#something about it being everywhere now instilled a fire in me after all this time... I WANNA DRAW RAUUUGHGHHH

[soaptaculart]

Um I like Dungeon Meshi. Btw

#dungeon meshi #dunmeshi #delicious in dungeon #<- ew #i drew something #IT'S BEEN LIKE 6 MONTHS. HI #did you guys know i've been obsessed with dunmeshi for 8 years and never drawn fanart of it before. what's wrong with me #when i first got into it there were less than 20 chapters. look at us now #something about it being everywhere now instilled a fire in me after all this time... I WANNA DRAW RAUUUGHGHHH #i am really hoping to get in the habit of posting regularly again may marcille give me strength

[prof-peach]

Hello professor!

I run a research and rehabilitation center for Ghost types, and I'm somewhat perplexed by a shiny phantump which has recently come into my care.

According to the ranger base that sent him my way he was rejected by his mother, likely due to his coloration, and found entirely alone. Rare in ghost types as they tend to form strong attachments, but sadly not unheard of. Now, introducing pokemon who have never known others of their own kind can be a nightmare (Gastly, for example, tend to mistake the smog released by others for food) but I've never had too much trouble with phantump.

Until this little guy, that is. He has adamantly refused to play with the other phantump, instead clinging to me like a baby komala and wanting to be carried everywhere. Not unusual for insecure phantump, but he seemed entirely unresponsive to my usual techniques for building confidence. After bribing him with some treats and getting my gengar to translate, he confessed to being extremely insecure about his appearance.

I'm unsure if this was brought on by overhearing the rangers theorizing about why he was abandoned, but he's acutely aware that he doesn't look like the other phantump. The little guy is, understandably, terrified of being rejected again, and his social anxiety is through the roof. I've since begin socializing him with some shuppet, and the calmest and most secure phantump in my grove on a one-on-one basis. My local pokemon center has alsi provided me with a mineral powder that I apply to his bark, which makes it look browner and also helps protect against fungal infections.

This has helped him come out of his shell a little, but he's still terribly insecure about his red leaves. I'm reaching out to you as I am, embarrassingly, not very familliar with grass types. I've been told that, as the forests they dwell in are so dark, they don't need to photosynthezise to remain healthy. Still, I'm definitely hesitant to let him simply cover up his leaves. Is there something that could be applied to them, like "hair dye" essentially, that would be safe for my little guy to use until I can build his confidence up to where he's comfortable with his natural splendor?

Alrighty! So this is suuuuper common, shiny Pokemon can feel quite alienated at times for their colourations and general demeanour. For this particular case I’d advise you do a couple things to settle their nerves, some easy, some perhaps a little more tricky.

So, let’s start easy, the foliage is red, this is not only common in some shiny Pokemon, but also in some variant Pokemon, AND actual plants. Where you are, you may have limited access naturally to plants that are red pigmented. Go to a garden centre or nursery, splash a bit of cash and get some seeds, plants, shrubs and trees that are red. Plant them in an adequate accessible area that the phantump can get to with ease. You can find photinia, Berberis, acers, ivy, heuchera, hibiscus, even hazels which will give you nuts for yourself and Pokemon to enjoy come autumn. The red pigment is common, and we find proving this, even in plant form to Pokemon who are also uncommonly red, makes them begin to see their colour as a more normal and acceptable thing. This space will also give them a safe zone where they feel capable of camouflage, and this will instil a sense of security in them, even if they don’t first notice it straight away. Ask the garden centre workers for help should you not know where to plant certain things, or what would suit your location specifically, but there’s a lot to be said about a good old fashioned google, should you feel a little lost about the needs these plants may need.

This red zone seems trivial perhaps, but we’ve studied the effects this has on Pokemon with the very same issue you’re dealing with, and when given the choice, they go and hang out in the red plants far more than the green ones, should they share the same pigments. It helps individuals feel safe, and shows them that red isn’t bad, it’s just different to green, but equally functional, beautiful and capable.

NOW here’s the harder job that will help them gain some serious confidence, but is sure fire with time and patience.

You need to find an organisation, breeder, wild group, or trainer who also has a Pokemon with red pigments. Shiny Pokemon are rare but variants are far easier to find, and you can find red colourations in many grass types, ranging from Bulbasaur through to Eldegoss, and everything in between. The only criteria necessary for this to work for the phantump, is that the helper Pokemon need to be ok with youngsters, ie non hostile, and confident in themselves. There is endless research, countless papers, and a million studies, all proving that putting a Pokemon who is typically different but nervous about that, with others who are different but confident, will boost the nervous pokemons confidence tenfold given time. Many grass specialists exist around the various regions, so get on the internet or ask at local Pokemon centres and the likes, see what you can find close by, and organise socialising sessions for the phantump to mix with these other red pigment Pokemon. This whole process will take anything up to a year or two, just continuous care, repetition, and mixing with social confident Pokemon like themselves.

I’ll say right now, this is harder with phantump, ghost Pokemon can be a little more nervous, sometimes skittish, so y’all just need some patience with them, it’s hard to feel like you’re different from those around you, so put yourself in their shoes and just take things one day at a time.

I will also offer our labs services should you struggle to find somewhere local, we can make room for the little fella should you have no other options, though it is best to keep them in a location they feel more comfortable with, at least at the start. They’d have a chance to meet not only a huge number of other Pokemon who are red pigmented, but also we have one other shiny phantump in our care who has no issue with his physical appearance thanks to exactly the methods I’ve suggested above. Once they’ve gained confidence we would return them to your care, with a far more robust outlook on life.

With this in mind, weigh out your options, and try to show them others like themselves, be them plant or Pokemon, who have a bit more confidence to pass on words of wisdom, support, and company. This issue can indeed be resolved, it just can be a little tricky if you’re new to this species temperament when they feel isolated or self conscious like yours does. Covering up who they are is a temporary fix, and will not install long term confidence in themselves, dyes for plant matter are a little dangerous when over used, and can damage leaves and healthy growth, we don’t advise it in grass types too much to avoid damaging their soft squishy parts.

Good luck and hopefully you can find more just like them, to show them that it’s ok to be red, it’s not unusual, or wrong, and plenty of things have that pigmentation.

#pokemon #prof.peach #peach talks

[miceenscene]

Star-Crossed

din djarin/female oc | soulmate AU | pre-canon

wc: 2.6k / 7.5k (so far)

summary: The Way was not supposed to be a solitary one. People, house, clan. And when all else failed, your Match. “Fits like a Mandalorian Match” was the old saying. Though it wasn’t so long ago that it stopped making sense. But what's a lost Match to a man like Din Djarin?

warnings: canon-typical violence, some treatment of hand-specific injuries in this chapter

Previous Chapter | Masterpost | ao3

Chapter Three: The Promise

Din Djarin was a cautious man.

Din Djarin was a cautious man.

Life, even more so than his training, had instilled that lesson deep in his bones.

His survival depended on thinking twice before acting once.

Which is why he held himself completely still as The Woman had not yet lowered her blaster away from him.

The alarm screeched through the quiet air of the yard.

And the two of them were at a stalemate.

Even if he hadn’t just witnessed how fearsome a warrior she was, it would have been apparent in her posture, the power of her stance.

Though she didn’t move like a Mandalorian through a battlefield, there was no doubt in his mind that she was one.

Perhaps… the Armorer hadn’t been… completely misguided.

Not right. But …not wrong.

The Woman’s gaze cut to the large door at the front of the compound, where the alarm echoed from the opening, before accusingly looking back at him.

“Tion’ad?” she demanded. Who are you?

“Tomad.” Ally.

“Nu draar,” she spat with a sneer. ...Not likely.

Sounds of shouting echoing from within the compound caught both their attention. They didn’t have time for this.

He dared one step back and then another.

Thankfully, The Woman chose not to fire right away.

He moved back to his fallen guards, turning his back on The Woman and ignoring the gnawing warning of recklessness.

Luckily the key to his restraints was in the first pocket he searched through.

“I can explain later,” he said, freeing himself. “But I have to clear this compound first.”

Maybe she didn’t understand Basic.

She sighed and tucked her gun into her belt. “Kriffing nerf herders.”

At least she knew the important words.

He retrieved his rifle and turned to find that The Woman had pulled the cuirass off the fallen Sergeant and was strapping it around her chest.

It didn’t fit exactly but better than nothing.

She glanced his way before prowling into the compound, staff and gun at the ready, Din following in her wake.

He wasn’t used to working in teams.

There were a few crews out there in the galaxy he’d run with before, but usually he was the main fighter, or one of a set of gunners.

Rarely were there also people in melee range that he wanted to not shoot.

He wasn’t trying to aim for her. Dealing with a compound like this on his own usually meant that distance between him and his targets would be life-saving.

But The Woman was fast and did not appear to agree with his unspoken distance plan.

Combined with the halls they were working through being very tight-quartered, lined with doorways that bandits kept appearing from, there were a few narrow misses with his shots and her backside.

And besides all that, she kept stealing his kills.

After the second time Din clipped her armor, she turned and stormed back to him. “STOP SHOOTING AT ME.”

So she did know Basic.

A bandit jumped out of a doorway ahead, gun at the ready.

Din grabbed The Woman’s arm and pulled her behind him to catch the blast with his vambrace.

Another bandit appeared behind them and she turned to attack them while Din finished off the first.

When they were both dead, he faced her. “Stay back with me, and I won’t accidentally shoot you.”

“They’re relying on their guns to save them. If you get in close, you can kill them faster.”

She had finished about twice the amount of bandits as he had.

Perhaps she had a point.

“Fine.”

He stowed his rifle, switching to pistol, and they fell in step, moving methodically down the hall.

Plan in place, and side by side now, he wondered if even still they would get in each other’s way. But as the first bandit showed himself, something just

Clicked.

It was unexplainable in the moment.

Perhaps he heard her inhale as she stepped forward to swing her staff up to the bandit’s chin.

Or maybe she heard his boot scuff on the stone floor as he gunned down a second bandit in the doorway.

To be Matched didn’t guarantee romantic involvement, or any sort of relationship at all.

The guarantee was that these two would fit, would Match, in whatever was attempted.

Perhaps battle was theirs.

It was easier than breathing to fight at her side.

As long as he didn’t think about it.

If he second-guessed, if he focused too much on her or himself, the rhythm would start to fall apart.

He would turn too soon and step in her way, or her staff would smack his pauldron on the backswing.

But as soon as he let go, they’d fall right back into it.

In the spare breaths they had between combatants, he caught her looking his way more than once.

She’d noticed it too.

But did she understand?

They cleared through the compound with ruthless efficiency and soon the place fell quiet.

The halls were gridded around a large central chamber, the last place they hadn’t been.

He went to turn the final corner, but her sudden grip on his arm stopped him.

“What?” he asked, looking back at her. Her gaze wasn’t focused on anything, face drawn into furrowed concentration.

“Don’t go in there.”

“Why not?”

She frowned more deeply then looked to him. “I… don’t know.”

“It’s the last room. Probably just supplies at this point. We got the rest.”

He stepped out of her grasp and turned the corner. After a moment, she followed him, gun gripped tightly.

“I have a bad feeling about this,” she said, hovering in the doorway, silhouetted by the light at the far end of the hall.

The room was dark, cavernous but filled with crates. Turning on thermal didn’t reveal any remaining bandits.

“There’s nothing here but supplies–”

Then the tile beneath his boot sank slightly.

Something below clicked and answering beeps came from all the surrounding crates.

“RUN!”

Was all he had time to shout as he pelted back to the door, throwing himself against The Woman, hoping that beskar would be enough to save them both, as the chamber EXPLODED.

And the world went dark.

Din returned to consciousness with a long low groan.

Pain. A lot of pain. Radiating everywhere, pulsing with his own heartbeat. Something had to be broken. Many somethings. His hands in particular burned, skin pulling incorrectly with every finger twitch.

But he was alive.

Time had passed, he wasn’t sure how much.

He’d also been moved. He was on his back now, resting against an incline of some sort. There wasn’t any other noise that he could hear.

One eye, then the other. Oh good, he still had his helmet, though the display had a crack in it.

Looking around, he was pretty sure this was one of the halls in the compound, though the walls were half-rubble.

He’d been leaned against part of a wall that had crumpled to a slant, and there was a lantern set not too far away, a small aura of light in the dark place.

Where had The Woman gone? There was no sign of her from what he could see.

He started to pull himself up and his everything protested loudly, dropping his head back on the wall with a clang and another groan.

Yeah, definitely broken.

Okay, one more breath. Then he’d get up.

...One one more breath.

Then he heard soft footsteps moving his way.

By hearing alone he couldn’t determine if it was The Woman or someone else, but they were moving swiftly. Grimacing at the press of his pistol against his injured palms, he gripped the gun.

He waited till the person was near, before turning the weapon on the figure, the action expelling a low groan of pain out of his gut and his aim wobbling terribly.

The Woman did not look impressed, raising an eyebrow. “You’re awake,” she said simply, setting her staff aside and lowering a bag from her shoulder.

Unable to hold himself up more, he dropped back against the wall, pistol clattering to the ground.

Even in the torchlight, her face was sooty and a dark bruise was forming across her left cheek.

It covered up the freckle, he found himself oddly disappointed to notice.

Then he noticed the dark stain on the shoulder of her shirt.

“You’re bleeding.”

“That’s from you,” she replied, kneeling and opening the bag.

Oh.

“These bandits must have been raiding the Imperials for years.” She opened her bag and pulled out a second lantern, setting it opposite the other one.

“Lucky for you, they have bacta-shots.” She had one in her hand as she moved nearer to him. But she paused before administering it. “How do you take that off?”

He bristled. “You don’t.”

She frowned. “I meant the pauldron.”

He went to reach for the strap to release it, but all he ended up doing was lifting his hand and hissing at the pull of his glove before dropping it.

She moved in closer and ran fingers along the edge till she found it, and removed the piece. His shirt underneath was already torn so she pulled the fabric back and gave him the shot.

Unfortunately, there was not immediate relief.

“Thank you,” he said, taking a long breath and more than ready for it not to hurt when he did.

“There’s bacta spray for your hands too.”

“The shot will get there eventually.”

“Spray’s faster for surface injuries.”

He fought another sigh, mostly to manage the pain. “Fine.”

She opened an aid kit and grabbed a canister, shaking it for a few seconds, before picking up his wrist. As he’d suspected, the gloves had melted in the heat of the blast.

It was slow going to cut the glove off, but finally they were just left with the section stuck to him.

Holding his wrist, she met his eyes. “Ready?”

“I–”

And it was off.

“Ke’pare–KRIFF.” His helmet clanged against the wall again, but the sharp sting was immediately softened by the bacta spray. “Warn me next time!”

“It doesn’t make it hurt less.”

She changed her grip from his wrist to cradling his hand in hers, and then it happened.

The moment the back of his hand met her palm–

A current.

A flooding of awareness other than his own.

Confusion. Elation. Connection.

That urge–that bond high in his chest erupted, a fizzing rush heading straight for his head, star bursts and comet fire.

Under his helmet, a broad smile spread across his face unwittingly. There was an answering one on her face.

Finally.

Then as quickly as it arrived, it vanished.

And she dropped his hand, the bacta spray having just enough time to work to keep more pain at bay.

Smile gone, her eyes were wide, staring down at his hand in muted horror before lifting to his helmet.

“Who are you?” she said in a low tone.

“I’m your Match,” he answered simply, accepting the truth of it in the fading rush.

Her expression didn’t change.

“Do you know what that means?” he asked after she didn’t reply.

“Yes.”

Horror softened to a cautious curiosity in her face, but she didn’t appear to make up her mind one way or another.

She was… compelling. He had to know:

“Who are you?” he asked her.

She didn’t answer at first, spraying his palm quickly before moving to the other side and starting on the second hand.“You don’t know me?”

“No.”

“I don’t think I know either…”

“Do you know your name?”

She was quiet for nearly a full minute, face turned down in concentration on his hand. Perhaps she wouldn’t answer at all.

“Nia.” She nodded a few times. “My name is Nia.” She looked back at him. “What do I call you?”

“Din.” The offering came out before he thought about it. So few had ever earned the knowledge of his true name… But Nia was his Match after all. “But… not in front of others,” he amended.

She nodded once, setting aside the scissors and meeting his gaze. “Ready?”

“Do it.”

This hand hurt less; perhaps the bacta-shot had had enough time to do some work. Her fingers were gentle as she held his hand to spray, though the rush did not happen again.

However, the brush of her palm against his was all-consuming in an entirely different way.

How long had it been since someone just touched his hand?

He honestly could not recall.

The quiet sensations caught in his throat, pulling it tight and not loosening till she set it down.

She sat back, laying her staff across her lap, bastion and barrier. “How did you find me?”

“On Tatooine.” He reached into his belt and pulled out the chip, grateful that the pain was already lessening, tossing it to her. “You were escaping a Hutt palace. That was in your head. The healing droid said you’ll be confused for a time, but it’ll pass.”

She turned the chip over in her hand, examining it by the torchlight. “I have no memory of…” She tossed the chip back to him and gripped her staff.

Perhaps it was the only thing that made sense to her in the moment.

“Do you remember anything?”

“I… I know how to field dress your wounds, how to clean those guns. I know that the Empire deserved to be overthrown, though the New Republic is not without its own flaws. I know about the Great Purge a decade and a half ago, I know about the fall of the Old Republic, but… I don’t know where I was yesterday.”

“You don’t remember anything about yourself?”

“Nothing useful.”

“Anything could be useful.”

“I remember a lake,” she said as if to disprove his point. “Surrounded on all sides by mountains with an island in the middle shaped like a… crescent moon. Pink fish swimming in the shallows. In the fall, every tree turned bright yellow.”

Din could see it clearly. The pink fish, the yellow trees, the green birds that sang at sunset.

“And… in the winter, the lake would freeze,” she continued. “Thick enough to walk on… to have–”

“A marketplace. And the Festival of the Frost,” he finished, picturing the strung lanterns between the booths though he only ever saw it from a distance.

“You know it.”

He nodded. “It’s Mandalore. Outside of Keldabe.”

She was quiet before speaking again. “That’s all I remember.”

They were silent for a long while, leaving Din to wonder what it felt like to have no personal history. The potential tragedy of forgetting his parents’ faces sat heavy in his gut.

Slowly the bacta-shot made its way through his injuries, the pain lessening with each passing minute till he felt he could dare to sit up.

He was stiff, but whole again.

“If there’s somewhere you want to go, I’ll take you. My ship’s nearby.”

She let out a small bitter scoff. “The only thing I know right now is how to fight… and I don’t even know how I know. Where would I go?”

“Till you remember, you can stick with me.”

She frowned. “Why are you helping me?”

Why was he helping her?

The urge had gone silent since she touched him. But still, it didn’t seem right to let her wander alone through the galaxy when she was so unmoored.

“I’m your Match.”

“That doesn’t mean anything. We’re not fellow soldiers, we’re not clan, we’re not married.”

“No.” He shook his head and rose slowly to stand, holding out his hand to her. “But we are both Mandalorian. And till you find your clan, I want to help.”

She looked from his hand to his visor twice, before taking his hand – palm warm and calloused against his – and standing with him.

“Thank you, Din.”

“You’re welcome, Nia.”

Chapter 4: The Difference

taglist: @loversandantiheroes ; @kelenloth ; @keeper0fthestars ; @sarahjkl82-blog ; @thirstworldproblemss ; @spideysimpossiblegirl

to join my taglist, click the link in my bio!

#The Mandalorian #din djarin #pedro pascal #din djarin x ofc #din djarin x original character #The Mandalorian fanfic #Din Djarin fanfic #soulmate au #Star Crossed #my writing #we got new art!! :D

[batarella]

The Bullet: A Sequel to The Commander - Part 2 (Jason Todd x Reader)

THE SMUT STARTS HERE. THO THIS ONE ISNT ACTUALLY FULL ON SMUT, YOU’LL KNOW WHAT I MEAN. 

ALSO, THE FIRST SCENE IS THE RED HOOD AK DLC!!!

WORDS: 7649 WARNINGS: VIOLENCE, FIREARMS, SURVIVOR’S GUILT, SMUT (hihi)

MASTERLIST

THE BULLET MASTERLIST

-----

Jump.

Glass shattering beneath his feet, the Red Hood dove in from the unknown above and landed meticulously on his knee and fist onto the cold hard ground. Black Mask’s goons were quick on their feet, but it wasn’t without the chilling spook instilled into their beating chests that came with every one of his unsuspected appearances.

“I would run if I were you!” Red Hood grabbed his two hand guns and open fired at the incoming company. About ten of them in the room, to his estimate. They brought out their fists, trembling no less, but it didn’t mean they wouldn’t be up to a fight. The vigilante started with the left. Leaping towards the black masked goon, he slammed the back of his gun against his head, whilst narrowly avoiding a hit from another. From behind, he could feel another about to take him, so he let the thug grab him before he laid it on him with a series of elbow shots left and right until his body was too limp to even move. He threw him from behind, over his back, then Red Hood shot him in the head.

The others must have thought he wasn’t really going to willingly kill. Surprise, surprise. He was.

Another three shots at one of them. He backflipped, landing a kick to a man’s chest before he shot his neck. He turned around and hit a head with his closed fist. A fucking barrel of gasoline came flying to his way. At the last second, he grabbed it with both arms and hauled it over to two heads. “You better hit harder than that!” one of them said.

“You get points for trying!” Red Hood sputtered as he fired his guns at an onslaught from three men just about to collapse. Then the gate started to rise. Reinforcements. Now, we’re talking.

Two of them had electrified sticks in their hands. Cute. Just like the ones from the militia. He just aimed at their head and in no time, they ended up on the ground. A dozen of them were after him now, and without much of a fight, Red Hood slowly took them out one by one, leaping in the air, landing a kick or two at one before jumping to the next to land his fist at wherever. He stunned one of them, then right before any of them could interfere, he started landing a run of punches right to his chest, more than enough to fully take him down. Then he used his body as leverage to pull himself up, before hitting his head stronger than any concussion he could survive with.

A few more. His ammo was barely even out. He kept firing at anyone coming close to him, with his hits getting stronger and faster the more he landed a hit. He dodged one just as he was about to be grabbed and pinned to the ground, so with a flying kick, the thug’s body was sent to a wall.

Three. Two. One.

One more.

Red Hood walked over to the trembling Black Mask goon and grabbed him by the collar.

“Where’s Black Mask keeping the goods?!”

“You want information,” the man coughed. “Read a newspaper!”

“Wrong answer-“

The gun he held up to his head sent his arms flying and his whole body shaking beneath Red Hood’s hold. The man gave in. “Okay, okay! At the Docks! He’s keeping the guns at the docks!”

“Appreciate that!” Red Hood slammed his head with hi gun, landing him onto the floor, then without further thought, he placed a bullet right into his skull.

Penguins shipment must have just arrived. The docks shouldn’t be too far off.

-----

She didn’t stay in the hospital longer than the doctor forced her too. He hadn’t slept. Demanded to be placed in the same room as she was. He told himself he was okay enough to take care of her when he was just as equally in need of help. But he ignored the pain. She needed him.

Jason walked over to her hospital bed. She wasn’t even asleep. She was sitting up, knees folded up to her probably aching chest. Her eyes have never looked so empty and dead. She was cold to touch, her eyes dark circled with bags and bloodshot. She didn’t turn to him. And if there were tears, they had dried out after the past nights of endless torturous crying over something she couldn’t go back to.

When Jason reached for her hand, she broke down. For the hundredth time, she cried. And even when he could feel the guilt pulling her away from letting him hold onto her, he mustered up all the strength he could, held her to his chest and felt the tears seep into his clothes. It stung. Everywhere. On his skin, and within his chest no medication could reach.

-----

The weapons were all at the docks, alright. Black Mask couldn’t have made it more obvious. Never mind it saying ‘Gotham Hardware’ at the middle. His goons had their masks on stupidly as if a big fat ‘Illegal Shipment Happening Here!’ neon light up sign was flashing through the street.

Red Hood climbed up a metal beam and turned on his heat censors.

“You’re all about to discover crime doesn’t pay…” he whispered.

One of them had a bullet proof vest. There were eleven of them. All heavily armed. He’s going to have to take all these morons out silently.

He started with the bullet proof one. Might as well get him over with. He grappled over to the center, grabbed onto the ledge just below the railing where he couldn’t be seen.

Then when the man walked close enough, Red Hood flipped himself over to let his feet land onto his head. He twisted his neck with his incredibly strong thighs, then his fist met his face. One down. He fired his gun at an armed guard who caught sight of him and he was down after just three shots.

His own bullet wounds started to sting, but at that point he barely went through a day without an injury just slightly holding him back. Red Hood swung over to the control area where the beams were to be moved around and crouched down before one of them saw him. He hid behind a weapons crate, waited until he was inside, then just as he was out of anyone else’s sight, Red Hood crept up from behind and outrightly snapped his neck. “Worthless ape,” he muttered.

Another one nearby. He just shot him in the head when he wasn’t looking with the gun right up against his temple. The fifth one was all the way to the other side, just by himself, so he took out both guns and fired mercilessly at his chest. He fell over the ledge and his cold, bloodied body was spilled out onto the ground.

The others started finding the bodies. He heard one of them scream his name. Red Hood waited behind the crates for another to climb up a ladder, then he snapped his neck again just to keep his silence. He left him on the ground.

Not one of them had managed to land a hit on him yet. He was starting to get bored. Through the night, taking advantage of their fear and the darkness to his favor, the Red Hood terrorized the whole of the docks, sending one body lie cold after another. Some of them, he just subdued, but when he felt like it, he snapped their necks or placed a bullet into their heads. Tonight, he was so feeling it.

Turns out a lot of them wore bullet proof vests. Didn’t mean he killed them any less viciously.

Two of them huddled together by doorway. Red Hood grappled up, flipped over the railing with the goons’ backs turned to him, then without any of them taking notice, he grabbed the back of one’s collar, flipped him over to the other one’s body, then when both were on the floor, he shot them.

The last one, the same as the other, on the ground shivering as Red Hood approached him with a big hand gun coming for his head. His voice was clear through his visor. “I want a word with your boss, Black Mask. Where is he?”

“You ain’t gonna kill me! You ain’t gonna kill me!!!”

Damn Bruce’s moral code and how it’d affected Gotham’s crime monkeys. This wasn’t the first time they taunted him for not actually being able to take lives.

“Do I look like Batman to you?” he growled. “Rethink your answer before I fill you up with lead…”

The henchman mustn’t have been paid too much because he immediately gave in.

“Downtown. In his office. But you ain’t gonna kill him. He knows you're coming, freak!”

He slammed his visor onto the man’s black mask. On the ground, through the eye holes, Red Hood could see what every man had on their eyes before death came in to consume him.

“Good,” he said, then he shot him in the chest.

-----

Nothing has ever hurt more.

It had already been a few weeks. She hasn’t let him do so much as touch her. Never. Never has she ever been so distant, so consumed in her own guilt that even he didn’t have an answer to. He can tell himself it wasn’t her fault as much as it wasn’t his. But he knew, she knew, that at the end of the day, it was her doing. And he was never going to outrightly admit that. And even if it was true, when at last, he does believe it was because of her, he’d already forgiven her. How couldn’t he?

How could he let all this built up anger get the best of what they had? She meant everything to him, always had. And now, she was solely the only thing he’s got. He can't let this take over what they had. But he couldn’t even tell her that. Not when she hadn’t spoken anything over the littlest words of bland acknowledgement, yes or no’s every now and then. She hasn’t kissed him, held him. But when she does speak, it’s in cries of bitter horror asking him for the forgiveness he never wanted out of her.

Laying on opposite sides of the bed, he stared out into the window. She wasn’t asleep. He could tell. Jason shifted in the bed so he could face her.

The sheets formed her figure, and he could see just how beautiful she was even in such sadness. He really, really wanted to hold her. Because as much as this was hurting her, it was hurting him, too. They’d both lost. And they were supposed to be in this together.

He reached out to her shoulder, and after letting him touch her for the shortest moment, Y/N moved away. He fell asleep that night, only out of exhaustion, with endless tears flooding their pillows.

-----

The pain. It never faltered. Never hindered with anything he’s ever sought to try.

It was always there. Every bullet he shot, every neck he’s snapped. It all goes back to everything he’s lost. Everything he’s ever loved. He reached Black Mask’s office and he’d been mindlessly firing his bullets at everyone who was in his way. He didn’t care, never gave anyone much of a thought. He wasn’t a hero, but he was killing villains. Fuck what he was. He didn’t have anything to hold onto anymore.

Red Hood got to a group of unarmed men, and with a long stretch of his neck, he gripped onto his guns, head craned down. “Useless dogs,” he growled. Then already he’s flipped one of them over to the ground at a hard slap against the side of his face. He fired his guns, left and right, then flipped over so his feet landed on someone, anyone’s face. Their fucking masks on were practically to no use. He used to them hit their heads harder, as if the butt of his guns or his fists already weren’t enough. A number of them were scattered around, but not one of them landed a single hi-

A large blow to his back. He almost-almost­­-fell to the ground, but he stretched out his spine, turned around, and the goon in question was backing away from Red Hood’s obviously larger frame. He blew his brains out before he could move any further. Two of them went after him at the same time, and he flew in the air, grabbed their heads, then smashed them against each other.

The doors flew open.

Roman Sionis. Black Mask. In an untainted white suit. Probably his worst enemy. The man, not the suit. The crime lord held out his fists and screamed, “Big mistake coming here! Big mistake!”

Red Hood rolled his eyes, then dodged just as a sniper’s red laser managed to get a good shot of him. He jumped, his leg landing against two necks cracking beneath his boot. “This is gonna hurt,” Black Mask said.

“Blah, blah, keep on yapping,” Red Hood fired two shots at him and jumped over to another henchman just about to hit his head with a lead pipe. Alternating between his fists and feet, Red Hood took them all out one after the other, shooting at Black Mask when the last bullet wasn’t enough. He flew in the air, he jumped against walls, he moved so swiftly not one of them could catch him in the middle of a strike. One of them got too close to an electrical control box and he slammed his head into the board.

When at last, Black Mask was the only one left, his henchmen’s bodies scattered about on the floor, Red Hood, growling beneath his breath, grabbed the smaller man by the collar and hauled him up in the air.

“Black Mask,” he said. “You shoulda left when you had the chance…”

Red Hood pushed him against a glass window, and he held onto the one hand on his neck.

“Y-you don’t need to do this,” he trembled. At least his men put up more of a fight. This coward didn’t even take long to give in. “Whatever you want! Please. I’ll take a plane. Leave Gotham. Never show my face again. Anywhere you want. I’ll go anywhere!”

As if that’s ever done any good for anyone.

“How about you go to hell…”

His boot, right up against his chest. Red Hood pushed him into the window and it broke at the impact. Roman Sionis fell to his death five stories above ground.

“Say hi to Joker for me…”

-----

For the first time in weeks, Y/N crawled over to his side of the bed, his chest warm and naked and all the tensions, his muscles frozen over, it all felt infinitely better at her touch. She wrapped her arms around his body from behind, her chin against his shoulder. “I love you…” she said into his ear.

Jason held her arm and placed a kiss onto her wrist. He felt tears seep into his chest. And that was all there is. Maybe, this was the first step at getting better. He closed his eyes, hoping tomorrow had something better in store.

He never realized that was her saying goodbye.

Jason woke up to an empty bed.

No.

No. No. No. No.

Everything was gone. Her clothes. Her guns. All her stuff. It was all gone. It couldn’t be… She would have been preparing for so long.

But everything was still there before he went to bed. Even her toothbrush was gone from the cup on the sink. How could she have taken everything and wiped out all traces of her in so little time?

No. Fucking no.

He tore up the apartment. He looked through the only three rooms they had. Nothing. Like she was nothing but a dream he’d conjured up this whole time. The most wonderful, dangerous dream.

Jason sank to the ground, hands trembling on his phone as he called her but to no end, no one answered.

-----

It was raining by the time he’d snuck out of the building. Out into the alleyways, where the winds were disrupted even when his hood concealed most of the cold, he leaned against the wall and stretched out his back, hand over his abs to feel for any of the stitches possibly ripped apart or any sigh of bleeding. There was a sting, but nothing too much to worry about.

Twenty-thousand dollars. Right inside a cash box in Sionis’s office where a bunch of them were counting the bills. He took them out and flashed through them with his fingers before stuffing them deep into his pants. He’ll have to get out soon. It wouldn’t be too long before they’ll find the bodies.

Red Hood walked into the alley; head faced down into the darkness. He placed his guns firm into his holsters and hissed his way through the pain. There was nothing much left for him to do. Black Mask was dead, probably the one asshole he’s had to deal with the most, other than Penguin and the rest. It had always been Sionis who he’s messed with for more than two years now. He finally killed him. After all this time.

He didn’t know what was about to happen next, what happens to his empire. He and Deadshot used to take them out one by one. Gotham’s biggest crime families. Just two days ago, she took out Sal Maroni, the last of her debt to Falcone. And what usually happens was that their money, their weapons cache, their drug crates, they all usually get turned up to the police.

Further down the alleyways, he found a place where he could change and take off his visor.

His feet stepped into the puddles into the cracks of the ground and the raindrops fell seeping into his clothes. He stopped when he saw a dark figure standing in between the walls of the alley not so far from him. As a light from a car passed by, he saw bright flashes of blue glisten from his black suit. And in his hands, the figure held onto two escrima sticks.

Red Hood’s hand went over to his gun, then he heard something else from behind him, jumping from one of the rooftops. He turned around.

Red and yellow. He could see it from the lamppost enlightening the other side of the alley. A domino mask on his face. A long Bo staff held over his shoulder.  

Nightwing and Robin stared at him from opposite ends, then they made their way to the center.

Red Hood didn’t even flinch. “This is why I have two guns.”

He grabbed the two from his holsters, holding them out to opposite ends, then started firing at will at wherever he could. Nightwing flipped over his back, missing the bullets, then Robin jumped towards a trash bin to avoid the shots.

“Jason!”

“What the fuck do you assholes want now?!”

He kept firing, then Nightwing was first to climb out from hiding, swiftly running sideways against the wall. Red Hood focused fire on him, then when he felt Robin come up from behind, he turned around to swing his arm, but Robin ducked just in time.

A kick to his back, from Nightwing’s stupid leotard-covered leg. Red Hood fired his gun at his direction but Nightwing had flew up in the air, the way only an acrobat can do, and landed his knee against Red Hood’s visor.

“You killed Black Mask!” Robin screamed.

“You can't hold anything against me-“

“We just saw you come out of Black Mask’s hideout with fifty other dead bodies!” Nightwing tried to grab him in a headlock, but Red Hood butted his head into his nose and elbowed him out of the way.

Robin tried blocking Red Hood’s blows with his staff, spinning it around to create some sort of shield from his hits. Nightwing landed a few hits on his shoulder with his own sticks, but Red Hood didn’t falter.

Until he was hit right in the stomach by Robin, making his knees tremble at the shooting pain until he kneeled to the ground.

“You fucking replacement-“

“Nightwing, watch out!”

Red Hood shook off the pain, started for the wall so make him run right up to it and spin around, open firing at every direction he can aim at.

“You two can fucking try.”

“Jason, just stop!”

“Why the fuck would I stop!?”

“Come with us to the safehouse-“

He almost shot Nightwing in the shoulder if he didn’t move in time. They kept leaping, dodging his bullets, then Robin started for his limbs but he could only land so many hits.

“Why?! Because Bruce is gone, you think I’m just gonna come crawling back to you?” he snorted. “I don’t believe for a second that that dickhead’s dead.”

“Why would we lie about that?” Nightwing said.

“You people lie about everything!”

“Jason-“

“You, shut up!” He pointed the gun at Robin. They’d stopped fighting. They just stood each other off, hands up. Robin held his head high despite the muzzle being pressed right against his forehead. “You don’t get to talk.”

“Robin’s only trying to help-“

Red Hood laughed a grim, throaty chuckle. “I want either of you morons to pinpoint the exact point in time when I asked for your fucking help.”

“This isn’t how we do things-“

“This is how I do things. I don’t play by Bruce’s stupid code anymore. And I swear, the next time you show up bringing this with you,” he shuffled the gun against Robin. “I’ll put a bullet into both your skulls.”

“Jason-“

He shot the ground just where Nightwing was standing. The older man breathed, panted at the sight of near death. He looked up to where Red Hood’s eyes would be. “Either you come with us, or we take you to the police. You’ve killed too many.”

“Good luck catching me.”

“Commissioner, do you copy?”

GCPD’s radio signal. It started blaring out from Nightwing’s communicator loud enough for all of them to hear.

“Two vehicles on pursuit. We have eyes on Deadshot driving a pizza truck in Drescher.”

“Sending coordinates.”

Nightwing was just about to turn off the radio when Red Hood spun around, kicking both of them in the knees, before popping out a smoke bomb.

He grappled up to the roof. “Where the hell is he going?!” Robin yelled.

Red Hood didn’t give them a second look. He jumped up and around from rooftop to rooftop. He could feel them coming his way, either to put him down or see why he was suddenly so keen on brushing them off.

He turned on his own comms.

“Attempting rolling roadblock.”

“She’s losing control. Calling for backup.”

Shit. Shit. Shit. The woman can drive a tank but she has no idea how to drive a fucking pizza truck.

He turned his head back, with Nightwing and Robin still on his tail. Pulling out his gun, he started firing at them but kept his speed.

“We’re coming with you!”

“This is my fucking fight, Grayson! Just stay away!”

He jumped into a roof too far for his feet to reach. Grabbing onto the edge with just his fingers, Red Hood barely pulled himself up. Nightwing’s leaner physique and acrobatic abilities allowed him to backflip through the distance and Robin’s cape helped him glide much more smoothly. He snorted.

A bike. Just nearby at the sidewalk. He jumped off the side, hands and feet slowing his descent towards the ground, and as swiftly as he could, Red Hood reached the ground and jumped onto the vehicle. He started the ignition, and just before the two could reach him, he’d sped off into the streets.

-----

Maybe going after one of El Penitente’s drug houses wasn’t such a good idea when cops were in the middle of a gathering in a nearby pizza parlor.

And maybe it wasn’t a good idea to steal one of the trucks to get out of the place just because she couldn’t find a single bike nearby.

This time, she wasn’t there on an assignment. She chose Penitente’s Cartel because of their operations reaching out to an elementary school. Of course, it wasn’t without stealing from one of their cash boxes. She wasn’t in this for free.

But it didn’t matter how much money she had on her now when she was running for her life, driving a damn pizza truck around Founder’s Island with three police cars on her tail. The roads were roaring of sirens, car horns, noises. She took a sharp turn at an intersection and the truck almost fell over at the weight. Fuck.

“Attempting rolling roadblock,” she heard one of the cops say into an intercom. She stepped on it, and running past the traffic with the cars steering out of the way. She cursed repeatedly as two cars started to surround her sides.

So she turned into an alleyway barely able to fit the truck inside. Running over trash bins and sacks and probably a cat that was too slow to get out of the way, the police cars came up behind her. She was met with another road, then she turned to the side, facing the incoming traffic. FUCK.

Left. Right. Left. The truck was fucking heavy. Like she was actually lugging it around. She managed to steer into the right side of the road without running anyone over and stepped on the gas. She was running out of fuel. As if the world hadn’t already been so cruel to her.

As she passed an intersection, the cops caught up behind her.

A motorcycle, speeding like a bullet to her side. It caught her attention as she heard the driver yell out to her. She glanced at him and almost choked at the sight of a red hood.

“Fucking-“

“PULL YOUR WINDOW OPEN!”

“GET THE HELL OUT OF THE WAY!”

But as she pushed on the gas, Red Hood only seemed to go faster. “DEADSHOT!”

“LOOK OUT!”

Red Hood swerved just as he was about to hit a pole. Then he kept to her side, slamming his fist against the car door. Deadshot turned further away from her and saw the cops coming nearer.

“JUST LET ME IN!”

“NO!”

Red Hood grunted, then he disappeared. She turned left and right, away from the cars too slow to move out.

Then before she could notice Red Hood coming from the other side of the truck, he had leapt all the way over to the window, pushing his boots against the glass so it broke upon impact. Deadshot blocked herself from the shards, then shot him a deathly glare as he sat on the passenger seat.

“MISS ME?”

“WHAT THE HELL ARE YOU DOING HERE?!”

“EYES ON THE ROAD!”

She turned before she hit an old lady on the pedestrian lane.

“What are you trying to do?!”

“Helping you. You can't get out of this alive.”

“Excuse me?!”

A police car, just at her left, so close to coming to her window. “Shit-“

“Let me drive-“

“I can take this!”

Another sharp turn, then the truck was so close to falling over, they felt the weight on themselves.

“Okay,” she gulped. “You drive.”

She climbed over Red Hood’s lap over to the passenger side, then Red Hood took the wheel, slammed on the gas, then sped through the roads.

“Won't use your whole arsenal of weapons on your back?”

“I’ve sworn off killing cops.”

He swerved just enough to hit the police car’s left side. It skidded into the road, but not enough to stop it. “What do we do?”

“We’re gonna crash this thing!”

“What?!”

“Got your grappling gun ready?”

Crime Alley. He’s headed for Crime Alley. The cars around them were frantically turning around and they were practically running on two wheels at this rate. Why did she have to pick a fucking truck?!

“Get your gun and fire at the air!”

To scare people off. They’ll set themselves aside. Deadshot grabbed her pistol, pointed it at the sky just outside her window and started firing relentlessly into nothing. People were screaming out of the way, and the cops started calling in backup. One of the pedestrians jumped onto the sidewalk just as he crossed the road and another threw himself at a window for safety. The streets have never been so chaotic.

But then again, this was Gotham. It continues to surprise itself.

“On my count, shoot at the windshield!”

Deadshot held onto her gun like her life depended on it. At the sharp turn over to a corner, just for the split second they were out of the cop’s sight, Red Hood fully turned the wheel until the truck finally gave out and fell onto its side.

They grabbed onto the seats, holding their heads. Sparks started to fly out onto the now secluded streets and the truck drifted against the ground. “Now!”

She fired at the windshield, then they both kicked at the glass with their boots. Two grappling guns shot out onto the nearest rooftops it could reach and they fled out of the truck just as it skidded into a sidewalk and crashed.

And just as the police came to the scene, Red Hood and Deadshot had disappeared.

The cops went up to the truck.

“Thought you said those guys broke up?”

“They don’t exactly keep you updated on vigilante relationships on TMZ, now do they?”

-----

She couldn’t possibly think he’d just go away after that.

Crime Alley. It was deserted, despite the fact that at this time it should already be littered with thugs and maybe a robbery somewhere if you looked hard enough. Deadshot landed her feet onto a puddle, followed by another set of boots slamming against the ground behind her.

She started walking towards the light, at the streets, but she felt a hand reach for her shoulder.

So the first thing she did was turn around and kick him in the chest, right where she knew the bullet wounds would hurt the most.

“Fuck!” he landed on the ground. “What was that for?!”

“Why can't you just leave me alone!?”

“I saved your life-“

“I didn’t need you to save it!”

Red Hood got up to his feet and ran in front of her, stopping her from walking any further. “Lately you’ve been out of control-“

Deadshot scoffed under her white mask. “So you decide to play the hero and step in? Stir trouble over at the other side of the city in Chinatown so they’d leave me alone? Or kill Black Mask right before you knew he was about to hire me the next day?!”

“I’m not sayin-“

“Say it! Say I’ll be dead without you! Convince me that I need you so much so I’ll come crawling back!”

“That’s not what I’m trying to do!”

“Then what!?” her muffled screams echoed into the darkness.

“Is it so wrong that I’m looking after you!?” He stepped forward and his larger body pushed her back.

“I don’t need you to look after me.”

“You think you can fucking stop me?”

Deadshot pushed his chest with her arms, but he caught her wrists, twisted them so she’d fall off before she could grab him.

“I swear. The next time I see you following me-“

“You’ll what?”

Deadshot looked up at his visor and stared him down with what little he could see of her eyes. Her optics glowed, and she hoped it blinded him from such close distance.

“Just. Leave. Me. Alone.”

“You’re insane-“

That’s it. This asshole’s gonna pay.

A swing of her leg, right against his head. Red Hood flew over to the wall and Deadshot grabbed his jacket to fling him over to the other side of the alley.

“I’m not here to fight!”

“I wasn’t either!”

She ducked before Red Hood’s arms could come and grab her, then she started for her leg, pulling him down to the ground. With his boots, he kicked her down, grabbing her with her mask so he could push her against the wall.

“Don’t ever call me crazy-“

“Then what is it with all these suicide missions!? You trying to get yourself killed?!”

She held onto the hand grabbing her collar. “Shut up!”

A knee managed to reach up to his chin. Red Hood backed off, stretching his jaw, then Deadshot started flinging her fists over to his visor. Some he could block, some he couldn’t. Her punches got stronger but it wasn’t anything he couldn’t handle. Not without her guns.

Red Hood grabbed her fists and pushed her away, then with his arm, he grabbed her into a headlock really making sure she couldn’t squirm out of it.

“Enough!”

A gun. She managed to grab one from her holster. She slammed it against his head and shot up into the sky, right up against Red Hood’s ear.

He hissed at the noise for the slightest split second, then pulled out his own gun.

Right where they were two years ago. Pointing their guns at each other when both of them knew none of them would pull the trigger.

“Put the gun down,” Red Hood said. “You really gonna shoot me?”

“I just might.”

She wouldn’t. He knew she wouldn’t. Even with the mask over her face, he could see her features soften the way it did when she was looking at him.

So Red Hood lowered his gun first, dropped it to the ground.

“Go ahead.”

Fuck.

She hated it when he did this, challenge her into doing something so vile and cruel just as he did at the militia. It was nothing more than when he’d ask her to put a bullet into someone’s skull when he felt like it.

She wanted him to take off that fucking visor and look at her right at her face when he did this.

Deadshot dropped her gun, then her hands went over to her head just to squeeze the pain out of her scalp.

“Fuck!” she growled.

“Y/N…”

Jason raised his visor and his hood.

How his eyes screamed out to her, asked her to be calm, to be how she would be towards him if they weren’t in this alley. The look that had always been the one thing she could hold onto, to keep her on the ground and at the same time fly her all the way up to the sky.

Y/N took off her mask.

And she turned around before looking at him just became too much.

“God…” she whispered to herself. “What have I done…”

“Come back to me… Please…”

“Jason-“

He stepped in front of her, backing her against the wall. She looked up and all she wanted to do was kiss him.

“I want you back… Please come back.”

“Jay-“

“I blame myself just as much as you do.”

“You told me so,” she bit back the tears, the crack on his voice. Looking up, his face getting closer to hers. “The look on your face when we were at that hospital…”

“I’d never say that…”

“I’m so sorry…” she cried. Something was blocking her throat from coming up with any else for her to say. Jason’s gloved hands, though stiff and cold, felt comfortable holding her face. She held his wrists. She wanted them there. So much. But further more and she’ll never be able to let go. She tried to pry them away, but his hold was too strong.

Fuck, his breath. His voice. His face. She wanted to have him, pull his hand and go over to her place for the night…

“You're the only one for me-“

“Don’t go there-”

“You are.”

“I said don’t.”

That’s when Jason froze at the pursing glare shooting right from her eyes and onto his own. She grew stiff, then started to push him back.

“I was clearly not the only one-”

Jason exhaled a long, shaky whip of air. “What?”

“You think you're the only one following me around?” she scoffed. “I saw you bring in a few women into the apartment.”

“You left me-“

“Don’t go around saying you were so fucking loyal-”

“Y/N, they meant nothing.”

“Don’t say it,” she breathed. “It’s a surprise you still claim not to be over me at all.”

A hand to his chest, but this time he stood firm.

Then it was his turn to push her body against the wall.

“You have no idea…” he growled against her face. Actually growled. Low cracking at the pit of his voice. His breath hot, right up against her mouth. He made sure his body guarded around her so she couldn’t move. His chest, pressed right up against her. “Those women I’ve used… Just to get over you…”

She was shaking, not so much as terrified as she was feeling some kind of surge up to her head. His voice, it was comparable to a lion’s before it pounced at a gazelle.

“You know how much I hate putting myself out there to people I don’t trust but I was fucking ruined after you left. So I tried it. Just a few times. I kept my clothes on. I didn’t let them see or touch me. But I fucked them. Exactly like we used to the first time. Just to see if it could make me forget you.”

“Jason, stop-“

But his arms caged around her. She shut her eyes, felt his nose trail up to her forehead. She didn’t want him to feel how much she was trembling. Not at fear. No.

Jason’s lips, hovering over hers so intensely close. She could feel them touch, ever so softly just enough to feel the friction but not hard enough to actually kiss. Y/N wanted so badly to close the distance between them.

“I tried so fucking hard, then I ended up screaming your name when I came-“

“Fuck, Jay.”

Still, she couldn’t move, though her efforts to do so were getting less and less.

“Then I realized you’re the only one I’ll ever want to fuck. You know why?”

With his arms, so large and enticing, he flipped her over so she faced the wall. She tried to keep off the wet cement but Jason was pressing against her back.

She could move now. Out of the way. Push him back and leave for good.

But, god almighty, she didn’t want to.

His head came up to Y/N’s shoulder, and with her hand, she touched the side of his face. “Why…” she asked him.

Jason pushed his hips against her ass.

“They couldn’t get my cock to be as painfully hard for them as you do…”

“Shit,” she moaned, his breath painfully hot against her neck.

“They weren’t as soaking wet for me as your pussy gets even when I just breath into your ear… Just like this.”

And he did just that, whispering against her ear despite her hair in the way. Y/N was up against the wall, cheek against the cement.

Then her eyes rolled to the back of her skull when Jason reached in to cup her pussy. “Oh!”

Not being touched for so long, she just might cum right then and there. If he moved even the slightest bit, despite all the layers of her suit, she’ll cum. “Fuck!”

“It doesn’t even come close when I had you bent over my desk being fucked like you weren’t the Commander of my militia army-“

She tried to grind against his palm, closing her eyes, imagining just that memory she’d memorized despite the years.

“And when they came,” he pressed a finger further into her hole despite the gloves he had on. “It’s not as fucking satisfying as watching you shake and scream out my name… even with just my fingers.”

When her pussy lips had opened up enough for him to feel her clit, his fingers firmed up, then he started slowly rubbing over the thick layers of her suit. She cried out, but he kept his mouth too far for her to conceal her moans with.

“That’s it…” he breathed against her ear when she kept grinding. “You miss this, don’t you?”

“Yes!” She grabbed his hair and pulled to make the goodness ease up, but she was so fucking wet, she could hear it even from there. Y/N pressed her forehead against the bridge of his nose, then Jason started digging his teeth into whatever skin she had that was exposed near her jaw. “You’re mine…”

“Jason…”

Police sirens. Coming from outside the alley. They stopped and turned their heads to wherever the sounds came from.

When the car had passed, Crime Alley was empty.

-----

From above one of the buildings at Drescher, Red Hood and Deadshot stood over the ledge, watching the police frantically go about the city in search for them. They looked like ants from where they stood. Red Hood kept his hood on, but his visor was up.

Hands on their sides, feet on the ground as if ready to just jump onto the ledge from right across, they took in at how the city was, quite literally, at their feet. They weren’t welcome here. They were despised. But they were needed. In their own, sick little way.

Jason didn’t look at Y/N as he was the first to speak.

“I’m sorry,” he swallowed. “I don’t know what came over me…”

“It’s… Don’t apologize.”

Jason reached over to hold her arm, expecting the same rejection as before. Her pushing him away, backing off, leaving before anything else were to happen.

But she welcomed his touch. A flood of cool relief went over his body when she did. Y/N, without her mask on, closed her eyes and touched his hand with her fingers over his skin.

Then he pulled her closer until his arms were fully around her, encasing her into his chest. She did the same and hugged his neck so tightly, it didn’t even matter the suit he wore or the armor between them. Jason pressed their foreheads together, eyes closed, feeling her body, her warmth that he yearned for so much.

Hands on the sides of his face, thumb brushing over the brand on his cheek, Y/N broke down. “I’m sorry…”

“Stop that.”

“I made you lose everything…”

Jason pulled her even tighter, then his lips met her cool skin.

“Only when you left…”

He let go of her waist so he could look so deeply into her eyes with his hands holding onto her cheeks.

“If it’s what you want, I’ll leave you alone. For good. It’s your choice now…”

A tear down her face. She closed her eyes before any more could seep out and fall.

“But if you come over to the apartment tonight, I swear, I’ll never let you go again, no matter what you or anyone else does to keep us apart.”

She kissed him, lips unmoving yet still so powerful and silent. The cold Gotham winds couldn’t pull them apart. Nothing can. If she chooses not to…

When Jason left, she was at the rooftop for hours on end, fighting against herself for her own life.

-----

Not a single light turned on.

His eyes were bloodshot. From the past three bottles of booze he had at the side of his bed. The last one he’d thrown against the wall.

Encompassed with the same cloud of loneliness, defeat, helplessness that he had to succumb over the passing months, it had been hours. For just the slightest, yet slowest moment, he thought she would actually give in this time.

But he should have known. Her stubbornness. Her will. He never should have expected her to come.

Then, he guessed, this meant it was over.

Love. A fucking torment to his life he never should have given into.

Another bottle would help.

Still just a bit tipsy, Jason walked away from his bed, hand on the wall, then he walked over to the kitchen to grab one from the fridge. He tore the cap open with his bare hands and drank almost a third of it in one gulp.

Hands over the counter, he closed his eyes. This wasn’t the reality he had to face. It couldn’t possibly be.

He was so into his thoughts, he almost completely neglected the light coming in from the bathroom.

Jason walked over to the bathroom door to turn it off before going to bed.

Only to stop his tracks when he saw her, through the slightest creek of the open door, her back turned over with her hair undone and over her shoulders.

Fuck.

Y/N must’ve known he was watching.

Because she took off her suit, slipped it off her arms, then her bare back stared at him so deliciously perfect and waiting for his lips to kiss every part of it.

Fuuuuck.

And she took so long just fixing her hair, head ever so slightly turned to his direction. Jason stood frozen, jaw on the ground, then he swore he had to hold back a small yelp when she bent over to take her pants off, along with her underwear. She even arched up her back to make her body look even hotter than it already was.

Completely naked. Beautiful. Absolutely flawless. Y/N didn’t glance behind her when she walked over to the shower, then let the boiling hot steam fog up the air.

Fuck.

Yes.

Not too long after, Jason slipped out of his clothes, pulled the glass door of the shower open.

Then when Y/N looked over her shoulder, he shut it behind him.

 -----

MASTERLIST

THE BULLET MASTERLIST

-----

everyartistwas-firstanamateur  @sarcasmismyfirstlove @damned-queen-of-gotham @idkmanicantenglish @wunderstell @birdy-bat-riya @get-loki@everyday-imfangirling @comic-nerd-dc@multifandoms916 @icequeen208@offendedfishnoises@egdolan@xemiefx @arkhamtoddler@elsenthal@mythicbitchx@supremehaunter burning-alive  @lucy-roo  roseangel013bf @ loxbbg  reclusive-chicken-nuggethttp-cherriesshadowsndaisiesriver9noblezphilophobiazannoylinglyaries@knightfall05x @l-horizon11flowersgirl02

#Jason todd #Jason todd x reader #Arkham Knight #arkham knight x reader #Jason todd reader insert #reader insert #the commander series #the commander #the bullet #the bullet series #batarella series

[perseusannabeth]

Hello !! I have a prompt for nessian 😉 - "I am scared. I don't know if I can do this."

Thank you so much for this prompt! I’m sorry it took me so long to get to. I’m not working this week, so I’m hoping to post a few more things, but this is my last request in my ask box so please send me more if you have any!

Word count: 1845

TW: Panic Attacks

Even when Nesta was little, she had been forced into showing people that she was fearless. Her mother had instilled in her that showing emotions, especially fear was unseemly. All that young Nesta had known was that her mother's eyes would shine with pride when she sat and watched rather than joined in with the other children playing. The pride in her mother's eyes was never something that she could voice, her mother would never tell her daughters that she was happy with them or proud of them. Voicing her anger and shame over them was much easier.  

Nesta had become something like a shield for her younger sisters by the time her mother died. Nesta would take the brunt of her mother's disdain and disgust for children, leaving Elain and Feyre to happily do as they pleased. They had asked Nesta to play with them when they were younger, but as they got older they had given up, thinking that Nesta simply didn't want to play with them.  

Nesta had always rather played with her sisters whose laughter could be heard ringing throughout their house than sat with her mother bitching about the neighbourhood girls and women. She couldn't be a child though. Nesta had to be a lady from the moment she was born. She was just glad her sisters had been able to be children.  

Even their father had treated her like a grown-up. With him, she hadn't felt pressured though, she had felt special. He would talk to her about his trade, ask her opinions, share his problems with her. She had been his favourite as a child, but even that had come at a cost. When they had lost their fortune, she had tried to make him get up, do something, but suddenly he didn't care for Nesta's opinions. Suddenly, being his favourite held no sway with him, and she realised that despite being treated as an adult, she was just a helpless child. Nesta knew how to be a lady, but she didn't know how to be useful in poverty. She could only be angry in poverty.  

Nesta was so good at hiding her emotions from others that she sometimes felt as though she hid them from herself too. She would sometimes surprise herself when she felt fear. After being Made, Nesta felt fear all the time. She was in a whole new world, nothing she knew would ever be the same again. She understood nothing of the way this world worked, her sister was traumatised, and she probably was too. She didn't linger on her trauma for very long. She couldn't linger on it then. That was probably a mistake. It was probably the reason why after the war she was so consumed by the trauma.  

Right now, all she was consumed with was fear. Nobody knew about what she could hear when there was a fire roaring. Nobody else seemed to notice the way a fire crackling sounded like the snapping of bones, necks twisted in ways they shouldn't, pleading eyes as wings broke. She had kept it concealed from everyone. She used blankets to keep me warm, layered them up until she was practically suffocating. She would rather suffocate under her blankets than light a fire.  

Tonight she couldn't escape the fire. They were everywhere, thanks to some Illyrian festival which meant they lit bonfires and let fireworks off all night. The nights were cold anyway, and the bonfires that were lit all over the camp were warm and inviting to sit next to while admiring the view of the fireworks lighting up the night sky.  

Nesta had known tonight would be tough. She knew that without her alcohol she wouldn't be able to drown out those wretched noises. The loud bangs from the fireworks and the low crackling of bonfires filled the air, and Nesta wanted to curl up and sleep forever. She didn't want to hear anything anymore. She knew she was being overwhelmed. When she had been trying to help Elain after they had been made, she had read about sensory overload. She had made sure Elain wouldn't suffer that when they were newly Made, after she mentioned that she could hear Lucien’s heartbeat. She knew the signs well enough to know that’s what she was going through right now. Even then, Nesta didn't move from her spot next to Emerie.  

Emerie had become Nesta's friend, although Nesta would never say that out loud. She knew Emerie would never say it out loud either, but that was what made them friends. They were similar enough to understand each other, without being so similar that they clashed. She knew that Emerie was glad Nesta had come tonight. Emerie had mentioned the festival casually enough, but Nesta could tell that she had hoped Nesta would attend. She might have told Emerie no if it wasn't for the fact that Nesta knew that Emerie needed Nesta. Nesta being there made it easier for Emerie to be a lady, to ignore the Illyrians and the way they glared at Emerie. Nesta drew their attention away from her. Nesta made people feel strong, even if she didn’t feel that way herself.  

The old Nesta might have enjoyed the shock on Cassian's face as Nesta had walked over to the bonfires with Emerie. Cassian's eyes had widened, and his mouth hung open in shock. It was his saving grace that the Illyrians were too nervous around Nesta to even notice the awestruck look on the face of their General.  

The current Nesta, couldn't even bring herself to care about the way Cassian looked at her. She was too busy focusing on not crying or throwing up. Her walls were up, and she was sat stiffly, trying to block out the noises. She could do this. She could control this, for Emerie. Nesta Archeron was not someone who showed fear.  

A group of Illyrian males walked up and added more fuel to the fire, making it spark and crackle, even more, burning with new strength and intensity. Nesta felt her stomach churn at the noises and tried to take deep breaths to settle her stomach. She could do this, she could conquer this fear. She would not let anyone see her weakness. 

Nesta was pulled out of her focus by a hand coming to rest softly on her shoulder. She looked up, away from the fire that had hypnotised her and saw Cassian looking down at her, worry painted across his face. Nesta looked away, not wanting to think about Cassian and his emotions right now.

Escaping Cassian and his emotions, however, was a different story. She knew he could read her well. Too well. After the first time, Cassian had lit a fire in the little living room in his cabin, he had noticed her. He had seen the way she had gone white as a sheet and left the room. He had heard the gagging, as she dry heaved in the bathroom. She hadn’t had any food for a while, probably too long, but she had been thankful since it had meant she didn’t have anything to throw up. 

“Come with me, let’s get out of here” Cassian murmured, so only Nesta could hear. 

She wanted to refuse. She wanted to ignore him, to pretend he couldn’t see right through her. She hated asking for help. She hated people seeing her vulnerable, especially when it was Cassian. She cursed herself for being so weak. Her mother would be so disappointed in her for letting a man help her. But Cassian isn’t a man, he’s a male. Nesta remembers that her mother would likely have tried to kill her if she saw the abomination she had become. 

Nesta stood up. She fire was making her delve into thoughts that she knew would hurt her. She knew she did this when she wanted to drink her problems away, thinking of the worst things so she would hurt herself. She needed to get out of here, and Cassian knew that. 

She followed Cassian blindly, not even paying attention to her surroundings. All she could hear and think about was the fire, and what it sounded like. The memories were flooding her. She couldn’t keep them at bay. She was weak, and she had failed at keeping her mind in check. 

"I am scared. I don't know if I can do this." Nesta didn’t even realise she had spoken until Cassian froze. She hadn’t meant to blurt out her thoughts, but something about Cassian made it hard to control herself sometimes. He always made her do the opposite of what her mother had ingrained in her. 

Cassian had stopped in the middle of the path, which she realised would take them back to his cabin, far away from the fires. He slowly turned to look at her, his golden eyes not leaving hers. “It’s normal you know? For people who have seen things like you saw to be haunted afterwards. There’s no shame in it, and no shame in asking for help.”

Nesta felt her throat tightening. She knew she couldn’t talk or she would cry. She could feel her eyes filling with tears, but she didn’t look away from Cassian. 

Cassian held out his hand, offering it to her like a lifeline. Nesta stared at it for a second, wondering what this would mean to Cassian, to herself if she held his hand. She didn’t let herself think about it any further and took his hand. The warmth radiating from him seemed to soothe her slightly. He stepped towards her cautiously, as though he thought she might spook, like some kind of startled animal. He was careful not to cage her in, not to get too close. 

“It’s okay. You’re allowed to feel things. You’re allowed to be scared. And more importantly, if you think you can’t get through this on your own, you are allowed to ask for help. It doesn’t have to be me, ask your sisters, as Emerie, as a stranger, but as for help. I don’t know what you’ve been told in the past Nesta, but one of the biggest strengths I’ve ever seen. I know it’s hard. I still struggle to ask for help myself.”

Nesta could feel a few tears escape and felt Cassian’s hand twitch, as though he wanted to wipe it away but didn’t dare. She didn’t know how Cassian always seemed to know what to say. He always knew what was going on with her. She hadn’t known she needed someone to tell her it was okay to ask for help until he had said it. The contradiction to her mother’s instructions. Hearing someone else say it, out loud was almost a shock to the system. 

“Take me home please?” Nesta managed to croak out. 

“Always” Cassian whispered, as he led her to the cabin, not letting go of her hand that seemed to be keeping her grounded. Cassian kept her grounded. He knew that, and she was starting to see that.

Tags list (please let me know if you would like to be added/removed from this)

@hizqueen4life @kelly-fasel @sannelovesreading @acourtofmarauders @maastrash @sjm-things @bookstantrash @cursebreaker29 @humanexile @iammissstark @stardelia @superspiritfestival @courtofjurdan @cass-nes

#my fic #acotar #nesta archeron #cassian #nesta x cassian #nessian #acomaf #acowar #acofas #acosf #acotar ff #acotar fanfic #Anon #sim talks

[wthtorke]

Honorbound -Oneshot- (Commission)

Life was lonely, as he intended it to be. A worn, wandering warrior with the weight of his battle scars exhausting his soul, stopping from village to village, living from the very soil that his horse trotted on. Little were the things he still had possession of. His horse, his sword, and the very scrape that was left of his honor, each battle and happening seemly chipping away at it, as it did to his will to go on. 

Word got to him in one of the villages that several honored warriors came to an abrupt end in a clearing. Their bloody robes and sometimes sword shards were the only proof that they were defeated by someone. The families grieved and every time, a new warrior would stand up to the challenge, arming up and setting to the very same clearing, only to be found days later by barking dogs and gasping children. 

At first, he wasn’t impressed. Cocky warriors died every day, thinking themselves to be great and undefeatable only to stare in horror as the blade that sealed their fate came down upon them. But something was different this time. No one knew who was behind all the murders. It couldn’t be the foreigners with their guns and powders, there were no holes in the bodies they found, what they found was much worse.

The bodies were often missing the head and the spine and when the head and spine were not taken, the sword was gone, a complete disgrace. Taking a fallen warrior’s sword was asking to be cursed for life.

So he decided to ask around, not like he had anything better to do other than to wait for his death. Coming across a child that swore to see a red demon on a tree close to the clearing. ‘Big’, ‘Ugly’, and ‘With fangs pointing out of its mouth’. Now, he figured most demons probably looked like that, but it was the ‘it mimicked me’ that reminded him of a very old tale, a summer horror story, one his very grandmother told him every time he refused to come inside for the night, saying that old demons would snatch him and carry him off into the darkness, disappearing forever.

It sounded dumb. Stupid, even. To go after the very same place where at least five other warriors had perished. He once had judged himself to be a good warrior, quick moves, fast-thinking, and deadly strikes. Now his shame made him heavy on his feet, the regrets in his chest making it hard to breathe sometimes. He only drew his sword to tend to it, to make sure it was in pristine condition, ironically. 

He thought about turning his back and keeping going with his pointless journey. To once again just leave it behind him. He was no better than any of the warriors that fought and died.

But fate was against him, it seemed. 

On his way out, from up a tree, a glint caught his eye. But it was no ordinary glint.

The light seemed to catch up on whatever magic that demon used, trying to reveal to the world that pure evil was walking on its very ground, unnoticed.

But not by him. 

The child had not lied. The demon was massive from what he could tell from the shifting form. It's eyes flashing a yellow glow before it vanished completely from sight, either jumping to another tree or just disappearing. No shifting, no sound, nothing.

It was taunting. Of course, to kill and to lure yet another imbecile to its trap, sounded every bit like a demon.

Making a decision, he asked the families just where exactly was the clearing.

-

Five tokens of his kills hung on the wall of his ship. Three skulls with their spines perfectly attached to them and two swords. 

At first, his clan didn't really understand his objective here. The will to learn and to adapt going far deeper than just hunting different races of humans. 

Out of every race on this wretched planet, he respected these more. He watched as they taught their children to be honored. To fight with respect and bravery. To know when you're defeated and when to strike. 

Things they had taught them themselves once.

While most motherships hovered above hot countries in the south. Two distinct clans took home in the Orient. Both clans despised each other greatly, going as far as to keep away from one another in order not to harm the still learning human population. His clan chose the islands known to humans as 'Wa', which would later become 'Nippon'. 

It had been centuries, of course. The humans had forgotten them just as they had forgotten the filthy beings that first generated them, who cowered in their home planet. When the clans decided to abandon Earth at once, so did the two clans. Leaving everything behind, only coming back rarely to hunt, forming the only negative memory of being demons to beings some of them actually came to love.

He'd heard everything about humans, he knew other races and even had trophies of some of them. Hunts so boring and forgettable that sometimes he caught himself checking just from where that skull was from. It was ridiculous.

But not here. He was having the time of his life here. And he might be having even more fun soon, it seemed. 

He knew human badbloods existed and were total scum. Waking trash.

But what he did not really see coming was a bad blood that….Wasn't really a bad blood.

He'd been observing when the warrior had come, his horse tiredly walking into the village. He looked out of place. His clothes were old, but not unkept like his beard. Humans had a different kind of 'beard' than yautjas had, and with the time, he could tell the difference between a cared for beard and one that was just a rat's nest on someone's face. 

Disgusting. 

So he did not belong there, or anywhere, it seemed. He carried a sword that he could also tell was in good form. Good. Another match, perhaps.

While badbloods were to be taken out quickly from life, he found himself weirdly curious about this one. He had the same instance and breathing of clan leaders. Tired, exhausted from years of making decisions but still carrying on nonetheless. It was puzzling. Humans did not live that long to live this type of experience. But that one apparently did.

You could say he was angry when after hearing about all the murders and happenings, the human just walked off with his slightly rested horse.

But it wouldn't do. No.

Despite being well over a youngblood's age, he sure acted like he was one. Taunting his prey from up a tree, daring him to come forth and challenge him. 

You could also say he was more than satisfied when it worked. The human walking right back to the widowed women to ask where the battles had supposedly happened.

He practiced harder that night, his blade extra sharp, wielded with much more precision and care than the first time he touched it. His style bettered with each battle, his adaptation proving to be, yet again, perfect. 

Words could not describe would eager he was for his next battle.

-

You may have fought before, many times even. But surely never with a Demon. He had not.

Unsheathing his blade felt bittersweet. Wielding it felt rusty, almost. But the tingling in his fingertips was still there, the rush of the blood in his veins as he breathed in and out, remembering every move, every technique, every battle he had both won and lost.

Sharp as your blade maybe, it won't fight for itself, your mind must be just as sharp and deadly as your weapon, he came to learn. Raw potential was nothing without guidance.

Closing his eyes, the wind hustled the trees around him, going into the general direction where he was told the clearing was. Almost luring him there, to his death, like it had done to the others before him. He was no different, no better. And yet, he'd face the challenge. Fight for people he didn't know, against something that wasn't natural, not from this world.

At dawn, he left his horse in the village, striding into the dense forest, armed with his sword and nothing else.

1400

He walked for what felt like forever, feeling his back burning under someone's gaze. The hairs of his neck stood on end, every instinct in his body told him to leave while he still could, foolish. He had doomed himself the minute he decided to ask about the funerals, the minute he decided to rest at that village. There was no escape. Only forth, only future, whatever might it hold for him.

Reaching the clearing, he knew he was in the belly of the beast when he saw the remnants of the past battles that took place there. The dried blood in the grass, the blade shards here and there along with some bushes cut the way only a speeding katana would slice into. The trees had similar cuts to their barks, scratches that looked like a dragon had nested in this area for years.

His mouth closed again when he heard the growling coming from everywhere and nowhere at all, his hand instantly going to the hilt of his sword, searching the trees as the clicking sound circled him from the shadows, teasing him, trying to instill fear into his heart and soul. He could see past it.

It wasn't long until a loud thud snapped his attention to his front, a few feet ahead, he watched as the Demon decided to show itself. It's skin slowly materializing itself into view as it switched from the astral plane into the mortal one to fight him. 

It was surprisingly as the child described. Big, red and ugly. It's jaws spreading to reveal sets of sharp tusks as it roared, the birds that hid from them flying off in desperation.

Studying it, his eyes fell to something unexpected. A blade that might have looked like his, only it was corrupted by the creature's evilness, twisted into dangerous ridges, made to maul and bleed instead of clean slicing and striking.

Disgraceful.

He scowled, not holding back his disgust at the sight, the Demon snarling right back to him before lifting his blade and getting into battle stance as he did the same.

Long seconds passed as his breathing fell into place with the rhythm he would set when fighting, staring into the creature's eyes, piercing yellow like the fires of the underworld that it would try to drag him into.

But it wouldn't work.

Taking a sharp breath, he lunged forward, his sword aimed at the beast's arm as he went. Said beast roared again, meeting him halfway through the blow, swords locking as he felt the impact of the greater body coming at him, his right foot digging into the dirt with sheer force to keep his balance. 

So close to it, he noticed it wore a necklace made of fabric, braided into loops around its thick neck. He frowned as he pushed back with all he had, the demon grunting as it forced back into him.

Realization downed him when he caught it looking at his sword sheath, the braided cords that tied it to his belt. Eyes snapping back to its necklace, he recognized the pattern in them, the different colored loops belonging to different victims.

Trophies. It collected trophies.

The scream that ripped from his throat was out before he could stop it, forcing the creature to back off as he all but swung his weight on it, their blades sliding free from one another as he lunged again, grunting his effort as he managed to block the Demon's counterattack, missing his eye by an inch, he panted as he felt his arms begin to burn from the sheer force the beast pressed him down with, its muscles bulging as it snarled at him, tusks dangerously close to his face.

He grunted as he turned, sweeping low as the creature's blade whizzed past his head, his own blade finding its calf and slicing it open, bright, green blood painting the grass under them and a perfect line on his sword.

He took the opportunity to jump back and gain space as the Demon roared its pain, eyes set on him as it lunged blindly in rage at him. 

His sore arms not resisting the impact on time, he felt the searing cut as his right shoulder almost gave out under the pain, his face scrunching up as he couldn't afford to close his eyes in pain.

He looked up to see the creature's almost smug expression as it retracted its blade, piercing it forward again, aiming for his chest, for his heart.

He sucked in a gasp as he forced his legs to give out under him, dropping his body to the ground like a rag doll, the blade sinking into the ground dangerously next to his eye. 

The Demon's eyes widened as he tensed to pluck the blade from the ground, the warrior already moving again, his blade slicing the beast into its right side, under its first rib, green blood once again oozing out of it as it struggled to keep its balance, it’s free clawed hand coming to clutch its side while still trying to fight him with the other. 

Still, in the rush, the warrior rolled to the side, feet turning as his legs worked to get him up straight again, robes dirty with green strands from both grass and green blood, his own shoulder tainted red with his own clotting blood. His breathing was heavy as he got in stance again, shoulder squaring, wincing as he felt the wound ripping open again, even more blood coming out of it. But it was either his shoulder or his life and between them, he chose life.

Before the creature could process swinging at him again, he lunged. Face scrunched up in anger, fists firm around the sword's handle as he dived into the beast, blade cutting it through the chest downwards to its belly, the hard spikes it had there being cut off like wood chips out of tree bark.

His blade moving down and out, he spun again, stepping back to have the creature in full view as it finally lost its balance and kneeled, its legs giving out as the green blood soiled more and more of the ground under it.

He could hear the blood rushing through his veins, the ringing in his head crisp and clear as he struggled to control his breathing, eyes never leaving the demon. 

Precious seconds passed before the creature tried getting up again, to no avail. Its arms and legs shook as it tried using its sword as support to get up.

He steadied his hands again and took a step closer to it, not sure of what to do. End it? Spare it? Could demons be spared? Could demons die?

He jerked back slightly as the demon roared at him, clearly angry for being outmatched. He frowned, taking another step forward as the creature bent over again, the thick dreads falling over as it stared at the ground, he pointed the blade at the beast, opening his mouth to speak to it, not really knowing if it understood him or not when its left hand whipped up and gripped his chest, claws sinking in on his robes and all but tearing the skin of his chest apart, leaving hot bloody trails behind as the claws closed in on his robes. He yelled as he was pulled forward, his foot straining against the ground as he refused to buckle. 

Staring into the flaming eyes of the beast, he would not become another string on its necklace. 

The warrior growled as he brought the hilt of the sword up, connecting it to the creature's face three times as its grip loosened on his robes, bringing his knee up the Demons jaws, making its head snap back up, eyes disoriented briefly as it shook its head, looking up to find the warrior already on his feet, his blade ready to sink into his head anytime.

"You have lost." The warrior said, voice firm and unwavering as if his chest wasn't almost ripped open and the gashing wound on his shoulder didn't exist. "Take your leave of this village or perish by my hand." He finished, tone as sharp as the feel of his weapon. 

The demon cackled, taking a few more breaths, wheezy and wobbly as it got up, stumbling slightly as it clutched its right side, blood oozing through its fingers. 

The warrior wasn't sure if it had understood him as it reached for something in the back of its belt, pulling a dagger that was an otherworldly shape. He braced himself for a final attack when the thing laughed again, holding the dagger out in its open hand. 

'..ta'Ke iT', it said, voice raspy and breathy. 

The warrior narrowed his eyes, thinking it to be another trick from the demon, deceiving and dirty. He didn't move, still in battle stance as the beast roared, clearly regretting it as its grip tightened on its side briefly, hand coming up again as it frowned harder.

'Ta'ke', it hissed and the warrior stepped forward, hand cautiously coming to meet the demons own, grabbing the dagger from it, inspecting it quickly, sword still pointed at the creature.

'De' feat' It croaked, its blade retracting as it did. Pointing next to the trees behind him, 'Go', it said, 'Su'mm er, re' turn', it growled, pointing at the warriors head, 'Ta'ke'. 

The warrior merely huffed, "I'll be waiting, now vanish, Demon." He snarled. The Demon chuckling before turning on its heel and walking into the forest, its skin shifting into the forest's skin once again. .

“I’ll be waiting”, he repeated, sheathing his sword.

-

This Oneshot was commissioned and the buyer kindly allowed me to post it! Just an example of the kind of work I can do ;) Hope yall like it!

https://ko-fi.com/wthtorke My ko-fi in case anyones feeling generous and wants to help a broke college student lmao

#yautja #The Predator #predator #predators #alien vs predator #oneshot #commisionwork #commission #Alien #Aliens #male reader

[purplerose244]

Irrational - Chapter 7: Our world

There it is, the final chapter of my collection for the @spacecampweek!

It was really fun working on these prompts and I love writing about my math dorks! Thank you all for reading and for all the people who made material for this week, your work is amazing!! 

For this free day the fic is inspired by the FaeAU created by @akozuheiwa! 🥰 Seamus and Steve are human princes and brothers, Aja and Krel are also loyalty but fae, the two races are at war at each other while love blossoms in between 💕💕 Jim is a chef assistant and Douxie is a human with magic that was taken in by the fae when he was abandoned as a child.

Here’s ako’s beautiful fanart about it! 😍😍 This is a Space Camp of course, with Aja/Jim/Steve along with it! It got pretty long... I had fun! 😂

Enjoy!! 💙💙💙

Summary: Humans and fae had been at war since forever, they hated each other, it was a fact. Yet his love, their love alone made reality extremely questionable, to the point Seamus didn't feel guilty about his choice anymore. He wasn't going to be miserable for eternity. Today, he was going to get his own happiness.

Read it on the AO3

His lungs were on fire, he had never run this much in his entire life. The forest seemed to be getting bigger around him, it widened his horizon, it blocked his feet from proceeding. It seemed to be doing everything in order to prevent him to go forward. His boots were dripping with dirt, the adherence was far beyond compromised at this point, it was a miracle that he hadn’t slipped a single time. Powerful voices were behind his back, getting further and further away. Swords meeting, shouts of war, everything turning into a mess of fire and hate because of him.

Only because his heart wanted to believe in this, in him, in them. Seamus would have been a liar if he had said the thought that this was a mistake hadn’t crossed his mind. Despite everything, despite honor and regret and all in between, there was only a desire of piece into his mind.

That possibility of joy resided only across that border.

Gosh, he had been there a million times now, but the trip had never felt longer. It stretched to infinity into his mind, between all that he was leaving behind and all the people he was never going to see again. He couldn’t shake away Steve’s strained smile for a single moment, as he gestured him to move forward while he dealt with their father’s guards. His own brother had given him the chance to escape, despite all the consequences coming along with it. This kingdom was ruled by a merciless ruler, that knew of power and greatness but not of people and kindness. The two of them had been born into this place, taught to always prioritize the bigger picture as in the outcome was always going to make up for the losses. It had occurred time later, too much time later perhaps, that an uncaring soul made sacrifices so much easier.

This was the proof. The fact that prince Seamus was being chased by the same soldiers that for years had been by his side, providing his protection and safety for his empire to come, showed just the level of hypocrisy of this world, where the moment someone was to do differently it was like calling upon himself a death wish.

His boot caught a massive root, the blonde tripped over mud, feeling it between his fingers. He gritted his teeth, struggling to get up, almost slipping again then proceeding.

Faster, faster, the border was still far.

He needed to get there. He needed to get to him, he-

His own scream was faster than the pain. His body couldn’t take it, after a life freed from physical pain and suffering. He was weak. His breath caught up when he found himself face into the ground again, his leg pulsing like mad. Steps were getting closer, fast and agile, and it filled his heart with dread. Seamus looked, up, recognizing immediately crest of the mole of this kingdom, granted only to the royal soldiers of the guard. It hurt madly that it belonged to a friend.

“L-Logan…” The archer narrowed his eyes, another arrow prepared. Despite the look of a warrior, his forehead was dripping with sweat. He wasn’t completely gone yet, Seamus had to believe that. “P-please, don’t do this to me! You know what he will do to me!”

Logan pressed his lips together, his hold clenching around his weapon.

“You called this upon yourself, you know that.”

“You don’t understand!”

“You’re right, I don’t. Because you were supposed to become king after him and make things better.” His voice was overflowing with bitterness. “You were supposed to solve everything!”

“I thought so too, then I realized it… I won’t be the one to make the difference.”

“Why are you saying this??” Tears were born on him, as they had been held back until now. “We used to dream about that, thinking that as soon as you were to take the throne, everything was going to turn out for the better! You are older than Steve, it was the natural course! You were going to help the kingdom, you were going to help me and my mother! But that was a lie, wasn’t it??” He closed his eyes, drops falling through his cheeks. “The king told me about your escape, how you are going to give out info to save your own skin so the fae will have mercy on your soul! You’ve gone too far, and as a soldier and a friend… I have to stop you.”

Seamus gritted his teeth, slowly lowering his eyes onto the wound. The arrow hadn’t gone deep, it had most likely struck a sensible point. Logan had been practicing his aim for years, stating that he could do a lot even when no one was looking, even when no one cared. If someone else had given him the entire speech his father had been poisoning the realm with, the blonde would have not cared.

This was not the case, so he grabbed the arrow and extracted before he could think of not doing it, letting out a strangled noise. The archer’s eyes widened. Seamus glared.

“What info would I give to the fae? That we are at war with each other? They know.” It hurt madly, but not as much as realizing that his friend had been turned against him because of his dad. Again. “They have their own problems, the only thing we have in common seems to be the awful monarchy currently in control, and you are the proof. At least I know Steve is still as stubborn as ever and has people that cares about him, enough not to let him make mistakes.”

The archer kept staring at him, as if he didn’t know him anymore, as they had been knowing each other of years without actually knowing a thing. Maybe that was true.

“You… you’re lying. You’re a prince, you hold informatio-”

“If I was any other person they would kill me at sight, you idiot!” His ankle was bleeding, he pressed his arm against it. Seeing his immaculate white sleeve turning red made him feel sick, and oddly relieved as well. “I am not going directly to them, I am not that stupid! I have no fighting experience, I am no diplomat, how would I even face them to be a snitch anyway? I am not betraying, I am running away!” Oh. Wow. He had never felt this good at screaming before. He was really going for it, he was escaping this cursed world.

Logan was agape, staring at him like he had passed away in front of him. His hands were trembling, the weapon was lowered slowly. A frown arrived, a welcomed one, because it always meant that he was thinking. At last, his friend was actually thinking.

“… that’s not what your father said.” Ah, he stopped calling him king. Good sign.

“You’re surprised that he can lie?” Seamus sighed, gritting his teeth at the burning of the wound. “I’m going to a secret place, protected by pixies. It is still at the board, but I will not betray.”

“But… why? Why are you running away?” He got closer to him, kneeling, taking out a cloth of some sort. He wrapped it around his wound, something he probably had experience with Steve. “I know that he’s very hard on you, in a way that wouldn’t be allowed if he wasn’t this powerful, but you’ve always put up with it. No matter how much it hurt.” He wasn’t that lost then. “Perhaps not in the name of your future, but you still kept yourself together for years. Why is it different now?” This, this was the perfect question.

With his pulsing leg, with his father’s guards on his traces to bring him back to that prison, with one of his oldest friend questioning him, Seamus smiled.

“I didn’t think there was a better choice. Something better… someone better.”

The forest was shaken by a blow of wind. Logan was staring at him in disbelief. For a moment, it almost felt like they were back in the gardens of the castle, laying down, blabbering about secrets and the future. The smile that appeared onto his friend was just like back then.

“Smart choice, as expected.” He put a hand over his bandaged wound. “… I’m sorry.”

Perhaps this world hadn’t taken away everything from him yet.

Then, when that minuscule moment of silence cleared up between them, the gallop of a horse grew steadily close. Seamus’ blood turned cold. The heavy, intimidating march of that mount, he would have recognized it everywhere. Bred for battle… no, bred in order to instill fear into the opponent, the realization that there was nowhere to run. The end had been determined the moment that march had stopped. Seamus had always been on the other side of that sword, assisting by his father’s side terrorized out of his mind but comforted by his own loyalty to the winning kingdom. How many years he had stalled this moment, knowing that he was only human and could only take this much? It was such a meaningless thought right now, as the horse finished his march right there.

His father got off, the thud reverberated. He was in full armor, that fancy suit as to appear mightier and better than anyone else. Those piercing blue eyes that Seamus had inherited were deadly and merciless, even more than usual, as they fell onto his offspring.

An exasperated sight left his throat.

“I wish I could say I am surprised by your behavior, son. Alas, I knew you were not meant for greatness, not you nor your brother. I cannot believe my own blood is such a disappointment!” He unsheathed the sword in a lazy gesture, almost as he didn’t have time to deal with this mess. With him. Like that was new. “Prince Seamus, you have been declared to be a traitor for the realm of Arcadia. You will be sentenced tomorrow at dawn. Guard Logan, bring him here.”

“No.”

Wow, if Seamus hadn’t been this scared for his life, he would have laughed out loud at his father’s shocked expression. Someone finally denying him something to his face, priceless.

“What?” And dangerous, so very dangerous. The archer glared.

“You lied to me, you told me the prince was a traitor but he did nothing of the sort! This was all in order to get rid of him, was it not??” He sounded so angry, furious: the carefree soldier that liked to flirt with the staff of the castle just to make them smile was unrecognizable right now. His father wasn’t moving. It felt even more terrifying. “I will not turn against him again, my loyalty resides in him and his brother. Consider me a traitor instead, ‘your highness’, because if you attack Seamus then I am your enemy.” He immediately took one of his arrows, pointing it.

Seamus couldn’t look away. Nothing but pride was filling his heart, hope and joy at seeing that there were more loyal people than he thought. Yet this wasn’t how it was supposed to go, he was the one risking everything, he and Steve for what they wanted. Not him, not their friend.

The king huffed, raising his sword.

“I will not judge such a will to die. Prepare yourself!”

“I always am. Stay behind him, Seamus.” He knew he couldn’t win at all, but he was there to do everything in order to help him out. He had never been more grateful for it. “Seamus, what are you…?” For this exact reason, he couldn’t do anything else.

The blonde smiled at him, a hand on his shoulder, focusing on the image of the castle.

“Thank you… and sorry.” Logan didn’t have time to scream before he disappeared.

Right after that, in the usual blue smoke that always came with his spells, Seamus found himself with his hands in the mud for the third time. This was bad, the teleportation had been more draining than he had thought. He was insanely proud of actually performing it right, hoping only that Logan was going to be rightfully teleported into the castle and not on a tree or something. He had never had this much control over his powers, Douxie’s lessons had definitely helped. Knowing his own value, his goal, and the people he really cared about and cared about him back was a huge motivation as well.

Once again, seeing his father this baffled, out of control, would have been his biggest satisfaction if only he wasn’t there to fight for his life and for his happiness. When the mystical smoke cleared up, an expression of pure horror contorted his grumpy face.

“You dare use magic?! You freak! How dare you bring such shame to our family! I will not associate with one of your kind, not now, not ever! You’re a disgrace!!”

Seamus actually snorted, stretching his arms. He had a bit energy left. It was going to have to do.

“You do know I’m not five anymore, right? I stopped caring about your approval ages ago.”

“You dare try to act tough in my presence?”

“I don’t have to show you anything. You know, I used to think my powers were actually something to be ashamed of, something that was going to get me killed.” He closed his eyes for a moment. The forest was chanting in a low tune, it was nothing like the side where the fae resided. There everything was overflowing with energy and life. “It turned out, keeping my real self hidden, that was what was really killing me, so slowly I didn’t even realize it.” He looked up, his father was still holding the sword in that mighty way that was only meant as a show. What a fool, Seamus knew that he had never struck a foe in his entire life. He was a commander, he was of big built and that helped, but he was no warrior. Just like himself. “So today… today I come to life, at last.”

He must had taken a bit of his brother’s love for dramatic speeches, he was the one who always did that whenever he had to train. It was also a great way to gain some time, while magic operated by tying around his father’s boots. It was petty, it was extremely childish, and Steve would have been so proud of him… hoping he was going to come out of this unscathed.

His father roared at him, trying to charge. With that, he was falling, making this the highlight of Seamus’ life. The might rock that was this man, the highest place he had aspired to be at for the longest time, was falling down into the mud.

The blonde turned away right in that moment, running, forcing his bad leg.

“SEAMUS!!!” His father’s thundering voice echoed through the entire forest.

When he was a child, his mother used to read him stories. It was around the time where Seamus had chosen knowledge while Steve had picked up a sword, drastically changing how their father wanted them to be raised as. Their education had become different, the time spent together as well, almost as they belonged to two different worlds. Their mother had been the reason why they had never drifted apart. Her books were about heroes, knights, princes and princesses, legends and history all mixed together until they disappeared. The most beautiful ones where the one with long descriptions, because his mother had the loveliest voice, calm and peaceful, that had the power to materialize the place into his mind and into his heart.

Perhaps before jumping into this risky decision Seamus would have liked to ask her, if she was the reason why he had never been like other humans, why he could feel magic while others couldn’t. Despite that doubt forever into his mind, all he could think right now was how much he wanted to tell her about this freedom, this feeling of determination. How running wildly like this felt like he was part of those stories, part of his own at last.

As the forest opened up a little more around him, and he pushed his leg to the limit while it was screaming in agony, he noticed the little details. The edges of the leaves, the shades onto the trunks, the blades of grass, they were all turning slightly blue. The feeling around was changing too.

“When the forest will start to turn into the color of the sky, you will know you are close.”

“If you have no ill intent as I know, the Glade will let you in.”

“We will meet there so please, make it out alive. Please.”

Seamus smiled, his eyes pinching. He could make it. He was going to make it.

Then it came, again the devastating galloping behind his back. His body froze, for two seconds, then he was turning around with his hands out. He didn’t have enough magic to fully defend himself now, he had started to learn new tricks quite late according to Douxie. He wanted to learn more, he was going to learn a lot more. He forced his concentration and his hands caught fire. It was flickering, he was gritting his teeth like mad to keep it lightened. As soon as the face of the animal appeared, running like mad towards him, he threw both hits towards its legs. The house neighed painfully, arching its back and then falling onto the ground.

His father had his hand raised before that, a moment before he was to fall from the horse. Seamus screamed again, whimpering with anger as he caught sight of the dagger into his side. It had his crest on it, carved along the handle, almost as a reminder that he was never going to forget that pain, this feeling of inferiority coming from his own family. His frustration wanted to take it out, his rationality blocked him right on time.

He held himself up, as his father was doing the same with eyes bloodshot.

“You will not escape me, you hear me?? You are a freak, a dark spot on my family’s honor, and I will not let you leave for anyone else to know!!” He was holding the sword like he wanted to beat him up with it, he really had never followed a proper formation. He wanted to make others fear him, but his superiority made him feel like he was beyond peasants’ training.

Seamus wasn’t surprised. He was frustrated, mad, because he was so close and he wasn’t going to give him the satisfaction. He couldn’t give up now, no, never.

He took the deepest breath. Nature was still by his side. He smiled.

“Scared than I might actually be a threat?”

“I knew you were a mistake, I knew you were nothing but a nuisance!”

“Oh spare me that, you never needed a reason to despise me, it had always come awfully naturally to you! At least I didn’t go through the same punishments Steve had during his own training, something you never even went through yourself.” He was most likely worsening his situation, but he didn’t care anymore. He had lived a life being as careful as possible trying not to anger him, because he thought that there was never going to be anything worse than not have his approval. It turned out there never was in the first place. “You want to kill me? Try. I will not go down easy.”

His father was breathing heavily, his nostrils were wide and fuming. His entire face was red, his sword was shaking into his sword out of madness alone. He was the embodiment of his worst nightmares from when he was a kid. Now, all his thoughts were on those beautiful blue eyes popping out of the dark, his arrogant laugh from whenever he was right.

Seamus raised his hand. No branch came up. He fought back the tears because he didn’t want this, he wasn’t going to end it like this. He had never wanted something this badly before.

The king started to march towards him. Every step felt like the tick of a clock.

This wasn’t the end.

This couldn’t be the end.

“You are not getting out of his forest alive. You are not strong enough to defeat me.” He was right, but Seamus was never going to admit it. He tightened his fists, hoping, praying that he could do something. The familiar feeling of hopelessness was starting to burn from his stomach. “I will erase you, just like I will erase every single scam that contaminates this realm! And as soon as it will be done, we will finally take over the rest of the kingdom from those dirty fae!!” This man was the real illness, the poison that was making the entire realm sick to its roots. He wished he didn’t care only to hope he was going to implode with his own sick ideals, but that wasn’t reality. He was going to bring everything with him. Seamus couldn’t stop him. “I have been waiting my entire life for it, and if you think you can stop me then- What is this?!?”

Oh. Would you look at that.

The prince wished that, at this critical moment, he was to acquire some superior magical powers in order to defeat this man once and for all. It would have definitely made up for all of his frustration, plus telling this tale would have been nicer. Alas, this was his story but not a legend, it would have not been fair, especially for such an inexperienced wizard like him. Then again, he didn’t have to be the main hero of the situation. He could take being a supporting character.

One that knew extremely well about that instrument that was playing in the air, carved from the fallen horn of a dragon and enchanted by Douxie himself, so that whenever a certain brother of his was in need of help it was going to be heard from everyone, everywhere. That meant that he was okay. That meant that Logan was okay and had warned him just in time.

Seamus immediately grinned, feeling a huge weight falling down, while the king was looking around, even more fuming and even more confused.

“You know, I might not be able to stop you, so why don’t you take someone your own size? Or maybe…” Her timing was impeccable as always. The Queen-in-waiting of the fae arrived diving in between the crowns of the trees and struck her hit right as he was talking, disarming the clueless human. “… way stronger?” Her blonde hair was flowing into the wind, her blue armor was so shining it reflected nature itself. The king backed away, eyes falling onto the sword now on the ground, then onto his new opponent.

Aja landed in front of the prince, her rapier sharp and ready, her eyes completely focused.

“If that is the request, you have found your foe, your highness.” She looked definitely pissed, which was to be expected since Steve had only ever used the horn in dead or alive situations. Her intentions were probably to finish with him and move forward to her beloveds. “Although do not be mistaken, this is not a fight you are able to win. Perhaps you untrained and arrogant human might be able to take on a wizard while hurt and lacking energy to defend himself,” No filter, like everyone in her family. “But I have trained since I have memory in order to protect those I care about. My strength, my motivation, my ability, you are nothing in comparison.” Her determination was shining through. It made every single word count.

The king stumbled onto the ground to retrieve his sword, but from his eyes it was clear that he also knew what was going to happen to him. As soon as he was up, he ran towards his horse, still down lowly lamenting, and grabbed something from his bag.

Another horn. His face contorted into a horrific smile.

“You think you are the only one that can call help?? I will not lose to a lowlife like a fae, not with an army by my side!” He blew in, Seamus held his breath… nothing came out. “What-”

“You found my present, your majesty!” Perhaps he didn’t have as much of a joyful reaction as Aja at hearing that voice, but it definitely made him smile. “Since you’ve been throwing away all my freshly made bread for years because it’s hard or something, I thought that maybe I could throw away all my sourdough in the first place. I hope you’re proud.” Especially since, as soon as the chef assistant Jim appeared from the woods, he was bringing along his brother, while holding an arm around his neck for support. “The useless stick together I guess?”

Steve was red from laughing, shaking his head.

“This was so petty, I taught you well!” He kissed him on the cheek, making him blush very vividly, then he turned to their father. “Can’t call your friends for dinner? Too bad, dad!”

He was okay. He was snappy, cocky, and arrogant. His brother was okay.

It took maybe two seconds for Aja to let out a joyful scream, take flight and immediately launch herself over the two, managing to hug them without tackling them. Steve snickered even louder without moving, his arm wasn’t probably at its best right now. Jim grinned widely, placing his free hand over her back, whispering something that made her giggle even more. Seamus didn’t dare to move, not to tempt his bad leg, not to ruin a moment that was definitely not his. As soon as he crossed his brother’s brown eyes and got the biggest smile, he knew that it was fine. The both of them, they were going to be fine.

The king was roaring like an animal, pushing his fingers inside the horn to free it from the sticky substance. He backed away, staring with disgust at the three of them. Aja was immediately in front of her beloveds, rapier out, daring him with the eyes.

“You are not going to win, human king. Surrender if you may.”

“Never! My guards will arrive anyway, it is only a matter of time!”

“They’ll find a sad old man on his own butt after being beaten up, then.” Steve snickered, turning to Seamus. “What are you waiting for, an invitation? Go get him, come on!”

Ah, that was why it hadn’t felt real before, their goodbye at the castle.

“Steve…”

“I’m not kidding Seam, come on.” Despite his conditions he extracted his sword, pointing it at his own dad while Jim was relentlessly supporting his weight. “I found my own happiness, all the good stuff mom always told us about. Time for you to do the same.” They had talked about this, that they could had gone together, as brothers. But unlike Seamus, Steve had more to hold on to, he had Jim and his life, and Aja was ready to fight alongside him.

He really found a nice place to be in. Seamus nodded, looking at the fae and the assistant chef.

“Look after him. He can be a lot.” A murmured ‘Look who’s talking’ made him laugh. Jim nodded vividly, keeping himself up like an actual warrior.

“He’s worth all of it. Have a good life, my prince.

“Of course, until the very end.” Aja smiled at him. “And you… make him happy.”

That was a promise. Seamus started to run right there, trying to make as much distance as he could from himself and that place. One last peak made him see his father one last time, red and fuming like a baby, the armor dirty and covered in dirt and mud, with his fingers covered in sourdough. This wasn’t an honorable man, this was barely a man to begin with. His entire mind was contorted and was probably never going to come back to his senses. The prince didn’t care anymore, and it was the best he had ever felt in his entire life.

The forest widened some more in front of him, this time he knew he wasn’t far. When a different horn was played in the air his breath hitched, that prank was of course only gonna get them so far. He knew they were going to do it though. Aja wanted to unify their kingdoms, she wanted to do what Seamus’ parents and her own had never been able to. It was going to take a lot of time, but if anyone had the patience and the enthusiasm, it was her.

She was the hero of the story. He was there to accomplish his own victory.

One of his legs gave up on him. Fourth time today, he was beyond annoyed. His side wasn’t collaborating, the dagger was still there. Seamus bit his lip, looking at his hand. It was going to hurt, but he needed to keep going. He really hoped he could do this much.

He focused all he had left inside over the palm, frustration, anger, despair, and soon it started to emit heat. Nowhere near his usual flames, but it was enough. He took a deep breath, held onto the handle of the dagger and pulled it out. He screamed. Then he lifted his shirt and put his boiling hand over the wound. He screamed again, louder, forcing his palm to stay where he was. Tears streamed through his cheeks. The magic left him even more tired, the pain was shocking him awake. It lasted nothing and forever. He looked down. It stopped bleeding. It was most likely going to scar, but he didn’t care. As long as he was alive.

It took even too much time to get up again. He couldn’t be sure that there weren’t any guards on their own chasing after him. He picked up the pace, he was doing better. It still hurt like mad, and he was exhausted, but he wasn’t going to pass out in a place like this, not right now. The land was getting even bluer around him, the leaves, the branches, even the ground he was stepping onto. The air was fresh but not cold, comfortably cool over his skin.

Then he noticed it, because it was like a mirror in the middle of the woods. It traced the celestial vegetation all around, and the image of a human who looked like he had been to war. Seamus swallowed, getting closer, feeling fresh air coming from it somehow.

He raised his hand, expecting a portal.

It was a wall.

His eyes widened. He pressed some more, feeling resistance, like it was a legit mirror, and he was stupidly think there was something on the other side.

“No… no, please!” He put both hands, pushing forward. “I have to get in, please!!” He felt so weak, so weak and pathetic. He could see it all. His smile, his eyes. His sharpness, his way of being, him existing. Everything was so close and it wasn’t fair. “Open! Open for me! I command you!!” His voice seemed to bound against the surface. His reflection started to cry. His cheeks felt wet. “Please… please, I have to be there…” He let his tired body lean against the surface, it wasn’t flat, but it was there. “I have to… I want to…” He had been fought for so long against his own father and now… he didn’t care. For revenge, his own pride hurt, how he could had said to him the worst ever conceived. He didn’t care. He just needed to go. “… I need to see him.”

It felt like a push towards the right direction. In reality, the resistance had disappeared, and he had fallen forward. Somehow his very trembling legs had managed to save him from just another ridiculous fall today, although he felt absolutely no strength inside of them. It was like oscillating onto two sticks. He was up by will, a pinch of pain, and a lot of despair that had almost disappeared the moment he had opened his eyes.

When he did, it was bright. There was a completely different forest in front of him, of a green so bright it looked like a sun. He could smell lots of flowers, the air was almost unnaturally fresh, the ground he was on was so tender it was almost pillowy.

He stepped forward. A purple flower moved, a pink one and an orange one as well. Perhaps it should had occurred him that those didn’t fly, but he was at his limit.

“Ah, human! How did he get in??”

“No Mary, look! It’s the human prince!”

“Oh no, are you okay? Quick, let’s get Douxie!”

Before he could even think to make sense of how those plants talked, even though someone with magic like him wasn’t even supposed to be surprised, the world started to spin. Everything was misty and unfocused, his sight was getting extremely nitid and unnaturally unfocused in sequence. He moved another step, seeing another flower on the ground, a red one. This time even his tired brain noticed that his arrow wound was open and dropping.

The dizziness came altogether.

“Hey, you made it! I thought my lovelies were just playing with me, you were so quick- Oh, you look terrible!” Ah, that direct calming voice he recognized. Even in the fog Douxie’s blue hair were easy to notice. “Hang on, you’re gonna be okay, you hear me? It will be okay!”

Something happened after that, he didn’t remember what. Only that it had probably been his fifth fall, the only one he had allowed himself to do willingly. Douxie must had grabbed him before touching the ground, because he had abandoned himself to unconsciousness without a single pain in his mind. He had lost sensibility to his leg, he was so exhausted he couldn’t feel a thing. All he perceived was a shifting of place, then a sudden humidity around him, of a mineral kind, not unpleasant. More flowery scents arrived, while his body still refused to cooperate. It felt so nice. It felt so nice to finally rest, but he didn’t want to. Not yet. Not yet.

He had hold onto lucidity with all he had left, for a time he was not aware of. Then, at some point, he had felt someone holding his hand, and a drop falling onto his palm.

“You will be fine, my love. I am here now.”

It could had been a dream, a pain induced hallucination. His mind and heart didn’t think so.

 ***

 When consciousness came back Seamus still had his eyes closed. He pondered if it was actually a good idea waking up, because despite his mind still being a little fuzzy, he was sure he was in a pretty bad condition, and it didn’t sound appealing to feel all that. Then it occurred him where he was, what had happened, and nothing was going to make him fall asleep again.

He opened his eyes, seeing the ceiling of a cavern. It shined of little sparkling minerals all over, making the rock look like a glowing blue mosaic. There was the sound of water from a far, a little waterfall perhaps, for the rest it was plain nature. It felt like the quietest place of the world, but all the doubts hurrying into his mind made it chaos in any case. Slowly, hoping into self-healing powers he never had and most likely was never going to have, he got up on a sitting position. Huh, it didn’t hurt… at all, actually.

Looking down, he found himself without his shirt, with his side showing a nasty scar. His pants had cuts everywhere, from the forest and the people, but his leg felt mostly okay.

Overall, he looked pretty good. He took a deep breath, and the smell made him gasp.

“Peonies…” They were nothing like the ones his mother had cultivated in their garden, they were glowing and changing color constantly, from red to yellow then green blue purple and over again. He had been laying down on a bed made of those. “Huh, I knew they symbolized good health, didn’t know on which extent.” This place was truly magical. He could feel his own soul regenerating. He touched a flower while focusing, it raised a little growing a leaf. He smiled.

Then he turned, and his heart skipped a beat. There was another bed station right next to him. An empty cloth lied down, a bag made of leaves, and a few books piled.

Seamus stayed frozen, looking helplessly. Then he grinned, jumping onto his feet and running.

As he had suspected, the cavern was situated close to a little waterfall. There was a pond of the most crystalline water he had ever seen in his life, reflecting the trees that were still sheltering from the sun. There was a game of reflections into the water, shining through colors and different shades. Beautiful, but nothing in comparison of the most gorgeous fae in the world.

Krel was kneeling next to the pond, filling in a little vase with water. His hair was covered in the light shapes that the trees were reflecting all over. His eyes were low and a little gloomy, following the stream of water that was filling the container. His clothes were a little messed up like his, meaning his own trip had probably been quite difficult as well. He was there, he was right there at last, keeping his promise no matter what. He got up right at that moment, sighing a lonely breath before turning back towards the cavern.

When their eyes met, it was like a calling. Their own way of communicating, because they had been both taught to repress everything in order to meet expectations, yet it was too much having each other to contain what they had.

The fae prince carelessly let go of the vase. His eyes teared up as he immediately went flying towards him. Seamus beamed at him, opening his arms right on time to take in the hug.

They made it. They were here together. They actually made it.

“Do not scare like me again, ever again!” How he had missed this voice, how much he had longed for this moment. It felt like all the rush and the pain had been already worth it. “You have promised me your life and I have promised you mine, you won’t get out of our agreement this easily!” He was pressing his wet eyes onto his shoulder, almost clawing his back closer to him. “I… I don’t want you to get hurt because of me.” His voice dropped, getting more silent.

Seamus shook his head, reaching for his shoulders to gently push him away. Gosh, they were so slim, he was so fragile, especially in comparison to his sister. They were both vulnerable, not made for the battle, carrying too much on their backs. Meant for something else.

They looked at each other again. His tears were brushing the glowing marks on his face. The blonde wiped them away with his thumb.

“You didn’t hurt me, fat- well, the king did.” This wasn’t about him. “You saved me, Krel.”

“You saved me. From living a life as a merciless monster, unable to understand that there are no good fae and bad humans.” He embraced him again, hiding his head in the crook of his shoulder. “You gave me reality, something that might not be easy to obtain for the other fae. Me and Aja are lucky enough to have found people that opened our eyes.” It had been a reciprocating situation, they had both realized many things about each other’s worlds. The mention of those people sent a shiver through his back, there was no way Krel hadn’t noticed. “The son of the human duke had sent a messenger, apparently he had befriended a dwarf. It has a particular name, at least three vocals in it, sounds quite painful. Anyway, he said that they are all fine.”

“… for now.” Krel nodded. They parted, still holding hands. Seamus smiled sadly. “Well, we knew this wasn’t going to be easy. All we can do is hold on to it.” He knew they were on the same page, he had never trusted anything more. The fae was glowing. He looked wonderful. “It was a big step this one. We can focus on this for now, right?” This was nowhere near over. Their kingdoms were still divided, their worlds were still apart, there was much to be done.

Even so, looking at how his eyes lightened up at him, smiling like it was the best future he could had asked for, it felt easier to hope for the better.

“It sounds good.” He stepped closer. “I love you, Seamus.”

Seamus grinned, brushing their noses together.

“I love you too, Krel.” His mind, his body, his heart, they all moved forward.

He had learned so much about himself and his world from this person, every important part reconnected to him and him only. There was a longing, a connection, and whenever they kissed it felt like reaching out for that bond to hold onto it, to feel how good it was. He had always smelled like wild flowers, today it mixed with cut grass and effort. Krel laced his hands around his neck and Seamus knew what was to happen, holding onto him immediately. He had never told him, but whenever the fae prince was particularly lost into the moment, he started to float, bringing him along. It was a magical experience that was only theirs.

The blonde liked to think that this was meant to be. That they had built it together, slowly and steadily, with patience and effort, but that their meeting had been played out perfectly by destiny. He wondered if that would have been the same in every other universe, if their lives were to play in another context, with them as completely different people.

Perhaps so. He wanted to think so. No matter the place, as long as it was the two of them, that was where they were supposed to be.

Their world.

#space camp #space camp week #toa space camp #kreamus #toa kreamus #krel x seamus #krel tarron #seamus johnson #toa #tales of arcadia #3below #toa 3below #toa fic #toa fanfiction #fic #fanfiction

[wordstro]

[3:56 PM] + avatar: the last airbender au

it’s only been a few years since the first colonies were established in the earth kingdom. it’s only been a few years since the air nation was completely wiped out and, presumably, so was the avatar. you remember hearing of the change in school curriculum after the fire nation invaded your village - how they taught children of the supposed evils of the air nation, how weak they were, how fire lord sozin defeated a nation that felt they were above and beyond the laws established by the fire nation, how they would have spread their lawlessness and ruined the entire world. colonization came with the red outfits your siblings had to wear to school and an influx of fire nation soldiers passing through your little village, wreaking havoc as they went. it came with a food shortage and a steep rise in prices, with sneering soldiers, too many burn injuries, and your parents warning you to keep your head down, especially when you’d go into town.

the fire nation instilled the belief that the air benders were gone.

they should be gone.

yet, here one was.

he’s cross-legged and floating in the air as he reached for a ripe apple-granate. he has fluffy dark hair - nothing like the bald monks you were told about in your younger years - and delicate features, all pulled together tight in deep concentration. you can see a bit of blue on his forehead, along his hands, the air nation tattoos your parents told you stories of when you were a child.

still, you didn’t mean to or want to catch his attention, because the one thing you’ve learned over the past few years of experiencing war and occupation was that it was really best to just keep your head down and pretend like you didn’t see some of the things that you did.  

except you back right into something fluffy and large and you spin, only to come face-to-face with a large beast. you scream, you can’t help it, and the beast roars back and oh god, oh god, it’s going to eat you and you’re going to -

you’re wet and sticky and oh.

you realize quickly that the large white beast just licked you and, “gross.” you mumble, trying and failing to shake the slobber off you.

“don’t call him that!” an unfamiliar voice snaps.

your head snaps to the side and the boy is standing there, quite literally hovering over you, dressed in yellow and orange robes. you’ve heard stories of the airbenders, before the fire nation spread their own stories, of how they were always kind, child-like almost, but this one has a gaze that is anything but. he looks at you with sharp eyes, fiery almost, and the intensity there could rival a firebender’s. still, there is a delicate sweetness to him, a regality that reminds you of the stories your parents told you. he stares at you, head held high, challenging almost, and you think he is not someone you should ever want to anger. but, his eyes are gentle, despite the fire, and they remind you of the airbenders the stories spoke of, not the ones the fire nation belittles.

“it is gross, though.” you mumble, glancing back at the white beast, who just breathes heavily, tongue lolling all about. its eyes are huge, and it has a dark arrow on its head shaped just like the boy. it must be an air bison, you realize. you thought those were wiped out, too.

the boy lands in front of you, so gracefully, you can’t help but stare. he spins his hands, once, twice, and you yelp as he uses wind to siphon the slobber off you, leaving you looking like a wreck.

“thanks...” you look up at him expectantly.

“yeosang.” he supplies, perhaps a little too easily.

“yeosang.” you repeat a few times, getting used to the sound of his name on your tongue. you tell him your name, despite him not asking. he doesn’t repeat it, just stares.

his eyes are still so intense as he says, “i’m just passing through. that’s all.”

his words are pointed, biting, his eyes flickering over your shoulder. you glance back as well - there’s a column of smoke coming from the fire nation watch towers in your village and you can see a bit of the fire nation emblem peeking through the tops of the trees, always looming, always watching.

“where are you going?” you’re not sure why you’re asking, you’re not supposed to care and you’re certainly not supposed to endanger your entire family by exposing yourself to information that will clearly get you killed, or worse. you bite your lip, add a quiet, “you don’t have to tell me, it’s just…i was just wondering since…”

you trail off, cutting yourself off.

something changes in his eyes - like a sadness, a longing, that makes you pause. his air bison whines softly from behind you. he sighs, glancing up at the sky, before he shrugs, “somewhere safe.”

you don’t tell him that you think such a place does not exist, not anymore. you just nod. you just say, “good luck. really.”

his eyes snap down, settling on you, and he looks...surprised. after a moment, he tosses you the apple-granate in his hands. you fumble, nearly dropping it.

he waves, says, “thanks.”

then he disappears into the trees.

~.~.~.~.~

it’s hard for you to assimilate the way the fire nation orders you to, but you’ve seen what happens to dissenters - your friend and neighbor, choi jongho, was taken away when he tried to crush a pair of fire nation soldiers with a boulder. the memory of him being taken down, of fire engulfing him, dancing in the darkness of his eyes, before he was completely knocked out and dragged away remains vivid, haunting you. no one knows where jongho was taken or whether he was dead or alive. still, it’s hard for you to wake up in the mornings and dress in fire nation red, hard for you to watch as your village succumbs to the rules of another nation, hard to see so many of your people cower beneath hands ablaze with flames. many of the old festivals are forbidden, and the silence that lingers in the streets is a deafening kind.

it's hard for you to forget what it was like before, though your memories begin to fade. hunger and fear turns your village more complacent than ever and you think it’s a clever move, on the fire nation’s part. you're meant to forget, you know, but you still remember things, still remember that encounter with the airbender yeosang, still remember the dances and the festivals and the stories. with the fire nation growing more heavy-handed, more oppressive, with the rumors that the avatar has abandoned the world for one has still not appeared, despite how long ago the air nation had been wiped out, with the way you’ve seen some of your friends dragged away from their families for even whispering of rebellion, you decide you cannot stay in your village any longer.

“it will be one less mouth to feed.” you reason with your mother. you do not tell her the longing you have to be free, because that’s dangerous. “i can find work and send you money. it'll be okay.”

and, you think, your mother knows more about your true intentions than she lets on. she had looked at you strangely the night you returned with your hair sticking up in every direction and the faint smell of animal saliva radiating off of you. she had mentioned that the soldiers were looking for a fugitive in the woods, scolded you for wandering off without telling her where you were going. even now, as you try to soothe her with carefully crafted words, she just stares at you. she doesn’t refuse, though. she just hugs you tight and tells you to be careful.

~.~.~.~.~

you find work on a ship – it’s a fire nation ship because you can never really escape them, not really, but they pay well enough for you to send home a decent amount of money every month and you find that you coming from a fire nation colony makes it easier for you to get such a job in the first place. they called it a privilege on your first day and no one batted an eye at the statement.

“come on, put your fucking backs into it!” the captain of the ship shouts, his whip snapping loudly against the metal floorboards, almost as loud as the thunder and lightning crackling up above.

the sea churns angrily and you push down the urge to vomit as you yank at the sails. you've been on this ship for half a year, yet you’ve never seen a storm this bad. it was unexpected; the skies were clear as day just a click back.

rain drenches you and you lose your grip on the ropes when the boat lurches forward. you land on your back hard, so hard you see black spots in your vision, just before you get a face-full of seawater.

then the captain appears in your spotted vision, snapping his whip. the pain on your leg is unbearable and you have half a mind to kick him off the boat yourself (you’ve had these thoughts since the moment you joined this crew and the captain seemed to make it his personal mission to make the lives of every single colony member’s life a living hell) when lightning cracks behind his head and you swear you see the outline of a gigantic beast in the clouds, your eyes widening in horror.

“have you broken your brain, idiot? get up.” the captain shouts, spitting everywhere, hand splayed, fire growing in his palms.  

you hear screaming on the boat. the captain turns at the sound. instinct tells you to grab something and hold on tight. so you do, stumbling to your feet, lunging at the metal mast and ropes. there's a roar – you’ve heard the rumors of a sea monster roaming the seas, destroying ships as they pass, but you believed them just to be rumors – and you watch, with the slightest bit of satisfaction, as the captain gets swept overboard by an unnaturally large tidal wave. it drenches you in saltwater and your eyes burn when you try to keep them open, even as you hug the metal mast like a koala-cat.

something big lands onboard, roars so loudly, you let out a small whimper. you blink, eyes wide, as the mist clears, as the storm seems to settle, too, and your eyes widen because –

it’s an airbison.

you know it, despite the black cloak it has wrapped around it, it’s eyes and tongue is familiar.

mist still lingers around the ship and you are acutely aware that you are the only one still on board. from the mist, a dark shadow looms, until metal clangs against metal and you realize, oh, they’re hijacking the ship.

someone emerges from the mist, followed by a couple more people, and maybe the captain had been right about you breaking your brain, because you hadn’t even thought to hide until now.

you slowly back away from the metal mast, only to bump into something – or someone.

“it looks like we missed a spot.” someone calls, making you flinch, and you try to run, you really do, but the person is faster, easily yanking your hands behind your back and securing you. all you can do is let them shove you to your knees and sputter nonsensically, cursing under your breath.

the mist dissipates quickly from the deck, clearing, and you look up, first at the person who caught you – a boy with sharp, angled features and a dimpled grin dressed in various shades of blue. then you look ahead, at the people cautiously stepping towards you.

one of them has dark hair, wears familiar green – you almost forgot that your village used to dress like that, before the invasion – and another is also dressed in blue. there is someone, also, dressed in all black, as if he is in mourning. your eyes flicker to the airbison and back to him, a small voice at the back of your head whispering nonsensical conclusions. you know it couldn’t be him, because the fire lord emphasized that he had killed them all, even the nomads that managed to get away. days after he left you with that apple-granate, rumors spread quickly of soldiers finding an airbender hiding in the woods, of how they killed him on the spot and left his body for the animals to feed on.

“please don’t kill me.” you blurt out, the minute they come to a halt in front of you. “i'm too young to die.”

there's a long pause. you open one eye, peeking up at them. the one in green lets out a small snort. he looks a little familiar, “we don’t kill people like you.”

“you don’t?” you blink, in disbelief. you nod at the air bison, “i mean, you have the perfect opportunity to feed me to that?”

“he’s a vegetarian.” the boy who captured you says, from above you.

you only eye them with more disbelief, “you sure about that?”

“do you want us to feed you to Tiny? it really seems like you want us to.” the other boy in blue crosses his arms over his chest. his voice is deep and he’s tall, his nose distinct.

“wait.” you make a face, “you named your giant air bison with teeth bigger than my head Tiny?”

you focus on their faces, one by one, settling on the boy in the green for a moment longer, because he looks incredibly familiar. it takes you a moment too long, only because there’s a scar marring his face, a burning streaking from his nose down his jaw. your eyes widen –

“jongho?”

the memory of flames, of them dragging jongho away so long ago remains vivid in your mind, even now as you look at him. it takes him a moment to recognize you – it was so long ago, and you’ve both changed a lot. but, he recognizes you, his voice unfamiliar around your name.

“what – what are you doing on a fire nation ship?” he sounds…offended.

you shrink a bit at the edge to his tone, at the way his friends seem to look down at you, literally and figuratively. “i needed to find work. this was the best i could find.” you pause, throw back, “what are you doing…out?”

you never expected him to get away from fire nation captivity.

“i broke out.” he says, quite simply, before he gestures around him, “they helped me and a friend get out.”

you notice, however, the boy dressed in all black watching you from the back of the group. his gaze seems particularly pointed and it makes the hairs at the back of your neck stand on end. you stare back at him, have half a mind to snap what because the staring is making you uncomfortable.

he speaks, though, after the lull of silence stretches on longer. he says, “how did you know this was an air bison?”

“what?” that catches you off guard.

“he’s covered up.” his voice is quiet, musical almost, but so heavily weighted. “it could be giant mutated polar dog bear for all you know.”

“i…it flies?” you blink. he doesn’t say anything – doesn’t believe you. “i mean, i remember the stories from before.” the silence keeps going. you fumble with your words, somehow compelled to keep talking, even though no one is prompting you. you say, “i…fine. i saw one – up close – a few years ago.”

jongho blinks, “you did?”

you nod, “yeah, i met…an airbender.” you glance at the boy, note how he freezes in place.

“who?” his voice is sharp as a knife. you think you can detect the hint of desperation. he hurries forward, each footstep light, barely audible, though he moves fast, nearly floating, until he, too, is hovering over you. he lands in front of you with a gust of wind, his hood slipping from his face. he’s sharp and pretty, but it’s not delicate, it’s angular, full of fire in ways you expected of a firebender. A blue arrow peeks out from beneath his long fluffy hair, but he isn’t yeosang. “who was it?!”

you flinch at the loudness, the way it booms all around them. the boy who captured you reaches out, puts a hand on his shoulder, pushing him back just a bit as he says, warningly, “hongjoong.”

you stare at the boy, hongjoong, and you’re disappointed, you realize. you think you may be looking at him with the same type of disappointment that he is looking at you with. for a moment, you both share a look of understanding. he definitely knew yeosang longer than you, but the boy has lingered in your thoughts for years, became something of a symbol of freedom, of the old days, to you. to hongjoong, he must represent his entire culture. he’s no longer alone. for a moment, you both seem to understand each other a bit too much for mere strangers, so you look away first, your gaze settling on his feet.

“his name was yeosang.” you say, quietly. “he said…he said he was going somewhere safe.”

hongjoong slumps in his spot and it’s as if the other boy’s hand is the only thing holding him up. “oh.” he whispers. “oh. he…he…he survived, too.”

the vulnerability in that one sentence makes your chest hurt. you tell it affects his friends, too, their brows curling with concern. you don’t know how you’re supposed to tell him of the rumors after you met yeosang. you don’t know how you’re supposed to remind him that you saw yeosang years ago. there's no guarantee he’s still alive.

but, as you look into hongjoong’s eyes, you think he knows that already.

hongjoong straightens up, his black cloak flapping all around him. he says, “let’s grab the supplies we need and get off this thing.”

you stare as the boys start to move, following his orders, leaving you on your knees, still tied up. only jongho hesitates, but he still leaves you alone. hongjoong stares down at you, for a long, long moment.

“can you bend?”

“what?”

he sighs, “everyone in the crew can bend. can you?”

you shake your head.

“then, what’s stopping me from tossing you overboard like the rest of your fire nation crew?” hongjoong bites out, then, still staring.

“your pacifism?” you squeak.

his expression twists into annoyance. “get up.”

“to your ship?” you ask, a little too hopefully, as you stumble to your feet.

“unfortunately.” he mumbles. “don’t make me regret the decision.”

you nod, quickly, “i won’t, i promise.”

he just watches your enthusiastic nodding carefully before he sighs, turning his back on you.

#ateez #ateez scenarios #ateez angst #ateez fluff #hongjoong #yeosang

[bobbyboops]

Broken Pieces

Hello to this beautiful community! I hope you are all having a great Wednesday! I have written my first ever fanfic. It is an angsty piece about Bobby x MC. Give it a read if you are so inclined! I am also including a link to the playlist I made to go along with it. I hope you all enjoy! https://music.apple.com/us/playlist/broken-pieces/pl.u-r2yBDkqsAV9rDA

Bobby walked into his Hotel room, fresh tears still streaming down his delicate freckles. He had just been voted off of Love Island, and subsequently lost the only girl who had meant something to him in a long time. He closed the door behind him, and was met by complete silence. Something that he hadn’t really experienced in the last 29 days, and something that scared him more than anything because there was absolutely nothing to distract him from the waves of grief that he had been able to hold mostly at bay over the last 2 weeks, but that were crashing down unrelentingly now. He took off his shoes and sat down on the king sized bed cradling his head in his hands.  He closed his eyes and once again replayed the last 4 weeks in his mind. Trying to piece together for the millionth time just what had gone so terribly wrong. How he had let his soulmate slip so easily from his hands.

POV: Bobby

I knew early on she was so much more than just a crush. She was my dream girl. Of course she was beautiful to look at, but I was all too familiar with the fact that beauty was only skin deep, and often (though not always) the most beautiful girls on the outside are the ugliest on the inside. The most beautiful thing about MC was her personality, she had banter for days, she treated everyone in the house with love and respect, and when tensions were high she was there putting out all of the little fires around the villa. Best of all she never made me feel like I was a nuisance, she was always up for a chat, or one of my stupid pranks. She never made me feel like I was inferior to the rest of the guys (which I could see I clearly was.) How was it possible that a girl as perfect as her could see parts of me that I had kept so perfectly hidden? She made it so easy to bring down my walls, but at the same time made me want to build them up higher because there was just no way it could be real. I was preparing myself mentally for her to walk away at any time.

I could tell she was feeling a little bit skittish after what Rocco had done to Lottie, she had told me on our date in the vineyard that she was worried it was going to happen to her. She confessed to me that she had been burned in the past, and I could tell there was more to the story, but I didn’t want to push her to tell me before she was ready. Getting called out as the biggest player of the season hadn’t been the best way to instill faith in my character, and I had only made everything worse by playing up to it. I thought everyone would find it as absurd as I had, and therefore joking about it would solve the problem, but I could see MC was clearly feeling anxious about it all. I was almost certain I had blown it, and honestly I wouldn't have blamed her, as someone who had been blindsided and hurt so many times in the past I probably would have understood better than anyone. But for some reason she had still chosen to continue getting to know me, much to my relief.

That relief was short lived though as I could see Lucas wasn’t ready to give up on the chase. I could see him staring at MC all the time, his eyes following her like a predator tracking its prey everywhere she went. MC had never shown much interest in him… at least not in front of me.  But at the next re-coupling he stood up and called her name. She wandered over to me first, offering me some reassurance, but I was slowly starting to unravel.

Waking up the next morning to her angelic face letting me know that the girls were going away had only made everything worse. I hadn’t had the chance to have a talk with her and get an idea about where her head was at. Obviously she still fancied me at least a little if she was willing to wake me up and say a private goodbye… right? But what if her head was at least starting to be turned? As she made her way out to the jeeps waiting below it dawned on me that they were most likely headed to Casa Amor. A chill ran down my spine, and I ran down the stairs trying to catch them before they left. I wanted to make sure she would know that I was going to be waiting patiently by the door until their return. That I would be waiting for her, but as I opened my mouth, Lottie slammed the door and the jeeps pulled away, and my cracks were beginning to show.

I couldn’t control my anxiety after she came back from Casa Amor. Though she had shown up single, and she had been so reassuring that first night back even suggesting we couple back up, I was immediately on self destruct mode. I had asked Lottie to share a bed that first night, and I still can’t work out what possessed me to utter that invitation. Seeing the immediate hurt spread across MC’s perfect face kept me up the entire night. Even though Lottie had ultimately turned me down, I knew I had just sewn another seed of doubt in MC’s already cautious mind. I could feel her slipping away, and my anxiety was the driving wedge pulling us farther apart. I just couldn’t pull myself out of it. I had avoided her for most of the next day, I didn’t know what to say, and I was worried I would say something to further damage our relationship.

Later that evening instead of being able to couple up with her, we were forced to save other islanders. She chose to save Lucas, which had only made me spiral further, and wonder if there was more than meets the eye. Maybe Lucas hadn’t been lying when he said that MC had shown interest in him. I had lunged at him at the time, only to be grabbed by Noah and Lucas by Rahim. My head had been such a mess between the guilt I felt over operation NOPE, knowing that had been the catalyst to the disaster recoupling. Also knowing that Lucas was going full force for my girl. I’m not an idiot, I know how dangerous he is in this game. He is the epitome of everything most girls are looking for. Well mannered, successful, good looking with that slight bad boy vibe that seems to bring girls to their knees. I knew I paled in comparison. I am a goofball, poor, and average looking at best. MC had never seemed interested, but maybe she had just been trying to spare my feelings.  Maybe I was really just her “pity case and safe choice” as Lucas had so generously pointed out.

The next morning I woke up and asked for a volunteer to help with breakfast, hoping against hope that MC would volunteer, but Lottie’s hand shot up so fast that MC didn’t even get the chance. I tried to not show the disappointment that was exploding out of my chest. MC looked slightly annoyed, but Lottie was always so hot tempered, and didn’t take well to not getting her way. I just didn’t want to get into it this early in the morning, so I wasn’t going to tell her no.

Lottie announced MC entering the kitchen, and I turned around just in time to see MC saunter into the kitchen wearing a leopard print bikini. My heart was hammering out of my chest, and I could barely think straight. “I’m bound to be hit with a sugar rush soon, because that look is so sweet.” Damn that was a lame compliment, but MC took it gratefully. I offered her some pancakes, and Lottie covered them with maple syrup in the shape of a pentagram. MC quickly stuffed a giant bite into her mouth and hummed her approval.

“Bobby, this is delicious. What has inspired all this then?” She said with that dazzling smile of hers.

“I think we all deserve it, and I’m feeling really optimistic.” I replied.

She went on to compliment me by saying the thought what Lottie and I did for Noah and Hope the night before was sweet.  I rattled something off about them being the real deal, which I didn’t believe fully. Noah had been insufferable the whole time the girls were at Casa Amor, and Lottie had already saved him. I honestly couldn’t fathom having to spend the rest of the summer with a dark cloud of a pouting Noah around. If my pal enjoyed life on a leash who was I to say otherwise? I had already tried and failed to save him once.

“It will be totally worth it if Noah and Hope get to re-couple, and everyone else is perfectly matched up.”

I wanted to retract the words as soon as they had escaped my lips. Why did I say something so stupid? I saw the confusion and hurt spread across MC and Lottie’s faces.

“Really? What makes you say that?” MC asked with a shaky voice.

“It’s obvious Gary picked Chelsea because he fancies the pants off her.”

Dammit this word vomit that comes when I am  feeling anxious and insecure is just digging my grave. I was silently hoping MC would say something, anything just to show me that maybe I still had a fighting chance, but I knew I had just planted the final seed of doubt in MC’s mind. She would never let her guard down at this point. I just had to open my big mouth.

I thought about just swallowing what little pride I had left and try to fix what I had just broken. Let MC know that she was the only girl I had fancied at all this whole time. Tell her that I was falling in love with her but I was terrified I was never going to be enough to keep her. But just as soon as I went to open my mouth Lottie all but tackled me to the ground trying to get to the sink. She was clearly pissed off by my comments about Gary, and when I looked up MC was gone.

I knew then that I had just screwed myself over, I had lost my chance. But if she could be happy with Lucas I couldn’t stand in her way… right? My anxiety was crashing down hard, and my heart couldn’t bear a rejection at this point, not from her. I had successfully friend zoned myself again, resigned myself to live in my own personal Hell and watch the girl that I had fallen head over heels in love with slip from my grasp and into the arms of a man who was never going to love and appreciate her the way I did. And I knew I had no one to blame but myself.

The last week had been utter torture, watching Lucas and MC get closer. Looking through the window of the villa I could see  his hands massage her shoulders in the kitchen as she made dinner, I couldn’t peel my eyes away as he kissed her gorgeous full lips. I was drinking shot after shot, just trying to ease my pain.

I couldn’t help myself during my toast, I had already downed too many drinks and my judgment went out the window. I let it slip that Lucas was a lucky man, and MC deserved better. MC had given me a quizzical look, but I was too much of a coward to just admit that being apart was killing me.

Next a new batch of hyenas entered the villa and caused so much unnecessary drama. I knew MC was stuck in the middle of it, because none of the other girls cared enough about anyone other than themselves and it killed me. When I offered to help the girls all yelled at me to get out. I was barely holding it together, and all this fighting was just making everything so much worse. I was desperately trying to hold off the panic attack that I could feel creeping it’s way in. Eventually I found myself by the pool, looking blankly off into the distance and trying to focus on my breathing as the girls screeched at each other in the background.

Finally by some miracle silence fell across the villa, and my ragged breathing began to even out. At least until I heard her soft voice ask if she could join me. She kicked her shoes off, and dipped her feet into the pool. A few strands of her hair tickled against my cheek as a gust of wind made its way through the villa bringing her familiar scent to my nostrils. She was so close to me, and I was struggling to think straight.

I was so grateful for her company, and she had such a calming presence as she reassured me that nothing was my fault, encouraged me to just have some fun. She reached her delicate hand into the pool and splashed me, shaking my head like a puppy I reached down to splash her back. My heart swelled to think she still at least cared about me enough to come try and fix my problems. I told her that she meant a lot to me, which almost made her look sad, but only for a moment. A warm smile quickly etched across her face, and the closeness and familiarity of having her near was putting all sorts of bad thoughts into my mind. Dangerous thoughts. I quickly excused myself, and left her sitting by the pool. She seemed off, but I figured it was probably just all of the fighting getting to her, and as much as I wanted to be the one to fix it for her I just didn’t trust myself to be around her for an extended period of time. I had already ruined our relationship, I didn’t want to jeopardize our friendship as well. I couldn’t lose her, not completely.

Lucas chose her at the next re-coupling, Hannah and Henrik re-entered the Villa. Days were starting to blur together. Everyday moving incredibly slow and painful. Finally the final nail in my coffin, watching MC call out Lucas’ name in the final re-coupling. I felt numb inside, I had always been Good at hiding my emotions, tamping them down until I just felt empty inside. That and humor had been my defense mechanisms pretty much my whole life, but no matter how hard I tried my feelings refused to be numbed. It felt like I was bleeding out, but incredibly slowly like death by 1000 cuts.

Hannah chose me, and I tried my best to seem enthusiastic, but this new version of Hannah was even worse than the original. She was clearly here with a game plan, and that was to stir up more drama, get her petty revenge on Lottie, and then play savior when she “was a good friend” and picked her consolation prize in me. I was hoping and praying we would be the next couple out. I wanted so bad to just go home and lick my wounds in peace, but unfortunately Marisol and Graham were first followed by Jo and Ibrahim. How long was I going to have to endure this?

Finally this morning we had found out we were going to be having a Prom. Hannah had volunteered MC to help me write my speech for her, and to my complete surprise MC accepted. This was the closest contact we had had in days and my whole body felt like it was on fire. I was struggling to keep myself in check, she looked so gorgeous, and I just wanted to grab her and kiss her with everything I had. Everything felt awkward, I didn’t know how to behave, and clearly she didn’t either. When I finally made eye contact, her eyes looked so tired, and hollow. All of her playfulness was gone, I couldn’t for the life of me figure out what was wrong. Didn’t she get exactly what she wanted?

I was so busy trying to figure out what was wrong with MC that my speech was utter rubbish. Every suggestion I made was wrong, and I just couldn’t bring myself to care. All I cared about was MC and trying to figure out what had taken away that signature sparkle out of her eyes. She and Lucas seemed to be getting along well, Lucas sure liked to lay it on thick, and MC seemed grateful for the attention. Maybe there was more girl drama? I couldn’t put my finger on what could have made that beautiful smile leave her face. I longed to see her eyes crinkle as she smiled, hear that beautiful laugh escape her perfect lips, and more than anything I wanted to be the guy that made her do it, but I knew I had to let her go. Let her be happy. Even if it wasn’t with me.

Later that evening she came out wearing a beautiful white gown with glittery cutouts all over her torso, and beautifully deep cut to see her perfect chest on display. I could barely breathe. I met her eyes for a moment and smiled before we both looked away. Hannah had given me a death glare so many times because she always caught me staring but I honestly didn’t care.I spent the entire evening downing drink after drink, anything that I thought could numb the pain of watching Lucas’ hands hold so tight to the love of my life. But nothing helped.

Finally we gathered around the fire pit, I was praying they would vote us out. Please God let them send us home. I can’t fathom another night of sharing a bed with Hannah, watching Lucas curl around MC, and pretending that I wasn’t dying inside. The votes came back and by some miracle we were on the chopping block. After 20 minutes of painful deliberation the text came in and it was announced that Hannah and I had been voted out. Relief flooded through me like a tsunami. Finally I was being set free. MC made a b-line directly for me. Throwing her arms around me “I’m going to miss you so much!” “Me too” was all I could mutter. Hannah had asked MC to help her pack. I was desperately hoping she would come help me, so I could say my final goodbye in private, keep some form of dignity, but MC followed Hannah into the dressing room.

We finally made our way outside, and Hannah chided me about only having 10 pairs of boxers to pack after I joked about her taking so long packing. I couldn’t imagine she had that much to pack either… She hadn’t been here that long… Just saying.  I couldn’t focus on her speech at all, and honestly I didn’t really care to hear what she had to say. I was desperate for MC to know the truth, and I just knew I had to rip the bandaid off. I knew it was selfish, that I should just let her go, let her be happy. But all rational thought went out the window, and I prepared to let the word vomit ensue.

Tears had already began stinging my eyes as I started my speech. MC was avoiding my gaze, but I had to get this off my chest if I was ever going to recover from this.

“I didn’t find love here, or at least couldn’t hold on to it.” Her eyes shot up to mine in complete shock, and I maintained that eye contact.

“If it could have been anyone, it would have been you.” I leaned in close, resting my hand on her shoulder. “Do me a favor… Win.” Her eyes searched mine for answers I didn’t have the strength to give her, but before she could open her mouth to respond I grabbed the handle of my suitcase and I walked away. I was too much of a coward to let her reject me to my face.

The entire car ride over to the Hotel had been painful, Hannah was furiously raging at me for outing my feelings. She dumped me right on the spot, which was honestly a relief. I didn’t have it in me to let her down gently.

Which brings us back to where we began. I had to stop thinking about this. I was driving myself crazy trying to figure out why I could never be enough. I had clearly been sitting here for a while. I looked at the clock beside the bed. 3:30 AM I got up stretching. I walked over to the window, looking down at the mostly empty streets below me. Wondering what MC was doing, was she awake like me? Did she even care anymore?

I decided to take a hot shower, trying but failing to clear my head of this whole mess. A mess I had created because I was too afraid to be honest with the girl I loved. I had let my insecurities and anxiety drive away the one thing I wanted to hold on to more than anything. I put on my favorite pair of doughnut boxers and flopped down on the bed flipping through the channels until I found the food network. Cupcake wars was on, it had always been one of my favorite shows but I just laid there. Heartbroken, and alone. I must have fell into an uneasy sleep sometime after 5, but I was awoken by a faint knock on my door around 6:30 AM.

POV: MC

The last 2 weeks had been torture. I came back from Casa Amor and hoped against hope that my perfect baker boy was still single. When he walked out of the Villa I let out a breath that I didn’t know I had been holding. My heart burst out of my chest, and we both just sat there beaming at each other. I honestly didn’t care at all when Lucas walked out with that bitch Blake. I couldn’t have cared less, they honestly probably better suited each other.

Lucas was attractive, and definitely the kind of guy that every girl dreams of taking home to her parents. A successful doctor, smart, polished. But I just didn’t have much of a spark with the guy, and he honestly kind of rubbed me the wrong way sometimes. He was selfish and calculating. Even if there was a physical attraction there, I knew it would never work out with him long term. He would grow tired of my peacemaking, and careful heart. My sense of humor would annoy him no doubt, and he was just so… posh. I didn’t feel like I could be 100% myself with the guy.

I had dated boys like that before, but I didn’t like the way they made me feel about myself, like somehow what I brought to the table was just never enough. Boys had always gravitated towards me because of my looks, but usually never stuck around for long. I had been cheated on so many times, and the ones that didn’t cheat always made me feel like they were doing me a favor by sticking around, or tried to change me. I had such a hard time letting down my walls, but with Bobby it was so easy. He would smile at me and suddenly it was like I had never been hurt before. I just wanted a partner that would laugh through life with me, and appreciate me for what I am. Someone who cares deeply about the well being of those around me, who doesn’t take life too seriously, has a silly sense of humor, and just wants everyone to get along. Just once I want to love someone, and have them love me back wholeheartedly and I thought I had finally found that in him.

When I finally got Bobby alone that night I was so excited and thought we were on the same page! He seemed so genuinely happy when I suggested we couple back up, but then that night he asked Lottie to share a bed. I was taken aback, and honestly a little hurt. I thought we were both feeling what I was feeling. Fear and doubt started to trickle into my mind… He had been called out for being the biggest player of the season. Was he just using me? Did he just want to string me along, while still exploring his other options? I couldn’t make sense of anything. He had avoided me pretty much the whole next day, barely speaking to me.

Then that night we were forced to couple up with someone to save them. Lottie immediately took Noah leaving me with the choice of Jakub, who honestly I would rather die than couple up with that laundry sack full of meat. Elijah, who was so insufferable. He talked about himself nonstop and refused to accept the fact that he was a hairstylist, not America’s next top model. If I thought Chelsea actually fancied him I would have saved him on her behalf, but I knew her bringing him back was purely because of the comments Gary had made on the video package we received. Finally Lucas, he certainly seemed like the least terrible option, but I wasn’t really thrilled to be honest. I explained to Lucas that we were partnering up purely on a friendship basis, which he seemed bummed about, but I wasn’t ready to shut the door on Bobby.

The next morning Bobby said he was going to make pancakes and was looking for someone to accompany him. I was ready to volunteer when Lottie’s hand shot out of the duvet, I know she didn’t mean to get in the way, but I was annoyed to say the least. He was already borrowing lip balm from her… am I missing something there? Maybe they are each others back up plan? Lottie had been so stuck on Gary, but maybe she wanted some form of security. She had always seemed more into Gary than he was in to her, and now Gary was partnered up with Chelsea. I tried to shake off the fear, but I just needed some form of reassurance. Bobby could be really hard to read sometimes, between him constantly pushing me to go on dates with the other guys, to barely batting his eyelashes at guys blatantly hitting on me in front of him. I thought we had moved passed all of that, and that we were in a really good place, at least until Lucas came out of nowhere and picked me in the disaster re-coupling…  But there was always that nagging feeling in the back of my mind that maybe he just saw me as a summer romance at best, and at worst a place holder until someone he actually fancied walked in.

As I entered the kitchen he spun around to greet me, and immediately complimented me, as he always did. He was so good about that. It felt like we were maybe getting back to normal. But then I complimented him and Lottie on saving Hope and Noah, and he responded by saying he thought everyone was perfectly matched up. When I asked why he felt that way he just said something about Gary fancying the pants off Chelsea.  My heart sank, I knew it, I knew he had been trying to politely tell me that he was not interested in continuing whatever relationship we were building. How could I be so blind? The signs had been there all along. He was just too nice to tell me to my face that he just didn’t feel the same way. Lottie was furious and on the war path, but I couldn’t be the one to fix it not this time. My heart was breaking, the boy I was in love with didn’t feel the same way, I had come up short yet again. I gathered what little pride I had left, and exited the kitchen as fast as I could.

I had learned long ago to never let them see you cry, so I sulked away to go cry in the bathroom. The hard thing about being such a tenderhearted person is that you care about everyone around you and you will do everything in your power to fix something for somebody else, but often times people just don't reciprocate the sentiment, and you are often left to lick your wounds alone.

I decided to try and make a go of things with Lucas, he seemed eager to make things work, and I was eager to forget about Bobby. I didn’t want to hurt anymore, but the harder I tried to make things work with Lucas, the more Bobby was on my mind. I wanted to hate him, I wanted to feel anything other than longing. I threw myself into the mercy of all the drama in the house, these new girls were closer to feral cats than women. I had zero interest in being friends with them, but the constant fighting was really getting to me. I was suffering enough, I just couldn’t bear the dumpster fire that the villa had become with all the fighting.

Eventually I found myself by the pool with a downcast Bobby. He was sitting there looking like an abandoned puppy. Like me he gets stressed out by all of the contention. He was blaming himself for everything which just made no sense. The girls had practically hissed at him when he was just trying to help. I tried to pull him out of his head by splashing him with water. A surprised smile crossed his face, and his smile could light up the whole villa. He splashed me back, and told me he was grateful that I came to check on him, that our chat meant a lot to him, and that I meant a lot to him too. I knew better than to get my hopes up, that he just meant as a friend. I tried to keep my composure, giving him a small smile, but whatever bandaid I had managed put over my heart had been ripped off all over again, and all that remained was the fresh raw wound. He looked me in the eyes one last time, and I desperately wanted to throw myself in his arms. Kiss every square inch of his beautiful face, but he got up and excused himself quickly. Once again I found myself crying alone under the cloak of night but this time Chelsea found me. She didn’t ask any questions. I think she already knew the answer anyway. She just held me, and let me cry.

Henrik and Hannah re-entered the villa. Henrik had been such a nice boy, granted I had never shown any interest in him before because I was set on Bobby. But he did bring a certain puppy like energy to the Villa, and it was nice to feel sincerely pursued by someone, but I could never cheat on Lucas. I have always been a loyal person, and my heart honestly just wasn’t in it anymore.

At the final re-coupling I stood up at the fire pit, and announced Lucas as my choice. Hannah announced that Bobby was hers. I tried not to wince as she announced that she was just “being a good friend.” Like somehow Bobby was just some consolation prize. He deserved more than that How dare she make him feel like he wasn’t a worthy companion. Lucas pulled me in for a cuddle and told me he was so happy I picked him. I smiled but didn’t even bother to respond. We only had to get through the next few days, and then time and distance would eventually pull us apart, and I would be able to properly grieve without the constant fear of being caught, and without having to see the ghost of once was strolling through the villa on a daily basis. I was going through the motions at best, but luckily I learned to hide my emotions pretty well. Lucas honestly didn’t seem to care, I think he saw me as a ticket to 50,000k more so than a real prospect.

The baby challenge was such a mess. I have always loved children, and always pictured being a mother. Lucas however turned out to be the biggest diva about it. He whined and complained the entire day, which it’s fine if you don’t see yourself with children. I wasn’t asking him to knock me up, but it was a challenge. I saw Bobby playing with Dale across the pool having so much fun as he tossed him in the air. I stifled a laugh as Bobby attempted a trick shot with the poor doll and ended up on the ground with Dale crashing down after him. My mind betrayed me thinking about how much fun we could have together during this challenge. Thinking about having children of our own. Remembering the time when we ended up on the floor after a make out session and he told me it was something to “embarrass the grand kids with.” It took everything inside of me to push those thoughts out of my mind. He wasn’t mine to fantasize about, not anymore.

Then this morning we were woken up with a text announcing that tonight would be prom. The girls were all excited about the thought of picking out new gowns, and dancing around with their partners. I tried my best to be excited too, but my mind was always halfway out the door these days. When we got the text announcing that we would be writing speeches about our partners, I honestly didn’t even know what to say. I liked Lucas as a person. I could see myself being friends with him after this maybe, but it felt so hollow to say that now.

I wrote my speech as quickly as possible just wanting to escape when Bobby entered the room looking for help. Hannah quickly volunteered me to help him, and I couldn’t help myself. I hadn’t been close to him in days, and I longed for his calm and comfort so I agreed. As we entered the roof terrace I could tell he was so uncomfortable, neither of us knew what to say. He rambled off his ideas for his speech and nothing made sense. It was like he had never met Hannah before. He had seemed excited when she picked him, but looking at him now he just seemed like a caged animal. The happy go lucky boy I had known was no where in sight, his signature smirk was gone, his bright eyes seemed dull, and it seemed like he couldn’t wait to get away from me, but at the same time longed to stay. I didn’t understand why he was so determined to keep me at arms length.

When I came down in my dress I saw Bobby’s eyes on me, but he quickly looked away, and so did I. He looked strait out of a Miami Vice episode, his outfit was so fitting for him. I chuckled to myself thinking about all of the banter we could have been bouncing off of each other, and I couldn’t help but notice how handsome he looked. Lucas had gotten a bit snippy though when he caught me staring. Then when we were by the fire pit it was announced that Bobby and Hannah, and Lottie and Gary were up to be eliminated, Lucas knew exactly who he wanted gone. Bobby and Hannah. He rattled off his reasons, and as much as I hated it, I knew the next day would be easier for me if Bobby wasn’t here. When the text came through Bobby looked so relieved. I once again couldn’t control myself and I ran into his arms. Hannah asked me to come help her pack, I was genuinely surprised by that because I had never really considered the girl as a friend, and even though I wanted to go with Bobby I felt like I couldn’t say no and trudged into the dressing room behind Hannah.

Once we got out front Hannah spat her annoyance at Bobby because he made a joke about her taking too long. I was instantly annoyed. She didn’t have that much to pack either… she had only been here for like 4 days. She was just busy playing the victim with her whoa is me act. Hannah would never appreciate him for who he was, and he deserved to have someone who saw the real him, and love every inch of him.

When it came time for his farewell speech I couldn’t even look at him. Tears were already starting to stream out of my eyes, and I was fighting a losing battle trying to keep it to a trickle and not a full blown flood. But then he said “I didn’t find love here, or at least I couldn’t hold on to it.” and my eyes shot up to find his eyes fixed on mine. “If it could have been anyone, it would have been you.” He leaned in close and whispered. “Do me a favor… win.” I thought I must have imagined it, that I had finally gone completely crazy. I stood there with my mouth agape like a fish but there was no mistaking it, he had looked me right in the eyes and laid it all out. My mind was reeling, but I didn’t even have time to respond at all before he grabbed his suitcase and made his way to the SUV waiting.

Nothing made sense, what did he mean?! He had all but told me he didn’t want me… right? He always seemed so chill and easy going about everything. Nothing ever seemed to phase him. Had it been possible that he was feeling every bit as insecure as I had? That we were both too hurt and scared from our pasts to give each other the reassurance that we both needed? Everyone made their way back into the house like Bobby hadn’t just dropped a whole ass bomb on his way out. Chelsea and Gary both gave me sympathetic looks as Lucas led me back into the villa.

I got ready for bed, but I just couldn’t make sense of anything. Lucas had tried to start something with me, but I told him I was exhausted, which was true, but I knew I wouldn’t be falling asleep anytime soon. I laid there awake for hours the ceiling turning into a projector in my mind as I watched our entire relationship play out like it was an old re-run of a tv show. Analyzing every little detail.

Around 3:30 AM I got up and quietly made my way to the producers room to wake them. I knew what I had to do. I explained to them that I wished to leave, that I had to go after Bobby. They tried for an hour to talk me out of it, “its the last day MC!” “He will be here tonight. Confront him then.” But I just couldn’t wait that long. I demanded they let me go and finally they begrudgingly relented. Next I had to break the news to Lucas. I silently wandered over to his side of the bed and woke him up asking if we could talk out on the couches. I knew he would not take it well, and I was right. He was furious, his face turned beet red, and he hurled all of his anger at me.

“Are you serious MC? How could you do this to me, to us? You are going to abandon everything that we have built together to chase after that.. that. Loser!?” He was waving his arms like a madman. “I mean it makes no sense! I can offer you the world MC, and you know that! What does he have to offer? Cupcakes and jokes?” The insults left his mouth like snake venom.

“How dare you!” I snarled back at him. Feeling brave for possibly the first time in my life. “Bobby is kind, funny, loving, loyal, and he cares about the people around him! There is so much of Bobby that no one in this house has seen, because they never put in the effort to see it.“ I was in his face at this point.  “I don’t think you are honestly even mad about losing me, if you are mad about anything its about losing to him… why? Because you are so much better than him right? Or are you just upset about the fact that you definitely won’t be winning the 50,000 now?”

Lucas looked taken aback by my sudden outburst, I think he had expected me to recoil. But I was honestly so tired of listening to everyone in this damn villa talk about Bobby like he was some joke.

Retreating Lucas coldly responded with “How could you be so selfish?”

I knew I was being selfish, but for the first time in my life I was absolutely OK with it. I knew in my heart I was making the right decision for me.  “I’m so sorry Lucas, truly. I never wanted to hurt you. I just know if I don’t follow him now I will regret it for the rest of my life.”

“So you have made up your mind then? You are just going to walk away?” He looked at me exasperated. “Well I can’t wait to see this blow up in your face MC.” There was an animalistic spark in his eyes. He had me right where he wanted me, and he was ready to go in for the kill. “Because he doesn’t really want you, you know that right? He’s just looking for the next best opportunity for himself. Leaving as the heartbroken goofball makes for great television doesn’t it?” He practically spat at me. A self satisfied smirk spreading across his face. “If he wanted you he would have said so any time in the last 2 weeks, not as he was leaving like some coward. You are just making a fool of yourself.”

My word that man knew how to pack an emotional punch. I felt all of the air leave my lungs. I knew he was hurting, lashing out with words he didn’t really mean, or maybe he did. But I knew I didn’t deserve what had just been thrown at me. Tears were streaming down my face, there was no stopping the flood gates once they had opened. I did the only thing I knew how to do. Run.

I ran up the stairs into the dressing room dumping all of my possessions in to my suitcase as quickly as I could. With all of the fuss Lucas was causing everyone else was awoken as well I could hear them all questioning Lucas about what was going on. Chelsea, and Gary were the only people who weren’t shocked, they quickly made their way upstairs helping me pack, which was unsurprising since they were the only people I considered true friends at this point. Everyone else was either siding with Lucas, or just staring at me like I had 5 heads sprouting out of my body. I could feel the joy oozing out of Hope as she realized that her only real competition had just self eliminated. But I didn’t care, I had made up my mind, and there was no turning back now. I gave Chelsea and Gary meaningful hugs and made my way to the SUV waiting to take me to the hotel.

The ride there was excruciating. What if I was too late? What if he didn’t really mean it? What if Lucas was right? Could he have just been using his exit for his own gain? What if I just made a total fool of myself on television for the whole world to see? So many disaster scenarios playing through my head. I felt like I was drowning, but I was fighting like hell to push those thoughts out of my head. There was just no way that the Bobby I knew would ever purposely hurt me and use me like that. I timidly entered the hotel and approached the front desk. I got his room number and made my way there. It was 6AM. It’s too early, he was most likely still asleep I told myself. I knew that was probably a lie, Bobby was always an early riser, but I just didn’t have the balls to knock. I paced in the hallway outside of his room for a half an hour, trying to get the courage, and practicing what I wanted to say. Finally I rapped my knuckles halfheartedly against his door. I heard movement on the other side and fought against the thoughts in my mind telling me to just run away. He opened the door and had clearly been asleep. His caramel eyes staring at me blearily, but instantly snapped to full attention.

POV Bobby

I woke up to the sound of light knocking. I wanted to ignore it, I just wasn’t in the mood or head space to be messed with by production, I was so mentally and physically exhausted, but I knew they wouldn’t go away. The knocking would just continue. I opened my eyes enough to get a good look at the clock. 6:30 I rolled my eyes throwing the covers off of my body and trudged my way over to open the door. Would these hounds ever just let me rest? Had they not seen that I have suffered enough?

Nothing could have possibly prepared me for the sight before me when I opened the door. I stood there in disbelief, surely this was a dream and MC was not standing outside of my hotel room right now. She looked like she hadn’t slept at all, I could see dried up tear trails cascading down her flawless skin.  She was in her cherrygate pajamas with a grey sweatshirt loosely hanging over her shoulders. I couldn’t find words, I just stood there eyes wide and mouth agape. “MC?!”

“Hi.” she practically whispered.  Failing to maintain eye contact.

“Hi.” I returned confused. “MC what are you doing here?” I was fighting the urge to grab her and just hold her close, she looked like a puppy that had been kicked.

“I left the show.... I left Lucas.” she replied blankly.

“You what?” I stammered out in shock.

“You left me no choice… Bobby…  did you mean what you said last night?”

I look at her in disbelief. “MC you left the show? I don’t understand. You know walked away from the chance to win 50,000k? You walked away from Lucas?” My brain couldn’t process the scene in front of me, between the lack of sleep and the fact that I was still trying to wake up.

“Don’t change the subject! She snapped. “Did you mean what you said last night? Do you want to be with me?”

She was almost yelling which was surprising. She looked desperate, manic almost, and like she was ready to burst back into tears at any moment. She awkwardly shifted her weight from foot to foot  and took a few deep breaths before gaining the courage to continue. 

“Because I want to be with you, Bobby… More than anything.” Her voice was back to a whisper.

All of the air was instantly knocked out of my lungs. My mind was racing a million miles and hour, how is it possible that this angel is standing in front of me asking if I meant what I said? Asking if I want to be with her? Surely I am just imagining this, but even so I can’t contain myself any longer. A genuine smile forms on my lips for the first time in what feels like years, it feels almost foreign at this point. But I finally blurt out

“I meant every word... and I have been an absolute wreck without you... I have never needed someone in my life as much as I need you, and it scares the hell out of me because I know I’m not good enough.”

Tears begin to fall down her soft cheeks, and I notice that they are streaming down mine as well. She throws herself into my arms

“You are more than good enough Bobby, how can you not see that you are perfect?” She pulls back to look me in the eyes. “You are everything that I have been looking for my whole life, and you appreciate me for me… imperfect as I am.”

My heart is beating out of my chest, please let this be real. Please don’t let this be some cruel dream. I pull her back and cup her face to look into her beautiful eyes stroking her cheeks with my thumbs. The signature crinkle and sparkle of her eyes has returned.  “I love you MC. More than I ever knew was possible.”

“I love you too!” she sobs into my neck. “So much. “Please never leave me again. I honestly don't think I would survive it.”

“I don’t think I would survive leaving you again either.” I smile at her “I just don’t understand how you could possibly love an idiot like me.”

She smirks at me and answers by crashing her lips onto mine. I hoist her legs up and around my waist and carry her into my room. Shutting the door behind me, and for the first time in my life everything makes sense, and everything is perfect. Maybe two broken pieces have finally found their perfect match, the match that will make them whole, the one who won’t look at them like a broken piece at all.

#litg #litgbobby #love island the game #loveislandthegamebobby

[breanime]

Jealous Logan Delos Headcannons

Requested by @drinix: .... and the other about jealousy? You’re free to pick either one of them if it’s too much. Have a nice day😊

It’s fitting that, after a slew of Billy requests, that my last headcannon goes to the one and only Logan Delos. I hope you guys like it! 

Warning: STEAMY! definitely steamy! Read with caution!

*gif not mine*

Logan never thought he’d fall in love

Never pictured himself being in a committed relationship

Or saying those three words, so foreign and unreal to him

(”I love you”)

He was certain he’d be a bachelor all his life

Having random hookups until the sad, sad day he couldn’t get it up anymore

But fate, it seemed, had other plans

Logan didn’t just love you

He adored you

He was entranced by you

When he looked at you, he knew you were the person he was meant to be with 

He’d never been so sure of anything in his life

But he was sure about you

So when he told you he loved you for the first time, breathless and heart pounding and eyes wide

He wasn’t too surprised when you said it back

But still, his heart always skipped a beat whenever you said those three words to him

He would do anything to be with you

You made him want to be a better man

You made him feel whole and complete and safe

And he hoped he made you feel the same

Most days, he knew he did

But some days...

Some days he felt that familiar dread come over him

That familiar feeling of inadequacy his father had instilled in him

And he started to question your happiness with him

Started to doubt whether he could really be enough for you

Because you’re so wonderful and beautiful and incredible

And Logan is just...

A perpetual fuck-up

Usually he could get himself out of his mood

But sometimes he just had to fake it till he felt better

Had to try to act natural until the dark feeling passed

...which would have been easy

If you weren’t so damn beautiful

Everywhere Logan took you, people stared at you

His eyes would narrow as he held the door open for you, sensing people eyeing you

The waitress was especially friendly

And he didn’t like it

Or the hotshot lawyer at the party would be too close to you, bragging about a big case he won

And Logan would get quietly pissed

He tried--he really tried--to reel himself in and just ignore it

But Logan was a reactionary kind of guy

So when the lawyer leaned in close to you, Logan saw it

(even though he was all the way across the room)

And he felt his blood go cold

Logan would march over there and push his chest against the other guy’s chest, pushing him back

And he’d give him a big, slightly murderous smile and interject himself into the conversation

Sometimes he’d be a real bitch about it

“You got something you’d like to share with the class?”

“This is what you do, right? You like to get up close and personal with people? You wanna get up close and personal with me?”

You, ever calm and patient, would simply grab Logan’s arm and lead him away

You’d distract him with your cuteness and sweetness, and Logan would almost forget about the people who tried to steal your attention from him

...almost

You could tell he was still in a mood when you got home

He was quiet--which was not the norm for Logan

And his million watt smile didn’t quite reach his eyes like it usually did

You watched him as you undressed

Taking in the firm set of his shoulders and the stiff way he walked

The small frown on his face as he stripped off his pants and put on sweat pants instead

You knew what that face meant

And so, wordlessly, you’d walk over to Logan, grab his hand, and lead him to the bed

You’d sit him at the edge of the bed and stand in front of him in-between his legs with your hands on his shoulders

He’d look up at you, dark eyes stormy, and give a weak smile

“Hi baby”

You would lean down and press a kiss on his forehead, inhaling his scent

Cedarwood and sand

“Hi,” you’d say back, voice low

“Logan,” you’d go on, “Do you know what I love about you?”

“What?”

You would kiss his forehead again

“This brain,” you’d say, smiling when you heard him chuckle, “and all the brilliant ideas that come with it. Your wit, your sense of humor, the way you know me better than anyone...”

You kissed his nose next

“And this face,” you’d go on, “This perfect, beautiful face that I am lucky enough to wake up to every day...”

A kiss to his mouth now, feeling his growing smile on your lips

“And these lips... These lips that say such sweet things to me,” you spoke against his lips now, unable to move away, “I love your lips, baby.”

“I love your lips, too,” he’d mumble back, eyes closed

You kissed his neck next, putting your knee on his to keep yourself steady

“I love your body,” you went on, “I love how you look and how it feels when you touch me...” You reached down and took his hand in yours, bringing it to your lips and kissing each digit tenderly, “God, I love how you touch me.”

Logan’s eyes were darker than usual now, and you could see the confidence building in them once more

You kept your eyes on his, smiling, as you knelt down between his legs

He was starting to get breathless, staring down at you and knowing what you were about to do next

You put your hand over the growing bulge in his pants

“I love how you fuck me,” you’d say next, voice low and sultry

Logan licked his lips

“I love how it feels to have you inside of me, how you know exactly how to make me cum...

...I love the taste of you.”

Logan watched, eyes unblinking, as you unzipped his pants

“No one can make me feel the way you make me feel,” you said, meaning every word

“I love you,” Logan would say back, voice serious and awed, “I love you so fucking much”

“I love you too, baby,” you would smile as your hand wrapped around him

Logan would watch you the whole time, sighing and groaning as you stroked him

He only closed his eyes when you put your lips on him, and he gasped at the feel of your warm, wet mouth

Logan was a big man, and you took as much of him in as you could, slurping around him as he moaned

You really did love the taste of him

At some point, Logan would put a hand on the top of your head

He wouldn’t push or press down, but he liked to have a hand on you as you sucked him off

Your name would come off of his lips in a reverent whisper

His toes would curl as you dipped your head down, licking and sucking him with gusto

Finally, he’d grab a fistful of your hair

Gently, but firmly, he’d pull you off his dick, grinning down at his gorgeous girl

“That’s so good, baby...

...but let me show you how much I love you now.”

Later--much, much later--you and Logan would lay in bed together, skin on skin, cuddled up and grinning at each other

He’d lean down and kiss you, soft and slow

And when he opened his eyes and saw the smile on your face

He knew there was no reason for him to be insecure

You were his, and he was yours

And he remembered that the next time he felt like he wasn’t good enough for you

He remembered you listing all the things you loved about him

He remembered the soft, serene smile on your face as you looked at him

He remembered the feel of your lips on his, of your words going straight into his mouth as you spoke with your mouth on his

And he remembered the blowjob and subsequent orgasm-inducing sex that came afterwards

And suddenly, he didn’t feel so insecure

He knew he was enough for you, and that was enough for him

That being said

He still got jealous from time to time

Still didn’t appreciate the lusty glances or flirty remarks that were thrown at you all the time

But he didn’t let it get to him

Instead, he would just interrupt whoever was talking to you

Put his arm around you or hand on your hips (or ass)

And smile sweetly until the other person took the hint and fucked off

And then, satisfied that everyone knew you were with him

Logan would lead you away

To a bathroom

Or broom closet

Or supply closet

Or coat closet

Any kind of closet, really

And fuck you until the only words coming out of your mouth were

I

Love

You

Logan

And after, when you, exhausted, would lean into his touch as he dressed you again, kissing your hair and grinning from ear to ear as he held you

Logan would say back, with no hesitation, question, or fear

Those three words that he only ever meant when he was speaking to you

“I love you”

And he was damn grateful that you loved him back

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

So I’m pretty sick, but I’m hoping I’ll get some writing done this week and post something for you guys--a oneshot or new chapter of a series or something. So keep your fingers crossed, and thank you all for requesting these headcannons, indulging me with this, and being so patient as I attempt to get my damn mojo back. Thank you!

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#logan delos x reader #logan delos imagine #logan delos #logan delos headcannons #logan westworld

[bluem0use]

It's about time I introduced you to the cast of The Crackin'-Up Studios. Don't worry. You'll be seeing them again, especially in the mini-comics!

**In order from top to bottom, left to right**

Billie Bob Willie-Nillie Black Sheep: The overall face of The Crackin'-Up Studios itself. She is the ring leader to the whole circus. The pilot to all the flight attendance. The manager to a corporate office. You get the whole idea. She's one poppin' fire-cracker (A.K.A. has a short temper) that's all for the business, but doesn't mind getting silly from time to time. On screen, she is the definition of unpredictable and crazy, fun and silly. She's a gun happy country gal that started off small and came out big with her talents for making people laugh. She worked hard to get her way to the top. And all of it has obviously paid off. If someone was to use words to describe her, it would be fun, loving, friendly, brave, courageous, generous, the list could go on and on. This gun-loving  little lady, no matter where she goes, always somehow seems to change people's lives. And for the better.

Poochie Pooh Poodle: Billie's partner-in-crime. Her bestest friend since her younger years. Her ride or die buddy. Poochie is the main co-star to the series, and a serious eye-candy to men. While Billie is featured as the funny, wacky, unpredictable, quirky character on-screen of the trio, Poochie is often featured as the sex-appeal. The sex symbol. The hot mama. She also models as a little side job whenever necessary. She's the sweetest sweetie-pie you will ever meet in your life. However, proceed with caution. When provoked, she's one sassy gal and won't hesitate to give you a mouthful (and probably a gun wound) if you mess with her, or her friends.

Wolfie Blackfang Wolf: What's the three musketeers without a male in the picture? Wolfie may not have known these two women as long as they've known each other, but their his closest family he's ever had since he left the orphanage. He is also the main co-star to the series, accompanied by being the musical genius of the three. Since a young boy, Wolfie has practiced music as not only his hobby, but his life. His alluring ability was able to trap the young black sheep and poodle in a trance on a fateful night in a club where he worked to try and make a living, thus landing him a job and a ticket to materialization through the ladies. From there, he has always acted as the stud of the three, protecting them whenever they needed an extra hand and also charming women with his attractive voice along the way.

Candy Bat: This "monster", this "usually nocturnal creature of the night", this "mysterious shadow" is nothing but a sweet treat in the eyes of many who travel far and wide to Nightwalk Bay to get a taste of his sweet treats at the local candy shop. At least, that's what Billie, Poochie, and Wolfie will tell ya. Famous for his line of business, Candy Bat is a harmless, humble candy man..err..bat that seeks nothing but to fill the mouths of the fortunate with a sweet after-taste. His delicious pastries, frozen desserts, and fizzy drinks aren't the only thing that appeals to the eyes of many. He's also a support character at The Crackin'-Up Studios during the day and a friendly (but hissy, due to his uncontrollable excited hisses whenever he meets someone new and/or is excited) candy shop-keeper at night.

Scratches: Whoa, watch out for that web! There's a BIG spider up there! And his name is none other than Scratches, yet another support cast character for The Crackin'-Up Studios. When in the presence of my six-armed friend, be cautious. Scratches loves the ladies and will go through extreme lengths to entangle you in his web, if he deems you a worthy enough mate. Don't worry fellas, he doesn't swing that way. Though..spider's gotta eat, right? What? Spiders only eat insects? Not this playful, flirtatious one. Note that this spider is dead, and has been ressurrected after a deal made by Ozzan (scroll down to reference Ozzan's bio). Therefore, Scratches likes human flesh too. Dont worry too much though. He's too busy chasing both Poochie and Billie around the studios, trying to declare his love for them. Though...something about a huge demon spider just..turns those two ladies off.

Honey Hyena: As the name implies, this hyena is sweet as honey! Raised on a bee farm, this little lady never expected to end up being a supporting cast character to The Crackin'-Up Studios. That was, until a little Black Sheep mozied on over and decided to offer her the position and the materialization process just like everyone else. She figured the nice lady would need the money boost besides "Milkin' bees all day long" - Billie. Honey loves bees. In fact, on her days off from woking at the studios, that's all she does! Is work, work, work at her long-descended family bee farm, making honey and selling it for some dough (money) as a side job. She is also the motherly figure to all the cartoon ladies on set and often tries to share her knowledge with them in hopes she can help guide them on the right path. I mean, not everyone is perfect, right?

Bon Isabell Bunny: Daughter of a long deceased magician (who was, ironically a white bunny), she has seeked to find more support by becoming a supporting cast character to the TV series. However, though, she wasn't looking to be a supporting character when offered the job by Billie Bob. Bon has a bit of a...strong hatred for Billie Bob. Bon saw how much love and respect the black sheep got, even from her "enemies". So, what does this tempered (its just as bad as Billie's, trust me), quick-to-anger, grumpy gal do? Well, it's like they say, "Kill the sheep, take her wool!". That is...if she could catch her first. Forever caught in this game of cat-and-mouse on screen and off screen, Bon decided to settle into this position for now. Hopefully one day, her magic tricks and traps can pay off and actually earn her a spot in the lead position.

Bon Iseah Bunny: Twin brother to the other Bon Bunny, this bunny seems the complete opposite of his sister. This magic bunny doesn't mind being a supporting cast character, and instead enjoys making others smile with her magic tricks and qurkiness. After all, its what his deceased magician father would have wanted. He admires Billie and everything that she does not only for everyone else, but herself. He just hopes with time, his sister can see that. For now, this calm bunny will just have to play as yin to his sister's yang (A.K.A., trying his best to calm her in her most stressed and ferocious moments).

Molly Cow: Before her rise to fame as another member of The Crackin'-Up Studios crew, Molly Cow, the half-pig half-cow offspring, could not keep a job to save her life! She was lazy, less focused, often slacking or ducking off, and/or giving up before she even set foot in the door! The funny thing is, she wouldn't care, and just go back to living with her parents. Seeing as though Molly's confident and care-free attitude was a necessity to bring on some laughs, all Billie had to do was offer a hand to the voluptuous, intriguing young woman and for some odd reason, this cartoon has managed to keep the job ever since. Side note, if you ask her what her "other" job would be whenever she brings it up, it would be shopping. She is ALL about the fashion!

Malachi (formerly known as "Michael Jamesking"): Yes, Malachi is actually an angel. AND, he is also a featuring asset to the team whenever needed. With the help of one of Veronica's potions (scroll down to reference Veronica's bio), he has the ability to shrink down to size on command. He also is a good line of defense if life-threatening danger ever be-falls the company, for even if he is a judgement angel, he is considered very powerful against a mortal (unless demon weapons are used against him). He is pure, friendly, and kind, however, you must not associate yourself with the presence of evil upon first meetings. He IS a jugement angel after all and will be quick to judge you and shame you for your choice of sin and avoid you like the plague while also be-littleing you. Ironically, the only exception to this treatment is Ozzan (his best friend in all universes) and Bendy (in the head-canon canon universe). Also note, Malachi was never always Malachi. Malachi was once Michael, a regular, normal, working business man who unfortunately got hit by a car on his morning rush to work.

Ozzan: Oh boy. This one's a bad one. If you thought Scratches (scroll up to reference Scratche's bio) was bad, wait until you get a load of this one! This foul-mouthed, ill-mannered, obnoxious, flirtatious pervert is somehow a necessity to The Crackin'-Up Studios. His crude sense of humor and anctics tend to get a good laugh out of adults more than oblivious children. He will flirt with anything, sleep with anything, hell even risk catching some sort of SEXUAL DISEASE for anything that has legs. This man lives, breathes, and embraces everything that is bad at every cost, every time. Its possibly why he was so close to Lucifer (the Devil) back when he was in Hell. Though, take caution. If you piss him off (which isn't really hard to do), he WILL tear you to bits and peices with his bare fists. Also, beware of tentacles and trendils ladies. He has them everywhere and can use them not only in battle, but also for...other things. So beware and..make sure your doors are locked.

Veronica Bat: Born "Daddy's Little Monster", Veronica is the daughter of Candy Bat and Valentine Naxxremis (formerly Bat)(She will be referenced in the next ref). For most of her life, she has lived with her mother and embraced her witch-hood, which usually ends up with the little gloom and doom bookworm getting bullied for being a "half-breed". However, her luck gets turned around when she meets Billie Bob (like a lot of these people's do) who helps instill in her to be happy to be herself and to screw what everyone else says..and to also get back at them at all costs. She looks up to Billie and Poochie as her "Aunties", though, has trouble getting along with her father. She was raised to believe she had left her and her mother and never really loved them. Which, is obviously not true, but, she has a hard time believing that. Once welcomed to the cast, Veronica is a huge hit with the goth little teen girls who aspire to be like her: beautiful and mysterious. Let's just hope she gets he powers under control first, for she struggles with that a great deal on screen for comical effect and off screen.

Patricia Greene Pig: (A/N: She probably has had the MOST change out of all of them, so beware) Patricia is Delloris's (scroll down for Delloris's bio) bestest friend since childhood. Snobby, rude, sassy, class. All of these combined makes her perfect for scenes where she's the girl that thinks she's too good for the male trying to win her heart. Likes are, their only trying to "woo" it for her money. Oh, did I mention she's very wealthy? Her and Delloris aren't friends for nothing. You have to have some sort of status when it comes to getting in goods with the mayor's one and only daughter. Also note that Patricia is an EXTREME germo-phobe and will pelt you down with germ-x if you've so much as TOUCHED an un-sanitized door knob.

Hank Kat: Hank Kat has been an aspired musician since he was a little boy. He has really known the struggles of what it's like to be broke from both of his poor parents. So, as a way to raise some money, he went out on the streets and played his father's old rusty trumphet for some pocket change. Crowds were so awed at his talent, before long, Hank was hitting the clubs to try and win over some cash to take care of his parents once he became of age. Similar to Wolfie, Poochie had just so happened to stumble upon him. Though they didn't exactly see eye-to-eye due to species war, they were able to put their differences aside the night they had spent together, dancing the night away. As they danced, Poochie would listen to this party-goer's story and become sympathetic for the poor fellow. Thus, she figured his wallet could be fed a little more and thus offered for him to be a support character on the team. With his toe-tappin', feed stompin', hand wavin; jams that he can play on trombone, trumphet, pretty much just about any instrument he could blow into, he would become not only a major asset to the supporting cast, but also the music, both at his day job at the studios and his night job in the clubs.

Puncho: This "unstoppable brick wall" can take a punch and also pack it. After all, they don't call him "Puncho" for nothing! Though he's not much of fan favorite unless it comes to his famous boxing episodes, Puncho is a well-served supporting cast in the crew. He's often seen alongside his partner, Scraps Skunk (scroll down for Scrap's bio), no matter what the situation. He has a temper just like Billie, girl Bon, and Ozzan, however, instead of unleashing it by yelling at coworkers and throwing large objects (Billie), chasing someone down the hall with a chainsaw (Girl Bon), or spewing a bunch of curse words that's enough to make a sailor blush (Ozzan), he lets out his steam in the ring. He is the undefeated champion (if you don't count his and Billie's first brawl in one of her posters) within the boxing ring and anyone who dare wants to challenge him in taking his belt, well. Better be prepared for the pain. Bring a lot of ice.

Scraps Skunk: A timid, shy soul who is pure and good at working the ring as a referee. He plays fair though, he always will support his bestest friend, Puncho no matter what. His often scared, frightened, shaky attitude is welcomed on screen whenever needed. He was often bullied through his childhood and unlike those who have toughed up from it, he only seemed to soften. Hell, even Billie has chewed him out for his overly push-over nature. Though, she gives up. For nothing can change this poor man's soft heart and kind ways.

Wallis Moose: What else to say about this guy besides him obviously being a horrible detective? After his first appearance as one in one of Billie's episodes, Wallis fell in love with the idea of being one and even off screen, tries to solve "mysteries" wherever he is needed. However, he always slips up short and makes himself to be a fool. How did he even earn a spot on the team? Well, to put it simple, Wallis is a stone cold, hard drunk. He drinks and drinks and drinks, and when he's hiccuping and stumbling all over the place, Billie couldn't help but find it amusing the first time they met. After all, the first night they met, they both danced drunkinly through the streets of Nightwalk Bay, where they somehow met. As kooky as it sounds, it actually happened. Believe me.

Chico Georgina Chick: This once poor broken flapper was able to leave her broken past of having to prostitute herself on the streets and go some nights starving behind. Coincidentally, Chico was given another opportunity at a better life by Hank Kat (scroll up for Hank's bio), who happened to run into her at one of the clubs and show her a much better life than what she was living by offering her a position at the studios and materialization through the machine. Now a re-born, classy lady, this former flapper...heh...well, let's be honest. Girl loves to party and dance like there's none tomorrow, is ready to bring all the club's joy and bump to the table on screen. Hank is often seen by her side, playing away on his trumphet while she dances on top of a table. Nothing too promiscuous or provocitive. Want to keep the adult's attention but not as much. She's known as the party girl out of the group and also knows a thing or two about fashion. Also, keep her as FAR away from Molly (scroll up for Molly's bio) as possible..they fight a lot.

Delloris Acorn: Delloris is the beloved daughter of the mayor of Toon City, within the alternate world where cartoons "live". Her mother died giving childbirth and though she never knew her mother. She was always expected to act lady-like and proper, is why she carries herself that way. Though, the day Billie met Delloris and her father and was allowed to spend the day with her, Billie turned her upside down and all around. To the point Delloris came home, dress cut into a tank-top, short short overalls, knee-high socks, messy hair, and busted shoes. Billie's excuse was they were pig wrestling (no pun intended Patricia). Her father was awfully upset and almost demanded Billie to be arrested, however, Billie's sly deal to offer Delloris a spot at the studios was the only thing that saved her from some jail time. Now, while away from her rich and perfect life as the mayor's "little princess", she's allowed to get down and dirty. Especially on screen where down and dirty are necessary for some laughs.

Mad Mouse (also known as "Maddison K Mouse"): Why is this mouse so quiet and mysterious? Why does he never speak or even take off his goggles? Wait, is this mouse even a "he" at all? Well, yes and no. To put a long story short, back in these days and times of the early 1900s, women weren't taken seriously. Even toon women. Born a genius, the only way to get people to notice her freakishly large brain talent is to disguise herself as a man and as to go as "Mad Mouse" instead of "Maddison Mouse". However, her little secret couldn't be kept that long, for an incident in her labs caused her to lose part of her disguise and have to come clean to Billie, Poochie, and Wolfie. It was through them who helped her realize that, no matter who you are, your voice deserved to be heard no matter what. From that point on, this support cast member decided to cease wearing the disguse and be her actual self. Though, I wouldn't mess with this quiet little genius. She's a little...mad (crazy), as the legends and cartoons portray her as.

[erstwhile25]

Songbird’s Tale.

It sits, under lock and key, on a boat full of thieves, liars, and charlatans.  It is a simple thing and while this is a boat that has seen king’s silks, diamonds the size of peacock eggs, chests overflowing with gold doubloons, it is still one of the most valuable objects aboard.  It boasts this virtue for several reasons.  The first, and most important is that it is among the most beloved objects aboard.  Sea weathered hands have lovingly stroked it’s soft leather cover, salt tears have been shed over it’s vellum pages, and more than once it has been clutched reverently to a chest in the dead of night.  The second reason, and possibly as important as the first (depending on who you asked) is that it is among the most feared objects aboard.  Eyes have hastened to read it’s flowing script in the waning light of a burning candle, it has been secreted away time and time again from those with horrid intent, and it has been the pinnacle of many a night terror aboard this boat.  The third, and final reason is that it is one of two objects aboard this craft that can truly, without exception, claim to be utterly unique on this...or any world.  

Oh the story on it’s pages has been told before, you’ve probably heard a version of it yourself in some fashion or another.  However the names have been changed, the reasons for what happened are muddied, or sometimes parts of the tale have simply been left out.  This is to be expected, it’s what happens to tales that are told over and over again.  It’s why we have books after all.  This is the only surviving written account of this tale however.  It’s sister account burned in a terrible fire, and whenever a pen laid down to scribe the tale again, some force drew the author off on a terribly urgent errand.  When they would return to the page they found, much to their chagrin, that the tale they were about to write now slipped their minds completely.  

This tale however stays firmly anchored to it’s pages, much to it’s chagrin, in the svelte flowing script that no hand aboard this boat can reproduce.  It sits under lock and key, in the care of the one man who has no need to open its cover.  For he is intimately familiar with the story already.  He is in fact unable to forget it, no matter what drink he consumes, or pleasures he takes in the night.  So there it sits, waiting to be read again.  Consider your luck reader, for you are given the chance that few will be granted.  You are to be given a chance to read behind the cover with the Songbird and Raven embossed upon it.  Consider your luck, for men and women have died for less.  

Once between the slope of the mountain and the swell of the sea, there was a fishing village.  As fishing villages went it was nothing spectacular, with it’s rice fields bordering the swamps, and the bounty the ocean provided, it’s people had little to want for in the way of food.  If it differed at all from its neighbors it was that in this village, there was no proper inn.  Where the men of most villages would start the end of their day with a bit of rice wine in the tavern, here instead every villager would start the end of their day by going to the shrine.  The shrine was a simple affair of stone, just where the slope of the mountain met the swell of the sea, and it was not for the marvelous view of the waves or the setting sun that the villagers flocked so punctually.  No, the men and women of the village came for Songbird and her stories.  Songbird, was a slight girl of an age none could get her to admit.  The eldest in the village could remember the days when her mother before her told the stories, but they could never remember the day when the mother had passed, and the duty fell to the child.  Regardless the villagers young and old learned not to press such questions upon the little storyteller, for those were the days she tended to take her stories back with her into the woods.  For the patient and kind however, the young speaker would set her small lantern on the head stone of the shrine, and she would ply her trade.  

She told stories of young boys who learned great words of power.  She spoke of young girls who were trapped in haunted bathhouses of eld.  She recited how samurai were bought to fight bandits for a few bags of rice.  She told the stories that villagers needed to hear, and for every tale the villagers went to bed with lighter hearts, and woke the next morning ready to work come whatever may.  For Songbird’s troubles, she was gifted a bag of rice every night, two on festival days.  She never asked for this gift, nor did she turn it away, and never did the thought occur to the villagers to withhold what she had earned.  It was a simple exchange, so too was it powerful.

Never did the village go hungry, nor did it ever miss a tithe to it’s Lord.  Hurricanes could pound it’s coast, driving away fish for months, earthquakes could muddy the waters of it’s rice fields, but always the village would have enough to eat, and always the wagons it sent back to the capital would be full.  While it’s neighbors would come and go from plaque, bandits, or wildlife, the little fishing village would weather the tests of time, over and over again.

Back in the capital, the ruler of the land took notice of this one village and it’s prosperity.  Being a man of learning, he wished to know what industriousness kept it’s people so productive, with the intent of instilling such a virtue upon all of his lands.  So he called his guards and retinue to him, and marched a procession to the gates of the little village, offering up gifts and praise to its peoples. 

“My dear subjects!” he cried with pomp and vigor “There is so much I feel my kingdom could learn from you!  Come show me how you bring in the harvest, and prepare for the hard days ahead!”

Being his subjects they did exactly that, they showed him every bag of rice, every net they hauled over the side of their boats, and every storehouse where they held food for the hard times.  The truth was in what they didn’t show him, for never did they take him to the shrine, and never did they once speak of Songbird.  

The Lord was no fool, for no fool sits on a throne for very long.  It was with clever eyes that he saw their worried glances towards the edge of the forest, and cautious ears that he heard whispers of a name just beyond hearing.  With polite gestures, more gifts, and even more praise, the Lord left the small little village.  Under cover of darkness with only a few of his retinue, he stole back into town, and waited by the edge of the forest.  Along came the villagers to sit by the shrine, and through the forest came the bobbing light of Songbird’s lantern.  Intently the Lord watched her set her lantern on the head stone, and listened to her tell a story of a young boy who became lost in the forest, only to be guided back by a small faeling child.  

When the last of the villagers left to return home, the Lord approached the small girl upon the shrine and beseeched her to come with him to the capital.  “There the light of your lantern may shine down upon all my subjects, your stories may teach them things they have forgotten, and all might prosper during my rule.”

To his honeyed words however she was immune, she simply shook her head and replied. “So long as this village stands, so shall I remain.” Then without so much as a backwards glance, she took her lantern and walked back into the forest.

Unaccustomed to being refused outright, the Lord returned many times to the shrine, thinking that perhaps with a different offer the girl would come to her senses and return to the capital with him.  He offered her gold, jewels, fine clothes and pretty men and women to fill them, however every time, just as the last she would turn away and walk into the forest saying “So long as this village stands, so shall I remain.”

One night, pirates swarmed the shores of the tiny fishing village.  They killed the men, sullied the women, burned the nets, and trampled the rice fields.  Somehow, they had gotten it into their heads that the village had gold hidden away, and when they found none, their anger and violence was tenfold to behold.  When Songbird’s lantern came bobbing through the forest that night, she found not the hopeful faces of the villagers she had known all her life, but a smoking ruin.  Perched atop the head stone of the shrine, was the Lord, waiting as patiently as one does for the grass to grow.

“There is no more village.” She said, and what was in her voice was but for her and the Lord to know.  

“No” he replied.  Possibly ashamed “There is not.” 

With nothing more said between them, she accompanied him to the capitol.  

The Lord kept her at his castle in a great spiraling tower, providing her with everything he had promised before.  For finery and comfort she never wanted, even for company she was rarely without.  A jester named Ashpatch, for the color of his motley, was made to follow her everywhere. The Lord was still no fool, and knew he had something precious.  To guard his wondrous storyteller he hired a great blade mistress to act as her keeper, her name was Serna From The Seas, and with a spear she was untouchable.  The Lord even fashioned a grand gate of steel and stone, and there was only one in his kingdom that could open it, a giant of immense size, the last of her kind named Onra. To all these the Lord promised that he would double any bribe offered them to betray him, and he meant every word.  

For a time things were as they had been at the village.  At the end of the day, Songbird and her lantern would head down to the court of the Lord.  There she would set her light at the highest step below his throne and she would tell tales.  She told a tale of warring royal families amidst the deadly encroaching Northern winds.  She spoke of the fall of the last great city and the two men who fled across the desert in the wake of its ruin.  She recited the story of a boy and his wizard, and how they tamed a warring nation.  She told the stories that royalty needed to hear.  For her troubles each day the Lord granted Songbird one audience in private at the end of her tales.  Each audience she would ask for but one thing, to be allowed to leave the capitol.  To this the Lord had but one reply.  “So long as this city stands, so shall you remain.”

For a time it was thus, day after day.  Finally one day Ashpatch came before the Lord’s court and claimed he was unable to cheer up Songbird despite his best efforts.  He was unsure if he was fit to even be called a jester any more.  “I throw myself to the floor as so!  I tug my ears and make faces that would make even my old shriveled grandmother cry with hilarity!  I tell the most lewd jokes about the Lord’s wife that I can conjure and still that girl sits there sullen without so much as a smile in her eye!”  

Among the commotion of the Lord calling for Ashpatch’s head, none in the court heard of the clamor coming from Songbird’s tower.  Ashpatch had intended this, for Songbird had once told him a story of a fool who was wiser than his king, and for this Ashpatch loved Songbird.  The clamor was Serna From the Sea and her deadly spear, slaying any samurai or knight that came between Songbird and her way out of the castle.  By the time the Lord made his way down from his throne room to the slaughter in his city, Songbird was well on her way to the gates.

“Who bought you??” He cried to Serna From the Sea as she cleaved through his court one after the other “How much was your loyalty that I could not retain it??”

“She told me a story” Replied Serna From the Sea “Of a goddess who cut off her fingers and cast them to the deeps so that there would be whales, otters, and fish for my people.  Double that.”

The Lord could not, so Serna From the Sea slew him.

When Songbird came to the great gate of steel and stone, she found it open, with Onra the giant standing there smiling.  Songbird had been the only person in the city who had ever talked to the last of the giants.  During their talks Songbird had told her a story about a giant who befriended a girl in the land of dreams, and for this, Onra loved Songbird.  Thus did Songbird leave the capitol, no longer standing, but burning in her wake.  

She returned back the way she came, her lantern bobbing all the way down the road to the ashes of her village.  Long since abandoned, the shrine crumbling, and the forest withering, Songbird found but one man down at the beach.  He tended a small boat, and wore a crumpled hat, his hair was the color of salt.

“Who are you?” She asked.

“I am the Ferryman.” He said.  

“Do I know you?” She squinted and held up her lantern, there was something familiar about his face.

“No longer.” He turned his face away. “I was once the captain of a ship, but the lie of gold tore us apart.  Now I ferry people to the other side.”

She nodded, remembering now where she had seen him. “I will tell you a story if you ferry me to another land.”

For the first time in her life, someone frowned at her and shook his head. “I know plenty of stories, could you forgive me instead?”

“No.” She said quite plainly. “However if you take me to another land, you may have my lantern.”

“Will you not need it?”

“Not where we are going.”

And so it was thus.  Songbird was never seen on that shore again, and though stories continued to be told without her, none were quite the same.

#written word #The Ashen Rook #Kail Gerrad #final fantasy xiv

[aleapoffaithfiction]

XIV.

It's like I've been awakened Every rule I had you break it It's the risk that I'm taking I ain't never gonna shut you out

You ever felt like you’ve been hit by a car, survived it, and as soon as you go to stand on your feet, you end up getting hit by an eighteen-wheeler truck?

No?

Well, that’s how I’ve been feeling since I woke up this morning. I’ve suddenly morphed into a milk chocolate toned dragon who breathes fire from the depths of my chest and straight out of my throat. Every word spoken comes with an excruciating aching that Tylenol refuses to ease. The tea and honey are barely doing anything to subdue the rough cough that began just yesterday. Oh, and the body aches? I might as well just lay down in the middle of the floor and pray the Lord has mercy on me at some point.

“I don’t know how the hell you made it through the entire show like that. You really are crazy sometimes.” Anna pulled my box braids into a high ponytail as I slouched my frame even further down into the styling chair. I’m conning myself into believing that the slump position will give me a few seconds of relief from the aches I’m having.

The chills trickling everywhere have left me shivering under a throw blanket I took from home. If anyone on set didn’t know any better, you’d think I’ve been standing outside in the blistering soon to be winter air. Thank God I sat through the lengthy amount of time to allow her to put the braids in on Saturday night. With the way I’m covered in perspiration, any straightened or curled hairstyle would have left me looking like an extra left out of a Soul Glow commercial.

“It irritates me to have to call out at the last minute. That typically leaves production scrambling to try and fill in gaps. If I were in their shoes, I know it would be a headache for me, so I don’t like to do it to them. On Saturday, I e-mailed both Amy and Chip to let them know that I feel pretty shitty and to clear my schedule for the next two days pending further notice. I’m hoping it passes by then.”

The last time I had a cold, it was right at the very end of winter and it felt like nothing more than a bad headache and the sniffles. A couple of home remedies and a few over the counter products had me feeling much better within two or three days, but what I’m feeling now? I don’t know what the hell is going on. Rite Aid literally showed up to the medical office at the studio and offered the flu shot to everyone, through our insurances, as a curtesy, so it better not be that. I can’t stand getting injections, so it would be one hell of a disservice if I allowed them to inject that medication into me only for it to not work out in my favor.

“Are you going to go to the doctor?”

“Probably tomorrow. It’s too late to do any of that today. Once I drop Taylor off at the airport, I’ll head straight there.” Though I’m so accustomed to living on my own, I can admit to being sadden about Taylor heading out to Los Angeles tomorrow. It’s not that I’ve gotten used to her being around; it’s more so that I’ve enjoyed the company that she’s been to me for the past week. We always have incredible conversations over the phone about the most trivial of topics, but it’s been far more fulfilling and hilarious to be able to say all of those things to one another face to face. We’ve indulged in our love for classic cult black films, shared recipes between one another in my kitchen, and have taken New York City by a storm.

Even with Jesse being in town, it didn’t feel like the presence of her man overshadowed anything that we did together. Ice skating was better than I thought it would be because I was and still am quite rusty in that area. We did see the Radio City Christmas Spectacular and humorously took photographs sitting on Santa’s lap complimentary of the showrunners. Although I’ve seen it more times than I can count, we saw The Lion King on Broadway and then had far too many pitchers of Matusalem rum infused mojitos over at Havana Central on West 46th Street.

I nearly came face to face with the filthy pavement as I moved at the best speed I could offer to avoid the invasive TMZ camera crew awaiting our exit. In Hollywood, I suppose it’s controversial for a woman to be involved with a soon to be divorced television actor while he’s in a discomforting public battle with his soon to be ex-wife over alimony and joint custody of their children. Anywhere she goes, that narrative follows Taylor like a sinister stalker in the night and though her feelings run deep for the blue-eyed Chicago native, I know that she’s quietly growing tired of being the scapegoat for what is beyond her.

“You better go too. I know you. Sipping tea and taking spoons of Robitussin isn’t going to get the job done this time it seems.”

“I’m going. I’m going with a shit ton of questions about why the flu shot is a hoax. I’m not one of those conspiracy theory people, but I don’t know. I might have to start.”

“Take your illuminati ass home and get in the bed.”

“I’m not rich enough to be in the illuminati. They’ll probably be calling me when I make my first hundred million. I’m not there just yet, but I’m working on it.” I wanted to laugh, but I couldn’t. Even a chuckle would have pulled more energy than I can exert at the moment. I’m currently questioning if I’ll even be capable of moving at a snail’s pace to make it out of the building with the next couple of minutes. I could have been gone already and yet I’m lingering around in this chair with hopes that my imagination will take me home. Where’s Glenda the Good Witch to instruct me to click the heels of my Jimmy Choo pumps so that I’ll be able to suddenly wake up in my bed in Edgewater?

“Get you a man that’s there already.” I knew she was going to say that. I just knew it. Anna will never not find it fascinating how I encounter countless men who earn hundreds of millions of dollars by running a ball around a field, court, or course.

In her words, I, more than the majority of the women in the world, have the perfect opportunity to live life lavishly and worry free by the way of someone else’s finances if I’d only open myself up to the opportunity of dating just one out of the many who flirtatiously attempt to garner some interest out of me. While my financial obligations are the last thing that I’m interested in a man handling for me, if only Anna knew what is going on in my life now.

“Yeah? So that he can think he’s entitled to stress me and all of his other women out because he’s providing materialistic shit? Girl, I refuse to allow a man to turn my head grey and cause bags to be up under my eyes sooner than it should be happening. No thanks. I’d rather be smiling in a Benz that I purchased than to be crying in one that he did.”

I’m naturally a giver. I give credit to my dad for instilling that quality into me. I’ve always struggling with taking or rather being gifted things. The majority of the time, all I wanted for birthdays and Christmas’ were new accessories needed for whatever sport I was playing at the time.

I never pestered either one of my parents to lace me in the latest Jordans, although my dad made sure to surprise me with them at least once a month. If he was due to leave town, he would leave enough money for my mother to handle it. Honor roll report cards always came with great gifts and while Celeste would often ask for the most expressive girly trinket she could think of, I never wanted anything. I was fine with a stack of pancakes from iHop and a day at the park.

What I did ask for was experiences. It never needed to be anything financially burdening or something that specifically catered to my taste alone. I was fine with exploring new exhibits at the Met or taking a random road trip to Philadelphia just for the hell of it. I loved walking around neighborhoods that I didn’t reside in to people watch and observe the different ways in which they express themselves and the culture that we all share.

I’ll never forget when we road on an Amtrak train to Washington, DC and stayed in the district for the weekend. I still consider that to be one of the best times of my life despite my sister’s ridiculous and pompous complaints about her boredom. Though she’s yet to admit it out loud, I know that she now undoubtedly regrets all that she said during that weekend because it was the last family trip, we ever had with him.

“All of his other women? Damn. Why did you have to put it like that?”

“Because men are vile creatures. If women are walking around talking about how much average men aren’t worth shit due to their antics, then use your imagination to think about what men with money and power are doing. I’m not saying all of them are dreadful, but I’ve heard far too much while working within this industry to write it all off as coincidences.” The last portion of my sentence barely made it out as my chest heaved up a rough cough. The furnace that only calmed for a mere couple of seconds ignited with a wild fire and sent a rush of warmth flushing through my chest while the rest of my weakening limps shivered.

“Okay, you need to go, because I’m not trying to get sick. You may not have any dick in your life at the moment, but I do, and I’m trying to get back to it with my health intact.”

“Whatever.”

Like a boxer in a ring attempting to peel himself off of the floor after a knockout, I pulled myself up and out of the comfort of the chair. With every step, my muscles stiffened and the aches throbbing from the sides of my body intensified unexpectedly. My Alexander Wang bag felt like a dozen bricks rested at it’s very bottom once I positioned it over my shoulder and it only slowed down my stride as I made my way to the awaiting SUV.

I could only silently thank God for Fred as he secured me inside the vehicle and warned me that he better not see me in the morning. Thankfully, I followed my gut and decided not to drive. If I were sitting in this parking lot in my own car at this very moment, I probably would have taken off this midnight black Moncler coat and used it as a blanket while I lay in the backseat awaiting a rescue that I never called for.

“Can you please turn up the heat just a bit more?” I’m sure I’m suffocating him but I can’t help that it feels like the temperature precipitously plummeted to ten degrees below zero. The sound of my teeth chattering against one another has surpassed the faint tunes coming from the radio.

“Sure, Ms. Nazaire.”

As the heat increased and swarmed me in the manner that I needed it to, I glanced down at my phone vibrating in my lap. The lone heart emoji was a clear signifier of who was attempting to contact me. He’s the only person in my phone not identified by his name and at this point, it is the most idiotic tactic to keep because I have more than enough photographs of him and the both of us together to implicate me in whatever may happen if we’re caught.

As soon as I slid my thumb across the bottom of the screen to answer, the splendor that is his face filled the frame of my screen. And just like that, I’d been reduced to speechlessness.

“I thought I told you not go to work this morning.” I certainly read the text message as soon as I opened my eyes this morning, but it did absolutely nothing to deter me from doing what I had to do. It was great advice but it had to be brushed off until I handled a number of things at the production studio this morning. Besides, it wasn’t as rough of a day as I thought it would be, effort wise. Aside from speaking throughout segments, we had no guests or anything major to cover.

“I’m staying home tomorrow. Also, look at how early I’m leaving today. It’s still the afternoon. I’m not doing the Podcast.”

The slight shaking of his head was brief and though he quickly stopped, I noticed it. I’m not sure if it’s in reference to this morning’s chosen defiance or the current state of frustration we’re both in for two totally different reasons. Despite my explanation about my occasional absentmindedness being a part of the reason why I needed to hurry home and write out a check for the nine-a.m. maintenance job my mother called to have done on her stove, I omitted the part that truly mattered most to the both of us.

I fear him.

My mind is with him whenever I’m not within his presence. My body yearns for the warmth that soothingly radiates from him whenever we’re within an inch of one another. I can eerily sense and feel him; emotionally and now physically. He evokes a sentiment within me that is at call unceasingly and has intertwined our lives in a manner that I never faced before or expected to come into my life at this point.

My body is now at his mercy. Just the tips of his fingers faintly grazing off the smooth surface of my skin awakens every aspect of me; sending my frame into an uncontrollable frenzy that only he knows how to tame. I don’t know what he did to me that night in New Orleans. I expected to be fucked; most men prefer to turn a woman over on her stomach to consciously strip away any intimacy that may be felt and emotionally clung to during and after those moments when their bodies are adjoined. Despite his unpredictable nature, I did cling to that repeated experience as something that I’d always endure. I should have known that what we shared would be everything but that.

He savored me; deliberately drawing out every single second of it in an effort to achieve a never-ending wordless oath that we’ll never be able to share with anyone else. His eyes bore into mine and spoke to me whenever his lips weren’t whispering into my ear in the midst of the groans spilling from them. My body clung to his, gratifying his silent plea to take possession of me in every way possible.

Our heartbeats created an identical medley as they thrashed against our chests in unison with the increase heat within our cores. I was no longer in control of myself. His flesh played as the remote; pushing buttons to leave me weeping and leaking. I believe I only slept for minutes. Though the clock read that it had been four hours later, it only felt like minutes because the feeling of him hadn’t subsided. If anything, he served as the gasoline to the flames as his tongue awakened me for what turned into another two rounds of him.

I am wordlessly at war with my evolving devotion to him; to us. What if I’m not enough? With the life that he lives, something better always comes along. What am I supposed to do when we’ve arrived to that point?

“You’re so hardheaded. You going out into the cold and being at work all day has most likely made your cold worse. You should have stayed in the bed today. Did you just leave?”

“A few minutes ago.”

“How do you feel?” He tugged on the neck of his hooded Givenchy sweater to loosen it’s pulled tightness around his neck and almond shaped eyes narrowed, intensifying his glare. He’d pull my card if I lied.

“Like shit, honesty. Everything hurts. It even hurts to breathe. I thought I’d be able to tough it out until I can see a doctor tomorrow, but I don’t know. I might have Taylor drive me over to Hackensack University Medical Center when I get home.” And just like that, he sat up from his lazy and laxed position on the couch. As his large palm brushed over the golden curls falling all over his forehead, he stood to his feet. He paces when he’s nervous but it was never my intention to provoke him to do so.

“You feel that bad? You want me to go with you?”

“Odell.” As great as that sounds, I shouldn’t have to explain why that can’t be. He already knows the answer to that.

“You’re going to the hospital.”

“Yes, so that I can speed up the process of getting some medication. I’ll be able to get prescriptions tonight rather than waiting until tomorrow. That’s all. It’s going to be an in and out thing. Also, you have an event tonight. Did you forget?” He’s heading into Manhattan to promote the launch of his Air Force I collaboration by speaking with fans and a couple of groups of kids who won a contest to be able to meet him and have their shoes autographed. I know he doesn’t want to miss that because being a great role model for the youth is one of the primary reasons why he does what he does. He loves kids, so disappointing them for no legit reason doesn’t make much sense.

“I didn’t forget. If I don’t go, the least I can do is come and stay at your house so that I can make sure you’re taken care of until you’re better.”

“And spread my germs to you?”

“What is it with you and your love for being difficult? You hate to cooperate.” I’ve heard that before. Actually, I’ve heard it far too many times. It’s been said that I have an answer for everything before even hearing the complete scenario or question being asked of me. I can be somewhat of an overthinker. Well, not somewhat.

I am an overthinker, but I’m not admitting that out loud because it’ll give people the ammunition to call me out on it whenever they feel like it and I’m not with the shits. It is never my intention to do it to be difficult or uncooperative as he just called it. I tend to try and side with logic first before I jump into anything. Unnecessarily spreading my germs isn’t logical. Besides, I tend to go and lay up at my mom’s place whenever I’m not feeling my greatest. She doesn’t always welcome me with open arms, but ultimately, who else do I have to lean on despite her resistance about that?

“That’s not true.”

“Yes, it is. It’s annoying as hell too.” He rolled his eyes to put even more emphasis on what he had to say.

“If you come, don’t complain when you start sniffling and feeling like every part of your body is aching.”

“Yeah, okay. I’ll take the risk.”

“What time does your event start?” I nearly dropped the phone down onto the carpeted flooring as another rough cough poured out of me. I’m convinced my lungs are going to suddenly fly out of my mouth and land in my lap.

“You sound really bad.”

“I know. What time does the event start?”

“Seven.”

“Oh, you have time. I can’t believe I caught this stupid cold. I was supposed to start my Christmas shopping this weekend. Speaking of, what do you want?” I’ve been trying to think of gifts for him. There’s one in particular that I already have hiding in my closet. I consider that one to be the big gift.

Patek Philippe is a family-owned Genevan luxury watch manufacturer. Their watches are considered to be among the best in the world: full stop. Of all of the other impeccable Swiss watch manufactures with distinguished statuses and sophisticated watches, Patek Philippe has driven itself to the forefront of them all. While it would have been much easier to purchase him a Rolex, he deserves something that is as inimitable as he is. The “Ribbon Joaillerie” watch and its distinctive diamond embellishments that orbit its surface in a glimmering never-ending loop stole my heart as soon as I laid my eyes on it. The spiraling circles of diamonds beautifying the dial was what immediately made me hand over my Citigroup Chairman Card to secure it. It’s the first time I’ve ever spent six figures on a man.

“Supreme stuff. It doesn’t have to be any specific item. Oh, and maybe some art or something.”

“Art or something? Like a painting or a sculpture?”

“Anything. Actually, I want it to be a picture of you. A painting or something of that sort.”

“A painting of me? Are you kidding me?” That’s arguably the most narcissistic gift I could ever give anyone. I can only imagine how much internal cringing I’d be doing while boldly requesting for a painting of myself to gift to be my man. Actually, a canvas painting of Heather, Jazzy, and himself together would be breathtaking. I love that idea so much more.

“No. I’d love that.”

“And where exactly are you going to hang it up? You currently have a camera crew in your house once a week.” He is presently in the midst of filming a docu-series with Lebron James and Maverick Carter’s sports-media company Uninterrupted. Though the majority of it will focus on his comeback throughout the next season, they are filming coverage of his recovery from the ankle injury and his life off of the gridiron.

“In my bedroom. They don’t go in there.”

“We’ll see.”

“Ain’t no we’ll see. That’s what I want. Oh, and you in one of those sexy ass Mrs. Claus outfits.”

“Okay, I’m hanging up now.” I’m not sure if the driver is focusing on our conversation, but if he is, I’m certainly embarrassed now. His laughter might have made it even worse.

“I’ll call and check on you in a bit.”

“Okay.”

I attempted to take a nap but the physical discomfort served as a disruption to my mental state and kept me awake the remainder of the ride to my home. Traffic wasn’t as disorderly as it usually is during this time of the day, which allowed me to arrive just fifteen minutes over the nearly two-hour timeframe that it’s supposed to take me to get into Edgewater.

“You’re finally home!”

The way Taylor’s voice vibrated off of the walls almost made it seem like my house is completely empty. It was so piercing.

“Yeah.”

I’m not sure what she decided to cook but it smelled appetizing from the moment I stepped into the door. Maybe it’s Italian.

“I watched a bit of the show before making a Whole Foods run. Oh, and I found this bottle of wine upstairs in your room. I hope you don’t mind, because I couldn’t resist.” It was one of the remaining bottles of wine Odell bought me during our weekend getaway. I decided to pack it and take it home.

“You’re drunk?” That’s the last thing that I need her to be.

“I wouldn’t say drunk. I’m feeling pretty good though. Incredible, actually.”

She’s drunk.

“I want you to come with me to the ER, so that I can get checked out for this cold and get prescriptions for it. I wanted you to drive but since you had drinks, I’ll do it.”

“You feel that bad? Oh my God.”

“I’d just rather go now instead of waiting to go to the doctors tomorrow.”

“Let’s go. I just have to grab my coat. I told you to stay home this morning.” If I had the energy, I would have gone upstairs to change into whatever sweatsuit within close reach but I’m not walking up there. I’ve barely stepped away from the door.

“Taylor.” Part of her hazelnut toned wool trench coat hung off of her body as she rushed in my direction. As I nodded my head in the direction of the wine glass in her hand, she took a glance at it.

“Oh.” Before she put it down, the remaining contents inside of it went down her throat. If we both weren’t notorious for finishing entire bottles of wine on our own, I would have thought that something stressful or a man were driving her to drink so heavily today.

You good?

I read the message as I stood at the very top of my porch.

Yeah. Headed there now. Taylor’s drunk, so I’m going to drive.

Of all the days for her to get drunk, it just had to be this one.

Drunk? The sun hasn’t even gone down yet. I’m just going to meet you there.

As I slid into the passenger seat, apprehension immediately caused my eyes to bulge out of my face. His stubbornness will probably be the one thing that’ll always make me want to reprimand him.

You better not.

I-80 West was the fasted route. It took me to Exit 64B within seven minutes. As we walked through the parking lot, I slipped Taylor one of the cough drops I had in my pocket so they wouldn’t frown upon the whiff of the alcohol oozing from her breath any time she opened her mouth up to speak and I sprayed her coat with the mini bottle of perfume I keep in my purse to further mask it.

It’s very seldom that I use my status as a trump card for perks. Often times, it just happens and I go along with the flow. In this case, I used it. One autograph for the registration clerk served as a fast pass through the paperwork to process me through the emergency room and straight into triage. The hundred and two fever and slightly raised blood pressure rose the severity of my flu like symptoms to somewhat of an urgent case though I’d beg to differ. Luckily for me, the examination room was built to only fit two patients and thus far, I’m the only one in it.

“Did you see that bald guy nurse?”

“What bald nurse?”

“The one who walked past us out in the hallway. I’m not even into bald guys but he’s hot.” Like a child in a store, her curiosity kept her out of the seat next to the bed, and urged her to walk around examining everything in sight. Though she didn’t touch much, she looked on and read off whatever she thought I’d be just as interested in knowing about. Now I think she’s starting to see shit, because there was no bald nurse in that hall way. If she’s talking about who I assume she’s saw, that was a woman.

“Right in here?”

That voice couldn’t be mistaken no matter how much I desired to be hallucinating in a reaction to whatever drug they intend to give me for the pain I’m feeling. It’s that soft depth filled tone that plays like the sweetest medley in my dreams when I’m resting and fills my thoughts at random moments throughout the day when I am diligently executing every task on my schedule. It evokes chills and a throbbing within my center that nears me to the point of erupting.

I could choke him right now.

Behind a visibly annoyed Ben, he appeared in the doorway barely discreet in his black and vivid yellow attire. The Supreme beanie on his head barely covered his signature platinum blonde curls and casual dreads as they loosely hung out of the very front of it. His light caramel skin was without a single blemish as it always is.

God, he’s beautiful.

“Hey, big sister Sarai. I heard my favorite sister was in the hospital and I rushed here right away. I was hanging out with my boy, so I figured I’d bring him with me.” Both of my eyebrows rose as my head dropped back. Ben slowly panned his eyes to Odell and instantly rolled them in response to the nonchalant shrugging of his broad shoulders. What the hell is he talking about?

“Ben told them he was your brother so we could get in. I mean, it was either that or I was gon’ say that I’m your husband.”

“I’m going to fuck you up. You do know that, right?” If I had the energy, I would do it right now. His rebelliousness is absolutely pointless within this moment. It’s a trait that I’ve always admired about him from afar and now that admiration is coming back like a thief in the night to haunt me.

“I’m so confused. Maybe I’m a little drunker than I thought. What are you two doing here?” Taylor wagged her finger like a scolding mother as she twisted her head back and forth to take in the additional presence within the room. I had no set date or specific timeframe for when I intended to explain what’s been going on to her, but I planned to do it at some point. We share just about everything but I’m still trying to navigate all of this and figure it out on my own, which is why I’m purposefully avoiding any additional opinions.

“I’m going to sit in the car. Ya’ll two motherfuckers are annoying with this sneaking shit.” The hint of playfulness in his tone did not match the expression on his face. While my lover found it to be all so hilarious, a confused Taylor glared at me with a questioning expression that I did not want to have to answer to. I never thought I’d ever say it, but I was sad to see Ben walk out. If anything, I needed him to remain in place to be the comedic relief or better yet the distraction from the verbal questionnaire that is sure to come from my friend.

“The doctor came in here yet? What did he say?” As his large palm meshed into my forehead to serve as his own personal thermometer, I smacked it out of my way.

“Why don’t you listen?”

“I told you that I was coming. Don’t act surprised.”

“And I told you not to come.”

“And I didn’t listen. What’s next?” My frustration rose with every word that slipped past his supple lips.

“Since when are ya’ll such close friends? Like three months ago, you were ready to argue with me about why you two couldn’t be cool and now you’re the best of friends? What?” She finally flopped down in the chair that was in place for her to relax in and she looked on between the two of us as if we were two guilty souls. I may be the only guilty one.

“Sarai Nazaire?” A middle-aged white woman donning blue scrubs and a white lab coat cheerily entered the room with a chart in her hand and a stethoscope loosely hanging around her neck. I faintly raised my hand to single myself out so she wouldn’t confuse me with Taylor.

“I’m Dr. Shepard.”

“Oh snap. Like Grey’s Anatomy?” Why did I bring Taylor?

“Yes, just like that. I get that all the time. I’m not Meredith though. I’m Dr. Jane Shepard.”

“Nice to meet you Dr. Shepard.” I didn’t extend my hand to her because hers aren’t gloved and I’ve been using mine to cover my mouth during the coughing spells.

“So, it says here that you’ve been having flu like symptoms. I see the hundred and two fever. You’re visibly sweating. Tell me anything else you’re been feeling and for how long.”

“I start feeling sick a few days ago and it just got progressively worse. I feel chills, aching muscles, fatigue, a horrible headache, my nose is stuff up.”

“Don’t forget the sore throat, baby.” I was getting to it before he interrupted.

“Baby?” Oh my God. I should have let her finish off the rest of that bottle without any interruptions.

“Have you been taking anything?”

“Tylenol and cold medication. Robitussin DM.”

“Anything else?”

“No.”

“I’m going to take a listen to your lungs. You mind unbuttoning your blouse for me?”

“No.” Odell reached his hands in for the small buttons on the Zara dress shirt covering the upper portion of me and I rapidly smacked his hands down.

She only needed me to unravel the first few buttons so she’d be able to easily reach her hand down into my top to access my chest and back.

“You’re definitely congested. Are you allergic to any medications?”

“No.”

“Based upon the date of your last period, I have to ask, do you think that you could be pregnant right now?”

“Oh, dear God no. Absolutely not.” Taylor’s abrupt answer and laughter was nearly condescending. We’ve had far too many conversations about kids being something we’ll worry about later on down the line because we have so many aspirations that we’re working towards accomplishing now.

If a sewing needle suddenly dropped onto the floor, it would have sounded off like a vibrant bass within a stadium due to the stillness within the room. All eyes panned down on me while I had every urge to unexpectedly combust into a gust of nothingness so that I wouldn’t have to expose the anxiety I’ve been dealing with since we boarded the private jet to leave New Orleans.

My periods have always been slightly irregular and may sometimes skip a month, but God only knows how much I did not need one of those skips to happen this month. I haven’t been on birth control in three years. I decided to stop taking the pill because I had no use for it anymore and wanted to regulate my hormones and cycles. It’s been smooth sailing ever since because I haven’t had any men in my bed and I haven’t been in any of theirs until now. I’ve always been careful. Always. Even with the few years I spent in a relationship, I’ve never had unprotected sex until I shared my body with the man sitting at the foot of this bed.

“I….”

What was once one set of questioning eyes, turned into three, but all I could focus on was his. I awaited the grimace, but it never showed itself within his facial expression. Much like everyone else, he was awaiting the answer that would involve his fate just as much as it would mine.

“I don’t know. I don’t think so. I’m just not one hundred percent sure.”

And there it is. My reality. I truly don’t know. I’ve driven past a few Walgreens, Rite Aid, and CVS stores since it all happened and my lack of courage kept me from going inside to purchase what would give me a verdict to either ease or intensify the stress. Back in Louisiana, what should have been a trip to a pharmacy for a Morning After pill when the sun began peaking beyond the curtains and cascading down on us turned into yet another escapade of him filling me again.

“Okay, what the fuck is going on?”

“Taylor!”

“That’s not a problem. We’ll collect a urine sample to measure your HCG level. It’ll be quick. A nurse should be in the room within the next two minutes or so with a cup. It’s just protocol so that we’re on the safe side when administering medication to you. She’s also going to do a rapid influenza test so that we can verify those flu symptoms you’re having. Your symptoms align with it, but we still have to run the test. She’s going to swab the back of your nose.” 

“Okay.”

“In the meantime, just relax. Once we get the results back, we’ll proceed from there. Sounds good?”

“Yes. Thank you.”

“You’re very welcome.”

The nurse couldn’t come with the plastic cup fast enough. I nearly fell onto the floor as I leapt out of the bed once she did. Locking myself in the bathroom is what eased the spell of anxiety being triggered by all eyes focusing in on me. What should have been a two to three-minute process turned into fifteen as I sat there wallowing in my thoughts. I never wanted my apprehension to be on display in front of him. I didn’t need any of what I’ve been dealing with being a conversation until it was absolutely necessary.

“You okay baby?” His knock was light but I could undoubtedly sense his urgency.

“I’m fine.” It’s far too late to hide now.

“The nurse is back. You want me to give the cup to her?” This man wants me to hand over a sample of my urine to him? Seriously?”

“No. I’m coming out.” 

Once I handled the hygienic aspect of things, I finally stepped out of the bathroom with the cup wrapped into two pieces of paper towel and I timidly handed it over to the nurse. Once I was seated again, she swabbed my nose just as the doctor informed me, she would.

“Thank you. I’ll be quick.”

I wished she would have offered to take me with her. I wouldn’t have minded walking to whatever laboratory that she’s going to drop that off to.

“How long has this been going on?”

Her lean leg crossed over the other and Taylor sat back with a knowing smirk on her face. Her haughtiness in figuring out the obvious would have been hilarious at some other time.

“Months.” His answer came with a shrug. His tone was so blasé that it nearly made it seem like the entire world knows about this and she’s the only one who’s late to the party.

“Months? You hid this for months?”

“T, can we have the room for just a minute or two?”

“So, you can talk about your baby?” The lingering headache seemed to strengthen at what she thought was some sardonic joke. Her irritation about being left in the dark is justified but now is not the time to admonish everything that I am. I’d rather she stand before me and release her frustrations in a private setting and away from him.

“Taylor, please?”

“I’ll go. I’m going to the waiting room. While there, should I think about baby shower themes? Maybe Tinkerbell if it’s a girl and Finding Nemo if it’s a boy? Oh no. I know. A New York Giants theme sounds so much better; a little cliché but better.”

“Taylor.”

“I’m going.”

She tenaciously cut her eyes at Odell sparking laughter from him in response.

“Cute though. Really cute.”

Those were her last words as she disappeared down the hall, finally leaving us in the privacy that I needed. The lack of commotion in the hallway kept my attention focused on his striking face. I thought I would have seen a rush of nurses running a gurney down the long hall and into emergency surgery. If not that, then maybe a crying baby and a fretted mother who can’t seem to figure out why her child has been crying all night long. I need a distraction

“I don’t want you to be upset with me. I should have been more careful. I…”

“Sarai. Upset with you about what? The unknown? I’m not upset with you. I’m not upset at all. I’m here. I’m right here with you. It’s not just you.”

“I know but…”

“What’s the but for? Whatever happens, happens. We’ll be fine.” Will we be? I don’t believe I’m with child but hypothetically speaking, what happens if I am? How do I explain a sudden pregnancy to a man that no one knows about? I am not Mary and this is not the Immaculate Conception. How do we navigate still being in the stages of exploring and learning all there is to know about one another while preparing to be parents to a child that we did not plan?

Both of his hands reached for my thighs. This time, I had no energy to smack them away as they began a pacifying caress. I just want to go to sleep. Is that too much to ask for? In the midst of what should be a temporary illness, the weight of erratic decisions rests on my shoulders and is further deteriorating my mood. He’s in the prime of his life. If people aren’t talking about Tom Brady, they’re talking about him. He’s not ready for any of this. He doesn’t need this.

“Relax.”

“What?”

“You keep tensing up. I can feel it. Relax.”

“You make it sound so simple.”

If it were, I would have already been home sleeping.

“It’s as simple as we want it to be. I don’t mind being your Big Daddy and someone else’s daddy. It’s cool with me. A kid that looks like us? We can both retire now and use the kid for money. Plus, we’re both athletic, so our kid is bound to be a pro athlete. Yeah, our retirement plan is set.” Every muscle within my upper core clenched to an unbearable tightness and yet I laughed anyway. With my mouth being open, I know I’m sharing every bit of this virus with him. However, his words tickled me in a manner that I needed. I haven’t laughed all day long. If anyone is more than capable of making me do so, it’s him.

“My what?”

“Your Big Daddy.”

“You’re ridiculous.”

“You sound like Stephen A. Smith. Ridiculous. Conspicuous. Prosperous. Expeditiously. He’s forever using some unnecessarily big word to describe his frustrations.” The joke about my fellow ESPN brethren amused me even more. He is absolutely right and it’s what we all love about Stephen A. He’s animated, exaggerated, and his outbursts about the eternally cursed New York Knicks will stand the test of time for sports fans. I constantly have a good laugh when I stop by his dressing room for conversations. He’s been a mentor to me from the moment we’ve met and my admiration for him is boundless.

“Don’t talk about Stephen A. He’s great.”

“He stays on my ass though. He tends to be hot and cold with me. One minute, he’s praising my talent and in the next breath, he’s tired of me.”

“He appreciates you. I promise you that. Steven A. is tough, but he believes you’re the heart of the team. It’s why he can be so critical.”

“I watched the discussion ya’ll had about my pending contract situation. You really think I should be the highest paid receiver?” He’s the most explosive one.

“We can make arguments about Antonio Brown and Julio Jones, but when people think of wide receivers, your name is the first name to come out of most people’s mouths. You have the highest selling jersey of any receiver in the league and you’re the one who fills those seats at the Giants stadium. You have been the heart of the team’s offense for the past three years. Prior to your injury, they averaged twenty-three points in three games when you were on the field for the most snaps. They averaged thirteen point six points when you weren’t out there. You’re worth almost ten points per game with your ability to take a short gain and turn it into a long touchdown. Teams literally run their defenses strictly off stopping you. Get paid. You deserve it.”

All I could see is pearly white porcelain as his eyes further narrowed the more his smile spread across his face. As soon as he leaned in for a kiss, I drew my head back.

“Germs.”

“The way you know your shit is sexy as fuck. You want my last name?”

“Shut up, you…”

Dr. Shepard stepping back into the room ceased my reply. And just like that, my nerves were rattled all over again.

“Well, the pregnancy test is negative. Flu test is positive. I’m not sure which way you wanted those results to go, but that’s the verdict.” I know it was supposed to be witty but it didn’t register as such as I signed in a relief that wasn’t as fulfilling as I thought it would be. No, I’m not ready to be a mother. I’m not in that space just yet. More than anything, what I’m now focused on is the person who would have been alongside me in the journey if the results were the opposite. I would not have been alone. I commend him for that.

“I got a flu shot.”

“When did you get it?”

“A little less than two weeks ago.”

“It takes the body about two weeks after the vaccination to develop immune protection. You probably were exposed to influenza viruses sometime since then. Also, there are different strains of the flu. The vaccination only protects you against certain ones. You may have been exposed to one that is very different from whatever ones the vaccination is designed to protect you against.”

“Well screw whoever was around me and had been sick.” She and my man shared laughter at my words.

I’m serious.

“We’re going to give you Tamiflu. The directions on how to take it will be in your discharge instructions and the pharmacy will give you some too. You can take Tylenol for the fever. Rest. You need a lot of that. No work for a couple of days because you have a ton of germs right now. Hot foods and drinks. Steamy showers will help with congestion and the stuffy nose. Vitamin C is great, so orange juice and they have the cough drop like ones. I emphasize rest. Getting rid of the flu is really a waiting game.”

“You hear that Sarai? Rest. Lots of rest.” If I had no class, my middle finger would have been up and towards him.

“If you feel like your symptoms are persisting, come back.”

“Thank you, Dr. Shepard.”

“The pleasure is all mine. The nurse will be back with the forms and prescriptions.”

As soon as we were left alone again, I immediately slipped back into my coat for much needed warmth.

“I’m about to head out so I can make it into the city on time. Are you going to be okay?”

“Yes.”

“I’m sending Renee over so that she can make you some soup or something. So, be expecting her. You need something from the store?”

“I can make the soup myself.”

“Anything you need from the store?” See? This is what I mean.

“No. I don’t think so.”

“Alright, so I’ll see you when I get back. Be in the bed.”

“Uhm.” He knew I’d swerve his lips, so he softly planted his kisses on my warm forehead.

“See you in a bit.”

The nightfall car ride to Walgreens and finally to my home entailed of more conversing than I wanted to have. I was nearly ordered to confirm and deny many of her assumptions, feed into her baseless jokes about a baby that she now knows is non-existent, and defend myself against my supposed lying by omission as we spoke on the phone while I was away. She then proceeded to take credit for our relationship; citing the Bleacher Report party run in as all being a part of her master plan. I beg to differ. I still think it’s a coincidence that he saw me there, but I’ll let her run with that fairytale if it makes her feel better and keeps her off of my case.

“I’m going to lay down.”

“As you should. It’s not like you have to do anything anyway. Your man’s chef is currently making you tea and soup.”

“Taylor.”

“And he arranged for a driver to take me to the airport tomorrow so that you don’t have to get out of bed.”

“Taylor.”

“And he shoots up your club.”

“You know what, goodnight Taylor.”

Lavender; I doused everything in it. I lathered my body up with Dove’s Purely Pampering Relaxing Body Wash while in the shower and spent an extended time inhaling the steam to loosen my nasal passages. Once I was dried off, I moisturized my skin with whipped shea butter fused with lavender essential oil. I lit a match to my Joe Malone London Lavender & Lovage candle, and finally sprayed my pillow cases with Bath & Body Works lavender pillow spray. If I don’t get the best sleep of my life after all of that, I’ll know that I’m suffering from insomnia.

Renee’s coconut ginger carrot chicken soup and the cup of ginger tea certainly made me think of my mother because it’s her key remedy for illnesses. The rich flavoring and natural spice of the ginger eased the congestion discomfort in my chest.

I opted out of the television because it would only deserve as a distraction to the rest, I not only needed but wanted. Unfortunately, what I thought was going to be a long night of slumber ended up being nothing more than on and off naps.

Bergamot, cedar musk, and hints of sage superseded the rest inducing scent that once filled my room. With only a hint of moonlight peaking beyond the white curtain, the man of my affection quietly dropped what appeared to be a duffle bag onto the floor and began to shuffle around the open space within my bedroom to sort himself out.

“I’m not sleeping.” His pace was slower than his usual because he didn’t want to ruin whatever sleep he assumed I was getting.

“You should be.”

“I keep taking naps.”

“You hungry or something?”

“No. Not really. You?”

“I’m good. There’s more than just soup downstairs. I had something before I came up.”

“How was the event?”

“It was nice. The kids were great. They enjoyed themselves.” With every piece of jewelry that he removed; I could hear it clinking against the dresser as he placed them down one by one. “You smell great.”

“Thank you.” I love when he chuckles. It’s so lighthearted and innocent, especially following a compliment. I always want to hug him right after. It’s no different now.

“You look good too.” Yellow against his skin is defining. The whole time he sat with me in that examination room, I couldn’t look away. Even in this darkness, I still cannot do so. My body is riddled with a confusion that I cannot define. I can feel every single flu symptom there is and yet, my nipples are impulsively stiffening against this t-shirt of his that I’m wearing. The prickling in my thighs is increasing with every article of clothing that he removes. I should make him go into the guest room.

“Thank you. Go to sleep.”

“I’m trying.”

His presence kept my eyes open and trailing behind his every move until his almost bare frame slid under the covers and alongside me. I’ve warned him more times than I can count about my germs and yet here he is, basking in them.

“Thank you.”

As he always does when he’s in my bed, he took two of the pillows on his side and tossed them towards my side to lower himself to his liking. I’ve always been someone who loves to lay on way too many of them. It’s probably why I wake up with neck pain every once and a while.

“For what?”

“Taking care of me today.”

“You’re stubborn as hell but it’s what I want to do. It’s my pleasure.”

“Thank you for dealing with my stubbornness too.”

“Of course, baby.”

“And thank you for that yellow coat because I’m keeping it.” That amused him.

“You can have it.”

“Can I have a kiss too?”

“Nah. Germs.”

I used one of the pillows he tossed to whack him in the head. How is he so adorable and maddening all at once?

“Hey, Sarai.”

“Hm?”

His arm extended and slowly snaked around my waist to draw me closer. The skin of his legs melted into mine as they intertwined.

“No Beckham babies today, but later on down the line, for sure, right?”

Beckham babies. Plural. Maybe two boys? Possible two girls? How about the best of both worlds? More than two is out of the question. Twins would ideal. It’s a one shot and done, deal. Actually, no. Two at one time sounds like madness. The genes are strong within his family. I don’t think they stand a chance of genetically inheriting any of my traits. I’ll literally be birthing clones of him in either male or female form. It’s hilarious and yet warming to ponder about.

“Right.”

His lips then met mine.

#odell beckham jr fanfic #odell beckham fanfic #fanfiction #fan fiction #fanfic #fan fic #obj fanfic

[iprocrastinatefartoomuch]

Some thoughts on AWAE 3x07 (spoilers ahead)...

As much as I applaud Anne’s intentions, I can’t help but be worried that it will backfire and harm Josie.

Question: How does she have the key to the schoolhouse?

“We’ll simply do whatever it takes to get him back”. And the mother of the year award most certainly won’t be bestowed upon Mrs. Pye.

“He’s not a nice boy.” -The most accurate thing anybody has said about Billy.

Mrs. Andrews is also not winning any awards soon for her lack of interest in rectifying the damage that was inflicted upon Josie by her son.

Ugh, Mr. Andrews is equally as despicable.

Diana does have a point, an apology to Josie is much needed.

Damn, that slap came quick. The trash comment wasn’t necessary but Josie was right about the timing (something that could have been avoided if Billy didn’t decide to spread rumors).

Why is Moody the only one not in trousers?

I agree with Gilbert, she should have consulted with someone.

The fertilizer column, I didn’t know you could write so much about it especially without academic journals on standby.

I may have conflicting opinions on Rachel but ugh, the priests got on my nerve. Stop interrupting and calling Rachel hysterical when she has a legit point.

As much as I’m not happy about Diana & Jerry hitting an impasse, it’s at least realistic. I don’t think they have a lot to connect on. I wonder how it’s going to resolved because Paris finishing school isn’t too far away.

All I kept thinking about when Miss Stacy ranted on censorship and the board of directors, was how similar Anne is to Miss Stacy.

The person who cast Miss Stacy most definitely deserved a raise.

“I’ve reckoned you’ve heard enough from men on this topic.’ -This is why we stand Mathew. He needs to not die.

I almost forgot about the story club, I’m sad it’s no longer in existence.

“…and no reference to animal husbandry.” I know I’m supposed to be outraged at the board but I found that bit hilarious.

Gilbert is showing the newspaper how to be a good ally, supportive without stealing their platform.

Also, I love that the reason why her friends made up wasn’t that they realized that they had upset Anne but in fact, were perpetuating the dangerous status quo.

I love the little look Moody gives Ruby when she says “We shouldn’t have ever been blamed.” because he willingly admits his wrong. I love Ruby’s evolution into this bold, self-assured young woman.

Indeed the Cuthbert’s farm boy has grown so tall.

“Does he have a farm girl?”-Got to love Tillie

If Mr. Andrews didn’t slosh around his tea when staring in the milk, he wouldn’t have tea everywhere. He frustrates me immensely.

Do I know what Prissy is talking about? Not really, but she does have the components of a good pitch, yes and her father is acting so condescendingly towards her.  

Anne’s apologies are so thoughtful. I love how she conveyed to Josie her true intentions but also acknowledged how she failed to protect the subject’s identity.

Jerry has gone to see Anne about some relationship advice, can’t wait.

Oh no, I forgot briefly that Anne doesn’t know about Diana and him.

Don’t mention her name….well he did and she’s not happy about not being in the loop.

I agree Diana should have told Anne at the very least. After all, she did bare her soul in telling her about her feelings on Gilbert

“They can’t your beauty away from you.”-That’s not what’s high on the priority for Josie.

I interpreted her taking out the rag curls as her realization that Avonlea society isn’t going to change without her taking a stand.

I liked how Josie made it abundantly clear that Billy shouldn’t attempt to rectify the situation because he still likes her but instead, only if he realizes how damaging his behavior was.

I’m glad that Billy didn’t get a straight-up villain edit because at the end of the day, he is to an extent, a product of his parents. His mom, despite being a member of the Progressive Mothers’ Club didn’t instill any progressive values in him and his father is an asshat. I think it’s important to keep in mind that he’s only 16 (he has a long way to go) and didn’t even finish high school. BUT he’s also 16, so he should have also known that inflicting bodily harm on innocent individuals is wrong.

“You’re not making any sense”. I disagree with Anne, if two consent to messing about, I don’t see the harm in it but then again, she’s still reeling off from some heartbreak. Thank god for the sexual freedom of 2019.

Simultaneously, I do understand why Jerry sees Diana’s lack of acknowledgment of their relationship in the public sphere (even if it’s just Anne) as degrading but I think that’s all part of growing up. They need to have a serious conversation on intents and their future. Whatever the conversation, I do hope Diana doesn’t see this courtship as something strictly related to her desire to rebel against her parents’ wishes.

They have great chemistry but an actual courtship or marriage won’t last long based solely on desire.

Also, letting the distance of Paris be how she intends to end their relationship is an extremely poor idea.

Diana & Anne’s fallout needs to be rectified ASAP. Simply put, I cannot survive a 3 episode drought of their friendship.

Yes Prissy, ask for your dowry.

We stand supportive parents such as those of Marilla & Mathew.

I love their protest. Freedom of speech is a human right.

Got to love Miss Stacy getting photographic evidence of the priest trying to subvert free speech.

Rachel and I are tearing up.

I spot with very eyes an upcoming Shirbert scene.

I’m loving this flirty banter between the two.

Hear, hear, Gilbert has acknowledged that they do make a good team.

Now kiss. Oh shit, I forgot about Winifred.

The fucking asshole priests have organized a middle-of-the-night mission to steal the press. Lucky for them, they managed to set the schoolhouse on fire. Congrats, now you’ve definitely self-incriminated yourself.

Final Thoughts:

Needs Bash, Cole & Aunt Jo next episode. Preferably continuing her adventure finding more about her lineage and maybe, dressed up in the same light green getup.

We need more of Prissy.

Diana and Anne need to make up.

Winifred needs to go. As much as I don’t have anything against her, she and Gilbert don’t quite make the kind of team, anyone is looking for.

Where’s Ka'kwet and her storyline going?

Mrs. Andrews needs to grow a backbone.

Regarding Diana & Jerry’s storyline: if the writers decide to keep them together, she should still be going to finishing school because she doesn’t have any skills and isn’t getting a college education.

Billy needed more public backlash.

Please no Fred Wright.

#awae #annewithane #awae3x07 #awaespoilers #anne shirly cuthbert #AnneofGreenGables #anne x gilbert

[silenthillmutual]

if the heavens ever did speak

we were born sick, you heard them say it.

writing exercise thing, warning for some pretty bad feelings under the cut y’all

his life has always been a kind of race of one life-ruining decision after another, so his death is - more or less - to be expected. it’s the kind of thing he could have approached nonchalantly, if taka would just realize he wasn’t worth the arguments and let things be. but even after he’s shown his cards, admitted his guilt, lined up for the firing squad, he is still knee-deep in denial.

there is no part of this mondo enjoys. there is no quantifiable “hardest” or “worst” part about it, because every single second feels just as terrifying as the next. he acts out of impulse and a lack of self-control and he doesn’t sleep and he more or less just waits around for them to find him, and he thinks, to himself, ‘the worst part is that i have killed a living being again’. and then once that’s sunk in and he’s started to feel so terrible that everything is numb, he thinks, ‘the worst part is now ishimaru will hate me’.

about the last part, he’s wrong.

the worst part is that he doesn’t. the worst part is that he beats down every accusation until he’s almost physically falling apart from the strain of it all. the worst part is that even when he’s accepted what mondo’s done he doesn’t even hate him for it. the worst part is watching makoto try to hold him back from doing something dumber. the worst part is hearing that he voted for himself. and again, all of that absolutely pales in comparison to the absolute pinnacle of worst parts, which is the fact that the last thing he ever hears is kiyotaka ishimaru screaming for him as he’s dying.

dying, itself, isn’t that bad.

there’s a pretty big disparity between what mondo thinks he knows, and what he realizes he actually knows when he wakes up. it’s like when your alarm clock goes off, but you don’t wake up, you just hear the buzzing in your dreams. that’s what taka’s screaming sounds like, and he is trying so desperately to think and he can’t over the sound. and then, it’s cut off, abrupt, and he knows that it’s because taka has run out of voice. and somehow, that’s just worse.

that’s it. it only ever gets worse. 

he doesn’t have that moment where he thinks he’s alive and the slow, horrifying memory that he is, in fact, dead that he’s read about so much in fiction. he knows that he’s dead. it just doesn’t help matters much. he thinks he’s stuck where he is, facing white walls and monochrome tile and somehow it all looks more bleak than it did this morning. 

he’s wrong, but what else is new? he can move, just not like he did before. he can’t move on his own terms. 

if he thinks it was bad before, it is absolutely nothing. not even death is a reprieve from the consequences of his actions. 

it’s funny, how daiya used to say that when people died, they went to sleep and never woke up. it’s more like being awakened, and never being allowed to go back to sleep. here’s a fun fact: kiyotaka doesn’t either. 

his body (or what passes for it now) is tethered to every minute movement kiyotaka makes, and it’s like being a partner in a dance but you are blindfolded and also deaf and mute and in fact you do not exist at all. everything is one long stretch of silence punctuated by jerks. which should be kind of funny, because every memory he has of taka makes him seem so practiced. 

speaking of memory. he has so many. 

they don’t “flood”. that’s another thing he’s seen - that when you get temporary amnesia, it will all come back to you in chronological order. it’s kind of gross for him to think about every memory montage that ends with some guy running to some girl and kissing her at the end because when he follows that train of thought to the last stop he certainly has a lot of memories and they involve running and they involve kissing and they involve kiyotaka and he is aware that he didn’t have any of these until he woke up and saw white. they are both new information and old. 

worse. worse, worse, worse. it’s worse that for the past however many days they’ve been here he’s acted like such a tool. lining up for his execution he thought about how taka blamed himself for mondo’s actions and mondo thought about how funny-but-not-funny-haha it was that if he had actually let kiyotaka into his life earlier he might have learned something about self-control. not that it was taka’s job to teach him things he should have learned long ago, learned from his first five hundred mistakes, but it couldn’t have hurt to know.

he feels something crawling on his back, like when people make spiders of their hands to tickle and scare you. he never liked it at age 13, and he doesn’t like it any more now that he’s dead. 

there’s something in his head about kiyotaka running his hands through his hair because he’d let it stay down out of the shower, and taka told him it suited him and he told taka he’d better not tell anyone else about it. and then he’d laughed, a lot different from how he laughs now, because only mondo could hear him. 

right now, the real kiyotaka, the alive kiyotaka who doesn’t remember the things he does, is looking at his hands. 

he’s not sitting on the bed, or anything. he’s standing by it, like a toy put up on a shelf so that he can’t be brought down and played with in the middle of the night. just standing there, still in his boots, staring at his hands that are shaking. 

mondo kind of wants to blow him over. he kind of wants to say hey, do you remember the first time we held hands, and you apologized because hands were sweaty and you didn’t know how to do it properly, so you kept letting go and trying again and saying it was for ‘practice’ and i pretended to be embarrassed about it?

but it’s kind of hard to say any of it without a mouth.

taka opens his own mouth, but no sound comes out.

makoto is probably trying to help. it’s hard to really tell anything when he has to see it all from over taka’s shoulder, but his consciousness swings around wildly and he doesn’t get to direct where it’s aimed. he wants to get a good look at taka’s face, but at the same time he’s afraid to. everyone who catches a glimpse of it looks away in guilt, and if mondo could still talk he’d call them cowards.

no one but makoto actually makes an effort. 

all in all, mondo feels something like blurred surprise that taka even bothered to leave his room. hours passed with him just breathing, not making a noise or even crying. he moved, eventually, from standing by his bed to sitting next to it, never on it. to mondo’s knowledge, he never slept, just stared at the walls in grief until it was time to meet everyone for breakfast.

he didn’t change his clothes, and he doesn’t eat. mondo remembers it with flashbacks to pets he’s loved that slunk away to a corner and starved themselves at the end of their life. and it’s getting worse still that he can see what ishimaru is doing, but a, no one else seems to care, and b, there is not a damn thing he can do now to stop it. 

the whole class is gone for about fifteen minutes when he stands up and walks back to his room, his boots making echoes of the floor. 

“i wish you’d talk to me”. 

it’s the first thing taka says in more than 48 hours. there is elation somewhere beneath the surface where he still has experiences he can’t physically interact with. his voice is strained and thick from overuse and tears. mondo was such an idiot to ever think he’d want him to stop talking. it’s karma.

if he really tries, he can move his point of view enough to see taka’s face. his eyes are pointed at his lap, his knees drawn up to his head and his arms on his legs. it’s not a comfortable position. he can’t remember what it feels like to wear the same set of clothes for two days straight but he knows it can’t possibly feel good. 

“i know you’re there.” 

worse and worse and worse. is any part of this what mondo wanted? had he wanted to stick around and watch over taka, like he could keep him out of trouble?

bringing pain to people, even in death. yeah, that sounds like him.

he feels like he’s sliding off to the left and tries to hold himself in place so he can watch as taka pulls his head slowly, eyes staring at nothing. 

the hands on his back start to take shape, from restless blobs into restless fingers.

when taka hears about alter ego, mondo can practically feel the manic energy vibrating off of him. 

there’s a kind of danger in the false hope. he’d like to think that taka doesn’t know it’s there. he’s so cautious in everything he does, in the way mondo remembers him buttoning up his jacket every morning, and rebuttoning it every time he stood up, folding out the creases from sitting or laying down. every habit he’d instilled had been an effort of manual programming. 

mondo remembers hating it the same way he remembers loving it: small moments, built up over time. and it takes a good deal of time to establish standards, but not much time at all to burn them to the ground.

he thinks and he shouts with as much force as he can, don’t go. and for now, taka listens.

there is something rotten in the state of denmark. 

mondo remembers reading hamlet. a play about a teenage boy who has seen so much tragedy that he starts to slip. attempts are made on his life, even by his friends. he sees ghosts everywhere. his personality fractures into something barely resembling the person he used to be. in short, he doesn’t cope.

what mondo remembers most is discussing this play first year and ishimaru being very loud in his opinions. the question had only been, were the ghosts real? toko said it didn’t matter, taka said it did. she said they only existed as a rule of symbolism. taka said denmark needed better mental health services. 

that was like him. that was like him then. but he knows ghosts are real now.

he gets another note under his door, slipped in the middle of the night when he has, for once, taken at least his shirt off. he hasn’t eaten in at least four days, and it’s starting to show.

“i think i’m starting to remember something,” he says to the ceiling. 

the note passes under at some point in time he thinks is after midnight. and he reads that too-good handwriting and mondo knows that it’s hiro’s, but he also knows from over two years with the guy that he has never figured out a damn thing in his life and he never will. this is a trap, and he whispers to taka because he figures it doesn’t need to be said, don’t go.

and taka, this time, doesn’t listen. 

when things flood, and they do this time, it’s like everything just behind where his ears should be is screaming. he’s known that he can’t stop this, and has felt fists grabbing full hold of his back and tugging. but his grip on ishimaru is other-worldly. he wouldn’t stay here for anything else, and he’s not leaving until he absolutely must. 

what is forming into his head as he’s standing half-there between ‘existing’ and ‘not’ a pounding that just goes worse, worse, worse. he can hear it, now, clocks ticking and footsteps and when he tries to grab ishimaru’s hand to make him look at what’s coming for him he hears that same wheezing out-of-breath laughter no one else but him ever has, or ever will, get to know. 

he wouldn’t tell anyone if they asked, but: kiyotaka ishimaru goes out with a smile.

#nori talks #nori writes #death cw #ishimondo #(sorta?) #anyway. not sure what prompted me to take a smaller whack (haha) at this. #icarus.docx #mine

[coeurdastronaute]

Either/Or: Christmas Day 1 (Hufflepuff)

The snow was a thick blanket atop every inch of the campus. The grounds were ancient and freezing if not for the roaring fires everywhere they could be lit. For a giant castle, the scenery was surprisingly perfect for the season. But for a giant castle, it was also freezing almost everywhere you turned. While the rolling hills were pure white, and the silhouettes of trees were knotty hands scratching at the cloud-grey sky, the lake sloshed around some ice but still lapped at the shore, curing its ache.

As the year started to end, the grounds at Hogwarts cleared out. It grew eerily quiet with the distinct lack of people for the holiday. Lena settled in her common room in front of the large fireplace, a giant book on astronomy open on her lap and a plate of her favorite sweets lounging on the arm of the couch.

It didn’t take much for the administration to agree to let Lena stay. There wasn’t anywhere to go, and her inheritance wouldn’t be available until after she graduated. Instead, Lena Luthor would remain on campus grounds like a ward of the state. Due to the limited staff, she more than likely wouldn’t see another living creature, and she was pretty okay with that after the introduction back to her old classmates after what her father did.

There was already a list of things Lena hoped to do since she would have the whole place to herself for a while. A stack of books sat beside her bed, waiting to be shortened. She was going to use the Astronomy tower unimpeded by anyone else rushing her along. She was going to give herself some un-supervised time on her broom to see if she could get over her initial dislike of it. She was going to create a whole map of the grounds, every nook and cranny. It’d be the first of its kind, and she was eager to do it.

But, as usual, Lena Luthor didn’t take into account Kara.

She hadn’t the first time she met her, nor the day she returned back to Hogwarts, nor the afternoon she kissed her. In all actuality, Lena didn’t even realize how often she didn’t remember that her maybe girlfriend was a force to be reckoned with, and was even more stubborn than herself, which was saying a lot.

“Wha-- What are you doing?”

“I’m reading,” Lena muttered without even looking up from her book.

She didn’t have to move to know that the tall chaser was leaning against the doorway, crossing her arms in front of her chest, while the rest of her relaxed. Lena knew she’d be in her muggle clothes, in those jeans and that comfy, thick sweater that covered her hands and looked nice against her blonde waves.

Lena just knew that Kara existed like that. She could sense it.

“No, I see that,” Kara furrowed. “But why aren’t you ready to go?”

“Um… because I’m not going anywhere,” she snorted and turned the page.

“You’re coming home with me. I thought we’d already been through this.”

“Do you mean when you told me what I should be doing for Christmas break? Or when you told me to think about it, but still gave me that damned pout that you know is the worst kind of effective on me?” Lena listed calmly tucking a marker into her book before she shut it. “Or when I told you thank you, but I’d rather be left alone?”

“Yeah, all of those times,” she nodded. “What are you going to do, sit around all break and mope?”

“I have plans.”

“Lena, this is insane. I thought you were just being dramatic.”

“I say what I mean and I mean what I say.”

Only when Lena looked up at finally met Kara’s eyes did she see how angry she’d grown at how ridiculous it all must sound. She balled up her fists and her face contorted slightly from the ease of happiness that always seemed so natural. The red of her anger grew up her neck and to her cheeks.

“You want to stay here, alone, in an empty school with no one but ghosts to keep you company instead of coming to your girlfriend’s home, that is warm and cozy and full of people and food and holiday cheer?”

There was hurt there, beneath the controlled anger. Lena heard it and she felt it more than normal.

“Your offer was sweet, but I don’t want to make your holiday weird. I know what my broth--”

“No one cares.”

“I care,” she interjected before the familiar talk of support.

If one thing was certain, it was that Kara was Lena’s number one fan and biggest supporter. She wouldn’t take any sense of doubt from Lena about her place in the world and what she was rightfully entitled to at the very least.

“I invited you because I want you around. I don’t want you to be miserable and alone. I wanted to spend time with you because you’re my-- you’re my-- you’re my girlfriend, and more than that, I care about you, and I want you to be happy.”

Kara sputtered her words and turned slightly shy at the honest in them. She scratched the back of her neck and looked at Lena for just a quick seconds before retreating to the ground as she scratched a little higher.

It was a decision that Lena thought she’d already made. She thought she didn’t have to do it formally because she thought Kara left already and she thought that the offer was just out of kindness. And it was, but now, she learned it was also something more.

Lena looked at her book and back at her newly confirmed girlfriend and her heartbeat a little quicker and a little warmer at the news.

“I planned stuff for us to do,” Kara shrugged. “But if you want to stay, you can. Not that you need my permission, I’m just saying. I get it. It’s stupid, but I do.”

“It’s not stupid.”

“It’s stupid to lock yourself away and make me waste my time off worrying about you.”

“I don’t--”

“Nothing matters. They’ll love you,” she promised quickly, capitalizing on indecision while she could.

On the couch, Lena shifted her legs before looking at her book and then to her list of all the things she planned on doing before looking back at Kara and nodding to herself.

“It’ll take me about five minutes to pack.”

The Danver’s home was everything Lena thought it would be. Gone was the frigid and exacting cold of the expansive grounds at school, and in the place of the monolithic structures and impersonal facade was a quaint three story row house in the heart of London.

Throughout the block, lights and decorations illuminated the other yards, so that the entire street glowed. Sidewalks were cleared, but snow stacked on railings and roofs. It wasn’t cramped, but it was very close. Everything was kind of stacked up together, and the windows were golden and orange and filled with frost and people smiling.

Lena didn’t want to admit that it was a much better way to spend the holiday that what she had planned alone at school.

“This is going to be great,” Kara cheered.

“I’ve never played something like this before,” Lena fret as she took the seat on the floor beside her girlfriend.

The family crowded around the coffee table that was now holding only the board game. Each set it up in their own way, and Lena watched with rapt attention. Much of her visit to the muggle world included simple amazements at the most basic things, much to Kara’s enjoyment.

But Lena never had a chance to experience the muggle world. She was forbidden, and no one spoke as to why, but it was at least a thought once for everyone in attendance.

There were no enchantments on the house. Lena expected it to be different when she walked inside, but there was no charm making it larger. It was cozy and full of people. Kara’s aunt and uncle, who raised her from the age of eight, seemed to have a knack for adopting entire hoards of lost ones.

While the parents sat on the couch, Alex and her girlfriend shared a chair. Kara’s friends were on the other side, James and Winn taking a corner. The house was bursting at the seams with relatives that came to visit during the week, while the inhabitants filled it completely.

“I think you’re going to be very good at it,” Eliza smiled graciously as she placed little characters at the square marked ‘go.’

For some reason, it gave Lena a bit of courage. She wasn’t sure why, but the matron of the family had this way about her, of supporting and instilling a sense of security over whoever entered her home.

“That’s why you’re on my team,” Kara nodded. “I didn’t want to go against you.”

Her smile was mischievous and kind and warm and Lena sighed and sank deeper into her sweater that was a new addition to her wardrobe courtesy of the pretty girl beside her. It eclipsed her frame, but it made her happy.

A few hours and lots of yelling and laughing later, Lena did, in fact, win her first ever game of Monopoly, much to everyone’s amusement. Kara beamed and someone took a picture of them, only it wouldn’t move. It was stuck in that one instant forever-- with the plump Christmas tree shining and glittering with its red and green bulbs and handmade decorations in the background.

On the third floor, tucked in a small, back corner of the house, with its half sloping roof and small window, Lena found herself in a cozy room that acted as an office for someone. The couch was made up for her, her suitcase sat on the floor in the corner, and on the desk sat a few presents she’d picked up when Kara dragged her all over town showing her sights and letting her shop.

The entire visit had been spectacular, and for the first time during it, Lena let herself snuggle into the worn quilt and stare out the window at the rest of the neighborhood and wonder if this was something she could have or do in the future. It shouldn’t have been a crazy notion, but something about the holidays always made her a little forlorn and even torn. She longed for a family she never had, and wanted one she didn’t know how to.

The sounds of the house settled until it was fairly quiet. A car passed in the slush outside while the radiator warmed up and the fire crackled downstairs. The little space heater glowed bright red, making the room feel like the inside of a sauna. But Lena adored it.

But it was so quiet, that Lena heard the gentle steps from across the attic, when from Kara’s room a body crept. A small tap echoed hollowly in the Christmas Eve night.

“Hey,” Kara whispered, slowly opening the door. “I can’t sleep.”

“I thought your family was joking about how excited you get for Christmas.”

In the dim light, Kara smiled shoved her hands in the pockets of her festive holiday pyjamas. Lena sat up slightly on the couch.

“I just wanted to check on you. See how you were doing. It’s been a crazy visit, and I know this isn’t your cup of tea usually.”

“This has been the best.”

“Yeah?”

“Truly,” Lena promised.

Kara slid onto the couch when Lena tugged her knees up to her chest.

“I’m sorry I didn’t come visit you at night sooner. I didn’t want to impose, or make it weird.”

“And you’re afraid of Eliza,” Lena grinned.

“But its Christmas Eve, and I kind of wanted to spend it with you. Maybe stay up and watch a movie.”

“Another Christmas one?”

It was almost a groan that Lena let out, though Kara looked too cute nodding eagerly as she pulled that black phone out of her pocket.

“Someone’s got to corrupt you with all of the muggle stories,” Kara settled against the couch.

Somewhere between propping the phone on the little table and putting her arm on back the couch, Kara felt Lena snuggle into her side and share her blanket. Still new and not quite sure how to have a girlfriend, she felt her body buzz with this warmth and electricity just below the surface of her skin at the contact.

“Thank you for not letting me stay at school,” Lena muttered about halfway through the film. She had her arm wrapped around Kara’s ribs and she heard her heart beating in her chest.

When Kara looked down at the girl who was keeping her grounded, she was met with Lena’s eyes, and even in the dim light of the space heater and the movie, she was distracted by them. So she kissed Lena. Soft and sleepy and cozy, she kissed her and smiled halfway through because she couldn’t contain how happy she felt.

“Thank you,” Kara mumbled, unsure what to say after a kiss like that.

Lena blushed and resumed her spot.

A few seconds later, Kara found herself unable to concentrate on the movie, and she watched fat flakes begin to fall finally outside. She hugged Lena a little more and settled into the couch.

“Happy Christmas, Lena.”

“Happy Christmas.”