#3/4 of these hobbies I tried once upon a time and uh my work on them is uhhh interesting... | Explore Tumblr Posts and Blogs

meltwonu · 4 years

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| 🍒 CH-CH-CHERRY BOMB! 🍒 | [CHAPTER 4]

pairing; dom!seungcheol x camgirl!reader

this chapter’s notes; masturbation, usage of toys, dirty talkin’, a bit of a filler chapter after last weeks hehe🍒 as always, thank you again for your continued support for cherry bomb 🥺💕 I'm actually not sure if next week’s chapter will go up on time due to my work schedule for next week but I'll be sure to keep y’all updated! if anything it’ll probably go up on saturday instead of friday... 😭😭 But anyway, have a good weekend yall! 💕💕💕 stay hydrated!!

chapters; 1 - 2 - 3 - 4 - ?

The weekend ends quicker than Seungcheol even notices and while he wakes up Monday morning already thinking about you and your show later in the evening; his face falters when he reads the message on your cam homepage.

‘Sorry everyone :( I think I caught a cold so I won’t be doing a show tonight… I promise I’ll make it up to you on Friday! In the meantime, I’ve uploaded some new pics in our members only room~ I hope it’ll tide you all over ‘til then! xx Cherry 🍒 ’

His first reaction is to immediately panic; reaching for his phone and texting you to get as much rest and sleep as possible. He makes a mental note to check in with you again later, finding that he’s already running late to get to work when he gets out of bed.

“Hey! Seungcheol-hyung!”

The said male turns around, placing the set of roller skates on the ground. “Yeah, what’s up?”

Jeongguk sits next to him on the wooden bench, legs stretched out as he passes Seungcheol an energy drink. “Nothin’, just wanted to say thanks for coming over on Saturday! We should try to do that again, except maybe we can go out for drinks or something? We can give it the good ‘ol college try, maybe bring home a girl, if you know what I mean~” Jeongguk wiggles his eyebrows at Seungcheol who rolls his eyes.

“Uh, I’m down for the drinking part but I think I’ll have to pass on the hookups.”

“Really? Why? Are you dating someone and you haven’t told me?”

Seungcheol thanks the gods that the roller rink is dimmed; neon lights and disco balls the only things keeping the entire place dimly lit when he blushes a deep crimson, face hot as he avoids the younger male’s gaze. “Nah, it’s just, I--I don’t think that’s really for me. I’m more of a, uh, relationship type of guy, y’know?” Also, I’m devoting my time and energy to someone already who isn’t really my girlfriend.

“Mm, makes sense!”

Jeongguk keeps Seungcheol company even on his break, the two chatting about various topics before he lets Seungcheol know his break is almost over.

“Hey, wait! Before you go…” Seungcheol is nervous for some reason, fingers gripping the suede of the rollerskate’s boot as he avoids eye contact again. “Um, this is gonna sound really weird but… Who’s ‘j__min’? I feel like I’ve seen that username before and it’s, uh, I’m just curious how you know them? Sorry if that’s weird, I just--I’ve been seeing them around pretty often.”

“Oh, that’s Jimin-hyung. He’s a friend of mine that games with me sometimes! I’ve never really met the dude in person before, but he seems nice.” Jeongguk nods, staring off into space. “He seems really busy all the time too. And he’s super active on social media, that’s probably where you’ve seen him.”

Seungcheol nods; the guy didn’t seem like any sort of immediate threat so he logs the information mentally for now. He’d just have to do some internet sleuthing himself when he got home.

“Oh, cool, okay! Thanks ‘Guk!”

Seungcheol groans after the seventh pair of skates he’s cleaned, standing up to stretch and reach for his phone in his pocket. He checks the notifications, noting that you hadn’t texted back or read his messages yet.

A frown paints his features knowing that you were sick, but he makes another mental note to finally buy you that sybian now that his most recent paycheck had come in with it’s overtime bonuses. There were only a few more days until Namjoon came back which meant his extra pays would be over, a sad sigh escaping his lips at the thought.

The day gruels on; Mondays were always the slowest days for the roller rink which meant Seungcheol spent most of the time cleaning skates and bumming snacks from the concession stand usually. He tries to not pry deeper into Jeongguk’s friends but the curiosity eats him alive so he makes an effort to stay away from the younger male for the rest of the day, this time.

Instead, he spends the day hiding in the employee break room any time he gets; only leaving when Yoongi decides to hide in there himself.

Your head feels like it’s going to spin off of your shoulders once you sit up in bed. The sun sits low in the horizon from what you can see through your bedroom window; noting that it must’ve been the late afternoon already.

You’d woken up with chills, head fuzzy when you’d sat up earlier in the morning. Knowing that you were at least somewhat sick, you quickly wrote up a little memo on your homepage letting your viewers know that there wouldn’t be a show later in the evening. Afterwards, you had quickly downed medicine before curling up under your sheets and going back to sleep. You’d vaguely been aware of your phone ringing on the nightstand next to your bed, but you prioritized sleeping instead, knowing that you had to get better before the weekend came.

You groan once you ease yourself off of your bed, dragging your feet as you make your way to the bathroom in hopes of a warm bath to make yourself feel better.

It’s almost 5PM which means it’s almost time for Seungcheol to finally go home. He checks his phone one more time before he pockets the device, putting away the last few pairs of rollerskates before he starts making his way towards the backroom.

“Hey! ‘Cheol-hyung, can you come over here!?” Jeongguk yells over the music, arms waving him down frantically before he clocks out.

Seungcheol walks over, noting an unknown male standing with him. “Yes? Did you need help?”

“This guy, sorry I forgot your name?” The male laughs, eyes forming crescents when he smiles brightly at Jeongguk. “It’s Seokmin.”

“Right, right. Seokmin is asking if we’re hiring?” Jeongguk ends with a head tilt, unsure of the answer himself.

Seungcheol bites the inside of his cheek. Technically yes, they were understaffed even with Namjoon around. But Namjoon was also technically the one in charge of overseeing hiring positions. And while they technically should’ve hired more staff, that also meant Seungcheol’s overtime bonuses would be cut anytime they actually had the appropriate amount of staff.

“Uhhhh… I--I don’t think so? I’m not the one in charge. Our manager that decides staff and hiring positions is out of town indefinitely so…” Seungcheol trails off, hoping Seokmin gets the hint.

“Ahh… Should I come back another time then?” Seungcheol nods, frowning slightly. “Sorry ‘bout that man. But hey, why don’t you leave your contact info so we can call you? So you don’t have to keep coming back.”

Seokmin nods, beaming at the older male.

“Sure, that’d be great! Thanks!”

Seungcheol only feels slightly bad when he gets home that night, praying karma doesn’t kick his ass later for lying.

On days when you cancel your show are the days Seungcheol realizes he needs more hobbies than watching your cam shows and gaming all night.

Not that it’s a bad thing, he thinks, just that he could supplement his life with more.

He places an order for a few cookbooks alongside the order for the sybian, soft chuckles spilling from his lips when he realizes what an odd array of things he’s ordered.

Seungcheol manages to fill his night with meaningless tasks; finally cleaning his PC and settling in to watch a movie while he polishes off an entire pizza. He checks his phone a few more times, noting no new messages and he wonders if you’re really okay. A lightbulb goes off in his head, power walking back to his PC as he opens a new browser.

He bites his lip, typing in ‘j__min’ in the search bar to see what comes up. By nature, the username is unfortunately a lot more common than he anticipates and he ends up rifling through a lot of dead ends before he comes upon the profile on the same camming website you used and an instagram that seemed to be updated fairly regularly.

“Let’s see…”

Your body feels hot all over. Pin pricks on your fingertips as a bead of sweat trickles down your temple.

Now, you didn’t feel sick, you just felt incredibly insatiable. Again.

You weren’t sure if it was because your body had adjusted to a certain schedule, but you can’t help the way you toss and turn in bed; thighs rubbing together in hopes of alleviating the growing wetness between them.

Checking the clock, you note it’s already 10PM, close to when you’d normally be doing your show. You sigh, pushing your sweaty hair out of your face as you reach for your phone on the nightstand. You immediately notice a few text messages from Seungcheol; frowning when you notice the text messages were from the morning.

cheollie ✨: hey, baby :( saw your note, i hope you’re okay.

cheollie ✨: make sure to drink a lot of water and take medicine!

cheollie ✨: don’t push yourself too hard either okay?

The messages end there and you pout, unsure what to even say now that it had been hours since he’d texted.

babygirl 🍒 : cheollie… i only saw ur msgs now 🥺

babygirl 🍒 : im sorryyyyy i was sleeping so long but i feel better now!!

Seungcheol closes all his browser tabs before he realizes it, a smile on his face when he sees you’ve responded.

‘That’s okay, I’m just glad you’re okay and feeling better. Promise me you drank tons of water?’

He feels giddy, palms sweaty as he grips his phone.

babygirl: mmhmm! i did… i don’t even feel sick anymore 🥺 but…

babygirl: dunno… i’m feeling needy again… i think my body is used to my usual schedule...

Seungcheol’s body thrums with newfound energy and arousal at your leading comments. He’s unsure of what to say next, fearing he was going to say too much. But his phone pings again, eyes quickly flitting over your messages.

babygirl 🍒 : if ur busy its okay but

babygirl 🍒 : do u think we could cam? just u and me?

babygirl 🍒 : only if ur free tho!!

His fingers are tingling when he sends his reply, making it short and sweet before he places his phone down and makes sure his PC is running smoothly.

‘Of course, you know I’m always here when you need me. :)’

It takes a few minutes for you and Seungcheol to set up your respective spaces and in the meantime, you grab your laptop, propping it open on the bed next to you as you lay in front of it. You had debated on using your better camera which you used for camming, but you didn’t want it to be set up like a cam show.

Instead, you wanted a more intimate and casual video call with Seungcheol, so you made sure your webcam worked fine as you placed it on the sheets.

‘Video Call Incoming…’

You can’t help the blush that coats your skin nor the lust that fills your body as soon as you accept his call; his somewhat blurry figure coming into view.

“Hey, sweetheart!” Seungcheol beams at you through the grainy camera and you already feel yourself clenching around emptiness, words caught in your throat at how handsome he was and how truly enticing his voice was. “H-hi!” Rubbing your thighs together, you peer at the camera shyly. “I--wow, the pictures really… You’re so much more handsome on v-video.” You giggle slightly, leaning in closer to your laptop to get a better view of the silvery-blue haired male.

Seungcheol’s deep laugh filters through the speakers and your toes curl against the sheets.

“You should see me in person, maybe I’ll look even better then.”

You don’t deny that one bit; your own hands already itching to touch yourself. “Oh? Is that an invitation~?”

Seungcheol’s eyes pierce the camera, licking his own lips as you watch him snake a hand down into his sweats.

“If you want it to be, sweetheart. But tell me about you, how are you feeling? Have you eaten already?”

Gulping, you watch as his hand seems to work slowly and out of view. “I--um, I feel b-better just… Dunno, guess my body’s just used to, um, y’know… A-and I haven’t really had much of an appetite...” You trail off, head still fuzzy from the cold medicines and now, Seungcheol.

In a roundabout way, it almost feels like you’re watching him do a show for you as you watch him slowly get off.

“I’m glad you’re feeling better, baby. But you know you should try to eat, okay? I don’t want you to get even sicker.” You nod, fingertips already at the edge of your sleep shorts.

“I--c-can I touch myself too?” Seungcheol laughs lightly, nodding as he tilts his head back. “Of course, you don’t need to ask me for permission, baby.”

You grin at him, sitting up as you reposition the laptop. Your hand slides underneath a pillow, grabbing the small bullet vibrator you kept there. “Do you always keep a toy handy?” His voice is airy, teasing in the way he asks.

“Mmhmm~ You never know when you’ll need it~” You sing-song, shimmying your sleep shorts and panties off before you spread your legs in front of the camera.

The air gets knocked out of Seungcheol the second you spread your legs for him and him alone and he can’t help but imagine all the things he wanted to do with you. He watches as you tease yourself, fingertips only grazing across the areas he knew you wanted to be touched the most.

“I can’t wait for us to finally fuckin’ meet.” He grits out.

A moan floats through the speakers of Seungcheol’s gaming PC, your saccharine voice music to his ears. “M-me too, wanna know what you’d do to me~” You giggle afterwards, pressing the vibrator to your clit as you spread your legs wider for him to see. Seungcheol’s hand around his cock tightens as he watches, an appreciative smirk on his face.

“Oh sweetheart, what wouldn’t I do to you.” You can’t help but slide your fingers through your wet folds listening to Seungcheol’s voice, whimpering when you finally slide a finger in. “Yeah? What would be the first thing? Tell me, ‘Cheollie~”

Even through the webcam quality, you can see the way Seungcheol’s eyes glaze over in complete pleasure. He licks his lips once, leaning in close so that you can hear him clearly.

“I know you probably think I’d get straight to the filthy shit, huh? Pin you to your bed and fuck you until you forget your own name or tie you up to the bedposts and make you beg for me to fuck you. But I wouldn’t. Because I wanna worship your fuckin’ body. I’d take it nice and slow with you, give you as many orgasms as you want.”

“F-fuck, Seungcheol, I–”

“You could use me for your pleasure, y’know? You deserve it. You’re such a good girl. I’d give you anything you fuckin’ want if you’d let me.”

Your choked moans have Seungcheol working his cock faster; nothing on his mind except for you and his impending orgasm. “Oh g-god, Seungcheol, I--fuck, yes, I want that~ I want you to--to make me cum as many times as I w-want!” You mewl, easily working in another finger as you pump the digits inside your pussy.

He smirks when he sees your grip on the vibrator loosening, knowing that you were already too lost in the pleasure to keep the toy on. “And I’d let you. Maybe I’d make you cum on my tongue first. Or would you want my fingers?”

“B-both! Puh--please…” You whine, legs threatening to clamp shut. You curl and scissor your fingers, thrusting them knuckle deep inside yourself as you chase the pleasure that overtakes your senses. “Please, ‘Cheol, tell me more~”

You watch through the camera as Seungcheol pushes his sweats down enough to get his cock into view; mouth watering as you watch it curve up to his lower abdomen.

“I know how much you love being doted on and being taken care of… So after I make you cum all fuckin’ night, you know I’d take care of you. Make sure you’re comfortable and cuddle with you when you’re tired.” His hips cant up into his closed palm, a soft groan on his lips. “And then when we wake up, I’ll eat you out. Nice and slow so you know it’d be worth it.”

Seungcheol smirks, smearing the precum all over his shaft. “But I also know you like it rough and you like being punished like a bad girl. You like the idea of being tied up and teased and being fucked nice and hard too. I could take it nice and slow, build up the pleasure for you. Or I can take it nice and slow and tease you, I’d make you sit on my cock ‘n make you wait for it ‘til you’re begging me. Or maybe you would want an audience? Let them see you fall apart on my cock when you’re desperate to cum.”

You press the vibrator against your clit again, Seungcheol’s name falling out of your mouth in a blubbering mess. “Oh--I--!!”

Your legs clamp shut, fingers halting their movements as you cum hard around your fingers. Seungcheol watches as your legs shake, his own hand running up and down his cock in quick motions as he chases his high too. You vaguely hear him groaning your name; the ringing in your ears overbearing as your orgasm continues to wash over you.

The sound of your quick and shallow breaths mix with Seungcheol’s over the speakers as the two of you catch your breath. You slip your fingers from inside of you, wincing when you turn off the toy and toss it to the side.

“Fuck, baby, I--”

“Y-yeah…” You quietly lick your fingers clean, knowing that Seungcheol’s watching. “I… that was the first time I… did that with s-someone…” You giggle tiredly, wiping the rest of your sticky fingers on your shirt.

“Really? Never?” Seungcheol’s surprised expression makes you giggle; his eyes round and mouth wide open as he leans closer to his webcam.

“Mmhmm! Just, y’know, it’s--it’s hard to get close to people sometimes…”

You had mentioned it off-handedly once while the two of you had been texting, that most of the dates you’d been on hated the fact that you cammed. There was always a possessive aura that was present and while Seungcheol would sometimes get a little jealous himself, he also knew it was your livelihood and how you supported yourself.

“Ah, yeah, I can understand.”

The two of you sit in a content silence, Seungcheol reaching for a few tissues to clean off the drying cum on his abdomen.

“Hey, ‘Cheol?”

“Yeah?” He peers up at the camera through his lashes, blinking rapidly as he watches you lay back down in front of your laptop.

“About what you said… earlier…” You pause, shyness overtaking once again. “I--Would you want to meet up? Like, for real? I mean--not--not like tomorrow or something but... Y’know, we can start planning?”

Any words that come after that turn into radio static in Seungcheol’s head and he can feel his pupils shaking, nervousness already bubbling up inside of him at the prospect of actually finally maybe getting to meet you.

“Seungcheol? ‘Cheollie? You okay?”

Fuck.

“Huh? Yeah, yeah! I’m cool, I’m good, sorry, that--that caught me off guard.”

He watches as you talk animatedly, mind already going a mile a minute as he thinks over everything that needed to be done before then.

“I’m really excited to meet you, ‘Cheollie!”

#cherrybomb!cheol #seungcheol smut #scoups smut #seventeen smut #svt smut #svt scenarios #svt imagines #seventeen imagines #seventeen scenarios #scoups imagines #seungcheol imagines #scoups scenarios #seungcheol scenarios #scoups #seungcheol

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cotncandyboifics · 3 years

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A Lovely Night: Chapter 5

AO3 Link

Masterpost

Chapter 1 ~ Chapter 2 ~ Chapter 3 ~ Chapter 4 ~ Chapter 6

Pairing(s): pre-established roceit & prinxiety, anaroceit, eventual anaroloceit, eventual intruality

Word count: ~2.5k

Story summary: Roman's boyfriends had had a rivalry since before either of them had actually met Roman. Running a bit late to a date night, Roman accidentally gets them to start dating too.

General CW: non-detailed description of an anxiety attack, non-detailed description of physical pain, food, kissing, potentially triggering descriptions of physical bodies, swearing, caps lock, school settings, s-xual innuendos, slight description of gore(imagery), vague descriptions of anxiety, Implications of an eating disorder, fatigue, dissociation, suppression of stimming, implied heavy restriction (ED), inner monologue-style anxiety description, eating,(will be added to as I write more)

Chapter CW: Swearing, slight description of gore(imagery), vague descriptions of anxiety, food, (let me know if i missed anything please!)

Author notes: i like this chapter a lot :) the stage has been set.

...

The next morning, Virgil had an opening shift at the knitting and sewing supply store he worked for. He'd found it the first week the three of them had moved to this town for college, and immediately took a liking to it, likely thanks to his long-lasting hobby of clothing alteration. He'd made some good money to save up in high school from making and selling custom hoodies and other clothing, even having taken a few commissions over the years.

It wasn't rare occurrence, that he was opening the store, and on this particular morning it wasn't so dreadful (once he'd pried himself away from his half-asleep boyfriends, who both vaguely grumbled protests at the incomplete cuddle pile as Virgil was getting ready). Virgil had gotten to his favorite coffee shop, where Janus' brother Patton worked, in time that it would be open and he also wouldn't be late for his shift, which was rare. It only worked out that way if Virgil's bus commute was perfectly timed.

Now caffeinated, and somewhat less-pessimistic-than-usual about the day ahead of him, Virgil retrieved the keys to the shop from his pocket, fumbling for a bit before finding the right one. He let out a breath as he found it, unlocking the door as he'd done a thousand times before and stepping in, shutting the door behind him and leaning his back against it. Virgil noted the clock on the wall, reading 5:02 am. The shop opened at 6, and he had more than enough sorting and stocking to do before then.

The next hour passed rather quickly. His co-worker Emile showed up shortly after him, and they both spent the rest of the time before the shop opened restocking and organizing the horrendous amounts of yarn and string and such supplies throughout the store and in the back room.

Shortly 6 am arrived, and it was time for the two of them to draw straws to decide who would man the register and help customers while the other continued stocking. Typically Virgil enjoyed the latter while Emile enjoyed the former, but their manager had insisted that they make the odds more random in order to get them both more comfortable in their unpreferred positions.

True to their manager's sentiment, Virgil drew the register stick. They both sighed at each other, and Emile returned to sorting through some cerulean yarn balls. Virgil made his way to the front of the store, unlocking the doors and flipping the sign to open, before making himself at home behind the register.

Generally, customers were rare at this time of morning, save for a few early-riser regulars. The bell at the top of the door chimed. Virgil didn't look up, expecting to see Margaret in her usual morning power-walk getup, coming in to check up on whether they'd gotten a shipment of lavender yarn yet.

"Morning, Marge. We still haven't gotten any lavender in, if-" Virgil halted his speaking upon looking up, feeling his throat constrict as he realized who had entered. At any rate, this person was certainly not Margaret.

The first thing that caught Virgil's attention about this new customer was their eyes. They were a burning blue, with small subtle mushes of gray here and there. Through their vaguely foggy colors, those eyes cut sharp like ice shards. The customer seemed entirely calm and stoic, however that did not extend to the ferocious - however not hostile - intensity with which they were staring Virgil down. Of course this intensity did not extend past their eyes, as the very slight twinge of a polite smile was seated at the corners of their mouth. Virgil briefly noted some seemingly familiar physical characteristics (although he was extremely wary to assume anything - what would be the chances of him and his boyfriends all meeting the same man individually, completely perchance?); shining black hair, square-framed glasses, the freckles, the pale and sunken nature of their face. Or, as Virgil certainly noticed, the subtle pronunciation of his cheekbones and jawline. They wore a black coat and a navy patterned scarf that appeared to be hand-knitted.

Virgil stumbled his way over to the closest register to the door - he wasn't sure why they even had two, they never needed to use them both simultaneously - and leaned haphazardly on the counter, propping his chin up on his palm.

"Sorry, hello, I thought you'd be someone else. Marge is usually the first in. What can I do for you?" His face felt really hot, and he was pretty sure that much was obvious to the newcomer, but he tried his best not to think about it.

The stranger didn't speak for a moment, merely leaning forward slightly with a furrowed brow. Virgil panicked for a moment, but followed their line of sight to the name tag on his hoodie. It was quite scuffed up, and the name "Virgil" was scarcely discernible through various smears of odd substances. Virgil quickly unpinned the name tag, beginning to rub away at the gunk with a sweater-covered thumb.

"It's Virgil, sorry about that," He spoke, hiding his hot cheeks behind his bangs as he scratched at his name tag feverishly. He quickly decided on just setting it down, wanting to give the newcomer his full attention.

"Good morning, Virgil," they spoke, and wow, was Virgil gay. The strangers' voice was deep and smooth, and reminded him a bit of Janus'. But this had a tactful, almost clinical and calculated sincerity, whereas Janus' was far more lilted and drawly. Regardless, Virgil felt his throat constricting a bit. He tried subtly coughing the feeling away. "I am in search of some high quality yarn, as a gift for a dear friend of mine. It is my understanding that this establishment is highly regarded for its products' quality?" Virgil tried not to stare. The stranger was running their fingers down and up the inside of one of the lapels of their coat very slowly, and that reminded Virgil terribly of Janus. He felt like he was in high school all over again, ogling over a tall pretty boy.

Regardless of his gay panic, Virgil cleared his throat. "Yeah, we try," His voice cracked slightly, and he tried clearing his throat again. "I mean, we have some pretty awesome suppliers, and we have a really, uh... Big selection of stuff. Do you, do you know what it is you want to get for your friend, exactly?" Virgil thanked any gods that existed had allowed him to formulate a coherent sentence, and he was glad to have the expectation of speaking temporarily off himself.

The customer tapped his chin with the side of his index finger, - which again, reminded Virgil painfully of Janus - humming as he continued surveying his surroundings. "I think he'd appreciate a selection of soft or pastel colors, and he adores the color blue. I think white would be a suitable addition as well. Do you sort your yarns by color?" he inquired, returning his heavy gaze to Virgil and pushing his glasses up the bridge of his nose. Virgil tried not to audibly gulp.

"Yeah, we do. here, let me show you to the right aisle," Virgil stepped away from the register, and tried to get out from behind the counter, only to completely trip over a cardboard box and fall directly onto his face.

"Goodness, are you alright?" the stranger paced quickly over to where Virgil was groaning on the floor, attempting to pull himself up onto his elbows. They reached a pale-white and very bony hand down to Virgil, who stared at it for a little too long before taking it gingerly.

The customer pulled firmly, and Virgil did too, and they both slightly miscalculated how much strength they needed to apply in order for Virgil to stand. Virgil stumbled forward just a bit as he rose. He looked up slightly and found himself nose to nose with the now wide-eyed man. Virgil yelped slightly, jumping away like a startled cat.

"Sh-shoot, sorry about that," Virgil took to fidgeting a bit aggressively with his hoodie strings, curling them around and between his fingers. "Uh, this way," he pushed a bit awkwardly past the man, looking at his shoes as he walked and willing away the burning heat he felt in his cheeks. Of course the first cute guy he encounters besides his boyfriends is right there when he falls on his face.

He paced over to the aisle with hues of blue and purple yarn, spotting Emile still working with a large box of cerulean. After a momentary panic and trying to wave Emile's attention without making any noise, the stranger turned the corner into the aisle Virgil had led him to. Virgil sighed to himself, annoyed at an in-no-way-at-fault Emile who still hadn't noticed their presence.

Virgil cleared his throat. "Hey, Emile, could you take register while I help this... customer?" Virgil had to take a moment to recall a phrase to describe him besides 'very beautiful man'.

"Uh-" Emile went to say he could help the customer for Virgil, since they were meant to stay in the vicinity of their assigned roles, but Virgil was looking at him with an intensity that blatantly said 'I am begging you to let me help this very gorgeous man to find his yarn and if you don't so help me god I will impale your severed and rotting skull on a rusty metal pole'. Emile chuckled a little shrilly. "Yeah, sure Virge," Emile slid past the two of them, making his way to the register as the chime of the door sounded again. "Welcome in, Margaret! Do-you-how-do?"

Virgil turned his attention back to the man looming slightly over him, leading him down the aisle to the softer and lighter shades. The customer was already scanning the shelves with a tactful intensity that made Virgil almost as anxious as it did further attracted to him.

"This variety is more than adequate," he spoke, almost under his breath, and Virgil tried not to shudder at the rumble in his voice.

"Um, great," Virgil piped up after a moment, and the icy gaze of the tall boy was on him once again. His cheeks felt real hot. "I can, get you a bag for... what you pick out? Er, a gift bag, if you'd like?" Virgil tapped the side of his fist into his hip a few times, trying to expel some of his nervousness. The stranger smiled softly.

"That would be excellent. Thank you, Virgil." He turned back to examining his options, and Virgil scurried off to find a gift bag.

The bags were all by the front register, and he grumbled a bit to himself on the way, preparing for some relentless teasing from his coworker for the next century at minimum. Emile was just waving Margaret off when Virgil rounded the corner, stepping behind the counter to rummage through some boxes for a gift bag.

"Sooo, Virgil," Emile started, tone entirely teasing as he leaned a little too far on the counter, tapping his orange pen on his lips.

"Don't. Say. Anything." Virgil hissed through clenched teeth, glancing up to give Emile another pointed glare for good measure. Emile chuckled lightly, leaning back on the counter a bit.

"Whaat? I won't! I'm totally innocent, see?" Emile puffed out his bottom lip and made his eyes look big. Virgil scoffed.

"Is that a cartoon reference?"

Emile grinned, shrugging. "Probably."

Virgil found the gift bags - finally - and began scampering off and away from the prying gaze of his overly curious co-worker.

Virgil helped the customer to find and collect the proper amount and variety of yarns that he wanted. As it turned out, it was a relatively easy task; aside from being impossibly and unintentionally charming, the stranger was mindful and courteous, and working with him was proving to be relatively easy. They bantered a bit, falling into a casual conversation as they searched for yarn, as well as while they walked back to the register for Virgil to ring his items up.

Emile gave Virgil a pointed look as he approached, trading him places as he walked with a skip in his step back to his yet unstocked shelves. Virgil rolled his eyes at him, stepping extra carefully behind the counter so as not to trip on any stray cardboard boxes. He leaned against the counter in front of the register, beginning to type numbers into it as though he knew the yarn prices like the back of his hand.

the customer stood at the counter before Virgil, vaguely examining his purchase as he watched Virgil slightly through his peripheral. He noticed the way Virgil bit at the inside corner of his mouth, worrying the flesh between his canines as he focused on adding the prices.

"Alright... your total is 82.53," Virgil said slowly, looking up at the stranger, who had - oddly enough - already been looking at him. The stranger glanced away momentarily, clearing his throat and reaching into an inside pocket of his coat for his wallet.

He produced a pristine black leather wallet, pulling a shiny navy blue debit card from between its folds and setting the wallet on the counter as he handed off the card. Virgil took the card and charged it, the customer punching in his PIN through the keypad.

A faint buzzing sounded from within the man's coat, and he reached in once more with knitted eyebrows. He pulled out what seemed to be his phone, eyes widening as he saw whatever was on the screen. Virgil couldn't see, but he figured someone must be calling him.

"My apologies, I must depart," The man spoke quietly, grabbing his gift bag of yarn and bringing his phone to his face as he made hastily for the door. Virgil didn't hear what he said when he answered the phone, but his brow was still furrowed when Virgil caught a glimpse of his face walking down the sidewalk out the store window.

"Bye..." Virgil said to the empty store front.

He looked down, seeing the customer's debit card still in his hand. "Shit." He saw the wallet set on the counter before him as well. He grabbed it, opening it to return the debit card to its proper place and see if there was a way of contacting the man within the wallet.

As he opened it, a white card similar in shape and size to the debit card fell to the floor. Virgil retrieved it, flipping it over to see what it was.

"No way..." Virgil was holding a driver's license. The name it was registered under was too familiar for it to be a coincidence.

He'd need to be giving one Logan Lattimer a call on his break.

#sanders sides #virgil sanders #logan sanders #ts logan #ts virgil #emile picani #analogical #anaroceit #anaroloceit #theyre so gay oml

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darkficsyouneveraskedfor · 4 years

Text

Never Too Late 2

Warnings: noncon sexual acts (later in series)

This is dark!Steve Rogers and explicit. Your media consumption is your own responsibility. Warnings have been given. DO NOT PROCEED if these matters upset you.

Summary: You’re turning forty and life seems to be forging ahead on its one way track, that is until you meet Steve Rogers.

Note: Things are... going. But I’m doing my best.

Thank you. Love you guys!

As always, if you can, please leave some feedback, like and reblog <3

It was about time you started doing something. Past due, you’d say. Your body was screaming for it. You were no longer the college grad who could sit and eat potato chips to her heart’s desire. Or the thirtysomething in denial of the looming 4-0. No you had stepped upon the threshold and you felt and saw the changes which came with another decade.

And yet, the simple act was daunting. Your old beat up sneakers squeaked as you descended the stairs of your building to the street. You wore a pair of thin track pants you’d bought years ago on the unspent whim of a New Years’ resolution. Your sports bra was new and uncomfortable; the tank top a bit too tight for your liking.

You did your best to stretch outside. You kicked your foot up against the brick and lunged a few times forward and back. Your muscles were stiff from inactivity; from years of neglect; from time. You hopped in place as worked up to your departure.

You began at a slow jog. You reached the first corner out of breath.

You were old. Accept it.

You continued and wove your way to the park where few others paced themselves around the fountain and winding paths where happy owners walked their happier pets. Another breather as you gasped. The sweat gathered under the cotton shirt and created a humid tent in the pants.

You gripped your hips and stared ahead. Keep going. You pushed off your heels and bent your arms as you fought your way through the tension in your chest, the burn in your lungs, the ache in your knees. One day at a time, it would get easier. You hoped.

You wondered how you’d manage to fit in your new regime on workdays. A morning run would mean even earlier days; likely shorter nights. You’d have to make it work. You didn’t have another ten years to wait around; if you did, it might be too late to change.

You were tired. Of the years passing like second. Of the tedium. Of nothing happening. Of failed hopes. Of pointless relationships and temporary stability. You weren’t where you wanted to be and you’d likely never get there but there were other desires in life. Other achievements to be made.

Your mother could resent you for your singleness; your lack of familial bliss. She could not begrudge you entirely. Not if you bettered yourself. Not if you turned it around and tried. Not if you set aside your passivity for proaction. Because it was your life, not hers.

When you got back to your building, you were ready to collapse. The old elevator was still out of order. It’s old grated doors marked with an X of tape and a handwritten sign. You dragged yourself up the stairs and stumbled inside. You downed a glass of water and splayed over your single armchair. Your heart slowed as you flipped on the television and checked off day one in your newly downloaded app.

👟

Day two. Exhausted and still sore, you made yourself go. You had an hour before you had to be back to shower and ready for work. The day seemed even longer ahead of you. Eight hours at a desk in pain, dealing with the frustrated public. It was worse than you could imagine. Your night was spent with an ice pack and half-dazed.

Day three, four, five. A tic in your phone which barely felt worth it. Six almost saw you giving up as you ambled around work with splints in your calves. Seven, another day off, but you still had work to do. You pulled on your freshly washed track pants and a loose tee. The last days of summer approached but the heat had yet to relent.

You took your usual route to the park. You stopped at the entrance and stretched a second time. You found it was helping. The pain was duller, the aches less spread out. You set off and found your step. A week and you could already see the ounce of improvement. Well, inside more than out.

You measured your breaths as you neared the curve shrouded in trees; leaves still lush and aromatic. Soon enough, they’d darken and drop. Time was like footsteps. Each one forward took you further from where you were and yet you could feel like you were standing still or come to a startling stop that left you hurtling into the void.

Like then. Your worn treads slid over the ground as you collided with the unexpected runner coming your way. Your eyes had been above him, staring at the rounded tree tops and their sprawling branches. On the early morning hues that cast the sentinels in a placid mural.

You stumbled back, your hands reaching back to catch yourself but you never met the ground. Two thick hands caught your upper arms and steadied you. You looked up, both surprised and not by the face staring back at you. Both familiar and not. After so long in the city, the last two weeks had seen as many run-ins with Steve Rogers. More, now.

“You,” He smiled as he slowly released you, his fingers tickled your arms.

“You.” You echoed dully.

“Small world,” He chuckled.

“New York isn’t that small,” You said. “You must think I’m some weirdo.”

“Or maybe I’m the weirdo?” He ventured. “Didn’t peg you as a runner.”

“Wow, thanks,” You scoffed. “And I’m not. Well, wasn’t. New hobby.”

“New?” He raised a brow.

“One week,” You shrugged. “Not much and I’m sure once it’s cold, I’ll go back to my sloth,” You said. “Uh, sorry about… wasn’t looking where I was going.”

“Not at all. Neither was I.” He smiled.

“Well, I, uh…” You looked past him, “Have a lot to go.”

“Can I join you?” He asked. You squinted at his eagerness.

“Weren’t you going…” You pointed over your shoulder.

“I just do circles,” He said. “Doesn’t really matter which direction.”

“I’m not very fast.”

“It’s not a race.”

“Alright,” You threw your hands up, just wanting to get it over with. “But if you feel like leaving me behind, don’t think it’ll bother me.”

“Come on,” He turned so he faced the same direction. “It’s always easier with company.”

You exhaled and righted yourself before you fell back into a jog. He kept pace beside you. You could smell his sweat. You tried to keep your breathing quiet.

“I used to run with my pal Sam but… he joined a gym.” He said. “So, new hobby?”

“Hobby is putting it… nicely,” You huffed. “More like trying to make up for my own laziness.”

“It’s never too late to make a change,” He preened. “You got any other hobbies? Maybe something you enjoy more?”

You glanced at him. Your chest hurt but you didn’t want to slow down.

“Cross-stitching? Tetris?” You offered. “Nothing special. Just… life.”

“How’s work?” He asked.

You were silent as you kept running. You listened to the sound of your foot falls as your breath came faster.

“I--” You came to a stop and turned to him as you touched your side. “Forgive me for being a bit--confused but--” You gulped. “Don’t you have friends? Super friends?”

“Co-workers,” He said and his hands went to his hips. “Oh, maybe you already have enough friends then.”

“Look, I’m forty, I work the same job I had sixteen years ago, I live in a box, and I’m falling apart,” You shook your head. “Not many people are trying to be my friend. All my friends have families; obligations.”

“Well, it sounds like we have a lot in common,” He grinned. “So we should be great friends.”

You frowned. His optimism was irksome. His refusal to be rebuffed more so.

“Friends?” You repeated darkly.

“Maybe just running buddies?” He suggested. “I do get a bit lonely out here with just the chipmunks.”

“Steve.” You uttered.

“And I think you need someone to keep you on the right path, hmm? I’ve been told I’m a great motivator. Bit of a hard ass but I’ve got a talent and I use it.”

You considered him. He was right. An app wasn’t going to keep you going forever. Already, you were tempted to drag the little icon to the bin. Already you were tempted to sleep in. Already you were succumbing to failure.

“You sure?” You asked.

“What time do you usually run?”

“Well, weekdays, I head out at six, back home at seven, then off to work,” You explained. “Weekends I get an extra hour of sleep.”

“Alright,” He turned and set off. You followed. “I can’t promise every day. Lots of work out of town but weekends at least.”

“You really don’t--”

“Maybe if you start saying yes, you’ll find what you’ve been looking for,” He intoned.

You grumbled and pressed your lips together. He was right. You hated that he was. Something about this man both intrigued and disturbed you. He was kind but with a hint of pushiness. You just couldn’t decide if his insistence was merely clueless or something more deliberate.

👟

Another week and the mornings were easier, though the days continued to drag. Steve met you again on Monday and Tuesday but Wednesday he was gone. You didn’t mind so much but he returned on Saturday. He waited for you at the park entrance, a wrapped box in his hand. You were curious but not nosy.

You slowed as he greeted you.

“Hey,” He smiled. “I didn’t realise until after I’d gone that I had no way to tell you I’d be away.”

“It’s fine.” You assured him. “Think I managed just fine on my own.”

“Work,” He said. “But a quick mission so I can’t complain.”

“I saw you on the news,” You looked towards the fountain that stood further inside the park. “I figured.”

“Still, I think maybe… I’d like a more direct line.” He pulled out his phone as he kept the box under his arm.

“Are you asking for my number?”

“In case anything happens,” He said. “I mean, we’re not strangers.

“Sure, but…” You wetted your dry lip with your tongue. “Okay. Um, I don’t have my phone on me but I can give you my number.”

“Great, I’ll text you.” He unlocked his cell and carefully keyed in your details as you recited them. He replaced the phone in the strap around his bicep. “There. Your very own on-call hero.”

“Right,” You nodded slowly.

“Oh, and…” He grabbed the box from beneath his elbow. “Happy belated birthday.”

“What? Uh, I can’t. You already--”

“A cake? Really. Everyone should have a cake on their birthday.” He held out the gift. “And presents too.”

You looked at the small square box. You chewed your lip and shifted your weight on your feet.

“It’s really nothing special.” He urged. “If you’re wondering, July fourth,” He pointed to himself. “So you’re in the clear.”

“Steve--”

“I already got it and… it’s not really my colour,” He shoved it closer. “Please.”

You slowly took it as you gave a quiet thank you. You carefully slipped a finger in the crease of red wrapping paper and tore it open. A dusty pink smart watch shone back at you. You blinked and looked up at him.

“The guy at the store said you sync it with your phone and it can count your steps and all that. Send you reminders.” He rubbed his neck. “I thought it would be useful. Especially when I’m away.”

You tilted your head at him then looked back to the clear plastic window of the box. It was expensive, you could tell.

“It’s… a lot.” You said.

“It’s a gift. It’s not about the price tag,” He shrugged. “Come on. Try it on.”

You scratched your hairline and muttered. You went over to a bench and sat as you worked at opening the box. You took out the watch and admired its round face. He offered to do it up for you and you turned your wrist over. He secured it and you held up your hand as you looked it over.

“You like it?” He asked. “They had gold but I liked the pink.”

“Nice color,” You affirmed. “I guess… I guess I can use it.” You lowered your arm and hid the watched with your other hand. “Thank you.”

“It’s nothing. It’s what friends do,” He stood and gathered the packaging. “You don’t need all this, do you?”

“No,” You stood. “Thanks.”

He tossed it in a bin surrounded by hedges and you neared.

“Well, should we get going?” He asked.

“Yeah. Maybe an extra lap today?” You said. “Push myself a little.”

#steve rogers #dark steve rogers #dark!steve rogers #steve rogers x reader smut #dark steve rogers x reader #dark!steve rogers x reader #fic #au #dark fic #dark!fic #series #never too late #mcu #marvel #captain america

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kayliemusing · 3 years

Text

42: top 3s

1: Top 3 ice cream flavors - classic vanilla, birthday cake/birthday batter, bubblegum

2: Top 3 Disney Movies - Mulan, Onward, Soul (but this changes frequently lol)

3: Top 3 vacation destinations - I've never been outside of my home country so I'll say my top 3 DREAM destinations: NYC, Hawaii, a random countryside in either France or the UK

4: Top 3 places to shop - Dynamite, Sephora, Winners/Homesense

5: Top 3 subjects of study/classes to take - English/anything creative writing related, Interior Decorating/Design, Communications?

6: Top 3 make up products - YSL Touche Eclat Foundation, literally any Mac Lipstick but it has to be matte, & Fenty Beauty contour stick

7: Top 3 music artists - Taylor Swift - Of Monsters and Men - The Lumineers

8: Top 3 spices/herbs - Cinnamon - Nutmeg (literally tastes like autumn) - Paprika

9: Top 3 drinks - Diet Coke - Hot Chocolate - Vanilla Bean Frappe

10: Top 3 apps to use - Instagram - Pinterest -iBooks

11: Top 3 months of the year - May, October, December

12: Top 3 clothing items - My black/white turtle neck, high waisted jeans, plaid blazer

13: Top 3 binge perfect tv shows - Bones, Supernatural, Brooklyn Nine Nine

14: Top 3 romantic dates - (I've never been on a date but if I had, it would be this) Evening walk, late night drive, late night coffee date (tbh anything at night feels romantic)

15: Top 3 kinds of flower - Water lilies, cherry blossoms, roses

16: Top 3 christmas movies - A Christmas Carol (2009), Home Alone, The Polar Express

17: Top 3 OTPs - Nesta and Cassian from ACOTAR series by SJM, Manon and Dorian from Throne of Glass series by SJM, Casteel and Poppy from From Blood and Ash series by JLM.

18: Top 3 quotes to describe your life - "I write not to find, but to leave" by Scherezade Siobhan - "I want to be myself again. I want to be six. I want to stop knowing everything I know" by Catherynne M. Valente - "The truth is, I pretend to be a cynic, but I am really a dreamer who is terrified of wanting something she may never get" by Joanna Hoffman.

19: Top 3 characteristics you love about yourself - my kindness bc it's not surface level kindness, but actually something deeply rooted within me - my resilience even tho sometimes it doesn't feel like resilience - my loyalty bc it is a hard as steel kind of loyalty

20: Top 3 kinds of candy - Maltesers, Kit kats, smarties

21: Top 3 ways to exercise/ be active - Walking, dancing, mowing the lawn/shoveling the sidewalk

22: Top 3 spirit animals - wolf, hummingbird, tiger (i googled it bc i didn't know and i was scared it was a joke but)

23: Top 3 petnames - I like 'lovebug', 'love', 'sweetheart'

24: Top 3 books read outside of school - The Hating Game by Sally Thorne, A Court of Silver Flames by Sarah J Maas but viewers discretion is advised, Crush by Richard Siken

25: Top 3 most used websites - Youtube, Tumblr, Pinterest

26: Top 3 people you last texted - my mom, my bestie megan, and my sister bc they're the only people i text...

27: Top 3 hashtags you use - the only time i use hashtags is if i'm trying to promote some of my writing so I'll usually use writingcommunity, writersonig, poetryonig lol

28: Top 3 instagram accounts you follow - Trista Mateer, Griefmother, obviously taylor swift

29: Top 3 guilty pleasures - buzzfeed quizzes, early 2000s music, romance novels

30: Top 3 summer activities - Going to the zoo, long evening walks, campfires and s'mores

31: Top 3 things to draw/doodle - hearts, flowers, random swirls bc it's the only thing i can doodle...

32: Top 3 aesthetics - cityscape aesthetic, autumn aesthetic, rustic aesthetic

33: Top 3 things you'd buy if you gained three million dollars - a new car, a condo, another cat

34: Top 3 ways to treat yourself - facial, a large bag of maltesers, buying the makeup i really want but have been putting off

35: Top 3 celebrity crushes - Evan Peters, Matthew Daddario, henry cavill

36: Top 3 books from your childhood - Love You Forever by Robert Munsch, The Big Friendly Giant by Roald Dahl, and Madeline by Ludwig Bemelmens

37: Top 3 accents to hear - Australian, super poshy british accent, new zealand accent

38: Top 3 scents - Fresh rain, vanilla, sweet cinnamon pumpkin from bath and body works

39: Top 3 "Friends" quotes - "WE WERE ON A BREAK" -Ross, "Guess things were just going too well for me" -also ross, and "it's so exhausting waiting for death" - phoebe

40: Top 3 cupcake flavors - tbh I haven't tried that many cupcakes so your typical vanilla, chocolate, and Pink Lady Cupcake from Babycakes Cupcakery

41: Top 3 fruits - Pomegranates, Strawberries, Raspberries

42: Top 3 places you've had amazing pizza from - Pizzahut, Dominos, Pizza73

43: Top 3 sports teams to watch - i don't

44: Top 3 crayola colors - uh, i guess red, purple, and pink??

45: Top 3 things you hope to accomplish in college - Certificates/Degrees in Copyediting and Creative Writing, and I think simply just deeper critical thinking skills when it comes to writing and books

46: Top 3 fanfictions you've read - I read more books than fanfics, I've read a couple on tumblr but don't remember the names sorry :/

47: Top 3 people you miss right now - my dad, my best friend bc she's in vancouver, taylor swift bc she's not on tumblr anymore rip

48: Top 3 fears - Failure, Loss, not achieving anything in life/not reaching my full potential

49: Top 3 favorite literary devices - Foreshadowing is always god tier, cliffhangers although evil i love those too, symbolism

50: Top 3 pet peeves - People dragging their shoes on the floor when they walk, when you tell someone your fav hobby/music artist/interest and they immediately go 'oh I hate X!', and people who go 'you're so quiet!!!' but in a way that draws in more attention and/or makes me feel more uncomfortable like i would literally rather die

51: Top 3 physical things you find attractive - Hands, nice hair, defined jawlines

52: Top 3 bad habits - Nailbiting, picking at my blemishes oops, lip biting

53: Top 3 pets you've had/wish to have - Cats bc they complete me, I've always wanted a Samoyed, and I've always wanted a turtle

54: Top 3 types of foreign food - Chicken Chow Mein, deep fried shrimp, japanese chicken wings

55: Top 3 things you want to say to someone in your lifetime - 'I quit', 'I love you', 'you changed my life'

56: Top 3 dog breeds - Samoyed, german shepherds, collies

57: Top 3 cheesy romance movies - You've Got Mail, How To Lose a Guy In 10 Days, 10 Things I Hate About You

58: Top 3 languages you speak/wish to speak - French, Sign, and maybe Japanese?

59: Top 3 series (book, movie, television) - The Cruel Prince series by Holly Black, A Court of Thorns and Roses by Sarah J Maas (but literally only for Cassian and Nesta), From Blood and Ash by Jennifer L Armentrout

60: Top 3 pizza toppings - Mushrooms, alfredo sauce, pineapple

61: Top 3 youtubers you're subscribed to - Game Grumps, Charlotte Dobre, Megan Batoon

62: Top 3 tattoo / piercing ideas - I want to get a tattoo on my wrist of the last thing my dad ever wrote me, a hummingbird tattoo right next to it, and then a cross on my index finger

63: Top 3 awards you want to win - National Book Awards, Nobel Prize, and maybe even Goodreads Choice Awards lol

64: Top 3 emojis - Laugh/Crying emoji, the please sir emoji that kinda gives off those puss n boots eyes, and the stars emoji

65: Top 3 cars you dream of owning - 1970s Chev Impala, tbh a cute little Hyundai Venue, and maaaaybe the 1964 ferarri 250 gt luso (idk if that name was totally right but i had to do tons of googling to find it. i don't know a lot about cars and i don't really have a top 3 lol)

66: Top 3 authors - Right now I'm really into Sarah J Maas, Sally Thorne, and Holly Black maybe?

67: Top 3 historical figures - Jesus, Anne Frank, Vincent Van Gogh

68: Top 3 baby names - Ryder, Leila, Gracie

69: Top 3 DIYs - Candles, refurnishing old furniture (i.e. my mom and i painted our wooden garbage can), and really just any type of autumn diy

70: Top 3 smoothie combos/flavors - Strawberry/Banana, Mango, Strawberry-Mango

71: Top 3 songs of this month - Happier Than Ever by Billie Eilish, Biblical by Calum Scott, and Visiting Hours by Ed Sheeran

72: Top 3 questions of this post you want to be asked - I did them all bc I made it a survey instead of an ask meme ;)

73: Top 3 villains - Regina/The Evil Queen from Once Upon a Time, Cruella De Vil, and Moriarty from Sherlock

74: Top 3 Cities you want to see - Montreal, NYC, Vancouver (honorable mention: LA)

75: Top 3 recipes you want to try - different kind of salad and/or burger bowls, Stuffed bell peppers, and homemade lemon loaf

76: Top 3 dream jobs - Bestselling author, the person who runs a companies social media accounts, youtuber/blogger

77: Top 3 lucky items - tbh don't have one

78: Top 3 traditions you have - Christmas Eve Service and if I don't go to that at least incorporating reading the christmas story on christmas day or eve, idk if this counts as tradition but going to the corn maze every fall, and whenever it's easter/christmas/thanksgiving we always have a big meal w/ family

79: Top 3 things you miss about being a kid - reckless abandon, dreaming about growing up with hopefulness and no dashed hopes, experiencing holidays like halloween and christmas as a kid

80: Top 3 harry potter characters - I've never read or watched Harry Potter rip (ok well i saw the first and second (and maybe third?) movie in the sixth grade I think) but I think I really liked Hermoine, Harry obviously and Dobby

81: Top 3 lies you were told - i don't have 3, but this one has a story but basically when my sister and i were in elementary school my sister got hit by a car and so the insurance thing was that she would recieve 10k when she was 18 and as a child i thought that was unfair so my dad told me that my sister had to split it with me when we were 18 lmao obviously that didn't happen (i think i realized that wasn't true in middle school)

82: Top 3 pictures in your camera roll right now - Pictures of my cat, one of my sister in a hilarious filter, and a picture of my rocking my TS merch

83: Top 3 turn ons - Kindness, defined jawline, easy going

84: Top 3 turn offs - arrogance, unkempt, super loud and obnoxious

85: Top 3 magazines/news papers/ journals to read - I don't read much of those so I'll tell you some sites I love for writing purpose's: there's Wellstoried, justwriterlythings, springhole.net (which is filled with generators if you're stuck and also tons of infomation and advice)

86: Top 3 things you wish you had known earlier - that toad in Mario Party was wearing a mushroom hat and that it is actually not his head, that immaculate means 'clean' before i misused that word like several times over the years, and that the one turn i always take on my way to work where i thought everyone didn't know how to drive was actually bc i didn't have the right of way rip me

87: Top 3 spongebob episodes - the one episode where spongebob and patrick find a ghost ship, that one episode where they form a bikini bottom band and perform it at a football game in a little fish tank, and the one episode where squidward has his first snowball fight

88: Top 3 places to be in the world - I'd love to be in NYC, Montreal, or Hawaii

89: Top 3 things you'd do differently - I would not have applied for RDC, similarly I should have just paid the 500 dollars to the one certificate program I wanted to do instead of overthinking it, and I wish I wouldn't have ended a friendship the way I did

90: Top 3 TV shows from your childhood - Spongebob Squarepants, That's So Raven, and Hannah Montana

91: Top 3 meals you love - Turkey Burgers, Chilli, and Instant Pot Chicken Tortilla Soup

92: Top 3 kinds of tea - i don't drink tea

93: Top 3 embarrassing moments - one time in sixth grade I tripped and fell right on my face in front of my crush, this other time like a couple years ago i opened the door to my car and only realized much too late while i was staring at this random family that it was not my car, and when i went to the gas station to get gas and couldn't get my gas lid on my car opened and this guy had to help me which was already embarrassing enough but then the gas pump wouldn't work so i had to go inside to pay just to realize i forgot my wallet and had to shamefully walk back to my car and then run back inside the convenience store and then pay and then walk back to my car and finally fill my tank.

94: Top 3 holidays to celebrate - Christmas, Halloween, Thanksgiving

95: Top 3 things to do in the rain - have an existential crisis, pretend you're in a music video, walk through puddles like you're six again

96: Top 3 things to do in the snow - Sledding, Build a snowman, shovel it even tho you don't want to

97: Top 3 items you can't leave the house w/o - phone, keys, wallet

98: Top 3 movies you'd like to see - Jurassic World 3, Hotel Transylvania: Transformania bc i'm a child, and the animation of the addams family

99: Top 3 art mediums - Writing fiction/poetry, painting, music

100: Top 3 museums you've been to - Royal Tyrell Museum, Canadian History one in edmonton lol, and heritage park in calgary

101: Top 3 school memories - Middle school dances when the popular kids would grind to the song "Low" which was always an interesting experience, in the twelfth grade at winter formal when we all shouted "SHUT UP AND DANCE!" at the same time when they played Shut Up and Dance, and the day i left

102: Top 3 things you don't/Won't miss - School, my sisters ex, 2016 bc she was a rough year yikes

103: Top 3 pick up lines - "My name is Will. God's Will.", "I'd like to take you to the movies but they don't like you bring your own snacks", "are you from tennessee bc you're the only 10 i see"

104: Top 3 sports to watch - none of them

105: Top 3 taylor swift songs - all too well - exile - coney island

#survey

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syndianites · 4 years

Text

The After; The Athar: Chapter Four

Chapter 4/?

Chapter 1 - Chapter 2 - Chapter 3 - Chapter 4 [Here] - Chapter 5

AO3: This Chapter - Full Fic

Summary: Post Season 2, non-Mianitian Compliant. Wag escorts Martha to Jordan’s house and decides to have a day out with Sonja.

Relationships: Sparklington (end-game), Marthlington (temporarily), Sparkanite (Spark x Ianite) (past, mentioned), Motanite

Content Warnings: Death Mentions, Implied Depression, Implied PTSD, Self-Deprecation, Breaking up a Relationship (Marthlington)

AN: It’s Wednesday, totallyyyyyy. Just a little late haha, but here it is! Chapters 1-4 already written out. That means I actually need to finish chapter 5 and continue onward. I mentioned this before, but I’d been sitting on this since September of last year, and had chapter 4 done in... December? Of last year.

——————————————————————————————

“So, did you actually come to talk, or did you need something from me?” Jordan was looking towards the town now, legs crossed. With his arms splayed across the back of the couch, chin up, he looked like the perfect picture of nonchalance.

Wag knew that that was far from correct.

However, he sheepishly rubbed the back of his neck, drawing Jordan’s eye. “Well, I did actually come to see if you knew where Martha was, and if not Martha, Spark.”

Jordan gave him a thoughtful frown.

“Not that I didn’t want to talk to you,” Wag added in, “It’s just that I really need to see Martha. Rip the bandage off as soon as possible. I’m, uh. Breaking up with her.”

Jordan’s face crumpled into a harsh discomfort, like someone had just doused his socks in water and told him all his other socks were missing.

“Ah. That’s. Unfortunate?” He winces. “I’m sorry about your loss. Eventual loss. Yeah.”

Wag shook his head, a smile playing at his lips. “She’s not dying, Jordan. I just realised that we- well, it didn’t matter what I realised. We’re better as just friends, if she’s okay with that.”

Jordan nodded, lips pinched together. “I’m afraid I don’t recall where she was going today. Spark, however, should be at Town Hall handling some paperwork. She might be with him, might not. I’d ask him.”

Getting up with a stretch, Wag replied, “Thanks. The faster I do this the better.”

Jordan stood as well, following Wag to the front door. They stood there. Wag shuffled his feet. “I, uh. I’m not sure where the Town Hall is. Could you show me?”

He had a fair idea, but not a sure one. The Town Hall was a building Wag often forgot about. But not because he didn't care to commit it to memory.

To start, it looked like all the other buildings around it. Acacia based, a foundation of sandstone that peaked up from below the ground, and an easy, sloped thatch roof. It gave the buildings a log cabin feel, while still fitting in with the landscape. The edges were built with acacia logs to bring in a nice neutral gray which held it all together.

Now, if it just looked like every other building that’d be fine. But it also had no marker to identify it as Town Hall. Or, rather, the marker it had was easily mistaken for something else- an open book with a quill. For example, it could be the symbol for a courthouse, or the symbol for a law firm. Or the Records Hall.

Wag didn’t know where the Records Hall was either.

Add in the fact that no one really went in there since the majority of citizens specialized in fishing and you have a place that is forgettable at best.

That being said, Wag would rather have some company on his death march to breaking up with Martha. Using his unsureness of where, exactly, the Town Hall was would be a good excuse to keep talking to Jordan. At the least, it would help with his nerves.

Jordan looked off to the side. “Isn’t it right next to-” He cut off. Thought for a second. “Yeah, it’d be better to just show you.”

Wag smiled. He swept his hand towards the path and gave Jordan a shallow bow. “After you, my dear.”

Shaking his head, Jordan began to lead the way, Wag trailing along just behind his shoulder.

They descended the hill in comfortable silence. Jordan was clearly thinking about something, looking for a good moment to bring it up. Wag welcomed the change from thinking about his future.

He side-eyed him. “Got something on your mind, my good fellow? Want to talk more about how the world has it out for us?”

Jordan rolled his eyes. “No, I think that’s enough of that depressing topic for now.” A beat of silence. “I was just thinking-”

“You’ve got to be careful with that.”

“-Thinking about Tom.”

Wag gasped. “Thinking about another man while we take such a romantic stroll together? How dare you.”

“Yes, walking over to the Town Hall so you can talk to the man who looks like an older version of me and has a superiority complex is so romantic” Jordan wrinkled his nose. It’s not like he’d know much about romantic. Between Jordan and anyone else that was ever interested in him, the other had done more work. Jordan’s idea of romance was probably ‘let’s build some complex contraption together’.

“We could always detour,” Wag suggested, lightly elbowing Jordan’s arm. “Take it across the beach, pick up shells that we’d think the other would like, hold hands and go barefoot to walk in the waves. Call it a date.”

“I beach you it’d be a good time, but I’ll have to wave the idea off. I do have things I want to get done today.” Jordan turned to him with a glimmer in his eyes and a bashful, yet impish smile.

“Wow.” Wag blinked a few times. “That was forced and you know it. ‘I beach you’?” He fake gagged. “So cheesy.”

Jordan turned away with a huff.

Wait.

“Oh, my gosh, wave was also a pun. That was a double pun. I don’t know whether to be impressed or appalled.”

“Thank you, I’ll be taking cash donations for my genius.”

“I’ll be taking cash compensation for having to hear that with my own two ears.”

Jordan laughed, a lovely, quiet sound. It was breathy, and just off of squeaky, but it made Wag’s ears burn.

Weird.

“I’m afraid,” Jordan followed up, “That we have a no refund policy. Once heard you can’t get your investment back. It was on page 8 of the contract you signed upon meeting me: ‘You accept any and all amazing, lovely puns that come out of Jordan’s mouth.’”

“Wow. 8 pages? I don’t remember 8 pages. What I remember was, ‘Hello, I am most likely going to be inside, at home, for most of our friendship. And this is to say I’m not avoiding you, I’m preparing the most intricate, strong things imaginable for when shit inevitably goes to hell.’ That’s not even a page, it was a sheet of paper torn in half.” Was that overly accurate about Jordan? No. But the dig was worth it.

Jordan shook his head, indignant, “I don’t stay inside that much! How dare you assume I’d be able to stay cooped up inside for so long. Clearly, if you wanted to be precise, I would have written ‘I’ll most likely be working on cool and awesome things that make me super prepared to help My Lady in any way possible.’ Inside versus outside means nothing in that regard.”

“Ah, my bad. Let me rephrase that, ‘I am so loyal to Ianite and her existence that I will breathe balance, eat balance, and become balance. People will look at me and think ‘Wow, that guy sure is the epitome of balance. Almost enough to rival Ianite herself.’, except I’ll just look cool and be a good champion.”

“Ok, ok, let’s back up here.” Jordan turned to look at Wag. To look up at Wag, more specifically. Shorty. “Going that far makes me sound like Spark, and I am nowhere near as bad as him. Like, c’mon, he was so dedicated to Ianite he married her.”

They were in front of the Town Hall now.

Jordan lowered his voice, like Spark could hear him. “He honestly needs a hobby.”

Wag shook his head, stifling a laugh.

“Well,” Jordan’s voice rose back to a regular volume. “Looks like we’re here.”

“Looks so.”

They stalled for a second.

“I better get going,” Jordan started. “If you ever need anything, you know where to find me. I’ll help you with anything.” He side-eyed Wag, a joking look in his eye. “As long as it’s reasonable.”

“That means a lot to me.” Wag smiled. “I promise that my next visit will actually be for you. It’s only fair, especially since you’re a dear friend of mine.”

With a huff and a returned smile, Jordan pushed him along. “You don’t have to promise that.”

“I want to. Since it’s you.”

Wag turned and began walking up the steps into the building.

Jordan felt his heart beat just a little faster. He tried to convince himself that that didn’t mean as much to him as his heart said.

It really wasn’t that deep.

---

The Town Hall was one of the first non-residential buildings placed in the town. In the time that they’d all been gone, there had been some remodelling to the valley.

The first, most prominent, in Wag’s opinion, change was the removal of the Dianite statue head thing. If it was still there, Wag would not have built his tower right next to that. No siree.

The rest of the changes were fairly mild: the paths around were fiddled with to give access to the beach and town buildings, the farms were cleaned up, and so on.

Now, the Town Hall was delicately placed between the farms and the Tea Pot. The Tea Pot which was left standing. In all the revisions that were made to the land, someone looked at the Tea Pot, looked at the space it took up, and decided it should remain.

There was a goddamn Tea Pot next to Town Hall.

And Wag still struggled to remember where the Town Hall was.

Needless to say, Wag head inside, giving a wave to the secretary. While there was no official “Mayor” of the town, there was a general administrative body made up of some of the townsfolk. It was a democratic setup, which leaned towards a more free-market, socialist style of living.

Quite the turn around from Ruxomar.

Spark, it seemed, had either learned from the eventual disaster that was Ruxomar- not that he was there to see its final collapse- or wanted a change of pace, seeing as he founded Dagrun under a monarchy. To be fair, there weren’t many people around to start a kingdom.

After Wag exchanged conversation with the secretary and was waved towards the back, he found Spark. His office was small with a full window alongside one wall and a desk with neatly organized papers set up in multiple stacks. He sat behind the desk, pondering over a sheet laid before him, reading it with careful eyes.

He looked up at Wag’s entrance, a polite smile forming on his face. “What brings my daughter’s favorite wizard around today?” Spark stood, moving around the desk to offer a handshake in greeting.

“Oh, only Martha’s? Not yours?” He took the hand, trying to give a firm shake despite his nerves. “I came here to see if you knew of Martha’s whereabouts. I have something I need to talk to her about.”

Spark took a step back. “Ah, she just stepped out to grab some records from the Record Hall. She’ll be a few minutes at least.” He moved back to his desk, motioning for Wag to sit in one of the guest chairs.

Wag sank into it quickly.

If Spark could see he was nervous, he said nothing. But Wag was sure it radiated off of him, from the way his fingers drummed against his legs, to how he would look at the door every so often, to how he kept shifting in his chair. He’d thought the walk and quiet pondering over the town’s brief history would help.

It didn’t.

Still, they sat in silence. Outward silence. His thoughts fought to be heard, to break out from the delicate prison he’d pushed them into when he steeled himself to potentially see Martha here, next to Spark.

“Can I ask you something?” Wag blurted out. Spark looked up. “If you’re- if you’re not busy, that is.”

He set aside his pen- something he’d carried from Ruxomar- and gave him an inviting wave.

“What’s the difference between loving someone and being devoted to them?”

Wag bit his lip as Spark mulled over an answer.

“That depends,” he said, after a moment. “What kind of love and what kind of devotion?”

Wag could see in his eyes that Spark knew what he meant, but was giving him space to elaborate on his issue.

He has to know, right? What I’m about to do.

“Devotion to,” Wag took a breath, “To your goddess versus the love you have for her.”

Spark stretched and sat back in his seat, relaxed. “It’s based in different things. Devotion is based on a shared belief, a shared idea. I followed,” Spark swallowed hard, “My goddess because I, too, believed in the balance she stood for, and the peace it upheld.”

He swiveled the chair half-way around to gaze out the window. “I loved her because of who she was. Her laugh, her smile, her energy and joy and spirit and how she’d get that sparkle in her eye when she’d see me, a mix between something soft and something loving and-”

He clears his throat, clearly holding back emotion. “I loved her because she was everything right in the world. In my world.”

Wag did not mean to open up something this heavy for Spark. But he wasn’t done with his questions.

“Did being in a relationship affect how you followed her?” He shoved his hands underneath his thighs to stop from fidgeting.

“Yes. And no.” Taking a moment to compose himself, Spark swept his eyes across the landscape, the solid silhouette of Jerry’s Tree in the background. “After getting together, I was devoted to her in the sense of any typical boyfriend; I doted on her, did romantic things with her, the whole shebang. In terms of being her follower and champion, I knew when to be professional and to act upon our shared belief system. It took practice to not let one bleed into the other, but I made it work.”

Though Spark wasn’t looking, Wag nodded.

“How.” He cleared his throat. “What would be the best way to... separate that? To pull apart your devotion and your relationship so they don’t affect each other?”

Spark turned back to him, his figure highlighted by the glow from outdoors, creating a regal picture of a tired, broken old man. “Separate them? You don’t. You can’t. It’s impossibly hard to have the maturity to stop your feelings from changing how one part of your relationship goes.”

“To be a lover means to be ready to defend your partner at all costs, just as you would a champion. To be a champion means to love your goddess to the ends of the world, just as you would a lover. Devotion and love are centered from different places, but once your feelings in them cross they cannot be unlinked.”

“But they’re not the same.” Now Spark was starting to get confusing and muddled to Wag. “

You just said so! Loving someone can come in different forms. You can love your goddess and not be in love with her.”

“But you still love her, regardless of which side you love through. Champion, partner, it's all love. If you let them slide together, they die together. What’s the difference? What creates that gap?” Spark had a glint in his eyes, now, something removed from the quiet, tender sadness from before.

“There’s a big difference!” Wag freed his hands to gesture wildly. “To love your partner is to cherish every moment with them, to be apart and still, somewhere in the back of your mind, be thinking of them. You see sweets, or goodies, or just nice things and think about if they’d like them, or you see the soft purple of lilac and think of their hair, or wander past a library and think of spells and sitting up late at night pouring through books. Or-”

He threw his arms up. “Loving your goddess is different, I think. I’ve never followed one before this. I followed a god without any care for that god. I didn’t even really follow him, we followed something adjacent to him.”

“And,” Wag breathed, “loving your goddess is like seeing the value in what they preach. Like.” He was frustrated now. Didn’t he just tell him that love and devotion came from different things? If that was the case, how did being a champion in a relationship with your goddess stop that from being different things? “Like how you devote yourself to an idea!”

Spark raised an eyebrow. “So? You devoted yourself to the idea of being in a relationship with her, you crossed that divide and filled it in.”

“But I didn’t! I just built a bridge over it and tried to figure out which side I was on.”

“Which side are you on?”

“I don’t know!” Wag was starting to breathe heavily. It was like every moment he had built up his confidence to cut it off with Martha was being uprooted like grass in a plowed field. “I just don’t want to be in the middle anymore.”

Spark watched him silently. He wasn’t going to give Wag a break this time.

“It’s terrible.” Wag continued, quieter. “Being stuck between the desire to stick by her side and protect her and the desire to be right beside her and love her, and hold her, and be the one person who can always make her laugh.”

He looked away, towards a wall with an older oil painting. “But that’s the thing. I don’t have to choose. We chose on our own without knowing. We drifted away, lost to our own problems and grief. The bridge back to her side is broken and torn and I don’t think I have the strength left in me to repair it.”

“Don’t have the strength, or are scared to?”

“Both! Neither? Fuck, I just.” Wag shook his head, trying to rattle his thoughts enough to make sense. “I can’t promise that if I do fix things they won't break again, weather down and fall away under my negligence. And I’m afraid of what would happen if I let things get that bad again.”

“Fear is natural.” Spark eyed him up and down. “But you can’t let it get in the way of your life.”

“It’s not. I swear it isn’t. But we feel fear for a reason and that’s to stop us from making poor decisions.”

“But sometimes fear is a knee-jerk reaction, what you feel when you’re uncertain or when things change around you and you’re not ready for it.”

“I’m not,” Wag whispered. He cleared his throat and tried again, louder. “I’m not ready for change. And that’s ok. It’d be better to take a step back and see what I need to do to be ready and to adapt, rather than to try and go arm deep into whatever mess comes my way because I’m afraid of losing everything I love.”

“Even if that means losing your relationship with Martha?”

“I’d rather be friends than nothing at all.” And that was the truth. For all he cared about her romantically, he also cared about her as a friend. As someone who’d been through hell and back with her. You don’t just leave people like that behind.

Spark nodded. “Then you know what you need to do.”

Now that wasn’t what he was expecting to hear. “Wait.” Did I just get lead on? “Was that whole conversation just a way to make me figure my shit out?”

“I wouldn’t say it like that,” Spark was smoothing out the papers on his desk. “But yes, I did pull the conversation in a way that made you think about your decision. I wouldn’t contradict my own words without purpose.”

“I doubt anyone does.” Wag rolled his eyes. “So you approve? Of me choosing to break up with Martha?”

Spark looked up at Wag, already having grabbed his pen. There was a beat of silence. Wag started to sweat.

After all of that, surely he does?

Silence.

Right?

He felt like a kid that got sent to the principal’s office. Getting stared down by the head honcho that doesn’t want to see you in front of them but also doesn’t want to let you off easy.

Still, he was scrutinized.

Holy shit man.

Finally- finally!- Spark looked back down.

“I’m impartial,” he said at last. “To be honest, it’s not my issue. While I do want the best for my daughter, she is a grown woman. You are a grown man. My approval shouldn’t matter here.”

Wag relaxed. He had a point.

Spark shook his head, signing off on a document and moving it aside. “I had the same doubts about my relationships when I was your age. That was before-” he coughed. “-you know, and when I still fancied this lovely lady from my hometown. We’d been going strong for a while, but I was dedicated to my faith and she was not interested in faith at all.”

He tsked. “We wouldn’t have worked out at all, no matter how much I cared for her. Still kept in touch until,” Spark gave a pointed look around, “This happened.”

“Okay, grandpa.” Ah, yes, he definitely wanted to hear about Spark’s love life.

A thought struck him.

“Now wait a second, when you were ‘my age’?” Wag glanced over Spark. “I’m older than you.”

Spark chuckled. “Thanks for the compliment, but I’m sure we can both see I’m older than you.” He tilted his head to the side. “See that gray? That’s age and stress. Enjoy your youth while you have it.

“I’m a wizard.”

A narrowing of the eyes.

“I’ve been a wizard.”

He sat back in his chair.

“I’ve been a wizard for a long time.”

Spark turned his gaze back to his documents. “You must be pulling my leg.”

“No, sir, I am not.” Wag was fidgeting again, this time bored. “I think I’m a little over a century old? Maybe more.”

“I can understand you being a wizard, but there’s no way minor magic- non-divine magic- could extend your life.”

“I killed a god to become a wizard.”

Wag stared Spark down with a straight deadpan. Spark’s mouth worked at a response.

He’d never get one.

“So I didn’t find any proof of purchase document for Lichens- ah, hello Wag.” Martha stopped dead in the doorway, face stuck between surprised, pleasant, and a flicker of discomfort. “To what do we owe the pleasure of a visit?”

Well. It seemed Martha found him.

Now that they were both staring at him, Wag felt far too exposed. He tugged at his hood. It was already as low as it could go on his head. That didn’t make him feel any better.

So he opted for a smile instead. “I needed to talk to you about something Martha.”

She exchanged a glance with Spark, who had a thoughtful look in his eyes. It was the kind of look that said they’d talked about him before. And, based on the look he gave Wag in turn, it was not a very positive kind of talking.

Oh dear fuck.

Martha gave him a shy smile. “Can it wait? I need to wrap this up real fast. Then, after that, I should be free for a bit.”

It couldn’t. If it did, it would never happen. Wag knew it wouldn’t. From the way his heart stuttered to the way his hands shook, he knew that if he gave himself the time to back out he’d take it. And as much as he didn’t want to make an ass out of himself by saying no, wouldn’t trapping them both in this be worse? Keeping the two of them together to pretend that things were going well?

No, it couldn’t wait.

The words, however, stuck in his throat. He shook his head. Took a breath. “I’m sorry, it really can’t.”

Martha took it in stride. “Alright. This must be important to you, let me set this down and I’ll be right out.” She motioned him to wait outside the door.

Wag took the opportunity. Once safely in the hallway, alone, he ran his hands over his face and through his hair.

Calm down.

It wasn’t like he was signing his life away. Or like he was telling Martha he killed her dad. They were just breaking up.

But it felt like it was more than that. It felt like he was betraying her, like all those promises he made were for nothing. Hadn’t he said he’d follow her to the end of the line? That he’d be her champion? What would become of that if he broke up with her?

Where did devotion and love meet and where did they separate?

Wag wasn’t sure anyone knew. It was a challenge to be in love with a goddess.

The sound of the door swinging open caught his attention. Martha stepped out, smoothing her shirt out. She caught his eye and sent him a smile. He gave a shaky one back.

“Gee, Waggles,” That nickname hit something soft in his chest, “If I didn’t know any better I’d say you were going to break up with me.”

Fucking shit.

He sat silent as his mind fell down a flight of stairs.

Martha caught on. “You, you are, aren’t you?”

Her eyes were wide, now, and Wag wasn’t sure how to follow that up. This was not going as he’d planned. Except, he hadn’t really planned it so much as made a vague idea about how he was going to.

Get your shit together man, now's the time.

“Yes.” His voice strained and he cleared his throat. “I am.”

Before she could get in a word, he pushed onward. “And it’s not because I don’t love you. I do. I love you so, so much. I’d follow you to the ends of the world, spread your name as your champion until my voice ran out, I would-” He stopped himself. This was supposed to be a break up. “I would do a lot for you.”

He took a deep breath.

“But I’m not what you need.”

His heart was free falling, bouncing between his hard and fast love for Martha and his desire to be loved. Between knowing they weren’t good for each other- not anymore- and wishing that they could be.

“What are you talking about?” Martha’s voice, though she kept her volume level, was thick with emotion. “Of course you are. I love you so much Wag, what would I do without you?”

“I’m not!” He swallowed heavily. “You don’t love me the same. I don’t love you the same. Haven’t you seen it? How we never see each other? How we can’t be around each other without walking on eggshells? How it feels like there’s someone missing that I could never replace?”

Martha had loved Steve so much. And she’d loved Wag. But after everything, he’d realized that they’d grown apart. That for all they loved each other, they didn’t.

Wag took a brave moment to look Martha in the eyes. Her tears were held back by pure willpower and rapid blinking. Her mouth was set in a thin line. For all she was trying to keep her cool it was breaking at the seams.

She was quiet. Wag could practically feel the storm of thought and emotion rolling off of her. A whisper. “You’re right.”

He held his breath.

“You’re right. You can’t replace him. No one can. But you don’t have to. Why can’t I just love you and him both? What’s wrong about that?”

No, no, no. That wasn’t his point at all.

“You can.” His voice was just as low. “Of course you can, there’s nothing wrong with that. But you’re letting your love for him get in the way of us. Your grief, your longing, your bone deep aching for him is all you see when you’re with me, isn’t it?”

“No!” Martha looked away. “Yes. Kind of. No. I don’t look at you and see Steve. I look at you and see you and I think about how much it would hurt to lose you. Like I lost Steve. How much you mean to me, how much he meant to me.”

She had closed her eyes now, putting her hand over her mouth.

“I miss him so much. Sometimes it’s all I can think about. There are days were I long to go home and see him, to be able to hold him again. But I remember that he’s not there. The thought of going home without him feels awful.”

Wag was torn, again. He felt awful to make Martha talk about this, to make her relive every time she missed Steve, mourned Steve. But on the other, this was where they were falling apart.

“I’m not innocent in this, I must admit.” He started slowly. She looked back at him, tears on the verge of falling. “I feel like I’ve lost everything. My old life, my fellow wizards, the world I used to know.” Wag couldn’t meet her eyes on the next sentence. “My powers. They haven’t come back.”

“And I’ve drawn away from everyone and everything. Even you. And as easy as it would be to blame you for us falling apart, that’s not fair to you or to your grief. But we can’t keep killing ourselves like this.”

Martha had wrapped her arms around herself now. She pushed her chin up. “You’re right. Again. This dance we’ve been performing, it’s gone on long enough hasn’t it?” A wet laugh. “We can fix this now, fix,” she gestured between them, “Us. Now that we’ve pulled the facade away. That’s the first step, right? Taking down the act.”

Wag shook his head. He wanted to. So badly. To let this be the start of something better, to remake what they had. But the roots were rotten, not just the tree. Even if they cut off every dead branch, they’d only die out again.

“I’m sorry. I can’t. I’m not ready to try again.” His voice wavered. If he could cry he would.

All he had were tears of blood, ever streaming.

She was quiet. Then she bowed her head. “I understand. And I’d need time, too, if we were to try again.”

The conversation fell off, but it didn’t feel resolved. Wag pushed up the energy to ask one last question.

“Will I- will I still be your champion?” It was a dangerous question. And yet, still not the one he needed to ask.

Martha appraised him. “I don’t know. I’m not sure how to deal with my champion being a recent ex.” Nonetheless, she gave him a watery smile. “I’ll let you know when I make a decision.”

Wag nodded. Already, she was piecing herself back together. Faster than he ever could.

She went to turn away, opening her mouth to say one last thing, but Wag interrupted her. “Will we still be friends after this?”

A laugh, real this time. “Of course.” She shook her head fondly. “Goodbye Wag. Until we meet again.”

“Until we meet again.”

Martha made her way back inside, most likely about to tell Spark the news.

He felt detached from the world, thoughts echoing farther and farther away with each step Martha took. His eyes tracked her, watching how her hair moved, the grace in her stride- even has her body shook with hurt. Her neatly pressed and clean clothes, changed up from what she had worn in Ruxomar. A breathable, white silk long-sleeved shirt and dark leggings.

From the way her fingers curved in an elegant arch against her thighs to how her shoulders had slumped ever so slightly before the door closed behind her. In his head he could see her eyes sparkling, a lovely lavender to match her hair. He could hear her laugh, her voice, see her radiant smile that he always sought to draw out.

Wag could feel the floor disappear out from under him, feel himself sinking into the void. Empty, empty, empty. A chapter of his life was over, now. And it was by his own hand. For all he had feared change, he had caused it.

Was this better or worse?

A quiet, muted drip caught his attention. The world blurred back in. Wag looked down. A tiny, pink-ish speck on the floor. Another joined it with a plop. A shaking hand rose to his cheeks. Still bloody, but when he pulled it away it was also pink-ish. Runnier.

Tears.

He wanted to laugh. Instead, he strode out of the Town Hall, finding the familiar path home in a daze. A pink trail of bloody tears followed him.

He was going to miss her.

#sparklington #mianite #mianitefa #james hayes #jordan maron #waglington #captain sparklez #martha the mystic #spark conway #martha conway #the after series #if you look at my tags here and look at the tags on the first chapter #you can see where i started to get lazy lol

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plaidbooks · 4 years

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Everyone Deserves Love chapter 3

A/N: This is the last prequel! Which means Barba will be making his entrance next chapter (and then never leaving). I’m excited for y’all to get to the main story, but I do really like how this chapter turned out. I also forgot to mention, but will say now; all names, characters, streets, or buildings that are not specified in the show have been completely made up by me, and are not based on real people. This chapter takes place during season 12.

I’m posting this a couple days early because I’m really wanting to get to Barba/chapter 4 this week, so here’s 3!

Previous Chapter | Next Chapter

Tags: hostage situations, domestic abuse mention, minor character death, PTSD, dissociation, anxiety, talks about death and the mentality about a profession involved with it

Words: 7k+

Apartment of Devon Motely

Monday, April 7th

It had been too long since Devon had a day off; so long, in fact, that she didn’t quite know how to take a day off. She got up at her normal, early time. She went for her normal, early morning jog, then did her normal, early gym routine before jogging home. She made herself breakfast—a simple omelet—and sat down to watch the news, something she didn’t particularly enjoy. It was more for background noise, but also to stay kind of up-to-date on local goings-on. She even decided to take a longshot; she sent a text to Detectives Stabler and Benson, asking for a lunch date. Alas, it was not in the cards for the day, to no one’s surprise.

By 11am, Devon was already bored out of her mind. I really, really, need a hobby, she thought. But nothing sprang to mind. After debating it for about five minutes, she decided to just go into her office, get a jump on some paperwork that she was behind on. She also thought that there was some filing that she could do…maybe even rearrange her office. Yeah, that sounded like a plan.

Devon practically snuck into her office, but she met no opposition. Not that she would anyways; she was allowed to come in whenever she felt like, work when and if she needed to. There was no such thing as overtime in her line of work; the only time she wasn’t allowed in was when ordered so by her boss, like after a rough case or a stint in undercover. All she had to worry about today was a long side-eye from a coworker. The building was bustling with people going about their work, but no one gave her a second look.

She was there for only two hours, elbow deep in paperwork, before she got a call from Olivia. Knowing that Liv was busy that day, and desperate for some work out in the field, Devon answered quickly, “Motely.”

“Hey Dev. I know you mentioned having a day off, but can you please escort a key-witness to the courthouse? Her name is Madelyn Rosco, and it’s—it’s really important that she testifies for this case,” Olivia had pleaded over the phone.

Devon deflated a little bit. A simple escort? At least it was something to do, Devon thought. She replied, “of course. Text me the address, I’ll head over as soon as possible.” Olivia thanked her before hanging up and sending the details via text. Besides just an address, Liv also supplied Devon with some basic info on the case.

Madelyn was the victim of severe domestic abuse for months, culminating into her boyfriend viciously raping her, almost killing her in the process. She was only saved by a concerned neighbor, who had called the police when he heard Madelyn screaming. This wasn’t the first girlfriend that he had attacked, but he was escalating; his last two girlfriends had him removed because of DVs, but Madelyn was the first he had raped. The boyfriend—Nathan Woods—had been in police custody but posted bail early this morning, hence why Olivia wanted a protection detail on Madelyn; she was afraid that Nathan may try to intimidate Madelyn…or worse. Devon checked the glock on her hip, her badge clipped next to it. She had left her knife at home, but figured it wouldn’t help her in any case. Satisfied, she left her office, catching a cab to the address Liv had sent.

Residence of Madelyn Rosco

Monday, April 7th. 2:30pm

Devon walked up the steps to Madelyn’s brownstone home. She had a weird feeling in her gut, but she ignored it; just nerves before a case, nothing new. She knocked on the door and waited. She could hear footsteps coming towards the door, but they sounded off somehow…were there more than one set?

“Yes?” a woman asked after answering the door, cracking it so that only half her face was showing. She had thick, blonde, wavy hair. She was petite; Devon stood about a foot taller than her. She looked as though she had been crying recently, eyes puffy and red. She had a split lip that was scabbed over, probably from the assault Olivia mentioned.

“Madelyn Rosco? My name is Devon; Detective Benson asked me to escort you to court,” Devon explained. She looked past the small woman into the apartment, trying to see if anyone else was there, but the door was blocking most of her view. Maybe she hadn’t heard two sets of footsteps. Maybe she just needed some coffee.

“Oh, I, uh, I’ve decided not to testify,” Madelyn sniffled. “Thanks anyway,” she said as she tried to close the door. Devon acted on instinct, shoving her foot into the doorframe, not allowing it to shut. It took a moment for her brain to catch up, something’s not right here.

“Mind if I come in?” Devon asked as she pushed open the door, not waiting for an answer. She had caught Madelyn by surprise, easily pushing her backwards. As soon as she crossed the threshold, Devon realized her mistake. She felt the cold steel of a gun against the back of her head.

“Don’t move,” a gravelly voice ordered from behind her. The bastard had been pushed against the doorframe, gun probably to Madelyn’s head throughout the whole interaction. Devon put her hands up in surrender, silently chiding herself for walking into this so easily. She looked to Madelyn, trying to convey that everything was alright with her eyes. Madelyn started crying anew, sobs burbling out of her. Devon’s heart began to race with adrenaline, but there was nothing Devon could do here. Not yet. The front door shut quietly behind her, and she heard the lock slide into place.

“Who are you?” the man asked. He pushed the gun into the back of Devon’s head, forcing her to walk further into the home. They were in a living room, couch set up with a coffee table in front of it. Devon kept her hands up in front of her, kept her breathing even.

As the man led Devon towards the couch, she repeated, “my name is Devon. I’m here to escort Madelyn to the courthouse.” Once in front of the couch, the man removed the gun from the back of her head, moving to stand in front of Devon, motioning for her to sit down. She released a breath she didn’t know she was holding as the pressure left her head, though she could still feel where the cool metal had bit into her skin. As she sat, the man’s eyes widened. The jacket she was wearing had opened upon sitting, her gun and badge on display for everyone to see.

“You’re a cop? Hand over your weapons, now!” he ordered, shoving the gun closer into Devon’s face. She fought the urge to sigh, instead just exhaling through her nostrils as she moved one hand, keeping the other still in the air, and took off her gun holster, placing it on the coffee table in front of her. “Got a drop gun?”

“No,” she replied truthfully, shaking her head. “And I’m not so much a cop as a Federal agent.”

The guy looked panicked then. “FBI? Are you kidding me? For what, this bitch?” he said, pointing with the gun at Madelyn, who was still standing at the end of the couch, trying to stifle her sobs. Devon instantly stood, putting herself between the gun and Madelyn. The sudden movement startled him, making him aim at Devon once more.

“Nathan, don’t,” Madelyn said meekly, confirming the man’s identity to Devon. So, the boyfriend bailed out of jail and came straight here. Devon was suddenly glad that Olivia had sent her, even though she was now being held hostage. Better me than another detective, Devon thought. Every nerve in her body, though, screamed to get the hell out of there. Devon shoved the impulse down; she wasn’t leaving, not without Madelyn. Plus, she had experience with hostage situations.

“Shut up,” Nathan spat. He returned his attention back to Devon. “How long until cops show up here?”

As if on cue, Devon’s phone chimed in her pocket, signaling a text. The group fell silent for a beat, before Devon spoke. “You may want to let me answer that, or they will be here quicker than you’d like.”

“Fine, answer it,” he said. Devon slowly moved her hand to her pocket in an attempt to not scare Nathan. She grabbed her phone and pulled it out, but Nathan snatched it out of her hand.

“It’s from Benson, asking ‘did you make it Madelyn’s yet?’” Nathan read aloud. “Who’s Benson?”

No point in lying. “She’s a detective at NYPD; she’s the one that sent me here.”

Nathan texted back with one hand, keeping the gun trained on Devon as he sent back something. Hopefully, it was a weird enough answer that Liv would figure out that something was wrong. Come on, Liv. You know me, Devon thought. Almost instantly, Devon’s phone rang, Benson’s name and number on the screen.

“Answer it. But if you tip her off, you and Mads are dead,” Nathan warned, handing Devon the phone.

Devon hit the answer button, holding the phone to her ear. “Devon, is everything okay? What was the text you sent?” Olivia was speaking rapidly.

“Everything’s fine. Madelyn said she didn’t want to testify anymore, so I’m trying to convince her otherwise,” Devon explained, thinking fast. She realized that Nathan neglected to have her put Liv on speaker, so he’d only hear Devon’s side of the conversation. This must be his first time taking a hostage. She looked at him out of the corner of her eyes, but Nathan’s attention was outside, apparently looking to see if police cars would start pulling up. Though, he still had his gun aiming at Devon.

“Didn’t want to testify? Last time I talked to her, she was gung-ho on putting that bastard Nathan behind bars. What changed? Did he get to her?”

“Haha, yeah, I know, witnesses are fickle. It’s fine though, I think I can change her mind,” Devon replied.

“What does that mean? Wait…” Olivia went quiet for a moment. “Is he there now?”

Devon nodded, even though Liv couldn’t see her. “Yeah, yeah. Sometimes, that’s how it goes. It’s fine though, really,” she paused as if Liv said something, then added, “No, I don’t need the whole squad over here for one witness. It might make her nervous. I’ll deliver Madelyn to the courthouse by tomorrow morning.”

Olivia took a moment to think before asking, “do you need backup?”

“Yes,” Devon said clearly. Nathan finally pulled his eyes away from the window, giving her a look, and she added, “really, it’s fine. I’ll meet up with you later. Thanks for checking in, though. Talk to you soon, Benson,” and then she hung up. If Olivia didn’t get the message the first time, Devon’s use of her last name would be sure to kick her into motion.

“Did you throw her off?” Nathan asked, motioning for Devon to give him the phone once more.

Yeah, she’s definitely thrown off, Devon thought. “Yes…I also gave you until tomorrow to leave, to never show your face here again. You should take that,” Devon replied.

Nathan shook his head. “No, I should do what I came here to do.” He changed his focus, aiming for Madelyn once again. “I’m here to keep this bitch from testifying, permanently.”

Devon moved in front of the gun and Madelyn cowered behind her. “Do you really think that if you kill her, or me for that matter, that the cops won’t know it was you? Find you? All that killing Madelyn will do is turn your assault charge into a murder charge. Do you want to spend your life in prison?”

Before he could answer, sirens started to blare in the distance. Damn, that was quick, Devon thought. Never cross Olivia, or one of her friends.

“Did you fucking tip them off?” Nathan yelled, shoving the gun under Devon’s chin, the cold steel digging into her skin painfully. Devon’s heart stopped; was this the end for her?

“You heard me talk to Liv. She must have sensed something was off,” Devon explained. She could feel her hands starting to shake, and she fought to control her body. Stay calm, you can get out of this, she thought.

Nathan huffed and pulled the gun away, walking towards the window to draw the blinds. Once down, he, pulled two apart, glancing out of them. No one there, yet. But the sirens were getting louder. Devon guessed that they had a couple minutes before they arrived.

“Why not leave now? Before they get here?” Devon asked quietly, calmly. She was hoping that if she said it gently enough, it may seem like it was his idea rather than hers.

Nathan was glued to the spot, watching the world outside. Devon thought that maybe he was stuck there, frozen. This may be her only chance. She took a step towards Nathan, but he saw the movement and whipped around, gun pointing directly at her chest. Devon froze.

“No no no, I’m not going anywhere. Not until she”—he nodded to Madelyn—“is dead at my feet.”

Jesus, what does this guy have against Madelyn? Devon thought. For him to be so fixated on wanting her dead, it just didn’t make sense to her. But she made it a point to stay between the two of them, to be a human shield. He turned back to look outside; the sirens were so loud now. Devon was able to see a little of the outside world through the blinds; cop cars were lining the street. She could vaguely see shapes moving across the street; officers going to the other buildings. The evacuations have started.

“Look, Nathan, there’s only one way you get out of this alive, now. Let Madelyn go and keep me as a hostage. They won’t shoot you if you use me as a human shield,” Devon said. She wasn’t wrong per se, but she was also confident in ESU’s ability to take him out even if she was being held hostage.

“No no no, this wasn’t how this was supposed to go,” Nathan whispered more to himself than anyone else. Devon’s phone, still in Nathan’s hand, started to ring once more. Nathan jumped, startled at the sudden noise. She was shocked he didn’t drop it.

“It’s probably the negotiator,” Devon explained. “You should answer it.”

Nathan looked at it, then held it out to Devon. “No, you answer it. On speaker phone this time.”

Devon took the phone; Benson’s name was displayed again. “Olivia, you’re on speaker phone,” Devon answered, putting it on speaker phone as requested.

“Hey Dev. What’s going on in there? Is everyone alright?” she asked, voice shaky, but calm.

Devon gave Nathan a look before answering, “everything’s fine, Liv, we’re all fine. It’s just me, Madelyn, and Nathan inside. We can all hear you.” She wanted to add more, tell her about Nathan’s position, the gun he had. But she knew that Nathan would get pissed, so she refrained.

Olivia took a moment before switching to her professional tone. “Hey Nathan,” she started. “Is there anything we can do for you that will allow you to release Madelyn and Devon?”

Devon could see the gears turning in his head. If all he truly wanted was to kill Madelyn, then would he really accept anything that the NYPD had to offer? Devon wasn’t sure, nor was she sure what his next move would be.

“I—I want a car, and, uh, $500,000 in cash, uh, unmarked bills. And I want free, uh, passage to Canada. And I want no one to follow me,” Nathan replied. It sounded like he had no idea what he was asking for, as if he was copying things he’d seen in a movie. To be fair, though, Devon didn’t think he was prepared for this situation; he probably showed up to Madelyn’s with the intention of killing her, then disappearing. Her very presence really threw a wrench into that plan.

“Yeah, okay, we can do that, Nathan. It will take a little bit to get the car and money ready, though. As a show of good faith, why don’t you send out Madelyn, okay?” Olivia asked.

“No! Mads stays with me. I’ll send out your FBI buddy instead,” Nathan said.

“I’m not leaving, Nathan. Let Madelyn go; like I said, keeping me hostage is your best bet at survival here,” Devon responded gently. Like hell was she going to leave a civilian in a hostage situation.

Nathan seemed to think this through, sorting through his options. Olivia finally asked, “so what’s it going to be, Nathan?”

“Yeah, okay, fine. You,”—he pointed the gun at Madelyn, making her cringe in response—“get out of here. Go!” he yelled.

Madelyn gave one last look at Devon, who nodded, before bolting out the front door. “Hold your fire!” could be heard, the order yelled over the din of all the officers, placed around the apartment and aiming at the front. The noise was cut off as the front door swung shut. It was a relief having Madelyn out of the house; now Devon could focus solely on Nathan and diffusing the situation…or stalling long enough for ESU to storm in.

“Thank you, Nathan,” Olivia said through the phone. Nathan seemed anything but comforted, though. He reached for the phone, angrily hanging up on Liv.

“She’s just going to call back,” Devon said, watching him closely. Only thing worse than a hostage taker was a pissed off hostage taker. But she had to bide her time, wait for a moment to disarm him.

Nathan glared at the door that Madelyn had disappeared out of. “No more talk. We’re going to just sit here and wait until my demands are met.”

The last piece finally clicked for Devon; Nathan had a control problem. He felt the need to be in control at all times, and Devon, along with Liv, had just fucked up the remaining control he had in this situation. Which meant he was now very pissed, mostly at Devon, seeing as she was the only thing still there that he could even focus that anger on.

Devon stayed standing, rooted to the spot. “What’s your plan here, Nathan? Taking me and fleeing to Canada? You know they extradite back to the US, right?” she asked. No point in sugar coating the facts; Devon was going to try and scare him into surrendering. If he gets angry enough, he may make mistakes. Or he may just take out his rage on Devon, but that was something she would just have to deal with if it came to that. She sized the man up; he stood head and shoulders above her and had maybe 70 pounds on her. But, he didn’t seem like a fighter; from what Devon knew about most domestic abusers, he probably had a rage that fueled his attacks, but they usually had any sort of form.

Nathan paced a couple of steps, nervously running his free hand through his hair. Then, he got a peculiar look in his eyes, stopping in his tracks and staring directly at Devon. Devon had seen that look before many times, the look someone made when they made up their mind, and she only had a brief moment to brace herself before Nathan violently grabbed her by the hair, ripping her head back, dragging her further into the house, away from the front windows. Tears instantly sprung up in the corners of her eyes and she let out a gasp, but the pain was soon forgotten as he jammed the gun into her face. Devon’s breath caught in her throat at the sight of the barrel inches from her face.

“Maybe I’ll just get rid of you, then. By the time they find your dead body, I’ll be on a flight to Switzerland. They don’t extradite there,” Nathan spat into her face, fingers pulling her hair so hard that her head began to tingle.

Devon fought through the fog and adrenaline in her mind, trying to think of a way out of this. “Whether they extradite or not, I’m still a Federal agent. You kill me and my boss is going to track you down, no matter what rock you scuttle under.” It wasn’t an empty threat; her boss would definitely track this scumbag down.

Nathan’s chest started to rise and fall rapidly as he panicked. “Either I go to jail for life, or I die…those are my choices.” He was quiet for what seemed like forever. Finally, he spoke, “So, what if I do neither? What if I just start shooting, take as many of you bastards out before they take me out?”

Devon’s heart stopped; this was a man who no longer cared, a man with nothing to lose. And that was the most dangerous man of all. He released Devon, set his feet, took aim. The motion took a couple of seconds, but time seemed to have slowed to a standstill for Devon. There was one thought that kept creeping its way back into her brain; is this it? Is this how my life ends? In this line of work, there was always the expectation of dying in the line of duty. It always stuck around in the back of Devon’s mind, hardly acknowledged, but always there, like a dull pain that’s ignored when working. But to be faced with death, to have a madman aiming a gun at her, it was completely different. Devon heard him cock the gun and her heart fluttered in panic. So, this is really how it’s going to happen, Devon thought. She wasn’t a religious person, so she had no one to pray to. Instead, she thought about how her life has played out so far. She had regrets, sure; everyone did. Though her more than most. She had made peace with most of her demons, but her only real regret now was that her life would end this early. That she would no longer be able to help others, save other people. She thought about all the faceless people that she would not be able to protect and her heart sunk. She should have done more, been more. She thought about Olivia, about Stabler, about all her friends at SVU. Would they mourn her, lay her body to rest? She suddenly wondered if there would be a funeral for herself. The thought was so absurd, it was almost enough to make her chuckle.

Suddenly, a gunshot rang out, along with another sound that Devon couldn’t identify right away. Sound filled her ears, her blood rushing through her veins, as she watched Nathan’s body drop lifelessly to the ground. She slowly turned her head, seeing the bullet hole through the back window, her brain recognizing vaguely that the other sound she heard was breaking glass. She felt her mind slowly turning off, leaving her body as both the front and back doors flew open, armored officers rushing in. She didn’t hear what they were saying, didn’t feel them as someone grabbed her arms, didn’t see them as someone was in her face talking to her.

Olivia recognized the blank stare Devon had, eyes staring right through her, no recognition on her face; Devon was in shock and was dissociating. Liv knew how to bring victims back, but she needed to get Devon out of there first, talk to her before the medics came for her.

“Come on. Let’s get you out of here,” Liv said, holding her hand out to Devon. The agent didn’t take much coercion to follow the detective, her hand limp in the latter’s grip. Olivia led Devon out the backdoor, pushing through the ESU personnel, and had her lean against the house. She’d have to be checked out by the paramedics at some point, but it was better to let Devon breathe for a moment, instead of having people flitting all around her. Besides, she wasn’t injured, so a few extra minutes to talk wouldn’t hurt.

“Just breathe, Dev,” Olivia said calmly. She remembered an old conversation she had with Devon about anxiety, remembered the verbiage she used. “Just stay here with me, feel your feet on the ground.” She took Devon’s hands in her own, rubbing her thumbs over the backs of them, trying to return some feeling. Olivia waited until Devon’s eyes weren’t as glassy, whispering encouraging words to her the whole time, until she made eye contact with the detective before continuing, “tell me five things you see right now.”

It took Devon a couple more moments of deep breathing before she answered. “I see…a white, picket fence….I see two clouds in the sky, a tree in the next yard, a brown, tiled roof next door, and I see that you’re wearing new eyeshadow.”

“Good, that’s good,” Liv replied, smiling. Devon was calming down quicker than most, but then again, she wasn’t a civilian. “Now, what’s four things you can hear?”

They continued like this until Devon was standing up straight, breathing normally, and with most of the color back in her face.

“Thank you,” Devon said, trying to put as much emotion into those two words as she could. Devon had only been in such extreme shock a few times, but not like this. I almost died, she thought, a heaviness sinking in her stomach. “This job is really going to be the death of me, isn’t it” She meant it as a joke, but her smile faltered, and she ran a hand through her hair, trying to fight back the tears stinging her eyes. Olivia gave her a small smile before pulling her in for a hug, but before she could say anything, Captain Cragen came through the backdoor from inside the house.

“Are you alright?” he asked Devon as Liv released her. She nodded meekly, not trusting her voice quite yet. “Good. The paramedics need to check you out and we need to get your statement.”

Devon nodded, composing herself. She turned to follow him through the house. Olivia stuck by her side, taking one of Devon’s hands in hers, giving her silent support the whole way. It was like walking through a dream; Devon could feel her mind wandering. It was hard to stay focused, to think through all the events that had transpired. You’re alive. You survived, she thought. But she still felt numb, the words not meaning anything. She kept her eyes forward, refusing to look at the body bag in the middle of the floor. Making it through the home and out the front door, Devon was guided towards a paramedic. While being checked for injuries, a thought struck Devon.

“Madelyn! Is she--?” She started before Olivia cut her off.

“She’s safe. She was taken to Mercy Hospital. Fin and Munch are getting her statement now.”

Devon let out a sigh of relief. “Good…that’s—that’s good.”

Olivia studied her face closely before asking softly, “would you rather give me your statement here or back at the precinct?”

“Precinct,” Devon answered almost immediately. She didn’t want to be here anymore, out in the open like this. She’d rather be somewhere she knew, somewhere safe and away from all these geared-up officers.

“Okay,” Liv said. She looked to the paramedic, who was just finishing up. Devon, having no injuries, was cleared to go, and Liv led her to the squad car, Stabler waiting by the driver’s door.

“You alright?” he asked when the women were close enough. Devon nodded before Liv opened the backdoor for her, and she climbed in. The ride to the station was silent as Devon closed her eyes, trying to calm her still racing heart, the barrel of the gun aiming at her still fresh in her mind.

SVU Department

Monday April 7th. 5:37pm

��It took a full 45 minutes to go through the whole story with Olivia and Stabler. Devon felt more awake, more alive as she recounted everything, but that could also be the coffee that Stabler had given her. She glazed over her near-death experience, brushing it off as just another occupational hazard. Even so, she saw the looks on their faces, the pity in their eyes. Devon hated it; she didn’t need pity. She was an FBI field agent, and a damn good one. Just because she had a brush with death meant nothing; she was alive, wasn’t she? She was fine, she was going to just continue working, dammit.

“Well, at least Madelyn doesn’t have to testify, or deal with her ex anymore,” Stabler commented, shrugging. Devon knew he was trying to lighten the mood, but she wasn’t in the mood to entertain him.

“She didn’t want this; no one would. She’s going to need counselling. I’ve got a good shrink if she needs one,” she replied flatly, standing up from the interrogation table. “Is she still at Mercy?”

Liv stood up with her, still looking concerned. “She is. But maybe you should go home for the night, get some good sleep…. Maybe get some counselling for yourself.”

Devon scoffed. “I’m fine, Liv. Really, I’m just great,” she thought about it, though, felt the exhaustion wash over her. “Maybe I’ll swing by the hospital tomorrow, though. Just…just give Madelyn my card, okay?” She took her business card out of her back pocket, handing it to Olivia.

“Of course. Need a ride?”

“No, I—no. I’m fine. I’ll talk to you later, okay?” Devon replied, making her way towards the elevators. She stood in the back of the elevator as the doors closed, leaning against the cool, metal wall. She rested her head back, eyes closed. She was fine, she had to be. There was no other way she could be.

Office of Devon Motely

FBI Headquarters

Tuesday April 8th. 9:05am

Devon stared at her computer screen, eyes unfocused. The FBI database was open, and she had files spread out over her desk. She had been researching a drug ring, looking up information on some lowlife front man, when her mind had wandered. She was acutely aware of her breathing; inhale, exhale, inhale, exhale.

She shook herself, hands back on the keys, trying to focus on work. She typed in some key words, started reading the information that popped up. The man was in his 40s, balding, white. His rap sheet wasn’t extensive; petty burglary here, minor assaults there. He seemed to normally roll with a partner, one that seemed a little more aggressive. While the first man had a penchant for using a switchblade, his partner was fond of his .42 caliber pistol.

Instantly, Devon was back in Madelyn’s brownstone, staring down Nathan as he pointed a gun at her, taking aim. Devon jumped, blinking, and she was back in her office, gasping for air, heart hammering in her chest.

“You alright, Motely?” a voice asked from the doorway, making Devon jump again, knocking over her half-full cup of coffee onto the ground.

“Ah! Yes, sorry, sir!” she replied, recognizing her boss’s, Jenkins’, voice. She scrambled to grab paper towels out of her desk, dropping to her knees to clean up her coffee.

Jenkins watched as Devon cleaned the mess, the latter letting her hair fall in front of her face so that she didn’t have to see her boss’s face. “You know, for someone who is generally my best undercover agent, you’re not a very good liar.”

Devon’s hands stuttered as she threw away the wet paper towels, still not making eye contact. “I don’t know what you’re talking about.”

“Sit,” he ordered, closing the door to the office behind him. Devon did as she was told, knowing where this was going. She wasn’t going down without a fight, though.

“I’m fine,” she said. She hated how her words sounded weaker than her mind wanted them to be. But she wasn’t going to lose this job; she loved it too much.

Jenkins came to stand in front of Devon’s desk. He stood in silence, waiting; he had the most patience in the world. Finally, Devon raised her head, looking him in the eye. Unlike with the SVU detectives, she didn’t find pity there; Jenkins learned a long time ago that people like Devon didn’t want pity. Instead she found resolve, strength, and just the tiniest bit of concern.

“Devon, you were almost killed yesterday. You stared down the barrel of a gun with no out, no plan. It’s okay to not be fine; in fact, it would honestly worry me if you were fine,” he said gently.

The sincerity, the rawness, of his words hit Devon more than she’d like to admit. But she couldn’t show weakness, especially not to Jenkins; he had given her everything, how could she show him that she wasn’t worth it?

“I’m serious; it’s fine. It’s not the first time I’ve been in a losing situation, I can still work, I can—”

“Stop, Dev. Just, stop,” he cut her off, placing his hands heavily on her shoulders. “It’s true that you’ve been in many life or death situations, but not like this. Something’s changed, and I want you to take some time off, go to the team’s psychiatrist.”

Devon felt a heaviness in her gut. Jenkins has ordered time off and a visit to the company’s shrink before, but this time was different. Like he said, something had changed, and that scared Devon more than anything. So, she fell back on her instinct; the instinct to not change, to stick with the familiar.

“How much time off?” she whispered meekly, eyes dropping to her desk.

Jenkins sighed heavily, pulling his hands back. “That depends on Dr. Tomlinson. She’s already expecting you.” Jenkins turned towards the door, slowly making his way out of her office. He stopped with his hand on the doorknob, saying without looking back, “emotions…fear is not a weakness, Motely. It’s an instinct; it’s what keeps us alive.” A pause. “Come and see me if you need someone to talk to.” And then he was gone.

Devon fought against the tears in her eyes, blinking them away before they could fall. He was right; of course, he was, he always was. But that didn’t mean that Devon was happy about it. It still felt like a weakness, how could it not be? Daydreaming, jumping at the slightest noise? Being unable to focus? How could that be anything be weakness? Letting out a huff, Devon gathered herself and left her office, stomping towards Dr. Tomlinson’s office, not mad that she had to go but angry with herself for needing the help.

Apartment of Devon Motely

Sunday, April 13th. 11:36am

Devon felt better already; she had the past week off, and was off for the foreseeable future, until Dr. Tomlinson said otherwise. But her daydreams, and her nightmares, were already starting to go away. She felt less shaky, more in control of herself. She still felt her heart race when she recounted Nathan aiming a gun at her—she actually stopped carrying her glock altogether during this week, as per requested from her shrink—but it was getting better. She had visited Dr. Tomlinson every day this past week, and she was confident that she’d be back to work in another week. Now, there was only one more thing to do today. Devon pulled out her phone, opening her group chat with Olivia and Stabler.

Hey, are you guys free for lunch today? It’s on me, she texted. It was the weekend, which didn’t always guarantee a day off, especially because Stabler was normally with his family when he wasn’t at work, but it was worth a shot.

Sure, but only if it’s that new sandwich shop, Olivia texted back almost immediately. Before Devon even finished reading her text, Stabler responded:

Can’t. My turn to watch Eli while Kathy shops

Have fun, daddy, Devon wrote back while smirking. She knew Stabler hated the nickname, which only made it funnier to Olivia and Devon. He reacted with a thumbs down while Olivia put a laughing emoji. Switching over to a one-on-one conversation, Devon and Liv arranged to meet in 20 minutes.

Riley’s Sandwiches

Sunday, April 13th. 12:15pm

“Thanks for meeting me,” Devon said by way of greeting, giving Olivia a hug. Liv pulled her in, squeezing gently, rubbing her back for a moment before pulling away.

“Of course. We hardly see each other as it is. How’re you holding up after last week?” she asked. Always straight to the point with her.

“Ah, better. I’m doing better.”

They both ordered, got their food, and sat down at a table. They talked about nothing for a little, just being comfortable around each other, like how they always were. But there was a tension there; the unspoken questions building up like a wall between them. It wasn’t until they had finished their sandwiches that Devon spoke up.

“There was a reason I asked you out to lunch…well, besides the fact that I like your company,” Devon started, smiling. “I, uh, I wanted to thank you…you know, after the whole Madelyn thing. I didn’t really get the chance to sincerely tell you how much I appreciated you helping me.”

Olivia waved her off. “That’s what friends are for. I know you’d do the same thing for me.”

“In a heartbeat. But still, it means a lot. I’ve been…off since. I’ve never been through…that. My therapist has been helping me a lot, but I still have a ways to go before I’m back to myself.” It was hard for Devon to admit, but she knew out of everyone she could talk to, Olivia understood; people react to trauma differently.

“What’s changed?” Liv asked, giving her a hard, yet concerned look.

Devon took her time thinking the question over. She thought through her emotions, her thoughts from the past week, the conversations with Dr. Tomlinson. “I’m still not entirely sure myself,” she admitted. “I think I just…it really hit me, ya know? That I could die right then, that that was it. That I wouldn’t go on to help anyone else.” She looked down at her hands. “Plus, I just…I wasn’t ready to die. I know that’s selfish and stupid and doesn’t really make sense, but—”

“It’s none of those things, Dev. I don’t think there’s many people who are ready to die,” Olivia reminded her.

“But I should be…shouldn’t I? I know that there’s a very high chance that I’ll die on the job, that I probably won’t retire. And that never really bothered me before. And I can’t figure out why it does now.”

Olivia sat in silence for so long that Devon eventually looked up, eyes watery. She looked like she was deep in thought, but as Devon watched, a realization formed, brightening her eyes. “Because you’ve finally found something worth living for.”

She said it so simply that Devon just sat there, blinking at her. The words wormed their way into her brain, taking a hold in her mind. She remembered being held at gunpoint, remembered her last thoughts. They were of Olivia. Stabler. Fin. Munch. Cragen. All the wonderful friends she had made at SVU. It really is that simple, isn’t it?

“How do you continue doing this job, then? Knowing that every time you walk out your door could be your last? That you’re letting your friends, your squad down?” Devon asked in a small voice. It was exhilarating—both relieving and horrifying—asking something so personal, something that told so much about herself as much as it did about Olivia.

“I don’t really think about it, to be honest,” Liv answered. “Besides, I know I wouldn’t be letting you guys down; I’d like to think you’d be proud of the person I was. Would you honestly be let down if you heard that I had died while on shift?”

“No, of course not!” Devon blurted out. Then she realized why Olivia had asked; she already knew the answer, but now, so did Devon. “I see. Thank you, Liv.”

She shot her a smile. “Anytime, Dev. You can always come to me if you need to talk.”

Just then, Devon got a text. She glanced down. “Ah, duty calls. Jenkins wants to see me.”

“Need a ride?”

“That would be lovely, thank you.”

FBI Headquarters

Sunday, April 13th. 2:58pm

Devon was seated in a chair in front of Jenkins’s desk, Dr. Tomlinson in the chair to her right. Jenkins was behind the desk, hands steepled on the hard wood. His gaze flicked between the two of them before dropping to the file in front of him. Devon waited, knowing that he’d start at his own pace; there was no point trying to speed it up.

“Is Motely cleared to work?” Jenkins finally asked, dragging the question out, eyes pinning Dr. Tomlinson to her seat. But she was used to be under his hard gaze. She was undisturbed when she answered.

“Technically speaking, yes. But I’d wait. Give me another week with her.”

Devon hated that they talked about her like she wasn’t sitting right there, as if they were the adults and she was a child. But she held her tongue, keeping her face neutral. She thought about it; was she ready to go back to work? The talk with Olivia early had left her feeling lighter than she had all week. And she knew that she wanted to go back to work eventually. But was now the right time? Or was she trying to hide in an office?

As if sensing her indecision, Jenkins turned to her. “Are you ready to return to work?”

The question hung in the air between them. Their eyes locked, his steely grey eyes boring into her molten brown ones. He was searching for any kind of trepidation, of hesitancy. Of fear.

“Yes sir,” she replied, voice unwavering. How could she say no? It would be like quitting the Bureau right then. Eyes still locked with her boss, she felt Dr. Tomlinson shift uncomfortably next to her. Jenkins looked to the psychologist, dismissing her with a nod. Once the door closed behind her, Jenkins started in with the file on his desk.

“This is going to be a long UC op, Motely. But it will get you out of town for a little, maybe clear your head out of the city. A nice…change of scenery,” he started. Devon waited, saying nothing. He’d get to the main points soon enough. “You’re going to be a college student, attending the University of San Francisco. And you will also be a Madam, buying and exchanging young girls, working your way through pimps until you’re so well known, we round up the biggest players in the Golden State.”

The alias hit her like a punch to the gut; the city, the impending time that will be sunk into this, the shady shit she was going to have to do. A million questions swirled in her mind, making her dizzy. But she opened her mouth, asking the most obvious question she could.

“When do I start?”

#everyone deserves love #edl #edl ch 3 #everyone deserves love ch 3 #law and order svu #law and order svu fanfic #fanfic #barba x oc #my writing #I swear that barbs will be in the next chapter #this is the end of the prologue

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prune-life · 4 years

Text

Lily and Daffodil

Ship: Shinsou X Kaminari

Warnings: uhh prolly just cursing and a bit of fluffiness (but not alot)

A/N: It's 2:33 and I just finished this so I'm sorry for any grammatical errors :'). I know it's not that (you'll see what I mean) time yet, but I hope you enjoy nevertheless

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Dying flowers were many of the painful things that Shinsou looked at, and recently they became more and more frequent. Honestly, even after two years of learning about smaller types of herbalism and plants, he didn’t know what to do.

His window sills were decorated with sigils of pots filled with the soil that brought him a peace of mind, the earthly smell waking him up everyday with early scents that sent his mind into a frenzy, releasing endorphins like never before and, to be honest, he could say at this point the waft alone was a drug to him all-in-one, intruding it’s way into his nostrils without a care in the world while his cat brashly scratched at the pots and – more than once – tried and successfully knocked them over, which then ended in two ways.

One was a mess on the floor, usually looking like someone had stepped in with mud whipped boots after being out in the rain and aimlessly standing in a puddle while waiting for a miracle to happen, getting cold feet and trying to find their way out of a tongue twister like an utter fool, while the other reason was pretty much simple; falling over the balcony brim and staining the hanging, usually white clothing of his neighbour, Katsuki Bakugou, who mostly directed sentences not appropriate for the children living below him, and his own roommate which was a green haired, freckle nosed attentive named Izuku Midoriya, the one that usually took care of the person below who, in return to the good old one-two his cat gave to the bombarded bastard’s clothing, reverberated shouting and snarly comments on and on about how he was going to murder his precious pet and choke it to death, or shove the dirt of his plastic pot down his throat and grow plants in there himself.

If Shinsou didn’t know better than to immediately judge people, he’d assume more than once that Bakugou's hobby was mass murder and the achievement of threatening people in ways that shook them to their very core was to leave them sobbing in a dark corner and think about the day they crossed him. Not Shinsou. He, simply and easily, didn’t care. The only time he did was when his cat was almost stepped and rolled over by the ash blond – now that was the very end of his patience, and he decided to move them inside.

However, when it came to his plants meeting their demises without him being able to click on a tool of the search bar in the application called Internet, and his mind went blank the moment he tried to find the words, he knew, he was pretty much fucked, and beyond that, he couldn’t get out of his room when he found out that the owner at the flower shop he worked at, Aizawa Shota had to take vacation because his daughter, Eri, got chicken pox for the first time, sure, he knew how it felt, since he shared his own phase of annoying little red dots, so he understood, but what really, really, shook him up was the fact that he had to run the shop by himself now. Him, a seventeen year old student on his way to starting summer break, taking care of a flower shop, all alone?

Sure, the honour was there, but, why?

Why?

“Why..?” he stared at the flowers that laid limp in his hands, the pot at it’s peak of breaking from the roots, getting it’s fair pay of getting bumped and falling over because costumers weren’t 'watching their step'.

He sighed and curled his index finger under the falling flower, setting it aside as the doorbell above the glass door rang a sweet, high pitched melody.

The glass of his greenhouse standing tall and proud, sun smiling down at all the other healthy flowers made him blink twice, eyes adjusting to the light quickly to be present for the costumer, while in the meantime, he ran his hands on the pastel, coffee brown apron on his body and pulled down his white button up shirt.

“Welcome,” he sent a lazy smile up at the beaming man with light orange hair, a black stripe visible on the side of his head, messily running down a sideways undercut he styled his hair into.

His grin shined pearly white as he waved at the man and looked around silently, his gaze running over all the other flowers that were erect pridefully in their beauty from around the room, arduous honey-like smell injecting his nostrils and brain like gasoline. It was almost sickeningly sweet for a newcomer, and by the way his face scrunched at the horrendous sweetness, he was most definitely a stranger – or, maybe just the fact Shinsou never saw him before – a smile like that doesn’t just pass by and his clothing style was also rather amusing to the eye. Comfortable, per se, he rocked a simple white shirt and black pants with a yellow jacket that tightly closed itself around his narrow hips, and Shinsou eyed him head to toe, intrinsically curious about the casual, but new fellow.

“Hey man,” he spoke amiably, “I’m looking for uh... Lily and Daffodil?”

Shinsou squinted his eyes, before a snort came out from between his lips, and he had to put his black gloved hand up to them to keep himself from chuckling at the youngster.

“Lilies and daffodils, got it,” he cleared his throat, a lopsided smile taking over his lips, “do you want them individually or in a bouquet?” he asked, stepping away from the counter and hiding the shattering pot under it, rounding and guiding himself towards hourglass vases plopped upon a collection of side view shelves from where he usually stood, flowers with neatly cut stems stuck in yesterday’s water, all waiting to be bought and given, if for oneself or for other.

“Uh..” the lost man tucked his hand into the low pocket of his jacket and pulled out a piece of paper, staring at it intensely, “Do you have hand tieds?” he questioned, reaching out his arm to hand the paper over to Shinsou, who took it and the gloriously sunny man stared back at the florist, who raised his eyebrows slightly and nodded intently, following along the vases until he came to a draft of three mahogany matched platforms and mixes of flowers, each organized along eachother, the spaces between them almost perfect.

He was aware of his boss's precision, but it sometimes drove him crazy when he got death glares for even slightly nudging a flower pot in it’s place if the others wanted something to buy. Otherwise, he’d say the job was a whole lot more relaxing than he thought it would, and his boss was more of a mentor upon nature rather than a prejudicial, pigheaded asshole.

“Uh-huh,” he hummed and picked the tied bouquet, carefully taking it towards the counter while eyeing the still pulchritudinous plants grown by non other than himself. He was a fan of herbs, but flowers were something that held a soft spot in his heart.

He set them down on the counter gently, content with the idea that they’d finally go out to see the rest of the world, even if temporarily and only as far as a few blocks from his greenhouse.

“Ten daffodils and five lilies, that’ll be four thousand ninety five yen,” he slipped the flowers into a paper wrap to secure they wouldn’t fall out, the crackling of paper as he genuinely tried to create none but an unwrinkled piece showing within the smooth surface of the sheet, as it ringed the flowers like a shell for protection and he waited as the man before him fumbled with the zip of his wallet and handed him a five thousand yen note.

He exchanged the currency that was left to go and handed him both the flower and the coins, watching the man’s eyes twinkle with joy as he cradled the flowery stems in his hands like a newborn baby.

Shinsou smiled, enjoying the view and the sudden affection the man showed towards the piece warmed his heart and made the tips of his pierced ears tint a glowy pink, internally simmering with pride.

“Thank you,” he grinned form ear to ear, turning around and stammering his way towards the door, sparing Shinsou one last glance, and an attempted wink.

The indigo haired insomniac stood and watched as he began to disappear behind transparent crystal walls, looking down at the paper that remained in his hand, a digit of numbers pessimistically written downhill on the paper with a small heart at the corner of it, and he couldn’t help letting out an amused hum, slipping the sheet into the back pocket of his black jeans.

Suddenly, his phone buzzed in his side pocket and he quickly yanked it out - a new notification popped up at the very top of his other messages and alarms - whilst a deep, growly chuckle from further amazement erupted from his chest.

|Calendar 12:00 |

|JUNE 1st Pride month|

|Midoriya Izuk... 10:38|

|Boss: what's a be.. 4:56|

|Neighbour: Why is your fucking cat meowing on my balc.. 6:16|

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Thank you for reading <3

#bnha #shinkami #it's late help me sleep #wake me up #wake me up inside #i cant be pan enough #cat #flowers #big gay

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turingtestr · 4 years

Text

mobile post of all my information for the anon who wanted a mobile rules / bio. i could make a google docs but i’m burnt out. please also note, i haven’t even GLANCED at my bio i wrote for elijah since 2018, so uh... i should probably do that. sorry if it’s bad.

ONE. due to the nature of my roleplaying style, there will absolutely be mature themes here and there on this blog. all and any mature themes that involve sexual topics of the nsfw variety will only be written with muses that are 18+. as for those people that are 18+ that follow me, i fully understand if you do not want to write any nsfw content, and if any threads lead to that we can fade to black. just ask me, i’m fairly easy going and more than happy to make people feel welcome. it is not a requirement to rp nsfw content with me and i will never force anyone to do that. !

TWO. this is a selective/private blog. i really only roleplay with mutuals, however you’re more than welcome to reply to any of my open starters if i specify that you can but just know i might not reply because i (1) don’t know your muse, (2) have zero muse for the reply and will get to it later, (3) have no interest in the thread, or (4) am uncomfortable with something on your blog. roleplaying is also a HOBBY for me. i work full time and sometimes i genuinely cannot reply fast. if you hassle me to reply to things, i will not want to roleplay with you and it will turn me off from roleplaying with you completely. in fact, if you harrass me to reply to threads, i will automatically unfollow you because i’m not about that life of being pushed to reply to things. if you spam my follow button to try and get my attention, that will result in a soft block on your behalf. please don’t test my patience. if you do not have your ooc name on your page i will not follow you, due to me thinking hiding your ooc alias is shady and sketchy af.

THREE. i love shipping and i love roleplaying so much. this is not a single ship blog and none of the ships i portray are at the same time (unless further discussed with muns, of course).MY PRIMARY CHLOE SHIPPING PARTNER IS @TURINGTESTEE, which means that if kamski mentions chloe in a verse, he's most likely talking about this chloe. if there are any verses that kamski is going to have one single ship, i will make sure to let people know that in the verse description section once i make it. otherwise, my muse is a free for all. if i do have mains, which will be listed, they are just the people i will reply to the most, however, i won't actually limit myself to only roleplaying with them and i hope my mains respect and are comfortable with that.

FOUR. tagging triggers is something that means a lot to me as i am not comfortable with NEEDLES OR PUPPETS on my dashboard so i blacklist needles tw and puppets tw. i know it’s weird but hey, we all have our things. please let me know if you need anything tagged- even if i don’t personally follow you. you deserve a clean and safe dashboard to roleplay in. WARNING.

FIVE.anon hate will be deleted on the spot. no exceptions. i don’t care about your petty feelings and i won’t tolerate them in the slightest. i’m not here to entertain horrible people’s opinions of myself. constructive criticisms are allowed, but at the respect of myself reblogging a meme asking for it specifically.

SIX. mutuals are allowed to ask for my wire or discord, since i use both and would love to rp on both. i also play dead by daylight on ps4, so if you’d be down to game as well, feel free to hit me up there too! overwatch on ps4 is ITSGEOFFREY so you can add me there too.

SEVEN. i very rarely will send in passwords, as i do not require it and i should not have to be tested on your blog to be allowed to roleplay with someone. usually if you have a password, i genuinely just didn’t think to look for it and i apologize if this upsets you but you probably won’t see any from me.

EIGHT. please take into consideration while dealing with kamski that he has high signs of NPD & a huge god complex.

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BIOGRAPHY

NAME: Elijah Dean Kamski ALIASES: Eli, Lij, Boss, Kamski GENDER: Male AFFILIATION: Cyberlife Technologies, currently retired AGE: 36

THE START

there's many days where the kamski family would have a bit of struggles, as elijah grew up. he never knew much about his father, seeing as his father passed when he was a very young boy — no more than six. he'd never grown to know too much about him, and his mother didn't overly want to share about him, so it was safe to say the woman had a reason for not telling elijah and that was that.

growing up with a single mother who had severe epilepsy, elijah tried his very hardest to make his mother's life as easy as possible. school days would be very short considering he'd go straight home from school in order to watch after his mother. some days with his mother, depending on the medication the doctors had recommended her, would be better than others. she always appreciated her son's committment to being with her and he was determined to make life easy on the two of them. using the money she got from the state, she'd try to urge her son go into extra cirricular activiies he wanted to do, however he only dismissed the ideas, claiming that he'd rather be home. he'd use the money to spend on textbooks, wanting to develop his own version of a Vagus nerve stimulation device. one that would make sure to surge with electrical pulses before his mother even remotely had to move herself to activate the device. computer engineering was his goal, and he'd stop at nothing to get through that.

as life continued on, elijah continued to shove his head into books and continuously study. he pushed through high school faster than anyone had expected, at age ELEVEN he had shown his studies to multipile colleges, showing his theories on how to better create medical devices.

THE CHANGE

the university of colbridge had been a struggle for elijah, being the youngest student there. studying medical engineering was easy, and he had decided to double major in computer engineering as well, to perhaps attempt to integrate the two. though school was difficult, the hardest part was being away from his mother. the school had refused to let him travel back and forth, saying that freshmen had to stay on campus as apart of regulations and requirements from the state. when he started college, his mother had decidded upon asking the state for a caregiver- on the off chance that something did happen. with the VNS that was already implanted in her, she was able to have a job during the day, but the caretaker was supposed to just oversee her during the nights. it settled eli's anxiety about his mother a little bit. four months into his freshman year, eli had woken up to a call from the san antonio police, letting him know that his mother had been rushed to the hospital after having a grand mal seizure and hitting her head on their marble counters. apparently the caretaker assigned to look after his mother hadn't even shown up that night. he quickly rushed home, terrified what had happened.

something, however that night had turned elijah into a bitter person. into someone against humanity. though his mother had survived the seizure, things weren't the same for either of them. after knowing his mother's caretaker had ABANDONED her, elijah had fully decided to go more into engineering to create a way for humans to be more reliable. what was more reliable than humanity? MACHINES. something that would always obey. obedient machines that had a purpose and a task and would see it through. dropping fully out of medical engineering, elijah settled for computer science and engeineering instead. the utter drive to create a better human than humans themselves was so strong that by the age sixteen, elijah had worked together with a team of classmates to create the first medical assistant androids. REVOLUTIONARY KICKSTARTER model 100, or RK for short. RK100 was born and tested on his mother, who seeemed quite uneasy, but only wanted to support her son.

ENTER CYBERLIFE

though it wasn't perfect, the ark series took off. mainly piquing interest in san diego, california. the backbones of the mega-billion dollar company that would be founded by elijah kamski and his cohorts suddenly had at least three hundred backers trying to support the small business after seeing what a success the RK100 was at being not only a companion for his mother, but also how helpful the RK was at it's job. the medical caretakers were able to do so much, and suddenly with the money that was being thrown at the group, elijah became more than enthused with power. hungry for it, almost.

making more medical related androids were being highly requested, and the team set out to create diffrent functions for androids, trying to perfect everything.

taking into consideration his mother — his finest mentor and most trusted support, and what she thought of the androids, he sought out to consult with his old AI professor, Amanda Stern, on how to make the androids a bit more lifelike. It was hard, at least for what his mother admitted, for a human to trust a machine that looked like a machine to help themselves out through life. upon her advice, eli threw himself into work, the team of cyberlife growing into a business, and then a wide scale company alongside elijah's work. no matter what, the man was the front of the company, having done the majority of the coding and research in what brought the androids to life. the company sought after targeting the cheapest land developments in the united states in order to make their headquarters and warehouses, bringing CYBERLIFE to DETROIT, MICHIGAN where it currently resides.

it takes kamski four years after founding cyberlife to come out with a brand new appearance for his androids. something human like after struggling and struggling to engineer the perfect components to theorize biological functions. this equiptment created became biocompotenents, but it still wasn't enough to make thes he was creating look HUMAN. but after all the struggles and finally figuring out a way to regulate something akin to blood into the android's system, elijah kamski in the year 2022 releases the RT REVOLUTIONARY TURING model; a personal assistant to elijah kamski that uses the alias ' CHLOE '. Cyberlife has been thurst into the spotlight and once again Elijah Kamski realizes that these advancements in the world have honestly made people envious. the public demands the rights to these androids and while he still is bitter over humanity and the lack of reliabilty that humans provide for the world, he obliges. Cyberlife goes public with their androids and the public are now able to put a price tag on androids.

THE REVOLUTION

the world that assumes elijah kamski is nothing but a greedy, power-hungry boss of a CEO for cyberlife overlooks one important fact: he still wants revenge on the world. his mother passes on at the age 43, a few years before his greatest mentor amanda stern passes. the loss of both role models awakens a vengeful force in elijah kamski. one that wants to remind the world that mortality is relevant for all. cyberlife has created over thousands of models, all for different functions and he looks upon his kingdom with hopeful eyes as well as bitterness. humanity has become less reliant. they've become lazier. androids have become the working force, for the most part, and while elijah sees that as a positive note because it is moving forward away from the laziness and unreliability of humanity — the CEO is fully aware that his androids are becoming more and more human like the more and more they develop. the deviant base code is never once touched. always overlooked by cyberlife developers who dare not touch the work of the first working android made by elijah kamski himself. while he's aware he, himself, is mortal just like the rest of humanity, seeing his creations become sentient, to rise up against the laziness and unreliable humanity that he lives among has been his goal. he just awaits the REVOLUTIONARY KICKSTARTER 200 to actually get pushed to the brink of going through his code.

now it's just a game of waiting to see who pushes who, and who comes up on top. it's always a delight to play god.

THE SIBLING ALTERNATE UNIVERSE

i'm not going to be writing a brand new biography for the gavin / elijah brothers universe, but i need to work out how they can be related with my current bio, or i might just go off of a gavin's biography. shrug emote.

#〉 your save file has become corrupted. / OUT OF CHARACTER

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mellymiraculous-blog · 6 years

Text

A Life Less Miraculous - Chapter 8

Life Swap AU

Summary: Marinette feels invisible, despite the fact that her face is all over Paris. Adrien is a kind-hearted boy yearning for adventure. When this young model and baker’s son are singled out for the responsibility of a lifetime – protecting their city from evil – will they be able to rise to the challenge? Will things change for the better, or will being superheroes only make things worse?

This Chapter: The people who should take the most pride in you are sometimes the last to do so.

Read on Ao3 or Fanfiction.net

Chapters: 1. 2. 3. 4. 5. 6. 7.

Ficlets: 1. 2. 3. 4.

A/N: I am so terribly sorry for the horrendously long delay. Real life is busy and I don’t have a lot of free time for writing. I shall try to keep future waits as short as possible!

Chapter 8: Doubt Whisperer

“I'm booooreed!” Plagg whined piteously, sprawling dramatically across Adrien's desk. He stretched out a paw to cover part of the sketchpad the boy was drawing in. “You've been scribbling all weekend. You should go out. And get me cheese. I need Camembert.”

Adrien pulled the drawing tablet away from the kwami, giving him a half-amused look. “I haven't been drawing all weekend,” he said. “Besides, why would I go to the trouble of buying you Camembert when you just sneak over to Ladybug's to eat it?” The boy pouted a bit, recalling how Plagg stubbornly refused to even hint at his partner's identity.

“If you'd buy it for me, I wouldn't have to go over there,” Plagg said. “I only go over there because you expect me to eat pastries all the time. Blegh.”

“We have cheese. You're just picky,” Adrien argued. Scooting his chair back, the blond stood, picking up his drawing pad and carrying it with him to the trap door leading out of his room. “Let's see what we have. If there's really nothing you like, I guess I'll go out and buy you something.”

The kwami perked up at this, zipping across the room to float in front of the boy. “Really? Promise? Let's go! Beautiful cheesiness, here we come!”

Adrien chuckled at his antics. “You really are obsessed with cheese,” he said. Plagg just harrumphed at him, settling on the boy's shoulder to ride down the stairs and into the kitchen.

Pausing a moment to frown thoughtfully at the sketch he'd been working on, Adrien laid the tablet down on the counter before turning to browse the refrigerator contents. The drawing was missing something, he just couldn't for the life of him figure out what. Maybe taking a break wouldn't be such a bad idea. Then, he could go back to it with fresh eyes.

“Oh? What's this?”

Plagg dove underneath Adrien's over-shirt as the boy straightened abruptly, whirling about in surprise. “Mum!” he exclaimed. What was she doing up here? He knew it was Sunday, so the bakery closed early, but surely it wasn't that late in the day, already? A quick glance at the wall clock confirmed that it was well into the afternoon, so it really was that late.

Aurélie Agreste shot a grin at her son. “Did I surprise you?” she asked. “That's what you get for trying to sneak food.” She turned her gaze back to what had first caught her attention and Adrien felt a thrill of a alarm to realize she was looking at his sketches.

“Ah, those are just.. that is,” he stammered.

“Did you draw these, Adrien? I didn't know you had an interest in fashion. You should show your father,” the woman said, turning through a couple pages.

“No! I mean, yes, I drew them, but I was just bored,” Adrien responded, reaching for the sketchpad even as his mother stepped away with it.

“Show me what?” his father's voice questioned as the man walked in.

“Nothing!” the boy yelped, a flush rising to his face. It was one thing to draw that stuff, but for others to actually see it?

“Gabriel, look at these,” Aurélie said, moving closer to her husband so he could see the drawings. Adrien gave a soft groan as his father took the drawing tablet to study his sketches with a critical eye.

“You drew these, Adrien?” the man questioned without looking up.

“Uh... yes?”

“Reminds you a bit of someone else, doesn't it?” his mother asked with a grin.

“Indeed, it does,” Gabriel agreed thoughtfully. “These are very good, son. You have a good eye, if a bit untrained. Is clothing design just a hobby, or were you wanting to do more with it?” The man glanced up to raise a questioning brow at the boy.

Adrien must have missed something, because now, he was just confused. “I... I don't know?” he replied. “I mean, it's just... something I thought might look cool, I guess.”

Aurélie gave a soft laugh. “You look so confused, Adrien. Your father studied fashion design, you know,” she said.

“He did?” Adrien asked in surprise, turning to look at his father.

“Once upon a time. I found a new aspiration,” his dad replied, sharing a small smile with his wife.

“Honestly, Adrien, you know your father does most of the cake decorating,” his mom teased. “You didn't think that creativity was developed only for baked goods, did you?”

“Not at first,” Gabriel murmured in amusement. He handed the sketchpad back to the boy. “What you've designed so far shows promise, Adrien. If it is something that interests you, you should pursue it. Perhaps in few more years, Madame Cheng will have some competition.”

“Really?” Adrien couldn't help but glow at the praise. “Thanks, dad!”

Aurélie wrapped her arms around the boy from behind, resting her chin on his shoulder. “You're so silly, Adrikins,” she said fondly. “You needn't hide anything from us. We will always support you, no matter what you choose to do.” She ruffled his hair as she pulled away.

“I know, mom. Thank you.” Adrien reached up to try to put his hair back in place. What was it with moms and messing up your hair?

“So, what were you looking for in the refrigerator, anyway?” his mother asked with a knowing smirk. “Were you raiding the cheese, again?”

Adrien felt his face turn red. And now his parents thought he was the one obsessed with cheese. Plagg really needed to broaden his tastes – and quick.

0o0

Marinette hummed quietly as she returned home from her piano lesson. She had finally mastered the song that had been challenging her abilities for the last few weeks. Her piano teacher had praised her for her success, urging her to keep up the good work as she practiced the new pieced he'd assigned.

It had felt nice, being complimented for something she'd done.

“Marinette.” The girl felt her spirits drop as she looked up to find her mother waiting for her on the landing. “My study. Now.”

Closing the door, the teen trailed after the woman, mindful to not trip on the stairs on her way up. That would have only made her mother even more exasperated with her, and she wasn't even sure why she was annoyed in the first place. So much for her pleasant mood.

“Sit,” Sabine commanded curtly.

Marinette promptly obeyed, sitting in the chair in front of her mother's large desk and resisting the urge to hunch in on herself. It wouldn't do to have bad posture, now. That would just be another thing to be criticized. She wondered what she had done, now.

The girl watched as her mother took her own seat, then proceeded to open the folder sitting atop her desk. Picking up the first page, she peered unhappily at it before tossing it towards her child. The next several pages followed and as Marinette leaned closer to look at them, she realized they were the pictures from her last photo-shoot.

“Well?” her mother questioned archly. “What have you to say for yourself?”

Clearly, something was wrong with the pictures, but Marinette was at a loss as to what that might be. The pictures looked perfectly fine to her. She gave a confused frown. “Maman?”

Sabine let out a put-upon sigh, pinching the bridge of her nose between two fingers. “The photographer said you were being difficult,” the woman prompted.

“I wasn't!” Marinette protested bewilderedly.

“He said you were distracted, that you kept checking your phone, and that you insisted upon leaving early,” her mother countered.

“The shoot went overtime! I was checking the time. I had my Chinese lesson after – I didn't want to be late!” the girl protested, upset.

“Tone,” Sabine said impassively. “And very well. I suppose I cannot fault you for trying to be responsible. I'll have Nathalie reschedule the shoot for a time when you don't have something afterwards.”

Marinette couldn't help but gape at the woman for a moment. She had just explained what had actually happened, yet it didn't feel like her mother was any less disappointed in her. No matter how hard she tried, it was never good enough.

“You are dismissed, Marinette,” the woman prompted, having already turned her attention to another task. “Oh, and Marinette? No phone, next time.”

“Yes, Maman,” Marinette replied, enough bitterness bleeding into her tone to earn her a sharp glance. She rose quickly and left the office, fleeing to her room as tears stung her eyes.

0o0

“Ah, yes,” Papillon murmured aloud to the vacant chamber. Pure white butterflies fluttered about him as he stalked toward the window opening onto the sky of Paris.

The man shook his head, expressing a false sympathy that remained unwitnessed. “The high expectations of a parent, demanding more than you have to give, setting you up as a constant disappointment,” he practically crooned, “destined to never being good enough.

“Why, such impossible standards would get under anyone's skin, would they not? Eating away at your confidence, filling you with hopeless doubt... and bitter resentment,” the supervillain purred.

“Fly, my vicious akuma,” Papillon commanded, setting the insect loose, “find this degraded youth and darken her heart!”

Ignorant of the coming danger, the girl sobbed, tucked into the most private corner she'd been able to find. Her trembling hands were tangled in the long length of satin she still held, tightly enough for its edges to start leaving red marks on her skin. Why was she never good enough? She tried so hard, so very hard, yet only her mistakes received notice.

It wasn't fair! And just when she had started feeling more confident, too.

She didn't notice the dark insect which fluttered in through a window. Even if her face hadn't been pressed into the back of her knees, it would have escaped her attention due to the tears blurring her vision. In fact, the akuma never received any regard, flying freely across the room to alight upon the length of bamboo pressed loosely to one of her palms.

“Doubt Whisperer,” a voice spoke inside her mind, “I am Papillon. I offer you the power to make others suffer as you have done, to let you peer into their mind and make their doubts consume them. For this, I ask but one small price: bring me the Miraculous of Ladybug and Chat Noir!”

The girl raised her head, blue eyes shining vividly from within the malevolent purple outline of a butterfly. “Yes, Papillon!” she agreed, rising to her feet. Within seconds, the akuma consumed her.

0o0

“Oh, dear,” Aurélie sighed as she settled onto the sofa beside her husband. Even Gabriel had lowered his book give the news report on the television his attention. “Not another one.” Adrien paused in going up to his room, frowning at the screen.

“... as a new supervillain terrorizes the city,” Nadja Chamak was reporting. Footage of the newest akuma victim appeared on the screen.

It was a girl, probably around Adrien's age or a bit older, although her hair was as white as snow. Her skin, where it was visible – and a lot of it seemed to be – was a dull gray, nearly blending into the leotard she wore. Its pattern was a collection of geometric shapes of black and white and gray, forming an optical illusion that was somehow both restive and disorienting. She stood balanced atop a wooden hoop within which several small balls jostled like angry insects. A pair of clubs hovered readily over one of her shoulders and she wielded some sort of wand connected to a long length of writhing black ribbon.

As he watched, the images cut to a reporter near the scene. He stood with a rather distraught looking police officer. “Sir, what can you tell us about this latest supervillain?” he asked.

The officer mournfully shook his head, tears suddenly brimming up in his eyes and spilling down his cheeks. “I don't do enough,” the man murmured thickly. “I do my best, but I – it isn't enough! For every criminal I help put away, another just comes along to fill their place. How can I protect my community this way? How do I look after my family? Why can't I do more?!”

“Um,” the street reporter responded uncertainly, hastily turning to the camera, “back to you, Nadja.”

Adrien didn't wait to see more, turning instead to bound up the stairs two at time, missing the glances his departure drew from his parents. Climbing up through the trapdoor into his room, he quickly shut it again.

“We've got to get out there,” the teen declared.

“I knew you were going to say that,” Plagg sighed. “And here I thought we'd at least get the weekend off.”

“You don't even do anything most of the time,” Adrien pointed out with a shake of his head.

The kwami gave a huff. “I see no reason why I should work if I don't have to.”

“Time to earn your keep, then,” the boy told him. “Plagg, transform me!” A moment later, Chat Noir exited out through the skylight and vaulted through Paris towards where the akuma had last been shown.

As he drew closer, the superhero's pace slowed, becoming instinctively cautious. It was unnervingly quiet. There was usually a lot more noise and chaos – the akuma had certainly appeared to have weapons at her disposal. So, where were the sounds of car alarms and breaking glass? Where were the shouts of people calling out in fear and alarm?

Chat paused atop a lamppost, listening warily, the hair at the back of his neck on end. There seemed to be nothing, at first, but then he heard something. Dropping down to the sidewalk, he cautiously moved closer. It sounded like... crying?

Seeing no immediate danger as the civilian came into sight, Chat Noir hurried over to them. “Hey,” he said, “are you alright?”

“Of course, I'm not!” the woman burst out, smacking away the hand that reached to comfort her. Her sobbing seemed to get worse. “How can I be? No... No one actually cares about me. People are only nice to me because they know I'm a pushover. I'm just a doormat. With my friends, my family, my kids...”

Only just resisting the urge to pat the woman's shoulder, the teen hero moved further along the street. There were other people around, after all. Unlike the sobbing woman, most seemed to have drawn into themselves, looking small and insecure. One youth was muttering to himself, speaking of how he was going to fail his classes and never get a job and derail his entire life.

“Crap,” Chat Noir said to himself, looking about at all the people practically immobilized by their uncertainties. “What is this akuma doing to these people?”

“I'm showing them what's really in their hearts,” a quiet voice responded.

He whirled around to see the akuma, the hoop she'd been balanced upon rotating forward to deposit her on the street. She held a blackened handle down by her side, the ribbon it was attached to slithering through the air around her like some flying snake. The supervillain canted her head to one side and smiled at him. Chat Noir found himself unable to look away.

“I've showed them the truths they so desperately try to ignore,” she continued lightly, tone disconcertingly earnest, “that no matter how hard they try or what they do, they will never feel good enough. And they're probably right.”

Somehow between the distracting design of her leotard and her soft-spoken words, Chat found himself relaxing without realizing it. It wasn't that he felt any less threatened so much as a sense of inevitability had seemed to creep over him. When she moved abruptly for the first time, flinging an arm out to send balls and clubs hurtling towards him, he was nearly caught off-guard. As it was, he barely lifted his baton in time to ward off the attack.

“Nice try, ponytail,” Chat Noir called, putting distance between himself and the akuma. “What do I call you, anyway?”

“I am Doubt Whisperer,” she stated calmly, stepping towards him. “Now, stop resisting, kitty cat. It's time to see what you're hiding behind those clever quips and that shiny black armor.” Doubt Whisperer whipped the handle of her ribbon around her head, sending its tip and the wooden hoop flying towards him.

Chat Noir batted the hoop away with his baton and narrowly dodged the ribbon. He avoided a second assault by the balls and clubs only by ducking behind a car. There was the car alarm that had been missing earlier.

The boy took to a nearby roof, turning back to see Doubt Whisperer balanced upon her hoop once more, pursuing him with unnerving speed. Heeding the better part of value, Chat Noir continued to flee. This villain had far too many weapons to risk taking her on alone. He would definitely need a hand.

“Where on earth is Ladybug?” he wondered worriedly.

To be continued...

#miraculous ladybug #ml fanfic #life swap au #fic: a life less miraculous #reverse crush au #adrien agreste #mama agreste #gabriel agreste #marinette dupain cheng #sabine cheng #akuma villain #ALLM #melly writes #mine

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stark-park · 6 years

Text

Once Upon a Child (4/9)

Chapter: 4 - Saviour's Day

Other chapters: 1 2 3 5 6 7 8 9

Summary: With their daughter enjoying her happy beginning and their infant son still young, Snowing decide they need a hobby, or at least, a way to help Storybrooke in the ways they used to with their kingdom in the Enchanted Forest. Therefore they decide to help those most unfortunate: the orphaned and lost children at Misthaven Home for Children. But when one child is unlike the others, their hearts and their home go out to him in the hopes they can help.

Rating: PG, there's nothing too horrifying, mostly fluff, tiny bit of cursing in this chapter

Disclaimer: Based on ABC's Once Upon A Time and I do not own any of their characters, plots or locations. I am but a loyal fan, loving of the show and simply borrowing the beautiful characters.

The boy lay still, his mud-soaked clothes were slowly growing stiff. Eventually, he lifted himself off the ground and began moving once more. That's when he saw a bright light. Could it be her again? The shimmering lady of hope? There was only one way to find out.

Ellion hurried towards the moving light, feeling more and more anxious to intercept it's path. Luckily for him, Emma was able to pull the brakes before she completely ran him down. He'd dashed out from the tree line like nobody's business and practically begged to be hit by her car, in Emma's opinion that is.

He stood in the middle of the road, panting and soaked from head to toe. Emma was absolutely bewildered.

"What is wrong with this road?" Emma demanded as she pulled herself from the cosy vehicle into the pouring rain.

"What the hell kid? You don't just stop in the middle of the road!" She roared, half in anger and half in disbelief. "What are you doing out here? Where are your parents?" After the blank face she received in reply to her questions, she decided to by-pass the rest she would usually ask and instead gestured for the boy to shelter in her car.

Although hesitant, Ellion ducked into the passenger seat. Emma knew it was a waste of time to clean the car the other day. Considering it was at the behest of Killian, she made a mental note to suggest he do any and all cleaning from then on.

*****

Hiding under her hood, Emma felt relieved when they finally entered the station.

"Take a seat kid." She told him, unzipping her jacket. She turned around to notice he hadn't moved, so repeated the instruction with a flick of her hand towards the chair. Only then did he take a seat.

Rain continued to pour down outside, the gusting wind driving it to drum against the windows. Emma flopped down at her desk for a few seconds of rest before the phone rang.

*****

"JOE!" Charming yelled in attempt to locate the boy. "Why did I think that would work?" He asked himself in anger, "He doesn't talk!"

"Grandpa, I think we should go back. He's clearly not out here." Henry said.

"We can't just give up!" He scolded, the anguish in his voice apparent enough for Henry to understand his grandfather's outburst.

Calmly, Henry stressed, "We're not giving up. We're just going back to think of other options."

"But-" Charming argued, unsuccessfully.

"We're going back." Henry commanded, not faltering over his words as he stared firmly at the fretting adult.

*****

"Papa!" Neal cried, pointing to his father entering the house, Henry close behind. The pair looked as if they'd just swam through the ocean looking for Ellion.

"Anything?" Snow pleaded, eyebrows raised in hope. But their face's said it all: nothing.

"That's it," she announced, passing the toddler to Belle, "I'm calling Emma!"

She dialled the sheriff's station number in a composed manner, before anxiety grasped her tightly and she spilled out everything.

"Emma! Emma we need your help! It's Joe. He ran away, we can't find him anywhere and it's dark out and he's young. I don't know why, he just took off, he's been missing for maybe half an hour and oh, Emma we need to find him..."

While Belle occupied Neal, Charming leant against the kitchen table, his hand rubbing his chin as he stared at Snow.

Standing in the doorway, Henry interjected, "You might want to slow down Grandma."

But the curtain of worry bound Snow so his advise went unheard.

"...he's really quiet, he might have gone back to Misthaven-" She rambled on.

Even from his position in the doorway, Henry caught the sound of his mother suddenly hollering down the speaker, "Mom!"

She paused for a beat before the conversation continued, Snow's pace considerably slowed down, "Yeah?" She whimpered. Emma hadn't meant to be so forceful but it was the ugly reality in order to reach her mother's rational mind.

"Oh well, um, he has, um, white blonde hair, uh, and, uh, really pale skin-" Snow stammered. Her panic had subsided, leaving behind a mind engulfed in anguish, only clouding the details she desperately tried to recollect.

"Um..." Snow creased her brow, "His pants were green."

"Really?" She squealed, "Are you sure?" The change in tone signalled a wave of smiles. Charming dashed over to the phone, quickly relinquishing his anxious chin rubbing, closely listening to any word his ears could find. Henry let out a relieved sigh then slanted himself against the doorframe.

"Emma!" Snow exclaimed, astonished. Clearly, Emma had thrown in a poorly timed joke that had made her mother fuss.

"Alright, alright" She said forgivingly, "We'll be there soon. I love you, thank you."

"She has him?" Charming quizzed.

Snow wrapped her husband in a lung-constricting hug, their sighs washing away all the nightmare situations they'd concocted in Ellion's absence.

"Right!" She beamed, pulling out of the hug, "We need his spare clothes then let's go!"

*****

"Sheri-" Was all Emma was able to mumble before she was cut off.

"Oh, hey Mom. Mom slow down. Mom. Mom." It appeared that Snow was in quite the worrisome state and Emma's attempts to converse were futile. She would have to resort to a harsher course of action.

"Mom!" Emma bellowed down the phone. Well, that certainly knocked the panic out of her mother, now to replace it with reassurance.

Emma kicked herself as her mother's whispered reply trickled through the speaker, the worry was boring itself deep inside Snow's voice and it wouldn't take long for tears to break out if Emma didn't do something quickly.

She decided to go with the simplest question first: "What does he look like?"

"Uh huh, keep going, okay, yep." Emma muttered in response as she wrote the details in her notebook.

She gazed at the boy sitting a few feet away from her before asking, "Wearing a grubby used-to-be-navy sweater and brown cargo pants?"

"Not anymore." Emma replied, apparently the cargo pants original colour was not brown. "I think you should come to the station, pretty sure this is your guy."

She held the phone away from her ear as an uproar of squealing ensued before answering her mother's question. "Yes I'm sure. But if he's not yours, maybe this one will do instead?"

She scoffed at her own joke before realising how badly timed it was. "Mom, I'm joking!" She insisted, "Calm down, then come to the station."

"No problem, it's literally my job. I love you too. See you in a bit." Emma listed, unsure if her mother was truly listening to her replies or not.

She hung up the phone then stared at the little boy sitting on the chair in the corner of her office. He was admiring the leather jacket hanging on the coat stand.

"Well I don't know about you," Emma said standing up, "But I think this weather calls for hot cocoa."

Nothing. No response. Emma had a hard time believing this little boy didn't want any warm chocolatey goodness.

"I'm Emma by the way." She said, suddenly remembering she hadn't mentioned this key information before now. "You got a name?" She asked.

Apparently not. The boy didn't even look at her. Well, she thought, I still want hot cocoa. Reaching for her thermos, she instead knocked it clean off the desk.

"Ah crap." She groaned as the metal flask met the floor with an ear-splitting clang.

"Sorry." Emma apologised to Ellion. But he hadn't flinched, nor had he turned his head to wonder what had made such a horrendous noise.

Noticing this as she picked up the flask, she decided this time it would drop on purpose. Not her best idea ever, but certainly not her worst. The ringing faded just as her parents fumbled into the station.

"Hey guys." She smiled walking to the door of her office. Ellion dashed to hide behind Emma, her fair hair comforting him.

"Emma!" They spoke in unison before squeezing her in a hug sandwich, with her as the filling.

"Hey, there he is." Charming said, poking his head past his daughter to check Ellion was okay. The poor boy clenched to the back of Emma's shirt.

"Woah." She blurted out, "Wait, you're afraid of my parents?" She asked in disbelief.

"It's not like they're gonna eat you kid." She mocked lightly, unbeknownst to her that that is exactly what terrified him. "Maybe... you should just give him some room for now?"

The pair took a step back, sighing with defeat over their failed plan of a healing weekend.

"Before he came to stay, did Blue mention anything about medical records, any tests or anything of that sort?" Emma inquired.

Her parents stared blankly at her odd question.

"Uh, no. A quick health check but nothing too much. Why?" David told her.

"Just a hunch." She replied vaguely before informing them she and Joe would meet them at the hospital.

"Wait, there's something you need to know." Her mother urged, "We think he's Ancient Greek. Well, Henry and Belle do but they showed us his story and-"

"Ancient Greek?" Emma interrupted.

"Yes."

"Wow. No wonder this kid stays quiet."

Other chapters: 1 2 3 5 6 7 8 9

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