#anyway. she deserves better and the bar is on the floor but Alas

[riverin-stories]

xueyi outfit reinterpretation skritch .......

#xueyi #riverin art #honkai star rail #hsr #i Love aspects of her design but Also? absolute NO to some parts of it ... #hsr give women proper pants challenge #i love xueyi So much but she deserves better than a pointy mask at her midsection And armpit slits #like her color scheme is SO good and well-balanced #but then. then. gestures #i definitely made a Stupidly Layered outfit again but there were certain aspects that i was more keen on preserving #it might all get simplified down in the future? but for now i wanna see how this would look colored #aND ALSO !! WHY HAVE A MASK IF YOU WON'T WEAR IT ON YOUR HEAD / FACE !! ((brought to you by artist with oc who wears veils 99% of the time #i think xueyi deserves to actually wear her rad as hell mask to strike fear in the hearts of her enemies <3 #anyway. she deserves better and the bar is on the floor but Alas

[falcor-thee-luck-dragon]

Tell Me A Story

Loki x f(magic reader)

Summary: Stuck in an Asgardian cell for your crimes, you meet an intriguing fellow prisoner who you can’t help but start to feel something for.

Warning: angst, fluff (you’re not leaving sad on my watch)

Masterlist

The ground feels hard. And your head feels incredibly fuzzy, like waking up from a deep slumber by some rude acquaintance who can’t mind their own damn business. Not to mention the throbbing sensation emitting from the left side of your cheek like two annoying disturbances. Were you smacked twice?

What in the bloody shitsticks?

The light in this place is so bright too, you have to squint when opening your irises for the first time to really get a good look at your surroundings. With the light in this awful place too much to bear, you cover your eyes with your fingers to lessen the harshness from above. Soon your gaze trails up witnessed a clean ceiling of pure marble white.

Wait. Are you dead?

Adjusting to the brightness, you slowly bring yourself into a seated position on the equally as shiny clean floor. To your left is a bed and a small nightstand while your right is a see through golden tinged barrier showing the other cells and a single guard walking down the hallway. Cells? Cells!

A prison? You’re in a fucking prison. Shit.

Letting out a dramatic sigh, head in your hands, you suddenly hear a knock on the white section of the confinement hold that turns into loud pounding. Thud! Thud! Thud! And a second later the white disappears, in place shows the same see through golden tinge. A guard on the other side.

“You’re awake.” He says, voice casual as an old friend.

You give him a puzzled look before feeling your face, “I think so.”

He takes a step into your prison where a sword is held in your face, maybe not so much an old friend after all, “As protocol, I must ask you three questions.” Delves the guard, stance never changing.

“Go for it tough guy.”

He remains unfazed, “Do you know your name?” Easy.

“Y/N.”

“Do you know why you’re here?” Uh.

“Well it wasn’t for stealing a child’s favorite toy.” You muse before quickly changing your façade, “But yes.”

He scoffs unamused, “Do you know where you are?”

Now this question you don’t have an answer for so instead do you give him your sweetest most innocent face possible, “uh, maybe you could enlighten me?”

The armored man rolls his dark eyes, “You’re in the royal dungeons of Asgard, placed here by King Odin for crimes against our realm. For that. You will remain until otherwise noted by the King.” Barks the guard, you stare up at him with wide eyes. Shocked and bewildered that you’re stuck in Asgard of all places.

“I didn’t even have a fare trial!” You protest.

“You didn’t deserve one, filth.” He counters before sheathing his sword back into its scabbard and off he goes into the golden tinged door. Out of sight in an instant. Rude.

Leaving yourself very puzzled and irritated at the whole ordeal, you never even got a trial to speak your side of the story. Nothing. Now you’re stuck in this dumb shit of a cell with literally nothing to do and no one around to bother, oh wait who’s that across the room?

Jumping to your feet, you swiftly walk over to the glass; there stands a man in green and black attire, leather bound book in hand as his slender face focuses onto the pages. He’s rather handsome in all honesty, with that dark shoulder length hair of his and the thoughtful expression across his face. You’re now fully intrigued.

Then your mind swirls with a thought, you’re in Asgard. So, this must be prince Loki, the one who failed to conquer Midgard. Soon a devilish smirk crosses your features, “What are you doing down here? I thought princes were the ones to put delinquents behind bars?”

Loki’s face shifts from surprise to amusement as he keeps his eyes onto the pages, “Kings.” Corrects the Asgardian prince.

You smile, “Well this king can eat shit!”

He lets out a breathy snort before finally drawing his gaze up to you, his expression quickly diminishes from amusement into star struck fascination when those beautiful blues land upon your beaming mischievous face. Loki has never seen someone so magnificently enticing in his whole entire life. But here you are, whoever you happen to be.

The raven haired man sets the book onto his nightstand before sauntering over to the glass wall, “And who do I presume you are? My new source of entertainment.”

Waving him off like a blushing maiden, you pretend to get all hot and bothered by his sly comment, “Oh wouldn’t you like to know.”

Loki smirks, “I would indeed.”

You curl a piece of hair around your finger, gifting him a shy smile as you avoid his steely gaze. “Sorry.” You mutter, “I only tell men who can take over whole planets in under three days.”

He immediately loses his humored aurora, replacing it with a slightly taken aback yet somewhat pissed off one. “Ouch. But I can’t image you’re any clever if you happen to be stuck down here with me.”

You point up a finger, “On the contraire, my faults are less hefty then your own. So who really lost here?”

“From the looks of it. Both of us.”

You nod, “That is a truthful observation, but what has gifted us a sentence in exile are two entirely different sides to the relatively same coin.”

“Mine being, failure to conquer and rule Midgard. And yours being?”

“Fine. I’ll satiate your appetite.” He raises a brow as you trail your hand down the buzzing glass, “I may have tried to steal some pretty gems downstairs. Blah blah and I got caught by some lady named Frigga who’s a lot more skilled with magic then I had first realized and now I’m here. Granted I don’t remember getting to said “here” but alas my body remains.”

Loki smirks, “My deer mother got the best of you. How is she up in the real world these days?”

“Oh you know, told me she loves reading, doing the usual witchy stuff, and she hates you so go burn in hell for eternity you shit head little boy.”

Loki could have choked on his own spit, “Pardon me?”

“You heard me, she said she loves you. Is that not what you heard? I really thought I was being pretty clear.”

The Asgardian prince shakes his head, “Forget I asked.” Turning around once again to find his way onto the comfortable looking mattress, new book in hand.

You pout at the lack of attention, what did you say to annoy him? Was it the little shit head boy? Maybe he’s just having a bad day.

——

There he is. That incredibly attractive Asgardian prince of Mischief, just standing there. Reading yet another book in his beautiful greens and blacks and golds as he chooses to ignore you. The insanely gorgeous but deeply irritating woman across the cell from him.

You’ve been in here for about four weeks now and Loki has not cracked once. You’re really trying too! All he’s done is gift you with some telling facial expressions or the wonderful side comment to address your theatrics or harmless shenanigans.

All you want to do is get to know him better. And maybe along the way get the fuck out of here with a little help, and then preferably take the prince along for the ride. If it was only that easy.

Levitating in your cell just because you’re tired of standing all the time, you keep your usual unabashed stare-down with the prince when a random guard marches by. He looks from right to left and forward again before doing a double take over to you.

“Hey! Stop that!” He shouts, lance raised at your smirking face while you continue to float, “You can’t do that here!”

You simply roll your eyes, “Who has made this new rule law?”

The guard pauses for a moment, clearly indicating that he just doesn’t want you floating because he’s a party pooper. He swallows, “By king Odin.”

“By king Odin? Doesn’t his son fly?”

“Huh?” He glances over to Loki who’s not paying attention to you two in the slightest.

“Not that one.”

The guard makes a frustrated grunt before removing his lance away from your face, no matter the safety of the glass, “You can remain afloat but only under my authority.” And with that does he stomp off down the corridor.

Idiot.

You beam a victorious grin as he leaves your sight when a sudden slow clapping can be heard from across the hallway. Immediately do you snap your attention up to the prince who’s already sharing one of his infamous smirks, “Congratulations. You’ll now have an enemy down here. And it only took you a few weeks.”

You scoff, moving yourself to float casually on your back, “It’s about time too. Things were starting to get unbearably dull around here.”

Loki hums, “Ever try reading?”

You snort, “No, no I haven’t. Hmm, but I’d love it if you could read to me, since I don’t happen to have any books within reach. It’s only fair.”

Loki raises a brow, “Only fair?”

“Yes. I have the guards annoyed with me, so, they won’t care much about you. And. You get to read, but also to me as well.”

“That’s a possibly compelling suggestion.” Says the prince, mulling over your words.

“I thought so.”

You close your eyes as a couple moments pass before he speaks again, “But I must decline.”

“What!” You shout in bewilderment as he lowly chuckles, “I might just about die of boredom, you want me on your conscience when I pass into oblivion from lack of entertainment!”

Loki smiles at your adorable face, “Make your own fun.” He teases, though you don’t realize this.

Moving yourself into a standing position, yet still without touching the ground, you press your hands against the golden tinged glass, “Loki! You are a beautifully great annoyance and if I wasn’t stuck in here I would throw all your books about! And then….then I’d knock down your nightstand!”

He smirks, “Charming.”

You pout while your fists clench in irritation, “Fine! I didn’t want to listen to your loathsome voice anyways!” He gifts you with a proud half grin as you turn from him to magically throw your wooden nightstand across the room.

You land, reaching a hand out to launch the nightstand back across the room once more before repeating this action again and again until the whole flimsy thing combusts when it crashes violently into the closest wall.

Breathing heavily, you slowly turn to face the irritation watching you do all of this, “Feel better Y/N.”

Pursing your lips together, you release your tight fists, “Yes.”

He nods, “What would you like me to read?”

“Something joyful…….please.”

Loki shares a handsome grin before giving you a respectfully small bow, “As the lady wishes.” Loki shares a small glance with your curious face before turning to search for a book. He kneels down and soon picks out a book colored in a deep blue, something foreign written in golden cursive on the front.

You slowly return to the ground, this time seated criss crossed as you lean half of yourself upon the glass as you try and get as close to Loki as physically possible. Which is difficult considering the hallway’s short distance keeping your cells apart, but you try anyways. He opens up the book and quickly looks up to catch your gaze before smiling and looking down at the first page.

Loki reveals the smallest blush before clearing his throat, “The Fox and the Raven.” You smirk at his adorable face, how focused and deep in thoughtful concentration he becomes as the words flow off of his sly tongue like molten gold. You could listen to him all day.

“Once there were two beings, equal in skill and game. Best friends since childhood even, but there was one thing that drove a wedge in their long relationship. Another. This beautiful being was beyond compare to that of any god or goddess alike. And the two friends where undoubtedly in love with them.

It began one windy day by the river, the beauty stood, washing their hair by the waters edge with not a mind to mess with anyone in their head. The two friends saw them and smiled. “I shall win their affections.” Claimed the dark haired admirer, Tala. “Not you silly fox, I shall be the one to draw their heart to mine.” Spoke Essek with great confidence, his bestfriend in the whole entire realm.

They looked to each other with clear frustration sculpted into their faces, so, the friends came to an agreement. Whoever failed to win over the water nymphs heart, that friend must stay in their animal form forever while the victorious one could live on as they always have. Maybe it was cruel. Maybe not at first.

Days turned into weeks, and weeks turned into months as the two friends would speak with the water nymph as often as they could. Tala in raven form and Essek as a dashing fox. All was going well as they played their little game of love until the water nymph began to grow quit fond of the raven for his talents in the sky and witty personality.

So much so that on the next full moon, the raven revealed himself to his true form before making love to the joyful water nymph on the rivers edge. And so the very next day when the fox arrived to speak with the nymph, he was surprised to find Tala laying underneath a weeping willow with the nymph in his strong arms.

The fox recoiled with jealousy before his heart shattered in two, Tala smiled a triumphant grin as the fox turned away in disappointment before rushing off into the woodland. Never to be seen again.

So that is why you can never trust anyone who is truly dear to you, for love is a fleeting thing and can turn friends into beasts for something as silly and pathetic as a beacon of affection.” Finishes Loki in an almost sour tone as you sit there on the cell floor, feeling a bit off and out of place from that abrupt turn of events.

You frown, “I thought you were going to read me a happy story?”

Loki closes the book, “I did.” Blue eyes on you in an instant.

“No. You really didn’t.”

Loki gives you an almost dumbfounded look, “The raven got to keep his original form and make love to the water nymph what else is there to want?” He questions like it’s the most obvious thing in the entire world. Not.

“The fox is depressed now. That’s not very happy.”

“It was happy for those two, was it not?”

You roll your eyes, “It was. But a happy story should have a happy ending for everyone involved. That’s the point of a happy tale being told.” You counter as he lets out a frustrated sigh.

“Not everyone gets what they want in the end, Y/N. That’s just life, some are fine and persist while others turn and run with nothing of any significance still clinging to them.”

You sit there a moment in bewilderment, soon rising to float threateningly by the glass, “That’s ridiculous! A happy story should be fucking happy! Love is supposed to be kind and beautiful, not this wedge that turns people against one another and supports a game that shifts into jealousy and disdain for one.”

Loki hums, “Well it is just a story after all. Love does that because it isn’t truthful ever, it’s a fleeting thing without any weight that only causes pain and disappointment.”

Your brows soon furrow at these dark words, “Oh and what do you understand about love?” You hotly challenge, voice accusatory and fierce.

“That it isn’t real.” Mutters the prince with a casual shrug, though his face flashes with uncertainty.

You scoff, “Is it now? You think love is a simple lie? A trick from the universe to keep races existing until their worlds collapse?”

“Yes.” Nods the Asgardian, “That’s what I believe.”

You take a breath, feet slowly touching the cool tiled floor as you speak, “You have no idea what it feels like then. So how can you claim it to be false?”

Loki crosses his arms, “True love isn’t real because that just cannot be realistic in any sense Y/N. Same thing as feeling happy or when you sneeze….the feeling is a feeling like butterflies in your stomach when you get excited. But like every emotion given, it leaves and the feelings are dulled or just dissipate altogether.”

“You’re wrong.” You bitterly mutter, voice low and filled with a somber hurt.

“And how would I be wrong then?” He wonders, truly curious to see how on earth you are able to counter this. He doesn’t wholeheartedly believe in love, though his growing affections for you seem to have him conflicted. He still wants to know.

“It is like magic, to be in love.” You reply, a faint smile ghosting your lips as you press your hands against the glass, “It is bright and brilliant and beautiful. It does not come and go like a fleeting spark from a dying flame. Love, like magic, forms from within when let into someone’s vessel. It is a power that always remains no matter where the person travels, or how old they become. Love, in the end and always through existence will remain. No matter what.”

Loki could have shed a tear at your beautiful explanation, yet his stubbornness persists, “A fairytale. Nothing more.”

“A fairytale? A fucking fairytale!?” You shout, voice rising in fury, “You don’t know anything but the lies you tell yourself you heartless bastard! All I wanted was a happy story that made me smile before I’m executed! And you couldn’t even give me that you selfish prick of a man!”

Loki’s heart grows cold as a winters morning, he blinks, forgetting how to properly breath at your heated declarations. He steps closer to the thin glass, brows furrowed in puzzled apprehension, “You’re being executed?” He asks, tone low and thoughtful.

Face falling into a deep frown, you lower your head in shame, “I have been condemned to die for my crimes above. Guess they’re not so simple as I had first claimed.”

“What do you mean?”

You let out a telling sigh, “I didn’t try and take the queens jewels, I tried to murder her..”

“You what?!” Whispers the Asgardian prince, eyes wide in shock, “What do you mean?”

Your gaze keeps trained onto the floor, “I am…well, I was….an assassin. Who, ultimately could not force myself to murder your mother Frigga, so I let myself be caught and taken. It’s the least I deserve for the life I’ve led. This is just how it goes, and I’m ready.”

Loki’s mind races, he never even suspected such a thing coming from you. Sure you’re indeed a beautiful mystery of a person who enjoys levitating in her cell for the hell of it. But your appearance and pose never revealed someone capable of homicide as their profession, least of all you.

And now, his father is condemning you to death rightly so, but Loki can’t help but think you don’t truly deserve this fate. Maybe, just possibly, he’d feel like he was losing a close friend. Someone who he never had any intentions of developing these strange new feelings for.

“I won’t let him end your life.” Suddenly speaks the prince, “You didn’t kill her, you actively chose not to, so I believe he could sway his final decision.”

You let out a breathy laugh, “Wishful thinking.” Just as three guards dressed in their true Asgardian golds walk to the front of your cell. Loki swallows, they dissipate the golden tinged force field, leaving you with nothing but air to keep you from their clutches.

“Y/N.” Softly calls the dark haired prince, voice small and desperate, he didn’t think they would take you so soon but what does he truly know anymore? Your sad eyes lock onto his as one guard snaps metal cuffs against your wrists, and another around your throat before he ushers you out.

Loki can’t tear his eyes from yours the whole time, and even after you’ve been dragged down the hallway and out of sight. He thinks, maybe you’ll return and it was all a big misunderstanding, a simple nightmare and he’ll wake any second now. But he knows this is foolish thinking, you’re never coming back. And he’s beside himself.

Loki bows his head in silent anguish, fists clenched tight as his heartbeat begins to race when suddenly he releases his grip and a small blast of green magic emits in the aftermath. Just enough power to knock some books onto the floor in protest. He doesn’t pick them up.

In the following days, Loki would pace around his cell like a nervous lion. Reading book after book to help pass the time though he couldn’t stop his racing mind from thinking about you. Where were you now? What had they done to you? Did it hurt?

He didn’t know and what’s worse is the guards only seemed to mock him about it, claiming your life was worth more dead then anything else. It stung like a heated iron spear left too long in the hot coals, he missed you beyond compare. How did you make him feel this way? When did that happen?

He missed your mischievous smile, your alluring eyes of curiosity and concealed chaos. The way you spoke to him like a person and not just a prisoner, or even a prince who’s disappointed his whole kingdom. You didn’t care, sure you lived to tease and pester him relentlessly, but you didn’t truly care about his current status.

You drew the attention out of him without even needing to try, brought a smile upon his face weather he was aware of it or not, and made him feel genuinely excited about waking up the next day. You became everything to him and more, and Loki hadn’t even realized this until it was too late.

But now you’re gone. And he will never see another Y/N for as long as he is to live.

Loki sits with his back against the wall, hair undoubtedly a wild mess closely matching that of the room about him. Books, clothing, furniture, and other personal belongings lay around his cell like the aftermath of a furious hurricane. He didn’t mean for this to happen, but when he got word that his mother was injured in the attack by the dark elves and freed prisoners. He new it was his fault, he led them to freedom after all.

With his mother healing from her non fatal wounds, and the loss of his dear Y/N to the axe. Loki has been doing less then tremendous these past few weeks, clearly. The prince now closes his weary eyes, breathing steadily as a new presence makes itself known across the golden tinged glass. He doesn’t care to look.

“Well don’t you look sad.” Teases a familiar voice, not condescending but just enough to make him laugh if he felt like it.

He opens his eyes to find your smirking face, body safe and sound wrapped in a cloak of white and intricately laced gold. How absolutely beautiful you are. His brows furrow as he mutters, “You’re just an illusion.” Voice horse and filled with doubt.

You raise a brow, “So is this?” You ask in reference to the clean cut illusion Loki is controlling, “I think not. I can see right through it.”

He forgot about the illusion he’s been creating since his breakdown, of course you’d see right through it, “You died. And my mother is hurt.”

“So you lost control within yourself and chose self deprecation? And apparently…chaos.” The trickster god rolls his tired eyes which causes you to chuckle, “I see my passing onto greater things has weakened your ego.”

He scoffs, “Your ghost form does not amuse me.”

Taking a glance down the vacant hallway, you step right through the golden tinged force field like it’s nothing more then air. “Loki Laufeyson, I am not a phantom or a dreary pigment of your imagination you foolish prick. I am Y/N, Goddess of Chaos and Magic. And someone who has missed you deeply.”

Loki frowns, blue eyes focused up at your truthful face as he sighs, “I….I don’t think I understand what is happening.”

You approach his side before kneeling down to reach his level, you two have never been this close before, “My tale was true as the forming of this realm itself. But your mother saw me for who I am, not what I have been enchanted to do with my life. So she gave me another chance to live, and so I did. To protect her and guard her until she deems otherwise, that’s why I’m still alive and that’s why your mother still has a beating heart.”

Loki reaches out for your hand that you gladly let him take, “Those prisoners..”

“I killed them. Every last one of those fuckers and the damn dark elves who attempted to crash their ship into the great hall. Let’s just say, it didn’t go according to their plans.” You explain, pausing for a moment to share a longing look with the Asgardian prince.

The corners of his lips rise into a soft smile, a deeply relieved one while you look down at your laced fingers, “Loki.” You whisper before drawing your head up to properly look at him.

“Yes.”

“I’m still counting on a better story.” You muse as he lets out a breathy laugh.

“Unfortunately none of these books happen to provide a decent tale, my dear.”

You gently squeeze his hand, “In that case I’ll bring you all the books stuffed in that giant library. There’s bound to be a good one, something happy.”

“I’d like that.” Nods the prince.

You smile, “But I have to ask you one thing.”

“Of course.”

“Did you miss me?”

Loki squeezes your hand right back, “More then I’d ever missed anyone.” Reveals the dark haired prince as he reaches up to tuck a loose strand of hair behind your ear, though his fingers linger on your cheek a moment longer before he slowly pulls them away and into his lap.

You can’t help but snicker which causes his face to scrunch up in puzzled embarrassment. Immediately do you reach up to cup his cheek, “I felt the same way. And I think I might feel a bit more too, quit possibly a lot more. No. Yes definitely a lot more then I first led on from a few weeks ago in fact and all I must admit to you now Loki Laufeyson or Odinson..prince of Asgard I think I’d like to kiss you now if that’s okay with you.”

Loki blinks, did he hear you right? “oh.” He mumbles, clearly unsure of himself or whatever wonderful thing you just said.

You immediately remove your hand from his cheek, “Too soon. Sorry I just thought I read you right maybe I was wrong I can just leav….” You don’t even have a moment to finish your sentence when his lips press pleasantly against yours.

His hands hold your face while your own hands gently grip onto his forearms for support in your awkward positioning, with him sitting and you still crouched. But it matters not when his lips move in time with yours, he feels so lovely, like a hundred roses pressing against your skin.

Giving you that soft velvety feel, you could kiss him all day if he’d let you. Though soon enough the two of you must break for some air, and with that do you pull him to his feet while you float just inches off of the messy ground. Loki never once taking his hand away from yours.

“How can you….how can you do that?” Wonders the prince as he glances from the ground to your face.

You shrug, “How can you move things with your mind?”

He smiles, “I guess, I just can. A terribly lackluster explanation I know, but perhaps I’m not truly certain how either.”

“Well let’s not dwell on the unknown for too long, this moment right now is too sacred for anything else. And though I have to leave, I will return to you…..and next time with more books. Then you will have no choice then to read them all to me.”

Loki hums, “I don’t see a problem there.” Before whispering in your ear, “Maybe bring some wine, I couldn’t think of a better way to spend an evening.”

You share a bright grin, “As the spoiled prince asks, but it will cost you.”

Loki raises an intrigued brow, “Cost what?”

“A kiss. Before and after I do your bidding. Can you settle for those terms?”

Loki’s lips pull into an adorable smile, cheeks almost dusting pink at your new flash of boldness. He’s never met anyone quit like you in all his years alive. “I believe those terms are acceptable.”

You give him a wink, “Good. See you then.” And with that do you crash your lips against his for on more heated embrace before leaving one final kiss to his slender cheek and floating out of the cell you go. Stopping behind the glass to give your new lover one last fleeting look, “Miss me you prick.”

Loki smirks, “Always.”

#loki x reader #loki x you #loki x y/n #loki #loki laufeyson #loki odinson #loki imagine #marvel x y/n #marvel x reader #marvel x you #marvel #god of mischief #fanfiction #fanfic #tom hiddleston

[intheweedsx]

Chapter 2: The MET Gala

Chapter 2: The Met Gala 

The night before the MET Gala Calvin was supposed to arrive tom after his  3 month tour and she couldn’t be more excited

“honey im here” shouted Calvin from downstairs

Taylor quickly applied her lipstick and looked in the mirror as she just wore a black lace bra and panties. She decided to slip on a see through shirt and she headed down stairs to greet Calvin. 

Taylor ran to Calvin and embraced him in a longing hug. It felt like forever since they had seen each granted it had been three months. 

“hey babe” taylor said 

“hey I’ve missed you” Calvin said groggily as he yawned 

“hey love I’m going to go to bed early I’m so exhausted after the fourteen hour flight. 

“yea sure babe. The bed is already made and if there is anything you need I’ll be down here”

“hey Calvin do you want me to unpack your things so you don’t have to do it in the morning”

“yea sure thank you so much”

Taylor took his 2 suitcases and started to unzip them when a pair of dark purple panties fell out. They seemed to have fallen out of Calvin’s suit along with an empty condom wrapper. 

Taylor’s heart shattered as she knew that Calvin had cheated in the past but that was in the beginning of their relationship and she had thought they had worked it out and he promised her wouldn’t do it anymore. Taylor started tearing up knowing that their relationship was done. Taylor knew she couldn’t let him keep cheating on me not when I wanted to start a family with him. 

“calvin can you come here” taylor said wearily 

Calvin slowly came down the stair as he had just gotten out of bed

“can you explain this” as she held the panties and condom up 

“you swore you wouldn’t cheat on me anymore and this is what you bring home. The filth of your mistress. I can’t believe you Calvin I really trusted you. And the worse part is she definitely  wasn’t the only woman you fucked on your 3 month tour. We are done. Please get your shit out of here”

“Babe I promise it won’t do it again I was just so desperate for some action after not being with you for months”

Taylor looked like she was going to explode 

“How dare you blame my lack of presence for you cheating. I did not have the urge to cheat while you were gone even though I missed physical contact so much I sucked it up because I knew how import this relationship was to me and how I could never hurt you like that. But it seems it was quite easy for you to throw what we had all to waste. Please get of this house right now”

Calvin turned around and headed up the stairs to gather his things because he knew that the relationship was over and there was no going back. 

Calvin came back down with his stuff packed 

“she was better than you anyway” Calvin said as he left slamming the door. 

Taylor broke down crying knowing she would have to tell her family and the whole world that yet again she could not make a relationship work. 

All of a sudden Taylor heard her phone buzzing. She went to go check who was texting her and it was Joe. She was confused as to why he was texting her cause she hasn’t  spoken to him since the night after she got black out drunk

“hey Taylor I know we haven’t spoken in a while but I was wondering if you were going to the MET. I kinda assumed because you are a high profile celeb and all that fancy stuff. Anyway get back to me when you xo”

“hi Joe I am going hope to see you there :)”

Well that was strange she thought but alas its time to wallow with some well deserved chocolate ice cream. 

-The day of the MET Gala- 

“Hey Tree, is it really necessary that I go to the MET Gala especially with all the Calvin stuff”

The news had not broke yet about Calvin and Taylor ending their relationship but Taylor was still very upset about the breakup and needed time. 

“Taylor everyone already knows that you are going you need to make an appearance at least for an hour”

“ok ill see you then bye”

A few hours passed by and it was already time to get ready. 

Taylor went through her closet and found the silver robot looking dress that she was given to wear. When she slipped it on Taylor realized it wasn’t as pretty as she remember but it has to do because there is nothing else I could wear. She freshened up her red lipstick and called John to pick me up. 

Once Taylor arrived at the MET gala she was bombarded with tons of paparazzi asking “where is calvin” “will he be coming later” Taylor didn’t know what to say so she just shrugged off the questions. Even if we were together Taylor doubted  hhe would want to come anyway he always thinks he is too good for these frivolous events. 

Taylor made my way into the main dining hall where she saw Gigi and Karlie

 “Hey guys how are you”

“we are pretty good” they chimed in while they seemed to be looking in the other direction 

“guyyyss what are you looking at” Taylor trying to follow their gaze 

“remember that guy from the bar back in April look he is here, I may go say hi” Selena said as she started walking towards him 

Taylor had not told her friends that she had kept in brief contact with Joe or that she may have cheated on Calvin with Joe, that was not certain but she was pretty sure she did. Taylor started to walk over behind Karlie and Sel

“hey Joe” Selena drunkly shouted

Joe looked up confused and then look relieved once he spotted Taylor hiding behind Sel and Karlie

“Hey guys I haven’t seen you guys in forever how are you”

The three girls nodded in unison saying they were good 

The group chatted for a few minutes and then Taylor was interrupted by a tall handsome man 

“hey Taylor” a British accent said 

Taylor looked up and noticed it was Tom 

Taylor and Tom had met a few days before the MET Gala and had hit it off. Taylor found him incredibly charming and really handsome. 

“heyy tom, do you want to go sit down over there”

“bye Joe it was nice seeing you again”

Joe saw Taylor walk away with another man which pained him but he knew that to Taylor Joe will always be the man she met in the bar and nothing more. 

Tom snaked him arm around Taylor’s waist which caused Taylor’s stomach to fill with butterflies. As they approached the table Tom pulled out the chair and Taylor graciously sat down. 

“so tom how have you been since we last say each other” 

“great I have been a bit busy with casting for the upcoming marvel movie but other than that it has been great to be in the states”

“hey tom let’s go dance no one else is dancing right now”

Taylor and tom started dancing and soon enough more people joined them on the dance floor 

Joe saw Tom and Taylor dance from the other side of the room and was instantly jealous of the beautiful pair

Taylor looked into Tom’s eyes and then Tom twirled her around and brought her back closer to him almost hugging her then he spun her out again. Taylor was having the time of her life dancing away the thought of Calvin. 

However, Taylor noticed that everyone was looking that and then she realized that the general public still thought she was with Calvin. 

“hey Tom, I’m going to go to the bathroom to freshen up okay?”

“ya that fine meet me back here when you are done” tom said as he winked as her which brought Taylor to a smile. 

Taylor started to rush to the bathroom because she did not want anyone to ask her any questions as to why she was dancing so feverishly with Tom 

Joe saw Taylor running to the bathroom and he thought something was wrong and he followed her 

When Taylor got to the bathroom she locked the door and started to break down crying because with all the events of the last 24 hours she was just done with being the center of everything and she needed a break from everything. All of a sudden to heard a knock at the door 

“hold on I’ll be right out” Taylor shouted 

“hey tay it’s Joe are you are okay?” Joe asks softly 

Taylor rolls her eyes thinking why is following her she just needs to be alone 

“hey Joe do you mind leaving me alone for a bit”

“are you sure you are okay love”

Taylor thought it might not be bad to have some company and she opened the door and let Joe in

“hey Joe” Taylor said while wiping away the tears on her cheek

Joe looked at Taylor sympathetically and brushed his thumb on her cheek hoping to wipe away the tears 

“thank you” taylor said wearily and she held back her tears 

“love whats wrong” 

“I just can’t do it anymore, yesterday I broke up with Calvin because I found out he was cheating and today I’m dancing with Tom hoping to put yesterday behind me but all the memories came flooding back when we were dancing and I just can’t do it anymore Joe” Taylor said while crying into his shoulder

Joe started to rub Taylors back and tell her that everything was going to be okay that she didn’t have to worry

Taylor then realized that she had been in the bathroom for a while and that Tom will probably be worried 

“Joe I’m going to need to leave Tom is probably worried about me” Taylor said as she looked into the mirror wiping away the tears 

Joe let her go and Taylor looked around and mouthed thank you 

Taylor knew in that moment that Joe was going to be a very special person in her life that she could hopefully count on in him in the future 

Taylor and Tom danced the night away and later that night left together and went to Taylor’s home in new york 

Tom and Taylor snuck in through the back entrance 

“Tom stop it” Taylor giggled as tom started kissing the back of Taylor’s neck 

“do you really want me to stop” as tom twirled Taylor so she was facing tom 

Taylor shook her head no and tom leaned in to kiss her 

Soon enough Taylor’s dress was on the floor and she was left in just her black panties and push up bra. Tom similarly only had his pants on while showing off his set of abs. 

“hey tom do you want to go upstairs” as Taylor smirked 

Tom smiled and hoisted Taylor up so she was straddling him while he was carrying her up the stairs. 

When he got to the top of the stairs he found the bedroom and laid Taylor down on her bed

Tom quickly slid his pants off and he was left in just his boxers with his throbbing member showing

Tom started to climb on the bed and he started leaving trails of kisses from Taylor’s thighs all the way up to her breasts

Tom unclasped Taylor’s lace bra and started to leave kisses around her next and eventually on her breasts

Taylor was getting impatient and started to reach down for tom’s boxers when he stopped her and pinned her hands above her head

Tom made his way down to Taylor’s hips and slowly started to take off her black lace panties. He slid his fingers into taylor and started thrusting which elicited several moans from taylor. At that point taylor was getting impatient and just wanted Tom inside of her 

Tom saw that taylor was getting impatient and he took his throbbing length and slowly inserted it into taylor to which taylor let out a moan. Tom slowly thrusted himself in and out of taylor having her feel every inch of him

towards the end when both of them were reaching their climax tom lifted Taylor’s leg up and started to thrust in and out faster and faster until both of them came together 

Both tom and taylor laid on on top of each other for five minutes before they could regain themselves. 

“thanks tom” taylor whispered gratefully as that was some of the best sex she has had in a while 

“welcome love” tom added 

After an hour of cuddling Tom started to redress himself as he had to leave because he had an early day tomorrow 

“bye love call me whenever you are free” tom added 

“bye bye see you later” taylor said as tom left her bedroom and she heard him leave through the back door 

Taylor did not have a problem with tom leaving because usually when she has a one night type stand like this she doesn’t expect anyone to stay over

After a few minutes taylor slowly fell asleep. 

#taylor swift #joe alwyn #taylor and joe #fancfiction #evermore #folklore

[thespacebetweenworlds]

so... i’m not actually in the witcher fandom, nor do i know the most about it...but i still think you should write witcher!hyunjin + bard!jisung. i just approve of the notion idk

I WROTE IT!!!! lmao, be proud of me! this was a whole ride and I loved every second. I hope you’ll find this amusing, too!

Here's the tags: KPOP RPF, Stray Kids Fanfic, Han Jisung/Hwang Hyunjin, rated T, warnings for violence and blood, Witcher AU, 5k, complete. Read it on ao3 here or continue forth below the cut.

Inspired by this Witcher!Hyunjin edit. Beta’d by Reltic, who writes very good skz fic y’all should go read it <3

Anyway let me know what you think :]

 Hyunjin punched him in the face.

 … by accident. That was important. Or it would be important, if Hyunjin didn’t wish he could punch the annoying bard a second time.

 Unfortunately, they were currently caught and bound in the bandits’ cave, back to back, and if Hyunjin wanted to break free fast, the knife in his arm guard would also stab the annoying bard in the back. And he had to admit that that annoying mouth was currently the only thing preventing the bandits from slashing their throats and leaving them to bleed out in a ditch.

 Fuck.

 So Hyunjin lost himself in the memory of the bard’s stupid soft cheek on his knuckles, the impact he felt before the bard’s head snapped back and he stumbled away. The blood on his teeth when he smiled up at Hyunjin, who had honestly (oh, his past self new nothing) meant to punch the lackey of the village’s head who refused to pay him. The space around the bar had been packed, and someone was pushed into the lackey just before Hyunjin hit him.

 The annoying bard.

 Hyunjin, feeling sorry and embarrassed, had kicked the lackey a few metres away, relishing in the thump of a body against the wall and then the following slump to the floor accompanied with the sudden scared quiet of the room. And then he’d glared at the guys who had been pushing the annoying bard and escorted him out, meaning to apologise. He had not meant for the annoying bard to follow him on the dusty dirt road to the next village and never stop talking.  

 “You really should let us go, my dudes,” the annoying bard laughed – Jisung, oh how Hyunjin wished he didn’t know that name – “I mean come on, have you ever seen a man as beautiful as him? It would be a crime to kill us, a crime.”  

 The first that hit Jisung’s bruised face after that was deserved, and Hyunjin wished he was the one who did the punching.

 “You trespassed into our territory, we will do as we wish,” one of the bandits crossed his head and lifted his chin as if he was almighty. For the moment, he was. “We have heard of a witcher with ties to the queen, and we can’t let him run to her and tell her about our secret drug ring.”

 Hyunjin closed his eyes and groaned quietly. Life was just out to get him specifically.

 “Ah, we don’t kiss and tell,” Jisung said, and Hyunjin just knows he’s winking and putting on his ‘flirting’ face. “Wait, Hyunjinnie, you know the queen? Me too!”

 Hyunjin wished he could close his ears too. Those were definitely the words the bandits needed to hear right now. Yes. Good thinking there, Jisung.

 “Who are you that you know the queen?” Another of the bandits spoke up, walking closer. “Maybe we can exchange your dead remains for money.”

 Jisung, at least, had nothing to say to that. “Ahaha, a joke, of course! How would I know the queen! Why would he know the queen? He’s a witcher, not a witch.”

 Hyunjin groaned. “The queen and I are on bad terms right now, and I won’t tell her about your drug ring because I will kill you all.”

 Finally, blessed silence. Hyunjin counted his heartbeats and breaths, relaxing his shoulders. Quiet. Nice. Now if only there was a breeze carrying some fresh mountain air.

 “Hey,” Jisung hissed, “don’t encourage them!”

 And the room broke in frantic yells and panic as they tried to decide what to do since both their prisoners apparently knew the ruler of the kingdom, except of course if they were lying. Hyunjin sighed.

 “Hyunjin,” Jisung whispered, shuffling around, “how do we escape? You have a plan, right?”

 Hyunjin took a deep breath. “I have a knife in my boot,” he told Jisung quietly, “if we stand up at the same time, I can take it, and cut us free.”

 Jisung let out a breath. “Oh, that’s good! I knew you got this.”

 Hyunjin just brought his legs under him, swiping the dagger from his boot – really, what kind of bandits didn’t tie their prisoner’s legs? – and as he stood with Jisung scrambling to his feet himself, he cut the ropes tying them together.

 The bandits noticed a second too late, and drew their swords a second too late. Two put up half a fight, but soon they all lay dead on the floor, blood splattered all over Hyunjin. Hyunjin wrinkled his nose, and made an attempt to wipe the blood off of his daggers on the only bandit who still had a clean shirt.

 “Where did that second dagger come from?” Jisung, his wrists still bound, interrupted Hyunjin.

 “You’re still here?” Hyunjin shoved the daggers back, one into his boot and the other under his arm guard where it was concealed under black leather.

 “Wait so you could have broken free all along with the dagger in your sleeve? Why didn’t you…” understanding slowly crawled across his expressive face, followed by a bright smile. “Hyunjin! I knew you care about me!”

 “I don’t,” Hyunjin said, but somehow couldn’t stop himself from untying Jisung’s hands. He took his sword from where the bandits had tossed it in a corner and drew the blade. More bandits would still be outside. Jisung picked up his lute and hugged it close to his chest.

 As Hyunjin had expected, a few bandits were in the surrounding woods, just far enough to not have heard their companions’ dying screams. Hyunjin killed the ones that attacked him and let the others run away.

 When he reached the road, he lifted his fingers to his mouth and whistled.

 Loud breathing and stomping reached him not much later.

 “Hyunjinnie!” Jisung emerged behind him, cheeks flushed under his bruised face, lute strapped to his back. “I don’t understand how –” he gasped for air, “– you can run through the woods so fast. Wait for me.”

 Hyunjin, however, only had eyes for the beauty that approached him now. “Kkami!”

 Kkami was his trusted companion and only friend. And a horse. But she was the best. Better than all humans he ever met. A good listener too. And quiet. Unlike a certain annoying bard.

 “Oh, pretty,” Jisung stumbled towards Kkami, who neatly stepped around him as if he was just an unusual kind of tree.

 “I’m so proud of you,” Hyunjin whispered to her, leaning his forehead against hers and stroking her long neck. Kkami was truly his only friend.

 Hyunjin climbed up on her back in one smooth move. He patted the parts of her neck he could reach and steered her down the road with his legs alone. She started walking in a comfortable walk, one that she would be able to hold for days. The sun was high in the sky, the trees green, the birds singing. It was calm now. The breeze smelled of forest and moss and rotting leaves and flowers in bloom. Hyunjin could hear his own heartbeat as well as Kkami’s, their breaths aligning like they so often did on long journeys.

 It was wonderful.

 Except that his and Kkami’s weren’t the only heartbeats he heard.

 “Oh, can I also ride on your horse? No? Alright then, it’s your horse, I understand. Did you call her Kkami? That’s so cute. Like you! You were so badass back there, I had literal goosebumps. I must admit the blood splattered clothes fit you very well. And did you see their faces when they realised we got free? And oh, we busted a drug ring, if you were on good terms with the queen we could totally go to the capital and receive money for doing good deeds in the name of the crown. But alas, we’ll have to live as vagabonds! Lonely heroes on their way to defeat evil!”

 Yup. There he was.

 “I should write a song about it. I can write a song about us. I will write a song about you! Hyunjin, how do you feel about songs? I promise I’ll also credit Kkami with defeating a villain, of course, she’s lovely. Do you think a long ballad would be suitable? Or a drinking song? If you don’t mind, I’ll try some freestyles, yeah?”

 “Shut up.”

 “Ah, but I write my songs by freestyling! I just start singing, play some chords, and continue until I find sounds and words I like. You know, as a starving artist with only my lute, I can’t rely on making notes and writing my lyrics down, I have to memorize them as I come up with them! So talking to myself helps with that, obviously. And now I have you, too! You will help me, right?”

 Hyunjin contemplated kicking Jisung in the face. It would… even be possible, he realised as he studied the distance between his leg and Jisung’s head. He’d have to stretch weirdly though, and unless he shifted his weight, the kick wouldn’t be very strong. The movement would surprise Kkami though, and while she definitely wouldn’t mind or be inconvenienced, Hyunjin was sitting comfortable and breathing in synchrony with her.

 Why mess that up? He could just pretend he wasn’t hearing anything, anything at all. A fly, maybe. A bee. Human voices? The last time he heard a human speak was one of the bandits, before he stabbed him in the chest with his sword and left the body in the shrubbery.

 Oh, the calmness of the forest… so quiet… so nice.

 In the late afternoon, the trees gave way to the next village, with fields spreading out into wasteland and far away mountains. The village was just big enough to have a bit of stone ground in the middle, with a river and a mill. An inn sat in it’s center.

 Hyunjin sighed. He had exactly no money, which meant he’d have to ask for a job first before he could rent a room. However, he had yet to see a village that didn’t have at least one monster to get rid of. It just meant he’d have to go monster hunting before he could go to sleep for a day.

 “Oh, are we staying here, Hyunjin?” Jisung stood in front of Hyunjin when he jumped off Kkami. And Jisung grinned. He swaggered towards the door of the inn. “I don’t have money, but I’m sure I can get us a room in exchange for entertainment! I’ll sing of your victories, witcher, and the town will love you!”

 “Uh… bard,” Hyunjin said, because he’d actually have to warn him, didn’t he? “Jisung.”

 Jisung turned to him with wide eyes and his grin turned into a soft smile.

 “That might not help. As a witcher, people don’t usually… like… it… when I’m around.” Hyunjin gestured to his appearance, dark leather armour splattered with blood. Long white hair bound together but he knew there were leaves caught in it. It really spoke for itself. His glowing eyes didn’t help his case. “I’ll ask for a monster to kill, which will hopefully get us a meal and a room, and Kkami a place in a stable. That’s all, and only if we’re lucky.”

 A look of something crossed Jisung’s face, there and gone too fast for Hyunjin to read. He squared his shoulders and bared his teeth. “Trust me on this, Hyunjin.”

 And Jisung sauntered into the inn as if he owned it.

 Hyunjin and Kkami shared a look. “I don’t know either, Kkami, sweetheart,” Hyunjin sighed.

 Kkami neighed quietly.

 “I know, I know, I better go and save his ass or something,” Hyunjin cringed. He was actually going to, wasn’t he?

 Kkami snorted.

 Hyunjin rolled his eyes. “Yah, don’t laugh at me! Wait here, okay? If anyone comes at you, you know how to drop kick them.”

 Jisung had maybe one minute alone in the inn. Somehow, Hyunjin expected there to be fire and screaming and new bruises on Jisung’s annoying face.

 One minute, and yet what Hyunjin found when he opened the door was Jisung pointing a finger at him, yelling, and cheering from a crowd of mostly drunk farmers and a handful of young women who curiously turned their heads.

 “That’s him!” Jisung was laughing, too. “He saved my life.”

 Hyunjin didn’t have time to process that before he was shoved next to Jisung by a smiling man with a long beard and a cup of beer was handed to him. The women oohed and aahed.

 “Jisung-ssi, why didn’t you say he’s pretty?”

 “Mr Bard, he truly looks as beautiful as you said! A hero!”

 “To have defeated a Barghest! I’ll drink to that!”

 Jisung cheered with the small crowd, and Hyunjin lifted his beer in cheers, setting it back down when it seemed like most people were briefly shifting their attention to their own drinks. Alcohol did nothing for him, and he didn’t like beer. Jisung swiftly switched his own cup with Hyunjin’s, and when Hyunjin brought the cup up to his face, he noticed it was water.

 “I told you to trust me, Hyunjin,” Jisung said quietly.

 Hyunjin could only nod.

 “Oh, your hair is so pretty,” one of the older women said, sliding into the seat next to him. “I’m the co-owner of this establishment, by the way.”

 “Um, thank you,” Hyunjin swallowed a mouthful of water. “I’ve been meaning to ask if you had a job for me here.”

 Jisung, now a few metres away, strung his lute and started singing a catchy song about ‘that time a handsome witcher saved me from the beast’ which, despite his raspy throat, sounded good – if you could ignore the terrible text. And the fact that it was all lies. Well, Hyunjin had to admit that he did save Jisung from certain death, but there was nothing heroic about it, and Hyunjin also hadn’t taken off his clothes to use his undershirt to bind a cut on Jisung’s ankle.

 “We are uncertain still,” the woman quickly tugged Hyunjin out of his thoughts with her serious tone. “A monster dwells upstream. Sometimes the river is dyed red, or pieces of ripped clothing will pass the village. My niece disappeared two weeks ago. One of the farmers went up to see what was causing the issue last week, and he never returned. One of his shoes did, though.”

 “Hmm,” Hyunjin nodded. “I have a few ideas of what it might be, and none of them are good.”

 The woman nodded, smiling worriedly. “If it really is a… monster, as you say, we will of course pay you accordingly. For now, your drinks are on us – see it as a gesture of good will for saving that bard.”

 With a polite smile, she turned to attend a group of newly arrived villagers.

 Hyunjin eyed the sliver of fading daylight streaming in through the dirty window. If it really was a drowner, it might move closer to the village when hungry. Drowners lived in streams and ponds and sewers, but if this one was upstream it might not take long for it to decide to live closer to the village. Hyunjin remembered the mill. There must be a body of water directly connected to it.

 And if the last death was already a week ago, then he’d have to hurry. He finished his water and got up.

 “Jisung,” he said when he reached him and Jisung had taken a small break from singing to hydrate. “I’m going after a monster here. I will be back by moonrise.”

 Jisung smiled a gummy smile, eyes sparkling. “You’ll be back?”

 “I’ll be back,” Hyunjin agreed, wondering if it would destroy his fragile positive image in the village if he punched Jisung in the face right now. Why bother though, Jisung’s bruises were just reaching their darkest point, another one wouldn’t even be visible.

 Hyunjin turned and left, hearing Jisung loudly announce that Hyunjin was going to defeat the monster.

 Kkami was eyeing him.

 “What,” he grumbled. “So, he was right. So what. I still have to go kill a monster now.”

 Kkami snorted judgingly.

 Together, they swiftly galloped towards the mill, and in a slower tempo they followed the water upstream.

 There were a few hills there, some shrubbery that quickly turned into tall trees, the river courving and going into the forest. The smell was the first thing that told him something was wrong here, so he got off Kkami, drank one of his witcher potions – never a fun experience, the way his insides twisted and bones shuddered just wasn’t a good vibe – and he felt his sight sharpening, eyes turning black.

 Kkami, unbothered queen that she was, turned to snack on some leaves.

 Hyunjin followed the smell of blood and death deeper into the woods to a clearing. A dark pond greeted him, and yes, this was it. He would never get the smell out of his hair.

 He kicked a pebble into the water.

 The water made waves, but not the ones physics predicted the pebble would have created.

 In the end, killing a drowner wasn’t that much different from killing a human. They were, after all, human shaped with extra gills and fins. Somewhat. The difficulty didn’t lie in their superhuman strength, but Hyunjin was a witcher, and he had drunk his potions. Not even the coldness and darkness of the water surrounding them really bothered Hyunjin.

 The difficulty lay in the fact that Hyunjin didn’t like the quiet that came after. He waded out of the pond, wet and cold, hair plastered to his forehead, the slippery head of the drowner in his arms, and what greeted him was cold starlight and absolute silence.

 He walked the way back to the village. Kkami was waiting where he left her, but he didn’t want to ruin his saddlebags by getting them wet with smelly pond water and the drowner’s blood.

 The moon rose just as he made it back to the village.

 And when he opened the door to the inn, the first thing he saw was Jisung’s annoying face. Could his day get any worse after this?

 “You’re back!” Jisung smiled again (why did he smile so much, and why did he smile at Hyunjin?) and then he saw the water dripping down his clothes and the monster’s head in his arms. Naturally Hyunjin couldn’t really grab the head in one hand, it was too fishy for that. Jisung winked at him, before turning back to the room. “The witcher defeated the monster! Your village is safe now!”

 Cheers sounded through the room, which seemed to be packed with the whole village and not just the handful of farmers from earlier.

 “Should I leave the head outside,” Hyunjin asked the woman who had spoken to him earlier.

 She took a look and briefly looked nauseous. “Yes, just leave it outside, thank you. I’ll prepare a room and a bath for you, master witcher.”

 Hyunjin blinked. He didn’t think he’d ever been addressed with this much honest respect. “Thank you.”

 “Follow me.”

 Through a crowd of mostly drunk cheering, the owner led him up a narrow stairway in the back, and opened one of the doors for him. There was a fairly big bed, a small window with curtains, and a tub behind a paper screen.

 “Uh, excuse me,” Hyunjin stopped the woman just as she walked past him with the promise of getting someone to bring up hot water, “my horse, she’s outside. Could you send someone for her? If it’s too much trouble, is there a stable I can bring her to?”

 The woman smiled. “Of course, dear. I’ll send my son, he’ll take good care of your horse.”

 Relieved, Hyunjin started to undo the straps of his armour, putting the pieces on the clothes rack next to the tub. Hopefully the leather would be dry by morning. When he was down to his undershirt and pants, the woman returned with two people following behind her, all of them carrying buckets of steaming water.

 “Thank you,” Hyunjin smiled politely, only to be told thanks in return, ‘for saving the village.’

 … Jisung must be composing an epic ballad.

 Tired, Hyunjin decided to not care about that right now, and fully undressed. He was just starting to relax in the hot water when the door behind him opened. Jisung’s familiar heartbeat sounded in the room. Hyunjin closed his eyes and sighed.

 “Are you – oh.”

 “What,” Hyunjin groaned. “Don’t tell me they only have one guest room and thus you simply must share with me.”

 “Ah, yes, actually. How did you know?” Jisung crossed the room and sat next to Hyunjin, keeping his eyes strictly on Hyunjin’s face.

 “Just – a hunch, I don’t know. Are you blushing?”

 “No.” Jisung blushed.

 Hyunjin hummed and started to cover his arms and chest with soap. It smelled too strongly of flowers, but maybe that would cover the lingering smell of blood and forest. He moved on to wash his hair, getting his fingers tangled in the knots.

 “Wait,” Jisung interrupted, “let me do that.”

 Stunned, Hyunjin didn’t move when Jisung grabbed the soap out of his hands.

 “Your hair is really pretty,” Jisung murmured. “I want to braid it and give you a flower crown. Did you know that one of my aliases is Dandelion?”

 “I did not,” Hyunjin said, because Jisung’s aliases were the most conceivable piece of information he just received.

 Jisung laughed and used his hands to wash the soap out of Hyunjin’s hair. “You pretend you’re all tough and dramatic but really you’re a big softie.”

 “Are you talking about yourself,” Hyunjin replied, because really, he did not come here for an emotional evaluation.

 “Aw, no,” Jisung lightly splashed water in Hyunjin’s face, “I never pretend to be all tough and dramatic, I am all tough and dramatic.”

 Hyunjin wrinkled his face in disgust. “You’re annoying.”

 Hyunjin noticed how Jisung’s musician’s fingers lightly lingered on the scars on his shoulders and back when he washed the soap away. He let Jisung hold his hands and massage a pleasant smelling oil into his skin after he dried and got dressed in a long nightshirt the inn had kindly provided for them. He sat still as Jisung used a towel to gently dry Hyunjin’s hair, and in the absence of a comb used his fingers to disentangle the worst of the knots.

 Jisung, for once, blessed Hyunjin with silence. Hyunjin still noticed Jisung. Even when he wasn’t talking a steady stream of nonsense, his presence was still… loud. Strong. The many buttons on Jisung’s jacket were undone with skilled fingers, and Hyunjin pinched himself when he finally remembered to look away. He walked through the room, closing the curtain, locking the door. Then he sat on the edge of the bed and looked everywhere except at Jisung, who pulled the nightshirt over his bare skin.

 “You don’t mind sharing the bed, do you?” Jisung asked at last, sitting down next to Hyunjin.

 “If I did,” Hyunjin replied, raising an eyebrow, “I’d have removed you from this room already.”

 Jisung’s annoying mouth formed a big, heart shaped smile.

 Hyunjin wanted to punch him. With his mouth. On Jisung’s mouth. He shuddered internally. Oh no. This wasn’t happening. He was definitely not going to kiss the annoying bard on his annoying mouth. Nope. Not happening.

 “Thank you for saving my life,” Jisung said, serious. “Not just from the bandits, but you also kinda saved me back at the other village. You also punched me, but I know that was an accident.”

 “I will punch you again,” Hyunjin grumbled, getting under the covers and scooting to one side, “it just won’t be an accident.”

 Jisung laughed. “You’re really funny, you know that? I think most people don’t even notice, which is a shame.”

 “You’re not funny,” Hyunjin yawned.

 “Is that a challenge? Keep thinking that, then. I’ll make you smile.”

 Hyunjin didn’t dignify that with an answer. He closed his eyes.

 “Sleep well, Hyunjinnie,” Jisung murmured, burying himself in the blanket just a hand width away.

 “Night,” Hyunjin returned after a pause.

 It didn’t take long for Jisung’s breath to even out and his heartbeat to slow. Hyunjin listened to the muffled and fading noises of the inn for another while before he allowed himself to drift off. Even witchers needed sleep.

 When he came back to consciousness, the first thing he noticed was the early morning light streaming in from behind the curtain. He still had his eyes closed and felt no need to move for the moment. Jisung’s heartbeat sounded steady, his breaths warm against Hyunjin’s neck. Hyunjin was warm and comfortable in a way he hadn’t been in a long time, the sheet comfortable around him.

 Arms tightened around him, and a voice in the back of Hyunjin’s mind started screaming like the house was on fire. Except Hyunjin really didn’t mind burning houses, he was a witcher, why was his brain screaming? He firmly told himself to shut up and enjoy the lingering sleep. Awake time would be later.

 “Hrngg warm,” Jisung murmured, and threw a leg over Hyunjin’s hips.

 That woke Hyunjin.

 Wide eyed, he stared down, only to see Jisung half on top of him. He realised that it wasn’t the blanket that was so comfortably warm and soft, but Jisung, because Jisung was draped all over him.

 Carefully, Hyunjin tried to extract himself, but Jisung only tightened his hold on him.

 “Fuck,” Hyunjin whispered.

 What did one do when one woke up with a human octopus attached? Hyunjin didn’t know, so he tried to breathe normally and not disturb Jisung further. The bruises on his face were thankfully already fading into lighter shades of purple, but Jisung must have been exhausted. One of Hyunjin’s arms was free, and he’d left a bruise balm on the small table beside the bed, in case he hadn’t healed fully in the morning.

 Carefully, Hyunjin reached over, scooped a bit up with his finger, and very carefully started to cover the bruises on Jisung’s cheekbone and temple. Jisung didn’t wake.

 After a while, Hyunjin closed his eyes and fell back asleep. When he woke up again, it must have been late morning – golden light illuminated the room. Jisung was staring up at him, wide eyed.

 “You drool in your sleep,” Hyunjin told him and gently pushed Jisung off him.

 Jisung blushed furiously and wiped at his mouth with his sleeve, eyes not leaving Hyunjin.

 Hyunjin stretched and stood. He opened the curtain, squinting against the bright daylight. When he turned to Jisung, he found Jisung rubbing at his eyes, looking lost in the center of the bed, blanket pooling around him. His hair stood around his head and looked – despite all logic – fluffy.

 “I – uh, did I sleep on you?” Jisung averted his eyes.

 Hyunjin hummed, turning to his clothes. His armour was dry, luckily, but he’d hate to wear the same undershirt and pants again. He’d have to find a river where he could wash his clothes soon.

 “I’ll go find the toilet,” Jisung mumbled and left for the door. He almost stumbled in the doorway. “Oh, clothes! The nice lady must have left them for us.” In front of their door, indeed, was a neatly folded pile of clothes. Simple linen undershirts and pants, nothing fancy but of good quality.

 When they had fully dressed and Hyunjin had wrenched his hair into a bun, they made their way downstairs just to find the barkeeper grinning widely at them, reminding Hyunjin that this village thought him a hero.

 Thankfully, Jisung did all the talking, and Hyunjin could eat as much breakfast as he liked. Maybe he should keep Jisung around.

 A handful of villagers came together to bid them goodbye, and the woman from the inn for some reason apologised for being unable to pay him, but instead offered a horse. A cute, mischievous black mare that had been her niece’s favourite, and as such had never learned how to be a proper farm horse. Jisung thanked the villagers profusely and loudly, and sang another rendition of ‘the handsome witcher saved my life’ as they left.

 Out of sight and out of earshot of the last farm belonging to the village, Jisung’s voice went high and panicky.

 “Hyunjin! I don’t know how to ride a horse!”

 Hyunjin just looked Jisung up and down slowly, making his point. Jisung was, after all, sitting on his horse. Sure, he was also hugging his lute to his chest and also gripping the saddle with white-knuckled fists.

 “Ha! I did it!” Jisung whooped then, and pointed a finger in Hyunjin’s face. “You smiled!”

 Hyunjin wiped the smile off his face, furrowed his brows and glared. “No.”

 “You did! I clearly saw – Hyunjinnie you’re so cute when you – ah!” Jisung blanched and cowered over his horse, who had just made a bigger step than usual to nose Kkami in the face.

 Hyunjin laughed. He couldn’t help himself. Jisung was confident, or good at bullshitting confidence, and pretty, and annoying, and brave. And he was afraid of riding on a horse.

 He leaned back just a bit, letting Kkami know to stop just by shifting his weight. Jisung’s horse also stopped, probably because it had decided Kkami was the best living being on the planet. What a smart horse. Hyunjin jumped off and patted the black horse on the nose, smiling at her.

 Kkami snorted loudly.

 Hyunjin grabbed the reins of Jisung’s horse and started walking. “Just relax, Sungie,” he said without looking over his shoulder. “I’ve got you.”

 “What about Kkami?” Jisung sounded very relieved and adorably worried about Kkami.

 Hyunjin hummed. “She’s the best. The smartest. She’ll walk with us on her own. You’re the one that needs to learn how to communicate with your horse. What’s her name?”

 “Uh,” Jisung paused. “I forgot? Or they didn’t say.”

 “Well, then you should start by naming her,” Hyunjin replied, and then started to talk about horses. What they liked to eat, how to care for them, what they did when they felt good and what they did when they felt scared, and what to do to calm a scared horse down. He talked about saddle care and the different kinds of signals most horses learnt from humans, and then he talked about Kkami.

 Jisung listened.

 And Hyunjin, the complete and utter fool that he was, talked himself hoarse (ha, get it, horse?) and taught Jisung how to not fall off his newly acquired companion.

 In the afternoon, they rested by a stream, Jisung complaining about sore legs the entire time and whining when he tried to sit climb back up on the horse. Hyunjin laughed at him, which made Jisung smile brighter than the sun in the sky, and they decided they’d just walk next to their horses to relieve the stress put on Jisung’s legs. After a while, Jisung started singing again. Maybe it was chronic. Still, Hyunjin found himself enjoying the company, and if his ears didn’t betray him, Jisung’s lyrics were better now, too.

 As the sun set behind some mountains in the distance, the annoying bard’s voice cracked from dehydration every few minutes. Jisung settled for humming melodies. Hyunjin caught a small animal for them to eat and build a fire on a clearing off the road. Jisung found an apple tree. As night fell, they huddled close together under Hyunjin’s thin blanket.

 “I’m seriously unironically glad to have met you,” Jisung’s loud voice startled Hyunjin, who’d gotten used to the quiet and the fire’s crackling. “I forgive you for punching me in the face, too.”

 Hyunjin took it all back. The annoying bard was annoying and Hyunjin did not enjoy his company at all. He sighed, pouring all his long suffering pain into the release of air.

 “But only because you’re pretty,” Jisung continued his monologue.

 That was it. Hyunjin couldn’t listen to another word. He leaned in, punching Jisung in the face. On the mouth. With his mouth.

 Jisung made a strangled noise and returned the kiss with a small smirk in the corner of his lips.

#stray kids #han jisung/hwang hyunjin #hyunsung #uhhh not that people will be able to easily find this because i put links into the post and tumblr hates those #ummm #skz fanfic #witcher au #long post #my ao3 is tinystreetlamp! come say hi #uhhh now idk what to tag #like. lmao #there was only one bed #enemies to lovers #well not really #it's not really enemies to lovers they just don't know how to show attraction without being ... like... the way they are #as my tags on ao3 say: tender yearning and crack #... it is kinda cracky #fluff #because I am incapable of writing anything without fluff #i write what makes me happy! or i try to lmao #like there is sad backstory that you can guess at if you know anything about the witcher #i just don't talk about it because this is about falling in love with the most annoying person you can find on this rock #shoutout to Kkami! she cute #i love u all and pls take care of yourselves!!! even if u think you don't need it #do something for you mental health today #and tomorrow #and like. every day. because you need it. there i said it #live laugh love lee felix

[alsbesluit]

a match

  Three weeks later, Katie put on a nice, dark blue dress, styled her hair carefully in front of the mirror and wore her favourite pair of boots, light brown ankle boots that Leanne gifted her for her latest birthday. Lee told her she looked great when she walked into the living room and wished her good luck, ‘not that she needed it.’ George, who’d come over to hang out with Lee, commented that she looked great. She thanked both of them with a smile, kissed George’s cheek and made her way out. The sun was shining, something not too common for a day at the start of April, and it was warm enough to walk to the cafe with her coat loose after she’d apparated to the right part of the city.  

  She honestly really hadn’t had the time for a speed date situation. It sounded like an excuse, and perhaps she’d used it as one beforehand, but St. Mungo’s had become more busy since. The current magical government was pushing what people considered too progressive legislation and as a result, there had been revolts. Some of the staff on the more consistent wards (which was code for the healers of the wards on the fourth floor for the permanent residents and the second floor, since the amount of magical diseases was surprisingly consistent) had been asked to pitch in at the ground floor every other shift because both protesters and an influx of hit wizards and aurors got injured. They could use every wand and hand they could get. Regardless, her colleagues insisted she take the day off that she had planned, since she already took so little time off. It was probably a good thing she hadn’t mention what she would be doing, because they may have suggested she take off the next shift as well just in case she did meet someone.   She loved her colleagues, she really did, but she wished that people in general and her colleagues specifically stopped acting like it was the end of the world when you didn’t have a romantic relationship of some kind. She was perfectly fulfilled with her job and her friends. It was nowhere near the end of the world not to have some boy around. There were advantages, yes, but there were also disadvantages, especially since no boy had ever been right for her and Katie refused to settle. Relationships were work, and while she was willing to put in work it was only for someone who was worth it and would do the same thing in return. She was still trying to find this person. That was supposed to be the point of the speed date situation, alas.   The corner cafe looked like the kind of thing Nicholas and her spend time at when they were younger, for their uncle who didn’t have any kids owned a cafe. She’d worked behind the bar there when she was sixteen to make some extra money, so she was wholly familiar with the kind of building she was about to enter.    Upon entering, Katie observed that a number of tables with two chairs each (one on each side) had been set out in the middle of the bar. There was a small crowd at people standing to the side talking, all with their names on the outfit of choice, written on a sticker with sharpie. Katie made her way towards the bar, where she ordered a water by the bartender, an older woman with blond hair, sparking blue eyes and a friendly smile.   “Thank you, ma’am,” Katie thanked her when she got the water and immediately took a sip.    The woman smiled at her in return. “Are you here for the speed dating, dear?” she queried. Katie nodded. “I’ll get you a name tag right away. We’ll start in a few minutes.” She reached behind her for the sharpie and the stickers both. “What name should I write down? Or would you rather write it down yourself?”   This was where the awkwardness started, Katie found. Her real name and nickname usually had some very different responses. Katie was much more accessible, and it was what she went by, though. “Katie, and no thank you,” she said. “My handwriting is not nearby as good as yours, from what I’ve seen. I have a real doctor’s handwriting.”   The woman behind the bar wrote the name down in curly and quite readable letters and handed it over to Katie. Katie pushed her hair aside carefully before attaching the sticker to her dress. She should probably be mindful of her hair falling over the sticker time and time again. She took another sip of her water and studied the crowd that had gathered before addressing the bartender again.   “Are all these people here for the speed dating, or just a few of them?” she asked.   “Most of them are,” the woman replied. “I’ve seen some really nice and good-looking men pass by here and ask for a name tag already. We gathered an interesting crowd this month.” Both Katie and the woman lingered over looking at them. “Have you prepared your answers for the most obvious questions people ask?” she asked.   Katie grinned, amused by the statement, and looked back at the woman. “I did not, I didn’t even think what the most obvious questions would be. Do people really prepare?”   “Some of them do,” the woman said, a small smile on her face. “They don’t want to be caught off guard, I think, but I always fear it comes across a little rehearsed.” She frowned a little at that. “Nothing wrong with trying to be prepared, though.”   “I always try to be prepared,” Katie shared. “But the harder I try, the more I get caught off guard. You can’t prepare for everything. Just the probable things. So I’ve limited myself to that.” She shrugged her shoulders, then smiled. “Can I take the water with me as I do the speed dating?”   “Of course, dear,” the woman replied. “We’ll start any minute now.”   Katie couldn’t say if she was excited or scared. Perhaps both. She had to remind herself of what her friends said - that she would eventually get lucky and that she deserved to be with someone who liked her and that she should at least try the speed dating - and took another few sips of her water to calm herself. Soon enough, the bartender woman approached the middle of the room and announced the speed dating was about to begin. She explained the system - it was a rotating system with five minutes for every couple to chat and get to know each other and if you liked someone, you could write down their name and you would hear if there was a match - and handed out pieces of papers for everyone to write down at.    Soon enough, Katie was sat down at a table with a man named Jared who, while friendly,  talked a lot about himself and his very specific hobby of working on old cars and hunting after car parts, which usually took up his weekends. She could see why unless you had the same hobby, it would be difficult to date him. He seemed to prefer his car parts over dating. Needless to say, it was not a match, so when the bell sounded after five minues she moved onto the next table.   Unfortunately, the next man, Raheem, wasn’t any better of a match. He was admittedly handsome, but he immediately told her that he expected his future girlfriend to go to all kinds of sports events with her. She had to love sports, specifically football and formula 1 racing. Katie didn’t have the slightest clue what formula 1 racing was, but she could guess and she could also guess it wasn’t for her. Sure she liked sports. She loved quidditch. What she didn’t like was men demanding things of women as though their right. Katie had other hobbies outside of quidditch and liked to try and distribute her time between them, plus she didn’t really have that much free time to spend at all. Not a match, not at all.   She was still a little hopeful sitting in front of the third man,  Todd. Unfortunately, it was within the minute that she realized this wasn’t the man for her either. He was particularly full of himself. Apparently his workplace didn’t value him and should recognize he was easily the most important person on his team and should do better. He didn’t think to ask what she did for a living, as though unimportant, and she was starting to sense that he felt it wasn’t important. When the barwoman came by and asked if they wanted another drink, Katie politely asked for another water. When she left, the man said woman should be getting him drinks more often. She tuned out after that, and doubted the man realized she wasn’t listening.   The next two men were no match either, and by the time Katie made her way to the sixth table she was starting to get discouraged. Why did her friends think this was a good idea? It seemed that a very specific type of person went to speed dating; someone so specific that no one in their group of friends, relatives and acquaintances knew anyone to set them up with or would want to. Was she like that? Katie liked to think that she wasn’t, but due to the long hours on her job and her progressive stance she probably wasn’t anyone’s dream woman, exactly. Different people had different standards and she didn’t fit a lot of them.    There were still two to go. Katie set her glass of water down at the next table and sat down, lifting her eyes up to meet green eyes. The man had brown hair, a little wavy and on the longer side, and facial features that Katie vaguely recognized. He offered to shake hands with her and smiled. “Hi, I’m Marcus, as the name tag tells you as well, I guess.”   With that, everything clicked into place. Marcus. Flint, to be precise, a former Death Eater who was sentenced to ten years in Azkaban but was let go from the prison early because he signed an agreement about his magic getting taken away in return for his freedom. The policy was what the revolts had been about, in part. Was it more unethical to strip people of their wand than it was to leave them without wand anyway in a jail? She didn’t have the answer to that and she tried not to think about it too hard. She didn’t go into policy making or law enforcement for a reason. Her sense of right and wrong, while very strong, wasn’t what most people’s sense of it was, a lesson learned during the war. She was too kind, people said, too forgiving.    “Hi Marcus,” she said in a small voice, shaking his hand. “I’m Katie.”   It was in that moment that Marcus did a double check and recognized her as well. His eyebrows raised a little and he leaned back against his chair, exhaling slowly. “We don’t have to do this,” he said then. “We can just sit here in silence until the bell rings. Or I can get a refill and stay away the entire time. It’s whatever you prefer.”    Katie shook her head, long hair falling in front of her nametag. “No, we can do this,” she said. “We’re both adults and we came here to speed date. You may have done things in the past that I can’t morally agree with, but you’ve suffered the consequences and served your sentence.” Taking in Marcus, Katie wanted to amend the way she said that. He was still suffering those consequences and serving his sentence. It just wasn’t in Azkaban. “And now you’re here in London trying to rebuild a life, like you have every right to.”   “While all correct in some way, that doesn’t mean that my rebuilding life has to have you in it in any capacity, including seeing you for a couple of minutes during a speed date,” Marcus pointed out. “You don’t have to be kind about this, Bell.”   “I’m not,” Katie replied, leaning forward a little to get her point across. “I am kind. Always. People deserve kindness. People including you. So let’s do this right.” She took a deep breath. “Well, I’m Katie, I’m twenty-six and I work in a hospital as a doctor. I live right here in London with my roommate and I’m looking to find someone I click with to see if we can take it further on another date, no strings attached otherwise. What about you?”  By the end of the speed dating rounds, Katie was supposed to fill in who, if anyone, she wanted to see again. She was standing by the bar again as she pondered it. Truth be told, there was only one person she found even remotely interesting, but it was exactly the person that all her friends would tell her to please stay away from because she was setting herself up for failure. She didn’t think she agreed, though.    Katie glanced over at Marcus, who was standing at the other side of the room, and smiled a little when he caught her glance. He smiled back, and that settled it. She wrote down one name on the paper that she handed in by the barwoman in a barely legible handwriting and ordered her third water of the midday.   Sometime later, she was told there was a match.

#( a match ). #( self para ). #( katie & marcus ).

[chief-1-hunet]

This for you, boo~ @ohmygillygoshoppler 

Hopefully I can get a part 2 in. 

Here ya go~

“Down Girl”

Jordi was sick…

She slowly came down the stairs, her hair in a matted mess, and bits of mascara from the night before that smudged around her eyes. Simóne and her had a girl’s night, and surprisingly, Jordi had more than a few sips of the devil’s water.

Simóne was baking her famous apple pie when Jordi sat at the kitchen table, and she paused when she heard a sniffle, “Is that what I think it was?”

“Huh?” followed by a nasty cough.

Simóne sighed, “Not just a hangover, but a cold, too,” she rolled out the dough, “Looks like it’s time to put an onion on your foot.”

Jordi frowned, “Can’t I just take cold medicine?” She cringed at the sharp pain of a headache, “And an aspirin.”

“Sure,” she smirked, “And an onion on your foot.”

Jordi just accepted it, she was way too out of it to argue. She got up from her seat and made some herbal tea. Simóne actually had some pretty dope herbal tea, that she would prefer no other kind over the witch’s.

Jordi smirked as she boiled some water in a kettle, “Wanna know what else?”

“Hm?” The witch mused.

“I’m also on my period.”

They both cringed, and Simóne replied, “That sucks. Mine just ended.”

Jordi nodded, and they quietly continued with their tasks.

——

Jordi had finished her tea, took some cold medicine, and was heading back up to her room when she got a text:

DINGUS (strife): you home? :)

Jordi’s heart fluttered, but she immediately oppressed the feeling. She bit her lip and replied:

Jordi: yeah but I'm sick, so its probably not a good day to come over

DINGUS (strife): lol i didn't even say i was coming over ;)

Jordi: …

Jordi: shut up

DINGUS (strife): death said he was coming over anyways, i was only gonna follow if you were home, so i guess I'm followin’ ;)

Jordi: strife please,, i can't today…

DINGUS (strife): :(

DINGUS (strife): did something happen last night?

She couldn’t find anything to say, so she put the phone back in her pocket and continued to her room, but was stopped by Simóne’s gentle grasp on her wrist.

“Why have you been shutting out Strife lately? You know he likes y—“

“I know,” she pulled away from the grasp, “That’s the problem.”

——

Death indeed came over, dropping off some herbs from the Maker’s Realm for Simóne. He rapped on the door, and it was quickly answered by the lovely witch, “Heeey! Come on in—“

Strife pushed passed Death, almost in a panic, “Where’s Jordi, Simóne?”

Simóne sighed, letting Death walk in and take off his shoes after giving Strife a grunt, “She’s upstairs in her room, but she really isn’t feeling well, Strife. I don’t think it’s a good idea to go up and—“

Strife ignored her warning and rushed up the stairs after shoving off his shoes and hanging up his scarf and coat.

Simóne knew there was little she could do to stop him when he was determined. She looked to her deadly friend and smiled, “And how are you?”

Death grunted, taking a seat on the couch in front of the fireplace, “Decent. Not any better or any worse,” his lip curled up, as if he was thinking about something that revolted him, “Strife insisted on coming along, talking non-stop about how Jordan refused to return her calls, and how strangely she was acting.”

Simóne was fixing him a cup of black coffee, a usual for him, “Well, she feels like shit today. She danced on the bar counter last night. She was so drunk off her ass, she danced, Death. I took a video of it.” She smirked, holding up her cell phone.

Death looked over his shoulder to smirk back, “It would be a crime not to show me.”

Simóne hummed, “I would never commit such a blasphemous thing,” followed by a chuckle.

—-

Jordi sat at her art desk. She was staring at one of the portraits she had done in the past of a man that died before the apocalypse, one that could not be resurrected because he did not die because of it.

He was in a car accident.

It was the day the world actually ended. Her world…

It was something she never wanted to remember, and here she was.

And it was all Strife’s fault.

She sighed, biting back tears. His portrait was placed back in her portfolio folder and hidden away in her drawer.

As if on cue, the spikey haired nephilim barged in her room, “What’s your fucking problem?” He stomped over, “Why have I been getting the cold shoulder these passed few weeks, huh?! You don’t wanna see me anymore?! What the fuck did—“

“You have his temper.”

His brows furrowed in confusion, “What are you talking about?”

She played with an ink brush, using it to calm her by softly brushing the hairs over her left palm, “You’re just like him,” she sadly smiled, “Your temper, humor, flirtatiousness, closet geniusness…”

He simmered down, realizing just what she meant. His voice softened, “Jordi…”

She hung her head, squeezing the brush in a fist, “God dammit, Strife,” she swung around to face him, her face covered in dry tears, now forming new ones, “Why do you have to fucking remind me of him? Who fucking sent you??!! Am I dead and in Hell?? Is this just a fucking punishment for my sins? What the hell did I do? All I ever did was…” she sobbed, covering her nose and mouth with her sweater, “All I ever did was love him.”

She plopped on the bed, just sobbing. Today really was a shitty day.

Strife could see that the crying really wasn’t helping with her congestion. He ground his teeth and popped his jaw from side to side. He left the room in search for a tissue box.

His ventures took him to the kitchen, where he walked passed Death and Simóne sitting on the couch laughing up a storm at some video.

Simóne was out of breath, “H-Hey Strife?” a cackle, “How’s Jordi?” Death guffawed in response.

Strife shot them both a glare, grabbed the box of tissues, and headed back up to her bedroom.

Simóne stopped laughing, “Craaappp.”

—

Jordi thought Strife had left for good, and was getting out the last bit of tears she had. But alas, he returned.

He always did.

He set the box of tissues next to her, and sat next to her small form on the edge of the bed.

There was silence for a moment, then he broke it, “I’m sorry.”

She looked up at him in surprise, and he was already looking over her with his golden gaze, “Strife… You… did nothing wrong,” she sighed, “It’s me. I’m just really fucked up. Up here, that is,” he hit her head with her palm. Bad idea, she forgot about her headache, “Ow…”

That prompted more crying, and she held Strife’s bulky arm, “I’m so sorry, Strife! I know you’re not him… I would never—“ she coughed, “I would never want you to be anyone else,” she sobbed, burring her face in his bicep, “I just can’t help the fact that you make me feel loved,” this made her lose all of her composure, all of the bottled up pain left her vessel. The once composed, cool Jordi was now a mess before one of the four horsemen of the apocalypse, “Like he did!” She collapsed on the floor at his knees, losing herself completely.

Strife wasn’t having it any longer. He hated seeing her this way. This wasn’t her. She never deserved to cry! Not a single fucking tear!

He took her being in his strong arms and squeezed her against him, not leaving any room for gaps, “Stop crying. Stop. Stop. Stop…”

After what seemed like forever, but was really about five minutes, she stopped sobbing.

Deep breath.

Inhale.

Exhale.

“I’m done,” she sniffled, “I’m done…”

Strife let out a relieved sigh, “Good,” he held her face, forcing her to look up at him. He didn’t care that she looked like a mess, “I don’t ever want to see you like this again.”

She smiled, followed by a pathetic chuckle, “I don’t either, you goof. I hate crying.”

He smirked, “That’a girl,” and he placed a kiss on her forehead, long and warm.

She gasped, looking up at him in question.

“Returning the favor, you know, for that one time I made you be my getaway driver. Best night of my life, by the way,” he snickered.

Jordi chuckled, hugging him to subtract the distance, “Don’t ever fucking do that again.”

He hugged her in return, of course, rubbing her back, “I’ll think about it.”

—-

Simóne and Death were still recovering from the video. Death couldn’t even finish his coffee.

He breathed out, “It’s a shame I wasn’t there in person. There were probably other atrocities she performed, seeing as how drunk she was.”

Simóne snickered, “You wouldn’t believe.”

Death leaned in, expecting her to elaborate.

“Well—“ She was stopped at the sound of footsteps coming from the stairs. Strife followed by Jordi in a blanket bundle.

Jordi brought the box of tissues with her, blowing her nose, “What’s so funny? I wanna laugh, too.”

Strife crossed his arms, “Yeah, same,” he was picking up on the modern human slang.

Both Death and Simóne snorted, trying very hard not to lose their shit.

Both Strife and Jordi raised a brow in response.

Simóne pulled out her phone and pulled up the video, “Come look,” a snicker.

—-

Jordi sat in the love seat opposite to the three of them, who were still rolling around, dying.

“I hope I see you all in Hell,” she said grumpily, followed by a sniffle. Jordi covered her whole being in the blanket, looking like a white fluff.

Strife was practically crying, “Looks like there’s a lot I still don’t know about you.”

“I just really liked the song okay!! Down Girl by Roy Woods is a great song!” She grunted.

Death had calmed down before the rest did, able to finish his coffee. He could see how sickly Jordi was, so he decided it was time for her to be entertained.

“Simóne,” he pulled out a scroll with golden trimming, “A friend told me to pass this on to you.”

Simóne took the scroll, still recovering from the video as she was opening it.

Her laughing stopped immediately after reading it.

The blush on her face was the reddest Jordi had ever seen it.

She smirked, “I fucking knew it!!” She hopped up an down on the couch, “I knew he’d ask you on a date!!! I knew it, I knew it, I knew it!!!”

Strife looked at the scroll, eyes wide, “Nathaniel?!!! The angel???”

Jordi stopped hopping after her headache worsened, “Ow ow ow.”

Strife went to her side, sitting her on his lap, “Take it easy, shorty,” he smirked, “Don’t start dancin’ again.”

She only smacked him on the arm.

Simóne was still flushed, “I… I never thought he’d actually…”

Jordi shrugged, “He thinks you’re a cutie~. And why wouldn’t he think so. You are.”

Death and Strife nodded on agreement.

Before Simóne could respond, Jordi cut in, “Nuh uh, you’re not aloud to say no.”

She sighed in defeat, “Fine.”

To be continued…

#darksiders #fanfiction #ohmygillygoshoppler #this was fun #lol #part 1

[getoutofthisplace]

Dear Gus,

First off, your name is Gus, but more on that later. I’ll pick up where I left off yesterday: When we got to the hospital, I drove to the parking deck as we’d been instructed to, but the entrance was blocked off, so I turned to circle, but the parking lot was partially blocked off and there was a sign that said “Farmer’s Market.” Your mom, who didn’t want anything unexpected to delay your arrival, said, “Who the hell puts a farmer’s market in a hospital parking lot!?” But we eventually got into the parking deck and we parked near the skybridge. I grabbed our bags and we walked across the skybridge. “Do you want me to run ahead and grab a wheelchair?” I asked Mom, but she said no. Even when we had to stop walking so she could have a contraction while she held onto the rail. That skybridge seemed to get longer and longer with each step we took across it. I’d believed the sign that said there would be wheelchairs on the other side of the bridge, but when we got there, we saw only a long empty hallway into the hospital. Dr. Beck had told us there would be a desk there with someone sitting behind it, but alas, there was nothing. We walked toward the center of the hospital and saw no one. We were on a mezzanine level that overlooked the main entrance, but there was no one down there, either. “Hello?” I said into the lobby. No answer. There were no signs directing us where to go, and the doctor had just told us to go to the second floor, which we were clearly on because we could look over the railing at the first floor. “Stay here,” I told your mom while putting down our bags. I ran down the nearest hallway, and shouted again, “Hello? Is anybody here?!” Nothing. I ran back to your mom and down a different hallway. Nothing. The night was starting to take on a post-apocalyptic vibe. I ran down another hallway. Nothing. Finally we saw a bearded guy in a hospital staff uniform come in through the door on the first level. “You guys okay?” he called up to us. 

“Where do we go to have a baby?”

“The second floor,” he said.

“We’re on the second floor!”

He told us to stay put and he would come get us. He grabbed a wheelchair and headed to the elevator. When he got to us, your mom sat in the chair and we thanked him for helping us. Then your mom said, “Preston?” And he looked at her funny, so she pointed at herself and said, “Liz.” “Hey, what’s up, Liz?” “Having a baby!” “Congratulations.” (That’s the gist of it anyway, your mom and I remember it slightly differently.) Preston said he wasn’t supposed to be wheeling patients around, but we told him we wouldn’t complain if he’d just get us to Labor & Delivery. 

Turns out the second floor is not actually on the second floor–leave it to the Baptists, amirite?–so we had to take the elevator to the third floor to reach the second floor. At Labor & Delivery they put us in triage and gave your mom a gown to put on. We were relieved to be there, but then no one came in for a few minutes, which irked us both because we felt like you were on the way. The only other women we saw in triage were watching TV in their rooms. Your mom was in too much pain for that. When they finally came in to check on her, they were surprised to find her water had already broken and she was five centimeters dilated. We heard the nurses say she should’ve never come to triage and instead gone straight to a room. And they eventually took us to one.

The nurses told your mom to breathe through the contractions and do her best to rest between them because she’d need the energy when she had to push later. But of course, your mother couldn’t relax. When they checked her cervix, she was dilated seven centimeters. “When you feel a lot of pressure, let me know and I’ll come check you again,” the nurse said. And as soon as she walked out of the room–literally as soon as the door clicked–your mom said, “Tell her I feel pressure.” So I went to get the nurse, who came in to check your mom again and said, “You’re at eight! There’s a good chance you’re going to meet your baby within the next hour.” They called to update Dr. Beck, and the nursing staff began to cycle through the room regularly. They were all clearly impressed with your mother, who had made up her mind to not have any drugs to ease the pain of labor because she didn’t want you to experience anything unnatural in the first moments of your life. That’s how much she loves you.

You didn’t come within the hour, though. Your mom went from 8.5-9 cm dilated back to 8 cm. We hadn’t prepared for the possibility of moving backwards and it killed morale. Your mom was so exhausted from the hours and hours of contractions and she told me she couldn’t do it anymore, but last week she’d told me that she’d say she couldn’t take it anymore and that I should tell her she could do it. And so I did, and eventually she made it all the way to 10 cm. 

“It’s time to push!” the nurses finally said around 6.45am. And your mom pushed and pushed and pushed. For four solid hours she pushed. Even when she didn’t think she could push anymore, she gritted her teeth and pushed some more. I was so, so proud of her. We went through three different nurses who tried to help her push, and the last nurse said she was going to introduce some aggressive tactics to get you out because you were taking so long and Mom’s body was reaching a point of exhaustion. But even those tactics didn’t work. So the nurse called Dr. Beck, whose office is very proud of their natural birth rate, which is why we chose her, but Dr. Beck decided we needed to go in after you with a Caesarian section. Your mother cried because she wanted to have you there in the room and she was disappointed that she couldn’t. She didn’t want anyone to go in after you like that. And I cried because Mom tried so hard and the thought that she might be disappointed in herself at all crushed me, because she didn’t deserve that. All of the nurses were in awe of Mom’s strength and fortitude, and her willingness to endure so much pain so that your life might be the slightest bit better from the outset. And I kept crying and crying and crying because I was a basketcase. Your mom was strong, though.

They wheeled her to the operating room, but I had to stay in the hallway. I didn’t like that. I thought I would be away from Mom for only a minute or two while they prepped her for surgery, but a minute turned into what seemed like 20, and I worried for her. I tried to distract myself by texting updates to Nene and Yiayia, who were in the waiting room, and I updated Penny and Pa & Tutu. I was so worried about your mom.

Finally the anesthesiologist came and got me. I put a surgical Bouffant cap on my head and another on my beard, and then we went into the OR, where your mother was already on the operating table. I sat down beside her head and put my hand on her hand, but she had an epidural and didn’t realize it was me. I watched Dr. Beck make an incision on Mom’s abdomen and then clear a pathway for you to come out. Mom was awake, but she was behind a sheet so she couldn’t see what was happening. I hated to see her like that, and I think at that moment I realized how devastated I would be if something ever happened to her. I couldn’t stand to see her in pain, which she felt, despite the epidural.

“Can you feel that?” they asked her with surprise when she groaned.

She nodded her head. They told her she would feel pressure, but Mom says she felt pain. And it would be hard not to. As I watched the doctor work, I could tell things weren’t going as she’d hoped. She couldn’t get to you.

“He’s wedged,” she told the nurse. I think she had a hold of you, but she couldn’t pull you out because you were stuck. Your mom groaned from the pain, and the doctor made a bigger incision, and then she grabbed hold of Mom’s abdominal skin and pulled with all her might. She literally tried to stretch your mom so the nurse could break you free, which they finally did. You came out covered in goo and they immediately got you to a little table I couldn’t really see.

“He’s out,” I whispered to your mom, and I rubbed her cheek with my finger. She turned and saw it was me sitting beside her and she smiled. When I looked back up at her abdomen, I saw an artery dancing over her body like a fire hose, squirting blood with each pump of her heart. Blood spurted over the sheet and hit your mom in the forehead, but she didn’t notice. Blood spurted everywhere. Dr. Beck grabbed the wild artery and pulled it back into your mom’s abdomen.

“Is he okay?” Mom asked me. You started crying loudly right about that time, and I said “I think he’s okay.”

The nurses brought you over to me and put you in my lap. They showed me bruises on your head and nose because you were wedged against Mom’s pelvic bone. Mom cried as soon as she saw you. I put you right in front of her face and I could tell it bothered her that she couldn’t reach out and hold you right away, but I held you as best I could. Every time I’ve ever held a baby, there was always an end time, a time in which someone else would take the baby back and I could go about my way, and it was a weird feeling thinking that no one will ever be waiting to take you back from me because you are mine.

This is the first photo I ever took of you, when you are 24 minutes old and being passed to your mother for the very first time.

We’ve named you Augustus Ruff with the intention of calling you Gus. We both like Augustus and the name has some history in both our families. Your mom’s great-great uncle was named Gus Derdevanis. He owned a Greek restaurant/bar in San Francisco called Plaka Taverna, which is closed now, but it apparently used to be a happening place. And my 6th great-grandfather was Milton Augustus Calhoun. He died in the Civil War at the Battle of Shiloh. I’ve been fascinated with him ever since I got interested in genealogy back in 2010.

Your middle name is a nod toward Papa’s memory. His most affectionate pet name for me was Buddy Ruff and when I playfully referred to you as Gussy Ruff not too long ago, I struck an emotional chord by accident. Your mom and I talked about it and decided to go with Augustus Ruff Choate. We hope you like it. 

We’re beside ourselves with joy because you’re finally here. Know that we love you from the start, and we’ll love you forever–no matter what.

Dad 

Little Rock, Arkansas. 6.13.2017 - 11.47am.

#birth #labor #labor and delivery #gus choate #baptist hospital #natural birth #c-section #birth story #dr. christie beck #parenting #new parents #babies #christie beck #operating room

[superkaralovesfanfiction]

Smoky Mountain Rain

Smoky Mountain Rain A Supergirl Story- by superkara For Supercat Week, day 1, abilities ------ This story came from the song Smoky Mountain Rain by Ronnie Milsap. Kind of. It's not as close as I would have made it, or as long as initially intended, but as I thought this up 7 days before Supercatweek, and had 7 stories to write, that's right I'm writing a fic for each day, then needless to say, it's kinda rushed. I might make an extended version at some point, but I have so many unfinished supercat fics at this point that I could write for months and not finish them all, I figure I should devote some time to those. But, alas, every time I start writing one, I think up 3 more, so I should have a fic for any situation now. Anyways, enough with my rambling, I hope you enjoy this. Day 1, supercat week, abilities ------------- Cat stared at the rain pelting the beach and deck of her vacation home and sighed, wondering what National City looked like tonight. Whether it was sunny or gloomy like it was here. Cold and wet. The thought of sunshine brought Kara into her mind for the trillionth time that day, and Cat sighed again, her breath fogging up the window before her, blurring the view. ''Was it a mistake, Kara? To let you go?'' Cat asked to the window, watching with tears in her eyes as lightning crackled dangerously over a choppy, angry sea. ''You told me heroes never run. I did exactly that. So why did you ever call me a hero in my own right? Clearly I'm nothing close to you.'' ---- ''She was the one that got away from me.'' Cat explained sadly to the girl that had joined her at the bar a little while ago, asking if she could use company for a while. She was beautiful, Cat had to admit. Long white blonde hair, pale green eyes, a pouty smile. She was a stunner. But she was no Kara. ''Have you considered calling? Apologizing?'' ''Mm. No.'' Cat said, tear soaked eyes on her empty bourbon glass. ''After running away first, I don't get to do that. I don't have the right to come crawling back for her forgiveness.'' Cat smirked at the memory of their exchange outside CatCo. Kara looking at her in utter shock when Cat had blurted out that she loved her assistant. And then Cat's mistake. Kara had wanted to speak. She'd been about to say something, her cape fluttering behind her in the wind blowing recklessly through the city streets, and Cat had left then. She'd left and stopped whatever Kara had wanted to say, and Kara being Kara, hadn't followed, too struck to speak. ''I just wish I'd had the courage to let her speak.'' ''You were emotional, scared.'' The girl, Kassandra was her name, said in a soft, caring tone, sipping at her mineral water. ''I don't deserve the fear though.'' Cat said sadly, twisting the delicate glassware in her fingertips as she spoke. ''She takes fear and turns it into strength. She uses it as her power. If I can't meet her like that... well. She's so above me...'' ''Tell me about her. Maybe it'll help...'' ''She's... she is, no. She WAS my best girl. Best assistant I ever had. Through the yelling, the anger, even corporate destruction, she didn't leave me. She stayed with me. I suspect I know why...'' Cat stopped for a second, thinking. She knew why. Kara was Supergirl. But she didn't have the right to reveal that name. ''But, regardless, she was like a ray of sunshine, somebody I looked forward to seeing in my office. Which is exactly why I don't have the right to a chance with her.'' ''Because she was your employee.'' ''Precisely.'' ''But it happens. It happens so so much. If she hadn't worked for you, you would probably never have met the girl. Maybe there's a reason...'' ''It's not that.'' Cat said, stopping the other girl. ''I know it happens. I've seen it happen in my office. My photographic journalist, his girlfriend works on the same floor. She was his girlfriend and I still hired her on the spot. I know it can work. But it's the fact that she deserves so much better. She's such a bouncy happy little thing, the last thing she needs is me, such a cold, icy person. She needs someone who will treat her like a precious rose. I'd just wilt her with my cold words. I can't give her what she wants.'' ''What is it you think she wants?'' Cat looked at the woman beside her, eyes narrowed in concentration, wondering why this woman was being so mysterious. ''She wants brevity. Happiness. Beach trips and flowers. Cuddling all weekend and calling in sick to work so she can spend another day with you because two days wasn't enough. All I can give her is coffee addiction and more work. She's 27, and I'm... this. She's practically... I could be her mom. She deserves everything else, not coffee and am meetings and late nights at the office.'' ''Maybe that's what she wants?'' ''I'm sorry?'' Cat asked, a little defiant. ''Not all girls are the same, Cat. Maybe she wants to wake up with you at 4 am and go to CatCo together, with you. And then stay till 8pm and go home together and work until late into the night. Some girls aren't fragile little flowers. Some are stronger, like the stem of the rose, holding up life.'' ''That's insane.'' Cat scoffed softly. ''If she's the stem than I'm the thorn.'' ''Every rose has it's thorns, Cat. The stem holds the thorns.'' Kassandra noted, turning to Cat to speak to her head on. ''Is it insane? You say she's your best. I think, if she kept coming back even after the yelling and company failure, and the cold lattes and the endless work, she's not a fragile rose petal. Maybe she's made or more.'' Now Cat said nothing. Because despite how much she wanted it to be false, to be right, she knew Kassandra was right. Not her. ''Oh, my girl is here. I've got to go.'' Cat looked up with a little smile as Kassandra slipped off the barstool and walked over to a beautiful Latina girl in the doorway, the turned back and came back over for a minute. ''Don't be stubborn, Catherine. Call the girl. If she's moved on, at least you'll know. But if she's as good as you make her seem, then she won't desert you. She's probably just as hurt as you. All you need is $1 and a pay phone to hear her voice.'' Cat watched as Kassandra slid a few coins across the tabletop and smiled, then turned back to her girlfriend, who waved shyly at Cat, and then they walked away together. Cat barely heard Kassandra speak, and saw her girl smile. ''Work time?'' ''Yeah, let's go.'' Kassandra answered, and Cat smiled, nodding to herself. Well damn. Cat watched for a minute, looking at everything and nothing, and then decided that maybe yes. Maybe Cat did need to make that call. --- No answer. Cat sighed and waited, listening to the ever annoying ring of CatCo phones, and thought, praying to hear Kara pick up the other end. Finally someone picked up, but it wasn't Kara's sunny voice. Cat sighed and looked up, wondering where Kara was. It was mid afternoon in National City. Kara should be there, knowing Kara, this was very weird. Kara answered all the phones. Every damn time. ''Hello?'' Cat sighed, her eyes on the rainy grey skies, and felt a stray raindrop land on her nose. James was there. Well, okay. Maybe Supergirl was busy, though Cat hadn't heard anything from the girl on news or otherwise in days. ''It's me.'' ''Cat. Um... calling to check in?'' ''Uh, yeah. Sure. Listen, is Kara around? I need to talk to her.'' ''She actually isn't. She took two days off sick, and hasn't called in yet. I told her she can take as much time as she needs, but...'' ''A Supergirl thing?'' Cat's asked without thought about her words, fear rippling through her veins at the thought of the girl of steel, sick. ''Uh... Ms.Grant...'' ''Relax. I know about her little secret. Is she alright?'' Cat asked, ignoring the rain that was now opening falling heavily, turning the grey world around her a dark brown, slipping through the thin fabric of her suit vest, cold on her shoulders. ''I don't honestly know. You know she lost her powers before. She should be fine, I just told her to take it easy for a few days. Relax. Paint. Sleep. I haven't heard from her besides a text two days ago saying she was a little sick. I wouldn't worry much, Ms. Grant. She's Supergirl. She probably just caught a cold when she lost her powers.'' ''I see. Okay. Well, could I have her cell number? I need to give her a call.'' James relayed a number to her, and Cat hung up sadly, then decided to take her next call off her cell inside, because of the damn rain that felt more like a flood at this point. When she got to her hotel room, soaking wet, went straight for her phone and punched in the numbers with shaking fingers. Both at having Supergirl's private number finally, and because even though James claimed she was fine, Cat felt something off. Cat held herself together for the three separate times she tried Kara's cell, laughing at the message even though she felt sick with worry. Cat tried it one more time, listening through the 4 rings and then Kara's message tone. ''Hi, you've reached the Supergirl hotline, how may I save you?'' ''Kara, please pick up. Let me know you're okay. I know I don't deserve to hear your voice, but Kara, please. Just say hi. That's all I'm asking for.'' Cat stopped the message, clicking the bar away, and fought the urge to throw her phone across the hotel room floor. Cat knew that under all circumstances, Kara should be fine. Of course, Kara should be fine. But for some weird reason Cat couldn't place, something here felt wrong. Something felt off. As if Kara wasn't safe as everyone believed her to be. Cat had always had a sixth sense of Kara, something she also didn't understand, and knew whether the girl was okay. If she wasn't, Cat felt tingly. Every damn time. If Kara was hurt, Cat knew. She couldn't explain it, something along the lines of how Kara always knew things before she did. Right now, Cat was buzzing out of her skin. Which told her something was very wrong. She'd rarely felt this before. Cat grabbed for her phone again, switching to messages. Cat texted her too, leaving multiple messages, apologizing first and then asking for Kara to please get back to her. Even one word. If Kara as much as told her to fuck off and leave her alone, Cat would. But she would not stop this until Cat was sure the girl was okay, because this uncanny sense she had about Kara's wellbeing was making her feel straight up sick to her stomach, and the last time she'd had that Kara had been nearly dead in an underground facility while the world fell apart above her. Cat hoped this wasn't similar in any way. After 15 minutes with no response, Cat couldn't wrack her brain anymore, sitting here sopping wet and scared. She didn't know how she felt Kara like this, she just did. But she was getting worse, and to figure this out, she needed a clear head. And that required a walk. So despite the rain, and the wind, and the cold, Cat grappled for her black trench coat, and stuffed her phone into her pocket and left, going mindlessly, not even looking up to see which street she headed onto. She needed to think. Calmly think. Better for her to mindlessly walk. It helped. It didn't help. 40 minutes later Cat brushed wet bangs from her forehead and sighed at her shaking hands. From the cold this time, not Kara. But her fear of Kara... Cat thought back to her days with Kara, the girl's mismatched desk, oddities and weird things that the girl collected and placed. It became some sort of weird art, and despite Cat's perfectly organized sense of style, Kara's oddity appealed to her. Cat couldn't fathom why, on anyone else it would come off as disgusting. But Kara, with the 4 pairs of vintage sunglasses on her desk, three yellow photo frames with no images, a cup that seemed meant for lost zipper ends, a rainbow of paper notes, and an even wilder array of pens, and a computer screen with so many star stickers on the edges that Cat would get dizzy. What was it about this girl and yellow, in her dresses, in her flowers, in her shoes, in her hair, and if one stared long enough, and Cat had, there was one tiny fleck of yellow gold in her gorgeous blue green eyes, just one. Seemingly only there to amuse. And to sparkle. Oh god how it sparkled. Oh Kara... how had Cat ever done something so idiotic as to leave the girl? Kara... Supergirl... ''Oh, I'm sorry.'' Cat said softly, apologizing for bumping into another pedestrian while she was thinking about this so hard she didn't know where she was walking, and looked up to watch the road more properly, and stopped, noticing the wild rainbow on the window beside her. Normally she wouldn't notice, but she did, because Kara was on her mind, beautiful Kara, and Kara loved rainbows as much as she loved yellow and stickers. Cat looked up at the poster and her lips parted. It was a portrait. Two women. Hugging. Blonde. Beautiful. One slightly older, but not as much as Cat was to Kara. Cat shook her head. She and Kara could never be this. But this, it was stunning. A rainbow of clothes on them, laughing over the same ice cream cone, the younger girl with sprinkles on her nose, the older one with the sweet treat melting down the cone and over her fingers, laughing at her younger girlfriend... Her girlfriend. Cat smiled at the image, and then read the words, and her heart stopped. Everything stopped. The world around her seemed to stop and work in slow motion, broken, wet, cold, the rain falling in slow motion. If she's the one, tell her. Is she your super soulmate? ------ Part 2 ------- Kara sat on one of the cold metal DEO tables, beneath the few sunlamps, and sighed. She didn't feel off, not physically. She could still fly, breathe ice, X-ray anything, it was only her strength. How odd. "Are you sure you feel alright? No weakness, dizziness, nausea? Maybe..." "Nope." Kara confirmed with a shake of her head. "I feel fine. I just don't have my strength." "Kara?" Winn asked, walking into the room quickly. "What's up?" Kara asked, sliding off the tabletop resolutely. "Cat's texting your phone. 4 missed calls and 5 texts." "Ignore it." Kara said tightly, and Alex turned to look at her directly, unable to remember the last time Kara had refused her boss anything. "She wants to know if you're..." "I said ignore it. She... I can't... I have nothing to say to her." "Didn't you at she confessed her love to you?" "And then she told me it was stupid of her to do so. She told me she loved me, and then left. She ran away from me. And she never mentioned Kara. She mentioned Supergirl. I'm sorry, I know I shouldn't be so emotional, but I can't be good about this. I've loved her ever since I walked into her office for my interview. When she told me she loved me, I was thrilled. Then she told me she wished she didn't. Listen, can we please focus on figuring out what happened to my strength, not my love life? Or, lack of it?" Alex glanced around nervously, then focused back on her table of laptops, and thankfully everyone else did too, ignoring Kara's little outburst. Supergirl was dangerous when she was mad, and thankfully everyone knew that enough to know when to let the girl deal alone. ------- Cat sat back and sighed, waiting for a response. Winn had texted her back on Kara's number, which told her that Kara had to in fact be at the DEO, since Cat knew Winn worked there now. And that made her worry more, because if Kara was at the DEO, then that meant she was likely there because she was unwell, because James had said she was sick, a bit. Hopefully it was only a bit. Cat had that feeling that told her it was more. Way more. When her cellphone beeped, Cat nearly jumped out of the seat in the back of the taxi carrying her back to the airport. Cat was going home. To Kara. Now. It was time to tell Kara. That Cat finally knew. That she believed in heroes and demons, in angels and devils, and that Kara was her soulmate. Because Cat had always followed rules. And regulations. Maybe it was time to dive for real, and this kind of diving required taking a beautiful woman's hand in hers, and leaping with someone who could fly. Cat had never believed in the preposterous idea of a soulmate, but Kara had. She'd mentioned the idea more than once in lazy conversations about other people, and now Cat couldn't help thinking, maybe Kara hadn't been that wrong. Because when the girl is your best assistant, your hero, your ultimate, then maybe she should be the one designed for you. Maybe she had been designed for Cat. And because Cat was who Cat was, then maybe the angels went a little nuts and sent her from a different universe. Just because special deserved unique. And Cat definitely deserved a heroine as a soulmate. 'She's losing her powers. She's slowly fading. I don't know what she did, but her powers... she looks tired. She never looks tired.' Cat gasped at the text, then quickly responded. 'I know what's happening. I'm coming home to her. This might sound stupid coming from me, but I think she's losing her powers because of my being gone. It makes no sense, but I can feel her. I know she's unwell. I'm on my way home now.'' 'That's not stupid. You're her one. On her world, there was soulmates. She simply never thought she would find one on earth. She's given up.' 'Tell her I'll be home soon. And that I'm sorry. Tell her not to give up.' 'She... she said I should ignore you. She says she doesn't care...' 'Tell her to believe. She's a hero. It's what she has to do.' ------------ Part 3 ------- ''I can drop you off as far as Houston. I'm turning back from there." "Anything. I can pay you..." Cat offered, ready to pull out her little wallet, or a cheque. $100, $1000, $1,000,000 she'd pay it to get closer to Kara. "Please don't. It'll be good company, someone with me. Someone to talk to other than the radio. I leave in 30. Is there anything you need to get? Are you hungry before we leave?" "No. I have everything." Cat shook her head, messy curls falling over her coat shoulders, still wet. "Well, I don't know about talking. I'm pretty boring, people tell me." "I've heard the rumors of your cold smile. I know who you are. It's odd to me that you aren't using your millions to get to her through the air, but I'm sure you're willing to say. Take a seat." He offered, and Cat gratefully took it and ordered a cup of bold coffee, black. Strong. Dark as hell and hot as fire. "But the thing is, and maybe is my heart talking here, but love is never boring. It's wild, untamed, and painful as hell. But it's good when it's real. Tell me about this girl. I know you've had your share, I read a lot of magazines as I pass through towns, but if this one has you running across the country frantically to find her, well, she must be really something." "I... I'll explain on the way. I... she has secrets I'd rather not reveal in... here." "I think I already know." He said and slid over a magazine, he kept the pages parted with his thumb, and Cat took it and flipped it open partly, and gasped at the sight. Her, telling the world that she was naming the new hero Supergirl. Cat flipped to the front and found the magazine over 2 years old. That explained the faded edges and crippled pages, and met the man's eyes, nodding slightly. He just smiled and finished his meal quickly, then dropped the napkin and a tip onto the counter and got up, offering his hand to Cat as he did so. She didn't take it, but followed gratefully, settling into the passenger seat of the truck as he fired the car up, and the radio came on and softly blared something old and country. He went to flick it off, but Cat shook her head and told him to leave it if he wanted to. That she really didn't mind. And it might come as a shock, but Cat did have a soft spot for that old country, and besides, the sweet sweet love songs spoke of exactly what Kara was, all sugar and spice, all blueberry pie on sunny windowsills, and bluebirds singing. And suddenly all Cat wanted was her kitchen, with a slice of such a pie, Kara in her arms kissing whipped cream off her nose, and sunshine filtering through the curtains. "So, she's quite super, isn't she?" The man said, quoting with his fingers as they slowly took off onto the highway, and Cat sighed and laughed, drying her hair in a few napkins she'd stolen from the tabletop inside the cafe. "To find her, can you make these big wheels burn?" -------------- By the time Cat arrived in the place the man had promised, it was a lot of days later, and Cat had long run out of battery in her phone, and had randomly stopped to make calls from phones to keep tabs on Kara's situation, and had gotten more sad with every call in. Kara was getting worse. She was powerless, and currently so sick she just slept. Always slept. She talked to Alex directly now, no longer Winn, and Alex was as eager to have Cat back as Cat herself was. Kara still didn't talk to her, until this call. Now, Cat wished she had enough power to crush the phone like Kara so often had at work when something ticked her off. Now it was Kara that had ticked Cat off. Kara was gone. Just gone. Alex didn't know where, nobody did. Kara was just... gone. She had left at night, apparently for fresh air, and had gone for a short walk down to the grocery store and back, so she'd said. But now she'd been missing for 7 hours, and nobody knew where to look. Cat told them to search everywhere, call everyone, and hung up. Kara Kara Kara. Where the hell would she go, silly girl? "I'm off back to Washington, I hope you find her." The man said gently, coming up beside her, and she wiped at her tears. "I'll never stop until I find her. She's somewhere. Like this, in her state, she won't get far. I have to go. I'm getting on the next plane flight to National City, and I might just crush her when I find her." "Might want to hug her first." The man joked, and Cat laughed bitterly. "Might buy a ring worth billions first, to show her I'm choosing her, the little heathen. She's a bit nuts, doing this." "I don't know much about aliens, but if she really is the one, then she should get better when you find her." "I know. I just hope I know where to look." ----------- When Cat landed in National City, she knew where to go. Her penthouse. Somehow, Kara would be there. How? Cat had no clue how. She just knew. But finding Kara cold and wet, in the dark, crying, sitting on the beach, that wasn't an expectation. She'd expected a powerless superhero, but still Kara Danvers. Not, this. Seeing Kara like this, sitting by the shoreline in her suit, watching the ocean, crying softly, Cat didn't know whether to say something or not. After fighting her way back across the country to find Kara, Cat wanted nothing more than to wrap Kara in her arms and maybe smack her on the head for being so damn stupid. But seeing her like this, Cat knew Kara wasn't just dealing with her lost powers. She was dealing with way more, stuff she'd lost, stuff she'd thought should no longer exist. It was when Cat stepped up a few meters behind her, her feet hitting the sand as well, that Kara looked up and turned to meet her eyes. Cat expected her to get up, maybe hug her, but she didn't. Kara looked up, but she kept at the water, flexing her hands in the sand now that her powers were coming back. "Kara." It was a whisper. Cat didn't know if she could say anything above that, seeing this girl so broken, even as she was powering back up. "Kara, I'm sorry, I had no idea. I didn't know you could, that we were... I've never heard of something like this in my life, I didn't think you and I could possibly be..." "It's not your fault, Cat." Cat stopped, Kara's words ringing over the ocean, over the beach, cold and broken. "Why did you say you love me?" Kara whispered, and Cat gasped, staring at her head on. "Because I do." "And then you said you wish you didn't." "Because I do." Cat repeated. Kara gasped now, and turned to face her, tears in her eyes. "You wish you didn't love me?" Kara asked, getting up to talk to Cat head on. "Yes. I do. Because I love you more than I ever should." Cat whispered, walking towards Kara. Cat reached up and started running her fingers through Kara's messy gold waves and settling them over her shoulder, fixing the strap of her tank top peeking out from the suit top as she did, a habit for perfection. "I shouldn't want you as much as I do, because Kara, you're my assistant, you work for me. If it ever gets out, that you and I... hell, I knew it wasn't good before you came out as Supergirl. And then you did." "And?" "And... I lost my heart again. I fell all over again, you and your mad colour wheel of power. And I do love the suit. Maybe it is a kink, a stupid thing, but the cape... I have the same problem with Superman and Batman. But this one was you, a girl, so close to me every day, my god Kara... the dreams I have about you... and so I left." "You left Catco because of me." Kara connected, shocked. "I did. But apparently the universe won't let me leave you. God knows I tried." Kara just laughed miserably, scoffing, something she'd no doubt learned from Cat. "Cat, I... the universe only has one soulmate for me. When I lost Krypton, I thought I would lose the chance to find my soulmate. I never thought I'd find the one on another planet. When I figured it out, that it was you, thanks to my mother's hologram, I... I lost it. Paired with what you said... I I should have contacted you back, I was scared. I didn't know I would lose my powers, that it was a soulmate thing, I was scared that I was poisoned or hurt, or... sick, something. I... Alex told me you were coming back for me, and I ignored it. I was scared for my health, more than anything else, and I couldn't even think about love. But when you got in the city, I felt it. The power. The... strength. I didn't know what to think, so I came here. I..." "Are you back at full strength?" "Almost. It'll come. Cat... I, we... do we have a chance?" "I don't know. You're such a nerd, you're strange, and you like comics and toys and... how? Why did the universe... pick you for me? An alien? Isn't human enough?" "You have high standards? Nobody on earth would do?" Kara joked. "Okay, sure, I'll accept that. It's one answer in this mess. It makes no sense... but you fly and shoot lasers and ice and..." "And we're soulmates." "How did you know? On Krypton? How did you know your soulmate?" "Not like this, we would have had an apocalypse..." Cat laughed, and Kara joined her. It felt good to laugh, even like this, dirty and wet and soaked to the bone. Cat looked like hell, matted hair, no makeup, more dirt then bare skin on her, and Kara looked the same, a disaster, her suit messy and wet, muddy and covered in sand, and Cat seemed to have gone through some battles on the way back. "Kara, I want a chance with you, with us. I don't know if we can have one, but I want one." Cat whispered, holding Kara's hand tightly, laughing at the usually white simple manicure that was now dark brown and messy, dirty. "Can we find a way, Kara?" "I don't know if Kara can. Kara is just an assistant. But heroes can, and this hero will." "Well, do you want to come inside?" Cat said, gesturing to her penthouse on the cliff. "Get cleaned up? Then, we can talk." "I'd like that."

#supercatweek #sc week #supercat week #supergirl #supercat #songfickindof #angsty romance

[billk128]

Followers of the Flesh

Mardi Gras, 1989, cold, dank, and sweaty, a righteous environment for any hedonistic celebration: We capitalized using the time-tested theories of 9 to 5 and 2 meals a day; beginning and ending in the A.M., we managed to shove two consecutive meals down our throats somewhere in the middle...

For the pure spirit of the proceedings, the Neville Brothers show on the Riverfront was a clear highlight, tribal rhythms fending off the the rainy, windy conditions, and heating the crowd into a fervent pulsing for the duration of their set. The steady flow of bourbon and gingers from the conveniently nearby bar encouraged our crew to do a little vocal improvisation for their people in our section, a limited repertoire consisting mostly of the words “chick” and “stick.” Alas, it seems most everything is deemed funny at Mardi Gras, until your car window get smashed by overexcited revelers, but that’s another story.

Perhaps the most frenetic bit of fun we had occurred at Jimmy’s, a modest-sized club somewhere uptown. I was pumped for the surprise opportunity to see The Fleshtones again, but almost completely blown away by the openers, Dash Rip Rock. Three guys just slamming away, cursing and spitting up the past few days and nights and propelling the carnivorous crew before them into a sweltering grovel. The drummer (Fred LeBlanc, more recently of Cowboy Mouth) in particular had a particular viciousness about him, as if he’d spent the day inhaling laughing gas on Bourbon Street. So crazed was their performance, I barely remember Mojo Nixon’s guest appearance/anti-Falwell rave, or the band’s charring take on an REM song, “This one goes out to the one I FUCK!” But I felt it all, as a sweet numbness overtook me, and left a silly, shit-eating grin on my mug all night long.

Up next came The Fleshtones, a New York band that espouses a certain camaraderie with their fans and admirers. They parade around the stage, the club, and even into the street if the spirit moves them. And leave it to Mardi Gras to bring out the beast of the charisma in the lead man of The Fleshtones, the singing and shouting Peter Zaremba! Zaremba entertains the faithful with a veritable assault of audience participation routines, all with rousing energy on this night, driving one of our cohorts back to the car with what he ironically called “boredom.” While true, The Fleshtones’ (and Zaremba in particular) manic chanting and thrashing can verge on self-parody at times, that energy never flagged.

Not that Zaremba is without his good points. Switching from the havoc of Mardi Gras to the aberrant reality that is Charlottesville, VA, I was again confronted by The Fleshtones Express, and less than a week after we left Jimmy’s somewhat bemused with Zaremba’s relentless act, which had culminated in a “The Fleshtones have left the building!” announcement - no shit, they are now playing in the street - with Zaremba then hailing a cab and winking directly at us, like we might think this was some kind of secret. But lo and behold, there is the man himself, as rocker Tim Ward and I prepared to enter the club Trax for the evening’s festivities. So I walk up to him and say “Hey Peter.” And while I expected some response, I was taken aback by the degree. First he patted me on the back and then he took my hand, seeming genuinely glad to be greeted. I mentioned catching the show at Jimmy’s and he made some twisted face before being led into the club by an oblivious bouncer. But that Bono-on-acid mania was replaced by something human, and I felt much better about the forthcoming show.

I don’t mean to be deceiving. The Fleshtones are an anomaly in rock music, a band that tries to recognize its audience and exist through it, and they crank it our consistently onstage. The rhythm section rumbles diligently along while Zaremba flails all about, flap of hair and mic stand bounding right along with him; guitarist (and co-star) Keith Streng improvises on the Johnny Ramone-patented split leg stance by throwing his leg over the nearest monitor, boot emphatically thrust in the face of the person up front digging his groove (which, more often than not on this night, was me), sometimes having to reload and FIRE it over when his skin tight jeans attempted to protest. The end result is often carefree excitement.

One incident gave a taste of an aspect of “Life as a Fleshtone.” The table in front of us was filled with products of the Fleshtone Adoption Society. Paying members accompany the band on their swing through a state or two, then sorrowfully parting ways until fate reunites them. One tall, blonde girl seemed to dig Streng’s low-slung jamming and Village beret; he came by several times to look cool for her, while she kept waving Mardi Gras beads around, as if she was about to flash breast for more. At another point, I recognized the band’s road manager, or chief roadie, I can’t say for sure, remembering him from Jimmy’s. He was with a separate blonde Amazon that I could not take my eyes off, so she came up to me and garbled something in what sounded like German, but then bounded off, gone forever. 

But I digress - anyway, as I pondered the multiple benefits of the guitar profession before the show started, The Fleshtones emerged from the dressing room and circled the room, chanting. Zaremba was in top form, banging a cardboard box with a drum stick, and there was announcement of the band’s return from Mardi Gras (no doubt inspired by my pre-show reference to Peter), proving, once again, how much cooler The Fleshtones are than you.

So eventually it was time to dedicate a song to the aforementioned Tipsy, who apparently was presumed to be Streng’s lady, and she paraded up to the front near him, which provided me an opportunity to use the slamming crowd as a buffer for increased body contact. She wanted to go onstage to really strut her stuff, but it was not to be, and became enraged later when one of her friends was escorted up there (by me, of course) at the request of Zaremba. I later saw Streng grasping at straws with her after the show, right before she walked out on him. Conversely, rocker Tim Ward used the karma of the event to attract a much more successful story from the same camp. I guess 10 years of youth will take precedence for some girls...

All the while, the faithful went off on the dance floor. My favorite laugh of the night (there were fave chants and grovels as well) was when Zaremba almost knocked me out with his mic stand; he spun and flung the thing around, catching me by surprise near my Adam’s apple, so I retaliated by grabbing the round base of the stand and swinging it around, landing finally in front of the face of some fishy looking character before Zaremba retained control. I enjoyed the chance to do a little dictating of my own, and that’s where The Fleshtones deserve a lot of credit - they will mix it up with anyone. To them, a concert is a two-party thing, a quality far too often overlooked by many bands. One must grasp genuine opportunities for pleasure when one can.             

Post script: Here’s a video clip of the band taken from 2012. They are still at it, and this gives you some flavor...

https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=yCNkMjjXHNM