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jackie5656 · 1 year

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Settling The Score With; Tangerine

A/N: Hello again! This one’s been chilling in the drafts for a minute, and I know it’d bother me if it was left unfinished. Thank you all for the love lately, I appreciate the support on my work so much. Genuinely encourages me to keep writing. Enjoy!

T/W: Slightly graphic descriptions of injury; cursing

Summary: The one with the sour homecoming, and the sweet aftermath.

Tangerine has had, what he believes, the worst fucking two weeks of his life. A quick catch and release job turned kidnapping mission turned right-fuck disaster. Lemon had mis-read the briefing yet again, the first time Tan allowed him to take responsibility of it, and dead last, too. His skin is more bruises and cuts than anything else, and there’s a dull throbbing in his head from a particularly harsh blow.Though he can’t quite recall it’s origin.

He rests his head against the elevator wall, avoiding the disheveled, battered man reflected in the mirror. Usually, he’d make sure to clean up before coming home. He’s much too exhausted though, and the pouring rain showering down outside is enough convincing to head straight home.

Home. Thank God. The thought pulls at his impatience as he glances at the floor levels rising. The lift is not moving nearly fast enough, considering he hasn’t gotten to see you in 13 days, 6 1/2 hours and, he checks his watch, 36 minutes. You’ve only gotten to speak over the phone a handful of times over the entirety of his absence. Your schedules rarely synced up, and it wasn’t like he was in any condition to give you a quick ring through rounds of gunfire. He’s always guilty when it’s been this long, or even on the shorter trips, for that matter. You’d known what you were signing up for, but that didn’t make what he asked of you any less difficult. He’s just wanted to see you, hear your voice, feel you beside him so he could get more than an hour’s sleep for fuck’s sake.

Finally, the bell chimes and the doors open, allowing him to make a bee-line to your apartment. Ensuring the jingling keys and creaking front door don’t make too much noise. The apartment is almost pitch black, aside from the warm-tinted lamp illuminating the couch across the way. You’re almost invisible, curled small under a throw blanket and an array of pillows. Tan releases the breath he’s been holding in the last two weeks, comfort and pure relief overcoming him. There’s a thud of his bags dropping to the floor, but you don’t stir.

Not until he’s on his knees in front of you, supporting his heavy head with one arm as the other raises to stroke your hair. You wince in your sleep, deep breathing aching at the exhaustion in every bone of Tan’s body. He could probably pass out right there. And he almost does, until those long, pretty lashes of yours flutter to life.

“Hi, sweethear-” He’s barely finished before you’re on him, tackling him into a startled, half asleep embrace. You hear his laugh, the vibration of his chest sending beams of joy throughout you.

“Tan.” Is all you can say, voice scratchy and soft with sleep. His heart melts, and a strong arm wraps even tighter around you. “Thought you said another couple of days?”

“Thought it’d be. But we managed to catch an earlier flight. And instead of staying in the hotel with Lem I just drove straight here.” You pull away despite his resistance, pushing at his chest with narrowed eyes. Your cheeks are puffy with sleep, and he finds it terribly difficult to feel intimated under your chastising gaze.

“You drove the whole night? In the rain?”

“I know, I know. But I had to get home, couldn’t stand another second away.” He holds your jaw in his palm, thumb caressing over your lips. An action he knows calms you no matter how upset you get. “Surprise?”

“You know that’s not safe, Tan. You look exhausted.”

“Way to boost a man’s ego, darling.”

“I’m serious, it’s dangerous.”

“Baby, if driving in the rain is what you consider dangerous for me, I think you should reconsider what my occupation entails.” You pout further, wondering how he thinks that’d make you feel even the least bit better. You turn away from his oncoming kiss, fighting what you’ve craved the last 13 days in a meek attempt at discipline. “I’ve only just gotten home, and I’ve already got you angry at me? New record, I think.” You bite back a smile, pressing kisses to the array of cuts adorning the handsome features you’ve missed so much. His eyes blink closed, taking in all he’s missed with a deep breath. You avoid his oncoming lips again, keen on teasing him despite your own desperation.

“Please.” Your compliance to his muttered request is practically immediate, unable to hold up the act any longer.

“Missed you.” You manage to get out between gasps for breath, skin igniting with electricity.

“Tell me about it.” You smile with his confession, craning your neck to give him more access for exploration of skin. He eventually stops despite himself, clutching the couch cushion for moral support as he pulls away. You chase him, eyes fluttering open with enough time to catch his satisfied smirk. “I really need a shower.” Your brows raise in disbelief, throwing yourself ack into the cushions with swollen, pursed lips.

“You can’t be serious.” He scrunches his nose, guilt-ridden whilst his hands snake under your (his) shirt and squeeze at your sides in apology.

“Join me?” You shake your head, watching his face fall with a small sense of payback.

“I just washed my hair today.”

“I wasn’t necessarily insinuating a proper washing, love.” He bellows a laugh when you push your foot into his chest, knocking your leg so he can lift the hem of your shirt and press an array of ticklish pecks just above your belly button.

“You’re terrible. Haven’t seen me in two weeks and all you can think about is getting laid.” You run a hand through his messy locks, pulling him away for your skin so he’ll meet your eyes.

“I’m only human, my love.”

“Go away, you actually do reek.”

“I wasn’t gathering that from you just a minute ago.” He nips at your exposed skin, finally getting to his feet when you shove at his shoulders.

“I’ll be ten minutes.”

“Yeah, tell that to the water bill.”

“Bloody hell, I missed that sass.” He calls from the corridor, grin clear in his tone. “And stop wearing my clothes. Proper tease, you are.”

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

Alright, so it was a little bit longer than ten minutes. But it’d been the first hot shower with any actual water pressure in weeks. So really, he couldn’t be blamed.

Tangerine wipes the steam from the mirror, wincing when he presses on a particularly fresh cut just above his brow. He’s definitely due for a shave, but it’ll have to wait for tomorrow. For now, he wants to savor every moment he has with you. Him and Lemon have agreed after this past shit show, at least a week’s break is warranted. Thankfully, you’ve spent the past few days busting your ass in order to get ahead on all of your work, and won’t have to go into the office for the next few days. Tan feels entirely underserving of someone so accommodating, considering he’s a right prick more times than he isn’t.

The damp fabric is wrapped tight around his waist as he approaches you, hanging his head over the back of the couch in hopes of startling you. Only to find you’ve fallen right back asleep, his discarded suit jacket clutched in your grasp. Tangerine swears he’s fallen in love all over again, sick with admiration as he watches the rise and fall of your chest.

Carefully, he tugs the jacket out of your death-grip, freezing when you release a deep sigh. You don’t wake though, so he continues. Sliding his arms under your form and lifting you up. Your head goes right into his neck, subconsciously shielding any light from your eyes.

It’s a quick trek to the bedroom, though the stairs remind him of the long drive and the week’s worth of combat with each step. He’s relieved once reaching the bedroom door, turning sideways to fit through. Eventually, you’re fully settled under the sheets. Allowing him to change into fresh clothes.

It’s almost surreal, sliding into the silk sheets with you beside him. The thundering rain outside only egging on much needed rest. Tan pulls you into his chest, recalling how much he’d craved your warmth for so long. He takes a moment to soak it all in, reveling in everything he’d missed so much. It’s times like these he’s convinced he’ll never work another job again, not if it means leaving you. With another rumble of distant thunder, and one last kiss to your temple, exhaustion overcomes him.

It could only have been another couple hours when Tan startles awake, a crash from the kitchen catching his attentive senses. He’s a light sleeper, has to be in his line of work. When he observes his surroundings and realizes you aren’t beside him, bile rises in his throat. He’s out of bed with a gun in hand before he can even register his own movements, bounding down the steps to tear apart whatever sorry fuck picked the wrong house.

There’s a thought, only a second, where a horrifying image flashes his mind. You on the floor of the kitchen, having succumb to whoever’s intruded. Maybe all these years of him and Lemon’s work has caught up to him, and karma’s finally struck. Maybe they fucked with the wrong guys, and they’ve come to seek revenge on the only piece of solace the assassin has left.

An even stronger wave of rage consumes him, seeing red as he burst into the kitchen. You’re stood by the counter, arms shooting up in instinctive compliance once staring down a barrel of a gun. “What the fuck, Tan” You shout, eyes wide in shock still as he sets the weapon down.

“What the fuck me? What the fuck you! I thought you were being fuckin’ murdered!”

“I just wanted a glass of water, Christ.” You run your hands over your face, observing as he hunches over, face paling.

“Fuck me, I’m gonna be sick.” He clutches his knees, glaring when you muffle a laugh.

“Please don’t hun, there’s glass everywhere.” That snaps him out of it, eyes narrowing in confusion when another round of fear overcomes his features.

“Darling, you’re bleeding.” Wordlessly, you look down, surveying the sea of red escaping your foot. You blink quickly, gripping the counter when your head spins. Obviously, you’re not as accustomed to blood as your boyfriend. It’s when the pain settles in too, so you barely register Tan’s lack of self-preservation as he lunges over to catch you. Not even bothering to protect himself from harm.

“Hey, hey, you look at me. Just look at me.” His hands clutch either side of your head, face taught with concern. You let him lift you onto the counter, watching as he reaches over to grab a dish towel hanging from dishwasher handle.

“Clean?” Is all he asks, pressing it to the gash on your foot as soon as you nod.

“F-fuck.” Is all you manage, nails digging into his forearm at the searing pain.

“I know, baby. I know, but it needs pressure.” He presses a kiss to the crown of your head, hand pushing hard into the appendage.

“These are the decoration towels.” You frown, wincing when he pulls the fabric away for a better look.

“Is that why it’s not soaking anything up? The fuck is a decoration towel, anyway? Just supposed to hang there and look pretty without a purpose? Bloody fuckin’ stupid, is what it is.” He leans over to rummage in the drawer beside the sink, grabbing an authentic one before switching them out. Your eyes catch the blotch of red on the discarded cloth, back of your head hitting the counter in a dizzied frenzy.

“Oi, what did I say? Eyes on me.” Tan’s stern, but there’s no real meanness to it. His voice shakes despite his order, and you watch as strong hands tremble against your seared skin.

“T.” You reach for him, unable to make contact since he’s turned to fully focused on the damaged area. “Baby?”

He can’t really hear you, heart thrumming so loud it rings in his ears. He blinks hard, unable to register why his vision’s blurred. Feeling foolish when he realizes its tears.

“Tan.”

“What, damnit?” There’s twinge of venom to it, but you don’t take it to heart. Anger is his defense mechanism to just about everything. Guilt, sorrow, fear. You quirk a brow, questioning his tone.

“Sorry, love. I’m sorry” It’s immediate, sincere and ashamed. You reach for him again, kissing his shoulder when he side-steps closer.

“I’m alright. Everything's okay.” He feels stupid, then. Being comforted when you’re the one that’s actually hurt.

“I know that.” He defends, straightening with a forced bravado. Alright, tough guy. You offer a kind smile, incredulous.

“We’re gonna need to clean it.” You shake your head, attempting to scoot back on the cold marble. With a glare, his free hand wraps around your calf, pulling you back toward him.

“No, absolutely not. Fuck that, it’s a small cut.”

“A deep cut, one that needs to be sanitized in order to heal properly.” He searches under the sink, snatching the first aid kit and pulling out the necessary supplies. “We’re just gonna flush it out with saline right quick, promise. Then some petroleum jelly, then wrap and gauze. Real simple.” He washes his hands as he speaks, avoiding your frightened eyes, as he knows it’ll only make this more difficult.

You bite your tongue, holding back any more argument because you know he doesn’t want to do this just as much as you. Besides, no pace to fuss when he’s had much worse. He pulls you again, having your foot hang over the sink so as to avoid further mess. You quirk your head when his movements stutter, about to turn on his heel toward the dining room before he points to you.

“Stay.” He looks down as he exits, ensuring to avoid any excess glass.

“Woof.” Is all you mutter, resting your head on the cabinets above and closing your eyes. Slow, deep, breaths to calm yourself down. Something clinks as it’s set beside you, brow quirking at he bottle of scotch.

“Is it gonna hurt that bad?” Tan licks his lips, meeting your eyes for only a moment and then focusing on removing the cork. He’s never been able to lie to you, so he passes a shot’s worth to you instead. You down it, cringing at the taste, but revealing in the soothing burn that ensues as it goes down.

Tan pours a double’s worth for the same glass, barely even blinking as it passes his lips. Showoff

Rolling his shoulders, he clutches the bottle of saline and glances at you for permission. Your knees are bent so you’re sitting up, much closer to him now. You wrap your arms around his free one, nodding.

He tries to block you out, stomach turning when you suck your teeth and something short of a yelp is muffled into his skin. He’s holding your leg so you won't pull away, and Tan swears of all the shit he’s ever gone through, this is by far the worst.

You’re doing your best to be good, he knows. But there are also 7000 nerves in the human foot, more than most parts of the body. If anything, your reaction is tame. Your nails dig crescents into his skin, but the pain almost helps him block your poor noises out.

“That’s it, baby. We’re done.” He kisses the crown of your head in apology, head maneuvering to meet your eyes that try to avoid him.

You feel stupid for crying. Him and Lemon have suffered far worse, but it really had fucking hurt. The gash is spliced into the arch of your heel, just the thought of it makes you cringe.

“I’m sorry love, I had to. I’m sorry.” You shake your head, letting him hold your face and his thumbs swipe under your eyes to collect the trailing tears. He kisses each one of your cheeks, and finally the tip of your nose. It makes you want to cry even more. You keep it together, for his sake.

“I’m sorry, I know you’ve had worse.” He pulls away immediately, looking offended, and even angry.

“Don’t do that.” His brows are taught with sternest, brushing the strands of hair from your face. So gentle you wonder how he has the job he does. There are times he’s so soft with you, so vulnerable. You recall a time he’d been so closed off, the way he still gets sometimes. You wish he’d be this open all the time.

Gently, you reach for his abdomen, tugging up the fabric of his grey sleep shirt. Fingers tracing over one of the many scars that placate his skin, raised and slighly discolored. A bullet wound. You raise your brows at him, a clear ‘are you even gonna try and argue otherwise?’

“Comes with the job, lovely. You work a 9-5, don't think that was in the fine print.” You laugh despite it all, his heart flutters at the sound. He hates how soft you’ve made him, sometimes. “I think you’re pretty tough, for what it’s worth.” You roll your eyes at his reassurance, too fond of him for your own good. Watching as he applies the gauze and begins to wrap the medical tape all around the appendage. When he’s done, he caresses the new cloth, pressing a kiss to the damaged skin. You’re lovesick and exhausted, contented despite the insistent throbbing.

He insists on having you sit while he sweeps us the mess, ensuring he’s got all the shards and discarded them into the bin. You nurse more scotch to fight the stinging pain. Wordlessly, Tan turns his back to you, arms outstretched behind him.

“Are you seriously offering me a piggy-back ride right now?”

“How else are you getting back to bed?” You shake your head in disbelief, fighting a grin as you maneuver into his grasp. You must look ridiculous, clinging onto him as he ascends the steps, but you’re both all smiles anyway. He sets you on the mattress, pressing a short kiss to your lips and disappearing into the bathroom. He’s back seconds after, painkillers in hand.

“This is weird, I’m usually the one playing doctor.”

“I know, it’s much better the other way around.” It’s lighthearted, but there's a hint of sadness to it that only you’d detect in his tone. The bed dips as he sits beside you, rain still pattering against the window overhead. It’s a comfortable quiet, both relishing in one another’s company. You come up behind him, arms snaking across his shoulders and down his chest to wrap around him. He leans into the embrace, trailing kisses up your arm as he clutches your elbow.

“Sorry for scaring you.” You mutter into his neck, muffled and hesitant to break the calming quiet.

“I suppose we’re even now.” He’s alluding to his work, voice rasped with exhaustion. You hold him tighter, reminded how apparent his absence is every time he leaves.

“We’ll never be even.” He knows you’re right, so he doesn’t argue. You both know every time he walks out the door, there’s a chance he won't come back. He only pulls your arms tighter around him, exhaling when you rest your head between his shoulder blades.

“You think you’ll able to sleep? With the pain, I mean?” You nod against him, but you both know it isn't true. The throbbing will go on for some time, you’re sure. Tan taps your arm, signaling your release as he leans for your book on the coffee table. You’re confused at first, watching intently as he settles against the bed frame. A silent invitation for you to lay beside him when he lifts his arm.

“You’ll read to me?” You say it so gentle, so hopeful, his nonchalant resolve almost crumbles from the sheer adoration. You always beg him to read to you, comforted with his heavily accented voice. He usually finds it silly, but you’re in pain and he’ll do just about anything to make you feel better.

“Don’t make a big deal of it.” He lets you shuffle into him, resting your head on his chest with a chaste kiss to his jaw.

Your eyes follow his fingers dancing across the pages, eyelids heavy with oncoming sleep. He absentmindedly traces circles into the skin of your arm as he reads, looking over at you every now and again. Admiring how the moonlight that pools into the room illuminates a pale blue hue to your skin. After a while, he notices you’re fighting sleep, wanting to hear him as long as your body will let you.

“Close ‘em, love.” You grin as his hand goes over your eyes, feeling chastised. You pull him away by the wrist, bringing his knuckles to your lips and letting your lids finally close.

Eventually, sleep overcomes you. Tan reads on anyway, hoping so savor the moment for just a little longer. Comforted in the steady rise and fall of your chest against his. A piece of him wishes to be in this moment forever. Trapped in time, forever content. After some time he’ll set the book down. Shuffle further down the bed and tug you even closer to him. Just to feel the weight of you atop him, commit it to memory. You won’t hear, but he’ll lean close, whisper how much he loves you, and promise to always come home. Just because he knows you’ll be waiting for him.

#tangerine #lemon x tangerine #tangerine imagine #tangerine x you #bullet train imagine #bullet train #bullet train fanart #bullet train fanfic #tangerine fanfiction #ATJ #aaron taylor johnson #aaron johnson #imagine #fanfic #tangerine fluff #tangerine angst #tangerine and lemon

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reecehaswritten · 1 year

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Perhaps Grian is just passed out somewhere and Scar takes a moment to admire him before picking Grian up and taking him to a proper bed for a good nap

Scars just a simp what can I say

(And yea I’m finally getting around to these! I have a few!)

The ao3 link if you’d rather read/comment on it there (comments are greatly appreciated!)

And if this gets popular enough I’ll do a part 2!!

A sleepy Grian can be the best Grian

Maybe the middle of the shopping district wasn’t the best place to accidentally fall asleep. Well, falling asleep was putting it lightly, the two weeks of near-sleepless nights had finally caught up to him. In the middle of the deep slate road, Grian was asleep, and not in a bed either.

Scar had rushed to him as quickly as possible, aware of the situation already and equipped with everything possible to help him. Ice packs, heat packs, food, potions, he had it all. As he landed, face planting on the deep slate as his vex wings twitched, he hurried to Grian’s side.

“Ah Grian, I should have seen this coming.”

He took a second to stare at his lover, combing his hands through Grians hair as he picked him up from the floor. The man was peacefully sleeping, and there seemed to be no serious injury, only a scrape or two. He touched his forehead against Grian’s, feeling the mop of sandy blonde hair against his skin. He was always so graceful when he was sleeping, even if it was the for the wrong reason. “You’re getting a proper sleep now mister.” He chuckled to himself. He tucked Grian’s wings in as he tightened his leg braces, and gave a quick nod to the surrounding hermits as he took off.

Grian awoke again in the air, feeling the cool breeze brush past him but not hitting his face. He was against something- no, someone - and they were definitely very warm. Grian blinked slowly, letting his fuzzy vision readjust to his surroundings. A high vis jacket and red wooly cardigan is what he could see, and suddenly Grian knew where he was and what happened.

“Ah we’re not even there yet!” Scar said. Grian looked up, meeting his lover’s eyes.

“It finally happened didn’t it?” Grian asked. Scar nodded, chuckling awkwardly.

“Yeah! This proves that you need proper sleep G. You can’t just stay up each and every night working away. Sure I do it but I do get rest!” Scar rambled, but Grian wasn’t really listening and just burrowing his head into Scars chest. It was surprisingly comfy in his position.

“Okay, yeah, you go back to sleep. Nearly there now.”

This time, Scar took caution to land, and not crash like he usually did. He gently landed, tucking away his wings and tossing a glance to Mumbo’s mini vault. Grian normally always kept his door unlocked, even in his starter base, just because he trusted the whole server. Now, Scar could have taken Grian to Scarland or Grian’s rock, but it just felt nicer to go somewhere nostalgic that actually had a proper place to sleep instead of ‘put the bed there, I don’t care that there’s wind and it’s out in the open’.

The base was still the same, a cosy little interior which led up to a bee farm and chests scattered around, with a bed right next to the window. It wasn’t too much, but still very much complete. However Scar envied the sorted chests, just a tiny bit.

He peeled the covers back on the bed and set Grian down on them, before tucking him in a little. He smiled as Grian adjusted himself to the cold-ish yet comfortable mattress, and lifted his head to look at Scar for just a second. That was when Scar decided to sit down on the floor so he could be at the same eye level as the other, and when Grian smiled back at him, he leaned forward and pressed a kiss to his forehead.

“Now you get some sleep my little songbird. I’ll treat you to something wonderful when you wake up.” He said softly, ruffling Grian’s already messy hair. “Goodnight my love.”

“Thank you.” Grian murmured, ”love you.” He added before passing out once again, leaning into Scar’s touch and chirping softly. Scar breathed a sigh of relief. At least he was safe, warm, and comfortable. And, come to think of it, it was quite a comfortable atmosphere in the house, despite it being a little small. It was like a nice hug. He gazed at Grian for another minute, noting how cute he actually was when he was asleep, then left. He had to go pick up his wheelchair, which Cub should have finished upgrading, and now had to make preparations for a very special occasion.

“Love you too G.” He muttered to himself. “Glad you’re okay.”

#hermitcraft #grian #fanfic #gtws #hermitshipping #Scarian #SO MUCH SCARIAN #reece’s fics #see I said I’d get a Drabble out #but Drabble? it’s 700 words long

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sio-writes · 1 year

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Sacrifice - Chapter 6

<< Chapter 5

<<< Chapter 1

Summary: This winter has been brutal, and you’re out of options. So, with teary eyes, you take your best goat into the woods, hoping for some pity from whatever god finds you.

A/N: My laptop is undergoing some maintenance right now, and I’m posting this from my iPad. So if you see any editing/formatting errors...No you don’t, haha. (Also I’ll add all links to chapters once I get my laptop back!)

The changeling house is an hour's walk downstream from Aurelius' home. It occurs to me to mark my trail as I walk so I can find my way back, until that first look and I see the tree stretching so far into the sky it disappears through the clouds. It makes the sigil on my back itch, and suddenly I'm not concerned with getting lost anymore. So I follow the river's winding path, over slippery stones and muddy banks. Anything that may have gotten in my way, be it animal or fae creature, all scurry out of my path.

In one arm I hold a basket of fruit from Dachaigh, in the other a book from the library. It didn't disappear when I stepped out of the house, a sure enough sign that I wasn't ripping a piece of Dachaigh away once I left. I only mean it as a tool, a piece of information to trade in case the food isn't accepted.

The cover is lined in gold filigree, but has no title on the cover or the spine. The pages inside are strange, with slanted, irregular text that cuts off at odd places, or rotates around so one would have to read the book upside down. The perfect, typed font tells me it wasn't written by hand, so it's not one of Aurelius' journals, therefore I felt safe enough being able to trade it away.

So down the winding river I go, stopping to sip from the stream and pluck a grape from the basket every now and then. The day is lovely, as always, small feathery clouds dot the sky, the sun lights up the forest floor, and I take the time I'm walking to appreciate just being outside.

Aurelius won’t notice that I’m gone. It’s a thought that strikes at my heart, a hot iron dunked into cool water. Alongside it is the thought that if I’m timely enough, if I make it back before sundown, he would never realize that I left at all. The alternative isn't comforting either. That he knows exactly where I am now, and where I'm going, and he doesn't care.

I feel my control over this situation with him is slipping. Not that I had much to begin with, but the small amount of influence I had is all but gone. The extent of these festival preparations, deciphering his notes, has only led me so far. I 've read what I could and thrown the rest to the side.

The house comes into view through the thickness of the trees, a two-level cottage with a garden to the side, and a stone path to the door. The roof is tiled orange and black, and the walls are colored cream. There's smoke swirling out of the chimney, and I step up to the door and knock.

Gregory implied that I could visit, and I hope he wasn't being facetious, because I'd love to visit the other humans here on a regular basis.

I’d wondered what they’re like, if they’re all similar to Gregory, or if they’re like the fae I’ve come across. Will they reject me, or bring me into their home? Trick me?

Just as I decide it's been too long of a wait and turn to leave, the door creaks open, and a familiar eye catches the light. I offer a small wave and a smaller smile, and the door opens fully to reveal Gregory. He's got a shiny gold shirt on and poofy black pants that end at his knees. His hair is mussed, and there's smudged golden paint around his eyes that speak of sleep— I must've woken him up. Still, after looking me up and down, his face breaks into a smile.

"It's you!"

I offer the basket. "I brought food."

Gregory claps his hands together in delight. "Lovely! Come in, please."

He waves me in, his gold ear jewelry catching the morning light, and I step across the threshold only for my jaw to drop.

The cabin is huge and open, the front room has couches and cushions around a low table, with large windows on the far wall that show a beautiful river just a stone's throw away. There's hallways to my immediate right and left that lead into open sitting rooms, and a staircase on either side leading to the second level.

Gregory, unaware of my awe, continues forward as naturally as I would in the library. He leads me towards the back-right of the main hall that turns into the kitchens, a huge space with a rectangular island in the middle. I follow him only after quickly scraping my muddy feet on the welcome mat and running to catch up. My bare feet slap against the tile, causing Gregory to look back at me, then down to the dried mud caking my ankles and the hem of my dress.

I'd used my first dress, my original dress, for this journey, as I didn't want the nicer ones I'd just finished to pick up mud. I realize that was a grave mistake, and I shift the basket into both of my hands in a futile attempt to cover the mud. Gregory doesn't say anything, only purses his lips and continues into the kitchen.

Inside there are three other humans, more than I thought I'd ever see again. One is sitting on the countertop swinging her legs, her skin is a rich brown and her black, wildly curly hair is piled atop her head, while the two others swim around each other as they cook. One is as pale as the moon with a shock of red hair, the other is tanned, with silky black hair tied to their nape.

"Everyone, this is Kaitlyn." He announces, getting all of their attention. The two cooks turn around, and the one at the counter stops swinging her legs. They stare at Gregory, then at me, as Gegory points to each person, left to right. "Meet Emile, Kimiko, and Josefina."

They're staring at me, all of them expecting an answer, a response. The one on the counter, Josefina, although I doubt that's her true name, has an eyebrow raised as she looks me over, her gaze stopping at my feet.

I shuffle awkwardly, looking between each of them. "Hello."

They all look fresh, clean. Their clothes are all crisp, no fraying at the edges. Kimiko's hair shines in the morning light. My feet are covered in mud and the plait I'd pulled my hair into is simple. Ordinary.

The man, Emile, squints. "Kaitlyn, where have I heard that name before?"

Gregory plants his hands on his hips. "She's the one I tried to steal at the market."

All their eyes widen, and Kimiko scoffs. "No shit?"

"Not a shit to be seen," he says, and I can't tell if he's joking, but they all laugh.

Something on the stove starts to simmer, interrupting the laughter with a loud hiss, and Kimiko curses before turning back to her work. Gregory gestures to the kitchen, and I take the sign and set my basket on the countertop in the middle.

Josefina hops off the counter as Emile steps up to the basket.

"Ooh, you brought grapes! I haven't had grapes in a decade!" he says, picking up a whole string and starting to pick them off.

"What did you bring us?" Kimiko quickly examines the basket, picking through the food. "Grapes, cherries-- oh Gregory, you love cherries, don't you?" She glances up at me. "You didn't bring any cheese?"

I shuffle my feet, bare and dirty against their floor. "No."

I’d told Dachaigh I’d be visiting them, but she only provided me with the usual assortment of fruits in the basket. I hadn’t thought to ask for anything extra.

"Well that's okay," she waves me off. "You can bring cheese next time."

"O-okay." Shame is creeping up my spine, I can feel it sinking claws into my skin. I want to make a good impression, I want them to like me. They're my only human connection here.

"Come on Kimi," Gregory says. "She brought us food."

Gregory turns towards me, and rests a hand on my shoulder while offering me an easy smile, the same relaxed smile that eased my fears in the market. "Don't worry about them, they're impossible to please."

Just as I return the smile, the door leading outside opens and in come two more people. A tall, willowy woman with short hair the color of snow, and a tall, dark-skinned man with long dreadlocks. They both have a healthy layer of dirt on their clothes and hands, as if toiling in a garden, and my heart eases its frantic beating. I'm still the filthiest one here, but not the only one.

"Hey!" Kimiko waves to them with her spoon, which is covered in some kind of sauce and splatters the countertop. "We got a new one!"

The willowy woman groans, letting her head fall back. "Another baby? We just finished with Josefina!"

"Fuck off," Josefina fires back, popping an orange slice into her mouth.

"Then what--?" The woman says, her eyes falling on the basket. She looks to Gregory, then past him to me. Her eyes go wide as saucers and she's beside me in a manner of two steps.

"You're new!" she says, her grin wide and excited.

"That's Sveta, that's Francois," Gregory loudly whispers, gesturing to each of them.

Sveta reminds me of a kinder version of the faeries I encountered on the trail. She flits around me, gently tugging my hair, pinching my cheeks and patting my arms.

"How long have you been here? Do you really live with the master? Were you taken like us? Oh what fun!"

Francois steps forward, gently pushing Sveta aside. He's built like the Greek athletes I've seen in picture books, taller than me by at least a head, and I instinctively take a step back, tensing.

But he’s quiet, gentle when he asks, "I see you brought a book. Is it from the lord's library? What is it? What's inside?" His voice is level, but I can hear the curiosity, the excitement behind it.

His voice is soothing, like Aurelius' is in quiet moments, and I relax as I hand the book over. "I…I can't read it. I brought it in case…"

Sveta tilts her head, looking like a bird. "In case of what?"

"I-I'm not sure," I lie. "I didn't know…what to expect."

Josefina says, "Did you think we worked like the fair folk?" and her tone is upset, offended. I feel my heart sink.

"I…"

She rolls her eyes, and I see the orange rinds collapse as she squeezes her hands. "It's not all trades and magic, you know."

"That's not--"

"Hey, be nice," Gregory says, stepping between us. "She hasn't been outside, and living with the master? Perfectly understandable, she'd think we need to barter."

Francois turns to me and smiles gently. "We don't work like The Neighbors do, or even the lord. We're still human, all grouped together."

I nod, looking down at my hands and fighting the burning in my nose that comes before tears. How stupid of me, to assume humans and fae followed the same rules. I'm glad Josefina's not staring at me anymore, her eyes are bright green and piercing. Like she can see into my soul.

Francois steps away, leaning against the wall as he flips through the book. It leaves an opening for Sveta to continue prodding. "So you're the lord's new mate?"

I look into her eyes, which are a pale gray with flecks of green. "I'm…I'm not his mate."

She rolls her eyes. "Horseshit. Do you live in his home?"

"I-- Yes."

"Does he provide for you?"

"It's more the house herself that provides…."

"And you fuck, yes?"

My jaw clenches, and the color in my face is enough of an answer.

Sveta barks a laugh. "See? You're his mate."

"Look at her face," Kimiko exclaims, pointing at me. "She is red as a beet! They definitely fuck."

"What is that even like?" Emile asks.

"Does he rut you like an animal?"

"I'd imagine he's soft and kind."

"He's terrifying! I'd want to face away."

They all laugh, and I look down at my hands. They’re chapped and dry from doing chores this morning.

I think I prefer the company of the fae to these humans. They remind me of the ladies my age that came in from the city. Mean-spirited. It makes me want to take a bath and forget this whole ordeal.

Sveta pulls me into a hug and I try not to shiver. "Don't be so serious, darling! We just tease."

Sveta releases me, and I sway on my feet. I'm not used to so much touching, not even from Aurelius.

Pulling me out of my own anxiety is Gregory, gently holding my hands in his. He's warm, he's stepped close enough that I can smell spices and honey.

I look down at our joined hands. Gregory says something, but his words bounce against my head, unheard. The last human I spoke with, let alone touched, was Andrew nearly half a year past. There's people here. People I can talk to without worrying that they’re going to steal the words from my mouth.

Emotion, overwhelming and all at once, washes over me. The stinging in my nose returns, spilling over into tears. My face scrunches up as the tears flow freely, and I must look so ugly, but I can’t help it.

Gregory makes a distressed sound in the back of his throat. "Hey, no, it's okay."

Svate rests a hand on my shoulder. "Yeah, we're sorry, please don't cry."

"I think she's overwhelmed," he says, pulling me into a tight hug.

I didn’t mean to make them feel bad, to have them worry over me. But still, they guide me out into the living area and sit me on the couch. I feel like a newborn sheep, barely able to walk, blinking the tears out of my eyes.

Slowly, I come down from my hysterics, wrung out and tired. I’m offered a handkerchief that I use then rest on my lap, and then Kimiko shoves a plate full of buttered bread in my face.

“It’s fresh. Eat it,” she says curtly, her head turned to the side, her lips pursed.

I take the plate and pick up a slice, and take a tentative bite. It’s sourdough, with a toasted outside and soft inside. I haven’t had sourdough in ages, and I realize I hadn’t eaten breakfast— the basket of fruit is sitting in the kitchen.

Emile leans forward in his seat. "Tell us of the human world. Have they fallen to shit?"

Through my despair, I find the light in me to laugh. "Not quite. In the city there's a lot of steam engines, and a lot of people. There's a machine for everything, even sewing."

All of them 'oh' in unison, fascinated, and I smile as I finish off the first slice of bread. I once found it fascinating too, until I learned how expensive such machines are. But I'll spare them that piece of information.

They ask me about the city, and I tell them what I know, making up only a few details here and there. Kimiko is fascinated by the fashion of whale-boned stays and kirtles, and Emile wants to know if men still wear their hair long. Throughout the conversation I pick up on details, small and fleeting, about my new friends.

Gregory was the first one here, raised by a witch until he was a young man. He learned to hunt, fish, and care for himself on his own. Then came Kimiko and Emile as young children, both stolen away from countries across the sea. Francois was next, replaced as an adult, and he had a difficult time adjusting to this strange, fae world. Finally, Josefina arrived as a baby, and they all worked together to raise her, and she’s been here for at least seven decades.

I want to ask questions, I have so many. Why they age to a certain point then stop, or how they came across this cabin. But I’m content to keep listening, absorbing their stories as they tell them. It’s Kimiko who pulls me out of my listening state.

"You could live with us, you know," she says, propping her chin on her fist.

I set the empty plate down.They all refused my offer to share, leaving me to finish it off. "I could?"

She smiles at me for the first time. "If you ever get tired of the old lord."

"I appreciate that," I say, smiling back.

The six of them continue talking, mostly about what they did that day, and I let it flow around me easily. I've never been a lively girl, or the best at conversation. I'm more of a listener than a speaker. But having six voices bouncing off one another is a certain type of peaceful. It reminds me of the days my parents and brother would share stories around the soup pot. This is familiar, and I want to be there for all of it.

"This book you brought is full of spells," Francois says, wandering in from the kitchen. "Did you know that?"

I grimace, shame souring my belly. "I couldn't read the script."

"They're very advanced," he continues, oblivious to my insecurity, idly flipping pages as he slowly meanders towards the couch and finally plops next to Kimiko. "They're all about conjuring, summoning spirits and such."

"That's amazing," I say, genuinely surprised. You can do that?

"The cost is high, though. Look here, to open a portal between planes you need a mutual agreement on top of a great trade."

"How great?" Emile asks.

"Something of 'great perceived value', whatever that means."

I inhale so sharply I choke on my saliva.

"I think she knows what it means," Kimiko says around a laugh as she pats my back.

***

I feel lighter on the walk back to Aurelius' home. The time with other people was like jumping into a clear pool-- refreshing and bright. Their laughter echoes throughout my head, their easy touches are ghosts on my skin.

I want to tell Aurelius about my day.

He didn't come and fetch me at all, which bodes well for me, as I wasn't interrupted. If he needed anything he knew where I was anyway. But it’s a little disappointing in hindsight, that he didn’t need me, and didn't wonder where I was. The realization slows my steps, makes my arms like lead.

Climbing up the stairs into Dachaigh makes me anxious, as if Aurelius will be waiting for me in the library to reprimand me like a child. But he’s not there, and I breathe a little easier. It’s not like I’ve done anything wrong, or broken some rule, so why do I feel like he’s going to be upset?

I set the empty basket on the low table and head towards my bed. I’m exhausted, all the talking and people certainly sapped my energy. I fall into the cushions lining the massive windowsill, careful to keep my feet off the blankets as I fall backwards and stare at the ceiling. I’m ready for an afternoon nap, and then I’d like to work on my second dress.

“Kyla,” comes Aurelius’ voice from across the room. I sit up, and there he is, appearing out of thin air.

“Aurelius,” I say.

He steps up to me, and takes my hand, pulling me to a standing position. "Come, come."

“What—?” He allows me no time to ask before pulling me across the room towards the stairs. He stretches an arm out and grabs all my notes before shoving them all at me which I barely manage to wrap my arms around it all before we’re flying down the stairs.

He’s dressed very nicely: a crisp white collared-shirt and tan pants and suspenders. His shape is human with those long arms, reminding me of my father, narrow from the legs up until filling out at the shoulders that speaks of endless time chopping wood. Is this his true form? The form underneath the cloak he wears?

"Where are we going?"

He turns back to me, and I catch a glimpse of his head. I’d thought it was his typical corrupted deer because he maintained the branching antlers, but this one is sharp and dangerous, with extra angles and longer, threatening teeth. "I have business to attend to,” he says. “I require your assistance."

I try not to trip over my own feet. "Business?"

"The vendors for the festival are beginning to arrive. Your papers are what gives them their position."

“Oh,” I say, rather stupidly.

Before I have time to think, he pulls me outside, and there's a long line of Fair Folk, winding like a snake to the treeline. There’s animals that I’ve seen, and animals that I could never imagine. There’s half-human half-animal hybrids, beings with shimmering skin in every visible color, and even a few that seem to be made of pure light. I see feathers and scales and rough skin and slime. Bringers of dark and bringers of light, and bringers of something neither good nor bad, all gathered at Aurelius’ home for a festival.

My eyes widen. "They're setting up here?"

I stop dead, and Aurelius nearly yanks me to the floor when he keeps moving. "In the clearing, yes."

I sigh heavily, resigning myself to go along with whatever he wants. He’s not going to explain.

We step the edge of the shadow but not completely out of it, and every single being, creature and fae, bow their heads, in respect or fear I’m not sure, but it’s a humbling sight to watch them all stare resolutely at the ground.

From my notes, I've gathered that Aurelius sits at the north end of the clearing, with the vendors to the south. There's a large empty section for celebration and dancing, and the whole area is lit with magical floating aurora.

The first patron is easy, Aurelius gives them their assigned location and they walk off. And after five, six more groups it’s almost boring, menial. Until we encounter a snag.

A patron of dryads approaches, and I remember their location was one that I’d changed. Quickly flicking through the pages I find their rearrangement and slap it on the table, triumphant. Aurelius looks down at me, and I swear that he’s glaring.

“No, the Aur dryads will go here,” and he points to the map.

“But this’ll put them closer to the woods, and isn’t that what they—“

“It is not how it’s done, my doe.” And he smoothes a hand over my head, making the dryads laugh and my face ignite.

He’s not going to listen to me, much less take me seriously. What did I prepare all these notes for, then? What was the point of it? I want to walk away, I want to go take a bath, but I shouldn’t be giving up so easily. I learned that I need to speak up to earn my place here.

After that, I do my best to follow along, chiming in when I recognize a symbol from the notes or a vendor from the list. But every time, Aurelius denies me. Every time, he tells me things don’t work that way, or these vendors are never together. My favorite was a series of stalls that float in the air above the festival that also need to be arranged a certain way.

The next fae is a kind I've never heard of in books or stories. A giant rabbit, as tall as a man when they sit on their haunches, carrying a small basket and wearing a bonnet. The strangest thing, though. She’s not looking down. She’s actually looking up at Aurelius, with large, shiny black eyes.

Aurelius leans down so the two of them are eye-level. "Hello Eodine."

The rabbit’s nose twitches, and then shakes her head. "Atya, my dear!” I gasp— her mouth barely moves when she speaks.

“How are you?” She asks. “And oh--" those inky black eyes turn to me. "Who is this?"

Aurelius taps one of his branching antlers with his long claw instead of answering, and the large rabbit named Eodine gasps.

"This is the human you've captured!" she remarks, planting her furry paws on her hips. "Haven't seen a new face in near a century. Send her my way for some tea, Atya, I could use more company than just you."

"Of course."

They speak easily, and Aurelius marks a spot close to his seat for her. I’d originally moved her small art station towards the middle so it would see more patrons, but I don’t mind being wrong about this one. She reminds me of a matron, or a grandmother. She’s opinionated and harsh, but well-meaning and kind.

Eodine speaks a little longer with Aurelius, catching up and making plans, and I wish those plans included me.

“You, human,” she says, looking at me. “Visit me anytime before sundown.” And she turns away, stepping with those large paws towards the grass, where she fades into the mist.

In my silence, Aurelius turns back to the line of fae, and continues his placement of stalls. I want to think of Eodine more, but I’m caught up in a slurry of plans, arrangements, and vendors. Every part of me rails against opposing Aurelius, but I still try to assert myself.

"I think the takoyaki stand could go here with the rest of the--"

"That is not how it's done. The kitsune are always placed here," he gestures to another spot that makes no sense.

"A food stand shouldn't be in the middle of two textile patrons. The fabrics will absorb the smell."

"M'lord is correct, human. It is always done this way," the fox says quietly, glancing up at me through their long fox lashes. "Although, I'd hate to ruin the lovely river spirit's textiles." They bring a paw up to their snout, as they look over the layout in thought.

For what feels like the thirtieth time, I want to pull Aurelius aside and ask him why he brought me here. I asked for something to do, but was it a fruitless task just meant to keep me busy?

"Would m'lord perhaps," the fox gestures to the open spot. "Consider moving us here?"

Aurelius goes quiet, considering the map. He heaves a heavy sigh through his snout, and crosses his arms. "You will have to tell the Whiteadder spirit that they're being transferred."

"M'lord is most kind," the fox says with a bow, before literally disappearing in a puff of smoke.

Before the next round of fae comes, I look up at Aurelius, my face drawn into a frown. "Why'd you bring me if you're only going to shoot down all my ideas?"

"I wanted you here, with me," he says, folding his arms over his chest. It’s still strange to see him in human clothing, I’m so used to the tall cloaked form.

“To do what?” I ask helplessly.

“To be by my side.”

One of the fae speaks up, "That's a cursed life if I ever heard one!"

The fae to their right chimes in, "The human is rather silly for agreeing to live with him!"

And another voice asks, "Can you even look him in the eyes when you fuck?"

They all laugh for half a moment, until Aurelius growls low in his throat, and every voice goes silent.

"Certain placements are sacred," he chides me, and I scoff.

"How was I supposed to know that?"

"I'm telling you now."

I want to cry and scream at the same time. I ball my hands into fists to keep from lashing out at Aurelius. I hate it here, I want to leave.

Another fae in line that I can’t see jeers loudly, bringing up a chorus of responding cheers. I don't like having our personal life on display for these creatures. They haven't earned the right to my anger. So I stomp away, ignoring the laughter of the fae behind me.

Maybe that kindly rabbit or the other humans will take me in, I think as I make my way to the center of the tree and up the staircase.

***

Aurelius takes the rest of the evening to sort out the placements, and I can only go to one place: the library. I’d considered exploring the other levels of Dachaigh, but she still doesn’t feel like home. I’m not comfortable rooting around in Aurelius’ personal belongings, especially when he considers me one of them. He’s been kind in the past, but I’ve seen his anger, not the frustration that pushes me to the floor and makes me his, but his true anger. His rage. And I don’t want that turned on me if I stumble upon some secret.

So I watch the sunset from my bed, through the large window that lines it. The colors run together, orange and red and purple, with wispy, bright pink clouds. It’s gorgeous, and speaks of fair weather for tomorrow. I idly wonder what the others are doing, the humans at the cottage.

My visit to the house floats through my mind like a bird on the breeze. They’d all be nice to visit again, but I need to remember to defend myself or I fear I’ll become their new scapegoat, an easy target for harsh words. But I’m more comfortable with them after this initial visit, and I hope I can remain friends with them.

In the corner, Dachaigh shoves a book from the shelf, the same one meaning an affirmative, and I groan to the endless ceiling.

“Dachaigh, I’m too tired for this.”

Another book falls, and I sigh heavily. I’m not in the mood for more games. But yet another book falls, almost insistent in the way it hits the ground, and I roll out of bed.

I put the initial book back in its place, and turn to fix the others, when it falls again. I squint at it on the floor, put it back again, then straighten to stand just as she pushes it off the shelf again. Dachaigh is trying to tell me something.

I pick up the book and open it. It’s softbound with no title and those same, tilted words that I’ve come to know as Aurelius’ handwriting. I couldn’t read it before, but I’ve become familiar with his script after devoting weeks to planning a festival that I’ll have no part in. Quickly flipping through, I see it’s not completely full, about half the pages in the back of the journal are blank. I flip to the last entry, a single line of perfect cursive: The human has left.

Ice shoots down my spine and my mind is thrown into a tornado of thought. No, this must be a falsehood. Aurelius has told me he’s never brought another to his home, and the fair folk won’t lie. But Aurelius is not of the fair folk, he’s a god. Would he lie to me? Why would he, what purpose does it serve?

The book falls out of my hands and clatters on the floor.

Something in my mind snaps, the world slows to a halt, and everything I knew about Aurelius snaps into focus. I clap my hands together.

“I need a bath.”

Like someone with no personality, I walk away from the bookshelves and into the bathing room to take a long, hot bath. Nothing about today is bothering me. I’m completely fine.

Strangely enough, I’m beginning to recognize all the bottles on the bath’s edge, so when one very deep green bottle about as long as my forearm appears amongst them, I’m curious. I can’t see the color of the liquid inside through the green glass, but it’s slick, loose flowing like water, not the thick soaps I’ve become used to.

This one still has its glass stopper, and pulling it out I smell roses, jasmine, and an undercurrent of spice. Sandalwood? Ginger? It’s almost seductive, this combination of smells. I take another deep inhale and I tip some of the liquid into my palm.

I was correct in my assumptions— it’s an oil. For bathing or…some other purpose. The smell is even stronger out of the bottle, washing over the whole room. It’s definitely meant to catch attention, and part of me wants to slather it all over my body and stand in the library, waiting for whatever beast it awakens in this creature I’ve linked my life to.

Instead, I decide on a milder option, and dump it into the water. I dump it until it’s empty, and climb in, immediately dunking my head underneath the water. All sound, all sight, all feeling cuts off from me as I hold my breath. I can’t open my eyes, so I rest my forehead against my knees until my lungs begin to scream.

The human has left.

After a long soak, I dress in Aurelius’ long shirt and pad into the library. I’m not tired enough to fall asleep, and the lights are too dim to read by, so I resume my former position of sulking in the windowsill and watching the stars.

It’s a long time before I hear Aurelius climbing the stairs, making noise so I know he’s coming. I expect he’s going to ignore me and head to his room but instead, I feel his presence over my shoulder.

"You are unhappy."

I scoff. "Yeah, no shit."

"Let me show you something."

"I'd really rather--ah!" He picks me up from the couch and we dissolve away, his strange method of teleportation taking us outside.

The transportation makes me dizzy, and the night air is cold. He's taken us to an empty field, where the grass has grown high and unruly. It’s the dead of night, so I can’t see much, but I can still see Dachaigh in the distance.

“You smell nice,” Aurelius says as he sets me down. He starts off north, at least I think it's north, and we reach a sandy lake.

"Where are we?"

"A practice field. I'm going to show you this," and he produces a book. Bound in black leather, embossed symbols on the front and along the spine. A chill runs up my spine at first— it looks just like the journal— but it’s much thicker, and hardbound like a proper book. I take it— oh, it’s heavy, and inside is runes, the same he used to bring us to this plane. I realize why he brought me out, and I smile.

"You're teaching me magic."

He looks away, shuffling awkwardly. "You requested it."

My face stretches into a wide grin. "You're teaching me magic!"

Unable to contain my joy, I jump in the air and fold my arms over his frame. I’m learning magic!

I open the book, and on the opening page is the setup Aurelius used to bring me to this plane. I run my fingers over it, feeling the raised impressions of the ink, before flipping through the rest of the book. Its language is scattered, runes and symbols blending together to make a stew of words and thoughts. It’s impossible to make anything out, even the margins with scribbled notes are too tightly scripted for me to decipher.

"I…I can't read this," I say, tears welling up behind my eyes.

“Oh,” Aurelius says, stepping forward and starting to fret. He takes the book in one hand and encircles me in the other. “Here, here, let me show you. Here.”

Flipping to a page in the middle, he gently holds my hand in his, the only point of warmth on this cool night, and guides my finger over the sand. He’s gentle, guiding instead of forcing, and I wish I saw this side of him more.

We trace a few circles, some too lopsided, others too shaky, until he finally deems one acceptable. I feel a swell of pride as he nods decisively, and then points to the runes surrounding the circle, telling me which to draw first. There’s six in total, spread around evenly like a clock, and simple enough that I can listen to Aurelius as he speaks and I draw the runes at the same time.

"You're already familiar with the idea, but it bears repeating. All magic comes at an exchange. You’re pulling from nature itself, and nature always takes what it is owed. It is always hungry."

Before I can ask what he means he breaks off a piece of his own antler, and that black ichor wells up and begins to drip on the ground.

"Your head…" I frown as my stomach turns with guilt.

He waves me off with his free hand as he places the piece in the center of the circle. "It will regrow by tomorrow."

And for a moment, it is quiet. And then, the antler begins to glow a soft green. It shakes and spins, stretching and twisting around on itself as it’s pulled into the air. It flashes several colors, red, purple, orange, before settling on green. It’s as high as my chest before it shudders once more, elongating and exploding from one end, and a bouquet of wildflowers takes its place, held together by a simple black ribbon. The flowers are bright and fresh— red poppies, yellow yarrows, purple bergamot, and several other types I don’t recognize all combining in an arrangement as big as my head.

The flowers slowly float towards me, as if carried by some invisible suitor, and I grab them from the air. The moment my hand touches the stalks, the green magic fades, and I’m left holding the flowers, grinning impossibly wide.

These are flowers. Real, cut flowers that I could find at the market. And I made them from a branch and some runes in the sand. I shove my. Face into the bouquet and take a deep inhale through my nose. It smells like summer, like summer and beauty.

"I did that! I really, really just did that!” I say, my voice echoing in the field.

Aurelius chuckles, and rests a heavy hand on my shoulder. "Well done."

The contact warms me, makes my heart leap inside my chest. I did something right! I’m full of energy now, I want to do another.

I look up to him, eager. "What else?"

Aurelius hums, idly flipping through the book. "Ah."

It’s another circular configuration, an oval, actually, with a large, complex rune in the center.

“This will do, for now.”

This oval is much easier than the circle, now that I know what I’m doing, and the single rune is more complex than the last, but Aurelius traces the strokes with his finger and guides me through.

Despite the chill in the air, I manage to draw the large symbol, easily the size of my torso, into the sand. It’s not perfect, and I push my lips out in a pout, but maybe if we do this again I can ask him how to properly draw things.

Now I just need something to trade.

I look down at myself. I have no branching antlers to snap off, nor any articles of clothing I wish to remove. I look back up at Aurelius, helpless. "What should I…?"

He considers me for a moment, tilting his head this way and that as if trying to get a better look, and hums thoughtfully.

"This is your second lesson. Humans with the potential for magic often have to give up very little of themselves. Try something small."

I pluck a few hairs from my head, and set them in the center, expecting nothing. Then the rune begins to glow blue, peeling off the ground and floating into the air. It ripples and shimmers before shooting back into the ground, flattening and growing into a small pool of water within the oval. The sand absorbs the water before I have a chance to touch it, but the damp sand is enough proof that I need to affirm that yes, I just created water.

My grin returns full force, and I jump to standing. Water! I can make water! But something nags at my mind, and I look up to Aurelius.

"Why so little, when you had to…" I reach up, and my fingers barely brush the antlers branching from his head.

“This was nothing,” he says, tilting his head to allow me access to brush my fingers over the empty space. “As much as you giving up your hair. Humans are also more potent because they are rare, they have to trade much less than, say, an average fae.”

My eyes widen. "How did you know I could do magic?"

"I've known since the first moment I touched you."

"And you kept it to yourself this whole time?"

He straightens, and brings one long hand up to tap at his unmarred antler. "I admit that the thought was in my mind, but it was overshadowed by other things. I was only reminded when Eodine brought it up."

I frown. What would take up space in a god’s head?Then I remember: The human before me. When did he write that? How far back did the entries go? Were they like me?

Instead, I ask flatly, "Overshadowed?"

Aurelius looks towards the house, then back to me. He exhales a long sigh before he leans forward, looming over me, moving as if to gently knock the side of my head with his snout, but stops. It’s like he’s waiting for something, but I couldn’t guess what.

“You left today,” he says.

His head shifts on my shoulder, and he sinks to the ground, sitting so we're level with each other, and holds out his hands for me to take. Against my better judgment, I take his hands, still warm and calloused, and look down at them in the silence.

Aurelius speaks up, “Why did you go?”

“You know where I was.”

“But why?”

“Why do you care?”

He stills and looks away, hands tightening on my fingers, and my stomach drops. I know what he’s going to say.

"Because I love you."

My lips part on a sharp inhale as images rush through my head. Of Aurelius saving me from the forest fae, of him giving me the library, the gifts he brings back. Alongside it are memories of our argument earlier today, of him chasing down Gregory because I dared to wander off, of him removing me from his bed day after day.

The human has left.

Whatever this is between us right now, it’s not love. It’s not the love I want.

"No, you don't," I say, sighing, and pulling my hands away.

He doesn't respond, seeming to shrink back into himself, his empty hands folding in front of him in a way that reminds me of a mouse.

"It's getting cold," I say, rubbing my arm for emphasis. "I'm going inside."

And I turn away from him, the magic we just created together, and towards a home I don’t belong in.

Perhaps I'm wrong. What do I know of love? My own parents weren't unhappy, but they certainly didn't seem to be in love. I loved my brother dearly, but I know it's different from romance.

When I sold crops in town, I'd hear the ladies speak of their courtships with the lords. How they'd be gifted a new trinket each day, each one more exuberant than the last; How their beloved would write them sonnets of their beauty, or commission an artist to capture it in painting. They'd cry out when their suitors arrived on horseback, flinging themselves into his waiting arms and peppering each other with kisses.

After my parents passed, I received a few such pleasantries. A few notes written in cursive that I couldn't read, fresh cut flower bouquets that I'd heard have secret languages. One brave man even visited our home, but Arthur had already contracted his illness by then, and the suitor fled once Arthur began coughing. He was a nice gentleman, and I once imagined myself marrying him and moving to the city, leaving the farm behind. The men of town weren't like the farmers surrounding it. They were soft, romantic and well-educated.

But Aurelius is not human. Perhaps I'm expecting too much of him to align himself with the lowly creatures he watches over. Perhaps all I'll ever be is a trinket to him, a pet to be watched over and cared for. We never set out to build a romance.

And yet, I still crave one.

Deep in my bones, I know that I want everything from him, his affection, his touch, his gifts of books and buttons and safety. I want his anger, his jealousy, his need to possess me in every way possible. I want to learn to read better for him, to share meals and a bed. But he doesn’t love me the way he should.

I’m well underneath Dachaigh when Aurelius appears in front of me, a flicker of shadow and bone.

“Don’t be angry with me,” he says, and I see the stars in his eyes sparkle. “I don’t like when you’re angry with me.”

“Then don’t do things that make me angry,” I say in a rush.

“What am I doing wrong?”

“You shouldn’t need me to tell you!” I shout, and I’m silently stricken. That was a cruel thing to say. I sound like my mother. Angry at a cowering child for doing something without realizing. Aurelius is even still keeping his head lower than mine, so I can look him in the eyes.

The human has left.

I don’t want to talk anymore. I can’t speak with him anymore. I don’t want to crack open my heart when I don’t know what he’s going to do with it. It’s too late, I’m too tired, and it’s too cold for any of this. Aurelius couldn’t have picked a worse time to bring this up.

I push past him, ignoring the hitch of my breaths and the constricting of my throat. I will not cry. Not here.

“Kyla,” he says, his voice far too soft for what he is, and I continue walking, brisque and cold.

Aurelius doesn’t chase after me, doesn’t call my name again, even as I ascend the stairs, and wind through the room, and bury myself into my bed. There, and only there, do I let the tears flow freely.

#sacrifice #My writing #monster boyfriend #monster x human #monster romance #this chapter is hefty #That’s why it took me a few extra days #Thanks so much for everyones patience!#Monster writing

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tiistirtipii · 1 year

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Day 123 of missing AkkAyan. I was going to pick a different scene for today but I opened episode 10 to find it and got lost in repeating this beautiful moment. Undoubtedly one of my favourite scenes I’m focusing on just the first part of it for now.

It’s their first day at school as boyfriends and Ayan is ready to use that to his advantage. His claim to Akk has been put into words in a way it wasn’t before. Before it was just two shared kisses and comfort they provided eachother and while Akk still can’t admit his feelings Ayan made it so he didn’t have to, he let Akk ‘allow’ himself to be his boyfriend. Sure he asked a few times and wouldn’t let Akk sleep but that let Akk almost hide behind the pathetic excuse that is he was just trying to get Ayan to stop annoying him. Something along the lines of ‘yeah sure I’m totally only agreeing to be Ayan’s boyfriend so he will let me go to sleep not because he makes me feel happier or safer than anyone ever has haha’ and that technique of Akk’s to hide behind being annoyed is exactly what he uses in this scene as well. When Ayan asks him if he misses him at all, Akk’s answer of, “I did! Happy now?’ Is a great example of the deflection he uses to allow himself to be honest. He did miss Ayan but he can’t just say that, that’s lowering himself to Ayan’s very sappy level and Akk is too cool and too repressed for that. Ayan of course is very aware of this which is what makes it work for them. Ayan can annoy Akk into being honest and see straight past the insults it takes to get to that point to see the true meaning beyond 🥰.

The scene itself is very pretty, it’s no ep 7 island scene but the lighting here is beautiful and in light of (haha) the gorgeous photos we got of First in the sun today it seemed perfect to talk about. Ayan’s face shines as well but I can’t tell if it’s because of the sun or how widely he is smiling and I can’t tell if that’s the sun shining in his eyes of if they’re bright with love and adoration.

There are so many little bits and pieces I love about this scene I’ll just start listing them. The audio work at the start and the way you can hear their shoes along the floor and Ayan’s palm smack against the wall. That paired with the quick cut from Akk looking so confused to Ayan smiling so widely as the audio fades away makes that moment especially rewatchable. It seriously scratches some part of my brain. I love Akk’s eyes the whole scene although I love them in every scene. First’s eye acting is unmatched and the way his eyes soften from concerned to shy has me entranced. The way Akk’s hand comes up to grab onto Ayan’s backpack, failing at keeping Ayan away and instead holding him there. Ayan’s mini pout.

Akk’s seconds of consideration before he admits to missing Ayan, probably when he thinks about the benefits of being honest or just denying it or doing a mix of both as said before. Ayan’s absolutely radiant smiles throughout the whole scene as he gets to act as the mushy boyfriend he has always wanted to be. The way Akk pulls Ayan’s hand off from the wall behind him and Ayan doesn’t even hesitate for a second to place it right back. How he doesn’t care at all that Wat and Kan are coming and continues on to ask for a kiss.

There’s the fact that this scene is the last scene shown in the intro yet technically we never get that exact scene from the intro because we don’t get a shot from that angle and Ayan’s hand looks to be completely behind Akk’s head (stopping it from knocking into the wall☺️) but because that scene was in the intro it was something to look forward to.

I remember early on I couldn’t picture Akk and Ayan looking at each other with that much love and it gave me butterflies to imagine that’s the two idiots on my screen who hated eachother were going to get to that point eventually.

There’s more to this scene but I’ll leave that for another day. I miss Akk and Ayan, more and more every day.

#AkkAyan #the eclipse #the eclipse the series #first kanaphan #khaotung thanawat #missing Akkayan #it was SUPPOSED to be a short one today and look what fuckin happened #every goddamn time I end up with a full essay #I just love them too much.

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chalterdh22 · 8 months

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Chapter 30: When Will They be Back?

After my shift that night, when I got home, Din was getting the Cutless ready to go. I got off my speeder and walked to them. “Do you need any help?” I asked him.

“We are good, thank you.” We walked on board, and I strapped Grogu in his little seat.

I leaned down to his level. “Now, you be good for your dad, you hear me? Do what he says and be safe.” I kissed the top of his wrinkled head and stood straight up. Turning around, Din was right behind me. I patted his helmet and said, “Now, you be good too! You listen to the kid!” Now smirking, I leaned in and gave him a hug.

“Cute.”

“Aw, I’m just joking. Remember, when you are here, you can be a little more laid back, if you want to.”

He sighed and nodded his head. I kept holding onto him tight. I realized how I didn’t really want them to go, but it would be good for all of us. To have our own spaces. I had a quick little moment where I felt Grogu reaching out to me, so I turned back to him. “Don’t worry buddy. I’ll still be here when you get back. I promise.”

His ears moved up and a little noise came out.

“Ok, we need to take off now.” He took my hand, reached up to his helmet with the other hand and pulled my hand under it to kiss it. For some reason, that was such a sweet sentiment to me. It just had me smiling as I walked off the ship. I stopped though, and quickly stepped back in.

“Hey, can I fly the Starfighter?”

“No.” And just like that, he closed the ramp. I stepped back a few steps as they took off. Waiting a few minutes later, I realized how quiet it was there by myself. There was something soothing about it.

I was going to sleep on the sofa like I had been, but Din’s cot, slash bed was now available. So, I walked over to try it out.

“Ok, the floor would be more comfortable than this.” I went back to my sofa and fell asleep.

About a week went by with the same daily routine of working, eating, shopping, sitting on the porch and tooling around the city area. Now that I’m there every night, it wasn’t so appealing and exciting, but it was still something to do. I started to become restless. They should be home soon, I was thinking.

When I saw Greef day, I asked to use his projected comm to reach out to Din, to see when he was coming back. He said that was fine. I went to a private room, closed the door, and tried to contact him. It was silent. I made sure I had the ship’s code down correctly, and it was. I knew he could be just going through a spotted area, or not even be in the ship. So, I gave up and sped home.

When I got back, the Cutless was there already. My heart started racing and I felt so giddy to see them! I jumped off the speeder and jogged into the cabin. Din was sitting on the ground, his leg looked like it had been mangled by some kind of beast. I quickly looked around for Grogu who was sleeping in his cot. I ran down to him.

“What happened? Are you ok?” It appeared his injury was around his kneecap and wrapped around the backside of his leg higher close to his thigh. It was a thin wound, but deep.

“I’m fine. Can you grab some gauze so I can stop this bleeding please?”

“Sure!” I popped up and grabbed gauze and the spray.

Starting to open the spray bottle, his hand reached out, and grabbed my wrist. “No, none of that. We need to save that.”

“For what? Something worse?”

“You don’t understand, the kid has healed most of this already. I just need to stop the bleeding until he wakes up again so he can finish. I’ll be fine like this for a while.”

“What do you mean the kid has healed you? With his powers?”

“Yes, but this was a horrible wound, and it took everything out of him to get it to this and help land the ship. It takes a toll on him.” He looked over at the sleeping baby. I sighed, wanting to do more, but realizing this was it.

“Can I at least help you up so you’re not laying on the floor?”

“Thank you.” He said reaching out and arm. I grabbed it with both hands and pulled hard. Then I fell backward.

“All this stupid beskar is weighing you down, Din. Can we take some off, not all of it, but some so I can get you on your feet?” He signed again.

“Ok, but don’t call beskar stupid. It saved my life.” We removed his armor on his shins, thighs, and pelvic cover. I grabbed his arm one more time and I finally got him to his feet. He put an arm over my shoulder, and I helped him walk to his bed. He still felt like he weighed a ton. He sat down and I lifted the hurt leg on the bed to elevate it.

“Are you comfortable? Do you need anything else?” He shook his head no. “Hey, talk to me. Needing something isn’t a sign of weakness, you know.”

“I’ll just feel better when Grogu regains his strength.”

“Do you want another pillow or something? Your bed is absolutely the most uncomfortable thing I’ve ever sat on. I was going to sleep there and instantly decided against it.” I said chuckling.

“My bed is just fine. But yes, can you grab another pillow or blanket and prop my leg up on it so it’s a little higher. I’ll just lay back then and rest.” He removed his jetpack as he laid back down.

“Ok.” I went to go get what he wanted. Or I thought so. Where are the extra blankets and pillows? I know I put them somewhere. “Oh, they are hanging outside from washing them. They should be good now. I walked outside and grabbed everything hanging and threw it onto the sofa to sort out later. I grabbed a pillow and blanket. Din was lying down now, barely moving. “I’m just going to put this under your leg,” I whispered, afraid he would startle and kick me or something.

He made a hmmmm, noise, so I figured it was ok. After I propped it up, I took a step back to see if maybe he needed something else. I removed his boots while he lay there so he could be more comfortable, I thought.

After I settled him, I went over to Grogu, who was in a deep sleep. Realizing how tired I was from just getting off a shift, I put away the stuff I threw on the sofa, laid down and slept as well.

#grogu #pedro pascal #star wars #the mandalorian #mandalorian and grogu #din djarin x reader #din djarin x you #grogu djarin #mando

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soshesighs · 1 year

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6 random lines

Rules: pick any ten six of your fics, scroll to the midpoint, pick a line (or three) and share it. Then tag ten people.

Tagged by @indomitable-love, thank you!

So, look... I don’t have 10 standalone fics yet, I’m sorry! I only have 6 individually posted works on ao3, and only two of those are one-shots. So instead I’m going to post a line from the midpoint of the two standalones, and then find a line from the midpoint of the middle-posted chapter (or closest to it that I can get) of any of the one-shot compilations or multi-chaptered fics, if that works?

Nobody’s here to tell me no, so I’m taking the silence as a yes. Shhh.

Something Precious Saved (T)

Bea rings him up one dreary December morning to ask Alex if he’ll grab an old picture of her and Henry and Philip with their parents, one she swears is in a photo album Henry took with him when he moved, and email it to her - something she needs for a planned Christmas present for all of them - and as he gingerly cracks open the delicate album, a colorful stack of paper flutters to their study floor.

If he accidentally hangs up on Bea in his excitement, well… he’ll call her back later to apologize and explain.

Call It Hope (T)

“You… forgot,” Ellen repeats, slowly and monotonously, trying to make the word make sense. The glance between the two boys doesn’t pass unnoticed by her, and she looks between the two of them like she might miraculously pull some sort of answer or explanation out of the thin air. “After almost five years of being a public figure, you forgot? You couldn’t even tell your sister you were running off?”

Alex opens and closes his mouth in the start of an explanation multiple times, but nothing manages to come out.

A Love Letter to Love (T) [Chapter 10: Death By A Thousand Cuts]

Philip sighs and gestures weakly to the room. “Can I at least come in and sit down first?”

Henry falls silent, half expecting someone else to chime in with an opinion, but the other three are all quiet, seemingly leaving the decision up to him. The bitter part of him wants to slam the door in his brother’s face, tell him that any effort he thinks he’s going to make here is all too little too late, make some part of him hurt - even if just for a moment - the way Henry himself has for years now.

But.

[From The Vault] (T) [Chapter 2: Thanksgiving, 2022]

“No shame in finding comfort in the company of your person,” Leo chimes in in agreement, giving Ellen’s hand a squeeze. He turns to give her a soft smile, something so intimate that for a moment, Henry feels entirely like he’s intruding. He averts his gaze, taking another bite of the cookie in his hand.

After a moment, when neither of them prompts him further and he’s finished an entire cookie through nervous nibbles, Henry quietly asks, “How did you know you were it for each other?”

I can’t match you for prose (T) [Chapter 11: Week Four: Redo]

Henry sets the pan atop the stove, where six thoroughly ruined cupcakes sit - caved in, unrisen, and nothing like the picture from the recipe he’d printed. He’s trying to understand where they went wrong (did they forget the baking powder in their rush? Or overmix them?) when he hears the tiny sniffle.

He spins around, crouching down to their daughter’s level before she can really start crying.

when I’m away from you (I miss your touch) (T) [Chapter 4: Headache]

He trips over his own feet twice on the way through to the en suite bathroom, as if his body knows that every step taken away from Alex is somehow wrong. Once he finally stumbles into the room, he locks the door behind himself before he can give in to the temptation to immediately turn around and head back to him.

It’s time, he realizes, to face the music.

I never know who to tag in these things, especially when it’s been 10+ days since I was tagged in the first place, so if you’ve already been tagged or already done it, feel free to tell me to shove off, haha. @adinarj @actual-sleeping-beauty

#my fics #rwrb

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one-abuse-survivor · 11 months

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Hi, it’s Emma! It’s been a long time since I last reached out. I took some time away (like two months) because it was the first anniversary since the attack and I took it harder than I had hoped. It’s been a little over a year now, I wasn’t on tumblr during the anniversary, but I’m feeling so frustrated because it’s been a year since the attack, and two years since the harassment started and I have nothing to show for it. Nothing. I’m looking back on everything and I can’t believe that I haven’t slept in a bed for over a year. I keep thinking that’s so ridiculous. The bed didn’t hurt me, the bed played no role in my attack, you’d assume I’d be scared to see or be around a knife but nope, I helped my mom cook dinner for my dad’s birthday last week, I had to cut an onion and had no anxieties about seeing or using a knife and a knife is what actually harmed me, that’s what could have killed me. My brother was cutting a green pepper and accidentally nicked his finger with the knife causing it to bleed a little and I got him a bandaid and when I saw the blood, no reaction. You’d think maybe even the sight of blood would trigger me or take me back there but no, it’s sleeping anywhere that provides any level of comfort (bed, couch, cot, blow up mattress, etc). Maybe my expectations are too high but I’m so frustrated with myself. Like I just really miss my bed and I’m sooo angry because it feels like nothing that I am doing is moving me towards sleeping in it.

Someone told me I need to just force myself to sleep in a bed but I don’t think they truly get how much they trigger flashbacks to what happened. I’ve tried multiple times in the last year to at least nap in a bed and each time I either never fell asleep because my body just wouldn’t let me or if I did, I would wake up 10 mins later having a panic attack. The last time I tried was a few months ago, before the anniversary, and that attempt was so bad, that I woke up in a panic and puked. I haven’t tried since then. I wake up at least five times throughout the night when sleeping on the floor because some body part of mine is aching because of the floor. I just feel like I’m in a lose-lose situation.

S/n: in an earlier response I mentioned how my dad would call me every night to tell me about work, specifically different neurosurgeries he conducted that day or consultations he had, etc. and I thought it was his way of trying to check up on me without me knowing and you mentioned thinking that it could also possibly be a distraction for him and me. I talked to him and you were right. You mentioned how sometimes people that care about us, want us to be okay but don’t know how to make that happen or don’t know how to talk about feelings, they turn to soothing you in ways that would soothe them if they were the ones struggling. All of that you said was right. More or less my dad basically said that to me, he figured my mom was already consuming the conversation enough about my attack so he’d change the convo when it’s just me and him speaking. And my dad is very book smart so it’s right in line with him to talk about work and use that as a distraction. Thank you for that again.

Hi Emma!! I'm really sorry for the late reply, but really happy to hear from you again!

I'm really sorry things are still looking so tough for you. It's no wonder you're frustrated; you have every right to be. This situation is so fucking unfair. You never deserved any of this. You never asked for any of this. You were trying to live your life and other people decided to ruin it and even attempt to end it, and now your own body keeps betraying you and stopping you from living your life. That's not okay, and I think you deserve to feel furious for as long as you need to. Hopefully one day you will feel like you have something to show for the recovery process you've been through, but it's okay to not be there yet and to not know when you'll get there.

I hope that you can at least channel some of your anger away from yourself and toward the men who did this to you, especially the one who attacked you. I know you already know this, but your body is trying really hard to protect you from experiencing horrifying trauma again, even if its attempts are misguided, unnecessary, and really frustrating. If you can, please try to give it at least a little bit of compassion for every wave of frustration you throw its way.

And of course you can't just force yourself to sleep on a bed. Trauma recovery is not that easy, and it's honestly really invalidating to tell an assault survivor something like that, even if the intention is good. It makes it sound like you're just not trying hard enough, and you deserve better than to be told something like that.

I'm glad I could help you with your dad, and that's great you could talk to him about it!

Sending big, big hugs your way, Emma ❤️

#ask #Harassment tw #Assault tw #Physical assault tw #Stabbing tw #Ptsd #Panic attack tw #Trauma tw #Ptsd tw #Vomit tw #Emma anon

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humming-pokemon-helpers · 1 year

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Another update about Darling Dolly the Darumaka.

She’s been in good spirits for the most part; eating well, sleeping well, and covering my home in soot very well!

Still no vocalizations though… and embarrassing as it is to take this long, I think I finally have a theory. I believe Dolly may be fully deaf, as well as mute!

I’ve noticed several instances where I’ve called out to her and got no response; that much is expected since she isn’t familiar with me yet, but unlike my other Pokémon, she also doesn’t react to the sound of food being prepared, Fidough being an absolute menace towards the mailperson, or even the sound of a Soothe Bell or other items being shaken directly behind her. Planning to confirm with an appointment later this week with Nurse Joy, but for now, it seems like deafness would be the leading explanation.

She seems to get through her life fine with other sensory cues such as vibrations through the air and floor and visual cues, so I’m planning to incorporate some more visual communication into our bonding, and more cues visually for when things like dinner time are approaching, so she can form a routine comfortably. I’m also looking into how to teach sign language to Pokémon—something I hadn’t considered before now, but luckily seems to be possible, at least on a basic level, according to recent studies!

It’s strange to approach my own bias in this case too: I keep wondering how I’m supposed to communicate with a Pokémon who can’t hear me, and a Pokémon whose own voice I can’t hear, but it’s also important to remember that she is living her own full, varied life even without sound being a part of it! I hope to learn more about her world as time progresses so I can be a better part of it too.

(And hopefully start stepping more forcefully, so I don’t scare her every time I walk into her field of view. Sorry, Dolly.)

#pokeblogging #pokemon irl #pkmn irl #pokeblr #unreality #pokemon #rotomblr #real pokemon #dolly the darumaka #poketherapist vanilla #ooc: author is not deaf #ooc: basing this on care guides for deaf pets

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jenngerbread13 · 2 months

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#VillainValentine Day 2 - Dance with Darkness

EmetWoL - T

Picking at the non-existent filth out from under their nails, Kerina walked past the Manager of the Pendants and up to the Wandering Stairs. The chronometer in their room had read three past midnight when they finally decided they needed something much stronger than willpower to help them finally sleep. Weary eyes never leaving the floor until their feet stood in front of the counter, searching for help to make sense of their inflicted madness and growing delirium.

Glynard knocking on the counter underneath Kerina’s hanging head woke them from their stupor as they jerked their head up to look at him. “What’ll it be? You’re looking rough tonight.”

Letting out a half-hearted chuckle of exasperation, they shook their head and held up one finger “Just one old-fashioned, please.”

Nodding, Glynard set about mixing the drink and handed it to Kerina when he was done. “I’ll be watching you. You know my policies,” he said with a knowing smile.

Kerina gave a small but appreciative smile back. They’d learned of all the small ways friends tell each other they care. It was not always an overt ‘I love you’ but sometimes a more subtle ‘take care’ or ‘I’m watching you’ and it gave them a bit of small comfort that they had found friends here in the Crystarium.

Turning around they headed towards their normal table back near the celebration table and a frown instantly formed. He sat there, in their seat, watching the crowd swirling a glass of red wine absently in one hand, the other supporting his chin. They quickly tried to avoid his notice, darting their gaze to tables far away, nearer to the markets and railings.

“You’re up rather early, or awake rather late, Hero.” Kerina heard him call out to them and they pretended to not hear him.

Fuck. He was the last person they wanted to see let alone talk to. They pretended not to notice him or hear him and walked towards a table away from that mess. He did not need to know or get close enough to have any inkling of what made them now feel their face burn hot with shame. There was no way he could no. No way he should know. Did he know? Fuck. They had to find out, otherwise it would consume their every last waking thought until they knew for certain.

Stopping in their tracks, they heard his voice again “I know you heard me. You of all people should know that cooperation is a two-way street and if you’re wanting me to be civil, then that would mean you are as well.”

Fine. I’ll play your game. For the first time in a while, a smirk crossed their lips, before quickly disappearing behind a mask of indifference. It’d been a long while since the ability matched the skill to be on their level. It wasn’t the one-mindedness of his violently inclined great-grandson nor was it the sheer lunacy of Lahabrea. No, this was different, subtle. Intriguing. “Forgive me for being tired, I didn’t want to burden you with company that might be less than amicable to anyone.”

“Burdens growing too rough for you, Hero? After all it seems that upon the morrow which lay only a few hours from now you and your merry band will set out into Rak’tika to search for an audience with Master Matoya. One wonders how that will go now that you are on the First.” Swirling the glass around in his gloved hand with effortless ease, his eyes never once left them.

“Same as it always goes. Some new land, some new mystery, same old bullshit and keeping me in the dark. They think I don’t know until now something is up. That they’re planning and not telling me about it until they can find a way to fix it and pretend nothing was wrong at all ever.” Kerina sighed and sipped their drink not bothering to look at him, staring out into the Crystarium instead “I hate they think I’m stupid.”

“So you don’t trust your companions? The ever present Scions of whom you’ve helped through so many occasions? Why stay if such is the case, after all it sounds like it would be almost madness to do so.” The infliction in his voice, the swirling of the glass to distract, it was a game. Not of strength but of words. Of wit. Of intellect. To draw them out of their shell so he could find their weaknesses.

“What other options did I have besides inaction? What other options do I have now unless I ever want to go home? I simply cannot sit idly by and watch others flail about in search of answers. I need to help, in whatever ways I can, even if I am being selfish in reasoning.” Placing the glass down on the table, they folded their hands in their lap, staring down at them.

“Surely the Hero of the Source is not the only one being selfish for wanting to go back. Certainly your other companions pulled here against their will would love to go back too.” A small smile tugged at the edge of his lips. Doubt. It would serve him well here along with its bedfellows, mistrust and conflict. After all, that would leave them with no one to turn to for honest answers besides him and he prided himself on his honesty, no matter how brutal it may be.

Looking over at him after rolling their eyes, he couldn’t help but maintain the slight smile after their blatant display of sarcasm on their face and a long drawn out ‘no’ before they sipped their drink. Raising an eyebrow he urged them to continue as they shook their head and stared at him out of the side of their eyes “Well, you can quite clearly travel back and forth between shards with no issue. I can’t exactly do that. Not yet anyhow. I hadn't known I needed to figure that out until a few weeks ago. I at least got to the point of being able to poof to known locations on Eorzea without needing a cost of tickets or gil.”

The swirling stopped. His eyes for a fraction of a second grew wider before a laugh erupted from him and he slammed his glass down on the table, spilling a bit of wine over the side “You’re telling me, Hero, that you can teleport without a cost for compensation? And there’s no ill side effects?”

“Listen, I can’t do it as well as any of you can, okay. But at least I’m trying. I’m teaching myself. I’m learning far beyond what anyone wanted to teach me, or let me learn. I’m figuring it out on my own because I know it scares people. Seven hells half the things I can do that I can’t explain scare me. But I forge ahead anyway to learn. To grow.” Exasperated, Kerina shoved their seat back and moved to leave but his hand shot out and grabbed their arm, strong and insistent.

“Then what do you say from learning from someone who does know? Who could teach you more than any of the books in this tower could offer. You certainly don’t shy away from danger in other situations.” Scooting closer to them, he gently let go of their arm and placed his hand over theirs. “Think on it, Hero. After all, you do seem to delight in dancing on the edge between light and darkness.”

Drawing their hand out from underneath his, they only offered a single, confirming nod before downing the rest of their drink. They hated his habit of being comfortable enough to touch them. It really didn’t lend credence to his fear of them being a slayer of his brethren but somehow, for once, someone being this close was comforting. Granted, Kerina knew they were the cause of his misery but at least they had someone to be miserable on this gods’ forsaken shard together with.

#villainvalentine #villainvalentine2024 #emetwol #wolship

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autisticnonbinaryperson · 6 months

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Bakugou x Shinsou omegaverse

Shinsou was lying if he said he was never happy about being an omega, it had its perks, he got to skip school for a week every three months, but for most other omegas it was for the thing most hated among them, their heats. Shinsou weirdly loved his heats, he loved bundling himself in his nest and not moving, while the weird hornyness was not that delightful, he couldn’t really care when he was able to lay in his bed and sleep for a whole week.

The one problem however was an alpha by the name of Bakugou, he was a prime, which to Shinsou only meant a stronger scent. But god did Shinsou love his scent, unlike most alphas who had bitter scents, Bakugou had a sweet Caramel scent, with a hint of yuzu, Shinsou himself had a chocolatey scent, with hazelnut and oranges, he hated his own scent, but he couldn’t get over Bakugou’s.

Right now, Shinsou was lying in his bed, surrounded by blankets and stuffed animals, he was in just a shirt, he didn’t really have time to care at the moment, he was bundled up in his bed, but the most dreaded part for him would be any minute. While omega and alpha heats are different on many levels, one thing that's the same is how they happen, omega heats happen in waves, giving needed rest periods for eating and sleeping. But the one exception to this is courting, normally alphas would court an omega before a heat, but the bold do it during an omegas heat. Shinsou begged to himself for years that Bakugou would court him, yet he never did. He knew Bakugou was cocky and if he did, would do it during Shinsou’s heat, but he knew that it would never happen.

Shinsou was laying in his nest, sweat was dripping down his body, he was comfortable of course, but he was starting to get really needy. Shinsou was questioning how he had gotten here, before he heard a knock on the door, he really didn’t want to get up, but something was compelling him to. Shinsou slowly rolled off of his bed, avoiding his nest so as not to destroy it, and fell to the floor. Shinsou got up, and walked slowly to the door. When he got to the door he immediately knew who was on the other side, the sweet scent of caramel and yuzu filling his lungs. Shinsou prayed to whatever god could get him out of this, but he begrudgingly opened the door, and there he was, the six foot something alpha he hasn’t gotten his mind off of for days. Kasuki was standing tall, his face was in one of his signature frowns, before becoming a sharp grin, Shinsou felt shivers go down his spine. He didn’t want to know what Kasuki was thinking, but at the same time, he wanted to know if he was thinking the same. Before Shinsou could connect two brain cells to talk, Kasuki picked him up and pulled him back into the safety of his room, shutting and locking the door.

“What are you doing?” Shisou asked in a tired tone, trying to keep the arousal out of his voice, which failed miserably.

“I’m helping obviously, you think I don’t know about your weird crush on me?” Katsuki said in a condescending tone.

Shinsou stayed silent, he felt like he was about to explode, before he knew it, he was plopped down on his nest. Shinsou felt weird, and it wasn’t just the fact that Kasuki could see his pussy very easily right now, but the fact that Katsuki was taking off his shirt was probably what was making him feel weird. Shinsou watched intently as Katsuki threw the shirt to Shinsou, understanding what he wanted, Shinsou added the shirt to his nest. Katsuki quickly joined Shinsou in his nest. Shinsou quickly felt lips on his, Katsuki quickly slipped his tongue in his mouth, Shinsou put up no resistance, he knew what Katsuki wanted, and he wanted that too, Katsuki pulled away even with Shinsou’s protest.

“Are you sure you want this?” Katsuki asked, holding Shinsou by the waist.

“I’m sure, just please get on with it,” Shinsou asked in an annoyed tone.

“Don’t need to get bratty, your lucky I showed up” Katsuki retorted, yet completed with Shinsou’s request, kissing his again with more vigor, it was hard for Shisou to breathe, noticing this, Katsuki released his lips, moving down to his neck. Katsuki bit and licked at Shinsou’s neck, Shinsou knew what he was searching for, yet avoided it like the plague. Shinsou was about to beg Katsuki to just do anything to his scent gland, yet he didn’t have to, Katsuki bit down hard on his scent gland, not enough to draw blood, but more than enough to make Shinsou moan loudly.

Shinsou felt his mind going fuzzy, his limbs felt like jelly in Katsuki’s grasp, he felt Katsuki gently lay his torso down on the bed, the pillows propping his upper body up. Shinsou wanted to protest, but he didn’t have the voice to, he felt Katsuki lift the shirt that had been covering everything up over his head, he really wanted to protest, it wasn’t fair he was naked before Katsuki. It was like Katsuki could read his mind, quickly discarding his pants and underwear, laying them in the nest, at least he could get one thing right at the moment. Shinsou looked in awe, he forgot how much he loved Katsuki before this, reaching out his arms, Katsuki quickly got the memo. Katsuki grabbed Shinsou, who at this point couldn’t support his own body weight. Katsuki quickly went for Shinsou’s chest, grabbing the small lumps of flesh and kneading them, before putting one in his mouth, Shinsou was confused at first, he’d never played with his chest during heat. All of Shinsou’s thoughts died quickly in his brain when he moaned louder than he thought he could. When Shinsou finally balled up the courage to look down, he stared in shock, white liquid was running down his chest, Katsuki’s head was down, and a wolfish grin was on his face. Shinsou was at a loss for words, his face turning a vermilion color, Shinsou looked away, he felt Katsuki attack his nipple again, drawing out the liquid, Shinsou felt the coil in his stomach tightening, but just before it unwinded, Katsuki stopped sucking, instead lapping up the liquid that cascaded down Shinsou’s now slightly swollen chest. Shinsou felt a lump in his throat, slick was cascading down his thighs, much to the pleasure of Katsuki.

Shinsou watched as Katsuki trailed his hands, and mouth down his body, leaving bites and scratches along Shinsou’s body.

“Aren’t you supposed to court me before trying to fuck my brains out?” Shinsou asked, trying to hide the whine that slipped out in the process.

“Please, you wouldn’t want to wait weeks of just me courting you, you’d fuck me yourself before the courting ended.” Bakugou retorted to him, Shinsou knew he was supposed to sound condescending, but it just came out as seductive to Shinsou. Katsuki quickly made work of Shinsou’s chest, going down until he reached Shinsou’s pussy, watching the slick pool there, Shinsou suddenly yelped as Katsuki pushed one of his thick fingers into his pussy. Shinsou moaned as the pain died down a little. Tears were starting to well up in his eyes, no matter how much slick Shinsou produced, it never was enough to get a finger in him without pain. Katsuki kissed Shinsou’s forehead, seeming like a silent apology, which felt really weird to Shinsou, Katsuki was never kind to people, Shinsou didn’t think about it too much though, as he felt the finger that was inside of him start moving. Shinsou winced at first, but soon the pain was turning into pleasure, Shinsou moaned, feeling more slick being pushed out of his hole, Shinsou’s moans got louder over time, Shinsou whimpered as a second finger pushed its way through. Shinsou knew why he was doing this, Shinsou could only hope it would get better soon.

Shinsou felt Katsuki’s finger press against his g-spot, shinsou moaned louder than he thought he ever could. Suddenly, Katsuki removed his fingers, grabbing Shinsou’s legs and putting them on his shoulders. Shinsou felt Katsuki’s member touch his hole, it made Shinsou shiver. Shinsou felt the tip of Katsuki’s member slip inside his hole, Shinsou whimpered at the feeling, he had never been stretched like this. Shinsou felt his innermost parts being stretched, Shinsou waited in agony until Katsuki bottomed out.

“Please don’t move yet” Shinsou gasped out, placing an arm over his eyes, his breath labored.

“We're gonna be here for a while aren’t we?” Katsuki mocked as he moved his hands to Shinsou’s hips, gently rubbing circles on them.

“What do you think?” Shinsou retorted as he gave a deathly glare at Katsuki, trying to hide the fact he was purring as Katsuki rubbed his hips.

“Ok, you can move now,” Shinsou said after an eternity.

“Finally” Katsuki said as he slowly pulled out halfway, before thrusting back into him, Shinsou moaned loudly, Shinsou tried to move his hand down to cover his mouth, but Katsuki reacted faster, grabbing his hand and moving it upwards. Katsuki let go of his arm just as fast, slowly picking up the pace of his thrusts. Shinsou was on cloud nine, the feeling of pain in his abdomen was gone by now, all it was replaced by was pleasure. Shinou felt more slick going down his legs, Shinsou was gasping, every thrust taking the air out of his lungs, Katsuki was now holding onto his legs, thrusting faster than before. Shinsou felt Katsuki’s member kissing his womb, it was satiating the one part of his body he could never reach. Shinsou was moaning louder by now, his body felt like jelly. Shinsou fisted at the blankets with his fist turning his head to look away, staring at the bookshelf fixated on the wall near them, Shinsou felt a particularly hard thrust, Shinsou moaned loudly, tears filling his eyes. Shinsou’s back arched as Katsuki hit a particularly good spot, tears spilled from Shinsou’s eyes this time, rolling down his cheeks in fat lumps, Katsuki leaned down, and kissed the tears.

Katsuki had never been this gentle to anyone, especially Shinsou. Before he knew it, Shinsou had been flipped over, his chest resting on Katsuki, who was being propped up by the pillows of Shinsou’s nest. Katsuki's cock went even deeper now, Shinsou moaned as his body fell against Katsuki’s. Katskui held Shinsou up, Shinsou felt Katsuki’s hands starting to heat up, there would definitely be burn marks later.

“Move back and forth,” Katsuki said while his hands slowly moved up to Shinsou’s waist. Shinsou didn’t argue, Katsuki had to have more sex experience than him, Shinsou slowly moved back and forth on Katsukis member, Shinsou almost immediately came, slick pooling on Katsukis abdomen and Shinsou latching onto Katsuki like a lifeline, that was the first time he’d come during heat, and he felt like jelly, his mind was fuzzy. Shinsou collapsed onto Katsuki, he hadn’t come yet, and the base of his knot was slightly swollen, but he pulled out, leaving Shinsou feeling empty and annoyed.

“Why’d you pull out?” Shinsou asked in an annoyed tone.

“Because it's only the second day of your heat, only an idiot would knot you this early.” Katsuki answered, not in his normal slightly frustrated voice, but a more calm voice. Katsuki picked Shinsou up before he could retort, Shinsou knew that Katsuki was right, anyone who did would be stupid, and Shinsou could feel the gentle breath of Katsuki at his scent gland, Katsuki was soaking in Shinsou’s scent. Shinsou moved his neck up to Katsuki’s scenting Katsuki, before long they were in the bathroom, Katsuki set Shinsou down and turned on the bath, when the bath was full, Katsuki picked up the still somewhat limp Shinsou and brought him to the bath, setting him in in front of Katsuki, Shinsou leaned on Katsuki for leverage, the water was warm and inviting by the mixes of chocolate, carmel and yuzu, Katsuki gently massaged Shinsou. Shinsou purred at this, he couldn’t wait for Katsuki to court him, it felt like forever of Katsuki’s gentle, warm touches before they got out, even in his disappointment of getting out of the bath, Katsuki still took care of him. Everything that happened felt like a small blur, his mind still a little foggy, but he felt a thin shirt go over his body, and felt his sheets, Shinsou instinctively cuddled into Katsuki’s embrace.

“Please never scare me like that again” Shinsou said, still shaken from the, you know being grabbed and fucked without given time to comprehend what was happening.

“I make no promises” Katsuki chuckled as they both slowly lulled off to sleep.

#mha #rarepair #omegaverse #haha fuck #smut

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katkatkatina · 1 year

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Lesson #2: Taking note of your surroundings

My room is outside of the apartment, on the way to the garden. You step out of the apartment and the first (and only) door to the right is my room. It is not small, nor big. There are two spaces where I sit and work, I shift from one to another when I feel tension in my back. The table is to the right of the door and it is wooden, with a light brown colour, and only one leg in the middle, holding it upright. I keep a lot of stuff on my table.

There is a notebook under the window sill, with a variety of pens, but they all leave the same colour mark on paper. I keep a lot of knick knacks on top of my notebook. There are some wet wipes (small size), nails (for hanging pictures), a hammer and Patafix rubber paste, two packs, one new and one almost finished. There is a half empty Britta water filter jug and a glass to the left of the notebook. It has an Apple sticker. It’s a MacBritta jug. A white metal table lamp is behind the jug, the bulb turned upwards, for more light. It carries larger size post-it notebook on its base, with the first paper torn in half. Where is the other half? What did I write on it? I don’t remember. Maybe it comes back to me.

There are a lot of small things between the lamp and water jug: glasses cleaning spray and wipe cloth, chap stick (Labello, lavender scent), hand cream, user booklet for my swimming goggles, an open bag of Fisherman’s Friend lozenges (Tropical flavour), an open tissue box with a used tissue next to it. I have a deviated septum, my nose runs all the time.

In the middle of the table there is a laptop holder, grey and metal, with different height levels. It is usually set to the lowest level, which makes it easier to type cause I don’t have a wireless (or any kind of) keyboard.

There is a big cardboard box under the table. And a small one. I’m keeping them to send my sisters and Mom their presents from India. I’m not sure about the size, so I’m keeping them both. It’s been a while and I still haven’t sent them the package. A small brown carpet with silky blue hearts lays at the foot of the table, to keep my feet warm. My desk chair is not really a desk chair. It is just a random chair that my landlord left in the room. It does no favour to my back when I work. It is an old hospital waiting room chair, just barely comfortable enough. After a while sitting on it, you start squirming and shifting your weight from side to side, front and back. You get up for a while and when your feet get tired you fall back into it hoping that it will give at least some more comfort. That’s how deceitful it is, the black waiting room chair. It’s never comfortable enough. It keeps you on your toes.

The garbage bin is under the table, on the left. It has a ‘Pingo Doce’ supermarket bag, almost full. Mostly with tissues and incense stick ashes. Next to the bin, there is an extension cord with three outlets: one with the laptop cable, one for my portable speaker and one for the lamp. Note to self: I need another extension cord.

It’s a messy workplace. But I like it. Not when my back starts to hurt, though. No matter how many cushions I stack under my back for support, it still starts to ache after a few hours. Then I shift to the bed. The mattress is hard, which helps a lot. The bed has a big white full-wooded frame, with a mattress that is a few inches too short on each side. But the head of the bed is high and strong, good for leaning. The bed is a double in size, but the mattress is for 1,5 person. My room has an uneven floor and this is why my bed squeaks a lot. When I say a lot, I mean A LOT. At night, with every movement, the bed creaks, making a loud annoying sound which wakes me up every time. I’ve trained myself not to move too much in the night.

The bed is covered with a duvet and a soft, white blanket. I have a few cushions, all different in size and shape: an anatomical one for sleeping, a big one for resting, watching movies or working, a travel pillow made of memory foam that I use for whatever and whenever, sometimes I rest my laptop on top of it. And finally, a small meditation pillow which I sometimes put under my head. There’s space on my bed for me and my roommate, who sometimes comes and works from my room. These are my two working spaces. It’s not much, but it’s all I’ve got.

Someone promised to give me dest chair soon. That will be nice.

#writerscorner #creative writing #writing courses #lesson of the day

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thezeekrecord · 2 years

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Don’t Forgive, Don’t Forget

[index/summary]

Tommy and his housemates were all sat in his meager little living room. They only just barely fit all together; he hadn’t expected it to be a tight squeeze to fit all the house’s residents, back when he was first arranging furniture into the house. At least they didn’t usually mind piling up, aside from Bubby, earning him and Dr. Coomer exclusive access to the loveseat; Tommy sometimes sat on the floor with Sunkist instead, but tonight, he didn’t mind sitting in the center of the larger couch between Gordon and Benry. All eyes were on Gordon, his gaze drifting between his friends with a deadly serious expression.

“Okay.” Gordon sighed slowly. “My ex-husband is a very...skittish guy. So when we have dinner tonight, I really, really, really need you guys to not make any sudden loud noises or anything like that.”

“What is he, a stray cat?” Bubby questioned, leaned back against Dr. Coomer.

“Look—just, like, listen to me.” Gordon said with a frustrated huff. “I need this to go well, okay? I need you guys to make a good impression on him. He needs to see that we can all be a good influence on Josh’s life, collectively, as a co-habiting group of adults.”

“I don’t get what the big deal is. Josh’s already been staying over here sometimes.” Benry pointed out as he lounged more comfortably on the couch. He was leaned against the arm on his side, his legs draped across Tommy’s; Tommy was trying to be polite and not mind it. “Why’s it suddenly a big deal now, when we’re moving into a cooler house?”

“It’s...” Gordon paused, twirling some of his loose hair around his finger. “Well, our legal custody situation isn’t as forgiving as Daniel is on a personal level, ‘cuz of how I was living in the Black Mesa dorms at the time, when we divorced. I might be able to get more legal custody now that my living situation is different, but...I’d really like for him to agree that I could get Josh every other week, instead of only visiting, or having him sleep over when Daniel’s busy or whatever. And for that to happen, I need him to see that you guys are cool.”

“We are cool.” Bubby said with a matter-of-fact tone.

“Cool as a cucumber!” Dr. Coomer added cheerily.

“We’re cool, like...” Tommy took a moment to consider it, “like a dog wearing sunglasses.”

That brought a laugh out of Gordon, some of the tension in his shoulders easing. “Okay, yeah, we all know that the Science Team is very, very cool.” He said, holding up his hand in mock defeat. “Josh knows, too! I’m sure he’s been telling his dad all about how much he’d love to live with us part-time, and that’ll help. But Dan’s idea of ‘cool’ as far as adults interacting with our child is...different. He’s sort of a...y’know those parents that don’t like to let their kids do things that aren’t structured, like—everything has to be healthy, and have a purpose, like someone’s out there counting up parenting points on them or something?”

Dr. Coomer shuddered, clearly knowing this type well. Tommy, Benry, and Bubby all just shrugged or made noncommittal noises in response.

“He’s sorta like that. Or—he likes to think he could be.” Gordon went on, heedless of the majority response being “I don’t know this type, actually”. “Maybe one among many reasons we divorced, I guess. But anyway, I’m not saying to not be yourselves or anything. I’m just asking you, like...tone it down, try not to startle him, and please don’t make any weird jokes about murder or violence. And we gotta be gentle with Josh, like, no throwing him around or holding him upside down or anything like that. Okay?”

“Then what the fuck is the point of having a kid around?” Benry demanded.

“Actually, throwing a toddler is very healthy!” Dr. Coomer added. “It’s stimulating, releases dopamine and endorphins, and helps develop the vestibular system.”

“Yeah, see? Good for my health to throw him.” Benry said, nodding at Dr. Coomer. “You wanna take that away from me?”

Gordon laughed loudly, doubling over and letting out a deep sigh when he was finished. “Listen, if you wanna explain all that to him when he gets here, sure. But I just know whenever I do it when he’s around, he starts freaking out about Josh hitting the ceiling or missing the couch or whatever.” He said, sitting up and brushing his hair out of his face.

Although initially, Gordon had said it was supposed to be a “low-key dinner”, he started panicking about the state of the house and stuffing things out of sight. It irritated Tommy, to have his carefully organized life disrupted and shoved in different places, but he did his best to ignore it and let Gordon’s anxiety take its course. He could put everything back where it belonged later, after all. He focused his energy on cooking dinner instead, then changed into some of his nicer clothes—some comfortable slacks, a colorful patterned button-up, and his novelty palm tree socks—before sitting down with Gordon on the couch to wait for their guests.

“Sorry if I’m being, like, a freak right now.” Gordon said suddenly, bouncing his leg anxiously. “Just...I need this to go well. It’s really, really important to me.”

“Of course it is.” Tommy agreed with a nod. “I think this will go just fine.”

It didn’t take much longer after that for Gordon’s ex to arrive. Dr. Coomer did take the time to explain, with no uncertain terms, that it was in fact healthy to throw toddlers, which only got Joshua riled up on the idea of Benry throwing him on the couch repeatedly. Tommy thought they were making a pretty good impression; the others managed to restrain themselves from intense outbursts most of the night, and Joshua seemed really happy, introducing everyone in the house to his dad himself.

Tommy watched Gordon and his ex’s interactions with Joshua silently. They both showed their care towards Joshua in very different ways; Gordon was always casual with Joshua, firm as a dad when he needed to be, but otherwise treating him and his requests with a nice amount of serious consideration. On the other hand, Daniel was very gentle and soft-spoken around him, seeming much more naturally equipped to fill Joshua’s need for gentle affection. Tommy could see their differences as two adult men, but whether together or not, he thought they made very good dads. Despite the divorce, Tommy considered Joshua very lucky.

Once Daniel left, taking Joshua with him, Tommy let out a deep breath, allowing his body to relax. Gordon was leaning against the table with a thousand-yard stare towards the door, chewing on his lip while the others started to collect dishes to wash.

“That could’ve gone...a lot worse, I guess.” Gordon finally said with a shrug.

“I thought it went fine.” Tommy pointed out as he picked up his half-finished can of soda.

“Yeah, he didn’t run out the door screaming.” Bubby said while he scrubbed ferociously at the pan in the sink. “I’d say that’s a point in our favor.”

Gordon let out a small, defeated laugh. “...Yeah, I guess so.” He murmured, sitting back down at the table and holding out his phone—probably waiting on a text from Daniel, if Tommy had to guess.

Tommy sat down as well, resting his head in the palm of his hand. “Mr. Freeman?”

“Yeah?” Gordon asked, letting his phone rest flat on the table.

Tommy hummed for a few seconds as he thought about his question. “You really like being a dad. Right?”

“Of course I do.” Gordon replied with a grin. “I was pretty scared at first, honestly. Things have been bumpy, but...I’m hoping I can get more time with him, and things will feel more steady. You know? I really, really look forward to the idea of getting to spend more time with him. Time I should’ve had with him in the first place.”

Gordon’s smile faltered a little at his last sentence. He started tracing his fingers along the grain in Tommy’s table, his shoulders slumping down a little.

“Our initial agreement wasn’t really all that fair.” He continued with a frown. “Like—it made sense, at first. He said some things about...my mental health, um...and the nature of raising a kid in Black Mesa. But...I think I gave up too fast. On, like, being more present in Joshua’s life, after the divorce.”

Tommy gave Gordon a small, sad nod.

“So, I need to make up for it.” Gordon said firmly, staring down at his phone on the table. “If he says some bullshit excuse about why Josh can’t live with me—with us—part time, I’ll take it up to family court.”

Tommy felt dizzy already, just imagining the level of preparation and emotional exertion required for family court. “I hope it doesn’t come to that.” He said earnestly.

“Fuck, man, me too.” Gordon agreed with an exhausted smile. “It all just...”

Gordon paused, when his phone vibrated on the table. He was quick to pick it up, flipping it open to read over a new text message. Tommy watched his expression carefully; he wasn’t always great at reading facial expressions, but he thought it went something like hopeful to confused, confused to frustrated, then frustrated to elation. Gordon stood and whooped loudly, throwing his arms up in triumph.

“He says he likes you guys!” Gordon shouted, bouncing up and down on his heels excitedly. “He said he thinks you’ll all be a really good influence on Joshua’s life! I think the talk you had about the science of throwing children actually really helped, Dr. Coomer.”

Dr. Coomer beamed proudly. “I’m just happy to help, Gordon!”

“So he’ll be with us every other week, then?” Benry asked hopefully.

“Soon as we move into our new place!” Gordon replied, seeking out the closest person to pat affectionately, which happened to be Tommy. “He said once we move in, it’ll officially turn into his week to have Josh, to let us have some time to settle in. Then after that, we get our week!”

Tommy hummed, looking down at his phone. “No news yet, on that ‘end of the month’ estimate...” He reminded them. He flipped his phone open to stare at his text history with Greg. Greg updated him on what exactly was being changed in the house; it felt nice, to understand what progress was being made, which turned out to be quite a lot of work. There were a lot of hidden problems with the house; the wiring was faulty in several places, the hot water tank desperately needed an upgrade, and the pipes were old and cracked, lending to a sewage leak in the basement they hadn’t seen. Not just that, but Greg wanted to restore many areas in the house, and load it up with all new appliances. Tommy greatly appreciated seeing all the work being put into this house for him; it eased the hurt feelings a bit, when he thought back on Greg’s confirmation that leaving him behind had been his own choice. Maybe not quite enough on its own, but...it helped.

****

In the meantime, as they waited for the house to be ready, Tommy was slowly packing things he less frequently needed into boxes. He had a hard time picking out what was acceptable to pack, and what he actually wanted to keep out; he kept finding himself opening boxes he’d sealed to dig around and find something he had packed prematurely. For example, he’d for some reason packed his favorite Star Trek-themed button-up, and he needed it desperately to go to Darnold’s apartment. He’d mentioned it the last time they hung out fondly, when Darnold brought up he also loved Star Trek; it just made sense, if Tommy wore it this time to show him.

Tommy liked visiting Darnold’s apartment. He liked the way it smelled, the decor, and Darnold’s choice of furniture; it always felt nice to visit and enjoy the quiet with him for a while. When he arrived for their evening hangout, the apartment smelled faintly of spice.

“Hi, Tommy.” Darnold greeted as he let him in. “Ooh, look at that! I like your shirt.”

Tommy grinned, brushing it out under his palms. “Thank you.” He replied politely. He eyed Darnold’s outfit with a fluttering in his chest. It was nothing fancy, just a TF2 t-shirt and a long, flowing orange skirt, but he pulled it off well. “I really like your outfit.”

“Oh, really? It’s nothing.” Darnold said with a bashful laugh. “I was actually, uhh—so I kinda wanted to let you know...I mean, this has been true for me for a while, but I realized I’ve never outright told you...? But I’m, uhh, genderfluid. I was kind of wondering if you could use she/her for me for a bit.”

“Of course I can.” Tommy replied with a comforting smile. “Should I—is this supposed to be, um...common knowledge? Can I use she/her when I’m talking about you with the science team?”

“Yeah, go for it.” Darnold said, looking away shyly. “Thanks for asking.”

Darnold quickly moved on into the kitchen, announcing that she’d made some salsa for them to share. The two of them talked for a long time, barely paying any attention to the movie they’d put on to watch. Tommy didn’t often find the need to say too much around other people; he liked to listen, primarily, unless something set off the “infodump like your life depends on it” part of his brain; with Darnold, though, he felt like he could talk forever. He leaned comfortably to the side on the couch with his head propped up in his hand, watching her point out an illustration in one of her old college textbooks.

“See? This guy 100% looks like Gordon.” She said with an amused smile, looking up at Tommy.

“Yeah, I can see it.” Tommy agreed, pointing at the subject’s hair. “Their hair is a little shorter, but if you cut Mr. Freeman’s, it’d look about the same.”

“I get the feeling he’s not really a haircut kind of guy.” Darnold pointed out with a small laugh, closing the textbook and hefting it up to set aside.

“Actually, he’s asked me to—I’ve trimmed it for him before.” Tommy said with a shrug. “He takes his hair care routine very seriously, though.”

“I can sympathize with that.” Darnold said, brushing her fingers through her own hair almost absent-mindedly.

Tommy smiled, leaning in a little closer to Darnold. “Whatever you’re doing with yours, it’s—it’s working. Your hair is really nice.”

Darnold shot Tommy a grin, giving him a small, playful push. “I’m starting to think you’ll take literally any opportunity to flirt with me, Dr. Coolatta.” She said, with a slightly anxious twinge to her voice.

Tommy snickered, heat rushing to his face. “I-I guess so.” He chuckled, rubbing the back of his neck. “You’re just so pretty, though, I can’t help it.”

Darnold buried her face in her hands, a futile attempt to hide her laugh. “This is so embarrassing.” She said, voice muffled. “I’m a college professor, Tommy, you can’t be making me giggle like this.”

Tommy placed a hand on her shoulder, rubbing his thumb over her collarbone. “Well, maybe I really like hearing you giggle. It’s cute.”

Darnold looked up, gently putting her hand on top of Tommy’s. “Okay. I guess we should do something about this, then.”

“Like what?” Tommy asked, turning his hand over to lace his fingers between hers.

“Like...” Darnold averted her eyes, a shy smile spreading on her face. “Maybe you could go out with me. We could make it official and everything.”

Tommy nodded enthusiastically. “Yeah, I’d—yeah! I’d really like that.”

They got lost in all the theoretical ideas of what their first official date could be; at some point, it became less serious consideration and more just an excuse to keep talking later into the evening. Tommy rested his arm across Darnold’s shoulders, enjoying the warmth radiating from her as he pulled her in closer.

“I don’t know if this is, like...a weird question for me to ask, considering the timing.” Tommy said thoughtfully. “But we’re going to have plenty of space, once—when we all move into the mansion. It’s gonna be signed over to me, we’re not paying anything except property tax. Um...i-if you want your own room at the mansion, you’re welcome to move in with us. So you don’t have to pay rent anymore, and we could...be closer.”

Darnold gave Tommy a look of surprise. “Wow! That’s...a very appealing offer.” She said with an anxious smile. “Um...I-I’ll have to think about it. As nice as it sounds, I kinda like having my own space...”

“I get it.” Tommy said, putting up his hands in mock defeat. “I kind of had to learn how to adjust, when everyone moved in with me. There’s—it’s its own luxury, having everything the way you want it to be.”

“Exactly.” Darnold agreed with a nod. “I’m sure it’d be nice to live with you. Maybe even if I don’t move in right away, I’ll still keep it in mind.”

“Okay. That sounds good.” Tommy said, gently moving his hand up to toy with her hair. “Whatever you’re, um—whatever you’re comfortable with is fine.”

Darnold leaned her head into Tommy’s hand with a content smile for a moment before it fell a little, and she gave him a concerned look. “So...what about your dad, Tommy? How are things going with him?”

Tommy hummed thoughtfully with a frown. “...I don’t know.” He murmured. “I haven’t had the chance to talk him yet about stuff that—things we need to talk about and sort out. He’s been busy, I guess, with the house and everything.”

Darnold nodded with understanding.

“It’s like—the things he’s doing is really nice. It helps, a little bit.” Tommy continued, taking both of his hands back to rest in his lap and fiddle with his fingers. “I trust that he wants things to be better between us, now. He makes that really obvious. But I don’t know, like...I want to move past it, if he’d let us talk about it, but I don’t know what...moving past it would look or feel like for me? At least...”

Tommy hesitated, struggling to figure out the words to how he felt. When he didn’t speak for a while, Darnold chimed in.

“Do you mean, like, maybe...” Darnold ran her fingers over the fabric of the couch absent-mindedly. “Well, there are some things from my own childhood that I’m still upset about with my mom. I don’t think there are some things I really forgive her for, but I do value what our relationship looks like now that I don’t have to rely on her for things. You know? Does that make any sense?”

Tommy nodded. “Yeah, yeah. That’s a lot of how I was thinking.” He said whole-heartedly.

“Yeah! It’s like, maybe you don’t have to like who he was. Or the choices he made. You’re allowed to not forgive, but still appreciate his efforts now and who he’s become since then.” Darnold went on, taking Tommy’s hand gently in her own. “Just...let it be complicated, if you want. I think it’s okay to let it be what it is and give him another chance, if you really want to get to know him better as he is now.”

“...Yeah. Thank you.” Tommy said, letting out a deep breath and holding Darnold’s hand in both of his own. “That helps a lot. You’re really smart.”

Darnold laughed bashfully. “Well, I don’t know, it’s just how I feel about stuff. I’m glad it helps.”

“When we go out for dinner, I’m gonna—I’ll buy you anything you want.” Tommy said impulsively, drawing Darnold in close to him again.

“Oh, so you’ve decided on dinner as our first date.”

“Yeah, I don’t think going to Legoland as our first date is really feasible...” Tommy reminded her, one of their more outlandish ideas.

Darnold snorted. “Probably not. The Hadron Collider might be a bust, too.”

“Don’t say things that’ll make me sad.” Tommy scolded teasingly.

“Sorry, Tommy, we just have to accept the facts.”

After a while longer spent just talking and enjoying each other’s company, Tommy eventually had to listen to the more responsible part of his brain, and he collected his things to go home. On his way back, he drummed his fingers on the steering wheel, stealing glances up at the stars above his car when the road was quiet.

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