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vminity21 · 3 years

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hoax | jjk

Pairing: friend!Jeongguk x female!reader, friendship to lovers!au

Word Count: 2,854

Genre: fluff/smut/angst

Warning(s): angst involving unrequited love, foul language use, smut, oral (m receiving), grinding, smutty kissing, unprotected sex, may or may not have happened in a restaurant, slight fem!dom Rated: 18+

Summary: the hoax was that you assumed it was unrequited love, but being approached by Jeongguk’s potential love interest proved otherwise, and the determination of confessing your feelings had never been so strong.

Credit to: @suhdays for the cover! I’m obsessed with it!

It’s crazy to think that just a certain way someone looks at you can spark a desire to dream about every and any scenario you can fester to make reality seem promising. Especially when it comes to a potential future with a suitor who’s gentle eyes meet yours now and again definitely trailing strings of hope in its wake. You imagine the way he would touch you in a dim, candlelit room where nervous breaths echo and wide eyes venture; you imagine the way he would tease you with silly banter if you could only muster enough bravery to sit next to him; you would envision moments of laughter even in the hours of the early morning before heading to work; you even ponder about how he would kiss you the very second you confess your love for him.

You wonder, you wonder, you wonder.

Palm clutching the metal doorknob from inside the bathroom, nerves tingle along your stomach when a fresh wave of nausea erupts. He is out there somewhere in the dining hall with his family as well as yours, and everyone assumes you are working late. Desperate to reveal what you have kept underneath for too long, your boss gave you the evening off, and here you are fully clothed in a glimmering dress, hair curled, and makeup dazzling your face. Mind drifting to all the events leading up to this moment has been what fueled your impulse of a decision.

When a friend of the past, LenLen, reached out to you last spring, you immediately took it considering it had been years since you had seen her including her four siblings: Maeve, Taehyung, Jimin, and Jeongguk. Unfortunately, your siblings, Monnie and Hoseok, happened to be busy that evening but you still went anyway, driving to what happens to be your favorite Italian restaurant. Seeing LenLen for the first time in four years was exciting, and you were happy to discover she had a boyfriend by the name of Kim Namjoon. His tall frame nearly overtowered LenLen and you were very appreciative of how social he was, and you found it quite adorable that they happened to meet on a popular dating app where many knew it to be for casual hookups.

It didn’t take long for the rest of the crew to show up, but you were amazed at how much everyone had grown- four years can make a world of difference, but you will never forget when your eyes landed on Jeongguk- your heart nearly leaped from your chest. Dark strands parted to showcase glimmering brown eyes and a thin lipped smile remained on his face nearly the entire evening. The attraction you felt was evident to you especially when everyone decided to continue the evening with mini golf. Anytime he was around you, it was like the feelings budded into a hope you weren’t sure how to control.

LenLen and Namjoon who you had carpooled with after dropping your car off at the apartment, decided to head home and LenLen’s siblings offered to drive you back to where you live. Jeongguk wouldn’t even drop you off where you claimed you would walk, parking in a handicap spot close enough to where the walk was easier to get to your door. He hadn’t gone with you but you were thankful he was kind enough to dismiss your original request. After a few days, you received a dm of a meme that he said made him think of you which ignited the excitement that he may be interested in you after all, but it was the most short lived four messages you had ever seen.

Moving on, nearly a year and a half passed when your roommate and best friend, Min Yoongi, decided to move into a new apartment ten minutes down the road, and your sister Monnie was preparing to move in to take Yoongi’s place. Maeve happens to be very fond of Monnie, and a month prior to the move, LenLen and Maeve invited you and Monnie to hangout at a Brewery not far down the road from your apartment. LenLen and Namjoon mentioned a guy named Seokjin who they were going to try setting you up with even though you already had a person in mind. When Monnie messaged you about the plans, you jokingly asked if Jeongguk was going to be there and at first he wasn’t, but when the day came, and he showed up at the table-

your hands went completely numb.

His presence was so overwhelming that you felt the need to consume enough alcohol to tipsy away the anxiety revolving around how shocked you were to see Jeongguk in all his glory sitting across from you. Taehyung took the seat to your left; Monnie had the biggest crush on Taehyung until Seokjin arrived and although the broad shoulders nearly caved you in, you knew Seokjin was your sister’s type and before you knew it, you caught Seokjin sneaking glimpses of Monnie every chance he got. And, after a few weeks, Seokjin and Monnie became the next couple aside from LenLen and Namjoon, cuddling at every bonfire.

As much as you hoped for Jeongguk’s attention, the most you scored was a teasing side eye while he planted his car keys into your hand where his fingers lingered a bit longer than you expected; also, the quick witted flirt of when you dropped your phone he offered to call it resulting in a deep blush flushing across your chest. Even admitting to him how he most definitely had muscles despite his insecurity of wanting his body to become more buff, and you may have spilled that he was attractive, because he is. The funny part is this all happened in front of Cadence- a girl Jeongguk had feelings for and the same girl who upset you enough that you are now hiding in the bathroom, trying to suppress the fuming anger boiling in your chest.

‘You think for one second he meant anything he said to you? I’m the one he wants and you know it.’

She was the first to see your arrival, and she immediately approached you with intense determination and resentment etched in her red lipped frown. She made it clear that she was aware of you and Jeongguk sharing a serious moment where you almost fully confessed, and he claimed how lucky any guy would be to have you. Your heart shattered for you knew he was stuck between a woman who couldn’t make up her mind and a woman that could. It was like he knew what the true answer was but he battled on not wanting to hurt anyone. When Cadence said what she said, you literally muttered, “What are we, in high school?” Offending the girl enough that you were able to stomp away, tears brimmed, yet you knew you couldn’t give up on Jeongguk just yet.

Bursting through the restroom door, the front of your gown clutched within both hands as you dash past the waiters and waitresses concentrating on balancing trays of food while the air reverberates with clinking glasses and scraping forks. The waft of savory meat and loaves of bread floods your nostrils, yet your eyes search the crowded tables for only one person. Frantically, you find his brother, Taehyung, fitted in a suit, chowing down on his dinner, “Hey, have you seen Guk?” You lean toward his ear trying to maintain your cool.

“Yeah, he’s over there,” Taehyung points toward his right where a few chairs away sat Jeongguk merrily conversing with his siblings though a sadness clouds his umber eyes. When you left earlier, he appeared visibly hurt that you couldn’t make it tonight, but here you are, rushing to him as if this would be the last time you would ever see him again.

“Guk!” You breathe, his wide eyes immediately turning to see you halting before him.

“Y/N? I thought-” He scoots his chair back to stand to his feet, overtowering you as his hair falls into his eyes. The sounds of the restaurant are loud enough to not make the scene unfolding as noticeable, but even if there was to be silence, you could care less.

“I worked it out with my boss, and I’m here now, and I don’t give two fucks what Cadence says-” you’re panting now as well as burning up with unwanted blushes.

“Cadence? She’s here?”

“Of course she is, when is she not with you?” Wetting his lips, his eyebrows furrow when he swallows slowly.

“I didn’t invite her.”

Shock is evident in your expression as the words died on your tongue, “You didn’t?”

“No, because it wasn’t her that I wanted to see tonight.”

When relief floods your limbs, you are hardly in a position to think straight for the man you’ve been hoping for all this time is finally seeing the light that has been shining this entire time: you. “Guk, I love you,” gasping, his lips collide with yours without any hesitation as his palms move to grip your waist. The tips of your thumbs find the corners of his lips while he kisses you slowly, taking in every moment that he never wants to lose any further for you are the missing puzzle piece that he has needed. He wants to show how sorry he is for letting you down prior to this moment; how blind he was to ever think he could let you walk away, and as stunning as you are, his heart pounds significantly.

“Awwww,” you hear Monnie coo as you giggle against his kiss. Jeongguk’s lips hardly leave yours before the pair of you find yourselves in a walkway where swinging doors meet at each end of the hall. Empty food carts are sporadic within the space and it’s so dim, your mind races with the feelings growing in all the right places. Moaning into his kiss when tongues meet, his arms latch underneath your ass before lifting you up to where your back hits the wall. Kisses growing so aggressive yet so passionate, you feel like you can’t catch a good breath and the last thing you ever want is to stop. Fingers tangling with the dark strands of his hair, your legs wrap tightly around his frame while you slide your teeth over his bottom lip, him hissing in response as he continues to bruise your mouth with the same hunger.

You are hoping not one individual happens to walk through here, and yet you don’t seem to mind this scandalous desperation of finally becoming one with the love of your life who happens to love you in return though it took a long time coming. Your dress has slid up to your thighs exposing your skin where you feel the material of his tuxedo and when the click of your heels meet the ground after a few more minutes of paradise, you feel his erection against your abdomen which arouses you to oblivion, and the sheet of your dress returns to sway against your shins.

Lost in the continuous motion of his kiss, you realize he plops into a chair that the back of his calves happened to discover. Breathless, you realize his attire has been disheveled while his hazy eyes sweep your figure, and with a lustful gaze you party a knowing smirk. Seductively you step forward to slowly swing each leg over his frame, set in a perfect straddle where your core grazes along his length. He hums pleasurably while you move your hips back and forth in a tease before pressing your lips to the corner of his jaw. Jeongguk struggles where to place his hands, sliding them along your back until he squeezes your thighs, letting you glide as much as you want while you pepper kisses on any visible skin you see.

Heat clenching, you can hardly take it anymore when you scramble to unbuckle his belt, unzipping his slacks, parting the slit in his underwear to reveal his being prompting your mouth to water at the sight. Jeongguk inhales sharply, you wanting to get down to business, sliding backward off his lap until your ajar mouth tickles along his shaft to build anticipation. “You don’t have to-”

“Shut up,” you take charge, fingers accepting his length carefully while the tip of your tongue dances from the base of his being to the tip in an agonizing pace. He places his hands within the curls of your hair, tightening his grip as he groans in ecstasy. Swirling your tongue along his tip, spreading his precum on his surface, you dip, sucking up and down- the feeling so satisfying, he can’t take his eyes off you. “Fuck,” his raspy voice sounds, “you feel so good.”

His words ignite the motivation to keep going, sashaying your tongue along his girth while you continue the bliss, but you didn’t want him to finish too soon. Releasing, you stand to bundle your dress up to expose a coral thong, shedding it down your legs prompting Guk to raise his hands in surrender. “Are you gonna at least let me pleasure-” Leaning forward with the sexiest menacing look you can muster, you fold your palm over the chair, inching as close to his face as you can to where your mouth barely brushes his panting lips. His words stop, eyes enlarging at the way you take the lead so effortlessly.

“I said shut. Up.” Deep down, you are willing to admit that you are truly showing Jeongguk what he will be missing if he ever decides to change his mind, and with the truth appearing at bay, there is nothing that you could ever do that will ever scare him away. He wants to make you feel good too. He wants to be with you. Reaching for his length, you position it beneath your core, letting the sloppy sound of your wetness cover his tip before taking him all in.

“Ooooh my-“ He grits his teeth trying to control himself and when you nod your permission, he begins his thrusting, your hands tangled in his hair while you moan against his ear. The way he moves sends you over the edge in the most erotic way, and with each stroke, he hits your g-spot, the strong feeling growing so intensely, you can feel the brink of a climax. “Keep going!” You gasp, “Keep going, Jeongguk, keep- ah!” Your toes curl against your heels as your thighs tighten, your high coming to its completion, as an orgasm overtakes your senses. Jeongguk spills within in you, arms wrapping around you tightly while he presses his mouth into your shoulder. Hugging him back, you have forgotten the existence of time, and how long you two hold each other, you are unsure.

“I’m so sorry that I-”

“Don’t.” You stop his whisper, eyes closed while you bury your face into the crook of his neck, taking in the crisp scent of his cologne. “I’m just glad you’re with me now.”

He tips his head enough to where you turn to face him, a seriousness overcomes his expression, his stare flitting to make contact with your own, “I love you, too.” Hearing the words become so real to the point that you almost want to cry tears of joy, but that doesn’t get to happen.

“Uh-” A male voice echoes, scrambling to your feet in pure terror, while the scrape of a turning chair holds Jeongguk fumbling to return his area back into his pants. Jimin stands frozen in place while you struggle to form any phrase.

“It’s not- it’s not what you think!” You squeak, your skin burning from embarrassment. As soon as the words left your mouth, Jimin’s ajar lips and wide eyes, look down at your crumpled thong that still rests proudly upon the floor. Shit, you shudder, and Jimin’s stiffened frame, shifts to exit the hallway, Jeongguk stifling laughter while you twirl to face him. Unbeknownst to you, Guk had reached to retrieve the damp garment, shaking his head. “You’re laughing? Your brother just caught us having sex in a restaurant!”

“An isolated part of a restaurant. And, I promise you he didn’t see too much of anything, I think he will be fine,” Guk chuckles, standing to his feet while you stare at him in calm disbelief.

“If this gets back to Monnie, I will never hear the end of it.”

“Is that a bad thing?”

“Not at all,” you reply, relaxing into his embrace.

“Good. Because I plan to be around every time she brings it up.” Tilting your chin, he kisses you once again. “And,” he pulls away swiftly, raising your thong to your peripheral vision, “I want plenty reasons to have to return these to where they rightfully belong.”

And just like that, your dreams come true, staring up at his wide smile that scrunches his nose, and the way he looks at you returning the same joy- the hoax of unrequited love almost made you give up, and Jeongguk is determined to never let you slip away ever again.

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demetriandelibinaryboyfriends · 3 years

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AIGHT Y’ALL I wasn’t tagged but I’m doing this anyways because f u c k i t

It's the year 2021 and you're obsessed with The Karate Kid. How are you feeling?

Deadasss weird as fuck, my dude. Like...out of all the things I could’ve predicted happening in our lord’s year 2021, it definitely was NOT getting hyperfixated on a hammy gay ship with a punk and a nerd from a goddamn karate soap opera. And yet...here we are??? I will never understand hyperfixations, my guy. But I’ve met a lot of really cool people in this fandom, so I can’t really complain.

Did you grow up with TKK or are you new to the series?

I have never seen a single Karate Kid movie in my entire life. When I was a kid, it looked kinda dumb so I never got into it XD But then I saw my roommate watching Cobra Kai on Youtube Red one day (he has every streaming service known to man) and I was hooked. And...here I am!

We gotta do the basics. Favorite character:

Literally EVERYONE except for Kreese, Yasmine, Kyler, and Tory, sorry stans

Okay but if we gotta pick, Johnny Lawrence is my Problematic Fave. Also I love my boy Daniel, he’s trying his best!!! And Amanda LaRusso, we stan a queen!!!

Among the kids, definitely Miguel, with Demetri as a close second. I also love Sam, Aisha, Moon, and Hawk (pre- and post-Bastardization Arc, anyways XD)!

Favorite ship:

Take a look at my username and take a WILD FUCKING GUESS lmao Yes it’s Eli/Demetri because DUH, every interaction they have is so fucking gay and Eli fucking saved him!!! And came back to him!!! And betrayed the world’s most terrifying dojo with a WAR CRIMINAL SENSEI all for Demetri!!! And how Demetri was willing to forgive him for everything at the drop of a hat because he always had faith there was still good in his best friend??? That’s TRUE LOVE motherfuckers. Please let them kiss in Season 4. I will sell you all of my limbs. Sam/Miguel is a close second because they’re cute as shit and it’s just so lovely to see two people so unapologetically smitten with each other. They are in LOVE, and I will RIOT if they break up again!!! Keep Sam and Miguel together 2k21!!!

Underrated character:

SAMANTHA LARUSSO!!! The amount of hate my girl gets for acting like a normal teenager and fucking up occasionally JUST like the rest of the cast makes me want to start punching things. She cares SO MUCH about her friends!!! And she loves the shit out of Miguel!!! She hasn’t always been the best friend but you know what??? Neither has Hawk, and we still forgave his ass!!! Also LET HER BE FEMININE but also kick utter ass, my god!!! Femininity should not be synonymous with being weak, y’all! ALSO DEMETRI, like yes, he likes to complain and occasionally run his mouth, but guess what else he likes to do??? Never give up on the love of his life his best friend Eli Moskowitz and refuse to lose faith in him no matter how much of a little shit he’s become, and I for one think that’s very badass of him. Also the way he takes care of Eli pre-Cobra Kai in his own snarky bastard way makes me absolutely Weak and needs more appreciation. Like the dude has charisma and COULD have probably made other friends and left Eli behind if he wanted, but did he??? No, he wants the weepy loser with the lip scar in the polo shirts and dorky sweaters and will protect him as much as his wimpy ass is able!!!

Underrated ship (don’t say therapy, lol):

Among the adults, Daniel/Amanda!!! Like maybe I just don’t watch that much tv, but it seems kinda rare to me to see a happily married hetero couple, and it’s just nice to see a married couple who genuinely love each other and where there’s not like...lingering resentment or some shit. I feel like this ship gets overshadowed by Lawrusso a lot (which like--okay, fair!!! Daniel and Johnny do have a ridiculous amount of chemistry, and the gay undertones are undeniable, so I get it), and it makes me kinda sad. I do love Lawrusso, but I don’t like when Amanda has to get her heart broke for it to happen, you feel? Among the kids, honestly YasMoon. Like I really love the idea of Yasmine trying to better herself because of Moon’s influence on her and because Moon like...inspires her to be a better person, I guess? With their pretty strong friendship, it just makes more sense to me for Yasmine to get a redemption arc through Moon than through Demetri. ALSO girls DO often pull the whole “mean girl” shtick to cover up being closeted lesbians, and Moon IS canonically bi, so it could work!!! I just think this one could be a really interesting Friends to Lovers take, and could make a really nice coming-out arc for Yas. And MoonPiper too, honestly!!! Like they only got 5 seconds of screentime so I understand WHY it’s underrated, but I still love what we DID get and loved that there was a canon gay ship (even if only for 1 scene lmao). I’m really excited to potentially see more of them in Season 4!!! Please, I’m begging!!!

Wax On, Wax Off or Sweep the Leg?

Sweep the Leg because it will always be deeply hilarious to me how Demetri took note of the first move Eli ever used on him and spent presumably weeks perfecting it OUT OF SPITE just to get him back with it at the soccer game MONTHS later. Just goes to show how OBSESSED Demetri is with Eli and their little karate rivalry which is just NOT straight, I’m sorry

Which of Daniel’s dumb little outfits is your favorite?

There’s something so funny about this pretentious little fuck walking around in fancy suits once he becomes a #SuccessfulBusinessman, and still occasionally trying to do karate in a full-ass suit (take THAT, Tom Cole’s boba!!!) I’m also a big fan of how he looks in his gi with his little headband. Still killing that look as a 40-50-something!!!

Character from the films you most want to return, who’s not Terry Silver:

Tbh I have still never seen a single Karate Kid movie (they took them off of Netflix, RIP), so...I don’t really care if they bring anyone else back??? I’m invested in the characters we already have in the show, I don’t need some rando from the movies to make a cameo to have a good time XD The only character I really wanted them to bring back was Ali, and they already did, so like...I’m good??? That’s all I really needed, I can die in peace now XD

Scene that lives in your head rent-free:

Basically any fluffy Elimetri scene, but 5 in particular: ~Miguel first meeting Eli and Demetri at the lunch table, and Eli looking at Demetri like he hung every goddamn star in the sky ~Demetri going off at a terrifying, “unhinged” karate sensei on the first day of Cobra Kai because he made fun of Eli’s lip and Demetri is not about that shit ~ELI STEALING DEMETRI’S NACHO AND SMIRKING AT HIM, LIKE EXCUSE ME SIR PLEASE BE A LITTLE LESS HOMOSEXUAL IN FRONT OF YOUR GIRLFRIEND ~Eli yanking Demetri onstage during Valley Fest to hold a board, and Demetri being visibly like...extremely turned on when Eli breaks said board ~ELI SAVING DEMETRI DURING THE CHRISTMAS FIGHT, ELI APOLOGIZING, DEMETRI AND ELI KICKING COBRA ASS TOGETHER AKSBDCUWYVCBU

Will Anthony LaRusso ever be relevant?

I hope not! He’s kind of a funny meme character to pop up now and again but I don’t think he deserves a serious plotline when there are so many more interesting characters to follow.

You live in The Valley and are forced into the karate gang war. Which dojo do you join?

Miyagi-Do because Cobra Kai would eat me alive. Also I’d probably straight up get stuck and die in that cement mixer, if I even made it that far XD Besides, being salty that your friend who you have a crush on likes martial arts better than you and starting martial arts to impress them but also being too lazy to join anything TOO intense is a Big Mood and I am certainly not speaking from personal experience here, no sirree

What’s your training montage song?

"Shut Up and Drive” by Rihanna for a weight-training and bicep-flexing montage, “Whatever It Takes” by Imagine Dragons for a more intense punching-and-kicking-shit montage. I don’t know why this is, I just feel it in my heart.

It’s the crossover event of the century! Which TV show are you combining with Cobra Kai for an hour-long Saturday night special?

*Briefly panics because I don’t actually watch that much TV and most of the stuff I do watch is fantasy/sci fi shit that absolutely would not work for a CK crossover*

Hmmmm okay but ACTUALLY

You know what would be fucking funny as hell would be an It’s Always Sunny In Philadelphia crossover. Allow me to elaborate: ~The Gang goes to LA on vacation during the height of the Karate Dojo Wars. They literally can get barely anything done without all these goddamn karate-fighting teenagers getting in the way. ~They are all very annoyed by this. Even the most obscure of tourist attractions is eventually intercepted by karate fights. ~Mac tries to join Cobra Kai because he sees all this karate fighting on, and wants to unquestionably prove both his badassery and masculinity. Both Johnny and Kreese are like “Wtf are you doing here? Aren’t you like 30?” ~Mac gets a planet-sized crush on Johnny after all of 5 minutes and endlessly gushes to the gang about him. The gang mercilessly roast him about this and about how much of a pathetic loser with his life together in no way whatsoever Johnny sounds like. They proceed to have exactly 0 self awareness about this. ~The Waitress is in town visiting family or something, and Charlie is stalking her, as per usual. However, every time he’s about to go up and talk to her, a pack of battling Miyagi-Dos and Cobra Kais throwing punches and kicks everywhere blocks his path. One times, Mac is among one of these packs and Charlie is like “???? He didn’t get kicked out of that teen karate dojo yet???” ~Seeing how much the Kids These Days seem to like fighting, Charlie drops by a local high school to try and sell Fight Milk to the kids doing karate. Only Kyler and Brucks buy into it, and subsequently get the entire West Valley High wrestling team sick. Charlie is inevitably arrested, as Counselor Blatt thinks he’s selling the kids drugs. ~Dennis makes a plan to have sex with every hot chick he can in Los Angeles. He meets Ali on a dating app post-divorce, and inevitably tries to bang her. It doesn’t work. ~Frank crashes the rental car, and inevitably the gang ends up at one of Daniel’s dealerships. Dee quickly takes a liking to Daniel and is like “Watch, assholes--Imma homewreck this guy’s marriage.” She starts frequenting the dealerships to attempt to flirt with Daniel, until one day she walks in on him having sex with Johnny in a back room and she’s like “Is that the guy from Mac’s goddamn dojo?!?!” ~Dennis, of course, tries to sleep with Amanda. Amanda is not having it, and rebukes him in the most snarky, Amanda-esque way possible. Dennis is just like “Oh not AGAIN--the women in this goddamn diva city have too high of standards!” ~Later on, the gang is at the beach and Dennis spots the blonde lady he went out on an ill-fate date with, and decides to give it another shot--that is, until he sees her go up and kiss another woman and he’s like “IS THAT THE LADY FROM THE CAR DEALERSHIP??? STUPID-KARATE-KICK-COMMERCIAL’S WIFE?!? YOU HAVE GOT TO BE KIDDING ME.” ~Dee complains to Dennis about her lack of luck getting laid, and Dennis is just like “Oh come ON, is everyone in Los Angeles gay???” Smash cut to Hawk and Demetri having sex, Moon and Piper making out, Bert and Nate holding hands, Chris and Mitch doing oral, and Amanda, Ali, and Carmen having a threesome. ~Frank tries to scam Kreese into buying cheaply-made karate equipment for his dojo. The gang ends up having to leave LA because Kreese is quite literally plotting all of their murders.

For tagging, uuuuhhhhhh @jackonthelongwalk @soe-leo @max-eagle-fang @cc-tinslebee @backawayfromthegay @asphodel-storm do the thing, if y’all haven’t yet!

#cobra kai #cobra kai season 1 #cobra kai season 2 #cobra kai season 3 #ck #tag game #binary boyfriends #daniel larusso #johnny lawrence #it's always sunny in philadelphia #iasip

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mulletpeters · 3 years

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toothache of the mind

ship: peterpatter

rating: g

word count: 1938

tags: canon compliant, pre-canon, high school, 1990s, best friends, feelings realization, pining

Reggie gets braces for his sweet sixteen.

He doesn’t tell anyone―not even his best friends in the whole wide world. So when he walks into homeroom the Tuesday after his birthday, Luke nearly topples out of his chair at the sight of the metal wrapped around Reggie’s adorable little snaggletooth. Alex may or may not be hyperventilating, but Luke wouldn’t know. He’s distracted.

Reggie, for his part, is acting like Luke’s world hasn’t just been tilted on its axis in a dangerous way. “Hey, guys,” he says nonchalantly. “Sup?”

Alex recovers much quicker than Luke, though there’s still a glint of concern in his eyes. They both know how self-conscious Reggie can be, especially about his smile, so he treads carefully. “Hey, Reginald. Do anything fun for your birthday?”

They had their own party on Friday after school―Luke gave Reggie a new studded strap for his bass because the one he’d found in Bobby’s garage had started to look pretty sad―but Reggie’s parents are the type to force family time onto him any chance they get. Luke has a sneaking suspicion they only do it so they can use Reggie against each other in whatever asinine argument comes up that day, but it’s not like he can really do anything about it. None of them can, so Reggie is unfortunately left to his own devices when it comes to compulsory dysfunctional family celebrations. “Not really,” he says in lieu of giving any actual details; he’ll tell them eventually, but a crowded classroom is not ideal for dishing out his personal drama. “Got braces.” He shrugs, like his mom hasn’t made him feel like shit about his less than perfect teeth for most of his childhood. Definitely since Luke’s known him, anyway, and they’ve been friends since they were ten.

“Oh, did you?” Alex asks, and it sounds borderline sarcastic but he holds back most of his usual bite. “Let’s see ‘em, then.” He holds an arm out in a grand gesture like he’s giving Reggie the floor, and Reggie flashes the most hesitant smile Luke’s ever seen on him.

Luke swears his heart stops, but Alex is once again carrying the conversation so he does his best to tune in. “Oh, nice,” Alex says, approving of the red brackets stuck to the front of Reggie’s teeth with a slight nod.

Reggie returns the gesture, and he looks considerably more relaxed now that he knows his friends won’t shun him for something this mundane. “Thanks,” he tells Alex before turning to face Luke, and he looks a little apprehensive, like maybe Luke should get his brain to reboot so he can offer some reassuring words instead of just staring like a total weirdo.

Luke wants to say something about how red looks good on him, or how it’s cool that it’ll match his favourite flannel, or maybe he’d settle for even just a supportive thumbs up. What actually comes out of his mouth is, “How long do you have to wear them?”

Reggie gives him a funny look, head tilted and brow furrowed. “Only like, a year,” he answers anyway, and Luke wants to scream.

Thankfully, the teacher chooses that moment to draw their attention to the front of the room, and Reggie turns around in his seat so Luke can only see the back of his head. Luke sighs in relief, sinking further into his chair till his limbs are sprawled out into the aisle, accepting his defeat. It’s gonna be a long year.

Luke decidedly does not address the issue after that day. The issue being that weird fluttery feeling he gets in his chest every time Reggie smiles at him, or laughs, or talks, or breathes. Basically any time he sees the glint of metal in Reggie’s mouth, really.

It’s not like this is a new development, exactly; Luke has always had a bit of a soft spot for Reggie, a little bit of weakness. In the six years they’ve known each other, he can’t recall a time that Reggie just existing didn’t make his brain static out. The braces just made him recognize what’s always been true, even if he still doesn’t know how to make sense of it.

Normally he’d talk to his best friends about whatever’s on his mind, but he can’t very well articulate a dilemma he can’t comprehend to begin with. Plus, he doubts Alex would be any help, considering he’s got his own set of issues to work through, and he’d rather die than bring it up with Reggie himself. And as for Bobby, well. Bobby’s got the emotional depth of a puddle. So, naturally, he does the only logical thing there is to do: he writes.

He figures if Reggie’s smile is stuck in his head like a song, he might as well make it one. It’s what he’s good at, and it gives him a false sense of separation from the issue that grants a certain clarity he can’t get any other way. He jots down pages and pages of lyrics, curled up in his bed late one night, fingers itching for his guitar even though he knows his mom would kill him if she caught him playing at 1am again. So he just sits cross-legged on his comforter, hunched over his ratty old notebook, scrawling cliche lines about green eyes and freckles and an endearingly crooked canine.

It’s the sappiest thing he’s ever written. When he reads over it before school the next morning, he knows he’s well and truly fucked.

Reggie plops down into the dip in the center of the studio couch, inadvertently leaning onto Luke’s shoulder. “You working on a new song?” he asks, tilting his chin at the notebook on Luke’s lap like the question needs clarification.

Luke nods even as he scrambles to shut the book, shuffling loose papers to stuff them between the creased cover. “Uh,” he stammers, biting his lip. “Yeah, I am.”

Reggie just nods back, averting his eyes to look up at the loft when he realizes that Luke doesn’t want him to see the song. “Rad. What's it called?” He glances at Luke, offering a comforting smile that says Luke can tell him as much or as little as he wants.

And well, that's the thing. Luke hasn't given it a name yet―the song, or the bewildering cocktail of feelings that inspired it to begin with. So he looks up from his scratchy handwriting to Reggie’s lopsided grin and says the first thing his useless brain can come up with. “Crooked Teeth.”

“Oh.” Reggie’s smile slides right off his face and Luke realizes what he's done half a second too late. Reggie bites his lip self-consciously, fidgeting with the sleeves of the flannel tied around his waist as Luke scrambles to backtrack into less sensitive territory.

“It's about Bobby,” he blurts unwittingly. And technically speaking, it is a little bit about Bobby, mostly because it's a little bit about the whole band, seeing as they’re mentioned in one line of the second chorus. But Bobby’s not the point of the song, not by a long shot. Luke decides Reggie doesn't need to know that, though. Especially not when his face lights up at the revelation, conspiratorial eyebrow raised like Luke’s letting him in on some great secret.

“Oh, snap! Well, I won't tell him, but don't let him find those lyrics.” Reggie winks, and it's not like it’s an unfamiliar sight, but Luke’s heart stutters out of time all the same. He's just glad Reggie isn’t the type to ask to see a song before Luke’s ready to share it; Luke doubts he'll ever be ready to share this particular piece, but if he does show it to Reggie, it'll be his choice.

He laughs halfheartedly, more a forceful exhale than anything else, and lands a playful punch to Reggie’s bicep. “Sure, man.”

Reggie just smiles wider. It feels like a kick straight to Luke’s solar plexus.

“You told him it’s about Bobby?” Alex asks, but what Luke hears is, you’re an idiot. Luke looks down at his best friend―he used to consider Reggie his best friend too, but he thinks maybe Reggie is in a category all his own at this point―and frowns. “He got his braces off before we even met him.” Alex stands up, walking around his drum kit to pace the floor. “And you told Reggie it’s called Crooked Teeth before you said that? Dude, you know how insecure he is about―”

“Yeah, Al, I know,” Luke huffs, cutting him off. It’s not the title Luke would've consciously chosen, but it's weirdly fitting, in a sort of convoluted way. Like, maybe Reggie’s teeth weren’t the sole catalyst for this whole...whatever this is, but they definitely played a major part. Luke’s really gonna miss Reggie’s snaggletooth, okay? He resents Reggie’s parents for a lot of reasons, but forcing him to get braces instead of a real birthday present is pretty damn high on the list.

Alex, with all his anxiety-induced powers of perception, notices Luke’s internal struggle and momentarily stops wearing a hole in the floor. “You’re kinda wiggin’ out, man. Chill.” He holds his hands out in what’s meant to be a placating gesture, but the drumsticks in his fists sort of ruin the effect.

“You’re one to talk,” Luke mumbles, but he doesn’t mean it, and Alex knows that. He’s just confused, and stressed, and generally unsure what to do with his recent epiphany. “What should I do?” he asks louder, eyes pleading.

Alex goes back to nervously lapping the room, and Luke picks at a loose string on his guitar strap just to have something to do. “I dunno,” Alex says after what could very well be an eternity. “But I think you’d feel better if you told him.”

Luke’s eyes shoot up to meet Alex’s gaze, brow furrowing involuntarily. “You what?”

Alex walks over, planting his feet in front of Luke, clapping a hand on Luke’s shoulder that isn’t holding his guitar strap up. “You’re clearly upset about this, Lucas. Tell him.”

Luke is shaking his head before Alex has even finished his sentence. “Not happening.” He folds his arms like a petulant child, but it loses its effectiveness when his guitar gets in the way, a sad thump echoing through the room. “I wouldn’t know what to say, anyway.”

Alex cocks an eyebrow with a pointed look at the notebook sitting on top of Luke’s amp. “I think you already said it.”

Luke follows his line of sight, eyes landing on the folded corner of a piece of paper sticking out from all the others. He already knows what’s written on it―has the words memorized by now. They were written on his heart long before he put them to the page, anyway.

Bobby bursts into the studio then, Reggie in tow, and the moment is broken. They’re laughing about something Bobby said, and Reggie is as beautiful as ever as he throws his head back, and Luke thinks that maybe one day he’ll get the courage to tell him how he feels. He’ll ask Alex to work with him on the music to go with his lyrics, maybe even get Bobby to help with the melody. He’ll throw rocks at Reggie’s window and serenade him from his front lawn like they do in the movies, and his friends will back him up, and it’ll be perfect.

For now, he needs to focus on perfecting the songs they already have. They’ve got a show at the Orpheum next summer to prepare for.

#posted this a week ago but i finally got around to putting it here too lmao #i still don't know if i like the formatting but whatever #anyway! i'm writing willex next <3 #jatp #julie and the phantoms #peterpatter #luke #reggie #alex #mine #fic

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bookishbarnowl · 3 years

Text

“I’m a person!”

The intimidation technique didn’t seem to phase the cocky teen. He smirked. “Techno, you gotta show me what’s wrong,” he goaded.

Break his leg, the AI suggested, but he blocked that out. He refused to play charades with the pint-sized terror.

In a post-apocalyptic world where the remaining survivors live in secure underground bases, Techno is a metal heart among dozens of warm, beating ones. That doesn't stop him from embracing his humanity, but it also means he has a few weaknesses others don't.

Warnings: Mild dehumanization (resolved)

Relationships: Technoblade & Tommy, Techno & Tommy & Wilbur

Word Count: 1,849

Ao3 Link: Here

Here’s a Wingdings translator if anyone wants to follow what Techno’s saying, but don’t feel like you need to, it’s not really plot relevant. Almost all of it is him threatening Tommy. :)

https://lingojam.com/WingdingsTranslator

Technoblade stormed down the hallway, mechanical limbs pounding against the floor of the bunker with resounding clangs as he stopped bothering to lighten his footsteps. Stealth was not a priority right now. He cranked up the volume on his voicebox, uncaring that no one could currently understand him. He was sick and tired of his Tommy’s ridiculous pranks, and changing his language settings while he was recharging was the last straw.

“❄︎□︎❍︎❍︎⍓︎!” he roared in his default android language, slamming doors open and shut as he searched. Other personnel quickly caught on to his current temper and promptly got out of his way, retreating to the parts of the base he’d already searched.

Yeah, faster, the broken AI jeered in the back of his head, spurring him on. He growled and tried to ignore it, but picked up the pace anyway. He was done.

He finally found Tommy and Wilbur in the latter’s bedroom, playing a video game together and bickering happily. He flung open the door with a bang and grabbed the remote, turning the TV off as they both yelled indignantly.

“✡︎□︎◆︎🕯︎♎︎ ♌︎♏︎⧫︎⧫︎♏︎❒︎ ♐︎♓︎⌧︎ ⧫︎♒︎♓︎⬧︎ ❒︎♓︎♑︎♒︎⧫︎ ■︎□︎⬥︎,” he snapped at Tommy, positively radiating anger.

The intimidation technique didn’t seem to phase the cocky teen. He smirked. “Aww, Techno, I can’t understand you. What exactly is the matter?”

“👍︎◆︎⧫︎ ⧫︎♒︎♏︎ ♍︎❒︎♋︎◻︎📪︎ ♓︎⧫︎🕯︎⬧︎ ■︎□︎⧫︎ ♐︎◆︎■︎■︎⍓︎📬︎ ✋︎🕯︎❍︎ ♎︎□︎■︎♏︎.” he replied, his face darkening. He wasn’t going to negotiate.

“Techno, you gotta show me what’s wrong,” Tommy goaded.

Break his leg, the AI suggested, but he blocked it out.

“✋︎ ❒︎♏︎♐︎◆︎⬧︎♏︎📬︎ 🕈︎♏︎ ♌︎□︎⧫︎♒︎ 🙵■︎□︎⬥︎ ⬥︎♒︎♋︎⧫︎🕯︎⬧︎ ⬥︎❒︎□︎■︎♑︎ ♋︎■︎♎︎ ⍓︎□︎◆︎ ♋︎❒︎♏︎ ♑︎□︎♓︎■︎♑︎ ⧫︎□︎ ⬧︎⬥︎♓︎⧫︎♍︎♒︎ ♓︎⧫︎ ♌︎♋︎♍︎🙵 □︎❒︎ ⬧︎□︎ ♒︎♏︎●︎◻︎ ❍︎♏︎-” he broke off, gritting his teeth and distractedly registering the AI trying to convince him to commit a war crime. He crossed his arms, resentment and fury pooling in his stomach. He was not playing charades with the pint-sized terror.

Wilbur was looking back and forth between the two of them, observant enough to piece together the situation. He was also partially fluent in the android tongue, enough to probably pick up one or two keywords in Techno’s rapid-fire speech.

“⬧︎ ◻︎ ♏︎ ♏︎ ♍︎ ♒︎ ⬧︎ ⧫︎ ◆︎ ♍︎ 🙵,” Techno enunciated clearly in his direction, slow enough that he could pick it up, then switched back into his regular talking speed. “❄︎□︎❍︎❍︎⍓︎ ✋︎ ♋︎❍︎ ♎︎♏︎♋︎♎︎ ⬧︎♏︎❒︎♓︎□︎◆︎⬧︎📬︎ ❄︎♒︎♓︎⬧︎ ♓︎⬧︎ ■︎□︎⧫︎ ♐︎◆︎■︎■︎⍓︎.”

“Voice… trapped? Stuck?” Wilbur translated. “And something about death? I heard the word Tommy…” He rounded on his brother. “What did you do to him?”

Tommy was trying hard not to laugh, which only made Techno feel worse. “It was just a prank,” he defended. “Isn’t it hilarious? Go on, try and say something else,” he prodded.

Techno didn’t move, mouth stubbornly shut. Some of his anger was eating away into humiliation, which he was sure was the worst emotion in existence. He quashed the feeling and tried to get back to being infuriated.

Oooh, someone’s embarrassed, the AI mocked. Scared, even? Ah, and there’s the helplessness.

Sometimes the voice cut deeper than it had any right to. Techno growled again, the sound rumbling menacingly through his entire body as he determinedly refused to dwell on those statements. He fixed Tommy with a glare that would have most people in the base quivering in fear, but he had the audacity to grin back at him.

“Techno, you’ve gotta ask me for help if you want it fixed,” he taunted, standing up with a hand on his hip as Wilbur looked torn. “The great Blade’s gotta admit he needs help.”

That was the tipping point for Techno.

“G̵͙͊ẽ̷̮t̵̜̽ ̶̬̆r̵͉͐i̸ḑ̴͂ ̶̧̂ō̷̜f̷ ̵̼͘t̷̑h̶̽is ̵͎̾n̸̠͑o̷̦͘w̸̠̃,” he snarled, brute forcing his way through the sloppily installed language blockers in sheer rage. His eyes flashed red and the claws stored in his finger joints slid out against his will, the voice in his head cackling as oily tears started leaking from his eye sockets.

Wilbur’s eyes widened and he jumped up, grabbing a screwdriver off of the desk and cautiously approaching the crying android. Tommy looked taken aback, his expression dissolving into something more sheepish.

“⚐︎ ■︎ ❍︎ ⍓︎ ♌︎ ♋︎ ♍︎ 🙵,” Techno instructed Wilbur carefully, directing him to the detachable panel on his lower back. He closed his eyes and tried to get a grip on his emotions, retracting his claws and silencing his snickering commentator.

“I didn’t mean anything by it,” Tommy sputtered, backpedaling.

“Then get over here and fix it,” Wilbur told him severely. The teen hung his head and came over to help Wilbur get the panel off, revealing the computer screen embedded into the metal there that Tommy had used to hack into Techno.

Techno shivered as he felt the two of them start going through the code looking for Tommy’s software, exceptionally conscious that they literally had his entire being at their fingertips. A few malicious clicks, and he could be altered in any number of ways.

Phil had tried to help him update the security on his data so things like that wouldn’t be possible, but his system seemed to vehemently reject any permanent alterations to his code and always did a system reboot afterwards to purge the new protections. He suspected the busted AI he shared a headspace with was behind it. Unfortunately, it didn’t seem to care about short-term add-ons like the one Tommy had undoubtedly used.

He trusted both of them. He did, and no amount of pranks would change that. If he didn’t they wouldn’t be behind him right now, painstakingly removing the last traces of the language blocker. But sometimes they went too far. He felt used and taken advantage of. And that was not okay with him.

As soon as they got his back panel reattached, he left, ignoring their worried questions about if he was okay or not. He needed some time alone, and there was only one place no one would want to follow him.

He made his way to the airlock and grabbed a pack, slinging it over his shoulders and grabbing a blaster off the rack on the wall. Pulling a shield down over his face, he punched his code into the computer by the exit and signed himself out, then allowed the airlock to seal behind him.

The huge door slid open with a hiss in front of him, letting him out into the wasteland. The face shield protected him from the dust particles the inexhaustible wind dragged across every surface, and his metal body meant he didn’t have to deal with an oxygen tank or protective suit like the rest of the residents in the base. He scanned the area around the base with a keen eye, clipped his blaster to his hip, and set off into the desert.

He didn’t go far, barely beyond the next hill, but it was enough to make him feel like he was the only one in the world, which was what he wanted.

Lonely, lonely, lonely, the AI chanted in his head, and he pushed it away. Solitude helped him think.

But his peace didn’t last very long. The sound of clumsy footsteps stumbling through the dirt reached his ears, and he bowed his head and internally groaned. Someone had come after him, and it sure didn’t sound like Phil. A few more seconds of waiting would tell him which of the two less tolerable options he’d gotten. He considered running farther away, certain he could outdistance whichever it was, but if it was Tommy he’d just doggedly follow. And Wilbur would feel hurt. So he stayed put.

Leave him behind, the voice commanded. Shut up, he told it.

Sure enough, a moment later Tommy all but tripped over the crest of the hill and joined him at the bottom with a little help from gravity, breathing hard through the oxygen mask and making a vain attempt to brush the sheen of sweat off a brow covered by his helmet.

“These suits are so awkward to walk in,” he started, voice coming through the speakers in the aforementioned suit with a slightly tinny distortion. It was obviously an attempt to break the ice, though a pretty terrible one since Techno had no need for the bulky garments. He took the bait anyway, might as well get this over with.

“You were still pigheaded enough to come after me in one,” he replied.

“Well, uh, Wilbur put me up to it, y’know, and Big Man TommyInnit’s never one to back down from a challenge, eh?”

“Did you at least sign out a firearm before you left?”

“Nah. Who’s gonna mess with these guns?” he cracked, flexing non-existent arm muscles. Not that you could tell through the suit. The thick fabric made even someone like Phil, one of their best scouts, look like they’d rolled in marshmallows. The corner of Techno’s lip twitched in spite of himself.

Heh, Lonely Man thinks the Stupid Child is funny- He shoved it back again. Get some more creative insults, he thought.

“If you get jumped by a monster I will laugh at your corpse,” he warned.

“You wouldn’t, you love me too much,” Tommy sniggered, punching his shoulder.

“You’re right, I do,” he responded, unexpectedly serious.

The change in mood was not lost on Tommy, and his laugh quieted. “I love you too, man,” he returned. “I’m, um, really sorry about earlier. That was too far.”

“It was,” Techno agreed noncommittally.

“I shouldn’t mess with your code.”

“You shouldn’t.”

“I’m not going to stop playing pranks on you.”

He sighed. “I knew my expectations were too high.”

“But I won’t hack you again.”

“Thank you,” he said, accepting the apology. “Messin' with living code is a serious invasion of privacy.”

“Yeah,” Tommy whispered, guilt heavy on his tone. “But I wouldn’t hurt you, you know that right?”

“Of course I do,” he reassured him. He was rarely the one to initiate physical contact, but this time he made an exception, leaning over for a one-armed hug. Tommy leaned into him, but his personality wouldn’t let the silence continue for long.

“So whaddya say we go back and make Wilbur wish he’d never sent me out to reunite the dream duo?” he blurted, grin wide and looking like it had never left.

Techno didn’t bother hiding the upward quirk of his lip this time. “Let’s go beat up a nerd.”

#mcyt #dsmp #fanfic #technoblade #tommyinnit #wilbur soot #hurt/comfort #family dynamics #mobpocalypse au #first of two fics in this au #also on ao3

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classic80sand90smovieloves2 · 4 years

Text

Wishing I was her

(not my gif but look how cute it is)(requested by anonymous)

(D- The reader has had a crush on Nick for a long time and realizes just how much she likes him after he gets together with Lindsay)

- It all started in middle school when you first laid eyes on Nick Andopolis. Back then he was less perfect, all gangly limbs and dorky smiles, but it was only a matter of time before you fell for him. And though your friends would tease you endlessly for it, you were never able to completely shake your attraction. Not even when he made friends with Daniel Desario, not even when he became a freak, not even when he dated Heidi Henderson and now not even as he dated Lindsay Weir.

- You felt utterly pathetic being so hung up on a guy who probably barely even knew you existed. You weren’t a freak, you weren’t even close to him, you were just y/n y/l/n the girl who was in his English class.

- What made it even more frustrating was that you could have gotten close to him just as easily as Lindsay had; maybe even easier. You’d been friends with Kim in the early years of middle school. How hard would it have been to ask her to hang out again?

- But you weren’t jealous, it was strange. You didn’t resent Lindsay or Nicky or anyone; you just felt like you missed an opportunity, one you’d never have again because him and Lindsay were perfect together. He was seriously in love and she, well you didn’t know Lindsay all too well but she seemed like a sweet girl.

- All you wanted to do was get rid of your feelings once and for all. To end what was going to destroy your chances of finding real love where you could.

- That’s why you were where you were now, standing at Kim Kelly’s locker, waiting for her to show up to get her books. She looked mildly amused seeing you there, looking completely out of place and awkward. She slowly sauntered up to you and you gave her a small smile, telling her that you’d been doing some reminiscing and was wondering if she’d want to hang out sometime.

- Perhaps it was because hanging out with you would make her look good to her mother or because a sliver of her actually wanted to be your friend again but she smirked, winked and said “You want to roll with the cool kids, huh? Alright, let’s get out of here.”

- Maybe it was a bitch move going through Kelly to fix your issues but you weren’t going to just dump her when you got the closure you felt you needed. You would still be her friend, would probably be all their friends if they actually accepted you, you just needed an easy way to get in.

- Your plan had been to become friends with Nick, crush that stupid crush you had on him by actually hanging out around him. You hoped that your feelings would just fade because you would finally know what he was actually like. He would no longer be some mysterious dream guy you could fantasize about. He would be a real person to you and one you might not like as much as you thought you did.

- And so, for the past week and a half you had been a certified member of the freaks. You’d been avoided by some of your classmates and insulted by others but you knew that that was just the way things were going to be from now on. You really didn’t mind.

- You were sort of surprised to find that you really liked hanging out with the freaks. They were a nice change from everyone you had ever been friends with and oddly enough you seemed to just fit right in. It seemed that you particularly got along with Nick when he wasn’t hanging around Lindsay and being stoned out of his mind.

- But during your time of hanging out with him you really started to figure things out and come to terms with your feelings.

- You’d hung out with him, was able to see and hear about every stupid or disgusting thing he had ever done and yet... nothing changed. You still liked him and you realized that you were even worse off than before because now you knew for certain that you didn’t just have a crush on him. You were absolutely in love.

- He was no longer a mystery to you but you liked the real him even more than the version of him you had come up with. He really was your perfect guy in so many ways and you had probably lost any chance you might have had with him by not acting sooner.

- Everytime you saw them together you longed to be her. Sometimes it physically hurt to look at them. But then the unexpected happened.

- Nick broke up with Lindsay and everything went to shit. He was depressed and completely hung up on her yet she didn’t seem all that hurt. It was as though the roles were reversed, as though she wasn’t the one who had supposedly been dumped.

- Then you learned the truth as to why they called it quits and your heart broke for him. Could he get more amazing? At this point you weren’t sure.

- But it hurt seeing him like that because you knew what it felt like to be in love with someone who really didn’t love you back. It hurt even more because you would have killed to have him yet he couldn’t even see what a great guy he was or how obviously in love with him you had been from the start.

- Maybe you’d never had a chance with him but you would rather die then sit around and watch him mope. Yearning for a girl that just wasn’t into him as much as he hoped.

- You wanted to support him, you really did, but hell it bothered you. More often than not you were the one to hang out with him because you felt an obligation to that no one else in the group really did. Perhaps they were used to it but you weren’t so you wanted to help him as much as you could. You felt like you owed it to him in some weird unexplainable way; to help him when no one else helped you, even though his situation was admittedly worse than yours.

- So here you were, sitting in his basement watching him listen to music and lay on the couch like a corpse, limp and depressed looking. You couldn’t stand it. You shuffled across the couch so that you were sitting closer to him or rather to his head that was buried in a pillow.

“Nick?” he groaned in response, the low sound muffled by the pillow. “Come on Nick, get up. You can’t suffocate yourself in a pillow all day.”

- He pushed himself around so that he was laying on his back. The front of his hair stuck up and around in wild direction, you had to fight back the urge to reach out and fix it. Instead you patted his shoulder.

“Nick, you’re the greatest guy I’ve ever met. You’re funny, handsome, talented; any girl would be lucky to have you. And if Lindsay can’t see how amazing you are then maybe she just wasn’t right for you.”

“But she was the only girl whose ever understood me.” He replied.

“Well don’t I understand you?” You asked shyly, almost hopefully.

“I mean yeah but... you know what I mean. She was the only girl who understood me and loved me and wanted to be with me.” he said miserably.

“Well I’ve got news for you buddy.” You muttered almost under your breath as you looked at your hands, the floor, the walls; anywhere except for him.

- The couch squeaked and all of a sudden he was sitting up, his eyes locked on the side of your head. You could feel his gaze on you and it made you want to disappear. He’d obviously heard you.

“What do you mean?” He asked. You wondered if you could make up an excuse and escape.

“What do you want me to say Nick? That I love you? That I have loved you for a while now? Look I’m sorry. I know you don’t want to hear this right now, not from me at least so... so I think I should just go.” You sighed.

- You stood up and quickly gathered your things, heading up the basement steps as he sat silently on the couch. You weren’t sure what you thought was going to happen but deep down you think you knew this was how it was going to end.

- You had managed to make it outside and a little ways down the street when you heard his door open and him emerge from behind it. He called after you but you didn’t stop, you just kept going, too embarrassed to face him and the rejection you knew he was bringing. Your mind was already searching for all the ways that you could fake your way out of going to school tomorrow

- In an instant you were being pulled back and into a hard chest, his arms wrapped around you and kept you close to him. You felt more than a little awkward as he held onto you for a long moment before he finally pulled back.

“I’m sorry, I... I didn’t realize that you liked me like that and well I... I’m not sure what to say but I’m uh, I’m happy, I’m really happy. I like it.” He laughed that awkward, unsure laugh of his and you couldn’t help but smile in return.

“Listen, I know you still like Lindsay and that’s alright. I’m not going to try to rush you into something just because I want it. If you want to do this then we can do it slowly, take things one step at a time. But first I think you need some time to be on your own and think everything through. As soon as you know what you want then I’ll be here alright? Just please tell me if you don’t want anything to do with me, I’d rather know then continue to hold out for no reason.” You said sincerely, giving him a small smile as he nodded at you.

- He agreed and the two of you said goodbye to each other. When you got home it felt like a huge weight had been lifted off your shoulders, just letting him know how you felt had eased away so much of the stress that you had been carrying.

- It was a few days later that Nick had asked to talk to you. You were a little worried but the shy smile on his face kept you hopeful. Soon enough you were standing with him outside of his house, watching him lean against his car and search for the right words to say.

“I did some thinking like you told me. Good advice by the way, it really helped,” He laughed, his cheeks twinged a light pink. “But um, I’ve realized a few things about myself and about you and I just have to get them off my chest. Well I’ve realized that I don’t really miss Lindsay anymore and I don’t think she ever really missed me as much as I used to hope she did. And during that time? When I was thinking? I also realized that we were like really good together, you know? And that I don’t think I’d be whole without you like, like Zeppelin without Bonham. So Y/n....”

- You held you breath as he struggled to find the words. Your heart stopped beating and you wanted nothing more than to jump into his arms.

“I love you and I want to be with you and I’m hoping that you’ll still take me.” He finished.

- You grabbed his hands to make him look at you, your heart going back to normal and starting to beat quicker than before after hearing his final words. His gaze met yours and he shook his head with a smile, pulling you into him and wrapping his arms around you. You knew the pleasant feeling of being able to get something like that off your chest and you could see that pleasure written all over his face.

“So do you want to go out sometime?” He asked jokingly yet you could still hear the twinge of uncertainty in his voice.

“I’d love to.” you assured and his arms tightened around you.

#nick andopolis #nick andopolis imagine #nick andopolis headcanons #nick andopolis headcanon #freaks and geeks #freaks and geeks imagine #freaks and geeks headcanons #freaks and geeks headcanon #90s tv show #90s tv shows #90s tv show imagine #90s tv series #90s imagine #90s tv headcanons #90s tv show headcanons

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matteredloyaltyaa · 3 years

Text

@yukikorogashi asked: 💞💖💘💕 tigger bounces in with these 👀

positivity meme -- slow, still accepting

Send 💞 and my muse will say something nice about your muse

The house had grown silent in the late hours of the night, Arthur burning the midnight oil as he was prone to do. Mind running a mile a minute, and not really getting much from late night television, he opted to sit in the office across from Itsuki’s bedroom. At the thought, he found himself glancing toward the slightly ajar bedroom door, letting in a dim bit of light from the one he kept on in the hall for her. Aside from a small conversation about her day and a request for a story from his own, it seemed like she had fallen asleep pretty easily once he had started talking.

He was never sure if he should take that as a compliment or not when it happened, but at least ONE of them was getting some much needed rest.

As he could feel his thoughts starting to circle, he let out a small sigh from his nose as he shifted to pull a familiar book from one of the shelves. The pages were starting to become worn with use, Arthur about halfway into his current journal. He flipped open to the current page, a partly complete sketch of their newest addition to the household: an old collie that Itsuki had affectionately named Mochi. As far as he was aware, the old guy was asleep on a chair in the living room.

Arthur huffed lightly out of his nose at the thought, turning to the blank page and started to scribble down some thoughts.

Itsuki’s growing in so many ways every day. It honestly surprises me sometimes.

I wasn’t the only one who question my decision to adopt a kid at first. Hosea had cast me that uncertain look when I first mentioned it, and the social worker...well, I could never really get a read on them, but somehow I managed to impress someone because here we are.

She’s healthy, hasn’t lost mind or limb. I figure I’m doing something right.

I know I’m not around as much as I wish I was, and Hosea’s been a great help in keeping an eye on her. Teaching her things in that special way he has, which is probably better for her than whatever I can give. Still, I catch the odd eye or word from him about spending more time with her, which I’m trying to do. It must be working, she certainly hasn’t come to hate me or resent me being home when I am. Yet.

Still, I love that kid. The odd nights she opens that bedroom door of mine to tell me about a nightmare or storm outside and we have to stay up a little later until she can sleep again, the way she races to the truck when I pull up to the school (even during the times where I know she’s had to wait for me,) it’s all something I never thought I’d see in my life or know it to be something I would miss if it disappeared.

I want nothing more than to see her happy, and she’s always the brightest person in the room when she is. If I can help with that, that’s all I want.

Though, maybe what’s best for her is me getting some sleep so I’m not spacey and distracted with her tomorrow.

Send 💖 and my muse will say something nice about you, the mun

“Could’ve certainly picked a worse night for this,” Arthur commented, casting a glance upwards.

The sun had dipped below the horizon, the sky cast in a blanket of stars as the orange glow of the fire he had built cast him and his companion in a warm light. A rabbit was slowly roasting over the flames, something he had hunted earlier for the coming night. Thankfully, he had been getting better with a bow. It had saved him the embarrassment of picking out shell casings from the meat in front of her, at the very least. He dropped his gaze back down, watching the fire for a few moments before he glanced toward her.

“I’ve certainly had worse company ‘round a fire, too. Some folks are more likely t’ greet you with a barrel of a gun shoved against the back of your head, but...nah, y’ don’t seem the type. I know you been fightin’ things in different ways, though. Kid’s always goin’ on ‘bout how STRONG y’ are, and I can see why. Life...life’s got a funny way ‘f workin’ things out. Lots ‘f good things happenin’ out there, yet there’s a lotta bad happenin’ t’ folk who don’t deserve it. Whatever good’s out there, I know it’s due t’ come your way. Hell, I’d give ya some of mine--lord knows I ain’t done anythin’ t’ deserve it.”

He let out a vaguely humorous huff, glancing back to the fire for a moment before meeting her gaze once again.

“Guess what I’m tryin’ t’ say is that there’s a lot of people out there who are on your side. Can’t get too far in life without people y’ can trust, and you’ve proved time and again that you’re one of those who can be that for someone, and it’s a fool who don’t see that and won’t return it. Y’ deserve more than y’ get, much as that might not mean much from someone like me. Y’ got a lotta fight in y’, and you’ve never had a point a gun t’ prove it. Folks see that.”

Send 💘 and the mun will say something nice about your muse

I remember seeing Itsuki for the first time all those years ago, and jokingly I was like “who’s lost child is this?” lol

However, I can honestly say with my whole heart that I am so glad to have been introduced to her character. However, I can’t say much to how she is portrayed on her blog, as I am...completely unfamiliar from the media she is from. (And considering some of the horror stories I’ve heard about the fandom, I’m very content with hers being the only blog I follow from it lol.) Yet, I feel like I’ve known her character for so long through how often she’s appeared on my blogs and all the relationships I’ve built with her through my own characters. Good, bad, everything.

Itsuki is such a strong character in not just physical prowess, but strength of will and mind too. No matter what blog I am on, I can almost always trust her to be this force of optimism and child-like joy and curiosity. Even on a blog of mine starring a certain baptist, even in the face of someone who wouldn’t appreciate her for who she is, somehow Itsuki still manages to handle that in a way that is both absolutely a joy to write with and great to play off of.

I know I’ve said it before, but often I do find myself thinking about how a character would interact with her when I am making a blog. Not only is it me trying to make room for interaction, but it is also good for general character development. She has become such a staple on my blogs, which honestly rarely happens and for as long as it has with her.

Send 💕 and the mun will say something nice about you, the mun

Becka!!

Much like you wrote in this section for me, I am also sorry this took so long because I also wanted to make sure everything sounded right. Especially after coming off a long semester of university, I’ve been trying to come back into my writing. Lol Honestly, what can I say about you that I haven’t said a million times? I always say this, yet I know it bares repeating because I know everything I feel about you to be wholly the truth. You are such a great friend, and even when you’re not feeling like you are, or you are in the middle of a falling out, or stuck ruminating on something that didn’t work out with someone, I know for a fact that you have done your absolute best in that friendship. I know you have done nothing but show me support, love, and a deep kindness since the day I met you and I know I can say absolutely that you are one of my best friends.

Hell, I know even my family asks about you sometimes because I know I’ve mentioned having our late night talks often enough. Lol I know you have helped me through so much, even in things you may not even be aware of. Being able to write with you, knowing that you’re out there doing you and being awesome, it’s everything I could ask for in a friend. It’s 3 am while I’m writing this so idk if I’m rambling like mad here, but I have a lot of feelings for you. Lol Mostly, I’m just grateful. That you exist, that we’re as close as we are, for the conversations we do have. I love you a TON, and I hope you know that. I ALWAYS want you to know that, even in the deepest darkest pits you may fall in.

I am always happy to see you, to talk with you, to write with you. I love you, and you’re always in my thoughts and I hope nothing but the best for you and I’m always so excited and happy when I do see that happening for you.

#failed: rory has died . || ooc .#meet you at the gate . || closed modern au – rollingsnowsmasher.#how many days ? || main verse .#/// long post #[Everything under the readmore is unformatted since Tumblr messes with the readmore when I do lol #but yeah sorry for the wait on this Becka!]

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ibijau · 5 years

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Can you do a scenario Of revali hearing link scream of pain only for link to turn into a rito please

Dear anon: bless you for this prompt. Also if there’s interest I can 200% turn this into a longer fic because I absolutely have a (almost) full plot ready

EDIT: it’s now a chaptered fic on AO3

The supposed treasure cave turned out to be a bit of a disappointment, as far as Revali was concerned. Nothing but broken junk in a corner, some of it possibly magical, all of it clearly useless. If it had been only him, they’d have gone back to the village and reported to the princess that they’d found nothing. But there was mister perfect knight too, and he insisted on checking that trash more closely. A good way to stay away from the princess, Revali suspected, and since she’d sent them on that little mission because she too wanted some peace…

Still it got boring pretty fast to look at that hylian boy sort through rotten books and weird items. Revali left him at his new hobby, and went to explore the rest of the cave further. It seemed someone had lived there once, leaving behind nothing but trash and worm eaten furniture that threatened to crumble at the first touch. Revali had a suspicion that late occupant might have been a rito, but he wasn’t sure. He also wasn’t interested, he reminded himself. He was there only to help mister perfect knight carry back to the village anything of interest they might find. And since there was nothing…

A sound resonated inside the cave, tearing Revali away from his thoughts. It came from behind him, from the room where he had left the hylian. Something strident and loud and unlike anything he’d ever heard.

It took him a few seconds to realise it was a scream.

“Link, is that you?” he shouted, already rushing back toward the other room.

Stupid hylian who had probably touched something magical, he cursed as he ran. Stupid himself for leaving that knight alone when he was a known idiot with little sense of self preservation.

The scream grew louder and louder until Revali entered the room and saw Link on his knees, his face between his hands as he howled in agony. Revali took a step forward, but froze as he realised something was happening to the hylian. His limbs were twisting and turning to a point that should have broken them (and maybe it did, judging by the screams) while his skin covered in bumps from which feathers pierced. Talons broke through the leather of his boots, while parts of his tunic ripped because of the new shape his body was taking.

After a few seconds that felt like hours, the change was finished and the knight collapsed, his face away from Revali. Well, Revali could hazard a guess at what he’d see on that face.

At least the knight had stopped screaming, the loud sounds of pain and despair replaced by a dreadful silence. It was broken only by the knight’s pants and, to Revali had least, the booming sounds of his own heartbeat. Carefully, the rito champion walked closer to the being that, only moments ago, had been a hylian. Revali knelt down, gently putting one hand on the other’s shoulder.

Link whined and pulled his… hand tighter against his face. As if that would be enough to hide what had happened. As if that same hand hadn’t become a wing, grey and white as the rest of the feathers that now covered his body. As if Revali couldn’t see his feet, similar to his own.

“How did you even do that?” Revali grumbled, almost impressed amidst the horror.

He did not expect an answer of course. Mister perfect knight was known for rarely speaking in general, and had never said a single word to Revali in particular. They had nothing to speak about. Besides, Revali somewhat knew already what had happened : the knight had touched something he shouldn’t have, with dire consequences.

“The little princess is going to just love that,” he grumbled. “You’re going to explain that to her, I’m not helping you. And I guess that means there’s no longer a hylian champion…”

That, at least, got Link out of his shock. He quickly sat up and stared at Revali in horror for a second, before looking around until he saw the Sword of Legend, discarded on the floor. Crawling awkwardly the knight went to grab it and, with shaking hands, lifted it. The sacred blade immediately shone the way it did whenever the knight was using it, and Link sighed in relief before putting it down again. Apparently no matter the specie he remained the Goddess’s pet.

Revali wanted to say something about that, but it was hard even for him to be mean to someone who looked as terrified as the knight did then. Link had always been hard to read for him, both the species difference and the boy’s facade making it hard to guess his thoughts, but now both were gone. Revali could see those wild eyes, the yellow crest on his head so flattened it almost disappeared.

“Don’t go laying an egg,” Revali said, coming closer to pat his shoulder. “We’ll get you back to your ugly self.”

The knight tilted his head to the side, a habit he’d carried on from his original self that looked far more endearing now. In fact, overall, the knight wasn’t too bad looking for a rito. He was somewhat small, but he hadn’t been tall for a hylian either, and his grey and white feathers were rather fetching, as was the gold of his crest and the bright red circles on his cheeks. His beak was maybe on the small side, but there was plenty of demand for that. If he was stuck in that shape for good, he wouldn’t have any problems finding himself a mate or two.

Not that Revali found him pleasant to look at. This was still the annoying little hylian knight who dared to be fated to a greater role than him, and thus worthy only of his scorn.

“Come on, get up,” Revali ordered, jumping to his feet and holding his hand out to the knight. “Let’s see if we can settle this ourselves. I’d rather not have that damn princess involved and I bet neither do you. So on your feet, and show me what you might have done to end up like this.”

With a hesitancy that Revali both understood and resented, the knight took his hand and lifted himself up only to almost immediately lose balance and fall into Revali’s arms.

“Wrong shape of legs for you, uh. Fine, can you just… Point at whatever did this to you?”

With his right hand tightly gripping one strap of Revali’s armour, Link lifted the left one and pointed at his own face.

“Yes, I can see what’s happened to you,” Revali sighed, annoyed. “But how…”

“There was a mask. A bird mask. I thought it’d be funny.”

Revali stared down at the smaller rito in hid arms, beak open in shock. That had to be the first time he ever heard Link’s voice, save for his earlier anguished screams.

“Can’t you… Remove it?” he asked once he had overcome his surprise.

The knight shrugged and with his left hand tried to feel around for the edges of that mask. When he couldn’t find it, he just sighed. Revali was almost sorry for him, and had to remind himself only an idiot would put on a strange mask from a pile of obviously magical items.

“No choice then,” the rito champion grumbled. “We’re going back to the village and telling the princess. Maybe she’ll know something, or else we’ll ask the elder. Think you can figure out how to walk?”

The knight nodded firmly and with some effort made himself stand up, though he kept his hand on Revali’s strap so he wouldn’t risk falling. His legs were shaking a little less now, though they weren’t quite stable yet, and when he tried to take a step Revali had to grab him before he could collapse on the ground.

It was going to be a long way back to the village.

#revali #link #revalink #fanfic #botw #mystery person #jau answers

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weeping-petals · 4 years

Text

Post-War

Word Count - 3,635

Decades following the Gem War, the Crystal Gems search for survivors. While out surveying, Pearl and Spinel discover the aftermath of the songs affects.

Time ground on following the decimating blast which erased Diamond interest in the doomed Earth Colony. Existence was lonely, but as years wound on the remaining rebels began to find ways to pick up their lives and move on, grieve, and remake purpose in an empty world. Portions of the planet most affected by the Gem Song shrugged off the effects, and where barren stretches of land petered off into the sunset, came life and new growth. Not all the continents received the full affects, which gave the Crystal Gems hope that somewhere out there, someone had survived, someone was searching for them as they searched for her.

A century before, during the initial stages of the rebellion, Bismuth gems destroyed warp pads that linked directly to Home World. Unless Peridot’s survived, even if they were Home World loyal, no one was present with the capacity to mend transportation. The rebels were stranded on the world they fought to preserve, and struggled each and every day to reconnect with some form of gem-life. It didn’t matter if they were enemy, pebbles, whatever – any sign of others would be appreciated.

They took turns returning to the field, where the last stand had come. Usually in pairs, if Garnet was able to keep her shape. Sometimes being alone was good too, it gave them time to reflect with private thoughts and feelings. But being with someone, to prattle onto and help with burying the fragments and Gems left behind, it alleviated the loneliness and isolation each of them felt exiled to this world.

Rose spent a good time with Garnet, keeping the fusion together – in an emotional sense. Sometimes Ruby and Saphire couldn’t bear to be a part, sometimes they couldn’t bear being one. Saphire felt immense guilt that she had not foreseen this, and thought perhaps she was defective after all, and that she belonged on the Earth. As if something could possible be wrong with her. Ruby assured her, she was the problem, she dragged Saphire into this, she was the unaccounted variable. There was cycling, blaming them self, fighting to alleviate the pain and confusion the other felt, and twisting around to assure the other gem that no, no-no, it wasn’t you, it was me. I did something wrong.

Some days Pearl and Spinel couldn’t bear to be around the fusion, retracted from the cruel irony of the rebellion. Garnet was – for this time – the only Crystal Gem that didn’t understand the truth. Pearl couldn’t speak on the tragedy, and Spinel was frightened of revealing the truth. Thus, it couldn’t come to pass that Garnet would learn, since she never came together and confronted them about it. There was some stupid comfort in that.

“We’ll get through this,” Pearl assured.

Spinel scoffed. “Is that you talkin, or Rose?” She ignored the fierce glare sent her way, and shrugged.

The forest was a nice change of pace, the search extended to new terrain, recently unexplored territory where they hoped, hopelessly, that someone might be found. This location was pure and untouched by the colony’s advancements, certifying that no gem could possibly be here, but they held out for possibilities. Unseen pathways. The improbable which Garnet begged them to consider.

“Ye, of course,” Spinel resumed. “Like we have a choice. Hello, Home World. This is the rebellion calling. You missed a SPOT!”

“Keep your voice down.”

“Oh, who’s gonna hear? The trees? The flowers? The non-sentient rocks?” She shuddered. “We knew it was coming. She… sensed it. She could’ve saved… more. She could have.”

“Rose barely saved us.” Pearl crossed her arms and stepped into a small clearing where a patch of light plunged. “You can’t keep revisiting what ‘could have’ and ‘might have’s’, it’s over and done. You could be so… immature at times. We have to move on.”

“You always do that.” But Spinel didn’t want to elaborate. Since the Song, Pearl had viciously latched onto every word, every passphrase of encouragement which kept them collected and sane.

Not that Spinel was any better, she redirected her resentment onto Pearl. They were the precise opposite of Ruby and Saphire. More could have been done, it was your fault, not mine. Their co-existence stagnated. Their satchel of truth drove on the whirling spiral of resentment.

“I wish she had left me in the Garden. I wish she never brought me here, never asked me to play this stupid game.” She never lost a game before. “I could still be my oblivious, stupid, gullible, naive-self.”

Pearl shivered and shook her head. “What if. Might’ve been,” she repeated. It looked like she wanted to say more, turning around to face Spinel, but rethought. “Come along. We have miles to cover before we can avert our course.”

They walked in silence for some time. Spinel noted Pearl was doing no sort of charting; they walked onward aimlessly, forgoing duties. Nothing mattered anymore. They had nothing to work towards, aside from burying foe and friends.

“Do you still love her?” Pearl posed. It made Spinel flinch.

“Of course! Everything’s gone all wrong, but… I can’t help— She’s all we have left! I mean, look at this place?” She rotated while walking, extending her arms a little further out to showcase the tallest trees, the beaming sun, the blue sky. “This is my Garden now. This was worth hhHHH—”

Her foot caught on a root and she tumbled. Really went down for the count. Pearl gawked, as if Spinel said something repulsive. Or maybe because Spinel had gotten her limbs into a tangle with foliage and her eyes spun counter-wise in their sockets.

“I’m stuck.”

“How can you be stuck?”

“I’m stuck,” she repeated, dourly. Limbs tugged and slithered, but she couldn’t put her body into sorts. This was so embarrassing. Unfortunately, no one else was present to see this. “Um, I think maybe….”

“Try… never mind. Don’t move, let me see.” Pearl knealt and worked to loosen the knots. “I don’t see how you managed this.”

“Bet Garnet could’ve seen THAT coming.”

“You’re making it worse. Stop moving!”

“That tickles.”

“You’re impossible. You’re doing this on purpose.”

“No, I really am stuck. Wait, wha’s this?” She twisted an arm looped behind her back and ripped up her hand, undoing her fist. “Huh? This ain’t gem tech.”

Pearl cupped her chin and tilted her head. The gem in her forehead scanned the wadded material. “Hmm. It’s not wires. No metal components. Completely organic. Yet, unnatural to the native fauna? A trap, perhaps?”

“Pathetic trap.” She used her free hand to snap at the tangled mess barring limbs. “Okay, if you could push my foot counter-clockwise, and bend my elbow.”

“That makes no sense!”

“Look, would you just trust me? I don’t tell you how to pull a spear out of your head!” Tentatively, Pearl followed Spinel’s instructions, ludicrous as it was, and the moment she spun Spinel’s shoulders on her torso, the lanky gem snapped back into her typical shape with a ssSSSSssss – POP!

“Mulch-mulch, better.” She dusted off her limbs. “I think that’s enough expedition today. Can we head back?”

Pearl fanned her hand. “No. I still want to— ” A muffled, distant shriek caught her attention, and she shared a look with Spinel. “It can’t be.”

“A gem! It has to be. Which way?”

“Spinel, wait!” Pearl groaned, and took off in the direction the gem bolted. “It might be reconnaissance! We should withdraw!”

“Home World wouldn’t bother!” she hollered back, zipping and dipping through the foliage. “They’d send something Eye Balls! Last I checked, Eye Balls don’t scream.”

“Red Eyes!” Pearl corrected. “We can’t take the risk!”

“Risks are my specialty!” The shrill came again, a different resonance unlike the first. Spinel changed course, and Pearl skipped across a shallow stream, struggling to keep up. “Don’t be silt! If it’s another gem, I wanna meet them!”

The two tore through the undergrowth, tackling pathways that met their physical prowess best. Within traversing the mile, a clearing burst open around them, expanding for meters this and that way in neatly trimmed lines. Spinel nearly toppled again as her feet lost traction on the ribbed terrain. Pearl yelped when she plowed into a hedge of tall plants and artificial lattice work. Spinel skid to a halt for the novelty of pointing and laughing.

“Spinel! Control yourself!” Pearl wretched within the collapsing material and became more ensnared. “This isn’t funny!”

“I can’t – I can’t—” Spinel pitched forward unable to stay upright, while wild cackles zipped through her body. It didn’t work for Pearl to fight her way out, the more she struggled the more tangled she became, the more ridiculous she looked. “Do you need—” She broke into intense giggles. “I swear, I’m gonna poof!”

“WOULD YOU— ” Another cry, this time very close. It was peppered with new sounds, shouting and wailing. And something else.

A wretched squeal unlike any song or shriek, pierced the blue sky, spurring birds from distant trees into flight.

Spinel stopped laughing and sat up in a mashed patch of leaves. Pearl did her best to meet the source, eyes wide. “What was that?” the Pearl mumbled. She snatched a spear from her head, and in three sharp slashes, tore down the threads and wood.

“I don’t like this,” Spinel uttered. She picked her way over the rows and stood beside Pearl. The cries became more panicked, some of the phrases made sense but came in varied pitches. Always, there came the wretched bellow. A trail of smoke lifted from distant structures, designed by purpose and not by chance.

“We’ll see what’s there,” Pearl reasoned, “and then leave.” Spinel shook her had and took a step back, but Pearl snatched her hand and moved. Spinel protested, but Pearl led her onward. “It won’t alarm us if we’re together.”

“What happened to, ‘Eugh. Let’s go back’?”

“Just a peek.” The two didn’t get more than five steps from the structures perimeter, when a creature sprang out and crashed through a built square frame with an animal pelt drawn tight. The being gazed back, teeth bared and face etched with lines. Very expressive.

Spinel growled. “It’s just a hooman! Or course they would survive annihilation! What nerve!” She snapped her hand out of Pearl’s grasp.

“Why is it so frightened though? That’s not typical behavior.”

“They experienced a spontaneous whiteout sponsored by Home World! What sane animal wasn’t freaked out!”

“Humans don’t live that long….”

“You would know, wouldn’t you!” Spinel threw her hands high. “It felt just like yester—” Intense yaps and shrieking cut through her words. More of the humans raced across the open gaps among their small village, some carrying small children.

Then they discovered the source of the bestial snarls.

It was a big thing with vibrant colors across its body, thick forelimbs and no real distinct head. But it did have a maw filled with gnashing, jagged teeth. The creature seemed to have only front limbs, and only a back end that was serpentine or all tail. It dragged itself, stuttering and screaming, shredding through village homes, following the noises the human creatures made.

“My stars, what is that?” Pearl hugged the spear to her chest.

“Uh, ah-ah, hooo, ver, egh…” Spinel choked, trying to come up with the correct word. She snapped her fingers. “Hunter! Nailed it! Nothing to see here, let’s go home!” She swung away. Pearl reared back and snagged her shoulder.

“No-no, wait! It’s attacking the village!”

“This looks completely normal and ordinary to me! They are the hoomans, and that is the hunter. We shouldn’t interfere. Rose said—”

“She doesn’t like it when the humans are harmed!”

“Plenty of humans shattered during the war!” Spinel slapped Pearl’s hand away. “What’s! Your! POINT?!”

“They were warriors! These are… they don’t have the right weapons!” Pearl stamped her foot and gestured to the creature, while it continued tearing through roofs and walls. The large head swept down, checking on the bickering gems. “This is not a fair fight!”

“Pfft, like I care?” Spinel let her arms dangle at her sides.

“You should! They were what we were fighting for!” A look crossed Spinel’s aloof expression, and Pearl had to shut her eyes. “Rose would want—”

“You’re not my Diamond! And I’m not a warrior! Not anymore! You want to help so bad, you deal with this all on your own.” Spinel hopped back several steps, expression dark, scowl deepened in her brows.

“You can’t seriously leave all this to me!”

“That’s your decision! I’m opposed to interfering!”

Pearl growled and whipped around, drawing up a spear. The beast thing bellowed and dipped forward, its long tail portion shot forward spearing the ground where she stood. But Pearl was gone.

She tumbled through the rows of vegetation, coming to a halt on her knees and flung her spear. The big beast reared backwards, evading the projectile with ease. The body twisted rotated and it fell onto a building, continuing its mindless destruction. More humans tore through the open gaps among wreckage, and the beast peered at them. It had no distinct eyes, aside from patters along the vague shape of its muzzle. It expelled another shriek and darted among the village structures, using its body to corral a group of humans.

“Hey! Hey, you!” Pearl hollered. She glanced Spinel’s way, but there was minimal change in her expression, aside from a snarky grin. “I said, HEY YOU!” She pulled another spear from her gem and took aim.

The big beast reared up and cocked its head her way.

“Yeah! YOU! PICK…” she stalled, “ON SOMEONE… YOUR OWN SIZE!” Her face burned blue as Spinel was consumed in fits of cackles. “UGH! Immature, stubborn….” She grumbled to herself, and bolted into the fray. The beast lost immediate interest in her, and resumed tearing through roofs.

With a kick, Pearl launched herself as high as she could and chucked the spear with precise accuracy. The creature gave a mournful wail and plowed through a roof – in the midst of Pearl’s descent, the long tail swept sideways and knocked her aside.

Spinel barely managed to recover and wiped the glee from her eyes. “Wow! This is gonna be priceless! I need to find a better spot to watch!” She darted off, scanning the general zone for a high point. Not far beyond the village’s region she spied a rising hill and tall trees growing on the slope.

“I’ve got to get it away from the humans,” Pearl muttered. Her strategy for combat was eroded, and the unknown creature’s tactics and overall goal was spontaneous. It lost interest in tearing up the village, and pursued humans if they were careless enough to get too close, sometimes it took interest in Pearl’s movement, but lost focus when a flurry of bolts pelted up its backside, and resumed working at the tall structures at its elbows.

In conclusion, the thing was an irrational mess, unpredictable, and with no strategy. All living creatures or sentient things, had an order to follow. The beast was hollow of reaching for base needs; this much was apparent, when it departed the village and began tearing apart the trees that wouldn’t scoot out of its way. It screamed at the trunks, occasionally going after Pearl when she appeared to batter its body. It departed the heart of village, but the humans couldn’t move fast enough to escape the vicinity it claimed as demolition.. It followed sounds, or bellowed and bit into the rocks that gently caressed its limbs.

“No fluid,” Pearl noted. The beast knocked a volley of spears from its torso and wailed skyward. “Breaks in its body, but no organic leaks. What is it?” In her distraction, the creature grazed her with its third arm and Pearl went pinwheeling.

Spinel nearly plunged from the tree, but caught herself with her legs and wound herself back up. She was in hysterics, trying to hug the branch with one arm wrapped tight, and pounded her fist against the bark. Never had Pearl looked so beyond her element – poor elegant, graceful, ferocious, renegade Pearl.

“Had enough?” she hooted. “Huh! Have you? Call it quits! That thing has nothing to lose!” Her grin widened, and the tears only came thicker, wetter, in sappy globs. She sniffed and wiped her face.

Pearl shrugged off leaves from the shrub she crashed through and hastened across the growing path of destruction. A cry snapped out, but it was not from the horrendous creature. Despite its coloration and shape, she had all but lost it among the thicket. If she wasn’t following the howls, then the petrified shrieks of the natives gave course.

A group of humans backed up into a deep alcove, a few trying to climb the steep rock face while a small portion stood at the front with stone weapons, some carried tools like hammers. The primitive tools proved ineffective, aside from causing the beast creature mild confusion when a hammer pinged off its snout.

“Get away from them!” Pearl zoomed in and peppered the multicolored body with bolts, concluding by heaving the spear full force at its body. Another spear, another volley of energy to draw the creatures attention and keep it distracted. She continued to draw on reserves, as the creature rotated to her, knocking down trees and bulldozing rocks. It had been decades since the war, since Pearl was forced to exert herself to this degree. Even without a premonition from Garnet, she saw her chances would be very-very slim.

The humans cringed into the partial cover of the rock cliff, huddling together as the tail segment lashed above their heads.

“Here! Come here! I’m your opponent!”

With a churning growl, the beast wound around and lashed its tail out.

Meanwhile, Spinel was swinging her way down the trees with long sweeps of her arms. “Stupid, stupid, righteous Pearl. Ya dodo. Rose this. Rose that.No one here’s impressed!”

Another dodge, and Pearl ducked in close to swipe at the limbs. It worked more in her favor if she got in close, used her agility to keep the creature befuddled – it kept looking for her, distracted perfectly. Some of the humans were able to inch their way from the alcove, but the beast maintained a close distance and its body writhed and rolled. Pearl very nearly collided with its arm when it slapped a palm down, whizzing past her nose by mere inches.

There in the wrist she saw it. Yet, couldn’t believe it. Unrestrained despair tainted all tenacity for fight and protect.

A gem stone shimmered against her eyes, her face reflected in the polished surface. No. This wasn’t right. Something terrible, something awful had come about. She froze like a board, saucer-eyed, unable to grasp meaning or build comprehension. This wasn’t an animal. This… this was.

A set of jaws clamped down over Pearl’s shoulder, nearly piercing her form through. The beast creature flung her around and around, twisting its body, not letting go, impossibly fast and erratic movements she couldn’t detach from until vertigo overtook her. Any second now she’d be lashed against a boulder, and her gemstone would crack. Any second, she would know nothing. She would shatter.

Something, or a lot of small things, happened all at once. The jagged teeth unlocked from her shoulder, and momentarily her body revolved without restraint or equilibrium. This endured for mere seconds, wherein something caught her by the wrist – one laced across her chest and locked to a spear (it was all she could manage to keep her limbs from snapping loose off her body) – and tugged her out of the dislocating spiral. She was rotating over and over midair, the difference was it had control and poise. She creaked one eye open.

“I got bored!” Spinel spat. One arm was latched to Pearl, the other limb coiled tight around her own entire body. “Got your wits?” Pearl nodded, still stunned, unable to verbalize. “Okay then. Have fun!”

Pearl traced the remaining portion of Spinel’s coiled arm, saw where the hand was fixed to. The beast was mid recoil, a blazing slash dazzled the side of its muzzle. The hand was locked to its teeth. With their interaction concluded, Spinel recalled her arm, whirling her body – with Pearl – at a terrifying speed. Pearl locked her fingers onto the spear and waited the moment when Spinel released her wrist. In a blink she was driven downward, the next instant her spear cut through the core of the beast.

An explosion of green dust settled around Pearl. She stood shaky, turned to see the glittering stone drop among splinters and leaves.

A Gem’s stone.

Spinel crashed through the canopy and bounced across the earth, knees bent way backwards over her head. A graceful faceplant. Her legs flopped to the ground.

“Bad idea,” the muffled proclamation came.

“Spinel,” Pearl uttered. She moved to the gem stones side and dropped to her knees. “Look at this.”

The Spinel stumbled over to Pearl and leaned over. When she saw the precious stone in question, she recoiled. “Whoa-whoa-whoa! What?!”

Pearl shook her head, and bubbled the gem. “I don’t… it was in its wrist. In her wrist.”

“Embedded?”

“I think… it was supposed to be there.” She shook her head again. “No. Not supposed to, but… she formed around it. Formed from this gem. A gem stone. Someone.”

“No-no-no, don’t say that! You can’t say something like that! We don’t know! It— We just don’t—” Spinel gave a holler and stomped away, tugging at her hair. “No! Just No!”

“We need to show this to Rose and Garnet.” Pearl stood with the bubble on her palm, and dismissed her weapon. She looked over, as humans from the dismantled village began emerging from their shelters and hiding places throughout the foliage. “Oh dear.”

“Look at the mess it made!” Spinel stormed off. “You can deal with it! I’m goin’ home!”

#steven universe #su au #spinel fanfic #crystal gem spinel au #spinel fanfiction #pearl fanfiction #steven universe fanfiction #su #pearl gets to fight #spinel is nope rope #corrupted gem #gem monster #steven universe the movie

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strangelandblind · 4 years

Text

Wounded (1/1)

1932 words. A theoretical scene in season 10B, inspired by Norman’s recent set photo. Spoilers for 10x08. Enjoy!

He had lost track of how long he had been sitting there. He knew the room had gotten dark, and he’d been planted too firmly in place to bother lighting a lamp. She’d been perfectly still the whole time, only the occasional twitch in her brow and the rise of her chest comforting him as he stared at the stark white bandage covering her forehead.

They’d been separated not long after they escaped the cave, split apart as they encountered a group of whisperers. He’d been too busy making sure Aaron didn’t lose another limb that by the time they had cleared a path back home he didn’t have eyes on her anymore. Connie had grabbed him before he could run off towards that cave again, reminding him that being reckless was what had gotten them into this mess. As he looked at her, grasping Kelly’s hand as if haunted by their last venture into the woods, he knew he couldn’t ask anyone to turn back without a strategy.

He’d been pacing by the walls, barking at Gabriel about getting a group together to retrieve the rest of their people, when Jerry walked through the gates, carrying her.

He couldn’t hear anything the man had said through the blood rushing in his ears, couldn’t even feel his legs as they ran towards her, his arms as he reached to brush the still-bleeding wound in her forehead.

They didn’t have a doctor anymore.

Everything became a blur of red and silver through his suddenly wet eyes, and he felt particularly useless, watching Jerry carry her towards a house as Gabriel scouted for supplies and someone who could stitch her up.

Eventually he caught up to them, watching as her wound was cleaned and cared for. He couldn’t stand still, a ball of nervous energy, just wanting to run and fight do anything but stand here and wait. Faintly, he heard Aaron muttering to Gabriel about the location of the hoard and his instincts about Mary, his hopeful pleas failing to reach the ears of a man who had just brutally murdered a former ally.

When the room finally cleared, no one even asked him to come help strategize. They knew he wasn’t moving. He’d pulled up a chair by her beside, rested his elbows on his knees and hung his head, letting himself doubt, not for the first time, that it was even possible to reach her. As he caught sight of her pale hand resting atop the covers, he couldn’t hold himself back from placing his own upon it, stupidly hoping that the small bit of connection would be enough of a comfort.

That must have been hours ago, and her hand still hadn’t warmed under his. The house was quiet, RJ now it’s only other inhabitant. Though he was still readjusting to Alexandria being home again, the emptiness of the house sent a pang through him. The number of graves they had dug was slowly catching up with the amount of people alive within these walls, and they were surely on the brink of losing more. Of losing her.

He had thought for a moment, as he wiped the tears from her face in the woods, that she had heard him, had actually felt how her recklessness had him scared shitless. He knew that, if he stayed too close on their mission, she would just feel like he didn’t trust her and would push him away even more. Still, if he had done that, stayed by her side every step, he at least could have grabbed her before she ran off. Better she resent him than wind up dead.

He shook the thought from his head, absently gripping her hand tightly. She was fine, he had been told dozens of times by everyone in the room when they first tended to her. The length of gauze along her forehead said otherwise. The cut has been deep, and long. It would leave its mark. His free hand felt the scar above his eye, not letting himself linger too long on the idea that they matched.

“Daryl?”

Aaron’s voice came from the doorway. He turned to look at the man, the twinge in his back reminding him of just how long he had been sitting there.

“We just heard from Michonne, she may have found some…assets, to help our fight.”

“Assets?”

“People. Weapons.”

“How?”

“I don’t know all the details. We’re calling a meeting right now to figure out what to do. We, um…we could really use you there.”

Daryl didn’t miss the way Aaron’s eyes flickered to their joined hands. He appreciated that, for the most part, people had never commented on his attachment to her. Still, these little moments of being seen, of Michonne knowing that he was ditching their scouting to go and see her, hell, of Glenn asking what to tell her when he left with Merle – they let him know he wasn’t as subtle as he thought. Still, she obviously hadn’t caught on, even now, ten years into this life. It was fine, though. As long as he could keep her fighting, keep her breathing. What a great job he’d been doing of that.

“Yeah, I’ll be there in a minute.”

His voice sounded rough, even to his own ears. Aaron lingered for a second longer, as if assessing him, but wisely said nothing in response. Daryl watched him go, contemplating all the people waiting outside and what they must need at this point.

“Want me to go with you?”

His neck snapped by around. Carol was peering at him, one eye open as the rest of her face scrunched, wincing against the recent injury. It was the best sight he had seen in weeks.

“How long you been awake?”

“Just heard Aaron say something about a meeting.”

He stared, all the rattling thoughts that had kept him company the past few hours stubbornly refusing to form into something coherent to say. He decided to stick to their new standard:

“How you feeling?”

“Sore.”

“Yeah, you’re making a habit of that.”

“Not trying to.”

“No?”

She gave him that look, like he had said something truly ridiculous. Shifting before her could stop her, she propped herself up, half sitting so they could be closer to eye level. He knew that she had just woken up, and was probably now disoriented and needed time to adjust and process, but he couldn’t let the window escape.

“Did you care about anything I said back there?”

“Daryl…”

“Pulling reckless shit like that? It’s not gonna get you want you want.”

“I told you to go on without me.”

“Do you actually think I would?”

The implication of that statement wasn’t lost on either of them. She didn’t have an answer to that, but her jaw was tense. He could feel his hands shaking. Glancing at them, he realized that one was still holding hers. Maybe leaving things unsaid wasn’t the answer any more.

“We are gonna end this, she is not going to survive it. But this suicide mission bullshit won’t do anything but give them a reason to attack. You heard that asshole we captured. They worship her.”

“And that’s why putting doubt-“

“Nah, I ain’t done.”

He was so sick of the silent tension between them, but right now it was better than hearing all her tactics that he was sure would get her killed.

“They follow her because they ain’t got shit to live for. They don’t have what we have here. People, who take care of each other, who make this all worth it.”

She couldn’t meet his gaze anymore, and he could tell by her breathing that she was trying to keep the tears in. He knew what she must have been thinking – that the person who made it worth it for her was now dead and gone after being made into a damn symbol by a sick mind.

“I know you can’t see it, but there are still people here to make it worth it for you. And there are people here counting on you.”

“They shouldn’t be.”

“They should. You’ve saved our asses hundreds of times. You’re why we made it this far, why we still have this. We’re better with you-“

“You’d manage without me.”

“Bullshit.”

That snapped her out of it, bringing her eyes to his face once again.

“Ever think I can’t lose you either?”

The room had gone quiet again. He could hear her breathing hitch, as if preparing herself to start a sentence that she just couldn’t.

This wasn’t the time to have this talk, he knew. She wasn’t ready to hear any of it, and telling her how terrified he was would just make her worry about him instead of focusing on herself. He shifted the conversation back with one last attempt to get her to hear him.

“We’re not them. And you ain’t her.”

She stayed silent for another few moments. When she spoke, her voice was as soft as it had been in the woods.

“I don’t know how to give it up. I’m scared that if I stop…if I stop feeling so angry all the time…I’ll just feel nothing. I’ll just be empty.”

Any insecurity he felt over here catching him holding her hand dissipated as he held onto it tighter.

“I know I can’t know what you lost, but I know how that feels, that fear. After Glenn…I was just running on that rage for so long. Didn’t think there would be ever anything else. And look what we’ve built since.”

Her eyes met his, shining and vulnerable.

“We can’t bring ‘em back. But we can preserve what we still have. Make the world something they would be proud of.”

Her tears started to fall and he dipped her head again.

“I don’t want him proud, I want him here.”

He sighed heavily, both hating seeing her so broken, and hating the relief he felt over seeing behind her façade. He shifted forward as if to hold her, but she stopped him in place, removing her hand from his to wipe her eyes.

“Aaron will be wondering where you are, you should go.”

He just stared back in response, brow furrowed and lip between his teeth. She sighed, and as she exhaled her saw the defeat hit each muscle in her neck and shoulders. She slumped a bit as she spoke again.

“We can talk after.”

“Yeah?”

“Yeah. I’ll be here.”

She gestured to her weakened state, stuck in the bed, as if trying to make a joke, but neither of them had it in them to find it funny. Confident that she at least wouldn’t disappear, couldn’t with that head wound, he conceded.

“Alright. You rest up, okay?”

“Yeah.”

He stood from his chair, placing a hand on her shoulder as a reassurance. He paused for a moment, and Carol lifted her pensive gaze from her hands to his eyes. Before he could overthink it, he bent down and pressed his lips just above the patch of bandage where a scar was surely forming. He refused to meet her eyes as he straightened, but gave her shoulder quick squeeze. He turned to leave.

“Careful.”

Confused, he turned back to her. Fidgeting with the string on her wrist, and with eyes downcast, she continued.

“I got stitches.”

The way her lips pursed around the words, like she was teasing him again, made him stand up straighter. Recalling the years-old inside joke, he snorted out a laugh and earned a soft smile in response.

“Be back soon,” he replied, giving her one last look before leaving the room.

#caryl #caryl twd #caryl fic #caryl fic twd #carol twd #daryl twd #carol x daryl #carol x daryl twd #back on my bullshit

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oikawas · 5 years

Note

Number 6 Bruce and Jason PEAS

“No one’s going to hurt you.”

Getting dosed with Fear Toxin is something that is commonplace among the Bats, especially afters all their years of defending Gotham in the dead of night. It’s the reason why the Medbay cots have restraints attached to them, and indirect cause of so many scratches and indentations in the Cave. It’s the only thing other than sleep that can make them relive all their past traumas so viciously and wholly, be it falls, gunshots, deaths.

But for all its commonality, none of them have ever seen Jason Todd high on the toxin. And when they finally do, it’s not something they ever wish to experience again, for secrets have a funny way of bleeding out when there are tears in your eyes and your throat has gone raw.

It begins as a normal Friday night: an Arkham breakout.

Such a mess warrants an ‘all hands on deck’ response, which is how Jason finds himself hopping rooftops with Robin nipping at his heels. Batman and Nightwing are already on the scene, putting out proverbial fires as they come, and the rest of them have been tasked with rounding up all the missing convicts.

“I have three here,” Spoiler chirps, oddly cheerful for someone dealing with escaped prisoners. Jason momentarily wonders how she does it, so consistently and with so much...emphasis. “All subdued, and waiting on cops.”

“I have six by Gina’s Pizzeria on Fifth Avenue, waiting on cops,” Red Robin reports, sounding sluggish. “They just had to pick an off day to break out of Arkham, huh?”

“Everyday is an off day for you, RR,” Nightwing supplies helpfully, coupled with the background noises of a body hitting the ground. There is a shout somewhere. “At least today wasn’t an especially off day.”

“Oh, you say that now, but you should’ve seen him this morning,” Signal mutters, and Jason’s lips quirk up at the disgruntled tone. He loves team-ups on Tim. “He put salt in my tea. What kind of heathen does that to a man’s tea?”

“Blasphemy,” Steph fake-gasps. In her distance, they can all hear sirens approaching.

“Electric chair for the not-so-baby bat,” Jason chimes in. “Salt infractions are punishable by death in good ol’ Gotham.”

“Got any pointers?” Tim asks, none too gently. They’re still working past their bloodied memories, and Jason can accept it for what it is. While he spent time with Damian and Duke, sometimes Steph and Cass, Tim isn’t in Gotham enough for them to try and mend bridges.

And Jason, truth be told, isn’t sure if he’d want to. Dick and Tim are different from the others, a reminder of the dark stain in their family’s history that they all created together, willingly or not. And while some things can be put behind them, Jason is a sore reminder of everything they all so desperately tried to ignore in favour of the good.

“Yeah. Cremation,” he veers to the left, finally spotting the man he and Damian had been chasing down for a solid seven blocks. “Very helpful in preventing zombies.”

“Hood,” Batman admonishes, but its softened around the edges in a way that indicates the old man is amused. Jason pretends to doesn’t warm him inside-out, to hear that soft adoration even now after years of fighting. To know he can still do that, pull that affection from the Dark Knight himself.

“Eyes on Scarecrow,” Damian interrupts. “And if you intend on dying, Red Robin, do hurry. And make sure to make a spectacle of it.”

Jason lets loose a short laugh and cuts his comm before Tim can cuss them off, reaching over to ruffle Damian’s hair in appreciation. The two of them, surprisingly, have gotten closer since Damian’s unscheduled visit with his mother. After Damian had trailed Selina and Bruce, and Talia’s ‘duel’ with the Cat, the heiress had called Jason and pulled a promise to take care of Damian from him.

And he intends to keep it.

Jason gets a half-smile as a reward for the ribbing of their mutually ‘disliked’ brother, and there is a few heartbeats of peace before all goes wrong.

In hindsight, they probably shouldn’t have let their guards down so close to a recurring villain. And as the older brother in the equation, he definitely should’ve been on top of everything as soon as they touched down on the ground, but as it stands, Damian is in the direct path of a suddenly thrown canister and there’s no time to pull him out of the way. The motion itself would prove futile if and when the gas releases, which left only one option in Jason’s mind.

Unthinkingly, he throws himself between the canister of Fear Toxin and Damian with his back to Scarecrow, shoving the boy backwards only a few seconds before he hears the telltale hiss of the gas infiltrating the air and, subsequently, his mask.

To his credit, Damian doesn’t even hesitate before shielding his face, eyes wide behind the white-out lenses of the mask with what he thinks to be realization. Jason grits his teeth against the shivers already beginning to make their way up and down his spine, and is barely able to catch Damian calling for aid.

“…ood? Hood!”

Somewhere behind them there is motion as Cassandra lands and sends Scarecrow flying into a pile of crates. How she got there so fast, Jason isn’t sure, but the world is beginning to spin and there are embers in the corners of his eyes and fuck. Everything begins to smell like ashes and blood, and he can somehow taste betrayal on his tongue.

“Hood!” Damian shouts again, and when this is all over Jason will resent the clear fear in his voice. It’s so, so easy to forget how young the boy is, but in times like this…times like this, Jason wishes he could forget. Wishes Damian didn’t have to be out here with the rest of them.

His knees hit the ground the same moment he feels his fingers begin to bleed, callused skin splitting open in the face of persistent abuse. He thought he was sure that his hands were fine, but the panic inlaid in his mind overrides any sense of logic as he curls in on himself, deadly intent focused on not alarming Damian any further.

“…Father! Father, he was hit with Fear T–”

Father?

And just like that, Jason is fifteen all over again and screaming and locked in a coffin with nothing but the blood on his skin and the belt around his hips. He doesn’t register anything other than a concerned murmur before his mind breaks from the intense pressure of fragmented memories; already a fragile thing, the imposed trauma rips through him with the subtlety of a bomb going off.

Shoulders bent, his fingers scrape against what he thinks to be the coffin’s lid in a desperate attempt to find purchase, instead only managing to amplify the pain in his fingers. The wet touch of fresh blood does nothing to deter him, and it’s with near inhuman strength that he pushes off whoever is trying to hold him down.

It was Cass, he’ll later find out, as Bruce looks through his pockets, desperately, for their latest strain of the antidote. Tim, Steph, Duke, and Dick had stayed behind to deal with the Arkham mess, and the comms were off for a thin veneer of privacy.

(Nobody wants to know his demons, because his demons were so staunch with blood and sacrifice that it would horrify even the most seasoned of heroes.)

Someone manages to take off his leather jacket, he thinks, because he can feel the cool touch of a cape against the nape of his neck but all he can think is he’s trapped, he’s dead, he’s lost, he needs–

“Dad!” Jason sobs, voice cracking in panic. He’s trapped in a coffin. He’s stuck with the Joker and a traitor and in a foreign country. “Dad, Dad I’m here! I’m in here! Please, I’m scared, I’m scared…”

Damian freezes in both shock and what he perceives to be dismay, and next to him Cass frowns in worry. But both of them have nothing on Bruce, who sucks in a breath so sharp it could slice his throat open, lips parting around a single utterance of ‘son’.

Jason hasn’t called Bruce ‘dad’ since coming back from the grave. But this, right now…he’d somehow forgotten how many times he’d screamed ‘Dad’ between climbing out of that damned coffin and the fatal car crash that would steal his memories from him.

“Please please please please,” Jason chants, and the syllables crash into each other like waves against an outcrop of rocks, so similar to the man himself. “B-Bruce where are you? I don’t wanna be stuck in here I don’t!”

They jerk with the effort it takes to keep the second Robin stationary; Jason is nearly Bruce’s size, and it’s no easy feat, keeping him down. Not with the shock flowing through them over seeing their most steadfast so thoroughly dismantled.

“I’m sorry about Shelia!” Jason yells, a vain effort to get someone, anyone, to listen. “I...I don’t...all I’ve ever needed was you, Dad, please, I’m sorry...”

“Jason,” Bruce whispers, so soft, so scared. This is a display of all the trauma that stood between them, an open sea of all the times Bruce has failed his second-born. A sea so violent that it drowns both of them whenever they brave it, takes them into its darkness before spitting out even hollower versions of the men who went down under.

But not this time.

Bruce takes off his belt determinedly and hands it to Cass, a pointed look instructing her to keep searching for the antidote. Jason continues to thrash and cry so openly, carving whole pieces of Bruce out and setting them aflame right there at their feet. This is the closest he’s gotten to the truth about Jason’s rebirth in all their years, and so desperately he wishes it could be different. Wishes it was Jason sharing this willingly, in an effort to mend, an effort to move forward.

But wishes are for men who have time and right now, Bruce has none.

Ignoring the flailing limbs as best he could, Bruce gathers Jason in his arms, softly shushing the boy and beginning to rock him the same way he had done years ago, after every nightmare filled with memories of a broken home. Jason shudders against him, still sobbing brokenly about how badly he hurt, and Bruce…

Bruce feels a bloodlust so vicious he can feel it pushes against the seams of his skin, his soul, and if the Joker had been anywhere near him, Bruce would rip the flesh off his bones with nothing but his teeth and anger. Not even the Gods themselves could’ve stopped the man from tearing apart the Clown Prince limb from limb, from a death so brutal there would be nothing left for the Underworld to punish.

“Bruce,” Jason whimpers, and somewhere in his toxin-addled brain, there is a pause in the onslaught. He recognizes the arms holding him close, recognizes the tenor of the voice humming to him, recognizes the lips that press a gentle kiss to his hairline. “B, you came. Papá...”

And through his own budding tears at the call in Jason’s mother-tongue, Bruce says, “always. I’ll always come. No one’s going to hurt you. Not anymore, chum.”

“I was so scared,” Jason blubbers, but through the tears staining his cheeks, there is an attempt at a smile; it takes Bruce’s heart in its grasp and squeezes and squeezes and squeezes until he’s sure there’s nothing left in its hold. How dearly he loves this boy. “But I…I knew you’d come. I always knew.”

And there’s the flash of the Robin who thought Bruce held the world in his hands, is a God, is a good man. There is the Robin--the Jason--who believed in Bruce. In his father.

Bruce aches with a fierce love, and a longing for a bridge that’s barely there.

Suddenly, Jason goes slack, his eyes rolling back in his head as the boy is finally given the sweetness of unconsciousness. Bruce startles badly, and glances to the side to find Cassandra holding an empty syringe with a sympathetic smile on her face.

“Can we…take him home now?” She asks, and he knows the two siblings have their differences but they are bonded by family and she loves him, in a way, and it shows by how softly she strokes his matted hair now.

Bruce gives her a tired smile, arms full of his lost son.

“Yes…yes, let’s get him home.”

#dc comics #bruce wayne #jason todd #damian wayne #mywriting #assume rhato 25 didnt happen btw #also assume ric grayson didnt happen #bartons #bc ric grayson is dumb #this.......got away from me #asks

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jollyviscreal666 · 4 years

Text

Self inflicted

Length: Short

TRIGGER WARNING: THEMES OF DEPRESSION, SUICIDE, SELF-MUTILATION

–

I’ve decided to keep a journal to comfort myself prior to what I’m going through. I’m scared to go out. I’m scared to go anywhere, really. Every feeling feels like intense torment. Everywhere I look, I feel that every solid physical object overwhelms me. The thoughts I have. How they get so bad? I even have days where I’ve wished that I was one of those objects. Some days I resent the thought, but I have nowhere to go. Nowhere to hide. It’s as if my own body shell houses an evil sentimental bomb factory that goes off every second endlessly. Except those explosions aren’t explosions of fire and shrapnel, they’re of evil hellish fear and agony.

There are days when my mind just wants to shut down. And it does. Sometimes I even pass out. I’ve been to the hospital many times. Especially the mental hospitals. But their diagnosis was there was nothing wrong with me. I was perfectly healthy.

The most I’ve held it off was 2 hours. Then it comes back again. Sometimes even worse than before. Sometimes it gets so powerful and unbearable, I feel like scratching my skin off. I’ve tried my best to hide these uncontrollable impulses. Especially in the mental hospitals. It’s not always easy. I even pull my hair out as well. I know it’s wrong to inflict bodily harm, but I can’t control it.

I’ve been trying to cope with it since 2009. It won’t let up. I know that being happy and enjoying myself is so far from reality for me that it’s not even funny, but I can’t have relationships or even friends with my condition. It’s almost as if girls and my family members are altering in some sort of odd way. It seems it’s been forever since I’ve had a good time. I’ve tried thing after thing to demolish it in the beginning. Now that I know it’s likely gonna be there forever, I have to learn to cope and live with it. Nothing seems to help.

I barely go out at all. Seldom do I go out. I’m in my room 98% of the time. My parents even cut a hole near the bottom of my door to pass me what I need to live. When I’m about to go to sleep, I feel what can almost be described as relief. In my sleep I feel no pain. No agony. No discomfort. I dream of what I truly want and what I wish could be true.

I feel as if my life is physically dwindling. In my room, besides looking for opportunities to try to sleep, I stab my pen through holes on paper. Something to try to distract myself. Anything to keep the monster feeling from arriving. The monster feeling is when I begin to feel extremely, unexplainably claustrophobic and completely and utterly alien to the earth and its atmosphere. I feel like I should do anything to get the hell out of earth.

The sun is what disturbs me the most. Its glare brings horrible thoughts, no less than its sole presence. Everyday I think, what if someone was trapped in the sun for an eternity? Their soul to be exact. Or what if their pain level is based on the actual mass and all the properties of the sun itself? What if that was true when taking into account the rest of the suns in the universe?

The trick is to not get lost in thought. Once you are, you’re done for. It’s happened to me an innumerable amount of times. I’ve had urges to amputate my body parts randomly, commit suicide in other variously gruesome ways, and butcher other people. All for no reason. The worse thing I almost did was bury myself alive. Jumping in a giant vat of acid is a close second. And finally, removing my own eyes manually. I still don’t know how I was able to resist it, up to this day!

I keep trying to tell myself that none of it is real. Until my mind finds something else to fuck with. Anything. You name it.

Believe it or not, all of this started off with one simple thought. You see, I was a successful young person. Pretty intelligent, and wise. Not a day went by that I wasn’t happy, until that day that would change the rest of my life forever.

It felt as if my soul had been perished that very moment, and I got the hunch that I would never feel happy or be successful again. I even imagined a grim reaper figure near the classroom clock. I knew that it was going to affect my life negatively, but not like this.

I wrote a note to my mother, telling her to keep these writings in a lockable notebook.

I’ve got the lockable notebook. Now we can become more acquainted. My mother is sending a mental doctor to come analyze me. That’s the 5th one this week! I’m going to swallow a perfume bottle. That’ll show them how serious I am.

It’s been 8 weeks since the surgery that they’d performed to remove the perfume bottle from my digestive system. Having the damn thing stuck in there hurt like hell. I couldn’t move a muscle without aching in pain. The good thing was that my mind was finally satisfied. It’s been waiting for me to do something like that for awhile prior to the actual surgery.

A week later I went swimming without permission, and I deliberately tore my stitched abdomen open. The pain was indescribable. So much blood.

My parents tried to help me and called the ambulance. They stitched me back up. Before they admitted me to an asylum, I asked if I could see one more thing. That’s when I bolted. Part of me wanted me to go so I wouldn’t be able to hurt myself anymore. But the other part said that my mind would consume itself until I became worse than a vegetable.

I ended up taking bromo dragonfly, the over the top extreme LSD, to see if my overly active mind would be satisfied. I apparently took a lot. My skin and muscles developed craters and soon I lost control of my natural appendix and limb movements. I even asked them to cut my legs off. I told them, they were useless. They also told me it was irrelevant as I am going to die anyway.

My last request is for them to take me off life support. It hurts and I think my mind is satisfied now. Someone came by with flowers. I didn’t recognize them. Anyway, this is the last you’ll be hearing from me. Always remember that your point of view can change the whole universe. I mean that. Just one thought can be incredibly powerful. More powerful than you think. It can change your life and inflict the people around you. Or change their actions and attitudes completely. Everyone is technically effected in this whole realm, right?

–

Credits to: http://jollyviscreal666.tumblr.com/

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modosphere · 6 years

Text

About A Girl: Chapter Three

Kaiser Medical Clinic Manhattan, New York

She was awake when he left.

Mara knew she would have woken up beforehand; she knew what she was like on anaesthetic. After Danyal had all but dragged her to the hospital, she’d been diagnosed with a hernia caused by not looking after herself properly after the transplant surgery - and within a few hours, she’d been in theatre. Mara wasn’t even sure what time of the day it was. But she was properly awake now and, hearing a small sigh from the corner beside her before the door closing quietly shut, her eyes flew open and she grimaced slightly as she sat up a little in her bed.

Dany had stayed with her. The whole time. He’d even stayed during her stomach being examined by the doctor - a Doctor Kaiser who, Mara was sure, was exactly the clinic’s namesake - when she’d told him not to, which had led to her clutching onto his hand as she tried not to cry out in pain. Even when she’d first been wheeled out of surgery, she knew he’d been there; she couldn’t remember much, just his voice… And a hand on her forehead.

You know. The exact kind of thing she didn’t want to remember.

Grimacing slightly and placing a hand over where she could only feel a dull ache, Mara leant over to the small table and picked up her phone, collapsing against the pillows as it rang. She purposefully ignored the arm chair beside it, a messy hospital blanket splayed across the seat.

“The fact you’re calling me means you’re not on a flight, which means you’re not coming, which means your drama with my idiot cousin means you’re not attending my wedding-”

“Pixie, please.” Mara groaned, her limbs still feeling heavy. She tapped the loudspeaker and prayed Danyal wouldn’t be back anytime soon. She didn’t think he’d left the hospital - not for a second - but that confidence was confusing, and her brain felt foggy enough already from the anaesthetic. “Have you spoken to Zarina yet? Danyal said he’d call her.”

“Some shitty excuse about you being hospitalised?” Pixie asked haughtily - but Mara smiled slightly, at the tiny glimpse of concern she’d heard. “Yes. You’re an idiot.” There was a small pause. “Are you okay?”

“I’m fine, I just can’t do much for a few weeks. But I promised I’d show off my badass dancing skills for the wedding and I promise you, it’ll happen. It just means I need to take it easy here first. I’ll still help from here however I can.”

“You’re still coming?” Mara mumbled in agreement, still smiling as she heard the hope in Pixie’s voice. “Well… Then of course you should look after yourself. Be careful.” Mara shook her head slightly, as she practically heard Pixie throw her hair over her shoulder. “Obviously you can’t be ill and like, embarrass me or whatever. What’s even wrong with you?”

“I had a hernia repair.”

“A hernia? Don’t old men get that? Why do you have one?”

“I’m extraordinarily special and I decided I needed to steal some of the limelight away from your Bridezilla routine.” Mara teased, shifting slightly to be more comfortable. Her throat was a little dry and her head was still not great, but she’d be fine. In fact, she didn’t feel any pain at all. “Actually… Pix, do you have a few seconds? To talk?”

On the other side of the phone, sitting in traffic in Pakistan, Pixie hesitated as she looked up at the gigantic Centurion Mall - two towering blocks of every shopaholic’s dream - fast approaching.

“Of course.” Pixie lied, twirling her finger in the rear-view mirror, motioning for the chauffeur to turn around. Pixie guiltily ignored his look of long-suffering. They’d been stuck in traffic heading towards the Centurion for the past forty-five minutes. It didn’t matter. Mara only ever called when something was wrong - and seeing as she was calling from a hospital bed, Pixie was placing bets that there was more going on than usual. “How can I help?”

This time, it was Mara who hesitated.

She’d lost a lot of friends, in becoming Mrs Danyal Zafar. To all of the friends she’d grown up with or made in New York, before meeting Dany… She’d changed. Mara had been bitter about it at first, angry even - and maybe a part of her still was, at the unfairness of it all - but… She understood now why they’d thought that. She and Danyal, for lack of a better term, had been building their brand. Everyone was supposed to fall for it. If they’d done a good enough job to fool the Zafars, even now, was she surprised that her friends had, too?

Not to say it wasn’t… Shitty. She hadn’t noticed the distance so much when she and Danyal had still been playing their stupid, stupid game, but… Once she’d left, after the wedding, the absence had become… Obvious.

It had been a lonely few years.

It was why she hated being back in New York; hated actually seeing Raj and Pixie, rather than just texting them, even bickering with Ari again. It was so easy to fall into the old routine, but it was just a constant reminder of everything she’d faked and lost to get it - when even that wasn’t as simple as it should have been.

She didn’t have anyone to talk to about any of this. There was TJ, sure, but… After everything that had gone down with Divvy since the wedding, Mara felt like it was almost cruel to keep bringing it up. Not to mention there were some things he just… Couldn’t understand. No therapist would be paid enough, or have the patience, to follow the complications of Mara’s history, let alone understand it. Her family were more in the dark than the majority of the Zafars were. There was nobody to talk to, nobody to ask for guidance, to ask if she’d grown - except the people in it, the people Mara resented for being a part of something that trapped her.

At least, that’s how you felt before, Mara reminded herself. You’ve changed. You’ve grown. You spoke to Danyal.

Mara immediately frowned at herself. Spoke was a push at best.

As much as Mara wanted to be fiercely independent, to not need to talk to anyone… She’d spent the last few years doing that. And it had been fun! It had. It had been good for her and forced her to see things and understand things she hadn’t wanted to, things she would have always found excuses to avoid.

The problem with that was that now she was running out of things to keep her busy. Some things just needed confronting.

And Pixie was as close as she had to a friend.

“Do you remember when you asked me the real reason why I left Danyal when I did? After the wedding?”

“And you fed me some bullshit excuse about a moment of clarity between throwing up vodka shots?” Pixie snorted - before pausing and settling comfortably into her seat as her chauffeur headed for the motorway. “…Yes. I take it I’m about to hear the real story? This is exciting…”

Mara frowned, glancing at the closed door of her room again.

“Maybe a bit too much, Pix.”

Red Light District SoHo, London Three Years Ago

“I cannot believe you just did that.”

“Oh, relax.” Samara giggled, stumbling slightly on her studded red Valentino’s. Immediately, Danyal’s arms went out to steady her - but she avoided them, just about regaining her balance, before standing in the middle of the street and continuing to laugh at herself some more. With a frustrated clench of his jaw, Dany kept walking. “Oh, what is your problem? We were having fun-”

“Fun?” Danyal repeated, whirling around to face her. “You, alongside with everyone else’s significant other, got onto the stage and started dancing with the-”

“With the pole dancers? Strippers? Or are you going to be diplomatic and call them exotic?” Mara snorted, using air quotes above her - before giggling to herself some more. “Get over yourselves! All of you! What, you drag us all to a strip club for drinks-”

“I didn’t know we were going-”

“And all of the significant others, girls and boys alike, are meant to sit there meekly and not have our own fun?” Mara snorted. “I saved the night! You saw how much fun we had up there on stage, everyone loved us-”

Dany clenched his fists and kept walking, trying his best to drown her out.

“Oh, oh, what’re you going to say now, hmm?” Mara called after him. Reluctantly, he pulled to a stop - she was getting louder and with the silence around them, it only seemed worse. “That I embarrassed you? Is that it?”

“I never said that.” Danyal muttered, more to himself than Mara. Unluckily for him, she happened to hear.

“Is that why we had to run out and leave so early? Why you needed me to make excuses for you?” Mara pouted, stopping in the middle of the road again. Thankfully, it was mainly deserted - it was almost 3am and although the rest of SoHo was still buzzing, where they’d parked was a small ocean of silence. Just a few steps in front of them, the car - a deep red Corvette, parked by some greenery - waited and Danyal could have jumped for relief upon seeing it. “Because your ego got bruised that, seeing as we’re not at the turn of the century, you and your Neanderthals couldn’t just ogle at those dancers in peace? At least we all gave you a show, it’s not my fault you’ve got the goods and are now too afraid to touch them - well, me, I mean, obviously -”

“Get in the car.” He muttered, unlocking it as they approached. Not bothering to check on her behind him, he opened the passenger door - but instead, Mara stayed where she stood a few feet away, swaying slightly in her shoes. Dany sighed. “Samara, please, can you just get into the car? Please?”

And then, much to his relief, she slowly began to walk towards him…

… Before slamming the door he’d been holding open shut and snatching the keys from his fingers, twirling them on her own.

“You’re absolutely ridiculous if you think you’re driving in this state.” Danyal told her coolly, trying his very best to not be antagonised. Once he showed he was… It was game over. He knew her when she was like this; she was mischievous and if he didn’t play his cards right, they’d be out here all night, bickering like schoolchildren because Drunk Samara found it funny.

“Is that the real reason?” Samara asked, her eyes glinting in the light. Dany stared down at her impatiently as she stepped closer. “It is, isn’t it? I was right when I gave that crappy excuse when I saw you were on the verge of a tantrum. That’s why you’re pissed.” Mara laughed as Dany’s jaw clenched. He was so easy to irritate. She stepped closer again, closing the distance between them and draping an arm over his shoulder. Dany sighed and stared off at something in the distance - but no, no, that was no fun! Placing her fingers on his cheek, she forced him to face her. “You saw us all goofing around on that stage, saw everyone watching, and you hated it.” She moved closer still, her voice dropping slightly. Underneath her arm, she felt Dany’s shoulders tense. “Because in that moment, all you wanted… Was for me to be doing that with just you watching, in our bedroom.” Samara murmured, so close now that her chest was brushing against his. “That’s the real reason, right?” She tilted her head slightly, triumph radiating from her as soon as Dany looked away again. “Or am I wrong?”

The last few words were whispered, her breath - smelling sweet, with an alcoholic tinge - warm on his neck.

He couldn’t help it. He couldn’t have.

He showed weakness - he swallowed.

Mara’s smirk grew.

“You know, if you want me so badly,” Mara continued conversationally, balancing on his shoulders now. Automatically, Dany went to steady her as she leaned into him - and cursed himself silently for falling for the trap, when his hands found the bare skin of her sides, warm and with curves that perfectly fit into his hands. “I’m right here.”

Mara raised an eyebrow as Dany’s facade broke - the perfectly blank, almost bored expression making way for pure confusion and wide eyes.

“You’re - you’re drunk.” Dany said uncertainly, careful to keep her at arms distance. Mara only smiled. “Just - just get into the car and you can - sleep it off-”

“You know, I kind of just don’t feel like doing that?” Mara hummed.

He clamped his mouth shut as, eyes on him, Mara sauntered over to the car and sat on the hood.

They said nothing for a few moments, challenging each other silently. Daring the other to make another move, to try and be in control.

She wasn’t wrong. Of course she wasn’t - and they both knew it, the same way they both knew that the way she was sitting on the damned hood of the car was to show off her legs.

She didn’t look beautiful tonight. Well, she did - of course she did, she always did to Dany -, but this was more than that. So… Much more.

They’d had to share the bedroom at the Zafar house while the other members of the family were still there; but they’d barely spoken when not in public and certainly not touched. She needed her space. Danyal understood that. After everything that had happened at the wedding, he was amazed she was still there at all - and he wasn’t some kind of animal, he could control himself. Of course he’d wait.

But he’d been so preoccupied with Mara’s feelings, that he’d forgotten everything else.

Until he’d seen her on that stage.

He’d known, as she’d swayed her hips in time to the music and elicited hoots of approval from customers and dancers alike, that she’d been doing it for him. To piss him off, to get his attention. If he’d doubted the attention part before, he certainly wasn’t now.

He didn’t want to look at her the way he was right then. He didn’t. But he couldn’t help himself.

Because she’d been right.

She was in short black dungarees, a tight-fitting cropped white T-shirt that showed off her dancer’s body and siren red lipstick to match her high heels. Now, Dany watched as she pulled her hair from the messy ponytail she’d kept it in, shaking it slightly at the roots as it fell into natural, tousled waves.

He hated how he couldn’t look away. It was a game. This was all some kind of game.

And yet… A part of him was desperate to keep playing it.

“You’re really pretending to not think about it?” Mara finally asked knowingly.

“You’re drunk, you don’t know what you’re saying.” Dany replied robotically. What did he do? What was happening? What did he do?

Mara smirked again.

“I’m really not as drunk as I’m letting you think I am.”

He wished.

“If you were sober at all, you would not be suggesting…” His confidence faltered as he struggled to find the right words, Mara watched him with raised eyebrows. “You wouldn’t be coming up with this kind of… Plan.” He finished feebly.

“No, if anything, it proves how aware I am. It’s ideal, really.” Mara told him, crossing one leg over the other and leaning on her arms. Danyal pretended to look down the road, rather than acknowledge how long her legs looked in front of him. Supermodel legs. “I mean, we’re both incredibly frustrated at how things have turned out, aren’t we? Me in my gilded cage, you my keeper.”

Danyal rolled his eyes.

“This is a way of… Releasing that frustration.” She shrugged - before walking towards him. Dany crossed his arms over his chest, helpless as he watched the car keys disappear into her back pocket. Maybe it was hope - maybe he was just imagining things - but for a split second, his mind registered that she wasn’t as wobbly on her feet as before. “I think it’s really rather sensible. Well done me.”

Dany shook his head, as Mara stared up at him from underneath those damned eyelashes, chewing on the inside of her lip.

“Whatever point it is you think you’re trying to prove-” Dany clamped his mouth shut as Mara yanked him forward by the belt loop of his jeans.

“I don’t need to prove a point, you already did it for me by manoeuvring that hot mess people are calling a wedding.” Mara said sweetly, biting back further amusement as Dany did everything he could to avoid eye contact. The empty road was so interesting! Or the tree in the corner. Fuck, even the dirt underneath his shoe. It was frustrating because Dany didn’t quite know why he couldn’t look at Samara… And yet he knew the more space between them, the better. “I know you find me attractive and I know the only thing that stopped you before was this knight complex you have going on-”

This time, Dany did look at her - with incredulity. “What? That’s what you think?”

“- but you quite nicely sorted out that little problem for your already questionable conscience by putting a ring on it, so let me reassure you-” She yanked on the belt loop again slightly, jerking Dany forwards so that their faces were inches apart. The street lamps behind them meant half of his face was in shadow and there was a cold breeze that made her shiver against his body - something that didn’t go unnoticed, seeing as Dany’s whole body seemed to tense. “- I am a little drunk, but only enough to know that I would be too proud to say this sober.” No reaction. Mara sighed. “Let me put it this way - I want someone’s hands on me and it’d be in your best interests for those hands to be yours.”

Dany’s face remained the same - that frustrating impassive -, but Mara smirked to herself as she felt his breathing get heavier against her chest.

“Why do I feel like I’ll regret this later?” Dany finally said - and just like that, Mara’s mouth went from a smirk to a full blown, Cheshire cat smile. “So what’s your plan? You won’t get in the car-”

“I mean, we’re standing in the middle of SoHo, if we ever got really desperate, there are at least several street corners we could disappear into and nobody would bat an eyelid.” Mara quipped - and even though it was the very last thing he wanted to do, as their eyes met, Dany couldn’t help but match the smile Mara too was trying to fight, at her own quick humour.

The smiles faded as their eyes stayed on each other.

Mara’s breathing… Stuttered slightly as, as carefully as if she were made of glass, Dany’s hands moved from her hips to her ass, pushing the two of them closer.

Mara’s slapped her hands over his as his fingers spread, ignoring the tingling she suddenly felt from her throat down to her ankles.

“Nice try, but you don’t get those keys until you pick a side.”

Dany’s eyes narrowed as Mara stared up at him in defiance. The tips of his little fingers were brushing against where denim ended and skin began and, unthinkingly, they began to trace small circles.

It could have been seconds. It could have been minutes. Who knew?

“Oh, fuck this.” Dany finally muttered - and Mara laughed into his mouth as she found it smashed against hers.

Within seconds, she was squashed between Danyal’s body and the cold car, her back automatically arching as she shivered into him from the icy metal.

They were kissing. This was happening.

His stubble was rough and chafed against her cheek as he kissed her, her rings scratching against his scalp as her fingers tangled in his hair; they scrambled against the, their whereabouts forgotten, to push Mara up higher so that her legs could wrap around his waist, making her hum in approval as, once successful, she felt his torso, strong and firm, against the bare inside of her thighs through his thin shirt.

He smelt like the smoke of the strip club and his own aftershave, like a damned warning, every breath of it she took in reminding her that this was a terrible, stupid choice - but that was what somehow made it better, what made her kiss him harder and pull him tighter and press her pelvis up against his chest before she could think better of it.

Fuck who saw them. Fuck what they were doing, fuck how complicated everything was. For every reason she could think of to stop, the feeling of Danyal’s hot tongue in her mouth and how their bodies writhed against each other with each move of it was a reason to carry on. She was breathless; they both were, kissing furiously and not pausing, because if they did the spell might break and that was the last thing either one of them wanted. No more reality. No more thinking.

His hands were all over her, ass to the bare skin of her waist, to the inside of her thighs and back again. She couldn’t keep her eyes open - but when they did flutter at the feeling of Dany dragging his lips down her neck, his stubble grazing the path, she could only see her wedding ring glinting in the darkness from where it rest against his cheek, keeping him in place as he moved.

He was rough, but not too rough - he pulled her by the roots of her hair to give him more access to her neck, but only hard enough to leave her grinding her hips against his chest again, her hands gripping him by the waist. Every time they moved against each other, he made a small grunt as her heels pressed into his behind and every time he did, Mara couldn’t help a smug smile.

“You’re a - you’re an - an - asshole.” Mara managed to say between silent gasps, gripping the back of his neck with all of the strength she had. He was. He was a fucking nightmare, this was all of his fault, this whole damned mess was his fault - and she was proven right, right by how he smirked into their next kiss, their kisses so hard that it felt like they were both bruising each other. That’s what it felt like. A million bruises, each one packing its own punch, a sensory overload that took her out of her own head, one that she didn’t want to stop. “Put - put me d- the car -”

Dany nodded - but neither one of them moved, still tangled in each other, their surroundings silent save for the sounds of their lips messily moving against one another and their bodies writhing against the car.

When Dany finally let go, Mara threw him the keys - and seeing one another like that, seeing Dany’s hair sticking up in odd places and with red lipstick smudged all over the both of them, made their eyes sparkle with lust.

“So you fucked him in the red Corvette?” Pixie gasped, scandalised. “That is my favourite car, you tramp-”

Back in New York, Mara began to splutter at the phone in horror.

“Wh - I - no! No!” She said quickly. Why had she decided to tell Pixie this, again?! “No, no, we did not fuck in the Corvette, oh my God, Pix!”

“Well, then, what happened next? Details, now, I honestly didn’t know my cousin had it in him-”

Mara grimaced at her use of the word cousin.

“No. No more details.” She muttered, the anaesthetic - and the memory - leaving a horrible taste in her mouth. There was something nasty about remembering it in the harsh light of the hospital room. The few times she’d allowed herself to remember were… Were times when she’d been alone, in the dark and in bed, using the memory recreationally and knowing full well the disgust and embarrassment she’d feel for it afterwards.

Except, unfortunately, now it was too late to just stick back into a box in the back of her head.

She remembered it all.

The way their lips had met again within seconds of slamming the car doors shut behind them. How Danyal had almost crashed three times on the drive back, speeding and skipping red lights, as she’d deliberately stared at him, breathing heavy, as her hand had slipped under her dungarees (Mara cringed to think it). They hadn’t even made it up the stairs without her dungarees being left in a puddle behind them.

Mara felt her face go hot underneath her hands. Uuuurgh, she hated herself.

“So is this the real reason why you stopped drinking?”

Peering between her fingers, Mara stared at the phone incredulously.

“Um, yes, is that not enough of a reason?” Mara huffed. “I - I - I woke up the next day, realised what an utter… Moron I’d been and I got the Hell out of there-”

“Why are you telling me this, Sammy? Hmm?” Pixie was the only person to call Samara Sammy, the same way Mara was the only one to call Pixie Pix. She sighed. “What? You want to do it again? Pick up where you left off?”

“Is this not weird for you to even say out loud?” Mara groaned. “How can you be so - so… No, I don’t want a repeat, I just-”

“Oh my God, you so do, I can hear how thirsty you are and I’m a continent away.” Pixie cackled gleefully. “What’s stopping you?”

“I don’t know, Pix, the imminent threat of departure?!”

“Are you planning on leaving him, then? For sure?”

“I- I don’t know, I just-” Mara struggled helplessly. “But we’re meant to talk and after that happened, I just - I just needed someone to understand that - it’s - it’s complicated, how are we meant to talk without actually talking about that-”

“Then don’t talk about it, use your hospital time to do the opposite of talking-”

“No, Pix, I don’t know what to do-”

“What you want! Do what you want, Sammy, you’re married to what used to be one of the most eligible bachelors on the planet who apparently is not living up to the stereotype of his reputation being more impressive than his skillset, enjoy it!”

“You’re not - I told you, it’s more complicated-”

“Maybe more than I thought before, but nothing a quickie in the Corvette can’t fix.”

“You’re the worst, you are being of no help at all, where is the emotional support-”

“Honey, you didn’t become friends with me for emotional support. You became friends with me because I don’t spout bullshit.” Pixie told her smugly. “Now, I’m bored of this conversation. Keep me posted and get well soon. Bye.”

“Wait, I-” Mara began - but the call had already ended, leaving Mara alone in the silent hospital room. “That’s… Awesome.” Mara muttered to herself, sighing.

Pixie didn’t understand. Nobody did. That was the whole problem.

Whether she had wanted to or not, Mara had… Opened up a conversation with Danyal, before the surgery. A conversation she couldn’t have, even if they needed to, because she didn’t know where she stood in it.

So far, she’d managed to dodge discussing… Everything, any of it, but now? Now how was she meant to carry it on? When the last time they’d seen each other was… That night? Or even after what Danyal had said? Love you. Present tense.

She was angry, she was. It was… Frustrating! How could he just say that, so easily? Love wasn’t a light word. It was heavy with meaning and commitment and other terrible, horrible things that created an automatic response for Mara to run in the opposite direction when she thought of them. She’d had so many people say they loved her and yet it always amounted to her getting hurt. Being hurt. And Danyal was no different. He’d done the same thing, like everyone else, on their wedding. He’d betrayed her trust.

How was she meant to make him understand that? How, when maybe what he’d done was right?

It was fucked up. It was so fucked up and - and wrong! The thought of someone actually knowing what was best for her that wasn’t herself? At a time when she’d been so desperate to find that part of herself? No! It wasn’t - it wasn’t fair, it wasn’t right!

… But here she was, sitting in hospital because of Dany. Because of the ties he’d forced her to have. She’d admitted to herself on the way back from the gym that she’d decided, once everything had imploded with her parents after the surgery, to come back to the Zafars, to New York, whether she’d wanted to or not. Of course Dany had been a part of that. She’d known he’d be back in New York for his birthday.

How could both things make sense in her head? Because they did. How could they?

What was she going to say to him? How was she meant to explain?

“I heard you on the phone.” Mara winced slightly, keeping her eyes trained on her hands, at the sound of that voice. A voice that only meant trouble. “You seemed… More awake than before, so I brought you coffee. If you wanted it, obviously.”

Mara nodded - before taking a silent, deep breath and looking up at him - the cause of all of the trouble, Danyal, hovering awkwardly in the doorway.

“You look terrible.” She mumbled, offering a half-smile. She wasn’t lying. Underneath Dany’s eyes were deep-set dark circles and he hadn’t shaved, his hair sticking up in odd places. Dany said nothing, standing there in his crumpled jumper and skinny jeans. “Here.” She motioned for the coffee.

Handing it to her carefully, Dany sat in the armchair that Mara just knew he’d slept in, pushing the blanket aside.

“I think we should-”

“Can we talk-”

They both stopped, hesitating awkwardly, for interrupting the other.

“Me first?” Mara asked, smiling politely as Dany nodded. She placed the coffee on the table - it was too hot - wincing slightly, and immediately ignoring how Dany seemed to want to reach out to help her. She sighed.

What was she meant to say? How was she meant to say it? Forget how much he may have heard - she couldn’t be bothered to think about how that was about to impact things. The more she thought, the more confused she’d become.

“It wasn’t some magical moment. Maybe that’s what’s making it so hard.” She finally began, hoping that, what she’d previously found to be Danyal’s annoying tendency to read her mind, would suddenly come in handy. If the way he seemed to tense was any indication, she was in luck. “And I know, I do, I know I should be used to that by now, but-”

“But what?” Dany interrupted, looking confused - and angry, too. Mara chewed on the inside of her lip, feeling like a child. “You thought, after everything that happened, you wouldn’t?”

“Not so soon.” She admitted quietly, ignoring how Dany began to shake his head. “Maybe not ever. Look, I’m - I’m trying here, I’m trying to be honest-”

“Not so soon?” Dany repeated, ignoring her. Mara sighed. “Not so soon? So you thought about it happening, at least?”

“Dan- Danyal, please-”

“You’ve just had corrective surgery for a kidney transplant you didn’t tell anyone about.” Dany told her seriously, clenching his jaw. “And now is when you choose to be honest?”

“That’s what you’re seriously upset about?” Mara asked in disbelief. Dany shook his head again, as if she was somehow the one missing the point. “Now? I’m finally having this conversation with you, one you say you’ve waited to have for so long-”

“I have-”

“Then why does this matter? Why does it matter that this is why we’re having it?!” Mara motioned with her hands to the hospital room.

“Because I’m meant to be looking after you!” Dany snapped - before sighing, as Mara shrunk slightly into the bed, his words… Frightening her. Not his tone. His words. For fuck’s sake, why did he keep saying things that just… Confused her more?! “I - what did you think? That marrying you and yes, yeah, I did hope that was how it would end and I shouldn’t have done it that way, but when I married you, did you think it was nothing? That I didn’t know what I was promising?”

Mara swallowed, trying to buy herself time.

“I - I don’t know.” She replied weakly, struggling to form coherent sentences when Danyal was looking at her so… Earnestly. “Maybe. I don’t know what went through your head-”

Dany laughed, though not because he found anything particularly funny.

“What went through my head was that I couldn’t lose you and you didn’t want to lose me and that was the only way I knew how to fix things, because you were too scared to understand your feelings.” Dany muttered, his voice laced with irritation. He was even scowling as he said it. Mara didn’t know what to say. “You know that-”

“No, I don’t-” At this point, she was arguing more on reflex than anything else.

“Why would you put yourself through this?” Dany demanded, setting his coffee aside. Mara sighed, collapsing against her pillows and closing her eyes. “Why would you give him a kidney after - after the way he treated you, after everything we did to get rid of him-”

“Everything you did.” Mara muttered to herself… And when there was no answer, she opened her eyes.

Dany was staring at her, temporarily speechless, with round, horrified eyes.

“If I did something wrong - if you changed your mind about your Dad when I told him to leave - Mara, I’m sorry-”

“Urgh, no, don’t do that. Don’t.” Mara groaned. The night of their wedding; when her father had shown up at their hotel and Dany had sent him away. “Don’t - whatever happened between me and him, it’s not something you should be apologising for, Christ-”

“Yes, it is, if I failed you-”

Mara immediately stared at him in disbelief - after staring in incredulity at the sky.

“This isn’t about you, Danyal! Or your pride! This is a decision I made, I’m a grown ass woman, I can handle my own decisions-”

“Urgh, Samara!” Dany groaned. “I’m not saying this is about me or my pride, I’m just - I was trying to help-”

“And in case you hadn’t noticed, Danyal, you trying to help me somehow never ends up the way you want it to.” Mara burst, unable to help the ironic peal of laughter that fell out too.

It was reflexive; at the sound of her laughter, wry and ironic but without the bitterness he’d already heard so many times… Dany managed a sad smile.

Something ached in Mara’s chest. It just felt so… Familiar.

Mara hid her face, pretending to focus on fiddling with the hospital sheets, to try and hide her tears.

“When did everything… Change?” She asked quietly - and immediately closed her eyes, blocking out the sight of Danyal opening his mouth so speak, knowing exactly what he was about to say. “Please… Don’t - say it, don’t repeat yourself. I can’t hear that again, not - not yet, I just-” She shook her head, her eyes still squeezed shut. She cringed even more, remembering how… Similar this conversation was, to one they’d had once before. “I - I genuinely don’t understand. We were nothing-”

“Nothing?” Dany repeated sharply.

Mara’s eyes flew open, only to squeeze in annoyance again - this time, at her own words.

“That’s not what I meant, I just - how can you even know that you mean it?” She tried to sound reasonable; she tried to sound… Fair. Instead, she just came out patronising. “Don’t look at me like that, Danyal!” That currently meant a poker face tinged with silent outrage. It was a look specific to the eldest Zafar sibling’s face. “You said you loved Divya. We went through that whole charade because of you saying that, constantly-”

Dany was already shaking his head before she’d finished talking.

“Samara, please tell me you’re not serious.” He said, setting his coffee cup aside. Mara rolled her eyes. Here we go. Why was it that every conversation they had ended up here? Frustrating and counterproductive?! “I know it’s different with you-”

“No, you don’t know, you don’t and that’s the whole point!” Mara burst - and fuck it, she was here now, this was happening, so why bother holding back? Where had that gotten her? Oh. Right. In hospital, in New York, struggling to say all the things she needed to with this idiot.

How many times had she gone through this? Imagined this scenario? Created a perfectly crafted script?

Internally, she sighed to herself. When was she just going to accept that her life wasn’t perfect?

“Have you ever just considered,” Samara said through greeted teeth, taking a deep breath and ignoring the slight dull ache she felt coming from her stomach. “That maybe, just maybe, Danyal, your view of love is a little bit skewered?” She continued quickly, seeing the indignation on Danyal’s face, raising her voice. “You grew up hearing about your parents. Your parents, who are not the rest of the world. Who had to deal with difficulties and strain in their relationship, before they were even together-”

“What is your point?” Dany interrupted. Mara took a deep breath as he stared at her, incredulous. “I know about my parents-”

“And you assumed that whatever you had with Divya was real, the first girl you’d ever been with, because it was difficult and you weren’t together yet and you assumed it was l - shit!”

Dany immediately stood to attention as Mara winced, the pain in her stomach sharper than before.

“I’m fine, I’m fine.” She lied, swatting Dany’s awkward, hovering hands away. Too tired to continue shouting, she motioned for him to sit on the bed - but he remained standing, eyeing her with a stern expression that, she knew, was just a mask for concern. “I just… You don’t know, Danyal. You jumped from her to me. That’s not…” The L-word lodged in her throat. “That sounds more like a rebound than anything else.”

“I know what this is.” Dany muttered, shaking his head. “Just because you don’t want to feel like you’re worth that, doesn’t make it any less true.”

Mara’s head jerked up at that. How did he do that? Get inside of her head, ruin everything? She wanted to have an answer! He’d leave the room in ten seconds and a million brilliant, witty scathing ones would enter her head - because ordinarily, they were already there -, but with him, everything was delayed. She wasn’t herself.

How could they have what he thought they did when she was a different person around him? Only him?

For once, pride worked to her strength; instead of looking away as her eyes filled up with tears, of frustration and anger and disappointment - and not just at him, at everything, at her parents, at her life, at being in a hospital bed sitting in front of Danyal Zafar at all - she stared at him belligerently, taking some comfort in the sadness that flitted across his face at her pain.

“I’m sorry, I-” Dany sighed, running a hand through his hair. She kept staring. She didn’t trust herself to stay in… Control, if she opened her mouth. She’d leant on him when she hadn’t wanted to enough times before. “You need rest and this isn’t helping, I’m sorry. I’ll… I’ll go.”

Samara pressed her lips together, hard, as with a sigh, Danyal headed for the door.

Hoe, don’t do it, she warned herself. Don’t you fucking dare, you a strong and independent young woman, don’t you dare - she repeated it over and over, hoping it would sink in.

He was halfway to the door when some of that slipped out.

“Don’t.” Not the part she wanted - and she felt it afresh, like she did every time she thought about their wedding, every time she was honest and it hurt. Disappointment in herself for being so weak. Fear that, just like he’d said, Danyal was right to know her better than she did herself.

A part of him almost wanted him to keep moving, as for a split second, he stilled in the middle of the room. It would make things easier. The lines wouldn’t be so blurred.

But he didn’t do that. Instead, as if he’d been planning on doing it all along, he immediately turned on his heel and sat back down in the armchair next to her bed.

Samara swallowed back her tears, telling herself it was from the anaesthetic that was still working wearing off, as she shuffled in bed, turning her head away from him.

As her shoulders tensed in her efforts to not cry, she felt Danyal’s hand on hers - and as much as she hated herself for it, as confusing and horrible and weak as she felt, she clutched it so hard back that she thought her bones may break.

She took a few minutes to try and compose herself - and if it hadn’t been for the vice-like grip still on his hand, Dany may have thought she’d fallen asleep.

“I miss my friend.” She finally admitted, her voice thick and heavy from emotions she hated on the regular. “I just want my friend back, Dany.”

Silent seconds, ones that felt like minutes, ticked by - and then, in a voice that was sure and strong and so similar to the voice she remembered from simpler, happier times, he replied -

“I haven’t gone anywhere.”

It made her feel physically sick to think that maybe, just maybe… Maybe this whole time, he had been right.

Conde Nast Headquarters, One World Trade Centre Manhattan, New York

“Hello, Esme. Is she busy?”

“Oh, hi, Mr Zafar!” Esme, on of Soph’s many, enthusiastic young assistants, beamed up at him. “The last I checked she was on a call to the board, but there’s nobody in there so go right ahead!”

Aman nodded, already halfway through the door.

“Yes, of course - no, absolutely.” Soph muttered, smiling as Aman, upon entering the office, bent down to kiss her on the forehead. She watched as he collapsed onto the sofa in the corner, throwing his blazer to the side and pulling on his tie. God forbid he would just take a board position and look after himself over the damned company. “No, honestly. Yes. Okay. Okay, bye.”

“Long day?” Aman asked, closing his eyes and letting his head rest against the sofa back - and not being at all surprised when, a few seconds later, he felt Soph slip under his arm, her head resting against his chest.

Soph hummed.

They sat there in silence for a few minutes, Aman’s arm falling from the sofa back to rub circles into Soph’s bare shoulder.

“I should have spoken to you first.” Aman finally said, looking down at her. Soph said nothing, looking up at him. “I’m sorry, I just… She was so excited. And I thought if I told her-”

“Aman, don’t pretend you didn’t manipulate Zarina’s interest in the land acquisition.” Soph huffed, shaking her head. Aman sighed as Soph pulled away, forcing him to face her. “What are you doing? She’d hate the idea of being lied to-”

“I don’t want her to feel pressured-”

“So you’re betraying her trust in you instead?”

“No, I’m not, she’s my daughter and I am trying to help her.” Aman said sternly. Soph shook her head. Aman sat up a little straighter. “Look at what happened with Raj! She felt pressured, she said no-”

“And I’ve told you, I don’t think that’s over-”

“She wants it to be and that’s all I need to know.” Aman replied quickly, sighing as Soph got to her feet and began to pace. “What have I done that’s so terrible? This way, she can get to know him and if they like each other-”

“Aman, she is going to feel ambushed! Even if she does end up liking him, taking away anything natural about it will make her run the other way-”

“You don’t know that-”

“Of course I do, she’s our daughter!” Soph laughed, without humour. “Of course she’ll run in the opposite direction! She throws herself into her work, just like we used to and ignores anyone telling her she needs anyone else, because she doesn’t want to believe it, and she shouldn’t-”

“She does not need this boy. Or any other boy. The only people she needs are her family.” Aman said sharply… And although it was in a voice that would have had anybody else quivering, the years had done nothing to Soph’s only response being an unimpressed expression. “But… But she could be happier! She shouldn’t feel like she has to feel alone, what’s wrong with me wanting that for her? You said so yourself, he sounds like a nice boy-”

“It’s not about us finding him nice, Aman.” Soph paused her pacing to stare at her husband in shock. “We didn’t choose each other and we ended up fine! Why can’t you trust her own judgements, her own taste?”

“I never said I didn’t-”

“No, you’re just deciding that this boy may be a good match for her and sending her, unknowingly, to meet him for what she thinks is a business meeting!” Soph scoffed. “Have you thought about what he may say to her? How she may feel like the business?”

“Do you honestly think I’m that stupid?” Aman huffed, smoothly reverting from English into Urdu… Which, to anyone else, signalled something serious. “Of course nobody thinks she’s there to… Meet him for that reason! They know she’s representing this company, this family-”

“And since when did people so easily accept a beautiful young girl only being interested in her career?” Soph challenged, matching his bilingualism.

“Other people living in the past isn’t my problem,” Aman said hotly, his temper flaring now, too. “Our daughter is a beautiful, intelligent, fantastic young woman who is an asset to any company she chooses to work for-”

“And if you trust her so much, she should be able to make this decision!”

“I’m not forcing her, Soph! If she likes him, then there’s nothing standing between them and if she doesn’t, so what?”

“How do you know she’ll like him? Just because he’s good for her on paper-”

“- we know our little girl-”

“The way we knew Tara?” Soph challenged, in English again - and Aman stared up at her in surprise, as if he’d been slapped, as her eyes began to take on a new, watery sheen. She slipped into Urdu again. “I’ve already lost one daughter on the assumption we know her, I’m not losing another one!”

“Tara made her own choices. Informed ones.” Aman said grimly, his jaw setting firmly. Ignoring Soph’s immediate head-shaking, he continued, staring at the floor. “No, don’t defend her. She knew what she was doing and Zarina is nothing like that, we can trust her, Tara chose not to be a part of this family-”

“Tara’s a child-”

“And look how much we tried to do for her, how we tried to help her.” The calm in Aman’s voice, after all these years, was no longer intimidating; nor was it comforting, for that matter. It was irritating, because it acted like an off-switch to Soph’s anger, whether she wanted it to or not. “Are you honestly telling me my shehzadi doesn’t deserve more? After what she’s endured? That she doesn’t deserve to have help in finding happiness?”

“Don’t you dare put those words in my mouth, Aman.” Soph warned. Before he could open his mouth to protest, she continued. “Of course I want those things for her! But the moment she knows we had any hand in this, she will feel pressured, to fake her own happiness for our sake-”

“If it works out with this boy, why does she have to know?” Her husband demanded, finally rising to his feet. Soph stared at him in disbelief. “I’m serious, don’t look so shocked! If she finds happiness with someone, why do we need to tell her she received help? Why do we need applause for it?”

“I’m not saying we do, but I’m pointing out how easily this could hurt her - and she’s going in blind, considering someone as a life partner versus a business associate are two very different things-”

“Was it different for us?”

Soph shot her husband a look of long-suffering.

“We weren’t looking to go into business with one another.”

“That’s not the point.” Aman said, half-smiling. Soph shook her head… Immediately fighting her own. “If she likes him, as a business partner or not, she’ll stay. And we know where she is, who she’s around and that she’s safe and that’s something I failed her in before.”

Soph’s shoulders sagged - and, forgetting everything else they’d said, she stepped forwards, cupping Aman’s face in her hands.

“Aman, listen to me.” She sighed, her eyes filling up with tears. “You can’t spend the rest of her life trying to make up for something that isn’t your fault. And if you failed her as a parent, then I did too-”

Aman shook his head, his jaw still clenched, as he fought back tears of his own. Even now, Soph hated seeing him like this; hurting, feeling like he’d failed. Not when she’d seen what real failures in a person looked like, and he’d been the one to pull her away.

“You’re not her father. I am. It was my job to protect her then and I didn’t, but in this way, I can.”

Soph shook her head - but, knowing nothing she could say would ever make any difference, silently pulled his neck downwards and pressed her forehead against his.

“Aman, just because she may stay for the challenge, doesn’t mean she could like him - or love him, or be happy with him-” Soph stopped, seeing the wry smile that began to flicker over Aman’s face, slowly replacing the sadness. “What?”

“She’s our daughter.” He told her quietly - confidently, too, as if she were missing the obvious. “If he’s the challenge to her I think he is, wanting to stay for the challenge and wanting to stay for him won’t be that different.”

Soph raised an eyebrow.

“Sounds as if someone’s talking from experience.” She sighed.

Aman pulled her close, before giving her soft, chaste kiss on the lips - one that, even years and children and life’s nightmares later, made Soph feel like she was in her twenties again, falling uncontrollably with a man she knew she shouldn’t. Free-fall. Even after all of this time, that kiss felt like free-fall.

“That’s how we found each other.”

“Not everyone’s like us.” Soph warned.

“No.” Aman agreed. “But she’ll do better.”

Soph sighed to herself internally as she clutched him close, wishing she could share his faith… But she couldn’t. Because she had a horrible feeling that, at that age, Ari was just like her.

New York to Islamabad, En Route Zafar Family Jet

Of their fourteen hour flight, there was only three left… And Ari was hoping to keep up the record so far, of her and Raj’s awkward silence.

She hadn’t wanted it to be awkward, of course. But it was.

The first few hours hadn’t been too bad; she’d been focused on work, prepping for her meeting. Pixie’s future father-in-law was the Minister of Culture; she’d already asked Pixie, who was already his darling favourite, to arrange for a quiet corner for them to discuss the project. After that, Ari could - as if she hadn’t already - set up a visit to Lahore over the next few days, amongst the wedding preparations, to meet the mysterious businessman behind the deal himself.

Ari chewed on the inside of her lip, glancing out of the window. She closed her eyes behind her sunglasses, feeling the warmth of the sun and the brightness of the sky on her face through the plastic-reinforced glass… And recited all of her research again.

A (presumably) filthy-rich businessman of the name Khalid Ahmed - at least, according to the documents on public record - had acquired the land underneath one of Pakistan’s major UNESCO Heritage Sites; the Lahore Fort and its surrounding Shalima Gardens, both of which had began to fall into further disrepair than age, due to the UNESCO financial scandal from almost twenty years prior.

The Pakistani government had offered to donate a significant sum to the renovations, provided UNESCO could provide the rest; but, unable to make such a commitment and under pressure to maintain other sites in Western countries, they had denied, causing a standstill. Without the UNESCO Heritage status, there was little anyone else would be able to do in terms of protecting it; but with a structure that had existed since the sixteenth century, the status meant nothing without the funds to keep it maintained.

Enter Mr Ahmed. He’d approached the Pakistani government and UNESCO as one, she remembered, offering to buy the land deep to the site. This, he’d argued in a written statement also found in public record, would give him a personal incentive to see the property on his land restored, using private funds and investors. His return would be rent paid, partly by UNESCO and the Pakistani government from the funds they’d hoped to spend on repairs, for a lease on the newly-bought land… And one of the most ambitious property deals in business history.

For the government, it worked out cheaper to pay towards a regular lease than the hassle of a full restoration, as well as the unexpected finances any big building project would accumulate. For UNESCO, it helped their PR nightmare in showing that people were still willing to work with them - even if it meant that their access to the project itself was riddled with fine print and where the money was used was beyond their control.

Despite all of this planning, however - and Ari couldn’t help but roll her eyes at the thought -, nobody had stopped to consider how they would announce this news to the public.

They had not been happy.

To many, even those perhaps not the most… Privileged, when it came to education, saw the Fort as a shining example of what had once been; of a rich and diverse cultural history shared with other parts of the region. In layman’s terms, it seemed as if Khalid Ahmed were buying a piece of history and capitalising on it - and seeing as political reform in Pakistan was still relatively new, it felt to many like a step backwards.

As Ari had mentioned to her father; it was a PR nightmare. An image of bulldozers and cranes heading into the gardens had been used by news outlets everywhere, even internationally; and not even Soph’s influence on trying to create a more balanced view had done much good. It also didn’t help that Mr Ahmed didn’t seem very… Camera-friendly; although it had taken the use of a private investigator, a very short look into his life had found a hedonistic, lavish lifestyle, including a thirteen-second video of Mr Ahmed at a club in Amsterdam, surrounded by sex workers.

Thankfully, nobody else had seen the footage; but his living in the shadows had only made the public more suspicious. As they’d been preparing to board, Ari had been reading a recent piece from the past twelve hours, questioning whether ‘Mr Ahmed’ was just a non-existent crime cover-up, as part of a laundering scheme.

It was made worse by the fact that ‘anonymous sources’ claimed, should Mr Ahmed be satisfied with this venture, he would be next settling his eyes on the Badshahi Mosque, also in Lahore; another centuries old structure known for its architecture and history, as well as still being an active place of worship.

That was what had turned the deal from a PR mess to Hell on Earth. Protestors had been camped outside of the Gardens for weeks, preventing workers from entering and destroying whatever equipment and supplies they could. Mr Ahmed had been forced to hire security teams to watch the site around the clock, which, even when not accounting for the over twenty hectares of land, had been of… Very little help.

Not that any of that mattered.

Ari knew she’d be able to fix all of that.

Zarina Zafar was Pakistan’s darling - and India’s too. She was young and attractive and always camera ready; stylish but not fashionable; modest but not outdated. She balanced her identities as Pakistani, Indian, English and Muslim all at once, with an air of naturalness that left the public breathless. She worked for her parents, had never been snapped or rumoured to be doing anything untoward and her private life was kept secret, despite her wide circle of celebrities and powerful figures being only complimentary.

She was considered the epitome of class, grace and mixed cultural identity in two nations that warred with the overpowering identity of the young Western man or woman. She was everything people wanted their children to be and, by some miracle, everything people her age wanted to be in the press; charming, put together and just the right amount of goofy on her Instagram stories.

Of course, the whole thing was an act - or, at least a large majority of it. Ari was in publishing, for God’s sake. She knew how to present an aesthetic.

And that was exactly what she would do with the Fort project. It would still require careful planning, of course, but it could be done - Ari convincing the public that this was in their interest, all the while supporting the Zafar family name. She could do it. She knew she could. It wasn’t cockiness or over-confidence - this was what Ari did every day at Vogue in London.

The only variable was how… Amiable Mr Ahmed would be to work with. Especially seeing as he was allergic to being in the public eye, which was already part of the problem.

Well… Part of the problem. Although it was a minor loophole at best, the Minister of Culture needed to approve the Zafars’ involvement in the project - and that was fine. But seeing as she hadn’t yet had the opportunity to visit Lahore, it would probably take some bluffing…

… That would be easier done if Ari had the safety net of being able to hang up.

She paused - before quickly texting Pixie, seeing if she could arrange the meeting for… Now.

Forget waiting around in Islamabad for a few days. Ari was too excited. Plus, realistically, once she was in Pixie’s sights, she wouldn’t be let out of them - not to mention Sarfaraz pressuring her to babysit Raj… And her brother and Samara could arrive at any moment…

Ari played a game of Tetris 4 - the entire family, save her mother, were locked in a fiercely competitive private league, of which Kabir held the title - as she waited for Pixie’s reply, purposefully not looking in Raj’s direction. A few times, she’d wanted to try and… Talk - the flight seemed like a wasted opportunity otherwise - but thankfully, her most useful trait had given her the wisdom not to.

Stubbornness; it was stubbornness - because if Raj was waiting for her to go back on their agreement of playing nice for Pixie’s wedding, he could wait forever.

Barely a few minutes later, Pixie had text her back, with a video meeting set for the next two minutes.

“Hey!” Ari hissed, throwing a pen - and landing it square in Raj’s temple - at her sleeping jet-mate, making him jump slightly and glare at her. “I’m on a business call, don’t interrupt me.”

With an irritated look that clearly highlighted he had been better off left asleep, Ari turned away and quickly patted down her hair - before pressing on the number Pixie had sent.

It answered on the second ring.

The Minister immediately greeted her in Arabic, to which Ari correctly responded.

“So, Miss Zafar, what can I do for you? Were we not set to meet once you landed?”

“Yes, sir, we were - but actually, I knew that once I landed for the wedding, I wouldn’t want to leave!” Ari immediately said, with her chirpiest voice and trademark smile. She didn’t see Raj glance sleepily over his shoulder at her - before smiling slightly as he fell back asleep. “And ultimately, we’re all in Islamabad for such a happy occasion, the less we have to discuss work the better, surely?”

“Of course.” Minister Bilal said kindly. “So you want to discuss your father’s corporation’s involvement with the Fort project?”

Ari sat a little straighter in her chair.

“Yes.” She said resolutely. “As you know, my family and I are deeply interested in preserving our country’s history and even on an international level, my mother has been recognised as a patron of the arts-”

“Miss Zafar.” Ari paused, quick to hide her confusion, as the Minister suddenly seemed… Awkward. “Your family’s involvement is not at question here. The government’s concern is, rather, about how you may be of service.”

Ari paused.

“Excuse me, but I’m not entirely sure I understand your meaning, Minister…” Ari said calmly, her nails digging into her palms underneath the table. If they were happy to have her involved in the project, why was she being forced to jump through hoops? “Are there any doubts in our integrity?”

Ari fought to not raise an eyebrow as the Minister quickly began to tut away such an accusation. Despite it being implied, Ari thought angrily.

Ari didn’t respond well to being questioned. Ever.

“You’re a very shrewd girl, Miss Zafar - and I would expect no less, given the family you come from.” Ari’s mind began to race, because she didn’t like this one bit. Despite knowing it was… Next to impossible, she began to wonder - was this about what had happened to her, in London? What if she was prepositioned? Or they thought she was weak because it had been kept hidden? She’d known this would come out eventually, she knew she would never be able to bury it deep enough - “But let’s not pretend - we don’t have the time amidst such a busy, happy occasion!”

Ari just about managed a polite smile.

“The bad press is bad for the government. It makes my job more difficult, when at this current time, I’d much rather it felt easy!” The Minister smiled. “At first, this… Khalid Ahmed character was an odd quirk for privacy. But the terrible way this has been handled - which you’ll improve, I’m sure - means that his privacy is no longer our concern. Especially after receiving certain… Intelligence. Bring the real man behind the plans into the light. This is my only condition of your involvement.”

… I’m sorry, what?

Thankfully, she stopped herself from saying that aloud.

Knowing the Minister was watching her much too carefully for her to relax, Ari simply decided on… Nodding, understandingly. If was better that he thought she was confused than totally lost, which was the truth - because the real man behind the plans? What the Hell did that mean?

Though the intelligence part? That must have been the video. Ari hadn’t found it too difficult to get hold of the video. She couldn’t imagine it would have been difficult for the Pakistani government, either.

“You do… Know the arrangement regarding Mr Ahmed’s role in the public eye, don’t you, dear?” Minister Bilal asked, his eyes narrowing slightly.

“Of course.” Ari replied easily… Lying through her teeth. She remembered the mega-watt smile of her father’s lawyer, Harvey and all of the lessons he’d taught her with it. “But we’re in the business of discretion. I don’t think it my place to comment, but now that I know what it is I can to do start-” Ari said shrewdly, making Minister Bilal laugh slightly. “- helping, consider it done.”

“It’s that simple?” He laughed. Ari shrugged, trying to feign her irritation as innocence. “Well, I have no reason to doubt you. And when I see you next, no talk of business - we’ll all be becoming family!”

“If God wills.” Ari replied in Arabic, her nails digging so hard into her palms under the table now that her hand was beginning to feel numb. “I’ll see you soon, Minister.”

“Would you like to talk to Pixie before you go?”

Ari fought not to roll her eyes. How transparent. As if she’d forgotten about the wedding; about how, if she messed this up, it could also affect her cousin.

… Okay, maybe she hadn’t realised the Minister would be so transparent (in an underhand sort of way) about it, but it was still insulting to have it done so obviously.

“No, thank you, Minister. It was a pleasure and we’ll all see each other soon.”

Ari had already hung up before he’d finished saying his goodbye.

Ari stared at her blank phone screen for a few moments, chewing on the inside of her lip. That… It hadn’t gone badly.

It also hadn’t gone particularly well.

She’d had her reservations about working with Khalid Ahmed after seeing the intel, for obvious reasons - and if you didn’t respect your business partner, what kind of foundation was that? - but now… She was frazzled. Secret identity? Who would be stupid enough to do that, let alone someone as dumb as whoever it was in the video - and these were questions that needed answering, only if she’d been right in understanding Minister Bilal.

The only person Ari wanted to ask for advice was her father. But she couldn’t. She had to prove she could do this, by herself…

“Everything okay?”

Ari didn’t bother to hide how she rolled her eyes at Raj’s voice.

“Yeah, thanks.”

“Ar - Zarina…” Ari sighed and glanced over to Raj, who was now watching her carefully. “If you need a hand-”

If she wasn’t taking her father’s help, she sure as Hell wasn’t taking her ex-lover’s.

“According to a financial report, two incredibly poor business decisions taken by you cost the Gemini Group almost a quarter of a billion dollars.” Ari interrupted, bored and irritated at having to say it at all. For Raj not knowing better than to keep things between them… Formal. They’d lasted this many hours, hadn’t they? In a compressed metal box in the air? Didn’t he know how to read a room? “I appreciate your offer of help, but I think it needn’t be more conscious than me doing the opposite of what you have recently.”

Yes, she was lashing out - and yes, she felt guilty. But she bit back her urge to apologise and swallowed it, because she and Raj were strictly business. Family business, for now. That was it. There needn’t be any more familiarity than required, thank you very much.

“I was going through a tough time.” Raj told her quietly, his jaw clenched.

Knowing exactly what he meant, Ari raised an eyebrow, turning away towards the window.

“Business is business.” Ari told him, surprised to find that, although she’d said it before… This time, she really meant it. Wasn’t that something? Maybe living in London again hadn’t been such a weak choice after all. “So it sounds pretty pathetic to me.”

Contrary to her last statement, Ari was not a fan of toxic masculinity; she’d suffered at the hands of it before, a thought that automatically made her fingers and toes curl. But she was a fan of Raj’s pride and the distance it would place between them… And judging by the angry stare Ari felt on her shoulder and Raj’s silence, it had worked.

Ari stared down at the brightly coloured fields below, fiddling with her fingers. She’d already made the meetings in Lahore. Who was she meeting with?

Raj would offer to come, if she gave him even the smallest of hints that something was… Sketchy. But she couldn’t be afraid forever. And anyway, who would dare mess with the people’s princess? A Zafar?

They’ve done it before, a solemn voice told her from deep inside of her head.

Ari swallowed. No. Not today.

Picking up her phone, she sent Samara a quick text; asking if she knew enough people in Pakistan to ask around for her. Samara’s nickname on Ari’s phone, the bored-looking emoji, immediately replaced her name upon Ari pressing on it.

Samara replied almost instantly.

> Are you joking? I’m sitting in a hospital bed.

Ari rolled her eyes.

I’m aware. Y/N?

> Probably not, I’m too white to be brown and vice versa. Bonus of being married to your brother. But who?

Ari, ignoring the last comment, typed quickly. From the corner of her eye, she saw Raj was trying to fall back asleep - properly this time.

Business deal stuff.

Thinking for a moment, she quickly added.

Don’t tell my brother. Trying to do this on my own.

Shit. Had she been stupid to ask? Was Samara going to tell Danyal out of pure spite? Ari had trust issues, of course, but she also had difficulty keeping her mouth shut when she wanted something - but surely Samara would understand independence, surely -

> Sure. Ari breathed a small sigh of relief. Her brother would freak out if she knew anything about what Minister Bilal had just said. Actually, it was probably a good thing that, by the time he and Samara arrived in Pakistan and he did find out, theoretically, Ari would have sorted out the whole mess and would be working on the actual project rather than… Silly little politics between silly little boys. The best person to ask would be Tabby, though and it’ll look more suss if I ask than you in random conversation. Ari frowned. Tabina? Samara’s cousin? You okay with that?

Knowing Samara would know better than to be offended - or had been so many times, that she’d stopped caring, Ari replied - which one’s Tabby? All of Samara’s cousins, the set of sisters she’d lived with in New York - her uncle’s children -, looked the same. Tall, dark haired, elfin.

> The one dating Raj.

Now, Ari was usually very in control of her emotions and expressions. It had taken years of trauma and emotional pain to do so and she was pretty proud of it. But in that moment, reading Samara’s last message, Ari physically jerked back, staring at her phone as if a sign had just flashed over the screen calling her poor and ugly.

What?

Her fingers began to fly over the screen, even faster than before -

What? Since when? I didn’t recognise her!

Back in New York, Mara sighed to herself, before going into her pictures; one of her and her cousins a few years ago, and another of Raj… And the girl, Ari realised, she’d seen him with when Sy had taken her to his apartment when she’d landed in New York.

> Nose job, lip fillers, some other shit.

Who is her surgeon?? Ari replied frantically. I didn’t recognise her and I *know* plastic procedures.

Mara shook her head.

> She spent a lot of money on a lot of procedures. Are you going to ask her?

Ari made a face of disgust, again, too preoccupied with Samara’s message to mask it. She didn’t care if Raj saw.

No thank you. And then, after a second thought - I’d rather stick pins in my eyes. She watched curiously as the typing icon appeared, disappeared and then reappeared. Great. Offended?

Finally, she received Samara’s message - and couldn’t help but smile slightly at the crying with laughter and passive-aggressive smile emojis in droves, with no text.

Ari sent the grumpy one back… And, on a whim, wished Samara well soon. She set her phone back down on the table before Samara could reply.

That was enough friendliness for a little while… And anyway. Apparently, they both had more important things to do.

#aag #about a girl #henbee #modosphere

6 notes · View notes

plounce · 6 years

Text

compilation post of whichever bbc america employee who wrote the captain’s blogs being an ally and a hero via treating janto as more than just a sex joke, being genuinely warm and funny, and mentioning ianto super fondly in nearly every single entry (especially s2) because jack is in love with him despite what everyone else would have you believe. but i, a gay, know, and so does bbc america social media staffer circa 2007-2008.

some may call this “fringe canon.” i call it “some of the only specks of canon that respect the show’s canon gay relationship as the loving and affectionate relationship that it is.”

text pulled from ianto’s desktop, which is a fun read despite the defunct photobucket embeds - i only included captain’s blog stuff, but there’s a couple more janto tidbits in there. none as nice as these, though. under a cut because it is Long.

season 1

(one really cool thing the writer did for early season one is have jack note unexplained energy surges in the lower levels of the hub - handy foreshadowing for cyberwoman)

1x03 (ghost machine - alien tech leads to murder mystery):

Other issues: According to Ianto, Splott is pronounced "Sploe". I think Ianto may have been lying.

Upcoming issues: Energy surges in the lower areas of the hub still unexplained; there have been several more in the past week. Ianto volunteered to investigate, but has not discovered an explanation yet.

1x04 (cyberwoman - the episode where ianto’s secrets are revealed and we all have a Bad Time):

Other Staff issues: Ianto Jones temporarily suspended from active duty, to return at my discretion. His love for Lisa clouded his judgment, and he made some serious mistakes - but I have to wonder if I would have done the same thing in his situation. Ianto's personal needs and emotional state have been overlooked; I should not have missed something like this. During his suspension, I will try to spend more time with him. Hopefully we can establish a closer working relationship.

1x05 (small worlds - the one where the “fairies” abduct the little girl and jack has to let them, which makes everyone else very mad at him):

Staff: Ianto Jones' first week back after his suspension four weeks ago. I have tried to put him at ease, and have briefed the team to be as sympathetic as possible. Obviously there is a level of resentment remaining, but they are trying.

Other Staff issues: After what happened with Jasmine, nobody is talking to me (except Ianto). They'll come around. Everyone comes around.

1x06 (countrycide - the one with the cannibals and we all have a Bad Time):

Staff: Brought Ianto Jones along to get him out of the Hub, out of the city, get some relaxing time in the country with the team. May not have been the best decision I made this year.

1x07 (greeks bearing gifts - mindreading and predatory lesbian, the episode):

Other Staff issues: Ianto is still suffering, but putting on a brave face. Will try talking to him over dinner, outside the Hub, see if there's anything more I can do for him.

1x08 (they keep killing suzie - the episode that ends with ianto hitting on jack with a stopwatch):

Other Staff issues: Ianto and I stayed back to go over the case files and reorganize the safe. Internal security cameras were temporarily shut down to run diagnostic tests, so there was no monitoring of the Hub for approximately four hours - but there were no security breaches to report. Everything went very smoothly.

Upcoming issues: Need to requisition a new stopwatch. Old one damaged while moving a desk.

1x09 (random shoes - outsider pov, the episode):

Staff: Things seem to be calming down with everyone. Ianto is coping well; I'm pleased with his progress.

1x11 (combat - owen has manpain and fights weevils. whatever):

Other Staff issues: Ianto surprisingly proficient at the good cop/bad cop routine. Although obviously, he's the good cop. He's too cute to be the bad cop.

1x12 (captain jack harkness - jack and tosh are stuck back in time during the cardiff blitz and owen and ianto fight about what to do about it):

Other Staff issues: Ianto tried to stop Owen opening the Rift, and actually shot him in the shoulder. Everyone except Owen is finding this very amusing.

season 2

2x01 (kiss kiss bang bang - jack returns from his doctor who appearance, deals with his terrible ex spike from buffy, and asks ianto out on a proper date):

Other Staff issues: Gwen is now engaged. I'm happy for her, but I'm concerned about what it might mean - can she stay here, still keeping everything from Rhys? I worry that we're going to lose her. And I worry about Ianto. I think he took it harder than anyone when I ran off. It's going to take me a while to make things up to him. He is a decent, good man, and I'm lucky I met him.

2x02 (sleeper agent - the episode with sleeper agents):

Other security issues: Gwen taken hostage again. I’m beginning to think she’s jinxed. And why am I never taken hostage? I could be a good hostage. I never get any of that Stockholm Syndrome action. And according to Ianto, my bad cop routine needs some work.

Other Staff issues: I’m in trouble with Ianto for duct-taping a CB aerial to the SUV. Apparently the tape made the wing mirror “disconcertingly sticky”. Still, nothing a bit of warm, soapy water can’t fix.

2x03 (a man out of time - tosh’s cryo-boyfriend they unfreeze once every year. also, jack and ianto Have A Talk and then make out):

Other Staff issues: Ianto and I made some progress, talked things through. What happened with Tommy got to us all. I know it got to Gerald and Harriet, too, back then, considering what they went through to try and make up for it – but that’s another story for another day.

2x04 (meat - the episode with the whale and rhys finding out. some of the team gets taken hostage and ianto tazes a bad guy in the head and growls out “pray they survive.” or something and it’s VERY GOOD TELEVISION):

Staff: Ianto turned into a fighting, kicking, stun-gun machine, it was very exciting. I must get put in danger more often.

2x05 (adam - an alien infiltrates their memories and inserts himself into the team, and his plot is foiled by ianto reading his diary and finding inconsistencies because he’s Very Clever):

Other security issues: The only thing out of place was Ianto’s diary, which I found in my office. Naturally, I gave it back to him immediately after reading through it. Several interesting factual errors in there - and I thought he would know how to convert inches to centimetres. You think you know someone...

2x06 (reset - martha visits and owen ‘dies’):

Security: Must speak to Ianto about using names from ‘’Sex and the City’’ on fake IDs. Last week he sent me into an alien smuggling operation as ‘’Mr Big’’, without telling me. Wish I knew how he kept a straight face. I’d give him a stern talking-to, but I think he enjoys that too much.

(right after this is a very solemn paragraph about owen dying lmfao)

2x07 (dead man walking - jack resurrects owen and owen has manpain about it):

Other Staff issues: In big trouble with Ianto for risking everything to go and get the second glove. I should have told him before I went, but he’d probably have cuffed me to the chair to stop me. And I’ve fallen for that one way too many times.

2x08 (a day in the death - owen continues to have manpain):

Other Staff issues: Now that we have all tried, it is clear that only Ianto knows how to operate that damn coffee maker. I suspect it contains alien technology.

2x09 (something borrowed - gwen gets married, but not before playing host to shapeshifting pregnancy alien):

Security: ... Female Nostrovite proved to be extremely resilient to bullets, so I had to get my massive weapon out and take care of business. Ianto is still quietly chuckling about that now, days later. Gwen’s mother taken hostage. Must run in the family.

2x10 (from out of the rain - the terribly written ianto-’centric’ episode about circus film reel ghosts):

Alien activity: ... We only managed to save one of them, but that’s better than nothing. Sometimes in this job, one is enough. I can still see the faces of the people we lost - they weren’t part of this, they were just living their lives, until they were taken. Ianto took it badly, this one really got to him.

Staff: Have convinced Ianto to take me to a normal cinema, to see an actual movie. He’s also curious to know if I still have my old circus outfit. If I can find it, I think a private show is in order.

2x11 (adrift - gwen pursues a mystery about the people the rift takes and then puts back traumatized, even though jack resists. ianto is the one who gives her the info she needs. she also walks in on them naked in the greenhouse. wild):

Staff: Gwen would never have found the facility if Ianto hadn’t helped her. He was wrong to do that. But, of course, he was actually right in the end. There’s no way Gwen would have let it go. I should have trusted her with the information, but I knew what it would do to her. Sometimes, the only way to realise that you shouldn’t look behind that door is to actually go and look. Gwen learned that. Nikki learned that. We all did.

Other Staff issues: Seeing Gwen experience it for the first time took me right back to when I first heard that terrible scream. After Gwen had gone home, I just held on to Ianto for a couple of hours, as tightly as I could.

2x12 (fragments - a bomb explodes and everyone gets a flashback to how they joined torchwood 3 as jack and gwen rescue them from the rubble):

Staff: Everyone came out of the explosion pretty beaten up, but no major damage. We got lucky. And so did John. Because if he’d killed anyone - if he had hurt Ianto - I would have slowly ripped him limb from limb.

Other Staff issues: Although I have to say, Ianto does look good all messed up and dirty.

2x13 (exit wounds - jack’s brother comes back and blows up half of cardiff and kills owen and tosh):

Other Staff issues: The one glimmer of hope in all this? I still have Ianto and Gwen. Whatever the future throws at us, whatever madness the Rift vomits out next, whatever we have to face - Torchwood will be ready.

Capt. Jack Harkness.

Ianto, I know you’re reading this over my shoulder, pretending to fix that damn shelf. So get over here and take me out somewhere.

#chirps #janto #torchwood

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astarisms · 7 years

Text

collateral damage

Pairing: Natan

Warnings: Blood, swearing, violence

Word Count: 2818

A/N: It’s a day late but HAPPY BIRTHDAY TO THE LOVE OF MY LIFE @cosmicallybrownie!!!!!

Lucifer had been alive far longer than any human could even begin to comprehend. He had seen and done everything there was to see and do. He had thought himself hardened and experienced enough where he wasn’t just immune to surprises, but that there was nothing that remained to be seen that could even have the potential to.

Natalie McAllister continued to prove him wrong.

She was across the way, chatting with Raphael like it was just another day, like he was just another person, like she hadn’t just faced off against hell itself and like she didn’t bear the scars of her, what? Bravery? Stupidity?

Stupidity would be his first thought, but he couldn’t deny the courage it must have taken to stand there and face the horrifying reality of his demons.

His demons. He would’ve snorted at his own joke if he wasn’t so fucking exhausted.

He watched her for a few minutes, clenching his fists to hide how his limbs shook with fatigue. In the time he’d spent with her, he’d grown to not loathe her and everything her teenage-girl-mind stood for. She had gone from being a burden of the highest caliber to a mild inconvenience in such little time.

For one, disgusting, cringeworthy moment, he thought he might be going soft.

Then she was at his side, chattering in his ear and offering up his assistance to Raphael and Gabriel, and he quickly stamped that down as he felt blissfully familiar irritation threaten to make his eye twitch.

So maybe she wasn’t so bad. That didn’t mean anything.

“I wouldn’t be best friends with a monster.” There was a sincerity in her words he couldn’t have possibly expected, and her bright smile threw him through a loop.

Best friends? With him? The devil?

His breath shuddered when he exhaled, and he was glad for the ringing of her phone and her short attention span.

The girl was mental.

But there was something her words incited in him, even as she turned away to deal with her angry brother. A stirring deep inside him, a longing he’d thought he’d killed and buried. She’d said he was her best friend and he’d spent centuries trying to forget what a best friend felt like.

He’d spent millennia trying to forget what loneliness felt like.

She was opening up old wounds and he would’ve resented her for it if she wasn’t healing them along the way.

Even if the thought terrified him in ways he would never admit.

The first time he saw her with Jericho, his gut twisted. It was a nasty, familiar feeling, one that got him his wings ripped out and cast from his home, but he refused to place it — out of stubbornness or denial, he couldn’t tell.

He didn’t acknowledge it.

Instead, he strode forward to pull her away, a scowl on his lips.

On top of the not-jealousy climbing up his throat, there was a deeper, more serious uneasiness growing in him. He cast a glance over his shoulder at the boy as they moved farther away from him, and it surged.

He didn’t trust him. He didn’t want Natalie near him, and while there was a selfishness to the thought, there was a protectiveness he hadn’t expected, as well.

He didn’t like it, but for the moment, he embraced it. The kid was bad news and if he could help it, she’d never go near him again.

Until she asked him to trust her and threw her unwavering belief in him in his face. He hated how easily she convinced him, how easily he caved to every instinct because she asked him to.

He only hoped that this didn’t backfire on him.

One of Lucifer’s favorite, more mild pastimes used to involve getting people shitfaced. It was always funny to him, how easily the influence of alcohol opened people up. He’d learned of scandals, of people’s deepest, darkest secrets.

The sins of humanity had always been able to lift his spirits.

Tonight, though, it was less than amusing. Instead of getting a good laugh, he was babysitting a stumbling teenager in the middle of the night.

And she was singing. Loudly. And badly.

His eardrums wept.

Eager to get her home and in bed, he adjusted her backpack on his shoulder and humored her questions with answers he was sure she wouldn’t remember in the morning.

As it turned out, walking and talking while drunk was not a skill she possessed. He tried warning her, but before he could even get the words out she was tripping over her own feet and he surged to catch her.

Natalie, unaffected by the near tumble, just laughed and smiled up at him.

“I’d die for you, you know,” she said, out of the blue. He felt the air rush out of him, his eyes going wide. She followed up with something that he didn’t hear, his ears ringing with the echo of her words.

Had he heard her right?

I’d die for you.

While that was the farthest thing from what he wanted, he understood the sentiment and for several moments he found himself unable to move. Natalie slipped out of his arms and walked on ahead, singing again.

He forced himself to follow her. His head was spinning. His chest ached in a way it never had before and before he could stop himself from thinking it, he knew what it meant.

He shoved the thought down violently, struggling to compose himself. He needed to get a grip.

The idea of pain had become a warped concept to Lucifer. After so long, it all seemed to blur together. What was a pinch of the skin or a slap on the face or a knife to the gut?

Pain was something Lucifer had long since learned to ignore.

Which was maybe why it took him as long as it did to realize what exactly it was he was feeling. For the first few moments, he’d just thought Natalie was having her period problems again — and those he had especially learned to disregard.

It was only when he felt something warm and wet coating his sweatshirt, slipping down his skin, that he began to have second thoughts and discovered the true source of the pain.

At first, he simply stared down at it, unable to believe what he was seeing, what he was feeling.

Then he shot to his feet. He realized belatedly that he didn’t know where she had gone. Obviously she wasn’t at the library studying if there was a new set of soon-to-be matching scars on her lower stomach and back.

It was almost funny, how all her scars had a twin.

It didn’t take long to find her regardless and by that time he was seeing red. There was bloodlust in his eyes, the desire for it coursing through his veins in a way it hadn’t in some time. He was furious, driven half mad at what his new wound meant and at the audacity of this imposter.

How dare he?

Lucifer was ready to tear his limbs from his body. So eager to exact revenge tenfold the crime, to spill blood for blood split, that he’d been blinded to what was most important.

He hated that it was Michael, of all people, who had to remind him. It was Michael who cradled her, broken and bleeding, in his arms and urged Lucifer to get her to a hospital.

Shame rushed over Lucifer. How could he have forgotten her? How could he have overlooked, for even a single moment, that despite how he handled her pain, she was still human and fragile?

If his own thoughtlessness hadn’t made his throat constrict and his heart stutter painfully behind his ribs, the tears in her eyes and the tremor in her bones would’ve done the trick. She tried to speak and blood trickled from the corner of her mouth.

He held her close and shushed her as he rushed her to the nearest hospital, sick with the thought of what could’ve happened had he been a moment later.

She had given him an out. After months and being bound to her, stuck in this house and privy to every whim and want, she was offering to just… let him go.

He almost didn’t believe it. It was too good to be true.

He could leave.

And for a moment, he considered it. He really did. He could return to his life before her, he could be free.

And for a moment, he did.

But he found he couldn’t. Not with her confession. She’d been less sad with him around, she’d said. He would’ve thought her insane if it weren’t for the fact that she had the same effect on him.

He could’ve laughed at the irony of the situation. How had she come to mean so much to him in such little time? He couldn’t bring himself to stay away.

Congratulations, he thought, half amused and half bitter, as he took his doll off her shelf and dropped it into her bean bag chair, you’ve wrapped the devil around your finger.

It was disgusting, how much he cared for her.

He heard her coming and moved to her collection of books, trying to be casual, trying to play off how pathetic he was. She’d given him an out, no strings attached, yet here he was.

The moment her eyes fell on the chair, they began to water. When she realized what it meant, she fell to her knees with a sob of relief and disbelief. His chest felt tight again.

He hadn’t meant to make her cry. The implications of her tears, of how deep her feelings for him ran, made the earth feel unsteady beneath his feet.

In almost the same breath, she stood, whirled, assaulted him, then threw her arms around him. He protested, giving a half-assed effort to pull away, because despite himself the press of her against him was almost more than he could handle.

“Suck it up,” she sniffled, unrelenting, then leaned back a bit herself only to bring her hands up to cup his face, closing her eyes and leaning her forehead against his. He didn’t move, didn’t dare, looking down at her. He hadn’t realized how much he’d craved this contact until he had it. “You didn’t leave.”

“...No,” he said, staring down at her. He studied her face, longed to reach up and wipe the tears that he had caused from her cheeks, but he didn’t.

“Should I even ask?”

“I’d prefer you didn’t.”

“Okay.” His hands shook by his sides. She was always prodding him, but she didn’t press him here. She let it go, her thumbs smoothing over his cheeks, just glad he was still there. “...Still friends?” she asked, a note of hesitation in her voice.

“...Yeah,” he said after a beat, on a breath they shared. Natalie smiled and he wished it was enough.

Friends was good. This was what he wanted.

So then why was part of him so disappointed? Why was there a part of him that ached for more?

The fury he’d felt the night his abdomen had suddenly started bleeding with Natalie’s injuries was no match for the restless rage he possessed now. After she’d been snatched from right under his nose and there’d been no sign of her since, Lucifer had nearly driven himself mad inside the confines of his own head.

After her location had been revealed to him, he’d been biding his time, trying to figure out how to slip her out of there and get the bastard and his little freak to stay far away from them.

The carving on his arm, however, had been the last straw. All bets were off the table.

The only difference between this rage and that one was that this time, Lucifer wouldn’t lose focus. He knew what he’d come for, and she was priority.

Everything in his way to her was just collateral damage.

Room after room, he searched for her. He would let nothing distract him, except…

“You.”

Jericho.

Since the throbbing in his arm had eased and Natalie was nowhere to be seen, he figured he could assume she was safe for the moment. And really, Jericho wouldn’t take very long to deal with.

Lucifer felt his mind and body slipping away. It wasn’t exactly welcome, but it was easier to accept Hell taking over when he saw the fear in the kid’s eyes.

Good.

But then Natalie was there. With the imposter, no less, but there, and alright, and imploring him to take back his body.

Hell was having too much fun with Jericho, however, not ready to relinquish control despite how Lucifer fought. Titus’s encouragement only made things worse, but when he went after Natalie, Lucifer rioted, pushing back against Hell to make his body move.

“She will perish with you if you don’t get serious,” Titus threatened, and his head was so loud it was hard to hear him over the souls. Hell pushed, ready for a fight, but Lucifer strained for control.

If Hell took over completely, there was no telling what it would do to Natalie.

And then…

It was quiet. She’d used her contract for him. She smiled at him wearily and he was overwhelmed with emotion, staring at her in awe. Under different circumstances, he might have kissed her.

But the circumstances weren’t different and they were standing in the middle of a burning warehouse and she’d been here for far too long. It was time to get her home and safe.

After what he’d seen of Titus, after what the man had done, Lucifer had been convinced he’d never feel anything for him aside from a passive antipathy.

Titus was not, he decided after Natalie was safely home, enough of a threat anymore to concern himself with.

So when he showed up at Natalie’s doorstep to beg Lucifer for a fight and tell them why he so desperately needed one, Lucifer was ready to toss him back to the streets where he came from.

When Titus claimed that Lucifer was no longer fit for the title of Satan, he almost rose to his feet, ready to grab him by the ugly shirt he’d been wearing and haul him out of the front door. Titus sensed this, and continued on quickly.

“I feel like being alone and unloved is a quality ‘Satan’ possesses,” he rushed to say. “You don’t have that anymore because—” Before he could even finish, Lucifer knew. His eyes unconsciously went to Natalie. “—you have her.”

In one regard, he was right, Lucifer guessed, trying not to let his gaze soften on the redhead as it had so often tried to do as of late.

He did have her. And with her he found he was beginning to forget what ‘alone and unloved’ felt like.

Anywhere in the world, he’d told her. He would take her anywhere, all she had to do was name it.

And all she’d wanted was to go a few hours west to the coast.

If you’d have asked him before, he would’ve called it a waste of a wish. But seeing her face, as she looked out over the ocean, the sunset painting her pale skin as if she was a canvas, he couldn’t find it in himself to discount the location.

This was what she’d wanted, and he was glad it didn’t disappoint. She seemed awestruck by the view, and he was reluctant to admit he was in much the same state over a slightly different sight.

She admired the way the horizon stretched endless before them and the way the colors of the sky reflected on the ocean and he watched the way the oranges and pinks played across her cheeks and neck and chest and shoulders and the way sun turned her hair into fire and the way the waves danced in her eyes with the same amount of breathless reverence she had, though unlike her, he was quick to catch himself and turn away.

The image of her was burned in his mind. He thought she was a lovely image to close his eyes to.

He glanced at her again, briefly. He’d told her this was all he was doing as thanks, but the truth was, he would never be able to make it up to her.

He’d spend the rest of her life trying, though in much more subtle ways. She would never grasp the extent of what she’d done for him, and it was no use trying to deny it anymore, at least not to himself.

He loved her all the more for it.

Which is why he would make sure she would never understand the full extent of what he’d done for her.

Love was a funny thing.

#natan #satan and me #thisiskindagross #star light star write #BROWNIE IS THE LOVE OF MY LIFE I LOVE HER SO MUCH #HAPPY LATE BDAY BABE <3

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nightly1602 · 5 years

Text

The Spear

Prologue: Gae Bolg

“Let’s go for a swim.” She suggests as she takes off her grey wool sweater. She bends down to start undoing the laces of her boots. “All of this walking, makes the muscles feel stiff and cold water has a nasty way of fixing that.”

The sigh she gets from him, makes her crook an eyebrow.

Thomas rolls his eyes. “You’ll get pneumonia. If she finds out you’re out and about doing this before your shift on Friday, it won’t be just you getting a very angry call from Berlin.”

“And that’s why we aren’t saying shit, aye?” Owen cuts back as she kicks off the russet coloured leather. “What she doesn’t ken, will do us and her much better.”

“Your mother has a way of knowing things, Owen.” Thomas sighs, as he crosses his slim arms over his chest. He was in one of Owen’s wool sweaters. It was one that Cara, Owen’s mother, had lovingly sewed a hood to its dark green fabrics. “Words travels fast, but words travel faster when news of a dumb Scottish runt nearly drowns herself in Loch Coruisk just inches away from the spear of Cú Chulaind. Could you imagine the irony in that.” He jokes playfully.

“Ah, so you figured it out.” Owen beamed as she rolled her socks together into a tight ball and places the wad under the tongue of her boots.

“You’re so funny, Owen.” Thomas mocks.

“I’m not joking.”

Thomas nearly faints in complete aghastness. It takes a moment for his brain and mouth to properly form words as he sputters curses and resentment. He turns red, causing the vein in his throat to enlarge. “Really, you idiot?!” He screams in disbelief. “Just because it’s a chance for adventure and magic doesn’t mean you can bring it back home to boast about. Remember what happened with the fae falls! That scar still tingles weirdly, you know?” Thomas screeches in the middle of the mountain glen.

“Oh, it isn’t about that. I’d be a fool to go in for such a reason. There is a lot more to it than my usual ploys for buffoonery.” Owen tuts as she discards her leather wristbands and rolls up the sleeves of her long sleeved shirt. She kisses her silver Claddagh ring as she slips it off her finger. She tiptoes over to Thomas to avoid the thistles and pointy shore stones as she places the ring in his palm.

He still looks at her in disbelief and absolute frustration as he accepts the ring.

“Emer needs it.” She calls behind her back as she leaps from black rock to black rock. “If I am going to be doing this whole wolf thing we need it for the ritual and we both know my aunt is one for genuine rituals.”

“Genuine Rituals?!” Thomas spat. “You’re going to bring her the spear that your grandfather cursed? That’ll go well for her!”

Owen stared at him blankly. “Well, yeah. It started many things. The hunters, our packs becoming unified, the rise of our legendary Scathach, our first ever alpha in Scotland I might add.” She points. “ It is a very valuable piece of our family history, Thomas. I thought these were the things you learned the nights of your official adoption?” Owen grinned devilishly.

“You’re a seeker of drama, Owen Kilroy,” Thomas muttered harshly under his breath. “You are nothing but trouble.”

“I must agree, I do enjoy a good shock and awe. It’s a bit of a bonny sight, seeing your older brother seething with rage ready to rip yer scalp off in a fell swoop.” The scot gave a brisk chortle as she padded along the rocky shore of the loch. Behind her, the mountains of Cuillin stood proudly, supervising the foolish escapade. The waters of the loch mirrored the excited energy of Owen. Gentle whitecaps pushed through the surface as a breeze carried the smells of mountain grass and fresh springs to the tall girl’s nose. Dawn had broken a few hours ago, and for the first time in a long time, the sun greeted the pair with great glowing rays. “However, I want this to be a special artifact. Edwin and Padraig chose father’s notebook and his quill. Eliza took mother’s broach and Riell took grandfather’s belt buckle. Why can I not have an artifact of a man that brought not only our families together but a grand tale for us all to tell about our heritage?”

Thomas’s jaw was as tight as a wire.

“Ah, to hell with ya.” The redhead dismissed continuing her padding journey among the slippery moss and rock. “Mother will have my ears redder than a baboon’s arse, but it will be worth it. I want them to know, I’m serious about this. If I go through the trouble of this, they won’t think of me like a child anymore.”

“Owen-” Thomas began to counter. He was cut off as she dove into the freezing dark gray waters. “Just be careful of the loch sprites.” He sighed greatly. He pinched the bridge of his nose. With a huff of frustrated air, he wrapped his arms around himself to stay warm against the early spring air. He sat himself down, crossing his legs and began to play with the yellowed grass around him. “If you drown, I will not come and get you.” He murmured grumpily.

The cold had shocked the air from her lungs, as she dove into the early spring waters of the loch. Her skinny jeans stuck to her long legs as they soaked themselves to her bones. She was thankful that she had the right mind to remove the wool sweater before diving in. It would have been too heavy, probably ready to drag her to the murky depths of loch weed and catfish.

She waited for her body to get used to the cold, letting a few air bubbles slip from her thin lips. Soon she floated in the dark abyss of the loch, letting her body gently sway along with the current. She would soon need to kick up for air, but she knew she had to wait a bit more than that.

Her throat began to burn, causing her lungs to feel heavy as loaded stones. She just wanted to exhale her held breath and breathe in again.

The water sprite from the falls in the back of her family’s farm had promised her they would be here. Had guaranteed it, in fact. She would have to give that fae quite the earful if it had given her lies.

Her eyes began to sting as she kept them open to view the depths.

It was then that she had heard the giggling and the sound of fast water movement. A calm took over Owen, lulling her to release her breath into the water.

“Hello, little wolf.” A collective voice had sung to the young Scot. “You are a bit far from home. Is this you, offering your soul to the loch?”

Owen could feel the weight of drowsiness approach her as she slowly shook her head.

“Mmm, tis a shame that. You would have made quite the collective piece.”

More fast water movement caught her ears. Soon they came from the murky water, their ethereal movements captivating like a shark. Their skins bore the colours of muddy river beds. Their hair swayed with the current resembling the leafy vines of loch weed. “What are you here for, little wolf?”

Owen beckoned them closer.

The more curious of the group had obliged, closing the distance. Its finned slim arms circled around her waist. It curled it’s long finned tail around her right leg. Staring deeply with large fish eyes, it waited for Owen.

The current of water whisked the Scot’s fiery red hair around her body. She leaned herself closer, nudging the water sprite with her pointed chin to place her lips at their ear.

“Gae Bolg.“

It was as if her body had been kicked by a horse. The air rushed from her lungs as she was transported through the sucking black waters of a whirlpool. Her body ragdolled to and fro, crashing her limbs to jutting rock and loch beds.

In a flash of light, she rose from the water. Her lungs screamed for air as she gasped and coughed. Her hands found purchase as she sat herself up into a porcelain claw foot tub. She wiped the water from her face as she took shuddering breaths, while she instinctively pulled herself out onto the cold marble tile.

Water spills and pours from her soaked body, her clothes clinging tightly to her as the loch water glued the material to her skin.

She had been in this place before. It brought such a familiar pang as memories coursed through her tall frame.

It gives her a shiver as recognition takes on full effect. The bathroom she finds herself in, is as extravagant as its owner. With gold lined floor to ceiling tiles of beautiful stained glass windows, a bloody bidet. There are only three people she knows who would gladly shit in something as insane as that.

“Berlin.” She mutters as she takes long gulping breaths of fresh pompous air. It smells too clean to be a place for someone to bid their personal…biddings.

Water drips from her as she crosses the length of the washroom to the large dark stained wooden door keeping a sentinel watch of the privacy of its patrons. It gives an effortless push as she enters into one of many grandeur long hallways of the Berlin mansion. On the top of the ceiling are ugly old paintings of the old alphas of the Berlin; their portraits trimmed in gold and faces scoured of real emotion. As a child on diplomatic family vacations, Owen had despised this place entirely. It wasn’t like her family farm, where sheep graze amicably and family worked hard to keep their homestead together. Where calluses were a reward of character and not something that Samara Weber would spit at with disdain.

Puddles followed her as she meandered her way through the halls. A sour expression overtook her face as she hunched her shoulders, trying her best to fight off the annoyed shiver crawling through her skin.

It didn’t take her long to find herself at the great doors of the throne room.

Sure, her mother’s family had resided in great stone castles on the seasides of Ireland and her father’s family had lived as lairds in loch strongholds. She had seen her fair share of throne rooms, but the Germans couldn’t help but overshadow their guests and kingdoms with riches. A copper taste hit her mouth as her annoyance rose. Her bare feet were starting to get to be too cold and uncomfortable.

She pushed through the doors and halted her slopping padding steps as she came upon the scene.

Samera Weber, the alpha of the Berlin had a tiny stone sprite pinned to the center of the floor. Two large wolves licked at their maws as they paced back and forth, snarling lowly. The tall woman hovered over the stone sprite, screaming in old German.

Owen watched in terrified awe as she stood frozen at the opening of the throne room door.

Samera tilted her head to see who had intruded her obviously very terrifying and illegal interrogation of the fae below her. The scot gave a great gulp as the woman rose to her full height and began to stalk languidly across the flooring. There was something about her green eyes that made Owen step back.

In her step, she had nearly tumbled over a young boy. She landed on her backside with an annoyed oof.

“Felix.” Samera cooed.

Owen had looked perplexed as she witnessed Samera kneeling to the boy, who seemed to be only about eleven.

Felix Weber was not eleven. Felix Weber was her age.

She stopped thinking immediately as realization sunk in that Samera had either ignored her or hadn’t seen her yet. She held her breath as the tall brunette stroked the dark sepia cheek of her son. Samera kissed his forehead before turning herself around to walk back to her work at hand. The boy coldly stared at the creature as he placed himself beside his mother and began to kick its face with a snarl.

That was proof enough for the Scot to realize that the boy was definitely Felix Weber. He had always been an arse it, she wouldn’t have put it past him to do such an act to a defenceless creature.

Confusion took over Owen, causing the cogs in her mind to spin madly. This was too real to be a dream, but too weird to be real life. There was only one way to test the reality of the situation.

She rose to her full height, leaving behind a large puddle of water. She strode briskly over to the Germans, with heavy focused steps she placed herself beside Samera Weber. “Hey, you annoying fucking cow!” Owen barked hotly in the woman’s ear.

The stone sprite turned her head to look at Owen, pleading for mercy in its eyes. The Scot’s newfound arrogance dissipated as she watched the scene unfold further.

Samera did not give her the time of day as she continued her interrogation. The Sprite’s eyes glued to Owen before they began to speak in clear Gaelic.

“What you are seeing, is the truth of what has happened. Do not forget this. I am the key and she knows the lock to what I open. Be wary Owen Kilroy. Wolves like you have sharp teeth, but they can be easily broken by women like her. Her son will cause wrack and ruin once he turns and gains the power from the object they get from me.” The Sprite spoke quickly, tears lining its angular jagged face.

Owen sputtered to speak as she tried to make sense of what the sprite was saying. Her gut twisted as she watched Samera grabbing the sprite roughly by the arm and dragging them to the rostrum of the throne. A dutiful guard moved from the side of the throne quickly as Samera barked out an order, drawing a large dagger from a scabbard at his side. He presented the dagger to the German and bowed out of the way.

Samera spat something angrily.

“Do not look away. You must witness.”

Panic grew in Owen.

She tried to run forward, but it was as if she was in a dream. Her body felt weighted like lead as she tried to run forward, to do anything to help the creature.

The iron dagger slid into the rock sprite’s neck and down into their spine. Rock cracked as black oozing blood poured. The sound of metal grating against cold stone caused Owen to inwardly sink. The sprite screamed and writhed under Samera’s grip of its body.

The German alpha threw the dagger to a grand clatter down the marble steps. The stone sprite stilled, finally ending their pained screams. Death must have come for the poor creature. Anger filled the Scottish girl like an explosion. Sure, she had her fair share of breaking tiny boring laws, ones that did no harm to anyone like; breaking and entering into hallowed lands of the fae, or even speaking to the fae as if they were common schoolmates. One was to have respect for the fae and their mystical ways. One could not just skip about bothering the fae for common mortal advice and pleasantries within their territories.

And one certainly could not murder a fae in cold blood with such malicious intent. That was far beyond all treaty agreements held by packs and fae. If word got out that Samera had done such a crime, it would probably cause the biggest shit storm Owen had ever witnessed.

As if to make matters worse, Samera added body mutilation as she dug elbow deep into the carcass of the fae. Black blood spattered her cheeks and white linen shirt. She blew at a strand of loose russet hair in the way of her eyes as she focused on the job at hand.

With a small chuckle of victory, she pulled out an object from the body. She pushed it aside, letting the limp form fall down and roll to a stop before Owen’s feet. Its cold beady black eyes bore into Owen. Her gut clenched tightly as bile rose to her throat. A cold slimy shiver ran up her spine as she felt pressure batter the inside of her head. She felt it hard to breathe as her throat closed around itself as anxiety and fear curled around her innards. Dizziness slammed into her like a freight train causing her to collapse to the cold floor.

Silently, as the pressure increased in her skull she watched as Samera, smiling largely as a Cheshire cat, strode to the young boy who had stoically watched the scenes unfold. Her heeled boots clicked with each step before she knelt before him. She presented the object, a beautiful silken ribbon, adorned with harsh Norse runes.

“Gleipnir will be our weapon.” She explained.

Air rushed over Owen suddenly, pulling the scene away from her as her mind slowed in and out of unconsciousness. One moment she was stuck in Berlin, the next she was in the lap of her father reading old Gaelic legends and Norse sagas. Then she was brought back to the wrestling matches of a fae child she had befriended in her youth. And then she was suddenly swallowed by water.

The sprites had swum circles around her like hungry sharks. The more curious one still clung to her, brushing its webbed double jointed fingers over Owen’s freckled cheeks.

“You have witnessed.” The curious one had murmured, drawing its lips along her jawline. “Are you worthy of our cause, Owen Kilroy of Clan MacLeod?”

Her mind was in a molasses-thick bliss. She had slowly turned her head and begun to nod.

“The Stone sprite was Akumo. A trusted and loyal subject of our glorious Queen. A worthy protector. They were taken from protection seals and stolen by Samera’s wolves. Someone had broken the bonds of secrets.” The united voices explained solemnly as the curious one began to untangle themselves from the redhead’s body. “The Queen will witness your first shift, little wolf. Prepare your family.”

She could feel herself drifting away more and more. She began to sink into the depths of the loch, slipping in and out of the dark abyss of her mind. Her bare feet touched the sand, rock and weed covered bed before fish of all sizes swam out of her way as her knees were next to touch the bottom.

“Gae Bolg is just at your arm’s reach. Overcome and grab it.” The collective voice whispered as her hearing seemed to make them sound so far away.

The silent ambience of the loch water movement pulled her further into letting go. It was peaceful here. This would be a good way to go if Owen wasn’t as stubborn and greedy to have a more energetic death of much bigger idiotic proportions.

Mentally, she chided herself.

She couldn’t see her father quite yet. She had to make him proud first. She couldn’t help but shake her head as another more powerful hum slammed into her ears, calling for her, beckoning.

With the last remnants of mental clearance, she willed herself to swim forward to follow the buzzing that drew her forward. Her throat burned for fresh air and to taste life and not the gritty sandy loch. She wanted to see clear blue skies and rough angry seas.

They were her favourite thing. Rough angry crashing waves along sea coasts took her breath away with how gloriously rebellious it could be. It’s what she strove to embody.

So like a crashing ocean wave, she rolled forward, digging her hands into loch silt and clenching weed to drag herself. Her calloused fingertips then touched something metallic causing the humming to grow louder and fierce with promises of legendary action. She let herself feel the excitement as her hand closed around the pole handle. She gripped it so tightly as she brought her knees to her chest before slamming her feet into the silt to propel herself upward.

She was going to bloody well make it to the surface, dead or alive. She trusted that if Thomas saw her body floating to the surface he would rescue her.

That fucker owed her.

With a might challenging of the gods, she clung to the metal pole as she swam up desperately. She choked on the water as it entered her nose and mouth, but she paid it no mind as she willed herself to swim faster. She almost got to the surface before she was grabbed roughly by the midsection, expelling the remaining air from her lungs. She dared not unclasp her hand as she was being dragged through the water. Her eyes slowly closed leaving her last thought to Gae Bolg.

#The Spear #the berlin chronicles #Owen Kilroy #Thomas Blair #The wolves of Chuiland #The Skye #Werewolves #my gay werewolf scottish and german babs #gay werewolves #This is all werewolfdays fault #nightly writes #The beginning tales of the crown #Ive been kicking myself to try to eventually post this #I am rewriting this series #I deleted the last three chapters I had written ages ago from the blog #Welcome to the story of Owen and Nore #A tale of two packs and their mischievous daughters #Thomas is my child and if any of you hurt him I'll kill you with a corn chip #Thomas

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