#(finishing the inks after like a week and then stalling for 3 months on the colours. who would do that)

[epicdogymoment]

x

[yyuangss]

INAZUMA COMMISSIONS ( DILUC RAGNVINDR )

summary ! in an attempt to give diluc the best present for secret santa, you spend some time to know more about him. though, the dawn winery owner has some unique tastes.

tags ! diluc ragnvindr x fem reader, fluff

word count ! 5.2k

note: hello hello @umgatochamadopercyval !! i got you for the @2023gisecretsanta event 🫶 i got a little carried away so i’m very sorry for the word length 😭 either way, i hope you enjoy it MWAH <3 i had a lot of fun writing this for you !!

When Barbara approached you asking if you’d like to be part of her Secret Santa event, you immediately agreed. She said she was going around inviting people she knew would be interested in participating.

You asked her who else had decided to participate in the event and she named a few others. Lisa, Kaeya, Sucrose, Venti, a few sisters from the Cathedral, Eury, Donna. All people you knew well since they constantly came to Good Hunter and you spoke to them while they waited for their food.

Barbara said she was still asking people to join. So once she had an even number, she’d go down a list and have them pick out a paper to see who their Secret Santa was. Everyone would get a month to find the gifts. Then, the gifts would be revealed at a Christmas party she was working on.

Nearly a week and a half after that, Barbara came rushing over to Good Hunter with a small bag in her hand. She was her usual cheerful self and more now since the Secret Santa event she planned out.

“(Y/N)! Do you have a moment?” Barbara asked, waving and standing near the side of the stall. She had been waiting to see when it would be available. Her smile showed just how excited she was.

“Give a second!” You said, smiling as well. After taking the current order and the customer went to sit down at one of the tables, Barbara approached. She showed off the small brown bag and you knew what she was hinting at. “How many people did you get to join?” You asked, making sure to wipe your hands clean.

“I got thirty people!” She said, holding the bag open. The number made your eyebrows raise. Barbara was very serious about this. You peered inside the bag. Small red and green sheets of paper were mixed together. The amount was smaller than what Barbara had said so you assumed she already went to some of the people.

You reached in, grabbing one of the slips at the bottom of the bag and pulled out a red slip. Barbara closed the bag once you got your person. She made sure the strings on the bag were tight so nothing would fall out.

“Could you check it to make sure you didn’t pull your own name?” She asked. You nodded your head.

“Of course!” You said, opening the slip of paper. You wondered whose name you ended up getting out of the bag. It would make shopping and searching for someone’s gift a fun experience. Hopefully it was Lisa. There were several new books you wanted to get for her and replace a few worn out books in her library. That was until you read the name of the person who would give you the most trouble searching for a gift.

Your smile faded slightly. In black ink, Barbara had written Diluc’s name on your slip. Her star and balloon drawn decorations on the paper made it more exciting than it actually was. Of all thirty people who decided to participate, you were the unlucky one stuck with Diluc. He wasn’t a bad person but you didn’t really know enough about him.

“Nope. Didn’t get my own name.” You said to Barbara, folding the paper in half again.

“Great! Thank you again for joining!” She exclaimed happily. “Remember not to tell anyone and you have a month from now.”

She waved before heading off. She needed to catch the rest of the people and hopefully finish this by the end of the day. As she sped towards the building of the Knights, you stared at her cursive handwriting.

The red haired male came into your mind. What were you going to get Diluc for Christmas? He was a reserved character. You couldn’t name a single thing he liked except grape juice. And there wasn’t anything else that stood out about him that would remind you of him.

For example, if it were Klee, you could have gotten her a new book bag or matching hats for her and Dodoco. Sucrose would be happy to get a new chemistry set. She definitely needed one after breaking a few beakers. Whereas Diluc… Nothing.

You started to think about certain gifts. Candles were a good option if that didn’t scream, ‘I don’t know you’. He never wore accessories. No rings, necklaces, or bracelets. Perhaps he didn’t like them but a hairpin from Liyue would be worth the trip. You let out a frustrated sigh, scratching the back of your head.

Was there anyone who knew what he liked that you could ask them?

Well, there were a few people. Now that you think about it, asking them probably isn’t a good idea either. Donna was off the table. You aren’t sure how far her title as a fan of Diluc’s went. And you also didn’t know if Barbara had asked her to be part of the event. That means Donna would definitely get jealous since you got the person she wanted.

Next was Kaeya. Asking him was fifty—fifty. He was rather sneaky and playful. Definitely the type of person to come up with a lie so you’d gift Diluc something he hated all because Kaeya wanted to mess with him. Or maybe you’d get the lucky half and he would be kind enough to actually say something his brother likes.

Then the people who worked for Diluc were also not a good choice. For one, you didn’t know them well enough to know if they’d keep this a secret. Two, they probably didn’t know Diluc well enough to tell you what he liked or disliked the most.

You were already stressed out, even if you had an entire month. You carefully stuffed the slip of paper into the front pocket of your apron. Thankfully, you were going on your break soon. You tapped your fingers on the countertop as you thought of what to do.

The worst idea yet came to your mind. You were just going to have to ask Diluc himself. You can't blurt out and reveal you got him for the Secret Santa event. Since your conversations with him are very brief, in order to do this, it needs to be in the most discreet manner possible. That way, it won’t make him get suspicious of you.

“Diluc!” He heard his name being called. Instinctively, he looked over at the tavern entrance after passing a customer their drink. He saw you approaching the bar while smiling at him. “How are you?”

“(Y/N).” Diluc gave a curt nod and picked up an empty glass cup. You sat down on a stool, watching him clean the area for you with a wet rag. “It’s good to see you. I’m doing fine. I assume your shift has ended?” He motioned to your uniform. You occasionally came to Angel’s Share when you were off the clock. It was just to relax for a few minutes and socialize before heading home for the day.

“I’m on my break right now.” You said. You scouted the first floor to see who was here. The floor was nearly deserted, only consisting of the tavern’s usual customers. You turned back to Diluc, thinking about the slip with his name on it in your pocket. “What about you? Are you leaving soon?”

“No. I may be here all day.” Diluc said. You needed to make this worth the while. No way were you leaving the city to go all the way to the winery. “Charles wasn’t feeling well.”

He finished wiping down the counter and threw the rag over his shoulder. He didn’t have his coat on since the tavern was relatively warm. The weather outside was getting colder as the days went on.

“What can I get for you?” He asked.

“A berry and mint burst.” It was what you normally got whenever you paid a visit.

As Diluc grabbed one of the glasses to make your drink, you thought this would be a good time to ease into the conversation. He seemed concentrated on making your drink so he probably might not be too responsive. Either way, you needed to try.

“I feel like we don’t talk a lot.” You said, as Diluc poured the light blue liquid into the cup. He let out a confused hum at your statement and set the bottle back down. He stepped away from the counter, searching for the remaining ingredients that belonged in your drink.

“And what do you mean by that?” He sounded as intimidating and serious as he always did.

“We don’t talk a lot.” You said. He carefully pushed your drink in your direction. “I think we’re more acquaintances than friends. Don’t you?” You grabbed your drink in one hand.

Diluc rested on the counter as he narrowed his eyes at you. His gaze seemed to be studying you instead of being mad at something you said. The guy sitting next to you left a few Mora on the countertop and left the tavern. He also left behind two cups to be picked up and cleaned.

“I say the same, yes.” Diluc said, scooping the Mora on the wooden counter.

His responses are repeats of what you say. It makes it feel like he’s simply not interested in having a conversation. Plus, he is always seen with an uninterested expression. His personality is nowhere near Kaeya’s.

Getting Diluc to talk is harder than you thought. At this point, you wanted to be straightforward and admit what you were truly here for.

“What’s your favorite thing about yourself?” You suddenly asked. Too strong of a question. He would figure out what your intentions were by it. Diluc raised an eyebrow as he dried one of the cups with a different rag than the one from earlier.

“What’s my favorite thing about myself?” He repeated your question. He glanced down at the cup before turning around. He sorted it out with the stack of cups used by tavern customers. You heard him say the question again but much lower this time. Eventually, he crossed his arms, staring at the wall before giving his answer. “I love my long, luscious and luxurious red hair.”

“Wait— What?” You sputtered.

“I answered your question. My favorite thing about myself is my hair.” Diluc faced you. He had his normal stoic expression. Was he telling the truth or poorly executing a joke? You squint your eyes. Diluc’s hair was well taken care of. Out of all his features, his hair and the color of it stood out the most. The length of it also suited him. Diluc with short hair was like a nightmare. Maybe because he never wore it in any other style except his ponytail. “Is that not something I can say?”

“No, no,” You said, taking a sip from your drink. The minty taste made your eyes water. “I didn’t expect you to say that. I thought you would have said your eyes. Your hair is really pretty.”

He managed to make his hair look like silk. There had been times you were tempted to touch it. As you put your cup back on the wooden counter, you thought of your next question.

“How do you get your hair to look like that?” You placed your chin on the palm of your hand. Whatever routine he said, you might need to start using it.

“Slime condensate.” Diluc petted the tips of his hair. Your expression changed to one of disbelief. “It needs to be the thick hydro slimes from Inazuma. I like to get them from Watatsumi Island since the area is surrounded by water.”

You had to take some time to process what he said. The infamous Dawn Winery owner put slime in his hair to keep it “luscious” and “luxurious” at all times. You had never heard of anyone putting slime in their hair. You scratched the top of your head. Whenever Diluc said something new about himself, the idea of giving him a gift for this event seemed impossible.

That wasn’t the only time you went to Angel’s Share. You went back for an entire week, trying to pry information out of Diluc. There needed to be one thing he liked and was willing to share with you. The only problem with that was to have him stop talking about his hair.

“I love my hair color. Did you know it’s natural?”

“It’s so hard to keep it this soft. If the slime isn’t from Inazuma, my hair gets all tangled.”

“Cut it? No, I’d never cut it. I’ve been growing it out since I was a child. My father’s hair was exactly like mine.”

You didn’t take him as the narcissist type or the kind of person to be full of himself.

Your last hope at getting him a gift was what he used for his hair. Diluc let you know what the process to get the slime condensate was. He said it is called an extraction. It was harmless to the slimes. In order for this to happen, he or someone else would grab hold of a slime. As this is going on, the other person will begin to pluck out condensate from under the bottom part.

You weren’t going to make it to Inazuma and return to Mondstadt in time for the party.

Sara went with you to find Herta and ask her to send your commission over to Inazuma. She was a little skeptical at how overly specific but she said with enough Mora, someone over there would be willing to take up the challenge.

That was two weeks ago. The party was in a week from now. You started to panic. Did no one take up your commission? You asked Lumine to take an impromptu trip to Liyue and see what items you could find.

She agreed. The Honorary Knight protected you along the way. Thankfully, there weren’t any monsters that attacked you on your trip. Liyue had rarer beauties that cost a lot more. In the end, it was going to be worth it. You found the gift after hours of searching. This was reserved only if the condensate didn’t make it to Mondstadt on time.

“Pardon me,” A tall, unknown man approached since there wasn’t a line. You could tell he was from another region. He had a box underneath his arm. His white, puffy coat covered his entire body. The hood he had on covered the majority of his blue hair. With good reason. The cold weather this year was entirely different. At least you were near the fire. “My name is Kamisato Ayato. I’m looking for a lady by the name of (Y/N). She requested a commission in Inazuma.”

“That’s me.” You said.

“Ah, wonderful. This makes it all the much easier.” He placed the box on top of the counter. The gloves he was currently wearing were white while the inside had a sort of dark purple lining. He removed the hood from over his head, settling his hands on top of the mysterious box. “The person who did your commission told me to be very careful with it. He said he went out of his way to make it the very best.”

“Did you come all this way just to deliver it yourself?” You felt a little guilty but Ayato let out a chuckle.

“No, no. I’m the leader of the Yashiro Commission.” He waved his hand, “I’m in Mondstadt for the holidays. I thought it was a good idea to bring over your commission. That way you wouldn’t have to wait too long.” He patted the box before insisting you take it.

You pulled the box over, noticing how heavy it was.

“Anyway, everything has already been paid for on our end.” Ayato said, adjusting his coat. “I was also told to pass on a message to you. If you had any more… Specific commissions to be done in Inazuma, simply request for Arataki Itto. He’s more than willing to help.”

That must have been the guy who did your commission. You hope to meet him in person one day to thank him over and over for what he did.

“Thank you very much.” You flashed Ayato a smile. He did the same in return, “Enjoy your holidays and your stay in Mondstadt!”

“Thank you,” He bowed his head, “The same goes to you. Now, if you’ll excuse me, I’ll be on my way.”

As soon as Ayato was gone, you decided it was a good idea to open the box. Your jaw dropped at the contents. It was a lot more than you had asked for. Considering what was given, you had definitely underpaid this Itto guy. Either he was a perfectionist or he was extremely reckless.

The jars of slime were actually much bigger than you expected. Maybe you should have been specific on that as well. How many hydro slimes on Watatsumi Island had to undergo an extraction to get all this condensate? Even though Diluc said the extraction process is not harmful for the slimes and they’re constantly growing, you’re starting to feel bad for them.

At least it arrived at a good time before the party. With the slime condensate here, your gift for Diluc was ready. But you had both items. There wasn’t any point in keeping the second gift for yourself. Maybe it would give you a hint on what Diluc likes. Hopefully next year, Donna was the one stuck with him instead of you.

The party was being hosted at Angel’s Share. It was closed for the holiday and with his permission, Diluc allowed Barbara to have the party there. So long as she prepared all the decorations and food. He didn’t mind making the drinks since it would allow him to keep a better eye on Venti.

When you arrived, the ongoing scene was a bit of a mess. Barbara was apologizing profusely to someone. You recognized one of them. Ayato, the man from the other day. He laughed loudly when he noticed Barbara beginning to tear up. Next to him was a girl who had similar features. She chuckled softly when Ayato hugged Barbara and reassured her everything was fine. The girl had to be related to him.

“You’re here.” You heard Diluc’s voice. He had been at the bar but spotted you as soon as you came through the door. His eyes landed on the gift you were holding. “If you’d like, you can leave that over there. Barbara said we’ll open the gifts after eating and once everyone is here.” Diluc motioned to a round table in a corner. Several of the partygoers left their gifts either on the table or on the floor. Some were big, others small. You were curious to find out which one was meant for you.

“Okay, thanks.” You went over to the table and placed the gift next to one that was the same size. You weren’t about to carry that around all night. The glass jars were too heavy for that.

After you put your gift with the rest, you decided to join the rest of the crowd.

You found out that Kamisato Ayato was Diluc’s closest friend. He and his sister, Ayaka, came to Mondstadt to celebrate the holiday with Diluc. Last year, he was the one who went to Inazuma to visit the siblings. Barbara was apologizing because she didn’t know they would be here. And if she did, she’d prepare a gift so that neither would feel left out. They let her know it was an unforeseen event and she had no reason to apologize.

Bennett and Fischl were the last to arrive. Afterwards, Barbara asked everyone to come to the first floor and get their gifts so she could explain the rules. You placed yours underneath your chair. Jean sat next to you, keeping hers on her lap and making small talk about who she guessed you had.

The table in the corner was soon empty. Whoever went first, the person who received the gift would go next. So on and so on until all gifts were exchanged.

Donna decided to start the chain off. For an odd reason, she had two gifts. You all gave each other the same knowing look. One gift was meant for her Secret Santa and the other was obviously meant for Diluc. If anything, you were already aware she had selected a better choice in present for him. Except Barbara didn’t let her give it to him right away and told her to wait until everything was over.

She had Bennett. From Bennett, it went over to Klee. He had gifted the little girl a new backpack and a tiny one for Dodoco. Klee’s gift went to Razor. He might have been the happiest one from the night. Eventually the chain went around to Albedo who had just opened his gift from Lisa.

“For my Secret Santa, I got (Y/N).” Albedo handed you a wrapped box.

It had candy canes all over the paper and a giant bow on the top. You heard some rustling inside. You tore the wrapping paper off the sides. Removing it fully, you opened the box and your eyes widened in astonishment. Albedo had carefully packaged two glass cloches beside each other. They contained flowers sprouting on the inside. He went as far as adding grass to the base and making it seem like a small garden.

“I managed to find a way to preserve cecilias and glaze lilies.” He explained and helped you take one of them out to show everyone else. “I remember you said they’re your favorite flowers. These will never die even if you take the glass off of them. And you won’t need to water them either.”

“Thank you so much, Albedo!” You said, opening up one arm to give him a hug. He reciprocated the action. “And I love how you painted butterflies on the glass domes!”

“Actually, they’re called cloches.” Ayato corrected from across the room, making your attention go from Albedo to him. Ayaka ended up smacking his knee with her fan. The entire room let out a collective laugh at the two siblings bickering.

Your eyes drifted over to Diluc who sat next to the Kamisato siblings. It seemed like he already knew he was going to be next. Both of his hands are on his lap, waiting to get his gift. He was staring at you intently and tapping his gloved hand against his thigh. You set Albedo’s gift next to your chair with extra care.

“My gift is to Diluc.” You said. You slid out the wrapped box from underneath your chair. You had both your hands holding the bottom side of the box. Watching your step, you made your way to the other side of the room where Diluc was.

“Ah, this should be interesting.” Ayato said with a grin on his face. He shifted in his chair, body leaning towards his friend. He seemed more interested in the gift than the person who was receiving it.

“It’s heavy.” You said, nervously. You gently handed it over to Diluc.

“Thank you.” He took it in his arms and placed it on the floor between his feet. Ayato moved his chair closer to get a better view of what your gift to his best friend would be. Diluc waited until you sat back down in your chair. He began to unwrap the ribbon you’d tied around the entire box. He pulled on one edge of the lace, allowing it to unravel on its own.

After that was over, he lifted off the top of the box. You watched anxiously to see his reaction to your gift. When Diluc saw what was inside, a small smirk came on his lips. Meanwhile, Ayato scrunched up his eyebrows at the peculiar choice. He realized what the items were and why exactly your commission had been such a weird request.

Diluc kept the lid on his lap. He crouched over in his chair and pulled out one of the seven items inside.

In his hands, Diluc held a glass jar filled to the top with slime condensate. There wasn't only one in there. You had asked for a minimum of three jars in your commission and sent over enough Mora for their troubles. But, being the nice person he was, Itto decided to get you a total of—

“Six jars of slime condensate.” Diluc held it up in the air as if he was examining it. You started to feel a little embarrassed when he spun it around and showed it off the rest of the crowd. They each side eyed each other, wondering what kind of present that was. You actively avoided their gazes as they questioned your choice. Why did he have to start off with the worst gift? “I’m assuming they come from Watatsumi Island?” He said in a slight teasing tone.

Diluc’s lips twitched upwards when he glanced over at you. He shook the jar a little, the slime bouncing around. It clinked against the other jars as he carefully set it back into the gift box. Next, he moved onto the second gift. Right beside all of the six jars was a dark red jewelry box. It had a geo symbol carved on the top which Diluc knew you got it from Liyue.

He placed it on his lap and cautiously opened it since he wasn’t sure of what was inside. Inside, the box had a black velvety texture. It had two separate sections. Ayato heard his friend let out a small snicker before composing himself and turning it around for the remaining partygoers to see.

“It’s a matching hairbrush and a hair comb.” Diluc said.

Both the brush and comb were designed to be the same. They had been marbleized with red and gold. What stood out the most was the hair comb. The accessory had been made to resemble a phoenix. Its wings were outstretched and the beak pointed upwards. If placed in the hair correctly, it was supposed to give off the illusion the phoenix was flying.

“Oh, how beautiful.” Ayaka silently complimented.

The jewelry box closed with a snap and Diluc set it beside the six jars of slime condensate. He closed the lid of his gift and a wide smile spread on his face. For some reason, you felt like he found this entire situation hilarious.

“Thank you, (Y/N). I’m especially grateful for the slime.” He said. Diluc cleared his throat right after and the smile disappeared. He ended up picking up his gift and announced who his Secret Santa was. “My gift is to Sucrose.”

The remaining gifts were passed around until everyone had opened their gifts. They were all thoughtful and generous.

Everyone loved their gifts and it was perfect for their personalities. Yet, your eyes kept looking over at Diluc’s present. He had to be lying. The party continued as normal. People broke off into their separate groups, ate the remaining leftovers and treats, and played a few games. The gifts, held dear in everyone’s hearts, were forgotten at the moment.

An hour passed and you thought it would be a good time to leave the party. You put your coat on as well as your gloves. Thankfully, you didn’t live too far from the tavern. There should still be a few guards patrolling the city in case of intruders.

“I’m going to be leaving now.” You said to Barbara while holding your gift from Albedo. You wanted to thank him again only to find out he’d left with Klee a long time ago. The little girl was starting to get sleepy and tried to play it off that she wasn’t tired.

“You are? Aw, I wanted you to stay a little longer!” Barbara said. Diluc overheard your conversation and he had already slipped on his red jacket.

“Allow me to walk you home. I insist.” He said, opening the tavern door. Cold air rushed in causing his cheeks and nose to get rosy. “Barbara, if I don’t return soon and everyone has left, don’t worry about cleaning the mess. Head home as well.” He instructed before leaving the tavern right after you.

The door closed. Diluc fixed his jacket as he began following you.

He only had plans to drop you off at your home safely and return to the tavern. You were both walking in silence. You glanced out the corner of your eye. Diluc’s hands were in his pockets. He had a small smile on his face. It was starting to get to you. The smile had the appearance he knew something and purposely refused to tell you what it was. You exhaled loudly, deciding to confront and get it over with. It would be better for him to be honest.

“You didn’t like your gift… Did you?” You asked, stopping in your tracks. You tilted your head to the side and turned to face him.

“I did like my gift. Why would you ask that question?” He answered.

“Why are you smiling like that then?” You nodded your head. It was really in the most innocent and subconscious manner. Diluc didn’t want you to take it the wrong way so it was a good time to come clean. Especially since the hunt for gifts and the party was over. He left his gift in the tavern, right behind the bar counter so no one would find it.

“I have something to admit.” He said.

Oh. Your eyes widened slightly. You took a step back. Donna was going to be mad.

“I lied to you. I don’t actually use slime condensate in my hair.”

Oh. You narrowed your eyes at the man standing in front of you. Scratch that, you were going to be mad. The smile on Diluc’s face grew a lot more visible.

“What?” You finally spoke up. “You’re joking, right?”

“No. I’m not joking.” He shook his head. Your jaw dropped at the confirmation. “I don’t use it. If anyone does, they must be out of their mind to put that in their hair.”

“So you were faking the entire time?!” You shouted. He had led you to believe his hair was his favorite feature and that he cared for it the most. All those times he complained about running low on slime and he might need to find a replacement before getting his new stash from Inazuma. Pure lies he made on the spot. He was so convincing, you thought all he loved in life was slime condensate. “Diluc, you’re such a jerk!” You would have punched him if you weren’t carrying your gift. He grinned briefly at your weak insult.

“Is it my fault you were terrible at hiding you had me for Secret Santa?” He said. He began to walk again and you sped up to join him. You had to be honest. Your attempts were very pitiful when you spoke with Diluc that entire week. It’s much easier to talk with him at the moment than beforehand. “Though, I like your gift more than Donna’s.”

That’s an accomplishment.

“Are you sure six jars were necessary?”

“Leave me alone.”

[manicpixiess]

✨coaching kid aesthetic✨ (for my desi stem gang where y’all at)

I have been in 12th grade for approximately fifteen months now (my thanks, Ramesh Pokhriyal, it’s been fun :) ) and if I don’t romanticise studying for entrances, I Simply Will Not Do It, so here goes!

~ that ever-growing pile of dry, used up pens that you cannot bring yourself to discard because goddamn it took a lot of effort to get them that way

~ finding yourself caught in a rabbit hole on chemistry stack exchange at 2 in the morning, because you’ll be damned if you let that one possibly irrelevant question on the DPP sheet slide

~ standing around the momo/ assorted shady street food stall outside the coaching centre, wasting that sweet, sweet fifteen minute break discussing a deliciously unsolvable question with your academic rivals; for a while you’re all just confused kids together, and it’s not that bad

~ quiet moments of absolute despair in between classes or after a test or at your desk after a long day, because oh god there’s hundreds of thousands of people writing this exam and I can’t compete with any of them

~ flipping through your full rough books once the last page has been completely covered with scribbled equations, because I did that I did that I did all of that

~ your walls are a collage of zany inspirational posters that your parents thought would somehow help, pages and pages of organic reaction mechanisms, handy math formulae, tiny physics concepts that are so important and so forgettable, salt analysis spreads that you know you won’t give a second glance

~ finding a youtube video from a Kota coaching centre or a 7 year old reddit thread that exactly answers the ultra specific question you had is as close as you’ve come to happiness in 3 years (followed closely by solving a hard question from one of those textbooks that no one remembers the actual name of, it’s just the author’s name)

~ the only revision you need before a test is the notes you scrawled to yourself that fill the covers and end pages of your notebooks; most of them are quite profane and that is okay, it drives the point home 

~ stacking all your reference books and textbooks into a tottering pile, laughing hysterically as it grows taller than you 

~ books everywhere; on your bed, on your desk, on your parents’ bed, in the kitchen, in the closet; an aggrieved do you really need them all from a family member. Yes, you think, but don’t say, because it’s more a fact from here and a reaction from there than anything else

~ saturday morning classes; watching the sunlight streaming in through the window while learning something fanciful and difficult, eating lime and orange popsicles with your friends, everyone pretending to hate it, but really, they’re all happy.

~ going from nervous, to eager, to tired, just tired over the course of two years; sleep is for the weak, your friends tell each other as you all stay up till the sun rises, cramming for something that will be forgotten in a week. You fall asleep anywhere, anytime, because it’s been so long since you slept a full eight hours 

~ reminiscing about tenth grade, the good old days, but you know that these are the friends you’ll remember for the rest of your life; nothing brings people together quite like common suffering, after all

~ talking often of all the things you could be doing if didn’t have to study, but really, you wouldn’t know what to do yourself

~ saying no, over and over again, to all the people who call you out, to family engagements, to other friends, because you’ve lived so long in this world that you’ve forgotten what it’s like on the other side

~ the group chat after 3 am is for detailing exactly how you screwed are for the next day’s test, for a friend to point out that they are, in fact, more screwed than you (discussions on what exactly the point of life is are also allowed)

~ coming out of exam rooms sweaty and relieved, because no one will expect anything of you for the next fortnight, waiting outside them for your friends to finish so you can have a collective freakout (you can’t be the only one who forgot about instantaneous axes of rotation and acid catalysed aldol reactions, right? Right?)

~ your friends are your therapists, and you are theirs, because even (or especially) in a system intent on pitting kids against each other, you rely on each other to keep (some approximation of) happy and motivated 

~ jokes about being sad, scared, tired, angry, hurt; because feeling any of it takes up more time than can be spared

~ ink stained hands, heavy bags, clothes that are loose and old

~ regular schoolwork is ignored, bio/comp labs are gossip sessions, physics labs are for getting confused when g isn’t 9.8, chemistry labs are for unleashing pyromaniacal chaos 

~ it’s either one question taking up an entire day or 200 questions in 4 hours, there’s no in between 

~ looking at the stars in the sky after a late class, thinking that some day, you’ll be far away from here, doing something you love; then thinking that maybe, just maybe, it wasn’t all bad 

[kim-monsterlings]

Gwynna - F Firbolg x F Human (Reader) // NSFW

The pictures do not belong to me. I only created the mood board. Do not repost my work anywhere.

Content: NSFW/Lemon; mentions of deceit, flirting, an obsession with fruity lip gloss, kissing, sort of strip tease (reader), nipple play (kissing, touching), fingering + orgasming, fluff

Wordcount: 2708

“Tropemas” Summary: for months, the firbolg hadn’t made any progress in her module, until you found out she had already passed it

Notes: Gwynna was my absolute favourite to write and I fell in love with her so this was me intending to personally save best for last - though my gnoll Ollie comes close second. This was intended to be my last tropemas story, but things got away with me and Farren the lich will be here soon. For now, enjoy my absolute sweetheart Gwyn <3

Masterlist // “Tropemas” Masterlist

Being lied to stung. It stung like an anchor breaking the surface of the ocean as your stomach fell, knees weak and heart aching, but not all lies. Only some.

This lie did the opposite.

Finding the firbolg you had tutored for the last eight weeks leaving a classroom she had no business being in - not with her grades, not without passing the module she came to you for help in - hadn’t left you struggling for breath. Beyond the fog clouding your thoughts, the deceit turned you against the wall before she saw you too.

In that same classroom, Silverstone - a silver fox of a wyvern-shifter - had taught you the year before, in the year Gwynna studied in. Only he taught the optional module, and it was all he led. If Gwynna hadn't passed the one you tutored, her compulsory module, she couldn't have taken it.

Which seemed odd, as she'd failed her past two exams.

The library remained ever quiet when you set up your usual booth with old textbook notes and the textbook itself, decorated in part by Gwynna's doodling as she tired of your lessons; small flowers matching those she wove into her bright hair, like the flowers she grew at home far from the city, or small notes you later stumbled upon, on paper torn from her notepad, and always little compliments: 'you looked cute today', 'i love your perfume', 'try the tea with honey i promise you'll love it!'

Many of your prior tutees had passed the module with your help, yet Gwynna’s grades only worsened since spending longer hours with you. Her lack of focus had changed how you tutored, though it was obvious now her inability to settle wasn’t through boredom or confusion, but because she already knew it all.

You greeted the golden-skinned firbolg with the same smile as always, smothered in her warm hug. Standing “only” at seven foot - apparently short for firbolgs - and always carrying the scent of the woods and flowers, you returned the close hug and breathed deep. She was glowing in the sunlight, wearing wide, flared trousers and a warm jumper.

"I bought tea," you said. Her wide ears twitched as you handed her a cup. "Three sugars, no honey."

"No honey?"

"They didn't have any, Gwyn. It's a university library café." Her sigh lifted your smile, and maybe a little cruelly, too. "I wanted to try something today. Practice exam."

Her voice weakened. "Tea without honey and a practice exam? Do you hate me?"

The knot in your chest forced you to take her hand with a small squeeze before her crestfallen face ruined you. She played you too well after weeks together: always with the soft, doe eyes and pinned back ears. Gwynna exhaled - her next words inevitably to question if she still had a test, until you closed her warm fingers around a pen.

Baby blue eyes narrowed. "What are you doing for an hour?"

“Looking over some old material.” You smiled, not ignorant to her throat bobbing. The textbook for Silverstone’s module rested before you. “Never hurts to refresh it.”

Her lips parted on a breath many times, so close to speaking. It was your pen bitten by her teeth and not the first - you had separate pens for her now. She hadn’t yet opened the test when she straightened. "Did you reconsider tutoring more modules?"

“Like Silverstone’s?” Beneath overgrown bangs, she looked to you with a soft nod. “Maybe once you pass your module, I’d reconsider.”

The pen returned to her glossy lips. On the first evening of coffees and yawns, Gwynna asked of other modules but this was the only one you tutored. Not even a week later, she failed her exam. Had it counted toward her final grade, the sessions would have been far longer beforehand and from then - until a second mock she again failed, the nights together in your corner of the library ran long after dark.

With her final only over a month from today, her grades from practice exams were still low. You almost wanted to see how long she could pretend for.

"Do you want to try the tea?"

The small, paper cup dripped damp marks onto her unopened test paper and you smiled. "Don't distract yourself, Gwyn."

"I'm not! Isn't yours so plain?"

"Will you at least try the test if I try it?"

In the same sweet tone you pretended to reconsider tutoring for Silverstone, Gwynna passed her tea. “I might.”

The sweetness stuck on your tongue; too sickly, far too hot, but you loved it. Not for the tea but the fruity flavour of her lipgloss on the rim. It wasn’t the tea warming through you, tightening your chest. Her lips curled; she could read you too well, but not well enough to know why you were flushed.

"Finish the test."

Every new question, she stalled. Her pen spun in her slender fingers or her tail twitched by your hip. Those feigned moments of confusion had before guilted you for failing to help her, but tonight you sipped your tea and watched when her forehead scrunched.

Then she would deliberately choose the wrong answer.

"Worst score yet, Gwyn." Only someone with a complete understanding of which answers were right could fail so spectacularly, but she winced all the same. “Your mock next week,” your said quietly - there wasn’t one, not with the final so close, but Gwynna had no idea as she looked up. “Would a change of environment help? If could bring honey tea to yours.”

“No.” The pain sharp in your chest couldn’t be only the desire to catch her in the act of failing, but you fought it. Gwynna brushed her long fringe from her rounding eyes before touching her hand to yours. "I have sweeter tea at home."

"Friday?"

Friday worked.

From then to Friday, you shared one more evening bundled in the corner booth. Gwynna never once touched a pen or a textbook in the session. For hours, she leaned against you, legs pressed tight and her tail wound to your ankles. So far your favourite night together as she spoke of home - even inviting you back in the holidays to the woods. Despite her teasing for your scrawled handwriting, nothing warmed you more than her warm hands taking yours, tracing the smudged ink and she held it until the end of your session.

Dressing in the outfit she always complimented most on Friday evening was coincidence, nothing more.

Her single flat off wasn’t far from you, both living off of campus, though Gwynna distanced from city centre. The flat’s cosy quiet led you into a tiny lounge where she hugged you close - “look at you! So pretty,” she’d whispered, leaning down - before leading you round with a hand in yours to the smaller kitchen.

In plain sight, Silverstone’s textbook tucked beneath the module you taught on her coffee table. 

"Before I make tea," she hummed, filling the kettle. Her hair swung in a thick plait down to the middle of her back as she turned, eyes bright. "You're not making me do another practice test are, you?"

"Would you throw me out if I did?"

"Yes."

“Maybe later,” you teased. Her lips twitched but she held a frown until reaching for mugs on a shelf much taller than you. “How are you finding things?"

Her voice warmed the small room, backed by the small clinks of her spoon in the mugs. Without asking, she made your tea how you liked - frowning and grumbling at the lack of sugar as she did, before offering you a biscuit. Homemade, so you couldn't resist.

"How do you find our sessions, too?"

Gwynna blinked over her shoulder before winking. "Highlights of my week."

Streetlights softened the smile on her dark lips. They glistened with her fruity lipgloss, pulled into a wider smile when you welcomed the hot tea in her favourite mug; favourite for her favourite person, she'd whispered, and the golden tint to her skin flushed.

"I forgot to ask..." She hummed so gently you nearly refrained from asking, scared of upsetting her. Though she had lied to you for weeks, so spoke softly, casually. "How do you find Silverstone? Do you like him?"

"Oh, I love him! He teaches almost like you, actually-"

If you hadn’t reached for her hand, her sweet tea and mug would have shattered by your feet. From curses to apologies, she stammered, quieting the more she backed away from the kitchen. She never moved her hand from yours.

Silverstone had been your favourite lecturer. To hear her compare you was a high compliment and a reassurance that your style of tutoring wasn’t an utter failing. Had she not refused to look back at you, the compliment would’ve meant much more.

One, soft gasp came at her legs pressing back against the sofa. She had nowhere to run to with her fingertips still brushing yours. Her fringe shadowed her closed eyes. With every call of her name, her ears turned back, so you tiptoed. Her frilly collar tickled your palm but it was enough to lower her for your lips to meet.

All seven foot of her fainted back. Her arms stroked around your waist until you followed her down. She lost all timidity in settling you on her lap and turning her face against yours, foreheads together.

"You kissed me. You just kissed me."

"And I'd do it again, Gwyn.” Her breath came as a whine when you loosened her collar to stroke her neck. “If you let me."

Her kiss was your answer. She tasted of sweet fruits, more than just the gloss of her lips, more than the tea still warm on her tongue, like she was yours to taste and hold. The warm hand then stroking your hip tightened, gently running lower until she was squeezing your ass and shifting you closer across her wide thighs.

"I never meant to lie," she whispered. Like the reminder of her deceit could lose you, she ran her nose to yours and indulged again until you gasped. "That was... that was a lie. I did mean to lie to you. I didn't want you to stop tutoring me, and-"

“Gwyn, none of that matters. Not when you’re trying to undress me.”

Even leaning back beneath you, her face rose above yours. She softened her kiss and her fingers before tentative on your back dipped beneath the waist of your trousers, low enough you hummed into her lips and louder with her tongue sweet to yours. Loose strays on her nape ran through your fingertips, holding her closer with parted mouth kisses following your jaw lower. 

"When did you pass the module?"

She mumbled something into your throat so low you couldn't hear, and sighed. "The day after we met."

"Gwynna, that... you never needed my help?"

Her cheeks flushed a warmer shade. "I nearly corrected you sometimes. I'm sorry! I'm," she rasped, curling you close when you reared back, jaw fallen low. "I can make it up to you?"

Heat rounded her stare, eyelashes fluttering in a deliberate, blatant look down and up to your warming face. She was the one to unbuckle your belt, but you rose from her thighs with a parting kiss to stand, bending lower to undress.

Gwynna curled her fingers into the edge of the sofa cushions. Standing before her in only your underwear made you hesitate, but her soft, whispered plea undid the clasp of your bra. Her groan muffled behind bitten lips though she never once looked away when your thumbs tucked behind the hem of your underwear, and they fell.

Nothing could delay her any longer with you bare and in reach. The strength of a firbolg dragged you returned to straddling her lap. Her thighs spread wider and parted your legs, bound close at her mercy. Though with the way she trembled, a whisper of your name before she lifted a hand to your chest, you had never felt more in control.

"How are you going to make it up to me, Gwyn?"

Her smile was your last sight before she stole your breath and tasted your moan. Sweet and warm, delicate like the careful touch exploring you. The smooth pad of her thumb stroked your nipple and shivers bloomed beneath her touch

Her lips silenced you. Sweet and warm, delicate like her touch as she explored you. The pad of her thumb stroked your nipple and she ran her fingertips down your spine, sending small shivers through you.

Not following the falling of her palm left you crying and holding her shoulders tight. Her finger stroked low and entered you to the knuckle. Gwynna’s laugh softened to a shy smile.

“Like this,” she said and curled her finger to stroke deeper, following your fluttering walls around her. “Is this okay?”

That she asked warmed you, but you were quicker to burn when your body clenched against two crooked fingers. “More. More, please.”

It was an oversight, not to follow her fallen hand; an oversight making you cry and curse and clutch her shoulders tight when she eased a thick finger between your legs, a sheepish smile lifting her lips when she looked up.

“More,” she echoed. Only her hand cupping your nape held you from falling back when your back arched in pleasure. With her fingers finding a hastening rhythm, her thumb brushed against your clit before rubbing it firmer. “More?”

She held you tighter when you panted, “give me everything.”

Her blouse fell loose on her arms under your hands until your bodies pressed flush, the heat of her stirring through to where her fingers slowed. Gwynna stole the breath you desperately needed when your eyes rolled back, the coaxing of her three fingers lifting you to your peak.

Gwynna’s breathing deepened with yours. Each stroke of her fingers came against your hips grinding down, her hair loose under your tugging. “What do you need? You’re so close,” she hummed, nestling against your chest and sucking your nipple into her mouth. “So pretty.”

She was there, touching you where you needed to be touched, breathing as hard and as hot as you were. "How does it feel? What do you need?"

“I need you. To touch-”

Her cosy flat erupted with light. Gwynna’s kisses marked your chest above your racing heart but never slowed the firm touch on your swollen clit. Through your legs trembling and walls clenching around her still moving hand, she prolonged the intense pleasure until your cries softened into quieter moans against her shoulder.

Warm arms curled you to her chest, slumped and still tingling. Her nose bumped yours and on lifting your glossy stare, her lips parted to suck your release from her fingers. The teasing wink as she licked you from her lips made your stomach flutter.

"Was that okay?"

"More than okay," you mumbled. "Lie to me anytime."

Her forehead creased. "We never finished our tea."

"Gwyn, we won't finish them."

Nestled into your throat, her lips pulled up. She nibbled at your jaw and laid close, the both of you swaying until the rush faded and your breathing slowed. In the pause before you begged Gwynna to carry you to her bedroom - your legs still trembled, her hand running up to your thigh - you tipped her chin up. Her eyes closed in anticipation of a kiss which you surrendered too before swallowing a laugh.

"You'll find this funny," you began, and she hummed, tucking hair behind your ear. "I planned on asking you out when I was no longer your tutor."

Gwynna's wide ears drooped. "This took so long because of me?"

"That depends." As you had, she shivered from the brush of your fingertips running along the cups of her bra; it would be off in minutes. "How long have you wanted me?"

"Why do you think I wanted you as my tutor?"

“Take me to your bedroom,” you whispered.

Gwynna laid you down on her bed, where the night drifted passed in many kisses and returned favours, until you woke to do it again.

[notesbymari]

today i decided to start again a productivity challenge! this time i’m gonna attempt to do the 100 days of productivity challenge

---- rant ahead ----

due to being quarantined for 8 months, family issues, and the way bigger workload uni has imposed on us during online learning (like squishing a 22-week long subject in 10 weeks just because the professors want to, even though the online semester lasts around 14 weeks), i’ve been lacking motivation all year long. 

we finally have the keys to our new home, but it’s not legally ours yet, cause the current owner never finished the paperwork to register the house on the city hall’s records, and the city hall has been stalling to finish the paperwork for 5 months (the deadline was in 3 months) without any explanation.

plus, we discovered a lot of problems on the house, including on things that we had actually really liked and that contributed to us choosing this house - the bathrooms were good, there was wood-flooring, closets for everyone. now we’re gonna renovate 2 bathrooms (one by choice, the other by necessity), and we found out there are termites in the wood from a whole floor + a few doors and all the closets, so we’re gonna have to put new tiles all over one floor, the garage and the backyard, change a few doors, review all the windows, and build new closets...

so not only we have been waiting for 5 months to actually sign the papers for the house to be ours, but now we have 2-3 months of renovations ahead before we can move in, and we have to spend a ton of money fixing a house that is not even legally ours yet (that or wait for the paperwork and move in almost in 2022)

and, to top all of that, there is the living arrangments with my grandma. after 4, almost 5 months of sleeping in my grandma’s house every other day, alternating with my mom (which affected us greatly, cause our family time was always at night, and suddenly we stopped having time together at night for 4 months, the morale here at home was really low, and mom and dad fought all the time), my grandma accepted to sleep a few nights here at home. at first it was only one night, but now we have convinced her to stay 3 nights a week. it’s been around 4 months since she started to sleep here, she’s been staying in my room and i’ve been staying with my sister in hers. 

the thing is, now we know that we still have 2-3 months before we go to the new house, but my mom doesn’t thing my grandma will accept coming to sleep here everyday until then (she basically already lives here, we spend the whole day here, but mom has to go with her at night to sleep in her house and at each morning for her to shower there.

having to carry my stuff (sleeping stuff and study stuff) in and out of the room everyday was killing me emotionally, specially since i have online classes, i stay up until late doing stuff, and my grandma goes to sleep relatively early....so i was already willing to just move out of my room, even though having my own space is really important for my mental health....now i finally moved definitely to my sister’s room (my stuff is still in mine, but all the sleeping and studying stuff is in my sister’s), and i’ve been trying to have good days more often

---- end of rant ----

please ignore all of that if you want to, i just need to complain to someone and get it off my chest. this was all for me to list all the reasons i’ve been able to do nothing productive the past few weeks.

on a good note (and also a time-consuming one), i adopted a cat! it was kind of on impulse, cause on christmas my cousin suddenly appeared with a cat for her, and at that point i was in such a bad place emotionally and in my mental health, that seeing her with a cat (which has been my dream for a few years now) kind of broke me a little....

a week later my aunt said that the lady that gave her the cat had another female one, and i took her! totally on impulse, it was not the best time to adopt a cat (with all the house and living arrangments stuff), but she’s here already for a week and a half, and we’re loving it! this was the main reason for me to move out of my room to my sister’s, cause i’m raising her with me, and it would be too stressful for her and for me if we were to change rooms everyday (which would include move the cat’s stuff all the time, and that could confuse her) 

her name is Miso (as in the japanese fermented soy paste), and here she is in the photo! she’s almost 2 months and a half.

______________

january 12th 2021, tuesday - 1/100 days of productivity

now to the actual productivity challenge! today i:

studied one unit from an online course i’m taking on anemia

watched an episode of “legend of fei”

read 58 pages of “ink”, by amanda sun

studied a topic on week 3 of coursera’s “sistematic reviews and meta-analysis” course, by UNICAMP

did a sketch of what i want my closet to look like

[dr-m-r-ma]

Article 2: Termination

Part 2/2

Genre: drama, romance Rating: PG-13 Group: Monsta X

Summary: Hyejung met Changkyun at a private party hosted by mutual friends. After one drink too many, they accidentally get caught fooling around by Dispatch photographers. What started as a sarcastic joke became a reality, forcing Hyejung to see Changkyun more often than she wanted to.

Disclaimer: This is 100% fictional and my own story. It is unrelated to the actual events and real people of Monsta X and Starship. Hyejung Lee (이혜정) is an original character created for this fanfic. Parts will be written in Korean with English translations. I did not major/study in English/Korean, nor was I ever strong in English/Korean grammar, so there will be grammatical mistakes. This fanfic is written in third person and past-tense for ease of writing. The full title: 제 2 조: 계약 해지, 헤어질 때 (Article 2: Termination, When We Break Up)

The words came out before she thought it through, and by the look of horror on Joohee’s face and the ecstatic look on the manager’s face, Hyejung knew. She fucked up.

As she opened her mouth to take back her words, Changkyun’s manager placed blank sheets of paper and a red inkpad in front of her. He said, “그럼 여기다 먼저 쓰시고, 다 끝날때 공증 받을게요.” (Trnsl: “You can write here first, and when you’re done, I’ll get it notarized.”) With that, he got up to leave.

Hyejung still had her lips parted, but no sound came out after he mentioned that her terms would be notarized. The manager looked back at called out to Joohee, “그쪽도 나오시죠.” (Trnsl: “You should also come out.”) Hyejung looked up, trying to hold onto Joohee with her desperate eyes. Joohee also tried to stay, but Changkyun dismissed her.

“우리둘이서 할 얘기가 있는데, 친구분을 좀… 내보내봐.” (Trnsl: “I think we have stuff to talk about privately, so try to… kick your friend out.”)

Joohee gaped at his arrogance and provoking tone. Hyejung, on the other hand, sighed with defeat. She patted Joohee on the shoulder, “하… 언니, 근처에서 커피마시고 있어. 다 끝나면 전화할게.” (Trnsl: *Sigh*... “Joohee, go to a cafe nearby. I’ll call you when I’m done.”)

With Joohee and the manager gone, the room was cold and silent. The air was thick, like it was layered with piercing needles. Hyejung and Changkyun stared at each other, each of their eyes trying to win the fight.

When his lips curled up to the side a little, she could see his canine peek out. The sight of it brought her back to the night before, making her shiver. She didn’t want those memories barging in anymore, so she grudgingly looked away.

“큭크크ㅋ” (Trnsl: “Keukeke”)

His small laugh pricked Hyejung -- she wanted to splash another drink in his face, but ah, unfortunately, they had both finished their glasses of water.

Ignoring his mockery, she took a pen and twirled it in her fingers. “이거 빨리 끝내자.” (Trnsl: “Let’s hurry up and finish this.”)

“와우. 적극적이네.” (Trnsl: “Wow. So proactive.”) he smirked, causing Hyejung to raise an eyebrow at him. He continued, “솔직히 좋았지? 기사 터지고 나서 얼마나 기뻤겠어.” (Trnsl: “Honestly, you liked it, right? You must have been so excited after seeing the news article.”)

아...이새끼… (Trnsl: Ah… this bastard…)

But she knew better than to let him provoke her like that. Instead, she started writing the first line of the contract onto her paper.

연애 계약. (Dating Contract.)

Then she was stumped. Twirling her pen in her hand again, Hyejung stared down at the mostly blank paper. 뭘 써야되지? (Trnsl: What do I need to write?)

“계약기간. 1년.” (Trnsl: “Contract period. 1 year.”)

Just the sound of his low voice sent a wave of irritation. She finally looked up at him with a frown that deepened by every moment they interacted. However, she was taken aback by the look on Changkyun’s face. It looked like he was serious about writing the contract as well, as the smirk was wiped off and he stared down at the paper as well.

Hyejung pushed back. “너무 길어 -- 6개월로 가자.” (Trnsl: “That’s too long -- let’s go with 6 months.”) As she began to write the words, Changkyun threw his hands up in exasperation.

The action irked Hyejung and immediately they started arguing.

“야, 뭐가 문제야? 1년 너무 길지 않아? 나만 싫은거야??” (Trnsl: “Hey, what’s the issue? Isn’t 1 year too long? Am I the only one against it??”) she asked. Her voice was at least five decibels louder than before, and she was nowhere near backing down.

Changkyun puffed out his chest in what seemed like a poor attempt in making her back down. “장난해? 내가 더 싫거든!” (Trnsl: “Are you kidding? I hate it more!”)

“그럼 됐네! 6개월.” (Trnsl: “Then it’s settled! 6 months.”)

계약기간: 6개월. (Term: 6 months.)

While his face scrunched with frustration, Hyejung stared at the words “계약기간” (Trnsl: “Term”). Right below it, she wrote:

계약 해지: 헤어질 때. (Termination: When we break up.)

“그건 당연한거 아니야? 꼭 그런것들도 써야해?” (Trnsl: “Isn’t that obvious? Do you have to write all those [obvious] things?”) he sneered.

She ignored his question and instead asked if he wanted to talk about the terms of the contract. After all, the terms were the most important part of a contract. She handed him a pen and they started to brainstorm on what to put for the terms. Changkyun had hundreds of small things he wanted to include, while Hyejung constantly reminded him to condense things down. She had things she wanted to say, but she ended up nagging at him longer than the time she spent brainstorming.

As they argued for the next hour about which were necessary and which were absolute to each other, Hyejung wrote up the final version on her paper.

이용 약관. (Terms and conditions.)

티나게 행동하기. (Make it obvious.)

3일에 한번씩 같이 셀카 올리기. (Upload a selfie together once every 3 days.)

손잡는거와 가벼운 포옹 외에는 스킨십 금지. (With the exception of holding hands and light hugs, skinship is prohibited.)

1주일에 한번씩 밥 같이 먹기. (Eat together once a week.)

다른사람과 만나도되나, 걸리지 않기. 걸리면 상대방에게 10만원 주기. (Can meet other people, but don't get caught. If you get caught, give 100,000 won ($100) to the other person.)

계약 해지 전 그 누구한테 들통나면, 상대방에게 100만원 주기 + 상대방측에서 먼저 기사 내기. (If someone finds out before contract termination, give 1,000,000 won ($1,000) to the other person + let the other person release an article first.)

사랑하지 않기. (Do not love.)

They both still had things to say, of course, but it was good enough.

Hyewon sighed. Why was this harder than it needed to be? Her eyes scanned the document and she scrunched her nose at the second condition.

“3일 너무 자주 아니야?” (Trnsl: “Isn’t 3 days too often?”)

Changkyun laughed, “우리 멤버들이랑은 매일 올려놓거든? 3일에 하나씩은 아무것도 아니야.” (Trnsl: “My members and I upload every day, okay? So once every three days is nothing.”) As Changkyun started to sign his name at the bottom, it was his time to grumble. “왠지 넌 ‘갑’이고 난 ‘을’인것 같은 느낌적인 느낌??” (Trnsl: “Somehow I feel like you’re the one controlling me??”)

Hyejung rolled her eyes at him. “뭐가.” (Trnsl: “Like what.”)

“아니… 〈 3. --스킨십 금지 〉?? 내가 왜 더 바랄거라고 생각하는거야?” (Trnsl: “I mean… 〈 3. -- skinship prohibited 〉?? Why do you think I’ll be wanting more?”) He had a look of contempt and disgust dripping from his face, and it almost made Hyejung throw a punch. Almost.

He continued, “그리고, 4번 -- 매주 한번씩? 잘시간도 모자란데 어떻게 자주 만나라는거야.” (Trnsl: “Also, number 4 -- every week? I hardly have time to sleep, so how am I supposed to meet you this often?”)

Her frown deepened, and she squinted her eyes at Changkyun. He looked back, confused. So she slowly asked, “일주일에 한번씩 밥먹을 시간은 없으면서… 3일에 한번씩 만나서 셀카찍어? 그게 말이돼?” (Trnsl: “You don’t have time to eat together once a week… but you have time to meet up for a selfie once every three days? Does that make sense?”)

This time, he rolled his eyes. “아… 스트레스.” (Trnsl: “Ugh… stress.”) Pinching the bridge of his nose, Changkyun explained in a painfully slow way, as if to teach a child something new. “하루에 많이 찍으면되잖아. 옷도 몇번 갈아입을수 있고. 그러면 3일에 한번씩 올릴때 선택할 수있는 사진이 많잖아. 알겠어?” (Trnsl: “We just have to take multiple in one day. Maybe even change our clothes a few times. Then, we have a lot to choose from when we upload once every 3 days. Got it?”)

핳. 쓰래기네. (Trnsl: Ha. Total trash.) Her tongue poked into her cheek, as her eyes lost the light. Whatever positive thoughts she had about Changkyun before, if she had any, disappeared with his idea. “이야… 완전 사기같네? 너 배우 될수 있겠다.” (Trnsl: “Wow… seems like a total scam? You could be an actor.”)

“칭찬이지? Thanks.” (Trnsl: “A compliment, right?”)

Bewildered, Hyejung just let out a sarcastic laugh. Shaking her head, she went back to the contract. Changkyun had finished signing, dating and stamping his thumb with the red ink on the contract. As she reached over to sign as well, her eye glanced at #5.

“잠깐 -- 5번. 카메라에 잡히면이야 아니면 아는사람에게 걸리면이야?” (Trnsl: “Wait -- #5. Is it if one of us gets caught on camera or is it if caught by someone we know?”) As if it made a difference, but suddenly she just wanted to stall signing off on the contract.

Without so much a glance, he replied, “이거나 저거나 똑같지 않아?” (Trnsl: “Either this or that, isn’t it the same?”)

안먹히네. (Trnsl: He’s not falling for it.) She tsked and signed her name. While she dated next to her name and prepared to stamp her thumb onto the document, the same annoying and arrogant voice interrupted her.

“야, 근데 6번은 너무하지 않아? 정말 실수로 들통나면 어떻게?” (Trnsl: “Hey, but isn’t #6 too much? What if getting caught is really accidental?”)

Hyejung sighed as she slid her thumb across the inkpad. “그러니까 조심하라고.” (Trnsl: “So be careful.”)

“헐… 그건 그렇다고 치고.. 100만원은 또 뭐야? 사는게 많이 ��든거야 뭐야?” (Trnsl: “Oh my god… okay whatever about that, but what’s all this about $1,000? Are you strapped on cash or what?”)

*Click* There it went, the release of Hyejung’s imaginary gun, ready to pull the trigger. Her thumb hovered over the paper, as she was now second, third, fourth-guessing her decision to get into this contract with this dipshit. Before her finger was a hair’s length away from the paper, she muttered, “인센티브라고 못 들어봤니?” (Trnsl: “Ever heard of an incentive?”)

“...”

Hearing nothing but the satisfying silence, Hyejung finally stamped her thumb down. She knew it’d be tough having to deal with such a sassy and arrogant guy like him, but every moment she got back at him was just so sweet.

She held the document up and cracked a small smile. Her eyes glanced to the side towards Changkyun, and when she saw his pout, her eyes twinkled with more delight. In a loud sing-song voice, she said, “우리 이거 들키면 나도 안 좋으니까 우리 잘 노력하자.” (Trnsl: “It’s bad for me too if this gets caught, so let’s try our best.”)

Hyejung reached her hand out to him, and Changkyun reluctantly took her hand. Contrary to how they started, it was she who smirked evilly and he who grimaced.

< PRESENT DAY >

The interview was over, and the reporter asked if it was okay to take photos for the article. She asked them to express their love to each other as the photographer behind them snapped continuous shots.

Changkyun forced a small chuckle, revealing his teeth a little. He quietly said, “사랑해.” (Trnsl: “I love you.”)

“---꺄!! 너무 귀엽고 달콤해요!” (Trnsl: “--Kya!! That was so cute and so sweet!”) The reporter squealed, causing Hyejung to raise an eyebrow. Clearly, the reporter was a fan of him.

Seeing a blush creep up on his cheeks, Hyejung decided to play a trick. It was really only to convince others and play the part perfectly. Hell, she could have been an actress if that was a screening test.

She reached up, lightly touching Changkyun’s cheek. He immediately stiffened up at her touch, and when Hyejung leaned in, he froze. She laughed to herself, seeing the awkward reaction. The final touch was those icky words -- “사랑해.” (Trnsl: “I love you.”)

As the reporting and the photographer gushed about the couple, nobody knew what they were really thinking.

7. 사랑하지 않기. (Do not love.)

She thought, ‘하! 그럴 일은 없을거든! 그런 상투적인건 됐어.’ (Trnsl: ‘Ha! As if that’ll ever happen! Spare me the cliche shit.’)

He thought, ‘존나 웃겨. 너도 내 스타일아니고 절때 널 좋아할일은 없어.’ (Trnsl: ‘Fucking hilarious. You’re also not my type and I would never fall for you.’)

.

.

*** END ***

A/N: actually I’m not entirely sure if I should continue this?? I haven’t really brainstormed that much to continue it, but my original plan was to have it like 7-10 parts... but I feel like it’s a good ending with this part? (lmao) so let me know what you guys feel about it? comments/messages always appreciated :) // edit: for now, it will be the end! 

[hawkeyes-riza]

an army of one

Fandom: FMA Characters: Riza Hawkeye, Berthold Hawkeye, Roy Mustang Pairing: Royai (implied/mild) “Ew, gross, what’s wrong with her?” Riza started at the shrill voice, and her hands went instinctively to her lower back. 

Wednesdays were the best day of the week.

While Riza’s schoolmates moaned that the coming weekend was as far away as the one before it, Riza would sit straighter at her desk than she usually would; would smile more than she usually did; sometimes she even dared to raise her hand to answer her teacher’s questions.

Most days, when the schoolhouse’s bell rang to adjourn class, Riza would pack her bag slowly and take her time on the long way home. But on Wednesdays she would shove her books into her bag in a hurry and practically run home on the shortest route she knew.

Wednesday’s were always the best day because her father would go to town in the morning and he would not come back until late at night. What he did in town was not something he shared with his daughter, but it seemed to change every time. Some nights he’d come home with strong powders and tonics from the apothecary, sometimes with books from the library, and sometimes he’d come home with nothing but the smell of liquor on his breath.

But that short reprieve meant everything to Riza. She would unlock the door to the looming house she had lived in all her life, humming under her breath, uncaring about the sounds her boots made on the old wood floor, for there was no one to chastise her for making noise. When Roy Mustang had still lived with them, she had noticed that even he—who she had thought viewed her father with shining eyes—walked a little taller. But Roy had been gone for five months, and although she hadn’t known him very well, he had had a bright and persistent presence for years, which only made his absence more noticeable. 

But on Wednesdays, Riza didn’t miss him too much. On Wednesdays she could put the gramophone on and dance in her socks to songs older than she was. She could make food the way she liked it, she could laugh out loud at the funny parts of the radio shows, she could walk through her home without fearing an encounter with her father and whatever mood he had found himself in that day. 

Her birthday fell on a Wednesday the year she turned sixteen, and she nipped into her father’s well-stocked liquor cabinet. She had caught Roy Mustang doing the same a few years before, but he had sent her back to her room with a finger pressed against his lips and a playful wink, as if they had shared a joke. The whiskey burned its way down her throat, but not so horribly. She drank only enough so that her head felt a little lighter and her thoughts a littler freer, and the world was softer as the clock struck midnight. She’d never had a birthday present before, and so she decided that the nicked whiskey was one for herself, even though her head had hurt a little the next morning.

Wednesdays were always the best days. Until they weren’t.

-- 

Two weeks after her sixteenth birthday, Riza arrived home humming a song she had heard on the radio the day before, and opened the door to find her father waiting for her in the foyer. The lights were off and the afternoon sunlight cast shadows through the windows—his silhouette was much taller than he really was.

“Father,” she said, hoping he wouldn’t hear the disappointment and anxiety in her voice. “I didn’t think you’d be home tonight.”

Berthold said nothing. He tilted his head, regarding her as if she were a stranger. Riza tried not to tremble under his cool gaze.  

“You need a haircut,” he said, after a long pause. He reached out and touched the ends of her hair and it took all of Riza’s strength not to flinch away.

When his hand pulled away, Riza ran her fingers through the ends of her hair. It was well past her shoulders, but she trimmed it herself every three months to ward off split ends. “But I just did—”

“Come with me,” he interrupted. He walked up the creaky stairs, never turning to see if she’d follow, for he knew she would.

When they reached the bathroom, Berthold gestured to the edge of the bathtub, where Riza hastily took a seat. 

“Father, what—” Riza broke off and swallowed as Berthold pulled a pair of scissors from the cabinet. “It’s alright, Father, my hair isn’t so long. If you don’t like it I can—”

“Hush, child,” her father said gruffly. He grasped a thick clump of her hair and the jaws of the scissors opened around it. 

Riza’s eyes burned with tears. She was not vain by any stretch of the imagination, but she didn’t know what he was doing, why he was doing it, and—who cared if it was silly? — she liked her hair, it was pretty and it looked a little like how her mother wore it in the photographs she had of her. It was hers, it was hers, it wasn’t his.

Blonde hair fell in into the bathtub in clumps, and hot, silent tears fell from Riza’s eyes until they were all she had left.

--

Riza had been so relieved when Wednesday came again. It had been a week since her father cut her hair to her ears, and it still took a moment to recognize herself when she looked in the mirror. The prospect of spending an evening without her father’s form shadowing her life was a relief that she could not wait for. But when she unlocked the heavy front door after school, he stood in the foyer once again.

“Riza,” he breathed as her heart sunk. He smiled as he turned to her. “Life is hard. There are some of us who learn this better than others. Those of us who know the truth must do our part to ensure that others suffer less than we, don’t you think?” 

Riza’s eyes flickered across her father’s face, seeking meaning and intention, and finding none.

“I suppose so, Father,” she said carefully.

Berthold’s eyes flashed, and he grasped her thin wrist in his large hand. “I knew you would think so, child. Clever girl. So clever, in fact, that I think that you could help me with my work. Wouldn’t you like that?”

Riza looked up that the man who had crushed her favourite doll underneath his boot when she was six years old because she hadn’t picked up her toys. She looked up at the man who ignored her in favour of his work. The man who would have forgotten to buy groceries if she hadn’t done it for him.  She looked up at the man who had given her life and yet had only just smiled at her for the first time in her life.

“Yes, Father,” she said, as her stomach churned. “I would.”

--

It hurt. 

Riza cried when the needle pierced her skin.

“Hush,” Berthold said sharply. “It’s one needle, it doesn’t hurt that much.”

But he was wrong. It hurt, it hurt so much. Riza was fine with pain. When she was twelve she had broken her wrist after falling off her bicycle and hadn’t cried once, not even when the village doctor had set the bone straight. But when her father moved the needle from the fleshy part of her waist and up to her spine she had screamed.

“Stop crying. Riza! Stop crying, or the lines won’t be straight.”

Riza lay half-naked on the table in her father’s study as minutes bled into hours. She shook with pain and hunger and cold by the time her father finally withdrew his hand. He had begun when she had returned from school at 3:30, and the moon had set hours before.

“Is it done?” she hated how her voice shook. 

“No, my darling, not even close,” her father had never used such terms of endearment with her before, and Riza found that she hated it. “I’ve only managed a small portion. It will take months to complete properly.”

Riza’s lip trembled. “Months?” Her back felt as if it were on fire. He had told her a little of what the formulae on her back meant, but not all. What was the suffering worth, what was the pain worth, if she received nothing from it herself? 

What will you give me? she wanted to scream. What is my reward?

As if in response, Berthold stroked her hair, and Riza tasted bile in the back of her mouth.

-- 

“Ew, gross, what’s wrong with her?”

Riza started at the shrill voice, and her hands went instinctively to her lower back. She dropped her half-eaten sandwich onto her napkin and turned toward the sound that she had heard.

A group of girls from the year above her were staring at her nearly-unoccupied table, their faces twisted in fascination and disgust. In the months since Berthold had begun tattooing her back, Riza had become used to the pain, and used to forging sicknotes as needed. Her grades were falling and the disappointment in her teacher’s eyes did not go unnoticed, but she had come to learn that there were things that mattered more, or at least that was what her father told her. But Berthold had left his canvas alone for four days, and Riza had breathed a sigh of relief when she had pulled on her uniform shirt without feeling the pain she had become so familiar with.

She could feel the eyes of the other girls upon her, and on instinct, Riza touched her lower back, and whimpered when her fingers came back wet.

She raced to the washroom before the girls could say anything more, and locked herself in. When she was sure that all the stalls were empty, she stripped off her powder-blue uniform shirt. The back of it was a mess of blackening blood and blacker ink, and some sort of thick, clear fluid that churned her stomach. She stumbled half-naked into the closest stall and vomited up her cheese sandwich. Her throat burned when she was finished, but not as much as the open wound on her back. She wiped her mouth against the back of her hand and slid down the bathroom stall until she was seated on the damp tiled floor.

-- 

One year later, Riza let her shirt fall so that her father’s former apprentice could see the inheritance her father had left— a legacy that she had long since released was not for her. 

“Riza,” Roy’s breath was hot upon the skin of her back. He undid his blue uniform coat and draped it across her bare shoulders, covering her, she realised with a vague sense of annoyance—hadn’t she chosen to show him? “I’m so sorry,” he said.

Roy’s words were kind, but they still crawled under Riza’s skin. She creeped her hands up to the collar of the jacket, pulling it closer. His words were kind, but the meaning behind them was hunger. Not a hunger for her, Riza thought, as Roy Mustang’s eyes burned through the thick cotton of the jacket he had given her, but for what she carried on her skin. She pictured Roy’s hopeful eyes, and the words he had spoken in front of her father’s grave, a sense of idealization that she couldn’t even imagine possessing. Her father’s words echoed in her mind again.

Those of us who know the truth must do our part to ensure that others suffer less than we, don’t you think? 

She shrugged Roy’s jacket off so that it fell to the floor with her shirt, exposing her father’s research entirely again. 

Wednesday, she would decide later, as the Flame Alchemist and the Hawk’s Eye wreaked havoc upon the people of Ishval, was the worst day of the week.

[grecoisms]

title: vanderlyle, vanderlyle (1/3)

pairing: connor / kara

summary:  "he is not really surprised - the programme that ordered him to search for her among the masses of men and machines perhaps never truly finished running. would not, will not." 

(1) baptism

Purge me with hyssop, and I shall be clean: wash me, and I shall be whiter than snow.

the thing wearing human clothes fools him for about twenty-five seconds, the time it takes an average human male to sprint down the stairs at rosa parks bus terminal and reach the exit. but there is no escape from here; and anyways, no human would have that look in their eyes. not in this city - that hunting, hunted kind of cold calculation, the ready to risk it all attitude.

so when he and the deviant lock eyes in the pouring rain, connor does what the piezoelectric battery pumped by the trillion of carbon nanotubes inside his artificial, synthetic cranium does best: he calculates the odds of each preconstructed scenario regarding the reaction of the other machine.

he knows she is doing the exact same thing.

incipiently, all ax400 models were designed to nurse and care. this, by definition, made it weaker. physically, like each android, it could easily endure long distances and extreme weather conditions all the same, but the child she has chosen to run away with and insisted on protecting - a malfunction like no other - would not tolerate the hardships that follow an escape in the pouring november rain, let alone the velocity needed for an escape like this; in the daylight, in an open field.

because the child simply cannot take it. they are both small, yes - the android does not reach five feet five; and the child is young. maybe they could have hidden, had they not been spotted so absolutely. they could have stayed hidden; stayed in what they considered safe. the anonymity, the namelessness, the walking between what can and cannot be. 

the erasure of labels.

but something must be rusting within his circuits, for connor has to cancel the preconstruction process. he has almost, it seems, followed the rabbit down the hole (//memo: the [little girl's name] is [williams, alice]). he is back in the rain, in the motel, staring dead in the bright blue eyes of the deviant, who straightens her spine in the shadows. her hair is brightwhite (//analysis: [white] is a [tactical disadvantage]). behind her, a sicklypale figure emerges, her mouth agape. williams, alice. she is in what humans would call a shock.

connor looks back at the deviant (kara, he remembers. its name is kara. the child is alice) who licks her lips, all anticipation.

he still has not told hank anything, though he is but two feets away, shivering as the downpour cleanses them.

//analysis: [symbolism] of [water]. clarity, cleansing, new beginnings. 

he is not very sure why he looked this up all the sudden, except he knows now and does not like what he has found. in his discomfort, or as to tear his mind from it, he finally opens his mouth.

"lieutenant!"

his shout is drowned by a thunder. the policemen turn anyway, and so does connor, back to find the android and the girl holding hands, their shapes a haze in the waterfall around. the deviant shakes her (itsitsitsitsitsits) head. there is something very primal, very human in the way she clenches her jaws.

it is useless to run.

the ax400 model does it anyway.

(2) confirmation

We almost always forgive those we understand.

jericho is a quiet canvas around them – an avalon, she thinks, the name escaping from a fairytale that is stored in her database – and it is a welcomed transition from the mayhem they escaped from. still, the sudden, shocking peace is delicate. feeble. kara dares not hope yet. she has had one unpleasant surprise too many in the past.

and yet. maybe it is the sheer novelty of it, or maybe it comes with merely being alive, walking on the unordinary pathways, but there are better-tasting surprises everyday.

for instance: the calluses on markus’ hands don’t mend as he carves and builds and forms a new table with dozens of chairs from the finest of steels.

”stainless” he explains to kara one evening as she reports the missing androids, as she lists the ones they need to hide or need to house or need to help.

when she presents him the names of their dead, she finds she cannot look him into the eyes and instead, looks down; down, to the reflective surface of that finely crafted table, all new and all whole. her reflection in it is shockingly bright and blinding. hopeful, even.

as she looks up, she finds markus both serious and smiling. she finds that it has been easier to understand such contradictions since she took alice’s hands in the house she does not want to name.

and oh. the surprises and the wonders.

like alice wanting to learn how to sing, and north knowing how to, her sharp features softer in the light of the evening when she is with them. when she is with alice.

”you gave your name yet?” north murmurs as alice runs to find the battered monopoly board game josh smuggled home as a gift. the name of some properties are illegible, but they make do. alice is inventing new names, new realities as they play.

”to what?” panic roses within her in less than a nanosecond. she does not want to promise anything in the long run. jericho may be sanctuary, but it is built on a powder keg of ideologies. she does not want alice and her to be here when it explodes. and canada is still a viable option, after the cold touch of winter eases its grip on the state.

north senses her fear and her lips turn thin. she might like alice, but she must think kara a coward. kara does not blame her. the definition of taking action is very much different in their heads.

still, north's voice is not unkind when she answers.

”connor is teaching how to imitate proper cursive. in case someone needs it in the future. we can even choose our own surnames, if we want.”

the flashback of her own clumsy, hurried writing at the motel's reception floats back in. she doubts she can get away with something like that again. at the border, for example. she shudders what the officials would do after beholding her cramped loops. and how in the world will she help alice learn, in case she needs it? she has never even asked her whether she can read, let alone write.

"alright" she hears herself saying, though her voice comes as through a filter, as a dream. she has seen connor here and there in jericho, haggard and pale, mostly conferring with markus, then disappearing again. it is safe to say she has not sought out his company. "alright."

"you met him before?" north asks, watching her face carefully.

kara thinks of their nigh-death experience on the highway, his grip on her shoulders, the smells and sounds tasting vile around them. it has been a month or two now. and even if she shudders at the memory, she does not fold herself smaller like she used to.

north does not press her further. this, she notes, is also surprising.

days fly by. markus has given her smaller assignments since they arrived here, talking and helping some of the newcomers, finding them places and aid josh in listing what they lack - as always, mostly android parts, new ones - and through rose, she has been in contact with androids from cleveland and hamilton.

the holo-messages she receives are short, angry and desperate. her answers are short, faux-calm and factual. most of the neighboring cities seek constant help and instant escape; something neither kara, nor markus can promise. and though kara does not like saying no to people in great need of support, she hates lying and fake-reassurance more. they simply do not have the resources to hide any more people presently.

at the end of the week, north smuggles alice some toys she has promised while kara learns to repair smaller defects and system failures from lucy. then she realizes that albeit she is making herself useful, she is stalling for time.

lucy guesses her thoughts before she can order them in place. she is getting used to it.

"he is here" lucy's hands are very cold as she touches her hands and turns her towards the stairs. and there, alone and thinner than she remembers him, stands connor, with new holes in his jacket and some dust on his pants. he is staring into one of the markus-made fires, lost in thoughts.

alright, she thinks and straightens her shoulders. she has danced her dance with him already, and there is no need to worry anymore since they are on the same side. they want the same things. don't they?

it is only thanks to the light of the fire that the former deviant hunter has some color in his face. even the carefully placed moles under his eyes have lost some of their darker hue. suddenly, she remembers the rumors around the camp, the ones that murmur about connor acting as a double agent and how he serves as the main source of intel between jericho and cyberlife. looking at him right here and now, with lanky fatigue on his boyish face, the thought seems laughable. but kara has seen enough to know that appearances are deceitful.

and for a moment, she does not care about her fear or his face. she needs a tangible truth, like ink-blotted writing on a piece of paper, or forming a name with one's mouth.

"connor" her voice is low, but she feels a defiance that makes her giddy. he jumps a bit at the sound, alarmed. maybe it is the familiarity of her voice, or the strangeness of his name in another's mouth.

here, she thinks, i named you. now, name me back, if you dare.

he turns towards her very slowly. his eyes are almost black as he stands in from of her, his back facing the light. "oh" he says, he breathes. the remnant of his strength seems to dissipate, and he rubs his hands together. he cannot feel the cold so it must be a nervous tick. "kara."

king and queen of cantelon - how many miles to babylon? she remembers out of nowhere, knowing deep in the hardwires of her thirium pump that it is a nursery rhyme, meant to be sung for children afraid of the dark. and here, half in the dark, half in the light, as kara watches connor and his shaking hands, she feels something she would not call anger. it is a relief, of some sort.

he opens his mouth to say something else, but decides against it. jericho continues to roar around them, world so dynamic, while he dares not even blink in fear of scaring her. or so she thinks.

will I get there by candle-light, she wonders; and then: to where? she searches the answer in connor's lost face, his sharp features and learnt movements. will he get there with her, to that place of wonders - arcadia, babylon, jericho. etcetera. and the list goes on.

kara inhales. connor exhales. or is it the other way around?

"i need your help" she says. there is a sort of finality in her voice.

"oh" he echoes. and does not correct the repetition in his mind, because theretherethere, on kara's mouth, a smile is forming.

(3) penance

And her light stretches over salt sea equally

somewhere halfway amidst the epiphany of his own rebirth and the ending of the world, connor spots kara in a dilapidated and dusty church. he is not really surprised - the programme that ordered him to search for her among the masses of men and machines perhaps never truly finished running. would not, will not. how to explain this? connor labels this question, and puts it away into a folder of his vast database-mind that has no name yet.

//note: irony - her hair gives her away that soft halo light behind the grime and the smoke he mirrors with his own disheveled self. when he approaches, his movements are careful and slow. finally, a choice he can call his own. and as he lowers to face them, he sees that she remembers. remembers him. oh, and her eyes are sharp again, the blue irises leadlike and unforgiving.

she tightens her arms protectively around alice's sleeping form. the tautness of her sinewy body, the ache and the awareness slipping through. he notices, with some suppressed pride, that she does not bother to hide these signs anymore. she is more alive than not. more alive than him.

if he were braver man, or rather, a man at all, he would kneel down to her feet, show the lines of his palms. a confession. a task most urgent. somehow, he does not doubt she would listen.

"i am sorry i put your lives in danger" he would say. his words would be clumsy, but she would accept them anyway.

but he is neither brave, nor a man, so he simply walks away - to find markus and cover the sight of her face with new input. it is a tedious task not to simply sit down on the cold hard stones and attempt to memorize the tender lines of her face.

//research later, connor orders himself as he walks away, synonyms for lovely.

the thought does not give him a headache like it did the first time hank touched his shoulders and he had to - no, wanted to - look up all the synonyms for friend. he discarded the order then. he does not do it now.

the synthetic walls around his thirium pump regulator shiver and shimmer. it is not an unpleasant phenomenon. he does not understand this either.

[mostuff]

An MRI and a following CAT scan showed I have nothing sinister as feared.The exorbitant cost was worth it for peace of mind. However, I am profoundly death in one ear, cause unknown, that cannot be corrected... but now benefit from a hearing aid for the other,. so I can dispense with the ear trumpet.!.! Another huge expense I wouldn't have had in Europe, but I didn't want to wait. It was so socially difficult.

An MRI and a following CAT scan showed I have nothing sinister as feared.The exhorbitant cost was worth it for peace of mind. However, I am profoundly death in one ear, cause unknown, that cannot be corrected... but now benefit from a hearing aid for the other, so I can dispense with the ear trumpet.!.! Another huge expense I wouldn't have had in Europe, but I didn't want to wait. It was so socially difficult.

All this achieved in a week.!

After writing to complaints office of insurance company, they still refused to pay out, but as the circumstances of refusal were so unusual they will refund our premium, so that was worth the effort.

The week ended with a visit to Greyton Market as usual. This was more special as the church also had its annual bazaar.

Wonderful cooking smells to tantalize our nostrils...

(Now level one so some restrictions eased.)

Wonderful cooking smells to tantalise our nostrils...

Authentic traditional foods with nearby tables, plus accompanying music. Children sitting in trees, families picnicking on the grass, amongst colourful bunting completed the picture. Local horses have been rounded up to give rides, whether on backs or a drawn chariot (cart). The heavy rainfall and wind of the previous few days were driven away and a beautiful sunshiny day gave its blessing.

We met Dan and Catherine and had a second breakfast of egg and home cured bacon bagels ... Delicious. I could not resist buying a very pretty mobile for Eleanor, which we strung up above the table. Her awareness grows daily.. she is so perceptive of sound and movement. You are so right, Nola, about savouring every moment.

Sunday, persistent rain returned but we still managed a river walk below the mountains with our very lively grand-dog, Tilia, whilst Catherine cooked Sunday lunch, from a new recipe.. Yummy!

Monday, the heavens opened even more. We had to be in Cape Town to collect our extended visas. Dan needed to return his electric bike as had a problem and Catherine's bike was ready for collection. A family trip..up at crack of dawn, to achieve all this.

Arrived at the home office.. Usual precautionary measures and queues.. Our turn... Then our usual unluck.. We had not brought the mandatory receipt. Go home and get it they suggested.. A 2 hour journey each way!

Another official suggested we could get an affidavit from police station. A 20 minute walk.. So set sat. nav. and marched off in the pouring rain.. A not very salubrious area.. It seemed that covid was beckoning from the side streets.. .we arrived.... joined the queue.. a loud commanding voice was yelling to keep a 2 metre distance.. Not much notice was being taken.

My new aid neither liked this voice nor the cacophony of noise that surrounded us and told my brain to crowd my head out. Not very pleasant.

Our turn.. Sent away with 2 forms to fill in... Back to desk.. we had the misfortune to have the owner of the voice. It let rip again, informing us, and everyone else, that we should have used black pens...Go away and correct! .. We dutifully did so.... finished just as black pen was dying.... and crossed out the blue ink....

Back to desk... Loud voice rose a few decibels.... Not on these forms.. Get new ones... We hung our heads... Now didn't have a black pen... Those with one were using them.. Found another at bottom of bag....

Just how many numbers can one remember... Passport numbers... Phone numbers that change with each country... New address codes... At this stage difficult to remember how old we were!

Another power walk in rain, with power running out... grabbing a banana each from a stall, cutting corners, running the traffic light gauntlet and generally jay running. My aural apparatus was over responding to traffic light noises, traffic and surrounding hubbub. A nightmare in my head. At Home affairs, it was back in its box.

Finally we cracked it.. We have our 3 month visas.. Yippee!!!

Met family with Catherine's dad and brother, (who had picked them up from bike place) , in a tiny vegan restaurant. The six of us, plus Eleanor in her car bed, plus Tilia, who had great difficulty climbing the skiddy wooden stairs, in an area of about 6 square metres. Seating was on high stalls or very low seats and tables, nearly floor level, so we tucked in nicely.! I'll let the mind boggle... Food was good and a lot of it.

Three hours later back at Columba, rain now easing off. Dan and Catherine whizzed off on their bikes, big Cheshire cat grins stretching their faces, whilst Eleanor kicked and chuckled on her new play station multi gym. Tilia took this chance to escape up the lane hoping for a frolic with the roaming horses or street wise cows which brought their new born to show off. No dull moments here.!

Back to 'High Hopes' where Sharon had not only done our laundry but cooked an Italian supper too. A nicer landlady one couldn’t wish for .

An eye test revealed that Mike's bumping into things was not through over indulging, but due to cataracts. I write this whilst waiting at his appointment in clinic to discuss procedure and terms for their removal. The latter would require us to mortgage the house we haven't got, so not likely to happen here.

I returned to the ear specialist to report on my non progress with hearing aid. Firstly I had inserted it wrongly.. Didn't know you can hear upside down...

He then programmed it to my specific requirements. I now have car mode, restaurant mode and normal mode. All clever stuff.

With all this sensory renovation taking place, we just need to tell our bodies... ‘Yes we can do it! '

A convenient place to finish this episode as need to pack to start a new adventure tomorrow

With love MnMxx

[nyrandrea]

Sanctuary

Hey hey, guess who’s back at it~?

Yup, after a bit of a break and the release of Chapter 3, I’ve finally written another chapter! And to make up for the long wait, it’s a pretty long one, 6000 words to be exact... quite a doozy.

As always, this story is inspired by @shinyzango‘s 2D Bendy AU~

Enjoy!

Henry could feel the small tug of consciousness pull at him, urging him to finally wake up from his well needed slumber.

He slowly opened his eyes, the first sight being that of the oak panels that made up the wooden ceiling and a large metal fan that provided the room with some much-needed oxygen. The stench of the ink in this place could be far too overpowering sometimes, so he appreciated the soft breeze of the air.

As the older man sat up from his make-shift bed, he could barely make out the soft but muffled tune of a piano playing somewhere nearby, it was actually quite a pleasant thing to wake up to, instead of the usual dread filled silence that he had gotten used to during the past few...weeks? Months? It was hard to tell. Time just seemed to...somehow warp down here.

The pleasurable melody was starkly contrasted by the sharp and very loud ticking of a nearby clock that was shaped like the little devil darlin' himself, Bendy. Henry couldn't help but tiredly glare at it.  

The clock was cute enough and probably sold well back in the day due to the smooth swinging movement of its little arms and legs, a really nice choice in design, but God it was so...loud.

Henry sighed and decided to finally get up and stretch his limbs, not to mention get some proper clothes on. Being in only a tank top and boxer shorts, he was starting to feel a small chill.

The room that was provided for him was very small and pretty cramped with little knick-knacks; a hammock that was dull in color and musty with age hung across the room from one ink splattered wall to the other, and underneath was a large brown chest that Henry hadn't even bothered to open yet.

In all honesty, he wasn't really sure he wanted to even know what was inside it.

Still, he felt like he didn't have much incentive to complain, after all he had actually re-gained some desperately needed sleep over the past week or so. He and Bendy had been in a desperate situation, and it was probably thanks to their savior that they had managed to last this long and get the chance to regain their strength and stamina.

He side-glanced the poster of Boris that hung up near the bed and smiled slightly before he stood up and made his way out of the room, although not before giving the clock one last glare. The ex-animator opened the door and made his way to the bathroom.

Unlike Henry's sleeping quarters, the bathroom was actually relatively big, although empty. There were only two stalls that held toilets that were nearly filled to the brim with black ink mixed in with murky water, creating a less than pleasant look and smell. Luckily though, the three sinks that were on the opposite wall from the stalls, had fresh running water.

Something else that Henry was more than grateful for.

He splashed his face with the cold liquid to try and wake himself up before he glanced forward into the long, shattered mirror that lined all three sinks. Henry couldn't help but frown at his appearance, his eyes held small dark bags under them, and his face looked quite a bit more grizzled and thinner than when he had first come back to the studio, probably due to lack of nutrition. Wait, was his hair a little longer too? It was hard to tell.

Suffice to say, he had seen better days.

Once he had finished mentally insulting himself in front of the mirror, he decided to head to the main room, where it seemed to be a little livelier. The muffled piano tune from before quietly played in the background while the all too familiar voice of Bendy chatted away.  

'Guess they both must be up then.' Henry thought to himself, he always seemed to be the last one to wake up. Though he had been pretty exhausted, maybe it was about time he should cut himself some slack...

As he entered the main room, stopping quickly to check on his clothes that he had hung up to dry on the barbed wire that was near the door frame, he was met with the sight of a familiar, overalls-wearing cartoon wolf sitting at a table. The toon was eagerly watching the piece of paper that was leaned upwards against a mug, his long, floppy ears pricked up eagerly as Bendy seemed to be telling some sort of extravagant story.

Henry smiled at the sight, his mind wandered back to the fairly recent but very fateful day when they had run into the cartoon canine.

He was so close to giving up.

Every inch of his muscles was burning with searing pain as he kept pushing himself to run, it was just a little further, just...just a little bit. The door was only a few hundred yards away now, but the closer he managed to get, the further away it looked, and every inch of ground he covered felt like a mile.

He could also feel Bendy fading away, the little toon looked as though he had passed out, but he was barely conscious, trying desperately to hold out, should something happen to Henry. A screeching roar filled the hallway, vein-like ink splatters spread out quickly along the walls, indicating that the monster was incredibly close now.

Henry glanced a look over his shoulder, his eyes widening when he saw just how close 'Bendy' was. It's grin grew wider and more giddy as it closed in, reaching out an ink splattered hand to finally catch it's prey. It was only then that the older man felt the swift surge of adrenaline kick in, gaining him a little burst of speed that managed to get him just out of the monster's reach and to the door.  

He quickly slammed it shut, and collapsed to the floor in utter exhaustion as 'Bendy' let out a frustrated snarl from the other side. A few thumps and growls later, Henry was once again met with the deafening sound of complete silence.

‘Looks like it's finally given up for a while…'

Henry's eyes widened slightly when he felt something, a part of his mind went completely blank like it had been...severed in some way.

'Bendy...?'

His eyes fearfully wandered down to the page that he still had clutched in his hand.

"Bendy!"

The demon, not having the strength to hold out any longer, had completely passed out. Luckily though, it was only sheer exhaustion that seemed to have got him, there were no clear injuries on the little toon's body and he looked like he was at peace. A small snore emanated from his still body, a flood of relief came over Henry like a wave.

However, it was instantly replaced with panic as a loud clang sounded out from the darkened hallway in front of him, and only after a beat of silence, a can of the all too familiar Briar Label Bacon Soup came rolling out.  

Henry looked down at it for a moment, blinking in surprise before quickly glancing back up at the sound of clear and almost casual footsteps. He clutched onto Bendy's page as a shape formed from the gloomy darkness of the hallway.

It... looked like some sort of dog, or was it a wolf...? It was wearing faded, light brown overalls and ivory white gloves. It tilted it's head to the side as Henry backed up as much as he could against the door, but the creature made no move to attack.  

'Maybe it's friendly.' Henry thought, before squinting to get a better look. 'Wait a minute...is that...?'

"Boris...?"

Henry let out a deep sigh, thank God he showed up when he did, if he hadn't...well...

It was probably best not to think about that.

A small surge of pure joy came through to Henry as Bendy noticed the man standing at the doorway and waved him over.

"What'cha doin' just standin' there, Henry? Come on over, Boris made ya breakfast!" The little toon exclaimed as he waved his arms in an enthusiastic manner. The human just smiled and gave a little wave back as the feeling of delight went both ways through their connection. It was something that both he and Bendy hadn't felt in quite a while.

As he entered the large room and made his way to the table, Boris waved eagerly at the human before pointing his thumb to the little pot and stove that was nearby, a small chimney of the rising steam that came from it indicated that it had just been used.

"Ah...thanks pal. But you didn't have to go through all that trouble." Henry stated as he grabbed a bowl and spoon from the cupboard, the wolf simply waved a dismissive hand, as if to say, "It's no trouble!"

The older man poured the hot contents of the pot into the bowl, the sharp scent of salty meat hit his nostrils, making him wince slightly. He would have killed to eat something even just a little more substantial than...this. 

Why did the company even fund the stuff? None of it even sold, resulting in the build-up of cans in the studio. Although...perhaps that was a good thing, as disgusting as the soup tasted, it had certainly kept him from starving during his time here.

'Ah well...at least it's hot.' Henry tried to positively think as he picked up the bowl, before making a move for the table. Something caught his eye though, slowing him to a stop.

In the small corner tucked away next to the stove, was what could only be described as an amalgamation of faded black and brown posters, all messily stuck to the wall to form some kind of mismatched toon.

It had the eyes and trademark grin of Bendy, which had been eerily flipped to make it look as though it was frowning. One of the makeshift toon's arms looked like it belonged to Alice, while the other clutched a clarinet, clearly indicating that it belonged to one of the Boris posters. A small fat body and long, spindly legs made up it's lower half, and the whole bizarre look was completed with some sort of tutu skirt along it's waist.

Henry shuddered at the strange group of pictures that made up the creation, it was so...strange. He still wondered how it was even made, it was hard to believe that it could have been Boris, he just...didn't seem like the type to put together something like this. Although honestly, at this point? Nothing would have surprised him.

Henry shook his head, it was probably just best not to question these things anymore.

The animator sat back down at the table and sipped at his hot, salty breakfast and tried to start up a bit of small talk, "So, what are you guys up to? Nothing too mischievous, I hope." He teased with a grin, to which both Bendy and Boris replied with a huff.

"'Course not! Who do ya take us for, Henry?" Bendy retaliated, Boris backing him up by crossing his arms and narrowing his eyes a tad. Henry chuckled slightly at the sight, trust these two to go on the defensive about something like this.

"I'm kidding." Henry reassured, Boris blinked for a moment while Bendy just let out a silent, "Oh."

"But uh...we were talking about what we could do today!" The little demon suddenly exclaimed, looking quite giddy. "Boris and I are comin' up with a new card game!" Henry rose an eyebrow.

"Oh?" Both demon and wolf nodded excitedly.

"Yeah, so basically..."

As Bendy pointed to the pile of cards that were scattered across the table and started explaining, Henry's eyes wandered over to the left before his sight settled on the exit door.  A small frown came across his face as he stared at it, a conflict raged inside his head.  

He had never seen Bendy so happy and relaxed, it was clear that he enjoyed it here, Henry was grateful for the time spent in the safehouse as well since both it and Boris had saved his and Bendy's lives but...they had to move on now. They were well rested and fed up, and Henry's injuries had pretty much healed up at this point, so time was wasting now.  

It was time to move out.

"But...But Henry..."

The older man jumped slightly as he was abruptly snapped out of his thoughts, and turned his head to the source of the small, timid voice.

Bendy looked down with a nervous frown and twiddled his thumbs as he glanced back up with a small but trying grin.

"We should...we should stay. It's safe here."

Both Henry and Boris blinked in mild surprise at the little demon's sudden statement before the human mentally smacked himself for forgetting the crucial point that both he and Bendy could read each other's thoughts now. He had never gotten used to it, and he probably never was going to either.

'God, I'm such an idiot.' Henry internally reprimanded himself before a small gasp came from the toon.

"No, you're not! Don't think such a terrible thing!" Bendy gently scolded.

He let out a deep sigh. Yep, he was never going to get used to it.

"Look..." Henry started, not exactly how he was going to go about this. "I know that it's safe and don't get me wrong, we're both very grateful to you, Boris." He said, giving the wolf's arm a small pat, "But we can't just start...living here."

"Why not?" Bendy bluntly asked with a tilt of his head.

"Because we just can't, Bendy." The older man replied rather curtly, though he instantly tried to make up for his harsh tone, "We have to get out, remember? Besides, the longer we stay here, the more chance that...thing might find us."  

Though he was actually pretty surprised that it hadn't already, guess the safehouse really lived up to it's name.

Bendy just looked down in silence while Boris seemed to be deep in thought. Henry could feel the small hint of worry at the back of his mind, he really hoped that at least one of them would agree with him.

Boris was the first to make up his mind as the toon suddenly turned around on his seat and leaned back to grab something. Both Henry and Bendy looked at him curiously as he pulled out a metal toolbox, before nudging it towards the human.

Henry blinked at it in surprise before looking back up to Boris, who silently gestured for him to open it. As he did so, the box revealed to have a large lever inside, the same one that...

"Is this for the door?" Henry asked, quite bewildered. Boris nodded enthusiastically with a fanged grin, to which the animator replied with a small smile of his own and a nod back.

"Thank you, Boris." The canine nodded again but quickly held up a gloved finger, indicating that he would be back in a moment.

As Boris got up and strolled out of the room and into the small hallway, Henry and Bendy were left alone for a few minutes.

He glanced down at the small demon, who had his head hung with a small frown, Henry could feel a swirl of fear and frustration run through him, making him feel just a tad bit guilty. They had both been through so much already, Bendy probably just didn’t want for them to go through such an ordeal again.

'Everything's going to be fine, bud. We'll make it.' He tried to mentally reassure.

Bendy simply looked up at the man with an unreadable expression, not saying a word back.

The silence was soon broken however, when the sound of footsteps echoed throughout the room, indicating that Boris had returned.

Henry sighed at the lack of communication from the demon and turned to talk to the canine toon instead, but stopped and raised a brow when he saw what he held in his muzzle.

"Is...is that a bone?"  

Boris nodded and chewed on the item, small dribbles of saliva dripped from his fangs as he did so, making Henry flinch slightly.

"Where did you even get it from- You know what, I don't think I want to know actually." He stated, deciding it was best just to drop the subject entirely. The wolf seemed to agree with a small shrug and continued to nibble on it, sending a tiny shiver up Henry's spine.

Well...at least it was a possible weapon if things got desperate.

Luckily though, the dog had also brought back Henry's clothes which had finally dried from their recent wash, for the first time since he arrived they actually looked pretty clean. With a quick change, he was ready to head out.

Picking up Bendy's paper, who at this point was sitting on the line with a sullen expression, and the lever, he made a move towards the door. He took a moment to glance up at the sign that read 'Exit' before taking a small breath, slotting the lever in place until a small click sounded out.

 Pushing the lever down actually proved to be a little more difficult than Henry would've liked to admit, as the small contraption was pretty stuck in place, but after a few attempts, the door finally swung open with a loud creak.

Henry swallowed a dry lump that had been lodged in his throat for quite some time, this was it, time to move back out into who knows where. A strong sense of fear overcame him when he took that first step out, he didn't even need to look down to know that it was Bendy, although to be fair he was feeling pretty nervous himself.  

Trying his best to keep the toon and himself as calm as possible, he walked out slowly and cautiously, making sure to get a good look at his surroundings. The corridor started with a few large vending machines, which at one point would have served hot and cold snacks, although he couldn't really recall anything like this being in the studio...

Huh. Maybe he just couldn't remember.

As he glanced around, a sudden presence loomed over him from behind, sending the hairs on the back of his neck bristle just a tad. It couldn't have...it couldn't have found them already. They had just left! Had it been waiting out here this entire time? Shit, maybe Bendy was right...they should have just stayed, they should have-

With a terrified grimace, he turned around to face the crooked demon with his arms up, bracing for whatever attack it was about to inflict.

Only to be instead be met with a confused Boris, who was still happily chewing on his bone.  

Henry blinked in surprise and slowly lowered his arms, a wave of relief washing over him, which was almost immediately replaced with the feeling of complete humiliation. Only two minutes out and he was already getting scared by nothing. Bendy's sniggering didn't help matters either.

'Can't believe you got scared by Boris.' The demon mentally and sarcastically joked.  

Henry simply glared down at the little devil, 'Don't think I didn't feel that little twinge of fear from you as well.' He retorted back through the bond, which immediately shut Bendy up as he glared back up at the human.

"Sorry Boris, didn't see you there." Henry apologized, before adding, "Now, are you absolutely sure you want to come with us? We don't know what's out there and... well we can't really guarantee your safety. We've had a few really close calls ourselves." He explained, wanting to make sure that the canine fully understood the danger he was about to put himself in.

Boris didn't exactly seem fazed though as he just nodded eagerly and tried his best to smile, even with the bone still in his jaws, which made for a pretty amusing sight. It took everything in Henry's willpower not to chuckle.

"Alright then, let's see what's out there. Don't wander off." Henry said with a smile, even though the wolf just strode ahead of them immediately after, making both human and demon give a small sigh. Thankfully though, the canine stopped soon after to observe something at the far end of the corridor.

As Henry caught up, he was curious as to what was intriguing Boris so much, and decided to have a look for himself.

Tucked away in the corner of the hallway was a large wooden box, big enough for a person to fit in. The few dapples of light that shone from the ceiling above revealed a small sign that hung above that read, 'Little Miracle Station', and a huge oval shape that looked as though it had been hastily painted on with black ink. Henry couldn't help but squint at the strange name, he...he had never seen this around the studio before either...

Running his hand over the rough, splintered wood, his curiosity got the better of him as he pulled open the door and decided to have a little look inside, only to find that it was completely bare.

"What is this thing even for?" Henry asked, hoping for some kind of answer from either Boris or Bendy. The wolf simply tilted his head while the demon shrugged.

"Beats me." Bendy simply answered. Henry rose a brow and stepped inside before closing the door. The space was incredibly cramped, he barely even managed to fit inside. A small open slit allowed him to peep out to his surroundings, though it made his line of sight very limited as all he could see was Boris curiously peeking back in.

"Hm." Henry hummed as he opened the door and stepped back out, "Maybe it's just a storage cabinet or something..."  

But still...why did that large oval shape look so familiar? He could've sworn he saw it on one of the posters...

The all too cheerful grinning face of a Bendy cut-out jarred him out of his thoughts however, as it stood just opposite of the miracle station, as if waiting for the next unsuspecting soul to blunder around the corner.

Henry gave it a little glare, while it simply stared back, it's haunting huge grin mocking him.

'C'mon...' A small voice echoed through his head, he looked down to the paper. "Best just to keep away from that thing, eh?" The toon suggested. Henry reluctantly agreed with a small nod.

"Yeah...you're...you're right, bud. Sorry." Snapping out of his strange trance, he moved on further down the corridor, leaving the cardboard cut-out behind.

Boris had already moved silently ahead and had stopped right outside another doorway, which seemed to lead only into a dark abyss, there was no way they were going to be able to move forward without some kind of light source.

"Looks like it's really dark up ahead." The older man muttered as he glanced around. "Let's find some light."

As soon as the words left his mouth, a gloved hand almost instantly held up a small boxed contraption with a large circle lens. It was...It was a flashlight. Henry blinked as Boris held it out again, gesturing for him to take it.

"Uh..." The human drawled out as he took the light. "How did you find this so quickly?"

The cartoon hound quietly pointed to the nearby table before giving Henry an expectant look, as if he was anticipating praise of some sort.

"Heh...good job, bud." The animator said with a smile, earning a beaming grin from the dog, looking very proud of himself.

'Still...a little too convenient if you ask me.'  Henry mentally noted before turning to the dark doorway, with a flick of the switch, the flashlight created a small wash of light through the shadow filled passage, although dimly. At least it was something.

"Henry..." Bendy spoke up, catching the man's attention. "There's still a chance y'know, we can just turn back now and return to the safehouse, we don't have to go in there, it's...it's too dangerous...please..." The demon pleaded with a timid tone, his expression matching it with a hint of nervousness.

"I...I got a really bad feelin' about this." He finished, earning a look of sympathy from Henry.

"Bendy...we discussed this." He replied with a soft voice. "The only thing we can do right now is press on."

'We'll be fine, I promise.' He added through the bond, making Bendy glance up at him for a mere moment, before looking back down the dimly lit hallway with nothing but worry written all over his face.

With the guide of the flashlight, they started to traverse through the darkness, the silence was quickly broken with the loud clanging of live machinery in operation, the fact that he couldn't really see much of what was going on made Henry feel extremely uneasy.  

The faint glow of the flashlight did manage to illuminate a few things though, like rusted cogs turning, ink splattered pumps compressing and processing the ebony liquid and lines of wooden shelves that held cans of bacon soup and large inkwells.

The space was also very compressed, allowing Henry to feel along the walls to find his way through. He could also feel something wet splashing on his face every few seconds and looking up to see what it was, he could feel his heart sinking.

'Ink...'

Suddenly being in the presence of the live dripping liquid really brought his old instincts and anxieties back now, it had been a while since he saw so much of it, splattering the walls, pooling along the floor...

'Just ignore it...' Henry tried to reassure himself. 'Ignore it and keep moving...'

'A little hard to do in a place like this.' Bendy's voice reminded him, but just as Henry was about to retort, a loud creak in the pipes above stopped everyone in their tracks.

All three of them stood there silently like deer that had been caught in headlights as the creaking echoed throughout the area, eventually getting quieter as it seemed to move on to somewhere else.

"…"

As soon as it had come, the source of the strange noise was gone, leaving only the sounds of the machinery to continue on.

"Did you hear that?" Henry asked as he turned to Boris, turning the light to the canine to see what his reaction would be. A small smile came across his face when the toon simply tilted his head to the side, his floppy ears pricking up ever so slightly

"Yeah. Me either." He finally concluded, a little concerned that he didn't really get much of an answer from Bendy.

As they continued on, Henry was starting to feel a slight frustration as he still had to feel his way around the place just to get an idea on where to go, this torch wasn't helping much at all. He could feel his anxiety slowly getting worse, though he actually couldn't really tell if it was his or Bendy's at this point, which was one of the cons of this...connection thing. It was hard to tell who was feeling what sometimes.

A loud splash swiftly attracted his attention, a small sigh escaped his lips as he realized that he must have stepped in some sort of ink puddle.

"Great. Fantastic. Just washed these trousers too..." The old man grumbled as he attempted to step out.

Only he couldn't, the ink appeared to be sticking to the bottom of his shoes, making it increasingly difficult to even move his legs.

"What the hell...?"

He tried again and again, until something eventually tugged back, hard. An almost silent moan came from beneath.

Henry's eyes widened as he quickly realized the dire situation he was suddenly in. Panic overcame his entire body as he kept trying to pull his feet out of the gloopy liquid, which was starting to curl it's way around his ankles, making it extremely difficult to maintain balance.

"Boris!" He called out as he tried to keep himself from falling over, "Boris, give me the bone!"

He reached out behind him to grab the makeshift weapon, but he only grasped at air.

"Boris...?!" The older man looked over his shoulder to see where the toon was, only to find himself staring into the dark, empty corridor.

"Shit...! Boris, please- Argh!" The ink pulled Henry's feet from underneath him, forcing him to slam onto his back, both the paper and flashlight slipping out of his grasp as he hit the floor.

He could barely hear Bendy's shouting as a deafening ringing filled his ears, his head felt like it was filled with air, needless to say there was a vague sense of deja vu about this.

As the flashlight clattered to the ground, the beam of light managed to illuminate what was attacking him, as expected it was one of the many ink monsters that made this studio their home, but it wasn’t like any he had ever seen before. It was absolutely huge, with a hunched, bulking back that was supported by two thick arms. If it wasn't for it's terrifying and monstrous face, it almost reminded him of...

'Bendy...Bendy, where are you?!' Henry mentally called out as he tried to look around for the paper.

The animator barely got a chance to though as a large, dripping hand latched itself onto his head and pinned him down completely, it's heavy body pooled over him to prevent him from moving even a single muscle.

 Henry grimaced as he was forced to look at the creature, it's emotionless, socket-like eyes stared back for a few seconds, before it opened it's huge, dripping maw, as if to consume the poor man.

It's mouth slowly stretched further and further open, it's breath was freezing cold and was rank with the strong stench of the black liquid that made up it's body, making it incredibly difficult to even get a breath of air. Henry soon felt something else tugging at him from just underneath his shoulders.

God, not another one.

The being from behind roughly pulled him out from underneath the Searcher, earning a confused snarl from it. Henry could only watch what the flashlight showed him, which was a flurry of ink flying everywhere as the two huge monsters battered against each other.  Ear-splitting roars drowned out the sounds of the machinery, one of which sounded incredibly familiar, Henry could feel his body wrack with relief.

The sounds of the creatures soon died down as a loud thump sounded out, followed by the splatter of something being thrown against the wall.  

"...Bendy...?" Henry called out to the black abyss, he could barely make out the shape of something coming his way. He tried again, through the bond, which seemed to be undisturbed.

'Bendy, are you alri-' His question was suddenly cut off as he felt a large hand wrap around him and swiftly lift him up, before the creature turned back around and made a beeline for the sanctuary, blowing through the dark hallway and into the light.

"Bendy! Bendy, just wait a minute...!" Henry tried once more to reason with the demon, only to be completely ignored. On the plus side they finally found Boris, who was cowering back at the Miracle Station with his hands covering his eyes. When did he...?

Without even stopping for a moment, Bendy hastily grabbed Boris before rushing to the door. The fact that said entrance was closed posed no problem for the large demon as he set both Henry and Boris to the floor before shattering the doorway down in a single punch.

Bendy quickly ushered the two inside before squeezing through the doorway himself, breathing a small sigh of relief when all three occupants were inside. Henry blinked in disbelief as he tried to process what the hell just happened. Bendy looked quite pleased with himself while Boris kept his eyes guiltily trained on the floor with his ears flat against his head

"Bendy..." Henry slowly started, still a little dazed and out of breath. "You saved me again, bud. He said with a grateful tone, "But...why did you bring us all the way back here?"

"Safe." Bendy simply replied in a distorted, garbled voice.

"...We've already been through this, pal." Henry softly said. "Yes, it's...dangerous out there..." He reluctantly agreed while unconsciously rubbing his now ink-covered arm, "But...we don't have any other options."

Wanting to drop the conversation completely, Henry started towards the doorway, "Now c'mon, I think we were close to-" He blinked as he was forced to stop due to Bendy moving himself in front of the exit so that his hulking body completely blocked it.

"Bendy...please, let's not do this." Henry almost pleaded, the demon shook his head.

"It's...safe here." He repeated, struggling ever so slightly to get the words out.

Boris silently watched nervously as the two of them stood off against each other.

"So...this is what you want? To live here forever, in fear?" The older man asked with a frown, earning a small flinch from Bendy, before his single eye solemnly wandered down to look at the ground.

"Because I think I'd rather not eat bacon soup for the rest of my damn life." Henry tried to joke to lighten the mood up, both Boris and Bendy smiled a little at the weak attempt at humour.

 "We've been through a lot, I know. Which is exactly why we need to leave. We shouldn't have to be doomed to sit in this room forever, wondering if or when something's going to kill us."  

"Boris." The canine in question perked up, still somewhat sheepish. "I don't blame you for running away but...well now you see why we have to be careful, alright?" The toon nodded his head in silent agreement.  

"I think we can all agree that we don't want to stay in this place, yeah?" Both toons glanced at each other, before reluctantly nodding again.  

"Then we just have to get back out there, work together, and get the hell out of this damn studio." Henry finally concluded, he wasn't exactly the greatest at speeches, but he hoped this at least would change their minds.

"I...lead..."  

Henry looked up at Bendy. "Huh?"

"I'll lead us...to the other side...until there's enough light." Bendy softly demanded.

"Alright, that's fair enough." The animator agreed, before turning to Boris, "You ok to- Wait, what happened to your bone?"  

Boris's ears drooped as the wolf shrugged his arms, indicating that he must have lost it when he bolted. Poor thing looked quite upset.

"Hey, it's ok. We'll uh...get you another one..." Henry couldn't help but squint at himself at his choice of words, but it seemed to cheer Boris up quite a bit.  

With a lot more caution than before, all three of them set out once again. Bendy quietly led the small group through the dark hallway, thankfully without a confrontation this time. Eventually they reached the end of the short area, as small dapples of light shone across a large metal door. Dusty cobwebs decorated the rusty steel shutters, signaling that they hadn't been used in quite a while.

Bendy, satisfied that they had made it into a more lighted area, quickly dissolved into a large puddle of ink, Henry wordlessly bent over to pick up the piece of paper that floated on top, and as he did, the doors behind them immediately slammed shut, making all three of them jump slightly.

"Well...another dead end. I don't see any other way through." Henry muttered, mostly to himself, "You got any ideas, Boris?"  

He only received silence as an answer.

"Boris?" He tried again, looking over to the cartoon pooch, who was intently gazing down at a nearby vent. "Well...that could work but...we don't have that flashlight anymore. I uh...kinda dropped it back there." He sheepishly admitted while rubbing the back of his neck.

Boris shook his head and gave Henry a quiet thumbs up and a fang filled grin before prying open the cover for the vent, proceeding to crawl through the cramped space.

After a few moments of tense silence, a loud clunking from the other side indicated that Boris had made it through. This was only confirmed when the doors slowly struggled to open with a shudder. Henry was grateful that they could finally make some progress, but was slightly concerned that there was no sign of the canine on the other side.

"Boris?" The older man called out, frowning when he received no answer.

"Maybe he's just ended up somewhere else. We should keep going so we can find him." Bendy calmly urged.

"Yeah...he's probably fine. Hopefully." Henry walked through the opening and towards a wall that was covered with a huge, splattered print of Bendy's head. It grinned maliciously at Henry as he got closer, before he finally reached it. Th corridor split into two paths, both seeming to lead into the same room.  

Not really wanting to debate it for too long, he decided to go left. He soon arrived to what could only be described as an enormous hall. Huge posters were plastered across the walls, several couches decorated with countless Bendy dolls were dotted about, while a few life sized plushies sat up lazily against the wall. Three barbed fences separated the large room, all lining up towards the same thing:

A towering pillar that held a massive, boldly lettered sign that oozed large blobs of ink.

'Heavenly Toys.'

Looks like they’re in it for the long haul now, wonder what horrors could await them...

Not gonna lie, I did feel a little rusty going back into this but hopefully I’ll improve with time, eh?

Let me know what y’all think!

Chapter 1 - Friend - https://nyrandrea.tumblr.com/post/160888670286/friend

Chapter 2 - Rest -https://nyrandrea.tumblr.com/post/160888769001/rest

Chapter 3 - Enemy - https://nyrandrea.tumblr.com/post/160963746341/enemy

Chapter 4 - Family - https://nyrandrea.tumblr.com/post/161237849016/family

Chapter 5 - Nightmare - https://nyrandrea.tumblr.com/post/161560167591/nightmare

Chapter 6 - Bond - https://nyrandrea.tumblr.com/post/161937236941/bond

Chapter 7 - Breakdown - https://nyrandrea.tumblr.com/post/162340494396/breakdown

Chapter 8 - Communication - https://nyrandrea.tumblr.com/post/162871280071/communication

Chapter 9 - Crimson - https://nyrandrea.tumblr.com/post/163606028971/crimson

Chapter 10 - Power - https://nyrandrea.tumblr.com/post/163998136526/power

[rambeautan]

Miss You Like Crazy

Something I wrote in 2016, and resurrected today for my readers at FF net and A03. A fellow follower pmed me asking if I'm still alive as there's no updates on any of my fanfictions. Well that's because I haven't time to write for weeks/months now. Since I went back to Uni I'm always on breaks from writing. Hope this will suffice moir readers until January 2018 at least.

Summary: SasfemNar. Sasuke's furthering his studies at University, leaving his bestie back in his hometown. Itachi questions his brother's relationship with his best friend and whether they were really, just best friends.

Sasuke folded his handkerchiefs and tucked them into the small spaces between his shirts and pants inside his luggage. He made a mental note to swipe another pair of Itachi's unused leather gloves, patting himself for saving another 3000 yen. He had so far swiped 3 shirts and 2 shorts from his brother, all unworn. His brother model and entrepreneur receives a lot of sponsorship clothings which Sasuke always took advantage of.

Initially he planned to swipe one of Itachi's unused designer jeans, however the fact that his brother was so much taller than him at 180 cm feet compared to his 172 cm deterred him from doing so. He didn't want to alter them himself. Plus his brother's jeans were mostly blue or some other colour variant compared to Sasuke's choice, that would always be and forever be, black jeans.

Over the summer Sasuke had grown about seven centimetres, and since he started following the older Uchiha to the gymnasium his body was more toned and he felt fitter. It was important for him to start a healthy lifestyle before he entered the life of a university student. Sasuke snickered when he realized that his best friend Naruto had only hit puberty a little later than him. He only realized it upon their reunion at New Year's eve. It was the first time he saw his bethorst friend after the summer break. It did not matter to him that they were essentially different physically anyway.

Sasuke spent enough years around Naruto to realize that the dobe's father, Mayor Namikaze Minato and Mrs Konoha 2012, Kushina Uzumaki made a very handsome couple. They were both tall and lanky. Still, Naruto at seventeen had not caught up to either of her parent's height. Naruto was only 168 cm, four cms shorter than him. She was disappointed that she was shortest amongst her peers.

Her peers. Naruto had always thought of herself as one of the boys. She was often teased by their classmate, Sai for that. The insensitive prick also teased her for looking as flat as a plane and was so often unjustly compared with Sakura, who was quite chesty and and Hinata who is, well endowed. Sasuke never needed any of Sai's teasing of his best friend, often dismissing Sai when Sai was being over the top. But Naruto, she sometimes ended trying to flatten the socially inept Sai's nosy nose. In fact any comment from Sai never failed to make the blonde's blood boil.

Naruto who was once an annoyance, but now his best friend forever. Sasuke smiled at how Naruto had wiggled into his life and cemented herself there as his ultimate shadow, silly and crazy Naruto. He glanced at a framed picture of him and Naruto at a school party. He checked out his height contrast as he stood beside the 6 cms shorter tomboy. He chuckled at the thought of him winning over a non existent height competition, between him and Naruto.

"I should give this to you before I forgot… again," Mikoto's voice interjected his son's thoughts. She peered into his room, only half her body showing behind a laundry basket she's holding.

Sasuke got up from the floor where he was packing his things and approached his mother. In the basket on top folded of clothes in the laundry basket were two gray rectangular boxes.

"One is for you and another is for Naruto. Keep it close ok as they've got your names engraved. There's plenty of refillable ink in there until you come home again," he took both boxes and kissed his mom on her temple. Mikoto smiled and then disappeared to her room.

Sasuke glanced at Itachi's room just opposite his room and saw that the door was still closed. He knew his brother had worked the late shift yesterday following his company's fourth outlet midnight sale so he realised that his brother would only be awake sometime around noon.

Sasuke sat back on the floor and opened the box and took out a black stylish pen adorned with silver accents. It had the name Sasuke Uchiha engraved on the body. Sasuke thought he would get his mother something too before he flew out for university tomorrow night. He peered at the other box which held an orange pen adorned with golden accents with his best friend's name engraved on it.

The Uchiha was a close-knit family, but not the kind to say thank you all the time or apologize to each other. They conveyed their thank yous by actions and gestures, and words were only used in very delicate situations. In the rare times that Sasuke used the words, Thank You and Sorry with his family, he freely used those words with Naruto. He did not know why he was more open with Naruto, but it was easier being expressive with his bestie than his family. Maybe because Naruto wore her heart on her sleeve which made things easier for Sasuke. She was the most honest and loyal friend he ever had, though she also had her annoying tendencies.

The house was quiet with Itachi still asleep, and his mom in her room. The Uchiha patriarch had gone to a golf tournament since early morning. Sasuke finding the quietness overwhelming especially with his anticipated travel, took his earphones and tuned to his favourite tunes. Music blasted into his ears as he sorted his remaining clothes to be brought to uni.

_____________________________________

Sasuke finally finished packing, so he zipped up his trolley bag and parked it next to his bed. Next to it was a stack of boxes. Each box labelled: for donation, the address to his campus and also to Naruto. He and Itachi had compiled their old but good clothes to give to Naruto to sell at the Flea market. Naruto liked opening up stalls for extra money, which she spent mostly on ramen and Sasuke.

Sasuke's was about to press skip for the next song in his music playing app when a call came in. He saw the ID and immediately answered.

"Teme," the husky voice blared from his earphones. Sasuke had accepted the call, even before the ring tone had begun. He smirked when he realized how Naruto's voice made his heart all tingly.

"Dobe." Sasuke smiled at his teasing nickname which belonged to their early friendship days.

"You free this evening? Dad wants to give you a studying gift and he wants to meet before you depart…"

"...Ok. What time? I have something for you too, from Mom."

"Be here after lunch."

"Ok."

Sasuke plucked his earphones out and stuffed it into his backpack. He grabbed his towel and headed to the shower as he got a meeting to go to.

After showering at the shared bathroom at the end of the hall, he peered into his brother's opened room door. The elder guy's bed was unmade but his brother was nowhere, so he headed back to his room. He entered and saw that Itachi was picking his face using Sasuke's full length mirror. His brother had always been a bit vain, a kind hearted but certainly vain man.

"How's the preparation going? Do you need to run to the mall for anything, or has raiding my room solved your packing pribles.?" Itachi asked knowingly.

"85 percent solved but I need jeans. Black ones."

Itachi glanced at Sasuke's reflection as the younger sibling started dressing up for lunch. Sasuke wore an indigo shirt paired with dark jeans.

Itachi already knew who his brother was meeting, but he still asked. "Meeting Naruto?"

Sasuke nodded while picking socks from his drawer to match his white sneakers.

"Minato wants to meet me before I depart."

"How's the bestie reacting to you moving away?" Itachi asked as he sat on his brother's bed. Itachi had always known that the two best friends would be separated. He was just curious about how Sasuke was handling it.

Sasuke side eyed his brother. It's a regular question which he cared to answer though it was something Itachi should've known about. "We'll keep in touch. There's a tonne of apps for that."

"What would happen if you found a girlfriend at campus?"

Sasuke paused in his movements, he was raking his hair on the back of his head trying to enhance the spiky locks making it look more gravity challenged. He had his hand hovering in his hair. Noticing that he was almost done with his hair grooming and that he needed to respond to Itachi he dropped his hand for awhile before decided to just ignore the unspoken question in Itachi's words. Not that he needed to confirm with his brother about us love life.

"That's not my main focus being in university," Sasuke answered as he continued to rake his hair upward after the awkward pause. He hated when Itachi was being in a happy relationship, because Itachi was suddenly all sage like in the matters of love. Sasuke could understand the unspoken question about his and Naruto's status as best friends, their close friends wanted them to be more than best friends Sasuke suspected. The problem was that there was no way that the dobe would feel for something like that for him. Naruto was never inclined to like him romantically, Sasuke thought.

"I've got to go. Bring me to the mall tomorrow so I can max out your credit card on things I need." He said as he picked on his white sneakers and exited his room, while also changing the subject.

Itachi laughed and laid back on his brother's bed. He rummaged for his brother's diary which was placed under the mattress and began reading on the boy's daily rants about life, aspirations and anecdotes. Sasuke knew about his brother's intrusive habit, but he didn't care. Itachi wasn't one too share his daily ramblings about how raising his brother's wardrobe was better than shopping on his own anyday.

Sasuke smirked as he saw from the corner of his eye, that Itachi did not bother to leave his room even without him being there. He had ranted enough in the diary about his brother to rile his brother a bit, and also an appreciation note for his only sibling. It was his way of making his brother know about his unspoken feelings.

As he swiped his mom's car keys and wallet. He thought about his unspoken feelings for his best friend. Words that he was not brave enough to confess, and not even write about. He may have written about hints of his fondness towards Naruto for Itachi to read, which eased his thoughts a bit. Something which sat uncomfortably in the pit of his stomach, which made his heart bloom but his mind in turmoil. His mixed feelings about what he wanted from Naruto, maybe not now, but maybe in the future.

[buckyscrystalqueen]

Taking The Shot: Part 6

Pairings: Negan x Reader

Warnings: Swearing, angst, smut, fluff, typical Walking Dead stuff, murder

Word Count: 7,412

Part 1 / Part 2 / Part 3 / Part 4 / Part 5

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

There are certain things in life that every girl remembers; her first crush, first kiss… her first time. You were 100% positive you were going to remember this for the rest of your life. You sat on the ground and leaned back against the tire of the truck, staring at the ground as you obsessed about the fact that you were a week late. It almost seemed absurd to you; the idea of being pregnant in the new world. You couldn’t help but be worried. Pregnancy in and of itself can be intimidating but the idea of having a child in the apocalypse? And not just any child but the child of the most hated man in literally the entire world…

“Fucking look at me when I’m fucking talking to you!” Negan shouted from right next to you as he grabbed your chin and turned your head toward him roughly. “The fuck is the matter with you?”

“I…” your eyes quickly danced around his face then to the faces of the crew staring at you. You yanked your head out of Negan’s grasp and leaned forward, knowing that putting this off would only make matters worse. “I’m late.” The two of you moved away from each other with emotionless expressions for a moment before he moved and stood up.

“Dwight, put Daryl back in his fuckin’ box. He’s fucking staying with us for another Goddamn day; I don’t fucking think I made my fucking point clear enough for that cock sucker these past couple fuckin’ weeks.” He reached down and pulled you to your feet. “Simon, fucking load ‘em up and go fucking surprise the Hilltop a fucking day early. They should have their fucking shit together.” He gestured for you to follow him as the crew scrambled to get into the trucks to leave, not wanting a repeat of a few weeks ago. Neither of you said a word until you made it into the gun shed and you were pressed up against the door before it was even completely closed.

“I didn’t realize it until this morning.” You said, knowing his question before he even asked it.

“Did you want this?” He asked, his eyes searching yours; the two of you had never had the kid talk before.

“I mean. I knew as a kid I wanted to be a mom but when I joined the Navy the idea was kinda postponed. Then shit went down and having kids isn’t really on the list of shit you fucking think about...”

“Baby girl, do- you- fucking- want- this?” he asked, his face still emotionless yet his eyes fearful and pleading. You nodded and placed your hand on his cheek.

“Yea, baby. I would only want this with you.” His whole demeanor shifted in the blink of an eye, his body relaxing as a small smile spread across his face. He set Lucille on the nearest table and wrapped you in a hug. “I love you.” You whispered as your hand went up to thread through his hair; pulling him as close to you as physically possible. You felt a single tear fall onto your shoulder and he nodded.

“I love you too, princess.” He pulled away with a nod and took a deep breath. 

“Alright, let’s go fucking find out for- fucking- sure. Then we got a lot of fucking ground to cover quickly.” He started grabbing a couple guns, handing them to you and you smiled and huffed a laugh.

“Hand of God, Negan if this is legit and our kids first word is ‘fuck’, I will fucking kill you.” He laughed and shook his head as he shoved a couple boxes of ammo into a bag.

“That a fucking dare or a fucking double dare.” He inquired and you pushed his shoulder as the two of you headed out of the shed.

“It’s a mother fucking promise.”

“Oh yea? And what fucking makes you think you could fucking kill me?” He asked as you crossed the yard to the truck and you looked at him with a cocked eyebrow as he opened the door.

“My fucking laser on your chest fucking twice without you seeing that shit coming.” You leaned up and kissed him quickly before grabbing the bag he carried and climbing into the truck.

“Well, now I’ll fucking see it coming.” You giggled as he shut the door. The two of you drove to a drug store that was about 10 minutes away from the Sanctuary and pulled up right in front of the door. You took your rifle off your shoulder and exchanged it for a second hand gun as Negan threw one of his own in the back of his jeans. The two of you paused for a moment and looked at each other, with hesitant smiles as you prepared for what was to come. 

“Ready?” You tilted your head to the side with a slight shrug.

“Ready as I’ll ever be.” With a nod, the two of you got out of the truck in the empty parking lot and headed for the glassless front door. “Boy or girl?” you asked quietly as he stepped through the doorway in front of you, hitting Lucille against the metal bar that was right inside the entrance.

“Girl; I always fucking wanted a little daddy’s girl.” When he deemed the coast clear the two of you went down the rows looking for the family planning section. 

“You?” he asked as he stopped in front of the shelves of pregnancy tests, pausing momentarily to look at the various boxes. You laughed as you reached in front of him and grabbed one at random.

“They are all the same, love. I used to want a girl but I think a little boy would be fun.” You pointed at the restroom sign and with his nod of approval you headed over toward it. “As long as it comes out with ten fingers and ten toes I don’t really care.” You were about to push the door open when Negan grabbed your arm and pulled you back, walking in first. “Oh good Lord, I may be pregnant Negan, not incapable of protecting myself.”

“Fuck off.” He said as he opened the door, letting you in when he saw the stall-less room was empty. “That’s my fucking right.” You rolled your eyes as you walked around him, turning on the sink knowing full well that he was going to stand right where he was.

“At least turn around, you’re making me fucking nervous already.” With a huff, he turned his back to you.

“It’s not like I haven’t fucking seen you fucking naked before.” He claimed and you shook your head.

“Not the fucking point. It’s still awkward as shit to pee in front of your husband.” Negan turned around to look at you with a smile on his face. “Negan, turn around!” He laughed and looked away as you set the test on the sink and finished up.

“You’ve never fucking called me your husband before.” You shrugged as you walked over and washed your hands.

“Well you are, aren’t you?” You asked as you flicked water in his face and leaned against the door frame to look at his profile.

“I mean, yea I fuckin guess.” You giggled and reached over and pat his cheek.

“It’s ok baby. I won’t do it again.” You went to pull your hand away but he grabbed it, held it to his cheek  and looked at you with a nod.

“It’s ok.” His eyes searched yours and he smiled before letting you go and pointing to the pregnancy test on the counter. “What…?”

“We wait 2 minutes.” He nodded and looked back out toward the empty drug store and you could see the nervous fear in his eyes. This was a dream he had always had and you knew he was trying not to get his hopes up too high. You sat silently for what seemed like years before you finally deemed it had been two minutes. With a sigh, you grabbed the test off the counter with a paper towel, wiped it off and handed it to him. “You look.” He held it in his fist for a moment, looking at you as you leaned back against the door frame. You watched him subconsciously suck in a breath as he looked down and you laughed as his brow furrowed slightly.

“What the fuck is three lines?” you asked as he tilted it toward you.

“It means you’re a dad, idiot.” You pointed at the test. “Control window so you know you fuckin did it right. Test part. Two lines in the test part means I’m pregnant.” A smile crossed his face as he looked back down at the test for a second before looking back at you.

“So I’m gunna be a fucking dad?” You nodded and he pulled you toward him for a kiss as his eyes filled up with tears. He pulled away nearly as quickly to look at the test again. “Holy fucking fuckity fuck.” You giggled at his excitement, laying your head against the tile to watch him look back and forth between you and the test in shock and disbelief. After a moment he stood up straight and nodded. “Alright. Let’s get fucking started. I want to fucking clear out every fucking store we can of baby shit.” You nodded as you pushed off the wall. You grabbed the stick out of his hand when he tried to put it in his pocket and tossed it in the trash.

“Ew, that’s gross, I peed on that. Wash your hands. You’ll have plenty of proof that I’m pregnant in a few months.” He grumbled at you as he held the door open with his foot for the light to wash his hands while you picked your guns up off the floor. You walked over and gave him a kiss on the cheek before he flicked water at you and you picked up Lucille as he dried his hands on his pants. The two of you made quick work of emptying the half bare shelves of everything the store had and on your way out the door, you grabbed a phone book and a map from behind the cash wrap.

“Careful with the glass jars, baby.” You scolded as he set the bags of stuff in the back of the truck a little too roughly for your liking. “That shit will be like fucking gold to us.”

“Don’t fucking tell me what to fucking do.” He barked as he grabbed the cart of diapers, tossing them into the back with a smug look on his face. “I’ll fucking throw shit if I fucking want to.” You rolled your eyes as you put the rest of the bags in the back.

“Now look who’s a pain in the fucking ass.” You grabbed the phone book and map out of the top of the cart and looked around the still empty parking lot before heading up to the front seat. You flipped through the thin pages, leaving light traces of black ink on your skin to find any baby stores around you. “There is a Baby’s-R-Us off the 7 about an hour from here.” You said as Negan got in the truck next to you. “Start there and work out way back?” He didn’t respond right away and you looked over at him. “Hey!” You shook him out of his daze and he looked over at you with a goofy smile on his face.

“Sweetheart… I… fuck.” You smiled as you scooted across the front of the seat in front of Lucille and rested your hand on his cheek.

“I know baby.” He rested his forehead against yours for a moment and sighed.

“I love you so fucking much right now baby girl.” you smiled and ran your thumb across the stubble on his cheek.

“I love you too, daddy.” His smile got impossibly bigger as he gave you a chaste kiss before he pulled back and started the truck.

“Alright, where the fuck are we fucking going mama?” He asked as he put the truck in gear with a glance over to you and you laughed and pointed in the direction of where you were headed next.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

“(Y/N), eat the fucking apple!” you growled as you ripped the apple off the bedside table while you were trying to get ready.

“Negan, it is fucking 7 in the Goddamn morning. Quit fucking yelling at me.” You bit the apple between your teeth and pulled on your boot, your grumbling muffled by the piece of red fruit in your mouth.

“Baby, you need…” You growled as you pulled the apple from your lips and glared at him as you chewed your bite.

“I WILL fucking shoot you.” You said behind your mouth full as you pointed at him. “Do not fucking think you can fucking micromanage me through this.” You bit the apple in between your teeth again as you pulled on your other boot.

“I swear to fuck…” He started and you pulled the apple out of your mouth and snapped at him, calling him over to you with your finger as you quickly chewed and swallowed.

“Listen to me. I am not the first woman in the world to have a baby. I may be the first one to have a baby in the apocalypse but that doesn’t mean you have to treat me like a fucking china doll. Uht!” you said, shoving your apple into his mouth and holding it there when he tried to interrupt you. “Now, I know you’re all excited and worried and concerned with our safety and well-being. I completely understand but if you come in here and try to make me eat three meals a day and tell me to do this or don’t do that, the only thing you’re gunna do is stress yourself out, make you lose focus and piss me off.” You pulled the apple away to give him a chance to talk and you took another bite as you tied your boots.

“I’m fucking allowed to be fucking concerned.” You nodded as you took your bite and looked at him.

“Yea, you are baby but you have an empire to run as well. I can take care of myself. Fuck, I did it by myself for almost two years. And now I have an entire fucking crew looking out for me.”

“The fucking crew are all Goddamn fucking morons.” You nodded as you stood up from the bed and grabbed your rifle.

“Yea they are but they are loyal and afraid of you. You instill the fear of God into them and they literally bow down before you.” You kissed him on the cheek and took another bite of your apple as you walked out towards the door to the yard. 

“Ain’t even been 24 hours.” You mumbled while you walked down the stairs with Negan right behind you and you could hear him grumbling to himself. You stopped at the bottom and spun around as you took the last bite of your apple and spoke softly.

“Look baby, I know you are concerned. I’m not trying to knock that. So I will make you a deal. You let me do me, treat me the same way you have been treating me for the past 3 months since I got here and when I get half way through the pregnancy and start to show, I’ll start letting you micromanage.”

“Yea but what if so…”

“Then something happens.” You stated, cutting him off. “Do you remember what I said the first day I went on a run with you? Fear is second nature- you can’t stop yourself from being afraid. You can; however, control how you respond to that fear.” You put your finger pointedly into his chest and pushed gently. “You are letting your fear take over right now. Fear of losing me, fear of losing our child and three of us as a family and the entire Sanctuary can’t afford for you to do that.” You pointed over your shoulder to the woods in general.

“We have a fuck ton of sharks out there, some dead but others very much alive who would literally kill to see you go down. They are hungry for it. And if you keep worrying about me and me alone and not the empire you have fought for for two years then we all lose everything. At that point, if you fall, I fall too and it will be out of your hands completely on what happens to me or our child or anyone else. So don’t focus solely on protecting me. Focus on protecting our life for our family.” He sighed and rolled his eyes.

“Fucking… ugh… fine. You fucking win but I’m moving you to my room tonight.” You smiled, hoping that he had really heard what you were saying and considering this a small victory in the bigger picture.

“Fine. I’m sure the other wives will just LOVE that.” He stepped off the stairs and walked around you with a shrug.

“Fuck them. Dwight! Go fucking get that cock sucker. Let’s go wake the fucking neighbors. Load up! Simon, Arat, over here.” You groaned, knowing exactly what he was doing and you walked over to be a part of that little powwow. As the four of you gathered by the truck you rolled your eyes as you opened the door and sat down on the passenger seat.

“Arat, you are being fucking reassigned on a no one needs to fucking know job. (Y/N) is fucking pregnant. Since I fucking need her, your new fucking job is to keep fucking eyes out for her. She’s on the fucking truck; you’re on the fucking truck. Consider yourself a fucking honorary sniper for right fucking now. (Y/N), when you’re not out on fucking runs, you’re at the fucking gun range fucking teaching her what you fucking know so I have the fucking coverage when you fucking start to stay behind. Simon, you keep your fucking men in line. I don’t fucking want them fucking hearing about this fucking shit just yet but I don’t want a Goddamn fucking repeat of a fucking month ago. Clear?” Both of them nodded and headed to the trucks and you looked over at Negan slightly annoyed.

“Really?” You asked in a monotone voice.

“Now I don’t have to fucking worry. Get in the fucking truck.” You rolled your eyes and swung your legs in as he closed your door.

“Swear to fuck you’re gunna fucking drive me crazy.” You said loudly as you watched him walk around the front of the truck.

“I fucking heard that, mama.” He said as he got in the truck.

“I meant you to.”

“It’s a fucking fair compromise and you fucking know it.” He said as he started the truck and headed toward the front gate.

“I’m not saying it’s not, babe. Arat’s not gunna be to fucking happy with it.” You said as you put your feet up on the dash.

“Arat’s the fucking best I got after fucking Simon and I can’t fucking afford to fucking put him on baby watch.” You looked over at him and rolled your eyes.

“You’re fucking impossible.”

“Yea well get fucking used to it, baby girl.” The two of you rode in silence for a minute before he reached over and moved Lucille to the floor and pat the seat next to him. You lay down across the seat on his thigh and he put his hand on your lower stomach.

“This is how we got a baby in the first place.” Negan glanced down at you and smiled while he pulled your shirt up slightly and put his hand on your now bare stomach.

“And I’ll fucking remember that shit for the rest of my Goddamn life.” You hummed in agreement with a smile and rolled your head toward his hip, closing your eyes while he let his fingertips drag lazy circles across your skin. “You happy princess?” you tilted your head slightly and looked up with an arched eyebrow.

“Yea, baby. Why wouldn’t I be?” He shrugged.

“I just fucking wanted to make sure. Didn’t fucking exactly give you a fucking choice to fucking live with me.” You giggled and reached your hand up and laid it gently on his cheek.

“You may not have but I did have the fucking choice to fall in love with you.” He chuckled as he turned and kissed your palm with a smile. “Are you happy?” You asked. He smiled and nodded against your hand.

“I haven’t been this fucking happy in a long, long fucking time sweetheart.” You hummed once more and pat his cheek. You let your arm fall next to you to trail your fingers up and down his arm and you closed your eyes once more. The rest of the drive went by quickly and before you knew it, you were pulling up to the road to Alexandria. “Be fucking careful.” Negan said as he let you out and you smiled with a slight shake of your head.

“You’re gunna go more grey you keep worrying so damn much.” You teased.

“Dick move, baby girl.” He called out as you shut the door to head back to the box truck and you giggled to yourself as Simon opened the door to the second box truck.

“Tell Arat to wait until we get into the gate to come up.” You told Simon as the truck slowed and he helped you up. He agreed as you climbed up to your spot, grabbed your rope and settled in.

You were a little extra leery coming to Alexandria since they realized Negan had a sniper because despite having taken all of their guns there was still no guarantee that they had not found more. You knew you and Negan had killed anyone that could have had military back ground so anyone that posed as a threat would be a lot easier to find. As the truck came to a stop you scanned the tree line on your left to look for anyone that could be dangerous. A quick flash of light on your right caught your attention from the corner of your eye and you turned your whole body on the truck toward it milliseconds before the shot rang out. You heard it pierce through the side of the metal truck nowhere near you.

“I’m good!” You called as you aimed a little to the man’s right to account for the wind and fired back, hitting the man behind the rifle in the shoulder. The man dropped the gun and it clattered down the roof. “First street, five houses in on the roof.” You saw Arat jump over you as the metal gate was slid open. “Keep eyes behind me. You see a flash of light or a gun you fucking tell me. Stay low and look about eye level.” Your heart pounded as you searched the rest of the houses and the far tree line obsessively and when the truck started moving you sat up and dropped to the hood of the cab, using the metal wall and the front of the box truck as coverage for your back and side.

“You good?” Arat asked as she crouched down next to you, holding the rope to keep her balance.

“Fucker wasn’t even close. Hit the side of the truck.” You looked up at her and shook your head. “Fucking amateurs trying to do a fucking professionals job.”

“You get hit, sweetheart?” Negan asked his rage obvious in his tone and you shook your head.

“Hit the side of the truck, I’m good.” With a nod, he gestured to Arat to keep eyes on you as the Saviors dragged the man over toward the trucks. As he got closer, you realized he was just a young boy, around Carl’s age and you shook your head. “No wonder he couldn’t fucking aim for shit.” You said to your friend as the saviors began rounding up the people in the community.

You kept your eyes moving as you tried to slow your heart rate down, your rifle still tucked tight against your shoulder. It took a few minutes to get the all clear from Simon that all of the houses had been cleared before you could finally relax. You laid your rifle down on the top of the truck with a sigh and scooted toward the edge to see where the truck got hit. The bullet hole was a good six inches from the top and it would have hit your knee if it had made it.

“First lesson.” You whispered to Arat as Negan began to roar at the people below. She scooted over to the edge as you pointed at the bullet hole. “When you are shooting distance in this kind of situation there is one main thing you need to pay close attention to; the wind. Kid probably aimed for my body but the wind caught it. It will always have an impact on the trajectory. We’ll get to that though.” She nodded and the two of you scooted back slightly to watch Negan tear into Rick’s petrified group.

“Now, I fucking came here to fucking show you mother fucking cock suckers what the fuck happens when you fucking FUCK with my fucking WIFE and fucking kill my Goddamn men- AGAIN! Daryl here fucking thought it was a good fucking idea to fucking kill fat Joey and then fucking kidnap (Y/N), and then we have this fucking dick who fucking SHOOTS A FUCKING GUN AT HER!” He jabbed the end of the bat into the kids chest and the boy yelped as the barbed wire punctured his skin. “That fucking shit will not be fucking overlooked!” As he raised the bat over his head you smiled.

“Doesn’t count unless it pops!” You called out. His arms twitched slightly and he turned and looked at you.

“Good fucking point, baby girl!” He took a step to the side of the boy, who was now sobbing, and raised the bat over his shoulder. He looked up at you for a moment to wink before he swung through the boys head, making him collapse to the pavement. “Get him the fuck up!” Negan called out over a red-headed woman screaming the boy’s name- Jake. As two of the Saviors pulled the boy’s body up right and sat him on his knees once more, you tilted your head to the side as Negan squatted down next to him. The eye had popped nearly all the way out of his skull, partially hanging down his obliterated cheek in a river of blood and Negan looked up at you with an eyebrow cocked.

“Yea, I’ll fucking allow it.” You called out, answering his unasked question and he smiled. “Try two for two?” you called out and pointed toward the intact eye as Negan stood up and he chuckled.

“Princess, you’re fucking almost as fucked up as me.” He took a step back behind the boy and lined up to swing again, still looking at you to wait for your retort.

“Desensitization is kinda what you fucking get when you marry into the fucking family, babe.”

“You two are sick!” The woman who was crying over her son said.

“Hey! Unless you wanna fucking die today, I would shut your fucking whore mouth! He may not fucking hit women but I sure as fuck will. Say one more fucking word, bitch. Go ahead, I DARE you.” Negan whistled as you glared at the woman and you could see Rick biting his tongue to not say anything to her.

“Fucking cold as ice!” Negan said with a laugh as he swung the bat around and slammed it into the other side of the boys head. He didn’t even bother to see if the eye had popped before he began his torrent of blows to the caved in skull while the group of Alexandrians sobbed as silently as they could. When Negan was satisfied roughly 20 blows later he motioned to his men to take the boy away. “Toss him out the fucking gate.”

“No, please. Don’t do this… Stop, you asshole!” The woman screamed as the guys picked up his body to throw him out of the fence. She pleaded desperately as you and Negan exchanged a look. He raised an eyebrow at you and you shrugged.

“Hold this.” You said to Arat as you pushed your rifle to her. You gestured to Negan to help you down and he chuckled.

“What a fucking treat! Fucking batter up!” You heard the woman scream as Negan walked over to you and leaned Lucille against the tire so he could catch you.

“I don’t understand what’s so fucking hard about shut the fuck up.” You said to him as he set you down on the pavement. “Ain’t that fucking hard.”

“Fucking women…” Negan joked as he handed you the bat.

“Watch it or you can sleep on the fucking couch tonight.” You said loud enough for only him to hear and he laughed as you walked over to the sobbing woman that had been brought to where her son had been moments before. You hiked up the legs of your jeans and squatted down in front of her with Lucille between your legs.

“Now, do you fucking regret opening your mouth?” You watched her raise her head to glare at you and you moved your hand in front of your smiling face just as she spit. “Yea, that was fucking smart, cunt.” You said as you pulled back and punched her in the face. You wiped her saliva off your palm on her shirt, stood up and moved to the side. “You really should have fucking looked out for me prick.” You said as you looked directly into Rick’s tear filled eyes. You took a step back and stood with your feet shoulder width apart. You pulled Lucille over your shoulder with a half mouth smirk.

“Any last words, bitch?” You asked and without waiting for an answer, you swung. You could feel her skull crack through the bat as you followed through, sending her face first into the pavement. “Didn’t fucking think so… Get her up!” You shouted to no one in particular as Negan slowly clapped his hands.

“Fucking im-pres-sive!” He said as you walked around to look at the woman. Negan stood next to you as the two of you looked at the woman’s bulging eye that was somehow still moving despite being almost all the way out of the socket. You heard someone throw up behind you. “I’ll fucking give it to ya.” He said as he pointed to the eye. “Fucking looks like the fucking China man’s.” You heard Rick sob as Negan stepped back and you got into position to swing again. As the bat connected to her head once more, her body lurched forward, and you began to comprehend why Negan loved this so much.

You walked around to the front, raised Lucille over your head and slammed it into the caved in skull. You couldn’t help yourself but laugh manically as you stood back up and repeated the action a few more times, taking out all the anger and hatred you felt for the group who left you behind to die. When you were completely satisfied you stood up and walked over to Rick, crouched at his side and grabbed his chin to make him look at you.

“You did this.” You said as you pointed at the woman with Lucille. “By fucking leaving me behind, you turned me into this monster and you fucking killed that woman. You fucking remember that you piece of shit.” You shoved his face away from you, stood up and walked over to Negan. “All yours baby. Thank you for that fucking awesome experience.” He grabbed Lucille with one hand, pulled your hips into his with the other. You could feel his rock hard length pressing into your lower stomach as leaned down to whisper in your ear.

“If you weren’t fucking pregnant already, you fucking would be after tonight with how fucking hard I plan on fucking you after that shit.” You reached between the two of you and grabbed his hardness for a second while you replied.

“I don’t plan on fucking waiting until tonight. Get shit done baby.” He groaned low as his head fell to your shoulder for only a moment before you both stepped away from each other. “Dwight, fucking bring over the main fucking attraction.” You climbed back onto the roof of the truck and sat down with a huff.

“Well damn, girl.” Arat said as you spun your shirt around on your body and used a clean part of it to wipe your face. “That was fucking hot!” You laughed as you turned your shirt back around and pulled your rifle back towards you.

“Hell of a lot of fun too.” You said. “I can see why he loves that fucking bat so much.” You watched as the men carried the woman you killed over to the fence, tossing her out like garbage on top of her son outside of the gate as Dwight, with the help of two other Saviors brought Daryl kicking and screaming behind a gag to the middle of the circle. You picked up your rifle, flipped the scope down and pointed it cautiously toward the combative man. Dwight grabbed the two lengths of rope that were still tied to Daryl’s wrists and ankles and pulled them tight, scooting back into the spot that the woman had been kneeling in moments before to keep Daryl in place.

“I want this fucking shit to make it mother fucking crystal clear that if you fucking lay a Goddamn finger on my fucking wife or my fucking men, I will fucking find you and I will fucking end you.” Negan didn’t waste any time as he hauled back and drove the bat down on top of Daryl’s head repeatedly, his blows backed by all of the emotions he felt the night you were kidnapped. You watched his muscles relax slightly as his hate, rage and fear oozed from him like the blood that pooled on the pavement. When he heard Lucille connect with the black top he stopped, stood up straight and looked for you.

“We’re ok.” You mouthed, almost reading his mind as he nodded, his eyes falling back onto the body on the ground at his feet. He spit on Daryl’s lifeless body before he walked away and gestured you down. You shouldered your rifle and climbed down from the truck and Negan pinned you up against the door as his mouth devoured yours hungrily. After a minute or two, he forced himself away to look at Rick.

“Say Rick, I’m gunna use your fucking shower. Don’t fucking want my beautiful wife having to fucking drive home like this.” He handed you Lucille, grabbed your thighs, lifted you off the ground and carried you toward a house on the next block.

“Scale of 1 to 10 how bad do you want to be buried in my tight pussy baby?” You asked as you nipped at his ear. He growled as his grip tightened on your thighs.

“Fuck sweetheart I would fuck you fucking senseless right on this mother fucking porch if I knew not a single fucking person was fucking looking at what fucking belongs to me.” He threw the door to the house open, kicked it closed and headed upstairs. “Fucking watching you fucking handle shit with fucking Lucille though… Fuck it got me so fucking hard.” He kicked open a door, finding the bathroom on the first try and he dropped you as you put Lucille and your rifle on the counter. You started ripping at each other’s clothing before the door had even closed all the way desperately needing the other.

“Don’t tease. Just fuck me.” You said as you turned the water on, both of you getting before it even got warm and he instantly pinned you against the wall as his mouth devoured yours. You wrapped your arms around his neck, thread your fingers in his hair and he picked you up once more and lowered you down onto his rock hard length until he bottomed out. “Fuck! Negan, I fucking love you filling me up like that.” You growled, not caring in the least who heard you as he began a bruising pace.

“God, baby the fucking shit you fucking do to me.” You tucked your head to his shoulder and ran your tongue across his throat, collecting the salty beads of sweat that collected there. As he growled, you kissed your way up the side of his neck to run the tip of your tongue over the shell of his ear.

“Do you liked watching me with Lucille, baby?” you asked, your voice low and breathy as you pulled at his hair. He moaned and you felt him twitch inside of you as he gripped your thighs tighter, his nails digging into your skin. “I know I had fucking fun… God fuck! S-swinging her around… Fuck Negan it… Fuck baby just like that… it was a fucking power trip.” He groaned as he tossed his head back, the sound echoing in the small bathroom.

“Turn around.” He growled as he pulled out and set you on the floor. He grabbed your hips and spun you against the wall. You stuck your ass out and your wet core rubbed against his cock as he gripped your hips tight and slammed back into you, pulling a scream of pleasure from your throat.

“Fuck Negan yes baby!” You screamed while you moved one hand between your face and the wall. He wrapped one arm around your waist, grabbed ahold of your hair, twisted it around his fist, and he pulled a loud moan from you as he tugged at the strands to pull your head away from the unforgiving tile.

“Fuck you take my fucking cock so fucking well baby girl.” You dropped your hand between your legs and swirled your fingers around your clit as your legs began to tremble with your impending orgasm. “That’s it Princess, cum all over my fucking dick baby.” Your whole body tensed; your walls squeezing around him as your orgasm crashed into you.

“Fuck Negan!” You shrieked as you fell forward slightly, giving him just a little more room to slam into you with faltering thrusts and the slight depth change and your fluttering walls pulled him over the edge with you as he grunted your name with each thrust. As the two of you rode down your high, Negan let go of your hair, put his hand on your breasts and pulled you back toward his chest.

“Jesus fuck, (Y/N).” He panted as your head fell back to his shoulder and you nodded in agreement. As you caught your breath, he moved the shower head towards your bodies a little more and grabbed a bottle of body wash from the caddy that stood in the corner. With slow and steady movements, he washed the blood from your body wordlessly as he softened and fell out of you.

“I kinda like this shower.” You said as you turned and faced him while holding out your hands for some body wash. “The acoustics are nice.” He chuckled and leaned down to kiss you while your hands worked the soapy lather across his skin. You took your time, enjoying the moment, each other and the hot water not caring about anything but the two of you. When the blood was all washed away you both sighed simultaneously.

“Time to go, baby girl.” You moaned in slight protest as he shut off the water and you grabbed the two towels from the rack and handed him one.

“I think I’m gunna go raid the closet for clean clothes.” You said as you kicked your blood covered shirt out of your way.

“A new fucking shirt would be fucking awesome.” Negan said as he toweled off his hair. You stopped for a moment to appreciate his wet body; something you could never get tired of when there was a knock at the door. “…the fuck?” Negan called out.

“It’s just me.” Simon called out through the door. “I had the prick get you two clean shit.” You opened the door just a tiny bit and smiled.

“You’re a smart man, Simon.” You said as you took the stack from him. He nodded and turned away from the door and you put the clothes on the far side of the counter away from bloody Lucille. The two of you got dressed quickly and you grabbed the old jeans and the underwear from the tile floor while Negan used his towel to wipe the blood off his jacket. “You’re such a class act.” You teased as he wiped off Lucille with the same towel before he slung your rifle over his shoulder. You opened the door and walked out of the bathroom in your unlaced boots. He shrugged and dropped the towel on the floor as he tailed after you.

“What can I fucking say, I’m a fucking classy guy.”

“And that’s why I love you baby.”

“Is that it? I thought you just loved me for my dick?” You laughed as you opened the door and you heard a woman scoff to your left. You glanced over to see her glaring at you and you smiled while you answered him.

“No baby, I scream because of your dick.” She gave you a look like you had just slapped her across the face as you kept walking. Negan laughed as he watched the exchange and put Lucille over his shoulder as he walked down the porch stairs.

“Guess it’s a good fucking thing my cock loves that tight pussy of yours.” You laughed when you heard the woman scoff once more and her chair scraped against the porch. You turned and watched her stomp toward the house.

“Keep in mind he fucked me in your shower!” You called out to her and you and Negan laughed as she stormed into her house and slammed the door behind her, her long dreads nearly getting caught in the door. “Maybe we should get a summer home here, babe.” You said as you turned back around. “You could fucking help me pester the neighbors all night long.”

Part 7

[ethanalter]

‘Nashville’ Recap: He’s Seen Fire, He’s Seen Rain

Chris Carmack, Jonathan Jackson, Hayden Panettiere, David Alford, Lennon Stella, Charles Esten, and Maisy Stella (Credit: CMT)

Warning: This recap contains spoilers for the “Fire and Rain” episode of Nashville.

Rayna James was buried in last week’s episode of Nashville, but she’s truly laid to rest in the closing moments of the show’s spring finale, “Fire and Rain.” That’s when the entire main cast assembles to help Deacon finally complete the duet-centric album that he and his dearly departed wife embarked on with the intention of celebrating their happy marriage. Now, though, that record has become something more: the lynchpin to the future of Highway 65, which is awash in red ink after making a deal to purchase Luke Wheeler’s old label. That’s Luke for ya: still causing headaches for Rayna even though he isn’t a character on the show anymore.

So what we’ve got here is an old-fashioned stand-off between art vs. commerce. Taking the “art” side is Deacon, who sees no creative value in singing along to Rayna’s solo scratch tracks. (He’s got a good point; remember back in the ’90s when the surviving Beatles “reunited” with John Lennon for “Free as a Bird” and “Real Love“? Admit it: You always hit “Skip” when those songs pop up in your Beatles playlist.) Meanwhile, billionaire Zach Wells — who is spending an awful lot of time in Nashville for someone who manages a Silicon Valley tech empire — suits up as the “commerce” heavyweight, pointing out that he’s well within his rights to want this business enterprise he has a sizeable stake in to be successful. (Again, a good point! After all, while “Free as a Bird” and “Real Love” were creatively dubious accomplishments, they did replenish the coffers at BeatlesCorp, aka Apple Records and its many off-shoots.)

Related: Ken Tucker on What Rayna’s Death Means for ‘Nashville’

What’s so painful for Deacon, beyond the thought of finishing this album without his professional and personal partner, is the fact that so many of his fellow artists initially seem swayed to the commerce side. Will, Juliette, and Gunnar all have livelihoods to consider, and that makes them susceptible to Zach’s pitch, which can essentially be boiled down to: “Yo Deacon, I’m really sorry for you, and I’ma let you finish crying about Rayna, but hurry up and finish the album!” It’s up to Avery to talk some sense into all of them, strolling in to the James/Claybourne abode and laying down a good, old-fashioned guilt trip. “We all write about heartbreak for a living, and now that it’s staring us in the face, it’s like we’re afraid of it. We judge it like it’s strange or weird.”

Properly chagrined, the musicians go to the recording studio and create proper tracks that Deacon can accompany without feeling like he’s singing to a ghost. (And Connie Britton did become a bit of a ghost in this episode — beyond those snippets of audio tracks, she’s heard murmuring the thoughts that Rayna scribbled into her diary, in addition to appearing on-camera in the footage that heroic Cameraman Gene shot a few episodes ago.) Finishing that last song gives Deacon the fortitude to hand the tracks over to Zach, narrowly preventing the power struggle from blowing up in everyone’s face. Of course, Deacon’s artistic tantrums are bound to clash with Zach’s business snobbery when the show returns and does a three-month time jump. That’s just enough time for the record to be released, and for everyone to be settled in to their post-Rayna lives, before our favorite dramatic hurricane kicks up again.

Charles Esten, Hayden Panettiere, and Jonathan Jackson (Credit: CMT)

Best Storyline: Chip Esten reconfirmed his status as Nashville‘s best crier when Deacon experienced a complete and total breakdown while he’s sequestered in the bedroom he once shared with Rayna. Since he’ll presumably be the center of the show going forward, the poor guy had to shatter into pieces so that he could rebuild and move forward. In that respect, keeping the album from Zach wasn’t as much about holding onto his artistic purity as it was holding onto his wife. Watching Esten’s sensitive portrayal of his deep grief provided the perfect final chapter to this whole “Death of Rayna” arc. Now, let’s allow the guy to flash some vintage Deacon grins when the show returns, ‘mmmkay?

Related: ‘Nashville’ Stars Charles Esten and Hayden Panettiere Play ‘Know Your Co-Star’

Worst Storyline: In a plot thread so unpromising, they saved it for the final moments of the episode, Scarlett reveals that she’s pregnant and doesn’t know whether the father is Gunnar… or Damien. Can we just fast-forward to the part when she figures it out? This isn’t a mystery that needs to be belabored.

Maddie Watch: It’s taken a little while, but Maddie has finally experienced the consequences of making everything all about yourself. Acting on Juliette’s well-intentioned (and, as with last week, completely misjudged) advice to seize the spotlight while she’s in its glare, the teen books a round of talk show interviews. And, on one of them, she makes the casual suggestion that maybe some good things — like a reboot of her stalled music career — can come from tragedy. The online reaction to that from places like Vulture is swift and vehement, and sends Maddie directly back to Nashville nursing her wounds and thinking of others (like Deacon) for a change. At least she gets a new manager out of the trip: In a partnership that could very well backfire in spectacular fashion, Juliette is going to oversee Maddie’s next professional steps as a way to repay Rayna for all of her guidance. Pray for Mojo (and Maddie).

Best Bit of #RealTalk: Connie Britton’s final spoken words on Nashville (barring any yet-to-air flashbacks) are pretty great: “The best part about it is that I know he’s never going to give up on me or on my girls — or on our record or on any other damn thing I drag him into. He’s going to be there. Pretty lucky.”

Cameo Alert: Here’s a clear sign that Nashville has left the ABC ecosystem behind for the Viacom family: Trevor Noah enjoys a sizeable guest appearance that, in the past, probably would have gone to Robin Roberts. Too bad that the Nashville-verse Noah is rather inappropriately pushy, all but strong-arming a reluctant Maddie into a singing a cappella at an after-party.

Standout Song: Hard to top the all-star jam session at the end. That should tide you over until the summer.

Nashville airs Thursday at 9 p.m. on CMT.

Read More from Yahoo TV: ‘Better Call Saul’ Season 3 Photos, Including a First Look at Gus Fring Ken Tucker Reviews the New Season of Netflix’s ‘Love’First Look At the ‘Hawaii 5-0’/’MacGyver’ Crossover

[junker-town]

We don’t have to proclaim that USC football is back — the Trojans did that for us last year

Clay Helton’s Trojans are deeper and more experienced than they were last year, when they ripped off nine straight wins and finished third in the polls. Yikes.

USC is like an old muscle car: In the wrong hands, it stalls out and stumbles; in the right hands, it purrs and roars, faster and louder than anyone else. It is perhaps harder to find a good driver than you think it’s going to be. [...]

Local media railed against the hire and mocked [athletic director Mike] Garrett for overvaluing NFL experience and replacing one [Paul] Hackett with another Hackett. But Pete Carroll was something different. He had head coaching experience, obviously, and he paired a fantastic defensive mind with bounding charisma – he was able to recruit well enough to stockpile absurd offensive talent.

In a few brief weeks of work, Carroll landed blue-chippers like quarterback Matt Leinart and defensive lineman Shaun Cody in his February 2001 signing haul; after a 6-6 debut campaign, he inked future stars in players like offensive lineman Fred Matua, Winston Justice, and Kyle Williams, receiver Mike Williams, tight end Dominique Byrd, and safety Darnell Bing. His recruiting classes from 2003-07 were works of art, top-ranked classes all (or really close to it).

At the turn of the century, the Pac-10 was in flux. Over the seven seasons before Carroll was hired, the conference had sent seven different programs to the Rose Bowl: Oregon in 1994, USC in 1995, Arizona State in 1996, Washington State in 1997, UCLA in 1998, Stanford in 1999, and Washington in 2000. The conference produced plenty of strong teams, but consistent standouts were rare.

And then, *poof*.

— The 50 Best* College Football Teams of All Time

Life as a college football blue blood isn’t necessarily easy. You don’t automatically get to win 10 or 11 games without earning them; granted, your access to blue-chip recruits is a lot more open, but a football team can fall apart in 27 different ways. Even with blue-chip talent, you still have to make solid moves to succeed.

USC is living proof of that; the Trojans have gone through plenty of iffy times as a football program. Granted, “iffy” for USC means a .500 record instead of something far worse, but top-10 finishes certainly haven’t been a birthright. They managed no such finishes between 1990-2001 (the pre-Carroll era) and only one between 2009-15 (post-Carroll).

The difference between a blue blood and others, however, is that the blue blood needs only a couple of decent breaks for everything to not only fall into place but remain in place for quite a while. Oklahoma made a terrible hire in John Blake back in the 1990s, replaced him with Bob Stoops, and had a national title within two years. USC replaced Hackett with Carroll, and by his second year USC was engaging on a string of seven straight top-five seasons. Alabama replaced Mike Shula with Nick Saban, and he needed just one reset season before embarking on nine straight top-10 finishes and four national titles in the last eight years.

Clay Helton didn’t even need a reset season; he needed a reset month. His first USC team started slowly, losing to Alabama and Stanford by a combined 79-16, so he replaced Blue-Chip QB A with Blue-Chip QB B, and *poof*. The Trojans suffered an unlucky loss at Utah on September 23 ... and didn’t lose again.

From the moment Sam Darnold took the starting QB job in Week 4, USC was different. The Utes averaged 4.6 yards per play before he took over and 6.9 after, 20.3 points per game before and 38.6 after. The Trojans were the only team to beat Washington in the regular season — by 13 points in Seattle, no less — and the only one besides Michigan to beat Colorado. They beat a peaking Penn State in the Rose Bowl. They didn’t let lesser teams come anywhere close.

They looked like USC is always supposed to look.

Scarier yet, they showed clear room for improvement. They didn’t produce many big plays; they allowed a few too many big plays. They weren’t all that great at finishing drives. And they were still one of the best teams in the country over the last couple of months of the season.

So is this it then? Is USC ‘back’? Long-term, we obviously don’t know. We don’t know how Helton will manage the program — how he’ll deal with personnel turnover, how he’ll develop guys, how well he’ll replace departing assistants (because when you win big, assistants get hired away to bigger jobs). In last year’s USC preview, I called the Helton hire a lazy one, and in many ways I still believe that. Hell, even the primary change he made during the season (promoting Darnold) made you wonder why he hadn’t begun the year with Darnold.

Still, we know Helton still has Darnold for another year, we know Darnold’s got running back Ronald Jones II in the backfield with him, and we know that the defense is quite a bit more experienced than it was a year ago.

When USC clicks, it usually takes the Trojans quite a while to un-click. But while we yet don’t know if this is the start of a decade-long run of dominance, we know this: USC could be very, very good in 2017.

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Clay Helton

2016 in review

2016 USC statistical profile.

Indeed, you have to wonder how successful USC could have been if Darnold had gotten the nod from the beginning. Granted, nothing was going to get the Trojans past Alabama on opening weekend, and for all we know, Darnold getting lit up by the Crimson Tide may have stunted his development. But odds are good that the Trojans would have gotten past Stanford, and with just a hair more experience, maybe Darnold could have made one more play against Utah.

Ifs, buts, candy, nuts, etc. What we know for sure is that USC was a tremendous team over the last nine games.

First 4 games (1-3): Avg. percentile performance: 61% | Avg. yards per play: Opp 5.8, USC 5.4 (minus-0.4) | Avg. score: Opp 29, USC 22 (minus-7)

Last 9 games (9-0): Avg. percentile performance: 90% | Avg. yards per play: USC 6.8, Opp 5.2 (plus-1.6) | Avg. score: USC 40, Opp 22 (plus-18)

The Darnold offense got all the attention, but it’s worth noting that Clancy Pendergast’s defense pretty quickly rounded into form, too. Indeed, the Trojans suffered quite a few defensive breakdowns — only 157 gains of 10-plus yards (20th in FBS) but 19 gains of 40-plus (100th) — but they still allowed only 20 points per game in conference play, 17.4 after the first two games. That’ll play with any team, but especially with this offense.

Offense

Full advanced stats glossary.

Mike Leach’s air raid offense at Washington State is ruthlessly efficient. It’s content with spreading you from sideline to sideline and deploying a dink-and-dunk passing game until you crack. The air raid was created in part to counter talent disadvantages, and in its current form in Pullman, it doesn’t really have the pieces or capability to destroy you with explosiveness.

USC has no talent disadvantages to counter but, in terms of efficiency and explosiveness, basically ran the same offense last year.

Granted, opponent adjustments were kinder to the Trojans, but both USC and Wazzu made their gains a few yards at a time. When you’ve got an awesome quarterback and can count on mostly avoiding drive-killing mistakes, that’s fine. But it was a hint that USC’s offense isn’t fully weaponized yet. Yikes.

Darnold’s consistency was jarring for a redshirt freshman. He started 10 games and completed between 62 and 72 percent of his passes each time. His passer rating slipped under 140 in just one start — it fell all the way to 139 in an easy win at UCLA. He took almost no sacks, and while his 2.5 percent INT rate was a smidge higher than you’d like to see, it’s not that high. And again, he was a damn redshirt freshman.

Darnold wasn’t the only young backfield weapon to seize a starting job midseason. Ronald Jones II began the year in a bit of a sophomore funk, falling behind Justin Davis on the depth chart and averaging just 4.2 yards per carry through five games. But when Davis got hurt, Jones got more carries and began to find a hell of a rhythm. He averaged 5.1 per carry against Colorado and Arizona, then 7.8 over the final five games of the regular season.

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Ronald Jones II

Jones provided big-play capability for an offense that otherwise didn’t show a ton of it. He will almost certainly enter 2017 as the No. 1 guy, and if he avoids another early funk, he could easily threaten to top 1,500 rushing yards. And lord knows he’ll continue to encounter competition on the depth chart — juniors Aca’Cedric Ware and Dominic Davis return, and two young four-stars (redshirt freshman Vave Malepeai and true freshman Stephen Carr) could push for carries as well.

There are question marks, however. Despite all the top-notch recruiting in the world, there’s no guarantee the explosiveness will improve, especially without top wideouts JuJu Smith-Schuster and Darreus Rogers. The duo combined for a remarkable 60 percent success rate and decent 12.8 yards per catch, and now the leading returnees on the outside are Jalen Greene and Michael Pittman Jr., who combined for 14 catches last year.

A good slot receiver can be a quarterback’s best friend, though, and USC is loaded in the slot. Junior Deontay Burnett had a 59 percent success rate and seven touchdowns as an inside receiver last year, and senior Steven Mitchell Jr. has plenty of potential if he returns to full strength after last year’s ACL tear. Tight end Daniel Imatorbhebhe averaged a couple of catches per game and 14.7 yards per catch, too, over the last eight games.

There’s youth, too, in the form of not only Imatorbhebhe and Pittman but also WR/CB combo Keyshawn Young, four four-star redshirt freshmen, five-star freshman Joseph Lewis IV, and four-star freshman tight end Josh Falo. If one or two first-year guys emerge as viable weapons, Darnold has all the targets he needs.

So that brings up the second concern: the line. USC has to replace three all-conference performers, including tackles Chad Wheeler and Zach Banner, who combined for 84 career starts. With center Toa Lobendahn’s return from injury, the Trojans do still basically return three starters. Plus, likely new starting left tackle Chuma Edoga is (go figure) a blue-chipper. Still, there’s almost nowhere to go but down, especially in pass protection. That’s a concern until proven otherwise.

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Daniel Imatorbhebhe

Defense

A good Clancy Pendergast is aggressive without being particularly risky about it. It’s built almost from the back forward, usually tremendous against the pass but sometimes only decent against the run.

In his first fall back in the USC defensive coordinator chair, he put together a unique combination of stats. The Trojans were efficient at the risk of giving up too many big plays (17th in success rate, 107th in IsoPPP), but they pulled that off without while making very few plays behind the line of scrimmage — they were 80th in stuff rate and 93rd in Adj. Sack Rate.

As evidenced in the win over Washington, the Trojans still figured out how to frustrate and confuse opposing quarterbacks, and the top four linebackers still combined for a solid 35.5 tackles for loss. They generated enough efficiency to offset what were some pretty significant breakdowns.

When you see who’s back, you figure out at least part of last year’s problem. The leading tackler up front is a junior (Rasheem Green), as are the two leading returnees at linebacker (Cameron Smith, Porter Gustin) and three of the top four returning defensive backs (Iman Marshall, Marvell Tell III, Ajene Harris). A lot of sophomores were playing key roles last year, and when you combine that with the general rigors of learning a new defensive system, you can probably guess that there will be some breakdowns.

Those excuses dry up this year though. The Trojans do have some pieces to replace — nose tackle Stevie Tu'ikolovatu, ILB Michael Hutchings, safety Leon McQuay III, and big-play corner Adoree’ Jackson — but are loaded with juniors and a few seniors at every level of the defense. Marshall did a pretty decent Jackson impression at times, and Gustin and Smith combined for 20 TFLs, 6.5 sacks, and eight breakups. And between seniors Josh Fatu and Kenny Bigelow Jr., juniors Malik Dorton and Jacob Daniel, and incoming blue-chippers Jay Tufele and Marlon Tuipulotu, the Trojans should have all the weapons they need on the interior.

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Porter Gustin

Because of either choice or perceived necessity, Pendergast didn’t play a ton of guys last year. The top three tacklers on the line combined for 83 percent of tackles there, the top four linebackers combined for 82 percent, and the top five in the secondary combined for 77 percent. This didn’t cost the Trojans in games — they were 16th in Q1 S&P+ and 14th in Q4 S&P+ — but they did trail off at least a bit at the end of the year.

First 4 games: Avg. defensive percentile performance: 45% (~top 70) | Avg. points per game: 29.3

Next 6 games: Avg. defensive percentile performance: 85% (~top 20) | Avg. points per game: 18.0

Last 3 games: Avg. defensive percentile performance: 50% (~top 65) | Avg. points per game: 30.0

Helton’s first signing class should provide a nice boost in competition everywhere you look — seven four- or five-star freshmen enter the mix, and almost entirely at different positions — but whether that competition translates into a larger rotation is up to Pendergast.

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Iman Marshall

Special Teams

USC was well-rounded in special teams last year, ranking between 14th and 58th in all five efficiency categories. This fall will see a pretty significant reset though. Adoree’ Jackson is gone after returning four kicks and punts for touchdowns, and Matt Boermeester was kicked off the team this spring.

That leaves punter Chris Tilbey (whose punts were not very far but were rarely returnable), redshirt freshman place-kicker Michael Brown, and a whole bunch of auditioners in the return game. Lord knows USC has the athletes to produce another stud here, but Jackson was terrifying. There’s almost nowhere for this unit to go but down without Jackson and Boermeester.

2017 outlook

2017 Schedule & Projection Factors

Date Opponent Proj. S&P+ Rk Proj. Margin Win Probability 2-Sep Western Michigan 74 26.6 94% 9-Sep Stanford 12 5.9 63% 16-Sep Texas 16 9.7 71% 23-Sep at California 55 16.0 82% 29-Sep at Washington State 40 13.2 78% 7-Oct Oregon State 54 20.8 89% 14-Oct Utah 45 19.4 87% 21-Oct at Notre Dame 17 4.7 61% 28-Oct at Arizona State 58 16.1 82% 4-Nov Arizona 68 22.8 91% 11-Nov at Colorado 50 15.3 81% 18-Nov UCLA 34 17.0 84%

Projected S&P+ Rk 7 Proj. Off. / Def. Rk 7 / 14 Projected wins 9.6 Five-Year S&P+ Rk 15.1 (8) 2- and 5-Year Recruiting Rk 7 / 4 2016 TO Margin / Adj. TO Margin* 0 / 0.6 2016 TO Luck/Game -0.2 Returning Production (Off. / Def.) 63% (58%, 67%) 2016 Second-order wins (difference) 9.4 (0.6)

It really is scary how much better USC could have been last year. Darnold didn’t get a significant shot until Week 4, and Jones didn’t find a rhythm until a couple of weeks later. The offense had only a couple of solid big-play options, and the defense’s breakdowns were enormous. And yet, the Trojans finished ninth in S&P+, won their last nine games, and set themselves up to become Pac-12 title favorites in 2017.

Last year’s big-play weaknesses are not guaranteed to be completely fixed, and turnover on the offensive line and in special teams could result in untimely breakdowns. But in terms of raw materials, few teams have it as good as the Trojans heading into the fall. Darnold is the real deal — he’s disturbingly consistent for his experience level, and he got better with each progressive quarter last fall — and lord knows he’s still got all the talent in the world around him at the skill positions. Despite sophomores and glitches, the defense improved from 41st to 20th in Def. S&P+ and should expect to rise further.

Then there’s the schedule. The Trojans miss Washington and Oregon and get their two toughest opponents (per S&P+, that would be Stanford and Texas) at home. They are projected to win each game on the slate by at least 4.7 points and are projected to win 10 by at least 9.7.

We always race to proclaim a blueblood “BACK!!” at the first signs of life, and I know fans of opposing schools will roll their eyes at the fact that we’re doing it again with USC in 2017. But in our defense, we aren’t the ones proclaiming it — USC did that for us last year. And they’ll have a pretty good chance of doing it even louder this fall.

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