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ceescedasticity · 4 years

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director’s commentary

Dammit, tumblr, why much you make everything difficult.

Anonymous: Director’s commentary: Chapter four of Echoes in the Void, the conversation after they have to leave the Metaverse?

Oooooh, yes. This. Actually I think I’ll include a little earlier, too…

To recap, Goro started second term at Jikken, where the “evaluation period�� was over and things were getting nasty/weird. The second day they held him after school and made him run laps after he reflexively tried to headbutt someone who got in his face; the third day they wanted to know why he wasn’t showing interest in any girls, and he made a cutting remark about their interest in the sexuality of fifteen-year-olds being creepy, and they made him run laps with no shoes, resulting in badly abraded feet.

This probably explained the bastinado rumors, anyway. Those had been rather implausible.

Goro wondered, distantly, whether it was a second offense thing, or they actually found mouthing off more of a problem than attempted head-butts. That seemed like the sort of thing they really ought to explain.

The punishments Jikken is dealing out are completely unreasonable, but their prioritizing of offenses actually isn’t completely illogical. The attempted headbutt was because his instincts felt physically threatened and there was no choice or thinking about it involved. He knew it was a bad idea to make a nasty remark and did anyway. Therefore the second is a worse offense. And they definitely should have explained this.

Afterwards the school nurse was standing by to carefully clean the scrapes and apply antibiotics and bandages and lecture him about taking proper care of the injury.

Idk how many of my Start Again readers read my ‘Close Encounters of the Fourth Kind’ Homestuck fic? Jikken wants to be the goblins. They have all the bad ideas of the goblins about Fixing People, but they’re bad at it.

He couldn’t say what he thought about that. He must not say what he thought about that. Lashing out would make things even worse. Just smile. Just thank her. Just smile.

He was dissociating at least a little to deal with the pain, but having to act grateful about it is what pushed him over the edge into a prolonged episode. He’s done this before – locked himself away behind what is supposed to be Pleasant Goro, but… isn’t, exactly.

Afterwards he wasn’t hungry, so he skipped dinner. No one at the group home asked why he was limping. (Was he even limping? Both feet were equally injured, it wasn’t like he wanted to favor one of them.) His roommates noticed the bandages when he took off his slippers before bed.

“Fuck, look at pretty boy’s feet.”

“What the hell happened?”

“Ask him.”

“You ask him, he’s doing the psycho smile again.”

Goro tries to keep up Pleasant Goro appearances with the group home supervisors, but is really inconsistent about it with his roommates. They therefore both scorn him for being a pretty-boy suck-up and are kinda afraid of him for being vicious if you cross him. They generally don’t mess with him when there’s any chance he’d catch them at it.

(He dreamed blurrily of smiling, smiling as blood ran down the face of the first person he’d felt a connection to since—)

Canon!Akechi wasn’t dissociating the entire time, or for every murder, but that was how he dealt with Shido, and that was how he dealt with killing the closest thing he had to a friend.

The smile stayed in place the whole next day of school, too, through his math teacher accusing him of not paying attention and grilling him on properties of cotangents. It even stayed in place through the nurse checking on his feet and reprimanding him for not changing the bandages himself. But besides that mild scolding he wasn’t in trouble today, so he didn’t have to stay after. Good.

I wrote this and I’m still kind of shocked by the gall they have to scold him about not changing the bandages.

When he met Noir and Niijima — Noir and Queen, she was Queen in the Metaverse — outside the laboratory, Noir put a hand on Queen’s shoulder. “Crow?”

“Yes?”

“Are you… all right?”

“I’m fine, thank you.”

Haru is seeing a lot more of Future Akechi than she ever has before and is on high alert.

It was good to get back to work. Good to solve a puzzle lock with perfectly well-remembered properties of cotangents. When there turned out to be a Battle Fiend waiting behind the door, good to tear its fucking face off—

“What in—”

“Crow! Stand down!”

—with his bare hands it could just die make something else bleed—

The Shadow melted away into nothing, and he slammed a fist on the floor. And again. And again. And again, because at least he could feel it his face was about going numb—

From an outside perspective Goro just went from creepy plastic smile to berserker rage with zero warning. Haru isn’t as shocked as she might be because she knew the creepy plastic smile wasn’t good and she knew what Akechi was capable of, but she still wasn’t expecting attacking a Shadow with his bare hands.

“Amrita drop!”

Goro jolted. Stilled.

Probably Makoto suggested the Amrita drop, because it sure looks like a status effect, and Haru thought it was worth a try. Why did it work, when it wasn’t actually caused by a spell? Maybe because it basically was a status effect? Who knows, cognition is weird.

His hand hurt. His feet hurt. His face hurt. His mask was completely blocking his peripheral vision.

The more isolated and closed-off he is, the more his mask looks like a helmet.

“Did that work?” Queen asked anxiously, somewhere behind him. “If it wasn’t a spell that caused it—”

“I don’t know, I’ve never— Now he’s hyperventilating.”

“No I’m not,” Goro said, or at least tried to. It came out garbled and wheezy.

“I’m going to—”

“Yes, good idea.”

The hallway blurred around him, and then they were outside the Palace. Goho-M.

“Crow?” Noir said. “We’re going back to the real world, and then we’re going to want to move fairly quickly. Is it safe for Queen to take your arm?”

Okay, this is back to the volatile but human Goro who Haru has known since coming back in time, and in clear distress. She still wants to know what the fuck just happened, but she knows who she’s dealing with, now. …And she knows that who she’s dealing with is someone you don’t touch without warning if you can avoid it.

Goro tried to get his breathing under control. “Just. Just a. Minute.” Sit on the ground. Knees up. Head between his knees. Breathe. “Just a minute.”

They gave him the minute.

How novel.

Not sure this needs to be commentary since it’s basically text, but he is not used to people listening to him about his mental/emotional needs.

“All right,” Goro said finally. “Just — slowly.”

Queen did indeed move slowly enough that it didn’t set off any panic responses, and carefully helped him to his feet. “Where are we going to go to talk about this?” she hissed, presumably at Noir. “Should we have gone to a safe room instead?”

“No, I don’t think being in the Metaverse is doing him any good right now,” Noir replied. “I’ve noticed a park about two blocks south — there’s a picnic shelter which shouldn’t be visible from the street. We can talk there.”

Oh joy.

Maybe he could run away instead.

He probably wouldn’t have run away even if he could have, he’s too invested in this group by now, and he trusts them more than anyone else, but he would’ve been tempted. He really doesn’t want to talk about this.

It turned out he could not, in fact, run away, as the second they returned to the real world the distant throbbing in his feet turned to raw agony, and his knees buckled for a second. Niijima had to support him. She didn’t, mercifully, offer to try to carry him.

“Is there something wrong with his—?”

“I guess so, come on, we’ll ask about that, too—”

Goro stared at the sidewalk as they walked and tried not to wonder what they wanted to talk about, exactly. Instead he wondered if it was sweat or blood making the bandages feel damp. It could be sweat. But if it was blood, and he bled through his socks… he hadn’t budgeted for new shoes, this could be a problem.

He’s not exactly dissociating at this point, but he’s not exactly fully engaged with his surroundings, either. Although having to buy new shoes WOULD be a problem for him, so the tangent isn’t out of nowhere.

So when they reached the picnic shelter, he sat down and started taking his shoes off without prompting. “I may need to ask one of you to get me some plastic bags… Good.” It looked like only traces of blood had penetrated the socks, so his shoes were safe. “But I will need some plastic bags. And bandages…”

There was a rather loaded silence.

“What. Happened,” Noir said.

They were not expecting to see blood. Real-world injuries isn’t something either of them has had to deal with a lot.

There was probably some way to avoid the question, but— “Running laps. Without shoes.”

“Without— Does that happen often?” Niijima demanded.

“It can’t be that often per student or people’s feet would toughen up,” Goro said. “I don’t know. Often enough that they sterilize the track frequently, I think.”

“That’s barbaric.”

“Agreed,” Noir said. “But considering we did already see the principal’s cognitions of the teachers vivisecting cognitions of the students, it’s not… unexpected.”

“It’s not unexpected,” Goro agreed.

“What was unexpected was your showing up smiling like some sort of, of creepy talk show host, and then killing a Shadow with your bare hands, in some sort of… something that Amrita Drop apparently brought you out of. I was not expecting that.” Noir crossed her arms, and looked at him. Expectantly.

Aaaaaaand Haru has decided it’s going to be necessary to get him out of that school. Because what the fuck. That’s not normal. That’s not even your standard unacceptable physical discipline, that’s – what the fuck. And clearly it’s bad for Goro in particular, because he still scared her with his Future Akechi impression. Let’s get some answers about that part; the school isn’t as much of a priority because she will remove it from the equation.

…Yeah, it had probably been too much to hope for that that would go unremarked. “That… I wasn't… I wasn’t planning on that. It just… happens sometimes.”

“Happens sometimes?” Noir said incredulously.

“Like… spontaneously?” Niijima asked.

And what a liability he’d be if it did. “Not… exactly. Do you know — I know you know, Noir — how sometimes you have to do something you don’t want to, but you also can’t let on that you don’t want to?” Niijima probably did, too, to a lesser extent.

“Yes…”

I’m not sure whether Goro has never encountered the concept of dissociation or if he refuses to connect it with his PERFECTLY HEALTHY COPING STRATEGY, SHUT UP, IT WORKS.

“Well, there's… a sort of… Sometimes I can… really hit my stride, I guess. Get so it gets easier to just… keep what I’m feeling separate. Keep me separate.” He shrugged uncomfortably. “So that’s good, but then sometimes — not often! — it sort of… overloads. And the overloads are worse in the Metaverse, for whatever reason.”

The purpose of Dissociation Goro is doing things necessary for his goals/purposes that Regular Goro does not want to do or finds too difficult. By ‘overloads’, he mostly means that sometimes Dissociation Goro apparently loses track of the goals and priorities of Regular Goro, and ends up doing unnecessary things.

“Probably the lack of consequences,” Noir said dryly.

“If my subconscious is counting on a lack of consequences for physically tackling Shadows, I’d like a few words with it.”

“…Point.”

It’s mostly that the cognitive world, with its Personas and Shadows running around, already his one’s consciousness a little more spread out than normal; it’s easier for the dissociation driver to get accidentally wired to input from the id or the intrusive thought generator.

“But if it originated in the real world, why did Amrita Drop work?” Niijima wondered. “Did it just shock you out of it? Is it because the… ailment was cognitive to start with?”

Goro shrugged again. “I don’t know. I wouldn’t have expected it to work.”

“Well, it’s good that it did,” Noir said. “Still, it would be better for it not to come up.”

“I'll… I agree, and. And I can try.”

I’m not 100% sure how he’s planning to try, here, without a strategy to get out of Jikken. Dissociation is still an important part of his toolbox of 500 variously functional coping mechanisms. But he doesn’t like going off the rails like that, he really relies on his self-control, and he agrees it’s not a good thing.

#writing babble #start again fic

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logince · 5 years

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On the move.

Hey there! Wanna read a fanfiction about my OC Rismer and Skyrim’s very own Farengar Secret-Fire living together in a modern AU? Really? What an oddly specific thing to want to read! But! You’ve come to the right place! (Less than 2k words)

Water splashed up against his calves as he dodged through alley after alley. He had come to learn that passerby’s don’t give a second thought about people until they consider them a problem. Until they’ve been caught “loitering” for the tenth time.

Rismer snorted at the thought, practically skidding around a corner, gripping the rough brick walls to help him turn. He felt the skin on his hands tear, but he ignored it. Loitering. As if his days consisted of fun little strolls. Even when he wasn’t causing trouble, people found a way to say he was. He stumbled over uneven pavement, but quickly caught his footing.

If he weren’t so recognizable, he wouldn’t have to be so good at running, but he always found it unreasonable to cover every single scar. Especially since the most recognizable ones covered the expanse of his face. But more importantly, to him they were badges of pride–reminders that he’s survived–and purposefully hiding them would feel wrong, no matter the reason.

However, even with all the practice he’s had, he didn’t need to turn around to know that the footfalls behind him were quickly catching up. He knew that, despite his best efforts, he can’t run forever. Just the thought of being caught and confined sent chills down his spine. Sure, he was never the best at multitasking, but he was sure he couldn’t be that bad. So he exerted some energy to look up from watching the ground and scan over the alleys he dashed through, looking for a suitable hiding place. This caused him to lose focus, and he ended up making a wrong turn, and lead him to a dead end.

“Of course,” his thoughts were bitter as he frantically scanned his surroundings. “That’s the last time I try multitasking.” He knew from prior experience that hiding at and below ground level isn’t effective, so he factors that into his planning. His final decision resulted in him jumping to and scrambling up the nearest fire escape, his hands slipping on the wet rungs, before he rolled onto a landing, and out of sight.

He cursed, silently, and visualized a face from long ago, belonging to the only person who had ever cared for him. It brought him a sudden sense of calm. He waited and listened to the yelling and sounds of feet, using the time to catch his breath. He knew those chasing him wouldn’t search for him much longer. After all, he was only charged for loitering–as far as they knew.

And there, soaking wet on the cold metal of a fire escape, is where Rismer met his best friend.

Farengar said he had been studying when he heard a loud metal sound, and had jumped to his feet, fists clenched. He studied the scene from the window–not noting anything of significance–before his eyes were drawn to the movement of a figure on his neighbor’s landing. He opened his window, and yelled at him to keep it down. Whenever the story was brought up, Rismer would point out that this is hardly a normal thing to do. Farengar would say the same of him. He had invited Rismer in, listened, and told him he could stay on the couch. Rismer wasn’t one to say no to shelter, so he cautiously agreed, sleeping fitfully.

After finding no purchase in sleep, Rismer conceded to tracing nonexistent patterns in the carpet and listening to Farengar talk under his breath. And, after a forecast predicting a week of thunderstorms, Farengar suggested he stay a little longer.

Farengar lived alone, and had eccentricities unfamiliar to Rismer. He would become annoyed with little warning, only sleep if his body forced it, mumble to himself, and rarely met your eyes. He lived his life on a schedule, and didn’t care for interruptions.

“Hey, uh, Farengar?” Rismer sat upside-down on the couch, hands behind his head, halfway through his third week here.

“What is it?” Farengar snapped. He was working, and Rismer knew he was, but he wanted to say his thought immediately, so he ignored Farengar’s cold tone.

“I–” he hesitated, before continuing, “I like it here. You’re different from most people I’ve come across.” He brought one of his hands around to his chin, absentmindedly rubbing the scar there.

“Though you might not seem it, you’re pretty nice to be around.” He finished, and when he looked toward Farengar, Farengar was staring at Rismer’s face.

“How did you get those?” Farengar was always very blunt, and didn’t seem to notice Rismer tense up, moving to sit up.

“I wasn’t careful…” Rismer said, hoping to end the conversation there. Farengar didn’t get the hint, and Rismer should’ve expected it, considering his curious nature.

“What do you mean? Did you fall? Were you attacked?” Farengar pushed, spinning to face Rismer more, avoiding eye contact in favor of visually tracing Rismer’s scars.

“Drop it, Farengar.” Rismer said more urgently, pushing himself into the corner of the couch.

“But why?” Farengar rose his voice as he stood, taking a step towards the other, on the couch. At the sudden motion, Rismer shot up, and stomped towards the door.

“Listen, I’m not one of your subjects to be examined.” He could feel his body shaking. “And I’m not a puzzle for you to figure out.”

He closed the door behind him, and felt Farengar’s cold eyes follow him the entire way out. He felt foolish, having gotten worked up enough to just leave like that, but he set his resolve. It was better this way, he reasoned, stepping out into the street.

And yet, a week later he was awoken by a shaking sensation. The previous hours he knew he had fallen asleep on a pile of old cardboard outside an alleyway, so at least the place he woke in was familiar. What was out place was Farengar crouched in front of him, face seemingly blank, and it brought his awareness back. When he sat up, Farengar pulled a granola bar out of his bag for him, and started up a lecture about hygiene. Rismer just couldn’t find it in himself to turn a cold shoulder to the other.

This wasn’t the first time Rismer had run, and it wouldn’t be the last. However, this was the first time in a very long time that Rismer could recall someone welcoming him back.

It wasn’t the last time they argued, either. Rismer had always prided himself on his charismatic personality and his ability to keep his cool. It just always felt harder to keep his cool when Farengar was upset.

If asked, Farengar would say that he’s gotten much better about controlling his anger from when he was a child. Rismer argues that he is positive that Farengar’s current temperament is still considered the rock bottom of anger management.

Their first big fight is five months after their first meeting, and only a week after Farengar offers for Rismer to officially move in as a full-time roommate. He cited the fact that Rismer was already practically living with him, and the fact that having steady shelter should help the other be able to get a more substantial job than short-term manual labor offers.

Rismer accepted the kind offer and, without being asked, decided to tidy things up around the apartment until he could get a job. He put all the loose papers in a pile on Farengar’s desk, neat and orderly. He collected all the empty cups and garbage from the residence to clean later, revealing parts of the wall he was sure hadn’t seen the light of day in years. Finally, he took all the books and put them into the sparse bookshelf, making it look plentiful.

The more he cleaned, however, the more jittery he got. The more space he opened up, the more the walls seemed to close in around him. He flicked on a light, sure it was simply a perceptual thing. When the light seemed to highlight the ceiling, which was moving ever downward without ever getting any closer, Rismer fled to the windows. He opened the window near the fire escape to try to open the space up more. Instead, the windows seemed to grow smaller and smaller, the exits closing.

When Farengar got home that evening, he stood in the doorway, shocked. Every light was on, every window was open, all the books he had been citing were gone from his desk, his rough drafts were all piled together out of order… and Rismer was gone. He was infuriated, and felt his blood chill. It was less than 48 hours when Farengar opened the door to see Rismer, his head hanging to the side, hair in his face. He opened his mouth immediately, only for Farengar to turn on heel and walk back into his apartment.

“What?” Farengar said, crouching over his standing desk. Rismer followed him in, used to his abruptness. He frowned at cups littering the table, and the trash surrounding Farengar’s desk in a halo.

“I’m sorry for just disappearing like that,” Rismer murmured, and gave the walls a wary look.

“But I see you continued life on without me, and un-did the cleaning up I did.” That comment was the straw that caused Farengar’s quiet fury to break.

“Your “cleaning up” put me–!” Farengar fumbled for the words, slamming his hands into the tabletop. “Months! Months behind!”

“I don’t understand,” Rismer responded, carefully.

“Of course you wouldn’t understand,” Farengar shook his head before yelling, “you’ve ruined the outline for my paper’s progress!”

Rismer knew he should breathe, walk away, apologize, something, but he felt his traitorous brow furrow into a glare.

“You’re mad at me for cleaning?” He accused. “Everything wrong in and with the world and you’re mad at me for cleaning?” Farengar turned towards him, and the look in his eyes made Rismer realize that this was confrontation–he was confronting someone–

“Yes! You–you ruined my careful organization! You took all my thesis papers and just!” Farengar laughed, but it wasn’t happy. “Threw them together, out of order, for me to fix! You even threw some of them away! And now, I’m months behind schedule! Not that it seems to matter to you!”

Rismer rolled his eyes, and stepped to the side, feeling the jittery energy from before come back, tenfold. “We’re really arguing about this?” His voice was getting louder, and he couldn’t make it stop. “We’re arguing about something I did to try to help you? To make your life easier? Since all you do is make life harder for yourself?” He yelled.

Farengar threw his hands up and took a step towards Rismer. “You may have tried to help, but you did more harm than you did good. If we’re going to live together, we have to have boundaries!”

Rismer took a step back, drawing his shoulders up to his ears, curling into himself. “Well, I can’t live with you if you’re going to freak out like this every time I make a dumb mistake!”

“This is more than just a simple mistake–!”

“God, living with you is like living in a god damn cage!” Rismer screamed.

“You’re afraid!” Farengar stepped into Rismer’s space, shaking with emotion. “You’re so afraid, you can’t even see the only thing caging you is yourself!”

Rismer tried to take a step back, but hit the bookshelf behind him instead. He felt cornered. He felt hot. He couldn’t breathe. He slowly started to shake his head, and he ultimately resorted to doing what he knew best.

He ran.

#skyrim #skyrim oc #skyrim fanfiction #if you think farengar is out of character #*shrugs* dont read anymore of my farengar content ig #jax does writing #jumping jax #Rismer #farengar

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queensofrap · 7 years

Photo

Wonder Woman: How Remy Ma Changed The Game For Female Rappers in 2017

"Contrary to popular belief, I'm not a bully. I actually bully the bullies"

Remy Ma strolls into MASS APPEAL HQ with a relatively small entourage for a multiplatinum artist who just inked a multimillion-dollar recording contract with Columbia Records. After conferring with her team, she agrees to bless us with a preview of tracks from her forthcoming album, Seven Winters, Six Summers. The album’s title refers to the amount time she spent at the Bedford Hills Correctional Facility for Women following a well-publicized shooting incident that interrupted one of the most promising come-ups in hip hop.

The Bronx native—born Reminisce Smith and raised in the Castle Hill projects of the BX before being discovered by the late Big Pun—picked up right where she left off, recording a track with DJ Khaled on her first day home. This past February she dropped Plato o Plomo with her Terror Squad comrade Fat Joe, which included the double-platinum single, “All The Way Up.” But her most talked-about release of the year was “SHEther”. That song and its aftermath would alter the course of both artists’ careers, proving that Minaj was not untouchable, winning Remy a BET Award for Best Female Rapper, and helping to clear a space in modern hip hop for women like Remy, Cardi B, and many others to shine.

I remind Remy that I haven’t seen her since September 2014, when she and her husband Papoose invited a small group of family, friends and select media to dine on sirloin and shrimp at Don Pancho’s steakhouse in the Bronx. Remy had just come home from her incarceration and had to skip dessert that night so she could check in with her P.O. She still has a curfew today, although the terms of her parole have been somewhat relaxed. Before cueing up the tracks, Remy heads straight toward the Ms. Pac Man machine and proceeds to catch wreck, clearing the first level and earning bonus lives without getting got by a single ghost. Her new manager, Vincent Herbert (who’s worked with the likes of Aaliyah, Lady Gaga, and, as reality show viewers know well, his ex-wife Tamar Braxton) grabs the joystick, and let’s just say doesn’t fare quite as well. Or, as Remy puts it, he’s on “the struggle bus.”

Remy takes the opportunity to play a few tracks, skipping “Wake Me Up” the first single from the project featuring Lil Kim (She does, however, take a moment to recognize Kim’s tremendous impact on the rap game, and to wonder aloud why, unlike other genres, “in hip hop we throw our legends away.”) Instead, she searches her iPhone and cues up “Melanin (Pretty Brown),” an ode to every shade of skin complexion, featuring an especially gorgeous vocal by Chris Brown. Next up is “Company,” featuring fellow Bronx bomber A Boogie Wit Da Hoodie. There’s time for one more track, this one featuring French Montana, before we make our way into the video studio for a wide-ranging interview. Remy spoke about how she’s never backed down from a fight in her life (this weekend’s brief dustup with Azealia Banks went down after our talk), how she got through those seven winters, and why she decided to spend her time on the Summer Jam stage promoting unity among female rappers—with one notable exclusion, of course. Today MASS APPEAL kicks off our year-end coverage with Big Year, Big Talk, a salute to the people who shifted the culture this year.

youtube

___

Welcome, Remy. And thanks for bringing the boots!

Thank you for addressing my boots. They’re kinda cute.

Who made those?

Off-White makes these. I like their brand. I’m kinda like a tomboy at heart, so any chance I get to get any type of tomboy swag going on, I’m definitely down for it.

That’s a surprise because my first Remy Ma memory was at the Mix Show Power Summit in the Bahamas. You were performing “I’m Conceited” on stage and you were not giving tomboy at all.

[Laughs] Really?

No, you were definitely giving femme fatale.

“Conceited” was definitely one of my more fun records that I got to be super girly on. That is definitely one of those records that was inspired by certain things that happened to me, certain things that I see, or certain things that people say to me. Ya know, around the time when I made “Conceited,” it was just so much going on in the industry as far as women were concerned and everyone felt like you had to be sexy and ‘you gotta wear your hair like this’ and ‘you have to talk like that’ and you have to walk like…. And I’m like, “First of all, do y’all hear how deep my voice is?” It’s just a lot. I gotta go through a lot. Ya know? It’s a lot going on here!

This is when labels still had artist development and they told you how to answer questions and what to say and what not to say. And I was just like, ‘This is fucking stupid. Why can’t I just be me? Like, I don’t always wanna have on makeup.” I literally did my own makeup today.

Facts.

I would take off my glasses and show y’all my work, but I’m not really sure how it looks in these type of lights, so I’ll wait. But, I don’t wanna ever have to be that girl that I have to turn into Remy Ma. Like, “Oh I gotta go sit with MASS APPEAL. Let me put on my Remy Ma outfit and turn into Remy Ma.” Like [switching to, shall we call it, a “Valley Girl” voice?] “Oh my God! I’m so glad to be here guys! Thank you so much for having me. Yes, I’m so excited.” I don’t ever wanna have to do that shit. Like, that shit wack to me.

Anybody who knows me, they be like, “Rem, you don’t do fake well.” This guy, he works on my team and he says to me, “Rem, your fake is fucking horrible.” And it’s because,I just can’t. Anybody who’s ever seen me or ever met me, whether it was at an interview, at a concert, in a studio, in the fucking supermarket, in the parking lot, they’re always gonna get the same Rem. And you know, back then when they had this artist development, they wanted you to be a certain way, and I’m just like, “Everybody is different!” Everybody has their own thing that’s cool about them. That’s how God made us. You may not be the prettiest person in the world, but maybe you have a nice voice or maybe you have nice handwriting, or maybe you have cute toes or—I don’t know! Everybody has something about them that would be considered desirable to someone else, and I just wished and I wanted people to see that. To realize, “Look, don’t nobody want the same everything all the time.”

I like certain things for certain reasons. I don’t want to see you recreate that. I want it from over there. And that was the inspiration behind “Conceited.” So that was like, “OK, y’all want me to be sexy? I’ma be sexy in my own way.” Like, I don’t give a fuck about anything. “I look too good for this. I look too good for that.” I look at myself like this and I feel like that’s OK. I got a little fat, but OK, my man likes it. I feel like even more so now—shit, we need a record like that now because with this social media thing, it has people trying to live up to the most unreasonable, unrealistic expectations. Especially with women! They’re competing. They’ll see a photo and you’re competing with somebody who literally is doctored. Like they went, sat on a table, got whatever done and then they took a picture, and then they doctored the picture, so it’s double doctored! And you’re in your house, starving yourself—you know, waist training, running a mile a day—and you’re trying to understand why you’re not getting these results and you’re beating yourself up. It’s just unreal.

Like I said, that was the wave I was on there. I don’t really remember what I had on at that summit that you saw me at. I know it was the Bahamas because I remember around that time, that was the Mix Show Power Summit. I remember that time period for a lot of psycho reasons. I was a very different Remy Ma back then. but… That was the coolest shit ever. Do they still have those things?

I don’t think so, but that was just a memory sparked by your boots. I was planning to start the interview a whole different way. I was actually gonna start in the Bronx. What does it mean to you as an artist to represent the Bronx?

The Bronx, to me it’s just pretty much where I grew up. What’s crazy, before I went to prison, it was cool to have a gazillion AKAs. It was like Remy Ma, the BX Savior, the Queen of NY, Shezus Christ. I had all these different names and The Queen of NY thing, it came… People say like I have the strongest New York accent ever. I never really realized that until—still never. But people just tell me, so I guess it’s true to some extent. Too many people say it. But also I literally have lived in every single borough. I was born and raised in the Bronx, but I went to high school and some of junior high school in Queens. I went to elementary school in Harlem. I even lived in, believe it or not, Staten Island. I lived on Governor’s Island when I stayed with my aunt. Her and my uncle were in the Coast Guard, so at the time the station was Governor’s Island.

I literally could go to any borough and find cool places to eat or little things that you really wouldn’t know unless you lived there. And people are like, ‘How do you know about this?’ I’m like, “Oh, I used to live here.” My mom was like a black gypsy, shelter-hopping, so I ended up living in a lot of different places in New York. But the Bronx was always my home base. Because that’s where I was born. Most of my friends growing up were from the Bronx. My grandmother always lived in the Bronx and that was the one person that never moved, so it was like we’d live over here, but then I’d go visit my grandmother in the Bronx. Then we’d move here, and I’d go visit my grandmother in the Bronx.

Even now, when I came home, I moved to the Bronx because of my parole stipulations. If I lived in Jersey, I would literally need permission to come into New York every time I came to New York. So I was like, “Alright, I have to find one of the boroughs.” And it just made sense for me to live in the Bronx. Of course, much to the chagrin of my husband, who’s from Brooklyn, moving to the Bronx from Brooklyn is like light years away. He’s like, “This is crazy! I’d rather live in Manhattan.” I’m like, “Nah, I just don’t feel safe there. It’s a bit crazy there.” But the Bronx, that’s just home to me. It’s always gonna be home, no matter where I move, no matter where I go.

Like I said, I lived in all these other places, especially in Queens where I grew up and went to school. They were like, ‘She saying she’s from the Bronx, but she’s really from Queens!’ I’m like, “So, we’re gonna act like y’all didn’t call me The Bitch from the Bronx when I lived out here? Fine. Cool. We’ll act like that never happened. We’ll act like y’all knew me my whole life. Y’all act like I wasn’t a whole teenager when y’all first met me.”

But a lot of my friends are from Queens. My first high school that I went to, before I started getting kicked out and high school hopping, was in Queens. I pretty much go out there a lot. My in-laws live in Queens, so I literally am a native of every borough in some shape, form or fashion.

Why’d you get kicked out of high school?

I didn’t get kicked out of high school. I got kicked out of high schools, with an “s.” I literally went to like seven, eight high schools. I started out at MLK in Manhattan. That was the school that I got accepted to. Then I switched my school to Bryant High School in Queens, because this guy that I liked went to the school and then I got into the school and I realized he wasn’t even the cutest guy in the school, and I started liking some other guy. I was like, “I might as well switch back to the school that I was in.” But then I couldn’t switch back to there because I had already got into like a gazillion fights and my record. I stayed in fights in high school, so then I went to the Bronx. And I went to the Roosevelts and Stevenson and Lehman. I literally almost went to every high school in the Bronx because I would get into fights and get kicked out of school—like literally expelled. The years that I was in high school there was no suspensions. It was like, “No, you got to go, get out of here.”

One time on my first day of school—I swear it was the first day of school—I got jumped on the school bus. My mother would not believe me for shit. I’m like, “I swear to everything I didn’t do anything.” We sat down with the principal. They was like, “You know you probably shouldn’t wear all that jewelry to school.” I was like, “OK, whatever.” And that was the meeting before school. First day of school I go back without my mom and I had a perfect day that day. I’m on the bus and I’m sitting in the back seat of the bus and these rowdy-ass kids on the bus—neighborhood kids! And I just see them violating mad people that’s on the bus and I’m just watching like, ‘Yo, they are crazy. I’m glad nobody saying nothing to me. Let them do what they do. I’m just waiting for my stop.”

I’m watching them just do mad foul shit to people and then the bus takes off from whatever stop we were at. Somebody’s like, ‘Yo somebody hold that door down. Nobody’s getting off the next stop.” I’m like, ‘Wow, they’re stopping people from getting off the bus!” So now I look out the window like, ‘Wait, next stop is my stop!’ So I said, “I’m getting off of this bus! I’m telling you right now!” So they’re like, ‘Who said that? Who said that?’ I’m like, “Me! Next stop is my stop and I’m getting off this bus.”

“Yo! Who Shorty think she is? Let’s get off the bus and fuck her up!” So I’m saying in my head, “Let’s—that’s a contraction for let us—get off the bus and fuck her up.” Oh, so y’all think y’all gonna jump me? Cool.

Bus stops. They all get off the bus. I guess it was raining earlier that day or whatever because, for some reason, I had an umbrella. And I probably ended up getting jumped by more people than was absolutely necessary because I just got off the bus and started cracking anybody in my vicinity with the umbrella. Ended up getting jumped. It was a whole big thing. It kept going. It escalated to when I went back to school and I got kicked out of the school too. But I really had it in my mind that I was going to be good in that school. And then eventually I got kicked out of the school and went to another school, and then I met Pun somewhere in those next couple of weeks or months while I was in school and I was like, “Ha ha fuck school! That’s my best friend right now! Fuck you mean, nigga?’

Hold on, were those guys on the bus who jumped you?

It was guys and girls on the bus. It was just really crazy. And I swear until this day, when I tell my mom she’s just like, “I don’t believe it.” And I’m like, “I’m telling you, I swear! I really didn’t do anything.” So I was just supposed to sit there on the bus and just miss my stop because they said they were not letting anybody off the bus? I mean, looking back now, the new and improved me would’ve just been like, “Yo, let me just walk to the front of the bus and maybe I’ll get off in the front”‘ But what the fuck do you mean nobody’s getting off? Like, who the fuck do you think y’all are?

Contrary to popular belief, I’m not a bully. I actually bully the bullies. Like, I would get in trouble in school and I’ll call my mom and they’ll be like, “You know I understand that was her cousin, so she had to protect her cousin.” My mother would be like, “She doesn’t have any cousins. What are you talking about?” But that was like my lie every time. If I seen somebody doing something to somebody I would be like, “No, that’s my cousin. Like, you’re not doing that to my cousin.” Literally just interject myself and make the person my friend. Like, all my friends were just like random people in school that I met and I seen somebody doing something and in my mind like, “I would never let them do that to me.” I was like the bully to the bullies.

You’re like Wonder Woman!

Not Wonder Woman! [Laugs] I just keep the same energy with everybody! Everybody gets the same treatment with me. Unfortunately, I actually get some slack for it. They’re like, “There’s no gray areas with you.” I’m like, “Yeah, I’m either going to treat everybody nice or I’m going to treat everybody like shit.” There is no in between.

Let’s get to Pun. Did you know that you could rap when you met him? Were you already rapping?

Yes, I knew I could rap when I met Pun. It wasn’t something that I did for a living. Kids today are like, “I’m going to be a rapper and I’m going to get this money” and literally don’t get a whole other job because they plan on being a rapper one day. No, I had a regular job and I just knew I could rap. I used to hang out with all the guys in my neighborhood and they will literally take me on different hood tours to battle rap other guys from other projects and get money. So I knew I could rap.

And you were winning?

I didn’t lose. Nah, I was winning.

Beating guys, and were they in their feelings?

Absolutely. Like, “Oh who wrote that for her?” I didn’t even understand that. I don’t think I ever knew that there was such a thing as a ghostwriter until I met Pun. The actual rap that I first said for Pun is the verse that is on “Ms. Martin” on the Yeeeah Baby album.

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When I spit it to him he was like, “Oh that’s dope!” Then he was like, “Let me hear something else because that may be the only hot rhyme you got.” No. I said some other shit. And he was like, “That’s dope! Who be writing for you? Like your brother?” I’m like, “What? What do you mean who’s writing for me? Me!” I was so confused. When I found out that people were actually not writing their own lyrics, I was like, “This is fucking cheating!” Singing is a little bit different, I get it. If a singer doesn’t write their own lyrics they still showcase their talent through their vocal abilities. Like, I could write it all day, but I can’t sing it and make it sound like Whitney Houston would make it sound. But rapping? I was like, “This is super cheating!” Because this is based on your lyrics and what you’re saying, so I was so confused as to why he was asking me who was writing my rhymes. But when he told me he was giving me my own song on his Yeeeah Baby album I was like, “Oh, alright, I know what I want to rap about. Let me hear the beat again.”

He’s like, “Nah, nah, nah, I already know what I want you to say.” I’m like, “Oh, you’re not writing my rhyme!” He’s like, “First of all, if I wrote your rhyme it will be the best rap you’ve ever had in your life. But no, I want you to rap the same rap that you spit for me when I met you. I want people to hear what I heard the first time I heard you.” I’m like, “What? Why?” I was devastated. It was like the end of the world to me. I was still in high school. I had raps for days, like books on top of books and a thousand rhymes stored in my head—stuff that I wanna say. This is the first time everyone’s gonna hear me. I wanna say this, I wanna say that. He was like, “Nope, you’re gonna say the rhyme you said when I first met you!”

What did you say?

[rapping] I inhale the deepest, cock back and bust rhymes at ya speakers/ I’m trouble/ Shoot out the air bubbles in ya sneakers…

Ooooh!

That shit, that flow. I wasn’t mad after the fact, but at the time I wanted to kill him. I was like, “Noooo! Why? I wanna say something else.” We’re not even gonna talk about how Pun literally tried to change my name. One day I came into the studio and he was like, “I was thinking of rap names for you.” And I’m like, “What do you mean rap names?” And he was like, “You know how I’m the Punisher? I’m thinking how you’ll be Punish-HER.” I was actually going to name my first album that. But then I was like, “No. I’m not Punish-HER”‘

He’s like, “Alright, what about Colors?” I’m like, “Why can’t I just be Remy? Everyone has called me Remy my entire life. I don’t understand why I have to have some name that no one has ever called me that you just made up.”

It’s crazy because he did that before to Tony Sunshine. Before Tony Sunshine was Tony Sunshine, he was R&B. We all called him R&B, period. It’s so bad that I even call him Tony Sunshine now. But for the first few months that I met him, everybody would call him R&B. And one day he told me his name was going to be Tony Sunshine. I think Pun waited until he had an interview with a big magazine or something, like, “Yeah, and I have my new artist Remy Martin and Tony Sunshine.” And that was his fucking name and he just stuck with Tony Sunshine. Even though Tony Sunshine now is kind of dope, but it’s like, “How do you just change somebody’s name? What’s wrong with you?” Pun was really crazy.

Pun wrote great raps but horrible rap names!

Nah, he went for like a whole day on that Punish-HER shit! “I’m telling you this shit crazy. I’m the Punisher, Big Pun, and you’re Punish-HER.” I’m like, “No Pun. It’s not gonna work.”

Before Pun, somebody must’ve inspired you to put these rhymes together. Did you have like a rap hero who inspired you to do this?

I’m probably gonna regret this down the line, but I’m gonna say my older brother. Definitely. He was into rap. I was the nerdy kid in school—always in the top class, teacher’s pet. I was the one cleaning the board at the end of the day and collecting the homework. That was me. And I used to do poetry. I entered all the spelling bee contests. I used to be in this thing called a storytelling contest where you have to take a book and literally learn it word for word verbatim and the judges would be sitting there with the book while you’re reading it to them from memory.

I was just like a nerd and I used to write poems and my brother would come in and he’d be rapping “Know the Ledge” and all this different Rakim stuff, and he was on his Pac wave. And I used to be like, “Yo, this is dope.” So that was like the first spark I got. And then one day I was in the Bronx—I was on the stoop because that was the rules, you couldn’t leave the stoop—and they were having a block party on my block. And I heard this music [starts humming “The Show” opening melody] and Slick Rick and Doug E. Fresh are performing at the block party on my block!

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And I’m just like what the fuck is this? And everyone’s going crazy. Literally to this day, that’s one of my top ten favorite rap songs of all time.

After that I would sneak and take my poems and try to rap them to the beat. I don’t know when the full transition happened, but I kinda stopped writing poems and my poetry book turned into a rhyme book and I just had books of rhymes.

That makes sense! Alright, let’s talk about the making of “Lean Back.” Khaled told me y’all did it in a garage?

Yeah. At the time, DJ Khaled was not the Khaled that you guys know today. We at Khaled’s house, and Joe is in the corner doing his Fat Joe thing, and Khaled was “Beat Novacane.” He’s still saved in my phone as Beat Novacane—like, there’s no DJ Khaled in my phone, just Beat Novacane. And we were working on the Terror Squad album and we all had our solo songs. My song was “Yeah Yeah Yeah,” which originally had just me on it, but Joe got on it. And I’m in the studio and I’m just like “Play the album through and let me hear what it’s sounding like so I can see what I can add to it.” So he just gets to this one song that I didn’t even hear before [starts singing the “Lean Back” beat]. I’m like, “What was that? Play that again!”

I’m listening and it’s Joe and he has three verses on it. So I listen to all three of them and I’m like, “The second one. That’s the weakest one. Take that one out, please! Not just mute it, I want it gone! Never to be seen or heard from ever again. Cue the mic…” And I went and kinda bullied my way onto the record. Like, if he thinks for one fucking second that he’s gonna have this record all by himself, he’s fucking bugging. I don’t even know when they snuck and recorded it. I don’t know when Scott Storch weaseled himself in there and laid down the track. All I know is that I had to be on that record. And not to be cocky or whatever, but I know I’m not wack. They’re not gonna take my verse off once it’s on there.

Everyone came the next day and we’re all listening to it and we get to it and it’s like, “Lean Back, Lean Back.” And then when Joe thought his second verse was gonna come in… “R to the eazy/ M to the wizzi/ My arm stay breezy!” I was in the corner like, “Yup! I’m on there and it’s staying!”

So you know that definitely was a hijack situation. But it was dope. We literally recorded that whole Terror Squad album in Khaled’s crib in about two weeks. We all went down to Miami, the whole Squad, and we just knocked it out. It was a lot of fun and a lot of good music on there.

That verse is in the all time, that and the “Ante Up” remix.

“Ante Up” remix was another hijack situation. I spent the beginning years of my rap career hijacking my way onto songs. First of all, I was super young. I don’t think I had officially signed to Loud Records yet. I used to be hanging out at the office, getting to know everybody, waiting to see M.O.P. or to see anybody from Wu-Tang come through, or dying to run into Mobb Deep. Like the roster on Loud Records was crazy back then. They had Big Pun, Wu-Tang, Mobb Deep, and M.O.P. It was just bananas.

So when “Ante Up” came out I was like, “Yo, if they ever do a remix to this, I wish I could be on it.’ Like, I was literally in my house just wishing to be on it. So when the original came out, I wrote a verse as if I was on it. And when I heard that they were actually doing a remix, their A&R of their project, was kind of like my A&R too, eventually…

This was Matty C?

No, this was Sean C was working with them. And I was like, “Yo, if you could get them to hear this verse and they like it, I will love you forever.” And I did the verse and I think they sent it to Premier because the remix ended up being on Funkmaster Flex’s album. And they kept me on it. Like they had a meeting one day—I think they all thought I was a little boy at first—and they had a meeting and I was super pissed because when Premier mixed it, I don’t know what he did when he mixed my voice, but he made it sound squeakier. I was like, “What did he fucking do to my voice?” And they were like, “That’s Premier! You don’t question Premier.” And I’m like, “Fine. Whatever.” But we had this whole big meeting and M.O.P. was there, Busta Rhymes was there, and Prodigy. Prodigy was originally on the “Ante Up” remix too.

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Really?

Yup. Prodigy was on the original “Ante Up” remix and he didn’t make the final cut. His verse was dope as fuck, but at the time he was beefing with JAY-Z and he said some line in there that was like a shot. Like, it wasn’t a direct shot, but if you knew what was going on, you knew. And they was like, “Not on this record.” And Prodigy was Prodigy then. Mobb Deep was at their peak. But they were like, “Nah, not on this record. We not doing that,” and I was like, “Welp, as long as my spot is solidified, I’m OK!” And then I had to come after Busta at that! And then we shot the video and Busta broke my Gucci glasses acting all crazy. Like he’s definitely my Gemini brother now, but that whole “Ante Up” video, I had just had my son and was super fat. I felt horribly ugly. I didn��t know anything about hair, makeup, nothing. I spent the whole video getting beat up by Busta Rhymes, cause he was really Busta Rhymes—like he wasn’t the chill, smooth Busta Rhymes that he is now. He was that knock you out by mistake and didn’t even realize it Busta Rhymes. But, one of my most memorable times of my whole career, the “Ante Up” remix.

So let’s get to those Seven Winters and Six Summers. We just heard a song where you were speaking about some real things that happened during that time.

I just played a song called “Company” off of my album, Seven Winters and Six Summers, with A Boogie. And in the record I say I was getting “one visit, two phone calls and three showers a week” and that’s true. That was my life for a long period of time. One visit, two phone calls, and three showers every week—and not necessarily guaranteed. Like, it’s not a guarantee you’re gonna get that one visit, not guaranteed you’re gonna get those two phone calls, and three showers. Like, I stayed in trouble—not as much as some of my friends. And you would literally get three showers a week, three ten-minute showers every seven days. And as a woman, that is horrible. It is very degrading. And you cherish when they give you those ten minutes. Like, you want to get to all of the very important parts and pray that all the soap is out when they cut the water off on you. And for seven winters and six summers that was my reality.

Was this a women’s correctional facility?

Yes this was a women’s facility.

And you were in there with hardcore offenders?

There’s only one maximum-security facility in New York State for women and I stayed there my entire time. Like, it’s crazy because people don’t realize why seven winters and six summers is the name. I could not fathom counting my time in years—definitely wasn’t counting it in months. And where my window was you could only see trees out the window. Let’s say if it was 2012 and the trees were green. I knew I had about four more summers to go—four, maybe five depending on if they gave me good time or not. If it was 2009 and the trees were just branches, I knew I had about six or seven more winters to go.

When it was all said and done, I ended up getting my college degree, and that took a couple of minutes of my time. I did a total of seven winters and six summers. And when I was recording my album, I’d be trying to figure out ways to sneak in tidbits of information, because nobody wants you preaching to them. I can’t even really take myself there. Like certain verses that you guys are going to hear in certain songs, those are lyrics that I actually wrote when I was in prison.

The way it works is when you’re in prison, people are like, “Oh, I know you got mad rhymes, I know you wrote this that and the third.” Like, you are so fucked up in the head and you are so depressed and your life just feels like total shit, your creative juices are stagnant. You get little spurts here and there because I was there for so long, obviously, but you’re not just in there cranking it out. You’re fucking stressed. It’s not a happy time. So it’s hard to put yourself in a different scene, like, “I’m in the club” or “I’m driving this car” or “I’m chilling with my friends just living life and thinking positive thoughts.” It’s hard.

I can’t even front, my life is great right now. Thank God. I have a really good life and I have my health and I have my husband and I have my children and I have money and fame and success—a lot of the things that I thought might not even be possible again. It’s hard to put myself back in that mindstate when everything was so dark and I couldn’t see the light. I don’t even think my brain wants to go back there. My brain is like, “Uh-uh, I don’t want to go there. Nah, we not doing that.” There was a song called “Dreamin'” on the Plato O Plomo album where I said, “I used to be in the cell dreaming that I was home/ And I now I’m home and I’ll be dreaming I’m back in the cell.”

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And that shit is so crazy because I would literally be in prison having the most vivid realistic dreams, like I could dream that I have on these boots and I’m doing interviews and the shit would seem real as fuck. And then you wake up and you’re in this fucking little-ass 6′ x 8′ cell with this toilet next to you and a locker. And it’s just fucking horrible and it’s nothing you can do about it.

Now I’ll be home to my big-ass California king bed in my house where it is warm and toasty and my husband is next to me and my son is in the next room sleeping, and I be having nightmares that I’m in prison. Like, I will have on my state greens, my hair is braided. The shit seems just as real as the dreams felt with me being home when I was locked up. The shit is super traumatizing, like it’s crazy. It’s fucking retarded. I can’t even explain it. But seven winters and six summers, it’s like enough time for you to think about a lot of shit.

I spent most of my adult life in prison. When I caught my case, I was 25 going on 26. And when I came home I was starting my thirties. When you’re young and you’re 25, you’re like you’re going to retire at 30 and you’re going to buy this, start a business—and all that shit was thrown out the window. So I’m like, “Where do I start from? What do I have to do?” I’m definitely not going to go get a regular-ass job, like, that’s not happening. I had to figure out what I was going to do.

I spent a lot of my time during those seven winters and six summers researching. I got a subscription to Billboard. I was looking up touring and I was looking at charts. I was looking up who was doing what and who was doing this and what the labels were doing and I came home and literally got straight to work. I came home at 4:30, 8 o’clock that night, I was in the studio with Khaled doing that “They Don’t Love You No More” remix. And I knew that’s what I had to do in order for me to even have a chance of being successful at this music thing again, I had to literally come out and get straight to work. I didn’t have time to chill. I didn’t have time to go get a license or health insurance or go see my mom for all the things I thought I was going to do if I wanted to succeed or have a chance at succeeding. I knew I had to go straight to work.

And you did that and the work is there now for everyone to hear. And we see you went double platinum and you signed a new deal. Congratulations on that BET award, by the way. But I want to ask about that Summer Jam moment you created. What was that about? Why did you want to bring all those women together?

OK, the Summer Jam moment. I love when people ask me about it because that means that my intentions and my goals are being met. At this time, the whole beef thing was still lingering around and everybody was like, “Yo, you gotta go up there and kill shorty! You gotta put her on the screen!” And I’m just like, ‘Everybody did that.’ You could do that, but what I wanna do is something that’s going to be remembered past that—something that, years from now, people are gonna be like, “Yo, remember when Rem did Summer Jam?”

Like, it’s easy for me to break something. It’s easy for me to take a glass and pick it up and shatter it—break it into a million pieces. It’s easy to tear something down. Not everybody can make a glass. Not everybody can take the sand and melt it down and turn it into glass and then form it and make a cup—and now you can drink out of it. It’s harder to build something, and that’s what I wanted to do.

I’m like, “Yo, this is the most that female rap has been talked about in years. What can I do so that it resonates? And not just for right now, but after Summer Jam. Everybody told me that I couldn’t do it. “Oh, you know how women are. They’re catty. This one don’t like this one and this one I don’t like that one, and they need their hair done and they need makeup and they need wardrobe.” So you know what? I took my whole budget and I started making phone calls. “Where you need me to fly you from? Where is your make up artist? What hotel you want to stay? What airlines you want to fly with?”

A lot of people I got to reconnect with. I hadn’t spoken to people in so many years. Everybody that I called was like, “Rem, I got you. It’s no problem. Yes, this is dope! Oh this is gonna be crazy.” If I would’ve thought of the idea two months ahead as opposed to two weeks ahead, it would’ve been so crazy because there were people like Dej Loaf like, “Yo, I want to be there but I got this concert I got to do.'”Or Trina who was like, “Oh, I’m doing a show in Atlanta”‘ Or Eve, who was stuck overseas in London somewhere. But Monie Love came. Rah Digga came. Young M.A came. Lil Kim came. Cardi B was there, MC Lyte, Lady of Rage. Queen Latifah flew in from Switzerland. Dopest moment hands down. Like top 3 dopest moments in my hip hop career and it was all love. I tell people all the time, “If you could see how we were…” I wish there was footage of our interactions backstage, like everybody just fanning out over each other. Like, ‘Yo, let me get a picture of you. Oh, I love you!’ Nothing but love. Amazing moment. Loved it.

Is there a queen of hip hop?

One? Just one person? Is there a king of hip hop?

That’s a fair question.

People ask if there’s a queen of hip hop. Is there one person that’s the king of hip hop, that he’s over hip hop? People going to debate it all day. Some people are gonna say B.I.G., some are gonna say JAY-Z, some people gonna say Eminem, somebody gonna say Pac. I feel like everybody has their thing. And what I did, I don’t care who tried to take credit for it, who tries to erase it, because you know people try to change history once things start happening. I feel like since I came home in 2014, that end of the summer to right now, female hip hop is in a totally different space. Total different space.

I feel like what I do, I encourage people. I encourage women to feel like, “Yo, she came from nothing and she was able—with no record deal, no big management, just her husband and her brothers—to get gold records and double platinum records and Grammy nominations and win the BET Best Female Rapper of the year. That hasn’t been won by anybody else in the last seven winters and six summers that I’ve been gone.

She’s been able to do it and she’s been able to do it being herself, not trying to be like anybody else, not trying to rap like anybody else, not trying to sound like anybody else. And that’s not to discredit anybody else, but that’s just what I did. That’s just the facts. I feel like I encourage women.

Do you feel like you might’ve cleared a space for Cardi B to go through?

I feel like not just Cardi, but for so many women. I don’t want anybody to ever feel like I made anybody. I didn’t make anybody. It’s nothing for you to help somebody. I could’ve been like, ‘Hey, I’m doing a Summer Jam. I got 22 minutes. I’m gonna do “Feels So Good.” I’ma do “Whatever.” I’ma see if Swizz will come out with me. I’ma do “Conceited.” Then I’ma do ‘All the way Up.’ Then I’ma do ‘Money Showers.'”

Nah. I’ma take my 22 minutes and share it with everybody. Cardi, come out, do ya “Foreva” shit. I wish “Bodak Yellow” was out at that time! Young M.A, come out, do ya “OOOUUU” shit. Kim, come do ya shit. Queen, come in here on that “U.N.I.T.Y.” shit. People could say whatever they wanna say. Nobody else was doing that.

I could’ve been like, “I got two Grammy nominations. I got the female rapper of the year award. I’m sitting on daytime TV hosting with them. I’m on one of the most popular reality shows that people actually go on now. Now people are like, ‘Hey you can actually be a relevant artist that’s still doing something and doing TV shows.’ I’m in! Close the door! That’s it! Everybody else stay out.” That’s corny to me.

I always said if I ever get in the position, I’ma open the door and I’m going to put a door stopper in it. Anybody want to come in, they can come in. I don’t feel like anybody’s taking my spot. I don’t feel like anybody’s taking anything from me. Now everybody could say what they wanna say about how they always felt, but nobody was acting on it. People weren’t even taking pictures together, much less doing records together. We [female rappers] don’t work together. It’s going to always seem like we got beef with each other, because every time I say something, you or somebody else is gonna feel like it’s directed towards this person. They ain’t gonna ever say I’m saying something about Cardi, “Why would she say that? She brought Cardi out with her at Summer Jam. She ain’t talking about Kim, regardless of how much it may fit. Nah, she just did a record with Kim. She not talking about La, she not talking about Young M.A.” That’s cool and I think it’s dope, because we can do it! It’s some dope-ass females out here and we all contributed. Every last one of us, even the ones that I don’t like, everybody contributed their own shit. Everybody’s a queen in their own right.

Why is it so often that female rappers are presented in the industry as warring with each other?

I don’t know. I don’t know why. But I think it’s females in general, in any field. You go to a police department, I’m pretty sure the female officers are gonna tell you the same thing. You go to a hospital, the female doctors will tell you the same thing. The fact that our genders are always put before our occupation might be the beginning of the problem. Female doctor. Female cop. Female lawyer. Female rapper. What the fuck is that? So how does it feel being a female rapper? Do you ever sit and here and be like, “Yo, how’s it feel being a male rapper?” No one asks anybody that. So I think it begins with the fact that our gender is being placed before our occupation.

When we had Joe in here, he said you were the most positive role model that he could imagine coming home from where you were coming from, having a solid marriage, making big hit records and doing all of the things you did. Then he said, “zshe got into that beef, so I guess that’s hip hop.” Was “SHEther” just hip hop, or was it a personal situation?

“SHEther” was just what it was. I don’t care. I don’t care. I really don’t. You ask anybody, for the next couple of interviews ask them, “Where were you when you first heard ‘SHEther’?” Whenever I say that to somebody, they tell me exactly where they were and what they were doing, so it was definitely a moment. But I feel like everything plays a part.

It’s the same thing with “Ether.” You know, “Ether” was what it was. Does that change who Nas is? Does that change who JAY-Z is? But did it change hip hop? Absolutely.

So I feel like that may have been just another piece of the puzzle that has people talking about women in hip hop again, and has women feeling inspired. When I go across my timeline, or I just type in female rappers on Google, I see all these different women from different places and they’re really rapping though. They’re really rapping! I love it! [x]

#remy ma #mass appeal #rap #rapper #hiphop #hip hop #female rap #female rapper #interview

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shift-shaping · 7 years

Text

The Lioness and the Wolf - II - The Fade Scholar

This work is also available on Ao3. If you enjoy my work, please reblog, leave a comment, or donate to my Ko-Fi. Thank you!

Rating: Mature

Genre: General

Pairing: Solas x Surana

Warning: Serious injuries, blood

Part two of The Lioness and the Wolf. Part one.

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Eirwen stumbled, fell, then collapsed into the long, dry grass at her feet. Her fingers shook as she pressed them to her side, desperately trying to hold in the blood pooling against her shirt. Darkness tinged the edges of her vision and the sunset in front of her blurred into a mess of orange and yellow. She knew she had to heal her wound, but her magic was never meant to fix herself. Even here, where the Veil was thin, she struggled to reach past it and pull the cool touch of a healing spell to her command.

Grimacing, she rolled on to her back and freed her bag from her hip; she had a strip of fabric inside that she used to hold her hair at night. Despite her dulled dexterity she managed to pull it out and stretch it above her head. She breathed in and out, slowly, staying focused and awake despite the weakness exhausting her muscles. With a surge of determination she sat up, gritting her teeth, and wrapped the band of fabric tightly around her waist. She pressed down over the wound, wrapping around as many times as she could before tying it off at her abdomen.

She eased herself back down, closing her eyes as she carefully let her head rest on the ground. The warmth on her hand lessened, and when she next looked at her palm, the blood was mostly dried. But her head still burned, the pulsing pain so strong that she could barely see through the purple and black spots in her vision.

If she couldn’t actually heal herself, she could at least put the pain away until she was safe. She raised her hands to her head and reached out again, relying on her magic to ground her as she sought the power for a different type of spell.

Adrenaline suddenly jolted through her veins and she gasped, shaking in the grass before the pain dulled to a quiet ache. She used her new, artificial energy to raise herself from the ground and stumble to her feet.

Every step hurt, but the spell made her better. She just needed to find a farm, then she could harass the owner into helping her. But she even as she walked miles from where her blood stained the grass, she saw nothing but burned out buildings and torched cropland. As the sun crossed the midpoint of the sky her spell wore off, leaving her to stumble forward on her unsteady feet on willpower alone. She couldn’t take anymore --as night fell around her, she dropped to her knees, closed her eyes, and let silence envelope her aching body.

She could have slept for seconds or days. Time vanished in the fog of her pain and only returned in drowsy, confused trails as she felt a presence by her side. Something touched her head and she started moving, only to be hushed by a soft, gentle voice. “You are very badly injured. Hold still, and I will help as much as I can.”

She relaxed, keeping her eyes closed. Cool, soothing magic washed over her, sinking through her pain, breaking it apart. A deep, pleased moan left her lips. Rough and heavy hands brushed over her forehead, and she flinched instinctively as they eased toward the impact sight on her skull. But there was no pain, and again she relaxed.

Finally, she looked up at the person helping her. The apostate, the Fade scholar. She drew his name from somewhere in the mists of her memories. Solas. “What... what are you doing out here?”

“That is your first question?”

She swallowed hard. “It’s not the only one.” She vaguely recalled something about him being absent from Skyhold, away on some soul-searching journey, but she couldn’t remember why or for how long he was supposed to be gone.

He raised his gaze from her and looked out over the broad yellow fields around them. His fair skin, to her damaged gaze, was not unlike the pale, cloudless blue sky behind him. “I was on my way back to the Skyhold. I had some... personal business to attend to.”

She closed her eyes again, the light making a dull ache in her skull. “Alone?”

He hesitated, then nodded. “It was not exactly a matter I could discuss with company.”

“You have a captive audience now.”

She could hear the edge of a smile in his voice, a slight gentleness poking through the bitter bile of loss. “It is alright, da’len. It... the matter is finished, now.” More cooling magic washed over her and she exhaled shakily, sinking more comfortably into what she thought was the ground but then realized, with a dulled surprise, was his lap.

“Why did you help me?”

“What? Why would I not help you?” He sounded genuinely offended, and she shrugged.

“I probably looked pretty dead, it might not even have been clear who I was, you’re under no obligation to help me... the list goes on.”

“You’re a member of the Inquisition. I would have done the same for anyone wearing Inquisition armor.” There was a bit of defensiveness in his tone, and she opened her eyes to see his indignant expression. “Besides, I am not heartless. I try to help when I can.” She hummed, then sighed and started to shift. “Wait--” he started, but she waved him off. “Here.” He offered her his hand, and she gripped it tightly as she eased herself out of his lap and on to her knees. “Careful.” She grit her teeth, squeezed her eyes shut for a minute, then swallowed hard and steeled her nerves. Her hand left his to rest on her legs. “What happened to you?”

“We were ambushed. The Freemen here --dumb bastards-- they attacked us and wiped out most of my men. The ones they didn’t get are being held... somewhere.” She shook her head slightly, her features settling into a bitter scowl. “How the shit I managed to let us get ambushed in a field is beyond me...”

“There are many things to be aware of out here. Rifts, Fade-touched animals... reanimated corpses, for some reason.”

“There’s no excuse.” She spoke harshly, her tone cutting. “I was being inattentive, as usual.” With a grunt, she pushed down on the ground and started to stand. “Now I have to get them back.”

Solas stood quickly, supporting her. “In your condition? No. We should find an Inquisition camp, send word to Skyhold...”

“They’re my men. I can’t fail them twice.”

“You are being unreasonable. They are likely unaware you even survived, much less expect a rescue.”

She tried to walk, and he hooked his arm around her waist so she wouldn’t be alone. “I have to.”

“You have to rest, or you won’t be able to help anyone.”

“I already feel better.” Her unsteady steps said otherwise. “Just a couple hours and I can go after them.” She half-dragged him, strong even in her injured state, and he stumbled before catching himself and sighing.

“Slow down then, at least.” She listened to him, for once, and he helped her shift her weight so she could lean on him for support. “Let us find somewhere safer, make camp, and then decide.”

“I already decided.”

“Eirwen, please.”

“Fine,” she said begrudgingly, and he helped lead her back into the woods at the edge of the field. They walked together, slow and careful, until they found a dense copse of trees with low-hanging branches that might shield them from sight. Despite his insistence, she refused to sit down and let him make camp. Her magic was still working, though every part of her felt weak, and she used it to help make their fire and something of a shelter.

When they had a space resembling a camp, he made her lay down and accept his healing again. She complained at first, still insisting she was fine, until the effects of the spell made her drowsy enough to sleep and he could finally breathe a sigh of relief. This would do for now, but they needed blankets and bedrolls or she would hardly improve. He’d reached the limit of what his magic could do --he’d never been a healer. What she truly needed she would not find out here, but at least he could keep her stable until she agreed to get help.

He had some food left in his bag, but not enough for both of them. Luckily, he recognized some nearby mushrooms and edible roots, then cut them with her dagger so she could get her strength back up.

There was more to his actions than altruism, and he figured she could already tell that he needed her healthy so they could watch each other’s backs in the Dirth. His assessment of this area was not an understatement, and if they wanted to survive and make it back to a real Inquisition camp then she’d need to be in fighting condition. He was confident enough in his ability to keep just himself safe, but if she could barely walk, much less fight, she was just another target for wayward demons.

The smell of cooking food woke her up, and she grumbled incoherently before rolling over to look at him. “What’s for lunch?”

“I think we are closer to dinner...”

“What’s for... whatever?”

He snorted and shifted, letting her see what was cooking in the fire. “Whatever I could find. Roots vegetables, some mushrooms...” She looked it over, apparently decided it was to her liking, then relaxed back into the leaf-lined bed beneath her. “Unfortunately, all I have for flavor is salt.”

“I like salt.”

“You are in luck then.”

They were quiet for a while, the food slowly cooking as she dozed in their shelter. When she spoke again, he couldn’t help but smile a bit at the almost-drunken weakness in her voice. “You’re being very kind to me.”

“You sound suspicious.”

“Kindness is suspicious.”

“We are comrades, da’len. Any Inquisition member would be expected to do this for you.”

She squinted at him. “Maybe in theory. They wouldn’t, though.”

“What makes you say that?”

“Experience.” She started to sit up, and he tensed to help her before she waved him off. “Maker, I’m fine. Just have a bit of a headache is all.”

“Yes, well, you had a skull fracture.”

Her eyes widened. “Liar.”

“A minor one, but a fracture nonetheless. What were you hit with?”

“I barely remember. Probably a mallet.” She shuddered. “I hate to think of it. I haven’t been hit that hard in years.” The same bitterness from before invaded her tone and she scowled. “So stupid. Adaar never should have let me do that.”

“Your determination to find them alone is proof that her faith in you is not misplaced.” This part of her was curious to him. He’d seen the strength with which she fought darkspawn and lead her party into battle in the Fade; she was far from unworthy. There was a before, and there was an after --something had changed her, made her doubt herself beyond reason.

“No.” She shook her head, then closed her eyes. “I’m best under Josephine, as an ambassador of sorts. A piece to move around the board. If I can help at all, it’s through my name and story alone. I should never move the pieces myself.” She crossed her legs. “How much longer until the food is done?”

He poked at the plate with a stick, rolling over some of the roots. “A few minutes, at most.”

“Good.” She took her flask from her side and brought it to her lips. He frowned at her, but said nothing.

“Want to try it?” He asked, and she raised an eyebrow before nodding and scooting forward. With great care, he eased one of the mushrooms off the cooking rock and on to a leaf. She smirked as she took it, waited, then ate it once it was cool enough.

“This is the elfiest thing I’ve ever done.”

He frowned heavily, not appreciating the joke. “You sound like Sera.”

Eirwen shrugged, swallowing her bite. “Must be our shared heritage.”

“I was under the impression you were raised in the Circle.”

She held up a finger and shook her head. “Partially, yes. But I spent the first nine years of my life in the Denerim alienage. From what I understand, Sera was also born there.”

He scoffed, turning back to the fire and the food, still scowling deeply. “Not that she cares. Sera eschews all things Elvhen, even what little could have been offered to her in the slums.” He paused, looking across at the leaf Eirwen still held in her hand. “In any event, what you see as Elvhen would be an insult to the true legacy of the People. So much of what once was has been lost in favor of ignorance and fear.” Most men, in such a frustrated state, would take their anger into the task at hand. But Solas was no less gentle in how he turned their meal, the stick he used just barely prodding a root onto its side. He shook his head, his voice tightening. “This is hardly Elvhen.”

Eirwen was quiet for a moment, watching him, then shrugged. “Maybe I should have said ‘most Dalish’ thing I’ve ever done.”

He laughed short, humorlessly. “At least you can recognize the difference.” He sat back, relaxing somewhat, and held out his hand for her leaf. “It is done.”

They ate in near-silence. She didn’t much care for his frustration over the current state of Elvhen culture. If she had the desire, much less the energy, she might have pointed out how pointless it was to speak of the glories of the past when their people were being burned alive for minor slights against nobility or hunted like wild animals in their last refuge from human oppression. She might have defended her own upbringing, might have taken issue with his dismissal of alienage elves and pointed out that at least they were trying.

She chewed hard, venting her anger into the tough, salty root in her mouth, and said nothing. Arguing with her healer wouldn’t do her any good, especially not when he felt so much stronger than she did. Surely, anything she said would just piss him off more.

Eventually he wandered off, leaving her alone to rest in the trees. He left behind a barrier to keep her safe, though he promised he’d be back long before it wore off. It didn’t matter to her either way, because as soon as she laid back down and got comfortable, she fell into a deep, dreamless sleep.

if you enjoyed this fic, please hit the reblog button on this post. comments are cool but not necessary -you can leave no tags, a keysmash, or even just ‘nice’ if you’d like! thanks for your support -arden <3

#solas #surana #verse: the lion and the wolf #the lioness and the wolf posts #solasmance #solavellan #glimpses

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imagine-loki · 7 years

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Across the Divide

TITLE: Across The Divide CHAPTER NO./ONE SHOT: Chapter Fifteen AUTHOR: wolfpawn ORIGINAL IMAGINE: Imagine Loki sneaking out of the palace as a youth to see the city and countryside, while out one day, he accidentally gets in trouble for something, but a young girl deals with the situation, allowing him to be left alone and his true identity be kept secret. She is a poor girl who is only in the city to sell goods with her father, so she does not realise it is Loki, even though she sees his face. They form a friendship as she shows him around the city, and tells him the date she comes to the city every month for a particular market. RATING: Teen and Up

Odin stared at the bed in front of him and the small being that inhabited it. He had gone to the mines, he had seen the terribly under cared for of the realm, but he had seen nothing like the creature in front of him. He went to Alfheim when it was revealed there was a terrible famine on the outskirts of the land, an island whose only method to the mainland was by sea travel, but a winter of storms meant none could travel, by the end of it, most everyone had perished from lack of food. The King of Alfheim had called on him to go with him to the island, the starved were deceased with more flesh than the small woman in front of him, somehow clasping to life in the bed. "Her family have all perished?"

"Immediate only, her aunt and uncle are the reason she is as she is now apparently," Frigga answered from beside him, looking at the girl also.

Odin inhaled and shook his head. Frigga had a brother on Vanaheim, a pain of a man if he was honest, but he had a daughter and were it to pass that she came to their care, she would want for nothing, he would ensure it. Looking at the girl in front of him, there was perhaps an argument that death would have been kinder to her. "She seems surreal."

"I know."

"And this is Loki's link to the common people?"

"Apparently she is the one that told Loki of the mine collapse, her brother was in it," Frigga informed him.

"And the schools, healthcare?"

"Her also."

"How…?"

"He snuck out, every market day."

"You would think the guards would have noticed him," Odin growled, displeased with the lax manner the guards performed their duties.

"They would have if Prince Loki passed them, but he did not." Odin looked to his wife. "A boy with her hair colour and more tanned skin walked by them, not a tall boy of pale skin and black hair."

"Norn's, you had to teach him seidr." Odin groaned. "He will be dangerous with that in the future."

"That is for Asgard's enemies to worry about." Odin had to agree with his wife. "How angry are you?"

"For his going to the markets, I am not, if I could have snuck passed my father's guards, I would have done the exact same thing. For using such magic, I am somewhat annoyed, he should have alerted you to his abilities for his own safety, but for his knowing all of this and fibbing and lying as to how he know, for that I want to tan his hide."

Frigga smiled, Odin had never raised a hand to either of their sons, and though they were not perfect, they were good; she knew he was irked at Loki's lying, but so too did she know that he understood the reasons behind Loki's lies. "We better let her rest," she stated, placing her hand on Odin's shoulder to coax him out.

"The girl." She halted and looked at him. "Loki is attached to her?"

"I believe Loki to care for her very deeply."

"What is her name?"

"Ariella, he calls her Ari."

"I like it." Odin gave a small smile at the name. "Her chances?" Frigga did not answer. "That bad?"

"Eir is trying to understand how she is still alive."

"Sometimes it is the smallest pup has the greatest fight," Odin commented. He turned and walked out of the healing rooms when he came to a pairing of guards that were patrolling and not in sentry positions, he ordered them to find his younger son, that he required him and his expertise immediately, the guards nodded and immediately set about doing as asked.

"Are you going to tell him you know of Ariella?" Frigga inquired.

"I believe he will tell me himself when the time is right," Odin stated. "For now, the only thing he needs to worry about is sorting this farce of a situation."

Loki rushed through the halls to his father, as the head of all things commoner related, he knew he would be called on by his father for updates and whatnot, but he was in the middle of readying his report and subsequent changes to include quality of life to the basic needs of poorer citizens, especially those who required care. The report was in his grasp as though life itself depended on it as he made his way to his father's private study. Knocking on the door, he waited.

"Enter," Immediately, he did as told. Looking around, Loki was somewhat confused as to why his father alone was in the room and none other. "Good, you came quickly." He nodded as his son stood watching him. "I had Lord Ivan come to me this morning, telling me to put a rein on you." Loki's lip twitched slightly in contempt, "he tells me you cannot be reasoned with, that you will not yield to any demand. Is this true?"

"Yes," Loki confirmed. "Because there is no other option."

"What if the demands you made are unreasonable, what if they are not what is best for the people, will you listen to reason?"

"If any could argue that what I seek is not for the best of others and explain to me why, I will be the first to listen, but the only reason I am being argued with is because the Lords are greedy and do not like the idea that peasants and uneducated people would be given the ability to be educated for fear that they will soon realise there are more of them than there ever is soldier, guard or Lord, and that makes them fear for their safety, because they know how badly they have mistreated the poor, overcharging them for basic food, water and shelter, and they know that should things change, they will be the ones to bear the brunt of it, though Ivan could do with less fine dining, he is at risk of being as round as he is tall."

Odin nodded, "Most definitely."

"Can I asked why you called me here?"

"Are you busy?"

"Yes, actually." Loki made a movement that brought Odin's focus to his hand and the report in it.

"I wanted to talk to you regarding whether you were being as unreasonably stubborn as I was being told you were, or if you were being forced to fight your corner ardently in a hostile environment."

"The latter."

"Yes, I agree." Odin conceded. "What is that?" He indicated to the report in Loki's hand.

"A law I am going to see if I can have altered."

"Is it ready?" Odin asked, going to his study table to offer Loki to show him.

"No," Loki stepped forward, opening it in front of his father, "I want to make it iron clad, no loopholes, I want to make it as strong as possible." He explained.

Odin skimmed its contents. "Orphans."

"Some of the weakest and most vulnerable people in all of Asgard, the laws regarding them are so flimsy, too weak to ever be brought to a court should neglect take place."

"An odd first order of business," Odin noted, Loki looked at him, half expecting his father to dismiss it. "An integral piece to have cleaned up, but not one many would ever consider, much less make a top priority."

"I have been made aware of some horrific side effects of such laws being so weak, I have to rectify it."

"I agree."

"You are doing that a lot with me today," Loki stated suspiciously, looking at his father as though expecting him to begin to dismiss him and his work.

"I spent so long thinking that you and Thor should be identical, on the battlefield and off. Of late, perhaps because of my aging less than gracefully," Loki chuckled at his father's joke, "I realised I was fighting a losing battle, you and Thor, you are nothing alike, he is a warrior, brutish yet personable, you are more like an assassin, you are as deadly, if not more so than your brother, but you are better hidden in the background, watching, calculating your moves, you do not do as well in a room with others, and though I thought it integral, I see with you, it means you get to know what so many of us only wish we could know. Giving you this task, I thought you would thrive, I really did, but you surpass all expectation." Odin grasped his son's shoulder and smiled. "You are doing well Loki, whatever it is in you to think so much of those less fortunate, it must be tended to and cared for so greatly."

Loki swallowed, his father's praise was completely unexpected, as was his reasons for his recent good humour and encouragement towards him. He thought for a second about telling him about Ariella but thought not to at that time, it would take too long to explain and he wanted to ensure his wording for his amendment was right, he swore to himself he would tell his father as soon as Ariella was a little stronger. "Thank you, Father."

Odin noticed the conflict in Loki's eyes. "Is there something that you wish to tell me?"

"No, I just am eager to get this finished, with that done, I can speak with you more," Loki explained.

"Very well, go and do it so and do not let me bother you." Odin encouraged, realising that indeed Loki would tell him his secret in due course. He knew to force Loki to admit it would not work, nor would in build trust with his son, who seemed to finally have a sense of purpose. "Your humour was so dour for a while, I am glad to see you are taking to your responsibilities so seriously, it has brought new life to you."

Loki gave a small nod and left. "Darling." He turned to see his mother coming down the hallway, "How is your day going?"

"Fine." Loki was somewhat unsettled.

"Loki, I know you are anxious to return to her, but you need to do your day's work also."

"I am trying." he explained, his hands once more twitching around the work he had done.

"I see," His mother stated understandingly. "I will let you get on with it so." Loki nodded in gratitude and made to go back to his rooms. "I went to check on her again as I was passing the healing rooms," He turned to face his mother, "She is after another feed and is taking it well it would appear."

"Good, thank you, Mother."

"Anytime my love." She smiled before making her way into her husband's study. "Well?"

"He is willing to tell me I think, but he is obsessed with getting the adequate legislation altered first."

"That will take some work."

"Loki is the only one I think will outlast them all. The lords are stubborn, but Loki puts all to shame."

"I wonder who he got that from." Frigga smiled.

"To be honest, I think he has both of our stubbornness combined."

"The poor souls that have to suffer him."

"Why do you think I chose them? They will soon learn not everyone can be bought." Odin grinned proudly at how his plans to make some overly useless lords realise they were not as powerful as they thought came to fruition as his son got what he wished from the arrangement also. Odin was usually the first to condemn nepotism, but on this occasion, it very much was an all-win situation for the people of Asgard, and that mattered more than anything else.

Satisfied with his work, Loki placed his request with his father's work to allow his father give it the consent to be forwarded to court, he suspected his father would not only read over it to assist if possible, but with his comments that afternoon, Loki suspected that there would be no issue from his father regarding its content.

With his work done, he knew his next port of call should be to get something to eat, but all he could think of was Ariella, so rather than taking the stairwell to the dining hall, he rushed to the healing ward instead. On entering, he watched as Eir personally placed food through the tube for Ariella to eat and stay with her until she was satisfied the food was in her stomach, he then witnessed the healer change her position to ensure her body was not feeling too much pressure on the same spots for too long before she turned to face him, her face telling him she was unsurprised to see him there. "How is she?"

"She is accepting the food, it seems, I cannot tell for sure until we start seeing the benefits of it." Loki came forward, looking hopefully at his friend. "It is still a very long path of recovery, but she may make nightfall now."

"If she makes it through the night?"

"Then her chances will increase exponentially," the healer smiled. "The first seventy-two hours are the hardest because she will have to process the food fully for us to know what way it will be."

"And because of her state, it is taking the food longer to process?"

"Because the food is so nutrient rich and small in size, we anticipate the first few feedings to be absorbed in their entirety."

"And so far?"

"This is the fifth one and she has not declined any further."

"Good, good." Loki nodded, not wanting to get his hopes up.

"You have done so much for this girl, you have saved her life."

Loki said nothing for a few moments, "Not yet, I have not." Eir frowned at him, what good is keeping her alive if all that is going to happen is for history to repeat itself?"

"Well, my abilities lie in healing the ill; you, if I am hearing correctly, it is you that holds the power to alter laws," She smiled.

"I can only do so much."

"Look what you have done so far; to Ariella, you have changed the world, now to the world, you can change it all."

Not fully understanding what Eir was saying, Loki gave Ariella a small smile, "Can I sit with her for a few moments?"

"You know the rules," Eir stated firmly, Loki nodded and went over beside the bed. "Ari, I am doing everything I can. I am so scared that it will not enough." He admitted. "What if I fail you?" he asked fearfully. "I am so frightened that this will all be for nought, please Ari, I can only fight it if I have you to fight with me, you are the reason I have done everything so far."

He was about to say more when he realised Eir was back in the room. He looked to her and he became fearful. "Prince Thor is looking for you, he says it is urgent."

Loki rushed from the room, not wanting Thor around Ariella, he found his brother only a hallway away. "What is afoot?"

"Loki, Father has given consent for your alterations to be made to the laws," Thor explained desperately.

"That is a good thing."

"The lords are going to deny it."

"Oh what grounds, it affects them in no way."

"To have you leave the position. Ivan is going around getting them to follow him, he is saying that you are going to ruin their livelihoods if you are left at it. He cannot expel you, but he thinks that if he gets you to fail on your basic law changes, that you will become disheartened."

Loki growled to himself, his thoughts racing as he tried to think through everything. "Thor, I need your help." Loki was surprised he even could ask.

Thor seemed twice as stunned before he shook himself slightly and answered. "Of course brother, what can I do?"

In all honesty, if, when he was younger, Loki encountered an older version of himself saying that he would one day be begging for Thor to help him as he was about to that day, he would have scoffed, but here he stood, about to do just that.

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enkisstories · 5 years

Text

The android cemetery (Ch. 27)

There was a long silence and then Emma Phillips spoke up:

“In the Oldwest, when two guys had a shootout and the one who got attacked was faster, certainly they wouldn’t have hanged that one? He only had to go to prison? Jason?!”

“Jason would like a tea, if possible”, the android designer replied. “And a cat on his lap.”

Connor raised his arm. Attached to it was Loki, who didn’t let go even as the android arm swung around like a crane. The tom clang to Connor’s forearm with all fours, like a sloth, and he was lovingly biting into it. Here and there the sleeve had already gotten ripped open, what made the event all the more exiting for the cat.

“Wow, you’re fortunate!” Daniel exclaimed, genuinely happy to see something heartwarming again after the shock just now. Even if it was his own cat befriending The Negotiator. “Loki likes you!”

“Could he maybe like Mr. Graff now instead of me?” Connor asked, almost pleading. “I… might be a dog person, after all…”

Daniel laughed, playfully punched Gavin’s arm and then the two of them went to work detaching Loki from the RK800.

Meanwhile Thor was dashing for the sofa. He vanished under it, not planning to re-appear anytime soon as long as all the bipeds were congregating in the downstairs living room.

Evelyn, too, was in a hurry to leave the room. She walked backwards to the kitchen, dragging Emma with her.

“I’ll make one!” the child android promised, referring to the tea Mr. Graff was craving. “I know how to! I’ll make tea for everyone!”

A few moments later Emma was sitting at the kitchen table, watching Evelyn prepare the tea and listening with half an ear to the adults talking in the other room. Emma could not make out words, but at least she got the general impression that the men were keeping their calm.

“You’re lucky to get a new father”, Lyn told the older girl while she waited for the water in the kettle to boil.

“No, I’m not!” Emma protested. “Fathers are not toys that you switch out and love the new one like you did the old!”

The girl went on about this being not just about her feelings, but even moreso about her murdered father. Replacing him in her heart was akin to killing John Phillips again. Emma could not do that to her dad, not even if that Jason had been the greatest replacement father in the world. In truth Emma had no idea what kind of father - or person - the man might be. Getting to know Jason better with no intention of befriending him at all deemed her too close to betraying her real father.

Evelyn didn’t understand any of that. Already her programming was overwriting Mr. Turner with Mr. Reed and his wife with Mr. Danny. Even if the child android had wanted to stop that process, it would have been helpless against it. Emma had an idea about that, only it didn’t feel right to her to actually voice her thoughts. Instead she said: “Of course you do not understand what I’m trying to say, Evie. You are much younger than me, several years. That makes a big difference!”

Evelyn nodded. That was something she understood! From Lyn’s perspective Emma was far closer to the adults in the next room than to herself.

Eventually the kettle whistled, leaves got stuffed into glasses and water got poured over the leaves and then the two girls returned to the living room, Emma carrying a handful of spoons and the more heat-resistant Lyn the tray with the glasses.

“You have a daughter of your own now, Daniel”, Emma casually addressed her former caretaker while handing out the spoons. “Why did you never tell me?”

Daniel smiled at the girl. “She’s not my daughter, no worries! We only keep Lyn around on Captain Anderson’s orders until we have found a new family for her.”

How could this be so easy? Them chatting while handling small household items? Shouldn’t they work on their shared past instead of acting as if it had never happened? But there was only so much “working on” a person could do, whatever that phrase even meant, Daniel thought. Sometimes you just had to live.

“I’ve been properly rude to Lyn all day”, the deviant assured Emma. “I won’t replace you, not me, I’m not like that! How could I do to someone else what I had to go through?”

“But, Daniel! That’s exactly what you are doing! Evie is just like you, but you are pushing her away? That’s textbook for doing to her what has been done to you!”

“I…” Daniel was about to protest, but he could not deny that Emma was having a point there. “I hadn’t thought about it from that angle.”

Emma wrinkled her nose. “Because you never think “, she said.

There. Emma’s unquestioning hero-worship of the “coolest android in the world”, her unconditional trust were gone. What was left was a willingness to at least preserve their friendship. That was more mature, more healthy, but, damn, was Daniel missing their innocent days! Back when they hadn’t realized what jerks their parents… uh, Mr. and Mrs. Philips, of course (because he, Daniel, certainly didn’t need any stinking parents, was he Connor, or what?!) had been. And before they had started seeing boys with different eyes. Back when life hadn’t been better, but simpler.

“You might want to keep Evie, you know” Emma thought aloud. “With a friendly daughter you might find a better partner than Officer Reed!”

“I understand the appeal of letting this one dangle over the edge up on a skyscraper”, Gavin grunted, much to Connor’s amusement.

“Nah, she has a good point there!” the RK800 claimed.

“Wait ‘till you make the first mistake in love, Emma”, Daniel laughed. “Then we will talk again, the three of us, because I’m not letting go of Gavin.”

Emma shook her head. What had gotten proposed was too far in the future to consider right here in this room. There were more pressing issues:

“You must be nice to Evelyn, otherwise I will tell the police about you!”

It wasn’t an idle threat, Daniel realized. And neither was it playful teasing. He had messed up, not just in taking three lives, also in dismissing his only friend in the world. Instead of going straight to Emma with his news about getting replaced, the deviant had assumed that if John had turned from friend to traitor, then Emma would, too. That was serious, as serious as Emma was being just now. Things could never be the same between them again.

“I will”, the deviant said. “Tomorrow is Sunday. We’ll go take Lyn and not just to the museum, I promise.”

“Don’t I get asked?” Gavin snapped.

“No, Mr. Reed”, Emma answered solemnly. “You already agreed to at least provide shelter for Evelyn. That’s more than I expected from you and I should leave it at that.”

“That’s… what?!”

“If we’re bargaining here”, Jason said carefully, “consider this additional agreement, Emma: Actual criminal acts committed by them aside, I will not spill the beans about Dean being Daniel or about him - and maybe this Connor here, too - being a deviant. In turn you agree to not reveal my occupation to your mother.”

Emma sighed. “I guess I can promise that.”

It was all a bit much, all the lying, the keeping secrets and the alliances one entered into… There was certainly more to adulthood, but right now it seemed to consist mostly of using your brain to exert damage control on all the shit your heart was doing. There was obnoxious Mr. Reed, the android she was wary of despite it having saved her life, the other android that Emma knew she should not, but could not help to consider her friend, the replacement father, young Evie…

“In a fairy tale”, Emma mused, “my father would come back now, too. But life isn’t a story, so this will have to do.”

The comment made Daniel realize that their relationship would have changed, even if the events of august ’38 had never happened. How much the erstwhile child had grown! The more time was passing, the more Daniel was able to see Caroline and John the way they truly had been, and those versions existed next to his younger self’s idealized images of them. Emma to the contrary had not changed in Daniel’s perception, but for real. This wasn’t But why do I have to bother with Nature Studies when I want to become an author! – Emma anymore. The two years older Emma would discuss with her godfather how to keep the amount of Nature Studies in her life to a minimum and how to exploit that necessary minimum for her writing endeavors. So, pretty much what Daniel had goaded her into already back home, only now she would do so out of her own free will. Looking back at how he, too, had grown ever since “leaving home”, the deviant wondered if he and Emma would sit in her room now in a parallel universe and daydream of the boys they had a crush on.

“Speaking of Happy Ends…”

Gavin shoved his phone under Daniel’s nose. With the other hand he grabbed Connor by the collar and forced him to have a look at the screen, too. It displayed a short text message from Tina to Daniel and Gavin and it read:

“Hey, guys, guess what, your girlfriend has just slept with another man!”

Jason caught a glimpse of the message, too. Seeing how excitedly the trio was showing it to each other over and over, Jason could not help but whisper “So who are the weirdos now…”

“Is it that basketballer dude?” Connor asked the other two.

“Yes!” Daniel beamed. “Now I do not have to pair Tina up with you!”

“What? That was the last resort plan you’ve been teasing all the time? ME? You must be joking!”

“Am I?”

“No”, Connor agreed after some consideration. “I know the lengths you go to when you’re desperate.” The RK800 smiled. So they would see more of Tina’s friend in the future? Connor liked that. He was hanging out with Yumiko and Macky, also spend an unreasonable amount of time with Gavin and Daniel, but all of them were co-workers in the broadest sense. Mingling with humans unrelated to policework was something severely missing in Connor’s life.

“I’m looking forward to meet Tina’s friend.”

“The poor guy doesn’t know what he’s getting into”, Jason remarked while taking a deep gulp of the tea. “So, what are we telling Emma’s mom?”

“The truth”, Connor suggested. “She learned that Daniel’s corpse was kept in the DPD’s archive and brought flowers. We can present the bouquet in case proof gets requested.”

“I guess that would be for the best”, Jason agreed. “Caroline won’t be a happy camper, but for running away in the middle of the night Emma has had it coming. And I’m not saying this as your “replacement father”, but as a sensible person!”

“Whatever”, the girl muttered.

“I’ll phone Caroline and explain why her child will get delivered to her in a police car. She was sick with worry when I left the apartment.”

Connor nodded. “I’ll drive”, he said. “You two stay here and tug in Evelyn. It’s for the better if Mrs. Phillips won’t lay eyes on Daniel and also if Gavin won’t get in a position where he might say… something Gavin-ish to her.”

“I recall she wasn’t too fond of you, either”, Daniel replied.

“Yes, you’re right. I guess in this case I’ll practice Staying In The Car while Mr. Graff takes Emma upwards. Since this seems to be such a valued skill at this workplace.”

(END of part 5)

#non sims #sims4 dbh partfive #detroit become human #sims4danielgavin

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afriendtokilltime · 7 years

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I don't get why people like Korra so much, isn't she just a rebel character?

No? She’s conservative and respectful of authority.

Korra does often end up going against the wishes of authority figures, but in general she tries not to. Like, Tenzin (unreasonably) tells her she’s forbidden from pro bending, she initially agrees but later gives in. And when Tarrlok asks her to join his task force, everyone including him and Tenzin clearly expects her to immediately say yes, but she refuses–out of respect for Tenzin’s authority. And then he basically forces her into it.

She flouts the law when she first comes to Republic City, but that’s because she doesn’t know any better. Like, she’s so sheltered she literally doesn’t know what money is. And when she continues creating trouble for the law, it’s not out of rebellion–it’s because she views that as her position as the Avatar. Even her relationship to her own status is an appeal to authority.

Another small point on that front she makes a lot of choices that make it very clear that despite growing up in a White Lotus compound interacting with very few people, she still strongly identifies with her Southern Water Tribe heritage. Like how she dresses very traditionally, even when they go out to fancy parties where everyone else is dressed super modern. And day to day, most people in Republic City dress in a modern, fashionable RC style, but she doesn’t. She doesn’t make a big deal of it, it’s just how she rolls.

And yet despite that, she respects the position of the Northern Water Tribe as the “big brother” to SWT and supports Uniloq’s imperialist takeover of the SWT because he roots it in that tradition.

But what’s really interesting is how when she switches sides she switches sides hard, and is going to a pro-SWT independence rally immediately like “I have to show them the Avatar is on their side!” She jumps into things very whole-heartedly and thinks later. She’s not afraid of being caught with contradictory beliefs–she does what she thinks is right right now.

There’s also the fact that part of what makes Korra look like “just a rebel” is that Tenzin is kind of an awful teacher. He’s a good man and a good father figure and actually they have a strong relationship but he isn’t talented at the act of imparting knowledge. His version of discipline is too strict and black-and-white, and he’s awful at explaining a concept in multiple different ways–if Korra didn’t get it the first time, he just sorta…keeps repeating the same thing… (no dis on Tenzin, I have this in common with him; I would be a terrible teacher)

Aang is more rebellious than Korra, though he too is often traditional and conservative–and even then, you get the sense he maybe wouldn’t be quite as much if he wasn’t literally the last airbender. Whereas Korra respects positions of authority, Aang almost always thumbs his nose at them (though when push comes to shove, he does uphold traditional monarchic power structures, and he does believe in the idea of balance/preservation).

I mean, I don’t like Korra for being conservative. I often disagree strongly with things she advocates. I like that it makes her a nuanced character, though. I like how her hotheadedness conflicts with her traditionalist mindset, and how she can often jump from defending one tradition to another in a hot second. How she’s the Avatar that keeps introducing changes, big world altering ones, but she clearly wasn’t comfortable with that and was skeevy toward, say, the merging of the mortal and spirit worlds. How she learned that that had created a lot of positive change and was a really good thing overall, despite how uncomfortable it made her.

Characters that are in some way conservative, but also impulsive and hotheaded, who leap to action but also want to be thoughtful, are super interesting to me. Like Cassandra from DA:I. “I see what must be done, and I do it. I see no point in running around like a dog chasing its tail. …But I misjudged you, did I not?”

But really, is there anything wrong with rebel characters? People seem really into Star Wars.

Rebel characters who are awesome and also well-loved:SeraSolasArya StarkOmar LittleHarry PotterMalcolm ReynoldsLucifer

#legend of korra #avatar the last airbender #korra #aang #a surprising number of them have only one name #lucifer stealer of archangel trousers #what if omar was a red jenny

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a-kouka-rat · 8 years

Text

AnY military talk

Spoilers and endless blabbering. Enjoy

So at first, when the whole thing with Yuhon killing the captive soldiers came out, I was a bit confused. The natural conclusion one gets to immediately is that yuhon was not just cruel. He comes off as extremely bloodthirsty and unreasonably violent. Killin captives you have agreed to return and returning their heads instead after a war has ended and negotiotiations have probably been arranged is a crime that breaks whatever treaty there is between the loosers and the winners and the Xing could just attack kouka again.

But with what Yuhon did, especially if he had a large number of captve soldiers, destroyed the Xing army. It is, in reality, a kind sickeningly effective way of making sure the other nation is no threat anymore. Allowing soldiers -young men- back to their homes would make the Xing have people to build an army back up, flourish and then pose a threat again, much sooner. But by destroying their forces, yuhon made it so that the Xing couldn’t even react to something going against war ethics, because they had nothing to do.

And here comes Kouren’s role as a very good leader. And it shows what determined leaders can do, and it serves to mirror what Suwon can do. Both kouren and Suwon took weak countries and build up military strength, uniting their people over the goal of making their respective nations great again. We know that Suwon has also taken care of inner corruption and issues as well as opening trade with the kai, but due to geographical position and their sensitive state, I doubt the xing have trade routes with others(except fo rthe sei but now they are a vassal state to kouka. Therefore you have a closed and fearful nation (xing) that’s building up an army to stand against military-focused nations all around them, all under a leader with strong personal motives and an iron will and another kingdom (kouka) that’s just beginning to walk the road to prosperity, that is developing and growing with people full of faith for a greater future, all under a king with tons of determination and the certainity of his armies’ strength. Suwon is confident in battles and he obviously has imperialistic tendencies, very common among powerful leaders, historically. It’s impossible to avoid a clash between these two and indeed war seems inevitable. What Tao wanted was to submit to Suwon. Because she wants peace. And that could be a choice, and has been something that nations have done in reality. It would have been good for the people. But here comes ethnicism and pride, things Kouren poseses as a character. SHe cannot give up her nation, due to pride and due to a very common feeling of strong love for one’s country many people have. Tao would have had things going her way if it wasn’t for kouren or any other like her to give people hope that through war and fighting they can gain prosperity and keep their pride at the same time.

Therefore, I think Suwon’s choice is understandable. Yona wants peace and honestly who doesn’t want peace. But this manga is about her growth and her learning of the ways of the world. She learned that sometimes you have to kill another person. That Kouka needs a strong leader. That although she trusts people, and it’s part of her being extremely kind and brought up in a sheltered invironment that didn’t let her get hardened and it’s an admirable feature, people who seem good will still betray her. Now perhaps she’ll learn that nevermind what you hope and what would indeed be best for everyone (namely for all the nations to coexist happily) it’s not always possible to go the good route.

A war between kouka and xing will probably end with kouka’s victory. It has a larger army, it is a larger country and Suwon has already gone to war. Has kouren ever commanded her army in real battle? WHo would the sing battle with? The Sei is a tiny country, Suwon took them over using a handfull of people (alright the dragons where there, but still) Suwon probably knows all that, that’s why he’s so confident about going to war. He will win, the people of xing will suffer the consequenses of a war and with kouren’s loss their spirit will be crushed therefore making them the submissive vassal state they didn’t want to become. Suwon will apoint a new leader and he will have the control of the whole end of the peninsula.

Kouka will still be tiny and weak compared to the vast kai empire, but let’s not forget the nomads. Northern Kai is growing weak. If suwon can go to war against the provinces close to kouka (if let’s say li hazara makes that move he wanted to make against him) and win these places over then he will start posing a real threat to the empire. And he says he wants a strong nation, but let’s be real. A strong nation right next to the kai empire will lead them to becoma anxious and want to quickly get rid of it before it becomes more of a problem. If it gets to a full-on war between Kai and Kouka then it will be interesting, because nevrmind Suwon’s abilities, The kai empire still lookspretty powerful. The qquestion is how united it is and exactly what damage the nomads have caused. Anyway, if northern Kai gets taken over by kouka, then the southern kai should really start to worry. Kouka expending north will give more room for the tribes, especially the earth and the fire, the two most loyal to Suwon, hence enforcing their loyalty.

However, where do Suwon’s goals stop? After taking xing, isn’t it natural that he’d understand that the Kai would make moves against him? Will he sign peace treaties and then give the throne up? And what about afterwards? WIll the Kai honour whatever agreemements if the king randomly gives up him position and some unheard-of young lady sudden;y gets it? Do you know what’s comign for Yona if she takes the throne back? Everyone will test her all over again. The tribes, the vassal states and the empire. Suwon resigning will only bring instability back up. So, up to that point, Yona had better make a very big name for herself or suwon might need to start training a strong heir.

But will he resign? If yes, what’s he going to do? Ask Yona to kill him, making it seem as if she usurped the throne or (because Yona’s against revenge) just stage a regicide with her and then retreat? Suwon expects to be killed by the end of it and it’s pretty obvious. Hell, even Judoh expects him to be killed when all is done. Even if he said it in the heat of the moment, Judoh is obviously certain that Hak will sooner or later do away with Suwon. anyway I don’t know where I’m going with this and I’m going to get off topic real soon and start screaming about judoh so yup.

#akatsuki no yona #spoilers #ch 136

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general-loki · 8 years

Text

Title: Slow Motion for Strangers

Series: Overwatch

Pairing: Mchanzo

Rating: T

Warnings: Shimada bros angst, implied established relationship

[Read on AO3]

Summary: Poor luck brings Hanzo, McCree, and Genji together for a mission with little time to plan or work out a way the two brothers are willing to actually team up. This leaves McCree trying to shoulder more of the job while still grappling with the way it feels to see Hanzo at his worst.

Shoulders squared, an unusual intensity around him, Genji led the first few steps outside of the check point. McCree couldn't help following slower after him, that aura pushing him a few paces behind the cyborg. The rest of the team fell through, leaving just the three of them to try and route whatever Talon had built up down the road. Stoney old roads, worn warehouses, and narrow streets lined McCree's view as the pair began steadily from the relative warmth and shelter of what was at least four walls, a roof, and a door.

Big flaky snow scittered through the air, falling at a relatively careless pace. Chunky flakes stuck to Genji's body, only cold enough to remain for so long before melting like they might off anyone else. McCree couldn't find the words to begin with his friend anymore. He seemed so distant, so much more resolute and cold than he was used to. He didn't and couldn't blame him. This was a sour note to begin anything on—especially a mission.

“Are you okay to be doin' this?” he forced himself to ask finally. Puffs of visible air followed the formation of the first few words from his lips.

Genji didn't turn, but continued walking forward. “I am always prepared. There should be no question,” he answered, tone a touch sharp. Of course he'd still be sore.

“Look, I'm not doubtin' yer abilities, but I can tell you don't like this,” McCree attempted to breach this again more carefully.

“We don't have the time to reconsider the plan. Talon will not stop because we've had a quarrel.”

“It's a lil' bigger than jus' a quarrel, Genj.”

Genji finally stalled and pivoted McCree's way, one fist balled tightly at his side. “It is. But this rides on my brother, not me. If he won't take responsibility...well...how much worse could he do?” When the stray hint of bitterness in his voice kept McCree from answering quickly enough, Genji turned back toward their target. “If he has gotten this far the rest is up to him...Whatever he does, I suppose it effects you too. I'm sorry.”

McCree searched himself for a moment. He knew his answer—he knew it immediately and deeply. Squaring off with Genji's really reasonable distaste for way the plan had to be carried out made him uneasy. He didn't get a sense of any hate out of Genji. It was something far more complex. He wasn't sure if even Genji himself could describe it. Whatever it was, this rift ripped between the Shimada brothers to such a depth that he couldn't simply try to be a patient middle man for them.

A lot of good trying that did for him.

* * *

Escalated frustration marked Morrison's palm slamming into the table. He punctuated with what McCree expected—a loud “enough!” The old man leaned into his hand against the table, the other three variable members of this sort-of-Overwatch-thing left frozen across from him. McCree could hear the age picking up in Morrison's voice as he went on.

“Stop arguing and just get on with the job. You're all that I have...Hell, I don't even want to be the one planning this.”

“An' here you are somehow,” McCree found himself muttering despite knowing damn well he shouldn't.

“Can it, kid,” Morrison snapped at him before going on. “I know this gambit's gonna work, but everybody's gotta be on board for it. Are you really going to waste my time nitpicking the details?”

Together, in unison, the other two members of this group answered. “Yes.” Genji and Hanzo didn't even exchange looks despite the way they synced up. They sat next to each other and still hadn't looked the other's way since sitting down. Genji was tense for sure, but Hanzo was even worse so. He knew the guy was wound up a lot of the time, but never like this. The cold, serious look in his eyes didn't help McCree feel any more welcome to try and break the ice.

They had arrived together only twenty minutes ago, but upon seeing only Morrison and Genji on base and none of the rest of the crew, Hanzo started acting strange. He was terse, short—an almost business-like air overtaking any of the usual in's McCree knew to worm into to get a conversation out of him—or at least a look. Instead, the group moved right into planning their movement. Everything was time sensitive, so it wasn't like they could afford to waste much anyway.

And yet they'd barely budged on actually agreeing to leave the safe point. This briefing with Morrison went to hell so fast McCree barely had a second to blink before either Genji or Hanzo started to tear apart the plan. He was quickly working out why.

“It isn't a waste. You have miscalculated how efficient this formation will be. The ground operation is flawed. I can only cover so many shots from above,” Hanzo began again, strangely firm for downplaying himself.

“Genji and McCree are mostly capable enough to handle what you miss when it picks up. It'll be tight but I know each of you has handled worse on your own,” Morrison countered and finally released the table from his fist. The old man paced a few steps as Genji spoke up again.

“We have the ground covered just fine...But if you expect us to act as a distraction while... our sniper carries out the final strike on the target...that is unreasonable to expect. I would rather spend the time making contact myself.”

“All fine and good if that works out, but they're probably gonna split the second you get in too close. It'll be easier to let Hanzo chase from overhead. If they stick around, have at it, but...I'm not arguing this again! You're wasting time!” Morrison played along a moment before just barking at the three of them.

“I can make the shot. I'll cover the roof,” McCree offered in an attempt to try and end this before it escalated again.

“No,” Genji said before Hanzo could turn it down first. “You just aren't fast enough. And...I would prefer you watching my back.”

“I would not expect you to trust me watching it instead,” Hanzo said bitterly, looking like he nearly tasted it.

A short silence fell over the four before Morrison ultimately broke it. It was hard to tell through his visor, but he focused on Genji. “You brought your brother in, but he won't even work with you,” he said, maybe meaning to make it a question, but his tone wouldn't carry it.

“I made no promises that he would be willing to go that far,” Genji said, voice flat. He remained rigid in his seat, his hands folded neatly on the table, elbows propping them up. He was centered and calm as usual, but there was something else there too. McCree had never noticed it before—something off he couldn't put his finger on.

Hanzo didn't speak on the matter. If that weren't the case, he certainly wasn't denying it. McCree watched his expression, gaze passing right through Morrison and off somewhere else entirely. He felt an ache in his chest, but couldn't bring himself to say anything. He was running out of ideas to patch things he didn't understand or even make this mission move forward.

There was one thing.

McCree stood up from the table and started a few strides toward the exit. “I'll do it by m'self then,” he said.

Hanzo and Genji both stood up, Genji quicker to reach McCree's side and grasp his shoulder to stop him. “Have you heard nothing we have been talking about? It could be too much for just one person.”

“I done worse on my own. Ask the old man fer stories if yer gonna sit around here instead,” McCree replied, meeting where he knew Genji's gaze was. Even through the mask over his face, McCree had gotten comfortable enough talking with Genji. They usually met well, got along, never struggled much on a mission. Genji was dependable to a fault and even laughed at the worst of his worst jokes. But the Genji with his hand so firmly on his shoulder felt like a very different Genji as did the Hanzo left stranded a short distance from them.

Genji's grasp tightened when he spoke. “I'm going with you then. If you won't turn around, I won't leave you to fight alone.”

Hanzo remained alienated where he was, his focus only briefly returning to this plane to meet McCree's eyes. The usual fire and confidence had all but drained entirely from his face. Every alarm went off in McCree's head and yet he couldn't move an inch. More than Genji's grasp held him down.

“I...will cover my portion from above,” he said only after straightening up a little. He readied his bow and started for the stairwell to access the roof.

“You all settled now?” Morrison asked to confirm.

“Yes. I will see your plan carried out,” Hanzo said coldly, turning once more for the stairs.

McCree's lips blurted out Hanzo's name whether he liked it or not. It stalled the archer again, his look showing no improvement.

“I'm countin' on you...same as always, partner.”

Those words usually met some kind of smile or confident agreement. This time Hanzo met his gaze unevenly. Something felt distorted—wrong somehow and having to stand so far and meet him this way. McCree's drive to step closer halted on the dissonance reverberating between the two brothers. He marked where his place rested distinctly in Hanzo's eyes. This crossed into something he didn't dare to touch. His heart sank.

Hanzo only nodded and picked up his pace, climbing the stairs several at a time so the familiar sound of his footfalls disappeared into the upper levels—Out of reach.

Genji's grip loosened and he moved with a certain grace forward. His back to McCree now, he spoke with clear tension thick in his tone. “We should be going. It won't be easy.”

Never one to be anyone's rock anymore, Morrison didn't make any move or stop them. He and McCree traded looks—at best. McCree could almost imagine the usual words he might have said, but anything probably sounded too loose or too final. Silence had to fill instead.

That sinking feeling never left his chest—even as McCree stepped out into the sharp winter air outside the doors.

* * *

“Genj,” McCree started, taking a few quicker strides to catch up with him. The sound of snow underfoot marked each step clearly, their crunches falling in unison as they walked side by side now. McCree grasped Genji's shoulder, but gently. “I knew you wouldn't leave me out here alone. An' I knew Hanzo wouldn't neither. Whatever's between you two fine, but I know I can count on either of you to look out fer me. I'll look out fer the both a'you myself to cover what ya'll won't.”

Genji relaxed slightly in McCree's very light hold. A few seconds passed before he shook his head and sighed. “You are a reckless fool McCree. But I am proud to have you watching my back. My brother's faults are his own to sort out...I will rely on you in his place for now.”

His hand slipped and returned to his side, picking up his pace as Genji did so first. “I dunno if I'm gonna work as a replacement here. Don' get hasty.”

Genji's shoulders shook as he chuckled. “You're filling in for the moment. But I am...not as worried as perhaps I sounded. I know Hanzo will not leave or quit.”

“Then why the big fuss?” McCree pressed while he had the chance. It seemed like the snow was only starting to pick up thicker, the gray of the sky deepening under what little sun they might have otherwise received—even in daylight hours. Since they arrived it seemed the wind only picked up worse. This whole mission made itself as unbearable as possible.

“You said so yourself. He won't leave you. He'll have to push himself harder to cover for what he thinks I cannot do.” Genji paused with a slight laugh, almost bitter. “All these years and still he does not think me capable.”

“Is that...somethin' I shouldn't ask about?”

“You can, but I promise you no answers,” Genji answered almost playfully. At least his mood seemed somewhat improved.

McCree glanced over the empty streets. No one would be out wandering out in this weather in this district especially. The emptiness made it a little more eerie too. It didn't seem to phase Genji as he strode confidently only a pace ahead of McCree now.

“Yer clearly capable. I jus' don' get all of what's goin' on between you two. I don' wanna pry, but yer both makin' it real hard.”

Genji didn't reply right away. McCree assumed it was part of his not promising answers, but he did eventually speak. “You are sleeping with my brother, aren't you?”

The sheer forwardness of the question floors McCree, his boots stopping dead in the snow. “Whoa?! Who told you that?” he blurted out.

Charging onward, Genji kept walking and talking—forcing McCree to rush and catch up with him. “No one in particular, but you are not denying it, so I assume it's true.”

“Well hell, not like it's a secret exactly but come on...”

“I ask for a reason. I could tell you everything. I've put most of it behind me, but it's clear Hanzo has not. If you are so close and he's not told you...Who am I to butt in?”

Something about Genji's tone in that last question made it hard to peg down. He didn't seem angry or so bitter about this. Maybe it hit harder than Genji intended. It left McCree's mind wandering.

“I cannot tell you what my brother is thinking,” Genji continued when McCree only gave him silence. “But I will say he is not doing himself favors leaving you out of it. I would be angry perhaps...but you are a different man.”

“We both got baggage we don' need the other diggin' in,” McCree got out after a rough moment chewing that reply.

Genji slowed as he drew a handful of shuriken to his fingers, his stance changing with the motion. A stir up the block and around the corner grasped at his attention and took up McCree's as well. When the cyborg replied, he did so quietly this time.

“I wonder how long that will last.”

He hardly gave McCree any opportunity to disagree, carrying quickly to say, “We should be going now. Our target is up ahead.”

McCree held onto his hat as a harder gust blew snow across their faces and the stomp of boots in snow ahead softened. That had to be the transfer point. Firearm in one hand, the other moved from hat to steady at his side. They were going to have to be fast and precise.

“On my mark,” Genji began, clearly tensing up to bound forward. Even through the metals that plated his frame, his body language still signaled where practiced motions would wind up muscle for release. A kind of stoicism coated this look—a face covered but a body without hesitation or any question of his confidence. It was one of the few things McCree could tell was usually shared between the Shimada brothers. He recalled the look on Hanzo's face as they parted and he ached all over again.

A heavier shuffle down the road brought to Genji to his most tense. “Now,” he said sharply. He took the lead in an instant, sprinting down the fluff covering the stoney roads, the usual crunch of snow almost nothing under his weight. McCree rushed to run after him, by no means able to keep up, but not far behind. By the time he made it, the armored cars and Talon agents around it were already under siege by Genji's blade and stars, shouts going up into the frigid air.

Three cars lined the narrow street, an opening in the warehouse they were parked at revealed stacks of crates, but only a couple that the agents seemed to have been trying to load. The vehicles weren't large enough to carry that much cargo. This was either something small or a tiny operation. McCree highly doubted the latter—Talon didn't have the patience for that. If Reaper really was involved somewhere in the line, even bigger reason to doubt it.

Once McCree could make a clear shot, he unleashed a full six into the crowd of agents trying to fire back on Genji who was keeping the bulk of them terribly busy. Shots skimmed the shell of his body but never more than that. He moved with such skill and grace it seemed unlikely anything could even touch him—an unreal almost ghost-like specter took the place of the usually friendly Genji, of the Genji who had just lamented his brother's foolhardy attempts to avoid being involved with him at all. This Genji, with only the release of the blade from his back, shook a seasoned crew into wilder movement. Organization of the group fell apart in the back of the armored car row, but not up front.

The crew for the back end of the row had been dispatched by Genji and Hanzo from overhead together, the middle car's group took to firing on the pair, but the first car was loaded and the crew firing up to tear down the street. McCree grimaced and tried to push his way into a good shot at the agent climbing in at the left side, but they got in, door slammed—the rearview eating up his bullet instead. He cursed and found himself faced with far more fire than he would have liked. He ducked and rolled behind the third car, bullets spraying the very spot he had stood in.

“Genj, the driver!” he started to shout.

Before the cyborg could answer, a sound he knew very well flew by from above. A cry of pain and disbelief that often marked an unforeseen shot snapped McCree's attention. He peered around to the left of the car to see Genji taking out those who had just fired on him, but no change at the driver's door. He rushed to the right and saw at the first car a dead Talon agent, an arrow lodged into his face with the front door hanging open, their body slumped over the foothold.

Still confused for a moment, he took out a pair of agents about to fire on Genji before the way was clear and he could move up to inspect. Genji too ran up to the front car once it was clear, tore open the left side door and finished off the agent without who had been trying to reach something in the back. Now that the two of them were there it clicked.

“The driver's side is on the right, McCree,” Genji pointed out as he chuckled a little and moved to open up the back.

“Aw hell...”

“You only almost ruined this mission,” Genji said jokingly, his mood at least fairly good everything considered. “Let us see what they have here.”

McCree moved to one of the unloaded cases to do the same, kicking it open and finding it empty. There would be fakes just in case—that seemed typical for an annoying Talon smuggling gambit. He glanced upward and caught Hanzo's figure just briefly. He didn't leave himself easily seen for long, but for that moment, his shape up so high under gusts of wind and snow looked foreign—somewhere between strange and heavenly. It stalled McCree only a second longer before helping Genji open the rest to find the real item. As they were opening up the last case everyone's communication channels opened up.

“That spot's a diversion—sending you new coordinates, I'm headed over,” Morrison barked at them fast, terribly sharp. By his harder breath McCree could tell he was already running out that direction. There was an urgency to his voice, something personal about it. This screw up would land directly on his shoulders.

New coordinates came in over communication—a long run for sure. Morrison had to be getting some kind of ride—or at least McCree hoped so.

“We're jus' gonna have to beat the old man there,” McCree said, climbing into the driver's side after clearing the body. In a second the engine roared up and Genji slid into the passenger side. McCree left the door open, looking out over his shoulder. The figure he expected to call out to was out of sight where he saw him last. In a second a heavy thud hit their roof. McCree craned his neck out and met Hanzo's gaze as he peered down back at him.

“Drive, Jesse,” he commanded shortly, looking braced for exactly that.

“I ain't gonna go slow,” McCree warned.

“I said drive,” Hanzo repeated, more pressed this time. The cold look in his eyes changed for a surer, more focused one. It eased some of the worry lingering in McCree's chest. He took his word, slamming the door and the gas at the same time. The armored car tore down the street in a few seconds, McCree handling it mostly well enough to keep them out of any accidents. Genji didn't seem too bothered by the speed—mostly bracing to jump out the second they pulled up. At least the way he had one hand gripped tightly to the door told him that much.

“You wanna check in on the old man?” McCree suggested as he kept his boot heavy to the pedal.

“No,” Genji said, completely flat.

“I didn' mean it like an invite. I mean, do it while I'm drivin'.”

Genji shook his head. “If he has beaten us there I am not going to distract him mid-battle with a call. If he is truly in danger I am sure he can figure out how to hide or retreat for a moment.”

The silence of the car only made McCree's anxieties more obvious to himself. Here he was, wasting energy worrying about Morrison who probably couldn't give half a shit if he were fine or not. The thought made him grimace.

“You have an affinity for worrying about hopeless people,” Genji said to break that quiet, although it wasn't anything McCree wanted to hear.

“Yerself included?” he replied to avoid it.

“I might be. You need not worry about me however.”

“Yer the one running right into enemy fire. Lemme worry a little, Genj.”

A piece of his mind was still outside the car, fixated on Hanzo on the roof. He hadn't fallen off or made any other sounds so surely he was fine up there, but worries gravitated that way. Either Genji sensed his distraction or didn't have a good answer for him. He kept quiet as they sped closer to their destination outside of the warehouse distinct and into somewhere populated. At this point he needed to focus on driving to avoid an accident as it was—probably for the best to shut his trap.

Snow and ice on the road did no favors, but the pinged coordinates came up within a couple minutes, already the sound of gunfire rumbling through the narrow streets along with shouts from figures fleeing the scene. Picking the Talon agents out of the mess was easy enough—they were the only ones heavily armed besides the old man, who had managed to beat them there. Morrison was pinned behind a few already battered vehicles, this cover probably not lasting much longer for him.

Almost too late, McCree drove right into a mess of soldiers, turning the wheel hard and hitting the brakes together to sweep through as many of them as possible. Mid-swerve Hanzo must have jumped off—the second McCree had a chance to climb out, already arrows were sniping targets he'd missed with the car. He and Genji both joined the fray fast to help give Morrison a chance to leave his cover for a safer point and finally return more fire. Between the four of them the number of agents was winding down.

For all their squabbling earlier, when it came down to business they made it happen. He didn't miss when an arrow preyed on a target about to fire on Genji. Whatever the depth of his issue with Genji, Hanzo still did his part for the mission. It took a huge weight off McCree's chest. It made everything about combat feel a little more usual—something practiced and within his control again. He had Hanzo at his back, the old man and Genji fighting right alongside him. Whatever Overwatch was now, it was a hell of a mess, but when it was working it felt pretty decent. Those years alone felt more and more distant the tighter the group collaborated—protective shots cover for each other, rains of arrows to keep every enemy bullet in the chamber and off any one of them. The chill in the air met with the heat of fire and bodies, of hot labored breaths and brushed shoulders meeting as one covered the other's back.

Within a couple minutes gunfire died down and Talon agents littered the icy grounds. The group started to gather around the center of the intersection McCree had slid the car through when he parted his lips to check in on the group. He only started to speak when a shot rang out from above.

The hit came fast—immediately—like a punch in the chest out of the blue. McCree felt himself tumble backwards, vaguely recalled his head hitting the pavement hard. It got blurry after that. He heard Genji call out for his brother just after someone else yelled his own name. The foggy mists of memory at that point turned grayer and grayer until it all went black.

* * *

McCree woke up slowly, groggily. He had no idea how long it had been, but his head must have come to weigh a thousand pounds since he passed out. Whether he liked it or not, he groaned, and despite the weight of his head sat up a little—at least enough to grope at where he'd been shot. Instead of a fresh wound or blood or anything, he found just his shirt in the same condition as before. Definitely sore, but not even a bandage or two there.

Sitting up stirred the audience in the room, namely Hanzo at his side, grasping tighter at his free hand. He stood up in a rush, the look on his face complicated—worry and shame mingled together, his tone no easier to read when he spoke. “Jesse...! Are you alright? How is your head?” he asked in a rush, almost breathless already.

It was only after the questioning that McCree could make out where he was: in bed—in one of the more fortified bases for them probably, considering the walls. The serious medical supplies in the room signaled as much as well. All of that running through his head, along with the look Hanzo was giving him slowed him down considerably. It felt like trying to talk through a mouthful at first.

“Yeah...yeah, it hurts like hell, but...I'm alright. I mean...am I alright? I thought I got shot...”

“You did,” Genji butted in, stepping around the corner into McCree's line of sight. Hanzo remained close, even as his brother came to stand at his side. “You hit your head much harder. But it seems your armor stopped the worst of the shot. Although it isn't any good anymore.” Just to make a point, Genji lifted the armor in question up off the table nearby—the chest now sporting a weird deep indentation. McCree eyed the stopped bullet and unbuttoned that portion of his shirt where it would have hit. A couple buttons loose he could see it matched right up—a nasty bruise, but definitely better than a gunshot wound. He let out a sigh of relief.

“I'm kinda surprised it held up.”

“Is that not what you wear it for?” Hanzo asked looking notably concerned. At least more so than before.

“Well yeah, but ya' never know. Bulletproof's real damn difficult to promise considering the amount'a bullets I'm around.”

There was only room for a breath before Genji made a slightly amused sound and dropped the vest back. “You are unbelievable, but I should not have expected anything else. For now...I will leave you two alone. I am going to help the Soldier with my brother's catch.”

At first McCree had no idea what to even say. Wasn't he Hanzo's catch? What was Morrison doing? The puzzled look on his face certainly didn't stop Genji from taking off—he only waved over his shoulder before he vanished around the corner.

Hanzo let out a long sigh and only then let Jesse's hand go. “My apologies...I should catch you up. But...are you really sure you are fine? Do you remember everything fine?”

Jesse mulled over that question. Not for long, but he did try to dig. “If I'm missin' anything it's probably not important. I'm here. I'm up. Yer here in one piece too. It'll be fine.”

“You are still a fool Jesse McCree...That hardly answers my question. Take me seriously. I thought you had...not made it at first,” Hanzo said his voice straining slightly as he reached that admission. His shoulders tensed and his gaze no longer fixed on Jesse.

He didn't rush to answer this time. Whatever happened after he blacked out must have been rough. He wasn't even sure how they got him here. There was still the shooter as well... “I'm really seriously okay...I mean it. If somethin' comes up, I'll say so,” Jesse got out a little quieter, voice lower as well.

Not exactly satisfied, but sated for now, Hanzo carried on. “This is my fault...I should have been covering you better from above. They were on the roof and I did not spot them,” he said slowly, his gaze lowered to the floor. The strain in the corners of his eyes ached to watch, the weight of his words no better for Jesse's already heavy chest. He knew better than to say the bruise did the worst of it.

“Darlin', it ain't yer fault. Nobody expected that kinda shot there. To make somethin' like that they had to be 'bout nearly as good as you are.”

“Not quite nearly. I caught her,” Hanzo said, finally looking Jesse's way properly.

“Huh? Wait, from that far away?” Jesse blurted. The sniper must have been fairly far out of sight if none of them picked up on her. That distance and skill together hit Jesse across the face—rudely and hard. “Oh hell, yer not gonna tell me it was who I'm thinkin' it was, are you?”

“I believe that I am. That...Talon woman, her designation is 'Widowmaker.' Is that the one you're thinking of? I out-shot her,” Hanzo said almost too frankly. But if this was Hanzo saying it, he couldn't exactly doubt him—not with a look over his face like this.

Jesse reached up for his hat out of habit. When his fingers met only air he shifting to run them through his hair instead. “Did you...?”

Sensing the question, Hanzo picked up where he trailed off. “...I thought she had killed you...”

“...You killed 'er?”

Hanzo straightened up at that question, the look on his face twisting to something more concerned. “No. I had considered it, but...” He stalled briefly and let his hands hang at his sides. New hues of complicity colored his eyes—beautiful but worrying in ways that clawed at Jesse's throat. He physically stopped himself from grabbing Hanzo and pulling him closer, anything to ease that look, but he knew better. He had to finish. It took him a few seconds to continue. “I had thought she would suffer more at Overwatch's hand...Or at least, I intended to see it done. The second I saw her, that consumed me. I have not been this angry in so long...I know that my brother and your old man will have nothing good to say of me. I...cannot hide this from you.”

Jesse turned himself slightly off the medical ward bed to better face Hanzo and to take his hands up into his own. When Hanzo didn't immediately clasp back, he weaved his fingers between his partner's, holding tight. He fought to meet his gaze, finding mostly shame in it this time.

“Look, darlin', I'm not blamin' you...”

Hanzo returned his grasp now only far too tightly. Something desperate spread over his face and his speech hastened, voice low, shaky. “You would never blame me for a thing—You are a fool, Jesse. But this is not just you...! I lost myself the second you fell. When I tried to go after her and my brother stopped me, I fired on him and said I would kill him again. He did not stop me. I did not even look back your way...I took after that woman and traded shots the second I got close. I aimed...I aimed to take her out one limb at a time if I had to. I am no better a man now than I was back then...!”

The constricting hold Hanzo kept on Jesse's hands loosened, but some of the trembling remained. One by one, he could see Hanzo's threads snapping—the system that kept him pulled tight shuddered under the weight his body fell under at that second. Too much remained bottled up—so many frayed edges to try and ask about, to put back together, too much for Jesse to take on responsibly at once. Whatever guided Hanzo this far was not a calm collective nature—it was something else held down much further, drowning under an air of control.

Jesse felt himself in the reflection of Hanzo's eyes. It wasn't that he couldn't meet his gaze, maybe he wasn't sure he could be that kind of support. He could only second guess everything for a few seconds before he couldn't stand himself. He grasped Hanzo's hand firmly in return, leaning in closer.

The hint of a closer memory teased tip of his mind, muddling an already complicated mix of emotions. This was enough of a weight to bear. Enough it tended to keep him on his own, managing, but always drifting alone. Less of a burden, less of exactly this.

And yet he felt something. Something reached out in a familiar grasp no different than years ago, only now clawing at Hanzo's throat instead. Jesse knew it instinctively—they both must have recognized it in the other. Lonely work. That emotional distance. It was inevitable they would come to this. That Jesse would see same beast coiling around Hanzo. Their relationship couldn't stay this way—playfulness in place of actual substance which came to be anyway, never a word of commitment, but the two yearned for more in the quiet solitude they had built around themselves. The walls keeping their pasts and wounds hidden were bound to come down someday.

He just never expected it to be his own fault.

His free hand reached for the back of Hanzo's neck, trying to urge him closer for their eyes to meet head on. For once, Jesse McCree wasn't going to run away.

Fingers tightened around each other, their hold nearly unbearable. Hanzo breathed finally but fear shaded his eyes. Jesse met them and pushed on.

“I ain't gonna tell you it's alright, but I am gonna tell you I'll be here,” he whispered, feeling feverish just saying it. “Don't try to take this on yer own. Stay, tell me, try an' trust me.”

Hanzo gritted his teeth, struggling to say anything for a few seconds. The breath he took sounded sharp over his lips. “I do not...deserve that kindness.” The slight shake of his voice made Jesse feel like he was sinking through the bed.

“I'm sayin' I'll give it to you because I think you do. If yer not worth savin', I'm not neither. If we're both not worth it...then I at least wanna wind up in hell with you,” Jesse said with all the conviction he could find. He felt his hand quivering in Hanzo's hold, but he was no better either. It felt like they both might snap under the pressure.

Hanzo's eyes searched Jesse's for a few seconds before his expression shifted—some of the fear melting. It wasn't gone, but his breathing steadied at least. Hanzo's hand loosened around Jesse's and slowly he pulled their joined grasps closer to himself. “I have so many regrets. I do not want you to become one,” Hanzo answered quietly, his voice heavy.

“Then I won't. Look. Focus on you fer a second. I'm alright. What do you want right now?” Jesse said, attempting to steer him somewhere else.

“How can I focus on anything else? I thought I had lost you and I behaved like a monster. How can I want in this state?” Hanzo's voice picked back up with intensity, his face drawing away from Jesse's.

Jesse keeps his voice level and calm, but just stern enough. He couldn't afford to be flimsy. “We'll figure something out together. I dunno if we can fix everything, but you don't have to give up either.”

Hanzo shakes his head. “If I'm just going to lose myself again...”

“Hey. Right now. What's gonna help? We'll worry about a next time if it comes around.”

Hanzo hushed this time, maybe trying to clear his thoughts. He never became too difficult to read. For once, his emotions were clear over his features, the worry in his brow, the way his eyes searched the ground for answers he might not find—all of it painted a clearer picture. The structure he'd put up around himself only seemed strong—he needed support. Jesse knew the look intimately. It made it all the harder to watch it embedded in the skin of one he couldn't let go of.

“My brother will not forgive me. He can't. There's no way to help what I've worsened today,” Hanzo said after a long pause.

It was something. Jesse would accept it. He didn't know all the details, but he started to piece things together. If Hanzo were really responsible for all that, maybe Genji could never forgive him. Jesse really did have a way of attaching himself to hopeless causes...

“He told you to join up basically, didn't he? That's gotta mean something. He'll at least hear you—even if he doesn't accept. You can try talkin' to him, at least about today. Start small,” Jesse suggested.

“I could not possibly hope to repair what is between us,” Hanzo started again, his gaze turning away.

Jesse pulled his hand back closer to himself. “Start at bein' able to work together alright. Small,” he repeated.

“...Very well,” Hanzo relented. In return, Jesse drew his hand in his own up closer to his lips, kissing Hanzo's knuckle. The move retrieved Hanzo's attention and left him surprised.

“I'll go with you. We can even go an' do it right now,” Jesse offered, lowering their hands so he could start to get up. Movement jolted Hanzo into his own, steadying Jesse as he pushed himself. Hanzo knew better than to try and hold him back at this point. Once Jesse was on his feet they took a moment to stand together and let Jesse find his balance. In that second their gazes met again a new feeling dug

its way into Jesse's chest.

“I dunno if it's gonna be weird to say, but...never thought anybody was gonna be upset if I was gone. So...thanks fer carin' that much at least,” Jesse said, not holding himself back. Maybe it was the hit on his head or something, but his tongue felt a little more loose.

Hanzo's look turned more complicated, his hand on Jesse's shoulder gripping tighter. “I can hardly be proud of acting this way...But I can't deny how I felt either.”

Jesse struggled to find the right words—ones he could say without placing too much on himself. No, there would be some burden no matter what he did. He might as well go with the honest way to answer.

“I love you too, darlin'.”

Hanzo's hands on him froze—his eyes wide as he stare at him. Words didn't seem to come to him easily—if at all. It struck Jesse that maybe he managed to say too much.

“I...Did I read that wrong?” Panic struck every nerve in his body. He thought about fleeing. Of course he blew it. He always did this to himself. His first step forward to probably never return was stopped by Hanzo shifting in front of him, both hands on his shoulders now.

“How...am I supposed to answer this...? You've already said 'too,''” Hanzo said after a moment of staring him down. The worry in his eyes was a very different one from the moment ago.

“Should I maybe...hell...I can start over?” Jesse blurted, nearing a state of meltdown.

Hanzo nodded a few times, looking more sure of that at least. It was odd, but there was just the hint of him being flustered. They could be at the end of their ropes and usually Hanzo would keep his cool, but maybe this was just too much to handle.

This was a terrible idea.

He'd already said it though.

Jesse felt a curse in the back of his throat, but he knew what was true.

He parted his lips but Hanzo moved one hand from Jesse's shoulder to press over Jesse's lips with two fingers. “Wait...I want to answer you properly. I said I would speak with my brother...We can try again soon.”

Relief flickered in Jesse's head space. He knew it wouldn't last and his feelings were already in the air, but he understood. Something else had to be cleared up first.

Now more steady, Jesse stood up on his own, nodding once after Hanzo's fingers pulled back. His hand slipped to catch Jesse's and their grasps webbed together more gently this time. It didn't take many more words for them to depart—their next destination clear enough. Meeting up with Genji wouldn't take too long—he'd been clear about where he was headed—it was only a matter of catching him once he was done meeting with Morrison.

When Genji saw the pair of them together in the hall, his head tilted, no words immediate. His body language said he'd stay on guard, but not so much he wouldn't talk.

Hanzo's lips didn't part very quickly. He chewed on his words for the first few seconds, unsure how to address this man before him. It would be hard to say much they were still brothers with this serious issue between them. There was probably no denying Hanzo's fault. But Genji was perhaps not the person Hanzo knew him as anymore. Maybe Jesse could keep believing in something. He had to, especially as he kept a hold on Hanzo's hand.

A few seconds passed and Hanzo bowed his head. “I should not have treated you the way I have today. I'm sorry...brother...”

Even with Genji's face hidden, Jesse got the feeling Hanzo didn't want to chance having to meet his eyes. Hanzo kept his head down. Jesse could almost feel the way Genji sized up the both of them together, the slight tilt of his helm enough to give him away.

“I am not new to you losing your temper,” Genji said cautiously, still gauging Hanzo's seriousness in this..

“I know I cannot keep doing so.”

Jesse kept quiet, glancing between the pair. A piece of him dreaded this going worse than it already was. A silence filled the hall uncomfortably. Genji made no effort to hurry in his reply—leaving Hanzo with his head down probably as long as he felt he could get away with it.

“Keep trying then, brother. That is all I ask of you,” Genji answered firmly. His voice was steady as he usually was, but there was something almost soft about it. Was he smiling a little? Jesse didn't have much of an opportunity to work out what was going on with him. He simply turned and took his leave once that was said.

It was only when Genji was out of sight that Hanzo straightened up. A somber look covered his face, eyes still on the floor. Something about that look seemed so distant and lonely. Jesse knew better than to jump into any urge to show him affection, to pull him closer. It must have been a thousand years since they last did so, but it wasn't the time. He let Hanzo settle his thoughts in silence—the hall terribly empty and only colder by the second. Eventually Hanzo's hand on Jesse's gripped closer, tighter.

“Thank you for standing by me.”

“Happy to. You want a moment?”

Hanzo shook his head. “Stay by my side. That is my preference...I would always have you there.”

A fluttering warmth burned in Jesse's chest. He fought for an extra breath. They were almost harmless words, but the slight smile on Hanzo's lips told him more than enough. However difficult this was, this support made a difference. He had made an impact of some kind—maybe a good one. At least, it felt that way. Some of his own loneliness felt so obvious –his mistakes too clear and too big to give him a chance at being acceptable. He'd spent so much of his life trying to make up for everything else—he could feel that strand in Hanzo too—even if unspoken. Silently, he understood where they met, what drew them together on the battlefield and now off it.

Maybe if they struggled through it together one of the two of them would get somewhere. Even if it were slow going, they at least had each other's company. Not everything was going to fix in a short time, but Jesse already knew that. If Hanzo could come to accept that he might find himself in less pieces. Until then, Jesse knew they would continue watching each other's backs. Closely.

#mchanzo #mccree #hanzo #overwatch #genji #my writing #fanfic #read more #slow motion for strangers

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5hfanfiction · 8 years

Text

I Can do that With my Eyes Closed: 7

Camila presses her nose against the cold glassof the window. Small clouds of condensation grow and shrink as she breathes gently out her mouth. The glass had small crystals of ice forming on the sides and despite it only being November, snowflakes fell from the grey sky.They swirled in large lazy circles before reaching the window panes and melting into puddles.

Camila frowns as she watches a particularly large snowflake land in a puddle, already initiating its doom. It melts slowly, each small section of the icy art shrinking and disappearing until its presence seemed to have never been there at all. It was a beautiful process of course, but it was also quite depressing. Such a complex creation falling for what seemed eternity only to be destroyed in the end.

Camila sighs. She could sympathize. She too felt like she was falling. Falling and never knowing which direction she was going in.

She leans back from the window, forcing her eyes to close and dampen after staring for so long at the hypnotizing flakes. She keeps them closed for a minute, taking her time to lean against the couch and take a few deep breaths. Even when she was sitting still, as she was now, the ground underneath her feet seemed so far away and all of her surroundings spun around her in taunting circles. Her breath was constantly being sucked from her lungs as she free fell to no particular destination. Her stomach felt as if an army of caterpillars had taking shelter in her stomach, dangling cocoons from her ribs before crawling out as colorful butterflies and although butterflies were gentle, the flapping from their wings tickled her chest and made it hard to breathe.

“Mila?” Camila didn’t even realize that she had started to fall asleep until she hears Ally’s soft voice and felt a small hand on her shoulder.

She blinks open her eyes and squints as they adjusted to the light. “Hmm?”

Ally smiles at Camila affectionately and takes a seat next to the girl on Ally’s couch. “You were falling asleep.” Ally giggled slightly.

Camila chuckles. “So I see.” She rubs at her eyes for a few seconds before adjusting her posture into a straight sitting position. She suddenly remembers the whole reason that she had come over to Ally’s room in the first place. “Oh, are we going to cook those pies?”

Ally bites her lips to hold in a laugh. “Camila, it’s been three hours, the first half you spent looking out the window and the second you were battling with sleep. They are already done.”

Camila frowns, sniffing the air and feeling her mouth water as she practically tastes the fresh pies. “Oh…..” She can’t believe that she had promised to come over and help Ally make pies for their upcoming Thanksgiving meal and she had spent the whole time well…. not helping. “Ally, I’m so sorry, I meant to help, I really did.”

Ally gives Camila a sympathetic smile, though Camila was expecting a forgiving one. “It’s okay Mila. I know you didn’t really come over here to help me bake. I mean, no offense Milz, but you kinda suck at baking. Last time you set my smoke alarm off and the whole dorm had to evacuate remember?”

Camila nods, but she is confused. She hadn’t come here to help bake pie? Since when? “But… I did come here to make pies?” She said in a half question, half statement.

Ally sighs, moving from the edge of the couch to an actually comfortable spot next to Camila. “C'mon Mila, we both know that you don’t like to cook. Why would you volunteer to come help me if the only thing that we would be doing is cooking? I mean I love hanging out with you, we don’t get much one on one time, but don’t you realize the real reason you are here?”

Camila looks at Ally’s kind and understanding face with utter confusion. “I… I don’t understand. What do you mean?”

Ally shakes her head at Camila, but not in a bad way. More in a I-can’t-believe-she-doesn’t-realize-something-really-obvious-but-I-love-her-for-it kind of way. “Camila you are here because you don’t want to be around Dinah.”

Camila frowns. “Dinah? But I mean, I love Dinah. She is my best friend, and my roommate. Why wouldn’t I want to be around Dinah?”

Ally laughs. “Do I really have to explain your own feelings to you Mila?”

Camila just huffs, leaning deeper into the comfy couch cushions. “But Ally, you aren’t making any sense.”

Ally takes that as a yes. “I’m going to try and be as nice as possible because I love you Mila,” She pauses. “You volunteered to come help me cook because you knew Dinah wouldn’t be here. You didn’t want to be around her because every time you are, you get butterflies in your stomach and your cheeks turn red and well…. you like her. Camila, you like Dinah, as more than a friend.”

Ally looks at Camila with eyes full of understanding and acceptance. It makes part of Camila want to break down in tears and admit to everything that Ally is saying. She can easily see that Ally supports her sexuality as well as her crush. She can see so much love and kindness.

The other part of her disagrees. The other part of her thinks this is some trick and that Ally is only trying to expose Camila. This part contends with the other. She does not like Dinah more than a friend. What Ally is saying is a lie. Ally doesn’t know anything, and she shouldn’t.

Unfortunately, the latter side wins and she stands up defensively. “I do not!” She argues back almost childish. Mostly because her subconscious knows she doesn’t have much to argue in her defense.

Ally furrows her brows. “Camila calm down, It’s not a bad thing….” Ally stand up to try to calm Camila down who looks red faced and scared.

“Yeah, it’s not a bad thing because it isn’t a thing at all! I don’t…. Dinah is…. I’m not gay!” Camila’s voice starts out borderline a yell, but as her argument grows weaker, her voice becomes strained and small. She looks like she is about to cry, but her unreasonable side is not willing to admit defeat and she bites her lip to distract her senses.

Ally holds her hands up in defense. “Alright!” Ally calmly admits. “I was wrong. I’m sorry.”

Camila can tell that she is lying, but Ally is so sweet and caring and she didn’t mean anything of it, so Camila nods as a sign of forgiveness, but makes no move to return to the couch.

“Yeah.” She agrees softly.

The look Ally gives her is sad, obviously Camila has some issues with coming to terms with her sexuality and Ally does not want to pressure the girl in any way, but seeing Camila so distressed about the whole situation makes her sad to think what made Camila so defensive when talking of the subject.

“I won’t bring it up again, okay? Not unless you want to.” Ally assures the girl.

Camila nervously clenches and unclenches one of her firsts and nods. “Okay…. I uh, I gotta go. Normani should be back from gymnastics soon.” Camila makes up a lame excuse because she can fell Ally’s pitiful looks and she doesn’t like them.

Ally nods, knowing that Normani wasn’t to be back for another hour or so but accepting the fact that Camila needed time alone. “Okay, if you ever need to talk, I’m here for you Mila.”

Camila nods, giving Ally a quick hug before leaving the room quietly. Ally watches the door close behind her and sinks into the couch with a huff.

“Are you okay Chanch?” Dinah looks at Camila with concerned eyes after catching Camila staring at her for the fifth time the morning. Not in a creepy way, but more like she keeps zoning out while her eyes happen to be looking in Dinah’s direction or at least that’s what Dinah thinks she is doing.

Camila blinks and shakes her head a bit. “Uh… yes?”

Dinah shakes her head at the girls. “You don’t even know what I said, do you?” She chuckles.

Camila feels her cheeks go read and she wishes that just for once she could maybe not blush. Camila blushes so often that Dinah must think she has some sort of skin condition that gives her high blood pressure and makes her cheeks red or something. She probably looks like a fool. “I asked if you were okay? You have been zoning out all morning and it’s not like you. I mean, you zone out a lot, but not this much.”

Camila forces her smile to stay on her face rather than be replaced by the frown threatening to take control of her features. Had she really been zoning out that much? She glances at the small microwave clock. 10:30?! The last she remembered it had been around 9! Okay, so maybe she was zoning out a lot. She felt the heat rise in her cheeks once more as her blush turned from a mellow pink to a deep tomato red. Perfect.

“Oh, um. Yes.” Camila answers and smiles. “I just didn’t get that much sleep is all.” The statement was true. Camila had been unable to fall asleep last night with Ally’s words running through her head. It was as if they played on repeat like a broken record and her mind just had to start up a whole argument against it. Apparently she has the whole debate team in her head and the they happen to pick the worst times to have their competitions. There were other reasons to support her claim as well, the sleep walking of course always played a part in her sleep schedule and last night, according to Normani, she had been out and about, nearly half the night.

Dinah nods in understanding and Camila wonders why she doesn’t use the excuse more since she has plenty of reasons to support it. “Are you sure that’s it?”

Camila nods and hopes she looks convincing. “Yep, I guess it’s all just catching up to me is all."

Dinah walks over to pull Camila into a hug and although she doesn’t squeeze tight, the oxygen in Camila’s lungs decide to evacuate and leave her breathless. Camila can feel Dinah’s warmth practically seeping into her body and in an attempt to gather more air, she breathes in the sweet scent of coconut shampoo (Dinah refuses to use any other). The smell is one of Camila’s favorite, but it doesn’t seem to clash well with the butterflies that take shelter between her ribs because they pound against her chest erratically.

When Dinah pulls away, she ruffles Camila’s hair, per usual and although it usually annoys Camila, she finds herself feeling grateful for the curtain of hair that covers the shocked expression on her face.

Dinah walks away without a clue as to what is happening inside Camila and Camila stays standing on the same spot for nearly ten minutes as the tiles beneath her feet fade into the distance and her surroundings spin and she has to steady her breathing until her feet graze the ground once more.

Little moments like that happen often over the course of the next few days. Classes are out for Thanksgiving which means that none of the girls are busy, ultimately leading to Camila and Dinah spending nearly every waking minute together (although the majority of the time at least one of the other girls is with them but Camila feels like her and Dinah are the only two people in the room).

Dinah and Camila’s fingers graze as they walk across the Quad and Camila trips into the sidewalk, scraping her palms.

Camila and Dinah are sitting on the couch watching The Lion King and although only their shoulders are touching, Camila feels like her entire body in on fire. Dinah leans against her side and Camila nearly has a heart attack because suddenly she is falling so much faster and it’s getting harder to catch her breath.

Dinah and Camila help Ally make stuffing. Well more like Dinah helps Ally make stuffing, Camila finds herself getting distracted with how concentrated Dinah looks as she mixes the ingredients together carefully sticking her tongue out to the side as she attempts to scrap the stuffing off the side of the bowl. She wets her lips and Camila pictures kissing Dinah in her head. When the realization washes over, Camila has to excuse herself to the bathroom in order to calm down. Because she doesn’t like Dinah. She can’t.

Dinah smiles at Camila with that perfect, slightly crooked smile and Camila’s mind goes blank from anything else she was previously thinking (unless it alsoinvolved Dinah which it probably did).

Dinah does really anything and Camila is left to force herself to recover and act like her entire body isn’t involved in a civil war of what to feel and what not to feel.

It’s hard and it’s painful and Camila ends up falling so fast that she decides she is flying through space instead. Spinning in infinite circles with no destination that she will reach by the end of her lifetime. It hurts when the air is squeezed from her lungs and her heart stops beating in her chest. It hurts when the butterflies in her stomach begin swirling in a tornadic mess of wings with sharp edges. It hurts when her body stops functioning and her brain doesn’t seem to work and suddenly she is left piloting a plane with noknowledge of the instructions.

It hurts so much and yet each night when her brain reflects how much she doesn’t like Dinah, she realizes a few things. Even when her heart feels seconds away from combustion, she doesn’t think she has ever held so much love in her body. When thoughts of Dinah take over her mind, she doesn’t think she has ever smiled more genuinely. When her cheeks turn to firetruck red, she has never felt so much joy.

So it hurts and it’s hard, but it’s so very beautiful.

Some days are more beautiful than other and she scarcely notices the throbbing in her lungs and the longing in her heart. Some days it’s just Dinah and her and they are best friends and Dinah is just being her perfect self and Camila is able to enjoy every second of it.

Some days are worse. Some days the throbbing is more like pounding and she finds it difficult to gather air into her body. Some days she can’t get the image of Dinah’s lips from her mind and she has to restrain herself from doing anything rash. Some days, she can barely stand being around Dinah because when she is her speed increases with every touch and Camila is an asteroid on a steady course to destruction, moving light years at a time.

Today is one of those days. She seems to be flying so fast she isn’t even registering her surroundings. All she knows is that the pressure hurts her ears and her heart is about to cave and the suit that she wears to protect her body seems to be malfunctioning because her air is running out with each breath that passes through her lungs. She is breaking apart and she isn’t sure how to make it stop.

She slept walk again last night and tripped over the couch. Dinah had babied her with that adorable pout of her and those big brown eyes that get all concerned and such. Looking at Dinah had hurt way more than the blue and green bruises forming on her knees. She hadn’t gone back to bed like everyone else did.

She started the day with bruised knees, a stubbed toe, and a heavy weight in her heart. Of course, just as anyone would think, that is not a good way to start you day. Everything went downhill after that.

Normani spent the day going to the gym before helping Ally prepare for their Friendsgiving (as Ally like to call it) dinner that was to take place tomorrow. Camila didn’t know what exactly Ally was making, but she did know that it took Ally nearly every day of the break to prepare and they still had today and most of tomorrow left. Lauren was out with some friend from her art class, Lucy, Camila thinks her name is. They have been hanging out a lot since two weeks ago when Lauren had told Camila about the girl and her plan to spy on her ex friends and Dinah’s current harassers.

So, that leaves Dinah and Camila (Dinah was not invited to go help Ally after she had purposely mixed together all of Ally’s vinegar and baking soda). Camila was dreading it the second that Dinah woke up. In fact, as soon as she saw Dinah stirring across the room her heart sped up and she hopped into the shower and stayed there until the water turned cold and her lips turned blue. Then she was forced to come out.

Dinah had given her that concerned face again. The one with the giant brown eyes and the pouty lips and the gentle caresses that barely brushed her skin. Despite Dinah’s ghost touches, each graze over her skin burned.

They opted for watching movies since Camila wasn’t required to talk too much and Dinah was on her period so she felt kind of lazy anyways.

At the beginning of the first movie, they wereat opposite ends of the couch and although Dinah’s side profile was enough togive Camila a heart attack, she actually thought she might be okay.

By the beginning of the second, their legs were touching in the middle of the couch after they had both gotten cold and opted on sharing a blanket (Camila had refused at first but Dinah had caught her mid shiver and Camila was sucked in).

By the third movie, Dinah decided that sharing the blanket in the middle wasn’t enough and opted for leaning against Camila’s body to preserve heat.

By forth Dinah decides to rest her head in Camila’s lap, and draw patterns on the thigh of Camila’s jeans. Camila thinks that Dinah branding her with invisible patterns is the final step.

She doesn’t really register what happens next. She figures that maybe she finally crashed. She finally stopped falling and she hadn’t been ready for the collision.

"No…."She whispers it at first and Dinah doesn’t even look away from the TV. "No, no,no, nonononononono!” She gradually gets louder.

Dinah sits up in a panic and as soon as Dinah’s head is off her lap and out of the way, Camila is jumping to her feet and pulling her hands through her hair. “I can’t!” She can’t seem to get enough air into her lungs (per usual, but this time she is official out) and she just hurts so much.

“What….Camila? What’s wrong?” Dinah is quick to toss their previous shared blanket to the floor and hurry to her own feet.

Camila is pacing in short circles, one fist clenched around her hair while the other is pushed over her aching heart. “No! Stop!” Camila can’t listen to how concerned and scared Dinah’s voice is, it only makes the cracks in her heart spread faster. Camila is afraid that the elaborate cracks will turn hard and eventually her heart will be constricted in a net, caught by Dinah herself.

Dinah takes a step forward to try to grab the girl in any effort to calm her down and Camila knows that once Dinah’s hands touch her own she’s a goner. So she doesn’t let their hands touch. She books it out the door.

Lauren takes a sip of her drink, watching Lucy as the girl returns from grabbing another red solo cup. Lauren is so glad that Lucy worked up the courage to come talk to her two weeks ago, because since then, they have been texting constantly (so much that Ally has begun teasing her when she smiles at her phone). Lucy is funny, artsy, creative, athletic, beautiful, and everything Lauren could imagine.

“Hey Laur.” Lucy greets with a cheesy smile.

“Hey Luce.” Lauren brings her own red cup up to cheers with Lucy and they both take a sip.

Lauren had forgotten how much she loved parties. She had figured that living in a dorm that hosted one every night would ruin the experience for her, but it’s nearly four months into the school year with only a few appearances and so far she hasn’t had any complaints.

They had only arrived thirty or so minutes ago and after a few drinks, they were beginning to feel the alcohol in their system. “Man, I am so fucking glad I grew some balls and invited you to this party.”

Lauren looks up from her drink to see Lucy staring at her with admiring eyes and she smiles a giddy sort of smiles. “Me too!” She agrees. “And I’m also really glad that I got your number.” She adds.

“My roommate teases me all the time about my secret girlfriend.” Lucy laughs and at the mention of the world girlfriend, Lauren feels herself get excited.

“Mine too! They are always wondering why I’m smiling down at my phone. You are making me lose my badass reputation Vives.” Lauren cocks an eyebrow at her friend.

Lucy snorts. “You? A badass? I can’t believe I ever believed that shit. I mean no offense Lo, but you are practically a puppy.”

“That is so not true. I’ve done way more badass things than you have!” She takes a large gulp of her drink.

“Oh yeah?” Lucy challenges. She motions for Lauren to chug her drink and the green eyed girl does as she is told while Lucy does the same. When they both have empty glasses, Lucy goes to fill them back up. “Alright, now we have even amounts.” She says when she returns. “We are playing, never have I ever.”

Lauren scoffs playfully. “Oh yeah, because that game is so badass.”

Lucy raises her eyebrow. “You don’t think you can beat me?”

Lauren shakes her head. “Damn you and your knowledge of my competitive side.” She has to yell a bit to be heard over the crowd.

Lucy smirks, knowing that she has one. “You first.” She demands.

Lauren nods, starting low. “Never have I ever….kissed a man with a handle bar mustache.”

Lucy pauses to see if Lauren’s serious and when she realizes that the green eyed girl is dead serious, she bursts out laughing, but takes a sip. Lauren nods. “Aw, so you like facial hair?”

Lucy sticks out her tongue. “Ew, no! It was possibly the worst kiss I’ve ever had.” Lauren smiles knowing that since she doesn’t have facial hair, it gives her a one up to about one fourth of the people here. It is No shave November after all. “Okay, never have I ever…… done body shots.”

Lauren pauses for a minute before taking a sip, keeping her eyes on Lucy the whole time with a determined smirk.

“Lauren! Boy or girl?” Lucy exclaims while laughing.

“Take your pick.” Lauren wiggles her brows.

“Both? Geez. Okay fine, pick a hard one now.” Lucy leans forward a bit as she waits for Lauren.

“Okay, never have I ever…. Had sex with a girl.” Lauren waits for a response and Lucy takes a large gulp.

Lauren hides a frown and Lucy feels the needs to add, “Once, but I was too drunk to remember.”

Lauren feels a little bit better, but also a little…. Jealous? She looks down to see how close Lucy is and when she is met with Lucy’s lips only inches from her own, her breathing becomes heavy. She can taste the alcohol from Lucy’s breath as it hits her lips and she can see the black of Lucy’s dilated pupil as the meet eyes.

“Never have I ever made out…..” Lucy looks uncomfortable, she swallows a bit, a lustful look in her eyes. She bites her lip and she blatantly checks Lauren out, her eyes pausing at Lauren’s breasts. “Underneath a turkey balloon.”

Lauren looks up and sees a giant turkey balloon floating just above her head. She can feel Lucy’s ragged breathing against her skin and she decides that the rules of this game are stupid. “Screw this.” She breathes out. She chugs her drink, tossing the cup aside and pulls Lucy towards her.

Their lips meet somewhere in the middle. Lauren is moving her lips against Lucy’s, Lucy is pressing her tongue into Lauren’s mouth. They don’t waste time. In fact every second of their kiss is used to show their lust and their attraction. Lucy bites at Lauren’s bottom lip and Lauren moans, pulling the girl closer into her body and resting a hand just above Lucy’s butt.

Lucy is pressing Lauren against the wall and deep moans escape both of their mouths as they hungrily attack each other’s lips. Suddenly lips are pressing toLauren’s neck and she can feel Lucy sucking along her neck, no doubt leaving bruises. Lauren would normally care. Lucy isn’t normal though.

Lauren moans once more as Lucy sucks particularly hard on her collar bone and Lucy pulls away with large eyes and swollen lips. “Wow.” She mutters after a bit.

Lauren chuckles, breathing heavily from their quick make out session. “Yeah, wow.” She agrees. “I mean that was just…. Amazing.”

Lucy holds up a finger to signal for Lauren to wait and she turns to chug her temporarily forgotten drink before turning back. “You’re amazing.” She winks. “You know, I’m really glad that the alcohol gave me the courage to do that because relationships take way too long in my opinion.”

“I completely agree.” Lauren doesn’t understand the effect Lucy has on her after only two weeks of texting and playing around during their art class and walking each other to their dorms. She feels like she needs to maybe yell in excitement or something so she grabs Lucy’s cup as well as her own that lies empty on the floor. “I’ll go fill these up for us.” She tells Lucy.

She heads to the bar. “Just the punch.” She tells the guy at the bar. He nods and turns to fill them and Lauren can’t help but let out a little squeal because wow. She just made out with freaking perfect Lucy Vives and it was amazing. A giant smile overtakes her features as she brushes her fingers over what she is sure is going to be a hickey. She doesn’t even care.

Lucy catches her eye from across the room and Lucy gives her a teasing smile to show that she saw Lauren’s little celebratory outburst. Lauren finds herself blushing and she shakes her head at the girl, mouthing the words shut up. Lucy laughs and starts to mouth something back but someone stumbles in front of Lauren, blocking her view.

She blinks to adjust her vision from Lucy across the room to the figure stumbling past her and into the kitchen of whoever’s house this was. When she sees who it is, she has to blink a few more times to make sure she isn’t imagining things but sure enough she recognizes her old 1975 that no longer fit over her boobs.

She completely abandons the drinks she had come to get and instead pushes through the crowded room to follow the person. She hurries into the kitchen and finds the new owner of her old shirt taking a few large gulps of straight vodka that had barely been pulled from the fridge.

“Camila?” Lauren asks a few octaves higher than she thought her voice would go.

Camila pulls the bottle from her lips and makes a sour face, coughing a bit. She wipes her mouth with her sleeve and looks up in surprise. “Laur?” Camila slurs her name, drawing out the R at the end for longer than needed.

Lauren shakes her head. The last person she would expect to see at this party was Camila (or maybe her grandmother but how the hell would her grandmother get here?). “What are you doing here?” Lauren asks curiously.

Camila pauses to take a few more gulps of vodka and squints her eyes closed as it burns her throat. Camila stumbles a bit on her feet and gives Lauren a lopsided smile. “What are you doing here?”

“I’m here with Lucy.” She answers before realizing that Camila never answered her question. “Camz, I’m serious, why are you here? Is anyone with you?”

“I sure hope not.” Camila mumbles, moving to take yet a few more sips from the large bottle in her hands.

Lauren raises her eyebrows in concern. Camila hopes no one is here with her? Camila is drinking? There are so many things wrong with this situation. Lauren grabs the bottle from Camila before she can drink anymore and Camila whines.

“Hey! I wasn’t done with that!” Camila tries to reach for it and instead trips over her own feet and Lauren has to grab her arm to keep her from crashing into the floor.

“You are now.” Lauren dumps the bottle into the nearby kitchen sink and Camila pouts as the contents make loud glugging noises on its way down the drain.

“I wanted that.” Camila grumbles, giving Lauren an angry look and crossing her arms across her chest like a child.

Lauren shakes her head at the girl. “Jesus Camila. How much did you drink?” She tilts Camila chin towards her face so that she can look at Camila properly. Her pupils are dilated so that brown is barely visible and her eyes end up looking like deep galaxies instead. Lauren guesses the amount would be way too much.

Camila notices their close proximity and begins playing with a loose string attached to Lauren’s flannel. She sighs loudly. “Not enough.” She slurs quietly.

If Lauren wasn’t concerned before, she was now, because as she looks at Camila, she doesn’t just notice the features that determine how drunk Camila is (which if you were wondering, Camila is very drunk), she notices other features, like how tired she looks. She notices the giant bags underneath Camila’s eyes that are faintly colored black and blue, the way her shoulders droop like she is holding the entire world on her shoulders, the fear and sadness sparkling in her galaxy eyes, the way she breathes with so much effort, and how she pulls at Lauren shirt string as an attempt to distract herself from the quivering of her bottom lip.

Lauren suddenly handles Camila as if she was made of glass. “Camz, are you okay?”

Camila lets out a shaky breath. “It hurts Laur. It hurts so bad.” Her words come out slow like she had to use her entire brain just to get the words out. With the amount of alcohol in her system, her thoughts begin to get hazy and hard to distinguish.

Lauren immediately checks Camila for any injuries. “What? What hurts Camz!?” She can’t spot anything that looks to be the source of Camila’s pain except for maybe the small purple bruises showing through the holes in her jeans from where she fell in her sleep the other day.

Camila takes a minute to process the question and it’s getting more and more evident that Camila should not have drank as much as she did. “My heart.” She finally answers, grabbing onto Lauren’s hand and pushing it against the left side of her chest.

Lauren can feel Camila’s heartbeat underneath her palm and it sounds normal to her. She doesn’t understand what the girl means. Her heart hurt? Was Camila at the point of talking nonsense yet or was this a legitimate thing?

“Lauren?” Lucy’s voice sounds from behind her and Lauren turns to see a concerned face. “I didn’t know where you went and…. What are you doing?”

Lauren blushes, realizing that her hand is still placed across Camila’s heart and that Camila is practically forcing her entire body weight onto Lauren. “I…um. Do you remember my friend Camila?”

“The one that sleep walks?” Lucy looks cautious and Lauren hopes that she doesn’t assume anything more than what is happening.

Lauren nods. “Well this is her and she is smashed.” Camila stumbles knees buckle just in time to prove her point and Lauren throws herself underneath Camila’s arm to take the majority of her weight, keeping her standing.

Lucy seems to be relieved and she walks across the kitchen to stand next to Lauren. “Oh.” She mutters.

Lauren nods. “I don’t know why she is here, she told me she didn’t like parties because they were too loud and had too many people. She also told me that she is an extremely light weight but, well, here she is, at a party and drunk out of her mind.”

“Well is she okay?” Lucy turns to look at Camila and Camila shakes her head.

“Lauren is a liar.” Camila states.

Lucy raises an eyebrow at Camila and turns to Lauren for an explanation. “I don’t know what she is talking about.” Lauren tells the girl.

“Lucy is way prettier than you said she was. That makes you a liar.” Camila slurs, her head becoming too heavy to hold up. She lets her head lean against Lauren’s shoulder.

Lucy blushes and smiles, any doubt instantly leaving her mind. “Caught in the act Jauregui.” She smirks.

Lauren blushes. “I may have talked to her about you once or twice this week.” She admits.

“Or every single day.” Camila sighs.

Lucy laughs and Lauren’s blush reddens. “Shut it Camz.”

Lucy turns to give her an affectionate kiss on the cheek and Lauren finds herself wishing it was on the lips instead. “Well, if it makes you feel any better, I talk about you quite a lot too.” Lucy tries her best to make Lauren a bit less embarrassed, despite how cute she thinks Lauren looks.

The two looks at each other, both girls smiling, and it is obvious that they are both getting the feeling that maybe, just maybe they should kiss. Except they don’t, because Camila lets out a small whimper as that sad look returns to her face. “What’s wrong Camz?” Lauren asks with worried eyes.

Camila shakes her head but doesn’t give an answer. Lauren catches Camila biting her lips to hide its shaking. Camila hiccups loudly and drunkenly hides her face in Lauren’s chest. Lauren rubs the girls back and turns to Lucy. “I uh, I gotta take her home.” She tells the girl and Lucy nods. “I’m sorry about cutting our date short.”

“It’s fine, I get it.” Lucy pauses, looking at the pitiful sight of Camila and adding. “I’ll help you.”

Lauren looks surprised. “Are you sure? I mean, you don’t have to. I don’t want to ruin the date or anything by ending it badly.”

Lucy giggles at how cute Lauren looks, Camila clinging to her like a koala, drunker than drunk itself, and still she is worrying about Lucy. “Yeah I am sure. Any more time I can get with you, I’ll take. Even if it is caring for your drunk friend.”

Lauren laughs. “Thank you.” She tells the girl. She then pulls Camila away from her body and asks as gently as she can, “Can you walk, or do you want a piggyback ride?”

Camila holds out her arms to signal the latter and Lucy thinks it’s funny how drunk Camila is basically like dealing with a child. Lauren chuckles, turning around and Lucy helps Camila get onto Lauren’s back. “Okay, you good Camz?”

Lucy and Lauren both laugh when they look up to see Camila passed out on Lauren’s back, her head resting on Lauren’s shoulder and her draped around Lauren like a scarf. “I guess so.” Lauren answers for her.

The two girls head towards Camila’s dorm and Lauren is thankful that Camila weighs next to nothing because the walk from the party to the dorm is a few neighborhoods away and they have all drunken too much to be driving Lucy’s car.

Lucy links her arm around Lauren’s since the green eyed girl’s hand is currently holding up Camila and Lauren wonders how she got so lucky that Lucy noticed her out all of the talented art students in their class. Who else would willing help to look after their date’s drunk friend without a single complaint that it was supposed to be a date?

Lauren gives Lucy a smile that says it all and Lucy squeezes her arm.

They reach the building and Camila groggily lifts her head at the sound of the elevator dinging (no matter how light Camila is, Lauren is not taking the stairs). Lauren goes to Camila’s floor and Camila panics. “No!”

Lauren retracts her hand. “No?” She questions.

Camila shakes her head. “No.”

Lauren and Lucy share a confused look.

“I can’t go there. I don’t want to go to my room. Don’t make me Laur!” Camila slurs as Lauren let’s go of her and drops her back on the ground. Camila stumbles when she touches the ground, but she doesn’t fall over. She looks at Lauren with puppy dog eyes that look scared.

Lauren nods. “Are you okay coming to my room then?”

Camila takes a minute to think before nodding. Lauren presses the button for her own room and as Camila stares with dilated pupils at the floor numbers changing, Lauren shares a concerned look with Lucy.

They manage to get Camila to her and Ally’s though when they get there, a small note is taped on the fridge telling them that Ally ran to the store to get last minute baking supplies for tomorrow. The room smells delicious and Lauren can tell that Ally has spent a lot of work perfecting the food for their Thanksgiving. The refrigerator is packed to the limit with all sorts of delicious foods.

Lucy chuckles. “Damn, your roommate must really like her food.”

Lauren smiles. “I was actually going to ask you if you wanted to come to our friendsgiving tomorrow. There is more than enough food.”

“Friendsgiving?” Lucy raises her brow.

“Ally calls it that. Now do you want to or not?” Lauren chuckles.

“Sure, I would love that.” Lucy agrees.

“Laur.” Camila gets Lauren’s attention. Lauren looks over curiously. Camila’s face is pale and she looks seconds away from throwing up. Lauren is honestly surprised she made it this long with all the alcohol in her system. With as small as she is, Lauren would have guess she would have been throwing up a half hour ago.

Camila runs into the bathroom, collapsing onto the floor and practically shoving her face into the toilet as she empties pure alcohol into the bowl. Lauren is quick to grab her hair, although she has to admit, the smell and sound of Camila puking is making her a bit queasy herself.

Camila vomits and dry heaves until Lauren is sure there is nothing left to throw up. Lauren can hear small sobs that echo out of the toilet bowl and it makes the whole scene ten times more pitiful. She rubs the girl’s back and holds her hair and once she is sure that the girl won’t throw up again, she flushes the toilet and hands Camila a wet washcloth.

Camila leans back from the toilet and wipes her mouth with the cloth. She lets herself lean against the wall and take deep breaths. Lucy, being the kind person she is, shows up in the doorway with a water bottle and a few shirts from Lauren’s dresser. “I thought she might need these.”

“You feeling a bit better Camz?” Lauren crouches down to her level and holds out the water bottle while Lucy places the extra shirt on the counter.

Camila nods tiredly. She looks a whole lot more sober now that all the alcohol was projected from her body. Her eyes are no longer black and she seems a bit more present but the sad looks still lingers on her face. She takes the water bottle and takes a few sips before pulling herself to her feet. “I’m gonna change.” She barely whispers.

Lauren nods and she and Lucy leave to give her some privacy. Lauren takes a seat on her bed, just outside of the bathroom door and huffs. “I don’t know what’s wrong with her.” Lauren thinks aloud.

“You mean besides the fact that she just puked for nearly twenty straight minutes?” Lucy tried to lighten the mood a bit.

Lauren smiles but shake her head. “No I mean why she was drinking in the first place. And did you see how sad she looked? She is normally so… happy.”

Lucy sits down on the bed next to Lauren. “Lo, I may have only known you for a few weeks, but from what I can tell you are one of the most caring and selfless people I have ever known and I know what you are doing.”

Lauren can’t help the blush that covers her cheeks as she receives Lucy’s genuine compliments. She waits to see what Lucy is going to say.

“You are trying to find a way to blame yourself for her sadness. Guess what Lo, you are not the cause of her pain. You not noticing her behavior does not make you the cause of her pain. You hanging out with me does not cause her pain. So don’t even think about feeling bad about this.” Lucy brushes her finger across Lauren cheeks and Lauren thinks it’s impossible to have only known the girl for two weeks when it feels so much like decades.

Lauren lets out a large breath at Lucy’s words because, well, she is right. Lauren shouldn’t feel bad because there isn’t anything she could’ve done. It won’t change anything. “You are right.” She admits. “And, you are so amazing.”

Lucy smiles. “I know.” She responds teasingly. “But in all seriousness, wait until she feels better and until she is sober, then you can ask her about it.”

Lauren nods, meeting Lucy’s eyes and wondering how she never noticed how well brown and green go together. Lucy’s eyes were dark, like the rich soil of earth’s crust and Lauren’s were the deep emerald color of nature that grows from the soil; flourishing from its nurturing care and brightening in color. And let Lauren tell you, her life has gotten so much brighter since that day in the lunchroom.

“Can I kiss you?” Lauren finds her lips moving to match her desires.

Lucy licks her bottom lip and nods.

The kiss is nothing like there first. It isn’t driven by lust or alcohol. It’s a slow kiss, full of adoration and small sparks of innocence and pure feelings. It is gentle and soft and although Lucy’s lips have the faint taste of alcohol, she has a taste that is solely Lucy and there is no other way to describe it. It was the best kiss Lauren has ever shared.

They pull apart slowly because Lauren ends up breaking into a face eating grin and Lucy would prefer not to kiss Lauren’s teeth. They look into each other’s eyes and Lucy swears that Lauren’s eyes seem greener than before.

A small sob sounds from across the room and the pull away quickly in surprise. Camila stands in the doorway of the bathroom in Lauren’s large blue tie-dye shirt that she really only wears to bed. She has her hand placed over her mouth as if she was trying to hold in her sob. Tears roll down her cheeks in large drops.

“Camz? What’s wrong?” Lauren hurries over to the girl and places a comforting hand on her shoulder.

“You were kissing a girl.” Camila breathes in between sobs.

Lauren finds herself getting defensive. “Yes, do you have a problem with that?” She retracts her hand attentively because she always assumed that her sexuality didn’t need to be spoken because it was obvious and because she assumed that none of her friends would care. They all seemed supportive. She now realizes that maybe it would have been a good idea to clarify because it might be possible that Camila doesn’t accept who she is.

Camila seems like she is going to answer, but another takes over her body and it takes her a few seconds to recover. “Are…are you gay Lauren?”

Lauren takes a deep breath and wonders just how much it will hurt when Camila says what she is, is wrong. “Well, actually I’m Bi.” She states proudly. “But I tend to lean more towards girls than guys.”

Camila shakes her head and mutters, “Oh my god.” Then, she really surprises Lauren, because she throws herself into Lauren’s arms and hugs her tighter than Lauren thought was possible from such a small girl.

Lauren rubs her back hesitantly because at this point she has no idea what the fuck is going on. Does Camila accept her or not? She gives the girl a few minutes to sob and get out whatever she needs to get out before the confusion and curiosity is too much to handle. “Camila, I don’t understand. Are… are you okay with that? Are you okay with me being Bi?”

Camila seems to realize that she left Lauren in a state of confusion because she immediately pulls away shaking her head. “No! I mean yes, I am okay with it. I am more than okay with it.” She takes a deep breath to try to gather any courage available. “Lauren, I’m gay.” She states.

Lauren gasps and the pieces start to come together.

“I’m…I’m gay and I was scared because I didn’t know if you guys would still like me and I….” She has to take an even bigger breath for this one. “I like Dinah, and it’s killing me. It’s killing me to keep it inside but I know that it’s wrong. I can’t like her.” Camila stops as her mouth erupts with another sob.

“Oh.” Is the only word that manages to make its way out of Lauren’s mouth because she did not see that coming. Not in a million years. She used to think that her gaydar was spot on, she had guessed every single person to come out in her old school weeks before they actually did, and yet here was Camila, one of her supposed best friends, and she hadn’t noticed a single thing that could have led her to the conclusion that she was gay.

Camila stares at Lauren, waiting for any sign of how Lauren feels about the situation. So far, it didn’t seem too good. She sniffles a bit, wiping at her nose as she feels more tears fill her eyes. Lauren seems to notice that.

“Oh no, please don’t cry anymore!” Lauren pulls the girl in for another hug.

“Sorry, I can’t help it.” Camila deprecatingly chuckles.

Lauren leads the girl over to the bed, receiving a supportive smiley from Lucy. She sits Camila on the bed. “Give me like two minutes, I’ll be right back okay?”

Camila nods. And Lauren leaves the room, taking Lucy’s hand and pulling her out with her. Once outside of the room, Lauren sighs. “I have to, you know, talk to her.” Lauren tells the girl.

“I completely understand.” Lucy nods.

Lauren bites her lip wondering if a kiss was too soon to grow accustomed to. “Thank you for tonight, I really did have a great time. Next time, I’ll be sure to reserve the whole day for you.” Lauren tells the girl.

Lucy laughs. “I actually really liked tonight. It was weird, but it gave me a lot of insight to who you are.” Lucy shares.

Lauren cocks a brow. “Oh really?” She asks.

Lucy nods. “Yep, I realized that you are sweet, caring, funny, selfless, horrible at making people feel better…”

“Hey!”

“She just poured all her secrets out to you and you responded with, Oh.” Lucy counters with a teasing tone.

Lauren can’t help but chuckle. “Okay, so maybe I’m not the greatest at comforting.” Lauren admits because yeah, that was pretty bad.

“Shall I continue now?” Lucy teases and Lauren nods. “…brave, smooth as fuck, and an amazing kisser.” Lucy finishes.

Lauren smiles because Lucy is just so perfect and she can’t wait to see where this goes. “Are you sure I’m a good kisser? Maybe I should…remind you.” Lauren leans in slowly and right before their lips meet she hears Lucy mutter, “I told you that you were a smooth mother fucker.”

They kiss goodbye and Lucy promises to come to Ally’s friendsgiving the next day.

When Lauren returns to her and Ally’s shared bedroom, Camila is sitting on Lauren’s bed with her back leaning against the headboard. She rubs her fingers across Lauren’s fuzzy blanket with her legs crossed. The giant Tie-dye shirt makes Camila look so small. Camila has a fond smile on her face and Lauren can tell she just saw the whole exchange between her and Lucy. “You guys are cute.” She tells Lauren.

Lauren blushes a bit and takes a seat on the bed next to Camila. “Yeah?”

Camila nods. “I’m sorry if I made you feel like I didn’t accept you for who you are, that wasn’t my intention.”

Lauren nods. “I know.”

“I was just….I was scared that you guys wouldn’t like me for being gay and when I saw you kissing Lucy I just, I got emotional because I knew that, that if you were gay… or Bi, then there was no way you wouldn’t accept me right?” Camila gives Lauren a watery smile and Lauren puts an arm around her small frame.

“Right. I accept you for you Camz.” Lauren confirms.

“Even if I was a full-fledged trump supporter?” Camila asks jokingly.

Lauren laughs. “I wouldn’t take it that far.”

There is a comfortable silence between the two and Lauren hates to be the one to break it, but she feels like there is more that needs to be addressed.

“Camz?” She questions.

Camila hums in respond and looks up at her.

“Why did you think we wouldn’t accept you?” Lauren tries to look as supportive as she can.

Camila looks down at the blanket beneath her, fiddling with the fuzz again. “I don’t… I don’t really like to talk about it, but…” She pauses to take a deep breath and Lauren can tell that it pains Camila to talk about this.

“You don’t have to tell me.” Lauren makes sure Camila knows that she has a choice.

Camila nods. “I know, I want to.” She gives Lauren a reassuring smile before continuing. “When I was twelve I was pretty sure that I like girls you know and I told my parents about it and well, they sent me to a Christian boarding school. They didn’t think it was right, both of them were born and raised Christian and they come from a different generation, you know? I don’t blame them, I know they were just scared, but the school there was harsh and it messed with my mind you know?” Camila pulls a bit aggressively at the blanket and a clump of fuzz comes off.

Lauren rubs Camila’s forearm with the hand that is draped across her shoulders to give her something else to focus on.

“They knew why I was there and a lot of people teased me about it and well at the time I didn’t think it was to the extent of bullying, but looking back, they did. Bully me I mean. I hated it there and the forced a lot of thoughts into my head. I haven’t been back there since I was fourteen, but I still remember everything they told me.” Camila stares and the blanket beneath them with sad eyes and Lauren shakes her head.

“I…wow. I had no idea Camila.” Lauren proves Lucy’s point of not being very good at making people feel better.

Camila shrugs. “How could you? Don’t feel bad about it, really, it’s in the past and it’s something that I try to forget.”

Lauren nods. “Still, I’m so sorry that you had to go through that.”

Camila finally looks at Lauren and gives her an understanding smile. “I know, thank you.” Camila pauses and she sighs. “I’m sorry about your date? I didn’t mean to get drunk and then have you babysit me.”

Lauren shrugs. “It’s okay. What are friends for?”

Camila chuckles. “To hold your hair back while you puke apparently.”

Lauren snorts. “How are you feeling by the way?”

Camila sighs. “You know this whole week I have been feeling like I’m falling, like my heart is going to combust, like I’m constantly struggling for each breath, but right now I feel good. I feel…. Free. I feel like I finally know why I was falling and admitting to you and Lucy out loud feels like a thousand bricks lifted off my chest. I can finally breathe. My heart feels light. I am falling for Dinah.” Camila finds herself smiling at the end of her paragraph and for once, she accepts the fact the she is falling for Dinah, and she is falling hard and fast, and that’s okay.

Lauren looks at Camila with a proud smile. “You know, you and Dinah would make a cute couple.”

Camila snorts because Lauren is exactly what she needed right now. Lauren and her failed attempts at comforting words. “Thanks Laur. If she ever isn’t straight, let me know.”

Laure laughs, but pulls Camila to lean on her shoulder. “Hey, you don’t know that Dinah is completely straight.”

“Have you ever heard her talk about anything but boys?” Camila counters.

Lauren shrugs. “You never know. People come to terms with themselves at different times. Maybe she isn’t straight, maybe she isn’t gay. Maybe she is just something, something that just might like you.”

Camila takes in Lauren’s words and can’t help but nuzzle her head into her shoulder affectionately. “You know, that’s the most comforting thing you’ve said all night!” She teases, her voice sounding fond.

They both laugh and Camila can’t remember the last time she felt so free. Like she wasn’t free falling thousands of light years at a time. She feels in control of her emotions and her actions. Like she was finally caught in a steady orbit.

She also feels more exhausted than she has ever felt in her entire life. She struggles to hide the yawn that forces itself from her mouth and makes her eyes water at the force. She hasn’t had a good sleep in forever it seems and she feels physically and mentally exhausted; physically from drinking so much then puking her guts out, and mentally from all of the inner turmoil that she has been sitting through for the past two weeks. She just needs a good night’s rest.

Lauren notices how her head keeps nodding into her shoulder and how her eyes are drooping and she chuckles. “Getting tired?”

“I’ve been tired since the second I woke up this morning.” Camila counters, her voice slow due to her exhaustion.

“You can sleep in my bed tonight.” Lauren gives permission although she knows that at this point Camila would have slept there with or without permission.

She removes herself from where Camila was leaning against and helps the girl underneath the covers. “I’m really happy that you trusted me with all this Camz. I’m really proud of you.”

Camila lets out a content sigh. “Thank you Laur, for everything.”

Lauren turns out the light and leaves the room, closing the door behind her. What a crazy day. She still can’t believe that out of all her friends, Camila is the gay one. Lauren always thought that she filled the role for not straight friend but now there are two in their group of five, three if Dinah ends up liking Camila back.

Lauren plops onto the couch. So much happened today. She kissed Lucy, she made out with Lucy, she has fucking hickies from Lucy, Camila had come out, Camila likes Dinah, Camila got drunk, Lauren came out…sorta, she figured that by her going out with Lucy it was pretty obvious but oh well, the point is she clarified. She wonders why doesn’t feel completely overwhelmed right now, but instead, she just feels happy.

The door flies open to their room and Ally stands, grocery bags hanging from every availed area on her arms and she is breathing heavily. Lauren watches as Ally struggles to set all of the bags on the table. “Uh, Hey Ally.” She greets with a smile.

Ally shakes her said. “Why haven’t you been answering the texts?!” Ally instantly begins scolding. “Camila ran away somewhere and she hasn’t come back and everyone is freaking out!”

Lauren wonders sometimes how Ally doesn’t realize how motherly she is. She pulls her phone guiltily from her pocket to see fifty seven unread messages. She hops to her feet as Ally makes her way to their bedroom that Camila is currently asleep in.

“Wait Ally! Stop hold on!” Lauren grabs stands between the door and the girl.

“Lauren! Move! Did you not hear what I said? I have to…” Ally starts.

“Camila is in their sleeping.” Lauren interrupts.

“…grab my coat so I can go look for Camil….What?” Ally stops and looks confused.

“Camila is safe. She is getting some much needed rest in my bed and she just fell asleep so I would advise that you don’t wake her up.” Lauren explains.

Ally opens and closes her mouth a few times before letting out a relieved breath. “Why didn’t you say so? We have all been worried sick! She has been gone for hours!” Ally seems conflicted whether to be angry or relieved.

“I’m sorry Ally, I didn’t know you guys were looking for her. My phone was on silent.” Lauren apologizes.

Ally shakes her head. “Well at least I know she is safe. I’m going to have to call Mani and Dinah and then you are going to tell me what happened.” Ally calms down, grabbing her phone and dialing Mani’s phone number.

“Yes ma'am.” Lauren agrees. Ally turns to wander into the conjoined kitchen area with the phone pressed to her ear and Lauren wonders what the hell happened before she found Camila. She feels bad knowing that Camila will probably have to endure a lot of scolding for this.

Camila wakes up with a pounding headache, although surprisingly the rest of her body feels great. She feels refreshed. She slept the whole night without sleep walking, she admitted to Lauren that she was gay and likes Dinah which lifted a lot of her chest, and she slept on Lauren’s memory foam mattress thing which really did wonders for your body.

“There Ibuprofen and a water bottle on the nightstand.” Camila hears Lauren voice and she turns her body around to see Lauren brushing out her hair. She gives Camila a smile. “Sleep good?”

Camila nods. “Thank you.” She swallows the pills and chugs the entire water bottle before getting up and stretching. “That memory foam thing really was worth the price.”

Lauren chuckles. “Right? I love it.”

Camila shakes her head playfully at Lauren before asking. “Does everyone know?”

Lauren bites her lip. “All they know is that I found you last night and you were upset and I took you here. The rest is up to you.”

Camila breathes out a sigh of relief because she really isn’t sure what she wants to tell everyone yet and as good as if felt to come out to Lauren, she needs to do it herself for the others too. “Thank you Laur, you are a really good friend.”

Lauren coos and walks over to hug the smaller Latina. “Aw love you Camz.”

“Love you Laur.”

“Ally in the kitchen finishing up for Friendsgiving later. She might want to talk to you.” Lauren prepares Camila.

Camila nods and takes a deep breath. “Okay, I guess I’ll go talk to her then.”

“Good luck Camz.” Lauren goes back to getting ready for the day, walking into the bathroom to brush her teeth.

Camila walks into the living room area with the conjoined kitchen. Although she knows not to be scared of Ally, she finds herself tiptoeing across the wooden floors in order not to make a noise. She sees Ally bustling around the kitchen with her gloves on and her Sexy Tex-ie apron on and she can’t help but laugh.

Ally must have bionic ears or something because she turns to the sound of Camila’s laugh, even though there are at least a dozen things in the kitchen making noise right now. The next thing Camila knows she is being tackled in a hug. “Don’t you ever scare me like that!” Ally scolds after she pulls away.

“I know Ally I’m sorry…. It’s just. You were right. Okay?” Camila admits, rocking back and forth on her heels. She figures she might as well get straight to the point. “I’m gay and I really, really like Dinah as way more than a friend and being around her was too hard. Okay I freaked out and I’m not proud of my actions. I heard about this party serving free alcohol a block or two away and I got smashed. Luckily Lauren happened to be there with Lucy and they helped me back and everything. I’m all good. Just a little bit hung over.”

She talks fast enough that she hopes the particularly bad decisions weren’t giving enough time to be dwelled on.

She watches for Ally’s reaction. “You came out to Lauren? And to me?”

“Well Lucy was there too, but yes.”

Ally broke into a large smile. “Aw Mila.” She pulls Camila into another large hug. “I’m so proud of you hun!”

Camila couldn’t help but let herself smile. Ally has some sort of super power for contagious smiles. “Thank you! And I’m sorry I snapped at you the first time, I just…. I was in denial.”

“Oh don’t I know.” Ally teases. “It’s okay Milz. I understand. I’m just glad that you got there eventually. And just so you know, next time you want to get drunk, take someone with you for God’s sake. I can’t even imagine what would’ve happened if Lauren and Lucy hadn’t been there. Don’t you know never to go to parties alone?”

Camila nods. “I know, I was being stupid. It won’t happen again…hopefully.”

Ally shakes her head and smacks Camila with her oven mitt. “You better be kidding.”

Camila laughs. “I am, I am.”

A/N: As always my Wattpad is DinahFantasy and I’m way better at posting there. Thank you!

#UPDATE #series #caminah #angst drama #humour #romance fluff #submission #I Can do that With my Eyes Closed

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