#i love thinking about gin as very sick guy. i so rarely do this but that is him to me. | Explore Tumblr Posts and Blogs

catintheruemorgue · 3 years

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annoying things they do

summary: small things these guys do that just grinds your gears a bit.

characters: oda, dazai, kunikida, twain, akutagawa, atsushi, mori, poe, ranpo, fittzgerald, steinbeck, chuuya, yosano, gin, kouyou, higuchi, alcott and lucy

these are all based off things i do or have inconvenienced my life lmfao i’ll probs do a part two with everyone i missed this just got wayyy to long lol next im posting being friends with double black

Oda:

If you're wearing shorts and have bruises he will poke them when you're resting your legs on him. He’s silent about it too and if you yell at him he pretends to act like he doesn't know what you're talking about.

Will smack your sunburn but this one is actually an accident. He just wanted to pat you on the back because you're amazing.

Will space out when you talk too long, sometimes certain objects are just so… mesmerizing

Dazai:

Loves to jumpscare you the only exception is if it was a trigger. In that case he will just call your name and whip something at you for you to catch at random.

When you're driving he likes to reach over and honk your horn. It's almost caused so many roadside fistfights.

If he sees a dog in public he will bark and growl at it.

Kunikida:

Won’t let you on the bed without socks on. You could be sick as a dog and he’ll still enforce this rule.

Cleaning is hard because he has a hard time throwing things away. You'll spend extra time as he holds two identical pens, trying to decide which one he wants to keep. He’s learned to plan certain days in his schedule for cleaning now.

Won't let you turn up the music in the car and will keep it at a level that's so low it's annoying.

Twain:

Walks around the house shirtless but then complains about how cold it is.

Blasts his music so loud when he wakes up in the morning and it's always early 2000’s hits. It's not rare for you to have Pocketful of Sunshine by Natasha Bedingfield stuck in your head by 9 am.

Always has to climb something, this stems from his adventurous side. It's not really that annoying but when you’re in a crowded area and he runs off to go climb the tall statue, screaming at you to take a photo… Yes it is. Especially when children try and follow him and you're stuck receiving glares from the parents.

Akutagawa:

Will not let you throw any food products out. He tells you it's a perfectly good meal (even if it's not) and that he will eat it tomorrow. It’s sad because you know this stems from childhood but it’s still annoying.

Reuses the same gross, musty ziplock baggies. You keep buying new ones but he doesn't get it lol.

Will tell you if your breath smells, hair is messy, outfit is ugly. He does not see an issue with this and it's nice knowing someone has your back but he doesn't have to be so rude about it..

Atsushi:

If he drinks he's one of those drinkers who will not let you take it from him. Keeps an iron grip on the cup. He finishes it no matter how drunk and always throws up. Thankfully he rarely drinks.

He stops to help everyone, literally even if they just look like they need help. You've been late to so many things.

Will eat anything. Once you made steak and somehow forgot about it. It was hard as a brick yet he still almost broke his teeth eating it. You think you saw some tears as he told you it was delicious.

Mori:

Listens to people's conversations in public and isn't afraid to comment, loudly, about it. You know it's loud because they either stop talking or try and confront you guys.

Comes up to stops fast and brakes so hard you feel like he does it on purpose.

Sometimes if he and Elise get into a “disagreement” he’ll try and rope you in to take his side and you always do, knowing it would probably give him more satisfaction if you chose to side with her.

Poe:

Asks for constructive criticism but will then argue with you about why you're wrong.

Always humming a song he heard Twain singing and then it gets stuck in your head too.

Will deny stupid things like why your favorite mug is in the trash or why he just let out rather loud scream in the bathroom. You know he's lying because he looks away and makes sure his bangs are covering his eyes.

Ranpo:

Will call you out on any lie even if you don't mean to lie you just forgot about some of the details.

Don't take him grocery shopping if you have a set amount you want to spend. He won't even sneak, he will just say he wants something and throw it in the cart.

Such a backseat driver even though he can't drive.

Fitzgerald:

Likes to act like he's still in his twenties and will somehow get the two of you invited to college parties where he will attempt to do a kegger in front of everyone. You end up being the one to hold him up and he always ends with a, “LETS FUCKING GO!”

Likes to ask for the senior discount even though he's not that old, he just likes to hear the women validate that he's not old.

It’s scary how he used to buy without looking and now will scream if the price on a price tag is too high.

Steinbeck:

Always looking at the grass for wheat to chew on. It's so cheesy when you walk into the city and he's got it sticking out of his mouth.

He gets weirdly intimate with nature and you feel like you're third wheeling.

Has the mentality that he has to provide for you because he is the man. He gets so shocked when he finds out you still want to work.

Chuuya:

Has a hard time making decisions you could ask him what he wants for dinner and his mind will just break.

Gets way too pissed at movies and will actually get up and walk away. Once you were kicked out of the theater because he wouldn't stop yelling at the screen. Another time he walked out you waited a whole ten minutes before you realized he wasn't coming back.

Sometimes activates his ability at night and it's so scary waking up to him floating halfway across the room.

WOMAN TIME!!!!!!!!!!

Yosano:

Will glare at you so intensely if you say something she disagrees with.

Always tries to rope you into drinking with her even if you’ve said no the past ten nights.

Will describe wounds or injuries in such detail and just won’t stop, almost like she’s trying to fuck with you, but she’s not.

Gin:

Claims to be nothing like her big brother but then will go on to make the same facial expressions and do some of the same mannerisms as him.

Will spend hours trying things on just to put it all back, leave the store and change her mind when you’re almost home. Then she’ll have you run back with her to buy it all.

Is used to sneaking around so scares you a lot. Also on the topic of being silent sometimes she just won’t respond, thinking you can just read her vibes / mind.

Kouyou:

Will judge what you eat, especially fast food but will try and steal a fry in private when you're not looking.

Will say things like, “Well that's just the way the world works.” If someone tries to share their baggage with her. You understand she’s had a pretty rough life but it's caused you to almost spit out your drink multiple times.

At functions forgets about you for about an hour while she mingles with everyone else, you could tap on her shoulder and she'll dismiss you like you're a subordinate. Until you clear your throat again you'll see the slight blush as she apologizes.

Higuchi:

She has no sense of privacy. If she hears a crash or loud noise she will bust down the door. It’s sweet but not when the noises are usually from you knocking all the shampoo bottles down again.

Horrible road rage actually puts you on edge to be in the car with her. She doesn't even have to be driving.

Likes to act like she's a professional at everything and people usually believe it because of her suit. It's so nerve wracking when she giggles when they walk away with false information.

Alcott:

Will agree to everything you suggest but you can only tell when she doesn’t want to do it when you’re currently doing it.

Yet she’s not afraid to grumble about how annoying it is when someone bumps into you and doesn’t apologize. It’s sweet but you’re left dealing with the situation if the person is aggressive enough to say something.

Always corrects your spelling or if you say something like “I could care less.”

Lucy:

Will fish for compliments in a very obvious way like, “Wow. Wish someone would call me pretty..” and then just stare right at you.

Kicks you so violently in her sleep but won't let go of you so you cant get away.

Constantly stealing from restaurants. You're banned from a couple restaurants because she got caught trying to steal a cup or salt shaker.

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wouldpollyapprove · 4 years

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I’m Not Like Her

Summary: Y/n never thought she’d take a job as a barmaid, but she had to do what she had to do. Fleeing from a mob in Aberdeen, she was willing to do anything to live a peaceful life. And if that meant working for the Shelby’s then so be it. Life was normal until the mob decided to make an appearance in Birmingham, leading Tommy start to believe Y/n wasn’t exactly who she said she was.

Request: 17 from humor and 4 from misc? With tommy please 🥺❤️

Requested by @jenepleurepasbaby

Thomas Shelby x Reader

Word Count: 2.7k

Warnings: Language, alcohol, violence, angst

A/N: This is barely edited b/c I have no paitence for that, but I really like how this turned out. Oh, and the cocktail I mentioned is from the 1920s but I’m not sure if it was popular in the UK or not. Anyway, I hope you guys like it and sorry for the angst, I couldn’t help myself.

Part Two

Masterlist

The noise filled the air, keeping people focused on what they were doing. It was too loud for anyone to notice much more than what was in front of them due to the alcohol in their system. It was always like that in the Garrison on a Friday night. Men clocked out of work, grabbed a girl, and headed for the pub. That’s how it always went.

Y/n had no time to think about anything but cocktail recipes as she filled orders. The men of Small Heath ordered everything straight out of the bottle. Whether it be whiskey, gin, or rum, it was always served either plain or on the rocks with a splash of water. It all came down to how much they wanted to stumble when they walked out of the door. The woman that tagged along were the ones that wanted to drink something fancy. They wanted to be more than some dirt poor girl from the wrong side of town. A lady in a countryside manor or a duchess in a French Château is what they wanted to be.

And that is what Y/n tried her best to do, give them a piece of a reality that would never be theirs.

She was too busy filling orders to notice the men that had entered the bar. Their appearance was almost identical to that of the Peaky Blinders that frequented the streets. They all wore neatly pressed suits, bulky overcoats covering their suit. No suspicion would have been drawn if it weren’t for the hats that sat upon their heads.

Handing over the fifth Sidecar she’d made in the last fifteen minutes, Y/n wiped her hands off on her apron. “Good Lord, is it ever gonna slow down?”

Edith shook her head from beside her. “I fuckin’ wish. I’m sick of this Irish beer Arthur ordered. Everyones to pissed to realize it’s shit.”

Y/n chuckled, “That they are.” Her eyes wandered around the packed bar, landing in bursts on the drunks that stumbled around. Just as she was about to turn back to her work, her eyes landed on three well-dressed men at the door. All the blood drained from her face, turning it ash white. The tammies they wore picking them out of the crowd

“Are you alright?” Edith asked, turning from pouring another glass of whiskey on the rocks.

Her coworker nodded, before glancing at the clock on the wall above them. “Yeah, yeah, I’m alright. I’m off in five-” Mary passed behind her, on time for her shift for once. “-and Mary’s here so I think I’m going to head home.”

She wasn’t given a second glance as she stripped her apron off and fetched her coat from the back room. Eyes followed her like a hawk until she reached the door. Y/n didn’t bother to look at the three men that stood in front of the door, she shoved past them, knowing they wouldn’t make a scene.

With the door to the Shelby’s private room open, Tommy kept his eye trained on the men while he kept up with the conversation he was having with Michael. The grip on his glass tightened when Y/n appeared and shoved passed two of them. He would have thought that by the time Y/n got off the men would have ordered a drink and found a table, but the stood near the door like statues. Only moved, turning on their heels, when Y/n shoved them out of her way and followed a few feet behind her.

It was odd. Everything about it was odd. The men that had entered the bar ten minutes before were odd. Tommy could have sworn he’d seen the men once before. London came to mind when he thought of them and how they’d dressed. But no one in London would be caught dead dressing like that. And the man found it odd how Y/n shoved passed them, something he knew she would never do.

Tommy and Y/n had an interesting relationship.

Tommy was in love with her, there was no way he could deny it. He could ignore it, though. After what happened with Grace two years before, he wasn’t sure he was ready to wear his heart on his sleeve. Every once and a while, a sharp pain would overtake his heart and make him remember why he was afraid to love so openly again. He tried though. He tried to do as much as he could for her with what he had. Tommy did his best to protect and behind closed doors, he showed her his heart.

But that could never be aired out in the open.

Thomas Shelby couldn’t have people seeing him weak over a woman. He couldn’t be seen once more being destroyed by the touched of a woman who’d betrayed him.

Y/n was much different than her lover. She was as loyal as they came and would never betray him, not when he owned her heart. Not one to love as few had ever shown her such a thing, she had no problem giving Tommy the love he deserved. She didn’t care about the blood on his hands or the damage caused by the war. She saw past his outward appearance and his tough exterior, loving who he was before and after damage had been done to his heart and soul.

Though he was concerned, there was business to be done and it couldn’t wait. No longer a believer, Tommy prayed to God that he wasn’t making a mistake for not following after her.

Stepping out onto the dirt-covered cobblestones, the cold air bit at her exposed skin as Y/n waited for the men to exit behind her. She turned when the door creaked open, more light pouring out onto the street.

The tallest of the three linked his arm with her’s, dragging her down the street, her protests drowned out by the sound of the other men lighting their cigars. Once he believed them to be far enough from prying eyes, in front of a factory that was closed for the night, he stopped and swung the girl in front of him. “Didn’t think I’d fin ya, did ya?”

“You fuckin’ bastard,” Y/n spat, pulling her arm out of his grasp. “What the fuck are you doing here, Roger?”

It had been ages since the two had last seen each other, parting onto a hill that overlooked Aberdeen, blood and tears on both their faces. They’d shared some good times, getting into all the trouble they could. They ran from the law in Edinburgh, jumping a train with a bottle of whiskey in their bag. Y/n stayed by his side when his father put him in charge of his family’s company and she watched him turn into a hungry monster, out for money and blood.

A laugh vibrated his chest, he leaned forward, moving a piece of curly hair out of her face. How he’d missed those curls of her’s. “I’ve come to ask for your help, love.”

Swatting his hand away from her face, she pushed him away, wishing to create distance between them. The men beside him, supposed to be his body guards, did nothing, believing she held no power. She rolled her eyes at their dismissals, Ed and Jim had never been very good at keeping their boss out of danger. “No fucking way will I ever help you.”

“Ya used to help with everything. There was nothin’ ya wouldn’t do fer me.”

“That was before you killed Charlie-” Y/n folded her arms across her chest, wrapping her coat around her tighter. “He was my friend, Roger.”

The man rolled his eyes. He never cared about what he had to do to keep his business running. “He was taking you from me.”

“Your brutish behavior was taking me away from you. Don’t confuse the two.” Y/n reached into her pocket and pulled out a pack of cigarettes. She waltzed around the men as she dug around for a lighter, knowing the men in front of her weren’t gentlemen and would never offer over their lighters.

Before she could get her cigarette lite, a crash from the alley across from them caught everyone’s attention. Roger, Ed, and Jim reached under their coats for their weapons. Y/n turned to see a couple of Peaky boys walk out of the alley. She’d seen them before, they normally helped in the betting shop and had accompanied their boss to London a time or two. “Roger, don’t shoot them,” she demanded, trying to step in his way.

The Peaky Blinders drew their own weapons, ready to fire if they had to.

Y/n rolled her eyes. Why were men the way they were? Instead of staying and watching blood spill, she turned her back to the group of men. “Don’t do anything too stupid, Roger. No one here will save you arse,” she warned him, walking into the darkness of Small Heath.

*~~*~~*

The two Peaky Blinders that escaped unscathed from their encounter with Roger Flint, which was a relief. One of the men knew exactly who Roger was as he came from Scotland. He also knew how rare it was for Roger to let someone live in a firefight.

With ragged breaths, the two men rushed into the Garrison and wasted no time to find Tommy. Their boss was still where he was when Y/n had left, leaning in his chair, cigarette between his lips and glass of whiskey in his hand.

The Shelby’s all turned when Ricky entered the private room panting like a dog. “What the fuck happened to you?” John asked, a little laugh ending his sentence.

“W-we were out… out by the factory,” he started, clutching his side. “And Roger Flint was out there with some of his men.”

“Y/n was there with ‘em,” the man beside him added.

The mention of her name forced Tommy to his feet, his glass shattered to the floor. “Was she hurt?”

Ricky shook his head. “No, no-” He took a deep breath, trying to expand his lungs. “She seemed to know him. Personally.”

Was that worse than being caught with a copper? The mobster hadn’t the faintest clue, but he didn’t like the sound of it. “Where is she now?”

The two men exchanged glances, surprised that they hadn’t been chewed out for leaving her. “Don know. She left, I think she went home.”

Dragging his hand over his face, Tommy sat back down. How did Y/n know Roger Flint? That wasn’t a man anyone knew casually. A sigh escaped his lips as he took Arthur’s drink. The alcohol burned his throat as he emptied the glass. He thought Y/n was nothing but honest with him, but that was clearly a lie.

So there Tommy sat, his family exchanging worried glances from around the room, while all his fears washed over him like a raging river.

*~~*~~*

Y/n slept like a baby, Roger easily faded from her memory as she slept. He was never much to remember. The man was nothing but an overgrown baby trying to make a name for himself as a mobster. It was pathetic. All that went through her mind as she dressed for work was the amount of glasses she’d have to clean off of tables and the shattered glass that would need to be swept off the floor.

As she did every morning, Y/n stopped by the small cafe around the corner from her house. She was never one for cooking and her kitchen didn’t permit more than a sandwich to be made. It always seemed to bring her joy, stopping in to get a scone, and chatting with the owner. It was the start she needed for what she knew would be a long day.

Once she was feed, Y/n wasted no time walking to work. Dodging children, who ran through the street like monkeys, and women gossiping as they headed to the market, she finally arrived at the doors of the Garrison. Fetching the key out of her purse, she dropped it back in when she found the door unlocked.

The Shelbys had obviously arrived before her.

A smile tugged at her lips upon entering the pub, memories from the night before playing in her mind. Though the place was a mess, she was happy to be at work then to be helping Roger. Anything was better than being in the same room as him. Her smile faltered when she caught a glimpse of Tommy behind the bar. His muscles were tight and there was fire in his eyes. He looked up at her and all Y/n could see was boiling anger.

She did her best to send him a smile as she tugged off her coat, placing it on the bar. “Good morning, love.”

His knuckles turned white against the bottle of whiskey he’d grabbed off the shelf. “Don’t bother, Y/n,” he growled.

The smile dropped to the floor along with her eyes. Roger clearly hadn’t killed the Blinders, damn. It would have been much easier to pretend that her time with the Scottish mobster never happened then to ever have to explain it to the man she loved. “What’s wrong, Tommy?” she asked, deciding it would be easier to play dumb.

It was a long shot, but there was a chance she could get the man to believe her word over that of his men.

Tommy shot her a dangerous look. A warning that stated he wouldn’t believe a thing she said. “Who were you with after work last night?”

“No one.”

He rolled his eyes. “Don’t lie to me.”

“I’m not,” she snapped.

There was a pause, making Y/n nervous, as Tommy opened the bottle of whiskey and poured it into the glass in front of him. The pub was silent while he sipped at it before he placed it back on the bar. “Let’s not play this game. I know a liar when I see one, Y/n, because I’m a liar.”

Y/n rolled her eyes at his words. “What do you want me to say? That I was with someone that wasn’t you?”

“Don’t play dumb, Y/n. Flint is the fucking enemy! And there you were waltzing’ around with him! How fuckin’ loyal!” he yelled and in a fit of rage grabbed his glass and threw it at the wall beside him. “I thought you were better than her, turns out you’re the same type of snake.”

His words burned against Y/n’s ear, causing her heart to shrivel up in pain. “Bite me,” she seethed. Before any more damage could be done, she reached for her coat and ran out the door., shouting, “I quiet,” on her way out.

How fucking stupid could she be, thinking she outrun away from Roger? He would always come back to haunt her.

The door slammed behind her and once her feet hit cobblestone, she ran like a freight train, dropping her coat as she gained speed. She needed to create as much distance between her and Thomas Shelby as she could. God, she hoped to never see his face again.

Running along the streets of Small Heath, people shot her confused looks and moved out of her way as they saw nothing would stop her. Y/n ran, one foot in front of the other until her legs gave way and she tumbled to the ground. She pushed herself off the ground, sobs racked her body as she wandered into an alley, sliding down the wall of the brick building beside her.

“I’m not like her,” she muttered to herself between sobs. “I’m not like her.”

What Tommy didn’t know, was Roger was a no one to her. He had been nothing for a long time and she never planned on allowing him back in her life, not after all the pain he caused. But it was too late to explain that now. She had been labeled a traitor and there was no way to scrub that off.

The words tattooed across her forehead and the pain in her heart were nothing compared to the pain she felt for hurting Tommy as she did. He trusted her and, slowly, he was starting to recover from what Grace had done to him only for it to happen once more.

It killed her to think that she had done then one thing she swore to never do.

*~~*~~*

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hillnerd · 5 years

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Do you have any particular examples of Harry taking Ron for granted? Like I'm trying to come up with something specific, but my answer ends up being "just in general". Like, he's been pushed aside his whole life and chooses to continue to be pushed aside because he loves Harry, and Harry just doesn't get or appreciate that. But there's really no one particular time where it's shown besides Hermione's comment in GOF.

So I’ll preface this all by saying I think Harry is a very good lad, and was a good friend to Ron in the series. So this criticism I’m about to lay out is NOT a Harry bashing post. I love him. He’s literally in my top 5 fave characters for the series.

So! That said, let’s get into it.

Harry rarely thanks Ron for anything he does. (That I could find relying on my memory and doing word search in my digital copies- let me know if I’m wrong.) And sort of just takes Ron’s support as a given thing- and doesn’t seem all that grateful for all Ron does in the series. He only seems to truly appreciate Ron when Ron’s not around- then doesn’t really bother to communicate this to Ron himself

Book 1:

It’s just little things of not really taking in how Ron backs him up: Ron’s guiding him through the wizarding world, he is his second when he’s challenged to a wizard duel, he’s getting his brother to bail out Hagrid w/ the dragon (who at that point is really Harry’s friend, not his) and got injured with it too, he’s writing his mum to make sure Harry gets a christmas present, and he sacrifices himself on the chess set so Harry and Hermione can go forward.

Harry literally never gives a ‘thanks’ to Ron for any of this. I couldn’t even find much in the way of mental gratitude for it.

The one time he thanks Ron is at the end of the book when Ron invites Harry over to stay that summer. That same scene Harry’s getting random people telling him ‘bye Harry!’ and then Ginny is running and pointing saying ‘Oh look it’s him!’ but she’s not pointing to her brother- she’s pointing to Harry. Then Mrs Weasley greets Harry instead of her son as well. :(

Book 2:

He never thanks Ron in this book.

This is the same book where Ron convinces his twin brothers to help him steal the family car to break Harry out of the Dursleys, and then has him stay in his bedroom the rest of summer. Ron’s backing him up the whole book (wand included) and giving Harry pep talks when he thinks he’s going crazy, and is just there for him the whole time. He freaking helps put him in pajamas when Harry’s arm is all boneless. Like, the doting… And Harry again just… doesn’t seem to register how doting Ron is? Even mentally?

Book 3:

Harry finally verbally thanks Ron, and it’s not at the end of the book. It’s for candy he brought Harry from Hogsmeade…

I mean it just sort of goes like that…. He just never Thanks Ron. Ron backs him up in battles, stands on a broken leg for him, risks his life to help him, shares what little he has with him, and Harry just… barely ever verbalizes thanks? Shows basically no gratitude to his friend who risks his life for him?

The things he thanks Ron for are more out of politeness… like… I get it. It’s hard to verbalize things like that (and no offense to Brits, but they aren’t as gushy as some cultures with thanks.)

But… Harry has managed to be particularly withholding from Ron.

book 4

he misses Ron so thoroughly, and is so upset- but he’s unable to verbalize this to Ron at all. After their fight he doesn’t try to understand Ron’s perspective, even when Hermione sort of hamfistedly explains things to him (i get it, he’s mad- but I thoroughly believe Harry was the one that made a small disagreement become a ‘giant fight- and now well I guess the friendship is dead’ situation.’ All because, for the first time in the series- Ron isn’t immediately completely in his corner (like, he was just skeptical and hurt when the ‘fight’ begins- but Harry attacks Ron.)

Ron goes to check on him during their fight Harry gets pissed and throws a badge at his face, as well as accusing Ron of being jealous of his scar. It finally resolves- and Ron’s the one to fix things. Harry made no effort to, and does not acknowledge his part in their fight.

Harry loves Ron SO much- and verbalizes it niente.

I mean at least Ron got to feel a touch of how much he means to Harry- not because of anything Harry does- just because of the tournament. When Ron’s the thing he would miss most Hermione is someone else’s ‘thing they’d miss most’- so I doubt this made Ron feel this meant he was actually Harry’s person. But at least he had something.

Book 5

Harry’s screaming at Ron quite a lot, as Ron is trying to comfort him and be there for him- literally being the one to help him when he has nightmares or sicks onto the floor.

Now, they have a history of Ron being there for him, body and soul- and when Ron is given the prefect badge Harry is jealous- but then mentally he thinks ‘no, Ron actually DOES deserve this’- but doesn’t tell him this. Ron has cheered Harry through every quidditch game, through tasks, through crazy shit- and is his hype guy. He bucks Harry up a LOT in the books. Harry finally tells Ron ‘well done, mate.’

He saw how Ron was being treated by everyone when he got his badge. He knows Ron’s insecure. He knows this is something Ron saw in the mirror at age 11. That’s all he says on it. He doesn’t say Ron deserved it when Ron is saying ‘I thought it’d be you.’ He instead says how he himself was disqualified for causing too much trouble. That was it. :[ No ‘you did loads, Ron.’ ‘I think you’ll do well.’ Nah. Just a ‘congratulations.’ Like……………………………………………………… Maybe I’m just over effusive, but if someone is my best friend I’d say somethign more than 3 words in FIVE WHOLE YEARS.

Ron is a wreck in book 5 between prefect torture from the twins, and quidditch and the bullying- and Harry is finally a bit more there for Ron. He tells him he thinks he’ll do well on the team and he thinks he should try out. He tries to boost Ron’s morale quite a lot!

And when Harry is no longer on the team, this support starts to wane. For the final game Harry aND Hermione skip out to do Hagrid crap. Neither of them apologize. Ron almost immediately swallows his disappointment and never mentions it again. They never think on it again and show no signs of guilt beyond them telling Ron they missed the game. He had this giant triumph- the first the school had recognized since first year- and that was that.

So, Ron nearly dies in book 5- Harry understandably is very shaken by Sirius’s death- but he doesn’t think to inquire about Ron (or anyone.) He barely talks to his friends (again it’s understandable! Harry’s in shock and deep mourning.)

So yeah… I mean it just keeps going, doesn’t it? Harry mentally feels like Ron is SO important to him- but never SAYS anything like that, and doesn’t show it much through actions either…

Book 6

Harry saved Ron in book 6- but he’s saved loads of people. When Ron is dealing with ermione problems he does nothing to intervene or help- when he sees the slow motion car wreck happening- and then skips out on Ron whenever Lavender’s around.

He’s more there for Ron than in previous books- but still Ron does SO much emotional labor in their relationship- and never gets a hint of recognition. Harry joins in on teasing and even helps set up Gin to make a joke at Ron’s expense :P I love teasing between friends! Don’t get me wrong, but Ron gets mocked a lot my his siblings- he does’t need his best friend teaming up with one :P

SO! Final book!

Ron is doing SO MUCH to help Harry. The ghoul, leaving his family in a very very dangerous state, constantly backing him up and nearly dying- and frankly he’s right- Harry DOESN’T have a plan. It’s frankly ridiculous how unplanned everything is.

They have the terrible horcrux fight- and instead of acknowledging Ron’s fears at all- he mocks Ron and tells him to leave. Twice. Now Ron was being an asshole too in this scene- but only ONE of them was WEARING the Horcrux and being particularly targeted- and it wasn’t Harry.

When Harry gets Ron back- and he saves his life and he finally sees what all Ron had been tortured with he FINALLY addresses Ron’s pain for a bit. He also FINALLY acknowledges Ron for doing things for him. Of course it’s framed in the whole ‘don’t worry about your eff up- you did all this tonight so that makes up for it!’ way- but this is the first time Harry has ever truly acknowledged Ron’s contributions in the whole series, that I can recall.

Ron’s been his friend who was there for him for everything- and this is the only time he gets this sort of ‘thanks’ from Harry the whole series.

So there we go.

I have to say, again, I don’t think Harry is a bad person- or that he’s the worst friend in the world or anything. He loves Ron very deeply and shows he cares through actions, wanting to spend his quality time with Ron, and showing respect for him (most of the time.) Like, he TRUSTS Ron, and I think Ron recognizes it as a sign of affection. It’s a good thing too, because Harry’s not the easiest friend. He’s moody, he’s a bit thoughtless, he comes with BAGGAGE, and will almost never give verbal gratitude for all the sacrifices.

He barely acknowledges the sacrifices mentally. And that’s why I feel Harry takes Ron for granted.

#warriorlid14

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anxiouslynumbme · 4 years

Text

Last Hope

Hi! I’m new and I’m writing this thing, if you want to check it out.

DISCLAIMER: I DO NOT OWN HARRY POTTER. OBVIOUSLY.

A few things:

* Ginny and Harry never got together in this story. But, they are very close friends.

* This story contains mature and explicit content. Such as: Cursing, Violence, Explicit Sexual Situations, Suicide, Rape, sexual harassment/assault, etc.

* There will be Original Characters.

* This story is also available on FFN and AO3.

**DO NOT COPY OR USE MY STORY IN ANY WAY SHAPE OR FORM.**

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Summary: It was hard for Ginny Weasley to find hope in the aftermath of the Battle Of Hogwarts.

Chapter 1

Ginny Weasley was standing over a Death Eater's corpse. At some point during the battle she has lost count of how many lives she took, a part of her didn't care and she couldn't really deal with the other part; the part that wanted to throw up and cry in a corner somewhere. She's been keeping everything in check for over a year, not feeling anything, trying to survive, making sure that her friends stayed alive and trying to keep Hogwarts from burning to the ground.

Glancing up from the dead body she could see her best friend Neville in the distance fighting two of them, barely hanging on trying to duck and fire spells at both of them. She knew he could handle it, they made sure of it. They've been training, they were all ready but Ginny couldn't help but worry because Neville didn't want to cross the line. He didn't want to kill any of them, he believed they were misled. There's been arguments among the DA about the right and wrong of it all. And Ginny just wanted to save her loved ones no matter what she had to do.

She closed her eyes briefly. Fred. She couldn't save him, she felt suffocating sadness trying to overwhelm her but she had to push it down, she couldn't stop and process anything that was happening; she had to be all action and logic. She couldn't take a moment to think about the fact that she'd just seen Ron for the first time in a year and their reunion included witnessing their brother's death. They both knew they couldn't sit, cry, and deal with the trauma; they had to keep going. That was the hardest part; wanting to give up, wanting to just lie down and die but not being able to because people depended on you, because you had to be strong even though nothing seemed to matter anymore. And it was really messed up that all she wanted was to immediately hug Ron and thank the heavens he was okay but instead they had to watch their brother take his last breath. Ginny felt panic beginning to settle in again as she though of Fred, she knew she was about to lose herself in a dark bottomless pit if she didn't control her thoughts and emotions, she had to set everything aside once again, she had to keep fighting; she had to make sure his death meant something.

Behind the wall next to Neville she spotted a Death Eater sneaking up on him ready to fire a curse. Her body sprung into action as she sprinted towards him, jumping over bodies and leaping over bricks as she raised her wand with perfect aim.

"Reducto!"

The Death Eater went flying back from the force of the spell, a hole appearing in his chest where his heart used to be. Neville turned around at her voice, sweat dripping down his face. They nodded at each other once she reached him as they both started to fight the Death Eaters in front of them.

"Ginny! Neville!" They were both too busy fighting the two scumbags to turn towards Luna's voice, but Ginny knew something was wrong. Luna rarely, if ever, raised her voice. She let out a grunt in frustration as she fought; until finally disarming him and quickly using a stunning spell before turning to Luna she was covered in blood the color mixing morbidly with her dirty blonde hair.

"What is it?"

She could see Neville was still fighting his guy from her peripheral vision.

"I tried to stop them...but they got them- two second years! I was supposed to protect them...I tried Ginny."

Shit. Knowing that Neville finally dealt with the Death Eater, she grabbed both his arm and Luna's and dragged them running until they crouched behind a big brick that has fallen from one of the towers.

"Who took them?" Ginny immediately asked.

"I don't know. They were wearing masks."

"What are we going to do? We can't leave in the middle of battle." Neville said looking at her, waiting for her agreement.

He was right. They were under their protection, but Ginny had to be logical here. They were most likely dead and it wasn't like the first time they had lost kids. People needed them here, it was war and their place was in the middle of it. For a minute Ginny couldn't believe her thoughts, she was knowingly giving up on two kids. She knew they were in danger and they might already be dead or they were trying to recruit them, she knew it wasn't the right thing to do. But it was the tactical and tough decision that she had to make.

"They're probably dead."

"Ginny!" Luna protested instantly. "I know it's not the smartest decision to look for them, but I was in charge of them Gin. I can't just-" She paused, voice breaking, before she looked her in the eyes. "I'll look for them. With or without you."

Damn it, Luna. She thought to herself.

"Do you know where they took them?"

"Before I passed out, I saw them making their way to the Forbidden Forest." Her eyes suddenly glazed over and Ginny knew she was having one of her visions, or senses as she sometimes referred to them.

A figure suddenly dropped down next to them, it was Padma and she looked at them in panic.

"I can't find Parvati!" She cried. "I don't know what happened, I was fighting right next to her, and I turned around and she...oh god I-"

"Hey hey, Padma, take a breath." Neville raised a palm to her shoulder calmly. "We'll find her, okay? Just try and breathe."

Padma tried to nod but she was visibly shaking.

"Okay...right. She's fine. We'll find her." It really felt as if she was trying to convince herself, but in that moment it was as if they all had the same thought, shared the same feeling. It was that gut feeling that you get that told you something was wrong, someone was dead. And with that, Ginny has made a decision.

"Alright, Neville, you go with Padma and try to keep track of all DA members." She turned to Luna. "You're with me."

Padma sniffled. "Where are you going?"

"To look for two second years, they were taken."

"That's terrible, but Ginny, we need you here. Everyone needs to be here right now." Padma said, her shaking lessened slightly.

"Yeah, Ginny, I really hate to say this, but are we sure this is the best plan?"

"I can't let Luna go alone...and she's right. They are our responsibility." She hated how jaded they all became. They saw so many kids tortured and killed that it was in debate right then whether it was smart to leave and save them or not. Ginny felt so sick that for a second she thought she was actually going to throw up. They had to find them and they had to be alive. They just had to.

"Hell, I know- I know. Alright, I'm going with you then."

"No, you're not, the three of us can't go, you're needed here and Padma needs you-"

"I'll be fine." She interrupted with a shaking breath.

"Oh god, Ginny, I feel them. "Luna breathed from beside her, her eyes have gone so cloudy they were almost just white."No no no, they're in so much pain. We have to go now!" Luna raised a hand to her mouth trying to silent her sob as she finally came back to herself, eyes natural grey again.

"Okay, " Ginny looked quickly to Neville and Padma putting a hand on each of their shoulders. "Just stick together and we'll be back as soon as we can."

They all stood up and eyed each other in worry, it was not goodbye; they would meet again, they've been through way too much not to.

Neville stepped towards Ginny and Luna and threw his arms around them, holding them tight. "Be careful, please."

"You too." Luna mumbled.

"Uh...Nev, you should probably let go now." Ginny told him after a moment only half teasing, she didn't necessarily want to end the hug, but they were literally surrounded by chaos and people falling to their death. Ginny still made sure to smile at him when he finally pulled back.

She turned to Padma."I hope you find your sister."

"Me too. I will." She uttered with conviction.

"Be safe, alright?" They both nodded their heads in answer.

And with that Ginny and Luna took off, leaving Hogwarts grounds and marching straight into the Forbidden Forest.

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Ginny and Luna were trying to to be as quiet as they can, they had to be stealthy, fast, and silent. Luna was leading the way based on what she was sensing and Ginny was trying to form a plan-any kind of plan that she can put into action once they find them. If they find them. They had to take their time and be strategic about whatever situation they might be walking into.

Ginny's steps came to a halt as she raised an arm to stop Luna in her tracks. She heard something just then or maybe she felt it.

"Did you hear that?"

"No, what do you hear?"

"Let's hope I'm just being paranoid." She answered as they started to walk again.

But Ginny knew she wasn't being paranoid. She felt something and then a wave of realization hit her. Voldemort was here. She could feel him. Ever since the diary she always had these moments as if she could feel him watching her, or sense that he was near. And right then it was stronger than ever. And if Voldemort were there, she wondered if Harry were too, Ginny felt a sharp pang of fear and dread for him that she had to quickly push deep down to focus on the mission. Even though she wasn't sure, she wanted to tell Luna to stop and go back and let her find the second years. Ginny wanted to stay so she could face Voldemort, finally confront him and help Harry defeat him, but she knew Luna wouldn't leave her.

"It's that way." Luna suddenly whispered, her voice so soft and airy, Ginny knew she was lost in her own mind, she didn't have to see her eyes to know they have probably gone white.

As they approached the area Luna pointed out, Ginny could hear voices laughing and then a second later there were screams. They were crying out in pain and Ginny felt her stomach hurt as she and Luna sped up until they were close enough to hide behind a tree and observe the scene.

Ginny quickly evaluated the situation. Only two Death Eaters, thankfully. Then her eyes zoned in on the two kids tied against the tree and she recognized them immediately. Isaac and Allison. When she looked them over, it felt as if all air left her body. Aside from the tears and sheer pain on their faces. Their clothes were ripped. Oh god no no no not that. Her mind was screaming at her to just run in and get them, her body was dying to go in for the kill; but they had to wait and assess their next course of action.

Before Ginny could turn around to Luna, a child emerged suddenly from behind one of the Death Eaters. She couldn't have been more than twelve and while she had the body of child, she didn't carry herself like one. She couldn't believe that these two pieces of shit let that kid watch. Ginny tried to take a better look As the little girl walked closer and she could somewhat see her face and eyes; they were calm, no fear whatsoever. She looked almost demonic.

"Well, that was a waste of my time." The girl looked at the two men with boredom. "Now that you've had your fun. Please go away, so I can enjoy killing them in peace."

Luna let out a small gasp from beside her, Ginny's eyes were wide in shock. She felt Luna take a step forward before she grabbed her and pulled her back with a shake of her head that told her they needed to think first. She knew that Voldemort and Death Eaters were recruiting kids, but she had never actually seen one. The two men looked at the child with respect, almost fear.

"You can, of course, have the kill, " One of them responded. "But we have orders to never leave your side, Akkila."

Akkila. Akkila Carrow. Ginny and Luna shared a look, of course they've heard of her and how ruthless she was but the rumours never mentioned she was a bloody twelve year old. Nobody knew why she never joined the Carrows at Hogwarts.

"I don't care what orders you've been given. When I tell you to leave. You leave." Her voice was ice cold and Ginny felt a shiver run through her.

"Okay so, you'll take the one on the right and I'll take the left." She whispered to Luna.

"And Akkila?"

"Stunning spells only." She didn't want to think about how awful and sinister that little girl was. They weren't going to kill her.

"Oh, Ginny."Luna sighed and when Ginny looked at her, her eyes were cloudy yet again.

"What is it?"

"I don't think this going to end well."

Damn it, Luna.

"Did you...see or feel something?"

Her gaze shot up to Ginny's. "It doesn't matter. We don't have a choice." Her voice was small and sad.

She didn't have time to dissect that statement.

"How dare you disobey me?"

Ginny and Luna turned back to watch Akkila raise her wand and with no hesitation she fired the Killing Curse.

She could see that Akkila was too far gone. And Ginny wasn't surprised given who she was and how she was raised, but that didn't stop the disgust and disbelief at the sight in front of her. There was only Akkila and one Death Eater left, getting rid of them was going to be easy.

"Gin."

"Yeah?"

"Remember what I told you."

Really, Luna? Ginny thought. You expect me to remember everything you've ever told me?

"You have to give me more than that, L."

"You'll know."

Giving her a confused look. "I don't think we have time for riddles."

"We were in the library."

"Bloody hell! Which time!?" She whisper-shouted.

Luna looked at her then, something about her eyes made Ginny pause as she felt Luna's hand on her shoulder. "You know."

And it was as if she transferred the exact memory into Ginny's mind. She remembered exactly which time she was talking about. They had been sitting in the Library late one night studying; but Luna had felt bad all day even if she were trying not to show it. Some students had been calling her names and they were in the middle of pulling a very cruel prank, when Ginny had intervened for the third time that week. Ginny had stayed with her after it happened and had tried everything to cheer her up. She had cracked jokes and had told her a few hilarious Fred and George stories; but nothing'd worked. So Ginny had decided to just sit with her in silence, until she had suddenly spoken up.

"You're the best friend anybody could ever ask for, Ginny Weasley." She had stated staring out of the Library's window.

Ginny smiled. "Aw! You're a pretty great friend too, L."

Luna looked at her with a grin. "Oh! L ...I like that."

Ginny smiled softly at the memory, but looked at Luna in confusion. "Why that memory?"

It was a stupid question, deep down Ginny knew why. But there was no way she was going to let whatever was about to happen to actually happen.

"You're my best friend, Ginny."

"Luna-"

But she didn't get to finish. Luna sat up and looked down at her. "It's time."

Ginny nodded, standing up as well, making sure that all her daggers were in place and slowly they walked around the tree they were hiding behind. Without warning, Luna charged for Akkila aiming her wand.

"Stupefy!"

Ginny didn't wait to see if it hit the target, she ran towards the other Death Eater.

He deflected her attempt trying to stun him and fired back his own. She could hear Luna and Akkila sparring beside her. Curses were being fired in every direction.

"Expelliarmus!" He yelled, smirking at her because he knew she didn't expect him to use that spell. Ginny groaned in frustration when it hit her and she felt her wand flying out of her hand.

Acting quickly not waiting for her wand to reach him, she ran forward, her body slid across the ground once she was close enough she kicked her leg hard against his shin; successfully tripping him, his wand falling from his hand. Both of their wands were on the ground, Ginny immediately went for her wand, throwing her body towards it but he grabbed her ankle and dragged her back before flipping her around.

"Bitch!"

"Right back at ya." She growled, pulling her knee up and kicking him right in the balls. He glowered in pain, instantly releasing her.

Pushing him back, she moved to stand and he readily followed. Both leaving their wands behind, Ginny took a quick second to glance at Luna, she didn't need any help she was gracefully ducking and dodging as she shot a spell after spell at Akkila. She checked the two second years still tied to the tree and unconscious.

Pulling her attention back to her enemy, he was grinning before he advanced on her with a punch, she ducked, moving a step to the side twirling around until she was behind him. She raised her right knee and as hard as she could kicked him in the spine, he yelled out; dropping to his knees. Ginny quickly grabbed his hair and pulled; with her other hand extracted the dagger she kept on her right hip, lifting her arm back; she swung it back down around to his neck and slit his throat. Blood splattered onto her hand and the ground. She let his body go and it hit the ground with a thump.

"Ah!"

She turned around to see her friend tied to a huge tree the branches and roots wrapping themselves around her body tightly.

Ginny silently searched around for her wand, but sadly she wasn't that lucky. Akkila's head whipped around in her direction smiling maniacally.

"Oh no. You killed one of my own." She said monotonously. "I'll have to kill you now...well, I was going to kill you anyway."

Ginny has spotted her wand and as discreetly as possible she made a step towards it. But it was too late, Akkila's snake eyes caught it.

"Accio Wand!"

Both her wand and the dead Death Eater's flew right into her tiny hands.

"Look at that! I've got all of your wands." She pouted mockingly. "And I'm a twelve year old. This is embarrassing."

She pocketed two of the wands, leaving two; one in each hand.

"Listen, you don't want to do this, please." Ginny tried feebly; she knew it was no use but she didn't want to hurt her.

"But I do."

"You're very young and confused, it's not your fault...you just need help."

Akkila stared at Ginny incredulously. "Are you being serious? I'm about to kill both of you and this is your argument?"

"Listen, there's hope for you, you don't have to be like your family. You have a choice."

"Don't talk about my family." She snarled. "Don't talk to me like you know me."

"You're right, I don't. But I do know what it is like to feel like you can't control your life, to be used as just a pawn in someone else's plans."

"Oh, do you now?"

"Different circumstances, but yes. I bet everything's been decided for you since you came into this world; you never had a choice. But you have one now. You can make the right one."

Akkila laughed, the sound sadistic and unnatural. "You're funny, Weasley."

Ginny's shock must have shown on her face.

"Why are you so surprised? Of course I know who you are; after all we were counting on you trying to find these weaklings." She tilted her head in Allison and Isaac's direction.

"You're deeply despised in my world. Your entire family, actually, is on my list of people I want to kill before the end of the night."

She went too far.

"Careful." Ginny's voice was deadly calm, but the warning was more than clear in her tone.

"Ooh, I'm so scared." She lifted her head to the sky. "Help me, Almighty God! Ginny Weasley; the girl who couldn't fight a diary is threatening me."

Ginny's heart was beating wildly in her chest, she was about to lose her temper. She didn't want to think about how that little brat acquired this information, she didn't want to think about Death Eaters having information on her and her family. She wanted to focus on her anger.

"You should be scared." Luna spoke suddenly, her voice cutting through the tension in the air.

Akkila's eyes never left Ginny as she responded to Luna." You know, I have no idea why you're still alive, Freak."

"Don't call her that."

"I'll do far more than just call her a Freak." She replied with a scoff, talking to Ginny as she took a step closer in Luna's direction, one of the wand pointed at her."I was going to make you kill her yourself, but I know for a fact that you know how to resist the Imperius curse. So...I'll just settle for you watching me have all the fun!"

"Crucio!"

Luna's screams instantly pierced their ears.

"Stop!"

But before Ginny could move the curse was flipped on her, she immediately fell writhing on the ground in excruciating pain; she's been through this enough times but it never got easier, nothing could ever prepare you for a pain that you can feel in every single bone in your body as if they were all breaking at the same time over and over again. It was as if somebody setting you on fire from the inside. Everything just burned. While she couldn't get used to it, Ginny has learned to try and push through it; she whimpered trying to move her head.

"Please stop, don't...make me." She couldn't even hear her own voice through her sharp gasps, her lungs letting out a scream.

She couldn't think, she tried to move her body but she couldn't muster enough energy, the pain was blinding.

"Sadly, I'm not even sure if you can hear me right now, but I'm going to kill your friend."

Somehow Ginny got herself to look up, grunting loudly. Through her blurred vision, she could make out Akkila raising the other wand towards Luna; even though she couldn't focus on her, she could tell she was looking at her, trying to tell her it was okay.

Ginny wasn't going to lose anyone else, losing her brother and best friend on the same day was just not an option. There had to be a way, through her agony she prayed for a miracle, she prayed for a sliver of strength to get her to move.

Akkila's wand was at the ready.

Ginny was fighting her body, pushing through the pain and achingly slow tried to reach for her dagger.

Akkila was smiling at Luna in triumph.

"Ple-please don't!"

Ginny was groaning and grunting trying to cling onto the dagger once she was able to hold it.

"Avada-"

"NO!" She shrieked, swinging her arm back before throwing the dagger at Akkila with all the power she has left.

The pain suddenly stopped and Ginny gasped in relief, breathing harshly, she blinked, there were dots swimming in her vision, her heart was beating way too fast; it felt like she was about to pass out and maybe she did because a while later she began to feel her surroundings again.

"Ginny."

She tiredly lifted her head at her friend's voice; who was now kneeling beside her and sighed in relief. She was alive. The tree must have let her go after Akkila stopped.

"Wa - wait, is she...?"

Luna didn't meet her eyes. "Yes."

She tried to stand up, but her legs gave out from under her.

"Ginny, you need a minute, you were under the Cruciatus for a while."

"Help me to her."

She threw her arm around Luna's shoulder; while Luna wrapped hers around Ginny's waist. Together they stumbled their way over till they reached her body. She was scared to look down, she didn't want to see it, but she couldn't help it; she had to see for herself. Her eyes finally moved to the body, the dagger has struck her on the forehead; her eyes were staring up unseeing. She was dead.

She has just killed a kid.

She let go of Luna, moving quickly to a nearby tree and emptying her stomach. She didn't know how long she sat by the tree vomiting; she couldn't process what just happened, it was like remembering a memory that you didn't live. I had no choice. She kept repeating the words in her mind, hoping the words would calm her somehow, but she knew nothing would've helped her. I had no choice. Breathe breathe breathe. She couldn't even focus on the fact that her body was weeping in pain. She was mentally and physically drained. Breathe breathe breathe.

"Ginny."

She directed her gaze in the voice's direction, it was Allison and beside her stood Isaac and Luna. They were okay, they were alive. Focus on that, She thought to herself.

Her mind has slowly started to clear, she took a deep breath, before sluggishly standing up. "We need to go back."

They all quietly agreed; making their way through the Forest. She appreciated the silence but it was too dark, she wished they could use Lumos but they couldn't risk someone seeing them.

That was when she felt it again. Voldemort.

As they kept walking, it intensified, she wondered why Luna didn't say anything. Did she even sense anything. Or was it just Ginny because she was connected to Voldemort somehow. Peering ahead she thought she saw a few figures in the distance; the shapes got clearer as they got closer.

"Do you guys see that?" Isaac asked from behind her.

But Ginny didn't respond, because the one thing that was flashing in her mind was that one of the figures was Harry, she was sure of it; with her heart in her throat she started walking faster, leaving the others behind.

"Ginny!" Luna tried to keep her voice low."Don't. Ginny!"

But she didn't stop, she started running forward, her mind racing until she could finally view the scene clearly. Her heart dropped as her eyes fell on Harry for the first time in over a year. His back was to her, facing Voldemort and his little minions; they were both just staring at each other. She felt Luna come up behind her and was aware enough to know that she has cast a Muffliato Charm around them. What is Harry doing? She thought. What is happening?

And then her world crumbled.

She felt her her heart stop beating. It happened so fast - too fast.

"Avada Kedavra!"

She felt her mouth react before her mind could register as she wailed in agonizing devastation, the sound filling the space around them. Ginny felt a heavy weight crushing down her heart and squeezing it in a death grip as pure panic rose so sudden and fast, consuming every fiber of her body, paralyzing her as everything within her soul prayed for death, because she knew it would be a relief from this crippling pain that was washing over her, making her choke on her breath, struggling to breathe through the overwhelming tightness in her chest.

And then her body jumped into action with vengeance as she stepped forward but before she could take one step, Luna's arm caught her around the waist, pulling her back and holding her tight in place, as she put a hand on her mouth to silence her.

"Ginny, please, I was never that good at Muffliato. They might hear us."

Ginny was struggling so hard against Luna that she feared she might hurt her. She didn't know her friend was that strong, Luna never really liked to get overly physical with her training.

"Ginny, we are massively outnumbered. There's nothing you can do."

She managed to rip Luna's hand away, growling. "Let me go! I don't want to hurt you!"

She heard her gasp. "Oh wait. I can still sense his Aura."

Ginny wasn't in the right mind to digest the words. The only thing on her mind was getting to Voldemort and avenging Harry's death. Fred's. Avenging everyone's death.

With a grunt she elbowed Luna hard in the guts, hearing her yelp in pain and falling to the ground. Ginny didn't look back; she held her wand with determination. As she started moving towards her target, she heard Luna's voice from behind her.

"Petrificus Totalus!"

Ginny's entire body stiffened, as the Spell worked its way over her limbs, incapable of moving, she felt her body falling backwards two arms catching her around the waist, trying to hold her up.

"I'm sorry, Ginny."

Her wide eyes looked onward to the scene that would be imprinted in her memory forever. Harry's dead body on the ground.

Harry. The person that before a year ago was one of her best friends. She thought at some point that they were each other's closest friend, until one day he had disappeared with Ron and Hermione; and she felt betrayed and she was so mad at him, especially because she knew what he was doing, even if she didn't know the details at first, it wasn't difficult to guess what they were doing. But none of that mattered then, they ran out of time. They were never going to fight about it. She was never going to see him again, was never going to make him laugh or smile. She was never going to hear his voice again.

Her frozen eyes observed Hagrid; whom she didn't even notice was there, pick Harry's body off the ground and into his arms. She felt Luna slowly trying to move back so she can rest Ginny's body on the ground.

She felt tears silently stream down her face as she caught a final glimpse of Harry; before her eyes were gazing up at the night sky.

#hinny #hinny fic #ginnyweasley #harrypotter #harry x ginny #harryandginny #hinnyfic

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leviathans-tail · 5 years

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So if anyone couldn’t tell, I’ve been reading some literature over the past couple of weeks. I have mostly been focusing on Dazai and Akutagawa partly due to the third season of Bungou Stray Dogs coming out and re-sparking my interest. I have had these authors and books on my “to-read list” for the longest time and now I’m finally getting around to it and I’m glad I did. I would like to thank BSD for rekindling my interest in reading stuff other than fanfic (not that fanfic is bad but reading on screens hurts my eyes cus my sensory problems and I feel bad printing out five to read them bc trees). Anyway, I still believe that it’s important to read classics from all over the world and growing up in the west, we didn’t exactly have great exposure to authors past the British and French. I remember reading just one of Dostoyevsky’s books in High School and that qualifies as “world literature.” And I absolutely loved the American authors in my American lit class but I was curious about other authors so I’m thankful for BSD for exposing me to some different literature.

Thus far, I can definitely say that i find it interesting to read classic literature that isn’t through a Christian lens bc even Dostoyevsky and other European and American authors often rely on Christianity for their views on morality so it was refreshing to read authors who had a different perspective and I even learned more of Buddhism in the process so that was a big plus. Dazai has a short story where he basically tells the story of Jesus’ betrayal through Judas’ perspective which would not happen from many western authors cus like it’s “sacrelgious” or whatever, so that was interesting. And as a Christian myself, I was very interested to see how someone not raised in this Christian culture would interpret and react to scripture. Akutagawa also has a couple short stories about the persecution of Christians during the Tokugawa goverment’s reign and the Shimabara Rebellion. My favorite was O-Gin because of its tragedy. It was also interesting to see Christianity taking the role of the “suppressed” because we rarely if ever see that through our Western Christianized world lens.

Second thing is big kudos to Dazai for just being a bi-icon (from “Memories”) and just casually stating that he had a crush on a male classmate but then was grossed out bc the guy gave him a newt and he hates newts. Another thing I gotta say about Dazai is that he always finds a way in his short stories (haven’t read his longer works yet they are in the mail), to insert himself but make it vague whereas you know when Akutagawa wants to talk about himself vs just give you a funny story or a historical fiction work.

I think my favorite Dazai short story is “Crackling Mountain” even though Dazai basically says that some women are devious and seduce men and then are cruel blah blah blah. I really enjoy his style of writing and I could really interchange between seeing the main characters as animals and people at the same time which was weird but good. my favorite Akutagawa short story is “Hell Screen” (although Rashomon is a close second). I could make a while post just on Hell Screen bc there’s A LOT there. And “Horse Legs” omg I highly recommend if you like surreal tragicomic works. I actually laughed out loud while reading this which doesn’t happen often when reading.

This post is already all over the place so I might as well add this on. I just finished reading “The Life of a Stupid Man” by Akutagawa which was published after his suicide and it was like one of the last things he left. It’s kind of an autobiography and kind of a suicide note if you ask me. Whatever the case, it definitely made me feel differently about Akutagawa as an actual person. Going into this I knew he was feeling a lot of pressure from his extended family bc he was the primary breadwinner for all of them and he had kids that would get sick, and relatives that were killing themselves or losing jobs, etc. so I just thought that he couldn’t take the pressure and eventually snapped. I wasn’t aware that he was uhhh just f***ing around. Like this one chick he pursued aggressively then was like “woah there jk” when she started pursuing him back. She even told him that a kid she had with her husband was his like what. According to himself,Akutagawa stopped cheating on his wife when he was thirty and you can tell that in “The Life of a Stupid Man” that he feels some sort of regret for his affairs. He keeps saying how he’s an awful husband, father, and brother but like he was supporting everyone which was admirable so why feel that way otherwise? One thing I found almost comical in this short story was when he talked about his platonic woman friend that he made after turning thirty and he was like “He did not die with her, but he took a certain satisfaction in his never having touched her.” Like good job bud you managed not to f*** one of your woman friends. But I think he was proud because if he has this “affliction” it would be easy to fall back into your old ways lol. Maybe having a platonic relationship with a woman was a goal of his before he died idk. He also makes reference to himself and other authors (including Gogol) being possessed by some sort of demon and that’s why they all go crazy and/or commit suicide and he knew that he was gonna do one or the other too. He says “all that lay before him was madness or suicide,” and then talks about how a close friend of his went mad and is in the hospital.

There’s another quote a little bit before that where Akutagawa states that “not everyone is moved by literature. His own works were unlikely to appeal to people who were not like him and had not lived a life like his...” and like idk how much I agree with him there if I’m being honest. I’d say I’m one of the furthest things from the type of person Akutagawa was and I still very much enjoyed his literature. And there I think he is again doubting his abilities and being self-deprecating (duh the title). He was able to write stories that despite their placement in history showed the best and worst parts of humanity and that will resonate with every generation. And like I think anyone will laugh at “Horse Legs” -it’s a dude walking around with hooves that he has to hide bc the death people messed up and he died too early and they needed to send him back but his own legs were rotten already and Horse Legs were all that was available. Cmon that’s funny

Anyway I might add on later or make another post to document my feelings/reactions to more literature idk

#kat speaks #opinion #literature #japanese literature #dazai osamu #akutagawa ryunosuke #bungou stray dogs #bsd #long post #tw suicide

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hskswife · 5 years

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g o n e 5 || k. sj

Summary: ‘Can't I be happy for a while? Can't we be happy for even just a little while...?’

Genre: Angst, Angst , Angst

Pairing: Seokjin x Reader

Words: 1529

A/N: Okay guys finally after months I have wifi again! So hopefully I can start updating soon and more often I am currently working on a text series and another chapter series. So my hands are full but nothing I can’t handle.

<<< previous

"I'm sick JK..." You looked down trying to avoid his gaze as you shut the door behind you. "What do you mean? Do you have a fever should I call Youngj--" You shook your head as you stared at the ground,"I'm really sick."

There was a sudden silence filling the air. You looked up to see Jungkook suddenly so confused so you sighed as you planned to just tell him as it is,"I'm dying...soon enough I won't even be able to move on my own and have to be admitted into a hospital. I take medicine for it but all the medicine is doing is slowing the process but soon...I will just be paralyzed without a mind of my own. And eventually I die." Jungkook sat down from the sudden bomb that you just threw at him. "It's a rare genetic disease...unfortunately for me it's incurable. My grandfather had it. He died at 56." You laughed a little at the little luck you had. "Unfortunately for me the signs started early."

"Jimin...does he know? What about Nayeon?" You shook your head,"Only my family and you, I guess...but I'll tell them when the time comes." You looked at Jungkook who was staring at you like everyone else who knows about it. With pity. This was why you refused to tell anyone outside of family. Because they will start treating you like if your something that'll break if they even lay a finger on you. Even Jimin. You knew him well enough. He will especially treat you different. Jungkook too but you have already prepared for this. You had the decency at least to think of telling them once your 'end' was near.

But you knew they would be sad now. However, you also knew that they would forget about you. Soon after you die you'll be nothing but the pictures you left behind. Maybe that's why you chose a major where you can leave something for the world to remember you by. For Mozart it was his music, for Einstein it was his research, for Da Vinci it was his paintings, for Shakespeare it was his stories, but for you it will be the pictures. You're going to leave behind what you saw. What you felt about the world. You won't just be another face in the yearbooks or another name on a tombstone that read:

'In loving memory of a beloved sister and daughter...'

You cleared your throat,"Honestly I wasn't going to say anything to you but since now that you're my roommate you at least have the right...and it was Youngjae's condition."

You smiled at him as he still looked very shocked,"Y/N...you're lying right?" Tears streamed down your face,"I wish I was...I would give everything to be normal again. To not have to worry about dying. To just worry about what job to take on after graduation." You scoffed as Jungkook placed his hands on yours,"To be able to work, meet someone, and have a family." You cried harder thinking about the possible future you can have that would've been possible if it wasn't for this damn illness.

"Y/N..." You shook your head,"I don't want your pity Jungkook. You know me...so please don't change...just be the JK I have always known..." He smiled,"I was actually going to ask when I can move in and where I should put my photography stuff." You laughed wiping away the tears,"Right. I have that room for photography stuff but we'll empty it out and it can be your room and then the living room can just be our photo studio." He nodded,"Okay I'll move in whenever you tell me to." You nodded and smiled and you hugged him,"Thanks."

Its been a month or since the day your grandmother died. Jungkook has moved in and to your surprise no one from his fan base has attacked you for having Jungkook living with you. You and Jungkook were watching a movie. Something about a man from North Korea going undercover. You had rested your feet on Jungkook as he rested his head on his arms when someone knocked on your door. "You rolled your eyes and groaned,"Uhhhh...Ill open it." Jungkook smiled,"Good I wasn't planning on opening it." You stuck your tongue out as you placed your feet on the ground slowly approaching the door,"Hey! Open the door!!"

You stared at the door the voice seemed familiar but you couldn't put a finger on it. You finally opened the door and to your surprise a drunk Jin had fallen on top of you. "Woah..oh my god Jin you reek of alcohol." You coughed at the strong scent of gin emitting from the drunken boy in your arms. You were even more surprised that he had remembered where you had lived even though all he had done was visit once and that was a month ago.

"Y/N...what have you done to me?" You heard Jungkook coming up from behind you,"Uh need help?" You nodded,"Please." Jungkook then lifted the older man with ease and placed him on the couch,"What happened?" You shrugged your shoulders. Jungkook covered his nose,"Oh god he reeks." You nodded as you went to the kitchen and filled a big bowl with cold water and placed a small towel in the water as you watched a passed out Jin moving around on the couch.

You approached the boy with the bowl of cold water astonished at his beautiful drunken face. You then took the towel wringing out all the water as much as possible with your strength and brought it to his forehead trailing it down to his eyes, then nose, then his lips. You stopped suddenly remembering the time you had kissed. You tried your best this last month to forget Jin. Especially since the deal with Suzy but I guess you weren't doing a very great job because your heart still fluttered a little. Jungkook cleared his throat as you shook your head and continued wiping Jin's face,"Ill go get him some coffee from the convenience store. Call if anything happens." You nodded as the sound of the door shutting followed.

You were about to dump out the water when Jin suddenly grabbed your wrist. You placed the water down as you kneeled infront of him, "You need to leave as soon as you're all sobered up okay?" Jin smiled as he gently placed his hands on your cheeks. You froze in place. It was as if at this moment he was the Seokjin you knew. Not the arrogant annoying front he always had. "J-Jin what do you thi--" Before you can finish your sentence his lips brushed against yours. You stood there in place as if someone had just pressed the pause button and you're just stuck in this moment. "I think I've fallen for you." He whispered as he ended the kiss with his forehead leaning against yours.

Your eyes widened as you pushed him away from you causing you to fall on your ass and his head to fall. "What do you think your doing?" He shrugged sitting up,"I honestly don't know anymore...but before I go to bed you're all I can think of. When I wake up the first thing I think about is you. When you're not with me I long for you." You scoffed completely unsure of how you should react. You didn't even know whether to take him seriously or just to take all this as drunken talk. But then there is that saying that a drunken man's words is a sober man's thoughts. Is he just toying with me or is there truth to his words. You stood up shaking your head. No you knew he was a player. You knew he had Suzy. "And Suzy?" He laughs,"She's just like everyone else...she's probably with someone else as we speak. But you...your different you're pure...and you make me feel like everything I do even with the real me is someone worth falling for..."

"What are you talking about?"

He laughs,"Acting? I'm not that devoted...Fuck that. I even kissed you because I felt like it. I wasn't playing a role. That was who I am...the Seokjin you meant is who I actually am." You tilted your head confused but before you can say anything else he had fallen back to sleep. You looked at his sleeping face and placed the loose hairs on his face aside,"Your stupid Jin...social popularity will mean nothing once you've reached a point in your life...trust me. Just be yourself." You then leaned in to place a kiss on his lips.

"What are you doing?" You turned your head to see Jungkook. You didn't notice he'd come in, "Just leave him Y/N...leave him to be with Suzy." You looked at Jin,"Why should I he's suffering with her..." Jungkook sighed as you stood up to look him in the eyes,"Because you're dying...Y/N what'll hurt him more? Suzy being a cheater or the women he loves dying before him?" You looked back down at Jin and tears went down your face,"Can't I be happy for a while? Can't we be happy for even just a little while...?" Jungkook shrugged,"Everything is up to you Y/N."

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outerspaceisbetterthannothing · 5 years

Note

Hey! Congratulations, babe! You're hitting such a big milestone and I hope we can become friends!

Hey, Ash! Thank you so much and yes, of course, lets be friends! I love having friends and talking to them! My ask box and dms are always open, come talk about any stuff in the world! Sorry your ask took me so long, but it was a long ask also so lmao hope it’s okay!

🎸 - a playlist of songs which I associate with you [I went through your blog and that’s kinda mood i got, hope you like, these are some of my favorite songs]

Arctic Monkeys - Why’d You Only Call Me When You High?

Lana Del Rey - Off To The Races

The Kooks - Naive

Catfish And The Bottlemen - Pacifier

The 1975 - Sex

The Last Shadow Puppies - She Does The Woods

🌈 - a fic rec

cigarette by @cal-puddies [it is what it is i mean the hottest cal smut ever but it’s also the first part of a series so if you like this one, check out the next parts, they are pure gold and also the most delicious filth]

and a playlist to it

Lana Del Rey - When The World Was At War We Kept Dancing

Tom Grennan - Found What I’ve Been Looking For

Catfish and the Bottlemen - Outside

The Killers - Bones

The 1975 - Love It If We Made It

Florence + The Machine - What Kind Of Man

👑 - a personal 5sos photo/gif thread

i’m gonna make it a separate post and tag you in it not to make this one too big

✨ - a 5sos!au ship with a blurb of how you two met

Okay, so as i said i went through your blog and i’d say i def ship you with bad boy Cal. Bitch resting face, black clothes, cigarettes and strong liquor, the smell of danger around him. The type of guy to make all the girls’ panties wet.

How the two of you met:

Let’s say you’re in an underground bar/club. You’re here with some friends who begged you to go even though it’s not really your type, but some cool band was gonna play, so you agreed.

The place is sick, though a little frightening. You even heard some illegal fights are happening here on some nights, and some of the men inside look too dangerous for your liking. Especially the tall one at the bar. You spot him the minute you get inside. He’s easily towering over most of the people, dark leather jacket deliciously tight on his biceps, slight irritation on his face. He leans on the bar counter, nursing whiskey glass and talking to the bartender every so often. He doesn’t make an attempt to talk to anyone else or pick up a girl, just observes the crowd. You have to admit he’s ridiculously hot and, sadly, hasn’t looked at you even once.

You’re listening to the band with your friends and they’re surprisingly really good, so you mostly enjoy your evening. It’s getting really hot by the end of the set and you go up to the bar counter to get some water. The dude comes out of nowhere. One moment you’re asking for your water, next he’s already leaning over you, the smell of alcohol and sweat making you sick.

“A girl like you can do much better than just water,” he assures you. “Let me buy you a drink, sweetheart.”

You move a little from him, shivers run up your arms. “Thank you, but I’m fine with my water,” you answer, glancing at him and trying to sound as polite as possible in this situation. You know these types of guys, know you had to do anything not to piss him off. The only thing you don’t take in consideration was that your mere rejection is enough to piss him off.

“No need to be a bitch, I’m just buying you a drink,” he says turning to the bartender, “Hey, Mike, get that girl some gin.”

You try to say no to Mike, but the guy grabs your wrist and pulls you closer to him. “I said stop being a little bitch.”

You don’t have time even to start panicking, when a man’s hand lays on the dude’s shoulder. You hear his low, raspy voice before you see his frame behind that creep’s back.

“The girl said no, man. Have balls to accept it and back off.”

The creep lets go of your hand and slowly turns to the tall guy. Thankfully, bartender picks up a bat from under the counter, and that finally makes the dude leave without making it nasty. The tall guy looks at you, holding your water bottle and looking a little shaken and smirks.

“You shouldn’t be here alone, you know. Too pretty for this place,” he says but doesn’t try to come closer. His voice is everything you wanna hear for the rest of your life, low and confident and somehow soft, enveloping you.

You can feel your cheeks burning bright red. “Well, thank you…” you hesitate, but he comes to the rescue, again. “It’s Calum.”

“Thank you, Calum,” you say, “for saving me and the compliment.” He bows a little in a joking manner, you can see devils dancing in his dark eyes. “But I’m not alone, I’m with friends here.”

“Yeah, I’ve seen them,” he notes and looks exactly in your friend group direction. You blush even more. Was he actually watching you?

And at that moment you feel it with your whole body, the danger radiating from him.

“I guess, I should go back to them,” you mumble. “But thank you one more time.”

You basically run from him, feeling his look on your back and asking yourself if you’ve just done the biggest mistake in your life. Because no matter how dangerous he is, he’s also the hottest man you’ve seen in your entire life.

📜 - a 5sos blurb

As you haven’t specified it, let’s pick up the same bad boy Calum line, shall we?

So several days has passed, but you still can’t shake that Calum guy from your mind. You literally think about him any given moment and after you see him in a dream one night, you realise you have to see him again.

So after debating with a logical part of you, you set on going to that bar again. There’s no guarantee he’ll be there, of course. But you remember he was talking to the bartender all evening and think it might mean he’s not a rare guest at this place. And anyway, that’s the only idea of how to find him you’ve got, so… You even manage to persuade couple of your friends to go with you, so it’s not so scary and you won’t look pathetic sitting there alone. But as the evening comes your friends start to bail on you, making excuses at not feeling like going out or having some family stuff to take care of. You’re disappointed not to say more, but not ready to go alone, so, you guess, it’s just not meant to be. And you accept it, truly. At least you think so. Right until you find yourself entering that bar in your sexiest top and skinny jeans. You know you’re probably acting reckless, but you can’t help it.

You decide to stick to the bar counter this time, thinking that even if you don’t see Calum again, the bartender (the same you saw last time you’ve been here) won’t let anything bad happen to you.

You order a cocktail, not very strong, you’re here not to get wasted. And share a little chat with bartender Mike, who obviously remembers you and even jokes about how you’re his danger girl now, as you came again again after what happened before. You smile, he’s nice and you like his jokes. You start feeling more confident, even with feeling men around looking at you hungrily every now and then. You spend there around an hour, when decide to call it quits. You’re highly disappointed not to see Calum again, but maybe it’s for the best. Maybe the Universe just trying to tell you he’s not the guy for you.

You think about getting an uber, when the same low voice envelopes you.

“I thought i said you shouldn’t be alone here.”

You can hear his irritation, as he leans on the counter next to you, but at the same time you can see amusement in his eyes.

“Especially looking like this,” he says, giving your look a thorough checking.

“I’ll take it as a compliment,” you answer finishing your drink.

“Oh, please, do,” he chuckles as Mike puts his whiskey in front of him.

You turn to Calum, he’s in the same black leather jacket, his dark hair unrulier than before.

“So what are you doing here today?” he asks with a smirk playing on his plump lips.

You shrug, alcohol making you bold. “Maybe, i was looking for you,” you answer.

“Well, you’ve found me,” he muses, moving closer to you, “what are you gonna do now?”

You can’t take your eyes off his lips, they are so deliciously wet and inviting. You feel your heart beating so fast, hear the rush of blood in your ears. You know you’re moving way too fast, but fuck it if you care right now.

“Whatever you want me to,” you whisper before attaching your lips to him.

Thank you one more time for following! I hope you liked your blurb and ship and everything! Come talk any time! 🖤

Follower Celebration Week!

#followers celebration #asks #ashtonandcalslefthand #200 followers celebration blurbs #writing ideas #drud dealer calum

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twistednuns · 5 years

Text

May 2019

Leah Rieck’s book Sag dem Abenteuer, ich komme - she started out in Munich and travelled the world on her motorcycle, alone. I loved how down-to-earth it was, it didn’t glorify the places she visited. Reading it gave me the final impulse to hand in the application for my sabbatical in three years. Now I just have to sign up for Spanish class at uni.

Being sick - good for losing Canada weight. And getting better really quickly, too! I was already prepared for a horrible flu but after one feverish, painful day I was as good as new! Strange magic.

Andre sending me a very old photo of himself, sitting in a 90s bedroom, shirtless, playing a red electric guitar. He has long-ish hair and looks up into the camera. He looks like a seductive young Kurt Cobain.

Reading Meike Winnemuth’s book about gardening. Another book which kinda gives me the desire to have my own garden. Well. For now I’m just sprucing up the balcony.

My new Dyno vinyl label maker. Exactly the right thing for someone with a passion for sorting, labeling and organising.

Eating ripe peaches and strawberries.

Wearing my cowboy boots from Montréal. I love making click clack sounds while walking.

More literature: Finally reading Hesse’s Siddhartha for the first time. / Bela B Felsenheimer’s debut novel. / A very pretty graphic novel I got in Québec: Anne… La Maison Aux Pignons Verts / And another feminist dystopia, one of my favourite genres: Christina Dalcher’s Vox.

An evening with Maxim and Martina at Flex. Playing pool with the computer scientist and his girlfriend from New Zealand. Needing help for the foosball match - fortunately the guy from Kairo was on the spot. Grasovka and Gauloises on a Monday night. Living a little, you know? / Related: getting better at pool even though I have to play with idiots #horribletinderdates

Finding that sticker of Grumpy Cat saying “Don’t be racist - hate everyone!”

This list here is list number 100 of my Things I Love series. Ha. I’ve been doing this for a really long time now.

Long days, short nights. Twilight. Riding my bike in the evening. The smell of lilac in the air.

Reading about multipotentialism; thinking about my passions, skills and interests. Maybe it’s time to expand my portfolio. Get myself out there. Take on a part-time job or find a new project.

The little bird using my balcony as a playground.

Lit Cities - Where do you want to travel to? Just pick the right book. This literary world map will help you choose.

Me, the Queen of Bad Dates, the Realm of Being Single and Sky-High Standards despite Insecurities Galore sometimes needs to hear something like this.

Making my own crisp bread for the first time. With sea salt, rosemary and pine nuts.

Avocado green and beetroot magenta next to each other on a sunflower seed bun. A great colour combination.

Virginia Woolf inventing the ODTAA (One-Damned-Thing- After-Another) Society.

Seeing a girl one morning from the tram window. She rode her bike downhill in the morning sun without holding on to the handles. She wore a light jacket and the wind pushed it back over her shoulders. She looked free.

I love finding partyblowers in men’s pockets. That’s why I sometimes put them there. I think it started with Hannes after watching the Rocky Horror Picture Show at the cinema. For my birthday, Manu got a green one for his leather jacket. I always instruct them to keep it there for me to find next time.

Drawing a stripper greeting card for Sarah because I didn’t think Leoni was able or organise a real one for her.

Waiting for Lexi in front of the water fountain at Prinzregentenplatz when I saw a bunch of balloons rising up in the sky in the sunshine. I hope someone made a wish. Or a little kid was crying, who knows.

Spending time with Lexi! Bun and litchi mojitos as Thao, ice-cream at Ballabeni. Watching the cats at Katzentempel from outside. Shopping at Edited, Words’ Worth and Mikado (where I ran into Dani who showed me his Harley… what a coincidence).

Also: somehow motorcycles are a recurring theme at the moment. I’d like to get a scooter or my motorcycle driver’s license.

I’m a big fan of sculptures with little legs.

“Everything about this aesthetic is working! Can I buy you a drink?” (Jonah) - one of the best pick-up lines ever used on me. Sadly - of course - by a weirdo toymaker with a bimbo fetish. But hey, he had a very nice voice.

The yellow cascade blossoms on the tree in front of my balcony.

Watching videos by a foster mum for rescue kittens.

My birthday! I treated myself to ramen and pistachio ice-cream at Viktualienmarkt in the afternoon. In the evening I met Barbara, Maike, Lena, Obi, Lexi, Yanic, Bibi, Manu and Frank at Keg. It was karaoke night so I sang the Pina Colada song and I Just Died in Your Arms Tonight by Cutting Crew. I made a fool of myself but that’s fine. Gin and tonic and having an awesome time with my friends helped me get over it. I even got super nice presents: a colour-changing umbrella from Bibi (whose eyes looked especially beautiful that day), a book about epic road trips and &otherstories earrings from Lexi and Yanic, a Rivers of London graphic novel from Barbara and Maike and Lena and Obi gave me a happy llama DIY kit (such fun!) and a voucher for a hike with alpakas and llamas. My mum gave me Avène Antirougeurs face cream and a plant holder. Sounds weird but both items had actually been on my wish list.

Frank and Manu’s bromance. They just kept talking about Quake, ignoring me completely. It’s fine. I did a good deed by getting those two together.

An afternoon at the cinema watching Detective Pikachu with Manu, Isi, Andi, Dani and Martin.

The power of imagination: I get a physical reaction when I imagine cutting my finger on the edge of a metal can.

Planning on making a collection of hand sculptures and prints with different materials and media.

Taking part in iraville’s little drawing challenge (#drawthisinyourstyle) - she posted an illustration (‘Matcha Girl’) and asked her followers to use it as an inspiration to draw the same motif in their own personal style.

Drawing more in general. Actually using the huge set of Polychromos coloured pencils I bought.

Wolfgang Herrndorf’s poem Das Elend und die Welt.

Motto week at school. Getting to wear your pyjamas to work is awesome.

Going to England with the students. There were some small incidents but all in all I had a very good time. As a matter of fact I’m one of those rare teachers who enjoy class trips. Everything is better than routine. So we stayed at a host family with a small zoo - they had three cats, their son brought another one on the first day, and in the garden we’d get visits from foxes, seagulls and the neighbours’ cat, too. Sara’s Iranian cuisine was amazing. So much better than anything we had in a restaurant that week. Her granddaughter Liana was quite a handful but adorable. I love it when children have a British accent. I had never been on the Dover-Calais ferry before and seen the chalk cliffs.

#ersonal #present perfect #things i love #2019 #may #may 2019

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alwaysmychoices · 6 years

Text

“When It Was Him...”

Pairing: Liam x MC (Collins Alexander) x Drake {Liam endgame}

Synopsis: First Meeting AU- When Drake stumbles into a Manhattan bar and finds himself opposite of Collins Alexander, he immediately falls in love with her, and for a moment, it seems like he’s at the cusp of their own love story. Until Liam walks through the door and changes everything…

Words: 3965

Prompt: 10. First meeting AU from @ladynevrakis

Rating: General Audience

Drake wandered the grid of Manhattan to escape the intensity of Liam’s bachelor party. Even in New York, Drake found that nobles held on to Cordonian tradition. Instead of just having a regular bachelor weekend, they’d each organized events for the final night. Maxwell’s breakdancing in Times Square was unfortunate but survivable. Tariq’s unique fitting with an exclusive designer was the final straw.

Up until now, the trip had been fun. They were just normal guys celebrating a mutual friend, Liam, and the monumental commitment he would take on at the end of the social season. They could pretend that they were just normal, but then before they left for Cordonia, the standard bachelor party began, fit with events organized by every attendee. Drake had ignored his responsibilities as an exercise of showing how useless the tradition was. He just wanted to enjoy the last night of freedom with his best friend because, when Liam married, everything would change. Drake worried that his place in Liam’s life would grow unnecessary. What good was a common childhood friend to a king?

Ducking into a nearby bar, Drake reveled in the comfortable simplicity. Tonight, he was just a man in New York, going into a normal bar and ordering a normal drink without nobles or an entourage following his best friend. Vaguely, as he walked towards the bar in the center of the establishment, Drake wondered he’d ended up here. How had he become so precariously perched between two worlds? His attachment to Liam kept him grounded in Cordonia while a wandering curiosity and distaste for court kept his mind across the world. He wondered what he would have done if he’d stayed in America, holding onto his solo college experience instead of returning to Cordonia.

Maybe he would have spent his entire night in reflection, but the second he saw her, that was it. Collins would consume his mind for better or worse- for tonight, for the following summer, and until the moment he finally let her go.

That night, there was something about Collins Alexander. Even in a drab waitress uniform, something Drake had never seen exuded from her. She was special though Drake doubted if she knew. And tonight, she certainly didn’t.

For her, it was just another shift complicated by a sick bartender and a short staff. When she’d started working as a waitress, she was a college student looking to supplement a student’s budget in one of the most expensive cities in the world. Luckily, actually been pretty good at it. Good enough to keep doing it at least. While she’d done just about every job in the restaurant, she’d never actually taken the helm at the bar and was horrified when her boss assigned her to the bar for the night. Even when she admitted to knowing nothing about how to mix drinks, her boss just told her to “google” it and steer the customer to the easy drinks.

Collins held her breath when she realized Drake was heading right towards her, her nerves resulting in a petrified smile he found oddly endearing.

“Are you alright?” Drake asked, cocking an eyebrow at Collins. It was uncharacteristically nice of Drake. After growing up in Cordonia, looked down on by the nobles surrounding him, he’d lost the skill of niceties. Normally, he kept a distance to protect himself, but now, he found himself moving closer to protect her.

“Yeah,” Collins laughed softly, tucking her braided bangs further behind her ear, “First night on the bar…” As she glanced up at him, the gentle smile perking at her lips, Drake felt an unfamiliar warmth fill his heart. Gradually growing more comfortable, Collins leaned against the bar and asked, “So, what can I get you?”

“Whiskey, on the rocks,” he answered simply, his eyes never straying from hers. Relief spread through her face, softening her expression, and his heart skipped a beat. He’d never been so affected by a woman and tried to rationalize it as she pulled out a bottle of whiskey, pouring out a glass of the brown liquid. Drake tried to convince himself that he wasn’t just infatuated with her- he was just placing his yearning for a simple life on her. But already, he really knew it was more than that…

“Good choice,” Collins approved, sliding the drink to him with smile, “Honestly, I was terrified you’d want something complicated like that,” she motioned towards the drink menu, featuring some fiery concoction filled with at least three different types of liquor.

“Not really my thing,” Drake chuckled.

“What’s your thing?” Collins prompted, drawn to the enigmatic man sitting before her. He was hardly the typical customer, and she found herself wanting to know more about him.

“Whiskey,” Drake smirked against the glass, knocking back a gulp of the hot liquor. Its delicious burn paled in comparison to the interest he now held in the lovely bartender, and voice in the back of his head teased him. Of course, a bartender holding a whiskey bottle would be his downfall.

“I’m a gin girl myself,” she smiled, “Though, if I have to have anything straight, it’d be whiskey.”

“You’re a mixed drink girl?” Drake feigned outrage, earning a laugh.

“Worse- my favorite drink is a mimosa,” she whispered as if she was sharing a horrifying secret, and Drake laughed in treturn

“I’m going to pretend I didn’t hear that and change the subject,” Drake insisted, “What’s your name?”

“Collins,” she answered, a playful glint in her green eyes, “What about you, Whiskey?”

“My name’s Drake, though I would have killed to be named Whiskey,” Drake admitted, finishing off her drink. She held up the bottle in a silent question, and he obliged, watching her pour the whiskey back in his glass.

She watched him thoughtfully before saying, “Whiskey’s a pretty American drink… How did you get into it?”

“Who says I’m not American?” Drake caught off guard, instinctively wondering if he’d stumbled into the one bar in Manhattan where the bartender recognized him from the occasional Cordonian magazine. Instantly, a wave of disappointment hit him at the idea. Out of every girl in the world, he didn’t want this one to know about Cordonia or Liam. Even in this casual conversation, the experience was his. She wasn’t waiting to see the prince or spreading Cordonian gossip. He wasn’t Drake, best friend to the prince. He was just Drake.

“Your accent,” Collins laughed, surprised that he was caught off guard by her statement, and he instantly relaxed, “I’m a waitress in SoHo. I can tell a tourist when I see one. But I still can’t figure out where you’re from… The accent feels almost French, but there’s something else…”

“Cordonia,” Drake waited for a flash of recognition to enter her eyes, but it never did.

“Is that a city, or…?” she asked earnestly, and his face split into a grin.

“It’s a country in the Mediterranean,” Drake explained, “I’m here for a friend’s bachelor party.”

Collins glanced over his shoulder, looking for some group of men to tip her off to an incoming bachelor party, but they weren’t there. With a playful look of confusion, she asked, “Really? You seem pretty alone to me.”

“I needed a break,” Drake admitted, “I love my best friend, but his other friends can be… tiring.”

Collins nodded in understanding. Another patron approached the bar, taking away her attention briefly. Drake watched her shrug to say ‘it’s my job. What can I do?’ and greet the newest customer. As she prepared a vodka soda, Drake mulled over his drink in the following silence.

He couldn’t be falling for this girl. It was impossible. He didn’t even know her, yet he felt an undeniable connection. Collins already had a hold on him, and pathetically, he saw a new world with her. Maybe he’d leave Cordonia after Liam’s wedding and find himself in this same bar again. Maybe she felt it to, and they’d lead a normal life in the city where dreams came true.

Or maybe you’re being a sappy asshole, Drake silently chastised himself.

When Collins returned, he decided to keep talking to her instead of continuing the polite silence.

“So, I’ve told you about myself. Do I get to ask you a question?” Drake wondered aloud, earning a look of surprise from Collins.

Chuckling gently, Collins nodded in agreement, “Go ahead.”

“So, Collins, why do you go by your last name?” Drake’s lips turned into a rare smile as he sipped again at his smooth brown drink, and though Collins hardly knew him, she knew that his smile was an honor. She wondered how many girls got this kind of smile, but she already knew that they were few.

“I don’t,” she retorted, putting away the whiskey bottle as she wiped down the counter, “My last name is Alexander.”

“Your name is Collins Alexander?” Drake repeated. Around nobility, he’d heard many unusual names, and as he’d come to learn, the more unusual name symbolized the more prestigious pedigree. Yet, Collins was very different from Eugenie, and he immediately had follow up questions.

Collins was used to the questions and answered them before he even got the chance to ask, “It was my mother’s maiden name, and it’s not uncommon in the southeast to name a child their mother’s maiden name. Though, Collins was still pretty unusual.”

“I like it,” Drake smirked, “but I always thought that southern accents were stronger.”

She raised an eyebrow, “Do I disappoint?”

“No, I don’t think you could ever disappoint,” Drake shook his head, and Collins beamed. He tried to remember all of the American geography he’d learned and the jumbled up states he’d heard of, “I don’t know much about America, but I do know that the southeast is fairly far from here.”

Collins smiled that he was correct, “Ran away to New York, I suppose. I came here for school but loved the city too much to leave.”

“You went to school here?” Drake couldn’t believe how many questions he was asking. This was completely out of character, but he couldn’t help himself. He needed to know more.

“NYU,” she nodded, “I wanted to work for the UN but ended up here working off my student debt. I decided to stick around because law school is hardly going to pay for itself. I do admit that I miss the warm weather down there though.”

“Your parents don’t miss you?”

Collins grew silent, the smile on her lips faltering as she averted eye contact, “They’re not around anymore.”

Guilt hit Drake all at once, and he instantly felt like an idiot. What was wrong with him? He’d met an amazing girl and immediately brought up her deceased parents.

“I’m so sorry…” the words were so familiar to Drake that they felt empty, so he just ended with, “Mine aren’t either.”

Collins looked back to him, a weak smile on her lips, and he was struck by how open her eyes were. In them, he could see her hidden emotions. She’d opened herself up to him in a way so unfamiliar in his life. In Cordonia, so many people were afraid of opening up. They feared the potential humiliation or rejection, so they lived alone, even in crowded rooms. Fear and decorum ruled their every action. Yet, here Collins was. Opening up to a man she hardly knew based off a connection neither of them really knew was reciprocated.

When he looked back on the moment months later, he realized that it was the exact time he fell in love with her. He belonged to her far before either of them could recognize it.

And if things had been different, maybe Collins would have seen it the same way. All of the momentum was there. The connection was strong. Drake was everything she should have fallen in love with. He was the bad boy she dreamed about- emotionally unavailable, sexy as hell, and already infatuated. Their love affair would have been steamy and intense for however long it lasted, and right then, she could picture it.

But then the door opened, and everything changed.

“There you are!” Maxwell called out, waving to his friend with excitement. Behind him, an elegantly dressed man followed him inside and towards the bar. Maxwell plopped on the barstool beside Drake and picked up the drink menu, pointing to the complicated drink on the cover, “Ooh, this one looks good.”

“I can’t believe you left during the fitting,” Tariq complained, “You missed an exceptional event, Drake. It was exclusive to the four of us, and I expect I’ll have to apologize for your unseemly departure.”

Collins took a step back out of respect for Drake’s friends’ arrival, and he wanted to stop her. He wanted to tell her that he would much rather talk to her, but instead, he let Maxwell recount the event Drake bailed on.

“Liam’s finishing something up, but he’d said he’d be here soon,” Maxwell finished off his story, not realizing that Drake had only heard every other word as he gazed at Collins. Maxwell followed his eyes to the bartender, offering a grin as he introduced himself, “Hello there, I’m Maxwell.”

“I’m Collins,” she smiled at his introduction, “Can I get you something?”

“The most American beer you have!” Maxwell ordered, and Collins stifled a laugh.

“Oh, so you’re all from Cordonia…” she looked at Drake as if sharing an inside joke, and his heart skipped a beat.

“Where is your wine list?” Tariq looked through the available drinks, the creases in his forehead growing progressively deeper as his concern mounted.

“It’s limited, but we do offer a lovely house-“ Collins began but was interrupted by Tariq’s gasp of outrage.

“House wine?” he repeated incredulously, “I’ll have water, thank you.”

Collins suppressed the urge to roll her eyes, preparing a glass of water for Tariq and a beer for Maxwell. She looked back to Drake, the familiar smile on her lips as she asked, “More, Mr. Whiskey?”

Drake could have spent the rest of his life being Collins’ Mr. Whiskey, but then it all changed.

The door opened once more, though Collins was too distracted pouring Drake another glass to notice. Liam strolled through the bar effortlessly, women from various tables stopping to stare at him. Even when he tried to be inconspicuous, something about Liam demanded attention. He was like a walking romance novel, oozing sincerity and sex appeal.

“Sorry, I’m late,” Liam took the stool next to Drake, and the second Collins caught Liam’s eyes, she lost her breath. For a moment, she was paralyzed to silence, thanking God that attention was now on Liam so that she didn’t have to make a fool of herself.

It took just one look, and everything was different. The love story had altered. It was no longer Drake’s tale of true love…

“I hope my friends haven’t been too much trouble,” Liam turned to Collins, a look in his eyes that Drake had never seen before, and he felt a protective instinct overcome him.

“No trouble at all. I’m Collins,” she introduced herself, her eyes never straying from his ocean blue stare.

“Liam,” his grin quickly overtook his face.

For the next half hour, the four patrons and the bartender began to talk. Collins quickly was accepted by the group, but there was an obvious difference between she and Liam. Their eyes frequently cut away from the other men to look at one another, giving way to smirks and giggles that made Drake’s stomach sink. Slowly but surely, his excitement started to wane as Collins’ attention turned further from him.

When Daniel approached the bar, an apologetic grin on his face, he offered to take over for Collins, who seemed somewhat disappointed to give up her place at the bar and in this conversation. She handed over her duties and prepared to leave when Drake stopped her.

“Hey, Collins?” he called out, standing from the bar to walk over to her. He didn’t know what he intended to say or how the conversation would go, but he knew that he couldn’t let her just leave. When she looked back at him, he was relieved to see that there was still something there.

“Drake?” she prompted him, that gentle smile on her soft features, and he almost melted.

“Um…” he tried to think of a good enough excuse, “I was supposed to come up with a plan for my part of the bachelor party, and I sort of forgot. Since you know New York so well, maybe you could help me?”

“I’d love to. There are a few clubs perfect for a bachelor party. I could give you directions if you wanted,” Collins suggested.

“You could come, too…” Drake swallowed, nervously adding, “If you wanted.”

“I don’t know about crashing a bachelor party,” she bit her lower lip, though it was obvious she wanted to come.

“It’ll be fine, I promise,” Drake assured her, “And if anything, we can always hang out together.”

Collins thought about it for a moment before smiling in agreement, “Okay… Just let me get changed, okay?”

Drake struggled to contain his excitement as he watched her go to the locker room and returned to his friends. He told them about Collins offer, ignoring Maxwell’s obvious stare as he silently prodded Drake to admit his crush on the bartender. Tariq kept his dismay to himself, but Maxwell was quick to grow excited about it. He already liked Collins and had established a friendship during their conversation. Liam was probably the happiest, giving a wild grin when he heard Collins would be continuing on their adventure. Drake noticed but forced himself to ignore it.

For once, he wanted something to be his. He wanted someone to pick him- the lowly commoner- over the prince. He wanted to be the one.

When Collins emerged in her tight, green dress, jaws practically hit the floor.

“Wow, the bartenders hot…” Maxwell shamelessly looked her up and down to Liam’s horror.

“The bartender has a name, and I’m sure she doesn’t appreciate you speaking about her in that manner,” Liam glared at his best friend, and Maxwell mumbled an apology as Collins laughed that it was okay.

“I hope it’s okay Drake asked me to tag along,” Collins looked to Drake, hoping for assurance that it had gone over well when he brought up the idea, but Liam answered.

“We’re indebted to your help, Collins. Thank you for helping us find our next destination,” Liam’s eyes couldn’t stay off of Collins. Anyone there could have seen that he was in love with her already, but Drake was the sole exception. He didn’t want to see.

“Well, it’s a surprise, so…” Collins motioned towards the door, and the four men followed after her.

Tariq stopped at the sidewalk, pulling out his phone as he explained, “I’ll call the car.”

“It’s four blocks. It’ll take longer to go through traffic than to walk,” Collins shook her head.

“You want us to walk?” Tariq asked incredulously.

“You’re in New York. Do as the New Yorkers do,” Collins smirked, “Or we could always try the subway…”

Tariq’s face ran pale, and he quickly objected, “Walking is fine.”

At first, they started out as one large group, but under the pressure of the small sidewalk, they split into smaller factions. Collins walked in the middle of the sidewalk with Liam and Drake on either side of her, the three engrossed in a conversation. As they grew closer to the club, Drake started to feel like an outsider. Watching Collins and Liam together made his stomach twist into knots, and he was relieved when they found themselves at the front door of Kismet.

Collins hugged the bouncer, making a joke about when they’d shared some class together at NYU, and he let the group in without second thought.

Once inside, it was obviously a perfect choice, and the party quickly grew.

Drinks flowed freely, and the bass pulled Maxwell towards the dance floor. He gladly brought along his friends, urging them to let loose. Drake eventually caved, though he failed to notice that Collins and Liam found themselves back at the bar. Together, they were in their own little world, sipping at whiskey and laughing over the loud music and his friends dancing.

Drake made his way out of the huddle of dancing bodies, remembering how he’d offered to spend the evening hanging out with Collins, and he headed to the bar, prepared to get a bottle of whiskey to share with her and continue their conversation. But he saw she was already there… with Liam.

For the first time, he allowed himself to truly watch them. He saw the glint in their eyes. The body language they shared. The affection in their voices. The way they just… fit. He’d never seen Liam so happy and knew immediately that his dream girl was just a dream. She’d never been his, no matter how much he’d wished she would be. Liam and Collins had something he couldn’t compete with, and crippling disappointment washed over Drake as he faltered.

Collins and Liam stood, his hand wrapped around hers as they started to sneak out of the club. Collins caught Drake’s figure out of the corner of her eye, stopping to speak to him with a flush of embarrassment on her cheeks.

“Hey, Drake,” she bit her lower lip, “Liam and I were about to look at the Statue of Liberty. Liam said he’d never seen it and…” she looked back at Drake, so blinded by her affection for Liam that she didn’t even see what she’d lost. Drake was the kind of man she would have loved only a few hours ago, a boyfriend she would have adored. But now there was Liam… She didn’t know it yet, but he would change her life. He would bring her across the world, and their love would be put through countless trials and tribulations. Together, they would go through hell and back, but in the end, they would share a love unlike anything she could even imagine.

Drake awas a great love, but Liam was the love of her life.

“You could come, too. It would be fun,” Collins suggested.

Drake could have gone. He could have interrupted the romantic moment and hijacked Liam’s time alone with Collins. He could have put up every roadblock to try to hold on to Collins, but he didn’t. He looked at the two of them and knew that the battle was lost. Collins and Liam were irrevocably tied to each other, and he had to let go.

“No, you guys go ahead. I’ll take care of the guys,” Drake forced the words from his lips, knowing it was the right thing to do. He pretended not to feel betrayed by their happy smiles as they walked away, and he watched them fade from sight, off on some romantic adventure that would change the course of their destinies.

Liam would later thank him for not tagging along, and Drake would laugh along with him.

Sometimes, he would stay up and think about this night. He would wonder what would have happened if he’d stood up for himself and tried to keep Collins to himself. He would wonder what would have happened if his friends never met her and if he’d run away to New York to be with her. These thoughts would plague him as he watched the hell she went through to love Liam.

But in the end, Liam was the one. Liam was Collins’ true love.

And until the day he finally let go of Collins Alexander, Drake would long for the day when it was him…

#play choices #choices #choices stories you play #choices fanfiction #play choices fanficton #king liam #liam x mc #liam x mc x drake #drake x mc #king liam x mc #trr #the royal romance #royal romance #stories #when it was him

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manonblckbeak · 6 years

Text

Temptation: Part VI

wow. whoa, what? Gin’s actually finally posting another part of temptation?

okay, kidding aside, i just wanted to say how sorry i am about the time it took to post this. i explained before that i was going through some weird things in my life and i wasn’t feeling any of my writing and to be honest i didn’t want to post anything for you guys if i didn’t actually love it. i’m better now, and i managed to write something i’m really proud of and i hope you guys like it! Thanks to @nightcourthighlordrhysand for everything really.

Part I / Part II / Part III / Part IV / Part V

As winter grew colder and Christmas drew closer, Feyre dove into her art projects like they were her only means of survival. She knew she should use this time, this magical time of year to get closer yet to her friends, but after that day at Hiems… she just didn’t trust herself around Rhys. Didn’t trust herself to make the right calls, to be strong, to keep her heart safe.

So she did homework, practiced her drawing and her painting and her sketching, but never, not even as she realized the very thing that was supposed to keep her mind off of him had betrayed her once more—not even as she realized she had drawn his face, his body, his lips—thought of him.

It was for the best. This, all this, was for the best. She knew where the road that lead her to him would take her, and it was not a peaceful or pretty place.

And it was not selfish, she had come to realize. Because she was no longer thinking about herself, no longer thinking about how much she would hurt and bleed and suffer. No, not at all. She thought of him, of how she would ruin a… piece of art. Rhys—Rhys was so pure, so perfect—like a painting: splashes of colors and feelings and pain. And she couldn’t add up to that. Couldn’t change it, no matter how much she wanted to…

No. She wouldn’t go down that road.

Feyre sighed, dropping the charcoal she had been drawing with. She could start to make out an elegant face on the paper beneath it, the lines on it beautiful and strong. Again. She had done it again. With a growl of irritation, Feyre ripped out the page off her drawing pad—which, if she was to be honest, had seen better days. She had been doing this too much lately.

Dropping the balled up paper in the trashcan beside the desk, Feyre stood up, arching her back in an effort to stretch cramped up muscles. She wondered for a moment when Mor would be back, if she would find her asleep again, if she would complain the next morning about how they never got to spend time together anymore.

Things between her roommate and her had been… complicated since the visit to Hiems. She’d tried at first. After all Mor had told her, after what she had shared as well, it had seemed like they would be stronger than ever, but—Mor could relentless in trying to make things right. And right for her wasn’t the same as it was for Feyre.

So she had started to avoid her, avoid her plots and plans, her matchmaking, her efforts that, despite seeming well-intentioned and harmless, could hurt her so deeply. And with avoiding Mor, came avoiding Azriel, Amren, Cassian and, of course, Rhysand.

And she had never felt so lonely. This, this was what she had expected her life at Prythian Academy to be like. It was like the world was collapsing in on itself and she couldn’t help but stand in the middle of the crossfire.

She sighed again, checking her phone for the time. 7:30. Too early to go to bed yet, but definitely too late to go to the cafeteria for any remnants of dinner. Gods, what was she doing with her life? Mor was probably somewhere with the gang drinking the expensive wine she’d bought at Hiems—a never ending amount, it seemed, for she was always taking more and more and more from the bottom drawer of her closet. And yet, here she was: alone, unhappy, and fully aware that this—all of this—was her own choice.

She was about to put her phone away when the ringing tone sounded.

***

Feyre had come to fear the ringing of her phone. In the bitter, lonely weeks that followed Hiems, not once had Tamlin called, and yet, every time the damned thing buzzed, it was a near heart-stopping phenomena.

It was not that she disliked having the thing with her. The phone was a commodity, a privilege. It kept her company when humans did not. But even when said nightmare did not happen, the phone itself, old and battered, held so many memories. Photographs and messages and even a makeshift love letter typed into the notes of the phone, signed with “much love, Tamlin”.

It was a constant reminder of a life she did not want, did not need, did not deserve. But a reminder she kept close, for it let her know, with each touch of her skin against the cold screen, that love could be a poison. That love could be dangerous. That love could be wild and hurtful and tricky.

So when her phone rang, the buzzing sending shivers up and down her spine, she jumped. Because she wasn’t ready to keep the reminder that close to her heart. She wasn’t ready to talk to Tamlin again, especially not alone, not after everything she’d done to bring herself up from the blind panic he’d set her upon at Hiems.

But her fast breathing slowed down to a stop when she saw the number on the screen. For it was not Tamlin calling… But Nesta.

“H-hello?” Feyre said, hands trembling with the fear of yet another heart-breaking moment, another piece of news that could change her life as she knew it, another slap in the face. You know, figuratively.

“Hey, Feyre.” Her sister’s voice was as rough as she remembered. But oh, it was so nice to hear it. If not for the feeling of being home, for the simple reason that she had not talked, properly talked to another human being in so long. Weeks. It’d been weeks since she’d last had a conversation that hadn’t involved how absent she was or how her projects were going or what the fresh hell she was doing with her life. So, yes, the roughness and familiarity and just the fact that this was a simple, non-Rhysand related conversation was… nice. Very nice. “I trust you’re doing well?”

Tears pooled at the corners of her eyes, threatening to fall out into the planes of her face. Oh, how simple it would be to tell the truth. How simple it would be to confess that everything had turned, most definitely, to shit, and she was not well, not in any way. But things were not simple. Life was not simple.

And so, she simply said, “Yes.” Feyre reached over to turn the light of her drawing table off, leaving only the room light on. She stood and walked over to her bed, throwing herself at the linen sheets before adding, “Yes, everything’s fine.”

“I’m glad. But Feyre,” Nesta said, voice sharp. “You haven’t called in months. Dad’s been worried sick. You don’t call, don’t answer our texts, even Dean Falsum seemed helpless trying to get ahold of you.”

Guilt buried itself deep inside of Feyre. She’d been trying so hard to make it all bearable for herself that she had forgotten about everyone else, it seemed. But she guessed she couldn’t pin it all on Tamlin or even Rhys. This was months of carelessness. This was just her avoiding her family for the very reason she was avoiding Mor: they, too, thought they knew what was best for her and she knew what was best for herself. “I’m sorry, Nesta.” She said quietly. “It’s just been… hard.”

“Yes, well,” Nesta seemed angry at her. Not that she could really blame her. Her sister could be a bitch sometimes, but she was nothing if not protective of her family. “It’s been hard for us, too, you know? Dad’s rarely ever around, and since you aren’t here anymore…” she sighed, as if reminding herself that that hadn’t exactly been Feyre choice for starters. “Since you aren’t here anymore, I have to take care of Elain.”

“How’s—”

“And your beau,” Nesta ground out. “He keeps coming around. Begging—begging for us to bring you home.”

Feyre trembled. Oh, Gods.

“I can’t take it, Feyre.” She said, and Feyre could swear she heard some desperation in her sister’s voice. “I can’t take it anymore. Elain’s scared to bits. The last time I had to call the cops on him.” There was a sigh here, and it sounded so tired, so distraught, that Feyre wondered for a second if it had been herself that had breathed it out. “I don’t deserve this, Elain doesn’t deserve this. We can’t keep suffering the consequences of your mistakes.”

“What—what are you saying?”

“It’s time for you to come home.”

***

Breakfast came all too soon.

But Feyre didn’t talk as she picked up her food. Didn’t speak as she tried, and failed, to eat, and stared out the window beside their usual table, and blatantly ignored everybody. Her mind was still reeling with Nesta’s words, with the promise in them, with what the future now held for her.

She went about her day as if everything was still the same, walking the halls of the Academy like a zombie out for brains. It had taken its time, but by now, the confusing halls made some sense to her. It wasn’t like she could trust Mor to be her guide anymore.

Art class was usually the one joy in her life these days, Alis being the one support she needed most. The teacher was so giving, so kind… But her mind was elsewhere today. Miles away, actually. Back where she could still hear Nesta’s voice calling, as if a hair’s breadth away, I don’t deserve this.

And she didn’t. Not really.

Nesta had never been the best sister, had never cared for her as she had obviously cared for Elain, but Feyre loved her all the same. She was her sister, Gods damn it. And she was right, she didn’t have to keep paying and paying for what was surely Feyre’s momentary lapse of judgement. No matter that it was much more than that. No matter that it was haunting her, turning her life into shit.

Because that, well that Feyre could deal with. She could deal with Tamlin ruining her life if it came to that. But her sisters… She had done too much to keep them healthy of mind and body and soul to lose them to him now. She had simply done too much. Tamlin could take her pride and her innocence and her youth, but he couldn’t—wouldn’t take her sisters.

She knew what she had to do. Because she knew how his mind worked, knew how guys like him ticked. It was simply a matter of how to do what was necessary, because she had pushed everyone away and now… now everything had just turned to shit. And she couldn’t do this alone. She knew this now. Together we stand, alone we fall and all that shit, right?

Right.

***

I need a favor.

Feyre didn’t look as Rhysand unfolded the note she threw at his desk, her rushed calligraphy shaky with the thought of what she was about to ask him. Out of her peripheral vision, she could see one groomed brow tilting upwards at the words before he wrote something down in his own notebook, ripped it out and threw it back at her.

So, you’re talking to me, now, are you?

Great. This was going to be phenomenal if this is how it was going to start out.

Rhys… Just, meet me in my dorm room after class. Please.

This time she did look. She stared deep into those violet orbs as they read the words scribbled into the note and the smirk on that exquisite face faded—just a tiny bit. Yes, they seemed to say to her. I will.

As the bell rang, Feyre didn’t bother getting a written confirmation that Rhys would show, trusting him out of pure will. She would have to trust him, or this wouldn’t work. Or this would just crumble into dust.

Gods, maybe she should’ve asked someone—anyone—else.

But, alas, now it was too late for that.

And she wouldn’t regret it. This was the obvious choice. She had something with Rhys, be it something she wanted or not. And she could work with that. That spark, that flame that sprung to life every time they touched… it would save her. It would save her sisters. Because if she knew something about people like Tamlin, if she knew something about territorial, abusive bastards was that they didn’t touch what was someone else’s.

***

“I need you to pretend to be my boyfriend.”

Nine words. The first nine words that she said to him in weeks and they were… a mess. Gods, what was she playing at? What was she thinking? But no, she knew what she was doing, she reassured herself.

Still her gut felt like it was hanging out by a thread, and her head spun and she couldn’t think besides the feeling of second guessing every decision she had made since coming to Prythian Academy. She couldn’t help but think about how badly this could end, how incredibly wrong. Still she needed it. Needed it to work. Because if it didn’t… well, that wasn’t a choice.

“What?” Rhys was caught between laughing and staring incredulously at her, hand messing up his blue-black hair.

“I need you to pretend to be my boyfriend.” She repeated, walking her way around him to sit on the bed. She patted the space next to her for him to sit down and, when he didn’t move, sighed impatiently.

“No, I—” Rhys said. “I heard you the first time. I just can’t understand you around all the crazy of what you’re saying.”

Feyre laughed bitterly. Rhys thought about how much it didn’t suit her, that laugh, and for a second they were just two people having a normal conversation, before he remembered what they were actually talking about. “Well, the situation is a bit… crazy. So, what is it they say?” Feyre smiled sadly. “Desperate times call for desperate measures.”

“Oh? So dating me is desperate, now, is it?”

Feyre punched him lightly on the shoulder. “You know what I mean.” She rolled her eyes.

“Feyre, I—”

“No,” She said, begging him with her eyes, all blue and sad and woeful. “Please, Rhys. I need this.”

“But why?” Rhys finally sat down next to her, taking her hand in his, holding it tightly, like it would spill all her secrets. “What could you possibly gain from this? Everyone here at the Academy already kind of thinks of us as an Item. What could come of this?”

Feyre sighed. “That’s just it. I need you to come home with me.”

Rhys stared at her with his violet eyes, understanding and not. “You’re—you’re leaving?”

Feyre sighed, looking down. This—this was where it got complicated. If this didn’t work—and she had to be practical about this, because these were her sisters and she couldn’t leave any room for the unexpected, she had to work, had to think and feel and plan strategically—well, if this didn’t work, it’d come down to Feyre going back. For good.

She didn’t want it to come to that. She didn’t want to leave. As lonely as Prythian Academy had become, as much as she’d never wanted to come here in the first place, the thought of going home—going anywhere else besides right here, right next to this man besides her had become unbearable.

“Yes.”

Feyre was distracted. It was all Rhysand’s fault, really. All his damn fault. His damn eyes, and his damn lips, and his damn hands. She followed the lines of his face and how the light illuminated each inch of his sun kissed skin, down to his neck, to his collarbone, to the planes of his chest and the tattoos that lay beneath his shirt just a hair’s breadth away. Her breath trembled.

“Feyre?” He said, waving a hand in front of her face, startling her out of her reverie.

“Sorry,” Feyre sounded sheepish, almost shy as she blushed deep red, betrayed by her own thoughts. Her feelings were everywhere, it seemed. Splattered out into the world and crashed into nothingness, leaving her feeling empty and full all at once. She felt so afraid. For her, for her heart—for Rhys.

“When do we leave?” Rhysand asked. It was the first confirmation he’d given her that he’d actually go, and she could’ve sworn she had actually felt her heart skip a beat. So selfless, this man. So—giving. He had asked her nothing in return as she told her the story of her life with Tamlin. How they had met—in a school camp out in eighth grade—and fallen deeply in love, and how that had been lovely and warm and good for a while. And how bitter it had all become, how sad.

She smiled, “Next weekend,” grabbing both his hands in hers, she squeezed them tightly before saying, “You have no idea how much this means to me, Rhys. I won’t forget this.” Tears pooled in her eyes, but she refused to let them fall, refused to let him see just how much he could affect her. “Thank you.”

“I would go to the stars and back for you, Feyre Archeron.” He simply answered. “This is nothing.”

***

The week went by without much incident. Feyre wished she could somehow apologize to Mor, but she didn’t know how—didn’t know what to say, how to say it. She was just lost, broken. And perhaps it was just too late. Mor had opened up to her and she had closed down. She had shut her out completely, and for what? The fear, constant and unwavering, of being hurt, of hurting, of everything in between. Feyre had been a terrible friend, and she knew it.

It was Saturday morning when Feyre decided that she had to put an end to this. She could not stand the silence anymore. This room, their room, had been a safe haven for so long and now—now it was a cage. It contained her, it provided her with a place to hide and sleep and draw but she could no longer be happy in it, no longer laugh or share any sort fond memories here.

So as she prepared for the day, hauling a simple red sweater and ripped jeans over her head, and put on some mascara and red lipstick, Feyre made a decision. Today, she was ending this miserable phase of her life, be it for good or for bad.

She shook Mor awake. It was early, earlier than her roommate would probably like to be woken up on a Saturday, but she didn’t have much time before she had to leave for her trip with Rhysand and she had to do this before she left—had to, or she wouldn’t have the strength, wouldn’t have the courage to do what was necessary. You see, your courage didn’t lie in your actions, not really. You gathered it up in every one of your bonds, be it with family or friends or lovers. That’s what gave you courage.

“Mor,” Feyre said, a hand on her friend’s shoulder. One brown eye opened to look at her sleepily, brow furrowing. “Good morning, sleepyhead.”

“Feyre?” Mor wiped a hand over her face, blinking the sleep away. She sat up in bed, stretching her arms and back, looking at Feyre confusedly. “What is it? Are you okay?”

“Oh—yeah. I’m fine.” Feyre didn’t know what to say now. Mor was still looking at her with a confused look in her eyes, like Feyre had grown an extra head. It was weird, for Feyre to wake her like this, after weeks and weeks of silence and avoidance, she knew. But she also knew that her roommate deserved this, even if she didn’t want anything to do with her anymore. Mor deserved so much better than her, so much more. “It’s, um—can we talk?”

“Um, sure,” Mor patted the place on the bed next to her. “What is it?”

“I wanted to talk to you before I left…” Feyre sat down, wondering what on Earth she could say to make this better, what she could say that wouldn’t sound completely selfish and cruel and self-centered. She came up with nothing. Eventually, she said, “I’m so sorry I’ve been distant. I—I was trying to protect myself, and you, and everyone, but I just made a mess of things.”

Mor put a hand over hers. “Feyre,” she looked into her blue eyes, trying to capture some semblance of meaning in those words, trying to understand. “We would never hurt you, not on purpose anyway. And don’t you know by now?”

“What?”

“Sometimes, the ride is worth the risk of getting hurt.”

***

The drive home went smoothly.

Feyre had met Rhys outside the gates of Prythian Academy since, for once, she did not feel like meeting everyone for breakfast. Patching things up with Mor had gone okay, great even, but it was all she could take for one day, she guessed. She had texted him and gone outside, barefoot once more, to feel the wind on her skin, the earth on her feet, the sun on her face.

She was happy right now. Right now—because time, for her, was a very fragile thing. At any moment things could change. And they probably would, too. She just hoped it was for the better.

Feyre hadn’t explained to Mor what exactly her and Rhys were going to be doing. She could only guess her roommate would be questioning him at breakfast, and hoped he wouldn’t say anything too incriminating. She couldn’t take it if she knew how dangerous her situation was—Mor knew about Tamlin, about how he had treated her, or rather, mistreated her, and how he still thought she was something of his to just take as he pleased. And her friends, well… if she knew her friends, she knew that they would stop at nothing to keep her from going home when she didn’t want to. Because they were good people, and that’s just what good people did, even when the people they did it for didn’t really deserve it.

She didn’t say much to Rhys as he arrived, hurrying inside the car for the long journey back home. But she wondered if he had told their friends about what they would be doing, what lay ahead for them. It would be easy to ask him, to just say the words, but the silence was so welcoming, so simple that she did not dare break it.

“Penny for your thoughts?” Rhysand’s eyes were on the road ahead, his voice low and smooth, like a stream of warm water.

Feyre blinked, shaken out of her reverie. She’d been watching the plains of trees outside the window, how they blurred into splashes of greens and browns and blacks, doing anything she could to ignore the warmth that radiated from the man beside her. The smell of citrus and the sea. And the thoughts that seemed to plague her mind, those dangerous, betraying thoughts of how those arms had felt wrapped around her, how those lips had touched and burned and kissed, how those hands had marked her. “Oh,” she tried to think of what to say, what to do besides tell him the truth, and came up with nothing. Eventually, she said, “I was just thinking—I haven’t told you much about my sisters. I think I should prep you for this meeting.”

“I need… prepping?” he smirked, aware of her blush, and put a hand on top of hers. “I’m kidding. Prep me up, darling.”

“Prick.” Feyre laughed. She slapped his shoulder playfully, rolling her eyes. But her mind was reeling, wondering how to do this, how to begin explaining things. Her relationship with her sisters was so—complicated. So strained. And she didn’t want his pity, and didn’t want him to think she didn’t love them or that they didn’t love her either. They did, they all did. It was just—complex. And weird. And hard.

Relationships, Feyre had come to realize, took work. Especially when the people in question didn’t fully trust you with their heart. And Nesta—well, Nesta didn’t trust anyone with her heart, not even her own sister. There was only one person that truly had hold of her soul, and that was Elain.

But even with Elain’s help and the years of building up trust, after Tamlin, there was too much anger, too much disappointment, too many secrets between them. You see, for Nesta, there was no such thing as water under the bridge. And she wished she could fix this, she wished Elain could stop walking on eggshells and Nesta could stop her quiet bravado, but there was nothing she could do. Nesta wouldn’t listen, not to words or promises. But actions—well, actions were another thing.

And that was her plan. Not only to stop Tamlin—though, that was the most important part. But these months of being alone at the Academy had taught her one thing, and that was that alone, she was nothing. She was just a shell of a girl. Without friends, without family, without the loving of those around her, she didn’t have a reason to live at all.

So, yes, she did want to scare Tamlin away. But her plan, well, it consisted of more than that. She wanted to show Nesta that she was not weak, she was no longer the girl Tamlin had strung along and hurt and fucked up, over and over and over. She was her own woman, she was strong and smart and worth something. She had friends that would fight for her, friends that would be with her as she fought for herself—friends that would even pretend for her, it seemed.

And it didn’t matter that Tamlin still haunted her, it didn’t matter that everything he did and everything that happened the following months was still embedded deep within her, because she was all the more valiant for it. All the anxiety it had caused was just a misfortune of fate. And she would show them, she would show them all.

***

It was about midday when Rhysand pulled up at the Archeron driveway. He stretched his neck to look at the house, his violet eyes focusing on the creamy walls and clear windows of the property.

On the drive here, Feyre’d told him everything there was to know about her sisters. He categorized what she’d told him, or, at least, what he’d gotten from it. Elain Archeron—sweet and gentle, worked at a dog pound and could always be found gardening. Nesta Archeron—hard as steel, cold as ice, book andstreet smart.

He was not sure he was ready to meet them. The people that had so completely undone Feyre, the people that had told her she was not enough, that she was entirely to blame for whatever mistakes she had made in the past. But he had to do it. For Feyre, for himself, for a future where her family was united and strong. So he said, “You ready?” He looked at Feyre, violet eyes flashing with emotion.

Feyre took a deep breath, looking at the house where she had grown up, where so many memories and so many emotions had occurred. She blinked, “Y—yeah.”

He seemed to read the nervousness in her eyes, the tremble in her voice, because he put a hand on top of hers as he said, “It’s going to be fine, Feyre.”

“No, I—I know.” Feyre shook her head, seeming to shake away some kind of thought as well, and he didn’t think he should ask what had been on her mind. Her eyes looked sad, forlorn. Like she had been remembering a life not so long ago.

Rhys sighed, stroking her hand before he let it go, moving out of the car and around it to open her door for her. “Milady,”

“Thank you,” she said, trying to ignore the feeling that swept over her when he called her ‘milady’, as if she were his, as if she were more than just a girl that had nothing at all to offer him other than hurt and poor excuses and unhappiness.

As they walked to the door, Feyre’s hands trembling with nervousness. He grabbed a hold of her hand, squeezing it tight in his own. “Hey,” he said, “It’s okay.”

She nodded, taking another deep breath before moving forward and into the doorway. “Are you sure you want to involve your sisters in this lie?” he finally said, before Feyre could ring the doorbell. “It’d be easier to just tell them we were involved as well.”

She seemed to think it over, even though they’d talked about it before, but eventually said, “No, I—I want them to know the truth.” She looked at their hands as if she were about to let go of his, but, for his surprise and wonderment, didn’t. “There’s too much between us—between Nesta and Elain and me, for me to lie to them. They’re my sisters, Rhys. As easy as it would be to just lie, I need them to support me.”

It was his turn to nod.

Feyre rang the doorbell, squeezing his hand for reassurance. “Just a minute!” comes a voice from inside that she recognized as her sister’s. A moment later, the door opened to reveal a breathless Elain, holding her cat, White Socks, in her hands. She smiled widely and said, “Feyre!”

“Hello, Elain.”

***

Feyre could tell how uncomfortable Rhysand was.

Nesta held him under an unwavering stare, eyes steely and cold. “So,” she said, moving her gaze to his hand, currently intertwined with her sister’s for some kind of comfort in this strange, somewhat hostile situation. “You’re not together?”

“That’s right.” Rhys answered, all business. Feyre squeezed his hand, as if to say Relax, you’re safe, and nodded her agreement to her sister. Nesta didn’t seem much convinced, not with their weird displays of affection, but then again, nobody ever was. They had a—special connection. A bond that most people would think went beyond friendship and maybe—maybe it did. But it didn’t exactly mean the opposite either. They weren’t lovers, weren’t anything but two people who would fight for each other no matter what, even if it meant that they wouldn’t be together at the end of the day.

“You seem pretty chummy to me.” Nesta drawled out, eyes still on their hands.

Feyre sighed, letting go of her friend’s hand to bury her face in it for a moment. She recomposed herself as she said, “Look, Nesta,” she looked at Rhys for support, and he smiled encouragingly at her. “The situation is this—Tamlin won’t ever stop. He won’t ever give up chasing after me, not while he thinks I’m still his.” She gave her friend a little grateful smile, because she was so thankful, so incredibly thankful that he had agreed to do this. “And that’s why Rhys is here. My relationship with him has nothing to do with it.”

Nesta snorted deprecatingly before saying, “So you admit,” she drawled, “There is a relationship?” her gaze was studious, as if she wanted to pick apart any and all information she could from the sight before her. But there was nothing to see, nothing to discover—was there?

No, Feyre was clear on one thing and that was that her relationship with Rhys was just friendship and nothing more, no matter her feelings. No matter how much she—no. She wouldn’t go there.

Feyre sighed once more, exasperated. “No,” she ground out. “Haven’t you been listening to what I’ve been saying at all?”

“Fine.” Nesta moved her gaze to Rhys again, exploring the planes of his face with that careful mistrust, “And you?” she asked. “What’s in this for you?”

“I’m sorry?” he spluttered, looking at Feyre for help, unsure of what to say, how to explain that while for her there was nothing in this, no feelings, no relationship, no love—well, for him it was different. Rhysand was deeply embedded in his friend’s life, for better or for worse and he wished, oh, how he wished, there was more for them, and he would do anything for her. He loved her, he was in love with her, he had fallen and she had not caught him, but that was okay, too, because he was more than equipped to deal with pain.

“Well,” Nesta said, studying him once more, that fatal curiosity filling her steely eyes. “You come here to help us having nothing offered to you other than friendship. What is your angle here?”

“I think you undervalue your sister.” He said, sounding angrier than he’d intended. He figured it just got to him, seeing the very people who were supposed to protect and provide a home for Feyre treat her with such disregard, but he knew it wasn’t his place to judge. He’d come to help, to make amends between them, not to harm their relationship further. “I do what I must to keep my friend where she wants to be.”

“Can I—” Elain finally quipped up from where she sat at the end of the living room, propped up on a chair with White Socks on her lap. “Feyre, why don’t you just come home? You didn’t even want to go there in the first place—you say you want to keep her where she wants to be, but isn’t that with us?”

It seemed to pain Feyre to answer the question, seemed to burn her with every breath she took, but she gathered herself up and said, “I wish—I wish that I wanted to come home. But home, for me, home is elsewhere now.” She begged her sister to understand with her blue, deep eyes, and continued, “I didn’t want it to be like this. When I first went to the Academy, I thought it was going to be hell. But I found the best friends I could ever wish for and—Elain, I can’t begin to explain or apologize or—”

“Then don’t.” Nesta interrupted, softer this time. “Just—fix this.”

***

“Are you sure about this?”

Feyre couldn’t think. Not with him standing so close to her, not with the smell of him, the citrus and the sea, the overwhelming sureness that this was wrong, so wrong, yet—it just felt right. Rhysand let out a breath, leaning over to put a hand on the tree trunk behind her as she stepped back, not allowing her an inch of detachment from him. She could almost laugh at the irony, almost feel the mockery of how alike this was from the first time they had kissed. It mimicked the very surroundings, the feel of the bark against her skin, the wet grass under her feet, the warmth of his body against hers.

“Yes,” she couldn’t look away, couldn’t keep her eyes from his violet orbs, staring at her with a hunger she almost wished she didn’t know. This is just for show, this is just for show, she reminded herself over and over, gulping. “I’m sure.”

Rhysand nodded, finally looking away to the building in front of the small park they stood in. “When does he get off again?”

Feyre exhaled shakily, feeling weak in the presence of him, feeling like she could not stand on her own, without the tree, without his arm around her middle, without the grass supporting her up. She shook her head, trying to clear her mind of him—as if that were possible. She’d been trying for months now. Sighing, she took her phone off her back pocket and checked the time. “In about five minutes.”

He nodded again, still looking at the building.

It was a law firm, one of those that never did pro-bono jobs unless they had to because that never led to any “progress” for the firm. Or, as Rhys liked to call them, douchebags in suits. Feyre had explained to him that Tamlin’s father had worked there all his life and finally bought out a part of the company a few years back. He’d wanted his only son to continue his work once he retired and so, he’d managed to get him an internship. At the time, Feyre’d found it wonderful.

But that’s when it’d started.

Tamlin’d screw up or drink too much with his office buddies and his father, being the proper, old style kind of guy he was, thought he could beat it out of him. He’d changed so much in a matter of months. Become hollow, and angry, and sad. And then there had been the drinking.

Tamlin had never been one to drink too much. He’d liked beer, sure, but never gone for vodka or anything like that. But afterwards, Feyre would find him outside her house with a bottle of scotch, mumbling about how much he loved her and how she could never leave him and how he would tear apart anyone that dared come between them.

After a while it started to scare her. And she tried to break things off, she did. But he just kept coming around and calling and making these damn threats and promises that she wasn’t sure he would keep and was honestly scared he would because he had become scary and she was now so unsure of how exactly she had fallen for him. But she knew, she knew that this—this was a different person than she had once knew. Occasion and fate and terrible choices had made him into a monster and she did not deserve him. Not anymore. Or maybe—maybe she did, because she didn’t help, either. She’d just run, scared. She didn’t call the cops when she’d seen the scars or the bruises on him, she didn’t do a thing.

“Feyre?” Rhys’ voice shook her out of her reverie. She noticed how wet her eyes had become, and shame swept over her. She wouldn’t let him see her cry. Not right now—not ever. “Hey, it’s okay.”

“I know,” She shook her head, “I just—I wish I could just forget all this.” Feyre sighed, wiping at her eyes, before saying, “It’s fine.”

“No, it’s not fine,” he said, hand coming up to cup her face. He stroked her cheek gently, like he was going to lean in and kiss her at any moment, but just whispered. “You don’t deserve to suffer. You don’t deserve to have your past follow you around wherever you go.” Rhys pressed a kiss to her cheek, sending shivers down her spine. Because this, this wasn’t for show. This was the two of them—the two of them against the world. “You are a bird that’s forgotten how to fly, Feyre Archeron. And we will set you free.”

“Here he comes.” She whispered, a hair’s breadth from his lips.

Rhys studied her face, looking for any trace of doubt, of fear, of second guessing. She tried to convey certainty, but she could only guess her eyes were as sad as she felt as he hesitated.

She wasn’t sad for herself. She wasn’t unsure or confused or afraid. In fact, she wanted this, and her reasons for wanting it were quite selfish. But she knew how much it would hurt him, how much it would mean to him to have her and then not.

And yes, Feyre knew how self-centered that sounded, but that was simply true. She was aware of his loyalty and his affections for her. And that’s what made this that much harder. To dangle herself in front of someone who could never have her. At least, not while she was so broken. So sad, so unbelievably unfixable.

She glanced at the man approaching, tall and blonde and muscular. Before Tamlin could notice her looking, she turned back to Rhys, cupping his face, putting a strand of hair behind his ear. “It’s okay, Rhys.” She said, resting her forehead against his and closing her eyes, breathing deep. She took in the intoxicating smell of him, the warmth of his body, the solid feel of him against her as she added, “Set me free.”

And then, it was just the feel of lips against lips, their tongues clashing and claiming, and the taste of each other, the touch of his hands to her hips and neck as he pushed her against the tree trunk, the pulsating heat of their bodies as they moved ever so slightly. She forgot where she was, who she was, why she was here. She forgot just why—why on earth this couldn’t be.

Rhys let one hand wander under her sweater, feeling the warm, creamy skin beneath, and Feyre let out a low moan. As another mimicked action from the night in the woods, she came up for air and he didn’t stop kissing her, trailing a line down her throat, to her neck, to her collarbone. He licked upward and nibbled on her ear and Feyre giggled—a strange new sound. “Ticklish,” she whispered, smile visible in her voice.

He just engulfed her in another kiss, biting down her bottom lip, running his tongue through her teeth, the roof of her mouth. She had to remind herself that they were in public, that they were here for a purpose besides this—whatever this was. Because she was not sure it was a ruse anymore at all. And maybe it hadn’t been for a while now. Maybe she felt for him, maybe—

“What the hell is going on here?”

Feyre pulled back as if burned, Tamlin’s very voice scaring her beyond measure. But she wasn’t paying attention to him at all, didn’t care for once that he was here because the man before her, because Rhys, still had his arms around her and his eyes on her lips and—

She almost gasped as the realization ran through her, as it hit her.

Feyre was in love with him.

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akelyokikagu · 7 years

Text

Boyfriend, What Boyfriend?

Sometimes your girlfriend cheats on you for a Giant

Now, Okita Sougo wasn’t mad. He wasn’t at all. There was no reason in getting irritated just because his alleged girlfriend— China girl, for those who didn’t know yet— had cheated on him with a giant, of all things. The news came later then expected since the vixen decided to never confess her sin, and he was too busy to watch the new episodes his cool self didn’t appear in. At least, the rakugo program looked far less boring to his taste. Why should he ever worry about China when no one would see her as a female, and that he, the prodigy bishonen had proposed to her?

Apparently a giant dickhead of the giant dicks' planet.

And she accepted.

To remind people, for good measure, he was everything a girl could dream of nowadays: handsome, high-ranked officer, prodigy and young. Sure he could come out sadistic, but didn't Fifty Shades of Red become a bestseller with movies following one another? The actor wasn't half as good as he were, in both beauty and… capable hands. No, Okita was sure that most girls would easily bow down to him in pure adoration.

However an alien girl as eccentric as China probably didn't count as "most girl" for sure she was everything but normal or common which was partly why he had chosen her, of all people. It never came to him that amongst her flaws— being a glutton, dirty-mouthed like a sailor and overall, unfeminine and vulgar— she was a cheater. Not that Okita never exploded the parasites approaching her, and even when fairly handsome males begged her for a date she wouldn't spare a glance without the mention of food, free food to be exact.

All the chaos, in a nutshell, could explain why exactly his feet were loudly drumming against the floor of the park while he sat arms-crossed on their bench. At the very least China was decent in not bringing the intruder to their bench, their love nest, if love meant intense sparring with long, long strings of curses. Fortunately for the world, Kagura was already trotting towards Okita without noticing his sour mood.

"Hah, you deserve some Oscars I have to admit. Do you like playing the innocent so much?" Okita sneered when she closed in, seemingly innocent with her sukonbu in mouth. As if nothing happened.

"What shit are you spewing already, Sadist?"

"Don't you think you have a little something to tell me? Like, I don't know, going out with another guy other than me and getting engaged? Did you think I would never found out? You're wrong."

Kagura slitted her eyes, trying to remember the hardest what happened in the past weeks and mostly, trying to make a link from her personal life to Okita's flare-up.

"Are you talking about Dai-chan?"

"Dai-chan? Wow, you look close to your ex. I didn't know you had such loose legs, hope' you haven't gotten a new boyfriend already." Upon seeing Kagura's blank face, Okita almost spat the chuubert he was consuming— instead of sulking over her infidelity."What, you do?!"

"Gin-chan."

"I should have known, there's no way a lonely and old man would take in a brat like you if he didn't obscene ideas behind. Our Sadist Duo will be over when I'll arrest him."

"Shinpachi."

"After all you did have some idol arc, this can't do well with a hormonal monster like him and I'll end his life with my katana. Up his ass."

"Papi."

"Of course, this egghead— wait, are Yato into incest? I mean there are fans out here shipping you with your brother which is disgusting already, don't tell me your father too? Are you guys really this unmodernised?" He rubbed the bridge of his nose, "Wait there's nothing that makes sense here."

Suddenly Okita had like an epiphany. To his plan of conquering China in more than more ways there had been a stupid error, a miscalculation he should have known from the start: she had no concept of romance or whatsoever. Most of her entourage were males much to his dismay, and her few females friends or sisters were all amazons who he betted they weren't much better.

"A boyfriend can't be your father or your brother."

"It's someone who love me, yes?" Kagura felt her blood dulling. She came to spare as usual but it all took a 360 turn all because Okita had his period today; even if she didn't know what period was. She heard it made people riled up for nothing and surely, Okita was having it. There was no other sensible explication to his burst of anger when he liked to play cool and deadpan most of the time.

"Not that way. You see, a boyfriend's love is very different— you can hug him for example."

"I hug Gin-chan all the time, so he's my boyfriend?"

"Stop immediately." Okita cut dryly, "And let me finish, you can do stuff like kissing and, well you'll know later. He's special to you, but it's not always obvious. He could be like, you know, taunting you but always saving you in the end."

"Then it's Kamui?" She didn't look convinced, still she sat down with some distance in-between and plucked another red packet from nowhere.

"I said it can't be family! Think well— someone that doesn't show openly affection or rarely, but cares for you a lot."

"Ah! I know!"

Okita wished he could just speed up the process to the part where he scolds, then kisses her because he pinpointed her first. He saw her first, and it was only normal to reap the fruits of his claim right?

But the next words froze him instead.

"Toshi! He always looks angry, but I'm sure he's good inside. Kinda feel like Gin-chan but he's not family right?"

"Why would you think of Hijikata-san?" Did the man really have a death wish after all? It was enough he stole Kondo-san and his dear sister from him, but Okita wasn't this kind to share his lover. It was his, and his alone. "You really don't see anyone else? I saved you so much times. Thanks, China, I thought your memory was better than that."

"You?" Her blue eyes bore holes in his own, "Nah that sounds so wrong."

"Wrong?"

"I don't know what boyfriend means, but I don't think you just get angry and fight and curse him. I'm sure you like me, though," she cackled like a kid who was proud of a bad pun. His brain didn't register yet the mocking underneath because it was a rare moment where she was openly happy in his presence. His pride mattered to him a lot, but for a second he felt like he didn't mind his ego if he could replay this scene again, surely she had proven again that he fell for her— hard. He couldn't even deny the fact so obvious it was.

"What if I did like you? No, love you?"

"That sounds utterly disgusting Sadist. You're not mushy-mushy like that."

"Did you that deep in every sadists' hearts, they're very yandere-yandere? Oops, I meant mushy-mushy."

"I still wonder why you're a policeman, you'll be caught one day for killing someone innocent. Ah, maybe you already killed an innocent but hid his corpse well. You should teach me one of these day because Gin-chan still won't pay me."

"If you have enough of living with boss," Okita didn't miss the opportunity," you could live behind my iron bars."

"Gin-chan said that I can't live with any boys other than him until I'm thirty."

Okita wondered for a moment how much of an overprotective dad the silver perm have become, especially knowing that the women of their era could marry at 13. Then again he would be even worse once China give him ton of mini-Chinas to adore and protect.

"Well, since I'm your boyfriend it doesn't count. I even proposed once."

"You want me in jail. When did I say 'yes', anyway?"

"It's strange, I don't remember well. Do you think that being in Hijikata's loser aura is infecting my top-notch brain, China?"

"You're healthy. You can't remember because I never said that." Kagura casted a bored look at him.

Right. The consent and official asking, he had forgotten about such archaic rule. Who cared about that when China read him like a book?

"Easy, then. Say yes now, and I'll go get the papers tomorrow— I might need a signature too."

Kagura swung her thin, but strong arm into his stomach. He felt like he'd throw up all the tabasco-tinted food he ate until now, with the addition of his favourite grape chuubert. She hit stronger than anyone who had hit him before— and that wasn't a given.

He felt soft and warm hand pressing against his forehead.

"You sure you aren't sick?" Kagura tilted her head in doubt. "Boyfriend, girlfriend, does it really matter? It's not important."

"It does," Okita closed his fingers around the hand checking his temperature. "Because you decide to go out and marry a giant without my permission, then act as if nothing happened when I confessed and proposed to you."

"When?"

"You know, at your almost-funeral and when you were on the boat."

"You weren't joking?"

"Half, but it doesn't mean you can go for a giant dickhead instead."

Kagura rose up and pointed him with an accusing finger, "You! You're jealous! I knew you like me!" She started laughing at him, but Okita wasn't amused. Instead he pulled her over him with the help of the grasp he had on her wrist, and instantly their faces were close. Close enough for their breath to mingle, and her laughing to stop.

Enough of joking, he had decided.

"You're my girlfriend from now on—", and shut her mouth with his free hand, "—No discussion. I'll provide you food, drinks and clothes if you want. Stop hugging Boss, or letting Glasses washing your underwear because I know you do and don't see anyone but me. Especially for giants like that, what could you find in him? I'm the prince of the Sadists' planets too, and much more handsome."

"This fucked-up planet really exist?"

"No, but I might just make one when I'll be Kaizer Okita Sougo de Sade the First." Okita shrugged, "What kind of place do you want to go for our first date?"

"I'm not going!"

"I know you do, because… right now your ears are as red as your hair."

Okita Sougo never failed, if China read him like a book then he understood her the most as his long-time rival. It didn't matter if he considered her to be a girlfriend without her oral consent, because he also knew they were the best match possible for each other. He also knew that despite her acting tsundere most of the time she was forever his China, and him her Sadist.

"… I want to go to sea."

"It's a bit cold for this season."

"Yeah, but it's pretty isn't it?"

"Hmm." Okita stood up but didn't release any grasp, instead he gently held one of her hand in its own. It was warm, and it felt even better after having such a stupid talk when everyone knew about them, or at least had a feeling of what was going on. "Do you understand what's a boyfriend now?"

"Not really."

"Well, it's the only person allowed to do that that."

"The—" Kagura didn't have the time nor the will to finish as Okita leaned towards her, his slightly dry lips slanting with her. She expected something less sweet and chaste, because her stupid boyfriend was Sadist, and because he was stupid for dating her when she wasn't thirty yet, but it didn't change the fact she just closed her eyes to enjoy the feeling of his lips.

When they separated, Kagura needed to add something. "…Why didn't you come?"

Okita grinned. She was being honest now— he observed her to be sly when it came to tactics. She did try to imitate death just to get Boss and Glasses' attentions and care,"I was busy."

"Even for your girlfriend?"

"I thought you weren't my girlfriend yet," his smile widened even further if that was possible. Kagura pouted. "But next time it happens, well, don't be surprised if we really take a spaceship to Sadists' planet before I kill everything on Earth."

END

#Gintama #Okikagu #Fanfic #English #Okita Sougo #Kagura #humor #romance

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vizhi0n · 6 years

Text

Sawney - Part 3

Part 1 Part 2

So uh idk what to even say.

Anyway, enjoy this lovely chapter! If you want to be untagged lemme kno, and if u want to be tagged lemme know as well. I gotchu ;) I haven’t written third person in forever, so I’m sorry if some of my grammar, etc is a bit rusty. It’ll improve once my brain remembers how to write lol.

Homies:

@i-am-negan-trash @lucifers-trash-stash @jasoncrouse @kellyn1604 @crzcorgi @superprincesspea @negans-network @ladylorelitanyfanfiction @genevievedarcygranger @kijilinn @backseat-negan @heartfulloffandoms @hannibalssweaters @strangersangel9 @mypapawinchester @manawhaat @gremlinfuck @embracetheapocalypsewithme @rickydillon @flames-bring-a-ton-of-ash @wolfhart18 @mcnegan @melodicdolls @darkangel66a

Warnings: not as much this chapter except for referenced/implied rape and torture. Will get worse as the story progresses.

Desa rarely saw Mother and Father smile. The couple usually had a permanent grimace plastered across their faces. This was the first time, despite the circumstances, that Desa saw them both with a relatively satisfied, almost giddy look on their faces.

That was good. It meant that Desa had done her job. She’d worked hard.

She greeted Father first, as it was customary, closing her eyes and keeping still as he gingerly kissed her on the forehead. She nodded, and Mother was next, repeating the gesture.

“We strung him up in one of the storage closets, like you asked.”

Father made a noise in the back of his throat. Glancing between his wife and Desa, he replied, “I’ll see to him. Desa, he was your catch — you’ll receive the honor of helping me with him.”

“I…I saw his compound. His people. It’s huge and he has the firepower. More than we have. The people he brought with him today? That’s only a fraction.”

“You got inside?”

“I did,” Desa said, wincing as a foul odor flooded the dripping tunnels. She prayed that Mason would radio in that it was safe to ascend. “They’re functioning. And they’re dangerous.”

“I’m not worried about that.”

“Are…are you going to try and make a deal?” Desa asked hesitantly. She was crossing a line, she knew. It was a miracle that Father was even giving her the time of day.

“Go to the storage room and wait.”

Of course he won’t answer.

“Yes, Father. May I check on Jack, first?”

“Yes. But do it quickly”

Desa hurried away, sweat beading on her brow. The sloshed further down the tunnel, finally reaching a dry patch of concrete. Ahead of her she could see chairs and tables, flickering lamps adorning their surfaces. She spotted Jack — he was in a circle with some other children.

“Jack?”

That cherub face stared back at Desa, and she couldn’t help but let out a sigh. She embraced her younger brother, squeezing his shoulder until he giggled and squirmed from her grip.

“I’m fine. You don’t have to hold me so tight.”

“Sorry, buddy.”

“Is that man still here? That guy you brought in from the other place?” Jack asked curiously. “What’s he like?”

“He’s in holding. I don’t think we’re going to really do anything with him until Mason gives us the signal,” Desa replied softly. “I have to go over there now, alright? Father needs me to help him.”

“Help him with what? Father never needs help.”

“I caught that guy, so Father thinks it’s fair that I…do whatever it is he wants me to do,” Desa couldn’t help but wince. She had a bubbling, uneasy feeling in the pit of her stomach. She wasn’t at all enthusiastic to participate in Fathers activities, but she knew the consequences if she said no. They weren’t worth it.

“I hope we can leave soon. This place smells.”

“It used to be where everyone’s poop would go. And piss,” The group of kids, including Jack, made a collective, exaggerated noise of disgust. Desa chuckled, adding, “So, yeah. Don’t go wandering around in it.”

She hugged Jack again. Told him to stay out of trouble — which, she knew, he wouldn’t — and headed to the storage area. The room was wide and, before, had been used to store maintenance supplies. Now it had been cleared out and acted as a makeshift playpen for Father.

“Playpen” is a pretty loose term…

Negan had been strung up against the wall, arms stretched, wrist bound by rope. He was conscious, not speaking or cursing. Just glaring. The mocking, almost silly visage had disappeared.

Desa was alone with him. Father had yet to arrive. All she could do was stare, unsure of what to say.

If I run and grab Jack, I can get a head start. They won’t catch me.

Yeah. But you’ll be homeless. No food. Jack is naive — he can’t fight. He hasn’t even killed a biter yet.

She approached Negan hesitantly, going slow and methodical, unnerved by how his eyes seemed to follow her like a hawk. After what seemed like a thousand years, he spoke.

“Am I the only fucking one here? Do you have Simon and Dwight, too?”

“N-no,” Desa stammered. “You’re the only one. I don’t know what happened to everyone else—”

“Good. Now what the fuck are you going to do to me?”

“Introduce you to Father,” Desa said. “Maybe…maybe talk things out.”

“There’s nothing we have that you would fucking want. You said it yourself. I mean, hell, I’m willing to sit the fuck down and sketch out some deal but from what you told me,” Negan eased forward, ginning. “That ain’t going to fucking happen.”

It’s not.

“It can if you cooperate.”

“I don’t really have a fucking choice, do I?”

Desa heard the heavy door swing open. Father’s footsteps echoed around the room and he stopped, close, so close to Desa that she could partly feel his breath against the side of her neck.

Desa dipped her head and stepped to the side. She kept it lowered while Father spoke, unwilling to make eye contact with Negan.

“You are…handsome,” Father clicked his tongue. “Sturdy. A bit aged but…overall, a satisfactory catch.”

“Am I supposed to be fucking flattered? Because I am,” Negan whistled. “Hey, Desa, did you string me up just to compliment me?”

Desa didn’t reply. Instead Father answered, “That’s only the first part. Next is the difficult section — the transfiguration of the mind and, if you’re willing, the body. And you will be willing. Desa, cut open his shirt.”

She obeyed. With shaking fingers she gripped her knife, stepping forward as Negan stared down at her.

Three deep breaths.

One.

Two.

Three.

She cut away at the thin material. An abdomen peppered with hair and weathered tattoos stared back at her. She was so, so glad she couldn’t see Negan’s eyes. The cloth fell to the floor in tatters, leaving Negan’s torso bare.

“Good,” Father murmured. He thought for a few moments, before gesturing for the knife. Very slowly Desa handed it to him. He looked it over before sheathing it, stepping closer to Negan. They were the same height, same build…same age, probably, though Father was never one to admit his age or talk about himself.

While they certainly weren’t carbon copies, they were similar. Almost too similar, and it was bothering Father. Each twitch, each quirk of Father’s lips communicated that to Desa loudly and clearly.

“I can smell the sweat on you. The blood. You kill often?”

Negan tilted his chin, trying to make himself seem taller. He growled, “Fuck yeah, I do.”

“I want to taste it.”

Desa was forced to watch as Father licked a stripe from Negan’s navel to his collarbone. At the touch of Father’s tongue to his clammy skin Negan lurched back, perturbed.

When Father pulled away, flecks of crimson adorned his lips. Desa clenched her fist to stop her hands from shaking, hearing Father murmur to himself before addressing Desa directly.

“Go grab the tools. The torch and the pliers, please.”

Desa didn’t move. Father raised his eyebrows, the sneer on his face enough to snap Desa out of her trance. She shuffled towards the cabinets, legs seemingly moving on their own accord. Negan was watching her yet again — she could feel his caustic gaze on her. She yanked open the drawer, retrieving the requested items.

She handed them to Father. Kept her head down.

I need to leave. I can’t watch.

“Father?”

“Yes?”

Desa gulped. She felt woozy, light headed. The sharp burst of blue fire from the blowtorch seemed brighter than it probably was.

It’s just your mind playing tricks. You’ve seen this before. You’ve seen—

“Jack. He…he needs me. He’s scared.”

“Are you asking to leave?”

“I can check on Jack and then go help Mason. He’s out there by himself. I’m sure you don’t need me for this,” Desa croaked. “I—”

“If you want to work, this is work. Get out if you can’t handle it.”

Desa’s eyes lingered on Negan an extra moment. He didn’t look angry — in fact, she could see a hint of something else in his dark eyes. Even when strung up and stripped practically naked, he was attempting to appear prideful.

Don’t pity me, Negan, pity yourself.

Desa spun on her heels and left, bile rising in her throat as she heard the sound of the blowtorch once more. The moment the iron door closed behind her she stumbled, emptying her stomach onto the slick sewer floor. Salty tears dripped from her eyes, past her quivering lips.

A muffled, deep scream filtered from beneath the door.

Desa stood up straight. Nobody could see her crying. That type of behavior was frowned upon, especially by Mother and Father.

She wiped her hands on her jeans, making her way down the sewer tunnels. Negan’s screams were distant, no longer bouncing off the walls like some sort of sick staccato. Not hearing it allowed her to push it away, to ignore it.

Father always did this. Negan wasn’t any different — he’d come out stronger. Better. Desa had to believe that. The man was intimidating, worth something. He wouldn’t end up in the cellar with the others.

Jack was no longer with his friends. Instead, he was with Mother, standing next to the woman’s chair. The nauseous feeling returned the moment Desa saw Mother’s hand stroking Jack’s hair, rhythmically and slowly.

Desa spoke first. “Father is still with…him.”

“I know. It won’t be very long until we can leave this disgusting place,” Mother wrinkled her nose. “You have vomit on your clothes. Does the stench affect you that badly?”

“Yes,” Desa said quickly, glancing down at her jacket. “It does. I don’t like it here either.”

“Mason better hurry, then,” Mother stopped stroking Jack’s hair. She smiled, murmuring to herself and shaking her head. Then she stood, hiking up her dress so not to get it dirty. “When we return to the Estate, you will join Father and I in the bedroom. A reward for your hard work today.”

Oh, no.

“I don’t need a reward. I do this because I care about you and Father and everyone else,” Desa said slowly, aware that Jack was watching with wide eyes. “I don’t need a reward.”

“If you care about us, you will satisfy us. Both of us. When we return you will join us.”

“Yes ma’am.”

“Good. And you, Jack,” Mother turned, giving a genuine smile. “It’s your birthday soon, isn’t it?”

“Yes ma’am,” Jack replied with just a bit more enthusiasm.

“I have plenty of candy for the occasion. All of it yours.”

“Thank you, Mother.”

“I always look after my children.”

She left, headed towards the storage area. Desa listened hard, but found she could no longer hear Negan. Perhaps he’d died. Perhaps Father had gotten bored and simply killed Negan. Desa didn’t want to think about it, so she didn’t.

So she sat down, arm wrapped around Jack’s shoulder, and sang.

“City's breaking down on a camel's back, they just have to go ‘cause they don't know whack…”

#vizhi0nw #negans thirst squad

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