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house-of-slayterr · 2 years

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Three's a Crowd, but All Are Welcome

For: @myers-meadow

Hannibal let out a long sigh. He'd just had a long session with Chilton, and was about ready to skin someone alive. He was never an easy client, and Hannibal hated the rude. Hannibal walked around his desk, adjusting the paperwork into their proper folders. Until there was a light knock on the door. His head snapped up at the sound, not expecting anyone. He thought perhaps maybe it was Alaina or Beverly. They were always polite enough to knock.

He waltzed over to the door, gently opening it, and was pleasantly surprised by who was behind it.

"Meadow, my dear, what are you doing here so late?"

"I could ask you the same thing my love, are you alright? "

You walked past him into the room. You didn't need to be invited in, you were always welcome. You gentle pulled out a chair, sitting across from him like you had many times. He sat at his desk, trying to drop his Therapist facade, which was always hard for him to break out of. Bu tit was just you, he could be real with you, honest. It was something he adored about you.

"You're doing that thing again..." You started.

"What thing would that be, Love?"

"You're grimacing, and avoiding eye contact. It's unlike you, Hannibal."

"Tell me, who's supposed to be the therapist again?" Hannibal brushed you off.

You bit into the soft flesh of your lip, fidgeting with your hands. Your tell, Hannibal could tell he was making you nervous. He stood from his desk and made his way around to the couch, crouching in front of you, and placing his hand on your own.

"I'm sorry, I didn't mean to worry you. It's nothing I can't handle, I promise."

He made sure to make direct eye contact with you this time. He could see the haze of sleep in your eye. You must have been exhausted after your shift. Paperwork could wait.

"Shall we go home?" He asked, standing and extending his hand to you.

"But your work-"

"Can wait, you came all this way to remind me to take a break, did you not?"

You bit back the smile growing on your lips, you knew how you defected him. He'd hate to admit it, but he would stop the world for you. One look from you could melt this man into a state of absolute bliss. Your eyes held that power. But not just for him, sometimes Will swore when he made eye contact, you could tell an entire story with one glance. It was a powerful thing, something you'd learned to use to your advantage.

Hannibal's hand was on the small of your back, as he guided you out of his office. He was always more cautious when you were out in public, it wasn't hard for you to gain attention. You had the type of looks that could stop traffic. Hannibal never blamed you for this, of course, it couldn't be helped, but the unwanted attention you garnered was sometimes unsafe. He opened the car door for you like a gentleman always should.

You drove in silence at first, watching out the window as the world passed you by. Hannibal was the first to break this silence.

"Difficult day at work?"

"I could again, ask you the same. But I doubt you want to talk it over, same as I."

"You don't have to hide from me, you know that right?"

"Yes, Hannibal. I understand that I can trust you, and I cherish you deeply, but now is not the time for such talk. I do not wish to be psychoanalyzed."

He let out a soft chuckle at that.

"You've been spending too much time with Will, I'm afraid, my dear."

"Is that so?" You finally turned to look at him.

"You even smell like his dogs." Hannibal quipped.

"It's not my fault, they are simply the most adorable creatures on this planet. Well, except for you."

"Adorable is not the word I would use to describe myself."

"Which is why you are not doing the describing. if I left that up to you, you'd paint quite a poor picture of yourself, Dr Lecter."

He loved moments like this, when you insisted upon defending his honour, even from himself. It made him feel worthy. Something Hannibal never diluted himself with, he never thought he'd care for what people thought of him until he met you.

"Perhaps the picture you paint of me is skewed by your rose-coloured glasses my dear, your kindness outweighs your honesty."

You rolled your eyes.

"Always the poet aren't you? You can deny how lovable you are, all you want, but it does not make it any less of a fact. You, Dr Lecter, are wholly intoxicating, and simply divine."

You placed a gentle kiss on his hand that was previously rested on your thigh. It was never a habit he intended to pick up on, but he couldn't help himself. there was something about your body that just made him lose all train of thought. Your heart sped up as you approached the house. You'd moved in with Hanibal only a month ago, he'd finally convinced you it was a good idea. As he escorted you into the house, you were quick to take off your shoes and coat, to be more comfortable. Hannibal paused in the doorframe.

"It's quiet." He pointed out.

You looked to him for confirmation. It was in fact far too quiet in your home. Something was off.

"We shouldn't jump to conclusions." You assured him.

He leads you through the house, into the beautiful kitchen. It was habbit to check there first. He didn't see their small stature anywhere. You were the first to notice it, a few drops of blood on the prisien white floors. Hannibal noticed your silence and followed your line of sight. He would have been more alarmed, but there didn't seem to be much blood there. He stroked the back of your hand, trying to clam you.

"I'm sure they're alright, Love." He reassured you.

You bit at the skin of your lip once more, accidenlty breaking the skin. Hannibal was quick to wipe at the blood with his thumb. He followed the small trail of blood, leading throughout the house. It led to the downstairs bathroom. He gently knocked don't the door.

"Frances, is everything alright?"

The two of you heard some shuffling before their voice came out strained and shaky.

"Yup, everything fantastic!" They called through the door.

You shared a look with your lover. They didn't sound confident in their response. You were first to try the door, it was locked. This spiked your anxiety slightly, but you didn't want to jump to conclusions.

"Frances, dearest, can you please open the door?" You asked.

They froze at the sound of your voice. It was so clearly laced with fear and worry. More shuffling was heard from inside the bathroom.

"No actually, I can not do that." They said frantically.

Hannibal let out a sigh. He had his ways of getting into the bathroom, it was his house after all. He reached for the skeleton key he always had at his hip. It unlocked every door in the house, besides his "room". He was the first to enter the room, attempting to shield you from whatever could be going on. Frances didn't have the best track record with their mental health, so, it was always best to be cautious around them.

The first thing you noticed was just how much blood there was. A lot more than the trail let on, meaning they must have run to get to the bathroom. Hannibal dropped your hand, reluctantly, and instantly ran to their side.

"What happened?"

Tears stung their eyes, and this worried the both of you.

"It was stupid. I didn't mean to!" They said, suddenly bursting into tears.

They were embarrassed. You were quick to grab a towel and hold it to their hand, attempting to dab away the blood. Your hands were soft and gentle. Not wishing to startle them, or cause any more pain.

"What do you mean by that?"

"I was just trying to help. You were both late, and I- I knew you'd be hungry when you got home..."

The mood lightened suddenly. This hadn't been an episode, just an accident.

"You attempted to cook for us?"

They nodded. Hannibal took over cleaning the wound from you, as you left to go get the first aid kit.

"You always keep your knives so sharp." They scolded, putting cutely.

"Dull knives are actually more dangerous, darling."

"More dangerous my ass." They huffed.

Hannibal grabbed their wrist, a silent warning. They locked eyes with him.

"What did I say abotu swearing?"

"That it's not polite."

He continued cleaning the wound, finally able to see how bad it was. You returned to the bathroom, raising your eyebrow at the tense position they were both in. Had something transpired while you were gone? You cleared your throat, gaining both of their attention.

"You really ought to be more Carful, Frances." You lightly scolded.

"Knife sharp, brian stupid." Was their only reply.

It confused Hannibal when they talked like this sometimes. He was used to his Meadow, being so eloquent and well-spoken. She could silence a room, in awe with a rousing speech. The way she spoke effortlessly reflected his own speech pattern. Two halves of a whole.

Frances wasn't dumb by any means, but it seemed they liked to play that way. Never letting anyone know just how smart they were. It was worse around the others, Jack swore they would lose their own head if it wasn't attached. Beverly found it endearing, and Will, Will was just as confused as Hannibal. Their actions didn't reflect their words, they'd even helped him on a few cases. Of course, he would never tell Jack that, since bringing a civilian into FBI matters was typically frowned upon.

"Brain stupid?" You asked, with a chuckle.

"Big, major stupid."

Hannibal rolled his eyes.

"This is quite deep, it's going to need stitches. How are you feeling?"

They turned their attention back to him. Something about the way he looked at them, made their heart melt. Like every thought was just sucked out of their brain.

"Darling? Are you still with us?"

They nodded slowly, but their brain hadn't fully caught up again.

"Hannibal, dearest, you know very well you can not make direct eye contact with them. It makes them all flustered."

"Right, my apologies. Frances, how are you feeling?"

"It doesnt hurt." They muttered.

Hannibal had noticed they didn't seem to flinch or wince once while he was cleaning the wound.

"Not at all?" You were quick to ask.

"Maybe at first, it just sort of caught me off guard. I didn't mean to get blood everywhere."

“We aren’t worried about that, you know I’m good at getting stains out.” Hannibal explained calmly.

You gently grabbed their other hand while Hannibal started the stitches. They may claim it didn’t hurt, but you always worried they were lying to comfort you. You wouldn’t put it passed them. Hannibal usually worked in silence, but your nerves got the better of you.

“So what we’re you going to make?”

“Chicken Francese and potatoes, I saw it in one of those old cooking magazines Han used to get delivered to the house.” They explained.

“I’m sure it would have been lovely.” Hannibal hummed.

You nodded in agreement.

“What kind of potatoes?”

“The Rosemary fondant one’s, extra crispy!”

A smile smile broke on Hannibal’s face, he always found it cute how excited they got about cooking. Even if they weren’t very good at it. He’d have to spend more time in the kitchen with them.

“Would you have based them in rosary and thyme butter?”

They nodded enthusiastically.

“With the little spoon!”

“You do love little spoons.” You admitted.

Before you knew it, they were patched up, and Hannibal was wrapping their wound.

“Alright, so it sounds like we have dinner planned out. I’ll get everything sorted, and pick up where you left off. Meadow, would you mind cleaning up?”

“It would be no problem at all Hannibal!”

They held their arm out to stop you from leaving.

“It’s my mess, I should clean it.”

“Not with your injury.” Hannibal interjected.

“It’s barley a scratch Han, Meadow, why don’t you go pick out the wine to pair with dinner. You’ve always had the best taste?”

They knew flattery would work with you, not so much with the resident cannibal though. He hated watching them overwork themselves, but he let it slide this once. You all set out to complete your tasks, you headed off to the wine cellar. It was vast and intimidating at first, but Hannibal had taught you a lot about wine. A nice white would pair well with tonight’s dish.

As you made you way upstairs, the house smelled Devine. Your heart melted at the sight before you. Hannibal was in the kitchen, showing off the proper way to use a knife, and Frances was on the counter top, swinging their legs back and forth as they watched in awe. It was simple moment like this that made you adore your makeshift little family. You came up behind your boyfriend and snuggled into his neck, wrapping your arms around his middle.

He gently took the wine from your hands and set it on the counter.

“Thank you my Love.”

“He’s letting me help with dinner” Frances announced.

“Yes, but their knife privileges have been revoked” Hannibal clarified.

You let out a joyous chuckle.

“Yes, I think it will be a while until you have unsupervised knife access again.”

They pouted in a joking manner.

“I’m not five, I just make mistakes.”

You ruffled their hair, playfully and they swatted at your hands. Hannibal gently grabbed their wrist to stop the action.

“You’re gonna injure yourself more Beansprout.”

They blushed at the nickname. It was something stupid Jack had said once, and Hannibal picked up on their reaction to it. They liked weird pet names like that, although he preferred more traditional ones for his Darling.

“Awe, you’re making them blush” You cooed.

It was all in good fun, the teasing between the two of you. It was almost constant, and it brought a smile to Hannibal’s face. Sometimes Frances even poked fun at Will or Beverly, which was always fun to watch. And their back and forth banter with Jack, was a little stressful, but Hannibal enjoyed it nonetheless.

“I’m not blushing you imbecile, it’s simply hot in here.” They huffed.

“Wouldn’t happened to be because a certain someone is cooking for you?”

“How he hasn’t skinned you alive yet, is beyond me Dow.”

Hannibal raised a brow at them, pointing the knife at them warningly.

“Yeah yeah, Daddy, I’ll play nice.” They joked.

Hannibal halted in his moments entirely, taken aback by their quip. You smirked, realising what they just started. You gave Frances a high five, lacing your fingers together and helping them down off the counter. You escorted them over to the table, a safe distance away from Hannibal, until his brain began to work again. The two of you could see the cogs turning in his brain, as he came back down to earth.

"Now you know very well-" Hannibal started.

"That that names reserved for the bedroom? Maybe I'm hungry, just not for dinner." they winked, riling him up.

He glared at them from across the counter and continued putting the finishing touches on the meal. You had already set the table, picking out the appropriate dining ware for the evening. You poured three glasses of wine, placing them at the proper spots on the table. Hannibal at the head, you to his right, and Frances to the left. Hannibal set the food down at the table and came to join you. He watched as Frances nearly gulped down their glass of wine, and put his hand on their cup to stop them.

"Are you sure you should be drinking like that?"

"What, afraid it will affect the adhesive properties and quantity of my platelets and I'll bleed out while we sleep tonight?" They sassed. "I know my blood alcohol limits, Dearest, trust me, I'll behave. Didn't I already promise you that much?"

They bat their eyelashes at him, flattery may not work, but those puppy eyes did the trick every single time. Hannibal let out a heavy sigh.

"I do not understand how you can say something like that when just an hour ago you said, and I quote 'Brain, major stupid" Hannibal chuckled.

They threw their head back in laughter, light and joyous sound that rang out like little witch bells.

"Hannibal, my Love, if you still don't expect this from them, then I'm afraid you don't know our dear Frannie." You mused, sipping your own wine.

"So this is how it's going to be, the two of you bullying me all evening?"

"Somebodies gotta check your ego, you know, other than Alana and Belinda. You really do have a thing for quick-witted women, don't you Dr Lecter?" Frances teased.

"I do not have a thing for Dr Bloom." Hannibal corrected.

You raised your brow in amusement as you ate, not believing a word he was saying. You knew you were his, and he was yours, your hearts declared for each other the moment you first locked eyes. But you didn't mind his flings with other women, you understood none of them could be you. The development with Frances caught you off guard at first, you noticed he was different with them than he was with most of the people she courted. It was more of a desire to keep them close, to protect them from the cruelty of this world, he explained that to you when you questioned him. Despite their many suggestive statements, they never really made any true advances on Hannibal, respecting your position as his lover.

Hannibal and you even speculated that sometimes their jokes were to cover up something darker. Some trauma they always refused to acknowledge. It was clear even to Will, that Frances wasn't actually interested in that sort of stuff. In all the time you knew them, they had never actually dated anyone, or even attempted to flirt legitimately. Hannibal even suggested, that perhaps they were asexual, all the signs were there. But it wasn't something he perceived as a flaw, something that needed fixing, so he never feel that need to call them out on it. Despite this, they still wormed their way into your life, spicing things up in the most unusual of ways. They would join in on dinners, and cuddles, and participate in romantic gestures like gift giving, to spontaneous acts of kindness. On the more intimate end, they loved to observe the two of you.

They always said watching romance with other people made them uncomfortable. Public displays of affection would make them cringe at themself. Once, when someone tried to flirt with them, with the actual desire to ask them out, they got so overwhelmed they ran to their car and called Hannibal panicking. But despite this, they enjoyed watching you both during your most intimate moments. Neither of you minded, of course, it was healthy for them to explore this interest. They'd even watch in the bedroom sometimes, Hannibal of course being the one to invite them. He liked showing you off, expressly to them. They could appreciate the aesthetics and the beauty of it all, despite not having the emotions to engage. You were brought out of your thoughts when Frances spoke again, the smugness in their voice gaining your interest.

"Oh really? Explain this then Einstien."

You were intrigued now, what were they up to? They had that look on their face that they got when they were determined to win an argument. It was sort of adorable. They slid their phone across the table to Hannibal, who put down his fork to look at it. Normally phones weren't allowed at the table, but even Hannibal was interested in what point they were trying to make. You couldn't quite see what he was looking at, but the expression in his eyes amused you.

"When did you take these?" Hannibal asked.

There was something slightly dangerous in his tone, but you weren't worried. He was never that way with them, his words more of a warning than an active threat.

"I'm asking the questions here Dr Lecter." They mimicked the tone of Jack Crawford, which nearly made you choke on your wine.

It was weird how accurate they could get their impressions sometimes.

"These don't prove anything?"

"Mmmhm, that's what they all say." They took the phone back from him and zoomed in on the photo.

"The placement of your hand on her right shoulder, is intimate, maybe in a friendly way, but combine that with your confident stance, and the slightly dazed look in your eye, with the intense eye contact. You my dear Doctor were swooning."

They flipped to another picture.

"Her hand on your knee, the wrinkle in your pant leg suggest she was squeezing quite hard. She smiling at you like you're the only person that's ever made her smile. She's leaning in as she speaks, and you aren't leaning away."

They swiped once more.

"And last but not least, the time you kissed her on the hand, and the time she kissed you don't he check. not to mention the way the two of you have been hugging in your goodbyes recently, it's different, more, sensual. She trusts you, Hannibal, she's starting to like you. But she knows she can't have you, veacsue not only is it unprofessional to have relations with a colleague, but she's Meadow's friend, and girl code says you can't that your friend's boyfriend."

You were impressed, to say the least, with their irrefutable evince. Hannibal simple rolled his eyes glaring slightly at them.

"How did you even get these photos, my dear? Don't deflect the question this time."

"Oh, so now I'm the one deflecting. Ok. You know I carry my camera with me everywhere. I save my photos to all my devices in case one of them crashes or gets damaged or stolen." They said as if it was the most obvious thing.

You came to the aid of your man, seeing him all flustered and at a loss for words for once.

"Don't be facetious Beansprout, you know what he means..."

"FreddieLoundsmayhavepaidmetofollowyouaroundafewmonthsback. I said yes 'cause I needed the money."

"What was that?" Hannibal asked, now completely forgetting the food in front of him.

"I said I love you." They lied.

It was your turn to raise a brow at them.

Hannibal crossed his arms over his chest, in a dad-like manner.

"Frances Morningstar, if you don't tell me what you said right now, you're grounded for a month."

"Grounded? You're not my dad! Since when has grounded me ever worked anyways, I just sneak out, you're too busy psychoanalyzing Will to notice anyway."

You chuckled at that statement. It was true, you're man was informally preoccupied with this particular patient. But you found him intriguing as well, so it didn't bother you much.

"Freddie Lounds wanted me to 'dig up dirt on you, so I faked some mildly interesting news so she'd get off your back and stop investigating you. Dating your coworker is a lot less newsworthy than eating your own patients, don't you think?"

He supposed he couldn't be too mad about this. At least you did it to try to protect him, instead of selling him out to his least favourite journalist.

"No... I simply embellished the relationship that was already there. It's not my fault you're the only one who doesn't see it, Han. You know for someone who's supposed to be so perceptive, you're being outdone by the dumbest person in the room. This is coming from someone who had a boyfriend for six months and didn't even know it."

This piqued your interest.

"When did you date someone?"

"High school, freshman year, he was a senior, he wasn't pushy about the must shit, so I didn't really he was pinning after me until he based me to prom. We still won King and Queen though, and then I broke up with him in a letter and moved schools so I'd never have to see him again."

"Language."

"Right, sorry. Forgive me Hannibal, but I don't think your relationship with eh Doctor is a bad thing, Meadow doesn't seem to mind."

He brought his attention back to you for the first time in this conversion. He scanned your eyes for any sign this wasn't true.

"Alana is gorgeous my love, I wouldn't mind having some fun with her myself." You said, tipping your half-filled glass to him.

He took that as a sign to fill your glass.

"Is that so?" He asked, now amused, no longer in denial about France's allegations.

"You know I love corrupting people, my sweet, the innocent doctor needs a little eye-opening, don't you think?" You said in your most sensual tone.

You rubbed your foot on his pant leg under the table, attempting to get him riled up. The wine was already starting to kick in, and you were having a good time.

"I suppose I would be a bad friend if I allowed her to remain so naive."

Frances rolled their eyes as you flirted in the odd way that you did. You could be discussing an active murder and be hornier than a herd of rabbits. Frances grabbed the wine bottle while you were both distracted and poured themself some more wine.

"I do good work don't I?" They mused, knowing neither of you was listening anymore.

Poor Alana Bloom would have no idea what hit her if the two of you were on her scent. Frances silently debated if they'd be getting a new housemate, or if the poor doctor would wind up a meal. This should be fun.

AN: Lol Meadow I literally love you, thanks for the idea, this was so much fun to write! Evil meadow for the win!

#self insert #bestie meadow #meadow <3 #hannibal lecter #hannibal x reader #writer insert #Fang x Hannibal #slasher #slasher x reader #request #fang writes #hannibal imagine

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twoturtlesinabathtub · 8 months

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Sneak peek at the final fic in my Weskennedy series. It's all fun and games until Ghostface starts psychoanalyzing you.

The Killer chuckled. "I can see right through you, hon. You've got a better than average poker face, yeah, but that vest of yours doesn't do much to hide how squishy you are under it. I think about you. A lot." The admission made Leon's flesh crawl. "Like, I get why you accepted Wesker's advances in the first place—that ass of his belongs in the MoMA—but you've stuck with him. And it's not just for the sex. Your precious little morals wouldn't allow you to spend so much time around a Killer for the sake of casual hook-ups."

Stop.

"You're so obvious," the other man continued. "You see a guy in full possession of his faculties, trapped in a world of peers where the vast majority of them have either lost what'd made them human or hate his fucking guts—not to mention his prey, who hate 'em even more—and you figure he must be so, so lonely." Ghostface shook his head as he released a sad sigh, even as his mouth twitched to fight back a smile. "Poor Albert Wesker, brilliant man whose own intelligence is his biggest curse here. A guy who's so smart, so driven, and he's been kidnapped to a place where something much stronger than he could ever hope to be's making him play hide-and-seek. You see what I'm getting at, here?"

Stop it.

"Do you pity him that badly?"

"Shut up," Leon hissed under his breath, still unable to meet those black, drillbit eyes.

"This make you feel better, Leon? Having a charity case?"

Leon inhaled shakily, finally fixing his burning eyes on the other man as a humorless smile wavered on his lips. "You know, you're the only person I've ever wanted to kill with my bare hands."

Ghostface just gave him a languid grin. "Tell me more, golden boy."

#i love you danny you catty bastard #leon s. kennedy #danny johnson #ghostface #albert wesker #wesker #weskennedy #dead by daylight #dbd #my writing

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bloodgulchblog · 1 year

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Armor by John Steakley, pt 2

The whole middle section of Armor sucks ass and I won't apologize for saying it.

You guys saw me talk about the front end of this novel. It's... not great, but it's interesting enough for a person to be curious about where it's going, especially if you are already a fan of the Big Man In Armor Punches Things In Space family of products.

We meet Felix. He has weird emotional problems. He goes through horrors. He punches ants.

Then the whole thing swan dives right off a cliff.

The middle section of Armor is told in the first person by notorious space pirate Jack Crow. (We never actually find out much about why he's such a cool and notorious space pirate, everyone just talks about how cool he is.)

Jack Crow escapes from prison, hitches a ride with another space pirate, and gets offered a Business Opportunity: He can have his own small ship, for a price. The space pirate he's riding with desperately needs fuel for his freshly stolen military spaceship, and can't get it from anywhere because nobody wants (for obvious reasons) to have anything to do with a mutineer. Jack is supposed to go down to a remote research outpost, charm his way in, and use his inside position to lower their defenses so the pirate can come in and take what he needs. Meanwhile, the owner of the planet (a drunk named Lewis) has lots of antics about fishing and drinking.

Jack's obnoxious to read, but being in first person kind of helps excuse some of Steakley's writing quirks I found annoying. But once he hits the research outpost, this whole thing drags miserably. For chapters and chapters. The characters are neither interesting enough to delve deeply in, nor enjoyable enough to want to spend remotely as much time with them as we are forced to. The worst is definitely the relationship between Jack and an administrator named Karen, who keeps coming back to Jack for rough sex and confides in him about her history of sexual abuse and Jack just goes "welp" and they keep doing that.

Toward the end of this section, the two key people at the research outpost involve Jack in plugging their brains into the mission logs of (gasp) a suit of Scout armor from the ant war.

It turns out to be Felix's suit.

The characters psychoanalyze Felix's response to trauma in the most hamfisted way possible, telling us how amazing and frustratingly resilient he is as he goes on drop after drop, blah blah blah blah.

Then finally, mercifully, we get to go back to Felix himself. And the last Felix section is... also not amazing literature, but it's interesting again.

I'm so close to done with this book I'm so close-

#not halo #armor by john steakley

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dastardly-imbecile · 1 year

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Almost Human

Part 3 of the 'fandoms i know nothing about but wrote for a friend'. 1, 2

“Detective?”

That voice. He’d know it anywhere, of course, soft and slow and infuriating. Why was he here? Why did he have to be bothering Gavin now, of all possible times?

He looks up. His neck protests at the sudden movement—it’s settled well enough into the hunched, cramped position.

Bet the android doesn’t have to deal with this.

Unnatural freaks.

“Detective,” it says again, and he realizes that he still hasn’t responded. Gods only know why it’s bothering him—where’s Hank? Shouldn’t he be keeping this thing on a tight leash?

He almost snorts. Old man’s always been far too soft. It’ll no doubt bite him in the back someday.

Or shoot him, as things seem to go more often in this line of work.

Not his concern at the moment.

“Android,” he finally says back. It’s always aggravated him how the android is taller than him. It feels like some sort of silent inferiority; another example of how they’re trying to make the robots faster, bigger, better. He used to think that there was no chance of that happening.

At the progress they’re going, perhaps the real future is creeping up on him alarmingly fast.

“Do you require assistance?”

And the thing just stands there, straight-backed and suited. Acting like it’s a real human- like it’s clawed its way into this station like he has. How much has he given for his career? Any semblance of having a social life, for one. He’s bit back all the words that bubble up when the idiots above him make their horrible decisions. All those sacrifices, and yet the robot just waltzes in like it owns the place.

Like it’s better than him.

He lurches to his feet. More bones, more joints, protesting at the sudden movement. Whatever. Shorter though he may be, he doesn’t want to sit there looking up at the android, seeing his broad frame looming up above him.

At this height, he’s an image of brown eyes, dark hair. Shaved clean, smiling politely. His face isn’t any better than his chest but at least Gavin’s not looking up anymore.

“Shouldn’t you be on duty, android?” The words come out slanted with annoyance, which is truly the least of his emotions at the moment. “Not wandering the place like a mutt.”

“Hank let me out,” he says. “You looked like you needed help.”

Gavin opens his mouth, prepared to spit some sort of rebuke—what is this thing implying? That he’s some sort of helpless thing? That any problems he has can be solved by him?

He closes it again. No use, really, spending his hard-earned free time on arguing with this thing. “Go… ah, I dunno. Get me a coffee.”

At least this will get rid of him.

….Except it doesn’t. The thing, the android, simply stands there. Looking over Gavin with its gaze. He’d dearly love to say that his eyes are dead and blank, glazed dark like fish-eyes, but no, they’ve somehow managed to program some sort of life and expression behind them. Like there’s more than a sea of blue goop and biomechs behind that synthetic skin.

It weirds him out.

“Well?”

“Are you alright?” The android tilts his head. “Your posture-”

“Is that what I told you to do, huh?”

It’s an almost disproportionate anger that he feels. First it asks him for help, and then it tries to… what? Psychoanalyze him?

“I am not obligated to follow your orders.” The android nods once. Throat bobbing up and down. It’s a small movement; but for whatever reason, it captivates him. Maybe because of how realistic it is—make them blink, make them twitch, hell, give them the ability to disobey orders.

But this? There’s no reason for it to exist besides the fact that they want to make them realistic. A punch in the gut; that’s what it is, another reminder that maybe one day, he’ll be walking down some city street and be unable to tell what’s human and what’s not.

It makes him want to lash out. To hit something, break something, slam a fist on a wall—or into a convenient subject standing right before him. His fingers twitch. Clenching.

The android stares. He—he?—steps away.

“...nevertheless, I will do you a favor.”

With that, he turns on his heel and walks away, leaving Gavin with an anger that he can’t quite deal with. Really, though, as he looks at the android’s retreating back, he can’t help but think that he wouldn’t have. Something about staring into those eyes, dark and liquid-brown. About the twitch of his adam’s apple.

He can’t be letting him become… anything further than a bot. No matter how human he seems; no matter whatever shaved-face they’ve plastered into a facade.

He’s coming back. A small plastic cup, almost dwarfed by his hand. There’s a jump in his eyebrows as he walks closer. Like he hasn’t been expecting Gavin to still be standing there dumbly, hands by his sides, waiting.

Hadn’t that been his original plan? To walk away while the bot was busy?

Wordlessly, he proffers the cup. Gavin takes it, despite himself. The transfer from hand-to-hand is awkward, and the android’s fingers fumble against his for a split second.

Fingers. Warm, soft. Human. It’s another shock out of a thousand. Another way that they’re bending technology into humanity, mixing the two until they’ll be indistinguishable from one another. If it was dark, if he didn’t know, if Gavin grabbed an arm or a hand or laid his palm on a forehead, he wouldn’t be able to tell.

A vague notion of it runs through his mind—dark room, warm skin. Not the android’s; simply a stranger—not that he’s had the time to spend time with many strangers in dark rooms.

He doesn’t thank the android. It doesn’t ask for one either. Simply regards him with those dark, shining eyes, head tilted slightly, like he’s looking through Gavin’s head and out the back. Gavin stares back. Words bubbling in his throat; shouted ones, what’re you looking at or get away.

“Connor!”

Hank’s voice. It breaks him out of his reverie; does the same for the bot. Connor, right. What he calls himself. What Hank calls him too.

Soft.

He turns and ambles away. Leaving Gavin with his small cup and his thoughts and the memory of that gaze, that skin, that throat.

Human. So close. Almost there, a hair’s breadth away.

Connor.

#detroit become human #dbh fanfic #dbh gavin reed #dbh connor #connor x gavin #reed80 #dbh

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hairasuntouchedaspartoftheamazon · 3 years

Text

Can They Read?: A Mechanisms Breakdown

Ashes: I want to say yes, as they are basically an immortal crime lord, and therefore obviously extremely intelligent. They believe big time in revenge and have the ability to wait centuries to get back at people as long as they have it recorded somewhere + organizing planet-wide crime rings does involve paperwork. However, crime bosses can always pay someone else to do their reading for them + most common forms of holding the written word are highly flammable so really this one goes 50/50.

Raphaella: Yes, as you need to read to do Science. (The difference between screwing around and Science is writing things down).

Nastya: Theoretically, yes. She had a tutor as a child and was presumably taught how to read, write, etc + she did study engineering manuals for awhile when she first came on the Aurora. But seeing as how the ship is her girlfriend and can just tell her what’s wrong and how to fix it, I firmly believe that Nastya has not read anything more involved than the back of the spcereal (space cereal) box in millennia.

Ivy: Again, I want to say yes, as she is literally an Archivist that lives in an enormous library and spends all her time holding a book. However, it is so much funnier if her mechanism brain just downloads/scans information and no actual reading occurs.

Marius: Feel like he would pretend he cannot for comedy purposes, but a man who takes psychoanalyzing notes of everyone he meets can probably read.

Brian: On one hand, he also has a mechanism brain so the downloading/scanning theory could also apply to him, BUT he seems like a nice boy who would relax with a book every so often. Also is the pilot, meaning he presumably has to look at readout screens? Can probably read.

The Toy Soldier: Absolutely can read, but regularly lies about what is written down if someone asks them to read it, as this is Jolly Good Fun and An Entertaining Way To Infuriate It’s Crewmates.

Tim: I’m gonna say no, as he joined the army pretty young from what I can see and also is...you know, not emotionally stable/def not able to stay still long enough to do anything not related to guns. Highly doubtful he paid attention in school if he went, I have a feeling Bertie was the brains of that operation.

Jonny: We all know this fucker cannot read.

#the mechanisms #mechanisms breakdown #sebastian speaks about space pirates #ASHES O'REILLY #raphaella la cognizi #nastya rasputina #ivy alexandria #baron marius von raum #drumbot brian #the toy soldier #gunpowder tim #jonny d'ville #the only ones who can read are most likely raphaella and marius everyone else im leaning towards a probable or definite no #ESPECIALLY JONNY THERE IS NO WAY THAT MAN CAN READ

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clairenatural · 3 years

Text

destiel, some sort of au, 1.4k of pre-marriage stress turned to fluff that I wrote at 4am. enjoy!

There’s a knock on the bathroom door, and Dean jerks his head up towards it.

Don’t be Cas, don’t be Cas, don’t be—

“Dean?” Cas calls.

Fuck.

He debates telling him to go away. He debates not answering. Neither will work.

“Sam send you?” He settles for instead, and he hates how shaky his voice sounds.

“Yes.”

“I told him not to.”

“I know. We decided I should come anyway.”

Dean almost laughs at that—at that absurd response to this absurd situation. It comes out more like a cough. He stares down at his dress pants, his shoes. They’re new. It’s all new.

When he speaks again, his voice is soft, and he refuses to look at the door. “What are we doing here, man?”

There’s a sigh from the other side. “Theoretically, we’re getting married, but—” a soft thump, as Cas leans against the wood, “—I suppose that’s really up to you.”

Dean grimaces. There’s no anger in his fiancé’s voice. No malice. Concern, maybe, but he’s doing a good job wrangling it back into the same even tone he uses with his panicked undergrads. Dean hates it, being talked to like some scared kid, but he is hiding in a bathroom at his own wedding, so. He suspects he deserves it.

“I’m sorry,” he mumbles, so quietly he’s not sure if Cas will hear him. For a long minute, the only response he gets is the swish of fabric as the other man slides down the door, the telltale clacking of dress shoes as he situates himself on the hardwood. Then—

“I love you,” Cas starts, and it’s so much more than Dean deserves at the moment that he suddenly feels like he might cry. “You know that, right?”

Dean blinks. “I—yeah. Yeah, of course I do.” He shifts, and suddenly the toilet seat is digging uncomfortably into his thighs. “I love you, too.”

“Good,” there’s another soft thump as Cas leans his head back against the door, and Dean hates how relieved he sounds. “Okay. So—” his voice is less steady, now, and a pang of guilt shoots through Dean’s chest. What is he doing. “If you don’t want to do this, we won’t.”

Dean had already pushed himself off the toilet seat, but now he freezes. “What?”

“We can go home, right now. We won’t get the deposits back, but I’m sure our guests would enjoy the free party, and we—”

“Wait,” Dean has crossed the room, now. “You’d do that for me?” There’s a piece of Cas’ coat peeking under the door frame. Dean stares at it. “And we’d—”

“Order pizza, and pretend it’s a normal Saturday, and talk about this in the morning.” It’s not the we’d be fine he was hoping for, but it’s better than he expected.

Dean sighs and turns, mirroring Cas in sliding down his own side of the door to settle on the tile floor. “You deserve so much better than that, man.”

He knows Cas is tilting his head. “Is that what this is about? What I deserve?”

Dean pauses. “No,” he lies.

“Okay. Is it about what you deserve?”

“Don’t psychoanalyze me,” Dean snaps, and then immediately feels like the scum of the Earth.

Cas’ weary sigh will haunt him for the rest of his days. “I’m not. I’m just—I want to understand.”

I want to understand why you’re hiding in a bathroom on our wedding day. Why you’re doing this to me. To us.

Yeah, Dean does too.

Before he can respond there’s a flurry of footsteps, followed by a rushed whisper and what sounds like gesturing before the footsteps recede.

“Sam?” he hazards a guess.

“He’s just worried.”

“He always is.” Dean pauses. “Are guests getting worried, too?”

“…Yes,” Cas answers slowly, and then too quickly. “But they don’t matter. This isn’t about them.”

Dean groans, pulls his knees up to his chest, and buries his face in his hands. “’Course they matter,” he grumbles into his palms. “That’s why we’re here,” by here he means the fancy mansion estate Naomi had wanted them to rent.

“Dean, you know I would have married you in a courthouse.” He sounds puzzled, now, which is at least a nice departure from exhausted/crushed/dangerously calm.

Dean does not know. “What?”

Cas hums. “Or in a roadside chapel. Or in one of those Vegas Elvis churches.”

He feels incredibly dumb for not knowing this.

Cas is still talking. “And I would have waited 5, 10 years.” He pauses, thinking. “20, even.”

Dean feels a little breathless. “You were serious, earlier? When you said…if I say no, we’ll go home. Just like that, everything’s cool?”

“Just like that,” Cas agrees. “Although ‘cool’ is a strong word.” At least he’s being honest. He takes a deep breath before continuing. “My point is, Dean, that I am already yours in every way that matters, and I will remain so for as long as you’ll have me. Wedding today or not.”

Dean groans and leans his head back against the door. “That simple, huh?” he grumbles, even as his brain is yelling yes, it is.

“I think that’s part of the point,” comes the reply, and there’s a smile in his voice for the first time in the conversation.

“...Me too,” Dean replies after a beat, and it’s as soft as his earlier apology but this time he knows Cas can hear him. “You gotta know that, Cas.”

“I do,” Cas confirms, and it’s less unsure than Dean was afraid it would be.

Dean starts to smile back but catches himself, instead dragging a hand across his face, because despite these warm fuzzies—“You’re still gonna regret this.” It’s a neutral remark. Like a fact.

He can almost hear the eye roll.

“You’ve been saying that for our entire relationship, and yet I am not the one hiding from our wedding in the bathroom,” Cas replies, and Dean would call him out for being a smartass if he didn’t have an irritatingly valid point.

“Yeah, but—” he starts a futile attempt to argue, but Cas cuts him off.

“I could sit here and list off all the reasons why I’m here—why I’m choosing to be here—but I have some very well thought-out vows on the subject—” Dean is suddenly acutely aware of the paper tucked into his own suit jacket “—and I’m prepared to spend the rest of our lives convincing you that you deserve me, and I deserve you, and we deserve us.”

And that…..that actually sounds pretty good.

Okay.

Okay, yeah.

He rolls this over in his head for a moment before nodding and preparing to stand, to apologize, to—something. But Cas obviously takes the silence as there being something (else) wrong, because after a few seconds of shuffling his fingers slide under the door.

He’s (awkwardly, as much as the tight space will allow) holding his engagement ring.

He took off his engagement ring, and now he’s giving it back, and Dean’s not sure what could have gone horribly wrong in those few seconds of silence but this is obviously the other shoe dropping, already¸ and—

“Will you marry me?” Cas asks, voice muffled from where his face is obviously pressed against the wood.

Dean freezes. He stares at the ring. He remembers buying it. He remembers giving it to Cas in the first place. And now he's hiding in the bathroom on their wedding day and his perfect dork of a fiancé, who he will never deserve but who loves him so much anyway, is...proposing back.

He picks it up and puts it on his own finger, and it looks out of place and it doesn’t fit right, but suddenly he’s grinning so much that he doesn’t care. He stands quickly and yanks the door open, then reaches down to pull his startled fiancé up off the floor and into his arms.

“Yes?” Cas asks, pushing back just enough to be able to breathe, and suddenly the whole weight of the situation hits Dean at once. His grin falters.

“Yes—yeah, of course. I’m giving you the ring back, obviously, but—Christ, Cas, I’m so sorry, I don’t—”

Cas puts a finger to his lips, cutting off the babbling. “Wedding first, apologies after.”

Dean nods. Cas lets his hand drop but Dean catches it, presses a kiss to his fingertips, and links it with his own. He takes a deep breath, lets it out slowly. Cas reaches out for his face with his free hand and smooths his thumb over Dean’s cheekbone.

“I love you,” he says, very seriously.

“I know,” Dean smiles, and it’s only a bit nervous. He risks leaning down to press a kiss to Cas’ forehead. “Come on." When he steps away he also steps forward, tugging Cas by the hand down the upstairs hallway. “Let’s go get married.”

#destiel #deancas #destiel fic #deancas fic #fic #truly i do not know what this is #i wrote it at 4am so ur getting it at 4am #my words #1k+ words

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scuttle-buttle · 3 years

Text

Chapter 11

WC: 2077

Rated: E

Chapter Tags: full on angst, discussions of emotional trauma, mild depictions of blood/gore, mentions of self h*rm & su*cide, mentions of child abuse, discussions of physical disabilities, institutionalization, some dialogue & plot canon to TV show, hurt/comfort

🧠

The rest of the conference went by much like the first day did. Both you and Laszlo bought a few books for your collections. An ease had settled over your conversations with the help of Sara and John's presence; you spoke more freely with each other. You tell yourself it is not because he's going soft on you or vice versa, but rather that you have found yourself in this imaginary bubble where you happen to get on well. It's inevitable that it will pop once you’re back at school and Laszlo will revert back to his usual callous state.

Laszlo. It still felt odd to think of him like that, rather than by his title. You couldn't lie, it gave you a sort of thrill. Even in your dreams you had only called him by his honorific. Thankfully you didn't have another dream after Friday. You couldn't escape the feeling that you'd said something incriminating in front of the man in question. So you chose to pretend it didn't happen.

Monday morning came and you headed to the train station. Once again he had secured a private cabin for the journey. This time you came prepared with a book since you had yet to replace your broken phone.

"Thank you again for inviting me to this, I really enjoyed myself. It was really nice of the department to foot my travel expenses, the hotel was really fancy. I may have helped myself to a mini-bottle or two," you joked.

"There is no need to worry about the department's finances; they were not involved."

You pause. He paid for you? Laszlo did say he would take care of the arrangements; but the four-star hotel, the private compartment train tickets, the admission to the conference, and every meal? Shit, that must have been a fortune, hundreds of dollars at least.

You don't know what to say, so you settle for an awkward "oh." A moment passes before you add "I appreciate that, um, I can pay you back. Might take some time but I can."

The professor is flippant in his reply. "There is no need, it was well spent for the research and knowledge acquired." He opens his book signaling the conversation is over.

You lick your lips. Fine then, I'll just consider it payment for emotional suffering and damages of the last eight weeks.

The first few hours of the journey were spent reading one of the new books you picked up at the convention. Occasionally you would peek over the pages at the professor. He was engrossed in his own selection; sometimes he would pause to write down a thought.

Around the seventh hour of your journey you had given up on reading anymore in favor of looking at the fields outside. The silence was comforting.

Laszlo had trouble concentrating on the book in his hand. He saw you as a conundrum. One minute you could be sociable and teasing with your comments, then next you were biting at his throat with your quick wit and fierce ideals. He decides that he wants to know what made you into who you are today. Now is as good a time as any.

His eyes on you cause a tingle up your spine but you ignore it. Laszlo breaks the silence; "may I ask a personal question?"

"You just did," you answer, still peering out of the large window. He huffed once, amused. At his following silence you face him. You raise your eyebrows to signal him to go on with his question. Curiosity grows at the thought of what he intends to ask.

"Twice now you have made implications of a traumatic past," he begins.

Bubble popped.

Interrupting, you snark "is this the part where you psychoanalyze me, doc? Because trust me, I've been through enough of that." You pick at the lint on your jeans.

Laszlo tries to choose his words more carefully the next time he speaks. "What I mean to say is, the first afternoon in the classroom where you defended that student you implied you had been witness to a trauma. You then displayed signs of anger and embarrassment before leaving prematurely. Yesterday you mentioned having entered a psychiatric facility. As an alienist I can't help but find myself curious about your experiences."

You slide your eyes to meet his from across the cabin. Your face is devoid of any emotion. "We all have our demons. Even you can't argue with that."

Your jaw clenches. Everyone had warned you. They all said he would try to worm his way into your head to figure you out. All the reviews, the gossip, everything. It was a big fat 'I told you so'. You give a pitiful laugh at the situation. "You know, everyone told me that you would pull this stunt."

He seems confused by your statement. "And what is that?"

"That you'd get inside my head and try to figure me all out or whatever. You already know I googled you beforehand, what everyone says about your methods. By now I assume you've done a little research yourself. I promise you there is nothing exciting here," you scoff and point to yourself.

"You would be correct in your assumption." You chew at your cheek as he starts. "I do know some of what happened in your past. Yet I also know that society likes to dilute the truth into something either more palatable, more entertaining, for people to consume greedily. What I want to know is what you have faced. How you have not allowed the experience to overcome you so much so that your humanity is erased like the characters I lecture on."

Eyes closing of their own volition you are thrown back in time to that night so many years ago. You didn't talk about it anymore. Bitsy knew of course, but that was the extent.

Laszlo waits. He knows this is likely to push you over the edge if your history with him means anything. Quite frankly, anyone would be tossed to their limit at his interrogation had they gone through what you had. John always told him that he needed to work on his bedside manner; that he had a habit of coming on too strong in his pursuit of learning the intricacies of the human mind. But your earlier comment about being sent to a so-called 'nuthouse' rubbed him the wrong way. It left a bad taste in his mouth. He needed to know. He needed to understand.

Laszlo can imagine the reprimand that he would receive from John and Sara for this. Just as he considers apologizing for his intrusion you open your eyes.

"She was fine. None of us suspected anything was wrong. I came home from having dinner with some… boy, and she had locked herself in the bathroom. She- she must have started over the sink and moved to sit on the side of the tub. She was hunched inside it when I got the door open. I pulled her out. Blood was… everywhere." Your voice is clinical as you explain.

"After, I shut down. So I checked myself into a psych ward a few days later when I couldn't get the feel of her blood off my hands. It's slippery, you know. And it smells. You wouldn't think so but it does." You clear your throat. "I did the therapy, took the meds they prescribed, all the standard treatments. Later I started watching true crime documentaries. I'd heard about exposure therapy so I figured the more I saw the gore, the less the image of my dead roommate would bother me. And it did help. The nightmares stopped after a while, I came back to school. I was better, just not the same.” You had watched the passing landscape as you explained. Turning to face him you speak again. “That's why those pictures didn't bother me. They weren't anything I hadn't seen before."

He contemplates you. The discovery and subsequent loss of your friend in this manner would no doubt cause lingering effects to your psyche. A stain that would forever remind you. "I offer my sincerest condolences. I do not presume to know what that would be like to experience, but I am glad you sought help afterwards. To make the choice to alleviate yourself of your own suffering where possible.”

As he says this he realizes that your anger towards the idea of being enslaved to unconscious impulse makes perfect sense. It explains why you focused so much energy on defending your belief in free will. That you have the power to choose how you carry your joy, your anger, your healing. It reminds him of how he held onto his own guilt and hurt, ignoring how it festered within him for so long. He feels as though he needs to share a piece of himself with you.

“I played piano as a child, quite well too. My mother hoped I would someday make a career of it. I vividly remember playing Mozart’s Concerto for Piano No. 20 in D Minor at a holiday party when I was seven years old. It was my favorite to play.... It requires two hands." You finally look at him. "My father...” He pauses to gather himself.

Now it is the doctor that cannot meet your eyes. As you listen you feel your confusion grow. How could he have been a talented pianist if he only had full use of his left hand? Unless..., the realization dawns on you just as he continues, his words slow.

“My father had two sides. One loving and the other brutal, the two often coexisting. It was something as trivial as putting me to bed, I recall... A game of tug of war. We were laughing…” He inhales a sharp breath. Already you can feel the tears begin to blur your vision. “I don't remember if he was drunk or if I said something that offended him. He must have pulled my arm behind my back.” Laszlo exhales shakily. “In small children, fractures can often affect…” he trails off, unable to finish. You can hear how he barely holds himself together.

Your heart aches for the broken man that sits in front of you. He never let on how much his arm bothered him, at least not within your presence. Suddenly you don’t see him as this rude, insufferable, obsessive man, but instead as someone that spends his life trying to protect himself. He projects his own anger and hurt so that he may, just for a minute, forget about his own demons. He wants to help others even when he feels he cannot bear to help himself.

But unlike you, he has to live with the physical reminder of his past every day of his life.

You stand and move to sit on his right side. Before allowing yourself to think too much of your actions, you place your hand atop his own, curling your fingers around his palm and squeezing delicately. You don’t bother wiping away the tears on your cheeks. “I’m so sorry, Laszlo;” the whisper is barely heard above the sound of the train. A second passes where you fear you have overstepped and offended him by touching the affected limb. When his thumb tightens against the backs of your fingers you know he is not. He holds you in place.

“You asked me how I kept my humanity. How does anyone really? We learn to take what we get and we carry it in a bag. Sometimes you have to drag the damn thing behind you. But eventually the weight gets less and less if you allow yourself to move forward, even if it’s still there with you all the time. I dealt with what happened years ago and it does still haunt me. It’s easier now than it was, but… I- I suppose I’ve learned from you too. Sitting in those lectures and hearing you talk. We can either let it haunt us for the rest of our lives… or we can accept it… and use the memory of our pain to help ourselves and others.”

“I’m not sure the choice is entirely in our hands.” His tone is mournful.

You turn to smile at him through your tears. His own eyes are bloodshot. “I disagree. If it weren’t, if we didn’t have the freedom to choose that, we’d all be murderers.”

Tag list

@hardlyinteresting @lorna-d-m @livvyshmiv @somethingthatsaysbubbles @greeneyedblondie44 @unbeatablecurlgirl @apparrio @marchingicenotes7 @anteroom-of-death @bruhidaniel @lemairepstuff @thehuiabird @zemosimp05 @alindeluce @iamnotthecatladynextdoor @laura-naruto-fan1998 @trelaney @boneheadduluc @i-am-dead-inside-666 @fictionlandslanddreams

#the interpretation of dreams #laszlo kreizler x reader #laszlo x reader #laszlo kreizler #the alienist #the alienist angel of darkness #daniel brühl #daniel bruhl #laszlo kreizler fanfic #laszlo kreizler daniel bruhl #scuttle-buttle #tw self harm #tw suicude #tw child abuse

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motherfuckingbrad · 2 years

Note

I’m pretty sure David took psychology or family psychology or something as a minor to his business degree in uni because he projects his childhood trauma into Ian and Poppy and kinda psychoanalyses others (most of it being bullshhht) kinda reminds me of Britta “as a licensed psychology major” Perry

Also def took a bunch of philosophy/sociology courses because 🌟 brene brown 🌟

ok YES DAVID AND BRITTA WOULD BE BFFS IM CALLING IT

omg now i NEED a fic where the entire mq gang meets the entire community gang because could you IMAGINE like

britta and david just psychoanalyze each other but neither is rlly listening to what the other says because they’re too focused on their own epiphanies so they just go on and on without ever actually coming to any conclusions and both feeling super satisfied about themselves

and troy and poppy would get along so well because they’re both immature as anything so they’d just play video games and eat candy in the basement and every once and a while troy would get mad that poppy was winning and ask how she knew so much and poppy would say “u know i made this entire game right?” and then troy would fangirl so hard because omfg she MADE THE GAME and can she make him an inspector spacetime game to play w abed or a kickpuncher game to beat jeff at or a levar burton reading rainbow game just for himself or-

and then obv jeff and ian would hang out but both would be too cool to actually get to know the other so they’d stand around all day trying to prove that they’re better than the other one and literally no one would give a single shit as they try to prove who’s taller than who and who wears sunglasses better or has better abs or has worse father trauma

(the dean would just follow them around and feed into it, telling each of them that the other still thinks they’re better because it means they’ll take their shirts off or try harder to convince the dean they’re better <3 and he’s never seen jeff jealous and vying for his attention before)

and then shirley would go hang out with sue because she would want a tour of the place and sue seems very nice but also has some sweetly worded insults/gossip about everyone in the office that shirley loves to hear and shirley would fill her in on all the drama with her study group and somehow michelle would eventually also be there and shirley and michelle and sue can all trade advice/experience on what it’s like to be a hardworking woman in business

and cw and pierce can be racist and out of touch together

and annie would float around because at first dana and rachel want to show her around and get to know her but annie catches sight of brad (mean official man in some position of authority so kind of her type) and flirts w him, which then leads jo to yell “BACK OFF HE HAS NO NEED FOR GOODY-TWO-SHOES GIRLS, HES A SHARK HE WILL RIP YOUR PERFECT LIP GLOSSED FACE APART” and then annie spends the rest of the afternoon showing jo how she can be a strong woman without yelling and threatening everyone all the time

abed films everything because it’s a crossover episode what else is he supposed to do

anyway i’m literally obsessed with this idea now thank you op i love you

#lots of love for the asks tonight #i literally love everyone who sends them though because i have so many thoughts and you guys are so CREATIVE #also i am 100% a lesbiannie and gaybrad truther so i know the her being into him thing doesn’t 100% make sense #but she is attracted to power #and comphet exists #and brad puts up w it because honestly these are just pathetic people from a pathetic community college he’ll indulge them to appease david #but he still has work to do #and he doesn’t know why the familiar looking kid with the camera keeps following him around #and getting far away shots of him smiling fondly when his friends sorry coworkers have a good time with these people #<3 #community #mythic quest #community x mythic quest crossover #actually in love with this concept now #ok long ass tags sorry #also i included pierce purely for the cw thing and for the record i like cw more than pierce but i’m not crazy abt him either tbh #also it’s just the original seven and the dean sorry frankie

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volcanolotus · 2 years

Note

answer ALL of the hyperfix asks for mappy. if you wish.you can skip any you want.but heres an excuse to say so many words

OMG OK SO SINCE I ALREADY ANSWERED SOME OF THE QUESTIONS HERE’S A LINK TO THOSE IF YOU’RE INTERESTED

AS FOR THE REST

📃 what is the plot of your hyperfixation? and is it a movie, game, show, etc?

OK. The plot of shiftylook mappy is.

Mappy loses his job as a cop because of some Goro related shenanigans leading to him destroying priceless artwork. So he needs a new job. but guess what? GORO is back and he’s got a job opportunity and an opportunity for Mappy to snatch up because he IMMEDIATELY lets Mappy know that he’s in the process of committing crimes. so Mappy takes the job because he sooooooo badly wants to be the one to put Goro in jail. he’s obsessed with the idea, frankly. So he spends the series working as a security guard and finding out what Goro’s up to.

✨ what draws you towards your hyperfixation? what is interesting about it?

I Love Psychoanalyzing Mappy. I think if he met me and i explained his brain to him he’d be upset. In general though, the comedy never fails to get me, and the improv feel of the show’s dialogue is a nice change of pace from like everything else. I love the way Kris and Scott bounce off each other and that really shines in episode 4 when it’s just Dig Dug and Mappy in the desert. and just about any scene with just the two of them. best buds!!!!!!

🎥 do you have any favorite scenes from your hyperfixation?

WHERE DO I FUCKING BEGIN.

oh my god. I have a near 17 minute long compilation of scenes that live in my head rent free but some of my favorites are (in no order)

The scene where Goro tries to insult Mappy with the world’s worst insult and Mappy’s trying to put into words why the insult sucks but then gives up.

The scene right before that where sky kid is Lying Very Terribly about being at the gym

“Attention all Nyamco Employees..................................... Named Mappy. Attention all Nyamco employees named Mappy if your name is Mappy please report to Goro’s office immediately. If your name is not Mappy you are not required to report to Goro’s office at this time. Please Mappys only.”

Dig Dug lifting his shirt to reveal a 6 pack, to which Mappy goes “oo...”

“Prince OUT.”

“Hey you prince out too, my man.”

“....................You’re an idiot............”

“Maybe i should fire you.”

“Yeah maybe you should.” (THIS IS EPISODE THREE AND MAPPY’S ALREADY HAD ENOUGH)

“Look I didn’t hire you to pry into my affairs.”

“Actually you DID hire me to pry into your affairs.”

“... That’s a completely DIFFERENT set of affairs.”

The entire scene in episode 7 where Mappy’s prodding at Goro about how he said that he was his best friend, which ends with Goro saying I love you, and refusing to acknowledge or elaborate upon questioning.

Dig Dug laughing at a man who literally just died because he’s high key salty that Goro allowed him to dig for buried treasure and not Dig Dug, to which Mappy shakes his head disapprovingly the entire trip back to Goro’s office.

Tarosuke’s entire appearance.

Goro testifying against HIMSELF in a court of law.

Sky Kid dropping an F bomb in court

Goro’s ending speech, concluding with him and Mappy laughing maniacally together and dig dug falling over lifelessly.

💔 tell us about one of your LEAST favorite characters and why you dislike them.

Richard and Keith are so annoying. I literally can’t stand they ugly asses. but they do make for good comedy moments in my head unfortunately

💎 are there any fun facts or trivia that you would like to share?

Two livestream interviews came out recently, and this isn’t really a fun fact but Kris just talking sounds SO MUCH like Mappy that i wanna make animatics of the livestreams just for funsies.

Another fun fact is that one of the pieces of royalty free songs used is also used in the dance recital dvd i have, but that’s only relevant to me personally.

Instead of calling him Taizo Hori, they opted for Dig Dug’s full name to be Diglas D Duglas, which i’ve seen like 65 spelling variations of.

There are some expressions Goro makes that never reappear in later episodes and i wish they appeared more.

We could have had it all.

the nyamco office building is based on the real life namco building! Furthermore, “Nyamco” is Goro’s original name. He’s only called Goro in the localization.

💢 what do you NOT like about your hyperfixation? is there something you would want to change about it?

Not to be cheesy but i don’t like that it ends.

... Ok. It’s actually good that it ended but it ended so EARLY. i can tell they wanted to do more and gradually pan out with more details of Goro’s plan being uncovered, but unfortunately if you don’t know any better it feels rushed and you won’t understand why that is.

I ALSO DON’T LIKE HOW BATSHIT INSANE THE LORE IS DEPENDING ON WHAT YOU DECIDE TO TAKE SERIOUSLY.. Me and my friends spent hours trying to figure out where Mappy took place and several details contradicted each other. There was also The Universe Debacle, which took a total of 5 pages to explain. Except i’m lying because that was really fun i love overthinking. But it WAS a lot. Shiftylook is not known for its consistency.

I don’t like the way they draw Mappy’s head. he looks like undertale jerry. fidget spinner lookin ass.

I wish the prince appeared more, also.

#shiftylook #mappy #mags responds #hi im mental

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fruitcoops · 3 years

Note

Have you ever seen where they get kids to ask the players tough questions and there all dress up and have fake beards and stuff. Maybe you could do that with Jules and Katie asking the team all these really hard questions?????

Thank you for giving me an excuse to spend an hour and a half watching adorable kids ask questions and melt the hearts of celebrities. You’re my hero. There are no fake beards here, but I hope you enjoy it anyway! Sweater Weather characters belong to the incredible @lumosinlove!

“These chairs are so small,” James said as he scooted closer to the table. He nearly knocked Talker over with his elbow as the four of them squeezed in; the two kids on the other side shared a look.

“Ready, everyone?” Dorcas asked. When she received six thumbs up, she turned to the camera with a cheerful smile. “Hello, Lions fans, and welcome to Lion Pride! We have a couple of very special guests today to do the introductions.”

“Hello! I’m Katie and I’m six!” She held up six fingers and all four hockey players melted a little bit.

“I’m Julian, and I’m ten.” He waved, a little shy.

Dorcas smiled. “And how are you two related to our favorite Lions?”

Katie lit up and pointed behind the camera. “That’s my dad!”

There was a chuckle in the background. “Can you tell them my name, mon chou?”

“Pascal Dumais, but everyone calls you Dumo.” She swung her legs and her tulle skirt fluffed out.

“Remus Lupin is my older brother,” Jules said with a grin. “But Finn thought he was my dad.”

“It was an honest mistake!” Finn protested around a laugh. “Cut me some slack, Little Loops!”

“Do you want to do the intros for the guys, too?” Dorcas asked. Katie tugged on Jules’ sleeve.

“Can I go first?” she whispered. When he nodded, she hopped out of her chair and ran to the other side of the table, tapping each player on the shoulder. “This is Pots, Talker, Harzy, and Sirius.”

“Aw, man, I didn’t get to do any of them,” Jules pouted.

“You can ask the first question,” Dorcas said, hiding her smile behind her clipboard. “A quick reminder for our Lions: if you refuse to answer any of these, it means you hate children. Take it away, Jules!”

“Okay.” He cleared his throat and looked across the table with a solemn expression. “How many sticks have each of you broken?”

“Oh, that’s a tough one,” James mused. “A lot, but not always on purpose.”

“I haven’t broken that many,” Talker said. “I’ve forgotten to return quite a few to the rink after games, though. I think I have about five in my trunk that I keep meaning to put back.”

“Maybe…ten? Fifteen?” Finn rested his chin on his hand. “I should start a tally board.”

“Too many,” Sirius laughed. “I need to be more careful.”

Katie wiggled in her seat as she picked up the question card. “Why do you swear so much?”

Matching expressions of shock painted all four players’ faces. “Have we sworn in front of you?” Finn asked in a small voice.

“Yeah.”

“Mon dieu, I’m the worst person on earth,” Sirius murmured as Talker leaned his forehead on the table.

James opened and closed his mouth a couple times before answering. “Uh. Well. I don’t know, Katie. Instead of answering, I’m going to take this time to personally apologize to you and your dad, who is laughing his a—his rear end off in the back, as well as promising to form better habits.”

“If you could be any superhero, who would it be?” Jules asked, seemingly unfazed by the previous question. Wordlessly, Sirius gestured to his Captain America t-shirt.

“Spiderman,” Finn said without hesitation. “He’s the coolest.”

James unzipped his jacket to reveal a Superman shirt. “We didn’t coordinate this,” he said, tilting his head toward Sirius. “But yeah, Superman’s the best.”

Talker thought for a moment. “I really like Hawkeye. Are we talking Marvel or DC here?”

“Anything.”

“Anything? Hmm. I’m going to go with the Flash, then.”

“Nice.” Jules reached over to give him a high-five.

“I got Jules’ approval, everyone else can go home.”

“What’s your greatest fear?” Katie asked, still swinging her legs.

The table went silent. Sirius turned to Dorcas. “Is this the plan? Get us rolling with fun stuff and then give the hard ones to the five-year-old in a princess dress?”

“Yeah, pretty much.”

“Cool. Well, munchkin, I don’t like bugs and I’m not a huge fan of the dark.”

“Vegetables,” Finn said sagely, which sent both kids into a fit of giggles and made all the adults break into sunny smiles. “God, you guys are cute.”

“Pomeranians freak me out,” Talker answered once they had calmed down a bit. “They have those tiny little eyes and sharp teeth.”

James shrugged. “I’m not a fan of heights.”

“I thought you wanted to be Superman?” Jules frowned. “He flies all the time.”

“I think I’d be less afraid of heights if I knew I could fly.”

“So you’re afraid of falling, not heights.”

James looked to the camera. “And now I’m getting psychoanalyzed by a ten-year-old. Uh, yeah buddy, I guess so.”

“Hmm.” Jules looked back to the question card. “Who would win in a fight, you or our moms?”

“Your moms,” Talker said immediately as the others nodded. “No contest.”

“How would we even get in that situation?” Sirius asked. “What the did we do to make the nicest women in the world that mad?”

“Stole brownies,” Katie said with great gravity for one so young. “Mom says you four are the worst about it.”

“Mom wouldn’t even have to fight you.” Jules cocked his head to the side. “I feel like she could just give you a disappointed look and that would be enough. Katie, your turn.”

“Yay!” She brightened again. “What is your favorite cereal?”

Sirius smiled. “Fruit Loops.”

“Cheerios,” Talker said. “They’re good for you physically and emotionally.”

“I’m with Talkie on this one,” James agreed.

Finn gave them all disappointed looks. “You’re so old. Mine’s Lucky Charms.”

“Okay, Leprechaun Boy,” James snorted. Finn reached over and smacked the back of his head. “Hey!”

“Do you ever play hockey at home?” Jules asked. “I feel like Sirius doesn’t have to answer this one since it’s so obvious.”

Finn laughed. “Does tapping a puck around on the carpet with brooms counts?”

“Yeah, that counts.”

“Then yeah, sometimes.”

“I have no space in my apartment to play hockey,” Talker said. “Though I plan on moving someday and then the answer will be yes.”

“I made a rink in my backyard.” James smiled slightly. “Lily likes to skate sometimes while I run drills.”

“My turn, my turn!” Katie scooted her chair closer. “Okay. Out of everyone on the team, what two people would you take with you on a dessert island?”

“Desert,” Jules corrected quietly.

“Desert island. Are there deserts on islands?”

“I think they mean like super sandy beaches with no people on them.”

“Oooooohhh.”

James mouthed a thank you to Dorcas, who gave him a thumbs-up in return. The other three looked at the kids with unbearable softness. “Well, I’d feel awful if I took your dad with me, so I think I’m going to go with Finn and maybe Kasey. We’d have a blast.”

“Nice, dude.” Finn fist-bumped him. “Unfortunately for you, my choices are going to be Leo and Logan, since I already know we could live together without starting a war on the third day.”

Sirius thought for a second. “I think Nado would actually be able to survive on a desert island, so I’ll bring him along, and for the second one…maybe Kasey? Yeah, Kasey’s cool.”

In the ensuing silence, Jules gave him a significant look. “Aren’t you forgetting someone?”

“You’re not on the t—” The realization hit him like a truck; his eyes went wide and he slumped in his seat as the others burst out laughing. “Oh no. Oh, no, no, no.”

“Your own fiancé.”

“Please don’t tell him.”

“He’s gonna laugh so hard,” Jules cackled, leaning back in his chair. Even the camera crew was losing it in the background. Dorcas had to step out of frame. “You’re never going to live it down.”

“Well, the first person I would bring with me is Remus Lupin, because he’s read a lot of books and definitely knows how to survive on a desert island,” Talker said around his snickering. “And then I’d bring Cap, because God knows that would get entertaining after Loops finds out about this. The sarcasm would be off the charts.”

“Okay, next question.” Dorcas came back into view, still grinning. “Jules, go for it.”

“Can I ask Katie’s question again so Sirius can give a better answer?” he asked gleefully. Dorcas hesitated, then shook her head. “Bummer. What was cool when you were young that isn’t cool now?”

“When?” Finn looked scandalized. “I’m 24!”

“Yeah, and?”

“Ugh. Um, maybe Furbies? People were really into Furbies when I was in high school, though I can’t say I’m sorry to see them go out of style.”

James bit his lip in thought. “Tamagotchis.”

“I loved those things!” Talker said excitedly. “My sisters and I used to go nuts with those things!”

Sirius smiled. “Lite Brites.”

Finn’s eyes went wide. “I forgot about those!”

“Regulus and I each had one and we loved them. That was the only thing we agreed on and we used to sit—” He paused for a second to laugh. “—we used to sit in the middle of the ice rink in the backyard, still in our skates and everything, and do Lite Brites for literal hours.”

“That’s so cute, oh my god.” Talker shook his head. “What a nostalgia trip.”

Katie knelt on her seat and rested her arms on the table. “Who skates faster, you or me?”

“You,” all four answered in unison.

Jules rolled his eyes, but he was clearly hiding a smile. “How many push ups can you do?”

“How many can you do?” James countered. A flash of competition lit on Jules’ face and all the guys grinned. “Uh-oh, there’s the Lupin glare.”

“How about we have a little competition?” Dorcas suggested. “See how many everyone can do in thirty seconds?”

“Absolutely,” Finn said. The four of them had a little bit of trouble getting their knees out from under the kid-sized table, but eventually they succeeded and gathered in the middle of the room. “Katie, are you joining us?”

She smiled innocently. “No, I know I’d win.”

“Get ready.” Dorcas pulled her phone out as they knelt. “On your marks, get set, go!”

The guys went easy on Jules from the outset, but they made it look like those pushups were the hardest exercise they had ever done in their lives. Talker took a second to dramatically wipe his forehead and James’ wheezing was almost comical; Jules, however, was giving it his best shot. When the timer finally went off, Finn collapsed with a groan. “I forfeit.”

“Did I win?” Jules panted, pushing his hair out of his eyes.

“You did, congratulations!” Dorcas put her timer away and winked at the camera as they headed back to the table. “Great job, everyone. Katie, your turn.”

“Do you live in a mansion?”

“I live in an apartment,” Finn said.

“Same.”

Sirius shook his head. “My house might be big, but it’s not a mansion.”

“Does a two-story house count as a mansion?” James asked. “No? Then no, I don’t.”

“Who is your least favorite person on the team and why?” Jules turned to Sirius with raised eyebrows. “Are we going to have another desert island problem?”

Sirius threw his hands in the air, speechless, as the other three cracked up. “Jules, can I adopt you?” James begged around his laughter. “Please?”

“You’ll have to fight my mom for that, I think.”

“My least favorite person on the team is James Potter,” Sirius sighed. “Not the person I’m getting married to.”

“We could get married. Lily might mind, though.”

“Full offense, but I know way too much about you to ever consider that.”

James ruffled his hair and turned back to the kids. “My least favorite person on the team is Remus Lupin, because he ran me over in practice the other day.”

Finn side-eyed him. “Didn’t you trip him after he stole the puck from you?”

“He ran me over.”

“Sure, Pots. Um, my least favorite is Kasey Winter. He threw ice at me while we were in the ice baths.”

“Logan took my Gatorade last week and hid it all over the rink,” Talker said. “I’ll never forgive him for such a crime.”

“Oh, I like this one!” Katie exclaimed as she looked at her card. “What’s the best birthday party you’ve ever had?”

“My tenth birthday was at Red Robin and I got a Power Ranger outfit.” Talker grinned. “I was the coolest kid on the block.”

“My eighteenth birthday was pretty fun,” Finn said. “There was a bouncy house and Alex almost broke it because we were jumping too hard.”

“Does it have to be my birthday?” James asked. “Because my son’s first birthday party was awesome.”

“Why?”

“He threw cake in Sirius’ face and a food fight broke out in the backyard.”

“That was a pretty great day,” Sirius agreed. “My last birthday party was my favorite.”

“You spent the night with us!” Katie said happily.

“I did, yeah,” he laughed. “And I had a really good time.”

Jules perked up when he read the next question. “I love this one! Do you have a lucky pair of underwear?”

“Yes.”

“Yeah, totally.”

“Of course I do.”

“Is there a superstition I don’t have?”

Jules looked especially pleased with those answers as Katie picked up her card. “This is the last one,” she warned. “And it’s super important and super hard. What kind of dog would you be and why? You can take your time, I don’t mind.”

“Thank you, Katie, we’ll need it,” Talker said as he desperately tried to contain his smile. “I’ll go first, if nobody minds. I would be a border collie because one, I love them; two, they have a lot of energy; and three, they love making friends.”

“That’s a good one,” she said seriously. “They’re also very soft.”

“Yes, they are.”

Once Finn managed to suppress his quiet laughter, he raised his hand. “Can I go next?” Katie nodded. “I’d be an Irish setter. They have red hair and they’re really affectionate. Plus, I met one the other day at the park and haven’t stopped thinking about him.”

“This was a tough question, Katie, but I think I’m going to go with a golden retriever,” James said after a moment. “They’re good family dogs and they like to be on the ice with those big ol’ paws.”

“That’s what I was going to say!” She beamed at him. “Sirius, you don’t have to go. I already know what you’d be.”

He raised his eyebrows, looking highly amused. “Do you now? Can everyone else know, too?”

“Well, it’s obvious,” she said. “You’d be Hattie. She looks just like you and she gives the best hugs.”

A small puff of air left Sirius’ lungs and he blinked as James reached over and patted his shoulder. “Oh. Okay.”

“That wraps us up,” Dorcas said, looking between them with a soft smile. “Any closing statements from our guest stars?”

“Ready?” Jules muttered to Katie, who nodded rapidly. “On three. One, two, three!”

“Go Lions!” they shouted in unison with matching grins. The camera crew cheered and the players applauded, all laughing.

“Thank you for tuning in, everyone! Remember to like and subscribe for more content.”

227 notes · View notes

edie-k · 3 years

Text

Greener Pastures (Lavender Brown/Mystery Character, Romione, Hinny, Deamus, PG-13)

Title: Greener Pastures

Pairing: Lavender Brown/Mystery Character, Romione, Hinny, Deamus, Past Lavender/Ron, Past Lavender/Seamus

Rating: PG-13 for language

Summary: At Harry and Ginny's engagement party, Lavender bemoans her single status to a mystery man.

Author's Note: Well, here's an obscure ship for you. Thanks to @adenei for her feedback and kind words!

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

“I think that proves that for all the complaining I’ve done, Harry, I mean it when I say you are the only one I thought was good enough for my sister,” Ron said from the front of the room, to a chorus of laughter. “So let’s raise a glass to the newly engaged couple!”

From her seat at the bar, Lavender made a face and threw back the remaining contents of her tumblr. Parvati, who was seated next to her, joined the crowd in applauding and cheering Harry and Ginny.

Click below to read more or read at AO3

“That was a nice speech,” commented Parvati.

“Oh, just the best,” muttered Lavender, trying to catch the bartender’s eye.

Parvati shook her head. “I just spotted Adam’s sister. I wanted to ask her about what the expectations are for dress code and stuff at his grandmother’s. All Adam said when I asked him was ‘Whatever’s fine.’ We’re going abroad to meet an entire side of your family I have never met in all the time we’ve been together and you’re telling me whatever is fine.”

“Mmm hmm,” Lavender said, still trying to signal for a drink.

“Are you going to be okay if I-”

“Yes, yes,” said Lavender, sighing. “I’m fine. Sorry if I’m being a drag. Just… that news earlier and then all this… happiness. Go get the dish from Mara so we can go shopping tomorrow.”

Parvati squeezed her friend’s arm before hopping off the stool and wading through the crowd to find Mara. The bartender finally made his way over to her and began to mix her another drink without a word.

At least Adam was out of town on business for the weekend so Lavender didn’t have to third wheel with her best friend and her boyfriend. Because that would have been the only thing more depressing than going to an engagement party with your platonic best friend.

The bartender nudged the glass back to her and she nodded her head in thanks as he made his way back down the bar.

“Is this seat taken?”

Lavender glanced up and met the gaze of a man she’d never seen before.

“Uh, no, be my guest,” she said. “Although be warned that I am shitty company.”

The man chuckled as he sat down on the stool. “I highly doubt that but I’m game to find out.”

Lavender looked at him again. She didn’t recognize him, which was shocking because even though the venue was full, Lavender had thought she would know everyone here. Harry and Ginny were obviously incredibly popular so they had kept tight controls on who was included on the guest list.

The man signaled for the bartender and Lavender took the opportunity to give him a once over. The guy was huge - not in an overweight or bodybuilder type way. He was just tall and solid. Other than her first boyfriend, her preference was tall guys. She was 5”8’ herself and preferred to wear heels when she could so aesthetically, it was nice for her companion to have some height. Nice eyes, cute face. He had dark blond hair and was dressed in a dark blue Muggle button down shirt and black trousers with no robes. Since the war had ended, Muggle style had become popular with the wizards in her age group. Harry, who was raised by Muggles, was always more comfortable in that style of clothing and Ron, who she knew was dressed primarily by Hermione and Hermione’s mum, followed suit. And whatever that little Trio did, everyone else did and for Merlin’s sake, Ron Weasley was now a fucking fashion icon. Lavender took a big swig of her drink.

“It’s a nice party,” said the man. Lavender nodded as the bartender approached. “I’ll have whatever she’s having.”

The bartender made another drink before placing it in front of the man. He went to reach for his pocket when Lavender noticed a look of panic cross his face. Before she could say anything, the bartender waved him away. “Mr. Potter has the tab covered tonight.”

“Well,” he said, his face relaxed again. He turned back to Lavender. “Should we follow Red’s instructions and toast the happy couple?” The two clinked glasses. “It was a nice speech.”

Lavender snorted.

“You disagree?”

“I’d have thought his wife wrote it for him but there was too much swearing for her to have had a hand,” Lavender said. Then she wiped the palms of her hands down her face. “Ugh, ignore me. It actually was a very touching and funny speech. I’m just in an ugly mood and I have a bit of a history with Ron so I’m being mean for no reason.”

“You dated him?” the man guessed. She nodded. “Huh, he said in the speech that he’d loved his wife since he was 13.”

“And I dated him when we were 16 so…”

“Hence the ugliness,” finished the man.

“Hence the ugliness,” Lavender repeated. “I’m over it, really. Hermione and I shared a room for six years and are better friends now than we ever were at school. As for Ron, that was just some stupid school kid bullshit on both our parts. It’s more that I didn’t realize that my only opportunity to find love was going to be at Hogwarts. If I had known that, I’d have made better choices or… maybe taken Arithmancy to secure a better paying job to support my lonely life.”

“What do you mean?” the man asked.

“Everyone I know, they’re married or engaged or about to be engaged to the person that they dated at Hogwarts. Harry and Ginny dated at school, Neville and Hannah somehow started to date during our last year during the war. My best friend Parvati and her boyfriend dated our sixth year at Hogwarts and then he fled with his Muggle family overseas but they started right back up again when he came back to England. See that girl over there, the pregnant one?”

The man nodded.

“That’s Parvati’s sister. That’s her second kid cooking. She’s married to her prefect partner, Anthony. I guess technically, Ron and Hermione didn’t date at Hogwarts but -”

“He’s loved her since he was 13,” the man said amused.

“Yeah. I’m the only one that couldn’t make it out with a relationship intact.” she moaned, taking another drink.

“I’m sure that’s not true.”

Lavender took another long drink and contemplated his statement. “You know what? You’re right. Ginny, she also had a relationship that didn’t work out. Do you see that tall bloke over in the corner that she’s talking to?”

The man glanced in the direction Lavender was referring to. “Uh, yeah.”

“That’s Dean. He was the guy that Ginny dated before Harry. Now, do you see that cute little Irishman standing next to Dean?”

The man nodded.

“That’s Seamus. He was my ex-boyfriend before Ron. And now he’s Dean’s husband. Met in school, by the way.”

“Oh,” said the man, taken aback.

Lavender narrowed her eyes. “Do you have a problem with that? Because despite the fact that Seamus is just one more example of my inability to keep a boyfriend, I will defend those men and their amazing relationship to the death from any bigot that threatens it.”

“No, no!” the man sputtered. “I’m just… I went to an all-boys school and I knew gay guys but they all hid it and I’m just not used to people being open about it. It’s fine - more than fine. Good for them! I mean, hey, they found each other and are leaving more beautiful women for the rest of us, right?”

“Merlin, I wish I could find a beautiful woman,” Lavender moaned, burying her face in her hands. The bartender seemed to take this as a signal that she needed another drink and provided her with a refill.

“Oh, are you… interested in women?” she heard him ask.

“No,” she moaned. “You must think I’m insane.” Lavender put both her hands on the man’s arm that was closest to her. “I promise that I am not hung up on some school romance from five years ago. It’s just that, if you knew Seamus or Ron at Hogwarts… did you know Seamus or Ron at Hogwarts?”

The man shook his head.

“Okay, so if you knew them, you would know that they were both totally immature prats. After I broke up with Seamus, I thought he was the worst boyfriend ever. He was always running off to spend time with his mates, talking about Quidditch, no interest in spending time with me, dumb jokes. But then, then I dated Ron, who was even worse than him. The only thing he wanted to do with me was snog and I think that was some weird power move with Hermione or his sister… who knows. I have to be way more drunk to psychoanalyze Ron Weasley. Anyway, the last month we were together, he didn’t even try to hide the fact that he wanted to ditch me for Hermione but was just too much of a coward. And yet somehow, both of those idiots ended up married before me! And it’s not like they got married to some random person that they knocked up after a one night stand. Ron eloped with his wonderful, talented, brilliant best friend that he was in love with all through school and the entire time we were dating and Seamus… oh for Godric’s sake.”

Lavender paused in her tirade for a moment. “Seamus also married his wonderful, talented, brilliant best friend that he was probably in love with all through school AND the entire time we were dating. How am I just realizing that?” Lavender groaned, banging her head on the bar.

“Can wizards knock up other wizards?” asked the man. Lavender looked up at him and burst into laughter.

“Oh, thank you for that,” she giggled. “I was spiralling.”

“Uh, yeah, no worries,” said the man, shifting in his seat.

“It’s just that this dating stuff is really hard. The wizarding world is so small, you know? I think it’s why everyone locks in with their soulmate at school, ” Lavender commiserated.

“Have you ever considered dating like, outside the wizarding world?” the man asked.

Lavender shook her head. “How could I? It’s tough enough here. After all the Prophet spotlights on battle injuries and such, everyone knows how I got all these awful scars on my face but it still takes a certain type of man to look past them. And I’m sure there are Muggles that aren't shallow about them either but they would ask how I got them. How would I explain them to a Muggle? I can’t just say ‘Oh during a war at my school, a werewolf tried to rip me to shreds. But don’t worry, I’m not a werewolf although I have some side effects from it.’ They’d think I was insane.”

“Uh, yeah, that does sound a bit… daunting,” the man admitted, looking a bit pale.

“I mean, I’m still a catch. I’m funny, I have a great rack, I make excellent scones, and I’m amazing in bed.” At that comment, she heard the man next to her choke a little and she stifled a smile to continue on. “And even if I could get away with not explaining it to a man, once I meet his family, there’s no way. In my experience, mothers are always trying to find a reason to hate the woman that’s dating their special baby boy. I can’t imagine a Muggle mother taking very kindly to a literal witch with werewolf scars.”

“Yes,” sighed the man before giving a little chuckle. “I can certainly see that. And with all of the, you know, war stuff, I can see where you wish you had a school sweetheart.”

Lavender shook her head and drained the rest of her drink. “Seamus and Ron are just easy targets. I really am not hung up on them. This is about Don.”

“Who’s Don?”

“Don is my last boyfriend. We dated exclusively for eight months and he was so fun and thoughtful and generous. But he never said I love you. He kept telling me that he was too young to settle down and, I believed that he thought that. I really did. So we split in December because we wanted different things.”

“Ah,” said the man. “Seems sensible.”

“And then this morning, I see it in The Daily Prophet.”

“See what?”

“His engagement announcement,” she wailed, throwing herself on the bar again and almost upsetting her glass.

The man patted her on the shoulder. “Oh God, I’m sorry.”

“Do you know how long they’ve been dating?” Lavender asked.

“Eight months?” ventured the man.

“FIVE!” Lavender cried.

“Maybe he knocked her up?” suggested the man.

Lavender looked up at him and burst into laughter again. “Merlin, you’re funny. Why am I whinging about all these dolts I’ve surrounded myself with when I should get to know you better?”

“Yeah?” said the man with a grin.

“Yes,” she said. “I mean, if you want-”

“Of course,” he interrupted. “A funny, beautiful woman wants to get to know me better - the answer is always yes. I do need a refill. Do you want one? You’re not driving home, are you?”

Lavender giggled.

The man shook his head and looked embarrassed. “Oh, right, you wouldn’t be driving. You would uh - ”

“You must be a Muggle born. Do- I mean, I’ve heard others say that before. Those habits die hard.”

“Actually,” the man took a deep breath. “I’m a Muggle.”

Lavender’s jaw dropped. “How the fuck does a Muggle get invited to the engagement party of the Chosen One and a pureblood Quidditch player?”

“Well, Harry’s my cousin,” the man said. “My name’s Dudley.”

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

“Do you see that over there?” asked Hermione, nudging Ron. He turned away from his conversation with Neville and Charlie to see what his wife was gesturing to across the room.

“Is that Dudley Dursley chatting up Lavender?” Ron asked, as his eyes landed on the sight before him.

“It appears to be,” said Hermione. “Merlin, they are really flirting. Should we go over there and say something? A warning or...?”

“Right,” said Ron. “Absolutely we should. Which one of them are we warning?”

#lavender brown #lavender deserved better #side hinny #romione fanfic #harry potter fanfiction #romione #deamus #hp fanfic

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the-hopeless-haze · 3 years

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Somebody Hurt Me Too Deep (Being Alive Ch 14)

Previous Chapter

A/N: I AM BACK omg ok like I’ve been through it in the last month..... yeah. This was of course based on “Being Alive” but also “champagne problems”... thank Taylor Swift for any emotional distress I cause :)

CW: talks of mental illness, brief mentions of past trauma and car accidents

Taglist (thank u all for reading ily): @caked-crusader @thatesqcrush @law-nerd105 @blackeyedangel9805 @moon-river-drifter @the-baby-bookworm @dianilaws @xecq @lv7867 @arabellathorne @teddybluesclues @averyhotchner @houseofthirst

“Carino? I’m home,” Rafael says as he steps through the apartment door, placing his briefcase down on the recliner. It was only 3pm, early for him to be finished with work for the day, but he had been getting out earlier recently to accompany you to physical therapy appointments. You were doing well, at least physically. It had been a long six weeks, but today might be the appointment that cleared you to go back to work full-time and maybe get out from behind the desk a little.

Mentally, though, it was a mixed bag. Some days were easier than others, and that was to be expected, but it was hard to tell the squad you were doing better when you couldn’t even bring yourself to text them back. Still, he pleaded otherwise, said every day was a new day and carried on even if they didn’t believe him.

Today, though, today was the turning point, he could feel it. You were doing so well, and eventually, your brain would have to catch up with your body. So tonight, he booked a reservation at a restaurant… not any restaurant, but the Cuban restaurant he took you to the night you asked him out and he barely used your first name and he swore he hated you with nearly every fiber of his being.

Right. As if he hated you even then.

You’re in a good mood, albeit not as elated as he hoped, but the physical therapist approves you for work but to “take it easy” and you’re laughing at his wry remarks and squeezing his hand in the back of the taxi on the way to the restaurant. His nerves almost dissipate, but they don’t. And maybe that should’ve been his first sign that tonight was not going to go as planned.

Rafael was never a superstitious man, but you order the same dish you ordered the first time he took you out, and he can’t help but think this is a sign to push forward.

“Oh, fuck it,” Rafael murmurs, a surge of anxiety overcoming him. “I was going to wait until after dinner… but…. I have something I want to ask you.”

And just like that, your face falls, but Rafael can barely take that in, he just keeps talking, his mouth moving faster than the neurons in his brain that tell him to stop, now isn’t a good time.

“I love you so much, (y/n), and I know these past few months have been so hard, and this isn’t the way either of us have wanted this year to start, but… we got through it together. I never thought I’d be in a position in my life, with someone who I love… that I’d be willing to do this, but… (Y/n)... will you marry me?”

You don’t say anything for a few seconds, but it feels like hours, days, months. “Can you get up off the floor, Rafael? You’re embarrassing us,” you finally say hollowly, and it’s true, the whole restaurant is stopped in their tracks staring at the two of you. Rafael couldn’t possibly care less, though, he couldn’t comprehend anything that was going on - he was just thinking “well, she hasn’t said no…” and then you’re getting up, throwing your napkin on the table, shaking your head, saying “I can’t do this.”

Rafael gains some of his senses back, enough to follow you outside into the tempering late February air. “Do you want to talk about it?”

“No, Rafael, I don't,” you say stiffly without turning around to face him. “I’ll get my stuff in the morning. I need to be alone right now.”

“I just… I didn’t know you weren’t happy,” Rafael says, his voice breaking, and that gives you enough impetus to turn around.

“You didn’t know I wasn’t happy? Goddamn, Rafael, do you even live with me? I’ve been unhappy for months.”

“Then why didn’t you say anything?”

“Why didn’t you know?”

“Jesus, (y/n), maybe because I’m not a fucking mind reader?”

“Right. You honestly thought we were in a good enough place to propose tonight?”

“Obviously! Or I wouldn’t have done it!” he snaps. “You honestly think we’re in a bad enough place that you couldn’t say yes?”

“Obviously! Or I would have done it!” you throw his words back at him, and god do they sting.

“You never told me anything. You just withdrew.”

“Yeah. Maybe that should’ve been a sign. Look. I’m moving back home. I was going to tell you tonight.”

“What? Is that all it was? (Y/n), if you want to move back, I could work something out--”

“No. No, you can’t, Rafael. You’ve never been able to work anything out in your life because you’re too scared to! You just operate on fear - and this is no exception. You thought I was going to die six weeks ago and that’s the only reason you’ve been acting this way, and I’ve been slipping away recently and you’ve just been trying to consistently deny it so you just get on one knee and think that’s going to solve everything, think that’s going to make me stay. That’s not how it works! I’m not happy. I need to go home.”

“Oh no. You know what it is? You’re afraid. Don’t try to put this on me. You’re the one who’s walking away. You’re the one who’s running back home.”

“Fuck you, Rafael. Your family is all here. Mine isn’t. My brother’s getting a job for the first time, my mom just got on disability, I miss my dad… I’ve spent too long here. I’ve spent too long with you.”

“What happened? What the fuck happened?”

“What the fuck happened every other time, Rafael? You’ve gone through this plenty of times before.”

Rafael scoffs, shakes his head, leans against the outside of the restaurant. “You’re unbelievable.”

“I’m fucking sick, Rafael!” you’re screaming now, your cheeks turning red, your eyes leaking angry tears. “All this time, since the accident, I’ve been fucking drowning and you didn’t even notice!”

“Sick?”

“Depressed, Rafael. Anxious. Liv wanted me screened before I came back and the therapist said so. AGain. For the fucking umpteenth time in my life. But this time, I thought I had someone who cared--”

“How the fuck was I supposed to know if you didn’t tell me?”

“Couldn’t you see?”

Rafael shakes his head slowly, but now it comes back to him, all these subtle signs, the days you wouldn’t make it out of bed until 3 pm, all the days and nights you spent staring listlessly at the walls, the inability of anything he said or did to make you feel better. But it came and went, and Rafael just took it as you being upset sometimes at the limitations placed on you by your injured leg. Never did he think there was something more serious going on. Or maybe he just didn’t want to think that, and he ignored every signal.

“I’m sorry, (y/n),” he whispers, but he knows that’s too little, too late. Both of you were at fault - that was clear to him now - but was it clear to you? “I really didn’t know.”

“Evidently,” you mutter, crossing your arms over your chest.

“But you can get help. We can work this out.”

“I just… Rafael. I’m not ready. You of all people should have some sympathy for that.”

Ouch. You were going for the jugular now, hurting him where only you could, rejecting his proposal, leaving him crestfallen on one knee in the middle of a restaurant, but somehow your words hurt worse. Anyone could reject a proposal. Only you could psychoanalyze him and hurl the worst remarks his way, things no one else would be able to come up with.

“Then okay,” he sighs. “We won’t get married yet, or ever, if that’s what you want. But you really want to throw this away entirely?”

“I don’t know, Rafael. I don’t. Look, I’m sorry too. I just… I can’t deal with this right now.”

“Do you think… do you think maybe--”

“I don’t know,” you say firmly. “I don’t even know if I really want to go back home. I just know I don’t want to live like this anymore, just waiting for the other shoe to drop.”

“But it isn’t going to drop. I just fucking proposed. I’m in this for the long haul. And fuck it, if you want to go back home, I’ll work it out.”

“This fake optimism isn’t you.”

“This lack of optimism entirely isn’t you! What happened to the woman who got through some of the worst shit imaginable and landed on her own two feet? You got into a car accident, (y/n). You lived! You should be thankful, not sitting here sulking like your world’s gone to shit.” Again, his mouth moves too fast to register the look on your face as it falls, and tears start to stream down your face. He can’t stop but push it further, hurt you in retaliation.

“Seriously, Rafael, how insensitive can you be? I tell you I’m struggling and you invalidate my feelings? Fuck off.”

“I didn’t mean--”

“Why’d you say it then? You know what, I’m done. Goodbye, Rafael.”

“But--”

“No. Give me space. You owe me that.”

He does. And god, it hurts to watch you walk away, his abuelita’s ring burning a hole in his pocket when it should be on your finger. But maybe.... maybe this isn't the end. Maybe all you need is space.

Maybe Rafael's wishing on a pipe dream. He doesn't know anymore. All he knows is the sting of this pain.

-----

You walk alone in the dark, your leg still aching slightly, and you just feel like utter shit. You can’t remember ever feeling quite this low, but you can’t remember feeling rage like this, either. No one’s hurt you like Rafael.

But that’s because you loved him enough to let him.

You still love him even now, but spending day in and day out with him coddling you, you couldn’t handle it. And maybe you should’ve acted like an adult and told him and stopped pretending everything was fine when you knew it wasn’t. If only you weren’t so fucked in the head, right? Just how it always went, your life, cycles of feeling fine and cycles of feeling like you’re scraping at the bottom of a barrel for a will to go on. And yeah, sometimes even you would question why you were taking this so hard - so what, it’s a car accident, you were lucky to have lived - but Rafael didn’t understand and you didn’t know how to make him. How were you going to get in a passengers seat again without having a panic attack? Would your leg ever fully heal? You’d wasted six weeks staring at the walls of Rafael’s apartment, doing menial paperwork for Olivia that anyone could have done. How could you not feel entirely worthless? And then for Rafael to make it seem like you were overexaggerating like you should just get over this… you hated him.

But you didn’t, really. You know deep down he’s just angry the night didn’t go the way he wanted it to, with you promising to be his for the rest of your life. Still, rage is a truth serum of sorts, like cheap wine, and it makes you wonder how deep that resentment runs. How could he not notice you were upset, though? That’s a hell of a blind eye to turn.

At least back home you had Ben if nothing else.

But here, you had everything else. The squad, your career, Rafael… You couldn’t even begin to think about marriage right now - Lord knows Rafael isn’t ready either - but did you really want to throw in the towel? How do couples move past a rejected proposal, though? Hadn’t you hurt him deeper than anyone else could have? And would he ever figure out how to propose again?

Maybe to someone else, you think, someone who didn’t have all these fucking issues.

Before you know it, you have a cigarette in your mouth and a lighter in hand and you’re leaning against the side of a convenience store, watching girls walk by in stilettos hanging on to their men or giggling with their group of friends, the taxis blurring past. Then you realize you broke the first promise you made to Rafael: you bought cigarettes in New York.

Had he really wanted to collect on that promise? It wasn’t like you were addicted, it was just a stupid habit you started in high school to take the edge off, but you supposed some people had the inclination to start and never stop, but you always could when you wanted to.

Your vice wasn’t cigarettes, no, it was love. You gave all you could to whoever would take it because you were so used to people wanting nothing to do with you since you isolated yourself due to your past trauma. Once you got to college, you refused to hide in the background, and you took chances you weren’t used to taking and loved in color, you loved until it made you blue when the boys would cheat or your so-called friends would find different cliques.

You were still like that, albeit in so much a desperate way, and you had been loved in return, now, not just by Rafael but by the squad too - even if you had your squabbles. You loved them to death and back.

But friends were easier to keep than lovers.

Maybe it is scary to think Rafael was going to be the end. That he’d be the last man you ever kissed in love or passion. That you’d be the last woman standing in his long list of ex-lovers - the only one who didn’t get crossed off.

How do you love someone that much? You always said you wanted that, but the thought always terrified you anyway, and maybe it’s why you did push people away when they felt too close because you felt like you didn’t deserve it, like you were still atoning for some sin you didn’t remember committing but you still feel guilty for all the same. You wonder if Rafael feels just as guilty.

You inhale the smoke, feeling the familiar, carcinogenic burn in your throat, causing yourself pain to cause Rafael pain only to cause you pain in return; an endless cycle of hurt.

With ambivalence, you put your cigarette out and hail a cab, and tell him to drive you to your apartment which you haven’t seen in weeks. There’s dust on every surface, it’s freezing as hell, and you don’t know how you’re going to sleep tonight, alone, so you light up another cigarette, sitting solitary with your nerves running haywire underneath your skin. What the hell were you going to do now?

#rafael barba x reader #rafael barba x you #rafael barba

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amanda-teaches · 4 years

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Til Death Do Us Part? (1)

Series Summary: At a work party with your best friend, Dean, you panic when your new boss asks if you’re couple. Lying to protect your promotion, you wind up fake engaged before you can take it back. When Dean agrees to go along with your lie for a weekend retreat, you end up finding something neither of you had bargained for: love.

Pairing: AU Dean x Reader

Square filled: Fake Dating/Marriage for @spndeanbingo, Fake Marriage for @spngenrebingo, Mistaken for a couple for @spnfluffbingo, “He’s always been there for me through all my terrible relationships and shit, and I can tell him anything” for @spnquotebingo

Word Count: 2135

Warnings: A hint of future angst, some swearing, fluff

A/N: This is the first part of a little mini-series I’ve been working on. It will probably be around 3-4 parts, or more depending on how much fluffy cuteness I plop in the middle, but I’m pretty excited about it, so I wanted to share the first part with you all to see what you think. I hope you like it! Let me know! I haven’t finished writing yet, so you never know if your reactions may influence the series. ;)

Til Death Do Us Part? Masterlist

In the dead of the night, sitting on a deserted train station bench in the middle of the pouring rain, you finally felt safe enough to let yourself cry.

So, you sobbed. All alone, in the silky, golden evening gown that you’d felt so goddamn beautiful in, you sobbed, the tears running down your face and into your already-wet hair.

You pulled the note out of your pocket, watching as the words began to smear and run down the page.

To the Future Mrs. Winchester,

You look gorgeous tonight. Just like every night. Remember to save me a dance.

You closed your eyes and cried even harder, the sobs wracking your body. It wasn’t supposed to happen like this. It was all supposed to be fake, a means to an end, one friend helping another...

You weren’t supposed to fall in love.

Damn that Dean Winchester.

One week and two days earlier…

You opened up the dating app on your phone, and scrolled through the dozens of “hey, sexy” and “what r u wearing?” messages before closing it again in disgust. “Oh my God, what’s the point of this stupid thing?”

Your best friend, Francesca, plopped down on the couch beside you, a bowl of popcorn in her hands, and looked over at your phone with a smirk. “The wonderful world of online dating?”

“How did you ever guess?” you answered sarcastically, amusement softening your tone. “Geez, it’s crazy! For every nice guy I find, there’s like 100 creeps.”

“Hey, what happened to that one guy? The therapist?”

You groaned. “He tried to psychoanalyze me all night. Wound up crying on my shoulder over his repressed daddy issues.”

“The architect?”

“Drew up the plans for our dream house within the first 10 minutes of the date.”

“The musician?”

“Texted his ex the whole night.”

She laughed and shook her head. “God, am I glad that I’m married.” Then, she turned to you, tucking a leg underneath her. “Hey, when are you going to give up on this whole online dating thing and just go out with Dean?”

Rolling your eyes, you shook your head. “I’ve told you a thousand times. Dean and I are just friends.”

“Oh, sure,” she laughed. “Just friends who text everyday, spend hours on Facetime with each other, and act as each other’s emotional support systems. Y/N, you’re practically married. The only thing missing is the sex.”

“Francesca!” you cried, an undercurrent of laughter running through your voice. “We are not practically married. Look, I love Dean, he’s always been there for me through all my terrible relationships and shit, and I can tell him anything, but that’s all it is. We’re just friends, I swear.”

She looked at you for another moment, skepticism filling her eyes. “Mhmm, keep telling yourself that. I’m just saying, you could do a lot worse than Dean Winchester. You don’t snap him up now, someone else will. And, ‘just friends’ or not, Y/N, I can guarantee, if that happens, you’re gonna regret not going for it.”

She sat back, focusing on her popcorn and queueing up the movie for the night, but you stayed staring straight ahead, her words lingering in your head. You wanted Dean to be happy, to find someone, just like you were trying to. You wouldn’t regret that if it happened...right?

Picking up your phone again, you stared at the picture of you and Dean that lived on your lockscreen, a smile playing at the corners of your mouth. You were going to see him tomorrow. He was your “date” to a party your new boss was throwing to get to know everyone, but you’d only asked him because you didn’t want to go alone. He was always your plus one to these kinds of things, and vice versa. You both knew it was strictly as friends, there wasn’t anything more than that. Besides, you were sure that the two of you could never really work.

At least that’s what you kept telling yourself.

The sound of Dean’s Impala rumbling up to your house the next morning made your heartbeat a little faster than you were willing to admit. Closing your eyes, you took a deep breath to calm yourself and grabbed your purse and phone, heading towards the door. You were sitting in his passenger seat in no time at all, with him smiling at you from across the bench seat.

“Ready to impress the new boss?”

“Hell yeah,” you nodded. “Thanks for coming with me. I hate doing these things alone.”

“Course,” he replied, shifting the car into gear with an easy smile on your face. “You know how impressive I naturally am.”

“Mhmm,” you laughed, shaking your head slightly. He grinned and winked at you, pulling the car into the street on the way to the “garden party” as your boss was calling it.

You were expecting some sort of outdoor barbecue/picnic situation, but when Dean pulled up in front of the mini mansion the address led to, and you saw the valets parking the cars, you were glad you’d worn your nicest sun dress.

“Damn,” he whistled, under his breath, staring out the dashboard. “Who’s your new boss, Richie Rich?”

“Apparently,” you muttered, still in disbelief. “I was not expecting this when I woke up this morning.”

“But, good news,” Dean pointed out, stopping his car in the middle of the circular driveway. “I bet the free food’s gonna be out of this world.”

You laughed as Dean got out, rushing around to your side of the car to open the door for you. You smiled and thanked him, and, after watching him warn the valet to treat his baby better than his own mother, he escorted you inside, your arm intertwined with his. He whispered something that made you laugh again, and you leaned into him, whispering back, as if being this close was the most natural thing in the world. If only it was this easy with every other guy.

When you got to the backyard, Dean dropped your arm, making a beeline for the rows of white-linen tables stacked with food. You started to follow him, but, when you spotted your new boss out of the corner of your eye, you changed tactics, wanting to make a good impression on her before she was inundated with too many people.

“Clarissa, hi,” you stammered, a little awkwardly, once you reached her. “You have a beautiful home.”

“Thank you,” she said politely, turning to you. She studied you for a brief second before recognition registered, and her eyes lit up, a genuine smile replacing the formal one. “Oh! Y/N, right?”

“Uh, yes, yes!” You couldn’t believe she remembered your name already. Since you were one of four people vying for a coveted promotion at the company, this could be your big chance. “I’d really love to get a chance to talk with you about my thoughts on the Newman project.”

“Oh, of course, dear,” she humored you, dismissing the work talk by looking around. “Where did that nice young man that you came in with go?”

Your eyebrows furrowed. “Oh, Dean? He went to get us some food.”

“That’s so sweet of him. You’ve got yourself a good one there.”

“Oh no, we’re just…”

“You know,” she said, cutting you off. “There’s a couple’s retreat next weekend for some of the higher ups in the firm, a little bonding experience, so to say. There’s an open spot left. Maybe you and your young man could come?” She leaned in and gave you a conspiratorial wink. “We’d have plenty of time to talk more if you were there.”

“A couple’s retreat?” you repeated back, growing flustered. “But, Dean and I, we aren’t…”

She glanced at your ring finger. “Oh, dear, you two aren’t married yet. Such a shame. Unfortunately, the retreat is for married and engaged couples only.” She sighed, staring down at her mimosa. “Oh, I guess I’ll have to give Stuart your spot.”

Stuart? Oh, no way in hell. That guy had been gunning for your promotion for well over a year. You panicked, looking over at Dean, who’d piled two plates full of food over at the buffet. Watching him, you imagined your promotion flying away, and you blurted out the only hail mary you could think of. “Wait! Dean and I are engaged!”

Clarissa’s eyes widened with excitement. “Oh, really?! I didn’t see a ring, so I just assumed.”

“Oh, well,” you bluffed, struggling to think of a believable cover. “It’s all pretty recent, so the ring’s, uh, getting resized. But, yes, we’re engaged. Fully committed and engaged to be married.”

“That’s wonderful!” she exclaimed, clapping her hands. “Then, you two can come to the retreat next weekend! It’s up at the Mountview, all inclusive.”

You whistled under your breath. Damn, the Mountview. It cost like 1,000 a night to stay there. Suddenly, you realized what you were doing, and you knew this innocent little lie was spiraling way out of control.

“Actually…”

She waved you off, looking over your shoulder. “This is so great! I’ve heard really great things about you, Y/N. I can’t wait for you and your fiance to knock the socks off our executives. Now, if you’ll excuse me for just a second.”

Before you could stop her, she was gone, having spotted someone across the room. You were left standing alone, and, looking up, you spotted Dean smiling at you from across the lawn, holding up his plates of food triumphantly.

Oh God, were you screwed.

“YOU SAID WHAT?!”

You looked around for a second, putting your hand on his chest to quiet him. “Shh, someone might hear.”

“So fuckin’ what if they hear, Y/N! You told your boss we were engaged!”

“I know, I know,” you whispered. You grabbed Dean’s hand and pulled him further into the hallway off the doors to the backyard, so your argument would be blocked from where the party was still going on, in full swing. “I’m an idiot, okay? I fully admit that.”

He looked down at you and exhaled heavily, running his hand through his hair. “What the hell were you thinking?”

“I don’t know!” you sputtered, beginning to ramble. “She thought we were a couple, and I tried to explain we were just friends, but then she kept talking and talking, and the retreat was all BAM, Mountview! And, then, then, she wanted to invite Stuart, I mean Stuart, of all people, and I just panicked, and, I...”

“Okay, okay,” he chuckled, placing his hands firmly on your shoulders. “Chill before you pass out on me. Deep breaths.”

You closed your eyes and took a deep breath, leaning into him. He immediately wrapped his arms around you, the argument instantly forgotten, and pulled you into a warm, safe hug. “I’m so sorry…” you mumbled against his chest. “I just wanted that promotion so bad, I think I went a little crazy. I’ll go out there right now and tell her the truth.”

He sighed, his breath ghosting against your hair. “Maybe you shouldn’t.”

Pulling back, you looked up at him, puzzled. “What?”

“Well, you already told her we were engaged, and if you backtrack now, she’s going to think you’re a crazy liar. Besides, it’s only one weekend, right?”

“Wait, are you saying we should actually go? And, pretend to be engaged?”

His face split into an eager smile. “Yeah. We’re best friends, so we already know everything about each other. How hard can fake marriage be? We pretend to be engaged for a weekend, you get your promotion, then we ‘break up’ and decide we’re better off as friends. No one’s any wiser.”

You stared at him for a second, the ramifications of his plan running through your head. Francesca’s words came screaming back at you. “Y/N, you’re practically married. The only thing missing is the sex.” Dean was right, you did know everything about each other. How hard could it be to fake a relationship for a weekend. “Are you sure?” you asked sincerely. “I mean, really, really sure.”

He nodded, taking your hands in his and dropping to his knee with a dramatic flourish. “Y/N Y/L/N, will you fake marry me?”

You laughed looking down at him, the sight of his goofy grin instantly bringing a smile to your face. You nodded, agreeing, but, no matter how much you tried to ignore the voice in the back of your head, Francesca’s other words lingered. “You don’t snap him up now, someone else will. And, ‘just friends’ or not, Y/N, I can guarantee, if that happens, you’re gonna regret not going for it.”

Shit, you really were in over your head this time.

Forevers- @atc74 @babypieandwhiskey @be-amaziing @carryonmywaywardcaptain @deans-dirty-writer @deanwanddamons @deanwinchesterswitch @dolphincliffs @edgeofreality35 @emoryhemsworth @focusonspn @hannahindie @heyitscam99 @impala-dreamer @impandagrl @karikatz12481 @katymacsupernatural @maddiepants @masksandtruths @mrsdeanfuckingwinchester @mysterious-398 @ohmychuckitssamanddean @pinknerdpanda @roxyspearing @spnbaby-67 @squirrel-moose-winchester @wi-deangirl77 @wonderfulworldofwinchester

Dean Tags - @adoptdontshoppets @akshi8278 @alexwinchester23 @dean-winchesters-bacon @squirrelnotsam

#spndeanbingo #spngenrebingo #spnfluffbingo #spnquotebingo #dean winchester #dean winchester x reader #dean winchester fanfiction #dean x reader #new series #til death do us part?

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nightswithkookmin · 4 years

Text

JIKOOK:DON'T ASK ME TO STOP LOVING YOU. I WON'T- Jikook Shading eachother pt3

Disclaimer:

Everything expressed in her is my opinion. It is not intended to be malicious or disrespectful to any of the parties here in mentioned. Please don't be weird.

Jeon Jungkook is in love with Park Jimin. Period. If you have doubts, take my word for it. That man heard a bell ring and he's been following that jingle sound till thy kingdom come. Bless him.

No, I am not off track. We are still on the Jikook breakup/fights 2020 train and it's express. Beep beeeeep! Sorry.

Jk loves Jimin and it is the cause of all his woes- with Jimin as well as with the other bandmates. His problem is he loves that man- too much.

Yes, the 2019 November-December tensions with his bandmates was all because he keeps blurring the lines between his relationship and his career. He is lucky, both of them are lucky that they found eachother in a space like this where they have the opportunity to love and still have it all. Trust me, it's rare.

Except JK didn't join BTS to pursue a career. Bless him. He went there to harvest him some sweet love. Lol. Jokes aside, Jk when he started out had no goals, no ambitions whatsoever. He was young. He was just following the path set out for him by his parents perhaps, his teachers- and also he thought Namjoon's thighs were hella delicious. Lol

He has had to grow to love and appreciate his craft and career just as he's said in the recent Japan comeback interviews. He even almost quit singing to go be a dancer and all it took was Jimin telling him he had an amazing voice for him to stay- the power of park Jimin!

That's how young and naive he was when he began his career path. Let's get a bit deep and psychoanalyze him real quick. He made an entire life decision to join a boyband for seven years not because he loved to sing and dance but because he admired the zeal od RM?

Then when layer he was exposed to dance, and had to make an equally important life decision, he allowed another bandmate(Jimin) to make that decision for him. This should tell you the state of his mind as at the time. He was young and impressionable with no aspirations of his own.

Even as of 2019, he said he had no idea what he was going to do with his life after BTS had the band disbanded in 2018. That's a lot of experience span to not know what he wants to do with his life.

Now I don't mean to say he is immature but we all know the members especially Jimin have pointed out time and again that JK is in fact immature or can be.....

He seems to me as the type who still have a lot to figure out and per his recent interviews where he's talked about taking time to himself to work on himself and his hobbies etc. I have a feeling 2020 has been a period of awakening for him. A period where he is self actualizing a lot and I'm happy for him.

But it is what is causing this age of enlightenment in his life that has me curious.

Moving on, this young, naive, impressionable JK as he was in the early days of BTS started developed feelings for his hyung. Do you see the problem? I'll wait....

These feelings, I assume, began as pure admiration and fondness of Jimin. Jimin was this talented and hardworking, spontaneous, energetic hyung and JK with an impressionable mind as his was was bedazzled by him.

Soon these feelings would morph into what could be seen as an obsession, infatuation and then finally love.

The way I see it, loving Jimin gave him purpose for the first time in his young life. He may not have known much about his life goals and ambitions but he knew being with Jimin gave him a solid ground to stand on, a new sense of direction, certainty and purpose.

He got to share in Jimin's passions, share his with him, dance together, sing, practice, rehearse, make him the subject of his photography, the subject of his attention, care for him, be cared for by him- something he hadn't had the chance to experience from home before he was yanked away into idol life.

Growing up, we all experience that moment where we imprint on friends and relatives. My uncle was my mentor as well as my elder brother too. I admired them so much I sometimes confused that with romantic love till I got socialized properly.

Jk's socialization was.... He....

-Jk may be an introvert but he thrives and shines best when he partners up or is in a group like BTS or his friends group etc and Jimin i feel was the ideal partner for him; his queerness, his adventurousness, pushing JK's boundaries, challenging his beliefs, showing him how to have a good time- ok I really want this Jimin back! Like right now!

Jimin left an impression on JK's young mind. He imprinted on him. And for the longest time, we've seen the way he stares at Jimin.JK really loves Jimin.

So what's the problem?? Loving JM is consuming his mind y'all. It's all he thinks off. All he cares of. He seems super hyper focused on Jimin so much so that it is affecting the dynamics of their group.

His jealousy,possessiveness- He knows he has to keep his relationship a secret for the sake of the group because it is their secret too and yet he just can't help himself.

I feel RM and the others complain a lot about how he let's his jealousy get the best of him. Like how he almost exposed JM as his boyfriend on several occasions verbally( see previous post for further details)

Like how him getting jealous and possessive gives them away more often. I mean JM is bad at hiding it too but let's be honest JK isn't winning any awards with that bad acting. *sigh. He is hopeless.

But yes this is what led to the MMA standoff with RM. It is also the reason for the tensions between Jikook during Jin's birthday VLive (JM asked him to keep his distance because the members had tried to separate them earlier and so JM was just being salty af during this period. It had nothing to do with JK but the others. See Golden Disc and you'll understand)

This also led to their subsequent break up( which you will notice during the comeback interviews and promotions periods- I don't know about you but they were giving off two exes tryna to keep it happy for the cameras during that period but failed cos their interaction were just....)

PS: there are a lot of moments I want to point out but don't know where to begin cos there are a lot.

The blackswan behind scenes moments( JM asking JK if he he wanted to be in a subunit with someone else, JM making JK jealous during the interviews, JK using Tae to make JM jealous the next day, JK holding JMs hands not wanting to let go- he was missing his ex. Lol it's what you do when you have to be friends with that ex you still love and won't hesitate to touch them given the slightest opportunity and once you do you don'twanna let go)

Just look at that whole On comeback promotion moments. You'll understand what I mean.

Also the Run episode moments- you know the one JK almost beat Suga up with the frying pan- JM for this phase seemed to be to be trying to get back together with JK. Dude was clingy as fuck! And for once he was on his best behaviour, trying his hardest not to make JK jealous. I mean the Run behind scenes moment where JM was helping Tae clean off food residue on his mouth but stopped immediately when JK lifted his head. *insert skull head emoji. Lol

To say JM was a bit clingy during this getting back together phase would be an understatement. Remember his clingy moments during Suga's birthday Vlive 2020? And during Festa too? He was trying to get JK's attention and also impress him throughout.

Around this breakup moment too was when he was spending a lot of time with Tae playing video games with Army, posting their selfies at 4 AM and what not. It is also the same period he posted a picture of himself with his dogs on Twitter and said he was trying to spend time with loved ones- if that wasn't shade to JK!

They couldn't post 13th May because of these issues they were having. Not that JM didn't try though. He posted on the 1st, JK should have followed with 3rd but did was busy pouting somewhere. JM still gave us a 5/8=13 selca though so yaay!

What I'm trying to say is, their fight has been about JK not wanting to be separated from JM and JM asking JK to cool it off for a while to not cause trouble with the members and the company.

To which Jk responds with:

1. Interrupting JM's call with Jin during his VLive to ask him on a date and say I love you to him. Dude is a rebel, I don't know what you want me to say. He is not gonna cool it just because it makes the other worried he is exposing them too much.

Jk interrupting JMs live I feel got Jikook in trouble because after that Vlive JM never did a solo live on VLive again to this day. His subsequent lives have all been on YouTube.

I have a feeling he was penalized because that VLive exposed them. And no, I'm not being delusional. Jikook were both banned from doing a VLive together alone following their New Jersey VLIVE in 2019 when they- I don't even know how to describe what they did in that live!

And to make it less obvious, I think BigHit decided the others should stop doing solo Vlives on VLive altogether because now they all do their solo lives on YouTube as well and if they have to do a Vlive it is heavily monitored by BigHit staff or its radio and not done in their rooms too.

So I think Jimin got pissed at JK for doing that and getting them in trouble again. I mean if you heard him sigh during the new Jersey VLive you would know how frustrated JK makes him. He loves him too but.... Jk can be a bit too much ya know?!

Anyhoo, so I believe JM called for some space and told JK to take up interests in other things beside him and I don't know how JK took it but he responded with this:

Posting the cover of the song Not Never. Which was him basically saying for as long as he lives he will not never think about JM. As in he is never not ever keeping away from JM. We might have to pry Jimin from his cold hands! *sigh

Which leads to the radio Vlives moments,

Something Jimin said during his interview with suga caught my attention. He said it was nice that they get to speak with Armies at least like this. I believe all these were putting a lot of stress on Jimin as he has decided to take a break off social media prior to him saying so on this interview. But the wording of that statement also made be believe some thing or someone was preventing him from talking to Armies in the usual manner.

Earlier with RM he had said how he would go crazy if they weren't allowed to do certain things he was used to doing on stage as well. So that also raised a flag to me.

I had a feeling Suga had invited JM on that Radio live to address his 'issues'- including his issues with JK. Jikook have a subtle way of communicating with each other and somehow social media has a huge part in that. They not the only ones, Beyonce and JayZ also addressed their relationship issues through their music, going back and forth yet they lived together. I DONT UNDERSTAND THESE CELEBRITIES!!!

Sorry for the rant. Anyway I had a feeling JK was listening to the radio interview too.

Suga asked JM why he didn't come to his music video set to support him- which I believe he was referring to his Daechwita shoot. JM didn't go because, take a guess...

JK was there too. Lol. He had gone with Jin and even ended up filming a part in the music video. My guess is Jk thought Jimin was gonna be there because he always go to Support Suga and the others in times like that.

So Jimin responds with 'were you expecting me? .... I didn't come because I want you to want me more.' Now that's an absolutely random response don't you think? He couldhave said something logical like he had to record at a studio or something- unless he wasn't talking about Suga but was sending that message to someone else who was listening in. A certain man with a JM tatto ring on his ring finger perhaps??

JM from this response revealed he intentionally missed that shoot. He knew JK would be there and he wanted him to ask where JM was at it he wasn't at the shoot. It's also interesting how during this period JK was spending a lot of time with Jin. When he interrupted JM's Vlive call he was with Jin. He went with Jin to Suga's MV and Jin posted a selca of him and shirtless Jk dieimh this period too while JM was mostly seen with Tae. What does this remind you of??

MANILA. same thing happened when they had that Manila fight. Jin was with JM and we all know who was siding with JK!

Why would JM say he wants to be enacted more? Easy- He a slytherin and a Libra and those two mixed together is sinister. Kidding.

I believe JK intentionally took a step back from JM, to give him the space he wanted and it had JM feeling someway about it. Probably had him feeling JK didn't want him as much anymore. Dude is insecure we been known. He a Libra and a slytherin what y'all expect?

So I'm guessing JM put up the classic textbook attitude towards JK which had JK all confused because he had no idea what their issues were anymore or why his boyfriend was spending his nights at Tae. You want space, you got it. Why you mad?

So JK reaches out to Suga for help. because the intention was fix his relationship not have it plummet. Dude is in love with this man and will do whatever it takes to keep his relationship. *Sigh

Suga comes through for him with the interview. And I think JK put two and two together- literally. He comes up with still with you a few days after JM's interview and does a radio interview with Suga as well.

Now the focus of this interview was his "apology to Armies for his scandal.' But funny, cos his scandal happened a month before the interview. Suga radio had been ongoing after the scandal and yet this man didn't think once to come on it and apologize to Armies about an incident that BigHit had already addressed until JMs interview.

You don't talk about scandals. That's the protocol.

Let me also point out JK has had several scandals in the past of which he had never addressed in a Vlive let alone apologize in that way. Not saying he wouldn't, he hasn't. They themselves don't address scandals unofficially, that's the protocol and he knows it.

If they were allowed to think Armies would be more interested in him addressing the Tatoo gurl scandal not his Friday night happy hours with his friends. That apology was for Jimin not armies.

Also, he pointed out how still with you was written when he was alone in the dark thinking by himself. That sounds to me like something you do when you've had a fight with your boyfriend/girlfriend and they've packed their things and left your shared apartment.

Interestingly, Jk mentioned during Festa the rain fight. Still with you literally has rain drops sounds in the beginning of the song and also on the cover on sound cloud. Seems to me that whatever happened that night had JK reminiscing about times he'd fought with JM- the rain fight. Which is what inspired still with you (I will do a full analysis of that song and others soon here on my blog'

Yea, so he apologized to JM for their fight I guess and said he loves Army. *smirk.

And things started falling into place right after that. They started- Jikooking again. Jk called JM out on Weverse so they start their online flirting thingy- posting immediately after each other, 13, those kinda things

Things seemed good. Untill their Japan interviews when JK said spending time alone pursuing new hobbies was gold to him and JM saying maintaining his relationships with friends and family is good to him. Seems JK is still salty about JM wanting space. It will take sometime for him to get used to not being around JM 24/7. Know what I mean?

I don't think there was major tension there. Just two lovebirds shading eachother. *smirk I mean the passive aggressiveness of it all. Lol

I have a feeling JK will keep jabbing at JM with that because let's face it, he is the emo one in that relationship and most importantly he loves JM with all his being and wants to be with him always. A partner asking for space can feel like they are pushing you away or rejecting you. It triggers a lot of insecurities so I understand JK in that sense. They are both not wrong in my opinion. Space can be a good thing and hey at least JK got to read a whole book during this time! Who woulda thought!

And quiet honestly, if Jikook are real as I believe they are then these issues they are having pales in comparison to the hurdles that lie ahead of them for when they decide to come out or live as a forever couple.

I guess It is why JK put these lyrics in GCF Helsinki at JMs part:

Why do you spend your time leading the chorus,

When the war was just waiting before us?

As if you didn't know

I guess it's sums up what Jikook were dealing with during that period of you take into consideration the fact this was released end of December/ early 2020.

Jimin pays too much attention to what people thinks of their relationship as if he didn't know what he was getting himself into. ...

This has been a long one, chai! Sorry. I get carried away sometimes talking about Jikook. Lol.

So what is the state of their relationship? They good. I been told y'all JK is trying to bring back their old online filtering habits. He did it on Weverse when he posted about him reading and asking what JM was doing forcing JM to come out with a response.

He did the same yesterday when he posted a cover song after JM posted his selca on Twitter. They good. They more than good I believe. I will keep observing and will update y'all with my observations as and when.

Oh and I will be doing an analysis of his new cover may be later tonight. Until then its Jikook forever bishes! Gang, gang, gang,

I'M OUT!

#kookmin #jikook #nightswithkookmin #jikooktheories #kookmintheories #jikook analysis #kookmin analysis #bts jimin #bts jungkook #jikook fights #jikook scenarios #jikook wallpaper #kookmim #kookmin fights #jimin lockscreens #park jimin #bts fluff #bts angst

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