#(experiencing them all at once in a wonderful explosion of personality like inhaling a big whiff of essential oil mist)

[brown-little-robin]

brb trawling @madamescarlette's blog. yeah finding treasures. yep great taste. yep wonderful vibes, real grace and peace washing over me. yeah I DO wish I could follow more people

[fandom-scribe]

Whumptober: Day 2 - Explosion

Title: Replacement

Word Count: 1,315

Author’s Note: I posted yesterday on AO3, just not here. Something about posting on AO3 is just easier for me. My first time writing Tim as a major character and my first time even mentioning Jason in a fic. Hope I didn’t butcher anyone.

On AO3

—

This is what Jason experienced, Tim thought, and that was almost enough to make him laugh. Maybe he would’ve if he had the ability to, but his cracked ribs protested at the mere thought of it. Breathing by itself was a challenge, the bruised skin on his chest pulling with each stuttering inhale. He couldn’t laugh, could barely breathe, couldn’t get up and walk to safety. But he could think. Clear as day, his brain spoke to him through the fog of pain.

Jason Todd.

… Jason Todd-Wayne…

The Red Hood.

The second Robin.

His attempted murdered.

His technical brother.

How strange it was for Tim to think about the man - no. The boy. The damaged and traumatized boy -  at a time like this. He was dying. He was dying and he knew it and for some reason he was thinking about Jason. He ought to be thinking about Dick, whom he always thought about since that fateful meeting oh-so-long ago. Not in a creepy way, but after so many years of being fascinated by him - first as an acrobat and then as Robin - it had simply become second nature for Tim to think about Dick.

Ok, so maybe it was a little creepy.

Creepy or not, it would’ve made sense for Tim to think of Dick as he laid there, broken and battered and slipping away. It would also have made sense for him to think of Bruce, whom he’d changed his entire life for. Or his parents. Or his millions of nannies and loved and cared for him. Basically, it would’ve made sense to think of anyone but Jason in his final moments and yet, that’s who his brain decided to fixate on.

Jason. Jason. Jason.

Specifically, Tim was thinking about how’d he managed to do it again. He’d managed to go out and get himself into the exact situation Jason had been in. Well, maybe not the exact same but the components were all there. A rogue (this time Shiva instead of the Joker), a blunt object (a bo staff - his bo staff - instead of a crowbar), and a ticking bomb announcing just how long Tim had left on this earth. Even if the situation that put him here was different, enough was the same that people would notice. People would notice, and people would compare. It was as if Tim was destined to always be exactly where Jason was, leaving Tim to follow too big footprints his feet couldn’t fill, and Jason without a place to be.

Tim would always be Jason’s replacement. Was it any wonder the older boy hated him? The bomb made a loud beep and Tim wearily dragged his gaze to it’s flashing numbers. 01:00

00:59

00:58

00:57

His final minute. Tim sighed in acceptance. He never expected anyone to come for him. Even if they realized he was gone, he’d left no clues about where he went or why. He didn’t want to face their reaction over him meeting up with Shiva, didn’t want to explain to insecurities that led to him seeking her out for more training. Even if they had found him, there was no way Tim could explain how his plea for training led to this. He didn’t even understand it himself.

Tim’s body screamed as he heaved out a sob. He wasn’t scared. Or maybe he was and had simply forgotten what fear felt like. But he was upset. He was upset at himself, hated himself, for what he had done. He had ruined - or was going to ruin, in 45 seconds - the batfamily. Tim would become another Robin failed and Bruce would spiral into an even deeper abyss. He’d never take another Robin, not after this. He’d have no light and the Batman would fall, taking Gotham with him. And Dick. Dick Grayson, who had showed him so much kindness the day his world had fallen apart, who had saved Tim long before Robin was a thing. Is this really how Tim would thank him? By being another stain on his legacy, dying in his colors while bearing his name? By ruining Robin for Bruce and him? Tim knew Dick didn’t really want him as Robin. The man had given his blessing as a way to get rid of him. Tim knew it. But he had wanted to make Dick proud and this…

Tim had never been capable of making anyone proud.

And in a final act of selfishness, Tim would steal from Jason once more. First his title as Robin and now his title as the Dead Robin. Bruce would grieve him, would probably put his suit in a glass case, and Jason would be… what? The Forgotten Robin? Another sob racked Tim’s frame and he could barely make out the timer through his tears - 30 seconds. Suddenly Tim found himself hoping with every fiber of his broken being that this would be the end for him. Please, let him stay dead. Don’t bring him back. Don’t take that event from Jason too. Let the boy keep something for himself.

Maybe with him gone, the boy could heal and become a man.

00:20

00:19

00:18

00:17

00:16

00:15

Tim closed his eyes and rested his head on the wall he was slumped against. His body quivered as more tears slipped out but he was calm with acceptance. Even though his heart continued to scream and plead for forgiveness, his brain was finally quiet. He was okay with dying. He could hope that Bruce and Dick and Jason would be okay too.

“TIM!”

Tim’s eyes slowly opened, his mind too foggy to make anything move quickly. The world was a blur around him but through the room’s only window he could still make out a figure fast approaching. The sky was midnight blue, the moon was unrealistically big, and the figure would not have been noticeable if not for the bright red dome on his head.

The Red Hood.

Jason.

00:10

00:09

00:08

00:07

All sense of calm and peace drained out of Tim’s body, leaving him cold and scared. He wanted to scream. No! Stay away! The timer was ticking, ticking, ticking and Jason was getting closer, closer, and closer. He would get caught in the explosion! He would die, again, an accident this time, and it would be all Tim’s fault! Please! Turn around! Why was he even here? How did he find him? Jason didn’t even like him! What type of sick joke-

“I’m sorry!”

For a second Tim wasn’t sure where the words came from, wondered if another person had joined the “going to die” party. But then he became aware of his throat burning and he knew that he had said it. He wasn’t sure if Jason heard him, knew he probably hadn’t, but Tim still had to say it. Something had occurred to him in the few seconds it took for Tim to think his thoughts, something that made him feel like an awful person for all he had believed about Jason.

Maybe Jason wasn’t as lost as they thought.

It was a strange thought and yet Tim couldn’t help but feel like he should’ve had it sooner. Jason hated him, that he was sure of. Jason hated him and yet here he was, somehow tracking him down and now risking his life to save him. Jason, who had tried to kill him multiple times. Jason. Trying to save him.

The thought warmed him. Maybe, somehow, Jason had healed more than any of them knew. At least enough to not want Tim to suffer the same fate he had. Underneath all the trauma there was still something of the old Robin.

00:03

00:02

00:01

Jason was going to be okay.

Maybe all of them would be.

00:00

[lightningenergy]

@lightningenergy and @codyscommandpost proudly present:

Operation Cloudburst, a Pokémon Fan-Fiction

Disclaimer: Pokémon is copyright its original owners. The authors only own the plot and original characters. Any representation of real persons, dead or alive, is purely coincidental unless it makes a damn good reference.

Shout-outs to my “little sister” @princessofhoenn for beta-reading this chapter! :)

Chapter 9 - “A Jewel in the Rough! The Gorgeous Oasis, Phenac City!”

Having applied a Revive and Hyper Potion to Wartortle, May withdrew it back into the safety of its Poké Ball. She should’ve put more thought into combatting that Tyranitar: she had surrendered herself into rage and her Pokémon suffered for it. Deep down May knew that Wartortle wouldn’t hold the loss against her — that just wasn’t its personality — but the burden of guilt was certainly going to gnaw away at her for days to come.

Her legs groaning their disapproval as she stood up, May brushed off as much dirt as she could. The cut on her forehead was still throbbing (she would have to get it bandaged), but other than that she wasn’t physically injured as terribly as she was emotionally. At least, she thought, it would be easier to conceal the latter than the former, which was a minute comfort.

Manya probably wouldn’t be pleased with me hiding that, May realized. The other girl offered a much-appreciated emotional outlet, of course… who, then, would comfort the comforter when it all became too much?

These thoughts drifted with the wind as May walked. Each step forward was an exhausting effort, yet she could not perceive the solid ground beneath her feet. Her brain automatically guided her towards the smoldering wreckage of the Snagem Hideout, and her body trudged along without complaint. The already bleak desert scenery blurred from view, becoming even more nondescript.

May subconsciously glanced up at the pillar of smoke wafting from the explosion sight. It had thinned somewhat, though its sooty color remained a blight against the mid-morning sky. Bits of rubble were gradually appearing along the landscape: shards of glass, metal beams twisted out of shape, singed and blackened chairs… May’s stomach shrunk at the thought of finding any disembodied limbs on the ground.

The debris thickened as May approached the hideout’s entrance, a synthetic maw that looked as though it had been hewn from the very canyon walls. Scorch marks stretched from the lone doorway from which the smoke was drifting, and the air burned with the bitter stench of explosives.

Manya was standing a few feet away from the doorway, directing her Solrock as it manipulated a girder with Psychic. The Meteorite Pokémon’s eyes shone a bright blue and the girder was lowered to the ground, which coughed up a fresh cloud of dust as the steel beam landed with a loud clunk.

Manya gave Solrock a gentle pat as it lowered down towards her level. “Good job, Solrock. You just let me know if you’re feeling overworked, okay?”

Solrock tilted forward in a nodding motion before turning back to clear the way. Manya’s dirt-stained face broke into a weary smile as May advancing towards her. “The shrimp and sleuth are inside,” she reported. “We found a few survivors, but they scampered off before we could do anything else.”

May nodded, her throat drying at the mention of “survivors”. There were some casualties after all… she unconsciously rubbed her eyes and felt her shoulders drop. People have died because of me. The thought sliced through her brain, shattering her confidence. I might as well have triggered the bomb…

Manya seemed to know what May was thinking, for she said, “Don’t go beating yourself over this. I know it’s frustrating but if you ask me I know this isn’t your fault. I think Abyss woulda blown this place up regardless if you were here or not.”

“I could have prevented this,” May mumbled, finding it easier to concentrate on her boots rather than Manya’s face. “I could’ve saved them…”

“How would you have known?” Manya asked, her voice firm yet unaggressive, hands on her hips. “You’re not a fortune teller, May… this was out of your control.”

May nodded again, though privately she reflected on their previous musings on approaching Snagem themselves and cursed herself for not taking charge yesterday. She was jolted out of this rumination by Manya placing a hand onto her shoulder, and suddenly found herself looking into her friend’s lilac eyes.

“Listen to me,” Manya said, her brow narrowed to the most minimal degree. “This. Was. Not. Your. Fault. You, me, Looker… even the brat… we’re human. We’re not omnipotent. Shit happens, y’know?”

May gazed into Manya’s eyes, simultaneously awed and ashamed of the faith Manya was displaying. She knew that Manya was right: they were only fifteen, and perhaps they would’ve been caught off-guard even if they were fifty. But the fact remained that people — even if they were bad guys — had lost their lives today.

May sighed and dropped her head onto Manya’s shoulder. She had been awake for not even three hours now but already wished to drift back into the dark void of sleep. I can’t let this get to me, she found herself thinking as Manya softly caressed her hair. I must keep going… I’ll make Abyss pay for this. I will stop them… even if I burn to cinders.

The holographic map caused her eyes to water but May refused to look away. She wanted to engrave the locales of Orre into every fold and crevice of her brain, an idea that sprouted from the desire to be worried over one less concern. Looker stood with her, having explained that he had been briefed on the geography for his mission. He had begun by pointing out where she had already been: Gateon Port on the western shore and jumping east before settling at their current location on the edge of Eclo Canyon.

“What’s this?” A city resting at the southern edge caught May’s attention. The icon on the Snag Machine’s map suggested the image of a secluded island or a wading pool, though she couldn’t imagine water existing in a remote area.

Looker followed her gaze. “That is Phenac City. It was, I believe, one of the first settlements in Orre: the city’s founder managed to draw water from underground.”

“Hm,” said May. The mention of water caused her mind to drift away into daydreams of lowering herself into a deep, wide pool. After enduring the searing heat, being able to swim in cooled water had become a far-off fantasy. The notion of running for Phenac City was incredibly tempting: it did lie directly south of the Libra, after all… but once she thought about it, beelining for Phenac just to refresh herself was an awfully greedy motive.

Manya and Smidge entered the Libra, both sweaty and sporting dark circles under their eyes. Smidge plopped straight down onto the ground, while Manya staggered over to drape an arm around May’s shoulder.

“We searched as best we could,” she reported, her voice sounding much more active than she looked. “But we couldn’t find anyone else… it looked like Abyss’ bomb was rather powerful, everything was either burned, melted, or outright broken. Ooh,” she said, catching sight of the map. “Are we going to Phenac?”

“If there’s good reason to,” May replied. She secretly hoped there was, if only to experience indoor plumbing again and get herself into a shower. “What do you know about it?”

“Well, it’s pretty lively, and rightly so with all the water they’ve got,” Manya explained. “And very low crime rates, too, especially lately…”

Smidge exhaled a noise of dissent through his nose but Manya pretended not to have heard as she continued. “Got themselves a Gym or something, too.”

“I am of the opinion that we should not be attempting to earn Badges,” said Looker plainly. “Instead, my thought is that Phenac’s lack of villainy should provide an opportunity to rejoin civilization and gather information.”

“If they’ll let us clean up, I’m all for it,” May said, deciding that she couldn’t hide her motivation anymore. She tapped the Snag Machine’s screen and the map flickered away. “Manya, if you’re up for taking us there —”

Manya was already preparing Miss Birdie for the trip. “It’ll be a tight fit, but you should all be able to ride aboard easily enough.” She flashed a sinister grin over at Smidge. “Feel free to toss the shrimp overboard to stretch your legs.”

“I’ll stretch that big mouth o’ yours, blondie, if you keep draggin’ me.”

“Be glad it’s only verbally for now.”

“Knock it off, guys,” May cut in flatly. As awkward as the thought was, she couldn’t help but reflect on how much Manya and Smidge’s taunting reminded her of Ash and Misty. She spent most of the trip south wondering if anything ever happened between her two friends, and if not, how she could assist them along the way.

The sound of rushing water greeted them after Manya shut off her motorbike’s engine. Tan walls curved around the city, however, perhaps to shield travelers from the sunlight reflecting off the water as they approached. True to Manya’s description, several people were making their way either to or from Phenac through the wide archways carved through the walls. May inhaled and could practically taste the water on the roof of her mouth. The sensation was surprising, though gratefully received.

Lush fronds of palm trees swayed in the moisture-carrying breeze, and May couldn’t help but imagine that the temperature had dropped several degrees once they had entered Phenac’s boundaries. A large fountain churned water about in the main plaza, in front of which stood a tall man in a suit conversing with a smaller man with a bow tie.

“… really think this could work,” the suited man was saying, his voice growing clearer as May and her group walked by. “I’m fully prepared to fund as much as necessary.”

“That’s very generous, Your Honor,” the second man answered. His reedy voice nonetheless reflected the gratitude he was experiencing. “I’ll draw up plans immediately…”

May focused on the city boundary again. She had only just noticed the water flowing atop the wall like an aqueduct. She was wondering what practical use that had when the tall man’s voice shattered her imagination.

“Welcome to Phenac!” he said, looking around at them. His neatly-trimmed beard shifted as he smiled and pushed up his horn-rimmed glasses slightly. He extended out a hand. “I’m Mayor Trest.”

They each gripped his hand in turn, and May found herself wondering about the genuineness of the warmth in Trest’s eyes. Fate would be a cruel bitch indeed if he turned out to be evil all along. Her sight flickered over to the second man, who adjusted his bowtie before staring around at them all.

“Oh, pardon me,” Trest had noticed May’s line of sight and gestured over to his companion. “This brilliant young man is Caecus. He’s brought up a wonderful proposal… would you like to explain?”

Caecus nodded and cleared his throat. His thin, light hair fluttered about in the dry breeze that swept by. “Phenac’s experienced tremendous success thanks to its waterway system. I believe it is imperative that other areas in Orre should construct the same.”

“Bringing water to a desert? Whoda thought? Ouch!” Smidge’s sarcastic comment was reprimanded by Manya putting him into a chokehold.

“That sounds wonderful,” Manya told Caecus, ignoring Smidge’s efforts to pry himself free from her grip. “I hope it works out!”

“I have an inquiry,” added Looker. “My current understanding is such that dropping large quantities of water in an arid environment introduces catastrophic results.”

May, Manya, and Smidge all stared at Looker in minor disbelief, though Caecus beamed. “Indeed!” he said, delighted. “Desert soil can’t absorb all that moisture at once, you see; disastrous flooding occurs. Instead, we shall be taking the cautious route and gradually introduce water. In this way, we can minimize the negative effects.”

Looker nodded satisfactorily. “His Honor has selected the appropriate man for the occupation.”

“They sound alike, don’t they?” May whispered to Manya, who smiled.

“Phanec’s the first city in Orre to implement Caecus’ blueprint.” Trest interjected, clapping a hand on the scientist’s shoulder. “The hope is for other areas to follow suit once they realize how successful this shall become.”

“Fair warning, Your Honor,” Caecus said with the barest hint of a smile. “This is still rather experimental… I’d rather not have my funding revoked should something happen…”

“Come now, my good man,” Trest grinned broadly and thumped Caecus on the back. “You can’t walk through life without stumbling a few times!”

May ruminated on that remark. Perhaps, despite even all her concern and anxiety, she had been attacking this issue too hastily. Yes, she was exercising caution (much to Smidge’s displeasure), but what if that hesitation was born from desiring perfection? Had she really been expecting everything to resolve without a problem lurking behind every corner? A scene of Max throwing a tantrum over a school assignment flashed in her mind’s eye, and May was forced to admit that she inherited something from her father after all.

“On that note,” continued Trest, and May looked up to see him gazing around at them. “It looks like you’ve been stumbling around quite a bit.”

May found herself agreeing. After all the traveling, Manya, Smidge, and Looker were all covered with dust and sand. She knew she couldn’t be much better: her gloves were no longer pristinely white, and her stockings bore rips and tears. While Manya did bandage the cut on her forehead, they had forgotten to clean off the blood around the wound.

“My dearest apologizes, Your Honor,” stammered Looker as he frantically began to brush off his coat. “We have not established plumbing at our, ah, main location…”

“That just won’t do.” Trest shook his head before smiling. “Well, I was already going to invite Caecus over for lunch, but I’d like the extend the invitation to you as well! As well as use of my shower, as needed.”

“If this guy turns out to be evil I’m gonna hate myself,” May muttered to Manya before speaking to Trest. “That would be wonderful, thank you.”

Trest smiled around them all and gestured towards a house on the city’s upper level. Caecus led the way, with May’s group following and Trest at their heels. The sun beat down upon them, evaporating the cool water into the air into a pleasant sort of humidity. Caecus held open the door and they filed in. An air conditioner was running somewhere in the house: the chill was discomforting but preferable to the heat outside.

Smidge plopped down on a couch, edging away from Looker as the agent took the spot next to him. Caecus sat in an armchair, shifting uncomfortably as though the sudden company had unnerved him. Manya and May sat on the floor: the former upright supported by her arms, the latter lying flat on her stomach. Even the scratchy carpet felt cold and relaxing.

“Bless my wife, she made extras.” chortled Trent as he reentered the living room. “I’m glad to see you’ve all made yourselves comfortable. Miss May, is it?”

May turned over onto her back, staring at him. Her heart jumped: as far as she was aware, no one had brought up her name within Trest’s vicinity. Had she been right and led them into a trap?

Trest noticed her confusion and clarified, “I keep in touch with Lily and Professor Krane. Phenac was conquered a few years ago by some hooligans, so I thought it best to keep the brightest and noblest minds in Orre at my side.”

May nodded weakly and reversed onto her stomach again, which was now squirming. Sweat trickled down her arms and she wondered if that was from the heat or the sudden dose of panic and shock.

“Anyways,” Trest continued. “My wife suggested that I allow you to clean up, which I’m sure you’d like. Our bathroom’s upstairs on the left.”

May nodded again. A shower would certainly revitalize her, but laziness had come to the fore. Any motivation was entirely drained, and she felt perfectly content to just close her eyes and drift away into bliss. Yet a meal loomed, and May was never one to avoid food… Screw it, she thought. Food first, shower and coma later.

Trest’s wife’s area of cooking expertise turned out to be comfort food. The dining room table was laden with thick, hearty dishes. Powerful yet soothing aromas wafted throughout the house, quickly luring May into a chair.

She spent all of dinner eating rather than talking, piling her plate with triple servings of mashed potatoes, bread rolls, and a very filling macaroni-and-cheese casserole. The others’ conversations drifted over her head, and she resolutely ignored Smidge’s snide comments about her eating habits.

Looker offered to assist with the dishes, so May trudged upstairs to the guest room. There wasn’t a part of her body that didn’t feel weighed down: her stomach with food, her brain with worry, and her eyes with exhaustion. She dropped her bag and shoes to the floor before collapsing onto the only bed in the room, everything instantly melting away into blissful sleep.

Her eyes snapped open hours later. The small alarm clock on the nightstand flashed the time: a little after three in the morning. Something shuffled next to her, and May looked to see Manya curled up under the blankets, her chest rising and falling with each breath. Quietly and gently, May slid off the mattress.

The house was utterly silent and colored inky-gray. Taking care not to step on any creaky floorboards, May snuck downstairs and sat herself in front of the video phone in the living room. She picked up the receiver and began to dial, hoping that Hoenn and Orre didn’t share time zones.

Her call was answered on the third ring, and the screen burst to life, revealing May’s mother Caroline on the other end. “Well, hello, May! This is a surprise!”

May would probably never admit it, but the sight of her mother’s smiling face brought forth a surge of relief. “Hey, mom. Hope I didn’t catch you a bad time.”

“Oh, not at all!” Caroline assured her. “I was just having my coffee when I heard the phone ring.”

May nodded, eyes flickering to the sunlight drifting through the window behind Caroline. “That’s good. It’s early morning here, and I didn’t know…” her voice trailed off and she had to shake herself clear. “Anyways, I thought I’d say hello.”

“That’s very sweet, dear,” smiled Caroline before sipping her coffee. “Norman told me you had another big adventure waiting. I told him that you’re practically a grown woman by now and this shouldn’t be a surprise!”

May smiled and nodded, making a mental note to never disclose this excursion to her mother. “Yeah, something just came up, that’s all. It’s not like I was running away from you guys or anything.”

Caroline was staring back at her with a curious expression on her face. “May, dear,” she said, her voice thick with motherly concern. “Are you doing alright?”

“I —”

Her mother’s question had caught her off-guard. She thought she concealed her mood well enough, but just enough had slipped through the cracks for Caroline to notice. May turned away from the monitor, as loud of an admission of guilt as her speaking aloud.

“I’m just hitting a few road blocks,” May continued. Ones that continually try to murder me, she added mentally. “So I’ve been a little discouraged…”

If Caroline believed this answer unsatisfactory, she didn’t say so. Instead she set down her mug and gripped the receiver with both hands. “May, I’m going to tell you something your grandfather once told me: if you’re running into enemies, you’re headed in the right direction.”

May stared at her mother’s face and said nothing.

“I know that everyone — especially Trainers — can find themselves in difficult situations. But you’re my daughter, and I know that you aren’t someone to let that stop you. I mean, when you started your journey five years ago you only wanted to travel, and now you’re a celebrated Coordinator!”

May rubbed the tears out of her eyes, trying to play it off as a yawn. “Thanks, mom. I know you’d root for me.”

“Forever and always,” Caroline beamed. “Don’t let anyone stop you, honey. You’ve got the passion and drive to bowl over anyone who stands in your way!”

May nodded again, but with sincerity behind the gesture. Caroline’s words had improved her spirit somewhat, and her chest burned with determination to return to Petalburg in one piece. “You know it, mom. I’m gonna get back to sleep…”

“Rest up, dear. A rested woman’s a beautiful woman!”

May waved as the screen turned off before hanging up the receiver. A remarkable sense of calm washed over her as she ascended the stairs. She had to hand it to her mother: she knew just the right things to say without knowing all the details (not that May would’ve told her).

May climbed back into bed without disturbing Manya. After settling into a comfortable position, she closed her eyes and allowed the gentle rhythm of her friend’s breathing to lull her back to sleep.

Trest’s wife whipped up another generously large meal for breakfast. Once again May neglected conversation, directing her attention towards numerous helpings of pancakes, scrambled eggs, sausages, toast, and juice. A ceiling fan whirled overhead, cooling the six people around the table from Orre’s harsh morning sunlight.

Trest’s eyes were lowered upon the daily newspaper while his wife nudged him every so often as a reminder to eat the food sitting on his plate. Manya, sitting beside May, drizzled syrup on her fifteen-high pancake stack. Looker and Smidge, meanwhile, dissolved into an argument over the boy not drinking a glass of milk.

“I ain’t drinkin’ nothing that came from a cow!” Smidge growled, eyes blazing with dislike.

“Miltank milk is highly nutritious!” Looker countered. He picked up the glass bottle from the table and held it in front of Smidge’s face. “With a luxurious, creamy taste that leaves you satisfied –”

“Shove off, ya old fart! It’s gross and nothin’ will get me ta drink it!”

May shook her head as she took another bite of toast. She possessed little intention to intervene and was in fact rather grateful for Looker attempting to order Smidge around.

“Any more, dear?” Trest’s wife inquired as May drained her glass.

“No, thank you,” she replied with a thin smile. “But it was all delicious.” She stacked up her empty dishes and set them in the sink. “I, er… hope I didn’t eat too much.”

“With how little my husband tends to eat, I welcome the change.” Trest’s wife simpered, nudging Trest playfully with her elbow.

May went upstairs, slipped on her boots and bag, and stepped out of the house. Ignoring the bombardment of eighty-degree heat, she began making her way towards the center of town. Hardly anyone else was out, aside from a jogger being chased by his Castform. Though given this heat I’m not surprised.

She continued walking until she reached a plain, rounded building. It caught her eye yesterday but there hadn’t been an opportunity to visit until now. Nothing about the building stood out aside from carvings above the entrance that read “Prestige Precept Center”. How curious that a region without a Pokémon League would have something very much resembling a Gym…

May gazed at the writing for a while until a voice spoke, causing her to jump.

“I was curious as to where you had disappeared.” Looker frowned concernedly down at her, arms folded.

“I’m not running off, if that’s what you mean,” May replied evenly.

Looker shook his head. “From what your magical companion was revealed to me, you have accomplished a great of deal of things. Dashing away would not cohere to that.”

“I just said I’m not.” May spun on her heel before Looker could answer, stepped up to the PreGym door, and pulled it open.

Cold air rushed onto her face as she looked around. The building was a single room, with a battlefield taking up most of the space in the center. A chalkboard, a table, and some chairs stood to the left; on the right sat a large half-circle control panel. Other than herself and Looker (following her inside), May noticed that no one seemed to be around.

A mechanical grinding noise caught her attention: turning towards the source May spotted an elevator against the back wall. The doors slid open and a young man stepped out. His sharp face and just-unkept-enough fuchsia hair made him resemble a hypothetical older brother of May’s Contest rival, Drew.

“Hello there!” he called as he started walking across the room. “Welcome to my Pre Gym!”

“This is a Gym…?” May found herself asking aloud.

“Pre Gym,” the young man pressed with a smile. “Not that Orre has any actual Gyms… oh, excuse me! Where are my manners? I’m Justy, and I run this place. Are you interested in a battle…?”

The uncomfortable memory of her last battle jumped past May’s eyes. “Er… maybe,” she answered, hoping her stomach’s aching wasn’t discernable in her voice. “I was just curious about this place…”

Justy’s smile remained undeterred. “You’re not imposing or anything! You took the effort to poke your head in, so why not? After all, battling is a good way to learn about one another!”

His insistent enthusiasm was a disconcerting similarity to Ash and Brendan. May rubbed her forehead in attempt to dispel the twinge of pain that had surfaced. Part of her did want to accept the challenge, to vent her frustrations; the other half looked to withdraw and shut herself away.

“I request your pardon,” said Looker after sparing a glance at May. “But I am thinking that your challenge shall have to be postponed —”

“I accept.” May interjected.

Justy beamed and motioned for May to follow him up to the arena. Looker stared at her with wide eyes and raised eyebrows, which only fueled her irritation.

“I don’t need you speaking for me,” she grunted, and stomped onto the battlefield without waiting for a response. She was old enough to do as she pleased, thank you very much, frustrations and anxiety be damned. What did Looker know, anyways? He didn’t seem to use — or own, for that matter — any Pokémon himself…

“We prefer Double Battles here in Orre,” Justy told May from across the battlefield. “Is that alright with you?”

May almost shrugged but decided it was politer to nod. Justy returned the gesture and revealed his Pokémon first: a spiny Sandslash and a prickly Cacnea. After brief deliberation, May sent out Blaziken and Venusaur. It might have appeared like overkill, but she wasn’t going to lose another match if she could help it.

Blaziken rushed towards Sandslash, which fired off an array of star-shaped projectiles in response. Blaziken swerved away into Cacnea, countering the Cactus Pokémon’s attempted Needle Arm with Fire Punch. The dodged Swift attack flew towards Venusaur: a powerful stream of Razor Leaf nullified the attack. May expected the Grass move to hit Sandslash, but it had burrowed under the arena.

Cacnea tumbled along the ground from Blaziken’s punch before righting itself. It took aim at its attacker, launching small seeds from its arm. May recognized the Leech Seed and had Blaziken leap away. Unfortunately, Sandslash chose that moment to spring out and collide into Blaziken, its spines digging into the Blaze Pokémon’s back. Venusaur quickly ensnared its partner with vines, yanking it away to safety.

“You’ve got some good Pokémon there!” complimented Justy. “Looks like we can’t let our guard down!”

May allowed herself a small smile. She might not accept praise towards herself now, but commendation towards her Pokémon was certainly welcome. Emerging victorious from this battle (as non-threatening as it was) would do wonders for her self-esteem. Though something about Justy’s Pokémon choices made her suspicious: she had a nagging feeling that they shared some sort of attribute that would be troublesome.

She was, to her displeasure, correct. Sandslash whipped up a sandstorm, obstructing itself and Cacnea from view. May swore under her breath: Tyranitar had given her enough trouble with this strategy. It certainly wasn’t much easier now, given both Sandslash and Cacnea had an Ability called Sand Veil, increasing their evasiveness during a sandstorm.

For a moment May berated herself for not having Skitty on hand. A Blizzard attack might have the power to disperse the swirling sand… not that Skitty would have any better luck against Tyranitar as Wartortle did. If Justy’s Pokémon attacked up-close, she could play the advantage of her Pokémon’s superior power by retaliating at the right moment.

Unless Justy played it cautiously and kept his distance, which he seemed to be doing. Blaziken and Venusaur backed into each other, wary of when and where their opponents would appear. Venusaur’s petals fluttered in the sand, and an idea came to her. She wouldn’t pull it off just yet: she’d save it for the climax.

Sandslash erupted from the ground underneath Blaziken, knocking it back. Sandslash raised its claws, which glinted in the Pre Gym’s florescent lighting. Blaziken recovered quickly to interrupt the Crush Claw with Flamethrower, utilizing Venusaur’s bulk to brace against the attack’s thrust. The Seed Pokémon, meanwhile, battered away Cacnea’s Pin Missile with a flurry of vine tethers.

May’s temper suddenly flared without explanation. The battle was only a few minutes in, yet the urge to demolish her opponent consumed her. Some part of her brain told her that a demonstration of overwhelming power would prove herself: not only to Justy but to Looker and Smidge as well. She had entered two Grand Festivals after all, so her skills and ability weren’t to be mocked.

Patience, May told herself. Patience… I know my plan will work… Perhaps overconfidence had gotten the better of her yesterday. Being self-assured was fine, but a swollen head prevented clear thinking. With that in mind, she thought hard and added some contingencies to her plan, just in case.

Sandslash and Cacnea retreated into the billowing sand again. Justy’s vigilance was admirable, she thought, motioning for Blaziken to crouch behind Venusaur. He may have summoned the sandstorm, but she could take advantage of it, too. “Go for it, Venusaur.”

Venusaur lazily swayed to and fro, a sweet, mellow scent emanating from its massive flower. Visible as a thin, pink mist, the aroma merged with the sandstorm and drifted throughout the arena. Infatuated with the intoxicating odor, Sandslash and Cacnea re-emerged from their cover.

Quick as a flash, Venusaur ensnared them both with Vine Whip. The opposing Pokémon barely struggled: the Sweet Scent commanded all of their attention. At May’s signal, Blaziken leapt up, its leg alight in flames. Venusaur held their foes close together, allowing Blaziken to descend and clobber both with twin Blaze Kicks. Cacnea succumbed instantly, so Venusaur released it unceremoniously onto the floor. Sandslash still had a bit of HP left, though that was rectified with Venusaur tossing it against the closest wall.

“Holy cow!” said Justy amidst nervous laughter. The sandstorm dissolved into nothingness, the battle having ended. “You’re a clever one!”

May suppressed a smile. “I apologize,” she said, unconsciously rubbing her upper arm. “I think we were too aggressive there.”

“It’s alright.” Justy recalled his Pokémon. “I had a lot of fun, and I’d be ashamed if you were holding back on me!”

His cheerfulness remained marginally unnerving. “Thanks,” she mumbled. She returned Blaziken and Venusaur to their Poké Balls before stepping out of the arena, taking care not to meet Justy’s beaming expression. Looker was still frowning at her, which she ignored. Her current mood aside, the battle helped lift her confidence as predicted. Practice made perfect, as people said… the prospect of losing against Abyss again wasn’t appealing, but she shouldn’t be so hard on herself… everyone loses battles sometimes…

May finally looked towards Justy. “Thanks for the battle. Sorry if I seem distant, I’ve had a lot going on…”

Justy didn’t have a chance to respond: the Pre Gym doors slammed open without warning. Everyone whipped around as Manya came running in.

“Here you are!” she gasped. Her eyes were wide, and her hand shook as she steadied herself against May’s shoulder. “Geez, couldn’t have… left a note…”

“What’s going on?” May asked sharply. Something about Manya’s tone got her heart pounding furiously, and she braced herself as best she could for what was coming.

“Trest… the Mayor just got a phone call…” Manya told her. She must’ve ran all the way over here: aside from her voice breaking, her face was flushed and covered in sweat. “Lily… the HQ Lab…”

“What?” urged May. “What happened?”

Manya took a deep breath and raised her head. Amethyst stared into sapphire, and everything froze as Manya continued: “Abyss. They… they’re attacking the HQ Lab.”

To be continued...

[fractalvisionary-blog]

Memories

(( Hi there! It’s been forever since I posted, it’s three in the morning, and here’s some angsty Reaper shit because I love to Suffer))

((I may do a part two if y’all like this, so feel free to tell me if you think I should continue this mess or not))

How long had it been?

How long had it been since he had been comfortable? Felt like he was actually stable enough to pick something up? Gabriel didn’t know. Everything was a haze. Memories had a tendency to bleed together when your brain didn’t seem to stay in tact for more than a few minutes at a time. 

The Reaper often had a hard time remembering who he had once been. Beyond snatches of blue eyes, fragments of yelling at someone, and an annoyance he could never be rid of, but never hated... It was emotions mostly, things tied to situations but never the context to match them with. He couldn’t put together anything coherent enough to call a backstory. 

Once he had known what he was doing, at the beginning of everything he had been sharp, dangerous as any other vengeful wraith. 

At least, that was what Talon told him. 

He hadn’t always been such a fucking mess, he hadn’t always had to ask what his name had once been. But according to the scientists that seemed to constantly hover about him, he was fading. His mind was becoming more and more scrambled as time went on. He no longer felt anger, he no longer remembered why he had become part of Talon, only that it was important. 

And he guessed that it was important, it kept him rooted in Talon anyways. He had long since stopped fighting, stopped ignoring orders or making snarky retorts to things he was told to do. Widowmaker, the woman who worked beside him most of the time had told him this, more than once. But once again, he couldn’t remember.

A faint sense of familiarity was usually all he had. Whether he was listening to Sombra and Widowmaker bicker about something, or the smell of sand and hot air... Sometimes things had him wondering where he’d experienced something similar. Sure he didn’t need to breathe, but sometimes he found himself inhaling just for the sake of some scent that caught his attention, air rattling around in his useless lungs before he would give up. 

Often times he didn’t have any sort of time to connect the fragments, to let the coalesce into something he could recognize. They remained a frustrating jumble that he couldn’t understand, like the tangles of wires he often saw Sombra picking at or messing with. 

It was the air again. The heat blazing against his jacket, the sand getting caught in everything, Gabriel could feel it getting caught everywhere. Something about it scratched at the back of his mind, it definitely wasn’t the first time he’d been stuck in the heat with something to do. The weird part was that there was no urgency in whatever he was ‘remembering’. It was just, calm. Which was an odd change from what he usually dealt with. 

“Where the hell did you go anciano?” Sombra’s voice came over the coms, snapping Reaper out of his muddled thoughts as he let out a displeased growl. 

“Get off my back, shut your mouth, and do something useful.” Reaper hissed out, he felt part of his face melt away into smoke as soon as he was finished. His comment earned a stifled laugh, it seemed almost patronizing. As it was, he tuned Sombra out, instead focusing on the mission at hand. 

Overwatch had been poking around again, showing a bit more and more to the eye of the public. Something about the name elicited disgust and betrayal from Reaper. Why? He couldn’t be sure, but he was going to follow what his superiors told him and actually get some shit done. 

“I’ve got a visual on Overwatch.” He had found a place lurking in the shadows. He melted into them once he had spoke. Letting his physical form go was getting distressingly easy. The wraith didn’t think about it though, instead focusing on the group that had come into view. They hadn’t caught sight of the Talon operatives yet, but Gabriel knew that he and the other two would be hard to shake. 

His gaze found one person in particular, one that seemed to stand out from the others. Mostly because the guy actually seemed to blend into the scene, softer colors and the hat to match. The rest stood out horribly against the background of the heat and sand. 

The Talon agent was about to make a move of some variety when he saw one of the Overwatch members move quickly. Within a second a bow had come up, an arrow had been loosed, and the team scattered. He heard a sound of discomfort over the coms before a thick french accent met his ears. 

“We’ve been spotted.” Widow’s tone was laced with disgust, and Reaper let out an equally disgusted scoff as he materialized once more. 

“Next time find a better place to lurk, if we loose them because of you-” Reaper was cut off by the click of someone cocking a gun right behind him. The wraith didn’t have much to fear, but the fact that someone had managed to get behind him with a weapon without him noticing in the slightest... It bothered him. 

“Either drop your weapons or I shoot you.” The voice behind him was cold, gruff, and for some reason it had Reaper frowning, trying to retrieve a memory that hovered just out of his grasp. 

“I said drop ‘em, last chance scumbag.” The man behind the Reaper growled out. The wraith let his shotguns clatter from his hands. It wasn’t like he was unarmed, but he was sure whoever had snuck up on him had no idea about that. 

He turned slowly, leather creaking as he moved. Reaper needed to actually see who had taken him by surprise. 

When he turned fully, he froze. 

At first he didn’t know why, it was just the man he had taken note of earlier. But as a moment slipped by, A name flashed through his mind. 

Jesse

He didn’t know what the significance was. His brows knitting together in a scowl as he struggled for the memory that still kept slipping away. Sure the guy was pointing a revolver directly at his face, but Reaper had priorities, and anything that could give him any clue as to who he once was... That was far more valuable to him than any mission. He needed to know he had a life before Talon. Otherwise he was starting to wonder more and more if they had created him. And as much as it made more sense to him over time, he didn’t want it to be true. Some desperate part of him clung to the hope that he may have once been human. 

“C’mon boss, you can’t be that determined to work yourself to death.”

The laugh flitted through his thoughts like some sort of wild thing. For some reason the comment nobody had directed at him at that moment had him stifling an exasperated huff. Reaper recoiled a bit though, something told him that what was bubbling to the surface of his mind had everything to do with the man that stood directly in front of him.

“Who the hell are you?” It was a low hiss from behind his mask. A plume of black smoke went with it. His brain argued that he knew already, and he was just asking a stupid question. That was absurd, he didn’t know McCree at all. 

Hold on, where had that come from?

Reaper was having some sort of mental fucking whiplash, his mind racing as red irises bore into the man he faced down. He hadn’t made any move for his shotguns, and the other man still hadn’t dropped his weapon, but they hadn’t killed each other yet, so there was that at least. 

Someone was talking to him over his coms as he watched Jesse. He had decided that was probably the other man’s name. It was the name that kept ricocheting around in his mind after all, so something about that had to be important. 

“I could ask you the same thing, who’s behind the mask? Who’s this big bad Reaper everyone’s been talkin’ ‘bout.” Jesse muttered, advancing a couple of steps on the leather clad figure as Reaper frowned. 

“Head’s up, big bad commander Morrison is gonna have another hissyfit. I’d bet Peacekepper he’ll come lookin’ for you to remind you I’m a shitty teenager.”

A low laugh rumbled in his chest as he watched a lanky young man drop into one of the chairs in front of his desk, hat falling low on his brow as he slung long legs over the arm of the chair.

Reaper shook himself a bit. That was... an actual memory. It wasn’t just incoherent emotions tossed into the abstract hell that his mind had become over the years. 

“Jesse?”

He hadn’t meant to speak at all. Hell, any other time and he would have already pulled a gun and blasted this guy’s skull open. But something stopped him. Something in his mind screamed not to hurt the other man, hell, all of his instincts told him to protect the fucker that had a gun pointed directly at his face. 

The man faltered at the name though, confusion flittering across his face as he shifted his grip on the weapon, before it was pulled right back up again, eyes narrowing under the brim of his hat. It was the same hat Reaper remembered. But that wasn’t right... Jesse was some scrawny kid, not, this...

Wait how did he know that?

“Yeah, you know my name, big fuckin’ whoop.” The other man snapped, squaring his shoulders as he glared Reaper down fearlessly. 

Reaper caught the glint of metal out of the corner of his eye, gaze drifting down to the other man’s free hand. It was a prosthetic, metal catching the light that filtered down between the buildings. 

“I’ve got you, I’ve got you, just keep talking to me kid, we’re going to get you out of here.” Panic clutched at his chest. He needed to make sure Jesse was safe. The young man’s blood stained his shirt from where his arm had been ripped off by the explosion. 

“It ain’t worth it Gabe.” Jesse’s voice was a slurred mumble against Gabriel’s sleeve, his eyes were dazed, unfocused and glassy. 

“You’re going to be fine, don’t talk like that.” Gabriel snapped, desperation clawed at him, reminding him of the building that had come down partially on their heads, was there even a way out?

Jesse

It hit him like a hammer to the gut. Memories seemed to blind him for a moment. The kid that had stuck to his side like an overenthusiastic burr. The one he had taken in, cared for. He had dried Jesse’s tears, been there when the young man needed him, he’d been a mentor, a father, for the kid who would have been dead in a ditch by the time he was twenty. 

He knew this guy, he knew the person standing in front of him better than he had known himself at one point. 

“It’s a shame you don’t recognize me, cabròn.” There was an urge to hug the other man, pull his idiot cowboy close to his chest just for the sake of the closeness he remembered. Remembered being the astonishing thing there. He actually remembered this guy, he remembered the relationship they had once had, long nights spent pouring over paperwork with Jesse snoozing away in his lap. He recalled long nights spent with Jesse’s face in his shoulder when Jesse had nightmares about his family. 

The Spanish felt natural falling from his lips. It was his first language after all. Which he was only remembering at the moment. He had all sorts of little nicknames for Jesse, and a lot of them were Spanish. He even remembered teaching Jesse a few little things, phrases and whatnot. 

The other man seemed absolutely disarmed by the comment, blinking in surprise and scowling deeply as he glared Reaper down. 

“What’n the hell’re you blathering ‘bout?” He was still stubborn, still not backing down, even as Gabriel took a step forward, he didn’t have to be afraid of Jesse. He hadn’t been afraid of the other man in the first place, but he was especially unafraid at that point. 

Without thinking, Gabriel raised a hand to his face. The metal of his gauntlet caught against the edges of his mask before he peeled the skull from his face. He never took the mask off outside the Talon base, he wasn’t even sure if he was allowed to. The taller man let the mask drop to the ground, red irises locking with shocked brown. Jesse recoiled violently, nearly dropping Peacekeeper as his wide eyes fixed on the wraith. 

“Gabriel?”

[dirtyredtales]

Joe

“Katie, I’m leaving in 10 min to meet everyone, go get dressed, we are going to be late!” “Rach, I’m not going, I have a date with Joe tonight”. “The same Joe you’ve been dating for 3 months and hasn’t made a move yet except a goodbye kiss? Why are you still wasting your time? Come with us, I’ll find you a man who will get you laid”. “Ha ha, thank you, but I like him. Something about him that makes me want to see where this could lead. Besides, I’m going to his place tonight, so maybe tonight is the night”. “Ok Katie, whatever you say. Just text me when you get bored, you can find us at our usual spot on Water St”. With that, Rach was out the door. No sooner did the latch hook, the butterflies in my stomach began to flutter. I’ve been talking to Joe for months;  we’ve been to dinner, movies, bars and business functions as a couple, but he has not once tried to touch me in anyway other than a hug and a kiss goodnight. I have wondered if it was me, if he’s just not attracted to my type. But he’s always so charming, funny and caring when we are together, making sure I’m having a good time wherever we are. I’m not sure how much longer I can handle the lack of sex. And I hope the voices in my head screaming "run for the hills - this guy is gay", will be silenced tonight.  I am not a sexually aggressive person normally but I'm losing patience!

I shower, shave (of course!) and dress. I choose a lose sweater, skirt that comes an inch or so above the knee (don't want to seem too desperate) and of course appropriate matching thongs and bra.  Flat casual  shoes and my hair in a pony tail.  Perfect. 

On my drive over, the nerves are skyrocketing thru my belly.  Anticipation of what tonight may hold is killing me.  I'm trying to talk myself down off the cliff, not wanting to jump him the moment he opens the door.  "Whatever happens, happens", I keep telling myself.

His smile was the first thing I noticed. So warm and bright, inviting.  He kissed me on the cheek and ushered me into his apartment.  I immediately felt the wetness between my thighs as my eyes roamed over his toned legs extending from his low hanging shorts and semi-loose t-shirt with a NY Mets logo on the front.  His arms were muscular and snug under his shirt, which was such a turn on - the one thing I didn't have with previous boyfriends...this guy works out!  I kept praying to myself he wasn't gay.

We ordered dinner in and sat quietly on the sofa afterwards.  We began to watch a movie on Cinemax, The Girl House.  This was a great sign!!! LOTS of female nudity, no way he is gay!  I was already soaking wet from the anticipation of being with Joe for the first time, but then to watch what was basically soft porn turn horror movie was too much.  I was squirming in my seat trying to calm the fire between my legs.  Joe reached around my shoulder with his arm and snuggled me close.  Holy shit the butterflies were kicking.  It's all I could to not  jump in his lap...I was so turned on.  Deep breaths, Deep breaths. 

I stole some quick glances toward Joe, his eyes fixed on the TV.  I nuzzled my chin into his neck, inhaling his scent.  Obsession for men, soap and a woodsy scent filled my nose.  It was intoxicating.  I found myself rubbing his thigh and I could feel the smile on his lips as he leaned down to kiss the top of my head. 

Now the throbbing of my clit was starting to piss me off.  I was sure he would smell the lust oozing out of me as I sat there dreaming about what I wanted to do to him.  The last few minutes of the movie were a blur to me as I fell into my own sexy daydream.   Before I knew it, Joe was calling my name and bringing me back to reality.  "Katie...Katie, want a glass of wine?".  "Oh yeah sure, please, thank you" was all I could spit out.  He stood up and I obviously was forced to adjust my position.  As I stood, my skirt was a little hiked up, enough it exposed almost a whole ass cheek.  To my embarrassment, Joe watched me as I tried to fix my skirt...he smiled and stopped dead in his tracks and quietly said "You can take it off if that will make you feel more comfortable". 

If there was ever an explosion to be had, just by the sound of a few words coming from a man's lips...it was definitely then and it was happening in my lower belly.  I'm sure my jaw dropped to the floor and I was frozen in time for what seemed like an eternity.  Long enough that Joe had already come back with 2 glasses of wine and handed me my glass while trying not to make me blush.  I was speechless so I took three big gulps of wine to calm my nerves. 

"You seem uptight Katie, you ok?" he whispered as he caressed my left arm, gently grazing the side of my left breast.  Did I just imagine that????  Deep breaths, Deep breaths.  "Yeah, fine, good, I just guess I'm a little tired after the movie maybe?"  What the fuck did I just say????? 

"My roommate isn't home tonight, you are welcome to stay here.  If you want, or I can drive you home".  Joe looked a little sad, his brown eyes no longer bright, but turning heavy.  Again I said to myself "What the fuck am I doing???? This is my chance!  I didn't hear him wrong right?".  "Oh thanks but I think I'll be ok to drive home" was all I could muster, taking another huge gulp of wine.  Joe giggled.  I mean really giggled.  I couldn't help but smile then I wondered out loud, "Why are you laughing?".

Joe's face fell silent, he stepped even closer to me, placed his hands firmly on each of my arms and with as much seriousness as I have ever seen him speak he stated "Katie, I am going to take you to my bedroom and then I am going to fuck you for as long as you'll let me.  When we are finished, you will most certainly NOT be driving home. Is that clear?". 

I have never been more turned on in all my life.  My pussy was throbbing and I could feel my juices sliding out from under my thong.  My nipples hardened and animal instincts basically took over.  I drained the wine in my glass, just as Joe grabbed me by the waist, the glass falling to the floor.  He kissed me so hard and passionately, I could taste the hunger on his tongue and feel the growth of his cock beneath his shorts.  OMG I could tell I was in trouble, it felt huge against my thigh.  Fear shot thru me just for a moment, but I didn't have time to think about it, Joe already was taking off my sweater and bra, revealing my swollen breasts. 

He knelt to kiss and suck on each one, grabbing and squeezing firmly as he attended to them.  He was skillful no doubt, I thought for a moment I would cum just from the firm bite he gave me on my right nipple.  He slid his hand under my skirt, him feeling the thin tiny piece of fabric that was my thong.  "Katie, I am surprised, I misread you.  You are a naughty girl after all".  In one firm motion, the thong was in pieces on the floor and I was left with nothing on but my skirt.  He stood up to face me, kissing me passionately again.  "Katie, I need to taste you right now".  God he knew what to say.  Jesus.  I'm pretty sure there was a puddle on the floor between my legs already.  He guided my back a few steps, turned me around and gently shoved me to the sofa.  My knees instantly took their position on the cushions and I gripped the back of the sofa anticipating him behind me. 

He undressed quickly and took his place behind me.  I glanced over my shoulder to get a peek at him.  It was then I realized how dark it really was - our only light coming from the large picture window a few feet from the sofa - the view was gorgeous, displaying the city around us and highlighted Joe's chest and the outline of his hard cock.  He leaned against me and kissed my shoulder, brushing my hair to the side.  His right hand glided easily under my skirt and up to my pussy where his hand was met with my warm desire.  "Katie, you are wet for me, are you not turned on are you?"  I nodded yes and moaned the word quietly.  I was embarrassed at how wet I really was.  I know I've never felt like this before.  He slid two fingers deep inside me without warning and my insides flared with heat.  I arched my back and began rocking against his hand, unable to control myself - being greedy for more.  My first orgasm hit me with a wave that sent heat all the way to my toes.  His fingers pumping faster as my body picked up the tempo.  He suddenly held me by my ass, stopping me from grinding myself to another orgasm.  "Easy baby, I have something better for you", he purred.   Oh God how I prayed for this. 

He stepped back and helped me out of my skirt.  I was completely naked, standing exposed and waiting for his next command.  "Lay back" he commanded. As I was laying back onto the sofa he grabbed my right leg and hoisted it up onto the back of the sofa.  I nestled into the corner between the arm and the back, pillows propping me up.  I was spread out and on display.  He watched me for a moment and again my lust betrayed my good girl reputation, I grabbed my nipples and began stroking and pinching them while I secretly begged him to fuck me.   As if he could read my mind, he said "soon baby, but I am going to taste that hot pussy right now".  My head went back, eyes closed as if on cue and I gave myself to the sensations I was experiencing.   His warm breath on my clit made it twitch, his tongue gently exploring the folds of my lips.  I was in heaven, no doubt about it.  He continued to lick and suck and lavish my pussy with his mouth, he drove his finger deep within my core and a shock wave went thru me.  He could feel the convulsions inside me, taking care not to relent on his pursuit of my pleasure.  His tongue mercilessly scolded my clit and another wave soon followed.  "You are delicious Katie" he moaned from between my legs. 

Rach clearly was wrong about Joe. 

To be continued...

[meggybetho924-blog]

Laxus and Lucy Ship Week 2017: Day 3

I said repeatedly to myself that I would not write any angst for this prompt. I had a plan and everything for it to make it this big ball of fluffy garbage to make up for yesterday. (Laxus was going to cry while cutting onions and Lucy was going to tease him relentlessly) Not to say I don't like fluffy garbage, because let's face it, everyone needs fluffy garbage. It's like crack. Crack-ship crack. Will that happen? Nope. My brain did its brain thing and was like "I'm so disappointed in you. Where is your creativity? Because you suck so badly, you are now going to write a medium AU. No exceptions. And you know what? I'm going to be a dick and make you continue this in another prompt. You're welcome." The last thing I will say in this huge author's note, is that you can thank my brain for this, because I had no intentions of writing it. At all. This will continue on in the last prompt of the week 'Father'. Day 3: Tears. ___ "Here's your change, sir. Thank you so much for choosing Celestial Café!" The petite blonde heaved a tired sigh as one of the few costumers she'd had that evening left the establishment, the little bell above the door chiming as it shut behind him. She glanced around, the few employees working their shifts were doing their jobs diligently. Everything was in order, so she decided it was time for a quick break. Lucy Heartfilia was the proud owner of the small red-brick building. It was nestled in between the town's only library, which so happened to be run by her very best friend, and a new dojo that had opened up just a few days ago that was oddly named Fairy Tail. She was quite young to own her own business, and it was hard at times, but it was so worth it. The blonde found it ironic that the business lessons forced upon her by her father became so very useful later in life. She'd detested them back then, but now she was grateful. He may not have been the best father to her, but in doing what he did, he unknowingly helped her achieve her dream. And it was her dream. Her mother had been a culinary genius when it came to cooking, especially pastries. Growing up, Layla would always prepare the meals, even if her father thought it was servant work. Like her mother, Lucy knew that even though he always acted as though it bothered him to no end, he secretly adored her cooking. Being raised by a professional chef, Lucy was often right by her mother's side. The woman taught her everything she knew, and Lucy came to love cooking just as much. She continued cooking whenever she was able to sneak into the kitchens after her mother died, becoming fast friends with the chef hired by her father. The man, Bero, was amazed at her gift toward cuisine seeing that she'd only been eight at the time. That was when she discovered she had another, more unusual gift. Realizing that her thoughts had gone completely with the wind, Lucy lightly smacked her own cheeks in an effort to focus. "Aries." The blonde called to one of her employees, catching her right when she was coming back inside from her break. The timid woman walked around the counter to stand beside her, tucking a stray strand of cotton candy pink hair behind her ear. "Y-yes, Miss Lucy? I didn't take too long of a break, did I? I'm sorry!" The blonde gave her a soft, reassuring smile. "No, not at all. I was just wondering if you would mind manning the register while I took a break myself." Aries relaxed slightly, nodding enthusiastically, already entering her personal code into the register. "Of course I don't mind. Take as long of a break as you need, Miss Lucy!" A tall, ginger haired man leaned up against the counter beside the pinkette. He adjusted his tinted glasses on his nose, before giving her a charming grin. Not giving him the chance to open his mouth, Lucy thanked the woman before retreating to her office where she grabbed her purse and her water bottle. She left out the back door, walking a little further down the narrow alley that separated her café and the dojo, taking a seat in one of the fold out chairs she'd placed their for her employees. Setting her purse on the tiny iron table next to her, she dug through the chaos within its depths to find her lighter. With a victorious internal cheer, she finally found the damn thing and took a cigarette from her pack. Taking in a deep drag, she leaned back in the chair, tipping her head back and closing her eyes. Smoking was a nasty habit, she knew. But she needed a convenient way to take the edge off. Recreational drugs were off of the table, and other than the rare joint she had shared with friends in college she refused to touch the stuff. As much as day drinking appealed to her, some days more than others, she had a business to run and she needed to be coherent enough to keep it afloat. Her gift, as one might call it, was also her curse. It was a constant hum, one she'd once thought everyone experienced, buzzing within the depths of her mind. Depending on where she was or who she was near, it ranged from a barely there vibration to a violent jackhammering in her skull. Then there were the whispers. Whispers only she could hear unless the spirit was strong enough to make their presence known to others. Even then, that person would have to have a decent sensitivity to the paranormal. Yes, she said spirit. Lucy Heartfilia, proud business owner at the age of twenty two, was a medium. She talked to the dead on a daily basis. After graduating high school early, she went to college to get a degree in business. She hadn't needed to go to culinary school. Even after death, her mother continued teaching her everything she knew. Layla had stayed with her until the café's opening day, at peace knowing her daughter followed her dream. Her employees knew about this gift. They'd picked up on her seemingly odd quirks, and only thought her strange until Aries came along. Damn Loke. He was an annoyingly persistent entity. She'd tried ignoring him at first, but he just kept finding new ways to pester her. And when that didn't work, he tried again. And again. And again. And again. Until one day, she just snapped. In the middle of cleaning up the café at the end of the day, she'd whirled around while attempting to count the register - over his obnoxious voice shouting out numbers at random to make her lose count - and yelled for him to shut up. They'd all looked at her like she'd grown a second head, wondering if she'd finally completely lost her mind. Catching herself, she'd told them to get back to work. But Loke had the tenacity of a lion and wouldn't have it. He'd finally gotten her to talk to him, and he wouldn't let the opportunity escape his grasp. It was then that Lucy found out he had more power than any spirit she'd ever encountered. Everyone had watched, stunned into silence, as the lights surged above her head. The tip jar, tray of assorted cookies, and sample jars of homemade jams she made and sold went sailing off of the counter, crashing to the floor and shattering. Afraid he would get violent, she had no choice but to do as he wished. She'd explained what was going on and passed his message to Aries, who happened to be his girlfriend from when he was alive. Apparently, from what she gathered, Aries was raised by abusive parents. When they'd started dating, and he'd found out, he'd been livid. Confronting them had gone horribly wrong. Her mother, Karen, was completely unstable, her father a drunkard. She'd threatened to burn the entire house down if he didn't leave and never come back, but he'd refused to leave without Aries. She'd left the room, and thinking the fight was over, he had Aries wait outside while he packed up some of her things. What neither of them knew, was that Karen was in the kitchen cutting the gas lines to the stove. Karen, Loke, and her father who had been passed out in the living room, died in the explosion. Debris knocked out Aries in the front lawn, and she'd woken up in the hospital three days later to find out they were all gone. Loke just wanted to let her know that she needed to stop blaming herself. Surprisingly, the entire staff was cool with her ability, and accepted the odd occurrences that would sometimes happen in the café. Because no, she couldn't get lucky, and instead of moving on, Loke decided to stick around. It wouldn't even surprise the small blonde if he only did it to agitate her further. She'd even reconnected a few more of her worker's lost loved ones. Scorpio's wife Aquarius was glued to his side. She was a joy. Not. She flooded the bathrooms on a daily basis. Aiden's father, Horologium, kept watch over him in relative silence. He was a nice spirit, though the man constantly tampered with every clock or watch in the place, as he had crafted them by hand when he was alive. Lyra was followed by Virgo, who was the maid that basically raised her from a small child because her father was some sort of Duke and was rarely around. There were a few more, and they had all tethered to Lucy to keep them from becoming wandering souls before they wanted to move on. And that was fine, it just wore her out sometimes. The sound of a door opening and shutting near her snapped her out of her thoughts, and made her realize she'd been zoning out for so long that her cigarette went out. The blonde stuck it in the bucket of sand meant for butts and fished out a new one. It was a waste, but she hated nothing more than the taste of a relit cigarette. Even the thought of it made her cringe. Just as she took the first inhale, a large sigh was heaved and a person was plopping down heavily in the chair beside her. And she immediately started drooling. This man…was a god. Thick chiseled muscle everywhere. He was so tall and just large that the folding chair he was sitting in groaned with his weight. Thanking the Gods that he was shirtless, her eyes studied the tribal tattoo etched into his muscular pectoral and shoulder in black ink. Amongst the thick black design was the same symbol used by the dojo he had just exited from. She had seen several other members sporting the same mark, and often wondered if it was a requirement to join. It resembled an oddly beautiful cross between some sort of bird and a fairy. 'Do fairies have tails?' She mused internally. Stormy blue eyes glittered in the lamplight, spikey blonde hair just a shade or two darker than her own. Defined jaw. Slightly crooked nose, but it didn't hinder his attractiveness in any way. The thing that stood out the most though, was the jagged scar that cut through his eye. It looked like a lightning bolt, and just fit his appearance so well that she couldn't even picture him without it. "You done checking me out now?" A deep, smug voice asked. Heat crept up the back of her neck when she realized she had been ogling him. Refusing to stutter like a fool in front of this Adonis of a man, she rolled her eyes and took a lazy drag. "Yeah right. Can I help you with something?" The much larger blonde arched a thick brow. "What makes you think I need anything?" She gestured to the seating area with the hand holding her cigarette. "Well, seeing as these are my chairs and tables, I had a right to assume you sat here with me for a purpose." "Sheesh. If you're gonna be stingy about some cheap folding chairs, then I'll just go." He huffed and rose to leave. Without fully understanding why, she reached out and grasped his wrist, tugging him back down in his seat. Though, she had a feeling that if he hadn't wanted to sit back down, she wouldn't have been able to move him at all. "Wait. I never said you had to leave. Just make sure that if you or anyone else use these chairs, that you leave room for any of my employees if they want them." He smirked at her. "Deal. Now, can you quit holding my hand?" This time, the blush lit up her entire face, and she snatched her hand back to fast that it slapped against her bare thighs. Fidgeting with the hem of her skirt, she mumbled out an apology and tried to ignore his amused chuckles. "Mind bumming me one of those?" He asked when his mirth faded. Blinking at him in surprise, she reached into her purse and then offered him the open pack. "You smoke?" He just seemed so healthy and in shape, and not the usual type to do such a thing. After using her lighter and taking the first drag, he slouched a little in his seat, suddenly seeming exhausted. "Only sometimes. When the time calls for it." He looked at her and she was stunned to see the sadness swirling in his gaze. "Today was just one of those days." Before she could respond, a deep sigh sounded next to her. A ridiculously tiny man was now standing in between them. She had never seen a grown person so small! He wore an orange tracksuit, the dojo's symbol printed in a contrasting white on the breast pocket, and a funny little hat. His white hair poofed out on the sides of his head, the color matching the mustache on his upper lip. And he was gazing at the brute of a man with so much grief that it made her heart clench involuntarily. The little old man shifted to look at her, and his eyes widened almost comically. "You can see me?!" He shouted in disbelief, and a stray cat startled from further down the alley, bounding away like a bat out of hell. When she noticed that the man sitting next to her was looking in the direction the cat came from, Lucy gave the spirit a miniscule nod. After a beat of surprise, the spirit scrambled closer to her and she fought the urge to back away at the intrusion to her personal space. "Please! You have to help my grandson. He's not coping well with my death, and I don't want him ruining his health or everything he has worked so hard to achieve. Please, I beg of you, child. Help him find closure!" His face was serious, and his voice was pleading and urgent. She wanted so desperately to respond to him, but the other blonde was looking at her again. "You alright there, Blondie? You look like you've seen a ghost." He teased. Lucy forced herself to turn to him, and the urge to laugh hysterically at how true his statement was bubbled up in her throat. She pushed it down, instead focusing on the name he'd called her. "In case you haven't noticed, you're blonde too. But yeah, I'm alright. Just zoned out for a minute there." She waved him off and extended her hand to him. "I'm Lucy, by the way. I own Celestial Café." He shook her hand with a small grin. "Laxus. I run the dojo. Gotta say I'm impressed, you're a bit young to own your own place like this. Either that, or you look way younger than you are." She stuck her tongue out childishly and put out her finished cigarette. "I'm twenty-two, thanks." Standing up, she gathered her purse (and her courage) and smiled at him. "Well, it was nice meeting you. This might sound odd, but I actually have something I need to discuss with you. Stop by tomorrow night after the café closes and I'll treat you to some free dessert." Laxus looked at her strangely before smirking smugly. "Huh. Only known me for all of ten minutes and you're already asking me out. I think that's a new record, Blondie. But sure. I'll be there." Resisting the urge to smack the smirk off his face, the blonde only huffed and walked back into her café. She had no idea how to go about bringing all this ghostly stuff to a stranger, but she knew for a fact that she was not looking forward to it. }{}{}{ The next day, unfortunately, flew by. She now found herself compulsively wiping down all of the tables for the fourth time since she'd closed up shop. Having already prepared scones with fresh berries, a small platter of assorted cookies, and would ask him what he wanted to drink when he got there, all that was left to do was wait. Gods, she was nervous. Normally when confronting someone about a spirit, which she tried not to do often, she would never really have to see that person again so it wasn't that big of a deal. With Laxus though, it was different. He worked right next to where she did and would probably run in to him often. If this went south for any reason, things could get sticky. The last thing Lucy needed was for him to spread it around that she was a freak. The door chime rang behind her, and she forced herself to stop furiously scrubbing the pristine table and face him. "It smells pretty damn good in here, Blondie." The large blonde said as he casually glanced around the café. Taking in a calming breath, she tossed the rag in the sink behind the counter and gestured to a booth where she had placed all of the snacks. "Go ahead and take a seat over there. Is there anything you'd like to drink?" Laxus walked to the booth and sat down, examining the deserts with interest. "What's your favorite?" The petite blonde gave him a sheepish smile. "Well, even though I know how to make all those fancy drinks, my favorite is just plain coffee with soy milk." Picking up a scone, Laxus raised a brow at her, but nodded. "I'll have some of that then." "Okay, it'll be right up." Taking two mugs off the drying rack, she filled them with freshly brewed coffee from the pot before retrieving the soy milk from the fridge. As she was putting everything away, a surprised grunt reached her ears. "Holy shit. That was the best scone I've ever had." Striding to the table, a mug in each hand, she watched in amusement as he reached for another. A sorrowful sigh alerted her of the tiny spirit sitting in the space beside the hulking man. "Lucky bastard. Those look delicious." He grumbled enviously. Lucy stifled a giggle, placing the full mugs in front of each of them and sat on the other side of the booth. "Thank you! They're one of my favorites. And they're very good with the berries." She suggested, blowing gently at her hot beverage before cautiously taking a small sip. They sat in silence for a while, well besides the spirit's grumbling, nibbling on the snacks and sipping at their drinks. After they'd eaten their fill, Lucy cleared her throat, squaring her shoulders. "I assume you're wondering why I needed to speak with you." Laxus straightened in his seat at the change in her demeanor and crossed his arms over his chest. "Well, I was pretty sure this was a date of some sort, but going off the look on your face I was clearly wrong." Too nervous to be bothered with his teasing, she took another deep breath. "Yes well… let me ask you something. And you have to promise to keep an open mind and to hear me out until the end, ok?" His thick brows furrowed. "Why do I feel like I'm about to get grounded or something?" Rolling her chocolate eyes, she huffed. "Just promise." He raised his hands in mock surrender before crossing his arms once more. "Alright, I promise." Tucking her hands in her lap under the table when they began to tremble, Lucy hoped he couldn't tell how nervous she really was. "Do you believe in ghosts?" "What?" He asked, eyebrows shooting up to his hairline. "Do you believe in ghosts?" She repeated. "Are you serious?" At her pointed look, he sighed and scrubbed a hand down his face. "No. Not really. They're just spooky stories invented to scare children." This was going to be harder than she thought. Why was she even hoping that she would get lucky and he would believe in their existence? She sighed. "What if I told you that they are, in fact, real?" "Then I'd sincerely hope you get the mental help you need." He said, but she could tell that he was only half joking since he was looking at her like she was wacko. A little angered, and actually kind of hurt, by his statement, she glared at him. "I do not need mental health. It's not like I asked for any of this. And here I was just trying to help you." "Help me?" A look of sudden understanding washed over his face and she gulped as he suddenly looked incredibly intimidating. "Oh, I see what this is. Let me guess. I have an evil ghost attached to me, and with the right price you'll get rid of it. Am I right?" Stunned at his accusation, she gaped at him for a moment. "Never would have thought a person like you would run that kind of scam." He spat, reaching to throw some Jewel on the table and leave. Her hand darted out before he could even pull the Jewel out of his wallet, and she looked at him pleadingly. "Wait, no. That's not it. You promised you would let me explain until the end. Just let me explain. Please?" Contemplating for a full minute, Laxus heaved an exasperated sigh and sat back down. "Fine. Start talking." He growled, shaking off her hand. "O-okay." Lucy looked down at her hands that were clasped together on top of the table, unable to meet his harsh glare. "I… I have this gift." He snorted, but otherwise kept quiet. "Sometimes it feels like more of a curse, but I try to help people with it." She finally lifted her head to look him in the eye. "I can speak to the dead." "And what does that bullshit have to do with me?" He scoffed. Glancing at the quiet spirit as he watched his grandson disapprovingly, she tried to muster as much courage as she could to get through this. Looking back to the dojo owner, she saw he was eyeing the empty space next to him out of the corner of his eye. When he brought his attention back to her, she spoke, cursing herself at the slight tremble of her voice. "You have a message from someone who cares for you very much." "Bullshit!" He roared, and she flinched back, half expecting him to strike her. Seeing her reaction, he tried reeling back some of the anger that surged through his veins. There was a few things he hated about people, and this was one of them. People like her, doing this, preyed on others by using their grief. It was disgusting and cruel. It angered him to no end, and he would've already left if he hadn't promised her he wouldn't until she was finished. One thing he prided himself on, was keeping his word. "Prove it." He bit out, ignoring the slightly disturbed feeling he got while watching her cower away from him. "I bet you can't, right? You've probably looked me up, and will tell me some generic shit to get me to believe this bullshit. Then you'll ask me to pay you to deal with the problem, right?" Lucy shook her head rapidly, willing the sting in her eyes to go away. Why was this so hard? She was used to people reacting this way. Treating her like scum because of something they didn't understand. The only people who had ever accepted her had been Bero, and her employees, plus some of the random people who had actually believed her throughout her life. But everyone else treated her poorly, thinking she was a freak of nature or a cruel liar. So why was this any different? How was this, the same situation she'd been in more times than she could count, hitting her this hard when she could usually just brush it off? "You heard me, Blondie. I said prove it." He said coldly, leaning back in his seat to express that he was waiting. Movement caught her eye and she watched as the spirit made a hand gesture. "Show him this, and he will understand." He said, looking at her sympathetically, as though he really didn't like putting her though this. She nodded minutely at him and turned looked at the expectant Laxus. Sucking in a shaky breath, she raised her fisted right hand above her head, turning it so that the back of her hand was facing him. Slowly, and almost cautiously, she uncurled her pointer finger and her thumb and watched his face. His response was immediate. He lurched in his seat, face draining of all color as he stared at her raised hand with shock and disbelief contorting his features. "How do you…" He trailed off, voice cracking. Lucy lowered her hand and gave him a gentle understanding smile. "Like I said, I have the ability to speak to the dead. I'm a medium. Your grandfather wanted to talk to you." Laxus stared at her for several minutes, deep in thought, and she jumped as he unexpectedly lurched to his feet. "Never speak to me again." His voice was low, threatening, and he never looked back as he left the café, disappearing into the night. Dumbfounded, she turned to look at the tiny spirit. He shook his head sadly. "Thank you for trying, child." He said softly, before hurrying off after his grandson. Lucy sat there for a long time, staring at the door, before she burst into tears. Laying her face on the cool surface of the table, the salty streams poured down her cheeks and on to the table as she sobbed openly. Sometimes, her gift was more of a curse. }{}{}{ Months passed, and besides spotting glimpses of him as he went to and from the dojo, Lucy never saw or spoke to Laxus again. Her coworkers knew something was wrong, as did the spirits who frequented the little café. They all took it upon themselves to do the majority of the work so that she wouldn't have to worry about it, and she was grateful. She just couldn't get over it. Never once had she been this bothered by someone rejecting her abilities. It was always at the forefront of her mind. She'd berate herself constantly over how she handled the situation, thinking of many different ways she could have done it differently. If she had done it another way, would it have turned out better? Would Laxus have accepted her gift and listened to what his grandfather had to say, so that he could finally be at peace and move on? It bothered her to no end that she would never know. So, imagine her surprise when the man himself came barreling into the café as she was just about to lock up for the night. "Laxus!" She gasped, as he easily towered over her small frame. "Let's say that you were telling the truth. That gramps really is here and wants to talk to me. What would be so important that he would stick around after death? Huh? What would he say?" He demanded, gripping her upper arms tightly. He looked haggard, exhausted. His eyes were red-rimmed and puffy as though he'd been crying hard about all of this. Over-all, he looked desperate for answers. She smiled softly at him, despite the pain from his strong grip. "How about we sit down and ask him, Laxus." Laxus stared at her for a moment, before his eyes widened and he ripped his hands away from her body as though he'd just realized what he was doing. Lumbering past her, he plopped down at a booth and ran a hand through his disheveled blonde locks. Rubbing her arms, wincing at the tender flesh, she walked to him and lowered herself into the seat adjacent to his. The tiny spirit made himself comfortable on top of the table so he could face them both, sitting with his legs folded and his hands in his lap. "Get on with it." Laxus grunted. Ignoring his demanding tone, she turned to smile at the spirit. "I never got your name." He returned her smile. "It's Makarov, child." "It's nice to meet you officially, Makarov. I'm Lucy." She introduced, aware that Laxus was looking at the empty space where his grandfather was sitting rather skeptically. "Now, would you mind sharing what you wished to tell your grandson?" Makarov gazed at the imposing man with sorrowful eyes. "I need for him to know that I would do it again without hesitation. Anything to keep him safe." She relayed the message, heart clenching when his stormy blue eyes glazed with unshed tears. "Can he hear me?" He rasped. At her nod, he looked to the empty space. "Gramps, you senile old man. You should have never done it in the first place." Makarov scoffed. "And what? Left you with him? What kind of grandfather do you take me for, brat?" "Yes! Then at least I would still have you." He said angrily. "You left me alone, gramps." When there was a lull in the conversation, her passing along what the spirit was saying, she cleared her throat delicately. "Would you mind explaining what happened?" She asked them respectively. Laxus remained silent, glaring at the ceiling, so Makarov sighed and began the tale. "My son, Laxus's father, was a problematic man with a raging drug addiction. He wasn't always that way. As a child and into his teens, he was actually a very kind boy. Very smart too. For reasons I still do not know, he dropped out of college in his second year, often getting into trouble and having me bail him out of jail. A year or two later, he showed up on my doorstep, a little bundle in his arms. Apparently, someone had left the child on his porch with a note stating that the baby was his son and that his name was Laxus. "Ivan wanted nothing to do with any of it, so I took the child in. I didn't see Ivan again until a few months later. He was sober, said he got a job and that he wanted to raise his own son. So I let him. A few years later, when Laxus was three, Ivan moved back to town in search of a new job. He moved in to a house down the street and everything was fine for a while. But then, when Laxus was four, he fell back in with the same crowd and started doing the drugs again. I waited for him to realize that what he was doing was wrong, and I often checked up on them to make sure that Laxus was being cared for properly. This went on for years, somehow Ivan managed to keep his job, and I never noticed the signs until it was too late." Makarov took a deep breath, before he continued. "When Laxus was about ten years old, I took him swimming. That's when I saw the bruises. Ivan had become abusive, and I hadn't even known. I thought that confronting him was a good idea, but it made everything spiral out of control. It made Ivan spiral out of control. "He lost his job, refused to let me see my own grandson, and started making and selling the drugs himself. I was conflicted. He was my own child, and I didn't want to report him to the authorities, but he needed to stop. One night I went over and broke into the house to speak with him. One look at the state of the house, and the still healing gash over Laxus's face and I was filled with rage. Ivan was already pissed because I was there, but the situation grew out of control. When I knew things were about to get violent, I told Laxus to run down the street to my house and call the police. Ivan panicked, grabbed his gun and shot me before shooting himself. We both died that day." Lucy couldn't stop the tears streaming down her cheeks even if she tried. Gazing at the irritated blonde man in front of her, she couldn't believe all that he'd been through. She thought having a neglectful and verbally abusive father was tough, but she couldn't even imagine how hard it must have been for him. "The hell are you blubbering about, Blondie?" He grumbled. She sniffled, snatching a napkin from the dispenser on the table and dabbing her eyes. "I'm just sorry you had to go through all that you did, Laxus." The larger blonde tensed briefly, before huffing. "I don't need your pity." Giving him a sad smile, she nodded. "I know." Makarov gazed between the two, something mischievous in his eyes. She gave him a questioning look, but he waved her off and grew serious once again. "Tell him that it was never his fault. He didn't need to be strong enough to handle it on his own at only ten years old. He was just a child." His gaze watered and he cleared his throat. "Tell him that I love him dearly, and that I'm so proud of him. He's taken my place at Fairy Tail and doing such a wonderful job. Let him know that I've seen how the dojo is thriving at this new location." The petite blonde relayed the message, and Laxus hunched forward, pressing his palms over his eyes. His shoulders trembled and his jaw clenched from restrained sobs. "Tell him that he needs to stop killing himself over it. To stop with the heavy drinking at home, and that he needs to take better care of himself. He is the only one I want carrying on Fairy Tail's legacy, and he can't do that if he's dead." Thick streams slipped past his hands, and he nodded his head. "Okay, old man." He croaked. The mischievousness returned to the elderly spirit. "And quit wasting time, you brat. You're twenty-seven. Find a pretty lady who, oh I don't know, is blonde and sees dead people, and give me some damn great-grandbabies!" Lucy relayed the message, and it took Laxus's strangled laugh for her to realize what exactly she had said. Her entire face flushed, the spirit's cackles only deepening the blush and embarrassment. Laxus wiped away his tears with the sleeve of his black dress shirt, an amused smirk playing at his lips. "God dammit, you old perverted geezer. You've been hounding me about making babies since I was seven." Lucy giggled despite her own embarrassment, but the way Laxus was now looking at her made her blush for a whole new reason. Makarov wiped a tear of mirth from his eye and smiled at the two blondes in front of him. It was time now, he could feel it, and from the knowing look the small woman was giving him he knew she felt it as well. "Laxus, it's time to say goodbye." She said, reaching out and placing her hand on top of his large one. He surprised her by flipping his hand and lacing their fingers together, giving it a small squeeze. "I love you, grandpa. Thanks for everything. I'll never forget you, old man." He said evenly, his voice only trembling at the end. "I love you too, brat. Keep making me proud." Makarov closed his eyes, and his body began to glow a faint white. After a moment, the light pulsated and he completely vanished. Laxus's eyes shot open wide as a large gust of warm wind blew past them, rustling their hair along with the napkins at their table. He looked at her for answers, and she smiled sadly at him. "He's at peace, and moved on." He nodded slowly, closing his eyes as a fresh wave of tears threatened to flow. He forced them back, gently squeezing her tiny hand. It was unreal, how light he felt now that the huge weight had been lifted off of his shoulders. It wasn't as though all of the feelings of shame and guilt were gone, that would take time. But he felt like he finally had closure after all of this time. He had hope. Peace. And it was all thanks to the woman he'd treated so poorly before. Stormy blue opened to meet chocolate brown and he smiled. "I don't even know how to thank you for this." He started. "But I do want to apologize, for how I acted before. I shouldn't have been so cruel." Lucy shook her head and squeezed back. "No, I understand." They gazed at each other for a long time, similar feelings of warmth blooming in their chests. After a while, Lucy reluctantly retracted her hand. "Are you hungry?" Laxus thought about denying it, not wanted to ask anything more of her in that moment, but the sudden roaring in his stomach betrayed him. Smiling brightly, Lucy stood and made her way to the kitchen. "I have just the thing!" And as Laxus watched her walk away, all he could think was that he could get used to this. Ghosts, tears, and all. ___ Fucking fin. Why do I do this to myself? This was supposed to be a short fluff piece, and instead it turned into an angsty, 6,000+ words piece about ghosts. Now I have to rush to write tomorrow's prompt, but even if it's a day late I will post it. Thank you all for everyone's kind words from yesterday's post. I didn't realize so many people would get so emotional over it. Sorry if I made you cry! Also, a big thanks to everyone who gave condolences for my friend. It was appreciated! The next one will be all fluff. Even if I have to hold a pillow to that voice inside my head that feeds me ideas until it passes out. See you all tomorrow for Protect!