#(I stuck up a card that wasn’t an ace up my brother’s sleeve)

[not-so-local-lesbian]

My actual coming out story in fifth grade:

I was on a call with my friend, we’ll call her Belle ig, and my other friend, who we’ll call Tristan. Belle and I were tryna figure out Tristan’s type/crushes/people who had a crush on him, as one does when you’re wanting to tease them. Further into the conversation, I don’t remember all of what he said, but I do remember that my dumbass said:

“Damn, Im more of a lady’s man than you are. I guess I’m just better when it comes to the girls”

I never said that I was lesbian out loud ever before. Not to myself or another person. Not even on the internet.

My first time coming out, admitting it to myself, and actually accepting it was not only a gay joke, but a dig at my friend Tristan. (never been more proud of myself)

Ace one is in the tags bc it wasn’t from fifth grade

my actual coming out story is in fifth grade a guy named asa was like "hey are you a faggot" and i was like what's that 😨 and he was like "it means you like boys" and i was like ohhhhh then yes ☺️ and then i got home from school and was like hey mom guess what i am ☺️

[moony-meadow]

Going for Goldie (5)

Pt. 1 / Pt. 2 / Pt. 3 / Pt. 4 / Pt. 5 / Pt. 6

Laying in a heap at the bottom of Mammon’s stomach, I fought the urge to yell at the demon for the less than gentle treatment I’d just been subjected to. Despite the turbulence I’d just experienced, I had managed to pick up on the fact that Lucifer had made an appearance.

I had no desire to make the fact that I’d been swallowed known to a single other person, especially not Lucifer, who would likely punish both Mammon and I for the stunt. For that reason, I remained as still and silent as possible. Lucifer was observant, the slightest move or sound on my part could alert him to my location.

“Were you talking to yourself, Mammon?” I heard the Avatar of Pride’s distant voice ask.

“Huh? Oh yeah just--just talkin’ to myself…” Mammon responded awkwardly. I shook my head. I knew his proficiency with lying to be somewhat spotty. There were rare occasions he could pull off a flawless fib, but most of the time he stumbled through his lies with all the grace of an elephant. This time seemed to be more like the latter.

There was a brief pause in the conversation going on outside. It seemed as though Lucifer was considering whether or not to press his brother further on his unusual behavior. Apparently, he ended up deeming it not worth it as he smoothly switched subjects. “I scoured the entirety of the House of Lamentation and have not managed to locate your credit card,” he announced in his usual icy tone. “Evidently you finally managed to choose a competent hiding place.” The annoyance in the demon’s voice was restrained but still noticeable. Lucifer didn’t like being bested, especially not by his younger brother, whom he insisted was hopelessly idiotic.

Mammon’s stomach shifted slightly. I kept a firm hold on the walls to keep myself steady. “In that case, maybe you should just let me keep Goldie then,” the Avatar of Greed offered hopefully.

Lucifer gave a low, ominous chuckle. “No, I’ve still got one more ace up my sleeve,” he remarked. With my ear pressed against the outer wall of the stomach, I could just barely pick up on the sound of the bedroom door being opened, followed by a new set of footsteps. “You see, I have a theory that you can’t go twelve hours separated from your credit card.” Lucifer continued. “I’m far too busy to spend my time surveilling you, but I thankfully know someone all too willing to help out for the promise of food.”

“He promised me ten large pizzas,” came Beelzebub’s voice, revealing who the newcomer was.

“So, Beel will stay and watch you for the next twelve hours,” Lucifer announced, “If you manage to go that long without going after your ‘Goldie’, then I will allow you to hold onto it for the time being.” A feeling of dread was quickly beginning to come over me. If Beel was going to be watching Mammon like a hawk, there would be no opportunity for him to cough me back up--I’d be stuck in his stomach for the next twelve hours!

“I--uh, is that really necessary?” Mammon questioned nervously. I could feel his muscles tensing up around me.

Lucifer gave another deep chuckle. “See you two tomorrow,” was all he said before his footsteps receded and the door clicked shut behind him.

A long moment of silence stretched out between the two occupants (not including myself) of the room. Mammon clearly didn’t know what to say or do, and Beelzebub had never been the overly talkative type. Just as I thought the quiet would never be broken, Beel finally spoke up. “It smells like Y/N in here.” I smacked a hand to my face. Of all the things for him to say, it had to be that.

“Oh, well um--” Mammon started but was quickly interrupted.

“It smells pretty recent too.” It wasn’t all that surprising that Beel’s sense of smell was so good considering his obsession with food. But the fact that he could detect the freshness of a scent was kind of scary. “Mammon, is Y/N hiding somewhere in here?” Despite being the younger of the two demons, Beel’s voice took on the chastising edge of a parental figure.

I bit my lip. I had no clue how Mammon was going to explain his way out of this one, especially when it was clear he was currently far from the top of his lying game.

There was a moment’s hesitation on Mammon’s part and then, “I’ll only tell ya if you promise to keep it just between us.”

My mouth fell open. “He is not seriously considering telling Beel where I am,” I quietly hissed. This whole situation was already embarrassing enough as it was without someone else getting involved.

“I don’t know about that,” Beel responded, seeming unmoved by Mammon’s pleading tone.

“Aw, come on. If not for me, then at least for Y/N,” Mammon insisted.

A moment of silence, and then, “Alright, fine,” Beel relented.

I massaged the bridge of my nose. All of this nonsense had quickly caused a headache to form. The involvement of a third party in this mess was something I very much did not want. However, it seemed I had little choice in the matter. Big shocker, the person stuck in someone’s stomach was at everyone else’s whim.

I listened silently as Mammon explained the situation. When he finally got to the part about my current location, I heard a sharp intake of breath from Beelzebub. “You ate them?! Are you crazy?!” The concern in the Avatar of Gluttony voice was honestly touching. Despite what his impressive height and rippling muscles might suggest, Beel was actually quite the big softie.

“I told you, our pact makes it perfectly safe. Tell ‘im, Y/N.” I felt one of Mammon’s fingers prod his stomach. I was half tempted to say nothing in order to get him in trouble with Beel, as payback for disclosing my location without my consent and all. However, causing more chaos in a situation that was already such a huge fiasco didn’t seem like the best idea in the long run.

“Yeah, I’m fine!” I called out. “Relatively speaking,” I added with a grumble.

I heard a small commotion outside and then suddenly felt a hand being pressed against the stomach wall. “You’re really in there then,” came Beel’s voice, much closer now.

“Oi, get off of me, would ya?” Mammon exclaimed. I tightened my hold on the walls as everything around me shook with the giant demon’s movements. I could only assume Mammon was shoving Beel away from him.

Once everything settled back down and I felt sure I wouldn’t immediately topple over, I stood up and pressed myself close to the outermost stomach wall. “You’re not going to tell Lucifer, are you?” I shouted out to Beel. The guy was pretty loyal to his oldest brother, I doubted he would feel particularly comfortable having to lie to him.

A low sigh came from the red headed demon. “I guess not, though I’m going to have to figure out what to tell him.”

A grateful smile formed on my face, though I quickly remembered Beel wouldn’t be able to see it and called out a verbal thank you instead. Maybe getting him in on their scheme hadn’t been such a bad idea after all.

“Why don’t ya go to town for a lil while and act like ya followed me there?” Mammon suggested. “Then go tell Lucifer ya lost me ‘cause you got distracted by the food in a bakery window or somethin’.” My eyebrows rose. The amount of decent ideas Mammon was having recently was getting a little freaky.

“That does sound like something I would do,” Beel admitted shamelessly. “Fine, I’ll do it. But you might not want to take Y/N out until the twelve hours are up, just in case Lucifer decides to do another search for your card.” That statement was certainly enough to put a frown on my face. Sleeping over in a demon’s stomach was very much not how I wanted my night to go.

“Mmmkay,” Mammon responded, sounding far too chipper for my liking. He was probably happy to keep me in his stomach longer, the jerk.

I could hear Beelzebub’s footsteps retreating towards the bedroom door, but then they stopped. “Oh and Y/N,” he piped up sweetly. “Can I eat you next time?”

Mammon’s barely suppressed chortling shook me. I aimed another elbow jab at the stomach wall. “I am not letting you guys take turns eating me!” I snapped. “So get that idea out of your heads.”

A sound of disappointment came from Beel. “But I bet you taste so good,” he pouted.

“Oh trust me, they do,” Mammon replied. I could practically hear the Cheshire like grin in his voice.

[mayquita]

The Art of (Fake)Dating (1/4)

Surprise @shardminds​ ! I’m your CS Secret Santa! I felt pretty bad for not being able to have your gift ready on time. I wanted to offer you something, so I decided to divide your gift into four parts, and here’s the first one, finally! It has been a pleasure to get to know you throughout these past weeks, I’d like you to know that you already have a friend in me. ;)

Apologies in advance because there will probably be around a million mistakes. I hope you like it despite that :)

Thanks to @cssecretsanta2k19​ for organizing the event and making sure everything worked correctly.

Summary: When Emma agrees to be Killian’s fake girlfriend she expects it to be a one-time thing. However, and despite getting an enemy in the form of an overprotective brother, she ends up becoming an expert in the art of fake dating even though she can’t stand her fake boyfriend, at least at the beginning.

Ao3 / FFNet

//

The Art of (Fake) Dating

I need a reminder, Jones. Why am I doing this? - Emma

Because you’re a good person who offered help to someone in need? - Killian

Nah, I mean the other reason, the one that really matters to me. - Emma

Are you implying that you aren’t a good person then? - Killian

Jones, keep pushing and you get nothing. - Emma

Just was kidding, Swan. I know the terms of our agreement. - Killian 

So enlighten me, I need a reminder about the reason why I’ve accepted this stupid plan. - Emma

Killian? - Emma

It’s not funny, Jones - Emma

Well, since you don’t seem especially interested, I better look for a more enjoyable Thanksgiving plan. It won’t be a difficult task, by the way. - Emma

Where’s the rush, Swan? I was just a bit busy, but I’m all yours now ;) - Killian

I’m waiting. - Emma

(insert heavy sigh sound) Okay… you get to choose the best shift. Happy now? - Killian

Ask me when we get back - Emma

Emma rested her arms on the counter and barely resisted the urge to bang her head against the smooth surface while cursing under her breath. What the hell was I thinking? Why on earth did I accept this stupid plan?

Letting out a soft groan, she put the phone in her pants pocket and straightened her back, ignoring Ruby’s inquisitive gaze.

She could barely stand the guy, for God’s sake, but that hadn’t stopped her from accepting not only to spend Thanksgiving with him and his family (and also spend the night there — seriously, what’s wrong with me? ) but do it as his fake girlfriend.

Who are you kidding, Emma? You and I know the real reason why you accepted the deal. Her inner voice seemed to be very active today, although she made an effort to ignore it trying to focus on her current task.

You know you’ll have to share the bed with him, don’t you? And obviously, it won’t be the first time…

“Oh shut up!” Great. She had gone crazy and started talking to herself. 

She felt her cheeks start to burn as she glanced around to make sure no one was witnessing how she managed to embarrass herself. Luckily, Will and Ruby were serving some customers and Robin, their boss, was in the back room. Killian Jones, the object of her tribulations, would arrive later. Although she tried, she found herself unable to prevent a flood of no longer repressed memories from starting to resurface.

Her inner voice was right. Thanksgiving night wouldn’t be the first time she shared a bed with Killian. It had all been the product of a series of unfortunate decisions taken shortly after she had moved to Storybrooke, a sleepy town in the middle of nowhere, three and a half years ago in a somewhat desperate attempt at a fresh start away from everything and everyone.

In retrospect, she should have gotten drunk, at least she would have an excuse for her behavior. She couldn’t blame alcohol, but she might have found herself in a state of transitory alienation that would have clouded her mind to the point where it seemed reasonable not only to fuck a guy she had just met in a place as mundane as the town diner but did so knowing that he lived in the same apartment building as her, although on a different floor. 

To make matters worse, that guy, Killian Jones, had also turned out to be one of her coworkers at The Rabbit Hole, the bar she would start working on the following day. Seriously? What were the odds!?

She had decided that she was going to hate Killian for the rest of her life, even though he had offered her one of the best sex sessions she remembered. But what she had hoped was a simple one night stand, without complications, in the end, had become not only her neighbor but the asshole, cocky and too sexy for his own good co-worker.

In case all this wasn’t reason enough for her dislike towards him, there was a fact that was the one that had bothered Emma the most, although she would never admit it out loud. By the time she had learned that she would have to see him on a daily basis at their workplace, she had pushed him away, holding back any possible approach on his part. Although she was the only one to blame, she couldn’t help feeling rejected in some way, since, after a couple of timid attempts and some flirtation, he seemed to have lost any interest in repeating their dalliance. Dammit!

//

“Why me and why you need to pretend you have a girlfriend?”

Emma had asked the same questions since she had agreed to be part of the farce, obtaining vague explanations or directly silence in response. However, since they were already on their way to the Jones’ house, she found herself in need to ask once more. She wanted to know the cards she played with in this stupid game.

Killian’s gaze drifted to her for a split second, but then he turned his attention back to the road, keeping his lips sealed. Emma let out an exaggerated sigh as she leaned back in her seat and turned her head in the direction of the window, feeling a sense of growing frustration settling in the pit of her stomach.

The day hadn’t started well, as she had intended to follow Killian���s car while driving her beloved yellow beetle. Killian had looked at her as if she had grown two heads before responding in a somewhat condescending tone, which had done nothing to placate her annoyance towards him.

“We live in the same building and now we are a couple, obviously we don’t need to travel in two separate cars, Swan. And don’t think for a second that I’m going to spend the next two hours stuck in that horrendous metal trap.”

At least the music resonating inside the vehicle was good enough to keep her entertained since her fake boyfriend seemed to have entered into a kind of mutism, or worse, he had decided to ignore her presence completely. This entire situation only strengthened her resentment towards him, although that did not prevent her from wanting to fuck him. Emma wasn’t sure yet how she was going to deal with those mixed feelings when they were locked in the privacy of a bedroom, presumably sleeping in the same bed and…

“Two things, love.” The unexpected sound of Killian’s voice brought her back to reality, causing those inappropriate thoughts to return to the most hidden corner of her mind, where they would remain and where they should never escape again, an arduous task when his voice alone had the ability to make her blood run hot in her veins. Gods! She hated this guy for taking control over her body without him even being aware of it. “Well, actually three.” The bastard gave her a sidelong glance, the hint of a smirk adorning his lips. But if she thought he was finally going to give her an explanation, she was wrong, since he looked back to the road as he returned to his silence.

The man was so infuriating and always seemed to have an ace up his sleeve to cause a reaction in her. On this occasion, she tried hard not to take the bait but her current situation, locked in his vehicle on the way to a somewhat uncertain destination, did not help much for her purpose.

“Come on, Jones. Tell me now or I’ll break the deal,” she snapped finally, hating him a little more in the process.

“Calm down, Swan. We still have an hour and a half left to reach our destination. You should relax and enjoy the ride, the good music and, of course, the good company.” She didn’t even need to look at him to know he was smirking again. “Maybe if you ask nicely…”

The glare she gave him seemed to be enough for him to stop teasing her. “Okay, okay. As I was saying and to answer your questions, three things. The first one. I chose you because my family had heard from you before. You know, the coworker who hates me for some inexplicable reason, but over time she ends up falling for my undeniable charms in the most classic enemies to lovers style.”

“I can’t believe you told that story to your family,” she huffed while shaking her head, somewhat surprised by the fact that Killian seemed to have the entire farce under control.

“Well, it’s partially true, isn’t it?”

“Me falling for you? Keep dreaming, Jones.”

“Always.” He winked at her causing her stomach to flop. Bastard . “But I meant you hating me.”

She rolled her eyes, holding back a biting retort. Instead, she chose to continue with her inquiries. “I know I’m probably going to regret it, but what’s the second thing?”

“Ah, that…” Emma didn’t miss the fact that he looked back at the road while his cheeks acquired a light pink hue. Although she tried to ignore it, her stomach fluttered in anticipation, making a small somersault when he looked at her again before continuing to speak. “I know how you kiss, Swan. So I thought it would be convenient if I chose a lass with whom I had already kissed previously since it would give credibility to our performance.”

So he remembered that they had kissed before… Emma wondered if he also remembered that they had done much more than kissing. She had even come to think that he had completely forgotten their night together, one of the reasons that had made her feel somewhat rejected.

“Even so, I’m entirely willing to practice to perfect our technique in case it’s necessary to carry out certain public displays of affection, you know what I mean.” The way he bit his lower lip and wagged his eyebrows at her had no effect on her. None at all.

Was he flirting with her or was it just a figment of her imagination? To be honest, he had never stopped doing it, but in the same way he did with any female who crossed his path. This time, however, his flirting seemed to have a clear intention, but it couldn’t be, right?

Emma shifted uncomfortably in her seat, feeling a blush crawling up from her neck to her cheeks. Still, she felt the need to tease him back. “I also know how you kiss, Jones, there is no need to practice. In fact, there is no need for kisses at all. We will be there for less than twenty-four hours.” Before he had time to reply, she continued speaking in an attempt to divert attention. “And what about the reason for this farce?”

He took a few seconds to respond, which allowed Emma to notice a slight change in his attitude. His jaw clenched and the muscles in his arms tensed as he gripped the steering wheel tightly. “About that… Let’s say that my brother thinks I’m a total failure in several parcels of my life.” His gaze shifted almost imperceptibly to the prosthesis of his left arm. “I guess I wanted to cross out one of them from the list.”

Killian had used a nonchalant tone as he shrugged as if he downplayed his statement. His fake smile and the hint of bitterness in his voice said otherwise, though. Emma and Killian might not even be considered friends, but at least she had come to know part of his past and had even witnessed some of his lowest moments. Even so, she didn’t expect that to be something that could affect him in his relationship with his brother.

An unusual wave of sympathy for him washed over her. She was aware that Killian, like her, dragged several demons from his past. The fact that his first instinct had been to look at his prosthesis was proof of that. She was also able to recognize, despite her dislike towards him, some of his qualities. She had always admired that, despite the absence of a hand, he seemed able to get everything he set out to do. Or at least that was the impression he gave, with all that aura of self-confidence. Now Emma was no longer so sure. Suddenly, this stupid plan acquired a new and interesting dimension. She needed more answers.

“Let me see if I’ve understood. For your brother to think that you are not a failure you decided to take a fake girlfriend home so that he thinks that at least you haven’t failed in love?”

“Something like that,” he admitted reluctantly. Before she could reply, though, he continued. “There is one aspect to keep in mind, by the way. I don’t think he will dare, but I still need to warn you. My brother Liam can be a bit overprotective in addition to a pain in the ass. But since you’re a tough girl, I assume that you will be able to handle him in case he decides to have it in for you.”

Emma’s eyes widened in surprise. “Great, now it turns out that I have to play the awful girlfriend role that isn’t good enough for the little brother? Just perfect. Anything else I should know before venturing into the lion’s den?”

“My sister-in-law is the nicest person and my nephews are adorable?”

A soft snort escaped between her lips before she laid her head on the back of her seat and let her gaze wander through the window, while trying to prepare for what might happen. It might be interesting, after all, she tried to cheer herself up. Emma felt apprehensive but at the same time with some level of excitement to know not only the dynamics of that family but also to discover more layers of the mystery that Killian Jones meant to her.

//

Thanks for reading.

Since I’ve already started my winter break it won’t happen as with my other wips. I plan to post the rest of the parts in the next few days.

[wordsdrippinginink]

You had a soulmate au before, where whatever your soulmate most loved was tattooed on your skin. And like Luffy had a ferris wheel lami had loved to represent laws love for his little sister. In that you really heavily implied that whitebeards mark was on aces back, so maybe like. the reveal of that. where ace agrees to join the crew and reveals his tattoo and everyone finds out that. he had the jolly roger the whole time. //thank you for your writing! i think it's really lovely.

“What do you think is on your soulmate?” Ace asks, collapsed between two barrels to avoid Thatch and Haruta’s attempts to hand off their shitty warm beer. They both knew Ace always finished almost anything handed to him, even if he didn’t like it. “I mean, since what you love if printed on them?”

Marco hums, low and quiet, “I think that they must have something for my siblings. What about you?”

“My brother,” Ace mutters into his mug, glancing at Marco. “It’s probably something shitty for him too.”

“Shitty?”

Ace nods, “Two things that you learn quickly about my brother, he loves his hat and he loves meat. I figure that it’s one or both of them. And his hat is this old as fuck straw nonsense with a red ribbon.”

“That doesn’t sound shitty. Simple, perhaps, but there’s nothing wrong with simple,” Marco leans back against the railing. “Something for Pops. I would like to think that legends about the size of the mark meant something, but it’s all false.”

“Gramps said the bigger the mark, the more that person loved what it represented.”

Marco shakes his head, “Izou,” he gestures with his drink to where Izou is playing cards, and fleecing a number of the crew. “Has a mark, it’s on the side of his knee, it’s one of the things that Thatch loves most.”

“I think that one of mine is both.”

“Both?” Marco asks slowly.

Ace hums, spinning his drink in his hands, “I think they love something very much and it, it takes up the most space of any of my marks,” he sighs. “Honestly all of my marks are in the most inconvenient places, Gramps always said we were suppose to hide them.”

“Hide them,” Marco says slowly. “How are you suppose to find them if you keep them hidden?”

Ace doesn’t answer, finishing his drink and standing, “I think I need another drink.Would you like one too?”

“Please.”

Marco watches him slip through the crowd, careful to keep from being pulled into arguments or the dancing that’s taken over a good portion of the deck. Most people want their soulmates, the person that would match them best, be important to them in some way-

“Do you want to meet your soulmate?” Ace asks interrupting his thoughts, back faster. “Sorry, I took the long way around, turned out it was even faster.”

“Thank you,” Marco says slowly, taking his drink. “I would like to meet them, when I was younger, before I started to get marks, I was sad that I didn’t get a best friend.”

Ace chokes, covering his mouth quickly, “Best friend?”

“I thought soulmates were best friends,” Marco says easily. “I mean, they sound like them. Wasn’t until two decades back that I got one.”

“Best friend?”

Marco shakes his head, “You’re still stuck on that? I would hear stories about soulmates, always important, from best friends, to lovers, to worst enemies. They can be anything, but I wanted a friend.”

“Most people talk about soulmates like you’re going to marry them.”

“Marrying your best friend isn’t an issue, but forcing someone to think that’s all you want from them? A friend is a start, but it doesn’t have to ever be romantic. What about you, did you not want to meet your soulmate?”

“I didn’t think I deserved one,” Ace says quietly, before standing up. “I’m going to bed.”

“Good night,” Marco says slowly, watching him leave. “Now why would he think that?”

“This is my bed,” Deuce states tiredly, ignoring Kotatsu, because Kotatsu did as he pleased and stole beds whenever they looked comfy. “You have a perfectly good bed. More than one should you want them, if I’m hearing rumors correctly.”

“Shut up,” Ace mutters, mostly covered in the sprawl of Kotatsu. “Shut up and tell me to stop drinking.”

Deuce sighs, dropping onto the small space left on his bed, “Why?”

“I asked Marco about his marks.”

“You’re an idiot. Come on, you hate soulmates and you haven’t even told me why. Just that they wouldn’t-,” he pauses. “This isn’t about your dad is it? Ace, so help me, if you’ve decided that you can’t have a soulmate because of a man that you never met-”

“I’m a monster.”

Deuce punches him, he knows that it’s not hard enough to hurt Ace, but it makes him feel better, “You’re a person. Just because you’re dad was the Pirate King, doesn’t mean that you are a monster. He wasn’t a monster.”

“Everyone-”

“Everyone is wrong. Monsters don’t let giant cats use them as beds and allow those cats to position them as the cat likes,” Deuce states, yawning. “Why does this soulmate thing bother you so much?”

Ace hums, tired and sad, “One of my marks, it’s-,” he swallows. “It takes up my entire back almost.”

“Explains why you don’t go around shirtless.”

“Yeah,” he pauses. “It’s their jolly roger.”

Deuce raises an eyebrow, “Whitebeard’s?” he doesn’t wait for a response. “Well, that would be awkward if you wanted to murder him. You figured out who it is, haven’t you?”

“Maybe?”

“Ace.”

“Marco,” Ace answers, throwing his arm over his face. “I think it’s Marco. There, are you happy?”

Deuce hums softly, quiet for a long moment, “You know, I think that if you took off your shirt, no one would notice. Just think it was a tattoo, since the rest of them have them.”

“Would figure it out soon enough. I’ve got other marks.”

“Fine, but only because I’m tired. I’m going to sleep and then I’m going to fight you on this because you’re a fucking moron. Even if you’re my friend.”

Ace laughs, “Alright, let me go.”

“No, it’s too late. Kotatsu isn’t moving and this room is cold. You’re staying here and you’re going to suffer,” Deuce yawns, burying his face in a pillow. “Night.”

“Sleep well?” Ace says slowly.

“Aw man,” Ace mutters prodding a hole in the front of his shirt, holding it up to his face to stare through it. “I liked this shirt! I can’t believe that I couldn’t turn it into fire fast enough!”

“Ace?” 

Ace turns, freezing when he spots the rest of the crew watching him, even if Marco’s the look who looks the most confused, “Yes?”

“That is so detailed!” Haruta shouts, bouncing close and forcing him to turn around. “When did you do this? It’s the best work that I’ve ever seen!”

“Not to mention the lines are so straight and the color so solid,” Izou agrees and Ace can feel his fan on his back. “You haven’t shown us this tattoo before. That’s a bit rude, Ace.”

Ace flinches, jerking away from Izou’s touch, “It’s not.”

“Not?” Haruta repeats.

“A tattoo. It’s a mark,” Ace bites the inside of his cheek when they both go silent, already shifting his shirt back on because at least it would be covered. “It’s been there for as long as I can remember. What does it matter?”

“That’s a soul mark,” Izou repeats slowly and Ace can’t see him, but he knows that his eyebrows are raised. “I didn’t know you had a soulmate.”

Ace shrugs, turning to face them because it’s worse having them at his back, “Yeah well, I have one. Didn’t think it was important.”

“But that’s our crew’s symbol!” Thatch says, eyes wide. “And you-?”

“I don’t regret it. Trying to kill him, Pops. I did it and I would have done it no matter if there was a mark on my back or not,” Ace says calmly. “But Pops still accepted me and he knows about this,” he gestures, unable to say the words. “But it doesn’t matter.”

“And that’s his choice,” Marco says before anyone else can. “If Ace wants to avoid his soulmate, that’s for him to decide. Stop hounding him about it.”

Ace can hear them grumbling, but is grateful when they don’t ask more, even if Izou looks like he’s willing to fight Ace to get more answers, leaving Ace alone-

“You know,” Marco says slowly, startling him. “The straw hat doesn’t have any meat, I was sure that I was going to after you talked about him, but it’s a strawhat and a crown.”

“A crown?”

Marco nods, rolling his sleeve up slightly, the mark just above the crease of his elbow, “I never got it, who would wear a straw hat with a crown.”

“Luffy would wear them both,” Ace says slowly. “You knew?”

“No, not until,” he doesn’t have to say it, but Ace knows what he means. “But I like you. Liked you before that,” Marco smiles. “I’ve been trying to see if you were interested, but I wasn’t sure since you were avoiding talks about-”

Ace snorts, cutting him off, “You could have said it.”

“Well some of us,” Marco says slowly, stepping closer. “Are willing to avoid saying things straight out so that the rest of their family doesn’t end up teasing them about failing to flirt.”

“And you don’t mind, that I didn’t tell you?”

Marco raises an eyebrow slowly, “I don’t own you. Ace, soulmates are suppose to be important to you, but that doesn’t mean that they start off that way. You’re still strangers when you meet, for all that I have marks of things you love, it doesn’t mean that I know what they mean or who you are. I know that because I wanted to know you.”

“You’re,” Ace ducks his head, feeling too warm. “I like you.”

“That’s good to know,” Marco says softly. “Can I interest you in dinner? I think we can even call it a date, if you’re comfortable with that.”

Ace nods quickly, “You- this isn’t just because I’m your soulmate?”

“Considering I found out about that today?” Marco teases. “No, I like you. I liked you when you were an idiot trying to kill Pops and I liked you more when you were an idiot on our crew. Being my soulmate isn’t changing that.”

[whistlemist]

Tiny Tim Missing

Bruce walked into the cave carrying a small boy in his arms. The tiny kid was wrapped up in his cape looking like he was over the moon. The big baby blue eyes were glued to Batman’s face as little hands kept touching his cheeks and chin as if trying to make sure they were real.

Damian was close behind not looking pleased with whatever happened. The scowl was clear he was in bad mood. He walked by everyone without even Acknowledge that they were there. Both the older two had been using the bat computer to hunt down a lead when they heard them come back.

Dick tensed up seeing the kid. “Who’s the kid?”

“Another one? Isn’t that one a little on the young side?” Jason said walking over to look at the kid. He frowned looking him over. “Wait- is that Tim?!”

“Timmy?!” Dick came over to look, the boy looked at them for a split second before going back to touching Batman’s face. “Oh my god, what happened?!”

“Dick, we’re right here. Don’t shout,” Pushing the cowl back he sighed as little hands started to touch his forehead and ears. “Tim got hit by a spell.”

“I’m surprised that Tim didn’t dodge it,” Jason crossed his arms.

“Damian pushed him in the way of the spell, which is why Robin is benched for a while.” Bruce tried to hand Tim over to Dick but the boy latched onto him, little hands grabbing onto his hair. “Hey, easy, Tim… I need to go get changed alright?”

“He has no memories?” Dick asked trying to slowly take his little brother. He was a bit excited to be able to hold a kid version of Tim. “Come on, Timmy, do you want a snack? Some juice?”

“You’re going to steal Damian’s snacks and juice? That’s not gonna go over well.” Jason frowned.

“They're my snacks and  juice.”

“...” Jason looked at Dick for a long time “Your such a f*cking child.”

“Not in front of Tim!” Dick gasped covering the boy’s ears. “Jason, how cold you?!”

“Both you stop,” Bruce grunted as he managed to remove Tim’s hands from his hair before handing the boy over to Dick. “Tim’s about five right now, keep an eye on him, don’t lose him, no cussing, feed him until I can figure out how to fix this.”

“You got it, boss.”

-- “Tim where are you!? COME OUT PLEASE!”

“I can’t believe you lost him!” Jason snapped at him throwing a water bottle even though he knew it would do nothing. “I left you alone for two minutes!”

“I was answering a call! I didn’t think that Tim would wander off!” Dick pointed to the old high chair they had drug out of the attic and had put their brother in, hell, TIm was small enough to fit but the second Dick had turned around the kid had vanished. “Come on, Jay we need to find him!”

They ran out of the kitchen calling Tim's name loudly.

“Timmy?” Dick called looking under a couch. “Tim?! Come out, Tim, please!”

“Come out you brat!” Jason yelled opening doors looking around for any sign of the child. He closed one door when they head a thud upstairs. “That doesn't sound good.”  

“Come on, Jay!” Running up the stairs they found a coat rack knocked out, but no Tim. Slowing down Dick looked around trying to figure where he would have gone. Opening a room Dick peeked inside. Walking in the two of them started to look under the bed, in the closed, the bathroom just in case.

They were so into looking for Tim, they hadn’t noticed the small boy wiggled out of the coats before walking off down the hall.

--

Damian was in the middle of his homework when the door slammed open with Todd yelling. “WHAT DID YOU DO WITH  HIM DEMON CHILD?!”

“What the hell, Todd?!” Jumping up Damian took out one of his hidden swords. “You want to die again?!”

“Tell me where he is or I’ll shoot your ass, Damian!”

“Try it and I’ll slit your throat.”

“Jason, stop it!” Dick came in getting between the two of them to keep the bloodshed away. “Listen, we lost, Tim. Have you’ve seen him?”

“We?!” Jason snapped. “Your fatass lost him!”  

“Why would I care where Drake is?” Came to the growl as Damian moved back if only not to nick Grayson’s hand by accident. “Why do you not just call his phone?”

“Oh, right,” Dick paused. “You don’t know do you?”

--

“You know I thought he was going to have this sudden big brother urge to just go look and save  his now little brother.”

Jason gave Dick a long side look as he took out a cigarette while looking for his lighter. “Yeah, sure, keep thinking that’s what could have happened. It’s f*cking Damian, Dickhead.”

“Hey, I had hope.” Sighing he looked back at the door where had just kicked them out of before looking back at Jason. “Hey, you better not lite that in here or Alfred would have  your head.”

Jason paused before grumbling. Standing he shook his head. “I’m gonna go to the roof, have a smoke. Call me if you find the kid. I’ll be back.”

--

Meanwhile roaming the halls of Wayne Manor Tim was looking up at the many paintings that lined the halls. They are so high up that when he stood in front of way he would stumble back a little bit straining his head back to see it all.

There was one that Tim found that seemed to fill a whole wall by itself. Old, with small cracks in it with the paint seeming to peel very slightly.  Titling his head Tim looked at it for a minute before hearing a noise off the right of him.  

Looking over with big eyes Tim saw a large hound there. It was taller walking over in almost practiced air of demand. It looked him over nostrils flared as it sniffed his head causing the small boy to giggle as the wet nose took in the scent.

Moving back Ace’s tail wagged a bit before licking the tiny face.

“Puppy,” Tim giggled little hands moving to pet the long snout. “Hi… what's your name?”

The dog gave a gruff before moving to take the sleeve of Tim’s arms starting to leave the human pup back to where the humans where. It was easy enough to move the young master, who for some reason was now so tiny, back towards the most used floors of the Manor.

--

Walking around Cassandra was back early from patrol. SHe had been having some flashbacks. After rounding up some criminals she had gone back to take her anxiety meds. After that walking around to help out when she paused seeing Ace walk passed her with a small boy.

“...?” She turned around watching before following behind them silent wondering when they got other family members. After all, she had learned that sometimes they would just get siblings. This was really young though. Maybe he was lost? That’s why they were in the Manor? “...”

Looking back Tim waved with a bit of shyness. The lady didn’t seem to talk but she followed them eyes trained on the new kid. A few times Tim tried to tug his sleeve away from the dog but the hound just didn’t let go until they got to a living room.

Walking in after his sleeve was a bit wet from the dog’s mouth. Going over to the couch Tim sat on it smiling at Cassandra. “Hi… I’m Tim,”

Eyes going wide for a second Cassandra looked up in thought going through all the possibility of being her brothers, the looks, the face structure, the insane things that often happened to them. Figuring that this was her brother she went over picking him up from under the arms looking at him closely before sitting down hugging him.

“Hi,” Tim repeated the phrase again not sure what else to do since she had talked to him. The hug was nice though and he hugged her back. “What’s your name?”

“Cassandra. Cass.”

“It’s very nice to meet you,” Tim reached for her hand holding it with both of his shaking the hand a little as if he was trying to remember how to shake a hand. “I’m Tim Drake,”

Nodding Cass looked him over making sure that he wasn’t hurt before taking out her phone asking Bruce he knew. Once she got his message she asked if it was alright if she could take Tim out for ice cream. Once given permission She found a large coat to wrap both of them up before leaving the Manor to an ice cream shop that was her favorite.

--

“Tim, please, I’ll give you all the coffee you want!” Dick cried using a megaphone trying a last attempt to get the third Robin to come out of his hiding spot. “Please, Tim, I’ll even let you use my Wing bike just come out!”

“Bruce is gonna kill us!” Jason was pacing back and forth as he ran a hand through his hair. “We’ve looked in every single room in the f*cking house! He must have gotten… Shit! Dick, outside!”

“There’s a river out there!” Dick screamed running outside as the two of them ran towards the back of the yard. It was pretty far off a good three minute run for them at full speed, but there was a small river there that ran through all the wealthy home’s backyard or side yards and it didn’t have a fence. “Hurry up, I’ll go left, you go right.”

“Call me if you see him!”

--

Bruce was enjoying the pictures that Cass was sending him. A fond smile as he got a few of Tim eating an ice cream cone, one of the little boy holding a batman plushy, a few times he noticed that the clothes started to change. From the looks of it Cassandra getting anything Batman related. If he had to guess he was sure Tim was point and Cass was swiping the card.

As Alfred dove them along he told Cassandra to meet him at a small shop nearby where they could get a couple of clothes for Tim since it seemed that his third son was going to be stuck like this for a while so they need to get clothes for him.

After meeting up with them Bruce picked up Tim who hugged him tightly nuzzling up to him. RUbbing the soft black hair Bruce patted his back. “Hey, Tim, have fun?”

“I got a toy, look,” Tim held up the toy Batman before hugging Bruce again whispering. “It’s you….”

“It is. Let keep is a secret, alright?” Bruce rubbed the boy’s head kissing it as well. “Let’s get you some more things than head back home okay?”

“When Mom and Dad?”

“... They're on a trip right now. You can stay with us until they get home, alright?” Bruce said rubbing Tim’s back. “We’ll have a movie night with snacks, alright?”

“With popcorn and snacks?” Tim asked eyes nearly taking over his whole face.

“As much as you want,” Bruce promised before he looked at Cassandra. “How about it, Cass? You want to grab some snacks you like for movie night?”

Nodding Cassandra held up her hand in a twisting motion than drinking. “...?”

“Yeah, we can get some soda too,”  nodded as she smiled giving a thumbs up. “Alright, you two let's go. Cass mind texting the others that were having a movie night?”

She nodded taking out her phone started to send a text to their group chat.

--

Ping!

Dick was having a heart attack still trying to look for Tim he had gotten Ace involved trying to get the dog to follow the scent but the dang hound just gruffed at him before going back to sleep. When the ping went off Dick took out his phone hoping that Jason had found Tim.

Cass: Movie. Snacks. 8pm. Bruce. Home. Soon.

For a long second, DIck was frozen when he turned around rushing to the banister. “Jason?!”

“I got it too!” RUnning out from where he had been looking in the pool room Jason took a break. “It was nice knowing you Dickieboy.”

“You’re not throwing me under the bus!”

“I’m not the one who lost him!”

The two of them started to yell and fight when they saw Bruce cat coming up the drive. They both looked at each other minds racing on what to say. They must have stayed there forever trying to work something in their minds when the door opened and Bruce walked in with bags of snacks, bags of popcorn of all flavors and Cassandra had Tim in her arms!

Dick was in too much in shock and realize that he swore he could feel his legs shaking as they watched them walk up to him. He looked at Jason who had an eye twitch going on and mouth clamped shut before turning back to the others.

“We’re having a movie night. Why don’t you boys go grab Damian and meet us in the movie room?” Bruce said without missing a beat as he continued to walk on. “And bring come bowls and paper napkins.”

Cassandra looked them over eyes reading over their body language before she almost let out an almost laugh. “Apologies. Took. Ice cream.”

“Cass, I almost had a heart attack!” Dick flee to his hands and knees. “Oh god, please don’t do that again.”

“Jason?”

For a long moment, Jason said nothing before slowly turning around walking a big jaggedly towards the liquor cabinet. He had a feeling that he would be needed tonight.

[themurphyzone]

Wings and Things

I’m starting to ship these two. Help. Each little ficlet is based on a different song.

Lost Twin AU belongs to @donaldtheduckdad.

1. Flying Without Wings

“Ninety-one, ninety-two, ninety-aw!” 

A sharp point on a small statuette of an unknown duck punctured the balloon, popping it instantly. Launchpad laughed, rubbing the back of his neck. 

Dewey shook his head. “Sorry, man. Maybe you’ll have better luck at beating my record next time!”

Launchpad scooped him up, setting him down on his broad shoulders. “You win some and you lose some. I hold the record for the largest living jungle gym. Wait, no, I don’t. Not yet. I’d need a bunch of kids for that sorta thing.”

Huey, Louie, and Webby instantly attached themselves to his limbs, giggling as Dewey gave him directions so that he didn’t bump into anything while his eyes were covered. 

She had never witnessed a man so good with children that he willingly became a living jungle gym. Aside from his employment under Scrooge McDuck, Launchpad hadn’t changed one bit from the dorky, sweet guy she knew in flight school. 

Sweet. Della had just described him as sweet. 

She inwardly groaned. Romance was the least of her worries. She had her children to take care of. Their needs would always come first. They had grown up fine without their biological father. 

More importantly, without her brother’s encouragement and determination. 

If Donald had been here, would he have approved of Launchpad? After all, it took a great character to work under someone infamous for their stinginess and short fuse. Launchpad had never given up on Scrooge even when Della had lost faith in him.  

Someone who never let temperament get in the way, someone who could protect children, someone strong and honest about everything....

He could make her soar without an airplane. And she wasn’t sure why.  

2. You Can Fly (Or Crash)

The unexpected snow and ice were considered too hazardous for those in training to attempt practicing taking off and landing. Launchpad huffed, his breath coming out in a small cloud of white. He’d been flying and crashing before he could even walk. 

Literally. His parents were fond of recalling the time he’d crawled into the cockpit of a biplane and somehow started the engine. The story ended with the neighbor’s barn destroyed, but it served to remind people that he had pilot’s blood in his veins.  

With his lessons cancelled, he had enough free time to admire the winter wonderland around him. The snow came down in a gentle breeze, though not heavy enough to be considered a blizzard. 

And skating in the middle of the frozen pond was the main attraction of the winter wonderland herself. 

White flakes were caught in her scarf and goggles, nearly blending in with her feathers. Launchpad couldn’t stop himself. She was so beautiful. He had to say something. 

“Della!” he yelled, waving his arms at her. “You’re cool! I mean, not as cool as the snow, since it’s at freezing point, and that would be bad for your body if you were at 32 degrees, but still pretty cool!”

Della whipped around, tucking a feathery strand of her hair behind her head. “Wait, Launchpad! Stay where you-”

Launchpad rushed out to meet her, only for his feet to slide out from under him. His arms flapped like a windmill as he accelerated across the ice, drifting headfirst into a snowbank. He shook his head, dazed by the impact. 

Someone latched onto his legs and yanked him out. He grinned at Della. “Hey.”

Della rolled her eyes, amused. She was even more beautiful when she gave him that exasperated ‘Oh, Launchpad’ look. “I see you’ve taken the crash course in ice skating.”

And she made puns too. 

“I see you’ve been taking the crash course into my heart,” he shot back. 

Della immediately pelted him with a snowball.  

3. Wind Beneath My Wings

Launchpad was a hero. He had all the makings of one. Honesty, courage, kindness, loyalty....

One couldn’t have asked for a better confidant. 

She could soar, do tricks, and fight like no tomorrow. Repairing a broken wing or landing gear was second nature. 

But at night, she couldn’t sleep. She checked on her boys, she wandered the empty, silent halls, and she replayed the memories of that night in her head. Days were easy. She had stuff to distract her, something to keep her hands busy and mind sharp.

Night brought the memories, the what-ifs, the ‘Is Donald dead or is there a chance I can see him again one day?’ question that nagged her with no end in sight. 

Launchpad was often up getting a midnight snack. Her feet took her to the kitchen. He had a certain magnetism around him, that’s for sure. 

He was there. 

He lifted his gaze from his sandwich and gave her a small smile. Della sat down in the chair next to him, her head hung low. 

Launchpad put his sandwich down, moving his chair closer to her. Della’s hand moved to rest on the soft fabric of his sleeve. He rubbed her back gently. 

She wrapped her arms around his arm, glancing at his face. His eyebrows raised in surprise, but his eyes were soft and understanding. 

Della shifted closer until she could lean on him. 

She mentally added ‘Physically and emotionally supportive’ to her list of Launchpad’s qualities. 

No words needed to be exchanged. Somehow he knew exactly what she needed. 

4.  Let Me Be Your Wings

“So you wanna be the pilot or the engine?” Launchpad asked eagerly. 

“What does that mean?” Della laughed. 

Launchpad shrugged. “Well, without the pilot, the engine could never start. And without the engine, a pilot wouldn’t be a pilot.”

“You do realize co-pilots exist?” Della said. 

He blinked. “Yes...but I like my way of saying it better.”

Della nodded, even if she didn’t really understand what he was trying to get at. Then again, Launchpad had a way of saying things that shouldn’t have been so sweet, but somehow they were. 

“And we could go to space together!” Launchpad continued. “We could do loop-de-loops around Saturn’s rings! Maybe see a Martian or two?” 

“Uncle Scrooge wouldn’t like us using up fuel for daredevil tricks,” Della reminded him. “No matter how tempting it is.”

Launchpad was on his game today. She didn’t know how she felt about that. 

“So if we were two parts of the same bird, I think I’d like to be the wings.”

5. On the Wings of Love

“This is your pilot speaking,” Launchpad’s voice came over on the intercom. “Testing, testing, one, two, three!”

“They can hear you, Launchpad!” Scrooge complained. 

Della kept a watchful eye on the kids while Launchpad and Scrooge were handling business in the front. She grinned at the sound of Launchpad’s voice.

The kids paused in their high-stakes card game of War and listened. Della moved Louie’s hand away from the card pile as he tried to discretely search for the aces while everyone was distracted. 

“We’ll touch down in the Canary Islands in one hour. Until then, please enjoy the in-flight entertainment we’ve provided,” Launchpad announced. 

“So we finally getting one of those airplane monitors you can play games and watch movies on?” Louie asked. 

Della shrugged. “Your guess is as good as mine.” 

“On the wings of love, up and above the clouds,” Launchpad crooned into the mic, his voice washing over her like the gentle but firm tug of the wind. “The only way to fly is on the wings of love.” 

Dewey and Webby stuck out their tongues at the love song. Huey wrote down the words to look up on the Internet as soon as they had wifi. 

Della could feel a blush creeping up. She quickly raised her collar to hide her cheeks. 

“On the wings of love, only the two of-ACK!” There was an audible smack as Launchpad sounded as though the wind was knocked out of him. 

“I pay you a penny a mile to be a pilot, not a casanova!” Scrooge snapped. “Serenade my niece off the clock, ya hear?” 

“Why does your mom have that weird grin on her face?” Webby asked. 

Dewey pretended to hurl. “That’s gross, and unnatural. I think she’s under a spell of some kind.”

Della let them argue about the possibility of Launchpad being able to control her mind with magic. 

Maybe, just maybe, there was something to letting him co-pilot her heart after all. 

[druidcore]

“What’s a parking ticket when you might get deported, right?” I asked, as my brother parked the car in front of a garage that was clearly meant to shoo us away. It, much like the men that had come to summon me to the Immigration office, was intimidating, standing taller than I ever could. 

Remotely, I thought the joke I’d made had been funny, but physically, I wasn’t laughing. 

I wondered if this was what an outer-body experience was really like, but thought it didn’t feel anything like what I’d always figured it should. I wasn’t floating above my own head like a chess-player in deep contemplation –– there were no secret manoeuvres or cards up my sleeve. I just felt like I was very slowly, very subtly being muted, an invisible dial quieting my senses until my thoughts were lists of stimuli and nothing more. 

I looked at the floor –– fallen feathers in black, gray, white.  The sun –– watery.  My cheeks –– hot.  My stomach –– tight, a ball of nerves like overlapping elastic bands, at the very center of it, this: Illegal Immigrant. 

The words pounded themselves into my skull, I felt them vibrate all the way down to my already broken spine. Like a threat, a heavy-handed hammer. Fractures formed like warnings. I had the sense that this was something long-coming. We’d ignored it for as long as we could, but my long-dead freedom had expired long ago, much like my residence permit. We’d kept the corpse cold beneath the floorboards but there were some things that couldn’t long be hidden –– things like bad grades and hangovers and illegal immigration statuses. The truth felt a lot like panic, worry and a rotten, sweaty certainty that my life was over: people were finally asking questions.

I wanted to turn back time like it was a clock I could wind back 10, 15, 20 minutes. Back to when I was 1000, 1500, 2000 miles away, laughing and joking with my friends, as unburdened as dandelion fluff. Wishful thinking like that didn’t help anyone, though, least of all me. 

Following my brother, I got the feeling that I was one of those dogs, the ones who’s owners corralled around unwillingly. If I had a tail, it’d have been drooping, if I’d had paws, they would have scuffed the floor the way my feet did. I wore no leash, no collar, but I was still forced to follow my body as it stepped and smiled its way into the Immigration Office. As I sat there, and this man with a bald head and little patience asked my brother why I couldn’t leave this very week, I could almost see the gas being pumped into the back of the airplane which would take me far away.  And I was painfully aware of my body. I tried to be what would deem me harmless –– but not meek. I was too quiet, and took up too much space. Contrary in all the wrong ways. I tried to look innocent, my only crime being circumstance gone sour, but it wasn’t like that mattered. The odds were in our favor: The accident I’d been in provided me with a loophole just large enough for me to scurry through. As my brother and the man began to joke, I wondered why I was the only one looking around, feeling lost, feeling that in my haste to save myself, I could have left something behind. Some incriminating evidence that would damn me. It couldn’t be that easy. 

Paranoid. I was paranoid, and scared, and beneath it all –– angry. 

It was unfair. That any one person could have or should have that much say over someone else’s life was unfair. Prejudice and bias were pumped into everyone from birth, myself included, and though I had come out of that office, lucky –– not only on account of the accident, but the color of my skin and my smooth, appealing accent, the sound of a bright future bred into my voice –– the same couldn’t be said for everyone. I wondered about those people. The ones that had lost everything. The ones without names or families or a place to call home, both running away from nothing and running towards something. The ones that had the misfortune of coming in on a day when the man’s coffee was too bitter, when his AC had broken down, when his wrath could shatter someone’s already shaky ground because of a minor inconvenience. 

I tried to explain how I felt to my brother but it was useless. He missed the point completely. As far as he was concerned, we were home-free. We’d made it. But what he didn’t seem to understand was how close we’d cut it. Then again, he wasn’t the one that was in danger; he could have never have known how it felt to be me. After all, I was the one with her head on the guillotine, the one with the noose around her neck, the one that had dangled from a precipice and then fell, hard and fast, before she was snatched up at the last second by someone’s merciful –– or maybe the right word was cruel –– hand. Yes, I’d escaped whole, but not unharmed. The sharp blade hadn’t struck me, but it had scraped my skin all the same.  

Only later, in the supposed safety of my brother’s car, when I tried to forget what had happened, I found that I couldn’t. When I closed my eyes, all I could see was the man’s pink shirt, stretched tight across his belly. The car seat beneath me disappeared as I was transported back to the place I least wanted to be. My stomach didn’t even need to tighten; it had never unclenched. 

Only later, did I realize that while the man knew everything about me –– where I lived, my nationality, my birthday, who my family was right down to my mother and father –– I didn’t know a thing about him. Not even his name.  Only later, did I realize, with burning eyes that I would never belong anywhere. My heart cast out Libya and Egypt, Malta’s patience with me had drained empty and America didn’t want me, even as I desperately needed it. I was stuck, feeling as though I would never truly have anywhere I could ever call home.