, he tried to stay away from the feelings of rage he’d been battling the last week. “Fine. Uriah—my wife—my life,” he began before taking a beat to stave away the fresh tears that threatened to stream. Swallowing the lump in his throat, he continued. “--Was involved in a car accident and our family is asking for privacy and positivity during this difficult time. I encourage everyone not to listen to believe or give fire to false rumors that do not lead anywhere. There is your statement.”

“Chris--,” his manager began.

“That is the statement! If you want anything else, you won’t get it here.”

He heard a sigh and the sound of the door opening. “Wait. I need someone looking into that video. I want answers.”

The next thing he heard was the soft click of the door closing, then felt his mother’s hand on his shoulder. It felt like the weight of the world, and it was enough to bring him to tears yet again.

-One Week Later-

He took a deep breath and looked out at all the faces of everyone he cared deeply about--his mother, sisters, brother, their significant others, your parents, your cousin, and best friend. After a week of turmoil both internally and externally, he was sitting in front of everyone that probably hated him. You’d been in your coma for two weeks now, and for the last two weeks, everyone was on edge. Everyone felt the uncertainty, everyone felt the tension and none of them knew what to say. The only ones who spoke to him were his mother, his brother, and Shanna’s boyfriend. He understood. To them, he was public enemy number one. He hadn’t given them any reason to believe any differently. It was time to change that.

“You’ve all known me for a long time, if not my entire life, then the last six years. I know in the last few weeks and months none of you have any reason to think the best of me. I know you all blame me for what’s going on, and to be truthful, I understand completely. You don’t blame me more than I blame myself.” He dropped his head and slightly shook his head before he faced them again.

“I’m sorry for the situation that I have put you all in, but let it be known once and for all for any doubt in any of your minds. I did not have an affair. Never have I nor would I ever cheat on my wife—your daughter,” he finished looking your parents in their eyes.

Your father kept his eyes on him. He knew it was an intimidation technique. Your father was a respected marine sergeant, and when it came to intimidation, he was the best around for it. A full minute passed before he took another breath; still, your father hadn’t looked away. “Mr. Tyler, I swear to you. I gave you my word years ago that I would respect your daughter, love her, and treat her like the queen she was. I have not gone back on my word, never—not once,” he added.

“Then how are we here, Chris?” Your mother sighed out before her face scrunched to produce fresh tears. “My daughter is lying in a hospital bed, and the world is calling you a cheater.”

“I know Roxxi. I did not cheat. That video is doctored, nothing of the sort happened. It was an outing with the entire cast. We left at the same time, but what that video doesn’t show is me getting in a car with Daniel and Jamie while she went her own way. I’ve only ever had eyes for her.”

The silence returned, and everyone looked to be waiting to know how they should react.

“Auntie Roxxi, Uncle Marcus,” Zora began stepping forward. “This situation is bad all around. We can all agree on that. I’ve been with Riah since the beginning of this whole thing. While Chris has made mistakes in the way he’s handled this,” she paused and looked at him. It was as if she was searching for something, he didn’t know what, but he hoped she didn’t seal his coffin.

Zora sighed and gave him a slight nod before she continued. “Chris loves Riah, I’ve seen how much he loves her. He’s been a blind, trusting buffoon, but he didn’t have an affair.” He released a relieved breath as Zora looked at him again. “He would never no matter how bad it looks,” she finished.

Everyone spoke amongst themselves as he locked eyes with Zora. The look on her face said she was angry and disapproving, but it also said she stood with him. She knew something.

“Then what is going on?” Carly was the one to ask the burning question everyone was thinking.

“That is what I intend on getting to the bottom of,” he responded with determination.

Everyone nodded together, and for the first time, he felt like they were all on the same page and that the page wasn’t hating him.

When everyone broke off to their own conversations, he took Zora and Kizzy to the side to figure out just what they knew. Neither Zora nor Kizzy wanted to talk in the open and insisted on meeting in one of the other private rooms meant for families. That was enough to raise his suspicions, and when he met them there, he could feel the icy chill in the air that matched the cold glare from Kizzy.

“First of all, just because Z is on your side does not mean I’m okay with any of the shit you’ve done,” Kizzy blurted out loud enough that someone could have heard if they weren’t alone in the room. Zora elbowed Kizzy, who crossed her arms and sat back in the seat.

When Zora was going to speak, Kizzy leaned forward again. “Before any of that, look me in my eyes and tell me you didn’t cheat on my best friend. Look me in the eye and tell me that you’re not the stupid motherfucker you’re acting like.”

“Kizzy!”

He held his hand up, letting Zora know it was okay. Leaning forward as Kizzy did, he met her eyes. “I didn’t cheat on her. Nothing has ever happed between Ana and me, ever. I would never.” He could feel Kizzy was seconds from blowing up, and he didn’t blame her. Sighing out, she leaned back again.

“Then explain the texts.” Zora’s voice drew his attention.

“What texts?”

“You’ve been caught, Chris. We saw the texts in Ana’s phone. The texts between the two of you,” Kizzy blurted out.

He looked at Zora who was shaking her head. When she opened her mouth, he was shocked by what she said. She told him of the hotel and just what you were doing there. When they told him about what they’d heard and seen in Ana’s phone, he couldn’t hide his shock.

“Yeah, what the fuck you gotta say now?”

He sat back in his chair in disbelief that he’d driven you to this extreme. He never wanted you to feel like you had to act like this. He never wanted to give you a reason to. The shame he felt was intense. Dropping his head in his hands, he rubbed it.

“Explain touching her breasts, explain the kiss. Explain telling her marriage is hard and all the other private shit you said. What the fuck!”

“We were going through a scene where my character goes after her, and he’s supposed to be seeing red,” he began.

Kizzy kissed her teeth loudly while rolling her eyes, “Who the fuck cares. Get on with it!”

Reigning in his anger, he took a deep breath and continued. “In the haste of the scene, one of my hands got her arm, and the other touched her breast. I immediately pulled back and apologized. It was not intentional, and it was a fraction of a second.”

“And the kiss?”

“That was her. We were running lines in between takes, and she kissed me. Again I immediately pulled back, and it wasn’t even a second. I told her that wasn’t cool, and she apologized said--.”

“We saw what she said. Conveniently, you have explanations for all of this.”

“It’s the truth, Kizzy. You know Riah, why would I risk my life by making a fool out of her like that? Even if this was true, do you think I’d be such a messy asshole to let any of this come out? I’m sorry to say this, but I’m a lot smarter than that.”

“Smarter? You’re the dumb ass who has been entrusting this snake!”

“I didn’t know anything about any plan she had. Besides those exchanges with her, there has been nothing else. The conversations you can fault me for. Yes, the little I said was too much, I see that now. I didn’t see it then I saw it as a friend I could confide in about things.”

“Both of you shut the fuck up!” Zora’s shout was loud and bounced off the walls. He slinked back as did Kizzy.

Everyone’s tempers were high.

“Do you think Ana is behind all of this?”

“Of course that bitch is behind this,” Kizzy blurted. Zora gave her a look that had her shut up quick.

“What about Christiano?”

Kizzy and Zora looked at each other and exchanged a look he wanted to know more about.

“We know you hate him, and he is being a pain in the ass, but how?”

They sat there silently, each thinking about different aspects of this entire situation. When the door busted open, Scott was there.

“Come quick. It’s Uriah!”

The three of them were on their feet in seconds, and the four of them ran back toward your room. When they approached, Dr. Diallo was walking out of the room.

“What’s happened?”

“She’s awake.”

Everyone exclaimed out with joy and relief and began celebrating, but he couldn’t.

“Is she okay?”

“It is a good sign she is awake, an excellent sign.”

The first smile in weeks spread across his face. “Can we see her?”

Dr. Diallo nodded and stepped aside, allowing them to walk inside the room. Everyone else poured in the room first, he hung back mainly from fear because of how things were left. He watched as everyone filed in around your bed. You were sitting up, eyes open, tubes gone and alert. His emotions got the best of him then. It was a sight he’d prayed for, a sight he’d wanted more than anything. He watched as almost gave you gentle hugs. You weakly smiled back at everyone else before you saw him. When your eyes locked, the look was a blank one. The fear in him rose even more, but he couldn’t stay away any longer.

Everyone looked at him, making room for him to get in closer. As he approached your bedside, your eyes never left him. When he leaned in to hug you, you recoiled away from him. He’d expected it, but still, it hurt a lot more than he’d ever thought it would. Fighting to keep the pain away, he took a breath and looked into your eyes again. Still, the blank look was there, but so was confusion and fear.

“Wha—what—eh-em--.” You looked as if you were in a lot of pain, but you didn’t stop. You tried again. “What’re—you—doing—here?” Your voice was hoarse and barely above a whisper. You took a deep breath and panted like it took everything out of you.

“Baby—I know we’re going through something but--.” Your brows knitted together as you pulled back even more, looking at your mother and father.

“We? Ba—baby? What—what’s—going—on? I—don’t—know you.”

He could have been knocked over by a gentle breeze. He’d thought the worst-case scenario if you woke up was you hating him or wanting a divorce. He never thought it would be you erasing his very existence from your world.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

***If you want to be tagged please SEND AN ASK SO IT WILL BE EASIER FOR ME TO KEEP TRACK OF. Thank you for reading!!!

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Tag List:

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***There are a few that are bold that I tried to tag but your @ wasn’t coming up. I’m not sure why. I’m sorry.***

#rumor has it fic #Chris Evans #chris evans fanfiction #chris evans x reader #chris evans x you #chris evans x black reader #black fanfiction #angst fanfic #chris evans x ofc #chris x uriah

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barbasbodaciousbeard · 3 years

Text

If You Love Someone, Let Them Go: Part 6

Summary: Since starting with SVU, Sonny hadn’t kept much terribly close to the chest. The squad knew about his family, growing up on Staten Island, the classes at Fordam. What was hidden was why he didn’t date. Sonny Carisi was also separated from his childhood sweetheart, a separation neither ever took to divorce. They had the same haunts. They’d grown up neighbors. Their paths crossed every few months, and divorce talks would turn into reminiscing would turn into a night spent together, sometimes sex sometimes just talking until the early morning. It always ended with one of them waking up alone however. How will that change when the squad finds out?

Pairings: Sonny Carisi x Original Character

1 - 2 - 3 - 4 - 5

April 2015

“You ready?” Sonny called as he came into her apartment. They’d agreed to skip the pretense and drive together, and Sonny had booked a hotel room within walking distance after confirming she’d be okay with it. His bag was in the trunk, and he grinned when she came out bundled up, the same Fordham sweatshirt she’d stolen under her coat and the little wheeled bag beside her.

“Ready,” she grinned, stretching up to kiss him, and he felt like he could do anything. He took her bag despite her protest.

“I got us a room for the next two nights. We ain’t gotta stay both, but I thought it might be nice to go to dinner? I got both nights off, too.”

“That sounds real nice. I packed some real people clothes anyway.”

“Perfect. Now let’s get going. Bella said you guys got a make up artist coming.”

“Yeah. She got one and a hairdresser.”

“She’s definitely the one who wouldn’t wanna get herself ready.”

“Yeah. We gotta get there in time. What’re the groomsmen doing?”

“Playing video games and taking turns shaving and showering.”

“Not fair.”

“You look hot. You don’t need hair and make up.”

“You always think I’m hot.”

“That’s because you always are.”

“So are you. I got real lucky on the husband front.”

“You really think so?” She could sense the current under what he said. It wasn’t just Am I hot? but was also Are you lucky?

“Incredibly lucky. I got you.” He slammed the trunk shut, cheeks pink when he settled in the driver’s seat. It was familiar to drive with their fingers laced, and he smiled to see her wedding set in place. Bella had gone by the bakery to surprise her one day, and his sister was very pleased to let him know both rings were on her left ring finger. He’d told the squad the same day he told Olivia, and his ring had been on his hand every day since, the cross the only thing on the chain again.

“Think they’d notice if I do my own make up and hang out with you?”

“She really does have y’all going like two hours longer than Gina did.”

“Yeah. Gina was very ‘Let’s get down to business, get photos, and get married.’ Bella’s way more into the matching robes and face masks vibe. But she’ll be happy.”

“I’ll check in a lot, okay? I don’t like the video games Tommy does.”

“You just like Sims. It’s endearing.”

“It’s kinda fun.”

“You spent six hours building a house once.”

“I had t’make sure it was perfect. They were having twins, Tor.”

“I love you, you absolute nerd.”

“Your nerd.”

“Damn straight.” Sonny dropped her off at the venue, checking them in at the hotel and dropping off their bags. He stopped by the bridal suite when he got to the venue, thankful the weather moved the ceremony inside now that he was out of the cold.

“Dominick! No boys allowed,” Bella said, wagging her finger at him, hair in rollers.

“I know, I know. I’m just bringing Tor the key and her charger, okay?”

“You got her key?” Gina asked, leaning back to look at him and lifting her brow. “That sounds like you’re sharing a room.”

“We are,” Victoria said plainly, taking both items gladly. All the girls had changed into robes, but she’d opted to stay in his oversized sweatshirt until the inevitable photos. A primal part of him liked knowing that.

“That sounds like a reconciliation,” the younger Carisi sang, and Victoria rolled her eyes. “And you two snuck out of the party early like you used to.”

“I’m real glad you approve of our progress, but if you put too much pressure on us, we might break again.” Victoria knew he didn’t mean it and just wanted them to drop it, which she was grateful for. They weren’t quite there, but she trusted he’d probably open up by the end of their weekend together. Even if he didn’t, she’d decided she wanted to start planning to see him more after the wedding. Several late nights with Margy and a bottle of wine had told her that much. If you prove you’ll be there and patient, he’ll probably feel less like he’s scaring you off, she’d told Victoria after another night analyzing their last four encounters.

“Fine. But just know I’m telling ma. Maybe she’ll stop being mean to Tor.”

“Ignore Bella. She’s been glaring, but I think Sonny talked sense into her at Thanksgiving. She’s mad at both of them now.”

“As she should be,” he shrugged, kissing Victoria. “See ya for pictures.”

“See ya,” she grinned, ignoring his sisters’ squeals. This marathon made her kind of tired. Her hair and makeup were done soon enough, and she was grateful the dress was a dusty, dark enough pink in person to look good on her. She liked pink on Sonny, especially since the sides of his brunette hair had started going gray, against the blue of his eyes. The bridesmaids, the two Carisi sisters, Victoria, and a couple of Bella’s friends, all posed together in the matching silky robes before slipping their dresses on.

“And you thought that pink wouldn’t look good,” Sonny said softly against her ear before kissing her cheek.

“You like it?” Her hands rested on his shoulders as she smiled up at him, and he felt giddy. It was official. This was how they acted before, no almost needed.

“I do. Beautiful color on you. And damn, my wife got a figure.”

“You’re the best hypeman,” she hummed as she straightened his tie. “I ever told you how handsome you look in a suit? Or how pretty pink makes your eyes?”

“I can stand to hear it again.” There was the cocky smile he got sometimes. “I’m starting to look old, doll.”

“Nah. Getting hotter.”

“Even with the gray?” He’d been self conscious about it before, when the evenly dispersed gray in his dark hair could be mistaken for a dirty blonde. His temples gave him away now, but she loved it.

“Even hotter with the gray.”

“Stop being gross,” Teresa whined. “It’s like when you were getting ready for homecoming again.” She was rewarded with her brother and sister-in-law’s middle fingers, and Victoria was pleased with Gianna’s disapproval and the picture the photographer snapped. They took pictures, and Sonny was glad when they settled in the back of the venue. He could see the back of Olivia, Barba, Amaro, and Rollins’ heads, and the change in his dynamic with Victoria had him looking forward to showing her off at the reception.

“Shoes off at the reception. I intercept ma?”

“How’d you know?”

“I’m pretty sure I’m supporting ninety percent of your weight, Tor.”

“Love you.”

“Do I need to hold ya until we walk?”

“Not enough time to make a difference. But you’re a saint for offering.”

When Olivia saw Sonny with Victoria on his arm, it made sense why he’d been calmer the last two weeks. He’d been texting her more, though he thought he was sneaky enough no one noticed how he smiled at his phone throughout the day. She seemed to smooth his edges, and she and Amanda shared a look over the way the pair watched each other across the front of the venue. The ceremony was a quick enough affair, and Bella had decided to let her bridal party sit wherever they wanted. That led to Victoria stepping out of her shoes, pleased to be spared a big entrance. Heels in hand, she followed Sonny to the table his squad was at before dropping into her seat and giving a wave.

“Means a lot to Bella and Tommy you all came,” Sonny said, taking her shoes and tucking the wall by his chair. “This is my wife, Victoria. Tor, meet Rafael Barba, Olivia Benson, Nick Amaro, and Amanda Rollins.”

“Nice to meet all of ya. I’ve heard a lot.”

“Wish we could say the same,” Rollins said, and Victoria immediately recognized what Sonny had meant. No venom. Just protective of her occasional partner. And Benson was definitely the mother hen, shooting the blonde a look as Amaro and Barba concealed smiles.

“Get it all out now,” she joked, rolling her eyes. “Married into this family nine years ago.”

“Been putting up with Carisi that long? I’ll petition the pope for sainthood.” The three piece suit. The snark. Barba was just what she expected.

“Think she deserves it,” Sonny chuckled, arm flung easily over the back of her chair. “I can be a pain in the ass.”

Conversation started to flow easily, and he was glad Victoria was tough enough to bite back at Rollins and Barba when they referenced anything touchy. Tommy’s family filled out the rest of the table, and he was glad to see the trial had brought them around to agree that what happened to Tommy was wrong. Teresa and Tommy’s brother gave the speeches, and he liked seeing the squad join in as Bella threw the bouquet and Tommy threw the garter.

“Bella caught my bouquet, remember?” Victoria smiled up at him.

“Yeah. And Freddy Esposito got the garter.”

“Both of ‘em got married this year.”

“Was delayed for us. Our friends from back then are just now getting married.”

“We’ve been married nine years and aren't even thirty. I think we were ahead of the curve.”

“But now my baby sister is married and pregnant.”

“Dom, you do know she and I are the same age?” Sonny blinked, squinting at her.

“You’re fucking with me, right?”

“We’re both twenty-seven.”

“No way Bella’s twenty-seven.”

“I like how you can fully separate me and Bella graduating together.”

“I forget,” he shrugged. “You always picked me anyway.”

“Then married you. Duh. Long game.”

“I hear people making noise.”

“They’re cutting the cake. Amaro has the garter half in his shirt pocket, and a three year old caught the bouquet. The same age you think Bella was when she caught mine.”

“Shut up,” he laughed, pulling her to stand at the edge of the dance floor to watch the first dance. His arms slid around her waist as he rested his chin on her shoulder.

“He wouldn’t have to stoop so low if you’d wear your damn shoes, stellina.”

“Ma, leave her be.” Gianna rolled her eyes, but Sonny squeezed Victoria as the music started. “She’s coming back around. Called ya stellina instead of Victoria.”

It was kind of fun to watch the four members of his work family loosen up around the room. Amaro and Rollins were across the dance floor and not fooling anyone. Barba wasn’t sure what to make of any of the Carisis or Sullivans, but since they’d easily figured out that Olivia was not involved with him, the singles from both families had circled the man who was suddenly the most eligible bachelor. The best part was how hard Olivia ignored his visual pleas to be saved as she talked to one of Tommy’s uncles. It was nice not pretending work and personal life were separate; the squad had taken him in like he hadn’t anticipated, and now his family was taking the chance to accept his squad.

When the first dance was over, Sonny pulled her onto the dance floor, holding her flush against him in a way he hadn’t been brave enough to before. They’d talked every day the last two weeks, and he’d realized they really had hit the turning point. The songs weren’t slow, so his chest was against her back as his hand splayed over her stomach as they swayed. Both their voices were off key as they sang along to each song with the rest of the guests on the floor. Nick and Amanda were wrapped up in each other, and Olivia and Rafael seemed perfectly entertained, so he didn’t feel bad slipping out after a couple hours.

“I know you two. Go ahead and dip. You stayed for all the important parts,” Bella had grinned, bumping Victoria’s hip with her own. “I’m the only sober one here, so this is gonna wrap up earlier than anyone realizes. Baby and I gotta sleep.”

“You sure?”

“Positive, Tor.” That was all it took for Sonny to lace their fingers, duck out of the venue, and start the couple of blocks to their hotel. At first, she wore the heels and walked, but he quickly realized it was the shoes, not the wine, making her unsteady.

“That’s it,” he said, squatting in his suit. “Hop on.”

“My bag’s heavy.”

“I can handle it, babe.”

“You sure?”

“You don’t hop on, we’re going spider monkey front carry, and we both know that always ends in me tripping more.” She wrapped her arms around his shoulders, and Sonny held her thighs, careful to keep the fabric under his palms to save her some modesty. When they were outside the room, she slipped the key from his breast pocket, helping him push the door open before he dropped her on the bed.

“Thank you,” she sighed, toeing the pumps off and letting them fall.

“Glad to be of service.” A little salute as he started to strip out of the suit and hang it. “Thanks for always ditching early for pajamas with me.”

“Glad to be of service.” She hung the dress and tucked the strapless bra away, and when Sonny turned from the closet, he saw her in the oversized sweatshirt again as she pulled the blankets back on the bed. He hadn’t bothered for two. They’d had that option every time but hadn’t used it when they were fighting.

“Comfy?” He ran a hand through his hair, breaking up the gel before flopping beside her.

“Very.”

“It’s literally nine o’clock. Are we old, Tor?”

“Old? No. Codependent? Maybe.”

“We been living apart a year and a half. Maybe we’re just a clique.”

“Very true. We’re like if the plastics were millennials who had been married a decade.”

“We should write that script.”

“Forget law school. Teen movie parodies based around our marriage.”

“Perfect. I’ll drop all my classes tomorrow.”

“I missed you. It’s been nice talking all the time.”

“I missed you too,” he murmured, watching her with his cheek pressed to the pillow.

“Regardless of if you’re ready to tell me, I wanna keep talking a lot.”

“I’m ready. I just was going to wait. Don’t wanna ruin our weekend.”

“I feel like you’re going to tell me and realize I don’t care as much as you thought. Unless you fucked somebody.”

“First, last, and only, Tor.” He rolled onto his back, taking a deep breath, and Victoria knew him well enough to know this really was going to be the moment. She sat up, legs tucked beneath her. Leaning towards him a little, she put her hand on his chest and rubbed what she hoped were soothing circles as he put his hands behind his head. When he was nervous, Sonny talked to the ceiling, just needing her to anchor him.

“Just trust me, okay?”

“I trust you, vita mia,” he murmured, and that particular Italian term of endearment let her know it was really happening. “You remember when my hours changed? End of 2011. Became a detective. Acted funny when you took me upstate. A year before I fucked up and forgot your birthday bakery combo dinner.”

“Of course.”

“I was working homicide.”

“Okay?”

“It really fucked me up, Tor. What I seen, it was so bad. The women. There were so many women, and they’d be so pristine. One of them was in a fuckin’ dumpster even. But he took all the time to give her a bath and do her make up and get her dressed. And you know what that always told me?”

“What?” she whispered, taking the hand that went from behind his head to rest on top of hers.

“It was their husband or boyfriend. The person who they trusted. And their faces were so peaceful, Victoria. They knew what was coming. And I’d go talk to people. You know what they’d say? They weren’t surprised. They’d seen it. They’d heard it. Those men hurt their wives and girlfriends. Took advantage of the fact they trusted and loved them. I started seeing you when I saw them, Tor.”

“Sonny,” she whispered, hating the way his voice sounded. It was thick with emotion, and he’d closed his eyes. She was well aware that if he opened them, they’d be rimmed red and tears would be falling. “This is what you couldn’t tell me?”

“You’re so proud of me. I didn’t want to disappoint you. I couldn’t sleep and it hurt so badly. I’d wake up freaking because I thought it was you. I’d never hurt you, but my brain just- I don’t know. And then you’re so good. You deal with cakes and fondant and cannoli and things that make people happy. I was so scared that if I talked about it, it would blot out the light in you. I felt like the only light I had was you. I think I pulled away because of that and it snowballed. When it got so bad, the last six months? It got to the point I thought all that darkness and the stuff I was seeing and the stuff my brain was picturing would- fuck- leak into you through osmosis or something. When I wanted to tell you, my brain would just change the words I wanted to say.”

“Sonny, I didn’t know it was like that,” she murmured.

“You couldn’t have known. I wouldn’t tell you.”

“I should have figured it out.”

“Don’t do that, doll. If you’re willing to trust me to tell you moving forward, I just want to move forward.”

“I shouldn’t have left, Dominick. You were hurting, and I just abandoned you.”

“I was depressed. I should have told you or talked to someone. Being depressed doesn’t make it okay to neglect you. I need to take care of myself.”

“And I should have stuck with you. Figured out the why.”

“You did though. I’ve known that I can come to you for the last two years. I just couldn’t get past myself. Doc’s been working through it with me. Says I gotta learn that dad bottling it up wasn’t good. It works better for him and ma because she couldn’t read him when they met. I never had to tell you so I didn’t know how. And then dad doesn’t believe in men sharing their feelings. It’s easy to ignore that for the good feelings. I didn’t want you to think I wasn’t tough enough.”

“I didn’t know how to tell you how I was feeling. I knew you saw dark stuff and I was scared to make it worse. I didn’t want to pressure you.”

“Are we okay?” His voice was almost pleading, barely a whisper as his eyes finally opened to look at her. She laid against him, cupping his cheek as his hand flew to rest on hers. They were both crying, and she hated it. She hated to know that it was such a stupid miscommunication. If she’d pressed on it, taken guesses, asked around, maybe she could’ve helped him not hurt. This new squad seemed good for him, and therapy was helping. She probably needed to address their relationship more in therapy, learn how to ask for what she needed. They had to an extent, helping her hold out as long as she had for him to open up.

“We’re okay, Sonny. I’m so proud of you.” She was nudging his nose with her own, not dropping his gaze.

“Thank you for being so patient.”

“I’d have waited for ya forever. First, last, and only, Sonny.”

“Come home.”

“We gotta consolidate now,” she teased gently. “But I’ll come home.”

“It’s in Brooklyn now. You’ll like it. I didn’t even get rid of that stupid dog statue.”

“He’s a very important dog statue.”

“I love you, you weirdo.”

“I love you too, nerd.” He missed laughing with her, even when they were both crying. The relief that flooded him was suddenly exhausting. Not telling her had been heavy on him for a long time, but he didn’t expect his body’s physical response to the openness. He felt like he did before he went on this pointless journey to hide the bad parts of his field from her. She knew what he did. She kissed him, slow and sweet and loving, and Sonny’s arms snaked around her. They’d kissed plenty since she left, but there was always a hesitance behind it. Unsureness around their status. Now, he was kissing his wife, not his estranged wife. Even if it took time, they were working towards her coming back home. They hadn’t had sex since their ill fated first run in post separation. It was slow and sentimental, and afterwards, he had a half second of panic she’d disappear. Instead of pulling away like his gut wanted, he curled around her frame, nuzzled into the crook of his neck.

“I missed that,” he murmured.

“Me too.” She rested her hand on his, and he could feel that she was smiling in how her cheeks moved. He felt greedy, wanting to feel every bit of her skin he was able to before he fell asleep. When he woke to find her still there, he was relieved, and even better, she’d twisted in the night, leg hooked over his hip and her chest pressed to his. They’d spent most of the night talking or tangled together, so they’d slept in until ten o’clock. He checked his phone to be sure everyone had made it through the night before. Once he reminded his mom he was spending the weekend and really wouldn’t be at Sunday dinner, he settled back in to watching her. After a while, she started to stir, pulling him closer. She’d been right, everything had changed once he told her. He didn’t feel like he had to keep any space between them.

“Morning, beautiful,” he whispered, and she stretched her arms over her head.

“Heya, handsome.” She pressed a kiss to his lips, and it took all his attention not to take her again. He’d made plans for the day, and he was determined to stick to them. Even if they hadn't reconciled, she was a sucker for the beach, even when it was cold, so he’d planned to take her to lunch, take her to get her nails done, and take her to walk the little shops he’d found. It would make her smile, and he’d missed the little trips they’d taken before. Other than going to the cabin, something she’d planned, it had been years between work and school and money. For their tenth anniversary, he was already planning, even though there was just over a year to plan. He wanted to take her back to New Orleans, just the pair of them together now and no disappointment on her part that her mom was there but ignoring her.

“I planned a day for us.” His hands trailed her spine, and he realized something else had shifted since he told her the reality. While he thought it wasn’t possible, he felt even closer to her. The men in his family, though well intentioned, had always told him it would be viewed as weaker to share his emotional world with anyone. They thought it was a little girly for him to be as sappy with her as he tended to be, tearing up at weddings and when he talked about how proud of her he was. But the bad things? Those were weaknesses that would drive her away. The realization that the depression and inability to separate work from her didn’t scare her off made him realize that letting her see it wasn’t going to break them. Hell, it seemed to bring her closer.

“Really?”

“Yeah. Lunch on the beach. Little walk on the beach after. Manicure- I know you, Tor. Don’t try to say you got one for Bella’s weddin. You love them but won’t take yourself ever- and then we can walk around some of the little shops and stuff.”

“That sounds like a real romantic day, Dom.”

“What can I say? I learned my lesson about not being romantic.”

“I’m excited to come home.”

“Me too, Tor.”

Tag: @cycat4077 @fear-less-write-more

#law and order special victims unit #sonny carisi #sonny carisi x oc #sonny carisi x reader #svu #writing

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rachelthompsonauthor · 3 years

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What is social proof? It’s a marketing concept that we are all inadvertently, unknowingly contributing to every time we click on, retweet, like, reply or comment, and share any kind of social media, article, or blog post on the net. Technically, social proof, as defined by Sprout Social is:

The concept that people will follow the actions of the masses. The idea is that since so many other people behave in a certain way, it must be the correct behavior.

Social Proof and Me

As an author, social media is a hugely important part of my author platform, as it is for any writer or blogger. This is how we connect with readers now, even before the pandemic. Virtual, online events are now the norm. Instagram, Facebook, and YouTube Live video discussions are the new book signings. Twitter chats are weekly on any number of topics; I have two of my own, in fact, #SexAbuseChat every Tuesday at 6 pm pst/9 pm est and #BookMarketingChat every Wednesday at 6 pm pst/9 pm est.

All important for visibility, branding, and most importantly, connection.

However…there’s a limit. I reached my limit over the course of this past year. It didn’t come all at once. It came, little by little, reaching a peak this past month or so.

Why? How? Me, the so-called social media expert?

Access. Like many people, I have issues with the incredible level of access Facebook gives people once we friend them without our consent. PMs (private messages) are automatic, now with the ability for people to call, voice, and video message us, with no option to shut these options to OFF unless we unfriend the person (we can, however, mute a specific conversation). Technically, we do give them consent in the legal mumbo jumbo we all agreed to when we joined back in the 2010s.

I am not okay with this. And Facebook doesn’t care. Nobody cares. You’re probably thinking, “Geez, Karen. Shut up, already. Stop your whining, white lady.” I get it. I do. First-world problems.

I counter with: I hear you. It’s also part of my business. A huge part. Here’s why:

As someone who manages over 70+ various social media accounts as part of my BadRedhead Media business, plus my own accounts as well, Facebook requires I have a personal account in order to manage all those other Pages. I do understand why, particularly with all the ridiculousness of the past four years with the abundance of fake accounts, fake news, and such.

As a survivor of sexual abuse and stalking, this is ultra-concerning to me. So, what happened this past month or so? Suffice it to say, one person repeatedly tried calling me. I never pick up Facebook calls, especially if I don’t know you. Another left me a few voice messages saying they were offended by something.

Yet another left me another message in ALL SHOUTY CAPS that she didn’t find what I posted inspirational enough and she expected better from someone who is “supposedly on the side of authors.”

Oh, and there is the one lady who started replying on ALL my posts to the kind people who did comment that she didn’t think I replied often enough or to her satisfaction.

Well. I’ve been criticized before. You should read some of my 1-star reviews. There’s plenty!

But, for whatever reason, this struck a chord. I got up in my feels. I cried. I talked with one of them and we worked it out because we like and respect each other’s work in the mental health space. The others I blocked. It’s darn frustrating to donate hours of my time each week to helping writers solely because I want to, only to be told it’s not enough. Like, seriously? Fuck off.

My blood raged. My heart sank. Understandable, right?

But what really made me angry is that I put myself in that position by being available. I accepted that ‘it is what it is.’ This is what the social media platforms have given us, so that’s what I have to work within.

I’m too available. It’s too easy to leave me shitty messages. This is why people hire people like me – to handle this crap for them! So they don’t have to read these ridiculous criticisms from judgy people who apparently have nothing better to do or are having a bad day.

And I get bad days. It’s a damn pandemic. We’re all struggling. Where’s the damn compassion for one another?

I have a dislike/hate relationship with Facebook anyway, since about ten or so years ago when I discovered that a past love had died by suicide by going to his personal profile and seeing, “RIP dude,” messages there. We had spoken early that day. It still haunts me.

So…what to do? I’m claiming my time. I’m not posting to my personal Facebook profile right now. I’m ignoring it. I am checking my Pages and of course, my client Pages. When I feel like I can face it again, I will cull my ‘friends’ down from *checks real quick* 4385 people to maybe, I don’t know, the few hundred in my groups, many of whom I do know and treasure.

Social Proof and You

If you’re a writer, social proof matters. This is the world we live in. Publishing is not only writing.

You need to be ‘findable,’ not only on Google, but also on each individual social platform, so your readers can learn more about you and hopefully, buy your books. If you go the traditional route, publishers and agents want to know how many followers you have (easily upped by buying fake followers or likes from Fiverr or wherever). I suggest not doing that, because:

1) fake followers don’t buy books

2) it’s usually pretty obvious when you have fake followers because they’re all foreign names, have questionable bios, and no tweets

3) do you really want to start your publishing career with a lie?

They also want to know what you post, how often, and what your branding is. If you’re an indie author, honestly, the same applies. Social proof is about connection, building relationships, and authenticity. I’ve believed that since I started my business and writing career way back in 2011, and I stand by it now. Start slow, grow slow. It’s not a race.

I’m the furthest thing you’ll even find from a conspiracy theorist – I don’t believe in chemtrails, pizza parlor cabals, or that the earth is flat. However, I am a realist. Watch The Social Dilemma sometime. These huge tech companies share our data without our knowledge or consent (Cambridge Analytics, anyone?). Younger generations are so used to this, they don’t really care – ask them.

(My kids think having a chip implanted in their hands with all their data is a fabulous idea. “So much easier than having to talk and repeat everything over and over. Just scan me and be done with it,” says my daughter Anya (21). “Agree,” grunts my son, Lukas (15). Buy stuff, go to the doctor, whatever. Scan and go. Talk with any GenZ kid, you’ll likely get a similar answer. They’ve been tracked since birth everywhere. They don’t know life without a computer, tablet, or phone in their hands.)

Know that whatever we do, it’s all part of each platforms’ AI, and they share data, which is why that darling pair of shoes you just saw on Amazon is now showing up on Google, Facebook, Twitter, and every website you visit going forward. It’s all about the money, and they all get a piece of that affiliate link.

Every bit of every click is recorded, even when you’re watching videos on YouTube, or a subscription service like Netflix, or perusing goods on Amazon. It’s all connected. I’m not shocked or surprised by any of this, are you?

It’s Not Personal

What people say to us and about us is ultimately incredibly revealing about them. We know this, at an intellectual, psychological, and emotional level. Still, when people say mean things, it hurts. We’re human.

Does it matter in the overall scope of our lives? Who can say. It matters at that moment. It can matter when it comes to overall visibility when you’re marketing your book(s) or trying to get that book contract or interview. Only you can say if it matters to you.

Already a longtime fan of THE FOUR AGREEMENTS by Don Miguel Ruiz, I took a moment to reorient myself with this one agreement: Don’t take anything personally. I also stumbled across an excellent short and entertaining TEDTalk by Frederick Imbo. His main message to stop taking things personally is two-fold;

It’s not about me. Look at the other person’s intention and

It IS about me. Give yourself some empathy. Speak up. Ask questions. Pay attention to how you feel and be vulnerable with your needs.

I’m glad I was able to, inadvertently, employ point #2 and work out some issues with one of the people by telling him what he said made me cry. He apologized. I apologized. We talked it through and we’re still friends.

Ultimately, social media is what we contribute to it. What we make it. How much we allow of it into our lives. Social proof is going along with the tide. I’ve been in this space since 2008. Being connected to others is a big part of the work I do to help and support not only other writers, but also other childhood sexual abuse survivors. However, I’ve reached that point. I knew it was coming.

I’m not shutting my doors. I’m just adding a screen. With a strong lock.

***

Read more about Rachel’s experiences in the award-winning book, Broken Pieces.

She goes into more detail about living with PTSD and realizing the effects of how being a survivor affected her life in

Broken Places, available in print everywhere!

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kim-seungmine · 4 years

Text

no rules

title: no rules

characters: (fem) reader x han jisung of stray kids

word count: 966

genre: fluff

a/n: sadly this is just a very short word vomit to distract me from a terrifying writer’s block, but enjoy! also @elfminho apparently i used your gif <3

“These 3 kids were lining up to enter the haunted house, one of them was trying to finish his corndog quick, but he wasn’t quick enough and suddenly it was their turn! Then the operator told him to just eat slowly since there weren’t any people behind them. His friend decided to help and started biting on the other side, but the corndog—” Jisung stops to take a short breath. You’re staring up at him, patiently waiting for him to continue. “The corndog fell! The kid blamed his friend and the three of them started fighting and ended up chasing each other. They forgot about the haunted house!”

There’s nothing Jisung loves more than curling up in his bed during a cold winter day; usually you have to drag him out in order to have a decent meal. Getting along with strangers isn’t his forte either, but when you told him you were going to Everland with your best friends he couldn’t stop imagining you going back home by yourself, shivering and alone.

Before Jisung could overthink further, he offered to go with you. The whole trip was rather awkward since he had only met Yuna and Ryujin twice, but he didn’t regret anything. Well, he barely said 20 words since the two of you arrived at Everland hours ago, but he got to record you riding your favorite rides and take pretty candid photos of you.

Now that he’s alone with you, Jisung can barely control himself—cracking jokes and telling you all the funny incidents he witnessed when you were busy playing with your friends. He gently tugs at your hand when the elevator opens, holding the door for you and Mrs. Lee who lives across your shared unit.

“The operator must’ve been so confused,” you giggle before nudging his shoulder with your head. Jisung tightens his hold on your hand, taking his phone out of the pocket with another hand. “Anyways, I have new blackmail materials!”

He plays a video of you screaming at the top of your lungs while your body was twisted in all directions on the Let’s Twist ride. “Look at that! How is this your favorite ride?! I almost fainted watching you flailed like that! And you rode it twice! Even Shin Yuna gave up after 1 turn! If you didn’t look so hilariously happy up there I would’ve dragged you home right that second! Ohh my head feels dizzy just talking about it.”

“Aigoo Han Jisung, let the poor girl talk!”

He shifts his gaze to Mrs. Lee. “You’re going to tire her out if you keep talking nonstop like that!”

Jisung feels himself freeze, unable to even look at her in the eye. You laugh, smiling at him before turning to your neighbor. “Jisung is just excited, Mrs. Lee!” You rub his back shootingly. “And that’s what I love about him. It’s okay!”

The elevator opens once again, and you quickly pull him outside. “Take care, Mrs. Lee! Say hi to the kittens for us!”

“What do you want to do? Watch some movies?” you ask him, entering the door password swiftly. Jisung lets go of your hand, silently heading to the shower. The two of you have been together for quite some time, and there are times when he wonders why you’re still with him. His brain-to-mouth filter is pretty much non-existent when he’s with you, whereas you’re a chatterbox around your friends but never says much when you’re with him. There are a lot of relationship rules out there—the push and pull, compromise, acceptance, love… but Jisung knows nothing about being together with someone.

“Strawberries?”

You’re sitting on the countertop, popping a piece of strawberry inside your mouth before opening your arms. Jisung hangs his towel on the towel rack and walks into your embrace, nuzzling his face against your chest. His heart swells when you circle your legs around his torso, pulling him closer.

“Am I tiring you out?” he mumbles, causing you to stop carding your hand through his hair. “What Mrs. Lee said, is it true?”

You shake your head, feeding him strawberry. “I love it when you tell me stories or jokes. Sometimes I imagine you talking to me during classes… or whenever I feel tired and down.”

Jisung swallows his strawberry. “So you’re saying…”

“Yes, you’re my happy pill.” You give him a playful pout. “Did you really doubt me?”

He detaches himself from you and drops a quick kiss on the corner of your mouth. “No baby it’s not like that. I just— sorry.”

“You feel comfortable when you can talk all night long without feeling awkward, I feel comfortable when I can just stay silent and listen to you. Other people may think it doesn’t seem right, but they’re not us.”

It’s Jisung’s turn to wrap you in his arms, nodding as he presses soft kisses on your shoulder. The exhaustion from stepping out of his comfort zone today has started to wear him out, and only now he realizes that he’s the one who’s tired.

“Let’s go to sleep,” he suggests as you feed him the last strawberry. “I’m tired.”

Jisung lifts you off of the countertop and heads to the bedroom, feeling content with you humming random tunes in the crook of his neck, your legs still wrapped around him ever so tightly. When he tucks you in, he catches your gaze—warm and for his eyes only. “Thank you for accompanying me. You didn’t need to, but thank you.”

He lies on top of you, replying your words with a sweet kiss on your lips. He knows nothing about being together with someone, but it doesn’t matter anymore.

Jisung loves you, and that’s the only thing he needs to engrave in his heart.

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inevitably-johnlocked · 4 years

Note

Hi steph! Hope you’re having a lovely day :-) I was wondering if you could rec some miscommunication fics — they’re my fave and I’m aaaaaalways looking for more. Thanks in advance, you’re the best!!!!

Hi Lovely!

AHHH I love this kind of fic too!! I haven’t tagged ALL of my fics with misunderstandings in them, but I’ve a sizeable amount that I think you will enjoy!

Not all of them, but a good start! As always, if any of my lovelies have their own to rec, please add them!

MISUNDERSTANDINGS / MISCOMMUNICATION

See also: Alexx’s Miscommunication Fic

Given In Evidence by verityburns (M, 5,034 w., 19 Ch. || PODFIC AVAILABLE || Post-TRF, Angst, Drama, Case Fic, Romance, BAMF!John, Submissive Sherlock, First Kiss, Humour) – Coming back from the dead can be a complicated business. With a new case on the horizon, rebuilding a life is one thing... rebuilding a friendship quite another. For Sherlock and John, things may never be just the same...

Sociopathy and Other Fibs by kinklock (M, 5,314 w., 1 Ch. || 5+1, Miscommunication, Humour, Friends to Lovers, Post S3, Love Confessions) – Five times John called Sherlock out, and one time Sherlock returned the favour.

The Only Available Transportation by blueink3 (T, 5,379 w., 1 Ch. || Post S4, Fluff and Angst, Insecure Sherlock, Caring John, Parentlock, Sherlock’s Birthday, Family, Misunderstandings) – It’s possibly the desperation that’s seeped into his voice despite his best intentions, or perhaps it’s just a mother’s intuition, but she knows that whatever he’s calling about is Serious, hangover be damned. “What’s happened?” she asks, tone soft and as comforting as a hot cup of tea on a cold winter’s night. “Mummy,” he begins, voice catching. “I think John may be moving out.”

the lingering taste of orange juice by darcylindbergh (G, 5,824 w., 1 Ch. || Pining Sherlock, Fluff, Miscommunications, Humour) – Sherlock felt the familiar heat surge in his abdomen again at the touch: hope strung taut between head and heart as in all the quiet moments between them, when Sherlock sometimes got the clues all mixed up and thought maybe John felt something too. For once, Sherlock is the idiot.

My First, My Only, and My Forever by vintagelilacs (E, 6,220 w., 1 Ch. || Post-ASiB, Virgin Sherlock, Pining Sherlock, Sherlock’s Bum, John’s Scar, Sherlock POV, Body Worship, Fingering, Bottomlock, Promise of Forever / Proposals, Misunderstanding, First Kiss/Time, Loss of Virginity, Virginity Kink, Seduction) – Sherlock narrowed his eyes. He was missing a vital piece of data, he was sure. John had been looking at him oddly ever since they left Buckingham Palace, and the ensuing incident with Irene Adler had only exacerbated his erratic behaviour. What was it? Why would he care that Sherlock was a virgin? There was nothing reminiscent of mockery or pity in his gaze. And then it hit him. John Watson was aroused.

The space between by Salambo06 (E, 6,830 w., 2 Ch. || PWP, Friends to Lovers, Masturbation, Virgin Sherlock, First Time, Miscommunications, Bottom Sherlock, Mutual Pining, Sexual Fantasy) – “It’s for a case,” Sherlock says as soon as John looks down at his computer. John remains silent for a long moment, eyes moving from the screen to Sherlock, before saying, “You don’t have to explain.” His voice is low, too low, and Sherlock looks at the computer, putting the video on pause. “Lestrade asked me-, no, forced me to find out who’s threatening a famous porn star, and the suspect is among his co-stars, so I only need to watch out for any signs from his partners, anything that might show they’re the one sending those threats and I can move to something else.” “Right.”

High and Tight, Soft and Loose by cwb (E, 7,429 w., 1 Ch. || Jealous John, Miscommunications / Misunderstandings, First Kiss / Time, BAMF John, Insecure Sherlock, Clueless Sherlock, POV John, Embarrassed John, Adorable Sherlock, Junk Size, UST / RST) – John pressed the knuckle of his index finger against his mouth and sighed. “So, you're coiled like a spring and ready to be ... sprung?” “If you want to be pedestrian about it, yes.” “Like I said, you should do something about that.” “And like I said, pedestrian. What would you have me do? Take up jogging? Yoga? Oh! Unless you mean –” “I don't mean anything. Let’s drop it.”

I can’t pretend by Salambo06 (E, 7,692 w., 1 Ch. || Fake Relationship, Victor Trevor, Jealous John, Miscommunications, Bed Sharing, Love Confessions, First Kiss/Time, Anal, BJs) – They had arrived more than a hour ago, and the moment they had walked inside the hotel reception, John had understood why Sherlock hadn’t wanted to come. Two men, posh suits and expensive watches on their wrists, had come to greet them with sharp remarks and badly hidden mockery, and John had seen red. Sherlock hadn’t said anything, mostly ignoring the two men entirely, and without thinking twice about it, John had slid an arm around Sherlock’s waist and introduced himself as his husband.

On the Losing Side by missselene (E, 8,210 w., 1 Ch. || Anal / Oral, First Kiss / Time, Angst, Misunderstandings, Mild Dub Con / Drunk John) – After Mary's death, John moves back into Baker Street, but is still upset at the loss of his wife and child. Eventually, he and Sherlock stumble into a sort of relationship, but it's more physical than anything and they don't talk about it. They especially don't talk during sex. If they are going to have sex, Sherlock notices the signs hours beforehand, and he prepares carefully. The lights are off, they're under the covers, he prepares himself using lots of lube so he can make it feel as much like a woman as he can, and he doesn't let himself make any noise so that, if John wishes, he can pretend that he's still with Mary.

The Red Dianthus by kinklock (T, 11,382 w., 3 Ch. || Supernatural Elements, BAMF!John, Misunderstandings, Fluff, Romance, Halloween, Dev. Rel., Case Fic) – The boys investigate a mysterious disappearance in a supposedly haunted house, and get much more than they bargained for.

I'm content as we are (but) by inqui (The_Circus) (E, 13,086 w., 1 Ch. || Jealous John, UST/RST, Pining, Victor Trevor, Minor Whump, First Kiss / Time, Misunderstandings) – In which John Watson sees something unusual, becomes jealous, and makes too much of a small thing as an old friend of Sherlock's shows up in the middle of a case.

Between Friends by SilentAuror (E, 18,036 w., 1 Ch. || Post S3, Alternating POV, Friends to Lovers, John in Denial, Abduction, Awkward Situations / Miscommunications, Porn With Feels, Blowjobs, Pining, Unrequited, Angst With Happy Ending) – Sherlock gets abducted. As John discovers him tied up naked in an empty storage facility and comes to rescue him, Sherlock's body has an unfortunate reaction which triggers a series of events. John is convinced that everything will be fine as long as they never discuss it. Sherlock isn't as sure...

For you, there's only me by shock_blanket (E, 19,557 w., 7 Ch. || Jealous Idiots, Virgin Sherlock, UST/RST, Pining, Miscommunication, First Kiss / Time, Insecure Sherlock, Masturbation) – Sherlock realizes he has fallen in love with John, but believes he is unlovable. Cue lots of pining and jealousy on Sherlock's part, followed by our favorite cuddly marksman making it all better. Because for Sherlock, there's only John.

Out of the Woods by SilentAuror (E, 20,471 w., 1 Ch. || Post S4, Romance, Slow Burn, Flirting, Drunk Sex, Practical Jokes, POV Sherlock, Bottomlock, Possessive John, Pining Sherlock, Frustrated Wanking, Frottage, Hand Jobs, Blow Jobs, First Kiss/Time, Virgin Sherlock, Love Confessions, Soft Sherlock, Dancing, Bum Appreciation, Hanging out with the Yard) – Sherlock is fairly certain that John has taken to flirting with him of late, but can't be entirely certain of it. At least, not until a case takes them into a forest, along with Lestrade's team and something happens that will change everything about their lives...

Don't Leave Anything Out by lookupkate (E, 27,422 w., 24 Ch. || Letters / Epistolary, Misunderstandings, Angst, Happy Ending, Alternate First Meeting, Sherlock in Love, Pining Sherlock) – The first letter John writes home from Afghanistan is meant to go to a woman he went on only one date with. How it ends up in Sherlock's hands is completely innocent. What happens next is not. What do you do when you find out the person you're in love with has been lying about something as monumental as who they are? What do you do when you're the one who lied?How on earth do you put the pieces back together?

"finally kiss the bloody idiot" by Salambo06 (E, 29,812 w., 13 Ch. || Mutual Pining, Fake Relationship, First Kiss / Time, Angst, Misunderstandings, Fantasies, POV John) – Inspired by a fic idea on tumblr : "John and Sherlock know the Yard has a pool going for when they’re finally going to get together. It’s been running forever, and it’s worth thousands of pounds. It’s all fun and games, hahaha, until they find out Lestrade is in dire financial straits (dog needs emergency surgery, he’s putting his kid through gymnastics training, I don’t know, something), and they decide to fake a relationship to win the pool for him. Sherlock figures out the day and way that Lestrade thinks it’s going to happen, and they act it out. It’s all for a good cause, fake relationship style, until it’s not." Part 1 of The Pool

An Acquired Taste by kinklock (E, 31,059 w., 4 Ch. || Vampires AU || Vampire Sherlock, Misunderstandings, Bat!Sherlock, Pining Sherlock, Humour, Magical Realism, Fluff and Angst, Blood Drinking, Holmes Family, Slow Burn) – At Montague Street when Sherlock was forced to sate his body’s needs, he was at least able to wander about the flat as much as he pleased. At Baker Street, it was mini-bags in a mini-fridge and bedroom confinement.

Goodness Gives Extras by mydwynter (E, 39,629 w., 6 Ch. || Fluff & Angst, Case Fic, Oral / Anal, Humour, First Time, Miscommunication, Snark, Christmas) – Christmas time. 'Tis the season to settle down with a drink, some food and a present or two, and to enjoy the quiet relaxation of the holiday. Instead, there's a case that drags them all over, missing presents, disappointed kids, angry parents, and a freak snowfall. On top of that John has to deal with Sherlock, who is being even more of a prat than usual. He really shouldn't have expected anything different.

In the Still of the Night by SilentAuror (E, 42,234 w., 1 Ch. || S4 Fix It / Post-S4, Sherlock POV, Angst, Drama, Romance, Virgin Sherlock, Awkwardness, Misunderstandings / Miscommunications, Case Fic, Travelling, Pining) – As locals on the Northeastern coast begin to report UFO sightings, life at Baker Street becomes significantly awkward as John brings up his desire for more than friendship and Sherlock refuses him. They embark on the investigation from the confines of the tiny cottage Mycroft has rented for them, attempting to navigate both the clues of the case as well as their own inability to communicate...

In the Dark Hours by hubblegleeflower (E, 51,639 w., 12 Ch. || Friends to Lovers, Unreliable Narrator, Closeted Bi John, Angst, Miscommunications, Slow Burn, First Time, John’s Blog / Epistolary, Selective Mutism) – John, wounded and silent, drifts back to Baker Street for healing...and then goes home again. He visits, gets more upbeat, chattier, smiles, jokes... and still goes home again. Sherlock wants him to move back in - it just makes sense - but John shows no signs of doing so. This is the story of how John and Sherlock learn to say what needs to be said when they're both so very, very rubbish at talking.

One Little Change by jadztone (E, 58,312 w., 12 Ch. || ASiB Divergence, Fake Relationship, Bed Sharing, Mutual Pining, Friends to Lovers, First Kiss / Time, Anal Sex, Blow Jobs, Bi John / Gay Demisexual Sherlock, Switchlock, Alternating POV, Jealousy, Misunderstandings, Case Fic, Angst with Happy Ending, Emotional Love Making, Butt Plugs, Cuddles) – Our story begins right after John and Sherlock's first meeting with Irene Adler in September. It splits off into an AU that imagines them taking a case where they act as bait to hook a killer targeting closeted gays in secret relationships. In the weeks leading up to Christmas, many things happen that have our boys wondering if maybe they have a chance with each other. Then Irene fakes her death on Christmas Eve, and things get a lot more complicated - especially since they still have a killer to catch.

White Knight by DiscordantWords (M, 69,840 w., 13 Ch. || S4 Compliant/Post S4, Marriage For a Case, Jealous John, Pining John, Janine / Sherlock Fake Relationship, Serial Killers, Case Fic, Undercover as a Couple, Weddings, John is a Mess, Misunderstandings, Wedding Planning, Jealousy, Drunkenness, Love Confessions, Angst with Happy Ending) – Green. The word green was used to convey a great many things. Illness. Envy. Inexperience. Standing there amidst Janine's chattering bridesmaids, watching Sherlock furrow his brow and study fabric swatches, watching him smile and simper and flirt, John thought it a remarkably apt colour choice. Because he felt quite sick to his stomach, he feared the source of said sickness might very well be jealousy, and he had absolutely no idea at all what to do about it. Or: Sherlock needs to fake a relationship for a case. He doesn't ask John.

The Monument of Memory by J_Baillier (M, 79,663 w., 14 Ch. || Post S4 Fix It Fic / S4 is Canon, Angst, Family Drama, Guilt, Case Fic, John Loves Sherlock, Complicated Feelings, Mentalism / Hypnosis, Murder, Grieving John, Sherlock is a Bit Not Good, Team Work, Trust Issues, BAMF John, Psychological Trauma, Protective John, Autistic-Spectrum Sherlock, Parentlock, John POV) – A genius traumatised by a past he's only beginning to recall. The psychopath sister that time forgot. A missing woman and a mentalist who may or may not be a murderer. And, in the middle of it all, stands John Watson.

Thermocline by J_Baillier (M, 83,557 w., 14 Ch. || Scuba Diving AU || Adventure, Angst, Hurt/Comfort, Marine Archaeology, Asexual Sherlock, Horny John, Relationship Drama, Technical/Scuba/Wreck Diving, Slow Burn, Underwater / Medical Peril, Doctor John, Hurt Sherlock, Anxious Sherlock, John POV, Protective John, Body Appreciation) – John "Five Oceans" Watson — technical dive instructor, dive accident analyst and weapon of mass seduction — meets recluse professor of maritime archaeology Holmes. As they head out to a remote archipelago off the coast of Guatemala to study and film its shipwrecks for a documentary, will sparks fly or fizzle out?

A Study in Winning by Jupiter_Ash (E, 106,658 w., 11 Ch. || Tennis AU || John POV, Dirty Talk, Mutual Pining, Misunderstandings, Happy Ending, Sherlock Speaks French, Switchlock, Wimbledon) – John and Sherlock are professional tennis players and it’s Wimbledon. One is a broken almost was at the end of his career, the other an arrogant rising star tipped for greatness. It should have been a straightforward tournament. It really should have been. How were they to know that a chance encounter would change everything? Part 1 of Tennis

Gimme Shelter by SinceWhenDoYouCallMe_John (E, 159,368 w., 21 Ch. || PODFIC AVAILABLE || 70′s Surfer AU || Period Typical Homophobia, Hawaii, Enemies to Friends to Lovers, Professional Surfers, Gay John / Sherlock, Angst with Happy Ending, John was a Sailor, Misunderstandings, Mutual Pining) – All John Watson wants is the feeling of a freshly waxed surfboard under his feet and the hot California sun baking down onto his back. To finally go pro in the newly formed world of professional surfing and leave the dark memories of his past behind him as he rips across the face of a towering blue barrel. To lounge beside the beach bonfire every evening with an ice cold beer tucked into the cool sand beside him and listen to Pink Floyd and the Doors while the saltwater dries in his sun bleached hair. That's all he wants, that is, until the hot young phenom taking Oahu and the Hawaiian shores by storm steps up next to him in the sand in the second round of the 1976 International Surf Competition. (PUBLISHED AS ‘The Sea Ain’t Mine Alone’)

MARKED FOR LATER

Three drinks or was it five by iriswallpaper (M, 1,455 w., 1 Ch. || Mild Dub Con / Drunk Sex, Morning After, First Time, Awkwardness / Awkward Sex, Idiots in Love, Avoiding The Talk™/Miscommunication, Fluff, Happy Ending) – Sherlock wakes up beside John, naked in his bed, after a night of getting hammered together on very good Scotch. Trying to spare John embarrassment, Sherlock makes as much noise as possible to indirectly wake John, all the while dreading the Very Important Talk he knows John will want to have.

The Case of the Frog Murder and the Disembodied Dog's Head by a_different_equation (T, 2,794 w., 1 Ch. || ACD Canon || Victorian, Period-Typical Homophobia, Christmas, Est. Rel., Hound of Baskervilles, Love Confessions, Angst with Happy Ending, Romance, Fluff and Humour, Miscommunication) – The true story behind the Baskerville case, and its strange and rather queer conclusion via Christmas Cards.

Sherlock's Solution by PipMer (T, 4,125 w., 1 Ch, || Fluff, Romance, Friends to Lovers, Isolation/Quarantine, Pining, Miscommunication, First Kiss) – Sherlock and John are stuck in quarantine. Against all expectations, John is the one who goes stir-crazy first. Sherlock has a unique solution to the problem.

The Idiot's Deduction by PaperPrince (T, 4,194 w., 2 Ch. || Fluff, Humour, Drama, Angst, Romance, Mentions of Sex, Miscommunications, Just Talk Already) – It's not often Sherlock gets things wrong but then he was never very good with the softer emotions was he? This fic is based on the idea that no one falls into a relationship without knowing about it right? Apparently Sherlock can though.

It's Cold Outside by Salambo06 (E, 7,357 w., 1 Ch. || Mutual Pining, Cuddling, Snuggling, Frottage, First Kiss / Time, Bed Sharing, Miscommunications, Love Confessions) – John and Sherlock, Christmas night, the heat broke, add some shared body heat and (not so) accidental erections mixed with some miscommunication and awkwardness and, you guessed it, they’re sharing a bed.

A Study in Dichotomy by UrbanHymnal (E, 7,439 w., 1 Ch. || First Time, Masturbation, Hand Jobs, Anal Sex, Misunderstandings, Fluff and Humour) – John wants his brilliance and his stupidity; his knowledge of 243 types of ash and his inability to name all the planets in the solar system; his perfectly pressed suits and his wrinkled t-shirts carelessly tossed on inside out. John wants to kiss Sherlock when he is still waking to the world, to press against him when he is still warm from sleep. He wants to grab Sherlock by the scarf and haul him close so he can bury his nose in the sweat that has collected at the base of Sherlock's neck, under his arms, in between his legs.

A Chemical Defect Found (On the Losing Side Remix) by AreteArt (M, 7,978 w., 1 Ch. || First Time / Kiss, Friends to Lovers, Mildly Dubious Consent, Angst, Fluff, Misunderstandings, Pining, Anal / Oral Sex, Frottage) – A remix of missselene's "On the Losing Side." After Mary's death, John moves back into Baker Street. He and Sherlock stumble into a relationship, or something of that sort. Sherlock's rather giving when it comes to sex, but that doesn't mean he and John ever talk about it.

As long as it takes by PlainJane (E, 14,866 w., 7 Ch. || Post-TRF, First Kiss/Time, Anal/Oral, Misunderstandings, Gambling, Indecent Proposal, Friends to Lovers, John POV) – Anything Sherlock wants. All night. No strings attached. Part 1 of the John Watson's way series

A Question of Intent by Mildredandbobbin (E, 22,129 w., 6 Ch. || Omegaverse || Dub Con / Consent Issues, Misunderstandings, Knotting, First Time, Switching, Mating Cycles, Top/Bottom O!Sherlock, Top/Bottom A!John) – Sherlock was on the bed, naked, writhing, tangled in the sheets, on all fours and apparently in the full throes of a Heat. So very not good, the non-lizard part of John's brain was saying -- the enlightened 21st Century, reconstructed Alpha part, the part that supported Omega contra-heat, equality, pro-choice, the Omega rape legislation and general gender liberation. The part that knew Sherlock did not, obviously did not, want to copulate with him and certainly did not want to bond.

Divinest Sense by ChrisCalledMeSweetie (E, 25,001 w., 18 Ch. || Alternate First Meeting, Mental Health Issues, First Kiss/Time, Coded Clues, Virgin Sherlock, Bisexual John, Slow Burn) – John has been sectioned — deemed to be a danger to himself and others — and is facing six months in an experimental psychiatric treatment facility. After his recent drug overdose, Sherlock is being shipped off by his brother to live amongst the mad, as though this will somehow improve his mental health. What will happen when these two damaged men meet under the least auspicious of circumstances?Hint: You can expect some humorous misunderstandings, burgeoning attraction, coded clues that the reader is invited to try to decipher, eventual explicit sex, and altogether more fluff than one might imagine, given the rather dark premise of this story. Part 1 of the Divinest Senses

A Firm Hand by Ellipsical (E, 36,776 w.+, 11/? Ch. || WiP || Daddy Kink, Office Sex, Blow/Hand Jobs, Bearded John, Exhibitionism, Vulnerability, Kinks, Spanking, Anal, Prostate Milking, Submission, Mile High Club, Misunderstandings, Rimming, Confessions, Anal Plug) – Dr. John Watson, newly turned 35 and recently minted as CEO of Watson Technology, a med tech corporation based in London, after the death of his father, had recently hired the son of an old family friend to be his new personal assistant. The boy had spiralled out of control, according to his parents, and needed a firm hand to guide him. John, who had heard the name Sherlock Holmes crop up in other circles, had an inkling as to why.

Know When You've Been Beaten by Breath4Soul (M, 44,838 w., 12 Ch. || Caretaker John, Autisim Spectrum / Neurodiversity, Sexual Tension / UST, Dark Past, Implied / Referenced Sexual Assault, Dev. Rel., Love Confessions, Hurt / Comfort, First Kiss, Drugged Sherlock) – What began with a drugged and vulnerable Sherlock confessing some things about his sexual history and feelings towards John (after Irene Adler injected him and escaped), becomes a sweet, humorous and awkward journey of Sherlock overcoming his past to flirt with the idea of something more with his companion. Misinterpretations and misunderstandings plague the two, as the good-natured, compassionate and sometimes BAMF ex-army doctor, is seduced by-proxy by the mad-genius detective trying to work through what he wants and if he is capable of providing it.

Your Many Tendencies Series by apliddell (T, 52,222+ w. across 5 works || WiP || Femlock, POC Characters, Enby Character, Sherlock’s Violin, YouTuber John, UST, Mutual Pining, Misunderstandings, Slow Burn, Domesticity, Fluff, Recreational Drug Use, Friends to Lovers, Sherlock’s Past, First Kiss, Love Confessions, John’s Family, Christmas, Anxious Sherlock, Hurt / Comfort, Institutional Racism) – John Watson returns to London after a long absence, somewhat the worse for wear. She meets Sherlock Holmes, and starts feeling excited about life again.

Proof of Sentiment by LollipopCop (E, 55,082 w., 14 Ch. || Post S3, URT/UST, Pining Sherlock, Angst, First Time, Fluff, Misunderstandings, Mary is Not Nice, Happy Ending) – Sherlock accidentally walks in on John and Mary having sex, and he wonders if his relationship with John could ever be the same.

Isosceles by SilentAuror (E, 56,609 w., 7 Ch. || Post-S4, POV John, Original Male Character / Sherlock Dates Another Man, Love Triangle, Jealous John, Virgin Sherlock, Sexual Coaching, Angst, Romance, Domesticity, Unrequited Feelings, Miscommunication, First Kiss/Time) – After solving a case for a major celebrity, Sherlock gets himself asked out. When John asks, he discovers that Sherlock has no intention of going, at least not until John agrees to coach him through whatever he might need to know for his date...

The Craving in Between by love_in_mind_palace (E, 69,349 w., 16 Ch. || Wedding Planner AU || Infidelity, Romance, Angst with Happy Ending, Misunderstandings, Sexting & Texting, Alternating POV, Mary is Not Nice) – Sherlock Holmes, The wedding Consultant. Picky about his projects and a nightmare to work with. Rejects ninety percent of the couples after just having a look at them and can predict how long a marriage will last. But when unassuming, plain, John Watson reluctantly limps his way in his office, with his more than enthusiastic fiancée, Mary Morstan, instead of dismissing the ill-assorted couple on the spot, he promptly decides that the project, and the groom.. are definitely worth working on.

Drawn to Stars by Silvergirl (E, 107,430 w., 57 Ch. || S4 Compliant to TLD / TFP Doesn’t Exist, Sherlock’s Italian Adventure, Jealous John, Mutual Pining, Misunderstandings, First Kiss/Time, Idiots in Love, Angst with Happy Ending) – After the Culverton Smith case Sherlock is clean, working, and looking for a romantic partner—since John has told him that’s what he needs. Shame John didn’t mention he was interested in that role himself, before Sherlock went off to Rome with a gorgeous Italian copper to try to fall in love and become a complete human being.

The Jewel in the Tower by PoppyAlexander (E, 207,079 w., 39 Ch. || Dystopian AU, Violence, Rape/Non-Con Elements, Mild Dub Con, One World Government, Class Issues, Assassin John / Geisha Sherlock, Self Esteem Issues, Slow Burn, Espionage, Miscommunication, Sexual Fantasy, Masturbation, Letters/Texting, Phone Sex, Infidelity, First Time, Blow Jobs, Dirty Talk, Injury Recovery, Panic Attacks, Frottage, Scars, Misgendering, Happy Endings) – In a contemporary dystopia, Unity is peace – despite the fact unsanctioned information, illicit currency, and every sort of danger flows unchecked in the world's pleasure districts. John Watson, a weary hired gun, is assigned by the mysterious Mentor to investigate a subversive element lurking in the Icehouse, the world's most famous House of Repose. As accustomed as he is to dealing with the unexpected, John is nevertheless woefully unprepared to meet the gem of the Ice house, Xie, the world renowned "drashaskaya," the living work of art after which all other drashas are modeled. In sumptuous suites, amid trailing puddles of silk and fervent whispers in the night, John soon learns that nothing is as it seems in the floating world of London's pleasure district. (PUBLISHED AS “At Night in the Floating World”)

#steph replies #johnlock fic recs #misunderstandings #miscommunication #my fic recs #Anonymous #to read #e-rated fics

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purplesurveys · 3 years

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1248

Your ex taps you on the shoulder and says, “I still love you.” You say? I feel like I’ve answered a similar situation recently, but I would assume it was a drunk text or wrong text, inform them about it, and move on.

Do you play video games? Nah. I do feel a sort of connection of video games since I grew up surrounded by them, though; but I’m more of a watcher than anything. I like watching playthroughs of video games I’ll never play. Do you spend a lot of time with family? No. We used to, back when the quarantine was still a relatively new thing – we hung out in the living room all the time. But now that we’ve settled in this new normal, we’re back to our normal routines and I usually like staying in my room.

Is your house more than two stories tall? Technically, yes. We have a rooftop that serves as the ‘third’ floor.

Have you ever hit your significant other? Has he/she ever hit you? My ex and I never hit one another; that’s a gigantic red flag even I would notice, considering I ignored most of the ones I saw hahaha.

What makes you an attractive person? (Talk about your personality too!) I’m not sure if I’ll be able to answer this question directly, but I like my generosity. I’m not sure if I can call it attractive, though. But if we were focusing on physical features, I like my smile.

What color is your hairbrush/comb? Pink.

What snacks do you have available in your household atm? My dad splurged on chips in his last grocery run so we actually have quite a lot of junk food in the pantry at the moment. He also bought several packs of cookie sandwiches, wafers, sunflower seeds, and garlic-flavored peanuts.

Has anyone recently told you that they like you, or find you attractive? Neither.

Are you attracted to the last person you Facebook messaged? No, she’s just a good friend of mine.

Do you care about anyone that doesn’t care about you? I guess I don’t, because I’m not even aware of them.

Was your last Facebook friend requests from a male or female? Guy. It was another reporter, so I just ignored it and luckily he didn’t PM me just to ask to add him back, which others have already done. I really hate when work people try to make their way into my personal accounts.

Which one of your relatives is most likely to embarrass you? My parents, especially when they are rude to service crew. Gen X-ers are impeccably talented at that, apparently.

When was the last time you ate a bar of chocolate? Around two or three weeks ago when I had dinner at Angela’s. Her dad gave me a bar of Crunch so I can have something sweet after our meal.

Do you play any games on Facebook? No, I never did hop on that trend.

What would you like to get a degree in? I wanted a degree in journalism, and graduated with such. At the end of my college stint I didn’t want to pursue it anymore, but I pushed through with it anyway because it was too much of a hassle to shift and start all over.

Do you wake up a lot in the middle of the night? Technically not, because I stay up until the middle of the night anyway. It’s been a while since I fell asleep anywhere between 8 to 10 PM.

Would you prefer to read a book, watch a movie or TV show, or play a video game? Watch a show.

Do you usually get popcorn or soda at the movie theater? I don’t like either; I get fries instead.

What genre of films do you like the best? Drama.

How many bank accounts do you have? Two but I haven’t been using the other one in months. That was the bank account I initially opened when I first started ~adulting~ but when I got employed I was required to enroll in this other specific bank, so that’s what I mainly use now.

Have you ever had the flu? Not really. I just get the occasional fever that pop out of nowhere.

What is your goal for the next few months? Start saving FOR REAL, and also prioritizing furniture over merch for a while so I can finally fix up my room, which is quickly starting to look and feel like just a warehouse and not very homey at all.

Have you ever had some kind of sleep-disorder? How did it affect your life? Nope.

Have you ever had food poisoning before? Describe the experience. Yeah, it was from barbecue that apparently went bad, even though it tasted nothing of the sort. I woke up at 3 AM sweating profusely and with the most excruciating stomachache; I was feeling hot, cold, and nauseous all at the same time, and it probably lasted for like an hour or so.

What are two things that you have no problem paying full price for? Sealed albums and my pets’ vet expenses.

Funny, charming, cute, romantic, smart - choose only 2 for the opposite sex. Charming and smart.

Have you ever let somebody use you? Why did you do it? It felt nice to help people.

You can go back in time & change something in your mom’s past - what is it? Good question; I’ve never encountered this before. I would let her live a more comfortable, privileged life, where she didn’t have to staple her shoes to keep them closed or have to choose between eating at a fast food restaurant or being able to commute back home.

Do you know anybody who is around the exact same size as you? Who? I’m not sure, actually. Everyone’s always slightly taller than me.

Ever been to a haunted house? How scared were you? I haven’t.

Been on any websites today you wouldn’t want your parents to see? Tumblr, I guess? My survey blog isn’t for any irls to see.

Which is worse: dusting or mopping? I don’t really do either often, but I’ll go with mopping.

Would you marry somebody who was intensely religious? Not for me.

Did you pull a senior prank? No, that’s not a thing here. Did you graduate? Yeah, elementary, high school, and college.

Have you ever been unfaithful in a serious relationship? Nope.

What was the last song you listened to? It’s a song called Epiphany.

Are you one of those lucky people with 20/20 vision? Not ever since I was like 9 lol.

Is fashion one of your interests? I’m way more interested in it now for sure, mostly because the celebrities I’m into these days put a lot of effort when it comes to their style; so it makes me more aware of the trends that come and go, as well.

Do you think you’ll eventually find that special someone? I’m keeping it as a possibility, but it’s not a priority for me now.

Do you care what people think? To an extent, I would say. My life doesn’t depend on it, though.

Is acting something you enjoy? Never been.

What was the last thing you broke/sprained? Do you mean a thing or a body part? Anyway, I’ll answer both. The last thing I broke was my BTS Mic Drop pen of V looooooooooool the figurine came off the pen :(( It was pretty cheap though so I’m fine with it; I can always get another one. Last body part I sprained was my ankle, when I had a bad fall a couple of years ago.

Have you ever fought with a friend because of their boyfriend/girlfriend? Because of yours? Either hasn’t happened.

Has a stranger ever yelled at you for your language? I don’t think so.

Whose house, other than yours and your families', are you most comfortable at? Angela’s. Also JM’s, just because their family doesn’t hover and that vibe can sometimes be nice whenever I’m at someone else’s place.

Has any of your friends’ family ever yelled at you? Never.

Did you ever play a sport as a little kid? Did you enjoy it? Not as a very young kid, but I took up table tennis starting when I was 12. Did you ever watch the show Full House? Nope.

Is there a celebrity you are just DETERMINED to marry? Now that’s just delusional haha. I’m pretty obsessed with some celebrities, that much I can admit; but thinking of them in the context of marriage is so many steps overboard.

Have you ever burned someone’s picture? No. I could, but I am scared of fire and will probably just think of other ways to express my anger, like tearing up the photograph. What’s the longest hike you’ve ever been on? Total length was probably like 3 hours. I haven’t gone too far when it comes to hiking.

Would you ever get a lip tattoo? Not interested.

Who is the first person of the opposite sex that pops into your head? Hans.

Do your parents smoke cigarettes? My mom tried it once in her life, I think. My dad has never smoked.

What does one of your T-shirts have written on it? “Hope right here!”

Name a pet you definitely wouldn’t want. Anything that’s supposed to roam freely in the wild, like squirrels.

Would you prefer your partner smaller or taller? Taller, since I’m already quite pint-sized to begin with lol.

Do you enjoy going through old pictures? Sometimes. Other times, it's too painful. It also depends on the era of the pictures. < Agree, especially with the eras. Childhood photos are always fun to look at, but I have had to delete a CHUNK of photos from years ranging from 2014 to 2020 because I’ve lost a handful of friends from that period.

Do you believe people when they say they don’t judge people? It’s hard to for the most part, but I’ve noticed very few people people really don’t. Most of the time it’s bullshit though.

What did you love the most about the town you grew up in? That it’s pretty close to the metro.

What’s a movie that you laughed the hardest during? Hmm, I prefer TV shows if I’m craving comedy.

What’s a movie you cried the hardest during? Life Is Beautiful.

What’s your favorite restaurant? Omakase for my sushi fix; School Tteokbokki if I want Korean; Yabu if I’m looking for a generous rice meal.

Is there a dessert you don’t like? Anything with fruits.

Favorite album? After Laughter by Paramore.

What’s a book that you read because everyone else was reading it? I can name authors instead of books – John Green and Haruki Murakami.

Underwater or outer space? Outer space.

Dogs or cats? Dogs.

Kittens or puppies? Puppies.

Bird watching or whale watching? Whale watching. I don’t get to be in the water as much, so I would jump at the opportunity.

What is your spirit animal? I dunno if I have one but let’s just go with dog and elephant, I guess? They’re my favorites.

What was your best subject in school? History.

What was your worst subject in school? Chemistry.

What is one thing you wish you knew in high school? Don’t waste your time.

Who is your fashion icon? Audrey Hepburn.

Diamonds or pearls? Diamonds.

What color dress did you wear to prom? For my own prom it was cream-colored/beige. When I went to Mike’s ball, I went with a royal blue gown.

What’s your favorite plot-twist? I don’t think I’ve found my favorite yet.

Honestly, are you jealous of someone right now? Not actively.

Honestly, what’s the worst thing you’ve done when you were mad? I dunno...road rage, maybe?

Honestly, ever made anyone cry when you were mad? It’s very likely.

Honestly, when was the last time you REALLY cried your heart out? Sometime in the last week.

Ever pop someone else’s pimple? No thanks.

Do you need to return anyone’s phone call? Nope.

Who are you closest to? Angela.

Have you ever had a bad concert experience? No, all the ones I’ve been to have been amazing experiences.

Are you currently sad about anything? Not really. I can’t complain.

Have you had any form of exercise today? Nah.

Can you handle blood? Nope, I will feel faint if I see it 100%.

Has any place hired you underage for a job? No.

Have you ever carried a concealed weapon? I haven’t.

Are you currently searching for a job? No, I like the one I have.

Does eating breakfast make you sick? No?

#survey #surveys

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delaneytveit · 4 years

Text

Satellites Part 2

hey guys, so here is the continuation I wrote for my Lance fic. Poor boy goes through so much during his birthday month. I also posted up to part 3 on AO3, including a chapter not on here that shows how Lance got captured in the first place. So if you want to find that out, though its not really necessary to the story, go check it out!

ALSO please read the tags for tw there are a few in this part

The team stood in shocked silence. No one daring to move, nor speak. The transmission had cut out almost as soon as Lance had finally given in and answered the interrogator. Now all that remained was a black screen.

It was Shiro who had finally broken the silence, a single word leaving his lips. The sound enough to break even the strongest hearts. “Lance.”

It seemed the sound had struck something in Keith, as without a word, he stormed out of the room. Shiro knew without a doubt his brother was going straight to the training room, prepared to decimate as many training bots as possible.

It had been three quintants since the team had received the transmission. Three quintants in which not a single team member slept, nor did they want to. The sight of Lance being forced to endure such horror, the sound of his screams, haunted all of them. How could any of them rest when their blue paladin was being subjected to far worse than they had ever imagined.

What haunted Hunk the most though, wasn’t the screams, or the seizing body of his best friend. But his eyes. Those soft, ocean blue eyes that were built for comfort and warmth, that held a lightness to them in a way that only Lance could possess. Those weren’t the eyes that Hunk had seen in the video. The blue was cold as ice, a darkness that threatened to consume you any moment. He knew from those eyes that what they were seeing was only the tip of the iceberg to what Lance was being subjected to.

Getting Lance would be a battle, but bringing him back to who he was before being a captive would be damn near impossible.

+++

Lance woke up back in his cell. His body on fire as it reminded him of the events that had played out earlier. He attempted to push himself up, at least to a sitting position, but his arms refused. It wasn’t like he would have been able to remain vertical anyways, the spinning in his head simply laying down was enough to have him retching again. No doubt he had a concussion...again.

God what he wouldn’t give for a few painkillers and a glass of water. When was the last time he had water? He couldn’t remember. Probably before he had even left the castle. He didn’t know how long it had been since then, it felt like years since he’d last been in the cold comfort of the castleship. In his own bed, wrapped in his blankets with his head laid gently on a soft satin pillow.

It felt like a lifetime ago, though he knew logically it couldn’t have been more than a few days. His friends would never leave him for longer, right? They had to be finding a way to get him, planning and calculating the risks. Trying to find a way to bring him back.

As much as he wanted to believe that they would though, there was still that much too loud voice in his head. The one telling him that they probably didn’t even notice that he was gone. That they probably liked the fact that there was no one to constantly annoy them.

It would probably be easier for them to just find a whole new paladin. Why not? There was bound to be someone out there who could take over. Someone who was a better pilot, a better shot, a better fighter. Someone deserving of actually being a paladin.

Someone who wasn’t him.

Before he could reprimand himself for even possessing such a thought, a sharp pain spread through his entire body, starting at his stomach. He grounded loudly into the floor as he attempted to bring his arms up to wrap them around himself to no avail. All he could do was lay there motionless and in pain. Waiting and praying to black out again.

When he next woke up, he was no longer in a cell. Instead strapped to a table. An IV had been inserted into his arm. He followed the tube with hesitant eyes before they caught sight of the murky grey colour of whatever was being dripped into his bloodstream.

Whatever it was, he didn’t have a good feeling about it.

He was feeling even more vertigo that before when he first woke up in the cell, and his breaths were coming out too slow for his liking. He looked around the room, knowing it was probably the same room he had been brought into earlier when the druids attempted to pry information out of him. They received nothing, though not for lack of trying. He shivered at the memory, still much too vivid in his mind.

What he didn’t remember was the colours of the room. Did they always swim like that? Move like a kaleidoscope? He was sure they didn’t and staring in one place for too long threatened to upset his painfully empty stomach.

Nothing about his existence in that room was painless. It seemed every nerve ending in his body was alight with it, and it caused his body to shake tremendously despite the confinements.

He laid there for what felt like hours before the door finally opened, a druid emerging in their customary purple robes. But the purple didn’t look like the one he knew, instead it was more vibrant, neon maybe? And patterned with such awkward colours that it made his head swim again. No, that wasn’t right. The druids wore plain purple, right?

He chalked up his hallucination to an effect of whatever was in that IV.

He heard the druid speak, but the words refused to register. A mix of sounds and grunts that he knew wasn’t right, but his brain refused to decode. He was lost in thought, trying to discern exactly what the druid had said when he felt such an excruciating pain that he was sure he would pass out any second.

Looking over at his outstretched arm, he could see his hand impaled by something, a knife? No, it was green and gold and pink and bended in such a weird way. He watched with wide eyes as the druid withdrew the object completely, only to plunge it back in. He screamed, but it didn’t sound like a scream. It didn’t sound like anything. He knew he screamed, his throat was on fire with the exertion of it, but the sound didn’t reach his ears.

Yup, that was definitely a knife, and the IV was pumping him full of some kind of hallucinogenic drugs.

He probably should have guessed that. He was no stranger to such, he had been known to go to a rave every once in a while. But holy crap is this what a bad trip is? No wonder people completely fucking lost it.

He watched as the druid studied his hand, the knife still fully sheathed inside of it. He knew without a doubt that the knife was pinning his hand to the table. His mind was racing, and his eyes followed them.

He was going to die here.

They were going to tear him apart.

He was never supposed to be a paladin, he should have stayed on Earth.

What would happen once they got tired of tormenting him? Would they kill him? Would they throw him into the arena and hope some blood thirsty monster would finish the job? Would they dissect him like he was a lab rat? Would they experiment on him? Would they replace all of his limbs with metal prosthetics? Would they take out organs? Sell them? His eyes? His liver? His hands?

He was spiraling, he knew that but he couldn’t stop.

Would his friends rescue him? Would they hate him for getting captured? Think he’s incompetent for being unable to comlete such a simple mission? Allura would chastise him for sure? Would she kick him out? Force him to find his own way home? How would they look at him if they found him? With pity? With disgust? With hatred? They hated him, they had too.

He was the paladin they needed the least. The most useless. The one that they had to go out of their way to save. He shouldn’t even have been there. Maybe killing him would be a mercy? Too good of a mercy maybe? Did he even deserve that much?

He almost didn’t feel the next knife, the one that now impaled his left hand. Almost. He let out an involuntary scream, the pain the only thing that broke him from his spiralling mind. He prayed to black out, to let this be over just for a moment.

The druid walked to where his head lay, placing a long skeleton like finger over his lips, clearly an attempt to silence him. Was he talking? He had no idea. He looked up at the mask covered face that hung before him, eyes wide with a terror he knew he wouldn’t be able to hide. He watched as they brought both hands to his head, felt the spider like things touch his temples, causing him to flinch away, but with no where to go they remained. They were gentle, soft, their motions more relaxing than they should be. Were they massaging him? No that wasn’t right.

He didn’t have time to finish that thought, as his entire body seized in the most excruciating pain he had ever felt. His entire body arched up off of the table as the druid held his head down. He wasn’t sure if it had stopped, or if he simply blacked out, but the sight of the druid standing above him, pushing his head further into the metal table, and the intense pain that came from their fingers was the last thing he remembered.

#voltron lance #lance serrano #langst #tw // gore #tw// torture #drug use #mention of recreational #but also #non consensual drug use #my poor boy #I swear I love you #it builds character I promise #I love two blue bois and lance is one of them

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deeeelightfuldee · 3 years

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Your ex taps you on the shoulder and says, “I still love you.” You say? ooooof. I don’t think i’d buy that. I hardly think people who DO show they have feelings for me are being truthful, so I doubt that.

Do you play video games? haven’t in some time, but I want to get back into it a little.

Do you spend a lot of time with family? oh heck yeah. I have a really great family.

Is your house more than two stories tall? nah, it’s the two stories with a basement.

Have you ever hit your significant other? Has he/she ever hit you? I will never raise my hands to another human being. I once dated someone who was a veteran and had severe ptsd. we were napping one time and he got aggressive. that wasn’t HIM though.

What makes you an attractive person? (Talk about your personality too!) physically, I suppose I have nice eyes and a decent smile. personality wise, I am warm, friendly, loving, supportive, sometimes funny, very loyal.

What color is your hairbrush/comb? depends which one I use. I have a pink one right now.

What snacks do you have available in your household atm? I honestly haven’t got a clue. I haven’t been let out of my room in 2 weeks.

Has anyone recently told you that they like you, or find you attractive? yes. it’s weird.

Are you attracted to the last person you Facebook messaged? DEF not. he has been asking me out since we worked together maybeeeee.. 8-9 years ago?

Do you care about anyone that doesn’t care about you? yes! I am trying to learn how to undo that. it’s not that I don’t want to care about him, but I know and can soooooooo clearly see that he doesn’t care anymore, and it is extremely emotionally draining to watch.

Was your last Facebook friend requests from a male or female? I wanna say female but idk

Which one of your relatives is most likely to embarrass you? scott

When was the last time you ate a bar of chocolate? couple days ago.

Do you play any games on Facebook? Nope.

What would you like to get a degree in? I have two degrees -- one in psych and one in SLP.

Do you wake up a lot in the middle of the night? ahahahaha yes. almost always wide awake from 3-6

Would you prefer to read a book, watch a movie or TV show, or play a video game? typically more in the movie/show or book mood.

Do you usually get popcorn or soda at the movie theater? Both. nothing like that buttery, salty goodness that obvs requires an enormous drink

What genre of films do you like the best? either make me EXTREMELY sad, or romantic.

How many bank accounts do you have? 2

Have you ever had the flu? Yeah.

What is your goal for the next few months? i have several. the only one that can/will be public right now, is to get my lungs back to functioning as they were.

Have you ever had some kind of sleep-disorder? How did it affect your life? yes. I have very bad breathing during sleep. I have had 11 sleep studies done, because my breathing will just stop randomly, which luckily my brain wakes me. it doesn’t really affect my like severely.. I function normally. but shoooooot, if I got normal levels of sleep i’d be a force to be reckoned with.

Have you ever had food poisoning before? Describe the experience. Yes. It was AWFUL. vomiting for 2 days straight. it was so gross.

Funny, charming, cute, romantic, smart - choose only 2 for the opposite sex. smart and romantic.

Have you ever let somebody use you? Why did you do it? hmm. I think there have been times where i’ve let people have more access to me than they should have had. or there have definitely been times I’ve been used in school groups. But honestly, I tend to be protective of myself. I stop when I feel enough is enough.

You can go back in time & change something in your mom’s past - what is it? I would want either Bill to not die, or for her to be spoiled incessantly by someone else.

Do you know anybody who is around the exact same size as you? Who? psh. no. my friends are all tiny which is just not fun.

Ever been to a haunted house? How scared were you? Yeah. i found it so fun.

Been on any websites today you wouldn’t want your parents to see? ahahahaha no.

Which is worse: dusting or mopping? mopping. i hate doing the floors.

Did you pull a senior prank? Not really advised when a homeschooler.

Did you graduate? Yes. that was a rough, rough day.

Have you ever been unfaithful in a serious relationship? Nope

What was the last song you listened to? i think it was Happier than Ever by billie eilish. the lyrics are ... woof.

Are you one of those lucky people with 20/20 vision? 20/12 -- the last time I had insurance anyway.

Is fashion one of your interests? honestly, if I had money, it would be. but it isnt right now.

Do you think you’ll eventually find that special someone? It’s getting harder and harder to believe that will be the case. I knowwwww I need to start dating, but every time I go to open up an app, I hesitate and chicken out. I just was so happy before.. its hard to think I could be able to offer anything to anyone right now.

Do you care what people think? veryyyyyy few people. I care about the thoughts of those I genuinely love and respect. However, I still ensure I’m protecting myself regardless.

Is acting something you enjoy? No.

What was the last thing you broke/sprained? I have a bum knee, so I sprain that from time to time. I last broke a finger.

Have you ever fought with a friend because of their boyfriend/girlfriend? Because of yours? ahahahaha yes. but years ago. never because of mine.

Has a stranger ever yelled at you for your language? No. I don’t cuss.

Whose house, other than yours and your families’, are you most comfortable at? probably either nathan’s or em’s.

Has any of your friends’ family ever yelled at you? alix’s family used to yell at me a lot for being fat. that used to mess me up.

Did you ever play a sport as a little kid? Did you enjoy it? soccer. no, i found the endless running to be unnecessary.

Did you ever watch the show Full House? yup

Is there a celebrity you are just DETERMINED to marry? no, thats so out-of-touch with reality

Have you ever burned someone’s picture? yes, i have.

What’s the longest hike you’ve ever been on? i think it was 8 hours. I hate hate hate hikes. But, thats because I have really weak lungs, so my doctor says it’s like lighting them on fire.

Would you ever get a lip tattoo? No.

Who is the first person of the opposite sex that pops into your head? kile

Do your parents smoke cigarettes? my mom hasn’t since a teenager. I think my dad does still. though, i dunno for certain.

What does one of your T-shirts have written on it? uhhhh, PTK honors society

Name a pet you definitely wouldn’t want. Any reptile or insect. <<<< same

Would you prefer your partner smaller or taller? Taller.

Do you enjoy going through old pictures? Yes. very much so.

Do you believe people when they say they don’t judge people? No, i respect people who are truthful saying they either try not to judge, or that they do judge despite their desire to stop.

What did you love the most about the town you grew up in? sooooooo much. it’s small town-y, quiet, safe, lots of trees, family close by.

What’s a movie you cried the hardest during? ps i love you will always shatter my heart.

What’s your favorite restaurant? buona or ashford

Is there a dessert you don’t like? im not wild about pastries.

What’s a book that you read because everyone else was reading it? hmmm maybe that one mrs. pettigrews home for peculiar children.

Underwater or outer space? i’m fascinated by both. typically more interested in the water.

Dogs or cats? both. all of them.

Kittens or puppies? kittens.

Bird watching or whale watching? whales!!!!!!!!

What was your best subject in school? in HS probably history. or science. in college, psych or neuro.

What was your worst subject in school? Math. always freakin’ math.

What is one thing you wish you knew in high school? Uhhh. hm. i don’t think anything. I liked my experience.

Who is your fashion icon? nada.

Diamonds or pearls? Both are nice. I love pearl stud earrings and I really want a simple, one pearl necklace. I am kinda ruined for diamonds for some time. My favorite rings and necklace were diamonds from kile and I just cant bring myself to wear those anymore.

What color dress did you wear to prom? pink

Honestly, are you jealous of someone right now? oh sure. I am envious of those with bangin’ bods. I’m envious of those who have great finances. I am envious of those who live life married to their love. I’m envious of people who see kile regularly. But there are difficulties that come with any of those situations.

Honestly, when was the last time you REALLY cried your heart out? not long ago. the whole crushing reality of losing kile just destroyed me. I’m OK now.

Do you need to return anyone’s phone call? ahahahahah. I just reject all calls.

Who are you closest to? My mom and nathan rn.

Have you ever had a bad concert experience? no

Are you currently sad about anything? several things have recently been really saddening, but I’m ok. Ill get thru it.

Have you had any form of exercise today? Its going to be some time before I’m cleared for that. I almost faint from taking a shower and I have to be on oxygen after doing the one flight of stairs.

Can you handle blood? doesn’t bother me at all.

Has any place hired you underage for a job? yes. I mean technically, I was legal to work in that I was 17, but the company didn’t want to hire younger than 18.

Have you ever carried a concealed weapon? not like in public, but at a house or gun range, yes.

Are you currently searching for a job? soon.

Does eating breakfast make you sick? i’m never ever ever hungry for it. I know i should, but its the worst. I don’t even like breakfast foods.

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behindtherobinsmask · 3 years

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tagged by @runnfromtheak

Rules: list the first lines of your last ten stories. See if there are any patterns. Choose your favorite opening line. I write the most random things so if you can actually find a pattern then... let me know. Help a fool out.

P.S. - I know it says opening line and not paragraph but come on, that doesn’t do any story justice.

Gonna do my tags before because this turned out to be longer than expected - @elwon @stevieraebarnes @epistemologys

1. All The Times Damian Wayne Felt Loved

This was a birthday fic I wrote for a darling friend of mine. The whole time I was writing this my biggest fear was that the characters were going to... just not be right. Still have that fear.

“Gripping onto a pillow, Damian walked down the dark halls of his grandfather’s house, uncertainty clouding every step that he made. At this hour of the night, no one seemed to be around yet he could feel eyes watching his every move. The eyes of the stars in the sky, the moon and the many trained soldiers that had years of practice when it came to blending into the shadows. It was their presence that forced him to walk with his head held high, to bat away the tears in his eyes and pretend that everything was alright. Pretend that he wasn’t afraid.”

2. To all the stars that are listening

Another birthday fic (maybe that was the pattern all along jk). I actually really enjoyed writing this fic because I felt like I was back in my zone (my zone being angst). Can’t wait to get started on the second part.

“Dick’s life had been anything but ordinary since he was a child. As someone who grew up in the circus, his morning was spent studying with the other kids that travelled with his troupe while in the afternoon, he practiced with his heart and soul to fly as beautifully as his parents. In the nights, he’d stand on the sidelines and watch them perform, absolutely awed by the way their bodies moved, each twist, each turn so seamless, every difficult stunt seemed easy in their skin. Clinging onto the edge of the tent, he wished with all his heart that someday, he could be just like them. A bird freed. With every wish, his voice grew louder and louder until somewhere, up above, a star heard his cry. It heard his desire to be free. The chains that grounded him slowly slipped away and he flew with practiced grace. And just as Dick spread his wings, his parents fell. Birds flightless.

Freedom he had asked for and freedom he had received.”

3. Come here, won’t you hold my hand?

Listen, I spend hours of my life playing genshin impact. Did you really think I wouldn’t write a fic for it?

“After chasing the traveler away, Xiao sighed, wondering if now was the time to head back to Wangshu Inn. There he could stay away from the harbour and its people, away from the wishes made on stars that could never hear them, away from their fragile happiness that he could shatter with a single touch. Someone like Xiao, so burdened with sins, could never mingle among the mortals without bringing harm. Wherever he went, only misery ever followed. But even though he knew that it would be best for him to leave, a part of him, as silly as it was, worried that the journey back would make him miss out on the opportunity to see an old friend. While he never attended the Lantern Rite in Liyue, he always made sure to catch a glimpse of the Mingxiao lantern that always honored the adepti. It was only at that moment that he could lose himself to the past momentarily and remember a time when he wasn’t so alone, when his battle wasn’t only his to fight.”

4. Jon Kent Must Die

A jaydick flashfic challenge gave birth to this crack series and I will happily go down with this ship. I’ve written too many of these and maybe, in the future I’ll write more. Who will stop me? God? I don’t think so.

“Damian was sick and tired of his siblings.

Never had he met two people who were so dependent on their partners that they needed them around 24/7. It didn’t matter whether it was day or not, whether they were at the manor or in their respective homes, wherever his brothers went, their fool boyfriends seemed to follow. The obligatory family dinner had been turned into a circus with Todd’s usual clownery that had Damian rolling his eyes so hard that sometimes he was afraid they’d just pop out of his skull. Kent was no better. In fact, on more than one occasion, he had encouraged Todd’s rambling as though he was God’s chosen prophet, sharing his truth with the world. Damian really wished, just for a day, the two of them would simply go away. It wasn’t that he missed his siblings or anything. He just wished to have a conversation with Richard that didn’t end with him wanting to stab someone. Hopefully a 5’11 man with black hair with a streak of white and deep green eyes that could find a conspiracy in Titus’s preferred pose for napping.”

5. I wanna be in your arms by the sea (studying your freckles so curiously)

Yes. It’s another genshin impact fic. Sue me. (Please don’t I’m broke).

“Every night, Zhongli saw the same dream.

Caressed by the gentle winds of the Guili plains, he watched over his people, Guizhong’s people as they lived in prosperity, enjoying the calm and gentle wind that wrapped around them. Serenity was a blessing and they had an abundance of it. In the beginning, when Guizhong had described such a scene, something knit carefully in her imagination, he had not believed her. But now that he was seeing with his own two eyes, he was glad that he had agreed to her terms. Glad that he had formed a contract that had been beneficial for all.”

6. I stay up late and talk to the moon (And I can’t stop telling her all about you)

A christmas exchange fic that I loved writing because it really got me back into the writing for jaydick. It had been a while since I touched anything fandom related. Then this story happened.

“According to Jason, there weren’t many things that Bruce really got right. Not with his rules that could never be bent for anyone or his sickeningly righteous sense of justice. But if there was one thing Bruce excelled in, it was throwing the world’s most boring party ever. Every event that ever took place in the Wayne manor was the same. Classical music. Champagne flutes. Appetizers that could never replicate Alfred’s cooking and finally, the same old rich folks of Gotham who needed to be filled in on the latest gossip lest they melt into a puddle.”

7. Now I’m going down on you (proving what I want is true) Who told me I could write smut? Please take away my license. “Click. Click. Click. With a heavy sigh, Dick switched off the TV and tossed the remote aside after an hour of clicking through the channels, unable to find anything that would keep his mind occupied. Two weeks ago, during a drug bust with the rest of the bats, Dick had suffered an injury to his shoulder which he considered rather minor. But Alfred and Barbara said otherwise as he was benched until he healed, his own city taken over by other vigilantes while he was forced to sit at home and entertain himself with murder mysteries with plot twists he saw coming from a mile away. Unfortunately, even when he hit the gym to let go of some restless energy, he could only do the most basic of workouts, the kind that simply weren’t enough for someone who was so used to being active all day long.”

8. Wayne Boys Unsolved

Another crack fic that I really enjoyed writing. Poor Yvonne though. She was really suffering.

“Yvonne’s body was thrumming with excitement as she peeked out the window of her room, her eyes falling on the black car that just pulled up in front of her house. Four boys stepped out, ones that she was so very familiar with. After all, she had spent many nights watching every single video they uploaded on their blog. They were paranormal investigators of sorts, the kind that didn’t believe in the supernatural and lived to debunk the stories that revolved around each haunted location. Because people loved to watch them so, both alive and dead, the boys had become famous in every circle possible.”

9. You make me wanna die (I’m burning up in the light)

Another birthday fic and the first dark story I ever wrote. Writing this was fun but also nerve-wracking.

“I think we need a break.

Two years, three months, four days and seven hours. That was how long it had been since Jason had said those words to Dick, sitting in the middle of the bed they shared, silk sheets pooled around his scarred waist, the white of his hair sticking to his forehead with sweat, droplets of it swimming down his throat and across his bare chest that was bruised red with bite marks, across the autopsy scar that he had been reborn with. He looked like a picture, each feature painted so delicately with colours that pulled, that hypnotised and drowned. The fingers of his right hand flexed, parted and then brushed across the back of his neck, tracing the bond mark that tied him down to Dick, shuddering slightly under the imprint, his heady scent spreading across the room like a drug. Strong, so fucking strong that Dick could still taste it on his tongue. Looking like that, after everything they had done, when he opened his mouth, when he said the words that had been sitting on the tipping of his tongue, it was only to end everything that they were.”

10. Come fire up the night (make me feel alive)

Who told me I could write smut (2)

“Staring at the ceiling of his apartment, Dick lay in his bed, tired but unable to fall asleep, the ticking of the clock haunting him. Tick. He took in a deep breath. Tock. He closed his eyes. Tick. He tried to sleep. Tock. Every memory of Jason came rushing back to him. The dark hair with a streak of white that framed his chiselled face. The plump lower lip that he often dreamt about kissing, pulled between his teeth until Jason was groaning. The freckles that were scattered across his nose and cheeks. Those deep green orbs that gleamed with mischief, teasing and taunting, burning with unbridled fury, one look enough to make Dick’s knees tremble. And as goosebumps spread across his arms, he found himself waking up, lest he did something that he knew he would regret. Like calling up Jason and confessing feelings that were better left unspoken, buried in a special graveyard from which there would be no sudden resurrections.”

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justkindaoverhereobsessing · 4 years

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the stars always make me laugh (1/4)

Now complete! Here is chapter 2, chapter 3, chapter 4, and the epilogue.

A year to the day after Ziva departs D.C. to return to Paris and reunite with her family, her newfound contentment is shaken by an unexpected loss. Tony and Tali are right where they belong—safely by her side—but she still finds herself feeling drawn to reflect on the past. She might just be able to use this new grief to bring peace to old wounds, renewing hope along the way for a future with her family... but only if she can find a way to let go of what haunts her.

Written as a combined response to two different challenge prompts; also available for reading on ff and AO3. This is angsty but will ultimately be soft.

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"And when your sorrow is comforted (time soothes all sorrows) you will be content that you have known me. You will always be my friend. You will want to laugh with me. And you will sometimes open your window, so, for that pleasure… And your friends will be properly astonished to see you laughing as you look up at the sky! Then you will say to them, 'Yes, the stars always make me laugh!'"

—Antoine de Saint-Exupéry, The Little Prince

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January 7th, 2021

It's a Thursday morning when Tony gets the call.

He's working from home today, and he's nearing the end of a video conference when his phone buzzes—he looks down to check it and sees his favorite unflattering photo of Tim McGee on the screen. Paris is six hours ahead of Washington, where McGee presumably still is, which makes it… hmm. It's four in the morning there. He's probably not reaching out for a casual chat, then.

Something tells him to take the call.

"Sorry to be rude," Tony says quickly in French, looking back at his computer screen, "but there's an emergency I have to deal with. Let's go ahead and wrap this up for today and we'll talk progress next week, same time as usual—Félix, go ahead and email me that report, if you can. I'll check in when I'm back at the office tomorrow. Have a good morning, all of you."

Then he abruptly ends the conference; he cares very little if he comes across as impolite, because his thoroughly French team has always seen him as a hopelessly crass American anyway.

Tony hits a button on his cell, catching the call just before it would have gone to voicemail. "Why, if it isn't Tim-Tim-Timothy McGee!" he cries, jovial as usual even though he's a little apprehensive about the nature of the unexpected conversation. "What can I do for you?"

"Hey, Tony." McGee sounds tired, which is little wonder given the time difference. "Do you have a moment to talk?"

"Sure," Tony agrees, dropping the slightly mocking enthusiasm from his tone. "What's up?"

"I don't know how to tell you this, so I'm just going to say it, okay?"

"...okay."

"There was an accident last night, and—"

"Who?" Tony can read between the lines—he doesn't have to hear the word "death" to understand that someone he knows has passed away.

"It was Ducky."

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Tony is on the phone with McGee for another fifteen minutes, getting all the details and committing them to memory as best as he can through his slight haze of shock. Though Ducky had always been the oldest member of their team and clearly couldn't live forever, he had seemed… invincible, somehow. He was an institution, something timeless and never-ending.

Of course, that had been an illusion, but still, it's strange to know that the vibrant old man is now just…

Gone.

The rest of the workday is spent processing all of this new information and making preparations. Tony can't imagine a world in which they wouldn't fly back to the States to attend the funeral, and though he hasn't yet talked to Ziva about it, he feels fairly comfortable arranging emergency bereavement leave from work and informing Tali's school that she'll be out next week.

Near the end of the call, McGee had asked if Tony wanted him to call Ziva, too, or if Tony wanted to tell her himself. Tony's answer was immediate: he knew without needing to stop and consider that telling Ziva in person would be the right thing to do.

It doesn't matter how much he hates having to give bad news.

Tony intends to do it tonight, once his wife is home from work… she has experienced too much loss in her life for him to be anything less than absolutely gentle in telling her about their old friend. There's no need to make it harder than it needs to be; an impersonal phone call across the Atlantic may have been an inevitability for Tony himself, but now that he knows, he wants to be there to hold Ziva's hand when she finds out, too.

He would give anything to spare her from as much pain as possible, and while he can't do much, he can do this.

Fortunately, the timing of McGee's call is decent—Tali has choir practice after school today, effectively speeding up the rest of the evening's schedule. By the time Ziva gets home, it'll nearly be dinner time, and bedtime will follow shortly after.

Tony doesn't want to delay giving Ziva the news, but he thinks it best to wait until Tali is safely tucked away. That way, they don't have to worry about putting on happy faces to keep from scaring her.

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As soon as Ziva walks in the door, she can tell that something is wrong. Tony looks tired or sad, or maybe both. He kisses her in greeting as usual, though, and when she gives him a questioning look, he answers with an almost imperceptible shake of his head. Later, she understands that to mean.

Ziva is concerned, but she trusts him.

Still, Tony seems eager to rush through Tali's evening routine, telling Ziva her unsettled feeling isn't merely a product of her typical anxiety… she's right, and something has happened or is happening still.

If she was Gibbs, she'd claim a gut feeling.

"Tony, is everything alright?" Ziva asks in a low, tense voice once Tali's bedroom door is shut for the night.

Tony shakes his head. "Let's go sit," he answers softly.

He leads her to the couch and she sits next to him automatically, her heart starting to race in a horribly familiar way. "Please just tell me, whatever it is," she murmurs anxiously.

Tony takes her hand. "Alright." His voice is gentle. "Just don't forget to breathe, Ziva, okay? I got a call from McGee today, and he had some bad news. Ducky was in an accident last night… he passed away this morning."

Ziva's pulse is thudding in her ears, and she focuses on the grounding anchor of Tony's hand on hers as she tries to internalize what he just told her. "An accident?" she echoes, sounding distant even to herself.

"Yeah…" Tony shakes his head and unexpectedly gives a quiet, incredulous laugh. The sound pulls Ziva out of her head a little, and she makes a conscious effort to squeeze his hand back as she waits for details.

He gives her a warm smile, recognizing the gesture.

"Honestly, it was the 'Duckiest' way that he could have died, I think," Tony explains. "He had apparently been out in Newfoundland exploring some continental fault thing, and on the way back, his plane hit some bad weather and ended up crashing. Palmer says it was very quick—Ducky never would have felt a thing."

Ziva nods, slightly faint but quickly getting over her shock. With any luck, she'll avoid a full-blown anxiety attack; the frequency of the attacks has decreased since she reunited with her family a year ago, but they'll always be a threat that she has to be prepared for.

Tony seems to understand that she's not quite ready to talk yet, so he keeps going. "There are worse ways to go, for sure, and I think Ducky would have wanted to spend his last minutes just as he did: coming from from an adventure in a tiny two-seater Bonanza. You know what I mean?"

"Yes… yes, I am sure you are right," she agrees, her voice steadier.

"I'm really glad that we got to see him recently, too. We had a good time, didn't we?"

"We did." A few months back, Ducky'd had a daylong layover in Paris on a trip to a remote area of Siberia, and they'd spent a very fun day showing him around the city. Their daughter had warmed to him quickly, which was hardly surprising.

"Hopefully Tali was old enough that she'll remember it, I think."

"Yes."

Tony pauses, and with his free hand, he reaches up to briefly caress his wife's cheek. "Are you alright?" he questions, concerned. "You're not saying much. I don't want you to pass out on me."

"I am—" Ziva stops in the middle of her sentence and takes two deep breaths. She had nearly said 'fine,’ but she's not, is she?

Ziva likes to think that she can be open and honest with Tony these days, as much as a lifetime of trials has given her the impulse to keep things to herself. The fact that Tony waits patiently for her to finish rather than interrupting tells her that she's right—she shouldn't shut him out.

Finally coming to a decision, she shakes her head. "No."

Tony nods. "I thought that might be the case."

"Are you?"

"Alright?"

"Yes."

"No. No, I'm really not. But I will be."

Tony's words suddenly pull a memory to the forefront of Ziva's mind, and she tilts her head for a moment, considering something.

Tony waits, a slight frown furrowing his brow.

"Come," Ziva decides finally. "There is something that I want to show you."

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A few minutes later, a bemused Tony watches from the doorway as Ziva digs determinedly through a box in the back of their bedroom closet. He knows what's in that box, and he knows that several identical boxes stacked neatly in the corner contain more of the same: Ziva's old journals from NCIS, dozens of them thoughtfully shipped to Paris by Ellie Bishop.

"Are you looking for one in particular?"

"Yes," Ziva answers, but she doesn't explain any further. After a few more seconds, she makes a noise of triumph and rises with one of the journals in hand.

"Found it?"

"I did."

She leads him back to the bedroom and sits on the bed, inviting him to sit next to her; Tony is relieved to see that while she definitely looks pained and tired, there are no obvious signs of an impending anxiety attack.

Once they're settled, Ziva gently—almost lovingly—pats the cover of the thin book. "This is one of my journals from late 2009 until early 2010."

"That's—"

"Shortly after I was rescued from the desert, yes."

Tony nods; it's not his favorite time to think about, and he knows it can't be for Ziva, either—so why did she pull this notebook in particular from the dozens of identical ones chronicling her experiences?

"Ducky was… helpful to me, in the aftermath of my rescue."

"He was?" Tony interjects in surprise. "You've never talked about that before."

"It is not a subject that I deeply enjoy discussing, something I am sure you can understand."

"Sure."

"Well, because I believe that sharing this memory will honor Ducky, I would like to tell you more about what he did for me."

"Are you sure?"

Ziva nods, and she keeps the journal clutched lovingly in one hand as she reaches over to lay a hand on Tony's thigh. "It has been a long time, and I think I am ready." She offers a smile—it's small and watery, but it's very sincere, and something about it makes Tony's own eyes start to sting.

He's been too busy to cry today, but he knows it's coming sooner or later. Ducky had been family for a very long time, and with this on top of that loss...

"Okay," he agrees roughly, clearing his throat. "Take it away. I'm all ears."

Ziva squeezes his thigh and then pulls her hand away, glancing down at the journal; this one will always be one she cares for above its brethren, because its painful content reminds her of how much she has overcome.

After a pause, Ziva opens it carefully.

Then, her voice surprisingly steady, she starts to read.

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January 7th, 2010

There is a reason that I have not penned an entry in quite some time; I have walked a difficult road these past months. Today, however, I was offered a comfort that I had not previously possessed the courage to ask for. If I have any hope of sorting through my own thoughts on the matter, though, I need to reconsider earlier events.

Before returning to Mossad more than half a year ago, I was faced with a dilemma that I had successfully avoided in my career before that point—that is, the dilemma of who to trust and who to side with when personal and professional obligations become hopelessly conflicted. I have already written at length about the choices I and the others made in the midst of that conflict.

Much has happened since then, but recent forced introspection has shown me an important connection between the difficulties of Michael's death and the horrors I endured after: a connection between who I was then and who I am now. That night, it only took a few minutes to change the course of my life: in that time, Tony and Michael fought, and Michael was killed. Every single one of us has had to deal with the consequences of those events ever since.

At the time, I let my anger and my grief consume me, destroying all vestiges of rationality in my thoughts and decisions. I followed that pain to the Horn of Africa, hurting and reckless and prepared for death.

Of course, I did not die, and that has brought consequences of its own… consequences that I am only now beginning to come to terms with.

In the wake of Michael's death and doubly so in the wake of my experiences in the desert camp, I found myself vulnerable. For the first time in my life, I'd been forced to acknowledge my heart and acknowledge its fragility. It could be bruised. It could humiliate me. These were things that frightened me, because I knew from recent experience that they could—and likely would—be used against me. My fear led me to withdraw, to hide again; acknowledging my own weakness demanded far less bravery than I would have needed to share that vulnerability with my friends.

I defaulted to an old defense mechanism. I leaned on ability borne of long experience to simply feign contentment. I passed my psychological evaluations, I sent my resignation to Abba, and against all odds, I was instated as a probationary special agent at NCIS. After a time, my colleagues stopped watching me when they thought I could not see, waiting for me to fall apart. I had convinced them that I was alright; perhaps I even convinced myself some of the time, too. Maybe I was not yet as 'fine' as I seemed to be, but I was sure that in time, I would reach a point where my conscience felt as carefree as my forced smile looked to those who loved me.

Darkness, however, is difficult to chase away with one single flickering candle, lit only by the flame of my own exhausted determination. My candle burned low, worn down over time, and I found myself in need of help. I alone could not summon the light that had long since fled my tired soul.

Though I did not know to whom I should turn, fate helped a friend to find me. It was—of all people—Ducky. In many ways, he is something of a saba* to me, the kind that I wished for as a child. Even so, I would not have thought to seek him out as a confidant. I see now how remiss I was in taking him for granted as I have sometimes done. It turns out that he was just who I needed.

He found me this evening in the midst of… I do not know how to define what I was feeling. I can only say that I was lost in a moment of weakness. At the time, being seen that way was humiliating, but now, several hours later, it feels serendipitous.

Ducky and I spoke quite candidly then… I will not record the details of the conversation here, because I feel in no danger of forgetting what was said. I am confident, however, that today marks something of a new beginning for me. There is still so much to sort through and process, but the shadows already feel less dim.

Today, I invited a friend to see my darkness, and despite what he saw, he did not pity me; he only held my hand and lit another candle.

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*saba = "grandfather" in Hebrew

#ncis fanfiction #tiva #tivali #tony dinozzo #ziva david #tali david-dinozzo #ducky mallard #timothy mcgee #cynthia writes stuff too #this is for two more biscuits challenges that i got way too committed to lol #parts two through four are already planned out and half written #they'll be posted shortly #hurt/comfort #angst but ultimately soft

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