#And apparently we were in the final two for consideration but they chose a family so the kid didn't have to change school

[feralprancinghomosexual]

Is my mental health the worst it's been since leaving uni and being diagnosed properly? Yes! Are me and jo trying to do everything to avoid becoming homeless and placed in emergency housing even though no other authority seems to care very much about that? Yes! But did I have the ingredients for a mountain of bruschetta and did it make me feel a little better? Also yes!

[jjkamochoso]

Catching Fire, Catching Feelings, Catch These Hands

Fluff

Kyojuro Rengoku x f!reader

When Kyojuro finds a man bothering you, he's quick to take action.

Warnings: harassment from a stranger

As a high ranking demon slayer, you rarely had downtime so you decided to make the most of it by attending a market while you stayed in your hometown for a few days. You figured it would be wisest to leave your sword at home since they weren't welcome in open spaces and you'd rather not spend the next month in jail for brandishing a weapon in public. You felt bare without it but knew you'd be safe for the time being--it was daytime and you hadn't heard of any demon sightings in the area. Embracing the fact that you were actually able to wear something other than your uniform for once, you set out to get lost among the hordes of people, food, and material items. As you paid for pancakes from a food stall, you spotted bright orange and yellow hair in the distance. There was no way that was Kyojuro, right? He would've told you he was here!

But if he was here, you definitely shouldn't have left home without your sword.

You raced in between the crowd, eager to catch up to your dear friend. Though you weren't a Hashira, you still caught the group's attention as an accomplished Kinoe and found yourself working on missions with them from time to time. You got along with all of them but you were exceptionally close with Kyojuro. He was passionate, kind, and an absolute joy to be around. He was also extremely handsome, but he didn't need to know you'd been harboring a crush on him for a long time.

"Rengoku? Rengoku!"

Your yelling finally caught his attention as you ran up behind him and he turned around, a satisfied smile resting on his lips. When he saw it was you calling his name, the smile grew even wider.

"Y/n! It's always a pleasure to see a friendly face, especially if it's yours!" replied Kyojuro, bowing his head slightly in greeting.

"Same to you. I wasn't expecting to see you here," you said. "Is something the matter?"

"There's been a large increase in demon attacks in this area!" he shouted, earning a few wary glances from passersby. "I'm here to exterminate them!"

"To think I hadn't heard of that at all," you muttered, confusion apparent in the way you knit your brows. "If you need help later tonight, I'll gladly provide backup!"

"That would be fantastic! Thank you, dear friend!"

"Of course," you answered. "Were you exploring this market for work or for fun?"

"For fun! Care to join me in trying these... whatever these are?"

Kyojuro was pointing at a sign that read "Croquettes." Neither of you knew what they were but you were both foodies so you excitedly waited your turn to buy some. Food in hand, you found a place to sit and eat, happy to catch up with each other over snacks. He handed you a croquette as you passed a pancake his way.

"Tasty! You chose a wonderful dish to try," Kyojuro complimented, his mouth full.

"As did you, Rengoku. These are very yummy."

"Please, we're friends, are we not? Call me Kyojuro."

You stopped your chewing in surprise. "Oh! Well, alright then, Kyojuro."

You loved the way his name so easily rolled off your tongue, like it had always been yours to speak. You two fell into conversation about what you had been up to, what he and the other Hashira were up to, and how both of your families were. When your stomachs were full, you continued your jaunt around the market, Kyojuro being a superb shopping companion. You were currently stopped at a stall that sold ornamental hair clips and your attention was completely absorbed by the glittering jewels and vibrant flowers, so much so that when Kyojuro spoke up, you jumped.

"Excuse me for a moment. There's something at that previous stall I would like to buy for Senjuro," he explained, giving you a courteous nod as he left your side for the first time that morning. You smiled to yourself, resuming your browsing. He was always so sweet and considerate and you loved how he never stopped looking out for his adorable little brother. As your mind pondered all the things you admired about the handsome demon slayer, your eyes fell on the most gorgeous hair clip you'd ever seen and you picked it up, carefully inspecting it.

"That's a nice one, isn't it?"

You jumped for the second time in less than a minute, this time due to a stranger's voice in your ear. There was a man standing next to you, much too close for comfort, wearing a grin that made your skin crawl. You didn't want any trouble so you tried to keep the situation as relaxed as possible.

"Yes, it's very beautiful."

"It's not as beautiful as you."

Um, ew.

You resisted the urge to roll your eyes. Who did this creep think he was?

"I'm flattered, sir," you said, placing the clip back on the table, ready to make your escape, "but I must be going now."

You turned around, eager to find Kyojuro, but before you could get too far, you were stopped by the rough clutching of your wrist by the stranger.

"Hey, where you going? I'm not finished talking with you. I don't even have a pretty name for the pretty face."

You were enraged and wanted to teach this guy a lesson for having such repulsive manners. You instinctively reached for your hip but your hand felt nothing--your sword was at home, discarded on the floor where you'd left it earlier that morning. You cringed internally at your stupidity. Why, of all days, did you decide to be an upstanding citizen and leave your weapon at home? The next thing that crossed your mind was breaking his hand, which you were about to do before Kyojuro was by your side once more.

"If you continue touching my friend, I will not hesitate to cut off your hand!" Kyojuro exclaimed, his voice never losing its trademark cheeriness as he stared the stranger down.

"Yeah, right," the man sneered, "with what weapon-oh."

He spied the sword sitting neatly on Kyojuro's hip, the Flame Hashira's fingers ghosting the top of the handle to show he wasn't messing around. The unwelcome intruder immediately dropped your wrist and backed away, sputtering apologies before practically running from the scene. Kyojuro was no longer smiling as he assessed the aftermath of the situation.

"Are you alright?" he asked, his voice lower than usual. You nodded, trying to calm the blood that was boiling in your veins.

"I'm glad I already ate or that would've ruined my appetite," you seethed. "I just wanted a hair clip. Had I known that man was going to bother me, I wouldn't have stayed over there."

You sucked in a breath as your anger left you, leaving behind a feeling of unease akin to being prey stalked by a predator. "I would like to go home now. Kyojuro, would you mind escorting me? I know I could easily beat that man in hand to hand combat but I'm afraid I just don't feel as safe without my sword."

Kyojuro looked upon you with sadness contorting his features. "Are you sure you want to leave without the hair clip you were so fond of? We can continue browsing the market, I promise not to leave your side again. I will not hesitate to protect you from all threats, human or otherwise, today and all other days."

He sounded so earnest in his endeavor to keep you safe that the idea of you leaving the market early became unfathomable. Also, hearing those words from the man you were falling for left your heart throbbing in your chest.

"Thank you," you said, looking deep into his red and yellow eyes that were practically glowing in the sunlight, "you're consistently there for me and I never know how to return the favor."

He let out a hearty laugh. "Nonsense! Having someone like you in my life is favor enough! Your unshakable character and kind demeanor are incredible. You're a great listener and you give valuable advice. Every day I am thankful that I know you!"

You felt warmth flood into your cheeks at his praise, feeling bashful from his compliments. He just beamed at you, not at all helping to rid you of the giddiness you were feeling.

"Come," he said, offering his arm for you to hold. "I would like for you to show me the hair decoration that has captured your attention."

You enthusiastically locked your wrist around his elbow and led him over to the stall.

"This is the one," you said, picking it up.

"May I?" Kyojuro asked softly, gesturing to the ornament.

"Of course," you accepted, and he plucked the piece from your hand. He tenderly brushed back the hair from your face, tucking it behind your ear. He then placed the hair clip on the side of your head, his fingers gingerly pushing it into place so it wouldn't budge. When he was finished, he didn't take his eyes off you-- his expression held such soft fondness that it was impossible to look away from his magnetic gaze.

"You look beautiful," he murmured. It wasn't the first time you'd heard that today, but it was the only time it mattered. You were so entranced by him that you didn't notice him paying for the clip until it was too late, the money already taken by the vendor.

"Please, let me pay you back," you pleaded as you walked away from the crowded market, finding solace in a quiet garden not too far from there.

"No way!"

"Kyojuro Rengoku!"

"Never!"

"Why not? You must tell me," you demanded.

"Because I want to show you that I..." He hesitated and you noticed that he was starting to blush, his cheeks almost the same color as the tips of his hair. "I want to show you that I can take care of you. In matters of both finances and safety."

You cocked your head. "Wait, why would you..."

All of a sudden, it dawned on you. Was he trying to court you right now?

He noticed you attempting to put the pieces together so he explained further. "Seeing that man disrespect you... I would have helped any woman in that situation but at that moment I knew that I couldn't bear to see another man lay his hands on you."

The Flame Hashira inched forward to be slightly closer to you, his haori swishing in the breeze. "Y/n, I have fallen for you and I wish to be by your side as not just a friend, but as a lover. A husband. If you'll have me."

"Oh, Kyojuro!" You threw yourself into his arms. He stumbled back at the unexpected movement but quickly grounded himself, hugging you tightly.

"I would be honored to marry you," you said, unable to contain your wide smile and thrilled beyond belief that he felt the same way about you that you did for him all this time.

"Wonderful! I am the luckiest man to be able to call you my wife!" he exclaimed.

"So tonight will be our first mission as a couple, then?"

"That is correct!"

You snickered. "Maybe we can defeat the demons with the power of love."

"Hah! My darling y/n, you sound like Mitsuri!"

That was the best compliment you'd received all day.

[hwrryscherry]

 The one where the reader meets Harry as Jack

characters: HARRYxREADER!FEM

blurb: Harry is filming Don't Worry Darling in Palms Springs while Y/N is moving in in her new house in the neighbourhood where the movie is being filmed. Turns out the fate wanted to cross Harry and Y/N's way as a box full of books is very intriguing to Harry and Pride and Prejudice becomes Harry's new favorite.

word count: 2.7K

author's note: Heyy guys, it has been SO LONG and honestly I don’t think this is best work yet lol but anyway, I had the worst writer’s block of my life so it was so hard for me to write a single word. Honestly, I felt kinda pressured to write. I felt like I was pressuring myself for that so I had to take advantage of this block and take this idea out of my mind. I want to say something important too; I really want to say that the only story of mine that I’ll keep the face claim is HARRYxMODELY/N, just because I like to use the photos to make instagram posts sometimes. I will no longer describe types of hair as I used to say ‘’long strands of hair’’, it will be neutral for you to imagine yourself in the story. It’s all about you guys and how you can visualize the story and the character, if you want to imagine a face claim that’s cool but if you don’t want to it’s cool too. Feel free to read and visualize, it’s all about you. Thank you for the support on my account and my writing. I’m aware that I’m not the best lol, but I also think that I have so much to learn from you just as I have to teach. I’m so grateful for everyone who reads and like my stuff. Never forget that you’re unique, you’re loved, you’re so golden and treat people with kindness always.

   "Why is it so hot in here? It's fucking December!", you'd think to yourself as you drove your new car through the streets of Palm Springs. The thing is that after you moved from Columbia to reside so many years in New York while you were studying English Language and Literature in Yale, you just got so used with the usual colder weather from NY and it's just a different vibe from California. You had such a hard time to decide what you wanted to do after graduating, though. And after a few weeks and some long conversations with your family, you decided you would go to California. Palm Springs, to be more specific. You decided that because you remembered all the times you went there when you were a kid because your grandmother lived in there before she passed. You remember spending your summer vacation with her and how cool it was. It was in the early 2000′s and there was many kids on your age that lived on her street. You remember playing with them all day and then getting back into your grandma’s house and feeling that cinnamon scent that for some one only her house had. It wasn’t a usual cinnamon scent. It had something special in it. It made you feel so warm and welcomed. You remember helping her to bake the most delicious cookies, brownies and cakes in her kitchen. You remember the kitchen had a yellow counter, but the entire kitchen was white. All very pale and then the cheerful yellow in the kitchen that colored everything. You remember going to play bingo with her and how it made her happy to having you around. You both were so close and you had such a hard time when she passed, but the most important was she taught you so many things during your time together, and you’d never forget those things and her.

    As you drove, you’d remember those streets vaguely. You’d pass through the soccer court you typically used to go with the other kids and spent hours playing in there. You were vibing with the song in the stereo as you started getting closer to your new house’s street. It was Carolina by Harry Styles; you have to admit you’re not the biggest Harry Styles fan in the world, but you were definitely a One Direction fan when you were around 16, but you couldn't be considered a directioner either. You just listened to a few songs and thought it was good. But anyway, this specific song is one that you particularly like. It may have something to do with the fact that you’re from Carolina, of course. But it’s more about the vibe and the melody that by being animated it could actually cheer anyone up and the lyrics were undeniably good though, a little sexual, but good. It’s more about the vibe and the melody that by being animated it could actually cheer anyone up and the lyrics were really good though, a little sexual, but good.

    When you turned the right way into the street of your new home, you came across much more than you expected to see on your moving day. There were, as it seemed, paparazzi. Apparently they were shooting a movie right in your street, and it had also many people with many cameras and trailers that probably were dressing rooms. Naturally, you knew that thousands of films were shot in California, that’s obvious. But you didn't expect one to be shooting exactly on your moving day and specifically in your street, let alone that the street would be this crowded since the world is experiencing a global pandemic, ironic. You observed some of the people walking down the street, or should you call it a set? You don't know, but there were many people and many cars, at least they were all wearing masks. It had many classic cars, probably in the 40s or 50s style. They were colorful; vivid colors, though. Colors like yellow, blue and lilac was really present. To resume, the whole street looked like a movie from the 50s and for sure that was the intention because you could notice some extras walking around the set dressed up as 50s people used to.

    As you carefully drive through the street, you’d notice that from what seemed like a divine miracle, there was a vacant parking spot right in front of your house and you can’t help but smile when you see it. The first time you came here to see the house. You were with your family, and that was about four months ago. You just loved the house completely as it had such a different vibe from the place you used to live in New York, and honestly, just the thought of the house made your creativity activate as it had some really cool colored walls and you bought some colored mobile as well. Anyway, you stopped the car right in front of your house finishing the engine and grabbing your mask and putting it in your face as you'd use your hand to get rid of the seat belt and your other hand to open the car door and get out of the car.

    After closing the driver's seat door, you go around the car walking to the trunk where you use the car key to open it. When you open it, you are faced with two cardboard boxes. One was full of books. Books of all kinds, books of period novels, books of suspense, books of investigation and etc. Books that piqued your curiosity and made you want to finish reading it as quickly as possible. The other box was already full of clothes, those last clothes that you would finally be taking home. Your mother has done the biggest job in the moving issue; she was the one who was bringing the furniture and your things while you finished packing the rest of your things to leave New York. You try your hardest not to pay attention to the set of recordings and the people who walked back and forth, at the same time that you tried hard not to make any noise, because if you accidentally disturbed a scene, you would feel extremely embarrassed and would probably not even show up at the gate until the end of filming, but that was not the case. You removed the two boxes from the trunk just before closing it completely. You chose, perhaps, to enter the clothes box first. You bent down taking the box in your arms and walked to the door of the house where you used the key you received from the real-estate agent to unlock it before entering. You immediately noticed that some sunbeams reflected on the living room floor due to the white linen curtain that covered the glass windows. You observed the contrast of the sofa in such a light tone with the lilac wall just behind it. You walked with the box in hand by the door extension to the room where you placed the box on the small coffee table in front of the sofa. Returning out of the house, you can see the figure of a tall man dressed in a brown suit crouched in front of the box of your books. He had brown hair and properly cut. It didn't look like he was messing with your books, but he was definitely looking at them and it seemed like he was trying to read the covers of it for some reason. You slowly got closer to the man's body without making too much noise while you analyzed him, you crossed your arms upon your chest as you noticed the book cover he was looking at: Love is a mixtape by Rob Sheffield.

— This one is amazing! — You said, surprising the man that stand up fastly with the book in his hands connecting his green gaze with yours. He was tall, really tall by the way. His suit seemed perfect, just as his hair. He had a black mask on as a protection but the 16 year old teenager inside of you could never mistake those eyes. It was Harry fricking Styles. You considerated being quiet as you, yourself were pretty surprised now, but then you took your gaze to the book in his hand and then back at his face — It's like comparing love to a popular song that we usually search to define love. Just to find out that love is like oxygen, or love is a kind of drug, or a battlefield for some... — You said referring to the book with a tender smile on your face that Harry couldn't essentially see, but talking about a book that you loved caused this on you. And as you talked you didn't notice that Harry had a smile on his face as well. Maybe it was because you completely ignored the fact that he is Harry Styles and he was messing up your books as he's on the set filming a movie, or maybe it was the fact that he loved this book just as much as you did. He'd use to say this is probably one of the books that if he had to read just one book to the rest of his life, he'd chose this one and he usually had so much to talk about this book and so much to put on an argument about it but now he was completely speechless. He was just tongue tied. He was tongue tied about your reflection of one of his favorite books and how it looked so identical to his own personal reflection. He was tongue tied for the number of great books that he always wanted to read that was on that box. He was tongue tied at the owner of those books and her beauty, her intelligence of her voice and her voice as well so he just chuckled. A nervous chuckle as he leaned his head to look at the floor for a second before looking at you and holding out the book in his hands to you that calmly took it from his hands.

— I know! It's one of my favorite books! — Harry'd ultimately manage to say it as he observed you admiring the cover and running your fingers through it as a truly book lover would do — It's very interesting the interpretation you have of it.

— Don't you agree? — You'd interrupt him rising your head to examine at his face. He seemed paralyzed by some way, little did you know that Harry was mesmerized. He enjoyed the informal way you were speaking with him, and it genuinely felt like you already knew it each for years.

— That's the intriguing part. We have the same interpretation! — He'd say serenely, and then running his hand through his hair as he frown a little because of the sun that just hit on his glowing eyes.

— Well...Maybe you're just trying to imitate me to impress me! — You'd joke, with a mocking expression on your face making Harry giggle at your words and your face. It was the sense of humor to him.

— Oh really? And what makes you think I'm trying to impress you? — Harry'd say back with the same mocking tone that you formerly used. He'd observe your face go from playful to thoughtful in just as you to come up with a response.

— I mean...you were the one looking through my stuff, mister! — You say raising your eyebrows as you utilized one of your hands to take some strands of hair out of your face.

— Right... — Harry said with a defeated voice before as he compressed his lips together and moved his suit away from his shirt a little as he places his hands on his waist — I'm sorry about it, though. There was this box hanging here and I guess I was just intrigued! — He said shyly making you start walking towards the box walking closely to him causing him to feel a hot warm from your body as you passed. You'd bend over to grab the box but was stopped by Harry taking the heavy box from your hands — Let me help you with this! — Harry said as he held the box on his arms.

— There's no need for that. It'll ruin your splendid suit! — You'd say gently to him as he was standing up in front of you carefully holding the loaded box. Legitimately, he looked hot. He properly looked like a 50s husband helping with the moving with this outfit — And if you piss off your costume designer because of me I'll die! — You'd complement receiving a loud laugh from Harry's lips that shook his head while looking at you.

— She’ll be fine! — Harry'd argue back, then get a sigh from you before nodding at him as a statement.

— My house is right there! — You'd say using your right hand to point at your house, watching Harry turn his back to you and start walking towards it. You followed him through the door that was already open. Harry looked at the house immediately. It had a good vibe, and he wouldn't deny it. The choice of colors was exceptional, but he also noticed it was not very tidy, which would probably indicate that you were moving today.

— Where do I leave it? — Harry asked, referring to the box as he went farther into the living room.

— You can just leave it on the floor — You serenely said crossing your arms together and watching as he left the box on the floor and turned around to face you, but then deflecting his gaze to the ceiling before staring at your face again.

— It's a beautiful house! — Harry said as he moved his gaze through the room. He observed everything. He likes to observe. He likes to notice things that maybe other people didn't — Just like the owner, if I might say — Harry said cheekily and charming hearing your giggle invade his ears as you started walking towards the box of books that he previously set on the floor.

— The owner says thank you — You said bending down and starting to take the books out of the box and place it on the coffee table beside you as Harry watched your movements. You shyly looked at him thinking for a second and them smiling under your mask — For both compliments! — You said getting your attention back to the books. It's not that you don't want to give him your attention. It's that you genuinely think that he's just being nice, and he's probably not even interested in anything that you say.

— So... I have to go back to the film now but maybe you can give me your number so we can talk about your interpretation of my favorite book — Harry said shyly. His words took you by surprise actually but you couldn't hold back the smirk you had under your mask as you stand up again turning to face his green eyes. You noticed that he had his phone on his hand, hoping and waiting that you'd give him your number even though both of you knew that the book excuse was nothing more than an excuse as he was truly interested in knowing you.

— Well, it depends... — you said slowly as you took a deep breath before actually saying anything — If you agree to read my favorite books too, I'll give you my number!

— I'd be honored! — Harry chuckled after letting a sigh out feeling relief that you asked for something so simple that he'd love to do if that would make you happy — What's your name? — Harry said as he unblocked his phone screen and started to save your phone number.

— Save it as Elizabeth Bennet in there! — You said fastly with a proud smile on your face as Harry giggled and did as you ask and then looked at your face as he put his phone back on his pocket.

— Only if you save my name as Mr. Darcy when I call you! — Harry said knowing that after this, Pride and Prejudice would definitely become one of his favorite books ever.

[dreamsmp-au-ideas]

Guess it’s good brother dream brain rot time now that we’ve pretty much canonized phoenix Tommy in it. I must now do my proper due diligence. Adding in my two cents and furthering the spread of my brand, phoenix Tommy.

When Tommy is a little tiny thing Phil does everything in his power to try and keep it quiet that Tommy isn’t a regular avian hybrid, but a phoenix. Things like phoenixes, dragons, or other mythical avians are extremely rare mutations that happen seemingly without any reason but will often reoccur within the same bloodline more often than not. 

Phil is something mythical. Maybe a dragon, maybe a griffin, maybe even something a little less well known like the zhenniao, yatagarasu, or alicanto. Either way he’s something mythical, it runs in his blood. It ends up running in Tommy’s too. Phil is one of the few mythological avians who doesn’t hide his features because people are usually far too fearful of both him an Technoblade to do anything. Unfortunately, what people weren’t scared of was the idea of trying to kidnap a child.

There were attempts to steal away Wilbur when he was little. Before he started presenting and turned out to be just your regular avian. There were fewer attempts when it came to Tommy. There was unfortunately one attempt that ended up being successful, he was stolen from the cradle and subsequently lost in a skirmish when Techno and Phil caught up to the man who took Tommy. 

Dream found baby Tommy floating along in the river, figured the kid was probably abandoned since he’d heard of orphaned children being floated down rivers and never seen again, and subsequently took Tommy in. 

Everything was fine and okay for a couple years and Tommy was quickly accepted into the family. Unfortunately when Tommy turned five his traits started to come in and he nearly burned down the house. The family didn’t want to abandon Tommy but realizing he was a mythical avian was a problem to say the least. So Dream, having recently become an active admin, gathered up his things and left with Tommy. He didn’t blame his family for their worries but he wasn’t going to abandon his little brother either. Not when he’d found Tommy. Not when he’d been the one to practically raise Tommy. 

Dream and Tommy were very distrustful of strangers still for obvious reasons and Tommy was pretty much stuck wearing the mask in order to protect himself, but Dream did what he could. Dream didn’t originally wear a mask actually, he decided they should match as a way to make Tommy feel bad for always having to wear the mask when he didn’t want to. He found private places that were safe where Tommy could practice flying and stretch his wings since Dream was super concerned early on about them atrophying and never being able to properly carry Tommy. Sure, it was too dangerous for Tommy to actively go flying often, but Dream didn’t want to accidentally ruin Tommy’s chances of ever being able to fly. The most important facet of their relationship is that he wanted to protect Tommy but never cage him.

When Dream first took control of the Dream SMP it was originally so he could make it a safe space for himself and Tommy, only allowing his few friends who knew about Tommy and what he was to join, like Sapnap and George who have a super good relationship with both Dream and Tommy in this au. Dream is still super jumpy and protective of Tommy and Tommy trusts people a lot less, but Tommy also acts as something of an ambassador in Dream’s interpersonal relationships, keeping Dream from becoming too jumpy and letting them decay. Similarly Dream taught Tommy to be a lot more cautious of strangers and this Tommy is a heck of a lot stronger having grown up with a pvp legend like Dream. 

When other people started joining it was still a controlled enough environment that while cautious, Dream let Tommy “play” for lack of a better word. Three canon lives is a rule everywhere that everyone has to abide by, regardless of what admin you’re living under. The admin doesn’t get to decide what’s canon either, it’s something seemingly up to chance. Or maybe the gods. No one knows what makes being pushed off a cliff by your mortal enemy so different from falling off one by your own stupidity, but some people theorize it’s the intention of the action.

Obviously this isn’t a rule that applies to Tommy. They both know it, him and Dream. And here’s the thing. Some legends say that there are no draw backs to a phoenix dying. Others say that too many deaths too quickly will slowly harm the phoenix. Both of these are false. A phoenix needs deaths. Canon deaths. The same way that kids needs to be tossed in the air and spun around to help develop their brains as really little kids, a phoenix needs to die repeatedly for their brains and bodies to properly mature fully and in a healthy manner. It’s an actual necessity for them to die, in fact, too few canon deaths run the risk of a phoenix getting sick and dying permanently. 

So when new people join the Dream SMP, Dream doesn’t hesitate letting Tommy side against him. It’s an unspoken rule between them. Good brother Dream goes pretty similar to canon up until Pogtopia actually. Dream doesn’t hesitate to take those two canon lives and Tommy intentionally misses during their duel. He ends up with way more canon deaths than just two, and he keeps secret what they are from the rest of the SMP, saying the two times Dream killed him were the canon two. Each time he dies his magic gets a little stronger, his feathers taking on an even glossier coat. He still gets pissed at Eret after the betrayal because everyone else doesn’t have unlimited canon lives, but Dream shushes and reassures him that if anyone does die permanently then he’ll help Tommy bring them back.

Phoenixes are creatures tied to the frayed and broken bridge that crosses life and death. Just like they can’t die and have dominance over flames, another power of the phoenixes is that they’re uniquely skilled when it comes to necromancy. Real necromancy. Not the human equivalent that brings back soulless husks with a tendency for destruction and malevolence. A phoenix is the only creature that can bring a soul back from the dead in tact. Tommy knows this by merit of instinct, and did it only once before for the sake of Dream. Regular people know this by merit of books like the one Schlatt tries to trade Dream.

So Dream and Tommy mostly put on an act while the war is happening but then act all buddy buddy and like actual brothers off the battle fields which confuses everyone (besides the already aware George and Sapnap) and mildly upsets Wilbur, but everyone just kinda gets used to it.

Until Pogtopia. Because we need some kind of conflict I’m giving Schlatt a very special role. Schlatt was a hybrid who got captured by poachers as a child and sold into the hybrid slave trade. He was one of the lucky few who turned the tables and managed to earn his freedom, ultimately turning towards being a poacher himself. Schlatt comes to L'manberg and becomes president with the intention of selling every hybrid in the country, in the Dream SMP as a whole, to his traders. The reason he chose the Dream SMP specifically? Well, wouldn’t you know it, he’s heard rumors that apparently there’s a phoenix hiding around somewhere. Not to mention the Dream SMP is absolutely loaded with hybrids because of Dream’s rather public policy about hybrid tolerance (he isn’t a hybrid, but he knows the affect being a hybrid has had on Sapnap and he still fears for Tommy so he tries to make somewhere that maybe one day Tommy can be open about what he is.)

Schlatt can’t immediately tell it’s Tommy who’s the phoenix because Tommy himself is an even rarer variation of phoenix called a soul flame phoenix, which is why his eyes and wings are a soul fire blue. Schlatt came in expecting crimson and our boy is out here with wings that look like the place where the sky meets the sea. Schlatt even dismisses Tommy initially and starts investigating some of the people who look human or avians with orange and yellow feathers. This is also why Phil can’t immediately recognize Tommy when he joins the SMP. While he can hide them with magic, Tommy usually has his wings on display since the Dream SMP is designed to be a safe space for hybrids. This Dream doesn’t have a ban on flying (he thought about it, maybe setting aside specific areas where winged hybrids could exercise, but it was quickly scrapped via Tommy repeatedly throwing himself off cliffs and then remembering he wasn’t supposed to be flying, immediately letting himself drop and die. Some of those ‘accidents’ were even canon and Dream just gave up on the rule.)

For this AU, I imagine that Dream would be a bit more in tune with people and empathetic so he’d probably call in Techno and Phil for help when he sees Wilbur starting to take a dive. Both out of worry for his own younger brother who’s sticking by Wilbur and consideration for the fact Wilbur himself took something of an older brother role. Sure he was a little jealous, but he understand well enough that everyone who meets Tommy either falls into one of two categories. They hate the kid and want him dead or they want to be his older sibling who’d burn down the world if he asked them to. George and Sapnap can both attest to the fact there are only two types of people in this world when it comes to Tommy and people usually start as the first before slowly becoming the second. 

So Techno and Phil show up early which is really good because Schlatt finally reveals his true intentions and neither Techno nor Phil are very chill with them. I dunno how the reveal will go between them and Tommy yet. I don’t even know for Good Brother Dream if we’re having Techno be a family friend or older brother so hard to say.

Anyway, I think that’d probably be where the main plot kinda starts to kick off so I’ll stop there for now. If I go for too much longer I’ll just end up wanting to write it…

[xxdragonwriterxx]

🔥I’m Sorry, Um..., Congratulations? 🔥

~~~

Levi had to admit, even with anger clouding his system, he was impressed by the determined look on the small doctor’s face as she stared him down, one hand on his chest as she held him back from the infirmary room where his lover had been taken after returning from an expedition. He could feel her trembling against him, her body betraying her nerves at the murderous look on his face, but her eyes were hard and unyielding as she stared right at him.

“She is fine Captain, she has just been pumped with a lot of sedatives and needs her rest. If you go in there, she won’t be able to talk to you.”

“I don’t care, I need to see her,” Levi growled, pushing harder against the hand that blocked him.

The doctor sighed when she saw the fiery look in his eyes. She was determined but she wasn’t heartless. She knew she would be able to work better on the young woman under her care if Humanity’s Strongest Soldier wasn’t watching her every move like a hawk, but she also knew that he was just scared for the person he loves the most. She could see it in his eyes, the desperation that was buried beneath the anger. He just needed to see that his wife was okay.

The doctor hesitated for one more moment before closing her eyes and nodding once, standing aside for him to pass. Levi wasted no time, quickly pushing into the room behind the doctor, only relaxing when he saw (Y/N) in the bed in front of him. He moved over to her bedside and slid down into the available chair, ignoring the doctor as she came in, grabbing a hold of (Y/N)’s hand and rubbing his thumb over her knuckles. She was alive, he could see the rise and fall of her chest under the sheets, but he still felt nervous. The sight of her paler than normal skin and the bandages wrapped around her arm and chest was making him feel light headed.

He hadn’t been there when she got hurt. He hated it, but as Squad Leaders, the two of them usually had to separate during missions, (Y/N) leading her squad while Levi ran his, working to save as many people as possible whenever the missions went awry. He knew she was very capable, knew that if he ever suggested she back down as a Squad Leader to be in his own squad or stay home while he went off to fight that he would probably lose a limb. He couldn’t stop her from saving people and fighting for a better world, but he hated that he couldn’t always be there to save her.

Her squad had told him what happened when he found her in the medical cart on the way back to the walls. Apparently, an abnormal had lunged for one of her squad members when they had been busy slicing the nape of another titan. She had propelled herself into the titan’s hand, which had knocked it away from the soldier, allowing him time to escape, but had crushed her own gear to her side in the process, breaking her ribs and spraining one of her arms. The injuries had been further bolstered by her being thrown into a tree, knocking her unconscious on impact.

Levi sighed and squeezed her hand. She could occasionally be so reckless that sometimes he wanted to thump her over the head. Maybe even tie her to a chair if it kept her out of trouble. Levi chuckled quietly to himself as he pictured the fury she would bestow upon him if he ever told her to stay home like a good housewife. He figured he’d be safer in a horde of abnormals. She was such a little spitfire, but she was his spitfire, and as he looked at her prone form lying motionless in the bed, he knew he wouldn’t have her any other way. He was just grateful that she was still here with him after pulling that stunt.

The doctor took a few notes as she lifted the sheets, checking (Y/N)’s injuries before clicking her tongue and leaving the room, probably to get more supplies. This gave Levi the chance to place a soft kiss on (Y/N)’s hand, running his lips softly along her palm as he savored the warmth that met his lips. No matter how long they had been together, Levi still felt embarrassed about showing her a lot of affection in front of others, usually only going so far as holding her hand. With the doctor gone, he gave himself the luxury of showering her with small butterfly kisses, revealing how much he loved her and how worried he was for her. Finally leaning back in his chair, Levi brought (Y/N)’s hand away from his mouth and settled back with a sigh, content to wait for her to wake up, giving her hand another comforting squeeze.

Levi had just been about to close his eyes when he was surprised by the feeling of his hand being squeezed back. Levi immediately jolted in his seat and glanced over to his wife’s face to see her features scrunched up as she fought her way back into consciousness. Levi leaned over her, his other hand joining the first to hold her hand to his chest as he watched her eyelids flutter.

“Come on, (Y/N), open your eyes, baby,” Levi murmured.

The doctor came back in as (Y/N) let out a groan, the petite woman brightening at the sight of her patient waking back up. Moving to her other side, the doctor began to check her vitals as (Y/N)’s eyes blinked open, her (e/c) hues roving around the room in an attempt to focus on something.

Levi watched her eyes clear as she woke up completely, a small smile curling the corners of his mouth at the sight of the recognition in her eyes when she saw him.

“Levi…,” (Y/N) sighed.

“Hey, baby,” Levi murmured, using one hand to brush the hair out of her eyes. “How do you feel?”

“Like shit,” (Y/N) said with another soft groan.

The doctor chuckled at (Y/N)’s response as she looked her patient over, carefully running her hands over her chest and sides. “You should, you took quite the hit,” she said.

“Really? What happened?” (Y/N) asked, leaning on Levi as he helped her sit up.

“You saved one of your squad members by taking a hit from a titan yourself,” Levi answered, his gruff tone making (Y/N) wince. She knew that tone, it was the tone he used whenever she managed to get injured on an expedition. It was a tone that both warmed her heart and sent a chill down her spine. She knew it just meant that he was worried about her, which was what made her heart warm, but she also knew it was a warning.

“Oh yeah…,” (Y/N) said, gently rubbing the ribs along her right side. “Are my ribs broken?”

“Yes, three of them, but your arm is only sprained. I’ve set your ribs and wrapped them so you should be fine aside from some soreness. You can’t do too much though, or you’ll risk fracturing them. You will need to take a break for awhile if you want to heal as fast as possible, so don’t even think about training, even with a lessened training regiment,” her doctor ordered.

(Y/N) hung her head in disappointment but nodded, her hair curtaining her expression.

“I’ll have your arm in this sling for a little bit, but after a few days you should be fine to take it off, alright? Just don’t do too much physical activity or you’ll make your entire body worse, alright?”

(Y/N) nodded again but lifted her head. “Thank you, Doctor…?”

“Santiago. Doctor Santiago, but you can call me Rosita.”

“Thank you, Rosita,” (Y/N) finished. “I appreciate all of the stuff you’ve done to help me.”

“Oh it’s nothing,” Rosita said with a wave. “It is my job, but you do so much for the good of humanity, the least I can do is patch you up after the fight.”

“Well thank you. I appreciate your consideration for my desire to get back in the field as quickly as possible.”

Levi grumbled something (Y/N) chose not to hear and flashed a warm smile at the suddenly bashful doctor, the small young woman wringing her hands in front of her while a pretty blush stole across her cheeks.

“Well actually, I meant to thank you,” Rosita said, still not looking at (Y/N). “The man you saved today, the one on your squad, is actually my older brother, Nico. When I heard what you did and how you got hurt, I knew I had to treat you and do it in the best way possible, in return for saving him. He’s all I have left, we lost the rest of our family when the titans broke through the wall, so I can’t thank you enough for keeping him safe for me.”

(Y/N) and Levi both exchanged looks of shock, but quickly shook it off. (Y/N) smiled even more at the doctor and quickly gave her a hug, ignoring her squeak of surprise when she brought her into her arms.

“I’m glad I could save him too. That’s why I do this job, to bring people back home to their friends and family,” (Y/N) said before releasing Rosita, smirking when the girl still looked dumbfounded at the idea of one of the most powerful Squad Leaders in the Survey Corps giving her a hug. She finally collected herself and busied herself with analyzing the data on her clipboard, turning her back to them.

“I’m glad he’s okay too but you need to stop getting yourself hurt,” Levi scolded, frowning at the smile his wife threw at him.

“Well what’s the fun in that?”

“(Y/N)...,” Levi said in warning.

(Y/N) giggled at the dark tone in his voice and leaned up to kiss him, fighting the urge to wince as she strained the muscles along her sides. Levi kissed her back with a roll of his eyes and gently stroked her uninjured arm, his fingers causing sparks to flicker along her skin. When they parted, Levi’s eyes were molten, the hot steel in them making her shudder.

“Just be more careful, brat. I can’t lose you.”

(Y/N) softened at his words and gave him another soft peck before Rosita turned back around to face them, Levi quickly moving back into his chair as if he hadn’t just been snuggling up to his wife. Rosita eyed them with a tiny smile on her lips but didn’t comment.

“Well, I’ve got the results for your tests and I’ve checked you over a few times and it seems like you will be able to be discharged later tonight. You were lucky, you broke a few bones, but you didn’t have any signs of internal bleeding and you’re both still relatively healthy with limited long term effects. I’m actually surprised that you were even out on that expedition considering your condition, things could’ve been significantly worse, and if you weren’t careful, you could’ve killed either yourself or the baby. If I were you, I’d start thinking about laying off the expeditions and focus on working from home until it’s safe for you to go back out on the field.”

Rosita looked up from where she had been reading off of her clipboard when she was met with silence, her eyes widening at the shocked expressions on both of their faces. (Y/N)’s jaw had dropped, her eyes wide and her chest heaving as she placed a hand over her stomach in surprise. Levi had gotten significantly paler, the color draining from his face to where he looked as white as a sheet, his eyes nearly bulging out of his skull as he stared at the ground, his lips slightly parted. It took Rosita a moment, but suddenly it hit her.

Rosita brought her hands up to her face, covering her mouth with her overlapping palms as guilt and shock flowed through her system like an electric current.

“Oh my gods, did.., did you not know?”

(Y/N) shook her head woodenly and Rosita paled, rivalling Levi’s lack of color as dread flooded her.

“I am so sorry! I thought you knew! I- oh gods…,” Rosita stumbled over her words, her eyes wide as she paced the room, trying to escape the situation by doing something, anything. Unfortunately, her frazzled brain didn’t give her time to think and she quickly took her leave with a mumbled excuse, slamming the door shut behind her in her haste to leave. Silence filled the room, the young couple frozen in shock as the doctor’s words replayed in their minds like a broken record. 

(Y/N) glanced down at her stomach, running her palm over the still flat surface. She had noticed the signs, the slight increase in her weight, the fact that she vomited her guts up every morning, the dizzy feeling she would get when she worked her normally easy exercise routine. But all of these things she had dismissed as being overworked. She knew she was prone to working herself to the bone, often getting chastised by her amazing husband for forcing herself to do too much. The vomiting, the nausea, the weight change, those were all things she had experienced already whenever she worked too hard, the lack of sleep causing the dizziness, the inconsistent diet causing the weight change, and the migraines causing the vomiting. She had never even thought about the possibility of being pregnant, even though it made sense. She realized she had missed her last period, but she had been so busy she had failed to notice it, only focused on the upcoming expedition and preparing herself for the danger that would come with it.

Fear struck her heart then. The expedition. She had gone on the expedition with a baby in her belly, and had gotten hurt, would’ve died if it weren’t for her last minute efforts to make the fall less painful as she slammed into the tree, or the wonderful doctor that had healed her. She knew she had just been told the baby was alive and healthy, but what would she have done if it wasn’t? What would Levi have done? The thought made her close her eyes. 

Levi was right beside her and still hadn’t said a word. What was she going to say to him? Would he believe her if she told him she hadn’t known when going out to fight? She was almost too afraid to look at his face, to see the fury and condemnation in his eyes. They had never talked about children, the two of them too worried about wiping out the titans and saving humanity to worry about a family. (Y/N) knew she wanted this, had always wanted kids especially when she got together with Levi, but the titans were still roaming the world. How would he react to having a baby thrown into the mix of chaos that already weighed heavily on both of their shoulders?

(Y/N) knew she had to face this. This was the man she loved more than anything. They had been together for years, even before they were dating, their friendship lasting strong since the day they met when Levi was forced to the surface with Isabel and Farlan. They could figure this out, would figure this out, together. 

Opening her eyes, (Y/N) gathered what little courage she had left and turned to Levi, her mouth open to speak when she froze. Levi was crying. The tiny teardrops sparkled in the light of the hospital room as they slid down his cheeks, cutting trails down his perfect skin. He had regained some of his color and his eyes had narrowed back to their normal size, but the hues themselves were shining with emotion.

The sight was overwhelming. Levi had never shown this much emotion, even with her. The only other time she had ever seen him like this had been the night of their wedding when they were back in their room alone, a similar expression on his face as he made love to her for the first time as husband and wife, his eyes shining with emotion in a way that made her heart stop.

He turned to look at her and she felt herself break, tears welling in her own eyes to stream down her face. Her heart was pounding, threatening to burst from her chest as she met his intense stare.

“Levi- mppffhh!”

(Y/N) was cut off by Levi’s lips on hers, the passion and love that was being conveyed through the kiss making her feel light headed as her breath was stolen away. Levi was kissing her like the world was about to end, his tongue insistent as it mapped her mouth, his teeth biting and pulling at her lips almost feverishly. (Y/N) could do nothing more than whimper and moan into his mouth, her hands flying to grip his biceps and hold on for dear life.

They were both huffing and panting when they broke apart, (Y/N)’s whole world spinning in the aftermath of his soul searing kiss. Her eyes searched his, trying desperately to see what she hoped to see in his gaze. She thought his kiss was clear enough on how he felt, but she needed to see it. She needed to know that what he was telling her was true, needed to read it directly from his gunmetal eyes like she did every time she needed to know the truth from him. Years together had taught her how to read Levi like a book, her favorite book, so she would know his true feelings if she just met his gaze.

Levi didn’t shy away from her when she leaned closer to peer into his eyes, her hues flickering back and forth across his face desperately. Levi smiled and kissed her again, less aggressively this time, but no less passionate. (Y/N) slumped against him, her eyes fluttering closed until he broke away again. Leaning their foreheads against one another, Levi held her close, his hand tangling in her soft (h/c) locks.

“(Y/N), thank you,” Levi murmured. “I never thought I’d ever get this. Thank you so much.”

(Y/N) beamed at his sentiment, initiating her own quick kiss with him, relieved he wasn’t rejecting her or the new little life they had created together. “I love you, Levi.”

“I love you so much, (Y/N)” Levi whispered, pecking her lips again before leaning back, his eyes shining with the love he usually kept shuttered away. The sight made (Y/N)’s heart melt, her own eyes reflecting the love right back at him.

“I am so sorry, I really wasn’t aware you didn’t know,” Rosita said, the couple jumping away from each other in surprise, the pair having been so absorbed in each other they hadn’t noticed the bashful young woman come back in.

“Oh it’s okay!” (Y/N) said brightly. “You didn’t know, and we would’ve found out eventually, right? We just found out a little sooner, that’s all!”

Rosita was still mortified, but she seemed to relax a little at (Y/N)’s words, her hands wringing in front of her again as she faced the two captains.

“Well, I ran the results by one of my colleagues to be sure, but it looks like both you and your little one are just fine. You will be discharged tonight with an updated training schedule so you can remain active without putting yourself and your baby in danger. I’m sorry again, and um…., congratulations?”

(Y/N) chuckled and smiled at the doctor. “Thank you so much, Rosita. For everything.”

Rosita nodded and quickly took her leave again after grabbing a few things from the room, heading off to file the proper paperwork and bury herself in her embarrassment.

Levi smirked at the door Rosita had just scrambled through. He would have to find some way to thank her and let her know everything was fine, but for now, he had other things to worry about. Looking down at his wife, Levi couldn’t help the smile that crept along his features. They were going to have a baby. They were going to be a family. He had never in his life expected to have one of those. In the beginning, he had always assumed he was destined to be alone, the world always taking away the ones he loved most. But then (Y/N) had burst into his life like a firecracker, throwing his carefully structured world out of whack and destroying the walls around his heart in the same (Y/N) style fashion, never shying from his cold personality and laughing at his sarcastic shit jokes.

After they were married, he always expected to wake up and have it all be a dream. Everything had felt so surreal and yet he had never been so happy. This gave him the same feeling. He felt like he was floating, like he was going to wake up any minute now to find (Y/N) curled up against him in bed. But he knew he wouldn’t. This was reality, his reality. He was going to have a family and he had the stunning woman in front of him to thank for it.

His eyes hardened when he looked at the bandages wrapped around her body. He knew (Y/N) had had no idea she was pregnant when she rode out on the charge earlier that day, but Rosita was right. Something could’ve gone worse, and he could’ve lost one or both of the lights in his life. He knew (Y/N) was not going to be happy about being left behind, but he needed now more than ever to protect her. She was the diamond in a cave of stones, and he wasn’t going to give her up for anything. 

He needed to kill all of the titans so his family could live and grow up in a world without the fear of being eaten. He wanted his child to be able to laugh and smile and enjoy life without the constant threat of death, without the fear that one or both of their parents might not come back for them. He grit his teeth and clenched his fist subconsciously as he dared anyone to even try to take his family from him, or him from his family. He was determined to give them the best life he could possibly give them, no matter what, and even though he would die for them if necessary, he wanted to be a part of it. Even if he was afraid of his possible lack of skills as a father, never really having had a proper role model to show him how it was done, he would try everyday to be his best for them.

A warm hand on his cheek snapped him out of his thoughts, and he turned to see (Y/N) watching him, a concerned look on her face. His own hand came up to rest over hers, his eyes closing while he nuzzled into her palm.

“You’re overthinking this. I can see it in your face,” (Y/N) said, snickering at the half-hearted glare he threw her. “We are having a baby, Levi, and I am here with you. You will not have to do this alone.”

“I’m here too, (Y/N). I promise I will be here every step of the way, and I will protect you with my life. So please, promise me you won’t do anything stupid during this pregnancy?”

(Y/N) smiled and leaned up to peck his lips lovingly.

“I promise, I won’t. I love you, Levi.”

“I love you too, (Y/N),” Levi said as he gently moved her to the side and slid into the bed with her, curling his body around her protectively. (Y/N) sighed and pushed herself against him, feeling her eyes droop as his warm presence lulled her to sleep, her hands laying lovingly over the child that rested in her belly as the soon to be new parents basked in the glow of their newest surprise.

[let-the-dream-begin]

A Family of Our Own: Chapter 3

Chapter 2

Read on AO3

The dining room was loud and boisterous as it always was before supper. Jenny bustled in with dish after dish, Claire and Maggie trailing behind with more. Mary MacNab was feeding wee Ian in the nursery to keep the meal somewhat formal given that they had a guest. The men had just finished washing up from the day, and Jamie was upstairs fetching John from his room. After the tour of the grounds, Jamie got back to work, and John got himself settled in his room.

As Claire sat herself down, Jamie returned, John right behind him. All conversation immediately ceased. Even Kitty, little devil though she was, had the sense to be scared. Claire watched as John surveyed the six sets of wide, little eyes gaping at him, and the narrowed, piercing gaze of Jenny. Jamie either didn’t notice or chose to ignore the awkward silence, and he pulled out a chair, indicating John to sit right beside him. Claire chided herself for the ridiculous pang of jealousy that struck her sternum. Brianna always sat between her and Jamie. But there was nothing between him and John.

“This looks splendid,” John said lightly, smiling warmly at Jenny. “My compliments to the Mistress of the house.”

“Mhm.” Jenny nodded curtly, reaching to fill Michael and Janet’s plates without even looking up at John.

Claire’s face flamed with secondhand embarrassment, and she noticed that John was no less affected.

“Lord John is very good at chess, I hear,” Claire said rather stupidly. “Quite a formidable opponent for you, Ian.”

Ian had the decency to look up from his food and smile and nod genially, but he said nothing.

“And what does that make me?” Jamie said, joking.

“You don’t recall all the times you lost?” John side-eyed him, smirking, and Jamie scoffed, gesturing flippantly with his fork.

“Ye played chess in prison, then?” Jenny cut in sharply, finally looking directly at John with no mercy in her cold eyes.

“Aye,” Jamie did not seem at all perturbed, even though Claire suddenly had little to no appetite. “I was a conduit of sorts, for John to learn and understand the prisoners’ needs. I spoke for them over meals and games of chess.”

Claire did not miss how Jenny visibly cringed at Jamie referring to John so informally.

“He was an excellent advocate,” John cut in. “He cares very much about his people. He was born to be a leader.”

“Shame he canna be one,” Jenny snapped, putting more potatoes on Kitty’s plate. “Seeing as he canna own his own family land.”

John swallowed thickly. “That…yes, that is quite a shame. If there was something to be done about it—”

“Ye’ve done enough, man,” Ian said, and despite his discomfort, Claire could tell he meant it. “And we thank ye.”

“God forbid he lose his position serving the Crown,” Jenny said with no hidden ire. Maggie looked like she was about to burst into tears out of sheer discomfort, her food completely untouched. Young Jamie’s ears and nose were bright red with anger, apparently old enough now to understand. Kitty and Brianna kept looking at each other and then back at the adults.

“Janet,” Jamie snapped. “Enough.”

“Forgive me,” she said without any hint of an actual apology in her tone. “Shall we continue discussing yer fine meals together in prison?”

“Jenny…” Claire tried, but her quiet attempt at calm was completely talked over.

“It looked just like this, I suppose. You sitting there all high and mighty in yer fine red coat.”

“Janet—”

“And you,” she interrupted Jamie, pointing fiercely at him, “sitting there wi’ him like his coat isna stained wi’ the blood of yer people!”

“Ma, please stop…” Maggie blubbered helplessly.

“Like ye’re equals!” Jenny went on. “Like right now. Sitting there in yer redcoat like ye own the lot of us.”

“Madame, I assure you…”

“Dinna even have the decency to wear something else in the presence of these children who’ve seen nothing but terror from the likes of it!”

“I…I don’t have…”

“Mummy…” Brianna tugged on Claire’s sleeve, and before she could open her mouth to comfort her, Jenny stood.

“Children, out. Take yer plates to the nursery. All of ye. Now.”

She hastily dumped more meat and potatoes on all of their plates as they shuffled out, dumbstruck with fear, Maggie’s sniffling echoing down the halls until their footsteps disappeared up the stairs.

Jamie stood the second the children were out of earshot, and Claire shot to her feet to contain his rage.

“Ye’re out of line, sister,” Jamie said through clenched teeth.

“Oh, I am?” she roared, puffing her chest out with her hands on her hips. “Ye must be bloody mad! Bringing him in to dine like he’s one of us! With my children!”

“He’s a friend!”

“But not one of us!” she spat, her face reddening. “And I canna believe ye…ye dined wi’ him in chains…” Her eyes watered. 

“I was never chained, Jenny.”

“That’s no’ the point!” She angrily swiped at her tears. “Ye let him…use ye…”

Claire’s chest tightened.

“And he’s got ye still like a dog on a lead! It’s plain as the nose on my face watching ye talk wi’ him!”

“What the devil are ye implying?” Jamie’s voice lowered dangerously.

“I may no’ have been farther than Broch Mordha in all my life, but I’m no’ daft.” She crossed her arms over her chest. “Ye bloody told us he’s fond of ye. I bloody ken what that means.”

“Jenny, come on now…” Ian heaved himself to his feet and touched her shoulder.

Claire glanced down at John, and he looked like he was contemplating drowning himself in his soup. Jamie was vibrating beside her, and she put a gentle, calming hand on his forearm.

“I just…” Jenny gasped in a hiccup of tears, her hand flying to her chest. “I didna ken that ye…that you…” She swallowed thickly, gathering her resolve. “Ye didna say you were fond of him.”

In the time it took Claire to blink, something shattered, food splattered all over, and Jamie was leaning across the table, his nose inches away from Jenny’s.

“I’m. Not. Fond. Of anything.”

Claire took a trembling breath, watching Jamie growl in Jenny’s face, Jenny still as stone, not backing down. She took her eye off them for a split second, long enough to see two tears trail down John’s cheeks.

“Dinna lie to me, brother,” Jenny said calmly. “I dinna ken what he did to ye, and I dinna want to know. I just want this madness to stop.”

Jamie heaved, his entire body convulsing with each breath. Claire dare not take a step or move an inch.

“Bringing a redcoat into my home is bad enough,” she went on. “But bringing in a redcoat that’s…someone like him…in front of the children…” Her voice broke again. “How could ye do it, brother…? How could ye let a sodomite—”

A sharp crack filled the air, and Claire felt all the air rush out of her. Jenny recoiled with a stifled cry, holding her cheek. A terrible, painful silence followed, and Jamie straightened up, as if realizing what he’d done. Claire looked at Ian, and she wanted to weep. She had never seen him filled with such anger.

“I’m no’ an impulsive man, Jamie,” Ian said unevenly. “But if ye dinna quit my sight this instant, I’ll pound yer bloody face in fer what ye’ve just done.”

Without a word, Jamie was gone, and the blood rushing in Claire’s ears was too loud for her to hear where he’d gone to. A chair scraped to her left, then a flash of red zipped by; John disappeared.

Not knowing what else to do, Claire sprang into medical action, striding around the table to examine Jenny’s face.

“I’m fine,” she pushed Claire’s hands away. “Nothing more than a bit of stinging. He’d never hit me hard enough to leave a mark.”

“Well he still shouldn't have done that,” Claire said, her voice more thick with emotion than she’d realized it would be. “You’re not children. He’s a grown man with the strength of three grown men. He should not be laying hands on anybody half his size.”

“No,” Ian growled. “He shouldna.”

“D’ye think me mad, sister?” Jenny said desperately, grasping Claire by the shoulders. “Or d’ye see it? Ye must ken what I mean! Ye’re his wife! Has he told ye?”

Claire gently pried Jenny’s fingers off her and laced them with hers. “I don’t think you’re mad. But I do think there’s something you’re missing. And I...I don’t think you should have spoken to Jamie that way. Nor should you have spoken about John like that right in front of him.”

Jenny blinked dumbly. “D’ye no’—”

“Yes, I do,” Claire said sharply. “Jamie told me that John is in love with him.”

“In love?”

“Yes.”

“That’s impossible!”

“No, it isn’t.” Claire’s face heated with anger. “And John never hurt Jamie. Never.”

“But what if it didna...what if it wasna...unpleasant for him? That’s what I’m trying to tell ye!”

“No,” Claire said quickly, too quickly. “Jamie wouldn’t...he said he didn’t. John told me they didn’t. He wouldn’t lie to me.”

“D’ye think they’d confess to such a sin?”

“It’s not a sin.”

“I ken yer time is different sister, but—”

“This has nothing to do with time,” Claire said resolutely. “John is a human being and he can’t help the way he feels. And you have no right to make him feel horrid for who he is.”

Jenny let go of Claire’s hands and crossed her arms, embarrassed. “I don’t...I dinna understand.”

“I don’t expect you to,” Claire said gently, crossing her own arms. “I admit I don’t really understand it either. But it’s none of my business.”

“It is yer business if he’s rogering yer husband.”

Claire recoiled as if she was hit in the face, blinking in shock.

“If you don’t take that back this instant, I’ll slap you myself.”

Jenny flushed with embarrassment. “I’m sorry, sister. I’m sorry.”

Claire sighed impatiently. “I’ll go talk to Jamie. After you’ve both cooled down, you will apologize. For insulting his friend, and him.”

“But—”

“And if Jamie has been unfaithful,” Claire gathered her skirts and walked away, stopping in the doorway, “I will deal with him in my own way.”

——

After several minutes of searching, Claire found Jamie in the stables, his forehead pressed to the snout of his horse as he whispered in Gaelic, stroking his muzzle. He seemed to have calmed considerably, for which Claire had the horses to thank. They always had a soothing effect on him, even as far back as when she’d first met him.

“Has Jenny convinced ye I’m a filthy pervert, then?”

Claire recoiled a bit, but pressed on, taking a few more steps into the stable. “No.”

“I’m sorry if I frightened ye,” Jamie said sadly. “But I’m no’ sorry I hit her.”

“I don’t blame you,” Claire admitted. “She was behaving abhorrently.”

“I hear what ye’re no’ saying, Sassenach,” Jamie said, still not looking at her. “Ye condemn Jenny, but ye still want to ask me if she’s right.”

Claire straightened her spine, embarrassed she’d been found out so easily.

“Well, wouldn’t you?” Claire tried, taking another step forward. “If a man showed up on our threshold and started acting so...familiar with me, and went on about all the evenings we spent together...wouldn’t you wonder?”

“Aye. I would.” He finally released the horse and turned around, flicking a piece of hay away impatiently. “But ye thought I was dead. I’d no’ shame ye for remarrying, or trying to. I kent ye lived and maybe waited for me. Why would I betray ye? Why would ye think it? And wi’...wi’ a bloody s—”

“Don’t say it.” Claire put a hand up. “I’ve heard that word quite enough for one lifetime, now.”

“Is that no’ what he is?”

“He’s a man, first and foremost. And your friend, secondly.”

“Aye. But I dinna have to agree wi’ how he lives his life.”

“But you don’t have to treat him so awfully for it, either,” Claire said firmly. “He can’t help how he feels about you. I admit I didn’t realize how...strongly he felt until he showed up today. I was...frightened by it, truthfully.”

“What frightened ye, Sassenach?”

“I...I don’t know…” Claire shook her head. “When I saw that it went beyond...lust...I thought...I was afraid that…”

“I dinna love him,” Jamie growled, his body tightening.

“I didn’t say you did,” Claire said, her voice quiet with awed horror. “You said that.”

He stepped back, running an impatient hand through his hair. “I don’t.”

Claire crossed her arms over her chest. “John told me nothing...happened.”

“It didn’t.”

Claire almost jumped at his vehemence.

“And if anything would ha’ happened, it woulda been my choice. My own free will. As ye well know.”

Claire blinked a few times, unable to reconcile with the unfamiliar rage roiling in her gut. “You’d...let him do that…hurt you...but you don’t love him.”

“He wouldna hurt me!” Jamie said furiously. “Why are ye so determined to make him a monster?”

“Why are you so determined to defend him?” Claire shot right back. “You say it as if you’d...want him to!”

“Want him to what, Claire?” Jamie took a dangerous step forward, hovering over him.

“You know bloody well what!”

Jamie roughly seized her upper arm, yanking her close. “Say it, Claire. I want ye to look me in the eye and tell me what it is ye think I want.”

“You want to know what I think?”

“Aye! I do!” He shook her a bit.

“I want to know if you actually let him fuck you to buy your freedom! And if you fucking wanted him to! And enjoyed it!”

He released her suddenly with a great shove, and with a mighty roar, he punched his fist into the door of an empty stall behind him, spooking all of the horses. Claire gasped, stumbling back and falling onto her rear. She knew to her deepest core that he could have hit her with that force. He threw her away to protect her from the rage she’d stirred in him.

But, God help her, she still wasn’t done.

“I don’t bloody care who it is! I care if it happened or not!” She stayed on the ground, crying up to him like a pathetic child. “And I care that you might not think it...counts because he’s a man! And God, Jamie! It does!”

“Of course it counts!” he shouted. “It would! If it’d happened! Why, why would I lie to you?” “Because you’re ashamed! I can see it all over your face!” She pointed accusingly, openly weeping at him. “If it were a woman you’d be on your knees begging my forgiveness, but because it’s a man, you’re ashamed!”

That gave him pause, and Claire thought she’d gotten through to him, thought he was about to make a confession. A tear rolled down his cheek.

“Aye. I am ashamed.”

Claire let out a tiny sob, hugging her knees to her chest and resting her chin on them. It was her doing, wrenching it out of him like this; it was what she’d wanted. And yet she wished she could undo it all, live in blissful ignorance forever. She couldn’t bear to hear him say it, and yet she had to.

“I’m ashamed because I’m afraid.”

This gave her pause. She blinked, picking her head up off her knees. “Afraid…?”

“I’m afraid of what would have happened if he’d agreed to it.”

And all at once, Claire wanted to die with shame, because she knew with all her heart that he was telling the truth.

“I’m afraid I would have...enjoyed it. As ye said.” He took a stuttering breath, more tears littering his cheeks. “There was a...a thrill that ran through me when I asked him. And it scared me senseless. And I ken. I ken that...that Randall put that in me. I ken.”

“Jamie…” Claire practically squeaked. She unfurled from herself and got on her knees. “Jamie...come here. Come here, love…”

He obeyed, dropping to his knees like dead weight, and Claire gathered him in her arms until his head was in her lap, hands fisting her skirts.

“That man put nothing in you. Nothing. He owns no part of you and you own no part of him.”

He shook his head, and she stroked his hair, hushing him.

“If you...if you’d enjoy being with a man...a man who cares about you...loves you, even...it’s not the same thing. It’s not.”

She listened to his quiet sniffling and bit down her own tears, working to steady her voice.

“That’s not...how that works,” she struggled to find the words. “I don’t know much about John, but he’s not...the way he is because somebody hurt him. People don’t just...become that way. He was born that way. And if...if you…”

“No. I’m no’ like him.”

“Not like John? Or not like Randall?”

“John is a good man.”

“I know,” she soothed. “I know.”

“I ken he’s a good man...and yet I...I canna…” he took a deep breath. “Ye remember I told ye I beat a man senseless fer implying John and I were...buggering.”

“I remember.”

“It wasna to defend John’s honor. No’ really. And he knew it. I think he knows...something. I never told him, and I never will. But he could tell.”

“So why did you beat him then?” Claire knew the answer, but she needed to hear Jamie say it.

“Because I couldna stand anyone thinking I was that way. It made be blind wi’ rage.”

Claire nodded, stroking his cheek with her knuckles. “I know.”

“I...my mind knows that John is good...but my body...recoils to think of what he is.”

“To...think of what you might be?”

It was risky. He could kill her in one fell swoop.

Instead, he tightened his grip around her waist and buried his face further into her.

“I don’t care, Jamie. I don’t. I don’t know how to help you accept that part of yourself, but just know that it makes no difference to me.”

Claire swallowed. “I’m sorry I was so horrid. I said exactly what I knew would get you the most upset. And I know why it gets you upset. And it was so, terribly wrong of me.”

She felt a fervent kiss to her abdomen, and she clung to his hair.

“I think I...as much as I respect and admire him...I just as equally resent him. And it’s awful because you were in prison, for Christ’s sake...but I…” Her voice caught in her throat. “I know I’ve said it enough times, but you were dead. I was so lost without you. We all were. We were harassed and starved and beaten, and we lost and feared…” She shook her head. “And for those eight years, he had you. You were at his beck and call to dine with and...play chess...all the while I thought you were rotting on Culloden Moor.”

Jamie sat up, looking into her eyes with enough remorse to crumble the strongest resolve.

“I’m your wife. I’m your fucking wife,” she said, teeth clenched. “I was your wife those entire eight years that he had you pretend I didn’t exist; you didn’t even know your daughter existed. I cried into my fucking potatoes every night for years beacuse you weren’t at supper and all he had to do was look up and see you right there. And the thought of it makes me…” She must have been trembling, because he put steadying hands on her shoulders. “I can’t bear to think of it.”

Jamie tenderly kissed her forehead.

“And to think of him having just that one bit more of you...the only thing that I’d have to claim over him…” She shrugged uselessly, feeling like a petulant toddler fighting for rights to a toy. “To think of you giving yourself to him the way you give yourself to me while I couldn’t even bring myself to touch myself for eight years…”

“But I didn’t, Claire,” he said vehemently. “I didn’t.”

She nodded, pursing her lips. “I know,” she croaked. “I know.”

He captured her lips gently, almost hesitantly, and she reciprocated in kind, fingers trembling on his cheeks.

“D’ye doubt that I love you?”

“No,” Claire answered without hesitation. “Not for a single second.”

Jamie nodded, sighing in relief. “I was afraid...once ye knew the darkest parts of me...ye’d think I couldna…”

Claire shook her head, kissing him lightly again. “It doesn’t make you dark. Or incapable of love.”

“Or incapable of loving that ye’re a woman…?”

Claire shook her head again. “You tell me, Jamie. Do you still love these…?” She took his hands and guided them to her breasts, delighting in the stutter of his breath. He nodded reverently. She guided his hands under her skirts. “How about this?”

He groaned, and a chill ran down her spine.

“Aye, lass. God, I do…”

She straddled him, kissing him more deeply, grinding down into his hand. “Then nothing else matters.”

[dwellordream]

“...While on his travels Augustus would have continued to be preoccupied with the old issue of what would happen after his death. He had clearly demonstrated at the time of his departure that he could not manage without Marcus Agrippa, married at the time to Marcella, Octavia’s daughter. Agrippa now divorced her (her compensation was to be married to Iullus Antonius, the son of Antony and Fulvia), so as to be free in 21 to marry the widowed Julia. Plutarch says that this marriage came about through Octavia’s machinations and that she prevailed upon Augustus to accept the idea. It is not clear what her motives would have been.

If we are to believe Seneca we might see pure spite. He claimed that Octavia hated Livia after the death of Marcellus because the hopes of the imperial house passed now to Livia’s sons. This could well be no more than speculation, and Seneca does not even hint at any specific action by Octavia against her supposed rival. The whole story sounds typically Senecan in its denigration of dead individuals who are easy targets. Once again, we are told nothing about Livia’s reaction to the marriage. She might not have been able to object to the earlier marriage between Julia and Augustus’ nephew Marcellus, but in 21 the situation was different. Her older son, Tiberius, who was not yet married, had been passed over in favour of an outsider to the family. 

But whatever his sense of obligation to his wife, Augustus probably felt that he had little choice in the matter. Agrippa’s earlier reaction to having to take second place to Marcellus, a blood relative of Augustus, would have provided a good hint to Augustus of how his friend would have taken to playing second string to Tiberius. Agrippa was now a key figure in the governing of Rome. He was not a man to be provoked. If Livia had been entertaining hopes that this early stage of a preeminent role for either of her sons (and such a suggestion, while reasonable, is totally speculative), such hopes would have faded with the birth of two sons to Julia and Agrippa.

Gaius Caesar was born in 20 bc, and, as if to confirm the line, a second son, Lucius Caesar, arrived in 17. Augustus was delighted, and soon after Lucius’ birth signalled his ultimate intentions by adopting both boys. He thus might envisage himself as being ‘‘succeeded’’ by Agrippa, who would in turn be succeeded by either Gaius and Lucius, who were, in a sense, sons of both men. In late 16 bc Augustus set out on an extended trip to Gaul and Spain, where he established a number of veteran settlements. Livia may have accompanied him. Dio does report speculation that the emperor went away so as to be able to conduct his affair with Terentia, the wife of his close confidant Maecenas, in a place where it would not attract gossip. 

Even if the rumours were well founded, the implication need not necessarily follow that he had left Livia behind. Livia had a reputation as a femme complaisante, and Augustus may simply have wanted to get away from the prying eyes of the capital. Certainly at one stage Livia intervened with Augustus to argue for the grant of citizenship to a Gaul, and this trip provides the best context. Moreover, Seneca dates a famous incident to this trip, Livia’s plea on behalf of the accused Gaius Cornelius Cinna. It could well be that Seneca misdated the Cinna episode, but he at any rate clearly believed that Livia had been in Gaul with her husband at the relevant time.

…Agrippa lived to see the birth of two other children, his daughters Julia and Agrippina. The first (born about 19 bc) is the namesake of her mother, and, in the historical tradition, cut from the same cloth; the second was to be somewhat eclipsed in the same tradition by her own daughter and namesake, the mother of the last Julio-Claudian emperor, Nero. Agrippa thus became the natural father of four of Augustus’ grandchildren during his lifetime (a fifth would be born posthumously), and his stock rose higher with each event. He had served his princeps well, and could now take his final exit. In 13 he campaigned in the Balkans. At the end of the season he returned to Italy, where he fell ill, and in mid-March, 12 bc, he died. 

His body was brought to Rome, where it was given a magnificent burial, and the remains were deposited in the Mausoleum of Augustus, even though Agrippa had earlier booked himself another site in the Campus Martius. In the following year Octavia died. She is celebrated by the sources as a paragon of every human virtue, whose only possible failings had been the forgivable ones of excessive loyalty to an undeserving husband and excessive grief over the death of a possibly only marginally more deserving son. As noted earlier, we should be cautious about Seneca’s claim that Octavia nursed a hatred for Livia after the death of Marcellus. But there can be no doubt that her death was in a sense advantageous to Livia, for it removed one of the main contenders for the role of the premier woman in the state. Only Augustus’ daughter Julia might now lay claim to a precedence of sorts, but she in fact became an agent in furthering Livia’s ambitions, rather than an obstacle. Once her formal period of mourning was over, Julia would need another husband. Suetonius says that her father carefully considered several options, even from among the equestrians. 

Tiberius later claimed that Augustus pondered the idea of marrying her off to a political nonentity, someone noted for leading a retiring life and not involved in a political career. Among others he supposedly considered Gaius Proculeius, a close friend of the emperor and best known for the manner of his death rather than of his life: he committed suicide by what must have been a painful technique—swallowing gypsum. This drastic action was apparently not in response to the prospect of marriage to Julia but in despair over the unbearable pains in his stomach.

In 11 bc, the year of Octavia’s death, Augustus made his decision. He could hardly pass over one of Livia’s sons again. They were the only real choices, given the practical options open to him. Both were married, and Drusus’ wife was the daughter of Octavia, someone able already to produce offspring linked, at least indirectly, by blood to the princeps. Divorce in this case would not have been desirable. Augustus had already demonstrated his faith in Livia’s other son, Tiberius, by appointing him to replace Agrippa in the Balkans. He was the inevitable candidate for Julia’s next husband. In perhaps 20 or 19 Tiberius had married Agrippa’s daughter Vipsania, to whom he had long been betrothed. Their son Drusus was born in perhaps 14. In 11 Vipsania was pregnant for a second time, but Tiberius was obliged to divorce her, although he seems to have been genuinely attached to her. Reputedly when they met after the divorce he followed her with such a forlorn and tearful gaze that precautions were taken that their paths would never cross again. 

He was now free to marry Julia. This marriage marks a milestone in Tiberius’ career and in the ambitions that Livia would naturally have nursed for her son. Augustus was clearly prepared to place him in an advantageous position, and the process could be revoked only with difficulty. It is inevitable that there should be speculation among modern scholars that Livia might have played a role in arranging the marriage. Gardthausen claimed that she brought it off in the teeth of vigorous opposition. Perhaps, but the suggestion belongs totally to the realm of speculation. If Livia did play some part in winning over Augustus, she did it so skilfully and unobtrusively that she has left no traces, and the sources are silent about any specific interference on this occasion.

Nor can it be assumed that Augustus would have needed a great deal of persuading. No serious store should be placed in the claims in the sources that he held Tiberius in general contempt and was reduced to turning to him faut de mieux. Suetonius quotes passages from Augustus’ correspondence that provide concrete evidence that the emperor in fact held his adopted son in high regard. Suetonius chose the extracts to show his appreciation of Tiberius’ military and administrative skills, but his words clearly suggest a high degree of affection that seems to go beyond the merely formulaic. 

He addresses Tiberius as iucundissime, probably the equivalent in modern correspondence of ‘‘my very dear Tiberius.’’ He reveals that when he has a challenging problem or is feeling particularly annoyed at something, he yearns for his Tiberius (Tiberium meum desidero), and he notes that both he and Livia are tortured by the thought that her son might be overtaxing himself. Livia’s other son, Drusus, although arguably his brother’s match in military reputation and ability, seems to have been quite different from him in temperament. Where Tiberius was private, inhibited, uninterested in courting popularity, Drusus was affable, engaging, and well-liked, and there was a popular belief, probably naive, that he was committed to an eventual restoration of the republic. He had found a perfectly compatible wife in Antonia the Younger, a woman who commanded universal esteem and respect to the very end.

They produced two sons, both of whom would loom large on the stage of human events: Germanicus, who became the most loved man in the Roman empire and whose early death threatened to erode Livia’s popularity, and Claudius, whose physical limitations were an embarrassment to Livia and to other members of the imperial family, but who confounded them all by becoming an emperor of considerable acumen and ability. They also had a daughter, Livilla, who attained disrepute through her affair with the most loathed man in the early Roman empire, the notorious praetorian prefect Sejanus.

Drusus dominated the landscape in 9 bc. The year seemed to start auspiciously for Livia. In 13 bc the Senate had voted to consecrate the Ara Pacis, one of the great monuments of Augustus’ regime, as a memorial to his safe return from Spain and the pacification of Gaul. The dedication waited four years and finally took place in 9, on January 30, Livia’s birthday, perhaps her fiftieth. The honour was a profound one, but indirect and thus low-key, in keeping with Livia’s public persona. Her sons continued to achieve distinction on the battlefield. A decorated sword sheath of provincial workmanship has survived from this period.

It represents a frontal Livia with the nodus hairstyle, and shoulder locks carefully designed so as to flow along her shoulders above the drapery. She appears between two heads, almost certainly her sons, and the piece pictorially symbolises Livia at what must have been one of the most satisfying periods of her life. To cap her sense of well-being, Tiberius, after signal victories over the Dalmatians and Pannonians, returned to Rome to celebrate an ovation. Following the usual practice after a triumph or ovation, a dinner was given for the Senate in the Capitoline temple, and tables were set out for the people in front of private houses. 

A separate banquet was arranged for the women. Its sponsors were Livia and Julia. Private tensions may already have arisen between Tiberius and Julia, but at least at the public level they were sedulously maintaining an outward image of marital harmony, and Livia was making her own contribution towards promoting that image. Similar festivities were planned to celebrate Drusus’ victories. Presumably in his case Livia would have joined Antonia, Drusus’ wife, in preparing the banquet, as she had joined Tiberius’ wife on the earlier occasion.

While Tiberius had been engaged in operations in Pannonia, Drusus had conducted a highly acclaimed campaign in Germany. By 9 bc he had succeeded in taking Roman arms as far as the river Elbe. So awesome were his achievements that greater powers felt the need to intervene. He was visited by the apparition of a giant barbarian woman, who told him—she conveniently spoke Latin—not to push his successes further. Something was clearly amiss in the divine timing. Suetonius implies that Drusus heeded the warning, but calamity befell him anyhow. In a riding accident Drusus’ horse toppled over onto him and broke his thigh. He fell gravely ill. 

His deteriorating condition caused consternation throughout the Roman world, and it is even claimed that the enemy respected him so much that they declared a truce pending his recovery. (Similar claims were later made about his son Germanicus.) Tiberius had been campaigning in the Balkans at the time but had returned to Italy and was passing through Ticinum after the campaign when he heard that Drusus was sinking fast. Travelling the 290 km in a day and a night, a rate that Pliny thought impressive enough to record, he rushed to be with his brother. He reached him just before he died in September, 9 bc. Drusus was universally liked, and his death at the age of twenty-nine could not seriously be seen as benefitting anyone.

Nevertheless, it still managed to attract gossip and rumours. The death of a young prince of the imperial house would usually drag in the name of Livia as the prime suspect. In this instance such a scenario would have been totally implausible, and Augustus became the target of the innuendo instead. Tacitus reports that the tragedy evoked the same jaundiced reactions as would that of Germanicus, three decades later in the reign of Tiberius, that sons with ‘‘democratic’’ temperaments—civilia ingenia—did not please ruling fathers (Germanicus had been adopted by Tiberius). 

Suetonius has preserved a tradition that Augustus, suspecting Drusus of republicanism, recalled him from his province and, when he declined to obey, had him poisoned. Suetonius thought the suggestion nonsensical, and he is surely correct. Augustus had shown great affection for the young man and in the Senate had named him joint heir with Gaius and Lucius. He also delivered a warm eulogy after his death. Even Tiberius’ grief was portrayed as twofaced. To illustrate Tiberius’ hatred for the members of his own family, Suetonius claims that he had earlier produced a letter in which his younger brother discussed with him the possibility of compelling Augustus to restore the republic.

But events seem to belie completely the notion of any serious fraternal strife. Tiberius’ anguish was clearly genuine. His general deportment is of special interest, because of the light that it might throw on his and Livia’s conduct later, at the funeral of Germanicus. According to Seneca, the troops were deeply distressed over the death and demanded Drusus’ body. Tiberius maintained that discipline had to be observed in grieving as well as fighting, and that the funeral was to be conducted with the dignity demanded by the Roman tradition. He repressed his own tears and was able to dampen the enthusiasm for a vulgar show of public grief.

Tiberius now set out with the body for Rome. Augustus went to Ticinum (Pavia) to meet the cortege, and because Seneca says that Livia accompanied the procession to Rome, it is probably safe to assume that she went with her husband. As she travelled, she was struck by the pyres that burned throughout  the country and the crowds that came out to escort the funeral train. The event provides one of the few glimpses of Livia’s private emotions. She was crushed by the death and sought comfort from the philosopher Areus. On his advice, she uncharacteristically opened herself up to others. She put pictures of Drusus in public and private places and encouraged her acquaintances to talk about him.

But she maintained a respectable level of grief, which elicited the admiration of Seneca. Tiberius may well have learned from his mother the appropriateness of self-restraint in the face of private anguish. It was an attitude that was later to arouse considerable resentment against both of them. During the funeral in Rome, Tiberius delivered a eulogy in the Forum and Augustus another in the Circus Maximus, where the emperor expressed the hope that Gaius and Lucius would emulate Drusus. 

The body was taken to the Campus Martius for cremation by the equestrians, and the funeral bier was surrounded by images of the Julian and the Claudian families. The ashes were deposited in Augustus’ mausoleum. The title of Germanicus was posthumously bestowed on Drusus and his descendants, and he was given the further honour of statues, an arch, and a cenotaph on the banks of the Rhine. Augustus composed the verses that appeared on his tomb and also wrote a prose account of his life. No doubt less distinguished Romans, of varied literary talent, would have written their own contributions.

The anonymous Consolatio ad Liviam represents itself as just such a composition, intended to offer comfort to Livia on this very occasion, although it was probably composed somewhat later. Livia was indeed devastated, but as some form of compensation for her terrible private loss, she now, after some thirty years in the shadows, came into greater public prominence. The final chapter of Drusus’ life seems to have opened up a new one in his mother’s.”

- Anthony A. Barrett, “In the Shadows.” in Livia: First Lady of Imperial Rome

[songtoyou]

Tempting Fate - Part Six

Paring: Tommy Shelby x Reader

Warnings: Nothing major.

Word Count: 1,815

Story Summary: Tommy is not a believer in fate or destiny. However, a new resident in Small Heath will question his beliefs and push his boundaries outside his comfort zone.

Chapter Summary: Tommy gets attacked by Sabini’s thugs. You help him recuperate at home. He tells you of his plan to meet with Alfie Solomons to join forces against Sabini.

A/N: While this story takes place during season two of the show, I made some changes to the timeline. For instance, Tommy meets May before meeting Alfie Solomons. Tommy also gets attacked by Sabini’s men long after meeting May. I just wanted to make that clear. The Garrison got bombed and rebuilt before the start of the story.

Please do not post any of my fics to other sites without my permission.

Tag list: @owenniasstars​​

You knew it was not a good idea for Tommy, Arthur, and John to go to London to appear at the Eden Club. The jazz club was owned by Darby Sabini, the man who currently controls half of the southern racecourses. These are racecourses Tommy desired to take over for himself. To no surprise, the Shelby brothers more than let their presence at the club be known, making sure to cause a raucous and leaving destruction in their path. Typical antics by the Shelby brothers. You and Polly adamantly told Tommy that being reckless was not how to get noticed by Sabini, but Tommy merely brushed them both off.

"Sabini is aware of us now. That was the whole purpose of the trip. He'll make his move, eventually, and when he does, we will be ready," Tommy voiced nonchalantly.

You merely shook her head in disapproval at Tommy. "Okay, the fact that you gave Sabini the upper hand is a really dumb move," you said honestly. "Why would you do that, Tommy? Do you have a death wish or something?" you asked him, concerned for his wellbeing.

Tommy got up from his chair to stand in front of you. He placed his hands on your shoulders and began to gently rub them to help calm your nerves. He softly spoke your name and told you that everything was going to be okay. "You got nothing to worry about, love. You got to trust me on this. I know what I am doing; nothing about my plan is out of place," Tommy reassured you.

However, the small voice inside you was telling you otherwise. It did not take long for your fears to come to fruition. You were at the betting shop helping Polly and Esme on little tasks when they got word that Tommy was in the hospital. Apparently, Tommy got set up by the Jews who asked him for a sit-down only to be attacked by Sabini and his thugs. You told Polly that you were going with her to the hospital. Before she could refuse, you held your hand up to say, "I'm going. Don't try to stop me."

Polly waved you along to follow her to the car and told Esme to watch the house. On the way to the hospital, you kept shaking your leg right leg and fidgeting in your seat.

"I told Tommy something like this would happen, but he didn't listen. He never listens," you almost shouted.

Polly could only sigh, "That's Thomas for you. He always claims to know what is right. He never takes what others think or feel into consideration."

You pinched the bridge of his nose and took a deep breath, and let it out. "It's always going to be like this, isn't it?" you asked, looking towards Polly. "Always worrying about him?"

"Yes. If you are going to be with Tommy, then that will be your life from now on. Think you can handle it?"

"I don't know. But I know no other woman would be able to. He needs someone to look after him, even though he may not think so," you told Polly, who let out an amused chuckle.

"What?" you asked her, confused.

"Nothing, dear. You really were made for Tommy. The two of you are written in the stars," Polly praised happily. "I'm glad Tommy has you around to look after him. Helps ease off my load."

When you and Polly made it to the hospital, it didn't take long to find Tommy. The doctor told you both that Tommy was lucky to be alive. Polly asked you if it was okay for her to see Tommy first. You agreed and waited until she was done.

Polly was only in the room with Tommy for fifteen minutes.

"We're leaving," said Polly.

When she reached for your arm, you pulled away. "What? No! I need to see him!" you shouted.

"Shhh!" ordered Polly. "He says he doesn't want any more visitors. He needs to rest, now let's go."

But you pulled out Polly's grasp and walked towards the hospital room. You saw a row of beds, and Tommy was at the very end. You slowly walked up to him and sat down. It pained you to see him in such a state. Cheek cut, eye swollen shut, ribs bruised and broken. It took all of your strength not to break down in front of him.

He looked at you but didn't say anything. Leaning his head back on the pillow, Tommy let out a disappointed sigh. You didn't say anything. The last thing you wanted to do was scold him or tell him, "you told him so." That wasn't what he needed. So you reached for his hand and intertwined it with yours. He squeezed it tightly. It was his way of thanking you for being there with him.

Nothing was needed to be said between the two of you. Tommy was grateful to have you next to him, even if he didn't actually say it. Your gesture showed him that you were not going anywhere and that you would stay by his side no matter what happened.

What's worst is that Sabini's men also accosted Ada. Thankfully, Tommy already had some of the Peaky Blinders watching out for his little sister. But it was Ada who eventually fought off the thugs herself. You had yet to meet Ada but heard a lot about her from her brother's and aunt. You found out that Ada's husband, Freddie, had recently died from pestilence, and they had a young son, Karl. Ada decided not to move back to Birmingham but chose to stay in London for she didn't want much to do with her family. However, Tommy was not too keen on letting his little sister cut him and the others out of her life so easily. Typical Tommy, you thought.

You visited Tommy every day at the hospital for the first week. By the second week, you could tell he was getting restless. "I need to get out of here," he kept telling you.

"Tommy," you began, "You need to rest and heal."

Unfortunately, Tommy didn't listen and checked himself out of the hospital. Luckily, you caught him as he was getting ready to leave.

"What do you think you are doing, Thomas?" you scolded him. But he didn't say anything.

Tommy struggled to put on his coat. You let him struggle as you knew helping would only make him feel emasculated. When Tommy finally looked at you with pleading eyes, you walked over and helped him into his coat. You folded his collar down and smoothed out his shirt underneath.

While his face had healed up nicely, it still pained you to look at him. His ribs were still bruised but still managed to be able to move around. You offered your arm for him to take, which he did.

Slowly, you both walked out of the hospital.

"I couldn't stay there anymore. Sabini's men would have come to finish me off eventually or someone else," Tommy told you. What he did not tell you was that Chester Campbell visited him earlier. Campbell found out that Tommy killed Eamonn Duggan and threatened Tommy to work for him as a spy or be jailed and hanged.

"Take me back to your place," Tommy instructed. "I'll finish healing there, okay."

"Well, that makes me feel a little bit better," you said with a small smile.

When you got Tommy home, you took him up to your bed, where he slept for the remainder of the day. You fed him when he got up and cleaned his wounds. You told him to stay put when you went for your shift at The Garrison. He was already asleep when you returned. You snuggled next to help and held him while he slept peacefully. Polly, Arthur, and John would make trips to your house to check on Tommy and give him updates on the business. This routine occurred for another week before Tommy became eager to get back to work physically.

He told you that he was heading back to London to meet Alfie Solomons, the leader of the Jewish gangsters in Camden Town. "I'm going to offer Solomons to join forces with us. I also need to stop by Ada's home to see how she is doing. If she is going to stay in London, then she needs a better place to stay, so I bought her a house," Tommy shared with you that morning.

"How are you getting to London?" you asked him curiously. "More than likely, Sabini's men or folks he hired are keeping watch to let him know of your whereabouts."

"I got that covered. I'm meeting up with Charlie and Curry in an hour down by the canal. Curry will take me to London on a barge. It will take a couple of days to get there…"

"Is anyone else going with you?" you interrupted Tommy.

He shook his head 'no' and lit a cigarette. "I need to do this myself," Tommy said to you.

While Tommy knew that you more than likely would have wanted to go with him to make sure he stayed safe, you nodded your head as a show of understanding. You realized that it would be in your best interest to trust Tommy and not doubt him.

"Well, while you are gone, Esme and I are going to meet up with Johnny Dogs to head to a fair not too far from here. The kids have been bugging John and her about going to a fair. John couldn't go, so I offered to go with her. I think Esme is a little bit homesick. She misses traveling."

"Please stay out of trouble while I'm gone," Tommy advised firmly. "I don't want to picture the trouble you and Esme will no doubt get into. Both of you, please behave yourself."

You couldn't hold back your laughter. "We're going to have the kids with us, so not much trouble the two of us can get into. But don't worry, we will behave ourselves," you told Tommy and got up to kiss on the lips.

Before you could step back, his hand grasped the back of your head and deepened the kiss. With Tommy's injuries, the two of you hadn't been intimate with one another in a long while.

When Tommy stood up, he began unbuttoning your blouse and walking you back to the bedroom.

"Tommy, we can't. You're still hurt," you pleaded, but it went on deaf ears as Tommy guided you to the bed.

"I need you, love. It has been too long. Trust me, being inside you will make me feel better," Tommy uttered while kissing your neck and chest.

Who were you to deny the man? You needed him just as he needed you.

[mostlycompetentwriter]

FAM

F/M Pairing: Fem!Reader x Lee Minho (SKZ)

Word Count: 2.4K

Genre: Hybrid AU; Strangers to Lovers AU

Warnings: None!!

Summary: You weren’t entirely sure about adopting a hybrid, but your friends insisted that you have someone to keep you company in the giant apartment where you lived alone. But you never imagined how much you were missing out on, until you also fell in love...

A/N: I’m trying my hand at writing hybrid AUs, so please forgive me if it isn’t up to expectation! Tagging @skzwriternet​ as usual!!

The adoption center was located in a giant brick building at the center of the downtown district where traffic was always heavy, and swarms of people migrated together to walk down the crowded sidewalks as a means of occupying their time on the weekends.

But you were hardly the type to enjoy such things, and you and your friends often spent time in each other’s apartments as opposed to dealing with the claustrophobia of the 5:00 rush hour. But on this afternoon in particular, you carefully navigated the intersections and bustling extensions to find a parking spot in the freshly paved lot of the adoption center. Because you were finally going to meet the cat hybrid that you had recently adopted after a lot of pressure from your friends and several hours scrolling through the online website.

Eventually, after an interesting internal-debate, your eyes were drawn to a hybrid cat with calico-colored ears, and the bright green of his eyes had captured your heart in an instant. From there, you didn’t need any more intervention to call the shelter and arrange a time to meet them at the center to pick-up your new friend. Even though you didn’t know much about taking care of a hybrid, you had spent the past week reading anything that you could get your hands on.

You were feeling both confident and excited when you offered your name to the receptionist upon your arrival, and she offered to bring Minho out to you. “He’s been here for so long,” she explained. “His last owners brought him in before they moved.”

“They gave him up?” you asked, appalled at the idea.

However, the receptionist merely shrugged, and you had a feeling that this sort of thing happened all the time. “Well, let me get everything arranged for you,” the receptionist said, and you lingered around the lobby while you waited, flexing your fingers because you had already signed so much paperwork.

But it was all worth it when you saw him for the first time, looking at you with the same green eyes that had first captivated your attention. “Y/N,” the receptionist said. “This is Minho.”

You shuffled in place, pasting on your best smile as you studied the hybrid. “Nice to meet you, Minho,” you said. “I hope we can get along well.”

“Yeah,” Minho replied, and you were a little caught off-guard by his nonchalant attitude, but the receptionist was positively beaming and you finished signing all the required forms before you brought Minho outside to your parked SUV.

“I hope you’re comfortable,” you said to make conversation on the drive home. So far, even with your introverted tendencies taken into consideration, you were having a hard time maintaining a conversation with him. “I redesigned the guest room for you.”

“That’s fine,” Minho said, and you took a deep breath because you weren’t expecting him to be so dismissive. But maybe he wasn’t the type who talked very much after just meting someone for the first time, and you could understand the value of your silence. Still, you only wished that it didn’t feel so awkward, returning to your apartment only to watch Minho barricade himself inside his room for the rest of the night.

From thenceforth, life with Minho...was the opposite of what you expected.

Instead of living together cohesively, and enjoying the company of someone else in the apartment, you found yourself seriously questioning whether or not you had made the right decision in adopting him. For starters, he never left his room, and you only ever saw him on rare occasions when he needed to use the bathroom, or to grab his dinner from the table. Which leads you directly to your next point: other than rushed greetings in passing, Minho never spoke to you.

And that was certainly not something that you were okay with, especially considering the fact that it felt like you were living with a total stranger. But when you brought it up to your friends and colleagues, they assured you that he just needed more time to adjust: “Maybe buy him something that Cat Hybrids really enjoy?”

So, you did, and the price of the rare treats was a major blow to your checking account, but you were desperate to get a reaction from him. And you were incredibly disappointed when he ignored the treats on the table, choosing instead to pretend like they didn’t even exist. However, that’s where you drew the line, deciding to confront Minho about your scarce interactions.

But when you stepped into his bedroom unannounced, you realized that he was absent, which meant that he was probably showering. In the meantime, while you waited for him to return, you cautiously studied the little knick-knacks and photos displayed all around the room on the shelves you had installed. Apparently, Minho was quite sentimental, and you paused on a picture of Minho smiling next to another cat hybrid who was similar in age and appearance...

“Please don’t touch that,” a guttural voice interrupted your thoughts, and you nearly had a heart attack as you returned the decorative picture frame and turned around to face Minho.

“I’m sorry,” you said, swallowing hard because you felt guilty about messing with his things. “I was waiting for you to get back.”

Minho nodded, choosing to walk around you to peruse the collection of papers stacked on top of his desk. “Did you need something?”

“Yeah...” you started, trailing off when you glanced back at the picture. “Who is that with you?”

Minho sighed at your question, and he pursed his lips like he was considering whether or not he wanted to respond. “He’s my little brother,” Minho eventually relented, and he returned to his files while you studied him with an enlightened understanding of the mercurial hybrid.

“You were separated,” you said, more as a statement rather than an actual question, but Minho still nodded. “What’s his name?”

“Jisung, and I’ve been looking for him,” he said. “But none of the registries match.”

Suddenly, a lightbulb turned on inside your head, and you connected the dots as you realized that the files on Minho’s desk were all documents recording the names of the Hybrids registered with the government - as mandated several years ago.

“I’ll help you find him,” you said, and you could tell that Minho was affected, shoulders rising even as he remained facing away from you. 

“Why would you do that?”

“Because nobody deserves what you’ve gone through,” you said. “I adopted you because I wanted a companion, but there’s more than enough room for another Hybrid.”

He was silent for a moment, and neither of you even took a chance on interrupting the tension until Minho spun around with evidence of fresh tears in his green eyes. “Thank you,” he said, but you didn’t need any gratitude for doing something that you knew was right.

“Let me help you,” you continued. “I’ll do whatever it takes, and you don’t have to avoid me anymore. I think it would be nice if we lived together as a family.”

Minho nodded, and he swiped the sleeve of his shirt beneath his eyes. “I’m sorry for ignoring you....I thought you might send me back to the shelter.”

“I wouldn’t,” you said. “I chose to take on this responsibility, and I’m not the type to just give-up if something proves to be more difficult than I thought.”

“But I made it hard...”

“It doesn’t matter anymore,” you interrupted him, chancing a few steps closer to place your hand on his shoulder - a soothing gesture. “Let’s find your little brother, okay?”

“Okay,” Minho agreed, and, for the first time since you met, he even managed some semblance of a smile.

Over the course of following two weeks, you and Minho continued to grow even closer as you relentlessly searched for his little brother - constantly reassuring him to never lose hope.

You could tell that he was growing disenchanted with your repeated failures, and you always did your best to improve his moods. You studied him closely, discovering little things that he liked - K-dramas with cheesy endings, chocolate-flavored sweet things, and the feeling of warm towels straight out of the dryer that you always left on his bed after cleaning them.

Each night, you made Minho’s favorite dishes, and the two of you sat together in the living room and ate dinner while watching TV - making jokes about the characters or plot on-screen. It turned out that Minho was very personable, but you had to be very patient to understand his intricate layers. You had to be compassionate and empathetic, and you slowly earned his trust and watched him open up to you. Especially when you would sit together as the kitchen table and search databases online while calling as many adoptions centers as you could find in search of his brother.

“Are you tried?” he asked one night as the two of you finished the last of your calls for the evening.

“Not really,” you replied, but you weren’t expecting him to reach out to skim his fingers over the skin beneath your eyes.

“You have dark circles,” Minho explained, but you found yourself whole-heatedly captivated by a pair of electric green eyes, drawing you closer until the soft brush of his lips across your own snatched you into a hypnosis of pleasure.

The feeling was warm - like something that had been missing, but then rediscovered to make all the pieces match around the edges, and there was nothing left but a comfortable glow sitting on your shoulders as you resisted the urge to hasten the exchange and deepen the tender presses of your lips together.

Unfortunately, the sound of your phone ringing broke the two of you apart, and you sat back with a start as you listened the delicate thud of your heart beating loudly inside your ears. “Hello?” you spoke into the receiver, and you were embarrassed by your breathless tone. 

“Hi, is this Miss Y/L/N?”

“Yes, this is she,” you said, avoiding Minho’s gaze as you tried to focus on the conversation at hand.

“Perfect! My name is Elise, and I work the adoption center in upper Manhattan. Apparently, you called us earlier about a hybrid registered as Jisung? We just wanted to let you know that some files got mixed up, but we have him here for you safe and sound!”

“Really?” you replied, excitement coursing through your veins as you relayed the news to Minho whose eyes lit up like he was seeing the entire world unfold right in front of him. “Please keep him safe for the night. I’ll be in tomorrow to formally adopt him.”

It turned out that Jisung was the complete opposite of Minho: loud and outgoing, he walked inside your apartment while chattering away about the wallpaper color and other trivial details that made you laugh at his eagerness.

You were amused by his observations, watching as Minho gave him a tour of the apartment while keeping an arm around his shoulders. It was both a protective gesture and an affectionate one, and you were glad to see Minho and Jisung reunited after such a complicated spell of time apart. They deserved nothing more to be together - you could tell that they loved each other, and their easygoing chemistry revealed a complex history that exposed the depth of a brotherly relationship.

But you and Minho had discovered that the two brothers had been separated somewhere between their last transition between owners. It seemed that the couple who had adopted them didn’t care to ensure that the brothers stayed together, and they mishandled the entire process. The situation itself angered you to no end because you couldn’t imagine how cruel a person must be to disregard someone else’s thoughts and feelings simply because they weren’t entirely human.

“So, what do you think?” you asked Jisung when he finally started to unpack his minimal belongings in the guestroom that he would be sharing with Minho. “It might be a little small...”

“Are you kidding?” Jisung interrupted. “I love it!”

“Really?” you wondered, glancing at Minho when his hand found yours, weaving your fingers together with a squeeze.

“Better than the shelter,” Jisung said. “Seriously? I’m so incredibly grateful that you went out of your way to find me.”

“Of course,” you said. “I’m glad to have you here with us.”

“That has a nice ring to it,” Jisung said, and he sat down on the edge of his bed with a sigh. 

“You should rest,” Minho suggested. “It’s been a long day.”

“Yeah,” Jisung agreed, and he shot you another grateful smile. “Thank you again, Y/N! For everything.”

You nodded with a contented sigh, allowing Minho to drag you out of the bedroom to allow Jisung some time to himself. Meanwhile, you and Minho enjoyed one another’s company on the couch in the living room, playing a drama in the background while you sat in his lap, sharing heavy kisses and oxygen while scratching your fingernails behind his ears where you had discovered that he was sensitive. 

“This is okay, right?” Minho asked at one point, pulling back to look at you with wide eyes. “I mean, we haven’t really talked about this...thing.”

“Thing?” you repeated with a laugh. “You mean our relationship?”

“Is that what it is?” Minho questioned. “Like...a boyfriend type of thing.”

“If you want,” you agreed, and you were more than amused by his choice of words. “I like you a lot.”

“I like you too,” Minho agreed with a furious shake of his head, followed by his nose sniffing across your collarbone. “You smell good.”

“Thanks?”

“I -uh - it’s a hybrid thing,” Minho said, and you practically snorting from your uncontrollable laughter.

“Hey, you don’t have to be embarrassed around me,” you reassured him, pressing a soft kiss to his nose. “I’m glad to have you and Jisung here with me, and I think we’ll make a pretty good team together.”

“That sounds nice,” Minho said. “Does that mean we can keep kissing?”

“Isn’t that what boyfriends do?” you grinned, and Minho returned your smile before kissing you senseless with his hands wrapped around your waist - fitting perfectly against your curves like they had always belonged there. 

It was everything beyond your expectation, and you knew that your life was about to become very interesting...

[josefavomjaaga]

Some more letters from March 1814

March 1814. The French empire has four more weeks to go. Murat weather forecast for Northern Italy: still unsettled and changeable.

From the memoirs of Colonel Maceroni, Volume II:

On the occasion of Lord Bentinck's applying to Murat for the cession of Leghorn and Pisa, as above stated, it was through the remonstrances of the Austrian Count Mier, and of other diplomatists of the allied powers, that Lord Bentinck withdrew his demand, and appeared quite reconciled, friendly and respectful towards the king. This induced the latter to give implicit faith in the victories of Napoleon recounted in the bulletins, and exaggerated by the French officers who still remained in our army, and about the king's person. The king having now had so many evident proofs of the insincerity of the allies, which it is not necessary for me to recapitulate, now made a last attempt to join with Prince Eugene. He therefore deputed to him the Marquis Livron and Colonel Desmolands, but the Prince, more influenced by his personal animosity towards Murat, than by a desire to serve the Emperor, who has since said so much about his fidelity, not only refused to listen to the proposal, but found means of acquainting Marshal Bellegarde with the occurrence!

***

From DuCasse, Memoirs and Political and Military Correspondence of Prince Eugene, Vol. 10

Eugène to Murat, Borgoforte, 3 March 1814

Sire, Your Majesty is informed of the setbacks recently suffered by the corps of General Nugent; they are considerable.

This is the moment when I desire more than ever to know the definitive intentions of Your Majesty. I must adjust my movements accordingly. I therefore beg Him to tell me what I have to hope or to fear from His army.

I will not permit myself to put before him the reasons which he has for declaring himself frankly for the cause of the Emperor, I limit myself to asking him to be so good as, at least, to have his army take positions which do not impede my undertaking for the interests entrusted to me.

A certain number of troops belonging to Your Majesty have been found in Parma. I ordered that they be treated well and that they be set free; they were to be sent back to you the same evening.

The three divisions which operate on the right bank of the Po have orders to put themselves in communication with me through Borgoforte. I flatter myself that Your Majesty will want to put no obstacle in the way.

I hope for a favourable response from Him. I dare to ask for a precise answer. The estrangement with the Austrians must finally allow Your Majesty to listen to his interests and his heart and to reveal himself as that which, I have no doubt, he has not ceased to be.

***

From DuCasse, Memoirs and Political and Military Correspondence of Prince Eugene, Vol. 10

Murat à Napoléon (sans date)

Sire,

Votre Majesté court des dangers ; la France est menacée jusque dans sa capitale; et je ne puis défendre ni l'un ni l'autre, je ne puis mourir pour vous! et l'ami le plus affectionné de Votre Majesté est en apparence son ennemi! Sire, dites un mot, et je sacrifie ma famille, mes sujets; je me perdrai, mais je vous aurai servi, je vous aurai prouvé que toujours je fus votre meilleur ami. Je ne demande dans ce moment autre chose, pourvu que le vice-roi vous fasse connaître ma conduite... Les larmes qui remplissent mes yeux m'empêchent de continuer ma lettre. Je suis ici seul au milieu d'étrangers; je dois cacher jusqu'à mes larmes; cette lettre vous rend entièrement, Sire, le maître de mon sort. Ma vie est à vous. Aussi bien avais-je fait le serment de mourir pour Votre Majesté; si vous me voyiez et si vous pouviez vous faire une idée de ce que je souffre depuis deux mois, vous auriez pitié de moi.

Aimez-moi toujours. Jamais je ne fus plus digne de votre tendresse; jusqu'à la mort, votre ami.

**

Murat to Napoleon (undated)

Sire,

Your Majesty is in danger; France is threatened even in her capital; and I cannot defend either of them, I cannot die for you! and the most affectionate friend of Your Majesty is apparently His enemy! Sire, say a word, and I sacrifice my family, my subjects; I will lose myself, but I will have served you, I will have proved to you that I was always your best friend. I do not ask for anything else at this moment, provided that the Viceroy makes my conduct known to you... The tears filling my eyes prevent me from continuing my letter. I am here alone amongst strangers; I must hide even my tears; this letter makes you, Sire, the master of my fate. My life is yours. If you could see me and imagine what I have been suffering for the last two months, you would feel sorry for me.

Love me always. I was never more worthy of your tenderness; until death, your friend.

This is heartbreaking. And I fear, Napoleon did not get it at all. Judging from his reaction below, he probably assumed Murat was faking it.

***

From DuCasse, Memoirs and Political and Military Correspondence of Prince Eugene, Vol. 10

Napoleon to Eugene. Soissons, 12 March 1814

My son, I am sending you a copy of a most extraordinary letter I have received from the King of Naples.

At a time when I and France are being assassinated, such feelings are truly inconceivable. I also receive the letter which you write to me with the draft treaty sent to you by the King. You can see that this idea is madness. However, send an agent to this extraordinary traitor, and make a treaty with him in my name. Do not touch Piedmont or Genoa, and divide the rest of Italy into two kingdoms. Let this treaty remain secret, until the Austrians have been driven out of the country, and 24 hours after its signature the king declares himself and falls upon the Austrians. You can do everything in this sense, nothing must be spared in the present situation, to add to our efforts the efforts of the Neapolitans.

Afterwards, we will do what we want; for, after such ingratitude and in such circumstances, nothing binds. Wanting to embarrass him, I gave orders that the Pope be sent, by Piacenza and Parma, to the outposts. I let the Pope know that, having asked as Bishop of Rome to return to his diocese, I have allowed him to do so. Take care, therefore, not to commit yourself to anything in relation to the Pope, either to recognise him or not to recognise him.

I assume this undated letter by Murat also is the »note« Eugène was so furious about in an earlier letter, when he called Murat “totally nuts now”, but which he still sent on to Napoleon. Apparently, it did not go over too well with that one either.

***

From Helfert, »Joachim Murat«

Mier to Metternich (postscript)

Bologna this 6th of April 1814.

My Prince! I have been informed by a reliable source that about mid-March the Viceroy had made proposals to the King of Naples for an arrangement between them concerning Italy.

The King listened to them but took no action on them. Some Neapolitan generals, who had taken it into their heads to reunite Italy and put the King of Naples at the head of the Italians, continued to haggle and used all possible means to get the King to adopt their plan. They argued that for its realisation it was necessary to come to an agreement with the Viceroy.

Things remained as they were until Bentinck arrived in Livorno. A few days before the King had received a letter from Campochiaro announcing the refusal of England to accede for the moment to our treaty of alliance, and the difficulties of Russia and Prussia on the same subject. His whole report was so stitched as to inspire H. M. with great distrust of the views of the Allies in His regard. At the same time His Majesty was forced to ask Marshal Bellegarde to recall and replace General Nugent in the command of the Austrian division, in order to put an end to the continual gossip and harassment.

This unfortunate combination of circumstances, all designed to annoy His Majesty, was not lost on the Viceroy, and he rightly considered the moment favourable to renew his proposals. Bentinck's conduct served him wonderfully, and the King, pushed to the limit, believing himself to be sacrificed, decided to enter into talks with the Viceroy. The Duke of Gallo spoke out strongly against this step, but he was not well supported by the other people surrounding His Majesty. M. Generals Carascosa and Livron were sent on several occasions to the Viceroy's headquarters. In this time I had been near Marshal Bellegarde; we were not unaware of all that was going on. Lord Bentinck maintained by the positive data of the bad faith of the King of Naples the necessity of treating him as an enemy; but Marshal Cte Bellegarde knowing the position and the state of our army, foreseeing the unfortunate consequences which would result if we had the Neapolitans against us, and not wanting and not being able to take upon himself the decision of an affair of such importance, was firmly opposed to it, and we decided that it was necessary to prevent by all possible means that the King should throw himself on the side of the French.

The arrival of General Balascheff to sign a treaty of alliance, the reassuring statements Lord Bentinck was authorised to give in writing to the King about the British Government's feelings towards him, of which he had hitherto made no use, and more than all this the certainty I had that the Queen, whom I had warned of the turn affairs were taking here, would make up her mind to come and rejoin the King, gave me hope that S. M. return to himself, return to his commitments and duties, and that everything would be arranged amicably. The state of the Queen's health and the position of affairs in the kingdom of Naples did not allow her to come to Bologna, but she sent two persons of confidence to her august husband with letters and verbal declarations so firm and energetic, threatening Him to leave Him, to separate His fate entirely from hers, and to make the Neapolitan government take the course which its true interests required, if He ever dared to dishonour Himself by failing to keep His engagements with Austria (which would bring upon His kingdom inevitable misfortunes), that they produced all the effect that could be hoped for. The King acknowledged His wrongs, was ashamed of them, cut off all communications with the Viceroy and declared himself firmly unwilling to hear any more about them.

From that moment on things took a different turn here, and it is to be hoped that all will go well. On the 7th of this month the King will have an interview with Marshal Bellegarde at Revere, where the plan of operation will be discussed and decided. He is in the best of spirits; I hope that this time we will be able to make the most of it. For more than a month I have been endeavouring to persuade him to hand over the command of his troops to Marshal Bellegarde, and for his own sake to return to Naples. It was the only means of putting an end to all the mistrust, all the cabals, of ensuring us of Him to provide a unity to the operations of the two armies. I had asked the Queen to assist me in this respect. She entirely approved my project and made it agree to the King who is decided to give the command of His troops to Marshal Bellegarde as soon as the Viceroy will have been forced in his position on the Mincio. Once the King is in Naples, under the supervision of the Queen, we can be at peace about His conduct. I have the honour etc.

Mier.

Calling in the cavalry on the cavalry general: Caroline. Not trying to be disrespectful but Mier does sound a lot like a nursery school teacher running out of steam and patience with a toddler in his care. »That’s it. I called his mom.«

[imnotwolverine]

The marriage pact - Island folk

Henry Cavill x OC Alice - multi-chapter

< Part 6 | Part 7 Island folk | Part 8 >

Disclaimer: mention of late motherhood worries

Author’s note: This story is just so much fun to write. I set a scene and *BOOM* it just kind of writes itself. Now, I don’t know how long this writing craze will continue, but so far you can expect an update every day. You read that right; every day! 

Word count: 1.525

(Link to my Masterlist)

--

[ Alice.in.writing.land ]

Dear readers,

Dark are the abysses of my heart sometimes, and I know that keeping those thoughts under lock and key only make things worse. And so, for the first time on this blog, I’d like to share something really, truly personal with you. A little snippet of my thoughts for a tender of your time, I’d like to come clean about my most recent Google search which I did late last night, after hours of laying awake.  

Late motherhood.

Why? You may wonder. Well, with my relationships continuously failing and the years - and candles - slowly adding up to my birthday cakes, I feel the increasing unease in my heart whenever I come to think of having a family of my own. Will it happen? And if so, am I not too late already? All my friends and family members had their first children in their late 20s, yet here I am, the oddball, single Pringling through life at 37.

It was about 3 AM late last night when I found myself quelling my nerves by looking at pictures of older female celebrities having kids at the “ripe old age of 35”, which in my book is still super young, but of course we are looking at Hollywood standards here. And, to be quite frank, I’m not sure if it helped me, but at least it did offer me the slightest sliver of hope as I found that I’ll probably just need a little luck, good preparation..and perhaps a donor, to make my wishes come true.

Research is required.

But, let’s not get carried away just yet. I know what I want, now all I need to give myself is time. Time to listen to my heart and learn if this is truly it, time to investigate my options a little more and time to sleep. Because honestly, Google is one hell of a click-through trap when you can’t sleep - I may or may not have ended up falling asleep to videos of laughing foxes, which are truly..the cutest. In case you want to look it up and dare to delve into the time consuming trap that is watching random Youtube videos, then search for: “Finnegan fox”.

Hi-la-ri-ous.  

Also; apparently chocolate cakes have internet access. So, aherm, hello and welcome to my little writing den, oh mysterious chocolate cake of mine!

A very sleepy, but glad to have this off her chest,

Ali

The waves broke softly onto the shoreline as the wind tugged gently on my hair, my pen scribbling away on the paper notebook on my lap. For some odd reason I found it much more comfortable to write by hand, and so whenever the mood struck and I found the time, I snuck out to my little beach hide-out and started to write. This time it was for work, but sometimes I also worked on smaller fictional stories, the very act of writing calming my nerves considerably.

I looked up when I heard the sound of slushing feet through the fine sand, the distinct vibrations telling me someone was approaching me with slow, dragging feet. And.. it appeared to be not just anyone.

Henry.

So very suddenly I felt terrible about posting that blog this morning. Had he read it? Would he start a conversation about it? I wasn’t quite sure if I wanted to have that conversation with him right now. We were at best just dating, our newly rekindled friendship slash relationship only a few days young.

He stifled a yawn as he plopped down beside me on the picnic blanket, his eyes sporting large dark circles beneath them, his shoulders slumping slightly as he looked me over. I sniffled, shaking my head at the fact that we both had barely slept - obviously.

‘Mornin’.’ He grumbled, a gentle smile reaching his lips, his body leaning forward, but halting mid-morning kiss. Almost automatically I closed the distance, my hand moving aside my notebook so I could lean in, lips brushing over his, which apparently was just what he needed, his lips curling up in a full smile. ‘Hi.’ I whispered into his lips, then leaned back, tucking some rogue curl behind his ear before studying him better. Once more he wore a blue shirt - he had a gazillion of those, didn’t he? - and some dark jeans, his hair fresh and messy straight out of bed.

’So…no sleep then?’ I inquired, watching him as he slowly moved his gaze towards the rolling waves before us. ‘Nope.’ ‘How come?’ ‘Hmm..’ He thought aloud. ‘..I suppose it is difficult to just stop my life right dead in its tracks.’ He sighed.

‘What’s up Hen?’ I scooted closer to him, fingering a hand through his curls, his eyes closing as he revelled into the simpleness of my touch.

‘I have to fly back to London for the weekend. There’s this event that my manager can’t seem to cancel without serious repercussions and..’ He sighed again. ‘You don’t want to go.’ ‘Not really no. But I will have to. The fox videos helped by the way.’

My heart summersaulted at his words - not only because he apparently read my blog, which wasn’t entirely surprising, but also because he was showing so much vulnerability. This large bear of a man was being honest about the things that frustrated him, something I had never experienced with previous partners. They’d always just burst out in flames all of a sudden, without giving me any fair warning before hand.

‘Hmm..’ I hummed, thinking. His eyes were still staring out to the sea, soft waves cascading in similar shades to his cerulean irises. He truly seemed to be a bit done with it all. 

‘I’ve got some swimming pig videos at the ready too.’ I added, laying my head onto his shoulder and wrapping both my arms around his large chest, wishing to comfort him a little. ‘Hehe..swimming pigs.’ He chuckled, his chest vibrating with near silent mirth. ’Yea..can you imagine? Those tiny, tiny legs kicking through aquamarine water, their noses sticking out the water like living, breathing, skin coloured electricity points. Oink oink!’

Henry’s chuckle turned into rumbling laughter, his shoulders shaking until he finally looked back at me, my head still resting on his shoulder. ‘Ali..I ..eh..know this is maybe a bit weird, but, would you perhaps like to join me? To London? Leaving Friday night, back Sunday morning?’

I sat up, my brown eyes staring into his deep blues. Tender, hopeful blues. ‘Hmm.’ I hummed, blinking for a moment as I mulled over his words.

‘I know it’s all going fast and I don’t want to pressure you.’ He added.

‘No, it’s okay. It’s ehm..okay. Yea, sure, I’ll come. I haven’t been to London in ages and don’t have weekend plans anyways.’

‘Ages?’ ‘Naa..okay..maybe not ages. More like months.’ I snorted. We both laughed until finally my eyebrow quirked up. ‘So..what kind of event are you ..or we..going to?’ Henry smiled, leaning in to kiss me, the sound of my fluttering heart drowning out all else around us.

The answer to my question didn’t matter, I was simply very happy that I could join him and finally get a sneak peek of his usual life. Henry’s life.

—

‘I’m still amazed at the fact that you managed to pack all your things in that one backpack.’ Henry grinned, pushing my backpack in the overhead storage locker in First Class. I grinned in turn, shrugging my shoulders as I sat back in my seat. ‘Oh you know. I don’t mock about. No need to bring the unnecessary.’

‘You’d make for a fine traveller.’ He admitted, plopping down in his seat, right next to me, his hand quite instantaneously interlacing with mine - he didn’t even seem to think about it -, a smile tugging on the edges of his lips as he watched two business men enter, taking their seats a few rows ahead, leaving us plenty of privacy.

Slowly, he cast me a curious glance. ‘What is it, dear?’ He asked, noticing my studious look, his smile growing and his blue eyes sparkling.

‘Mmm..just wondering. You probably thought about this far better than I have thus far. But if you’d start a family..how would that..go? Like..-‘ ‘The travelling and stuff?’ ‘Yea.’

Henry leaned into the headrest, his head tilting up slightly as he licked his lips. ‘It’s going to take some back-and-forthing with my partner. And it won’t be easy. It will not only be my children that will give you broken nights, you see.’ He grinned and my heart fluttered at his words - children! -, yet my mouth remained sealed, waiting for him to continue. He sighed. ‘I..would definitely slow down my career. For the longest time I didn’t even think of that as a possibility. But like you wrote quite perfectly; all my friends and family members had their children young and here I am..the oddball. I know I should not press my luck by demanding my partner to give up everything for me. That is just not fair.’

‘Give and take.’ I added.

‘Yes, give and take.’ He smiled at me, his large warm hand squeezing mine gently. It felt nice. ‘Okay..so another question. You live in London right?’ ‘Mostly, yes.’ He nodded, making me grin. ‘Yea yea..Superman has several mansions and a jet setting career that makes you quiver right back into your 2-bedroom flat.’ I rolled my eyes. ‘But all joking aside..why did you chose to stay with your parents, now you requested a “time-out”?’

Henry shifted in his seat, his smiling face turning to one holding a more serious expression. ‘I’m from the island baby. And I will always, ALWAYS return to the island. It is my one true home after all.’  

--

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[kissjane]

Okay, so somebody wanted an actual Davenzi underwater kiss, and somebody else wanted them to finally kiss in the kitchen, so why not kill two birds with one stone?

“Ugh,” Matteo whines, while he tries to unstick his damp shirt from his body, “Why does it have to be this hot?”

David doesn’t dignify Matteo’s complaint with an answer. It’s August, they’re stuck in the city, it’s going to be hot. They are trying to beat the heat with an old rickety fan and lots and lots of homemade lemonade, but after a week of unrelenting sunshine, the heat has crept into the flat and nothing really helps anymore.

“I want another shower,” Matteo says. David hums in agreement, but neither of them makes a move. It’s not like it’s doing any good, anyway – as long as they are actually standing under the water, they feel blissfully cool, but as soon as they turn it off, they get clammy again and by the time they have pulled on some boxers and a shirt they are sweaty again.

Even now, when the sun is almost set, it is still stifling in Matteo’s room, and the ancient fan isn’t doing much to get the air moving.

“Let’s go swim,” David suddenly says, and Matteo looks up.

“What? Swimming? Now? I thought you didn’t like swimming.”

“I don’t mind, it’s just, with the others, you know, I have to keep on a binder, and it’s not very comfy. But if we go to the lake now, there will probably not be too many people, and when it’s just the two of us I can take of my binder and just keep a shirt on.”

Oh. Matteo didn’t think about that. Once again, he feels wholly inadequate. He really should have thought about that, all the times he dragged David along to the lake with the rest of their friends.

“Hey,” David says, putting a hand on Matteo’s knees, “don’t worry. I can see you overthinking it, and it’s no big deal.”

“It is to me, though,” Matteo replies after a minute. “I’m your boyfriend, I should have been more considerate, I shouldn’t have made you come along, I should have asked you why you never went into the water, hell, I should have figured it out myself. I’m the worst.”

He hides his head between his arms, ashamed.

“No, Teo… Honestly, we’ve only been together for a few months, how could you know everything? You have learned so much already, and you’ve never crossed any of my boundaries. I could have told you, sooner, too. And besides, honestly, I wanted to hang out with you guys at the lake, even if I chose not to swim.”

Matteo lets out a small whimper, and David immediately pulls him in for a full-body hug, heat be damned.

“I swear, you have nothing to feel bad about! Teo, believe me, I’m not upset and you shouldn’t be either.”

“Still,” Matteo mutters darkly, not completely willing to forgive himself quite as easily as David does.

“Okay, well,” his boyfriend sighs, letting go of him, “make it up to me then, if you really want to insist, by going to the lake with me now.”

Clearly, Matteo has no other choice but to go along after that. Not that he minds too much. A semi-private dip in the lake will make for a nice change, after trying to find a spot between the loud families with small children who crowd the area during the day.

“You grab whatever you need, I’ll go find some towels. We’re going swimming.”

 ***

It honestly is heavenly, to be able to float on the dark surface without worrying about frisbees hitting you in the head. David jumped into the water as soon as they dropped their bikes, with loud cheers, and Matteo couldn’t help but grin as he was hit, once again, with the dizzying knowledge that David was his boyfriend, that David was sharing this with him, Matteo, and nobody else.

They have, of course, David still being David, held a few competitions – first to swim to the little island, biggest splash jumping off the jetty, and the like. But now they are just peacefully floating, occasionally bumping into each other. It couldn’t be more perfect, the air still warm, the stars bright above them.

“There one more contest we need to decide,” David suddenly says, his voice coming from somewhere to Matteo’s left.

“Yeah? Which one of us can go the longest without betting on some silly competition? I win,” Matteo snorts, not really wanting to give up this lazy feeling for another show of athletics. David always wins, anyway.

“No, seriously,” David replies, and he is suddenly right next to Matteo.

Sighing, Matteo tumbles around, so he is treading water and looking at David.

“Okay, fine,” he grumbles. “What is it?”

David looks at him solemnly, and even in the dim light, Matteo can see his eyes are dark.

“I bet I can hold my breath for longer than you,” he says slowly. His voice is low, and Matteo’s breath hitches in his throat.

Instantaneously, he is back in that abandoned pool – the one they’ve been saying they need to go back to all summer, but they never followed through, and secretly Matteo doesn’t mind, because in his head, it is this magical place, the place where he first kissed David, and the place where he found him, finally, after all those weeks of misunderstandings and secrets and fear.

He realizes with a jolt he is staring at David, and then a smirk breaks through on his face.

“Oh, you bet, do you? On three. One, two, three.”

They take in a big gulp of air at the same time, and attempt to stare each other down for all of five seconds, before Matteo grabs David’s shoulders and pushes him down. The other boy goes willingly, though, a smile on his face. It’s not like they weren’t thinking the same thing. There is only one thing they do underwater, really. Matteo follows David, and once they are submerged, their mouths find each other.

They come up, clutching at each other’s waist, gasping for air, but not for long, because as soon as they breach the surface, they kiss again, hungry, as if it’s that first time again, and at the same time, they can be leisurely about it, exploring each other without haste, with all the security that comes from knowing there will be a thousand more kisses to come.

 ***

They get back to the flat share in the dead of the night, their lips swollen, and their skin wrinkled from being in the water too long.

“I’m kinda hungry,” Matteo whispers, as David tries to push him against the door to kiss some more.

“Figures,” David mutters. “I’m trying to seduce you, Florenzi, and all you can think of is food.”

“You know me,” Matteo laughs, as he saunters out of David’s hold and into the kitchen. “When am I not thinking about food, huh?”

David follows his boyfriend, and catches him sticking his head into the fridge, which is likely empty.

“I can think of a few moments you definitely did not think about food,” he retorts, raising an eyebrow suggestively.

Matteo giggles.

“Okay, so I am either thinking about food, or about how hot you are. Sounds perfectly normal.”

David can’t help but grin back. Matteo almost melts at how adorable he is – hair still wet, stuck against his temple, eyes dark and that beautiful smile on his face. Matteo wants to keep staring at it forever, but his growling stomach has other plans.

“There’s really nothing to eat.”

“Really? Nothing? Not even cheese sandwiches?” David rummages through the cupboards. “Preferably without whipped cream, though,” he adds, as an afterthought.

And maybe tonight is the day for reminiscing, because they look at each other, and they know they are back to that day, when David disappeared. They have talked about it, and it’s not a painful memory at all.

“Those were the best sandwiches you ever had, Schreibner, and you know it!”

David laughs.

“It’s a good thing I was so into you, Florenzi, otherwise I wouldn’t have bitten into those atrocities for a million euro. Luckily you make better pasta than sandwiches.”

“Oh, so you’re only with me for my pasta,” Matteo jokes, while he has finally found some cheese, likely Hans’, and heats the toaster.

“It’s definitely a plus,” David replies, keeping up the banter.

“I wanted to kiss you, that day, you know,” Matteo says, and David knows, of course he does.

“And then again after the party.”

They look at each other, waiting for the cheese to be grilled.

“Mia had to come in and ruin our first kiss.”

They grin. There’s no heat behind the words.

“So much better to have it ruined by some frightening guard and a German shepherd.”

They cannot contain their laughter now, now that they can think about it without all the confusion and worry they felt back then.

“Have we ever actually kissed here, then?”

Matteo has to think about it. They probably have, some early morning while waiting for the coffee to be ready, or a quick peck while Matteo was cooking, but he cannot pinpoint anything. David seems to ponder his question, too, and he gives Matteo a blank look.

“Really? Two near-miss first kisses, and we never even rectified that?”

Matteo shrugs, but David apparently is offended by the idea.

“Teo! We need to kiss, right here, right this very moment!”

Laughter bubbles up in Matteo’s throat.

“Jesus, you don’t have to make it sound like such a chore. As if I wouldn’t kiss you anywhere and everywhere. And all the time, too, if you’d let –”

His words are lost in David’s mouth.

Soon, they forget everything else – almost first kisses, wished for first kisses, actual first kisses – and just get lost in their millionth kiss, or billionth, or trillionth – who is counting, anyway.

[starlightbuck]

i wanna be known (by you)

part 1/2 || word count: 6.5k || read on AO3 

“I didn’t mean to do it.”

Hen glances down at Eddie’s phone then back up at him in disbelief. “How do you ‘not mean’ to download a bunch of dating apps but still have them on your phone?”

Or

In which Eddie delves into the intimidating world of online dating.

“I didn’t mean to do it.”

Hen glances down at Eddie’s phone then back up at him in disbelief. “How do you ‘not mean’ to download a bunch of dating apps but still have them on your phone?”

Eddie ducks his head, feeling a warm blush work its way up his neck and onto his cheeks. He can’t tell Hen the truth. It’s a pathetic story that includes a night without Christopher, a bottle of red wine, and a very sad Spotify playlist. “It just happened.”

“Okay,” Hen says, but her tone makes it painstakingly obvious that she doesn’t believe him. Eddie is just grateful that she’s choosing not to call him out on his lie. “So, remind me what you need me for again?”

When Eddie woke up this morning, he had a phone full of apps he didn’t remember downloading but couldn’t bring himself to delete. Sober him was too scared to take the first step towards putting himself out there again, but apparently last night’s wine-drunk version of him wasn’t. He was thankful for that courage, up until he tried logging into the first app and realized that he was way out of his depth. He needed help and he knew exactly who he could turn to.

“I don’t know how to use them.”

Hen leans closer to Eddie so that she can hear him over the chatter in the firehouse. “Can you say that again? I didn’t hear you.”

“I don’t know how to use that dating app,” Eddie repeats, gesturing to the one that Hen currently has open on his phone. When her eyes widen behind her glasses, he resigns himself to being a little overheated for the entirety of his conversation thanks to his embarrassment. “Or any. I’ve never used one before.”

He braces himself for whatever jokes Hen has up her sleeve in response to his confession - she always has at least three at her disposal - but they never come. Instead she says, “alright, then let me show you.”

“What?”

“I’m going to show how to use the app.” Hen tilts the phone in his direction so that he can see what she’s doing. “Once you get the basics down for this one, using the rest of the apps will be a breeze.”

Eddie’s mouth falls open. He had mentally prepared himself for the teasing he’d be on the receiving end of as soon as he recruited Hen for assistance. He knew it would be done good-naturedly, which is why she was the one he chose to turn to. “You’re not gonna make fun of me?”

Hen sighs, lowering Eddie’s phone and using her free hand to hold his. It’s an unexpected move, but not unwelcome. “C’mon, Eddie. In what world would I possibly make fun of you for putting yourself out there again?”

Her brown eyes bore into his and it takes all of Eddie’s strength not to look away. They’ve been working together for close to two years now. It’s how she knows about Shannon’s passing and how much of a mess Eddie was after it happened. “Thank you,” he whispers.

She pats his hand before picking up his phone again. “Now, enough of that. It’s time for us to get down to business.”

She inputs some basic information on Eddie’s behalf, all the while showing him what she’s doing so he can do it on his own with the other apps later.

“And now all that’s left before we choose some of your pictures is to put in your sexual preference,” Hen explains, finger hovering over the word ‘women’.

Eddie’s heart rate kicks up a couple of notches as Hen moves to click that word, not even bothering to acknowledge the other two options. It’s a conversation Eddie has never had at work, not because he’s ashamed, but because it’s never come up.

He can let Hen believe her assumption is correct and choose the ‘women’ option for him now and go home and change it for himself later. She would be none the wiser and nothing would change. But, Eddie decides that that’s not what he wants. Hen, hell the entire 118, have become his family and it doesn’t feel right to lie to family. Not that he’s been lying so much as omitting the truth.

“Actually,” Eddie interjects, cutting off whatever Hen was in the middle of saying. If he doesn’t do this now, he might never do it. He holds his breath as he lightly knocks her hand out of the way so that he can bypass the ‘men’ and ‘women’ option to choose ‘both’.

She looks over at him, shock clearly written across her face before letting out a startled laugh. “Okay, Diaz. I see you.”

He exhales, happy that coming out to her was as simple as that. No questions, no accusations, nothing. It makes a weight he didn’t even know he was carrying float away and he’s lighter because of it.

He knocks his shoulder against Hen’s and she does the same back to him before giving him his phone back.

“Okay, time to pick the pictures you want on your profile.” Hen taps her chin before saying, “taken a picture with any puppies recently? No one, man or woman, can deny a cute man holding an even cuter puppy.”

Buck, 26 Los Angeles, CA Birthmark not eye herpes.

“He’s cute.” Eddie drops his phone face down onto his lap, heart racing as he looks over his shoulder. Hen is standing there, smirk firmly in place. He doesn’t know how long she’s been there and he’s not sure that’s something he wants to know. If she’s been there the whole time, that would mean she knows he’s been openly staring at this guy���s profile for the last twenty minutes. “Did someone punch him in the face?”

“Did someone punch who in the face?” Chim asks as he raids the fridge for a snack.

Bobby must be in his office or somewhere else in the station because no one would ever dare to mess with anything in the kitchen when he’s around, especially the fridge. They’re all convinced he has some kind of organization system in place in there that he refuses to tell them about. It’s the only way to explain how he always knows when something’s been moved.

Eddie shoves his phone into his back pocket as if doing so will suddenly end this conversation. “No. No one.” He clears his throat. “No one got punched.”

Hen snorts, mouthing ‘smooth’ at Eddie before heading into the kitchen area to make herself a cup of coffee. She only gets as far as replacing the coffee filter when the alarm suddenly sounds overhead. They’re all heading for the stairs in an instant, leaving everything behind in the loft as they go.

Well, almost everything.

Eddie’s mind strays to brilliant blue eyes and a bruise-like birthmark as he jumps into the fire truck.

“Why is this so hard?”

Eddie stares at his darkened phone screen before tapping his finger against it. When he does, Buck’s profile lights up the otherwise dark room. He’s spent close to an hour on the app, finger ready to swipe right on Buck, before chickening out, letting the phone lock itself and then repeating the process all over again.

There are people out there who use dating apps with ease and it’s apparent to Eddie that he’s not one of them. He probably should’ve seen this coming as soon as he asked Hen for help setting up his profile, but he didn’t. He had foolishly assumed that creating his profile was the final hurdle he needed to get past before putting himself back out there in the dating world. He didn’t take into consideration the fact that there was still one last hurdle to get past - actually swiping right on someone.

It sounds completely innocuous when it’s put that way - swiping right. It’s nothing more than a quick motion, a movement that can be done in the blink eye.

For Eddie though, it’s more than that. For him, it’s the equivalent of letting someone know you like them and hoping that they feel the same. It’s a position that Eddie hasn’t been in in years and, now that he’s stepped back into it, the ground has become unsteady beneath his feet.

But it’s time, it’s been time. If he doesn’t now, when will he?

“Fuck it.”

With a bout of confidence that wells up from an unknown source somewhere deep within him, he unlocks his phone and finally swipes right.

The action alone is enough to make Eddie smile triumphantly. He did it. He didn’t think he could, but he did and now -

You’ve matched!

The words on his screen are accompanied by two small circles - one that has Eddie’s profile picture and the other has Buck’s. It must be the app’s way of letting him know what him and his match will look like together, but all it’s done is send Eddie’s heart rate spiking. He’s been so focused on the steps that needed to be taken to put himself out in the dating world again that he didn’t stop to think about what would come after that.

In this case, that ‘after’ means sending a message to the person he’s matched with.

“Shit.”

“Daddy?”

Eddie puts his phone down right away, screen facing down so that he can offer up all of his attention to his son. They’re sitting at the table working on a project for one of Chris’s classes and, although Chris swore that he could handle it on his own, Eddie chose to sit across from him and offer up some moral support. There aren’t too many days where he can just sit and be in his son’s company, so he figured he’d take advantage of the opportunity today. “Yeah, Chris?”

“Are you mad at your phone?”

“I- what?”

“You were looking at it like this.” Chris pushes his eyebrows together with the tips of his pointer fingers and turns his lips down in an exaggerated pout. Something tells Eddie he didn’t look exactly like that, but maybe that’s how obvious his mood is to his son. And here Eddie was thinking that he was good at keeping his emotions under lock and key. “You only make that face when you’re mad.”

“I’m not mad.”

And he’s not, at least not per se. He’s mostly just aggravated at himself and his inability to type up a simple message.

“Do you want to talk about it?” Chris asks earnestly. It’s done in such a way that Eddie doesn’t know what to do with himself. It’s something he definitely cannot take credit for teaching his son. Not him, someone who makes it a point to bury his feelings so deep beneath the surface that it would take at least a full day of digging to actually reach. “Carla always tells me that it’s good to talk about my feelings instead of letting them bubble inside me.”

“Carla’s right,” Eddie admits. He wishes there had been someone out there to tell him that when he was younger. It would’ve been refreshing to hear in comparison to his father’s motto of keeping everything bottled up inside where no one can see it.

“So, why are you mad, daddy?”

Chris’s head is tilted just so and it makes it impossible for Eddie to tell him anything other than the truth. Or at least a version of the truth that’s appropriate for Chris’s ears. “I made a new friend recently and I’m trying to figure out what to say to him.

“Oh!” Chris is excited about this, something that's apparent to Eddie after years of learning how to read his son. It might’ve been hard for him to really decipher his son’s words and actions upon returning from overseas, but Eddie found his bearings over time. For example, if not for Chris’s voice, Eddie would be able to deduce his son’s excitement from the red in the apple of cheeks and the flailing of his limbs. “That’s easy. You just say, ‘hi’.”

“Hi?”

“Yeah, what else would you say?”

His son makes a very valid point and Eddie feels a little foolish for not thinking of that himself.

“When’d you get so smart, kid?”

Chris’s answering grin is bright as he picks up his pencil to get back to his project. “I’ve always been smart.”

Eddie laughs before grabbing his phone, unlocking it and opening the app where an introduction is waiting for him. There’s no world where he would've considered typing a message to an almost stranger after a conversation with his son, but who cares. He’s tired of overthinking things.

He types up the short message quickly, hitting send before he has a chance to second guess himself.

Eddie (6:42pm): hi

Buck (6:43pm): hey! :)

“Carla send you a cute picture of Chris again?”

Dazed, Eddie glances up and finds Bobby staring back at him. “Huh?”

“Picture of Chris?” Bobby asks, pointing at Eddie’s phone. “You’ve been smiling at your screen for the past five minutes.”

“Oh uh yeah.” Eddie is quick to switch over to his photos app and pull up a picture that he had taken of Chris at the park yesterday. His captain will be none the wiser of when it was actually taken. “The two of them went to the park today since Chris had a half-day,” he explains as he holds his phone out for Bobby to see.

Bobby’s eyes light up immediately. It’s a reaction that Eddie’s grown accustomed to whenever Chris is involved. There’s no denying just how cute his son is.

Eddie waits until later, after Bobby has gone back to his office and no one else is around, to open the dating app that he spends a fair amount of time on these days. And to think, only a week ago he was asking for help on how to use the app.

Eddie (3:02pm): my boss called me out for smiling like an idiot at my phone

Eddie (3:02pm): I’m mortified

Buck (3:03pm): hi mortified! i’m buck!

Eddie shakes his head, biting the corner of his lip to keep from laughing.

Eddie (3:04pm): you’re the worst

Buck (3:07pm): if I was the worst would you really be smiling like an idiot at your phone because of me?

Eddie (3:09pm): I never said that YOURE the reason I was smiling at my phone

Buck (3:10pm): you haven’t denied it yet either ;)

Eddie stares off into space, trying to find the words he needs to send a message he should’ve sent ages ago. It’s just that talking to Buck these past two weeks has been fun, easy, and he never found the right time to bring up the fact that he has a son. Maybe if they had met in person, it’s something that would’ve been mentioned much sooner, but it’s different since the two of them are only messaging each other. Eddie is sure that there must be some kind of etiquette about telling someone you’ve met online that you’re a single parent, he just hasn’t figured out what it is just yet.

But, as he watches his son whoop happily as he flies down the playground’s slide, Eddie knows it’s time to be upfront with Buck and tell him. Better now than further down the line, especially if Buck has a problem with Eddie having a kid.

He really hopes he doesn’t.

Eddie (5:42pm): I have to tell you something.

Eddie thrums his fingers against his phone and tells himself that the way his stomach swoops has everything to do with the burrito he had for lunch today.

He doesn’t have to wait long for Buck’s response.

Buck (5:44pm): Is this when I find out that the pictures on your profile aren’t actually yours?

Buck (5:44pm): I knew it was too good to be true

Buck (5:45pm): Who’s THAT good-looking and easy to talk to???

Buck (5:46pm): I wonder if I can get on Catfish with this story

Buck (5:47pm): I’ve always wanted to be friends with nev

Eddie thinks that maybe he would’ve laughed if he wasn’t so nervous. He types out the message quickly, but between checking on Christopher again and his own nerves, it takes him longer to hit send.

Eddie (5:55pm): I have a son.

Buck (5:56pm): Cool! How old is he?

Eddie’s eyes widen, it can’t be that easy. Can it?

Eddie (5:57pm): he’s 9

Buck (5:58pm): that’s such a fun age!

And, because apparently Eddie doesn’t know to not look a gift horse in the mouth, he shares his disbelief with Buck.

Eddie (6:00pm): you’re okay with the fact that i have a kid?

Buck (6:01pm): i love kids

Buck (6:02pm): i’m a 1st grade teacher

Buck (6:02pm): did i never mention that?

He most certainly did not. Although, now that Eddie thinks about it, he never told Buck what he does for a living either. He should probably do that.

It’s interesting, the details that don’t come to the surface versus those that do in the world of online dating. Eddie’s sure that, had he met Buck in person, them talking about what they did for a living would’ve been one of the first things to come up in a conversation.

Eddie (6:04pm): you didn’t but i’m glad i know now

Eddie (6:05pm): i’m a firefighter by the way

Buck (6:06pm): you’re kidding me

Eddie (6:07pm): nope

Buck (6:08pm): so you’re hot, easy to talk to AND a firefighter

Eddie’s face heats up at the casual mention of his own attractiveness. Apparently being complimented via text makes him react the same way he would’ve had he heard the compliment in person. Add that to the list of things he’s learned thanks to the world of online dating.

Buck (6:09pm): please do not be alarmed if i don't respond for the next hour or so, i need time to properly digest all of this information

Buck (6:34pm): totally unrelated question, but if i set my apartment on fire right now will you come save me?

“I know that look.”

Eddie startles, almost dropping his phone in the process. When he seeks out the person who has caught him off guard, he’s surprised to see May. What surprises him even more is how the knowing look on her face is an exact match for the one he’s seen Athena wear countless times before.

It’s unsettling.

“Aren’t you supposed to be with the boys?”

Eddie and Chris already had plans for a movie night when he overheard Hen complaining about her babysitter canceling on her and Karen, thus leaving them without anyone to watch Denny on date night. Eddie, knowing that Chris wouldn’t mind the extra company, told Hen that Denny was more than welcome to join him and Chris for movie night. Then, because Bobby was sitting right next to him, Eddie extended the invitation to Harry and May as well.

It’s how he ended up here in his home on a Friday night with three young boys and May.

“I was, but they’re thirsty so I told them I’d come by and see what’s taking you so long.” May walks a little further into the kitchen and leans against the counter. “I wasn’t expecting you to be distracted by whoever it is you're texting and obviouslycrushing on.”

Eddie splutters. “I-what?” He can’t remember the last time he was called out for having a ‘crush’ on someone. The term itself sounds so juvenile. “I wasn’t texting and I’m not ‘crushing on’ anyone.”

May rolls her eyes. “You might be able to fool an adult with that argument, but not me. I saw the heart eyes you were directing at your phone as soon as I walked in here. So, can we skip past the part where you try to deny it?”

Eddie’s jaw falls open at May’s bluntness. He really thought he was in for an easy and fun night with the kids and instead he’s being called out by a teenager. If this is what he has to look forward to when Chris gets older, Eddie will start looking into ways to keep his son nine-years-old forever.

As if conjured by his father’s thoughts, Chris yells, “daddy! Are you coming back with our hot chocolates?”

Eddie moves to pick up the tray of mugs he was planning to bring to his living room before getting sidetracked but May beats him to it. She purposely takes two mugs off of the tray, leaving them behind on the counter. “I’ll take these to the boys, get the movie started, and then we’re gonna talk.”

Her tone leaves no room for argument and all Eddie can do is stare at her as she walks away. He’s always known better than to get on Athena’s bad side and, tonight, he’s learned that the same can be said for May.

Accepting that there’s no escaping what he’s sure is about to be a very thorough interrogation, Eddie picks up the two mugs May left behind and brings them to the table before sitting down. He’s tempted to message Buck while he waits for her to return but messaging him earlier was what got him into this situation to begin with.

“Okay,” May says as soon as she returns, taking the seat across from Eddie and wrapping her hands around her mug. “Spill.”

“Spill?”

“Yes, spill. Who’s got you looking at your phone like a lovestruck teenager?

Eddie’s grateful he wasn’t taking a sip of his drink when May asked that question because he might’ve choked on it. Lovestruck teenager, really?

“Just someone I’ve been talking to for a couple of weeks now.”

“And?”

Eddie raises an eyebrow. “And what?”

“Can’t you be a little more detailed?” May leans forward, forearms resting on the table as her inquisitive brown eyes lock on Eddie. “When did you two meet? Where? Are they cute? Can I see a picture of them if you have one? Have they met the team yet?”

Eddie’s head is spinning from all the questions being thrown at him, but what really sticks out to him is May’s use of the gender-neutral terms ‘they’ and ‘them’. He’s grown so used to everyone around him assuming he’s straight, that it barely phases him when they use female pronouns. But here May is decidedly not doing that.

“They? Them?”

“You’ve never explicitly said what your sexual orientation is, and it’d be wrong of me to assume,” she explains, shrugging as if there’s nothing out of the ordinary with her reasoning. It’s that, her blasé attitude towards something people barely put any thought into, that cracks Eddie’s resolve.

“His name is Evan, but he goes by Buck.”

Eddie goes into more detail about the man that he’s been talking to, answering all of May’s questions about him. The experience makes him feel a little like his abuela when she sits at the dinner table gossiping with relatives.

“This is him,” Eddie tells her, sliding her phone across the table to her so that she can look at Buck’s pictures.

“Oh!” May exclaims, covering her mouth at the last second to keep from being too loud and drawing the boys’ attention away from their movie. “He’s cute.” She swipes through a few of Buck’s pictures. “Really cute. You two would look good together.”

Eddie does not puff out his chest a little bit at the compliment.

“Have you guys exchanged numbers yet?”

“No, why would we? We can just talk on the app.”

May shakes her head as she hands Eddie back his phone. “That’s the next step of online dating. You’ve gotta transition away from the app and, after messaging on it nonstop for three weeks straight, I think it’s time.”

Her statement lingers in Eddie’s mind later that night after all the kids have been picked up and Chris is tucked in and asleep. Honestly, he never even thought about asking Buck for his number so they could text each other instead of having to rely on the app. It would definitely be much easier to remain in contact that way and Eddie won’t have to hide his phone every time he opens the app to keep anyone from seeing it. The messages app is much more inconspicuous.

Eddie (9:34pm): what are your thoughts on exchanging phone numbers?

Buck (9:40pm): i thought you’d never ask :)

Eddie is walking into the station when his phone chimes. The sound is followed shortly thereafter by a second chime. He’s carrying a tray full of drinks, having woken up early and in a good enough mood to stop by the team’s favorite coffee shop to pick something up for Bobby, Chim, Hen, and himself. The tray itself isn’t all that heavy, but Eddie doesn’t trust himself to carry it in one hand. If his friends found out that he had purchased them all drinks, only to end up spilling it right before their shift began, he’d never hear the end of it.

At the same time, there’s only one person who would be texting Eddie at this time. It’s the same person who he’s continued to talk to nonstop since they exchanged phone numbers.

Although him and Buck had already gotten into the habit of messaging one another through a dating site, things somehow feel different now that they’ve switched to texting. More intimate. More real.

With this on his mind, it’s easy for Eddie to decide to take the risk - balance the tray in one hand so he can use the other hand to retrieve his phone.

Buck (8:50am): my kids are going to be the death of me

Buck (8:51am): if I had known I was going to die today I would’ve at least dressed better

Buck’s flair for dramatics is a trait that Eddie learned about the younger man when they first began messaging each other. It’s thoroughly entertaining.  

Eddie (8:54am): what happened?

Eddie (8:54am): just asking so i can give the police the correct info when the murder investigation begins

In place of a text, Eddie receives a picture. In the background, there’s a chalkboard that says ‘You’re the best, Mr. Buckley!’ and on a large desk which must belong to Buck, there are various cards and what looks like a container with cupcakes in it. Eddie would zoom in to confirm this assumption, but it’s a little hard to do so with one hand while walking up the stairs.

Eddie (8:56am): why are you the best?

Buck (8:57am): i’m thoroughly offended that you even have to ask that

Buck (8:58am): (it’s teacher appreciation day)

“Are those for us?”

Eddie stops abruptly. The drinks in the tray tilt precariously, but Chim steps forward to save them with a steadying hand.

“Well someone’s distracted this morning.”

“No I’m not,” Eddie argues, locking his phone and stepping around Chim so he can carefully place the drinks on the counter.

Chim’s there a moment later, grabbing the mixed berry smoothie he’s been trying to convince his coworkers to drink instead of coffee. He takes a long sip before leaning against the counter and studying Eddie. “Distracted and defensive. Something’s definitely going on with you.”

In place of answering and implicating himself, Eddie grabs his coffee and takes a sip. It’s nowhere near as good as the one Abuela makes for him at her place, but it has caffeine and that's what matters most. He’ll gladly drink anything that’ll help him get through a 24-hour shift.

Chim stares at Eddie a little too intently for his liking, but Eddie stands his ground and doesn’t look away. Looking away would mean admitting defeat and that’s not something Eddie is prepared to do, even if Chim’s observation is correct.

“There’s something different about you these days. And I intend to find out what it is.”

It’s definitely a threat, but it’s one that Eddie can handle especially since Hen and Bobby unwittingly come to his rescue only a few seconds later. They collect their drinks from the counter and thank Eddie for them before Hen engages Chim in a conversation. Bobby heads in the direction of the fridge, which temporarily allots Eddie some time to himself. He intends to use it wisely.

Eddie (9:03am): you definitely deserve the appreciation

Eddie (9:03am): those kids are lucky to have you as their teacher :)

Buck’s reply doesn’t come until much later in the day, but that doesn’t stop Eddie from laughing when he sees it.

Buck (4:10pm): I read your message during lunch with some of the other teachers and got mocked for my reaction to it

Buck (4:12pm): and no I will not tell you what that reaction was. you don’t deserve to know

It’s late when Eddie finally gets home. Christopher is spending the night at Abuela's, which means it’s also silent as Eddie slowly makes his way towards his bedroom.

He hates it.

The silence reminds him of the last call from his shift. A neighbor had called in about a very loud argument going on in the house next to theirs. As soon as the 118 arrived at the scene and began gearing up, the sound of two gunshots pierced through the night air and threw everyone into high alert. The all-clear was given at some point thereafter and, when Eddie and the rest of the time were finally allowed inside of the house, they were met with silence.

Two DOAs. Nothing they could do to help either person.

Eddie changes out of his clothes on autopilot, thankful that he had the forethought to shower at the station. Now that he’s home, all he wants to do is crawl under the covers and forget about the horrors of the world for a little while.

He has just pulled back his covers and laid down in bed when his phone vibrates. It’s not until it happens a second time, that he checks to see who’s texted him.

Buck (10:45pm): pretty sure I just saw you and your team on the news?

Buck (10:45pm): could be wrong but I figured I’d ask

Right, the news. Eddie forgets that, sometimes, being a first responder means ending up on television. It’s a part of the job he could happily do without.

Eddie (10:50pm): yeah that was us

Buck (10:51pm): are you okay?

Without thinking, Eddie’s fingers tap out his response - yes. Right before hitting send though, he stops himself. No, he’s not okay. Not really.

It’s late, he’s tired, and he doesn’t feel like being a liar. Not tonight. It’s why he erases his original response and types a new one.

Eddie (10:52pm): no

Eddie puts his phone down beside him and closes his eyes. As soon as he does, the image of the dead man and woman from earlier infiltrates his mind. In comparison to everything he saw during his time in Afghanistan, the crime scene he witnessed today was nothing. But it’s the fact that it was a crime scene at all is what really got to him. Death was the norm overseas. It shouldn’t be the norm here, at home.

What’s the point of going off to war in the hopes of making the world a better place when violence can still be found everywhere you turn?

Eddie’s phone vibrates and, at first, he assumes it��s another text. When it continues vibrating, Eddie realizes that someone is calling him. Considering how late it is, he assumes it’s his grandma and is quick to pick up the electronic device. He’s about to accept the call when he sees the name at the top of the screen - Buck.

They’ve been messaging each other for over a month now and it’s become such an ingrained part of Eddie’s daily routine that it’s hard for him to imagine a time when that wasn’t the case. There have been moments where he’s felt like maybe they’ve been taking things a little too slowly and that, by now, other people would’ve met already. Or perhaps even gone on a date or two. But Eddie is in no rush and he’s been more than happy to keep things moving at this pace.

But now, here Buck is taking things another step further and catching Eddie completely off-guard. Exchanging phone numbers was one thing. Talking on the phone is something else entirely.

His phone is still buzzing in his hand and Eddie stares at it. The alternative to not answering this call is to continue lying in bed and being mocked by his overly quiet home. The latter is somehow scarier than the former.

“Hello?” The voice, Buck, says as soon as Eddie answers. It’s weird that Eddie can list off so many random details about Buck - what he does for a living, what his favorite taco place is, what kind of music he listens to when he’s in a bad mood, where he grew up - but he’s never actually heard him speak. Not until now.

“Hi, Buck.”

For a few seconds, all Eddie can hear is Buck’s breathing on the other end. Then, “I hope it’s okay that I called. It’s just, I saw the news about that call you were on and then you said you weren’t okay and just texting you back didn’t feel right. But maybe this is weird, and I should’ve asked you if it was okay before doing it. Sorry. My sister says I should work on my impulse control.”

Buck rambles when he’s nervous. That’s good to know.

“It’s okay,” Eddie tells him, smiling when he hears Buck’s sigh of relief. “I’m glad you decided to call.”

“You are?”

Eddie pulls the covers up to under his chin and turns, allowing him to wedge the phone between his ear and the pillow. “Yeah. It was too quiet in my house.”

“Christopher?”

“At Abuela’s for the night.”

Buck hums and Eddie relishes in the sound. It makes him regret not transitioning into phone calls with Buck sooner.

“Did you… want to talk about it?”

Eddie knows the ‘it’ that Buck’s referring to and also knows it’s that last thing he wants to be having a conversation about. “No.”

He doesn’t mean for the word to come out so harshly, but it does that of its own accord.

“Oh.”

“I’m just not really up for talking.”

“Right, of course.” Buck says in a rush. “You just got off of a crazy shift. You don’t need someone bothering you when all you really want is to rest.”

And, now that he’s said more, Eddie understands what Buck thinks Eddie meant when he said he’s not up for talking. “No no no.” He wants to correct this misunderstanding now before it leads to Buck hanging up the phone and leaving Eddie alone with his thoughts again. He’s not ready to stop hearing Buck’s voice, not now. Having just this small taste of it isn’t enough. “I just meant I don’t really want to talk, but if you do, I’m all ears.”

“Are you sure?” His voice is timid, small. “I talk a lot.”

“I’m sure.”

There’s rustling on Buck’s end and Eddie wonders if the other man is getting into a more comfortable position too. “Let me tell you about what my first graders did to me today.”

It’s almost two in the morning when Eddie’s phone rings. He groans, rolling over onto his side and trying to ignore the loud intrusion altogether.

“Shut that off!” Someone in the bunk room calls out, and it’s that that fully wakes Eddie up. He’s the only one on shift that keeps his phone volume on at all times, just in case a call comes through from whoever is taking care of Christopher.

He scrambles out of his bunk, presses his phone against his chest in an attempt to dull the noise, and all but runs out of the bunk room. His eyes are still half-closed when he answers the call. “Hello?”

“Eddie.”

“Buck?” There’s a choked sob on the other end of the line. The sound is amplified in the stillness of the station around him, and it pierces Eddie’s heart. “What's wrong?”

“I-” Buck gulps back air and Eddie reaches his free hand out, as if his touch will somehow reach Buck instead of the empty space around him. “I can’t sleep.”

Eddie is sure there’s more to the story than that, but it’s not his place to pry. Only a few nights ago, Buck offered Eddie the distraction he needed before going to bed. It’s only fair that he returns that favor.

“Do you want me to stay on the phone with you?”

That seems to bring some of Buck’s vocabulary back to him. His voice sounds raw when he says, “I don’t want to keep you up.”

“I was up anyways,” Eddie lies, making his way up to the station’s loft and sitting down on the sofa. It’s a little odd being up here with all the lights off and no one else around him. Odd, but peaceful.

“Let me tell you about some of the calls we had today.”

Eddie’s not sure just how much time has passed, but he’s in the middle of telling Buck a story about a woman who got stuck in her date’s window when he’s interrupted by soft snores. He smiles, thoughts drifting to the image of Buck asleep in bed with his phone still in his hand.

Eddie ends the call then and wills himself to get off of the sofa so he can catch at least another hour of sleep in the bunk room. The pull of sleep is far stronger than he’s expecting it to be and, instead of getting up like he should, he leans further back on the sofa and closes his eyes.

When he wakes up later, it’s with a dull ache in his neck, a small blanket tossed over his body, and two new messages from Buck.

Buck (6:40am): I’m sorry that i kept you up so late

Buck (6:52am): thank you for answering my call

Eddie doesn’t need anyone to tell him what the next step to take with Buck is.

Before he can second guess himself or chicken out, he dials Buck’s number.

Buck answers on the first ring.  

“Hey, Eddie!” Buck’s enthusiasm would be obvious to anyone who can hear him. It’s an observation Eddie made early on when they switched to daily phone calls. Whereas Eddie keeps his feelings as close to his chest as possible, Buck is happy to put them on full display. So much so that those same emotions always find a way to bleed into his voice. “I didn’t think we were going to be talking until later tonight?”

“Will you go out with me this Friday night?” Belatedly, Eddie adds, “like on a date?”

Eddie can’t remember the last time he’s had to ask anyone out, but that’s no excuse for forgetting just how nerve-wracking it is to wait for an answer.

Time loses its meaning as Eddie holds his breath, waiting for Buck to respond. It might be seconds but could also be minutes later when Buck finally speaks.

“Yeah I’d-I’d really like that.”

A bubble of laughter threatens to creep past Eddie’s lips, but he manages to keep it at bay. He can’t keep from smiling though. “Cool. I’ll text you the details.”

“I’m looking forward to it.”

[meteorstricken]

Sephiroth Week, Day 4 Prompt: (Free Day: Home)

“Hometown”

Nibelheim stood as one of the more strategically isolated locations on the planet, tucked away in the embrace of its namesake mountains. Only the expanse of mostly uninhabited flatlands to the southwest served as a reliable outlet. Silent as it stood, it seemed almost abandoned--exactly the variety of locale Sephiroth would expect Shinra's failed industrial secrets to disturb the wildlife.

But people did live here, and those secrets were of the utmost sensitivity, rating his presence specifically.

Rainy hours had passed in the truck crossing the plains to reach to the secluded town--time spent mulling over his uncertain future, humoring Zack's excitement, and attempting to ignore the occasional retching coming from the motion-sick cadet, Cloud, who the former had befriended. Apparently, Nibelheim was Cloud's hometown.

The concept of a hometown pricked at Sephiroth's mind, raising curiosity and a heavier feeling he couldn't name. Growing up stationary in one community, with the same family, neighbors, friends, and foes--he understood it only conceptually. Some supposedly longed for it; others considered it a prison they couldn't wait to escape. The best he could do was tangentially identify with the latter, but…where he grew up lacked any sense of having been a home or place of origin. It was merely where he was made to exist and become what he was raised to be.

As they'd closed in, one of the area's green dragons had accosted them during the heaviest downpour, granting a temporary reprieve from that troubled line of thinking. The beast's aggression and extra-territorial wandering were no doubt a result of the local reactor's malfunction. He'd cut it down it quickly nonetheless; there was little time to waste.

His discomfort returned immediately upon their arrival. He'd never stepped foot in Nibelheim before, but one glimpse down the dusty, half broken road at the town's well, and a whiff of the earthy, chilled October dusk gave Sephiroth pause. The pungent mako smell veiled it, but it remained a familiar enough undertone to stop him at the entrance. Creeping dread descended into the pit of his stomach, though there was no reason for it he could pinpoint. His objectives here promised few foreseeable complications--he was to thin the monster population and perform triage on the reactor's problem until a security-cleared crew could be dispatched. He'd traveled to numerous like-places in the past. Perhaps that was why he recognized the scent.

Why had it caught his attention and unsettled him this time?

Words playing on the fringes of his mind escaped him seemingly of their own will: "How does it feel? It's your first time back to your hometown in a long time, right? So how does it feel? I wouldn't know because I don't have a hometown…"

Cloud lifted his mask and helmet for a moment. His voice trembled slightly when he spoke. "Ummm…how 'bout your parents?"

Sephiroth clenched one hand. Outside of muted professional consideration, Cloud's life was none of his concern, nor vice-versa, but it was too late to evade in full. He had brought this upon himself. "My mother is Jenova. She died right after she gave birth to me. My father…" A laugh leapt up from bitter apprehension roiling inside of him, and he shook his head. This subject was entirely too absurd to pursue any further; a scandal unworthy of his acknowledging it publicly. Yet…there was no way Cloud would know that. "What does it matter...?" he excused himself. "All right, let's go."

They marched ahead to the inn, outside of which a nervous young local caught up with Zack and verified who they were. Her shoulders slouched after he'd informed her. She left visibly disappointed, as if they were beneath her expectations. Perhaps Shinra had earned some enemies here as well. Monsters, malfunctions…and now, possibly insurgents or other resistance factors. The human element had not been part of the briefing he'd received, but it wasn't surprising. Shinra had polluted their natural environment and filled it with monsters. When it had finally spiraled sufficiently out of control, they gave no answer but to send SOLDIER. If it was there, the anger wasn't misplaced.

Considering how Shinra had propagandized his image, Sephiroth wondered if the townsfolk might associate his face with those ills. It would be difficult to disassociate himself from the company in the eyes of normal people if he chose to leave, but if he were pushed to counter unexpected fighters, it would make the effort all the more difficult.  

Normal people. He breathed out a small sigh and cast a wandering gaze, taking in the sights of the town's empty center and the houses beyond. Was it possible for him to seek out a quiet life in a place such as this?

While he looked on, a small child of maybe five years scrambled out the front door of a house off to the right, chortling mischievously. A woman--his mother--ran after him.

"Hey, get back here! You know it's too dangerous," she chided him. "What have we talked about for when the big weird uniformed men come?"

"But. They're just standing there. There's no monners. See? They're just standing there," he argued, mispronouncing 'monsters' in child-speak and repeating himself, distrusting that his mother had accurately assessed the situation.

The mother remained predictably unconvinced, grabbing the boy by his wrist and pulling him back toward their home while he continued to ramble, and eventually, started to cry.

Under their neighbor's porch, two boys chattered quietly. Their eyes dodged his, but he knew they'd been watching him. Were they brothers or friends? What was that like? Inwardly, Sephiroth winced--he thought he'd come to understand one of those rather well until recently.

What was it like to leave a place like this for years, and then return to expectant family?

The dread that had plagued him moments ago redoubled its efforts on his insides, but Sephiroth straightened his stance. There was no time for that. Not for him. He was…outside of such things. Unwelcomed. All of this--it was not his world…

"We leave for the reactor at dawn. Make sure you get to sleep early." he commanded Zack, Cloud, and the others with them. It was best to keep them out of sight to avoid exacerbating tensions. "All we need is one lookout, so you others, get some rest." He turned his back on the town and reached for the inn's door, but stopped. Cloud was notably not an outsider by any definition. Sephiroth forced himself to swallow the ball of resentment that had formed in his throat and glanced over at the small cadet.  "Oh, that's right...You may visit your family and friends."

This had nothing to do with him. Nothing.

He slipped indoors then, hurrying upstairs before anyone noticed him. Zack could take care of any arrangements with the front desk. He needed a moment to think, and think he did, staring out the second floor's window. It wasn't simply that Nibelheim smelled familiar; the scenery was far from alien to him as well. He knew these mountains, these buildings, the well in the town center. He knew the Shinra Manor, he knew what he might expect to see if he visited it, and---and he stopped himself, overcome with the notion of having trespassed somewhere forbidden.

He was in trouble again, and here again...

For a split second, he remembered being small and having infuriated Professor Hojo over…something. Yes, there had always been something with that man…

But why did he know this place? What claim did Nibelheim have on him, all while he couldn’t pretend to call a single sliver from one of its houses or a tiny speck of its streets' dust his? He was a stranger here, but it remembered him. As the sun faded behind its peak, he had the uncomfortable growing sensation that Mt. Nibel itself was looking back, calling…

Tomorrow, Sephiroth determined, they would complete this mission with the utmost efficiency. There might be something to research here, but he needed time to prepare. He needed to understand the nature of long term operations Shinra had conducted in Nibelheim first; what he ought to look for in particular. He suspected with an almost oppressive conviction that whatever he turned up would be the final straw he was searching for--the one that justified his leaving the company.

After that...nothing would be the same.

[mordoriscalling]

The Second Waltz (pt. 1&2/5)

(This story is inspired by what I talked about in this post as well as the fic “Defiance & Destiny” by  letmetellyouaboutmyfeels) 

Wanda Pankratz observed the centre of the ballroom with rapt attention, her cornflower blue eyes twinkling. She watched the two figures dance together with such an astounding harmony that all the other pairs stopped in their tracks and stared at them. When the man dressed in black twirled the man in blue in the air, the Countess de Lettenhove’s lips curled into a pleased grin. She shared a look with her husband Alfred, then spoke to the witcher standing next to her.

“Mister Witcher,” she said, “I think it’s a match.”

Eskel of the Wolf School inclined his head with an amicable smile and answered, “So it seems.”

***

“Which one is better?” Jaskier asked his sisters as he raised a white and a red doublet in the air.

“The red one,” Essi answered. The very same moment, Priscilla replied, “The white one.”

In the privacy of the room, the two ladies snickered inelegantly, and Jaskier snorted in amusement. “Always so helpful, my dears.”

“Glad to be of service,” Priscilla deadpanned, then returned to scribbling verses in her notebook, leaning back against the chair by the desk.

Jaskier watched her closely, searching for any indication of sorrow on her face, but his older sister’s expression revealed nothing but concentration. It had been a long time since she had composed anything, and Jaskier was relieved to see her write again.

“Why bother asking, brother dear?” Essi sang, effectively breaking Jaskier out of his grim contemplation. She got up from her seat at the edge of the bed and danced over to her brother’s side, singing on, “true beauty cannot be stifled by even the foulest of garments.”

The Viscount de Lettenhove smiled at his sister younger warmly. “Oh, my sweet Poppet –”

His words were cut off by their mother entering the room. Lady Wanda Pankratz swept her gaze over her son’s bedroom, taking in what had to be at least half of her son’s considerable wardrobe laid out on every surface available. She smirked knowingly and addressed Jaskier, “I advise you to dress well tonight, Julian.”

“Why, mother, I always dress well.”

The Countess rolled her eyes. “Exceptionally well, then,” she corrected herself, then began walking around the room, looking at each doublet with scrutiny. “We’re expecting some special guests,” she said.

“Special guests?” Jaskier and Essi asked.

Wanda Pankratz offered no response as she took an exquisite blue doublet with silk floral embroidery from where it was draped over a chaise long. Handing the piece of clothing to her son, she said, “Wear this one. You look dashing in it.” Jaskier’s mouth was already opening, so she rushed to add, “Yes, as you do in everything, my dear.” She let out a sigh, regarding her middle child with fond exasperation. “You’re my son, after all.”

Jaskier grinned and kissed her on the cheek. “The talent and the looks are all from you, dearest mother.”

“The knack for attracting trouble is from father, though,” Priscilla remarked.

Lady Pankratz chuckled but didn’t deny it. She gazed at her children – all three looking back at her with wide blue eyes, same as hers – and her heart swelled with love and pride. Priscilla, Julian and Essi Pankratz were known as some of the best bards in the country. The three of them were exceptionally gifted in the area of musical talent and wordsmithery, and each one possessed a quality that made them even more remarkable. Priscilla had a truly angelic voice, Julian was an extraordinary performer, and Essi’s songs were poetically unparalleled. It was no wonder that most Witchers on the British Isles wished to enter a partnership with one of the Pankratz siblings.

Wanda Pankratz, however, a retired legendary bard herself, allowed only the best of the best anywhere near her children.

“I must ask you to at least try not to attract any trouble tonight,” she said, “This ball’s going to be important.”

“Important how?” Jaskier inquired with a bemused frown.

“And who’s coming?” Essi pressed.

“You’ll see,” their mother replied, an enigmatic smile on her lips, then walked out of the room.

Jaskier and Essi stared at each other, curious and confused, then directed their gazes at Priscilla, who kept scribbling, suspiciously unmoved by the whole situation.

“Who’s coming, then?” Jaskier asked. His older sister didn’t seem to register the question. “Priscilla?”

Priscilla hummed. “I don’t know,” she answered, not even glancing up from her notebook.

“You must know something,” Essi insisted.

After a moment of expectant silence, Priscilla sighed in resignation, her shoulders slumping. She closed the little book in her lap and finally looked at her siblings. “I do not know their names,” she said, “I’ve only overheard mother talking to Miss Hughes. Two more guest rooms needed to be prepared, for two gentlemen and two ladies.” Her posture stiffened. “I also accidentally found out that father has been corresponding with Kaer Morhen but–”

Jaskier and Essi gasped.

“Witchers?!” the young Viscount exclaimed, his whole demeanour already buzzing with excitement. 

“At last!” Essi gushed, “Maybe I’ll finally partner with one! Oh, I’ve been waiting for –”

“Do not long for what you don’t know,” Priscilla cut in harshly, “The Path can be gruelling and deadly, and there’s little glory in the life of a witcher.”

Essi and Jaskier sobered immediately. They looked at their older sibling – who sat in the chair rigidly with a far-away look in her eyes – and their hearts ached for her.

“We won’t talk about it, then,” Jaskier said gently.

“No!” Priscilla protested, “please, don’t stop for my sake.” She bit her lip. “I simply... don’t want you two to end up the way I have.”

The Viscount and his younger sister shared a look.

“That witcher is the greatest fool in the world to have done what he did,” Essi proclaimed with a fierce glint in her eye.

“Indeed,” Jaskier agreed readily, “my dear Prissy, he should’ve come after you to grovel and beg you to return to him the moment he let you go.”

Priscilla was the first of the Pankratz siblings to partner with a witcher. Four years ago, already known for her talent at nineteen years of age, Priscilla was invited by Coën of the Griffin school to enter a partnership with him. Overjoyed, she agreed. Her family had no objections, for Coën seemed to be a wonderful match. A well-mannered, chivalrous intellectual – the perfect witcher for their perfect Priscilla. She chose the stage name of Callonetta and departed with Coën for the Path.

Whenever a letter from the eldest Pankratz sibling arrived home, it always spoke at length about the joy that Priscilla found in being Coën’s bard. As Callonetta’s first songs about the Griffin witcher started circling around, her verses about him showed a deep understanding of his person. Her words were soft and full of gentle love, but Priscilla always claimed in her letters that they were dearest of friends, never betraying anything else about the nature of their relation. Her family didn’t pressure her to say anything more about it – her well-being mattered to them the most and she did seem genuinely happy on the road with Coën.

At least until the day a year and a half ago, when Coën almost got fatally injured during a hunt and sent Priscilla away.

She still refused to talk about it. Every time the subject of witchers was brought up, Priscilla’s usual lively and radiant countenance stilled into a firm, guarded expression. She didn’t allow anyone to see her hurt, even now, as she was among her siblings.

“If only it was so easy,” she replied.

Jaskier sighed. “Well, no matter,” he said cheerfully, “witchers coming or not, we’ll have a wonderful time, won’t we?” He started dancing around the room, swaying to the music which only he could hear. Humming a melody under his breath, he began singing, “we shall dance and drink, and not sleep a blink.” He waltzed over to Essi, took her by the hand and spun her around. “We shall put Joy herself to shame,” he sang on, “and again make history forget Valdo’s name.”

Essi laughed and Jaskier twirled her again. He kept dancing with her and singing increasingly ridiculous verses until his younger sister was giggling hysterically and Priscilla finally smiled.

TBC

Part 3

***

A/N: Tagging @siriusly-the-best-bi as requested! :D I’d like to update every two days, so part 3 is coming on Tuesday. Jaskier and Geralt will actually meet and dance together! (I have to write more than 1k words just to get them to dance, apparently xD)

[slashingdisneypasta]

Hi, could you consider? Jason Voorhees x reader thing where the reader was Jasons friend before he died and now they visit the camp every year to pay their respects on the aniversity of his death and they sorta rekindle their friendship after a while?

I tried to go with big events or staples in Jason’s life ^^ But my knowledge of Friday the 13th movies is… a bit limited… my bad.  I hope you like it anyway!! I hope its what you wanted ^^

1958 (Reader and Jason are like, 12 here): 

When I… saw him, I was scared. At first. Not of him exactly, I don’t think at least, but of the entire situation. He was supposed to be dead, and things that are alive after that are never showed in a sweet light. Vampires, zombies, ghosts.

But then he held my hand like he always would and gently lead me to his old cabin, where apparently, he was still living. I felt happy, I gave him the picture I drew him, and he smiled at me. I thought he could come home with me now, and everything would be okay! But… something was different about it all. His hands were always cold, but now they felt freezing. He spoke even less then he used to, as well. And the cabin was dirty, and he couldn’t possibly live here comfortably.

And then, I asked him to come back with me and mum. “Its okay! Jason, now we can go back home, and you won’t have to live here! We can still be friends! I’ve missed you.”

He gives me a tiny smile back, but awkwardly pulls his icy hand away from me. Shaking his head, he steps back and sits on his mother old bed. Which is mouldy and where the sheets to be white, are brown now. So, I don’t sit with him. “I… can’t go… “

My heart sinks, because of something worse than disappointment. “But… you can’t live here!” There’s no food, or clean water, or proper shelter! And… no parents. The idea is insane!

I watch while his fingers clench into the mattress his mother used to sleep on, and feel a dull, slow realisation dawn on me. Like when you’re three days from having to go back to school after a wonderful holiday. “M-my… my mum… “ I look up him with wide, furrowed eyes while thinking about all his changes. He died, even though its hard to believe, looking at him. The cold isn’t bothering him, in some places moss from the water still clung to him in some places, he was comfortable in this place that I couldn’t ever stay in no matter how much someone paid me. He’s changed so much… to the point where, weirdly, he fits here. And I can’t think of a thing that I could say or do to change his mind.

For the first time in my life I feel completely, wholly helpless. There’s nothing I could ever do, to… save him. His eyes are duller than they were when… we were friends… and he’s not him anymore. Even though it look, and feels like him. My friend Jason is gone.

He’s gone somewhere I can’t follow him.

1983: 

Awkwardly, I purse my lips, looking around at the forest while Jason carves into some wood, bored himself. I think that’s the piece of wood he was working on last year. “Okay… well, bye Jason.” I have been waiting for this all day! I want nothing but to leave Jason and get back to my family, the people I chose. It no longer feels like a choice to see Jason, even if it only once a year.

Its not like he makes me, its more that I force myself to come because I have my whole life since he died and if I couldn’t handle the guilt if I left him alone on his anniversary day one year. It used to be nice, when once a year my mum would drive me up and here and I would get to see my friend, even if it was different and weird. But soon enough, somewhere between high school and getting married, it became a burden. Because, really, what do we have in common?? Nothing. Why are we dragging this on, when all we have in common is history? History means very little when theirs no good memories to give it substance.

Oh… shit. Even thinking that sentence in my head felt bad. Of course, there were good memories… but its been so long since we’ve made a new one that I’ve forgotten what it felt like. What little I do remember, from when we little, feels made up. That’s how little it surfaces now.

As I pat his shoulder and get up from the porch where we were sitting for 4 hours -Four long, painful hours, - I accidentally wobble a bit and get a glimpse of the back of his head on accident. For a moment I keep going, getting to my feet and turning to walk off to my car, before I realise that what I just saw was not normal. People do not have dents like that in the back their head. Well, I mean, some people with the same condition Jason has sometimes do, but he was not born with this particular depression. I whip back around, surprising him and look shocked at him. “What the hell is that!?” He grunts, and shifts uncomfortably at that because he doesn’t talk anymore, and I soften my look a tiny bit in apology, knowing he doesn’t like swearing. “Right, sorry.” I roll my eyes. “But what is that crater in the back of your head Jason?!”

He sighs, deeply and shrugs.

“No, don’t you give me that. What is it? You bang your head on a branch or something??”

Not sure how a branch would make that kind of dent, but, it works to get the ball rolling. Maybe he’ll think the idea is so ridiculous that he communicates to me what it was just to set me straight. He does think I’m kind of ridiculous.

Yea, because he’s a hobo recluse who lives in the forest all alone, so he’s wiser apparently.

I watch him roll his eyes, before thumping on away from the cabin, leaving me alone abruptly, before coming back with an axe which is… not comforting. I glance from it to him and back again a few times, and he just rolls his eyes and shakes his head again.

Then he holds it up to thoroughly show me, causing me to notice the blood on it, then touches it to the dent. Finally, he grabs my hand -his is still cold as fuck, -, and holds it to his chest. Where there’s no heartbeat.

“What?” At first, I don’t get it at all, scrunching up nose in obvious confusion.

Then… slowly… it dawns on me. I gasp. “Who hit you in the head with an axe??!” He was already pretty dead, but this is new. Can’t say I feel surprised at all that he can live without a heartbeat, seeing as he survived drowning when he was 11, but this is new, at least.

Now he’s really gone somewhere I can’t follow. And can’t relate to.

2003:

I don’t know how long I’ve been out for, but it can’t be long when I open my eyes -the word a little blurred at first. The only things I can make out being a giant dark looking thing that could be a rock looking very still and another, brighter coloured one jumping on it.

Eventually those figures turn into Jason and that fucker that slashed me, - because they’re both still there near me. As far as I can see from the fight, as I get up from the earth and leaves and little twigs and dirt drop off my clothes and the wounds across my abdomen hurt like hell, is that Freddy’s doing most of the fighting, but Jason isn’t taking much damage. Good… okay… what can I do… I think, as I look around for a weapon.

Gadzooks! It’s my lucky day. Behind them, near me, I catch sight of Jason’s machete. He must have dropped it… Works for me.

On my way over to them, watching to see if either of them notice me back up on my feet, I pick up the weapon. Luckily, I’m pretty sure they both think I’m dead. So, it’s that much sweeter when I reach them and tighten my grip on the very long, sharp sword thing. Then I grit my teeth and ram the disagreeable thing into someone even more disagreeable.

Jason watches with a sense of surprise that I’m only just able to pick up on, because I know him so well, and a tiny flutter of a smile crosses my, probably terrible looking at the moment, face. “You couldn’t get rid of me when you died, and you certainly won’t just because I do.” I say, out of breath. These two may be immortal with the freaken stamina of 30-year old’s but I, am an old woman now. And kicking ass takes a bit out of me. Being too smart to drop the machete, instead roughly pulling it out of the sweater-wearers spine and walk with a slight limp, away from the scene. God, fucking… I really, almost died just then. And it feels like it. Where’s my phone? I need a goddamn ambulance.

Freddy, still alive I’m sure - a stab in the back is not going to keep him down, but I figure it’ll handicap him enough for Jason to take a good lead, - slips to his knees and I listen to the sweet melody of him groaning in pain as I hobble over to a considerably clearer area of earth, to sit down on and assess my injuries. “Bitch… “

Serves him right, the bastard. There are three deep scratches in my stomach, thoroughly ruining my one good white shirt, and making me a little woozy due to the blood loss. I look up from them to Jason, who’s staring at me in worry instead of finishing the fight. To reassure him, I flash a bigger smile and nod, gesturing for him to go on. “I’m fine, Jason. It’s okay. I’ll be waiting right here when you’re done.”

“Yeah- Hockey Puck -Fight hard for your girlfriend, heh heh,”

I look back down at my wounds and start thinking about what I need to do about them, ignoring the goblin completely. I hear a terrible, raspy gasp and then some screaming, and I know Jason’s thrown Freddy somewhere again.

An hour later, I’ve watched the teenagers leave, the group now cut cleanly in half and wait patiently, anxiously for Jason to come back too. The longer I wait, the worse I feel. dread fills up every part of my body that isn’t already full with pain from my wounds and a plain, dull, aching fear and I’m suddenly struck in the face with the thought that maybe Jason won’t come back. Maybe he’ll really lose this time.

He’s never fought someone like him before. This whole time I thought he was some invincible, super monster but, what if by monster standards he’s not??

I’ve never really felt the worry I’m feeling now. Not since he drowned, the first time. All these years after I’ve just coasted along with him, visiting once a year and forgetting about him the rest. It was like a chore, like something I had to do.

But now I’m afraid to death that he’s actually gone, and I’m stuck, stewing in the fact that I care about him. He’s an old friend, I love him. He can’t… he can’t die first. I’m the weak human!

I can’t believe I’m only realising this now. What an absolute idiot.

Just as I’m pushing myself up to my feet, to go searching in the direction he went in, I hear familiar, heavy footsteps and nearly damn well cry suddenly with immense relief. I sit back down, heavily and hide my face in my knees once I’ve seen him, trudging towards me. He looks so bad, but… animated. And that’s the main thing.

Ohhhh my god…

I feel the behemoth of a zombie, familiar to me in every sense of the word, like childhood, teenage, young adult, middle aged, and every other kind of memory put into one sit down on the grass with me. I peak up at him and can’t help the smile on my lips, tugging at the corners of my lips as the sun starts to come up over Camp Crystal Lake.

Sighing in relief, I explain my reaction to his return. “You’re okay?”

He nods, and raises 5 thick fingers to my stomach in question. I take his hand in mine, instead of leaving it to hang, and it feels good. “That’s fine. I’ll be okay. Thank you for asking, Jason.”

He curls his hand around mine in turn, as I lie down on the lush green grass, and try to rest. Finally, things feel alright again.

My eyes fall gently closed. Now I’ll go somewhere he can’t follow me. He’s never been good at death.