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ravennm84 · 4 years

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Serafina II

Part 1 Part 3

The 2nd installment of the “Marinette’s Haunted Doll” series. I was seriously shocked by how much response I got from part one, so I hope this lives up to your expectations. Blood, gore, and death are coming, along with some mental freak-outs. You have been warned.

Part II

Despite wanting to stay with Marinette to comfort the girl after the tearful apologies by Mylene and Ivan, Serafina couldn’t return until her work was finished. There was still much to do and people to punish.

She arrived early with Mylene, which allowed her to observe the others that entered the classroom. Kim had returned to school that day in a wheelchair. The cast on his leg went up to his waist and the one on his arm went up to his bicep. His face and exposed skin were covered in bruises and his right eye looked like it had blood in it.

“How are you feeling, dude?” Nino asked him as he entered alongside Adrien.

“Really sore,” the boy admitted. “Doctors had to reset my leg at the knee and said that my arm was a three piece offset fracture, so they had to use screws to put it back in place. Other than that; had a concussion, a lot of bruises, and a couple cuts; but no internal bleeding or ruptured organs. They said after a few months and some physical therapy, I should be as good as new.”

Nino gave him a solemn nod. “Glad to hear you’re going to be okay, dude.”

Kim’s expression dropped a bit. “I heard about Alya, I’m really sorry, man.”

The boy lowered his head while Adrien patted his back. “I really… I can’t believe she’s gone because of some freak accident. It makes no sense!” Nino jumped to his feet and started pacing as more students filed in. “I mean, she wasn’t supposed to die like that! Getting caught up in an akuma battle, childhood disease, there would be a reason for that! But that was just pointless!”

Mme. Bustier did attempt to calm him down, but her kind words fell on deaf ears before he grabbed his bag and left the room. No one could blame him, and only Adrien followed to make sure he would be alright, and to make sure he wasn’t akumatized.

Lila came in not long after with a curious bag in her hands. Serafina watched the liar as she looked around the room. She had a feeling that the liar would try something after her last attempt to frame Marinette had failed. When the girl tried speaking to Mylene, the doll was proud to see the girl refuse to acknowledge her as she continued to speak with Rose and Juleka. When it was clear that she was being ignored, she tried speaking to Ivan, only for him to give her a harsh glare that had her shuffling backwards. With Max and Alix still at the hospital and Adrien not in the room, that left her with Sabrina. The redhead had been sitting alone at the front of the room since Chloe had transferred schools after the Miracle Queen incident.

“Hi Sabrina, how are you doing?”

The girl smiled up at the italian, glad to still have a friend. “I’m doing okay, at least a lot better than a lot of our class. I heard Max lost sight in his one eye from the chemicals and Alix might have to have cosmetic surgery to get her face back to normal. At least Kim might be back to normal in a few months after going through physical therapy. But Alya…”

Lila faked her tears at the mention of her lost follower. She was really more annoyed than sad, Alya was easily manipulated, went along with everything she said, and Lila had been able to use her blog to build up her popularity. And the girl had been a decent attack dog, just point her at someone and off she went. Now that she was dead, maybe she could turn Sabrina into her new lead follower, she was already partially trained and it wasn’t like the blonde bitch was around anymore.

“I know, it’s so terrible. She was my first friend when I moved here, it’ll be so hard without her,” she faked a few more tears. And just like that, Sabrina took her hand in comfort and said a bunch of soothing words while she continued to fake cry.

After a moment, Lila placed the bag she’d been holding on the desk and pushed it away from her, making sure the action caught Sabrina’s attention. “What’s that?”

Lila fake sobbed even harder, hiding her face in her hands. “Ma-Marinette, she-she said it was m-my fault that Alya’s dead. She practically threw that bag at me and said to use it,” she said before breaking down in more fake sobs.

Carefully opening the bag, she gasped when she saw it was full of razor blades and a couple of kitchen knives. Sure, she knew that Marinette didn’t get along with Lila, but to actually give this to her and tell her to ‘use it’? How could she be so cruel?

Serafina scowled as the red head hugged the liar and promised her that she would take care of it. Her anger erupted as Sabrina stood from her desk with the bag in hand, and began walking towards Mme. Bustier’s desk. The girl didn't take two steps before tripping over nothing and falling onto her side. Luckily, she did not land on the bag. Unluckily, she gripped it too tight and the impact forced the knives and razors through the bag and deep into her hands.

The girl screamed and cried as blood rushed out of the wounds and down into her sleeves. She begged Lila to help her, but the italian backed away from the girl in shock. Mme. Bustier gripped her head between her hands and began saying “not again, not again” before running out of the room. The only ones that helped her were Juleka, Rose and Ivan; the smaller girl sprinting off to alert the nurse and the principal, while Juleka and Ivan got Sabrina to her feet. Ivan kept the girl upright and moving out the door while Juleka held the girl’s hands above the level of her heart to keep her from bleeding too much.

Those left in the classroom were in shock as they stared at either the door or at the blood staining the floor. No one said anything for a long time, not even Lila. She hadn’t thought anyone would get hurt. She just thought she would get Marinette suspended and everyone would be on her side again. Adrien returned before the others, completely shocked when he saw the blood and Kim explained to him what had happened. The blonde sent a scathing look at Lila but said nothing.

It was a while later before Rose, Ivan, and Juleka returned to class, along with M. Rupere. He informed them that their classes were cancelled for today. “After everything that has occurred this week, I’ve decided that all of you will be meeting with the counselor today. He will decide if more sessions are necessary and for who, but his door and mine are open if you need to talk. M. Deveraux will come to speak with you one at a time. Kim Le Chien, he had requested to speak with you first. Mlle. Rossi,” he looked sternly at the girl, “would you please follow me, we need to talk about the incident with Sabrina Raincomprix.”

Serafina smiled as the liar trudged out of the room after the man. She was satisfied with Sabrina’s punishment and doubted if Mme. Bustier would last another day before having a total mental breakdown. She also knew that Lila would be in even more trouble after M. Rupere looked into the girl a bit more. But just to make sure, Serafina touched her on the way out. To most people, that would do nothing; but to someone like Lila, it would cause her to become more and more unhinged until she did something drastic. Very soon, Lila would be out of the picture and those deserving of punishment will have paid their debts.

~oOo~

It was more difficult sneaking home with Adrien than she had expected, especially with the tiny god of Chaos and Destruction in his bag. Plagg was his name, and he was very defensive of his kitten and had threatened to cataclysm her. Serafina told him that she would not purposefully harm his ‘kitten’, but there was something she had to take care of at the Agreste Mansion. The doll had long suspected that Gabriel Agreste is Hawkmoth and she was going to find out tonight if it was true. Plagg was reluctant to agree since it would hurt Adrien; but if it was true, they had to put an end to it.

After arriving at the mansion, Plagg easily convinced the boy to sneak out and check on Nino. After he left, Serafina sensed something on Adrien’s desk. Being an enchanted/haunted object, she could sense other objects like herself… such as Miraculous jewels. And right there on the desk was a pin shaped like a peacock, one of the jewels that had been missing and used by Mayura. If there had been any doubts before about who had been terrorizing Marinette, they were gone.

Tucking the pin into her small outfit, she began to search the building, starting with Gabriel’s office. She had expected the man to be present, but he was missing. And given that Hawkmoth was a very active user, she had no doubt that he kept his jewel on him at all times. So, she waited.

It was about an hour later that Gabriel Agrest entered the room, and not from the door Serafina had expected. The man had a secret entry in the floor in front of a portrait of a woman. He was muttering on knowing better than to use Bubbler again, but that the negative emotions had been too strong to ignore. She also saw the purple kwami hovering over his shoulder, but the creature stopped when it sensed her. Gabriel strode out of the room, barely noticing that Nooroo had stayed behind and flew over to the doll hiding behind the desk.

“What are you doing here? If the Master finds you, he will destroy you.” The kwami said with worry.

The doll conveyed that she knew that his master was Hawkmoth, just as her human was Ladybug. She was here to protect her and return the butterfly and peacock miraculous to their rightful place. Also knowing that Gabriel had become too corrupted for his miraculous.

“I’ve tried to tell him that the wish would be dangerous,” Nooroo told her with downcast eyes. “He wants to make a wish to revive his wife, but he doesn’t realize that the cost would be to put Adrien, someone he loves equally as much as Emilie, into the same state of death. She isn’t even truly alive anymore, her body only lives because of the machine she is in.”

An idea spawned in Serafina’s thoughts and she barely kept herself from smiling. She asked Nooroo to help her activate the secret passage so she could get to his wife, but the little kwami shook his head. “Even if I could get you down there, the motion sensors would trip and he would attack you.”

Smiling this time, Serafina promised the little god that Gabriel would not attack her. That she would make sure that Adrien would be safe and the two kwami’s would go to their rightful place. All he had to do was help her open the door. Although reluctant and slightly scared, the little god opened the door, hoping that the nightmare would finally end.

Down in the lair, the doll saw the mechanical coffin placed in the center of the room and went to it. The motion sensors caught her quickly, but she had been planning on moving fast anyway. Opening the coffin, she settled herself into the woman’s arms. Nooroo had been right, Serafina could sense that the woman’s soul had departed from her body a while ago and it was only the machine that was keeping her body alive. With no other soul to contend with, this would make what she was about to do next all the easier.

Nathalie had called to alert him the moment the alarms went off in the lair while she and Simone were out on an errand. He was moving faster than he could remember with Nooroo following close behind. Gabriel transformed on the way down, prepared to attack whoever had stumbled in, but his breath caught in his throat halfway down when he got a good view of the room.

The coffin was empty.

Rushing forward, he began frantically searching the room for his wife, calling her name. He turned to rush back upstairs and froze. Standing behind him, looking dazed, was his wife. Her eyes were unfocused and her arms were hugging her middle, but it was her. Dropping his transformation, Gabriel cautiously approached her and she flinched back from him. It took a few minutes and a lot of gentle coaxing before he was able to wrap an arm around her shoulders and lead her to the elevator. When they got to his office, he watched her carefully as she began walking around the room. He wanted her to sit down and rest, but he was still in shock that she was awake and standing in front of him.

Eventually, her green eyes met his. “Where’s Adrien?”

“I… I don’t know, he should be up in his room.”

Emilie’s head tilted slightly, her eyes searching his. “What have you done? Did you make the wish?”

“No, my love. I was going to when I got the jewels, but Ladybug and Chat Noir evaded me.”

Tears grew in her eyes as she continued to stare at him. “You tried to make the wish? Knowing that it would have cost our son’s life?”

Gabriel froze. He hadn’t known that wishing Emilie to come back would cost Adrien’s… but Nooroo had tried to tell him. He remembered the kwami trying to tell him about the cost and he had forced him to not speak. “I’m sorry, Emilie. I didn’t-”

“You knew,” she interrupted, her voice lacking any emotion as she continued to stare at him. “You knew from the beginning that what you were doing was wrong, evil. You chose to ignore what it would cost.”

“Emilie, my love, please don’t say such things,” Gabriel begged as he rushed forward to wrap his arms around her. “All I have wanted since the day I lost you, was to hold you in my arms again and hear your voice. I was lost without you and was willing to go to the ends of the earth to bring you back. Is that so wrong?”

He had just barely met her eyes when he felt the twin pains in his arms. Jumping back, he looked down to see both wrists had been cut deeply with a pair of his fabric cutting scissors. Blood was draining from the wounds at an alarming rate. His hands were shaking and he was already feeling light headed as he grabbed a handful for fabric from his work table in an attempt to slow the blood. He wanted to call out for help, but they were alone.

His eyes grew hazed as he looked to Emilie, surprised that she was staring at him with such contempt. “I know what you’ve been doing while I was in that coffin. Tormenting the city and people I love, isolating our son and treating him like a burden. If you had ever succeeded in getting the Cat and Ladybug miraculous, it would have destroyed Paris. But you didn’t care. As you said, all you cared about was hearing my voice and holding me in your arms. Congratulations, your wish came true, and you will be the one to pay the price. Not Adrien.”

His legs gave out from under him as the fabrics dripped from the excess blood. He couldn’t understand how this had happened, Emilie would have never done something like this… but was this really her? With his vision fading, he took a hard look at his wife, only now noticing the dullness of her eyes, the greying pallor of her skin, and the fact that she only seemed to breathe when she spoke… “Who are you?”

Her head tilted again, the corner of her mouth lifting slightly. “Serafina. Quite astute of you to figure that out in your state. Your wife’s soul passed on a long time ago, all you have been doing is preserving a corpse. And I was telling the truth; even if you had made the wish, it would have cost Adrien his life.” Her hand shot forward, removing the butterfly miraculous before he could stop her. “Your actions have hurt someone close to me and I could no longer stand back and allow it to happen.”

She stood, walking to his desk to pull out a piece of paper and writing something down before neatly folding it and leaving it on his desk.

“Wh… What…”

“You just wrote a letter to Adrien; admitting what happened to his mother, that you were Hawkmoth, and the reason why you did what you did.” She said calmly before looking back at him. “Whether he tells the rest of the world is up to him. As for the miraculous, I will give him a chance at redemption. Though if he should fail, you may be seeing him sooner rather than later. Either way, they will soon be back where they belong, with the guardian. And you, good sir, have just committed suicide after bringing your wife’s body upstairs, so you would be able to hold her in your arms as you died.”

Unable to sit upright anymore, Gabriel barely felt his body collapse to the floor. He was hardly aware of Emilie lifting one of his arms to tuck her body to his side. The last thing he was aware of was something that he swore would haunt him in the afterlife; a porcelain doll emerging from the folds of her clothes and standing beside them. It stood there on its own, watching him until he could no longer keep his eyes open and he took his final breath.

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#lila salt #lila gets exposed #lila karma #Marinette deserves better #gabrielagreste #hawkmoth #bustier salt #class salt

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babewelooksocool · 4 years

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hi there! i’m posting this old calum hood blurb/one shot thingy that i wrote some years ago and that i posted on my old tumblr. i’m trying to write more and maybe post some other old things that i posted so if u like it, stay tuned! xx, M

also, tw: mentions of depression and anxiety

She sees the opportunity. They’re really close, his hands have traveled to her waist and she just sees the opportunity she has waited for such a long time. She gets close, just a little so their chests aren’t touching yet. And she kisses him. A fast, lip on lip sort of kiss. She doesn’t give him time to reaction. Instead, she takes his hands off of her waist even if it is the most painful thing she has to do and starts to walk away.

She doesn’t get very far though because his left hand has now gripped tightly around one of her wrists and he has turned her to him. Now it’s him the one who starts the kiss, this time it’s not just a simple peck. There’s passion behind it, there’s ass grabbing, hair tugging. Their chests are touching and they can feel each other’s heartbeats. Their lungs are out of air yet they can’t keep their lips off each other. He needs this kiss to never end. He’s not enjoying it, oh no, he’s living by it.

Even after so many years of strange and not reciprocated feelings, now it is when he understands that he had loved her all of these years. She’s kissing him back and he doesn’t know how he’s lived all of his years alive without her kisses and he doesn’t know what he’s going to do without her kisses in all the rest of his days. Deep down, he knows this will be the only kiss they share so he has to give it all to her, show her how much he feels for her. He lacks the words to tell her. He is just now trying to communicate with her without the words he thought he’d never say.

When his teeth have already sunk down her lip and his lips are making their way to kiss and bite and lick her neck, that’s when she takes a step back and looks at him with swollen, red lips and welled up eyes filled with crashed dreams. She shakes her head and looks down to the floor. He sees a single tear rolling down her cheek and landing on the floor.

“We shouldn’t have done that.” She whispers with a tiny voice. That would have to be a good thing, the addition of ‘we’. Maybe there really could be one.

He ignores her comment and tells her. “I love you.”

She breaks into a fit of laughter and hugs herself when she almost falls to the floor. How could he be joking after that kiss? She wipes the corner of her eyes, not knowing if they were happy tears or sad ones.

She gives him a reassuring smile when she sees his worried stare. Her legs take a step closer to him, and even though they are still a few inches apart she can take his hands on hers. He thinks she may tell him something good, maybe he’s just hoping. “Calum, dear, you don’t love me. Never have and never will. I know you that much.”

He now stares at her, almost glaring.

“What do you even know about my feelings? You’re not my brain, Marina. You’re not my heart.” Calum says. He’s angry, at her and at his feelings. How could he have not figured them out sooner?

Marina’s smile has died down a little, yet something really close to a grimace is still there. “Oh come on. You didn’t love me four years ago when I left him for you, you didn’t love me when you came home that day with your neck full of hickeys and that arrogant smirk. You didn’t love me like that when I told you about my depression. What makes you think you love me now?”

Calum has heard Marina talk in almost every possible way. He has heard her stutter when nervous, break when crying, also the kind of talk when her giggles didn’t let her finish her sentences. He has seen her grow up. But he has never heard her so hurt yet calm at the same time.

On the other hand, Marina thinks how blind Calum must really be to not see how hard she’s really trembling. The gods up above had definitely heard her prayers and have made her voice sound smooth when her insides were falling apart. Marina has to hold herself together; she doesn’t want to cry in front of him again.

“I was a kid at that time, Marina” he tries to justify his actions. “I now know that I love you.”

“How do you know that, huh?”

“Haven’t you felt it? That kiss? It was the best kiss I’ve ever had. I swear I’ve even felt your heart beating. And that moan you’ve tried to repress? It’s killed me. And it’ll kill me if I don’t have any more kisses like that.”

He is at the point of agonizing pain. She is rejecting him and he knows he can’t take it, but he doesn’t want to give her the satisfaction of seeing him break down in front of her. And with Marina’s smirk just faltering enough to not fool him, Calum knows she has felt it too. She is just stubborn.

She tries to give him another smirk, evidence that she is just not that bothered by that at all. “Meh. Not my best kiss, yet not the worst.”

Calum is tugging his hair as he lets out a groan.

“I’m just asking for a chance,” he says exasperated, “all I want is for you to give us a chance.”

“There is no us, Calum!” Marina finally yells, her arms now thrown up in the air. “No us then, no us now! For fuck’s sake, I can’t do this!”

Trembles take over her body and a nauseating feeling settles on the pit of her stomach. Marina is sure that it’ll be a miracle if the conversation ends without having an anxiety attack with him watching.

Calum is stupid; everyone including Marina and Calum himself know that. And although it is true, he knows something’s wrong. He always seems to know if something’s wrong when it comes to her.

And Marina has already said it. She had told him that she had gone through tough shit some time ago and he now remembers the breakdowns she had had in class when they lived together. They were bad. And he doesn’t want her to feel that bad without knowing how to help her.

Even if he is angry, which he absolutely is, he wants the best for her.

He whispers her name and as she looks up in a failed attempt to meet his eyes he sees a single tear roll down her flushed cheek. Now it’s her turn to whisper his name, though her voice sounds quivery and not at all as smooth as his.

Suddenly, her heart is struggling to pump blood. Her lungs and body lack the strength to work properly and just for a moment, she feels lightheaded. She looks for the nearest wall with her hand as she uses the other to massage her temples. Calum worries.

He steps closer and with his body as support, he throws one arm of hers around his neck to steady her. She welcomes his warm touch and although she wants to thank him for helping her, there’s a lump in her throat that is making let out any sound difficult, let alone a whole sentence.

They stay like that for God knows how long, taking everything in; every feeling, every tear, every thought of kissing each other. They don’t follow the impulses, surprising him because the desire to kiss her again and again was consuming him.

Marina is too caught up on trying to breath normally again that she doesn’t think about the miniscule distance that separated their lips.

When she is able to breathe again and even though there are still a few tears falling down her face she now can free from his embrace and is standing in all of her glory, Calum thinks, about to decide the fate of the future of their relationship.

When she opens her mouth to talk, he interrupts her. “Before you say anything I want to tell you that I’m sorry for breaking this all to you all of a sudden and putting you in this uncomfortable situation. I’m sorry for not being able to realize sooner that I was in love with you. I guess I’m just sorry for the bad timing we’ve had. You’ve always been an amazing person to me and if I hadn’t been such a dick we could’ve worked out before it got all too complicated.”

“I’m sorry.” Her voice is hoarse and she hates it, but for some reason Calum finds it the most beautiful sound in the universe.

“What for?”

“I don’t know…” she begins. “Just sorry, I guess.”

Their backs are against the hallway’s walls and they’re trying to look anywhere else but each other, which was extremely hard as Calum felt pain overtaking his body if he isn’t looking at Marina. The way her skin is glowing a reddish shade thanks to the tears gives a whole new meaning to the definition of gorgeous.

“I’ve loved you, y’know.”

“I know.”

“I just, I had to love me more,” she cries. “If I hadn’t done it, you know what could have happened.”

He knows, he doesn’t need her to say it to know what she is referring to. And it is scaring him. Calum now knows how it feels when you’re scared to the core and your life is falling apart.

“Also, I want you to know that I didn’t want to drag you down to all the shit I was into. I wanted you to be happy.”

“Being with you now would make me happy.” Calum is sincere as he pleads.

Marina chuckles beside him and shakes her head. When she lets out a sigh Calum knows she is about to say goodbye to him, to their chance together.

“But being together,” Marina starts but it seems she can’t get the words out “it wouldn’t make us happy; in the end it would only make us suffer, Calum.”

“And you don’t want to suffer more because of me.”

Marina nods her head at his statements. She starts crying again. Today she’ll cry more than what she expected.

Calum, ignoring the sound of his own heart breaking into zillion pieces, turns to her and hugs her as tightly as he can and when she cries harder, and even though he’s choking with his own sobs, he tells her that it is going to be alright. Even though he knows she hates it, even though he knows it is not going to be alright at all.

But she thanks him. She doesn’t say it but she really is thankful.

Both are thinking how fantastic it would be if time froze and they could spend eternity in each other’s arms, far away from all the troubles. And although they wish it so much, life’s not that simple and things like that are impossible. So they let go. They say goodbye and she walks away.

He watches her and he wishes to turn back time to the moment they met and take right all the decisions he took wrong.

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a-crimson-lion · 5 years

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The Moms Of BNHA

[Warning: Spoilers and Potentially Triggering Opinions follow. You've been warned.]

[Also: Long Post.]

So, I've been thinking about this when I should be doing, homework (lol), but... can we talk about a certain trio of moms in BNHA?

Inko Midoriya

Inko is probably the least problematic mom I'll be talking about today. Does that make her perfect? Hell no! But she tries so hard for Izuku, and it shows. Even if she doesn't support Izuku's dreams of heroism once he's diagnosed as Quirkless, it's clear that she supported him in any other way she could think of. She's also worried about his well being, as we see after the mall confrontation and the aftermath of Kamino. And when she sees Izuku's dreams finally becoming a possibility after a lifetime of doubt, she apologizes, fully supporting Izuku's choice in life from there on out. Sure, after Kamino she considers pulling Izuku out of UA, but that's not from a place of selfishness or malice. It's out of worry. She wants her son to be happy, but she also wants him to be safe.

Honestly, I can't think of any legitimate reason to full on hate her...

Rei Todoroki

So Rei... gosh where do I begin?

She's definitely more problematic than Inko, or rather, her situation is. People tend to get on her case because she was apparently just as abusive to Shoto as Endeavor was, and-

Can... can we talk about this for a moment?

I understand that what Rei Todoroki did was wrong, end of discussion. I understand what Rei did only worsened the circumstances for her family, her son, and herself. I understand that while her institutionalization wasn't fair, it was likely for the best given her state of mind. But to put the blame squarely and soley on Rei's shoulders?

That's where I draw the line.

I only say this with the experience of a novice, but from personal experience, most people don't just randomly lash out spontaneously. In my case, it's usually a series of offenses (minor or major) that I refuse to respond to because I feel like that will make me a bad person, but that residual rage? It builds up. Sometimes you can let it out in minor spurts, but it's not enough. One day, one way or another, it will boil over. All that anger, all that frustration, all that rage will combust. You won't be able to stop it once it starts. You'll feel tense. You'll punch things, not caring whether you'll break them or they'll break you. When you get tired of that, you'll storm off into your room and angrily sob into your pillows, or yell/growl... or both. And when it's finally over, you'll still feel like crap. And it'll be a long while before it feels like you or anyone else can forgive yourself.

This is me anywhere from several months to several years. Rei Todoroki had to put up with Endeavor and his abusive behavior for about a decade.

Rei was abused, end of story. Rei's children were abused, either physically or neglectfully, end of story. We've seen Shoto's training. We've heard Endeavor hitting his wife and hearing her scream. People are not perfect. People are not invincible. To expect that someone like Rei could keep her head held high when it felt like the world was against her is like expecting a stone to say the same shape and size out in the open for thousands of years.

In the end, it all wears down.

Rei even knew this herself. She knew she was breaking down, and tried to call on her other family in order to stop something bad from happening. Too little, too late. Rei sees her son, the left side of her son, the side that her husband was responsible for, in a sense. She remembers all the beatings, all the physical and mental degradation against herself and her kids, and she snaps. She has finally had it with Endeavor, and in her fury, she pours boiling water against his face. Only it wasn't her husband's face. It was Shoto's. Her youngest child, her little boy, the one Endeavor was the most brutal to. The one she had wanted to live without fear of a beating.

And she just struck him without a second thought.

There's immediate remorse. Rei doesn't stew in her rage; the guilt overtakes her almost instantaneously. You could argue that trying to ice boiling water is not the best method of preventing a burn, but it's the intentions that matter here. From what I've heard, the scar could have been a lot bigger if Rei just stood there. Plus, I don't think it's necessarily common that people think 100% sanely when they're overcome by extreme emotion. Saying Rei was wrong for trying to soothe her son's burn even if it wasn't the best method is like getting made at a fireman for successfully putting a forest fire out, even of the trees are no longer living.

It's permanent damage, but would you rather deal with that, or something worse?

And just imagine how Shoto feels in all of this. There's sadness. There's betrayal. Of course some of it is directed at Rei, and deservingly so. The one person he felt he could trust basically just turned on him, seemingly out of nowhere. And yet... even though Shoto is a child, he's far from naive. He knows that Endeavor isn't a good person. He's heard his mother's cries, likely her arguments with his father, and he's even been a witness to Endeavor's abuse towards her. She may have done the deed, but for Shoto, the scar isn't his mom's fault. It's Endeavor's. He was the one who abused them, he was the one who took away their sense of happiness, of safety, he was the one who pushed them to the brink and then pushed them some more.

If he had just been a bit more considerate, a bit more reasonable, a bit more human, Rei's breakdown might have been delayed, if not outright nonexistent.

And can we just talk about the Rei/Endeavor parallels for a bit? Nowadays the manga readers are in the midst of Endeavor's redemption arc. I personally think that it's mildly problematic, but I will admit that it's probably better for Endeavor to not continue being a sorry excuse of a human being for the remainder of the series. That being said, I'd like to point out that Rei came first. Rei threw the first jab, and immediately felt remorse afterward. Shoto walked back into Rei's life, and she did not take that opportunity for granted. She spent the time shortly after her hospitalization trying to get better, and this is only more apparent when we see her for the rest of the series. As for Endeavor? His change in behavior was a lot slower. I'll admit that functionally speaking, he's a good hero, but as a person he's the scum of the Earth. He doesn't try self-evaluating after Shoto's fight with Izuku when Shoto says he only used his fire because he forgot about Endeavor. Even at Kamino, Endeavor is still an ass to All Might even though they have bigger things to worry about. And when he sees Small Might, exposed to the world? His first idea is to state that knowing he'd never catch up to All Might drove him to abusing his family.

Endeavor, buddy, that was your call. Not All Might's. Quite frankly, I don't think he's even aware of the BS you put your family through.

One of the few things that frustrates me about Endeavor's redemption is not that he has one; it's that under different circumstances, it wouldn't exist to begin with. Without All Might's retirement, without Endeavor forced into the spotlight as the new #1 Hero, there is no development on his part. I'd have the gall to say that Endeavor would still be a narcissistic asshole if All Might managed to hang on to his power for a while longer. Without the pressure of being #1 on his shoulders, Endeavor continues (in vain) to try and surpass All Might, or at least get Shoto to. He's still a good hero functionally speaking, but how long until his obsession starts to cloud his judgement? How long before the #2 Hero eventually slips up in his rage-fueled fervor?

I'll say it again: it's good that Endeavor is trying to change, but without any actual unprovoked self reflection on his part, it's not as impactful.

So to sum it up, I don't think Rei deserves all the hate she gets. She deserves to be held accountable for what she did, yes, but she's also a human being who was put into a mentally toxic position. It's a miracle she didn't snap sooner, and it's a miracle she's finally making progress with help from her kids.

Mitsuki Bakugo

And finally, the reason why I started down this train of thought.

I'm not even gonna try beating around the bush here: Mitsuki Bakugo is a bad parent.

Notice how I didn't say abusive. No, that does not mean I'm validating her. It just means I personally haven't seen or heard enough in the series thus far to justify whether she should be held on the same level as Endeavor, if not close.

I still have enough sense to see that she's not a good parent though. Far from it, actually.

So far we've only seem Mitsuki officially in a parent teacher meeting after Kamino, and a brief mention of her from Katsuki during the Remedial Course Arc. It doesn't paint a good picture. Right from the get go, her first scene is her hitting her son on the head and calling him weak. This isn't some slapstick or tough love, as some people will say. This is something entirely different, and it should tell readers two things.

Mitsuki is disconnected from her son.

Mitsuki is a carbon copy of her son.

Now take that second point with a grain of salt. People have said time and time again that Mitsuki is basically a genderbent Katsuki, which is accurate to a degree. She's also more mellowed out than Katsuki, as she can talk to other people without trying to assert her dominance. She's actually surprisingly aware of her son's superiority complex as well, but... For all that, it's obvious that Mitsuki isn't actually fully aware of her son's issues. Like her son, Mitsuki is also too focused on her son's brute strength. Calling him weak isn't some karmic justice for all the times Katsuki has said the same to other people; it's a feedback loop that feeds into Katsuki's insecurities, which feeds into his inferiority complex, which feeds into his superiority, which then repeats ad infinitum. You could argue that maybe Katsuki has acted too thick-skinned around his mom to let her actually get a feel for his problems, but I personally doubt that she's really tried to understand her son, or maybe she just... gave up.

And then there's Katsuki saying that he was raised with violence. "BUT CRIMSON, SHE HAS TO BE ABUSIVE IF SHE'S WILLING TO HIT HER KID, WhY cAn'T yOu AcCePt ThAt!?" Well, from what I learned, people can hit their kids and still? Not? Be abusers? Spanking used to be a thing, y'know, and while it's heavily controversial nowadays, I doubt that the good parents used it at the drop of a hat. Kids can be jerks; I was one. Back to Mitsuki, I doubt that this line meant from the day Katsuki had been four years old, his life had been hell. I feel like even if Mitsuki was still brash, she didn't immediately start beating on Katsuki when he started to get a big head. If anything, I'd assume she waited about two years at most before she started letting the fists fly. Keep in mind, almost everyone Katsuki meets admires him for his abilities. Who's to say his mom wasn't one of those people at the start? It wouldn't have been until Katsuki ego started becoming a noticeable issue that Mitsuki decided she needed to tale care of it. Only problem? Mitsuki makes bad decisions, just like her son. Resorting to physical violence and verbal taunts did nothing to help Katsuki, but it's what Mitsuki knew how to do, so she rolled with that. I'm not giving Katsuki a pass because of this, however. Shoto essentially went through the same thing, and his response was not to endlessly shout at others or display dominance. The violence targeted at the boys was brutal, but violence doesn't justify more violence. Katsuki may have had a convenient excuse to start being an ass to people, but so did Shoto. And yeah, "Earlyroki" was an ass, but at least it wasn't intentional.

Before I go, I just want to bring up really quick where Masaru falls into this. One could argue that Masaru's also to blame for how Katsuki turned out for not stepping in but... have you seen Mitsuki, or even Katsuki for that matter? No offense to Masaru, but he's kind of a doormat character. He only married Mitsuki due to her persistence, and while Masaru's "Oxidizing Sweat" quirk is likely destructive, Masaru himself is... not. He seems to be the exact opposite of his wife and son personality wise, only instead of canceling them out, his lack of dominance forces him to run for cover should a dark omen come about. We've seen what Katsuki's done to Izuku before UA. Masaru basically has to put up with two of those, and unlike our protagonist, he doesn't have the resilience to withstand that much anger.

So...

TL;DR. Inko Midoriya is a great mom who just wants her son to be safe and happy. Rei Todoroki cares a lot about her son and is willing to work to show it, even in the face of setbacks. Mitsuki Bakugo is a terrible parent who either needs to figure out what's wrong with her son properly, or leave to someone who can.

Thank you for your time.

-Crimson Lion (24 November 2019)

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ginarbk · 5 years

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Maybe... Everlark Oneshot

So I finally, after years of wanting but not doing it, I wrote something! I’m excited, and scared, and I know it’s going to be hard for someone to actually find this and read it, but I still feel happy about posting it here. So here goes nothing!

This is a story where we see Katniss struggling to come to terms that she is not alone on her misery, even in her darkest times Peeta is there for her.

It's been two months since Peeta came back, since I woke up from the fogginess that covered my thoughts, since my nerve-endings became aware of how much that fog was covering up the pain and grieve. Sometimes I don't know how I can manage to breathe, how is it that my body has not gotten the idea that I'm dead inside, that I wish to be dead on the outside as well.

That first day, when I saw Peeta again I was so confused and shocked that I did not recognize this feeling inside me that is consuming me now. I feel such sorrow, and guilt. And each time I see Peeta, it all comes back to me, it's like a train set in motion that cannot be stopped. I see him, and I feel tremendous guilt, for what they did to him to break me, for what I did to him in order to not be broken, he is so calm, even now after all, each time he comes he brings an aura of peace and calmness that makes me want to crawl out of my skin because I feel anything but.

So, I start to close myself off to him, he comes in the mornings, after I have come from hunting, we eat breakfast with Sae, sometimes they talk sometimes they don't, but I usually just listen. Too tired, and really what can I say that has any meaning now? I'm sorry? Too little, too late. Because a world with no ducktail in it is not a world I can see as something whole, or good so why bother talking about it?. A world where supposed-friends were nothing but an instinct of survival, where mothers forget they still have families when others don't even get to say that and where the best people had to go through the worst just to keep living. I try to remind myself that we live in a different world now, a better one. But for the life of me, today I can't seem to be able to grasp that concept. Maybe if I hadn't heard about Gail today while I was coming back from my usual morning in the woods, but I did and I remember everything so vividly that I cannot escape the past reality on my own now, which revolves around a dead sister. Maybe if Peeta, being the gentleman he is, was trying to give me space, because even without communicating it so to him, he felt that I was withdrawing and didn't want to push me. Maybe, maybe, maybe...

But, we will never know now. Because we don't live in a world of maybe, we live in a world of facts, and the fact is that I have several pills on my hand, most of them I don't know their purpose but I do know that I'm taking more than my fill for a couple of days. And the fact is, that I feel relieved. I take the pills and with a last sigh, I swallow them all.

I guess I could have left letters, I have heard that was the custom thing to do on these cases, but I can't say I thought this through, I just did what it felt I needed to stop feeling everything I was. Or maybe I did think about this before and am just as selfish as everyone thought I was. It can be either way, but the fact is, that I'm beginning to feel really sleepy now, and can't summon the energy to write anything now. I guess selfish it is then.

And just as I am starting to be lifted into the darkness, I see him. Right there in front of me, and I think that this is the final reprieve from life to me, a gift, his face one more time before I go. And I embrace it.

But as it turns out, it wasn't a reprieve. Because first, I start feeling something stuck on my throat, making me gag until I can't breathe, this along with something rhythmically trying to make me spit out my longs by hitting me in the back, and a burning that goes up from my stomach to my mouth. And all I once I'm aware that I'm throwing up everything into the floor of my bathroom where I was just sitting before with someone forcing it out of me by hitting my back and introducing their fingers down my tongue.

Once I feel some air in my lungs again I chance a peek up and come into view with the angriest Peeta I have ever seen in my life. Not even when he had his hands around my neck did I see such anger in him, I saw fear, desperation, and an almost animal instinct to fight, but not this pure raw rage. "What are you doing Katniss?!"

I find that I can't answer his shouts, so I just lower my gaze to something safer to watch, like his trembling hands which come up to me, but it isn't until I'm suddenly surrounded by his arms that I understand what they were meaning to do. I feel him all around me, something I haven't been able to feel in months and I'm thankful I came back even if this was the last embrace he ever gave me, because it feels so incredibly good that once again, I know I'm not going to be the first one to let go. I hear him whisper something, and first I can't decipher its meaning, then as I pay better attention I make out a faint "Please no, Katniss, don't do this. You can't, please."

This is the final straw for me, and it's ironic that after all, fires, mutts, arenas full of monsters, even ghosts, this is what breaks me. I start sobbing so hard, that I can't keep myself from shaking and repeating over and over how sorry I am. Sometimes to him, sometimes to people that can't ever hear me again. And each time he just replies "Shhh, I know. I'm sorry too"

And for what can be hours or days, I just sit there, in Peeta's arms crying like a little girl, because for once I get to do just that, I get to fall apart and someone was there to catch me. Peeta keeps feeding me gentle words, his rage nowhere to be found now, it evaporated as fast as it came. And it's a wonder he has held me so close and hasn't had an episode, I guess he has come farther than I have realized, lost in my grief as I was.

Once I have settled, we come back to my bedroom where the light of midday is shining through the curtains. And it seems so foreign, that I could feel like that in such a beautiful day. And I still feel it, inside me, but it's no longer consuming me because now I feel like someone is lifting the weight with me. Somewhere along the tiles of the bathroom I understood that being as good as he is, Peeta also feels guilt like me, he also lost people, his family was killed indirectly because of him too, though it was really mostly my fault he still carries that on his shoulders and I feel like he can understand after all.

So, when I lift my face and find his there, waiting for me, with an arrangement of emotions on his face like sorrow, anger, empathy, and just general understanding I decide that maybe, I can keep on going as long as he walks along with me. Of course, the implications of this scare me, and instead, I just say "I felt so lonely"

"I know Katniss, I do too. Do you think it's easier for me? All my family is gone, I have nowhere else to go, not really. There are days where I just can't keep myself out of bed. But I do, and I'm here, and you are here and doesn't that counts for something?" I just keep staring at him, because I realize that yes, it does counts for something. It must, because otherwise what was the meaning of everything we went through? But, before I can reply, he continues "Can't we be lonely together, until we are not anymore? I know we can get better Katniss, Dr. Aurelius has taught me that I can get better, but most of all, being here has proved that to be right because each time I'm with you in the same and I don't get lost in my hijacking I feel that as a small victory. So, please just let me help. Take it one day at a time, and it'll become a week at a time, and then a month, and you'll see Katniss..."

"I'll see what?"

"That we can make it worth Katniss, everything that happened, we can give it meaning. Don't you see? That by doing this you throw all that away? There has to be a meaning Katniss!" And his pleads are so desperate, that it awakens my protectiveness of him.

"Ok," I say

"Ok?"

"Yes, Peeta. We can find its meaning together"

"Do you want breakfast?"

And just like that, we are back to our morning routine. We both know the magnitude of what I just did, and that we'll have to discuss it later. But we both also know that we are not nearly ready at the moment to do so without causing another breakdown in me or a flashback on him. I guess we were lucky it wasn't anything bloody or reminiscent of his torture days, otherwise, I think things wouldn't have had worked out as they did. For now, I'm just glad he found me, and that I found in him a companion for my burden. Even though he was there all along, I didn't understand that he could walk this path with me, that we could find understanding on each other again. Or that he would even want to. But I guess we are all each other has at the moment, and for now, that's all we need.

Weeks later, I find that we were wrong, we have so much more than just ourselves. Haymitch, by some miracle, starts appearing out of nowhere for dinners, and it becomes a thing. Sae keeps on coming for breakfast even after I'm well enough to start cooking, not every day, but enough to make it count each time she does. I find that Peeta was right, and Dr. Aurelius can help along the way, and I even start calling my mother which helps me comes to terms with everything that has happened, everyone who is not here but we fight hard to still make proud. There are still days where I feel in a black pit again, but Peeta is good now at figuring out what I need and when I need it. And I have found, that even with all my inadequacy at emotions I can read him quite well, so well that I also know when he is having a bad day or week, and in those moments I try harder to be of help. Sometimes it works, sometimes not so much. And because of this, I think that maybe, just maybe we will be able to make it through after all.

And there comes the day where that Maybe starts to become more and more blurry and gives wake to a Real.

#everlark #katniss everdeen #Peeta Mellark #angst #hea #happy ending #sort of #first story ever written by me

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kelseighanne · 4 years

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If I get through today without a breakdown, it’ll be a miracle.

#May 6 is a bad day for me and my famiky #has been for 8 years now

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welllpthisishappening · 5 years

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The Period of the Long Change (6/15)

It’s quick. One second she’s standing there and everything is fine and then Emma looks up and it’s not. It’s awful. And the lights are too bright and there are too many rooms and too many opinions and her phone won’t stop ringing because everything seems to be changing all at once. She’s never been great at coping with change. But, maybe, if she can just figure it out and stay right where she is, with Killian Jones, captain of the New York Rangers, at her side, it’ll be alright.

It’s slow. One second he’s standing there and everything is fine and then Killian’s breath catches and it’s not. It’s terrifying. And the noises are too loud and there are too many questions and he can’t find the right answers to any of them, not sure how to cope with everything changing all at once. That’s never really been his forte. But, maybe, if he can just figure it out and stay right where he is, with Emma Swan, director of New York Rangers community relations, at his side, it’ll be alright.

It’s another season and another challenge and Emma and Killian are both struggling to get over the boards.

Rating: Mature Word Count: A lot happens this chapter. There are a lot of words. AN: Today’s update also comes with some promises that what you’re about to read absolutely, one-hundred percent happens in real life. But! If you’re like Laura, that is absurd, these are grown men, not idiots, I would say, au contraire and then present you with these links. One, from the Rangers last year. And the second from the Blues this year, a team that not only got a puppy after this incident, but is now in the playoffs. So, yeah, this happens. I promise. If you’re still reading and clicking, I can’t thank you enough. It’s real nice.

Also on Ao3 and FF.net and Tumblr if that’s your jam.

“Go back to sleep.” “I can’t.” “Swan.” She flipped, hair flying everywhere and almost getting in his mouth, and Killian winced when her knee collided with his shin. “Ah, shit,” Emma mumbled, untwisting the blanket that had, somehow, moved in between them. “I wasn’t trying to do that.” “You mean to tell me you weren’t actively attempting to incapacitate me?” Killian asked, and he knew the joke didn’t land before he’d even finished making it.

Emma laughed, but it was more an exhale and a sigh, and she licked her lips quickly, like she was being timed and that was kind of true because it was Saturday, but she still had meetings with Zelena and Aurora and something with Sam and Joe about MC’ing an event they’d done for the last thirty years.

And Phillip’s memorial or whatever.

That wasn’t the right word at all, but it was some kind of celebration because, it seemed, setting a of rookie scoring record was a pretty good starting point for a career and Phillip had reached three-hundred points before anyone expected him too and, apparently, that meant there had to be some sort of ceremony.

That was the word for it.

It also meant Emma had to plan it and he knew there were, at least, fifty-six post-it notes detailing the breakdown of the whole goddamn thing on every inch of her desk.

She’d run out of floor space two days before. And Merida had to get her a new chair the day before that because Emma kept piling paperwork in her own seat.

Killian wanted to go back to sleep.

“We’ve got time,” he muttered, ignoring whatever the air was doing around them. Filling with tension and bad jokes and he was so goddamn tired of being worried and, generically, tired.

It was a miracle their bedroom door hadn’t been knocked over yet.

Or at least slightly checked against.

Matt liked to try and check the door.

“I have no time,” Emma argued. “I have, like, negative amounts of time. I should be in the shower already.” Killian grinned, tongue against the inside of his cheek and eyes a bit wider than usual, and Emma’s laugh sounded genuine that time. He swore he could feel it, fixing the air and probably all of the greenhouse issues on the entire planet and she closed her eyes when he pulled her against his chest.

“That could be very easily fixed, you know,” he muttered, mostly into her hair. Her whole body shook against him, which wasn’t really helping their cause or his desire to go back to sleep because it was Saturday and there wasn’t a game, and they should be able to linger in each other’s space for awhile.

“I don’t think that’s true at all.”

“How do you figure?” “Are you kidding me?” Emma asked, propping her head on one hand and her hair fell over her arm. “I’m counting the actual seconds until someone throws something at that door.” “I really doubt Peggy’s got that kind of upper-body strength yet. Maybe if we add some weights to her workout.” “Really confident in your own sense of humor, huh?”

Killian hummed, smirk back on his face and something that might have actually been butterflies in his stomach, which didn’t make any sense at all because he was flirting with his own wife and talking about their thirteen-month-old attacking the half-closed door on the other side of the room, but it was nice in a way that home was nice and comforting and safe and maybe he could hide Emma’s phone.

That seemed kind of immature.

“Occasionally,” Killian said, dropping his hand to trace over the curve of Emma’s hip. Her eyes fluttered again, teeth finding her lower lip and the butterflies disappeared almost immediately.

“Sometimes,” Emma amended, and her voice was just a bit breathless. He was going to count that as several different victories. “You know she almost kept her balance without holding onto anything for, like, a solid two seconds yesterday afternoon.” “What?” Emma nodded, smile wide despite her obvious efforts to stay cool and Killian was only slightly worried that his heart was going to do permanent damage to his chest cavity. Ariel would be pissed about that.

He’d walked too quickly on the treadmill yesterday, so she was out for blood.

“Yeah,” Emma continued. “You were making jokes about upper-body strength, but that kid is ridiculously strong. Like He-Woman or something.” “Is that a compliment?” “It is when I’m saying it.” “Ah, of course,” Killian chuckled, kissing between Emma’s eyebrows before he could stop himself. Maybe they didn’t have to go back to sleep. Maybe they could just evolve into some kind of picture-perfect family of his fluff-type dreams and he wouldn’t miss Peggy’s displays of upper-body strength because he was trying to keep his heart rate at a medically approved level.

It wasn’t at the moment.

He was sure.

“So, we were in my office and Zelena was waxing poetic about food choices, which is absurd because we’ve done this before and the food is always the same and Gotham has, like, one catering option and--”

“--Focus, Swan.”

She stuck her tongue out. He kissed her jaw. He kind of wanted to kiss everywhere else.

“You are impatient,” Emma accused, and Killian couldn't really argue with that. “Anyway, we were in my office and I was ignoring Zelena and Pegs totally pulled herself up, waddled around for approximately two and a half seconds and then promptly fell over. But it was a very impressive two and a half seconds.” “Two and a half, huh?” “Eh, maybe closer to three. We'll round up for the kid, you know?”

“Naturally,” Killian muttered, but he wasn’t entirely sure what was happening to his entire body and it felt like a mix of happiness and disappointment and a little frustration and he wished he could just pick one emotion and stick with it.

He wished he hadn’t missed that.

He wished he didn’t have more PT that afternoon.

“Hey,” Emma said, and he wasn’t wearing a shirt she could tug on. She settled for brushing her fingers over his forehead instead and, that time, it was Killian’s turn for his eyes to flutter shut, a ragged breath falling out of him and he wished he had the answers for several dozen questions he couldn’t bring himself to ask. “You ok?” “You keep asking me that, love,” he muttered. He hadn’t opened his eyes.

“It’s because I’m consistently curious. And worried. Probably more than curious.” “I know, Swan. I don’t want you to worry though. You’ve got enough to think about already. Zelena shouldn't be talking about the food. It’s the same every year.” “That’s true,” Emma agreed. “But, strange as it may seem, I’m almost ok with worrying about you. It’s part of the deal.” Killian opened his eyes, arching an eyebrow and he wasn’t entirely prepared for the slightly nervous look on Emma’s face. “The deal, huh?” “Yeah, you know, indefinitely or whatever. For concussions or worse.” “I don’t think that’s exactly what we said.” She couldn’t shrug when she was on her side, but she certainly made an effort and Killian briefly wondered if maybe that was where their daughter got her distinct lack of balance from. Emma wobbled a bit, eyes widening a fraction of an inch and it was all green and emotional and for concussions or worse didn’t really sound that bad.

“Semantics,” Emma mumbled. “Worrying about you isn’t...it’s not a job. It’s instinct or something that sounds way less lame than that.” “That doesn’t sound lame,” Killian said, and he probably shouldn't have responded that quickly or that enthusiastically, but he’d kind of lost control of everything and the world consistently felt as if it were spinning out of orbit, even when he was walking as slowly as possible. So, really, shouting emotions in Emma’s face was kind of a return to the usual.

She laughed softly, a sound he would have been more than willing to hear for the rest of forever if that weren’t even more lame than what Emma had just said.

“When’s the last time you had a headache?”

Killian clicked his tongue, trying to think back through the last week and they’d played in Vegas the night before, a loss that was dangerously close to a blowout and Jeff had broken his stick after the final whistle and Arthur had, undoubtedly, broken several whiteboards, but Husinger had gotten another point and it was a good assist.

They were going to be back on Garden ice that afternoon.

Will had texted him when they landed.

Robin complained about Husinger talking loudly on the flight.

“Not in awhile,” Killian said when Emma made an impatient sound at his silence.

“That’s not a date.” “I’m not writing it down, Swan.” “Shouldn’t you be?” “Those weren’t part of the instructions. I was told to stay off the ice and not walk too quickly and take medicine. I’m doing that. I was not told to document symptoms.” She didn’t say anything immediately, eyes tracing over his face as soon as his jaw snapped closed and the whole thing had been kind of ridiculous. This wasn’t the doctor’s fault. Well, not completely. It wasn’t even that kid’s fault – even if he’d led with his shoulder and he probably should have gotten fined. It wasn’t anyone’s fault.

It had happened.

And he hadn’t done anything about it because he was…

It was fine.

That Husinger guy couldn't get a point in every game. That was impossible. And he talked too loudly on the team plane. Arthur wouldn't let that happen on another road trip.

He wouldn’t be first line very long.

And Killian couldn’t get playoffs, at the earliest, maybe out of the back corners of his brain.

It was fine.

“You know I bet we could get Pegs to weeble around the apartment for a little while,” Emma said. Killian grinned. And kissed her. Again.

“Weeble?” “Yeah, you know, weebles wobble, but they don’t fall down. She kind of looks like a weeble in a ridiculous amount of Jones-branded merchandise.” “Jones-branded?” “Please,” Emma scoffed, sliding across the bed and slinging one arm over his middle. It was difficult to keep up with what she said next when her fingers started tracing over his spine, drawing patterns that weren’t much more than straight lines, but felt a bit like vaguely emotional brands and it was way too early for those kind of pointed thoughts.

“Neither one of them realize there’s another person on this team,” she added. She’d moved again at some point, legs tangled with Killian’s and head tucked against the curve of his neck. He could feel her breathing, not entirely sure if the brush of her lips against his skin was wishful thinking or actually happening, and it didn’t really matter because Matt had thrust a piece of paper into Killian’s stomach when he picked him up at school the day before.

Of the New York Rangers winning a Stanley Cup.

And Killian in the middle.

Next to Matt.

They were stick figures and not quite an exact likeness, but there was some dark hair and a few shakily-drawn twenties drawn in open space and he’d folded it up and put it in his wallet.

He didn’t think he’d ever take it out.

Maybe he was just thinking pointed thoughts at all times now.

“He told me about the picture,” Emma whispered. Her lips were definitely touching his skin. “He was super proud of it. Wanted to make sure I knew it was him and you and Uncle Will. Robin will probably be very disappointed he wasn’t included.” Killian laughed, but it turned into a bit of a grunt as he snuck his arm around Emma and she mumbled a quiet apology when she landed on his chest. “I’m totally going to brag about it to Locksley.” “I mean, he’s your kid, and your his hero, so I think you’re getting a bit of an unfair advantage.”

Killian didn’t say anything, wasn’t entirely sure he could over the rather large lump of emotion that had landed in the middle of his throat, and Emma’s fingers had moved to his stomach, dancing over skin and muscle and an appendectomy scar that she always liked to linger on when they had a few moments to breathe.

He wasn’t sure he’d really, truly breathed in the last two weeks.

“I love you,” he whispered, finding his voice and Emma’s fingers froze. “Just...more than anything. You know that, right?”

Emma tilted her head up, lips brushing across his collarbones and the scruff he’d been far too lazy to shave. His hand shifted again, flat against her back like he was trying to keep her there or next to him and it was decidedly possessive and a little absurd because he knew neither one of those things were in danger of changing. There were several different and meaningful things to prove that, least of all the name he could feel on her back and the Stanley Cup ring currently pressing into his sternum, but the world was still out of orbit and not skating felt a bit like not breathing and, well, he was kind of a selfish asshole.

He wanted to win.

Again.

Indefinitely.

God, he hated that word.

“I know,” Emma said, voice a little shaky and eyes a little glossy and he wished he could stop making her cry. They were both going to be late. And something was probably wrong because no one had attacked their door yet.

Killian nodded, clenching his jaw and the question had been lingering on the tip of his tongue since Wednesday, but Emma hadn’t wanted to talk and didn’t have time and he hadn’t really forgotten, but then their kid started drawing Stanley Cup stick figures and he’d missed their other kid weebling and it kind of felt like something short circuited.

Her breath caught when he moved, flipping on her onto her back and moving into the cradle of her hips and her fanned across several different pillows at once.

“And here you were advocating the benefits of going back to sleep,” Emma muttered, and he didn’t have to look at her to hear her smile. It was another absurd thought, but that seemed to be par for whatever course Killian’s life had become, and he nipped against her neck when her fingers found his hair.

She rocked up at the same time he moved down and it was all friction and heat and something that might have been desperation, but that sounded decidedly negative and that wasn’t what this was. At least not entirely.

This was how much everything had been out of control and out of their control, a slim difference that seemed to make all the difference and Killian was more than willing to suffer through an entire PT of Ariel cursing him to a variety of different hells if it meant Emma made that noise as her right leg wrapped around his calf.

The bruise on her thigh had long since disappeared, but his hand drifted toward the spot anyway, some type of feelings-based magnet and how much he wanted her to be ok, and Emma inhaled sharply when his fingers grazed over the jut of her hip.

“It’s fine,” Emma muttered, the words sounding bigger than that and they weren’t talking about some ridiculous mechanical bull anymore.

She probably knew he kept the picture in his wallet.

She definitely knew he kept the picture in his wallet.

“That’s true,” Killian agreed, chuckling when Emma tried to swat at his shoulder. He caught her hand mid-air, brushing his lips over her knuckles and lingering under her ring She pulled her lips behind her teeth, tension almost visibly disappearing and back arching slightly and he was only ever going to be able to think about whatever the hell her leg was doing for, like, the rest of his waking days and possibly several lifetimes after that.

So, really, it didn’t matter where Ariel cursed him because he’d have this to remember and think about and he probably shouldn’t have been thinking about PT while trying to actively undress Emma.

“That wasn’t even clever,” she accused, nails scraping lightly on the back of his neck. Killian hissed, gaze meeting hers and she looked almost triumphant, smile wide and eyes unfairly bright. “And I really don’t think this is part of the post-concussion--”

“--Fine, Swan,” he interrupted.

She stared at him, like she was waiting for a different brand of honest or the actual reason he’d never told her about the headaches and the terror that seemed to rise up his spine and linger in the forefront of his brain every single night, like some kind of twisted hockey-future clockwork, but she either didn’t find it or wasn’t willing to wait any longer and Killian exhaled when she tugged him down and kissed him.

Hard.

And, really, that should have been it. It should have been kissing and getting rid of t-shirts with his name and number on it, but they were both kind of worried about the inevitable four-year-old attack and looming schedules and budgets that were probably changed, again, and the question seemed to fall out of Killian before he’d really decided he was going to ask it.

He’d been thinking it.

And Emma had been avoiding it.

“What exactly was the job?” he asked, leaning back to meet her slightly stunned and clearly frustrated gaze.

“What? Why aren’t you kissing me still?” “You’ve got to shower.” “And you made some terrible joke about showering with me before trying to take your shirt off. I thought we’d moved passed the shower thing.” “My shirt?” Killian asked, and Emma squeezed her eyes closed.

“It is kind of weird that you own t-shirt jerseys, but I was changing last night and you and Matt were watching film and it was the first thing I grabbed. You really couldn’t tell? It’s way bigger than usual.”

“I wasn’t really concerned with the size, honestly,” Killian admitted. “My mind tends to go blank when I realize the name on the back.” Emma opened her eyes, gaze a bit softer and eyes just as green. “Seems kind of clingy, Cap.” “Yeah, a little.” “A very quick agreement.” “No point in arguing that when I was making veiled allusions to showering together, right?” “Were they veiled?” Killian shook his head, nosing at the bit of skin just behind Emma’s ear. “You’re avoiding the question, love.”

“That’s because you’re a really bad interviewer. Maybe you should get Rubes to give you some pointers or something.” “I don’t think Red would appreciate her interrupting PT like.”

“Yeah, that’s probably true,” Emma mumbled. “And I’m not avoiding. Technically. I’m trying to deflect and distract with your own name.” “Yours too.”

He kind of shouted those words too, but it kind of felt necessary and another instinct because he wanted everything with Emma, including hockey and whatever promotion she could get with the league and maybe if he just followed Peggy around with his phone all day, she’d wobble or wobble on camera and he’d be able to see it.

“Ah, that was stupid romantic,” Emma said. Her fingers carded through his hair again, moving across his shoulders and another scar, courtesy of a particularly hard check when he was fifteen and some kid from at the Team USA camp didn’t appreciate how good Killian was at scoring.

“Charming,” he corrected softly. “We’ve been over that so many times, Swan.” “True. You’re not going to let the job thing drop, are you?” “I don’t know why you want me to.” Emma sighed, but she didn’t try to push him off her and he was more than content to linger on top of her while discussing some nebulous future that was only sort of overwhelming. He really wanted to shoot at something.

“It’s not so much that,” Emma started. “It’s just...there’s so much here and so much to do and I really think Mer is sleeping in her office again.” “I doubt that.” “Have you met Merida?” “Strangely enough, I have,” Killian nodded. “And I know she’s not sleeping in her office because she told me that she was going to Gristedes last night to make sure there were bags of dried cranberries in your office for the next week.” “Did you ask her to do that?” Killian glanced up at the sound of the question, Emma’s voice shaking slightly and cracking a bit and his mouth dropped when he realized what she was doing to her lower lip. He moved his thumb over it, doing his best to pry it away from her teeth without causing any more damage and it wasn’t that big of a deal.

He’d been telling Merida to make sure Emma ate since he got hurt, and even before then – when playoffs got crazy or she ordered the same salad from Pret the entire time she was pregnant with Matt and that was just part of the deal, slightly different versions of vows he’d promised twice.

And she still looked kind of stunned.

He needed to get back on the ice.

He needed things to be normal again.

“You’re deflecting again, Swan,” he muttered, and not kissing her was a very specific type of challenge. “What did Tink say?” “C’mon answer, the question. And please don’t talk about an attempted set-up while you’re also being charming. It’s a lot of mixed signals.”

He chuckled against her hair, fingers working back under her shirt and maybe he was the one deflecting. “What was it you said? I wanted to have kids with you, so I think you won, Swan.” “Ah, it sounds crazy when you say it like that.” “Maybe a little clingy.” “Oh my God.” “The job, love,” Killian said, pulling back and he wasn’t sure if he appreciated Emma’s laugh.

“You went all dad face on me. I couldn’t take it seriously.” “That doesn’t bode well for the future.”

Her expression changed again, a blink and a twitch of her lips and it would have been great if the Earth’s atmosphere stopped abruptly shifting like that. It wasn’t helping his lungs at all. Or his head. Tuesday. That was the last headache he’d had.

“That’s not true at all,” Emma said softly. “And, uh...the job is basically what I’m doing now, just...everywhere.” “Everywhere?” “This would probably be easier if you didn’t just repeat everything I was saying.” Killian rolled his eyes, but Emma was smiling again and her fingers were incredibly distracting. “So, the idea is to kind of grow the fanbase I guess. Especially the youth fanbase. Which apparently, rumor has it, I’m great at.” “But,” Killian prompted.

“How do you know there’s a but?” “Swan.” She stuck her tongue out and rolled her eyes and it looked a bit like Peggy when she didn’t appreciate that they were were feeding her cut up sweet potatoes again. Emma Swan and Peggy Jones both hated sweet potatoes.

Killian didn’t say that out loud.

“It’s just a lot,” Emma said, probably waving her hands through the air over his back. “There’s a lot of kids and a lot of would-be fans and...I don’t have time to think about that now. I can’t think about that now. Not when everything is so…”

She gritted her teeth, the rest of that sentence practically flashing on a neon sign above her head. It was a pretty good imitation of what her desk phone usually liked.

“Emma,” Killian said, and she groaned loudly, an arm draped over her face and a pillow falling on the floor and they were on borrowed time already.

The door swung open, slamming into the wall hard enough that it probably left a mark and Killian winced when a four-year-old threw himself at his left leg.

“Dad, Dad,” Matt yelled, somehow getting the sound to move directly into Killian’s ear at the same time he dug his feet into his calf. “Are you awake?”

Emma laughed, turning her head into a pillow so it wasn’t incredibly obvious, but Killian was still half on top of her with his hand under her shirt and they were going to have to come up with a better way to avoid ruining their kid’s psyche.

Maybe after they dealt with everything else.

He still needed to get a tux for Casino Night.

“We’re very awake, Mattie,” Emma promised, twisting around to tug him further up the bed and Killian was sure one his kidneys suffered for the effort. “The real question is why are you awake? And what are we going to make for breakfast?” “I’m hungry!” “Yeah, I kind of figured that’s what this was about.”

Emma glanced at him, lips ticking up and whatever they’d been treading towards with the job discussion had been appropriately deflected. He wasn’t sure if he was supposed to regret that as much as he did.

“What do you say we make breakfast today, Mattie?” Killian asked, sitting back on his heels and it was a precarious position, but that felt like a metaphor and he ignored it completely.

Matt jumped up, just barely missing both of Emma’s knees in the process, and Killian could hear Peggy yelling a few feet away and they were going to have to buy a real bed eventually because that kid really did have an absurd amount of upper-body strength.

“Yeah,” Matt yelled, but it came out a bit like a question and Killian was almost ready when a head collided with his shoulder. “Mattie, be careful,” Emma chastised. Her hand moved, hovering over Matt’s back and another Jones-branded t-shirt, but Killian shook his head deftly.

Another deflection.

Another slightly selfish move because that seemed destined to end with him half choking to death, but he hadn’t had a headache in days and maybe indefinite could end a little earlier than scheduled.

Probably after they ate their weight in chocolate-chip waffles.

“It’s fine, Swan,” Killian said, pleasantly surprised when he absolutely meant it and none of his joints cracked when he stood up.

Emma stared at him incredulously. “He’s gone full koala on you. I really don’t think that can be healthy. Physical activity was, like, at the absolute bottom of the list.” She groaned when he grinned, eyebrows twisting and there were so many pillows on their bed. He barely heard when she fell back against them. “You know what I meant,” she mumbled.

“I did. But I’m not all that concerned with the list at the moment.” He took a step forward, Matt still clinging to his side, and pressing a kiss to the crown of her head. She smiled. “Go shower, love. We’re going to eat way too much chocolate.”

They did, in fact, eat way too much chocolate, Matt’s lips covered and, somehow, his chin had gotten into the mix, perched on the counter next to a bowl of batter with even more chips in it.

“Dad, can Mar have some too?” Matt asked, trying to yank the spoon out of the bowl and Killian wasn’t sure what his plan was, but he assumed it was flinging waffle batter at his sister. It’s probably what he would have done.

“Hey,” he said sharply. Matt’s shoulders slumped. “What did we say about sitting up here?” “Not to touch.” “Yuh huh.” “And not to swing.” Killian nodded, eyeing Matt’s swinging feet intently. They sounded incredibly loud when they collided with the front of the cabinet and he thought he was being very impressive when he snuck his hand into the bowl, grabbing a few chocolate chips that hadn’t mixed in yet.

“You’re not nearly as sneaky as you think you are,” Killian muttered, and Matt widened his eyes in a way that was equal parts familiar and entirely uncharted territory. And it probably counted as physical activity, but his kid was laughing and smiling and happy and it didn’t really take much to sling Matt over his shoulder, socked feet bumping against his chest and fingers gripping at the back of the shirt he’d finally put on.

He hoped they didn’t burn the waffles.

Matt kept laughing and Killian, somehow, managed to get Peggy to eat a handful of bananas, some of which inexplicably ended up on his elbow, but it was good and healthy and-- “Dad,” Matt asked, moving to hang off Killian’s back and he’d gotten surprisingly good at that in the last few months. Maybe all their kids were just ridiculously strong.

“Yeah, kid.” “Did you like your picture?”

He wished he didn’t have banana on his elbow for this conversation.

“Of course,” Killian said, hoping his voice stayed even and confident and Matt wasn’t done. It was, he assumed, because they’d lost last night and Matt probably had the Rangers practice schedule memorized at that point and the prospect of hanging out with Leo Nolan that afternoon wasn’t nearly as fun as taking slap shots on Garden ice with Roland.

“Do you...do you think you’ll win?”

Killian had to take a deep breath before he answered, closing his eyes and trying to remember all the good things and the confidence he’d been flushed with that morning.

No headache since Tuesday. Good heart rate on the treadmill. Minimal glares from both Ariel and Regina in the last week.

Husinger’s pass had been ridiculous.

“Dad,” Matt whined, tightening his hold.

Killian flinched when someone knocked on the door, biting his tongue in the process and he never actually answered Matt’s question, peering through the peephole to find it covered with what looked like a handmade sign.

He knew who it was when she kicked at the door.

“Oh my God,” Killian muttered. “Mattie, don’t try and climb over me when I open this door, ok?”

It was a pointless request – Matt was four and had no control over his limbs ever and he probably should have been more concerned about Anna anyway because she practically leapt at Killian as soon as there wasn’t a door in between them.

Killian groaned when her body collided with his, arms around his middle and more hair in his face. He stumbled backwards, wincing when Matt likely did permanent damage to his right eardrum.

The shower turned off down the hallway.

“KJ, is that banana on your elbow?” Anna asked.

“Did you bring a sign?” he countered. “This is not JFK. A sign seems unnecessary.”

“Ok, this is super cute and you know it. So don’t try and tell me that you’re not charmed. I can see it in your face and your banana elbow.” Killian rolled his eyes, but Anna was, well, Anna and she was already talking to Matt. “My guy,” she grinned, trying and failing to pry him away from Killian’s back and that was only because she didn’t have the kind of upper body strength either of the Jones kids seemed to possess. “You trying to choke your dad?”

“Anna, Anna, Anna,” Matt chanted. She beamed at Killian. And let go of him so she could crouch to Matt’s level and hug him tightly, peppering his head with kisses until he found that decidedly unpleasant.

“What are you doing here, Banana?” She laughed, tilting her head up to him and he was, somehow, holding her sign. “It’s almost like you planned the food shenanigans to match up with even more absurd nicknames.” “Several habits make it a difficult habit to break.” “That’s kind of my excuse too, honestly.” “What?”

“Anna?"

Emma was standing on the edge of the kitchen, hair still in a towel and bare feet and it took less than a full second for even more hugging and questions and Zelena’s meeting schedule was going to be completely pointless after this.

Killian looked at the sign in his hand, biting back a smile and a laugh when he processed the words: HERE TO FIX YOUR LIFE, KJ.

They didn’t burn all the waffles, cleaning Matt’s face and Anna kept Peggy on her knee the entire time they ate, updates on several different mountains and a spread in Condé Nast, because that was the kind of person she was and she hadn’t been to New York in months.

She’d come to New York to fix his life.

The sign wouldn’t have lied.

Anna wouldn’t have lied.

“Alright,” Emma said, nearly an hour and two slightly dramatic baths for both kids later. “Let’s move out, team.” “Where are you going?” Anna asked, and Killian knew he didn’t imagine the disappointment in her voice. He smiled.

“I’ve got forty-two Casino Night meetings and I’m sure Aurora has opinions about Phillip’s ceremony she hasn’t actually voiced yet and--” “--God, there’s more?”

Emma made a face. “So I’m going to bring Mattie and Pegs to Reese’s and David’s because he’s got a day off for the first time in forever and--” “--Why can’t KJ and I watch ‘em?” “I’ve got PT in an hour, Banana,” Killian explained, but Emma’s shoulders sagged a bit. “So you better explain yourself pretty quickly or Red will throw a treadmill at you too.” “Yeah, I’d like to see her try.”

“Wily.”

“Don’t be a jerk, KJ.” He flashed her a grin, turning back to Emma when she grabbed her keys and two different phones, one of them already lighting up in her hand. “Hot chocolate later?” she asked, a note of something in her voice that didn’t sound like confidence and he was nodding before she closed her mouth.

“Wouldn’t miss it, Swan.” “Good,” she said, kissing him quick and leaning towards him so he could make a face at Peggy and Anna might have awed when he worked a rather loud da out of her. “See you later, Anna.” Anna hummed, waving and settling herself into the corner of the couch. She dug her heels into Killian's thighs. And, to her credit, waited for the door to close before she started talking.

“I brought chocolate,” Anna said, and that might have been the last thing he expected her to say. She smiled when Killian blinked. “Yeah, not what you were thinking, right? Teach you to assume you know my conversational tendencies. I figured it was about time I repaid the favor or something.” “It wasn’t a favor Banana. It was a very vocal demand of yours for fifteen years.” “Not that long.” “You’re right, longer.”

“Don’t be like that. I made you a sign.”

“A rather opinionated sign.” “Liam yelled at you over the phone!"

“Not really,” Killian argued. “He advocated for making out and dates and getting away from practice.” “You follow through on any of that?” “At least the first two.” Anna clicked her tongue, another heel press and expressive look and he kind of expected her phone to ring earlier, honestly. “Is this why you came here?” Killian asked, swatting at her leg when her feet started masquerading as fifty-pound weights. “God, move your legs, Banana. I am on IR.”

“Because of your actual brain, KJ,” she countered. Elsa sighed on the phone screen.

“Are we fighting already? That was not part of the plan.”

“The plan was unnecessary,” Killian growled. “I’m serious about your feet, Banana. Did you come here just for this? That’s worse than the sign.” “The sign was nice!” “The sign was kind of judgmental. And kind of backed you into a corner. Here to fix my life?” “Aw, Anna,” Elsa groaned. Anna blushed. “That’s not what we agreed on KJ. Although it’s nice to see visual proof that you’re alive. How’s your head?” “No headaches in awhile,” Killian said, and Anna was never going to move her feet. Like, ever again. “So as good as can be expected.” “You snuck on the ice yet?” “Who do you think I am, El?” “I know exactly who you are, KJ,” Elsa answered evenly. She was in her office. There was snow on the mountains behind her. “Which is why I’m asking that question.” “Rude,” “Honest,” Anna corrected. “And I’m not totally here because of you. It’s been a while since I’d seen Kris and we’ve been talking about…”

Killian snapped his head around so quickly, he was sure he’d need PT for that too and Anna’s cheeks were red enough that it was difficult to differentiate between her face and her hair. “Talking about?”

“Not that.” “You haven’t actually said anything, Banana.” She groaned, slumping in the couch and he should have made her get the chocolate first. He couldn’t eat more chocolate. “I’ve just been thinking about home, and missing home and Mattie’s a cute kid and,” she rolled her eyes, “shut up, KJ.” “I didn’t say anything.”

“Nah, you’re really bad at lying KJ,” Elsa muttered, and he jerked back when Anna thrust the phone in his face. “And Anna’s even more sentimental than you are and totally homesick. It just helps that you’re part of home so now we can tag-team you.”

“Ah, c’mon,” Anna groaned.

Elsa shrugged. “You weren’t supposed to make a sign.”

Killian chuckled, some of his frustration dissipating and it might have been because of the copious amount of chocolate he’d eaten that morning, but he was fairly certain it was also because Elsa and Anna Vankald resolutely refused to let him be anything except happy.

“You guys know you’re kind of late to the intervention party, right?” Killian asked. “I really haven’t gotten on the ice.”

“That’s actually pretty impressive,” Elsa said, ignoring whatever he did with his face at that. “But, uh...not entirely, no.” Killian tilted his head, eyes flitting from the phone to Anna and her pursed lips and Elsa looked nervous. “What’s this actually about?” “The plan kind of evolved in the last few hours,” Anna muttered. “Although there really is an offer to watch your painfully cute kids because Emma sounds super stressed out in the group text and you’re not great at dealing and--” “--How can she sound stressed out in a text?” “It’s a feeling, KJ.” “A feeling?” “Killian,” Elsa snapped, and he nearly jumped off the couch. Anna hissed. “This really isn’t about the semantics of the text messages.”

“Although you should really be aware of how stressed out Emma is,” Anna mumbled.

“I know, Banana,” Killian said. The frustration was back. It kind of felt like fury.

And he didn’t hear Elsa at first.

There was probably a scientific reason for that.

Complete and utter denial and the desperate desire to deflect this entire conversation.

Probably.

“I said, have you seen The Post today?” Elsa asked softly. Killian shook his head. “You, uh, you might want to look at it.”

It took a moment to find it – searching and scrolling and his phone had been off, his quiet fuck when he landed on the Q&A sounding impossibly loud in the now-silent apartment.

He’d seen the feature before, a Saturday spread two pages from the back with a color headshot for the columnist and splashy photos for the subject and he’d answered those questions more than once in the last decade and a half.

It was the headline, really, that got the laugh out of him, slightly manic and a little surprised and he knew Elsa tried to glance at Anna through the phone.

Harping on Husinger: How the Rangers call-up is making this his team

“His team?” Killian asked. He didn’t take his eyes away from his phone, grip tightening and the words felt like acid working out of him. He was glad he didn’t melt. That’d probably ruin the couch. It’d at least scandalize Anna.

“So he says,” Elsa muttered. “Several times.” “He says this shit more than once?”

She made a noise, an agreement and a slight whimper and Killian’s lungs had never collapsed before, but this kind of felt like that. Or the world falling into a black hole.

Anna sniffled.

“He’s a dick, KJ,” she shrugged. “Just...forget the goals and that pass last night. He’s...trying to make it sound like you know you won’t come back and it’s his spot and his playoff run and..”

She didn’t finish. Killian wished she finished, but his eyes were scanning sentences and proclamations and promises, swallowing when they landed on my line’s been great, it’s been so easy to settle into the scheme and Arthur’s an incredible coach, and I can only hope I keep finding the back of the net. This is the moment I’ve been waiting my whole career for, I don’t intend to backtrack.

“This is bullshit,” Killian said, voice low and he kept shaking his head like that would get rid of the ringing in his ears. “It’s not his team.” “We know, KJ,” Elsa promised. “He’s just trying to get his five minutes.” “Or his minutes until the playoffs.” “What?” “That’s as soon as I can get back. Maybe.” “Maybe?” “That’s what they told me, El,” he growled. She widened her eyes. “Sorry, sorry, I just...how did you find this? Were you looking for headlines? And why didn’t Lucas tell me?” “I don’t think she knew Husinger was going to say all that. And you’re kind of terrifying, KJ.” “And Belle texted me,” Anna added. “That’s why the plan changed. I think she was trying to talk Scarlet out of killing this guy at practice.”

There wasn’t much thought after that.

It was just anger and red on the edge of his vision and Killian stuffed his phone in his pocket, mumbling I’ll be back later when both Anna and Elsa questioned where he was going.

He left his wallet in the bedroom.

“Hey, uh, you see that story this morning, Cap?” the driver asked, and Killian grunted or nodded and neither one of them said anything else the entire drive down Columbus Ave.

He didn’t say anything to the security guard either, just tugged up the collar of his jacket and kept walking, eyes on his shoes and mind nowhere near rational. He could hear pucks hitting the boards already.

The tension was obvious, even through Killian’s own cloud of anger and fury and several other words that were equally irrational. Will was standing on the far edge of the ice, helmet off and stick clutched in his hand tight enough that Killian would have bet him several different things his knuckles were white under his gloves.

Robin was taking faceoffs, Husinger just outside the circle and neither of them looked particularly pleased to be sharing the same few feet of space. Phillip kept glaring at them both.

Arthur blew his whistle.

“Again, Locksley,” he growled. “And try not to fuck it up this time. You looked like shit last night.” “He won more than half Arthur,” Will pointed out. Another whistle blow.

“I’m not paying him to win half. I’m paying him to win seventy-five percent. At least.” “You’re not really paying him at all, you know, unless you got a promotion none of us heard about.”

Arthur let go of his whistle, the stupid bit of plastic landing on his chest with a soft thump and Husinger chuckled. And, for half a second, Killian was worried the whole goddamn team was going to kill him.

Phillip’s eyes narrowed and Will dropped his stick, Robin standing up to his full height and rolling his shoulders – the same exact way Roland did when he didn’t like a call on the ice.

Arthur skated across the circle.

“You want to try that again, Husinger?” Arthur muttered. He laughed. Again.

Killian swallowed. And swung his legs over the boards.

He was always better on ice than he was anywhere else, more confident and more controlled, and, admittedly, more talented, but in the moment, he was simply thankful he kept his balance, a distinct lack of traction that may have been due to the excessive beating of his heart.

“Cap,” Will gasped. “What the hell. Get off the ice?” Killian shook his head, certain he would fall over if he stopped moving and Husinger stopped laughing when he saw him.

He hadn’t actually seen him in person yet.

He wasn’t that big, no taller than Killian and a little stockier, leaning on his stick with half a smile on his face and a confident attitude that was treading dangerously close to complete and utter dick. He clicked his tongue when Killian was a few inches away, jaw tight and eyes tracing across his street clothes and sneakers.

“Looks like you’re still not quite ready to suit up, Jones,” Husinger grinned.

Will nearly jumped forward.

Killian shook his head, crossing his arms lightly and he still couldn't really come up with any coherent thoughts. “What the hell is your problem?” he asked, ignoring both Robin and Phillip when they mumbled Cap under their breath.

Arthur looked torn between blowing his whistle and making them all skate blue lines.

“I’m afraid I don’t know what you mean.”

“Yeah, you do,” Killian muttered. “Or you wouldn’t look that nervous.” Husinger blinked, smile wavering for half a moment before he schooled his features and pursed his lips. He shook his gloves off. “I’ve never met you before, man,” Husinger continued. “All I know is the legend.”

“There’s no legend.” “Ah, sure there is or you wouldn’t be here to defend it. You worried about your squad? Is that what it is?” “It’s not your team.”

“Not yet. You see that pass last night? Rocket right across the ice. That’s what they were saying on all the talk shows this morning.” “A spot on SportsCenter’s not going to get you a Cup.” “And yet you’ll still be on the bench no matter I do, won’t you?” Husinger asked. Killian fisted his hands at his side, biting on the inside of his lip and he could hear Will breathing behind him. “It’s a talkative team. Not really like that in Hartford, but they do talk about you Hartford and you’re out of commission for awhile.” “Seriously, what is your problem, man?” Phillip balked, huffing when Robin pushed his hand into his jersey.

Husinger shrugged. “I’m not going anywhere. I don’t care about Jones. I don’t care about his fucking brain or his cognitive reasoning or the kids everyone keeps talking about. This is a a hockey team. And it’s supposed to win. I’m here to win. I don’t care about anything else.” “That’s not how this works,” Killian muttered, voice barely audible and Arthur stared at him. “You can’t win if you’re just here for you.”

“Did you miss the part where I don’t care?” “Nah, I heard you. Strangely enough the concussion didn’t affect my hearing.”

Will tried to turn his laugh into a cough, but he was grinning when Killian glanced at him and he’d never picked up his stick. “That was funny, Cap,” he said. “You hear that Locksley? Cap’s making jokes about concussions.” “Don’t tell Emma,” Robin yelled.

Killian rolled his eyes, but Husinger was still standing there and, presumably, still a piece of garbage, absolute dick looking for a moment in the spotlight and they all really should have expected it.

It had already been in print.

“This is my spot now, Jones,” Husinger said, shrugging like it was obvious and Arthur put the whistle back in between his teeth. “And I’m not going anywhere. You can come back and it won’t matter. You’re gone. Might as well get used to it now. Make it easier to explain to your kids next season.”

It wasn’t really red.

It was kind of like...magenta. Burning and searing and so goddamn hot Killian had to glance down at his hands to make sure they hadn’t exploded into flames.

And Killian barely heard Will, a quiet “ah, fuck that guy,” in the background when he walked forward, lifted his hand and punched.

A right hook, straight to the jaw.

Everything went to shit after that.

Killian landed another two punches before Husinger reacted, a fist in his stomach and the side of his cheek and he swore he heard something crack, the pain rushing straight through him. He was never entirely sure how he kept his balance, slipping and sliding and gripping the front of Husinger’s jersey like a goddamn anchor.

He didn’t stop.

He felt an arm around him, trying to pull him away and he didn’t know if it was Will or Robin, didn’t particularly care either way, particularly when another blow landed on the side of his ribs. That made it more difficult to breathe.

And keep fighting.

Arthur blew his whistle.

Phillip cursed when Husinger elbowed him, trying to fight him off as he worked to stay on his skates and there was blood dripping into Killian’s mouth.

He could feel the bruise blooming under his eye, and it was a bit like being thrown into ice-cold water. His legs shook under him, suddenly incapable of supporting his weight and Will mumbled something he couldn’t understand.

Arthur was shouting, yelling instructions and something that sounded a bit like get this asshole the fuck off my ice and Killian exhaled, desperate to blink away the spots in front of his eyes.

Will kept mumbling ambulance.

“No, no, no,” Killian argued, shaking his head. That was a mistake. Weebles wobble and they absolutely fall down.

“Cap.” “No, no, just...just go find Emma.”

#cs ff #captain swan #captain swan ff #captain swan fic #cs fic #blue line change #hey remember how much canon!killian jones loves his pirate ship?#think about the rangers like that pirate ship

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pixiemochi · 6 years

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One Night (Or Possibly the Rest of Our Lives) 🎨🏨

Chapter 5: I Love You

❝Love is scary and Jimin and Jungkook aren’t sure what to do.❞

After stopping to get food, the ride back home was pleasant and filled with small talk. Jungkook asked Jimin about his family and watching the omega light up made his day.

“I love my parents. I miss them a lot. They still live back in Busan.” Jimin stated.

“Oh, you’re from Busan?” Jungkook asked, glancing over at the raven-haired man. “I am too.”

Jimin grinned at that. “That’s awesome. Does your family still live there?” He asked in return.

Jungkook shook his head. “No, they moved to Incheon, it’s where my step dad is from.”

The younger man nodded. “My family still lives in my childhood home. My older brother moved out a year before he graduated college and now he’s married, and they have a little boy. Then I left when I got accepted in to school. My mom was sad to see me go. I was sad too and nervous. Ya know, coming to a new city all by myself. She often asks me to visit, and I always tell her I promise to when I have the money. She says she’ll pay but I always tell her I can’t take her money. They need it.”

Jungkook watched Jimin let out a sigh and look out the window. “We can go soon. Maybe for your winter break.” He told the brunette. “I can tell just how much you miss her and home. I’ll take you. That is, if you don’t mind me coming along. If not, I’ll send you to visit her. Whichever is fine.”

Jimin turned towards the doctor with a big smile on his face. “Really?” He asked. “Oh, I would love that. And you have to come along. My mom would love you. And she would be very understanding of our situation.”

Jungkook chuckled. “That’s settle then, we’ll head down for winter break.”

“You are honestly too good to be true. How?”

The older man just shrugged. “I just try to be a good person.”

“Don’t be so modest. I think you’re a great person. Anyone would be lucky to have you. I’m lucky to have you.”

Jungkook’s alpha preened at the praise. He glanced over at Jimin and smiled. “Thank you, that means a lot.” Jimin returned the smile, genuine with his words.

A few days later, Jimin had found himself sitting on his bed trying not to have a mental breakdown. He had never felt more stressed out. Between his lousy job, his school work piling up (finals were this week, why he decided to take summer classes he’ll never know), and Jungkook, he was sure he was going to go insane. It’s not that Jungkook was stressing out. That wasn’t the case at all. Jungkook was such a big help with everything. It was his feelings for Jungkook that were stressing him out. He was sure at this point that he had fallen head over heels for the doctor. But he was more than certain Jungkook didn’t feel the same. Why would he? They were so different.

Jungkook had been nothing but sweet to him since the day they met. More so since they’re encounter with Ilhoon. Hell, Jungkook fought for Jimin, like any good alpha –good mate. If the brunette wasn’t in love with him before, he definitely was now. He took such good care of him, promised to take him to see his family. He did so much for Jimin without asking or even expecting anything in return. How can one man be so damn perfect?

Idea of having a family with the raven made Jimin’s heart fluttered. However ,he knew that wouldn’t happen. Jimin wasn’t the kind of guy Jungkook would fall in love with. Even though Jungkook was everything Jimin had ever dreamed of. He let out choked sobbed now, thinking that after he gave birth Jungkook would probably want nothing to do with him. He hoped that he’d at least want to keep their baby so he had a better life than what Jimin was living before this.

Jimin pulled his knees to his chest, sitting alone on the bed to the guest bedroom he had be staying in for just over two months. He had taken him only two months to fall in love. He looked down at his tummy with a smile. He was two and a half months along but he was only barely showing, flat stomach now much softer. He rested his hands on his tummy, feeling a tear hit his hand. He let out a shaky sigh but just kept staring at his stomach.

Jungkook was making Jimin lunch, knowing he was going to be hungry. He had cooked up some chicken and rice, grabbing a big bowl and filling it up for the brunette. He smiled to himself. He loved the idea of catering to Jimin and his pup. He loved taking care of him. Jungkook never realized how he felt about having someone with him until Jimin came along. He knows it was odd, the way their situation came about. But he wouldn’t change it for the world. It was then he was beginning to realize something.

If Jimin were to leave he’d be devastated. Not only because he’s the...well the mother of his pup. But because he’s come to care so much for the other man. In fact, Jungkook was pretty sure he had begun to fall in love with him. After their unfortunate encounter with Jimin’s ex, seeing that this man had intentions of hurting Jimin, Jungkook’s alpha instinct had hit him full force. The thought that someone like that could try to take Jimin away from him made him want to hold on to the younger man even tighter.

But he wasn’t sure what to do with this realization though. Should he act on it? Tell Jimin how he feels? Jungkook didn’t know how he would take it. But he was certain he couldn’t keep this to himself.

Jungkook grabbed a bottle of water and a spoon, carrying everything upstairs. He walked to Jimin’s room and knocked before opened the door. “Hey, Jimin-ah, I hope you’re hungry. Well I’m sure you are. But I have your lunch.” He said as he walked in. But he noticed Jimin was sitting on the bed holding himself. He could tell something was wrong. He sat the bowl and water on the side table before sitting down next to Jimin. “Hey, what’s wrong?” He asked, wrapping an arm around Jimin’s shoulders. He noticed the brunette crying now and he hated that.

“I-I can’t…I can’t tell y-you.” He managed to say. “It’ll make everything a-awkward between u-us.”

Jungkook frowned. “Jimin, please. I want to know why you’re crying. Please tell me.”

The omega shook his head. “It’ll ruin e-everything thought…”

Jungkook pulled Jimin closer. “Please, I need to know why you’re hurting.” He almost begged.

Jimin knew he had to tell Jungkook. Even if the outcome was going to be horrible. He had to. He started sobbing now. “I’m hurting be-because I love you b-but you don’t love m-me back and when our p-pup is born y-you’re just gonna leave m-me ‘cause people like y-you don’t fall in love w-with people like me.” The brunette managed to say. He buried his face in to his hands now, afraid to see or even hear Jungkook’s reaction.

The taller man blinked a few times before he pulled Jimin in to his lap. “Oh Jimin,” He began. “You’re so wrong. I do love you. I just realized it today. It took me longer than it probably should have. I think I started falling for you the day I met you. The day we made this wonderful miracle in your tummy. Please don’t cry anymore. You have no reason too because I love you back, just as much as you love me.”

Jimin looked up at Jungkook through his tears. “But h-how? How can you l-love me?” He asked. “We’re nothing alike.”

Jungkook shook his head. “And I don’t care. I love you for who you are. You’re so real and genuine, Jimin. You’re sweet, easy going, and artistic. And beautiful. And you are so easy to love.” He answered. “This is why and how I love you. You are amazing and I’m so glad we found each other.”

Jimin buried his face in to Jungkook’s just, crying again. “I’m so glad you love me back, I don’t know what I would have done if you rejected me.” He murmured. Jungkook wrapped his arms around the brunette, cooing softly to him.

“I can understand you were scared, and probably still are. But baby, I’m here and I’m not going anywhere. For one, my wolf won’t allow it. He was in love with you from the day we met.” He assured and the omega chuckled at that. “Will you be my boyfriend, Jimin?” He asked.

Jimin smiled and nodded. “Of course.” He answered. Jungkook grinned at that.

“No more tears,” He pulled back a bit and wiped Jimin’s tears away. “I want you to eat.” He reached over and grabbed the bowl. Jimin shifted in Jungkook’s lap to get comfortable before taking the bowl from him.

“Thank you,” He said, taking a spoonful. “Ooh this is yummy. I really like this.”

Jungkook smiled. “Good I’m glad. There are a few things I know how to cook.” He chuckled. He reached for the remote and turned on the TV, holding on to Jimin as he moved back against the headboard.

“I love this,” Jimin stated. “Cuddling as a couple.”

Jungkook kissed Jimin’s hair. “I love it too. I’m glad we can finally do it.”

“God, I was stressing so much about whether or not I should tell you I was in love with you.” Jimin confessed.

Jungkook shook his head. “I can say the same thing. When I was downstairs making your lunch I zoned out a few times thinking about it. We’re a mess. Stressing out over nothing.”

“Well I think we kind of had every reason.” Jimin said. “We were worried. But you’re right, we were kind of worried for nothing. I guess we just never saw this happening to us.” He explained.

Jungkook nodded. “I know I didn’t see this happening. I’m glad it did. I’m glad I had a stressful day at work and then got a little drunk at that club. I’m glad you were tipsy and happy, dancing alone in the middle of the dance floor.” Jimin blushed at that and Jungkook just chuckled. “I’m glad we got to have that intimate moment and something wonderful came from it.”

Jimin smiled at that, placing one hand on his stomach. Jungkook placed his hand over Jimin’s. The brunette looked up at Jungkook. “I love you.”

Jungkook smiled back. “I love you too.” He leaned down and pressed a softs kiss to Jimin’s lips. Jimin sighed softly in content against Jungkook’s lips. He didn’t expect today to go like this, but he couldn’t be happier for it.

Previous | Masterlist | Next

This was just fluff so I hoped you guys were able to ignore how short it was liked it!

#jikook au #jikook #jikook fanfic

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fuck-customers · 6 years

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Hi, Native American Museum gift shop girl here. Need to let a real long one off my chest.

First of all, we've hired new people. One of them cannot work rushes without almost having a mental breakdown. I feel awful for them; I used to be that way too when I started and I wish I could help them but all I can do is remind them to work at their own pace and that if customers get impatient and walk out it's not their fault. Everyone seems to yell at them a lot though, mainly the grumpy elderly customers. Makes me wanna drop kick them because THIS PERSON IS JUST WORKING FOR MONEY NOT TO HAVE ANXIETY ATTACKS EVERY DAMN DAY BECAUSE YOU'RE TOO IMPATIENT TO GET YOUR AUDIO TOUR DEBORAH.

Oh, that's another thing. Damn. Audio. Tours. This is going to be our first summer using them and so far with our busy season picking up and huge ass crowds at the box office, EVERYONE wants a damn audio tour. These things are supposed to automatically update as they go through the museum, but a lot of people report that they "don't work properly" (ie. they probably did something wrong and won't tell us). It doesn't help that I wasn't properly shown how to set them up (I've been shown three different ways by three different people), so now I'm at the point where I set them up as best I can and hand them off and hope people can figure them out from there. But the tours take a minute to get set up, since we have to turn them on and make sure they're the right language. It's fine when one or two people want them, but when you have a line going out the door and literally EVERYONE wants a tour, it gets really annoying. People will talk to the other side of the counter waiting for their audio tour, the people behind them will start yelling how many tickets they want and that they want an audio tour, and the cycle goes on. Thing about these audio tours is that they mostly keep you from doing the reading in the museum, effectively cutting down on the time you're in there.

And then when we have everyone returning their tours at the same time? We have to replace the earcovers on the headphones and its hard to do that when you only have two people in box, trying to keep the line from going out the door, as well as changing earcovers and charging the audio tours so they don't die but then you have the new people asking for the audio tours and it gets to the point where you have maybe one fully charged audio tour and no headphones with clean earcovers on it gets pretty overwhemling. My natural response is to start getting sassy about the audio tours, hoping it'll steer people away from wanting them. Or I'll start telling them I have no fully charged tours but if they still want one they still have to pay full price and hope it doesn't die while they're using it.

Then you have the people who try to get discounts while they're in the middle of paying. We give discounts for military ARP or Three A, but they need to show a card (it takes a dollar off each ticket they buy). Some of my coworkers don't require a card to be shown and will take their words for it, but I recall that I got yelled at for actively asking customers if they had the cards last summer because I was "losing the museum money" and was told to stop asking -- it was the customer's responsibility to either ask or read that we offered the discounts. So I stop mentioning the discounts unless I really want to help a certain customer out. I hate, hate, hate it whenever I'm in the middle of processing their payment and they go "Oh, I have *card that qualifies for discount*!" Which makes me have to cancel the payment and restart the entire thing. Not that big of a deal if it's slow, but when I have a line going out the door that makes other people wait longer, so I'll pull my bitch card and say "It has to be shown at the beginning of the transaction, sorry." And finish the payment process. At one point I even put on the price signs that the cards have to be shown before the transaction begins, and that actually prevented people from doing this, but whoever remade the signs for this month took that off.

So now that I've explained my frustrations I'm sure it'll make it easier to understand why I was about to strangle a bitch yesterday.

Yesterday was Memorial Day. We have a bust and a display honoring a gentleman from our community who sacrificed himself in war. Our museum was to hold a service for him and reveal the new display in our newly renovated room. I had a higher up ask me to come in early to help clean, so I clocked in at 8:20 and wiped down all the glass in the lobby and exhibit. By 9 I was already tired and kinda sweaty, but I was able to calmly straighten and stock in the gift shop a little as people started to come in.

Around 10:40, one of the assistant managers came into the shop and asked for someone to switch with the new employee, who was put in box that day. Apparently they were having so many people our newbie was about to have a breakdown. I reluctantly agreed to switch, because neither manager wanted to go and the other girl I was working with is pregnant and I didn't want her dealing with box office stress (out of the two I think gift shop is less stressful, because customer interaction is shorter and you're not bombarded with as many questions as you are in box. Downside is that you cannot sit in shop unless you have a medical reason to).

I go to the box and I tell the newbie to go to the shop. I help my other coworker (I'ma call her Rey for today) finish the rush she was currently facing. Rey starts talking about how a higher up wanted her to help take photos of the service that afternoon, and she wasn't sure when she was going to take her break. I ended up getting super hungry, so I took my lunch at 11:30 despite the fact that I prefer to take my break at 2:00.

I get back from my break, Rey goes off for her break, and I'm stuck with an onslaught of families to deal with by myself. Again, everyone wants audio tours, everyone tries to get discounts in the middle of transactions or right as I'm about to start processing payments, I have to make sure we have a video playing on loop: it's a lot. People get impatient and walk out, a few came to the side and tried to cut the line by talking to me from there but I ignored them and they stormed off angry. I start to get snippy, but I focus because just rolling as quickly as I can makes the workday go by faster.

The memorial service was set to start at 1:30. About that time I get people asking me where it's going to take place, get phone calls from locals asking where to go, so I'm juggling that on top of everything else. In the middle of rolling along smoothly, people start bringing back their audio tours saying that they died while they were in the middle of their tour. As I'm running low on fully charged tours, all I can do is take them from the customers and ask that they finish their tour without the audio guide (and for a wonder new customers don't ask for the audio tours for like two hours!). People start showing interest in the service, so I'm selling less tickets and directing people to the area where the service is being held.

One lady though, oh, I wanted to smack her with the tape dispenser. She comes up and she goes "So, I heard there was an event going on today?"

I say "Yes ma'am, we have a me-"

"With dancing and singing and all that? So where's this festival? Or pow wow?"

I have to pause and gather myself before I finish "It's a memorial service for *community hero*. The only dance we will be having is a war dance in commemoration of him."

The woman starts pouting, "That's it? No singing and dancing?"

I emphasize again that its a MEMORIAL SERVICE with one traditional dance to honor him. It was not a festival or pow wow. I then direct her to the area where the service was taking place in hopes that she would go and be respectful. She's still pouting as she leaves.

Then, like a miracle, as soon as the service started it was dead for me. I maybe had a group of two come in every twenty minutes or so. Rey was gone for a good two hours, and returns whenever the service ended and the first thing she said was "I only had a thirty minute lunch break." I assume she got roped into helping by the higher up that wanted her to work the service. There was a huge influx of people leaving, maybe a handful went on into the exhibit.

The rest of the afternoon was surprisingly not as busy as the day had been up until the start of the ceremony. And for a wonder our last customer walked out at 5:07, so we weren't too late getting out. So the day ended on a fairly good note. (Got to eat at Haffle Wouse too!) Just hope that not every day over the summer is going to be just like today was.

#submissions #fuck customers #cashier problems #happy ending #submission

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spitfirerose · 7 years

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It’s A Hard Noct Life (Noct x Prompto x Ignis)

So I was writing something else, but then I saw @kaciart‘s piece http://kaciart.tumblr.com/post/163650643813 and had to do the Thing (TM). The title was something else, but this felt more appropriate and I’m a terrible person. Also head’s up that there’s blood.

Noct’s crying.

There’s no way Prompto can’t hear the restrained sniffles that escape the tough guise Noctis tries his damndest to keep up as he’s stretched out on his stomach across the Regalia’s backseat. The Advisor isn’t immune to the heart wrenching weeping either, gloved hands grasping the steering wheel so hard that he knows his shaking knuckles must be white beneath bloodied leather.

Prompto’s fair skin isn't spared the crimson either, currently placing pressure against the nasty slashes that bleed through the spare shirt Ignis had ordered him to fetch while he had settled a distressed Noct in his late father’s car. The garment had been one of Gladio’s, a taboo subject to bring up, but one that clouds their thoughts like a heavy fog. Their perfectly functioning party of four was now an unbalanced trio painfully struggling to adapt without the powerhouse of a Shield.

“We’re almost there, buddy, promise. We’ll get you patched up right away, okay?” Prompto doesn’t expect a response out of him, hurting all the more when Noct only mumbles incoherently through a heaving hiccup.

The blond reaches for his hand that grips the seat like a lifeline through the unforgiving pain, lacing fingers together in a silent prayer to the Six for it to bring him comfort. It’s heartbreaking enough that he’s hurting Noctis while helping, and he bites down particularly hard on his bottom lip as the car hits a bump in the road causing Noctis to cry out. Prompto wants so damn bad to let the pressure up, to ease his suffering, but he can’t. All he can do is repeat himself like a broken record that they’ll be at the outpost’s motel soon, that Noct’ll be alright.

Prompto honestly doesn’t remember Ignis practically swerving in front of their motel room’s door, and he doesn’t want to remember Noct’s sharp whimpers of sheer agony from the daunting task of maneuvering him out of the Regalia.

He’ll remember them enough in his frequent nightmares.

“See? We made it, Noct, just like I promised.” He still holds Noct’s hand in his own while supporting most his weight, Ignis unable to open the door fast enough before sprinting over to their sparse stock of medical supplies.

Simple tasks are ordered as Ignis improvises, keeping Prompto grounded and his head on as Noct nearly loses his when the gunner carefully strips him of the remnants of his shirt. The stench of blood hits him fully, making the mistake of seeing the ugly, jagged claw lines sliced across the pale expanse of his back, courtesy of the rabid coeurl clan. He’s grateful that Noct has his eyes squeezed impossibly tight, knowing damn well his charade of calm would have shattered to nothingness if he had so much as glimpsed up at him.

“Bed’s right here for you, buddy, nice and comfy. Iggy and I need you to sit, can you do that for us?” Prompto’s never spoken so softly, so gently in a tone typically reserved for easing his chocobo through a tough patch of terrain.

Noctis tries.

It takes both Ignis and Prompto to help him up onto the mattress and into a sitting position that leaves his back exposed, barred for both to see as he’s pathetically curled inwards with shoulders hunched in. Noctis shivers, tears flowing freely down pallid cheeks as his expression tries to steel itself once more, bracing for the inevitable.

Prompto can’t do this. He can’t.

He swears by the Six he sees that same hesitation flash across Ignis’s face when their eyes meet, watery cerulean to steady seafoam green. The Advisor nods only once as he takes a seat at the foot of the bed, bandages and curative solution at the ready as Prompto pulls himself together to be the best friend Noctis needs and deserves before taking the spot in front of him.

“Noct? Hey, can you hear me? Iggy’s going to start patching you up, and I’m right here, okay?” The blond soothes, tenderly clasping Noct’s hand in both of his with an assuring squeeze, thumb brushing over knuckles as their foreheads touch. “I’m not leaving you for a moment, Noctis. You can tell me that it hurts, it’s alright. I’m right here.”

It hurts the second Ignis applies the first stretch of bandage coated with a calculated combination of potion and antidote, healing sensation more like burning his skin with how it stings the open wound like salt. Prompto witnesses everything, how Noct’s lips twitch and tremble from trying to keep the sobs at bay, nose crinkling in attempts to breathe through obstructed nostrils, leaning so far forward that he may as well fall into Prompto’s lap in reflex to escape the source of further pain. Maybe he’s giving into his best friend’s offer at admitting that it hurts or he can’t hold anything back any longer as the whimpers transform into strangled gasps of pure pain, sounding reminiscent of a vulnerable child crying out for anyone to hear. Their names are pleaded within the cries, Gladio’s nearly choked out until remembered with a chilling hitch. Noct's terrified of being abandoned, squeezing with all his dwindled strength as if Prompto will vanish if he doesn't hold on tight enough.

“Iggy and I got you, buddy. Just a little longer.” An uneasy smile graces his features, hoping it’ll curb the tears that threaten to burst through at the sight of Noct breaking down as yet another bandage is added, crushing the life out of his fingers. The extensive injuries are scarred into Prompto’s memory, he knows full well that it’ll be far from a little while, but maybe by remaining calm it’ll seem over sooner.

It doesn’t.

Prompto promises him that he'll get to sleep as long as he wants.

Noctis manages to remain conscious throughout the grueling process before his head slumps down beneath Prompto’s chin and stays there. The gunner can’t bring himself to move, having only the energy to wrap an arm around Noct’s shoulders in a semblance of a hug and burying his face in the nest of disheveled raven hair. The exhaustion is overwhelming as it hits Prompto all at once, his next breaths on the dangerous verge of crying into the messy locks.

“It’d be best to lie down and rest.” Ignis speaks up for the first time since directing Prompto around from what feels like a lifetime ago. The blond nods slowly, not ready to let Noctis go but does anyway, the Advisor so professional in adjusting the Prince into a more comfortable sleeping arrangement as if done hundreds of times prior. It’s not a peaceful sleep in the slightest at how he grimaces and whines in discomfort of movement, but Specs is right as always. Noct’s gonna need all the sleep he can get--no different than usual. Prompto immediately excuses himself to the bathroom, stumbling on numb legs and desperation to get there before his composure completely crumbles away in peace once behind the shut door.

He doesn’t even make to the toilet seat before sobbing, needlessly hiding his face in his hands as he finally, finally allows himself to breakdown. It’s too much, today has been too much--everything has been since Gladio's departure. The bottle of emotions bursts forth like a geyser, concealed behind quaking palms.

He had left the pack of coeurls be, assuming they’d be easily dispatched by the nonexistent swordsman. It’d been too late then, realization striking him that there was no Gladiolus, no Shield to protect Noctis as his friend’s haunting screams pierced through the air. There had been so much blood, both beast and human, he nearly puked at the very real possibility that Noct was dead and it was all his fault. Were it not for Ignis’s quick thinking as always, he would have been. And even then, he’d been powerless to ease Noct’s suffering. What if he’d started crying like he’d been on the edge of since the start? What if Noct broke off their friendship at nearly getting him killed? If they decided it best to ditch the burden of a blond, obvious the commoner would never have a place amongst them

Stupid. Idiot, useless, worthless--

There’s a knock at the door, suddenly self-aware at just how loud he's been. Prompto scrubs beneath his eyes with a fist, not trusting himself to speak at the second rapping of knuckles against wood.

“Prompto, a moment?” Ignis inquires from the other side, and the gunner exhales. “You’ve forgotten something.”

Huh?

Curiosity has him over to open the door to Ignis waiting patiently with a neatly folded bundle of garments held out for him. The only sign of exhaustion is in his eyes, weary and aged beyond his young adult years, offering the clothes easily recognized as his chocobo print pajamas.

“Perhaps I was unclear. I meant for you to lie down and rest as well.”

“Iggy, I’m fine, I--”

“After the events of today, I must disagree. You put Noct’s sanity as your top priority and remained level-headed throughout the ordeal. That is no easy feat, one that takes a great toll on one's self, and I am quite proud of you for accomplishing it. Your determination to see Noct well gave me the strength to do what had to be done. I seem to have gravely misjudged your character, Prompto, as you are far stronger and a more positive influence on Noct than I had let myself believe. I don’t wish to dwell on the outcome had you not accompanied us.”

“Ig--” He starts before halting, vision blurring as a fresh batch of tears makes it difficult to read the Advisor’s sincere expression. Prompto blinks, painfully aware that speaking will destroy the miracle of not crying before Ignis. Ignis Scientia knows as he practically knows everything, reading the blond like an open book whose spine hangs by a thread.

“Go on now, take a shower, and I’ll see what I can procure us all for dinner while you two get some much needed rest.” He spares Prompto any excess conversation, handing over the clothes before turning to get to work.

Ignis almost doesn’t catch the soft utterance of his name, followed by a delicate whisper of thanks.

Noctis cries in his sleep, too, muffled by the firm pillow he clutches like a child to a treasured teddy bear, arms wrapped tightly around it with face smothered in. It's by some six sense that he detects Prompto gingerly taking a seat at his left, stretching out an arm in attempt to locate the blond without looking.

“‘m right here, buddy.” Prompto murmurs, taking the hand as his eyes skip over the thick healing gauze. “You alright if I--”

“Please.” The hoarse strain of Noct’s voice does a number on his heart, and Prompto wastes no time in carefully crawling onto the bed as not to disturb the injuries. “Ig--Ignis?”

“Cooking, I think.” Prompto settles in closer than usual, and Noct certainly doesn’t complain. “Want me to get him?”

Noctis nods in that sheepish way, a bit frantically, and the blond gently squeezes his hand as a promise to return. If he's being honest with himself, he'd sleep better with Ignis, too.

The Advisor is preoccupied by assembling ingredients together, appearing more into the recipe than normal as Prompto approaches. There's a subtle tremor of the utensils he holds, gaze beyond the written words, movements almost robotic as if on autopilot.

“Y’know, there is a Crow’s Nest across the street, and--”

“Noct requires me?”

“Man, how do you always know? And yeah. He’s, uh, not the only one. Come on, Specs, you need rest, too. We all need each other after today, yeah?”

Ignis merely hums in response, impossible to decipher, but sets everything aside just the same.

The bed really isn’t meant for three, but there’s no denying the assuring comfort that being close to one another brings after a hell of a day. Noct is sandwiched in the middle, confined to lying on his stomach, but calm and content nonetheless. Prompto clings to him like a sloth to a tree, arm captured and hugged tightly with legs facing a similar tangled treatment. Ignis, typically reserved in bed, has a careful arm draped over the two, mindful of Noct who clings with a fistful of his nightshirt. He dreads the necessity of cleaning the bandages come later, an alarm set should he drift off.

It’s unbearably silent without Gladio’s snores.

He truthfully hasn’t slept since the swordsman had left to better himself, and he has a sneaking suspicion that Prompto picked up on it, adding onto the earlier conversation that the blond is far more observant than he lets on. There’s more that lies beneath the ceaseless cheery chatter, evident at how he couldn’t possibly be closer to Noct even if he tried. There’s desperation in his pose, and Ignis can’t shake the state he had unsurprisingly seen in the bathroom. It’s not Prompto’s fault at the botched Hunt, and the Advisor will carry the blame with him for as long as he lives.

They do need each other, now more than ever.

It’s a hard knock life without.

#my writing #noctis lucis caelum #prompto argentum #ignis scentia #It's a mess is what it is #let them rest #might finish the other one eventually

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howtoloseweightfastsafely · 5 years

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The Dangers of Low-Carb and Other "No Calorie Counting" Diets

I've found that the people who rant and rave about rules-based diets that lack calorie counting as a "lifelong solution" (or have been very successful losing weight on these plans) are:

Loaded up on coffee and stimulants at dangerous levels

Suffer from adrenal fatigue, thyroid issues, and hormonal imbalances

Reintroduce insulin resistance to their cells (this is a well-documented negative with ketogenic/very low carb dieting)

Develop an obsessive mentality to cutting out a vilified food group (known as orthorexia nervosa), and end up causing themselves more stress than necessary. Unbeknownst to them, this leads to excess cortisol output (the stress hormone) which is known to increase stomach fat storage and muscle breakdown.

Far from what I would call a "lifelong solution".

Some other "not so great" things:

It's not easy to remove all carbs or fat or meat or dairy or one of the hundred other fad diets out there. Rather, it's very easy to fall off these plans and get stuck spinning your wheels for weeks, if not months.

When most people inevitably fall off the diet, even for a moment, they don't realize that it's not the end of the world. They just think that they "screwed up once again" and they binge out of anger and self-hatred. This binging puts on more fat via the high-calorie intake, but also because cells are more likely to store excess fat anytime a binge lasts more than a day (which is far too often the case with dieters).

In other words, if you screw up your diet on a Friday afternoon, do NOT say "ok I'll just start fresh on Monday". That 3-day binge is guaranteed to store a lot of fat, whereas forgiving yourself and starting fresh on Saturday morning will minimize fat gain.

When a restrictive diet fails, the dieter still hasn't learned the truth about controlling calories and macronutrient intake. So they end up shit outta luck again, ripe to be fooled by the next fad diet.

I'm not saying this to scare you. I'm saying this because it's true.

I've seen and heard of tens of hundreds of people fall prey to the same problem. Being sold on a diet that restricts a certain food group, seeing a lot of initial progress, and then wondering what happened when they plateau and the proverbial rug is pulled out from beneath.

I've also regrettably gone through many bouts of zero-carb dieting, very low-carb dieting (no more than 75 grams a day), very low-fat dieting, and more.

And when it's all said and done, there are only 2 possible outcomes:

1. Learning the fundamentals around nutrition and weight loss, and using them with virtual "oil wells" of success

2. Gaining back all the weight lost and then some, and searching for the next shiny new fad diet

I urge you not to be in the latter group. Stick with the truths that you learn here, and use these strategies for LIFE.

Anyone who is successful in ANY endeavor knows that the fundamentals will always work. And in weight loss, the most fundamental truth is that you must burn more calories than you take in, on a consistent basis. Going too high will cause fat gain or a plateau, and going too low will burn up more muscle than fat (giving the "skinny-fat" look) and ruin your metabolic/hormonal processes.

With that being said, I suggest one of the 2 following options (in both options, eat a minimum of 50-75 grams of carbs per day depending on your body size/activity. Smaller body or less activity = less carbs):

1. Jump right into calorie control (not too high and definitely not too low) as outlined in

Chapter 10, or using the bonus Excel calculator.

2. Mix both methods. Start by eating well 6 days a week, and having 1 "cheat day" per

week. Spend a minimum of 4 weeks, and a max of 12 on this, and then jump right into

calorie control. (Option 2 is laid out in the "Quick Start Guide")

[Important Note: I have given the "mix both methods" option since I know many people simply will NOT want to start counting calories right away. This method definitely works and is easy to jump into, but it can get taxing on the body and cause plateaus unless closely monitored. Do not do it for more than 12 weeks without a 1-2 week "diet break". For the best long-term results, I would start right away with counting calories and fat/protein/carbs a la Option 1.]

In any case, let's talk more about the "what to do" part.

My main philosophy for weight control AND feeling sane/happy/enjoying some "treats" is centered around the following:

Remove as many processed foods as you can, and fill the rest with "outdoor treats"

It took me some time to really get this through my head, but it had to be done.

For starters, whether it was low-fat, or sugar-free, or low-carb or whatever other marketing mumbo-jumbo was on the box if it wasn't a natural food, it HAD TO GO.

Anything that had *fake* ingredients got the axe!

I literally threw all the junk out of my cupboard and fridge. This meant all crackers, cookies, soda, bread, pasta, ice cream, chicken nuggets, etc.

And I started from a "blank canvas".

I only kept the simple ONE INGREDIENT FOODS that were in my kitchen. This meant things like frozen chicken/beef/other meat, eggs, olive oil, butter (yes, good ol', delicious butter!), beans, root vegetables and potatoes, rice, etc.!

And I made a pact with myself that I highly suggest you follow too:

Eat as many whole, natural, home-cooked meals as possible, and if, and only if, you are honestly too busy to prepare food, eat outside at some place where you can count calories and protein/fat/carbs. I call these "outdoor treats" since you should be buying them out of the house (meaning there's no junk to binge on inside the house!)

And therein lies one of my personal "secrets" to fat loss.

Kick your own butt as much as you can to cook nutritious meals at home, and if you honestly can't one day? Go to the "big-box" stores that list calories in the store (or if you're ambitious enough, search Google for the store's "Nutrition Facts"). Or go get a junk protein bar (95% of them are filled with unhealthy ingredients). Or hit up some fast food.

I'm serious.

If you don't have a meal prepared, go to McDonald's for all I care (though I seriously try not to, for obvious health/food quality reasons).

But I would much rather you grab junk food (with sufficient protein so you can see attractive, lean muscle when the fat disappears) that you can COUNT AND RECORD, rather than grabbing a tub of pasta or big sandwich at some deli, where you have NO idea how much you're eating.

I see the latter of these situations happen ALL the time, especially in professional settings. (I've worked in corporate finance for 3+ years).

My coworkers, knowing me as the resident "health nut" will say:

"Hey Sayan, I just had this amazing salad from down the block."

Or:

"Yeah, I got some Mediterranean food today. It's really fresh and organic so I know it'll help me lose weight."

Or hundreds of other similar things, primarily based around the MYTH that "just eating healthy" will help you lose weight.

Sorry bucko, but as I've mentioned a few times already, it's just not that simple.

My awesome, yet misinformed, coworkers don't realize that the "amazing salad" contains dressing poured on at the discretion of the salad guy behind the counter. Or that the Mediterranean food contains lots of hummus, rice/pita, and/or meat, which, may technically be "good for you", but cannot be counted and recorded. And thus does not fit with your weight loss goals.

You may have also noticed an interesting phenomenon in most food establishments. The salad guy behind the counter (or food server in general), doesn't seem to exactly like his/her job. Many a time have I said "just give me a few drops of the olive oil" or "put the dressing on the side please", only to have them give me the proverbial "f*ck you" by dousing my salad in probably 5 tablespoons worth of oil (at 140 calories per tablespoon, that's a cool 700 calories of dressing.)

This ruins everything. We already can't count how many calories are in the meal, we don't know how much protein is in the meal, we have no idea how the protein source has been cooked/prepared, and now we have a gazillion calories of oil or dressing to deal with.

No bueno.

Which brings us back to the main point.

Interested in losing weight? Then click below to see the exact steps I took to lose weight and keep it off for good...

Read the previous article about "The #1 Ridiculous Diet Myth Pushed By 95% Of Doctors And "experts" That Is Keeping You From The Body Of Your Dreams"

Read the next article about "Why Red Meat May Be Good For You And Eggs Won't Kill You"

Moving forward, there are several other articles/topics I'll share so you can lose weight even faster and feel great doing it.

Below is a list of these topics and you can use this Table of Contents to jump to the part that interests you the most.

Topic 1: How I Lost 30 Pounds In 90 Days - And How You Can Too

Topic 2: How I Lost Weight By Not Following The Mainstream Media And Health Guru's Advice - Why The Health Industry Is Broken And How We Can Fix It

Topic 3: The #1 Ridiculous Diet Myth Pushed By 95% Of Doctors And "experts" That Is Keeping You From The Body Of Your Dreams

Topic 4: The Dangers of Low-Carb and Other "No Calorie Counting" Diets

Topic 5: Why Red Meat May Be Good For You And Eggs Won't Kill You

Topic 6: Two Critical Hormones That Are Quietly Making Americans Sicker and Heavier Than Ever Before

Topic 7: Everything Popular Is Wrong: The Real Key To Long-Term Weight Loss

Topic 8: Why That New Miracle Diet Isn't So Much of a Miracle After All (And Why You're Guaranteed To Hate Yourself On It Sooner or Later)

Topic 9: A Nutrition Crash Course To Build A Healthy Body and Happy Mind

Topic 10: How Much You Really Need To Eat For Steady Fat Loss (The Truth About Calories and Macronutrients)

Topic 11: The Easy Way To Determining Your Calorie Intake

Topic 12: Calculating A Weight Loss Deficit

Topic 13: How To Determine Your Optimal "Macros" (And How The Skinny On The 3-Phase Extreme Fat Loss Formula)

Topic 14: Two Dangerous "Invisible Thorn" Foods Masquerading as "Heart Healthy Super Nutrients"

Topic 15: The Truth About Whole Grains And Beans: What Traditional Cultures Know About These So-called "Healthy Foods" That Most Americans Don't

Topic 16: The Inflammation-Reducing, Immune-Fortifying Secret of All Long-Living Cultures (This 3-Step Process Can Reduce Chronic Pain and Heal Your Gut in Less Than 24 Hours)

Topic 17: The Foolproof Immune-enhancing Plan That Cleanses And Purifies Your Body, While "patching Up" Holes, Gaps, And Inefficiencies In Your Digestive System (And How To Do It Without Wasting $10+ Per "meal" On Ridiculous Juice Cleanses)

Topic 18: The Great Soy Myth (and The Truth About Soy in Eastern Asia)

Topic 19: How Chemicals In Food Make Us Fat (Plus 10 Banned Chemicals Still in the U.S. Food Supply)

Topic 20: 10 Banned Chemicals Still in the U.S. Food Supply

Topic 21: How To Protect Yourself Against Chronic Inflammation (What Time Magazine Calls A "Secret Killer")

Topic 22: The Truth About Buying Organic: Secrets The Health Food Industry Doesn't Want You To Know

Topic 23: Choosing High Quality Foods

Topic 24: A Recipe For Rapid Aging: The "Hidden" Compounds Stealing Your Youth, Minute by Minute

Topic 25: 7 Steps To Reduce AGEs and Slow Aging

Topic 26: The 10-second Trick That Can Slash Your Risk Of Cardiovascular Mortality By 37% (Most Traditional Cultures Have Done This For Centuries, But The Pharmaceutical Industry Would Be Up In Arms If More Modern-day Americans Knew About It)

Topic 27: How To Clean Up Your Liver and Vital Organs

Topic 28: The Simple Detox 'Cheat Sheet': How To Easily and Properly Cleanse, Nourish, and Rid Your Body of Dangerous Toxins (and Build a Lean Well-Oiled "Machine" in the Process)

Topic 29: How To Deal With the "Stress Hormone" Before It Deals With You

Topic 30: 7 Common Sense Ways to Have Uncommon Peace of Mind (or How To Stop Your "Stress Hormone" In Its Tracks)

Topic 31: How To Sleep Like A Baby (And Wake Up Feeling Like A Boss)

Topic 32: The 8-step Formula That Finally "fixes" Years Of Poor Sleep, Including Trouble Falling Asleep, Staying Asleep, And Waking Up Rested (If You Ever Find Yourself Hitting The Snooze Every Morning Or Dozing Off At Work, These Steps Will Change Your Life Forever)

Topic 33: For Even Better Leg Up And/or See Faster Results In Fixing Years Of Poor Sleep, Including Trouble Falling Asleep, Staying Asleep, And Waking Up Rested, Do The Following:

Topic 34: Solution To Overcoming Your Mental Barriers and Cultivating A Winner's Mentality

Topic 35: Part 1 of 4: Solution To Overcoming Your Mental Barriers and Cultivating A Winner's Mentality

Topic 36: Part 2 of 4: Solution To Overcoming Your Mental Barriers and Cultivating A Winner's Mentality

Topic 37: Part 3 of 4: Solution To Overcoming Your Mental Barriers and Cultivating A Winner's Mentality

Topic 38: Part 4 of 4: Solution To Overcoming Your Mental Barriers and Cultivating A Winner's Mentality

Topic 39: How To Beat Your Mental Roadblocks And Why It Can Be The Difference Between A Happy, Satisfying Life And A Sad, Fearful Existence (These Strategies Will Reduce Stress, Increase Productivity And Show You How To Fulfill All Your Dreams)

Topic 40: Maximum Fat Loss in Minimum Time: The Body Type Solution To Quick, Lasting Results

Topic 41: If You Want Maximum Results In Minimum Time You're Going To Have To Work Out (And Workout Hard, At That)

Topic 42: Food Planning For Maximum Fat Loss In Minimum Time

Topic 43: How To Lose Weight Fast If You're in Chronic Pain

Topic 44: Nutrition Basics for Fast Pain Relief (and Weight Loss)

Topic 45: How To Track Results (And Not Fall Into the Trap That Ruins 95% of Well-Thought Out Diets)

Topic 46: Advanced Fat Loss - Calorie Cycling, Carb Cycling and Intermittent Fasting

Topic 47: Advanced Fat Loss - Part I: Calorie Cycling

Topic 48: Advanced Fat Loss - Part II: Carb Cycling

Topic 49: Advanced Fat Loss - Part III: Intermittent Fasting

Topic 50: Putting It All Together

Learn more by visiting our website here: invigoratenow.com

#weightloss #diet

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bangtan-spells · 7 years

Text

Taehyung Scenario: You Can Be The Boss.

Request: A BIG PET PEEVE I HAVE IN FANFICS ARE THAT THE READER NEVER GETS TO BE THE CEO (IN AN AU LOL), IT IS ALWAYS THE MALE. SO DO YOU THINK YOU COULD WRITE A CEO-READER (OH LIKE A HELLA HUGE COMPANY) AND THEN AN ASSISTANT-TAEHYUNG (OR IDK, BUT SOMETHING BELOW HER) (I’ve been searching since like last year for something like this and I still haven’t found one😒) YAYAYAYAYAYA THANKS

Genre: Fluff - CEO Reader AU

Part 2

It wasn’t even nine in the morning and you’d already had to handle two emergencies through your pone, sometimes you thanked the heaven for living in a time were connections were easily handled. The quiet background buzz at the reception felt like home, and you greeted the secretaries there wit a quick nod and a short good morning, walking straight to the elevators while your heels clicked on the polished floor.

Some days, you still couldn’t believe how far you’d gotten, and other days, just like this one, you were proud of yourself, of being able to laugh at the faces of those who only thought you were simply a dreamer, that women couldn’t make it far into the business world. You looked at the reflection that the elevator’s doors gave you and smiled satisfied. This was your world, you’d taken onto it with a lot of brain, charm and effort, you weren’t the CEO of your own telephone company for nothing.

Your office was located at the fifteenth floor, you enjoyed a pretty view of the city from the huge glass windows and it was decorated to your own liking. It was just nice to be the boss. When the elevator reached your floor and you made your way to your office, some of your employee’s greeted you, some others just got to the side to let you pass and maybe they were just a little scared you thought, intimidated more likely but you’d stopped being worried about that, whoever got past the initial prejudice and supposition would know that you were just a normal girl in a position of power and control, not a monster in disguise.

The door to your office was opened and you eyed your assistant’s desk but he wasn’t there, he was the most capable person you’d had on your side, sharp minded, witty, managed to keep almost every one happy and delighted them with a quick chatter. You stopped your train of thoughts when you saw a coffee mug ready and waiting for you at your desk, accompanied by some biscuits.

–Good day sunshine! – oh, there he was. Taehyung was like no other worker you had, that for sure, with his deep voice and animated demeanor that sometimes bordered on overwhelming. You dissimulated your smile while taking off your long coat and giving a sip to your coffee; it was perfect, Taehyung never brought it wrong.

–It’s really inappropriate of you to call me that Taehyung, I’m your boss – he just smiled at you, all teeth and joy so you looked down at the papers in front of you to stop yourself from staring. –With that being said, what do we have for today? –

–Meeting at nine thirty with the chief engineer about the new program he’s working on, reviewing on two new apps by ten and a half, have a call with the investors so I reserved you forty minutes after eleven for that, oh and the new interns arrive today, I did a preselection and reduced the group to five and they’ll have a private interview with you starting at two so you have enough time to go to see your parents after midday because their anniversary is today – he said, already on his efficient mode.

You gulped on your coffee, looking surprised at him. –Oh my god, I forgot… I need to get them a gift Taehyung –

–I already did – Taehyung said, signaling to one of your couches where a box with a pretty ribbon laid. –Since I knew you were most likely going to forget it, I took the liberty of planning a one week trip for them, and they should have a special lunch delivered with the catering service at their house by twelve, so you only need to take the box with you to give them their tickets and congratulate them –

You stared dumbfounded at him, sometimes, Taehyung went too fast but that was good, that was specifically good when he never let escape details like this and managed to save your day. You stayed silent for a moment and Taehyung talked again, he wasn’t one to do well with silence.

–Don’t you have the greatest assistant in the country? – he smiled again while looking at you. His tie was a little crooked, and who wore ties with little comic whales to work? Taehyung, that’s who; the indeed greatest assistant in the country who worked for you.

–Thanks Taehyung, you did well – you smiled softly at him and Taehyung shrugged.

–At your service boss, call me if you need me – he checked something else on his iPad and then exited your office, leaving you wondering how you’d managed to do without him before.

Working with Taehyung was refreshing somehow, because he, unlike others, never seemed to feel intimidated by you and you liked that about him, sometimes you wondered why someone as smart and capable as him was working as an assistant. You loved to have him, yes, but, you also knew he would make it big on his own.

It had been a busy month at the enterprise and you had only made it through working hand in hand with Taehyung, the guy was like a clock with those schedules of his. You closed the folder in your hand satisfied, it was almost eleven pm so you should head to home, you were tired but you had already gone through the full statistics of the month, everything was in order but you still insisted in checking them by yourself after the human resources and financial team finished them.

You put on your long white coat, took your purse and phone, turned off the lights and went outside, only to find Taehyung dozing off on his desk. You stopped surprised outside your office, why was he still there?

–Taehyung? – he startled with the sound of your voice, straightening himself on the seat and looking at you a little wild eyed.

–Yes boss? – he stood up and cleared his throat and you felt so guilty, you hadn’t considered saying to him that he could leave at his normal hour even if you were staying late that day, Taehyung had been with you for almost three months already and this wasn’t the first time he stayed until you left, you thought he’d remember he didn’t have to.

He looked tired, super tired in your opinion, didn’t he have someone waiting for him at home? You didn’t so you didn’t care for arriving early, but what about him?

–You shouldn’t have stayed Taehyung– You said softly and he smiled, shaking his head.

–I didn’t know if you were going to need me Miss – he tried to straighten his tie, but somehow, Taehyung’s ties were always messy whatever he did to fix them.

–I’ll tell the driver to get you home, it’s too late –

–There’s no need to – he always seemed shy when you tried to make things a little easier for him.

–I insist –

Taehyung looked at you for a few seconds and then his usual playful smile was back on his face, nodding and starting to pick up his things, something in him rose a sort of tenderness in you that was definitely out of place at the office.

Your driver was ten minutes late and for some mysterious reason Taehyung wasn’t answering his phone. You wondered if something was going on when your usual car stopped at your door, then, it was Taehyung getting out of it.

–Good morning – he said to your surprised self, as if this was the most normal thing, which in fact wasn’t.

–Good morning Taehyung… where’s my driver? –

Taehyung shrugged and opened the back door for you. –He is currently in the middle of a personal emergency and he couldn’t make it, so I’ll be your driver for today, I’m super multitasker like that –

That earned a little laugh from you, but Taehyung was apparently being serious about this. –Alright…but what about the office? You need to be there too–

–Not really – he said before closing your door and taking a seat behind the wheel. –I got that covered so you don’t need to worry boss – he smiled cheekily and you shook your head, you almost expected him to wink at you or something but he didn’t and you felt flustered for having such thought, Taehyung must be really fun to be with outside of work and you definitely shouldn’t be thinking about that.

You cleared your throat, focused on the memorandum you were currently writing on your iPad and let him in charge of the wheel.

–You would hate that decision later – Taehyung said slyly at your back and you turned around on your chair to look at him, he was reviewing some paperwork by the corner of your desk, then you looked at your thumb, you’d been biting onto the tip of your nail for a good minute.

You laughed, well he was right, you just got your manicure done yesterday and Taehyung did miracles to dig a little space in your schedule just for it. Taehyung raised his eyes to you, deep brown and soft with an understanding gaze.

–They’ll fix it Y/N, just trust them –

–Is not that easy… – you said softly, it wasn’t every day that you let yourself be seen doubting in front of your workers but this was, well, Taehyung. He knew it, even if you weren’t saying a thing that you were on the edge of a nervous breakdown, there was a glitch in one of the most important platforms you owned and the engineering team was working against the watch to get it right and working again, but what if they couldn’t? not only was this going to cost you a lot of money but also you could lose a lot of contracts, sponsors, investors, and it wasn’t as easy for you to trust as it was for Taehyung. –What if they can’t make it? It’ll be my failure too and I…–

You sighed and Taehyung let down his pen, then he was searching for something on his pocket and offering you a little candy after that.

–They’ll fix it, you have a great team working for you and you’re always getting them on nice training programs for them to improve even more, so trust them – Taehyung smiled and then wiggled his eyebrows a little for you to take the candy on his hand.

It was too late at night, he should have gone home about three hours ago but honestly, you were glad he was there. You took the candy from his hand, it was strawberry flavored.

–Tell me about you Taehyung – you didn’t want to think about what was going on in the enterprise for a while and you had been wanting to know a little more about this assistant of yours that was so unique.

–Like? – he seemed amused by your request, if judging by the playful smile stretching on his lips while he ate a candy himself.

–Like… why you’re always wearing such things to work? – you signaled the tie with little whales, which seemed to be his favorite, the thing was obnoxious and funny, and somehow, something only Taehyung was capable of pulling off. But you’d seen him walking around the office in weird slacks, or jackets that didn’t seem to match anything, or matching colors you’d never think to match but that looked somehow at place if it was him the one wearing them.

Taehyung burst in laughter by that, and his laugh was low, deep and warm like honey, just like his voice. You looked down for a moment, telling yourself to keep it together and undid the sleek ponytail of your hair to let it fall down freely.

–Well, isn’t it original? I like it, what a better reason to wear something right? – it was as simple as that. –Makes me stand out, so I don’t get lost among the rest –

He rested his chin on his palm and fixed his eyes on you before winking, you should have said something about how inappropriate that was, but you liked it, kind of. It was difficult to say sometimes if you were overwhelmed or not by Taehyung, by his antics, by his sense of humor and his way of knowing exactly how to work with your rhythm. So instead of calling him on the right ways to behave at the office, you just felt your face overheating.

–You would always stand out amongst the rest of the people Taehyung…– you held his gaze, saw how his lips stretched into a full smile and had to look to the other side. –You don’t really need ties with whales for that –

You giggled softly and Taehyung’s eyes were still on you. You looked relaxed now, and he was glad for that. He didn’t like it when you were stressed, so he always made his best to have everything under control for you.

Taehyung admired the pretty way in which your hair was framing your face, it made you look way younger. He liked to make you company, ever since he entered your enterprise he was sure you weren’t as cold as his coworkers whispered over lunch hours, the majority of the time people were quick to assume and didn’t take their time to know someone like you, who had so many responsibilities to look after, so many people to take care for, someone whose decisions affected not only you but the rest of your workers. Taehyung actually admired you and knew you only needed to let go a little, thing you only did now whenever he was around.

–I know… but my whale tie makes you smile boss – Taehyung spoke softly, not missing the way in which you were looking at him, a little surprised and bashful, like a kid caught with their hand inside the cookie jar. He hadn’t missed the way you always disguised a laugh with his choice of ties or clothes. –So I wear it to make you smile–

You were the only two at that floor, and the security guards doing their usual rounds should be there in about thirty minutes, so nobody else heard the way you laughed right then, fanning your face because of his words. You hadn’t fired Taehyung yet because he was honestly the best at his work and deep down, you wanted him there, so yeah, maybe also because his tie with little whales made you smile like no other thing did.

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jelanisaeed · 5 years

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Starborn Turths: Chapter 1 - Starborn Bakari

Starborn Truths

Chapter 1: Starborn Bakari

Only a few days from the winter solstice. Bakari frowned, toying with his arrows. Every solstice brought with its harsh memories. None, however, hurt worse than winter. It sought to hurt him, he decided, and received its wish every year. He only hoped the tears wouldn’t keep him awake at night.

The change of pace helped some. Wintergreen Forest gave him peace of mind with its beautiful evergreens and soft, blanket of snow. Northern Philos was known for it. Especially as winter approached. Only a few days before mother nature forced them to fight blizzards to get to their goals.

Thankfully, the men shoveled out the snow from basecamp and made the perfect patch of dry land for them all.

“Bakari, get off yer lazy arse,” Bakari rolled his eyes. Leave it to Nowles to ruin a lovely morning. The stocky, bald man stood underneath his favorite tree with his flailing arms. Like all bandits in the Bloody Castor, he dressed in patterns of red and gold with plain, lightweight armor and heavy boots. For this time of the year, many sported parkas and Nowles was no exception. Except, he added a silver boar brooch for his rank and pierced his ears with gold earrings.

An irritating man with a nauseating voice matched well with his position as Task Manager. No one kept people accountable to their chores them him.

“Yer sposed to have cleaned the horses!”

It hurt his ears worse when Nowles was right. Honestly, couldn’t learn to accept his winnings with dignity? Instead he smeared a smug smile across his plump face. Though he refused to accept defeat. Everyone knew when Bakari took to his favorite tree, it meant he didn’t space. And that’s what he did. Leaning against the bark on top of a sturdy branch as he sharpened his arrows.

“Aye Nowles,” but today, he surrendered without fuss. Shouldering his quiver, Bakari leapt off the branch and landed with ease beside the startled man. “I’ma handle it. Ain’t nothing bad no ways.”

The horses were a breeze. Bakari hated to brag, but animals loved him. And he loved them. Washing them proved to be an easy task for him. The perfect stress relief for a dreadful week.

“Ya think so, huh?” Nowles grinned, rubbed his puffy blue eyes. “Guess again, runt! Knox needs the full service on those beauties. Make ‘em shine!”

Master Knox, huh? Bakari frowned. Master Knox always told him about special tasks before he left into town. The sudden change jarred him and sent a wave of anxiety through his soul. He only hoped everything was alright with the man.

But his worry never made it to his face. He only scoffed and turned on his heel with his hands stuffed in his pockets. “Whatever,” he droned. It didn’t take an empath to feel the anger seething through Nowles with each step he took. But being one sure made it even more satisfying. “It’ll be handled.”

Early mornings were never hectic. At least for Bakari, though many attributed that to him his age. As the youngest bandit of the Bloody Castor, Master Knox allotted him certain privileges. Spoiled him, some claimed. Bakari denied such heinous accusations.

It wasn’t his fault Master Knox liked him better than these stuffy geezers.

Bakari found the horses near the edge of camp. Every camp set up a makeshift stable to keep the horses in line and happy. Tyrell—one of his favorites—watched over them, scowling when they neighed and danced upon his arrival. What could say? Animals loved him. Bakari grinned at the burly man and offered him a wave. Tyrell acted as Master Knox’s second in command. And for good reason. The strongman towered over many, especially Bakari. His stern hazel eyes destroyed conflict without fail. Though, Bakari loved how they glowed against his carob skin the most. He fantasized often about running his hands through his short, mahogany brown afro. Tracing the tattoos that riddled his massive arms. Or a chance to trim that mangy beard of his.

“Bakari,” he nodded, casting a glare at Master Knox’s bucking horse. Shanita—a beautiful horse with thick white fur, a black mane and tail, and scattered crimson spots. Shanita loved him the most. Almost more than his own beauty—Mystro.

“Yer late,” he rumbled, folding his arms over his massive chest. A true giant amongst men. “Knox expects this finished before his return.”

Of course, Master Knox always expected his tasks finished before his return. And never had Bakari been a second late. “I hear ya,” he waved him off and got to work. “I’m gonna finish.”

Tyrell scoffed, but said nothing. He never did. Bakari supposed that’s what he liked about him. No nagging and patronizing just cool acknowledgment. If the likes of Nowles learned to treat him like this then perhaps they’d get along.

Then again—Bakari chuckled, washing off Tyrell’s noble steed, Skylight—Nowles loved to annoy his fellow bandits. It’s a miracle no one killed him yet.

Skylight never gave him problems. He took up after his rider. Strong and silent with a peculiar grace about him. Bakari saw the horse walked on air when it strode through the field. Its thick fur shined a golden yellow with speckles of white dancing along its body. And its mane and tail darkened to a mysterious black. A true stallion, it towered over most horses, but Shanita beat him in height.

The real pain came his own beautiful steed, Mystro. Though pain was a stretch. Bakari loved the horse for all its quirks. There wasn’t much to hate! It’s sparkling blue fur put him at ease. And he loved running his hands through its silver mane on a stressful day. Today was no different. He stroked through the mane, but that sent Mystro into a frenzy. They wasted enough time calming him down! But he wouldn’t trade him for the world. The youngest steed in the bunch, much like him. They connected well in his bunch.

Though, Bakari wished he’d stop craving peaches so much.

“You spoil him,” Tyrell scowled. Bakari only rolled his eyes. He’s one to talk, Bakari spied him feeding Skylight her favorite treat—sugar-coated apples. “One day he’ll be rotten.”

“Yeah and he finna be in great company with Skylight if ya keep that up, Tyrell.”

Cleaning Shanita proved far easier than the rest. The beautiful stallion basked in the attention, neighing in pleasure when Bakari combed through her mane. He expected no less. When Nowles mentioned full service, he knew the horses were in need. Weeks of travel made it hard to keep their luster and health. Thankfully, they reached a safe area for a week of rest. Northern Philos—Barikioo, he amended. The last thing he needed was more lessons from crazy Lytton—had many. But with the Bloody Castor’s reputation, it was best to stay far from their last location.

“Tyrell, Bakari,” Bakari smiled, drying off the last wet spot on Shanita. Not a moment too soon. Master Knox strolled over, hand resting on the hilt of his deadly blade. “Have my requests been met?”

Master Knox never ceased to amaze him. The tall man stood just below Tyrell but commanded the stronger man’s attention. Voice smooth as silk, but the rough undertones reminded him of Knox’s feared temper. Knox the Whisper they called him. For his temper didn’t ravage the land but struck like the plague. And, before his enemies knew it, they bled out.

“Of course, Master Knox,” Bakari interjected with a grin, gesturing to his handiwork. “You can inspect if ya like.”

Master Knox didn’t bother. Rarely ever did he double-check Bakari’s work and for good reason. Even the blind saw the sparkle in their fur. No one cleaned horses better than him. Or shot arrows on par with him.

Honestly, I dunno why Nowles even bothers, he smirked as Master Knox spoke to Tyrell. The duo chatted up as they usual did, speaking of topics Bakari never understood. I ain’t goin’ nowhere.

A hand dropped on his shoulder and Bakari flinched. “Ba,” Master Knox spoke with a smile. Bakari only allowed Master Knox to call him that. It was enduring, lovely—a type of love he felt deprived of. He stared up into those glimmering gold eyes that sparkled against his deep ebony skin.

“Come with me. We have much to discuss.”

Much to discuss. Bakari loathed these talks. No matter the topic, they typically ended with shouting matches he always lost. Knox had a way about him. He only needed a look and a smile to melt away Bakari’s anger and pull him into those loving, strong arms. All he needed to prevent a breakdown.

“Yeah, yeah—I’m comin’,” Bakari followed with a sigh.

Bakari expected basecamp to be hectic. The men worked with vigor, especially when Master Knox walked through. Anything they did maximized within seconds, transforming a calm work environment into a controlled chaos. Bakari only wished he had some popcorn. Watching grown men trip over themselves as they fumbled through their tasks became a welcomed pastime.

But Master Knox didn’t invite him to watch his men fumble. “Ba, you turned seventeen last month,” he began, hands shoved into his silver cloak’s pocket. Bakari swore he heard rattling in there but ignored it when he heard Master Knox speak. “By Barikioo’s laws, you’re an adult man. I can’t keep you here.”

Keep him here? Bakari laughed. Quite the claim to make. Bakari stayed of his own volition—no one kept him here. Not when I stood above these men, he smiled as warmth surged through his eyes. Its heat tinkled down his skin until it settled to his hands.

And a small burst of magic engulfed them.

Cobalt like his eyes. It caressed his silver, leather gloves before it dissipated in a burst of sparkles. Could any of these men hold him against his will? He doubted it. And everyday he wondered just who this mystery captor truly was.

“You’ve grown cocky,” an amused chuckle filled the air and Bakari paused. He turned to Master Knox and froze at the sight of those hands dancing at his hip. Just above the hilt of his powerful sword. Even sealed within its scabbard, Bakari felt the familiar pulse of magic. Its vibrant hum swamped the power he managed to conjure for mere moments.

“Do you need to be reacquainted with Jaudamu?”

Jaudamu. The feared blade said to have pieces of Jualoza’s magic sunstone melded into the steel. It functioned with the heart of a star and slayed enemies with solar intensity. As far as legends went, Bakari believed every word. One didn’t name a weapon after the Kiinbi of Sunlight for nothing!

“No, Master Knox,” he stammered, forcing his pounding chest to steady. But, try as he might, he couldn’t settle the anxiety pumping through his veins. “I’m sorry—I didn’t mean no disrespect.”

Master Knox nodded and removed his hands. “Now listen. I’m not saying you must leave. But your danuko has protected you for three years. No one knows who Bakari Deyneth is.”

He paused and surveyed the camp. Bakari knew how much this weighed on Master. At thirty-seven, Master Knox had dreams and ambitions before he joined the ranks of the Bloody Castor. But life cursed Master just as it cursed him. Bakari frowned, caressing the back of his left hand. A curse, Bakari scowled, the kiinbies couldn’t remove from him.

“You could start over and have a life you deserve. The life I never had.”

Perhaps he did have a chance. His danuko—Mage Name, he sighed, brushing a stray dreadlock from his face—offered him opportunities many in the Bloody Castor couldn’t have. A life beyond crime. A dream come true for men like Master Knox and Tyrell. They deserved much better than the cards dealt to them.

And perhaps he deserved more as well. “Master, I appreciate it truly,” he smiled and pulled the man into a hug. The warmth filled his veins and oozed through his body. A single gasp left Master and the warmth filled him. He always loved these moments the best.

“However, now ain’t the time for me to leave. Not yet.”

There would be a day when he left the Bloody Castors. Master Knox decided that himself when Bakari entered their ranks. Just not today. Not when he was only a runaway.

“There’s still plenty for me to do. But I promise I will.” Bakari pulled away with a grin. He brushed the tears from master’s glimmering eyes and chuckled. “‘Sides Master, you need me! Ain’t nobody ‘round here a betta archer than me—Huntsman!”

Master Knox laughed. A full body laugh that echoed through the forest. And joyful tears replace the painful ones. “I’ll accept that…for now.” He pulled something out of his pocket and urged Bakari to close his eyes. Without question, Bakari listened and winced when something cold rested against his neck. “Happy Belated Birthday, Huntsman.”

A necklace. A silver necklace decorated with a Scorpio zodiac sign. His zodiac.

“I know I’m not yer father. But I’d like to think of you as my son…if you’ll let me.”

Bakari marveled at the chain with a smile. Three years wasn’t too soon to find a new family. Many urged him to get out and make one of his own! But he always felt an attraction here—a sense of safety he couldn’t explain.

“Do ya even hafta ask,” he muttered, shooting Master Knox a grin. “You always been a father to me.”

Master Knox smiled. A beautifully remarkable sight. Stress and danger left his features hardened and cold to the touch. Bakari feared the man would never experience true joy again! But today changed that. A smile tugged at his lips until he let it spread across his hazelnut skin and tickle his ears.

“Excellent. Now, gather the men. We have a new mission.”

#Philos #Philos Universe #Prose #Chapter 1 #Starborn Truths #LGBT

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