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awfcspencer · 4 months

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Dark Days Ahead || leah williamson x reader

leah williamson x reader

prompt: Reader is having a rough week as her job has been incredibly stressful. Leah notices and helps her relax

warnings: mentions of depression & overworked reader

a/n: I am enjoying writing, my requests are currently open!

You are not really sure when the sunny days turned dark. When waking up turned into a chore. Your current job requires your everlasting attention and a neverending list of things to do and accomplish. Your boss recently went on vacation and left you in charge of running a full business by yourself. From the moment you woke, your brain immediately went into overdrive.

The 5 A.M. alarm wakes you up from a night of tossing and turning, as you were unable to fully fall asleep, the weight of your days undoubtfully catching up to you.

Reaching over to stop the blaring alarm, you look towards Leah who is blissfully asleep in your arms. Wishing you could stay in bed in this exact position day and night, but your mind is already forcing you to believe you are behind on today's current tasks.

Trying to carefully leave Leah's arms she awakes slightly. "It is so early baby," she whines.

"I know, I have to go into the office extra early and send a few emails before the midday rush." Leah immediately frowns, knowing you have been pushing yourself past the limit every day. You work at a family attorney's office and there are no off days when working with family crises.

Leaving the warm comfort of your bed, you make your way towards the bathroom to begin getting ready for your long day. Taking a moment to look in the mirror, you notice your dark eye bags as the lack of full rest has taken a toll on your body. Forcing yourself to shower feels like an immense chore. As of recently, everything has felt like a chore.

Finishing in the bathroom and picking an outfit out, you are making breakfast, and packing yourself both a lunch and dinner just in case, because as of recently, your days at the office amount to 12-14 hour days.

Before walking out the door, you leave a soft kiss on Leah's head and promise to try to be home as soon as you can.

"Bye, my sweet love, good luck at training." You whisper out before exiting the room.

You take the short drive to work in complete silence, trying to prepare yourself for work. The roads are almost completely empty as the sun has just barely begun to rise. Walking into the office, you immediately sit down, open your computer, and begin your work.

Back at home, Leah has now officially woken up to the cold side of your bed. Lightly sighing, she begins to get ready for training and packing her kit bag. Leah has noticed your lowering energy, coming home from work, tired eyes, body, and mind. Usually, you are full of energy and talkative when you get to see Leah after being at work and her at training, but the conversations have dwindled and your energy is depleted as soon as you walk through the door.

Today is Friday and Leah understands you have the day off tomorrow as the office is closed on Saturday. Leah makes a mental note to run to the local shops after training to grab ingredients to make your favorite pasta and some flowers. Leah is going to help you relax and fully unwind after your day of work as her heart breaks in a million tiny pieces seeing you so completely drained.

Meanwhile, at work, a family has come into the office and has begun arguing with you about the upcoming trial. Screaming loudly at you and throwing out harsh insults at you about how you are incompetent and terrible at your job. Luckily, the security guard noticed the ruckus coming from your office and hastily ushered the family out of the office.

The tears from the screaming and overall exhaustion brim in your eyes, but you force yourself straight back into reviewing a new case to stop yourself from completely breaking down. The sudden outburst from that family has your mind believing you are now behind and you need to catch up to be able to get home to Leah at a decent time.

After training, Leah went to the store and picked up the items she needed, as well as grabbing your favorite chocolates and some relaxing bath bombs to make you a bath when you return home to destress.

Luckily for you, when the time hits 6 P.M. you feel justified in the work you have done for the day and clock out. Before leaving the office, you grab a few files to review over the weekend as well as grabbing your computer to respond to a few more emails, as by the time you return to work on Monday you will have 20 more to answer.

The drive home feels like an eternity but eventually, you arrive in the driveway and collect your belongings before entering the home.

When you walk into your and Leah's shared home, you are hit the the most amazing smell of pasta and your favorite vanilla candle lit.

"Hey baby, I am home," you yell out as you discard your shoes and coat before walking towards the kitchen.

Entering the kitchen, you see Leah in an apron working over the stove. She sees you and immediately pulls you in for a warm hug. Your body fully collapses in her arms and tears begin streaming down your face.

"I am so tired baby" you sob into her neck.

"I know love" she whispers into your ear as she rubs small circles into your back. "I started you a bath upstairs and have set a pair of comfy pj's on the counter," she says as she carries you towards your guy's bathroom. She helps you discard your clothes and sets you ever so gently into the bath.

"I am going to finish dinner, you relax and come downstairs when you are finished," she softly says. She heads back to the kitchen and you fully relax in the bath, letting yourself close your eyes surrounded by the warm water.

After the water begins to get cold, you hoist yourself out of the bath and see that Leah has left you her favorite jumper and some shorts for you to wear, your heart could have exploded by her sheer love.

Walking out to the kitchen, you see two plates of pasta on the island and two glasses of wine. Leah brings you toward the table, and you notice your favorite flowers in a vase on the table. Looking up at Leah all you can say out is "Thank you so much baby" trying your best not to burst out in full tears.

"I can see you have been stressed out at work so I wanted to give you a very relaxing night in love," she says as she brings you in for another hug.

You and Leah enjoy dinner as you ask her how training was and how the Arsenal girls are. Leah is preparing to return from her ACL tear and you could not be more excited for her.

After finishing dinner, Leah cleans up the table as she ushers you towards the couch and tells you to pick out a movie for you two to enjoy.

Leah then joins you on the couch and sits behind you to begin massaging your tense body. Your body fully relaxes into her as her soft touches could practically put you to sleep.

"I love you, baby, thank you for today." You whisper out just before you fall asleep in her warm arms.

#woso x reader #woso one shot #woso fanfics #woso imagine #woso blurbs #woso community #woso soccer #woso #leah williamson x you #leah williamson x reader #leah williamson #awfc x reader #awfc imagine #awfc

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princessanonymous · 13 days

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omg i just read your vampire story and it’s sooo good😩😩 i had to rewatch interview with a vampire after i read that masterpiece. i do wonder though, what happens to them in the modern age? do they still live in the mansion? do they relocate? does the reader have more permission to go outside? thank youuu <3333

𝓐𝓶𝓸𝓷𝓰𝓼𝓽 𝓽𝓱𝓮 𝓛𝓲𝓿𝓲𝓷𝓰 (Ask)

When Night Comes asks Platonic Yandere Vampire Story Chapter list

So sorry for taking so long!! I was busy with life and when I finally found the time to sit down and write it down, I didn't have the proper time to correct it bcuz of exams... I have one tomorrow but I really just wanted to finally post this. Another ask is probably coming soon but i can't really promise anything since i have a physics exam followed by one in chemistry 3 days later and one in math coming soon too. Life really isn't on my side now!

Still, here it is!

(Also some of yall might have noticed but I like putting these answers into little situation instead of telling it outright. Hope yall dont mind)

(+ This takes place during the cold war. I found it to be fitting.)

┉┈◈◉◈┈┉

“I can’t believe I accepted to stay in this dreadful place,” muttered her father as they walked into the new house they had bought. “This house is too small.”

“Don’t be ridiculous,” quipped her dad while shaking his head, “this is what mortal Americans settle with. And they do it quite easily; this is the biggest house in the neighborhood.”

“That is the problem,” groaned her father while they walked through the already furnished house. It was a good thing her parents had paid people to do this tedious task. “We have never lived in a neighborhood before. There is no space! We don’t even have our own forest!”

“You agreed to let the little one choose our next home,” he reminded the other with a sigh. “That is her choice.”

The blond frown in distaste and looked around the living room. “Well I didn’t expect her to choose such a mediocre manor. This is utterly ridiculous.” He pinched the bridge of his noise in annoyance and exasperation as he settled in one of the satin armchairs in the room.

The girl puffed her cheeks, vexed by these words. Yes, it was true the house was smaller than the three other homes they had inhabited in America, it was definitely something she would need to get used to, but that didn’t make it less fun. Ever since they had left their motherland for the new world due to the constant attacks and bombings during the war, her existence had been filled with a neverending kaleidoscope of information and new things to see. America was nothing like England: everything was bigger and people acted so differently.

She had indeed chosen this manor in Pennsylvania for a reason. It was gloomy and often cloudy there, just like they all preferred it. Additionally, while it was not the size her father was used to, she knew it was big enough for him to not outright refuse her request; they wouldn’t remain here very long though, but she could accept that.

Most importantly… neighborhoods were filled with other children, and that was really the only thing that really mattered to her. The idea of interacting with others, even if they were mortals, made her giddy. If her father knew the real reason for her insistence on this estate, the girl knew he would refuse instantly, but what he didn’t know wouldn’t hurt him – or (Y/n).

—---

It took a week before she finally was able to meet people. The day was gloomy and clouds were in the sky, indicating incoming rain. Two boys passed by the house as she was swinging on the swing her parents had ordered installed for her. She watched as they came and went multiple times, playing with their blue ball and almost cackled in glee when one of the boys, the younger one, a boy with red messy hairs and freckles, who looked to be nine years old, threw the ball too far away and it landed close to her. She stood from her swing quickly to pick up the ball and stood–

“Careful!” warned the older, a boy with dark skin and brown eyes, who only looked slightly older than she did. The girl suspected he might be thirteen or fourteen.

It was too late, because not even a second later, she felt the seat of the swing collide with her back and she fell on the floor. The two boys ran to her; the youngest holding the swing as the older one helped her stand up. She winced, hoping her father hadn’t heard the commotion; she knew he would be mad if learned she was interacting with mortals. She didn’t want to be confined to her room for a year like he had done before.

The girl shuddered at the memory. Maybe trying this wasn’t a good idea; if he found out, he would surely do worse, he had promised it last time. She didn’t want to leave, she didn’t want to remain confined again.

She hated how cold and lonely and empty her room felt when it was the only thing she saw for months, she–

“You alright there?” Asked the oldest with his brows furrowed, unaware of the fact that he had snapped her out of her spiraling thoughts.

She nodded, still dazed and gave them their ball. They thanked her and the other mortal asked, “Are you living here? Nobody’s seen the new inhabitants yet. Mom says it’s impolite to not even greet anybody after moving in. Mom said only communists would do such an impolite thing.”

(Y/n) squirmed, embarrassed by these words. She didn’t know anything about neighborly etiquette. Should she have researched the subject before? She doubted her father was informed on that matter, but perhaps her dad knew more; he had always been more aware of mortal things than they were.

The older glared at the youngest and lightly slapped the back of his head. “Rem, you can't just say that!”

“You heard her say it too!” Protested the redhead in outrage, ready to defend his statement.

The older one sighed and shook his head before rubbing the back of his head in embarrassment. “Excuse my step-brother, Jeremy; he doesn’t know what he’s saying. I’m Kenneth. We live just across from here.”

A smile graced her features again. "My name is (Y/n)," she introduced herself with a graceful tilt of her head, her voice carrying a controlled and melodic cadence, "how do you do? I live here with my fathers." She had to make a good impression.

Jeremy narrowed his eyes. “You have an accent,” he noted in fascination. “Where are you from? You're not a communist, are you? Mom said we can't speak to those.”

(Y/n) sensed some mistrust coming from him, and she quickly used her empath abilities to soothe him before his words registered in her mind. (Y/n)'s expression faltered for a moment, a hint of confusion clouding her features before she shook her head lightly. “I don’t have an accent,” she denied while pointing at him, “You do have an American accent though.”

The redhead shook his head in disbelief, crossing his arms over his chest in a gesture of defiance. “Americans don’t have accents, silly,” he retorted with a grin, his eyes alight with amusement.

But (Y/n) wasn't about to let the matter go so easily. She protested adamantly, insisting that she could clearly hear the distinct nuances in his speech. Back and forth they bantered, neither willing to concede their stance on the matter before eventually realizing they wouldn’t agree on that matter.

"But where are you from?" he asked, his tone gentle yet insistent, "You're not from here, are you?"

She shook her head. "No, I was born in England,” she revealed, her voice carrying a faint trace of longing for her homeland. She still missed England dearly. She knew vampires typically never spent more than a century in the same country, but she had still been devastated when her parents had decided to leave; even more when they sailed to a different continent altogether.

Jeremy looked starstruck, their small innocuous disagreement already far behind in his mind, thanks to her abilities. "Really? Did you ever meet the queen?" he asked eagerly, his imagination already running wild with visions of royal encounters and grand palaces.

She giggled at that, then tilted her head, contemplating the question. After a brief moment of contemplation, she realized that he was likely referring to Queen Elizabeth II, rather than Queen Victoria. "No, never," she replied with a casual shrug, noting the slight disappointment that flickered across Jeremy's face at her response.

"Hey, wanna join us tomorrow at two o'clock? We'll be down this street with all the neighborhood kids. Probably going to play Hide-and-seek.”

(Y/n) smiled warmly at the invitation, her curiosity piqued by the prospect of joining in with the neighborhood kids. "Sure, I'd love to!" she replied eagerly, the thought of meeting new mortals outweighing any concerns she might have had about the unfamiliar game they mentioned.

Although she had never heard of Hide-and-seek before, (Y/n) was undeterred. As she agreed to meet them the following day at two o'clock, her mind was already buzzing with anticipation. (Y/n) knew she would have to find a way to sneak out without her fathers noticing, but she was determined not to let that stop her from joining in on the fun. With a mischievous glint in her eye, she began plotting a way to sneak out, confident that she could pull it off.

#platonic yandere #yandere platonic #yandere vampire #yandere father #obsession #yandere #vampire #platonic #x reader #reader insert #child reader #yandere x reader #fanfic #stockholm syndrome #manipulation #(y/n)#female reader #manipulative reader

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anexperimentalyear · 6 days

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04.18

Watched this video on remarkable tablet. He had several writing and planning prompts.

Guy does his morning writing/paper which is like a thought dump of everything in his head.

The big thing for that day, which for me, is good for ideas for stories, like random everyday things.

A long neverending to-do list, just add and subtract from it.

Then he got that one big task he has to do that day.

Plus a weekly and daily planner.

I like all those ideas and some I already have done. I could incorporate that morning paper as a way to wake myself up in the morning. Also, it can’t be negative. Focus on the positive.

Thinking of the big thing that happened today can give me ideas for my writing. What was the big thing? Ok so I saw this manhwa, which have me idea of a reincarnation story where girl wakes up into a manhwa she read, but since she’s read so many, she does know the exact storyline so she kind of only remembers the leads and villains of the story.

Another is that I randomly signed myself up to join my job’s climbing club, because it’s free, despite not being able to do a pull up. What ever, this sounds like a start of a romcom.

I call my neverending to-do list my “inbox” and I got that idea from a book I read but never finished.

As for the big thing to do, well the day that had just passed, I guess it was just to wake up early enough to get some things done in the morning. Tomorrow it will be: pay credit card.

Noodle soup with sardines, fried rice and beef chow fun.

Sweetened coffee, 2 chocolate biscottis (expensive)

Ice coffee, Fritos, orange juice, leftover rice porridge.

I was able to not eat after work, but just barely. I was able to do so because I thought about how it will end my day on a bad note, so now I feel great about it. Pat myself on the back.

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cocktailsfairytales · 10 months

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🌲SALE ALERT 🌲

Lake Mistletoe by Amber Kelly is on sale! Grab yours for #99cents!

Download here:

https://mybook.to/lakemistletoe

Link in bio @authoramberkelly

Blurb:

Life in the fast lane is what I’ve been working toward for the last six years. My career was all planned out running one of the hottest hotels in Miami’s South Beach. That was until our playboy owner broke a few rules, and my perfect opportunity crumbled underneath my feet.

So here I am, headed to Lake Mistletoe, a quaint little valley town in Idaho of all places. My grandmother, and namesake, left her Inn to me, and I am now sentenced to the task of getting it prepared to sell at the end of this year's holiday season. My memories of this Christmas oasis have long since faded, but I’m determined to use this experience to further my career and get back into the hospitality game.

When Keller Harris, Lake Mistletoe’s resident craftsman, and unofficial handyman, offers to help me with the neverending list of repairs and upgrades, it's the perfect opportunity for me to get hands-on experience. He’s talented, driven, and sexy as sin, but he's also a know-it-all and completely unimpressed by my business sense. I can learn a lot from him but his stubborn self can also learn a lot from me.

As walls start to fall, literally and figuratively, I begin to realize that success comes in many forms and passion can be found in unexpected places. Will I be able to turn this season into a stepping stone to an exciting new career in Belize?

Or will I discover that everything I ever wanted was tucked away in the Rocky Mountains?

Find more books by Amber Kelly here: www.authoramberkelly.com

#salealert #LakeMistletoe #AmberKelly #holidayromance #steamy #jolly #lovestory #christmasromance #wordsmithpublicity

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dykefaggotry · 3 years

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whenever i get a therapist here i’m just gonna be like “whats up how do i make myself care when the world is literally ending hi nice to meet you by the way”

#james.txt #hhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhh #thats just another thing on my List Of Tasks is trying to find a psych and therapist :')#but i have so many other things to do that its low priority rn #i have a neverending list of tasks in my head #and none of them fucking mATTER #im having. an EXTREMELY normal one.

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deaththesyd · 3 years

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More Than Enough

Ah! Finally, I have managed to finish something! I hope this one doesn't disappoint. I really do feel proud of this one.

Summary: Standing here, watching the storm envelope this small space of theirs, a home that was just for them, being held and loved by the man who had forced himself into her heart was a dream come true. She could sip her tea as he littered her exposed skin in hickeys, bruises, and the faintest of bitemarks.

"Kisame!" Startled by his sudden presence behind her, the feeling of his large hands on her waist caused her to jump back into him, only to be met with the firm muscle of his chest, and his amused chuckles. "You could have said something! I could have dropped my damn mug!" She chastised him, still clutching the ceramic of freshly brewed tea so tightly her knuckles turned white.

She had been standing in their living room, watching as the grey clouds moved swiftly with the wind, threatening to unload the rain they carried down upon the land. He must have snuck up on her, mischievous as always, or maybe her thoughts had her so occupied she hadn't been able to notice his approach. Did it matter which it was? Not really, not when his chin rested on her head, and his large form engulfed her from behind, wrapping her somewhat chilled body in his comforting presence. Sipping her tea sweetened with honey, the warmth of the liquid was just enough to hurt going down, but the taste of faint spices was worth it. And if she didn't drink it now, it would surely be too cold later.

Outside, the clouds made well on their threat, and the first teasing droplets of rain fell. It started so gradually, but she seemed to blink and then the sheets of water were replacing the cute drops that had run down their window. The steam from her tea tickled her chin, as the man behind her moved to press sweet kisses starting from her scalp and down the back of her neck, sweeping the hair that blocked his access out of the way.

Smiling pleased to herself, she indulged in another long sip from her mug, as the rain pounded against their shelter, and Kisame's hand returned to her waist, his thumb teasing at the bottom of her shirt, tracing circles onto her skin. The heat from the tea wasn't the only thing that had her feeling warm, as his gentle trail of kisses turned more sensual against the side of her throat, and his heated breath accentuated the lingering buzz for each new mark he gave.

"I'm glad you're home with me, and not out there," she said, leaning her head to the side to give him better access, relaxing as his lips drew closer with each press to what they both knew was her sweet spot.

Another low chuckle rumbled from his chest, the movement shaking her along with him. "Hm, me too," he agreed, his voice low and gravelly below her ear. Despite how warm she felt now, his voice sent a shiver up her spine. Just when his mouth circled around a spot that had been bruised by hickeys so many times prior, a flash outside startled her, making her flinch, and causing his sharp teeth to scrape at the sensitive skin. Hissing at the unexpected pain, she stood tense, allowing him to pull away to survey the damage. A loud rumble of thunder nearly drowned out the low apology he whispered into her ear. “Wasn’t expectin’ you to move there, Squirt,” he uttered gently, before he lapped at the small scrape along her collar bone, easing a sigh from her lips in response. Now that she was expecting it, the next flash before her eyes didn’t catch her so off guard, and by the time the next clash of thunder bellowed out, his apologetic kisses and the rough calluses of his hand finally reaching up to her bare chest had drawn more than a few whimpering sighs. Apology more than accepted.

He was taking his time, making sure to find everywhere he could get a reaction, whether it was a hitch of her breath, or her simply adjusting to better allow his mouth to work. It had only been a short while since he had returned to his village and reclaimed his house, only a couple of months since the war, since the Akatsuki were officially disbanded. It didn’t feel real yet, that she didn’t have to worry about him being an outlaw anymore, that he didn’t have to slink around in the shadows completing illegal missions just to support a group whose goals had never truly made sense to her. Though he was often run ragged by the tasks given to him by the Mizukage, and his mood was often soured by the lack of freedom he had now, this was stable, and they could adjust. Standing here, watching the storm envelope this small space of theirs, a home that was just for them, being held and loved by the man who had forced himself into her heart was a dream come true. She could sip her tea as he littered her exposed skin in hickeys, bruises, and the faintest of bitemarks.

This was nice, but she wanted to put her mug down so she could return some of his affections. Looking towards the shelf just beside the window, she was calculating if she could reach it without having to move, when she noticed a problem. “Hun,” she gasped out, just as he pinched at her sensitive nipple, her urgency misunderstood as lust.

“You like that?” He teased, before nipping at another hickey, causing her to jolt at the stimulation.

“No! No, yes I mean, just-ah!”

“No? How about this?” His rumbling laugh blending with the almost constant thunder, while he teased at the delicate flesh, his rough fingers always so good against her skin.

“You feel good, but the roof is leaking!” She managed to get out, even as she could feel every bit of friction against her bud sending pulses of pleasure down to her clit. Abruptly, he stopped and released his hold of her to inspect where she motioned.

“Damn it,” He muttered under his breath before leaving the room to search for a fix. Sighing, she followed suit, placing her mug on the shelf and heading towards the bathroom for a towel to soak up the growing puddle. On her way, she passed a bucket that had been placed the day before as a short-term fix for another weak spot in the roof. For now, that was handling its job well enough. Returning, she found Kisame knelt down, placing a large pot under the steady drops of water that had managed to sneak its way in. “Looks like next I’m gonna have to do some roofing repair,” he grumbled, fed up with the neverending list of home maintenance they had to take care of.

Stooping down to join him, she lifted the pot and replaced it after laying the towel down, watching as the puddle of water seeped into the cloth. ”Ah, the joys of homeownership,” she sighed, standing up and placing a soothing hand on his broad shoulder. “We can tackle that task together tomorrow, no need to stress about it until then,” she said reassuringly, “I’m very much fine having to deal with a leaky roof if that means we officially have a place of our own,” she said sweetly.

Sighing, his large hand engulfed hers and took a hold of it, he stood, winding around to face her. The lack of frustration she had with the situation seemed to help him shake off the bad mood he had been put in, as he smiled lovingly down at her, bowing his head enough to kiss the back of her hand, before grabbing her by the waist with his other hand to pull her to his chest. Turning her head, she looked at their clasped hands, smiling contentedly. “I Don’t have a clue what I’ve done to deserve ya, but I sure am glad you’re here with me, Sweetheart,” Kisame said, the smile she couldn’t see audible in his words. Giggling, she gave his hand a squeeze as her free hand traveled to his ass.

“Since I make you so happy, you should probably get back to what you were doing before,” she suggested playfully. Laughing at that, he let go of her hand, and grasped her ass in return, picking her up without warning, forcing her to frantically clasp her hands behind his neck and lock her legs around him with a surprised squeak.

“If that’s what my woman wants, that’s what she’ll get,” he said with a devilish smirk, Normally, she would be upset at being picked up like that, but his hungry lips were upon hers before she could think up anything to say, and the feel of his tongue gliding upon her bottom lip was enough to melt any anger she had felt. Clinging onto his lips and his body, her eyes were closed, but she felt each step he made blindly towards their bedroom, and it wasn’t until her back hit the mattress that her eyes shot open.

Shoving him away frantically, Kisame was confused, but only for a second, as a cold droplet of water landed on his neck and trailed down his neck under his collar. The wet spot on the bed was small, but that didn’t matter, they had a leak directly above their bed!

“You’ve gotta be fucking kidding me!” He growled in frustration, the mood thoroughly spoiled now. His hand went to the back of his neck, and she rolled off of the damp spot, both for her comfort, and to give her enraged partner his space. The pelting rain was as loud as the thunder, but the sound of a single splat on his skin once again was deafening. He was up off the bed in a flash of lightning, and by the time the thunder roared again, he was coming back into the room with another pot. Without warning, he shoved the bed with her still on it, scraping wood against wood paired with a surprised shriek. Harshly, he placed the pot down and turned again to leave the room. Scurrying off the bed, she removed the dampened bedding while he thundered around the house, just finishing collecting the material in a bundle when he returned and threw the fresh replacements on top of the mattress. They landed with a less than satisfying ‘fwump’. Leaving the room with the soiled laundry, she took her time putting it into the washing machine, and when she was finished she returned to the living room, remembering her abandoned tea. The mug was cold now, and the liquid inside was surely the same, so she took it to the kitchen. After dumping the contents of the mug and placing it by the sink for later, the lights above shuddered and suddenly, they went out. She groaned as a loud yell of frustration sounded from the direction of their room.

Standing in the pitch black, she waited a moment, hoping the lights would come back on the same way someone would say ‘sike!’ but the longer she stood there, the clearer it was that the power was out. Sighing in resignation, she stumbled around, using the wall, and Kisame’s mutterings as guides back to the bedroom. As much as she hated his bad mood, it certainly was helpful in giving her direction in a place she hadn’t yet memorized. Feeling her way into their shared room, she lingered at the doorway, just able to make out the outline of a shadowed man rummaging around, most likely searching for a light source. Kisame had the better eyesight between the two, especially in the dark, but her memory wasn’t clouded with frustration and rage, and she could remember exactly where they had put away the lighter last time it was used and managed to walk over to where it had been placed without tripping or stubbing a toe. Flicking it on, she caught the attention of the helplessly searching giant, and let the flame go out with the slightest smell of burning oil, as she tossed it to him, knowing that he could catch it with ease.

With a grumbled “thanks,” he lit the wick of a sweetly fragrant candle that was settled upon the nightstand that hadn’t been moved in his little temper tantrum before, bringing a soft flickering glow to the room, and making the location of another candle of the same scent easier to locate. Still standing where she had retrieved the lighter, arms crossed, hip jutted out, she watched as the man tiredly flopped down upon the half-made bed with a defeated sigh. The storm outside wasn’t letting up, but the flared energy he once had was quickly doused as there was nothing left to do anymore. He lay there, staring at the ceiling, as she waited from across the room. “Minnow,” he called the pet name quietly, her signal that his temperament had truly settled and that he no longer required space. Without hesitation, she joined him, sitting beside his head and bringing a soothing hand to stroke his hair.

“I’m sorry,” he breathed, quieter than normal, “this is all such a mess and I owe you so much better than a leaky roof and a damp bed and a disappointing lead-up.” A large hand reached for the one stroking his head and brought her palm to his lips. He didn’t speak aloud, but the movement felt like he was making vows to himself and to her, she could easily guess what they were. Since the beginning of their relationship he had been making promises, ones that she knew he would always keep to the best of his power, and yet he never seemed to feel what he did was enough for her. He was so wrong.

Gently tugging her hand away, she felt for just the lightest moment his grip tighten anxiously, before releasing her. In moments like this, it was always so evident just how fragile his belief could be. Their trust in one another was strong, but he never seemed to be able to let go of the doubts that her love for him was only dependent on what he could provide. Part of her couldn’t stand it, how a man like him could cling to someone like her, that even after all of the fighting, the Akatsuki, the war, he didn’t believe he was enough as he was. That part of her was the one that brought her fingers to flick his forehead. She was gentle and soft, and of course, that was a surprise to him, so when he looked up at her confused and hurt only to find her stern gaze, he didn’t seem to know how to react.

The other part, the one that knew just how he felt, that knew that the hurt she felt watching him like that wasn’t something she could lash out with, returned her hand to his head. “You’re enough for me, and I’ll remind you of that for as long as we’re together,” she promised, allowing her gaze to soften only when the look of defiance on his face gave out. Kisame lay there for a moment, before shifting awkwardly, and crawling his way into her lap, burying his face in the softness of her stomach and wrapping his arms around her. Reaching for a pillow, she propped it behind her, settling into a more supported position, before tangling her fingers into his hair and rubbing his shoulders, giggling at the hum of content she felt buzz into her tummy.

“Remind me,” she heard his muffled plea come, and she couldn’t help the fond smile that spread across her lips.

“You’re more than enough for me, Kisame,” she said with a slight giggle, but the words were not a joke. “You always give me everything you can, and even right now I”m spoiled.” He gripped the fabric of her shirt, and she knew he wanted to protest, so she kept going. “You’ve been so busy dealing with the aftermath of everything, that you haven’t had the time for anything else, but still you make sure I have my favourite tea, and you treat me with a candlelit bedroom, and even though you’re tired and stressed you always make time for me,” she said, dragging her nails against his neck gently, earning a pleased shiver from him. “Yes, the house is leaking, and yes, I was very much looking forward to a bit more than a few kisses, but both of those can be fixed. We can figure out roof repair, and maybe not tonight, but hopefully for the rest of our lives we can have plenty more ‘fun’,” she reasoned, shaking along with the laugh he made at that last bit. When his short laugh ended, she continued. “You’re not a failure of a partner simply because we didn’t get our way tonight and you threw a bit of a fit, and you never will be because all you do is care for me and make sure I know just how loved I am. You’re so good to me, Love, you’re enough.”

It was then that she noticed how much quieter it was. No longer was there thunder, and whistling wind and the pounding rain had turned into a gentle pattering. The smell of pears and honey wafted from the melting wax, and the cold of the house seemed unable to penetrate the space around them for the meantime. Kisame’s breathing was steady and gentle, and despite the way the night had turned out to be, she felt quite content. This was their home. And it was more than enough.

#kisame #kisame x reader #Akatsuki Invaders #Kisame x OC

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vodkassassin · 3 years

Text

world state: refresh, chapter two

Last chapter: “—From the description, it’s basically the same as the synopsis of your run of the mill VRMMORPG anime, except the virtual games are real worlds.”

“Sure, but if they’re real worlds, then what does being a Game Master mean?”

Shen Yuan grins down at him.

“Hey, Airplane,” he says. “How do you feel about being an actual god?” [Read ch. 1]

—

“Oh, yaaawn!” She throws herself back onto the plush surface behind her and stretches her arms above her head. “Man, what a chore! Hey, Dorazou, make a note to always double check the Mission Rating before accepting an Assignment in the future. No way in hell am I gonna be doing that again!”

“AwRAWRight!” The tiny avatar cheers, pumping a little red scaled fist into the air. “Reminder set! Hey, Host, if it’s any consolation, this system thinks you totally aced it!”

“Hmm,” she crosses her arms and stars at the collection of screens that have popped into existence before her. “The mission grading will be the judge of that. Let’s see, here…. Oh, awesome! I earned a double S score! You know what that means!”

Dorazou gives another little roar cheer that sounds more like a kitten's mew than anything. Ah, so cute! “Host may close her next Assignment! Congratulations!”

The agent gathers her hair up into a loose and messy bun at the top of her head, breathing out a sigh of relief. “Awesome. Let’s choose something easy, why don’t we? That last world was only an A-rank, but it gave me a lot more trouble than I bargained for. It should have been labeled at least S-tank! Dorazou, bring up all available Assignments. B-rank or lower only, please!”

“Gotcha!” The tiny dragon-themes sprite gives a little twirl, it’s clunky arms flailing adorably. “Assignment list set to: Easy!”

“Perfect, thanks! Let’s take a look, now… Otome-world…. Fantasy style cooking show star, haha. I have zero talent in that area, so please decline it for me, Dorazou…. Another Knights Order needs a Pure Heavenly Maiden for such and such ritual, ah, that honestly just sounds so sinister, decline! And here we have yet another otome assignment, damn. These things are such pests. Oh, what’s this?”

Sitting up, the agent leans in and peers closely at the screen, eyes bright in excitement. “Hey, Dorazou! This one calls for a team of agents!”

“That is correct!” Dorazou says, beaming. The dragon floats up to sit comfortably on the girl’s shoulder. “System Agents 74 and 81 have put in a request for additional manpower in the Game Master Assignment for World-120MAX. If Host accepts, she and four other agents will be tasked with working under the leadership of Agent 74 in creating and managing a Game World.”

She tilts back again, kicking her legs up into the air with some excitement. “What’s the deadline?”

Dorazou is quiet for a moment as it studies the screens. It gives a hearty cheer and pats the agent on the head. “No deadline! Host will remain on Agent 74’s GM Team until it is decommissioned by the Team itself!”

She jumps off the beanbag entirely to float up into the air, catching the little dragon sprite and hugging it to her chest. “Awesome! So it’s basically a neverending paid vacation, if we want it to be? That totally rocks! Dorazou, we lucked out with this one!”

“AwRAWRight!” The tiny system cheers, looping its scaly arms around her neck in a hug. “Is Host choosing this Assignment, then?”

“As if I’d ever turn down a chance like this! System Agents hardly ever get to work together! Dorazou, please confirm my acceptance!”

“Assignment chosen! Does Host wish to rest in the home space before starting?”

“Nah, I’m way too pumped now,” she clenches her fists and grins. “Dorazou, let’s go meet our new friends!”

“RAWR! World-120MAX loading! Twenty-eight percent! Fifty-percent! Eighty-three percent! World load complete! Entering database now!”

The agent grins as she dissolves into light. This is gonna be sweet!

—

“Nice to meet you! My name is Myra Khol, System Agent 23! I’m here for the Game Master Team Assignment!”

“The what?” The boy says, expression just positively befuddled as it has been when she’s first loaded into the world, and Myra tilts her head in slight confusion. Has this guy never met another agent before?

She hops down from the tree and steps over to him, a little surprised when he takes a step back in return. Man, this guy is shy! How cute!

“Wait a minute, did you just say ‘System’?” The boy straightens up, his eyes going even wider than they’d already been. “Does that mean you are also a transmigrator?”

“What else would I be?” Myra huffs out with some bemusement. “You guys clearly haven’t put any people in this world yet, so the only ones you’d be seeing are yourselves or another agent.”

“Agent…” the boy echoes, holding the fan up to his lips in thought. It’s an endearing gesture, something so old fashion being slightly out of place with the futuristic fantasy design of the boy’s outfit, and yet it still somehow fits him.

Myra blinks at him, and then decides to take pity. From the looks of it, this kid is a noob at the job. She remembers when that had been her. The good old days!

“Didn’t your Systems explain it to you guys yet?” She asks.

At her words, the boy’s expression darkens. “The System? No. Why would the System explain anything?”

Oh. That sounded like anger, there. Myra reaches out a hand and nervously scoots her precious Dorazou over until it’s hidden behind her back. The little dragon makes a tiny noise of confusion, but goes along with it.

The boy narrows his eyes at her action. “Speaking of systems… is that one yours?”

“Um, well,” Myra coughs. “Yes? But! Dorazou is such a sweet little thing! Wouldn’t harm a fly! Please take care of it!”

The boy looks confused. “Wouldn’t harm a fly! Have you never been threatened with Punishment Protocol?”

Myra gapes, aghast. “No! That’s reserved for triple S class worlds on the highest difficulty setting! Why would an Assignment like that be given to newbie agents?”

The boy stares at her, face pale.

“Oh.” Myra presses her hands over her mouth, staring at him in horror. “I mean, I’ve heard it happening only once. Someone being given an extreme-difficulty Assignment for their very first world. It was basically an impossible mission, but she luckily managed to complete it successfully. The Assignment Parameter glitch that led to it was suppose to have been fixed since then, though. Are you really saying…?”

The boy lets out a weak sounding laugh, bowing his head. He rubs the back of his arm across his eyes, and Myra feels something in her chest ache at the sight. These two agents… they’ve really been through the wringer, haven’t they?

Clearing her throat hesitantly, she asks, “The Assignment said there were two agents behind the request. Since you’re here, where’s your partner?”

“He’s on the other side of the Level, touching up on some persistent glitches that are occurring in quadrant five,” the boy releases an aggravated sigh. Then, he glances at Myra in surprise. “Oh, I haven’t introduced myself yet, have I? My name is Shen Yuan, it’s really nice to meet you.”

Myra grins back at him, relieved. “Is it? For a moment there, I thought you weren’t happy to see me.”

“Are you kidding?” Shen Yuan laughs again, and this one is much lighter. It suits him way better than the faintly grieved sound from before. “I am ecstatic to meet you. It’s nice to know that we’re not as alone as we thought. Here, I’ll take you to my… partner. He should be about finished by now.”

Myra bounces onto her toes in excitement. She grabs Dorazou by the tail and troops after Shen Yuan when the boy turns his back and begins to walk away.

“Man, not being given a tutorial world really sounds like it sucked,” Myra says, side eyeing her new teammate as she comes up beside him.

Shen Yuan has an odd smile on his face when he replies. “It was… definitely something, yes.”

“You want me to lodge a complaint with Management?” She asks, a pinch of worry between her brows. “If all three of us do it, they’ll have to take another look at the glitch and make double sure that it doesn’t happen to anyone else.”

Shen Yuan is quiet for a long while as they walk along the quaint little dirt path. The silence stretches into minutes, and Myra decides to leave him to his thoughts, because it looks like he’s pondering something pretty deep.

She busies herself with checking out their surroundings as they move along. Shen Yuan has called this area the Level, and she’s assuming it’s the first of its kind, and therefore intended to be the Starting Area for the Players when they enter into this world. She’s done her reading while loading into the Assignment, so she’s fairly confident in her ability to assist Shen Yuan and his partner with whatever sort of administration work they need help with. So far though, from what she’s seeing, the two of them are actually off to a really good start. One or both of them must have some sort of experience in world building.

What a perfect Assignment for them, if that’s the case.

Especially if what Shen Yuan says is true, and he really had suffered through a triple S class of extreme difficulty for what was suppose to be their tutorial world. He really deserves a paradisal vacation such as this, where he can recuperate from the troubles he’d faced.

“It shouldn’t have happened in the first place,” Shen Yuan finally says, voice so quiet that Myra wouldn’t have heard it if the rest of the world around them wasn’t dead silent. It seems the audiosphere hasn’t been set up, yet.

Myra glances over to her side, and finds Shen Yuan staring down at the ground with a frown on his pretty face. His hands are clenched into fists at his sides.

“You said they already patched the glitch, so it shouldn’t have happened. They — whoever they are — clearly didn’t do their job.”

Myra bites her lip, and hugs a strangely quiet Dorazou to her chest. “Yeah, so we should file a complaint, right? And we can get the rest of the team on board with it, too, once they get here. I’m sure they’ll agree, too.”

“The rest of the team?” Shen Yuan asks, frown still present. He flicks his wrist, and the fan opens with a sharp snap and a skillful flourish. Myra stares at the action in awe. So refined! So graceful! And the fan itself was exquisite.

“I’m sorry, could you elaborate on the… Assignment Parameters you mentioned before? Xiao Lei and I just needed help, and the system said we’d have it. It didn’t explain what that help was, or where it would come from.”

Xiao Lei must be the other agent, Shen Yuan’ partner. Myra files the name away and directs a bright smile in the direction of her new teammate.

“Sure thing! Basically, your request generated a new Assignment in the listings for agents. It asks for five agents to form a team directly under you and your partner, though Agent 74 is suppose to be the team leader. That wouldn’t happen to be you, would it?”

Shen Yuan blinks at her, before his frown returns in full force. It looks faintly irritated this time, and the boy calls out, “System, what is my, uh, Agent number?”

There’s a faint sound of static, before a slightly stilted and robotic voice replies, “Host is filed as Agent 81.”

Myra glances down to see a Siamese cat, tail poised elegantly in the air and ears perked upright, weaving between Shen Yuan’s every step like a ghost. The cat glances up at her and blinks it’s bright blue eyes at her with an indifferent gaze.

“Oh, is that your System? It’s so cute!” She squeals.

The cat glances away from her, and Shen Yuan huffs.

“It’s an absolute snob, is what it is,” the boy refutes.

His system doesn’t look back up, and Myra feels a little bad for it, but…. Well, she supposed, if she’s been trapped in an SSS-rank hell world for her first Assignment, she might have some resentment toward her system, too.

She clutched Dorazou to her chest at the terrible thought, and is comforted when the little dragon spite turns around to nuzzle her back. It seems she’s really lucked out, huh?

“Does your system have a name?” She asks, scratching Dorazou behind the ear.

“Does it need one?” Shen Yuan asks coldly.

Myra cringes, glancing down at the aloof-looking cat that darts between his legs. It doesn’t even twitch at the way that it’s host speaks about it, and Myra decides to change the subject least the air becomes too awkward.

“So, um, I guess your partner is the designated team leader, then!” She tries, her smile fixed in place.

Shen Yuan shrugs. He flutters the pretty fan in front of his face and holds his other arm behind his back. He looks like some sort of regal young master of an ancient dynasty, with a posture like that. Myra wonders what the setting of his last world had been. Imperial court drama, perhaps? That sort of plot was almost always a guaranteed S rank.

“It suits him,” Shen Yuan says. “He has the most experience in creating worlds, so I guess I’d follow his lead even if he wasn’t the boss. Though, I’ll definitely be there to advise him, so he doesn’t get too carried away.”

“Carried away?” Myra wonders.

“It happens, sometimes.” Shen Yuan grimaces. “If it’s true that we’ll be a team, then I’ll be counting on you to keep an eye on him, as well.”

“Yes, of course!” Myra is a little confused, but Shen Yuan obviously knows his partner best, so she’ll take his words to heart. She salutes him. “You can definitely rely on me for that!”

This gets her a faint smile, and she inwardly cheers. This boy is surprisingly difficult to get a response out of. Myra hasn’t met someone like him in a long time.

Suddenly, Shen Yuan pulls to a stop, and gestures ahead of them. “We’re here,” he says, and then sighs. “Looks like he’s not finished… I wonder….”

Myra looks ahead of them, to see a huge structure looming in the distance. The forest they’ve been strolling through has given way to an open plain, grasslands mixed with an opaque sandy desert. A few hundred meters away sits a hulking building, which in closer examination is not a building at all, but in fact some sort of autonomous being. It’s collapsed on its side, limbs askew, a central panel of its torso gaping open to allow its mechanical insides to be strewn about throughout the grass and sand around it. There’s faint noises of metal hitting against metal coming from within it, and when Myra squints, she can just make out a tiny figure perched on the very edge of the thing’s opened chassis.

Shen Yuan takes a step forward, and Myra keeps back. He closes his fan with a satisfying clack and slips it into the pocket of his shorts, and then cups his hands around his mouth. “Hey, Shang Lei! Come here!”

Oh, so the other agent’s name was Shang Lei, not Xiao Lei.

Myra pokes at her lip in thought as she watches the distant figure poke it’s head up out of the mechanical innards of whatever creature they were tinkering around inside of. Shen Yuan, Shang Lei… those names both sound pretty Chinese to her. And in Chinese, Xiao is often used as a diminutive or an endearment. So, this must mean that Shen Yuan and Shang Leo are actually very close friends, right? Myra covers her smile with a hand.

Due to context gathered from Shen Yuan's earlier words, it must also be likely that they were partners in their last world. Meaning that Shang Lei also experienced what was, in layman’s terms, called a Hell Assignment. And it is likely that the Hell Assignment was also Shang Lei’s first Assignment, given that Shen Yuan has no idea about a lot of System Agent common sense.

If they were partners all this time, if Shang Lei had previous transmigration experience, he’d have schooled his partner on it by now. And yet, Shen Yuan was ignorant of a lot of things.

Myra presses both her palms to her cheeks and sighs quietly as she watches Shang Lei approach them. Shen Yuan has stepped up to meet him, but she can clearly see the hesitant way that Shang Lei holds himself, the wary way that he eyes her. The way that he slides himself into the shadow of Shen Yuan’s barely taller stature when he realizes she’s looking back at him.

She sighs in her heart, as well, and clutches Dorazou in one arm like a teddy bear. Her system pays her on the hand.

“—apparently posted an assignment asking for other agents to come and lend us a hand.” Shen Yuan is explaining quietly to his partner — his friend. He gestures at her with a hand. “This is Myra Khol, the first one to accept the mission.”

Myra steps forward the smallest step she can take without it seeming like she’s wary of them, too. It still makes Shang Lei duck even further behind Shen Yuan. She does not let it dim her smile.

“Hi, I’m Myra, System Agent 23! I’m pleased to meet you, boss!”

Shang Lei peeks out from behind his friend with wide eyes. There’s a complicated expression on his face.

“... Nice to meet you, too,” he mumbles, and curls back behind Shen Yuan as soon as the last word is out.

That is it! Myra has decided! She will help these two to the best of her abilities, not because it’s the Assignment, but because she wants to!

Dorazou! Edit Assignment self parameters!

[[Host!]]

The dragon sprite makes a soft noise from within her grasp. She sees the way that Shang Lei’s eyes dart down to it, and the frown that graces his face as he glances shyly back toward her with an expression that almost looks faintly concerned. For her. And given the fact that it’s very possible that Shang Lei’s opinion of systems is the same as Shen Yuan’s, due to their not-so-great past experiences, the look that he’s sending her now makes Myra’s heart melt.

[[Assignment parameters, self edit mode!]]

Myra’s smile broadens.

Take care of Agent 74 and Agent 81! Priority!

#scum villain's self saving system #bofuri #cheating men must die #world state: refresh #update #vodkassassin fanfiction #cucumberplane #vodkas ocs

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paradife-loft · 3 years

Text

Worth

Well, this intended to start out being for a prompt, but then.... I guess my brain decided that “Jiang Cheng and Jin Guangyao” was the actual real prompt and it didn’t have to incorporate any of the material from any of the days of the prompt lists. Whatever, I’m still gonna include it in my October fic series. I wrote it in October, after all... D: Also hey, it’s my first time writing Jiang Cheng! Hopefully he didn’t come out too poorly /o/

-----

When a-Ling had been checked over once more for injuries; the Jin servants disappeared upstairs to help put him to bed, and the innkeep paid for the meal and rooms, Jin Guangyao found himself unusually alone, in the waning candlelight, with Jiang Wanyin.

Despite the shock of more, wilier, and more unusual, elementals lurking around the mountain village than any of their information had prepared them for, he had no substantive signs of damage on him. The hardest blow he had presumably taken was the one to his pride, having to send a flare up for reinforcements when it turned out that a-Ling staying back in a secured area while Jiang Wanyin dealt with the ambush wasn’t going to work if their assumptions on what counted as safe couldn’t be fully trusted.

Even so, he seemed to have recovered admirably well by now, wiping down his sword from the sticky, hallucinogenic sap expelled as he carved a swathe through the engorged plant monsters, and no displeasure besides the usual evident in his face.

As the last of the Jin disciples filtered out of the room, Jiang Wanyin glanced up to Jin Guangyao, still waiting. His expression flickered, and then he sheathed Sandu and stood. Jin Guangyao smiled slightly.

“Please excuse this one borrowing another moment of Jiang-zongzhu’s time. I simply wished to impress explicitly once more, the Jin sect’s apologies for the unexpected encounter you and a-Ling had to suffer. We will of course not bear any fault from his care in mind, going forward.”

Jiang Wanyin’s brow furrowed, before he nodded, with a short “thank you.” His gaze flickered over Jin Guangyao’s comportment, lingering for a fraction longer on the sleeve where he’d drawn a hidden qin string from during the earlier battle, before piercing it through one of the elementals and using the vibrations from his hand to disrupt the creature’s spiritual energy, until it had practically dissolved into the earth.

“I was wondering where all that steel I saw in you at Qinghe went, once you put those Jin robes on,” Jiang Wanyin said a moment later. “Doesn’t seem like Jin-zongzhu makes as much use of you as he could, just having you greet guests and arrange banquet tables.”

Of all the things he’d expected him to say, that had not made the list. Jin Guangyao felt his stomach tense, and his face broke out into a brief flare of a smile, before he slid his gaze down and scraped the shape of his expression back from the cliff it felt like falling off of with the skin of his fingers. When he looked back up, he’d managed to return it, he hoped, to something more unremarkably thoughtful.

“I’m sure my father would appreciate any advice a fellow clan leader would have to give, next time you visit Koi Tower,” Jin Guangyao replied.

The look that emerged from Jiang Wanyin’s face after a few moments was, if nothing else, distinctly privately gratifying.

“Did a-Ling have any difficulties during the night-hunt, other than the unexpected numbers?” Jin Guangyao asked, after a few moments where neither of them spoke. Drawing his hands up in front of him, he set them together beneath the long drape of his sleeves. Jiang Wanyin shook his head at the new question, the furrow in his brow melting away slightly - until he’d returned to his ordinary level of prickliness - when he glanced up toward the stairs.

“No, he did well. I guess you Jins have been teaching him more than just fine manners and the history of all the cultivation lineages?”

Jin Guangyao inclined his head, letting the derisive implication slide past him. “We do take him and the other junior disciples on educational outings to our clan’s hunting grounds,” he said, patient and unruffled. It would do no harm to offer a few more drips of information to him, so clearly parched for any involvement in his young nephew’s education. “It allows them to observe the behavior of a wide variety of monsters, and the strategies our cultivators have developed to subdue them, all in relative safety - appropriate to each disciple’s age cohort, of course. If Sandu Shengshou has concerns, I could arrange a tour for him?”

Jiang Wanyin looked briefly surprised, and not for the first time, Jin Guangyao’s thoughts flashed to how much better he would do to learn to hide at least a fraction of his expressions. “Well, I mean, we’re all busy, I don’t want to get in the way for something trivial -”

“The satisfaction of a-Ling’s jiujiu in his education is of course not a trivial matter! It would be no trouble.”

(Or rather, it would; it would be yet another task added to his neverending list of them; but his father, he was quite sure, would have instructed him to extend the invitation if he were here, perhaps have him note a few minor suggestions Jiang Wanyin would wish them to make that wouldn’t have much true impact on the actual administration of the sect… Jin Guangyao found his own gaze wandering up toward the stairs to the inn’s second floor this time, and his emotions drifting in tandem toward envy of the small child now assuredly tucked into bed and, if his attendants were lucky, fast asleep - before he caught himself and fixed his eyes back onto Jiang-zongzhu’s face.)

Jiang Wanyin didn’t answer right away, looking at him consideringly for a few moments first. And then said, “Is that where you learned that trick with the elementals?”

“From the Jin sect hunting excursions?”

“Yeah.”

Jin Guangyao’s eyes flicked away from Jiang Wanyin’s, and he held his face still against the urge to bite at his bottom lip. The last time he’d been to the private hunting grounds outside Lanling, it had been to oversee and resolve a stock discrepancy. “Ah - not that one.”

“Oh? It’s pretty impressive, anyway. Not something I’ve seen.”

Jin Guangyao regarded him for a moment, contemplating what he knew of Jiang Wanyin’s own special techniques. His swordplay was widely-praised, of course, honed and matured on the bloody butcher’s floor of the Sunshot campaign; but his Zidian was an heirloom passed from Meishan Yu, rather than a relic directly chosen from the (now mostly-recovered) treasure chambers ensconced in Lotus Pier.

He smiled again. “Well, Yunmeng Jiang isn’t known for its musical cultivation techniques, if my experience hasn’t given a misrepresentative impression? Aside from your silver bells.”

And those were a rudimentary assay into the use of sound as a spiritual focus, certainly; but as far as making sound itself the instrument rather than a conductor alone, they didn’t approach the subtlety of even the children’s exercises taught by Gusu Lan. No, the Jiang sect’s unique strengths, aside from its once-head disciple, were sure to lie elsewhere.

But Jiang Wanyin looked back, his brows drawing up as if surprised, or not sure whether to be offended. “Most sects aren’t,” he replied. “Mostly, we focus on a strong grounding in the traditional disciplines, and plenty of practical experience - not so much specialisation in just one style.”

Which fit well with the easy popularity of the sect, allowing them to so effectively rebuild thus far, Jin Guangyao agreed. If what they wanted was for people to put in the work, and what they offered was more practical to the lives of the area’s villages than just the status that came with the prestigious possibility of secret techniques - not surprising that even now, they would do well.

And Jiang Wanyin, for all that the advantages of delicate political trades shirked him at a wide berth, was nonetheless dedicated to his work, and did not make frivolous demands of others while refusing to see them done himself.

“It’s a worthy philosophy,” Jin Guangyao finally returned - expression genial, even if his mood was no better. “A solid foundation is of course the most important basis for all later cultivation techniques.”

He paused, as if considering something, then added, “A-Ling would surely benefit from a longer period of time immersed in Lotus Pier’s training style, for that matter. Perhaps in a month or two, you might discuss it with my father? It would surely help maintain the strength of the bond between our sects.”

If Jiang-zongzhu had looked surprised before, it paled before the hopeful delight that spread, almost disbelieving, across his face this time. “Really? You think so?”

“Not immediately; it may be difficult for him to agree too soon after tonight. But with time and caution…” Jin Guangyao trailed off. An invitation for Jiang Wanyin, into the closed realm of private understanding and accordance created between them in doing so. Not that they were on any same side in truth; not with Jin Guangyao’s own responsibilities, which would be served just as well by Jiang Wanyin’s openness to being strung along even further in search of scraps. But everyone was flattered to think himself half of a closed mutual agreement - and it would not surprise him for Jiang Wanyin to be even moreso than others.

And indeed, he nodded, taking Jin Guangyao’s meaning well. He sobered, then, drawing himself up and letting one hand settle on the pommel of his sword, as if to reinforce in Jin Guangyao’s eyes the image of him as a capable, responsible leader of one of the four great sects.

But a moment after, he seemed to soften, handing over an expression nearly of gratitude with surprising ease. “Lianfang-zun,” he said. “Thank you for taking care of Jin Ling.”

The words settled over him like dust before sinking in, and Jin Guangyao’s eyes widened, just a fraction, despite himself. They were said with all apparent seriousness, and even so, he couldn’t help but look, instinctively, for the cutting implication the sentiment must have encased.

But he maintained his smile, empty, in the meantime; polished it with an almost demurring acceptance given only half of his attention. And at the end - he didn’t, or couldn’t, find anything truly objectionable about the gratitude to shred against the sharp skin of his soul. Jiang Wanyin, likewise ever sharp with his tongue on all other occasions, apparently meant it.

Jin Guangyao took a slow breath in, wavering in his lungs, and looked away.

#that time James wrote fic #Jin Guangyao #Jiang Cheng #no good things for the poor sad cultivators #yes Jin Ling is being taken out to watch a night hunt when he's like 5 #yes I decided I would justify that bc I wanted to set this in the period before JGS is dead #*waves hands* ehhhhh timelines

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takivvatanga · 4 years

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open home.

“To tell you the truth, I’ve driven past this place at least five times just this week. I think it’s absolutely gorgeous.” The blonde woman beams, shifts her weight from one foot to the other with barely contained excitement as she grasps for her husband’s hand, holding it tightly in hers.

Stella swallows the lump in her throat. She doesn’t know this woman from a bar of soap, but here, in this moment, her mannerisms remind her of her mother and it hurts.

“I’m glad to hear it”, Stella replies. “It’s… a good house. It deserves someone who will appreciate it.”

“Are you kidding me? It’s more than just good, it’s great! Isn’t it, David?”

The bespectacled man nods. His eyes are large and bright behind his dark-rimmed glasses.

“It’s pretty good”, he concedes.

“Oh, come on darling. It’s exactly what we talked about. What we thought we might want.”

“I guess.”

“Would it kill you to be just a little bit more enthusiastic?”

Stella can’t help but chuckle a little. They seem like a nice couple, bickering aside.

Mum and Dad wouldn’t mind them living here.

“So, first things first.” The blonde drops her voice to a faux-conspiratorial whisper. There’s a gleam of mischief in her green eyes. “Why is the owner even selling? I mean, this is a great location, and the house is nothing short of a dream. Why would anyone give up a place like this?”

Why would anyone, indeed.

“My parents passed away.”

Four words. Four words that do not even come close to conveying her grief, her sleepless nights, the agonising internal debate on what to bloody well do with the place. The decision, equally painful and liberating, to let go.

“Oh, you’re the owner. I am so very sorry, I thought you were the agent. Are they… coming, still? The agent, I mean.”

The man – David – frowns, visibly uncomfortable. “I am sorry”, he says. His gaze is fixed on some indeterminate point just behind Stella. “This kind of thing is really hard.”

Stella feels her eyes starting to burn. Sorry won’t bring them back. Sorry won’t make this easy, either. What he says is nothing new. She’s heard those phrases a million times before. The funerals – what tragedy, both of them gone within three months of each other – are still vivid in her mind. Stella stood alone, solemn, dressed in black, her body, no – her soul feeling impossibly heavy as the seemingly neverending string of mourners filed past her, handshake after clammy handshake, condolence after hollow condolence.

No, it’s not what he says. It’s how he says it. There’s something genuine in his voice, something heartfelt. Something authentic. Maybe, just maybe, Stella wouldn’t mind if he lived here.

“It’s okay”, she concedes, her hand rising up to fidget with the little silver blackbird pendant around her neck.

Are you okay with this, Mum? she asks inside her mind. Will you be angry with me for selling? I just can’t live here, Mum. It feels so empty. It used to be home, but without you and Dad it just isn’t right anymore. It feels like a skin waiting to be shed. I have to do this, Mum, and I hope you understand.

“I wanted to do this on my own. It’s important to me. Part of the process, I guess. I want to make sure that it’s a good match. For the house. I know this sounds odd, but – I grew up here. My parents put their heart and soul into this place, and I really would like to see it go to someone who can appreciate it for that. I don’t want this to be just another item on someone’s investment portfolio. It’s always been a home, and it’s important to me that it stays that way.” Stella brushes a stray curl off her face. Her hair is shot through with strands of grey. Salt and pepper. These people are younger than her, by quite a bit. She doesn’t usually feel old, but right now she does.

“It’s pretty straight forward, really.” She gestures for them to follow her through the house, their footsteps echo in the empty hallway. Stella never quite realised how spacious the house really is. In her mind, it’s small, cramped, filled to the brim with her mother’s things. They fill a storage unit, now. It was the sensible thing to do. Going through everything, deciding what to keep and what to sell or give away is a task of near epic proportions, and even though Stella is chipping away at it, bit by bit, there is still a lot to be done.

“Master bedroom to the right. Second bedroom to the left. Do you have children?”

“No.” The blonde woman’s reply is immediate, curt, her voice suddenly cold, defensive. She wants them, Stella thinks. She wants them, she will always want them, but she’ll never have them. She doesn’t know how she knows. She just does.

Stella nods in acknowledgement, leads onwards.

“Two more rooms upstairs. One has a balcony, as you’ve surely seen from outside. It was my father’s study. The other was set up as a darkroom. My mother did a lot of photography.”

“This is so spacious, I adore it. So much room. We could do so much with this, couldn’t we, David?”

“I guess.” ”You don’t like it, do you, darling?”

David once again looks uncomfortable. He runs his hand over one of the smooth, recently painted walls.

“It’s not that.”

“What is it then?”

It is Stella’s turn to be uncomfortable. Whatever is going on between these two, it has nothing to do with her and she’d prefer to keep it that way.

Thankfully, David only shakes his head, a small, defeated gesture. Stella doesn’t miss her chance.

“I’ll just take you through into the lounge. And the kitchen and dining area. Open plan, as you can see. Gets the sun all day around, too.”

“Does the fireplace… does it work?”

Stella nods.

“Of course it does.”

She remembers her mother, standing in the doorway, carrying the basket of wood against her hip, illuminated from the hall lights behind her, unintentionally and impossibly graceful.

She remembers the concentration on her father’s face as he strikes the match, the way his eyes light up with satisfaction when the fire catches perfectly on the first try.

“It works perfectly.”

“Perfect. Just perfect. And I love the french doors, too!”

”Yes, they open up onto the garden. The garden is… quite something.”

Her mother’s garden. Her pride and joy. A little bit strange, just like her. Soft. Good. Surprisingly complex. Stella has tried her best to keep up with it, haphazardly, out of duty rather than enjoyment. It’s gotten away on her. The peas have gone wild, the bougainvillea has overgrown the fence. The roses have survived, somehow. The clematis – the bloody clematis. How many hours has she spent trying to prune the damn thing back, trying to get it under control, sweat beading on her forehead, her hands in her mother’s gardening gloves?

“Oh, we’re not worried about the garden. It’s a waste of time, gardening. We’ll likely concrete most of it. You know, like a patio? With a nice tidy decorative lawn. I mean, who can be bothered actually maintaining a garden, nowadays?”

Stella’s face turns to stone.

She can’t allow this. She won’t allow this. This was her mother’s lifelong labour of love, and Stella cannot with a clean conscience let it be buried under concrete.

“I don’t think this is the right place for you.”

The blonde woman looks up at her, irritated. The man won’t meet her eye.

“I’m not going to sell to you.”

“But… we haven’t even made an offer.”

“And you won’t. Because I won’t sell.”

“And you just decided this now?”

“Leave it, Katie. There’s plenty of other places still on our list. It doesn’t have to be this one.”

“But I love this house.”

“No.” Stella’s voice is firm, sharp, cold.

“You don’t love it how it needs to be loved. How it deserves to be loved. How I want it to be loved.”

“It’s only a house.”

Stella lifts an eyebrow, crosses her arms over her chest.

“That… is exactly what I mean. Because it’s not just a house. It’s a home. And it deserves to be treated with respect. Honoured. I’m sure there’s plenty new builds that will suit you much better than this place. You know, with a nice concrete patio and a tidy little lawn. If you don’t mind, I think I would like you to leave now.”

Katie opens her mouth, closes it again. David puts his hand on her shoulder, shakes his head no. “I’m sorry about this –“ he starts.

Stella shakes her head.

“It’s fine.” ______

“I couldn’t do it, Mum. I couldn’t let that happen. I thought they were nice people, and maybe they are, but I don’t want them living here. Tearing up your garden. Your garden.”

Stella sits crosslegged on the bare floor in the lounge, in the exact spot where the couch used to be. The house is silent and dark and empty, but Stella doesn’t feel alone.

“Maybe I’m not ready for this, after all. Maybe I need more time. Maybe…” Stella sighs, closes her eyes.

Outside, in the garden, a little blackbird sings.

@starscorned pls accept this self-indulgent offering bc i been yelling about it for days now

#vignette: stella #just had this scene in my head all week idek #thinking about middle aged stella grieving her parents #and she just #she won't let herself grieve she's just in action mode #sort everything out organise everything #don't sell the house stella you're not ready to let go

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atamascolily · 4 years

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One of the exercises in Julia Cameron’s The Vein of Gold is to compile a list of favorite movies--or ones with images that resonate with you--and note any patterns that arise. Here are some of mine, with observations below.

(For the purposes of this exercise, I’m sticking with live-action films, but there’s no reason why there couldn’t be animated films.)

1. Star Wars Original Trilogy (Star Wars, The Empire Strikes Back, Return of the Jedi)

(Yes, I know this is technically three films, with three different directors and independent histories, but I didn’t feel like listing them all separately.)

2. The Lord of the Rings: The Fellowship of the Ring

Ironically, I love the first Peter Jackson movie, but not any of the subsequent ones. Which is not to say they’re necessarily bad movies, but they’re not the ones I’d want on endless loop. (Part of this is because The Two Towers and The Return of the King are essentially war movies, and also because I have to watch Faramir act OOC, which hurts my soul.)

3. The Secret Garden

4. The Matrix

I actually don’t have strong feelings about Reloaded and Revolutions--like, the actual plot is weird, but I am so not watching these films for plot.

5. Return to Oz

6. Inception

7. Labyrinth

8. The Terminator

Don’t get me wrong, Terminator 2 has a lot going for it, but it’s not the one that I can’t stop thinking about (except for that one deleted scene with Michael Biehn, which is a totally different story).

Thoughts and Themes:

So at first glance, it seems like I have two separate categories: ‘80s and ‘90s-’00s films. Or maybe it’s sci-fi and fantasy? The Secret Garden is the only one that even approaches some kind of realism, and even that is a pastoral kind of world that would not be out of place in the more peaceful parts of, say, Middle-Earth (especially Fourth Age). How about high-tech vs. low-tech, or cyberpunk vs. fairy tale? Or, even better, what about reality vs. illusion (or story vs. truth if you prefer)--which is also a major tension within every film on this list?

I’ll also note that most of these films have an epic color palette, with memorable landscapes that either serve as characters in and of themselves, or symbolize the mental states of various characters. These films are beautiful works of art, reveling in The Aesthetic, whether that’s the idyllic peacefulness of the Shire or the grimy back alleys of 1980s Los Angeles.

The thing that really got me when I laid it out like this--the thing I hadn’t noticed before--was that all of these involve a (sometimes literal) rebirth, transition, or journey from darkness to light (or light to darkness to light again, depending on the work). You could also substitute life and death here, and not change much.

This is, again, often quite literal: Sarah moves underground in Labyrinth, the Fellowship descends into the Mines of Moria, the secret garden comes to life with the spring, Dorothy confronts the Nome King in his underground lair. Neo wakes up to find himself naked and soaked to the skin, and flushed down the tubes like garbage, in a literal hellscape where the machines destroyed the sun (a motif that also appears in Terminator’s dystopian future), then literally dies and is resurrected at the end of the film. Luke goes underground to confront his own double--another recurring theme!--on Dagobah.

Duality and the exploration of one’s soul through another world is HUGE big theme--or, to put it another way, The internal mirrors the external. This is a huge motif of Inception, which is a literal inward journey into a character’s psyche; and you could also make the argument that both Return to Oz and Labyrinth cover similar territory. Is Oz real, or is it in Dorothy’s head? Is Ozma a part of her, or is Ozma a separate entity? Is Jareth a real foe or is he the embodiment of Sarah’s fears and desires, a fantasy she concocts based on a story in a book? And Frodo realizes he’s not so different from Gollum, that the sad shriveled creature is what he could become if he fails at his task--and, ironically, his kindness to Gollum is what allows the quest to succeed when Frodo finally succumbs to temptation.

Frodo in the The Fellowship of the Ring sees the world differently when he wears the One Ring, and it’s terrifying. Sarah Connor realizes that she’s left her ordinary world behind and crossed into Kyle and the Terminator’s reality in a moving speech, and The Matrix doesn’t even try to be subtle. Even The Secret Garden uses the eponymous garden as a metaphor for the blossoming of Mary’s own soul, and the souls of those around her (especially her uncle and cousin, but also Ben Weatherstaff).

These stories are also concerned with ecology, though it’s usually a background motif, since the main focus is on saving the world (or what’s left of it, i.e, humans). The Shire is paradise; Mordor is a desolate hellscape, dominated by a giant volcano. Kyle Reese breaks down over the beauty of the world, and Mary Lennox seeks to bring the lost garden back to life. Dorothy retreats elsewhere after the grey grimness of Kansas/the mental hospital.

There’s also a real tension concerning humans’ relationship to technology in these films. The Matrix is an illusion, and machines control the earth. Or the machines don’t even bother farming humans and aim to kill ‘em all. Saruman literally transforms Isengard from a tree-lined field to an industrial hellscape. The mental institution uses that freaky electrical machine on Dorothy. Star Wars is more accepting of droids and technology, but even there, there’s tension: Obi-wan calls Darth Vader “more machine than man,” and it’s not a compliment; the Death Star is built to obliterate entire planets and must be stopped twice.

I’d argue this theme goes deeper than human/tech--it’s really human/other, with technology providing one kind of other. There’s human-alien interactions in Star Wars and Labyrinth, not to mention Mary’s relationship with the robin in The Secret Garden, Dorothy’s friendship with Jack Pumpkinhead and the Gump. On a less friendly note, Frodo’s relationship with Gollum is the emotional crux of the Lord of the Rings.

These films also feature the classic hero’s journey, but often through a female lens. The protagonist usually has no special skills other than their strong moral character and determination--or even if they do have skills (like Ariadne*), they still serve as an audience surrogate or substitute, a stranger to the new worlds they visit. The protagonist has at least one faithful friend/companion/love interest to help them (sometimes even a team/found family), and often a mentor as well (who may or may not be a crusty eccentric). In the end, the characters must take control of their own destiny--Frodo chooses to leave the Fellowship, Luke throws away his lightsaber rather than kill his father, Sarah declares to Jareth “You have no power over me”. Sarah Connor yells, “On your feet, soldier!” and keeps going to the bitter end, and Mary Lennox is unafraid of her bratty cousin’s wrath and puts a stop to it when everyone else enables him.

*(As an aside, I know Ariadne’s not the main character in Inception, but I find the actual main character way less interesting, so she’s the one I focus on, just like I find Trinity far more compelling than Neo.)

Characters often have Meaningful Names: Morpheus, Trinity, Neo; Ariadne; Luke Skywalker, Han Solo. These films also feature a question of fate and inevitability - Luke has precognitive visions, Neo consults the Oracle, Sarah is told “there is no fate but what we make for ourselves,” with Kyle serving as an oracle of sorts with messages from the future to come. The Mirror of Galadriel shows possible futures for the Shire, too.

Another theme is that the protagonist must suffer and/or work hard for their transformation. Mary has to do the actual work of gardening; Luke has to sweat and do handstands (beautifully, I might add); Frodo has to walk to Mount Doom; Sarah has to walk the labyrinth, and Sarah Connor has to survive a fucking nightmare. Dorothy has to rescue the royal family of Ev and free Ozma; Ariadne has to design a dream-puzzle for the heist to work. Even Neo has to train with Morpheus--though he’s able to use cheat codes to download martial arts directly into his brain without having to sweat for it; his real journey is in self-confidence.

In keeping with the stunning visuals, impossible feats are regularly featured, and excellent, cutting-edge-for-their-time special effects are prominent. Many also feature stunning fight scenes--the classic Luke vs. Vader duel on Cloud City; the “I know Kung fu” sequence in The Matrix; the clashes in The Fellowship of the Ring. Jareth has some excellent moves in Labyrinth, too, although he’s more inclined to dance than traditional battles.

I couldn’t resist contrasting my favorite moment in Return to Oz--rescuing Ozma from the mirror prison--with Ariadne shattering her own reflection in Inception, because that is such a moment for me, encapsulating all of the reality/illusion, internal/external, self/other dichotomies I mentioned above. (See also the Mirror of Galadriel above.) Inception and Labyrinth also share the motif of impossible Escher staircases, which I freakin’ adore.

It will probably come as no surprise to note that I also enjoyed films like The Dark Crystal, The Neverending Story, and What Dreams May Come, which tap into similar themes and imagery. You’ll probably be able to guess that The Sword in the Stone is my favorite animated Disney film, too.

I also love a number of Asian films like Hero, House of Flying Daggers, and Crouching Tiger, Hidden Dragon, all of which feature beautiful landscapes and color palettes, stunning fight scenes and special effects, along with a healthy dose of the fantastic, and a focus on story vs. reality (often with a plot twist or surprise reveal at the end). This is unsurprising when you consider the strong debt both Star Wars and The Matrix owe to Asian cinema in terms of style, plot, and aesthetic. In those films, the tension is more society vs. self, but duality is still very strongly present.

If you notice any other patterns or recurring themes, let me know; I’d love to hear them! Also, if you can think of any other movies I might enjoy based on this, let me know.

#writing exercises #personal writing meta #favorite gifs #vein of gold

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fashionandtrauma · 5 years

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Paranoia

Paranoid ideation is one of the main symptoms meeting the criteria for borderline pathology. Perhaps it could even be said that it underlies many of the symptoms of this disorder; frantic efforts to avoid real or imagined abandonment, alternating between extremes of idealization and devaluation, and transient stress related paranoia or severe dissociation. For me the main causes of these states of mood and behavior is often an intense fear or paranoia of abandonment or the replaying of a very early traumatic event from childhood.

This past week I have experienced what I believe to be paranoid ideation. It’s something that I have felt before in doses while under stress, fearing social situations and judgment that had the potential to destroy my fragile sense of self. I have never experienced it to the tremendous level that I felt it these last few days. I have been having a hard time lately in my therapy and I think this has initiated intense anxiety for me. The profound dependency I have for my therapist causes me so much pain and fear very often on a daily moment to moment basis, if I allow it. Under this stress I have been fluctuating greatly between my extreme moods and black and white thinking. I am seeing my therapist in the darkest of ways as such a malicious figure, the enemy to be feared. I experience her as sadistic and withholding. I am the vulnerable child, she holds all of the power and she has the potential to destroy me. I have never experienced such overwhelming paranoia in regards to this relationship. I find myself up late at night and into the morning intensely googling any article I can find to prove she is in fact out to hurt me. Anything from “how to tell your therapist is retraumatizing you” to “red flags” and “how to know your therapy isn’t working”, the list goes on and on. I lose myself in this deep state of concentration, reading rapidly with intent, the hours quickly passing and fading away. I cannot break free from that vortex of thinking. It’s like I am in psychosis.

Sometimes I find something that convinces me I am right on the mark in my thinking. She has been known to be late sometimes and pick up her phone in session. It often feels like she won’t admit when she’s done something to hurt me or will feel resentful when I bring it up. These things only work to prove my theory that she hates me, doesn’t care and is out to hurt me. I receive a jolt of justification from my reading and I run through my head over and over the speech I’m going to give to her the next time I can get in that room of hers, fuming with rage ready to take her down. I just cannot wait until I get into that room. A very real part of me knows this is nutso, but then there’s the sick borderline part of me that believes in this thinking and feels it’s really real. I have no clue what is reality and what is made up in the chaotic place called my mind. I just haven’t learned yet. Why won’t you tell me everything Dr. O? Let me in on the secret. Teach me everything you know and will pass on to your girls in their lifetime. I just want it all. I need it so desperately. How will I ever heal?

Really I’m not sure why this is happening now, after 3 years of seeing her. She is the closest person to me in my life meaning that she knows me the best, all of my secrets and inner demons, she understands me, I am very insecurely attached and terrified. Why is this occurring right now though and to such an extreme extent? Am I just looking for a very real excuse to run? I love the idea of leaving her, fleeing from this relationship and becoming unburdened by this pain. I hate to be close to her, to rely on her, it hurts so much more than I can put into words. At the same time when I allow myself to be vulnerable and connected it is the best feeling I’ve ever felt. Does this mean the therapy is working? I’m really not sure. While I want so badly to just quit right now I’m not sure if I would regret it for the rest of my life. Time is running out for me to be relieved of this illness, to live a normal and healthy life, to have all of the things that I never had; love, security, happiness, family. It feels impossible for me right now in this twisted state of mind to imagine I could attain those things. It seems like the most difficult task in the world to make someone fall in love with me. How I would have to trick them. Oftentimes I don’t know how I can keep traveling on, forging ahead despite all of this neverending pain and anguish, but when it’s a new day and I look back I am always glad I did.

#borderline personality disorder #bpd #mental health #mental illness #ptsd #trauma #being borderline #hope #recovery #borderline #therapy #transference

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soimarriedayuki · 5 years

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Wrapping Paper

I’ve already mentioned before but when it comes to wrapping gifts quite often my husband deems it too much extra fuss to find pretty paper to wrap a gift in. He will fold over the plastic carrier back or just hand you it from wherever he has hidden it.

I remember I was given a new scarf after he snuck up behind me in a shopping centre once and wrapped it around my neck. Sounds romantic, doesn’t it? Well, it would have been had I not been in the process of walking and he effectively choked me with it... but I digress. This is a short thing about my struggle with pretty paper.

---

I don’t have a particularly large family, however, I married into one and result of that was a lot more gifts to wrap for the festive holidays. I’ve never seen much point behind the seemingly endless stuff that we pick up from the shops at this time of year but it was stuff they had all asked for so here I was 6 rolls of pretty wrapping paper, 2 rolls of sellotape, some ribbons, gift tags and a pair of scissors. Sitting in the middle of my living room floor while the kid is in bed trying to work out how I am going to wrap everything.

“What are you doing?” My husband asks rubbing his eyes. He had been outside so the bright light of the living room was probably a little too much for him at the minute.

“Conducting the philharmonic orchestra in a rendition of Tchaikovsky’s Nutcracker. What does it look like I’m doing?” I reply sarcastically. He ignores it and just looks at the pile of gifts and wrapping supplies.

“Want some help?” His question has me wondering if someone swapped him with someone else. Who is this pod person?

“Yeah... but are you sure you can?”

“It’s just paper how hard can it be?” He shrugged and sat down next to me crossing his legs like he does when playing games with our daughter on the floor.

“I remember someone saying the same thing about origami and then getting really angry.” I chuckled as I remembered him sitting at the dining table trying to follow a child's origami book so he could make a frog.

“Of course I got angry. I’ve never seen so many tiny fiddly steps to make something in my life.” He huffed.

“And that’s why you settled on making a paper boat and not a frog or crane or something?”

“Shut up just hand me some paper and something to wrap and I’ll help.” He looked grumpy but not angry. I handed him the things and we settled in to get the gifts wrapped.

---

It felt like a lot of extra work not only was I wrapping my own pile I was correcting him as he tried to wrap his own. This was when we got to some small things and there was not a box or bag to put them in. I started folding over some paper and began making a small bag. It wasn’t going to be as strong as the shop bought ones but it would hold the gifts without looking like a disaster. That was when the phone went and I got up to answer it.

I returned after a few minutes and stopped dead in the doorway. My darling husband was sitting in a pile of scrunched up paper, the small gifts nowhere to be seen and what looked like a very old tv antenna or tree branch in his hands.

“What are you doing?” I asked a little horrified.

“I wrapped them for you.” He replied looking very happy with himself. “It was the last of your pile right? So we’re done now and can relax. Its all wrapped.”

“You mean that is the last of the wrapping?” I pointed at his hands.

“Yeah... something wrong with it?” He looked at me his smile faltering.

“I think it would be a shorter list if I told you what was right with it.” I moved to get a closer look. Honestly, it looked like a patchwork collage of paper and tape. How do you even make something like that?

“Is it that bad?” He mumbled. He looked obviously deflated. The small things were actually things for me. Miniature cosmetics and just tiny things that went with some books I wanted. I might poke fun at him and tease him to distraction but for all my faults and his, even I have a heart.

“Oh huni... hang on I’ll do something.” I put my hand on his slumped shoulders and gave him what I hoped to be a reassuring smile.

I went out to the garden shed and found some new plant pots picked one up and went back inside. He looked at me curiously as I took a big ribbon and wrapped the terracotta pot then took his unsupervised attempt at wrapping and put it in the pot with some of the wasted paper to keep it upright. It now looked like a wrapped tree branch and after putting a few bows and ribbons on it I turned back to him and smiled.

“Finished.”

“I knew there was a reason I married you.” He laughed and gave me a hug.

“Oh yeah, what was that?”

“You make me look good.” He spoke into my neck as he rested his head on my shoulder looking at the pile of wrapped presents.

“A very long neverending task indeed.” I nodded.

“Hey!” He cried out grabbing a cushion from the couch playfully batting me. I pulled away from him in time to grab a cushion of my own and block his next attack.“Oh you are going to pay for that one Dummy.”

“Oh yeah? you gotta catch me first!” I sick my tongue out before vaulting over the furniture to make my quick escape.

We ended up running around the house as quietly as we could laughing having our little pillow fight. I guess the festive season is really here.

---

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giftsformomhjrj157-blog · 4 years

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Things about New Mother Gifts

Life as a new mommy can be a little bit disorderly, to claim the least. As a brand-new mommy gets used to a different schedule, transforming concerns, and also just how to best look after her new infant, it's easy to fail to remember to take a while to care for herself. A thoughtful, helpful gift can make a mama's task simpler, provide her an useful possibility for self-care, and also leave her sensation pampered, as well.

Yet developing gifts for brand-new moms isn't easy, and that's why we have actually found 25 fantastic present ideas to aid you begin. The gifts in this overview are functional and typically flexible. While every mother is different, possibilities are you can discover the ideal present for a new mama in the ideas listed below.

Because you can hold a Kindle with one hand, a new mom can review her preferred books while nursing or container feeding. Mother can also quickly throw a Kindle into her bag when heading off to a physician visit, making it a suitable present for busy parents. When working on little rest as well as trying to care for a brand-new child, household chores can obtain pushed to the bottom of the order of business.

New Mum Gifts Fundamentals Explained

Moms and dads will certainly have one less thing to fret around as well as can take pleasure in a clean residence, also. Given that the quantity of time that new mothers reach sleep is restricted, it is essential that they get high quality sleep whenever feasible. This weighted blanket develops a relaxing, soothing feeling to aid Mommy sleep quickly and easily, whether catching a fast nap while the baby rests or kipping down for the night.

These stemless glass come in handy not just for taking beverages on the go, however additionally for around the home when managing infant and also trying to end up a mug of tea or coffee. Searching for time for a shower, full with cleaning as well as styling your hair, can be a challenge for new mothers.

With the Instantaneous Pot, meal prep is quick as well as hands-off. The Instantaneous Pot prepares foods 70 percent quicker than typical food preparation techniques, conserving moms and dads time on meal prep. It can work as a rice maker, yogurt manufacturer, sluggish cooker, and also much more, as well as is excellent for a hectic moms and dad's way of life. A comfortable, soft pair of pyjamas can help to maintain new moms comfortable.

The Buzz on Newborn Gifts

They make a wonderful gift to welcome brand-new mothers home with. Maternity as well as inviting a child can develop several emotions, including anxiety in new moms. This workbook can aid moms-to-be and also new moms to browse their changing lives and also feelings. Composed by psychological health experts, the workbook can assist mothers to feel listened to, comprehended, and not so alone.

7 handcrafted grains can assist to soothe teething pain, as well as the necklace's design permits it to combine well with virtually any kind of outfit. Helpful, comfortable, as well as supplying generous above-the-waist coverage, these leggings provide new moms many benefits. Nursing mothers can delight in full tummy protection when nursing, and also the encouraging design of the leggings is ideal for C-section healing.

With numerous last-minute demands for a brand-new infant, new moms make certain to find lots of ways to put an Amazon.com gift card to use. The very first years of a child's life are hectic ones for parents, however this publication gives mamas a chance to think of and also record a few of the most vital elements of their child's early years.

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Parent is complete of shocks and a lot of inquiries. This publication can help new moms navigate their first year with a brand-new baby, as well as it can develop their confidence at the very same time. This is a must-have publication for any kind of expecting parent or new mommy. Ecologically friendly and cleanable, these nursing pads make a great gift for eco-conscious mothers.

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The pads are made from natural bamboo, so they're both soft and also high-grade. Moms need to be able to make the most of any opportunity to rest they obtain, as well as this rest mask. Its 3D style means it does not produce stress on Mother's eyes, however instead efficiently obstructs out light and allows her sleep even when she's trying to nap in the middle of a warm day.

Incorporating warmth with deep kneading massage, this massager can alleviate aching neck muscular tissues from holding a baby or can help a mama kick back in prep work to obtain some much-needed remainder. New mothers often obtain lots of gifts for their babies, but this present is made with Mom in mind. An all purpose salve, recovery body butter, newborn salve, and also lip balms offer Mommy a lot of means to pamper herself, and also a Postpartum Balancer natural tea functions herbs that aid brand-new mothers with their postpartum recovery.

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Mom can take it with her and also utilize it in the cars and truck, in a rocking chair, on the sofa, and anywhere else to help ease muscle mass tension and also discomfort. It's excellent for usage while nursing or rocking a baby. For nursing mommies, this caffeine-free organic tea sustains bust milk production and also promotes lactation.

Treat a new mommy to a calming massage therapy with a Spafinder Health gift card. A new mother can utilize this card each time when it's convenient for her, as well as can take pleasure in a selection of indulging solutions, consisting of massage therapy, facials, and also much more. This thoughtful gift provides a brand-new mommy the perfect reason to take a little much-deserved time for herself.

Whether checking out while she rocks her child to rest or enjoying some quiet time to herself with an excellent book, a brand-new mom can delight in the understandings and observations on the emotional side of mothering from an award-winning author. Versatile as well as certain to be placed to great usage, this nursing cover as well as scarf can double as a poncho, shawl, safety seat cover and cover.

All about Baby Presents

The cover uses privacy when nursing in public areas, assists to color a baby from the sun, and also makes for a cozy snooze area, as well. This high quality set of slippers will keep a brand-new mommy comfy around the residence, whether looking at the infant in the night or making breakfast in the morning.

These slippers have a rubber sole, so they can double for exterior usage, too, such as obtaining the paper or making a fast trip out to the auto. Listings come to be an active mama's friend, and also this multiple-use note pad uses an effective as well as environment-friendly way for moms to keep every one of their important notes in one area.

The Rocketbook application sends notes to the cloud for easy access as well as storage space, excellent for the mama on the move. With a new infant, it can be hard for Mommy to rise and also transform the thermostat temperature level, decline the music, or examine the climate. The Amazon Mirror Dot can do every one of those things for her as well as a lot more.

The Baby Boy Gifts PDFs

This present makes certain to see a lot of use while the family has a new infant in the home, yet it's likewise a present that households will certainly remain to make use of for years to come. For more great gift-giving suggestions, make certain to evaluate the added resources listed below.

Inside: If you want to make a brand-new mama really feel unique, skip the flowers and offer her among these meaningful brand-new mama presents that will stand the test of time. Perk: These presents for new moms are actually for her EXCEPT the infant. Babies require a great deal of stuff.

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However in the rush to get all the newborn should haves on the infant's computer registry, it's easy to forget something: The mom-to-be remains in for the ride of her life. Not only is the brand-new mommy ready to undergo one of one of the most physically unpleasant experiences of her life, but after the baby comes, she'll be stuck on what really feels like a neverending psychological roller coaster.

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But if you desire to sustain a brand-new mama in your life by surprising her with the gift, what do you obtain someone who's super psychological, sleep-deprived, and has definitely no leisure time? I've had four infants, so family and friends typically ask me for guidance on what's the most effective gift to obtain for a new mom: flowers, a card, or? Since also though an industrial-sized pack of non reusable nursing pads would certainly serve, the majority of individuals want to know the very best new mom gifts that will really make the brand-new mother really feel unique and enjoyed.

After each of my babies were born, I was to receive a few thoughtful presents that made my life as a mom less complicated during those very early newborn days. Those presents weren't the normal brand-new mommy presents that you become aware of, however they made such an effect on me that I wished to pay it ahead as well as share them below.

But I likewise combed listing after checklist after checklist to find meaningful gifts for brand-new moms, after that numerous moms who subscribe to my newsletter shared their favorite brand-new mommy presents, as well. If you want to make a new mama feel special, miss the blossoms as well as offer her among these significant brand-new mommy gifts that will certainly stand the examination of time.

Not known Factual Statements About Mother And Baby Gifts

Surprise her with this fun coffee registration box where she can example brand-new roasts and locate a brand-new fave. Sort of like a white wine tasting but with coffee and also delivered straight to her door. To round out this present, you can add a spill-proof insulated coffee cup like this joyful tumbler.

( Side note: Numerous nursing specialists agree that nursing mamas can have coffee in moderation.) Almost every mama I surveyed said they enjoyed this new mommy present: Make your best dinner or soup you can freeze, and also give it to the mom to make use of on an evening when the family members is also tired to make dinner.

A couple of things to take into consideration for this present suggestion: Lasagna is normally the leading talented dish, so if you have another fantastic meal you can present, the new mom will possibly value some variety! Incentive if it's a meal she can eat one-handed while holding the baby, as well as bonus if you drop it off in a new baking dish and tell her, "Don't worry concerning returning the dishit's yours!" To be on the side, you might want to examine beforehand to learn if there are any kind of food allergies or aversions.

Newborn Gifts Fundamentals Explained

As one mom told me, "I yearned for cheeseburgers for several weeks postpartum!" As an additional option, present cards to Grubhub or Uber Eats make wonderful new mother presents since the household can select exactly what they want. A few mamas told me they actually valued when close friends supplied to bring a dish the very first month or more because offers helpful often tend to run out by after that, however it's still a tough time for the brand-new moms and dads.

You can team up with the mother's other enjoyed ones and organize a meal calendar where you all take transforms going down off meals. "A former co-worker arranged like 20 days of dinners that were dropped offIt was almost every evening for 2 weeks approximately, and also it was incredible! Some brought warm dishes right at supper, some brought points early that I can ice up or appear the oven, one purchased pizza for us, one requested our Panera order and also dropped it off ALL of it was incredible!" Sarah Absolutely nothing http://edition.cnn.com/search/?text=gifts for mom & new born defeats a fresh, home-cooked dish, but the brand-new mother may not have time to look for healthy and balanced dishes as well as do the grocery store buying to choose up all the components.

They send you a shown, simple dish and all the ingredients, as well as you simply have to toss everything together. If you desire to try it out, below's a voucher code to get $30 off your first order from Blue Apron. Initially glimpse, I believed The Very first Forty Days: The Necessary Art of Nourishing the New Mother was a book of postpartum recipes.

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Bang Bang, My Baby Shot Me Down

by mldrgrl Rated: PG Summary: Post-Tithonus. Mulder makes a confession that Scully can’t agree with and ends up getting herself (more) hurt in the process.

She tried very hard not to resent his hovering, but it was a difficult task. She was grateful, truly grateful to him for staying in New York and for driving her back home as soon as she could get herself released. Though her relationship with Mulder had some ups and downs lately, she had felt, at the time, that allowing him to escort her back to DC was an easier option than calling her mother. At least she could bid Mulder adieu at her door, or so she thought.

Displaying more stubbornness than usual, Mulder insisted on seeing her comfortably ensconced in her apartment, which meant not just bringing her, and her bag, inside, but changing her sheets, getting her videos from Blockbuster, books to read, and groceries. She let him run all the errands he could think of because at least it got him out from underfoot. She just wanted to be alone with her pain and not have to pretend to be fine for anyone. Pretense was exhausting.

One of the more frustrating aspects of the nature of her gunshot wound was that no matter which way she turned, sat, lay, or breathed, she always felt a slight burning in her abdomen. Even if she was making a remarkably speedy recovery, something the doctors attributed to her overall health and fitness, it didn’t mean the healing was easy. Alone, she would’ve felt free to give in to the need to groan or curse in frustration. With Mulder there, she had to hide her grimaces. The smallest squeak and he was by her side asking if she was all right and what he could do.

She had been laying in bed for over an hour, propped up slightly by a pillow and lightly dozing. All that morning, whenever she sat up or stood up, a hot and cold flush would wash over her and she’d sway slightly with the feeling of being faint. It was an aftereffect of the blood loss, she knew, but the little pauses she took to collect herself had kept Mulder on her like a barnacle since she’d woken up and found him making oatmeal in her kitchen. She finally escaped him by feigning the need for a nap, which turned out to be the truth.

She heard the shuffle of Mulder’s feet outside her bedroom door, but she didn’t open her eyes. The door, which she kept ajar at his insistence, eked open and she felt his presence in her room. He whispered her name and she sighed, but kept her eyes closed.

“Yes?” she answered.

“Just wondering what kind of soup you want for lunch.”

“Go away, Mulder.”

“The doctor said you-”

“I don’t care what the doctor said,” she snapped and opened her eyes, annoyed and feeling smothered. “Why won’t you just go home?”

“I took the hippocratic oath before we left New York and it compels me to stay.”

“Well, I release you of your self-imposed indentured servitude.”

“I can’t do that, Scully.”

She sighed in exasperation and pushed herself up, gritting her teeth against the flare of throbbing pain it caused in her abdomen. The icy hot chill ran up her spine and a sheen of sweat instantly bloomed across her chest, making her flannel shirt stick to her skin slightly. She sucked in a breath as she swung her legs over the side of the bed and Mulder put his hands on her knees as though she might fall. She flung his hands away from her and he stumbled back with a look of shock on his face.

“Go home,” she growled.

“Scully, you need-”

“What I need is for you to leave me alone.” Her stomach began to burn with nausea and she swallowed hard to keep it down. “You’re not responsible for what happened, so just quit it with the guilt complex and go home. I’ll be fine. What I don’t need is this...this hovering and smothering and...and whatever it is that you’re doing here. I can take care of myself.”

Mulder blinked a few times and pursed his lips. She blew out a shaky breath and bent her head a little. Her muscles ached terribly and she had to slap a hand over her mouth as she felt the burn of bile rising from her gut to her throat.

With lightning reflexes, Mulder grabbed the wicker trash can that was at the side of her bed and held it up under her face. It took a few moments, but she finally shook her head and pushed his arm away. Her lips were wet from the pressure of her hand and she wiped them with her sleeve. Her shoulders tensed when Mulder tried to put a hand on her back.

“Go,” she whispered.

“This isn’t about guilt,” he said.

“I don’t care what it’s about. I don’t want you here.”

“I won’t think less of you for needing-”

“Dammit, Mulder, what I need is for you to get the hell out!” she exploded. “Why is that so hard for you to understand?”

Her outburst caused another flash of heat to rush through her, this time from her toes to her scalp. Prickles of sweat dotted her hairline and the skin under her eyes and above her lip and the back of her neck. Somewhere in the back of her mind she knew she was making herself worse, but if only Mulder would just leave, she could deal with it. It was her pain to deal with, and hers alone.

“You’re in pain,” Mulder said.

“Well thank you, Dr. Mulder, for stating the obvious. It’s called getting shot. It’s also called recovery, something I’m perfectly capable of achieving on my own.”

“Jesus, Scully, is that what this is about?” He tried to put a hand on her shoulder again, but she shrugged him off. She was too hot and it hurt too much for him to touch her. He backed away from her and clenched his fists at his sides. His posture was rigid.

“Go,” she said.

“No.”

“Go!”

“You don’t get to choose who you fall in love with,” he shouted at her. “It’s not fair, but you don’t! When you’re in pain, I’m in pain. I just want to help. Dammit, Scully, I just want to make you soup, because there’s nothing else I can do!”

She gaped at him. He paced away from her and threw up his hands in the annoyed, dismissive manner he had a habit of doing when she refuted one of his outlandish theories.

“Don’t look so surprised,” he said. “It shouldn’t come as such a shock, and it’s not the point.”

“Now you want to tell me how I should feel?”

This time is was Mulder that gaped. He stared at her for a long while and then his mouth snapped shut and his jaw clenched. He turned, but paused in her doorway. They were both still and silent for a long stretch of time. Without looking at her, he broke that silence with a hushed and strained voice.

“Call me if you need anything,” he said, and then he lowered his head and chuckled. “I guess I’ll see you when you’re cleared for desk duty.”

After he walked away, she waited until she heard the front door open and close before she slid off the bed and stood on shaky legs. The nerve of him for dropping a bomb on her like that at a time when she couldn’t fight back. She was angry. So angry.

If he had told her he loved her, she could handle that. She could roll her eyes and forgive him for being his typical jackass self. But, what did he know about being in love with someone? How could he say that to her? It was cruel and it was unfair. If it was a fight he was looking for, she was too weak to argue. Honestly, how dare he?

She slowly made her way to the kitchen, taking light, easy steps. A hand on the wall or the furniture helped. On the counter was six different kinds of canned soup, two bowls, and two spoons. A can opener sat on top of the can of chicken noodle. She knocked it off and it landed in the sink with a clatter. There was a slip of paper behind the cans, a list of some sort in Mulder’s handwriting. She picked it up.

Softer pillow for the couch That removable handle thing for the shower from that infomercial Those girly sponges with the soap inside - the mall body shop? Water bottles More gauze and tape? Relaxation CD (Enya?) Decaf coffee Anti-itch stuff

“God dammit,” she muttered, crumpling the list in her hand and hurling it across the counter.

With slow, calculated steps, she made her way to the living room and eased herself down onto the couch. There was a stack of Blockbuster videos on her coffee table and she studied the eclectic choices from afar. L.A. Confidential. Chitty Chitty Bang Bang. Die Hard. Invasion of the Body Snatchers. Dr. No. The Neverending Story. The Swiss Family Robinson.

Her brow furrowed with puzzlement. There seemed to be no rhyme or reason to the choices Mulder made. When it dawned on her, she closed her eyes and bit her lip. Nothing in that group was liable to make her laugh or cry.

So what? So what if he did all these thoughtful things for the first time in six years. Okay, that wasn’t true, he’d done a lot of thoughtful things for her in six years, but none of it meant he was in love with her. In love meant...in love meant...she didn’t know what in love meant. Certainly, that couldn’t be true. It might have been awhile, but she knew what being in love was like.

She thought back on her past and tried to recall the way she had felt about Jack and Daniel. Daniel had captivated her and thrilled her with his want for her; it was the first time she’d ever experienced being pursued so passionately. He was the first man to call her beautiful and to make her feel like her intelligence was something to be desired. She’d been in awe of his confidence and his brilliance. She did love him, but she also had to admit to herself that he also left her feeling unnerved most of the time. He could be belittling and controlling and when they disagreed, she often felt reduced to that of a teenager with a hopeless schoolgirl crush. Quite often, it seemed like he was trying to convince her that she should consider herself lucky to have caught his eye.

The enthrallment with Daniel dissipated and it soon became clear she was just the other woman. He was living a double life and she was a burden to him. When she’d tried to walk away, he’d told her he would leave his wife and child for her. That had caught her off guard and she did give the notion serious consideration. She tried to see her future as his wife and all she could envision was heartache.

When Jack entered her life, she was initially reticent about her feelings for him. He was yet another older and wiser teacher figure that she grew enamored of. She admired his passion and dedication to justice. When he spoke about making the world safer and making a difference, it moved her, inspired her, and she felt a great connection with him. His lofty, selfless ideals made him irresistibly attractive to her and in the end, she did the pursuing.

Because the affair with Daniel had left her feeling young and naive, she felt like an adult for the first time when she was with Jack. She had far more control in that relationship than with Daniel. It didn’t take long for her to realize the reason she played a dominant role was because the only thing Jack was truly passionate about was his work, not her. He wasn’t giving her independence, he just never really cared enough about her to require her presence. When she finally left, she wasn’t quite sure he really noticed.

Those were the two men in her life that she’d been the closest to being in love with, but she couldn’t conjure up the feelings she’d had past mere infatuation. The difficulties in the end overshadowed whatever else had been there.

She had no idea how to define her feelings for Mulder. Yes, she did love him. They were too close and had been through too much together for her not to feel some sort of love for him. He certainly had a combination of the qualities Jack and Daniel had that had initially enchanted her, but that she wasn’t so foolish to fall for again. He was brilliant and passionate and confident and dedicated. But, he was also narrow-minded, moody, unpredictable, and needy.

The nature of their relationship was not what she wanted to be thinking about with an aching gut and lethargic body. She should be focusing on putting mind over matter and convincing herself that the pain was a necessary, temporary evil that she could work through. Angry, she pushed herself up from the couch, got caught up in the blanket that fell at her feet in her rage, and hit the floor, narrowly missing the coffee table as she went down.

For just a moment, there was no discomfort, only the shock of the fall, and then a sharp, blinding pain exploded from her abdomen and radiated outward. She moaned in agony, couldn’t stop herself from clutching at her stomach as though the press of her hands could stop it, but it made it worse. She felt wet and didn’t know if it was from sweat or blood, terrified she’d ripped her stitches, but unable to lift her head to check.

Her arm was about the only thing she could lift and her fingers fumbled for purchase on the coffee table. By some miracle, her cell phone was the first thing in reach and she clutched it gratefully and hit speed dial number one. It rang for an unusually long amount of time before Mulder picked up. The tone in his voice was flat when he said his name. She swallowed the pain and tried not to sound as breathless as she felt.

“Come back,” she said.

“What do you need?” he asked.

She licked her lips and breathed through her nose. “I need you to please come back.”

“Why?”

“If you don’t come to me, I’ll come to you.” Obviously it was a lie, she wasn’t going anywhere. She couldn’t even get off the floor, but she knew if she threatened to do something dangerous and stupid, he would stop her at all costs.

“I’ll be right there.”

The click of disconnection was loud in her ear. She figured she had twenty to thirty minutes, tops, to try not to look so helpless. Tears burned at her eyes and slid hotly down her temples and she angrily wiped them away, but they kept up a steady stream. It was ridiculous. She didn’t even cry when she’d been shot, yet there she was, lying on her floor feeling sorry for herself and crying. She needed to pull herself together before Mulder got there to preserve at least some of her dignity.

The sound of locks turning startled her and she heard her front door swing open while Mulder softly called her name. She wiped at her eyes, but couldn’t suppress the pitiful sniffle that drew him to her.

“Scully!”

“I’m fine,” she said, automatically.

He crouched beside her and shoved the coffee table out of the way. “You are not fine. What happened?”

“What are you doing here?”

“You called me.”

“I know, but you left at least half an hour ago.”

He shrugged. “I was sitting in my car.”

“Doing what?”

“Thinking.”

“I tripped,” she whispered, and her chin wobbled as a fresh wave of emotion came over her.

He slid his hand under her neck and lifted her head gently to slip one of her throw pillows underneath and then wiped her temples with the side of his hand after he laid her down. “Should I call an ambulance?” he asked.

She shook her head, but then her eyes flicked down to her abdomen. “I don’t know if I ripped a stitch.”

“Do you want me to check?”

“Could you?”

“Okay.” He started to unbutton her flannel shirt at the bottom, working his way up just enough to expose her wound.

She watched his face until she felt his fingers lightly trace the square area of surgical tape holding down the gauze covering her wound. She didn’t see any blood, which was a good sign. He was going to need to pull the tape off though so they could determine if there was any damage. She closed her eyes.

“Just...peel from the top down,” she said.

“Okay.”

He put one hand on her ribs, above her wound and just below her breast. She wasn’t sure if he was trying to steady himself or her. She bit her lip when he started to peel the tape back. It didn’t hurt much more than she already was hurting, but it did slightly elevate the aggravation.

“Looks fine,” he said. “I think.”

She opened her eyes inspected the site. The stitches were intact and aside from the same normal redness and swelling, it looked okay. She nodded in agreement and closed her eyes again.

“Do I need to get a new bandage?” he asked.

“In the bathroom.”

He left her and then returned with the package of gauze, tape, and scissors that were given to her at the hospital. He’d also pulled out a pair of latex gloves from the box she’d put out with the supplies. They were sized for her hands and would never fit him.

“Let me,” she said, taking the gloves from him as he knelt beside her. He gave them up wordlessly and after she snapped them on, gave her the package of gauze. She plucked out one of the sheets and folded it into a small square. “Could you cut the tape?” she asked.

She held the gauze lightly over her wound as Mulder cut strips of tape and gently affixed them to her skin. She peeled the gloves off when he was done and he buttoned her shirt back down before he took the supplies back to the bathroom. He crouched down next to her again when he came back and looked her over.

“Would you like to get off the floor?” he asked.

“Yes.”

“What do you suggest?”

“I don’t know.”

He rubbed his hand across his chin a few times and then got down on his hands and knees. She watched him as he crawled over her at an angle, one hand between her hip and the couch and the other up high by her opposite shoulder. He leaned down so their noses were almost touching and her eyes widened a bit in surprise.

“Can you put her arms around me?” he asked.

“Yeah.”

He nodded and then angled his head to the side and lowered himself down even further to his elbow. She wrapped both her arms around his neck and he slid his arm under her thighs.

“I’m gonna lift you up,” he said. “Just stay relaxed, but keep your arms locked.”

She nodded against his cheek and he slowly tilted his upper body so that hers rose up with his. When she was nearly sitting up, he wrapped his arm around her back and paused. She nodded against his cheek again to let him know she was alright, and then he rearranged himself to get up on his knees and lift her up into his arms.

“Okay?” he asked once he was completely on his feet.

“I’m okay.” Her face was pressed against his neck where her arms were locked tight. Her upper body was erect and slightly angled into him, but it was comfortable and less painful than having been sprawled out on the floor.

“Where would you like to go?” he asked.

“Back to bed.”

He walked slowly to her bedroom, careful not to jostle her and overly cautious about moving her through the narrow hall and doorway so they wouldn’t accidentally bump a wall. He eased her onto the bed and lowered her in much the same way he’d lifted her, slowly and in stages, moving with her so that he was doing all the work. Once he let go of her, he stood back and shoved his hands into the pockets of his jeans.

“I can call your mother,” he said. “Someone should be here in case…”

She gave him a slight nod. “You’re probably right.”

“I’ll stay until she gets here. I’ll just...I’ll be in the other room.”

“Mulder.”

“What?”

“I need you to know that I don’t think I’m in the same place that you are.”

He dropped his head and looked uncomfortable. “Just forget about it, Scully. I shouldn’t have said anything.”

“I don’t want to forget about it. I want to know how you’re sure that what you feel is really what you think it is.”

“You think I wouldn’t know?”

“I think it could be mistaken. I think I’ve been mistaken in the past and I...I’m not sure I would know what it felt like. So, I’m asking because I just don’t know. I just...don’t know.”

“Oh.” He looked a little surprised at that and moved one of his hands out of his pockets to rub the back of his head. “You’re the first thing I think about in the morning. As I’m getting ready for work I’m usually wondering what kind of mood you’ll be in, if I should get you coffee, what you’ll be wearing, if you’ll have a different haircut from the day before, if you’ll have finally forgotten to cover the mole above your lip, stupid things like that. If I get a new case before I see you, I wonder what you’ll think before I try to determine what I think. When I go home at night, I think of excuses to call you because I miss your voice even though we only said goodbye an hour before. When the call came through that an agent had been shot, and that it was you, I don’t even remember driving to New York, I only remember needing to be there and needing you to be okay. Maybe I am mistaking it for something else, but it feels real to me.”

All the things he said had definitely not existed in her past relationships. She was surprised by most of it, because she was never made to feel like a priority to him, and she didn’t mean that negatively. He’d hidden his feelings very well, but she would admit that it felt genuine.

“There are other thoughts too,” he said. “Ones I can’t say because they’d just embarrass us both and would probably get me fired.”

She felt a blush rise to her cheeks and she lowered her eyes a bit. Of course attraction played an important part of being in love, and even with all Mulder’s flirtatious banter, it never crossed her mind that he might actually find her attractive. Not in the way that someone in love would feel.

“Say something, Scully, you’re making me nervous.”

“I had no idea.”

“None?”

“Not even a little.”

“Either I’m the world’s biggest idiot or you need to quit your day job. And I think we both know you’re the best thing the FBI has to offer.”

“You know I’m not very good at needing people.”

“You don’t say?” He smiled at her and she gave him a small smile in return.

“I can’t really claim to have the same perspective. It’s different for me. I think I need time to examine my own thoughts before I can come to a conclusion.”

“That’s what you do best.”

She reached her hand out to him and he took a step forward, but didn’t slip his fingers into hers. He took her wrist instead and moved her hand back down to the bed. He brushed his thumb along hers once and then stepped back again.

“I’ll go call your mom,” he said.

“Before you do that, would you think i was taking advantage of you if I asked you to make me some soup?”

“Scully, you know you could take advantage of me six ways from Sunday any time, any place.” He grinned and it earned him an eye roll. “Yes, I’ll make you soup. Which one do you want?”

“Chicken and rice?”

“Coming right up.”

She watched him leave with a bit of sadness. She wanted to be in the same place Mulder was and feel those things he felt. When she’d said to him that she was bad at needing people, what she really meant was that she wasn’t sure if she was capable of sharing herself with someone. She was too damn independent for her own good. She didn’t know what it was going to take, but she wanted to love him the way that he loved her. It didn’t sound like much, but letting him make her soup was a start.

The End

#xf fanfic #i wrote this #angst with a side of angst #the title has nothing to do with the song #mulder #scully

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canniballistics · 7 years

Text

Olive Branches

fandom: wolf 359 pairs: none ao3 version here. written for DigitalMeowMix for yuletide 2016! it was an absolute delight to write ;u;

Tired of wrangling her new crewmates into cooperating and sick of expecting a mutiny at any time, Lovelace decides not to follow up when she hears a couple of them planning. Are they actually plotting against her, though? Or is it something else entirely? Plus, bad puns, a makeshift celebration, holy hell, and an offense to life, the universe, and everything.

"Come ooon!"

He was wheedling, but that wasn't any different from normal. In fact, it was actually becoming something of a comfort. A bit of normalcy in the middle of what was absolutely a neverending nightmare cycle of catastrophe and fixing and catastrophe and fixing. As obnoxious as it could be, from time to time, she actually somewhat enjoyed it.

"Can't she hear us right now? I don't know if you've thought this plan all the way through."

She could hear them. They didn't know it, but she could.

"She can't. It'll be fine! Now are you in, or out?"

A sigh. She should have figured. She should have known something like this would happen, knew something like this would happen; and she knew she should stay, to figure out what they were planning, how they were going to undermine her. But for some reason, today, she couldn't. She didn't want to know. She didn't want to find out. She'd had enough of treachery and betrayal and anticipating the worst; today, she would give it a rest.

Lovelace pushed away from the wall, moving herself along the corridors back up to the bridge. She'd noticed Eiffel and Minkowski acting shifty when they thought she wasn't looking; Eiffel had grabbed Minkowski, and Lovelace tailed them as they snuck off to Selberg — Hilbert's old lab, the one that Eiffel had let slip Rhea had no eyes on. Whatever went on in there, she was blind to it. It made a pretty decent war room to plan in, since one of their co-conspirators was incapable of lying to her commanding officer.

...Hera. Her name was Hera now. Not Rhea. Her name was Hera, and she was...something. A personality all her own. In all honesty, she liked Hera a lot better than Rhea. Hera could actually respond to jokes.

"Hera."

"Yes, Captain?"

Lovelace didn't want to wonder just how eager Hera would be to help Eiffel and Minkowski with their mutiny. Best to keep both of their minds off such things, at least for a little while. "What's the saltiest fish in the sea?"

It took a minute for Hera to respond. "Uh... What?"

"It's a joke. A pun, actually." Lovelace didn't look up as she pulled out navigational charts, comparing them with notes on the shuttle's repair progress and projections. "What," she repeated, "is the saltiest fish in the sea?"

"I..." Hera paused. "I know the correct answer, but if it's a pun, I'm afraid you'll have to enlighten me." Was that resignation in her voice? Hatred? Lovelace didn't want to think so, but there was a good chance of it. "What is the saltiest fish in the sea?"

"Tuna."

There was silence on the bridge. At this point, Lovelace was very pointedly not looking up, partially because she almost expected to see a quizzical face staring back at her like she was insane, but mostly because if she did, she might start laughing. It was a stupid pun. A really stupid pun. But it was so bad it was good, and one of her favorites.

Finally, finally, Hera responded. "Excuse me? How is tuna the saltiest fish in the sea? That's a terrible joke, tuna aren't even comparable to—"

"It's a chemistry joke, Hera. Remember, joke? Not literal." Lovelace cleared away the navigational charts, instead pulling up the list of repairs she still needed done. This one was a little less depressing. A little. "Na is the symbol for sodium on the periodic table of elements, right? It's 2Na. Tuna."

Hera didn't say anything, and after a few minutes it began to feel like an eternity. Lovelace stood there, listening to the ambient noises of the station, the quiet hissing of air being filtered in and out of the room, the low groans as the hull creaked. Oh god. She hadn't fried Hera's personality matrix with a bad pun, had she? "Hera?"

"That is the worst pun I've ever heard. And that's including the ones Officer Eiffel has told me."

Finally, Lovelace laughed. "Wow. That bad, huh? I'm honored, Eiffel does seem like a fount of useless phrases."

"Pft." If Hera had a physical body, Lovelace was positive she'd be shaking her head. "Just make sure he never hears that one. I'm pretty sure he stores all the really bad jokes to use on Commander Minkowski when she least expects it."

Almost as if it were divine providence, the doors to the bridge whooshed open, and Eiffel and Minkowski walked in. Both their eyes narrowed once they noticed Lovelace, though at least Eiffel's look was less suspicious.

"Did I just hear something about bad jokes? Did I miss somethin' good?" He strode in past Minkowski and Lovelace, overly casual and way too obvious with it as he relaxed into a nearby chair. "C'mon, don't be stingy. Share with the class, ladies!"

"No. Please be stingy," Minkowski groaned. She looked exhausted. So did Eiffel. Lovelace couldn't help feeling a little guilty for working them both so hard. Then, she remembered hearing them plotting. The guilt evaporated a shade. Minkowski brushed her hair out of her face, attempting to tie it back into a tight ponytail. "If I ever hear another bad joke, it'll be way too soon."

"Are you sure?" Lovelace couldn't help it, smirking just a little at her. It was an olive branch, a tiny one. A shred of camaraderie, despite knowing about their plot. She understood, after all. If she were in their position, she would probably do the same. "I'm told this one is worse than all of his previous works."

"Now you've gotta tell me," Eiffel insisted. "Captain, bad jokes only make me stronger, and if it's as bad as you say then we gotta get my power level to over 9000."

Lovelace frowned. It could only be another of his ridiculous pop culture references, but… what did that even mean? She looked at Minkowski, who only shrugged, shook her head. "Hera?"

"Nnnope."

"One of these days, Eiffel, one of your references is going to make sense to one of us." Lovelace rolled her eyes at him, a short grin. "One of these days."

"Knowing the two of you?" He yawned, stretching as he did. "Probably not ever gonna happen. Doesn't mean I'm gonna stop trying, though. C'mon, did neither of you watch any Dragonball Z when you were kids? No, wait, don't tell me. You were both too busy with your Terminator training to watch cartoons. Figures."

Lovelace couldn't help a small chuckle. "I can neither confirm nor deny those charges." And in the way most contagious things went, she raised a hand to stifle her own yawn. "We worked pretty hard today. Think it might be time to call it a night, huh?"

"Really? You're giving us the night off?" Eiffel pulled out a watch, whistling low. "Captain, it's only 1900 hours. Are you feeling all right? There's still a few more things to do—"

She raised her eyebrows at him. "Well, I was trying to be generous, but if you want a few more tasks, that can always be arranged."

Minkowski shot him a glare, and almost immediately, Eiffel jumped back out of his chair. "Nope! Never mind, I'm good, thanks! Night, Captain!"

It didn't escape her that both he and Minkowski left together after a polite, "Good night, Captain Lovelace," from Minkowski. She allowed herself a small smile at seeing how close they were, unable to help wondering if they'd have ever become friends if they weren't on this mission. Knowing Eiffel, probably not. So, one good thing had come from this hellscape they were all trapped in.

That was a comfort to think about, at least.

Lovelace took a deep breath, running a few more scans on the shuttle before shaking her head. She couldn't concentrate. Hera, Minkowski, and Eiffel reminded her too much of her own crew, of Fourier, Hui, Lambert, and Fisher. A slightly smaller crew this time, obviously, but the camaraderie was there, the genuine caring for each other. Of course, there was also the fact that Selberg was still alive, was going by Hilbert now, but as long as they kept him away from her, she would suffer his continued existence.

This time when she called Hera's name, it was quiet, almost none of the joviality from before. "Hera?"

"Yes, Captain?"

Honestly, she wasn't sure she wanted to ask this question. It would bother her, though, if she didn't. If she didn't at least find out. "Obviously, Cutter didn't tell Eiffel and Minkowski about my crew and I before sending them on this mission." She took a deep breath, steeling herself for the answer. "Did they tell you?" A pause. "I mean, did they keep information about us? Is there anything in your databanks about us?"

"One moment, please." Hera was silent then, and Lovelace took the opportunity to marvel at how efficient she was, even with all the things Eiffel told her had happened. She was such a contrast to Rhea and the beeps she could only give in response. And when she finally answered, it didn't surprise Lovelace at all. "I'm sorry, Captain Lovelace. There's nothing about you, your crew, or even another Hephaestus station in my memory."

Lovelace sighed. It didn't surprise her, but that didn't mean it wasn't still a bit of a disappointment. Knowing what she did of Command, she wouldn't have been surprised if they'd swept all traces of their existences from the face of the Earth, too. "I didn't think so. Thank you, Hera."

"That's not to say they don't have records somewhere, Captain!"

Lovelace narrowed her eyes, looking up. "Hera?"

She sounded a little cowed, almost embarrassed at the exclamation. "That is, I mean— I'm sure they probably have all the files on you still, somewhere, and just didn't give me access. They had to know what they'd need to improve...upon..." There was an awkward pause. "Sorry, Captain Lovelace. I didn't mean to say it like that."

There was a dark little laugh. "It's all right, Hera. I get it. And you know what, you're probably right." Just one more thing to take back when she finally got back to Canaveral.

"Captain?" That surprised her, and Lovelace cocked her head. "Can I... Why do you ask?"

Ah. She hummed. "I don't remember where I heard it, exactly." Lovelace busied herself with clearing her workspace, everything back in its proper place. "There's a belief out there that when someone dies, it's not really the end. They're still alive, as long as someone remembers them." A deep breath. God, she missed them. Even Lambert, that stick in the mud. "I still remember them. If Command wants to erase us, they're going to have to go through me first." Her fist closed, knuckles pressing into the console in front of her. "And when I get back, I'm taking whatever they have on us. As far as I'm concerned, they don't deserve to even say their names."

Hera didn't say anything while Lovelace finished tidying up. It was all right. She didn't really expect her to, especially not if Hera believed she'd really leave her behind when they left. She made her way down the winding corridors to the quarters she temporarily called her own — the irony that they were Hilbert's didn't escape her. As she changed out of her uniform, started to wind down for the night, Hera finally spoke up again.

"You're a very brave woman, Captain Lovelace. I'm sorry they did this to you."

Lovelace closed her eyes. She wasn't brave. She was angry. She was angry, and she was going to rain holy hell on Cutter and everyone else who'd decided her crew was expendable. "Thank you. I'll see you tomorrow."

"Yes, Captain. Good night."

"Good night, Hera."

She spent the evening reviewing Eiffel and Minkowski's logs, and when she could no longer stand reading about the second Hephaestus mission, turned off the lights and went to sleep.

Lovelace woke with her former crew's voices echoing in the back of her head, Lambert scolding Fisher and Fourier as they laughed; it was a strange sensation, at once unsettling and yet comforting. She hadn't thought about them very often since boarding the new Hephaestus. Sure, she'd thought about them, about how what had been done to them was unforgivable and wrong, but not the people themselves. It was...nice to dream about the people, rather than reliving the nightmare of losing everyone one by one.

When she got to the bridge, she was surprised to find it empty. She'd given up on Eiffel waking before 1000 hours, but Minkowski was always either awake before her, or just on her heels to it. To find her not in the bridge, even after Lovelace had allowed herself an extra fifteen minutes to fully wake, came as a bit of a shock.

"Morning, Hera."

"Good morning, Captain. Or, whatever passes for morning here. You know how Wolf 359 never..sets, or anything."

Lovelace laughed. "Yeah, I'm familiar. Thanks for maintaining such a steady clock for us to judge by, by the way."

"Oh, it's nothing," Hera deflected, but there was a note of pride in her voice. "Thank you for noticing! You humans don't seem to understand just how important it is to maintain a normal routine every day. Flesh bodies are so unreliable."

A pause. "Uh huh. I'm not sure I want to know," Lovelace grinned.

"That's probably for the best."

Lovelace shook her head, but couldn't wipe the smile from her face. God, she'd missed this. "Hey, speaking of routine, can you tell me where Lieutenant Minkowski is? She's normally here before even me, it's almost weird not to see her."

"One second, please."

Lovelace stretched as she waited. How convenient would it be to be a near omni-prescient AI? Hera could scan the entire station within seconds. Maybe she was onto something about flesh bodies being inconvenient.

"Ugh!"

Lovelace frowned. That was new. "Hera? Are you all right?"

"Yeah, I'm fine," Hera grumbled. "She and Eiffel keep going into that room. The one I can't see. He told you about it. If you're looking for Commander Minkowski, you'll find her there." Lovelace could almost imagine her crossing her arms over her chest and pouting as she continued, "I hate it when I can't see what's going on in my own station!"

That sobered Lovelace's mood a little. She'd nearly forgotten about the duo plotting yesterday. She took a deep breath, pushing away from the console she'd been holding onto. "Thanks, Hera. How about this: I'll go find out what they're doing, since you helped me find them. We'll figure out what they're doing."

"Are you sure, Captain? It might just be nothing."

"Oh, I'm sure." They'd wanted to make sure they were secretive enough yesterday. Time to figure out what their plan was, and put a stop to it.

The first sign that something was up was the marker floating in the middle of the hallway toward Hilbert's old lab. Lovelace stared at it for a few seconds before plucking it out of midair. What the hell? She paused on the threshold, trying to listen around the corner to see if she could hear anything; when all she got was hushed whispers, she closed her eyes. Sighed. So it would come to this, huh? She took a deep breath and swung around the corner—

—and just narrowly avoided crashing directly into Eiffel.

"Whoa! Captain Lovelace, careful! Are you okay?"

"I, uh— Yeah. Yes. I'm fine," she stammered. She hadn't expected to literally run into one of them. And now that she was actually in the room with them, it...didn't look like some kind of dastardly mutiny plan at all. In fact, it looked like... "What are you two doing?" She asked, nearly as confused as she'd been on seeing the Hephaestus again.

"Did we not tell you?" Eiffel looked over his shoulder at Minkowski, who had her tongue stuck out of the corner of her mouth as she worked. "Sorry, Captain, it was kind of rushed— C'mon in!" And as he ushered her into the room, he stuck his head back into the hallway, calling out, "Sorry, Hera! Borrowing the Captain for a little while!"

There was an unintelligible protest before the door slid shut behind them, and as Eiffel explained what they were doing, Lovelace couldn't help but laugh. She'd been stressing over this? She shook her head, unsure whether she'd underestimated this crew, or if she'd overestimated them. But—

"All right, I'm in," she said. "Where do I start?"

Eiffel grinned, handing her a handful of materials. "Get to work, Captain."

A few hours passed before any of them left the lab after that. Hilbert joined them once or twice to give updates on the project he'd been working on for them, giving her a wide berth as he reported to Eiffel. Lovelace noted silently that, interestingly enough, even though both of them technically outranked him, they were deferring to him for this. No doubt it was his plan, the thing he'd been trying to persuade Minkowski about yesterday. The fact he was awake so early was impressive enough by itself; that Minkowski and Hilbert were both following his directions was just ridiculous. It was endearing, though, and Lovelace found herself taking to the work.

When they were finally ready, they gathered together to concoct the final stage of the plan, and once the details were ironed out, they nodded conspiratorially, and readied to fulfill their parts.

Minkowski was first out of the room. "Hera, will you help me out? I want to see if we can patch you into that room, so that you don't have any blind spots anymore."

"Finally," Hera exclaimed. "We might be able to go in through the power conduits in engineering..."

Her voice trailed off, following Minkowski as she moved towards the engineering section. As soon as they were out of sight, Eiffel and Lovelace shot into the hall, making their way towards the comms room as quickly as they could. There was no doubt Hera could still see them, but it helped to have her attention split elsewhere. The two of them scrambled to and fro across the comms room, sticking signs and cut-out shapes all over the walls and non-vital equipment. Wherever they could, and by the time Minkowski returned, Hilbert had joined them with his contribution. He was also, quite noticeably, the only one who didn't chime in when they shouted.

"Uh, guys?" Hera sounded troubled as she spoke. "What did you do?"

Eiffel was the loudest as he and Minkowski, and to a lesser, quieter extent, Lovelace, all shouted out, "Happy birthday, Hera!"

"My... But I don't have a birthday. Comes with being artificial, y'know?"

"Pshaw." Eiffel grinned. "You're just as much a member of the crew as any of us, and your program was booted up for the first time sometime, right? Since none of us know, and we haven't celebrated it yet, we've got at least some chance of it being today!"

"So you... You did this all for me?" The room was covered in stars, and flowers, and makeshift banners, and hastily scribbled (and possibly badly translated) binary code, all with some permutation of happy birthday and you're the best and other ridiculous sentiments written across them. It was completely absurd, but... "You guys!" Hera seemed to love it. So, it was worth it.

Minkowski elbowed Eiffel as Hera exclaimed about the decorations, and Lovelace was just barely able to make out a quiet, "This was a good plan," as she did. It seemed to spur Eiffel into motion, who jumped.

"Wait!" He turned to Hilbert, who'd been loitering at the edge of the room — there was a tray in his hands, with four oddly-shaped lumps on it. If Lovelace squinted, they almost looked like… "I almost forgot the piece de resistance!" Eiffel took the tray, proudly displaying the lumps. "Now, obviously we don't have any real ingredients, and if we did I doubt Dr. Caligari here would be the guy to turn to. But I got him to whip up some—"

"The closest approximation," Hilbert interrupted, shifting uncomfortably.

"Fine, the closest he could get, to cupcakes!" Eiffel eyed the things on the tray, frowning. "Wow, Doc, you really...didn't put in any effort into these at all, did you?"

"Is rather difficult to synthesize the taste and texture of doughy substances when you have neither flour nor baking soda." Hilbert frowned, muttering, "I did the best I could with what I have, in a very short time frame."

Eiffel eyed him for a moment. "Sure you did. Anyway, I figured that, since you don't have a mouth, Hera, you'd get to celebrate by watching us eat these and try not to die horribly! And I know what you're thinking," he said, reaching out to grab Hilbert's arm and keep him from floating away. "This guy's tried to kill all of us at least once; how do we know he didn't poison these? Fair question. If you'll notice, there are four; Hilbert is going to eat one first, to prove they're safe!"

There was silence for a moment. Then, "You know what? I'm okay with this." And if Lovelace didn't know any better, she could definitely believe that Hera was grinning as she said it.

Hilbert shot Eiffel a dark look before reaching for one of the lumps; before his fingers could close around it, however, Eiffel snatched it out of his grasp and instead tossed it to Minkowski. There was a distinct harrumph as Hilbert grabbed a different one, staring at it sullenly. Eiffel offered the tray to Lovelace, who took one for herself, and then he let it float away as he claimed the last.

"You don't make cake with baking soda, by the way." Eiffel was smug as he said it. "It's baking powder. Now eat up, Doc."

"I want the both of you to remember that this was Eiffel's idea," Hilbert groused, before taking a bite of his "cupcake". His jaw worked up and down for a minute, a conspicuously chewy noise heard throughout the room, before he swallowed it, visibly straining to do so. And then he glared. "Your turns."

The "cupcake" was grotesque: it had about the same consistency as taffy mixed with oat, with a distinctly seaweed taste; within minutes all four of them were gagging and shoving the creation as far away as possible. "Ugh, that is just— That's just offensive," Minkowski moaned.

"I know, right?" Eiffel agreed, scraping at his tongue. "I can't get it to go away!"

Lovelace couldn't stop the shudder sliding up and down her spine; the taste was just so pervasive, and so disgusting. "That," she gagged, "was an offense to life, the universe, and everything in it."

"I dunno, I thought it was pretty great!"

There was an aggrieved chorus of "Hera!" from the humans. Once they got their tastebuds under control, Hilbert gathered the remains of the "cupcakes" and the tray, muttering something about disposing of these abominations; not long after, Eiffel began singing "Happy Birthday", and even managed to get Minkowski to join in.

Lovelace grinned as she watched them, and was struck with a sudden flash of her own crew, celebrating for Dr. Hui. It made her homesick, a little bit. They were great people, and she knew she would always regret that she couldn't protect them. More and more, however, she was finding that a fondness (however begrudging) was starting to form for this new crew. Maybe in time they would welcome her into their fold; who knew, maybe in letting her in on Hera's birthday, they already were. Watching them now, though, they weren't so different from her old one, and it was a comfort she was beginning to want to protect.

#wolf 359 #renee minkowski #isabel lovelace #doug eiffel #hera #alexander hilbert #kieran writes

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